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diff --git a/43702-8.txt b/43702-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 837d12b..0000000 --- a/43702-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9696 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Adventures of a Modest Man, by Robert W. Chambers - -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: The Adventures of a Modest Man - -Author: Robert W. Chambers - -Illustrator: Edmund Frederick - -Release Date: September 12, 2013 [EBook #43702] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF A MODEST MAN *** - - - - -Produced by Annie R. McGuire. This book was produced from -scanned images of public domain material from the Google -Print archive. - - - - - - - - - -[Illustration: Book Cover] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -_The_ ADVENTURES _of_ - -A MODEST MAN - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -Works of Robert W. Chambers - - * * * * * - - - The Adventures of a Modest Man - Ailsa Paige - The Danger Mark - Special Messenger - The Firing Line - The Younger Set - The Fighting Chance - Some Ladies in Haste - The Tree of Heaven - The Tracer of Lost Persons - A Young Man in a Hurry - Lorraine - Maids of Paradise - Ashes of Empire - The Red Republic - Outsiders - The Green Mouse - Iole - The Reckoning - The Maid-at-Arms - Cardigan - The Haunts of Men - The Mystery of Choice - The Cambric Mask - The Maker of Moons - The King in Yellow - In Search of the Unknown - The Conspirators - A King and a Few Dukes - In the Quarter - - * * * * * - -For Children - - Garden-Land - Forest-Land - River-Land - Mountain-Land - Orchard-Land - Outdoorland - Hide and Seek in Forest-Land - - - - -[Illustration] - -COPYRIGHT, 1900, 1911, BY -ROBERT W. CHAMBERS - - * * * * * - -Copyright, 1904, by Harper & Brothers -Copyright, 1904, 1905, 1910, by The Curtis Publishing Company - - - - -_The_ ADVENTURES _of_ -A MODEST MAN - -_By_ ROBERT W. CHAMBERS - - -[Illustration] - - -ILLUSTRATED BY -EDMUND FREDERICK - - -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY -NEW YORK AND LONDON: MCMXI - - - - -[Illustration: "'I realised that I was going to kiss her if she didn't -move.... And--she didn't.'"--[Page 276.]] - - - - -TO -MR. AND MRS. C. WHEATON VAUGHAN - - - This volume packed with bric-à-brac - I offer you with my affection,-- - The story halts, the rhymes are slack-- - Poor stuff to add to your collection. - Gems you possess from ages back: - It is the modern junk you lack. - - We three once moused through marble halls, - Immersed in Art and deep dejection, - Mid golden thrones and choir-stalls - And gems beyond my recollection-- - Yet soft!--my memory recalls - Red labels pasted on the walls! - - And so, perhaps, _my_ bric-à-brac - May pass the test of your inspection; - Perhaps you will not send it back, - But place it--if you've no objection-- - Under some nick-nack laden rack - Where platters dangle on a tack. - - So if you'll take this book from me - And hide it in your cupboards laden - Beside some Dresden filigree - And frivolously fetching maiden-- - Who knows?--that Dresden maid may see - My book--and read it through pardie! - - R. W. C. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - - "Senilis stultitia quae deliratio appellari - solet, senum levium est, non omnium." - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - I. CONCERNING TWO GENTLEMEN FROM LONG ISLAND, DESTINY, AND A - POT OF BLACK PAINT 1 - II. A CHAPTER DEPICTING A RATHER GARRULOUS REUNION 14 - III. TROUBLE FOR TWO 25 - IV. WHEREIN A MODEST MAN IS BULLIED AND A LITERARY MAN - PRACTICES STYLE 42 - V. DREAMLAND 58 - VI. SOUL AND BODY 74 - VII. THE BITER, THE BITTEN, AND THE UN-BITTEN 85 - VIII. A MATTER OF PRONUNCIATION 98 - IX. FATE 104 - X. CHANCE 117 - XI. DESTINY 129 - XII. IN WHICH A MODEST MAN MAUNDERS 143 - XIII. A CHANCE ACQUAINTANCE 154 - XIV. A STATE OF MIND 168 - XV. FLOTSAM AND JETSAM 181 - XVI. THE SIMPLEST SOLUTION OF AN ANCIENT PROBLEM 194 - XVII. SHOWING HOW IT IS POSSIBLE FOR ANY MAN TO MAKE OF - HIMSELF A CHUMP 208 - XVIII. THE MASTER KNOT OF HUMAN FATE 221 - XIX. THE TIME AND THE PLACE 234 - XX. DOWN THE SEINE 242 - XXI. IN A BELGIAN GARDEN 269 - XXII. A YOUTHFUL PATRIOT 287 - XXIII. ON THE WALL 292 - XXIV. A JOURNEY TO THE MOON 303 - XXV. THE ARMY OF PARIS 316 - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -LIST OF -ILLUSTRATIONS - - FACING - PAGE - "'I realised that I was going to kiss her if she didn't - move.... And--she didn't'" _Frontispiece_ - "'Give up my dead!' she whispered. 'Give up my dead!'" 40 - "Christmas Eve she knelt, crying, before the pedestal" 80 - "'Only one person in the world can ever matter to me--now'" 140 - "Beyond, rocking wildly in a gilded boat, sat two people and a - placid swan" 190 - "'I--I don't know,' she stammered; 'my shoe seems tied to yours'" 214 - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -AN INADVERTENT POEM - - - _There is a little flow-urr_ - _In our yard it does grow_ - _Where many a happy hou-urr_ - _I watch our rooster crow;_ - _While clothes hang on the clothes-line_ - _And plowing has began_ - --_And the name they call this lit-tul vine_ - _Is just "Old Man."_ - - _Old Man, Old Man_ - _A-growing in our yard,_ - _Every spring a-coming up_ - _While yet the ground is har-rrd;_ - _Pottering 'round the chickens' pan,_ - _Creeping low and slow,_ - _And why they call it Old Man_ - _I never asked to know._ - _I never want to know._ - - _Crawling through the chick-weed,_ - _Dragging through the quack,_ - _Pussly, tansy, tick-weed_ - _Almost break his back._ - _Catnip, cockle, dock prevent_ - _His travelling all they can,_ - _But still he goes the ways he's went,_ - _Poor Old Man!_ - - _Old Man, Old Man,_ - _What's the use of you?_ - _No one wants to see you, like_ - _As if you hadn't grew._ - _You ain't no good to nothing_ - _So far as I can see,_ - _Unless some maiden fair will sing_ - _These lines I've wrote to thee._ - _And sing 'em soft to me._ - - _Some maiden fa-hair_ - _With_ { _ra-haven_ } _hair_ - { _go-holden_ } - _Will si-hing this so-hong_ - _To me-hee-ee!_ - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER I - -CONCERNING TWO GENTLEMEN FROM LONG ISLAND, DESTINY, AND A POT OF BLACK -PAINT - - -"Hello, old man!" he began. - -"Gillian," I said, "don't call me 'Old Man.' At twenty, it flattered me; -at thirty, it was all right; at forty, I suspected _double entendre_; -and now I don't like it." - -"Of course, if you feel that way," he protested, smiling. - -"Well, I do, dammit!"--the last a German phrase. I am rather strong on -languages. - -Now another thing that is irritating-- I've got ahead of my story, -partly, perhaps, because I hesitate to come to the point. - -For I have a certain delicacy in admitting that my second visit abroad, -after twenty years, was due to a pig. So now that the secret is out--the -pig also--I'll begin properly. - - * * * * * - -I purchased the porker at a Long Island cattle show; why, I don't know, -except that my neighbor, Gillian Schuyler Van Dieman, put me up to it. - -We are an inoffensive community maintaining a hunt club and the -traditions of a by-gone generation. To the latter our children refuse to -subscribe. - -Our houses are what are popularly known as "fine old Colonial mansions." -They were built recently. So was the pig. You see, I can never get away -from that pig, although--but the paradox might injure the story. It has -sufficiently injured me--the pig and the story, both. - -The architecture of the pig was a kind of degenerate Chippendale, -modified by Louis XVI and traces of Bavarian baroque. And his squeal -resembled the atmospheric preliminaries for a Texas norther. - -Van Dieman said I ought to buy him. I bought him. My men built him a -chaste bower to leeward of an edifice dedicated to cows. - -Here I sometimes came to contemplate him while my horse was being -saddled. - -That particular morning, when Van Dieman saluted me so suspiciously at -the country club, I had been gazing at the pig. - -And now, as we settled down to our morning game of chess, I said: - -"Van, that pig of mine seems to be in nowise remarkable. Why the devil -do you suppose I bought him?" - -"How do I know?" - -"You ought to. You suggested that I buy him. Why did you?" - -"To see whether you would." - -I said rather warmly: "Did you think me weak-minded enough to do -whatever you suggested?" - -"The fact remains that you did," he said calmly, pushing the king's -knight to queen's bishop six. - -"Did what?" I snapped. - -"What you didn't really want to do." - -"Buy the pig?" - -"Exactly." - -I thought a moment, took a pawn with satisfaction, considered. - -"Van," I said, "why do you suppose I bought that pig?" - -"_Ennui._" - -"A man doesn't buy pigs to escape from _ennui_!" - -"You can't predict what a man will do to escape it," he said, smiling. -"The trouble with you is that you're been here too long; you're in a -rut; you're gone stale. Year in, year out, you do the same things in the -same way, rise at the same time, retire at the same hour, see the same -people, drive, motor, ride, potter about your lawns and gardens, come -here to the club--and it's enough to petrify anybody's intellect." - -"Do you mean to say that _mine_----" - -"Partly. Don't get mad. No man who lives year after year in a Long -Island community could escape it. What you need is to go abroad. What -you require is a good dose of Paris." - -"For twenty odd years I have avoided Paris," I said, restlessly. "Why -should I go back there?" - -"Haven't you been there in twenty years?" - -"No." - -"Why?" - -"Well, for one thing, to avoid meeting the entire United States." - -"All right," said Van Dieman, "if you want to become an old uncle -foozle, continue to take root in Long Island." He announced mate in two -moves. After I had silently conceded it, he leaned back in his chair and -lighted a cigarette. - -"It's my opinion," he said, "that you've already gone too stale to take -care of your own pig." - -Even years of intimacy scarcely justified this. - -"When the day comes," said I, "that I find myself no longer competent to -look after my own affairs, I'll take your advice and get out of Long -Island." - -He looked up with a smile. "Suppose somebody stole that pig, for -instance." - -"They couldn't." - -"Suppose they did, under your very nose." - -"If anything happens to that pig," I said--"anything untoward, due to -any negligence or stupidity of mine, I'll admit that I need waking -up.... Now get that pig if you can!" - -"Will you promise to go to Paris for a jolly little jaunt if anything -does happen to your pig?" he asked. - -"Why the devil do _you_ want _me_ to go to Paris?" - -"Do you good, intellectually." - -Then I got mad. - -"Van," I said, "if anybody can get that pig away from me, I'll do -anything you suggest for the next six months." - -"_À nous deux, alors!_" he said. He speaks French too fast for me to -translate. It's a foolish way to talk a foreign language. But he has -never yet been able to put it over me. - -"_À la guerre comme à la guerre_," I replied carelessly. It's a phrase -one can use in reply to any remark that was ever uttered in French. I -use it constantly. - - * * * * * - -That afternoon I went and took a good look at my pig. Later, as I was -walking on the main street of Oyster Bay, a man touched his hat and -asked me for a job. Instantly it occurred to me to hire him as night -watchman for the pig. He had excellent references, and his countenance -expressed a capacity for honest and faithful service. That night before -I went to bed, I walked around to the sty. My man was there on duty. - -"That," thought I, "will hold Van Dieman for a while." - -When my daughters had retired and all the servants were abed, I did a -thing I have not done in years--not since I was a freshman at Harvard: I -sat up with my pipe and an unexpurged translation of Henry James until -nearly eleven o'clock. However, by midnight I was asleep. - -It was full starlight when I awoke and jumped softly out of bed. -Somebody was tapping at the front door. I put on a dressing-gown and -slippers and waited; but no servants were aroused by the persistent -rapping. - -After a moment I went to the window, raised it gently and looked out. A -farmer with a lantern stood below. - -"Say, squire," he said, when he beheld my head, "I guess I'll have to -ask for help. I'm on my way to market and my pig broke loose and I can't -ketch him nohow." - -"Hush!" I whispered; "I'll come down." - -Very cautiously I unbarred the front door and stepped out into the -lovely April starlight. In the road beyond my hedge stood a farm-wagon -containing an empty crate. Near it moved the farmer, and just beyond his -outstretched hands sported a playful pig. He was a black pig. Mine was -white. Besides I went around to the pen and saw, in the darkness, my -Oyster Bay retainer still on guard. So, it being a genuine case, I -returned to the road. - -The farmer's dilemma touched me. What in the world was so utterly -hopeless to pursue, unaided, as a coy pig at midnight. - -"If you will just stand there, squire, and sorter spread out your -skirts, I'll git him in a jiffy," said the panting farmer. - -I did as I was bidden. The farmer approached; the pig pranced between -his legs. - -"By gum!" exclaimed the protected of Ceres. - -But, after half an hour, the pig became over-confident, and the tiller -of phosphites seized him and bore him, shrieking, to the wooden crate in -the wagon, there depositing him, fastening the door, and climbing into -his seat with warm thanks to me for my aid. - -I told the Brother to the Ox that he was welcome. Then, with heart -serenely warmed by brotherly love and a knowledge of my own -condescension, I retired to sleep soundly until Higgins came to shave me -at eight o'clock next morning. - -"Beg pardon, sir," said Higgins, stirring his lather as I returned from -the bath to submit my chin to his razor--"beg pardon, sir, but--but the -pig, sir----" - -"What pig?" I asked sharply. Had Higgins beheld me pursuing that -midnight porker? And if he had, was he going to tell about it? - -"What pig, sir? Why, THE pig, sir." - -"I do not understand you, Higgins," I said coldly. - -"Beg pardon, sir, but Miss Alida asked me to tell you, that the pig----" - -"WHAT PIG?" I repeated exasperated. - -"Why--why--OURS, sir." - -I turned to stare at him. "MY pig?" I asked. - -"Yes, sir--he's gone, sir----" - -"Gone!" I thundered. - -"Stolen, sir, out o' the pen last night." - -Stunned, I could only stare at Higgins. Stolen? My pig? Last night? - -"Some one," said Higgins, "went and opened that lovely fancy sty, sir; -and the pig he bolted. It takes a handy thief to stop and steal a pig, -sir. There must ha' been two on 'em to catch that pig!" - -"Where's that miserable ruffian I hired to watch the sty?" I demanded -hotly. - -"He has gone back to work for Mr. Van Dieman, sir. His hands was all -over black paint, and I see him a-wipin' of 'em onto your white picket -fence." - -The calmness of despair came over me. I saw it, now. I had been called -out of bed to help catch my own pig. For nearly half an hour I had -dodged about there in front of my own house, too stupid to suspect, too -stupid even to recognize my own pig in the disguised and capricious -porker shying and caracolling about in the moonlight. Good heavens! Van -Dieman was right. A man who helps to steal his own pig is fit for -nothing but Paris or a sanitarium. - -"Shave me speedily, Higgins," I said. "I am not very well, and it is -difficult for me to preserve sufficient composure to sit still. And, -Higgins, it is not at all necessary for you to refer to that pig -hereafter. You understand? Very well. Go to the telephone and call up -the Cunard office." - -Presently I was in communication with Bowling Green. - -That morning in the breakfast-room, when I had kissed my daughter Alida, -aged eighteen, and my daughter Dulcima, aged nineteen, the younger said: -"Papa, do you know that our pig has been stolen?" - -"Alida," I replied, "I myself disposed of him"--which was the dreadful -truth. - -"You sold him?" asked Dulcima in surprise. - -"N--not exactly. These grape-fruit are too sour!" - -"You gave him away?" inquired Alida. - -"Yes--after a fashion. Is this the same coffee we have been using? It -has a peculiar----" - -"Who did you give him to?" persisted my younger child. - -"A--man." - -"What man?" - -"Nobody you know, child." - -"But----" - -"Stop!" said I firmly. "It is a subject too complicated to discuss." - -"Oh, pooh!" said Dulcima; "everybody discusses everything in Oyster Bay. -And besides I want to know----" - -"About the pig!" broke in Alida. - -"And that man to whom you gave the pig----" - -"Alida," said I, with misleading mildness, "how would you like to go to -Paris?" - -"Oh! papa----" - -"And you, Dulcima?" - -"Darling papa!" - -"When?" cried Alida. - -"Wednesday," I replied with false urbanity. - -"Oh! The darling!" they cried in rapture, and made toward me. - -"Wait!" I said with a hideous smile. "We have not yet left Sandy Hook! -And I solemnly promise you both that if either of you ever again ask me -one question concerning that pig--nay, if you so much as look askance at -me over the breakfast bacon--neither you nor I will ever leave Sandy -Hook alive!" - -They have kept their promises--or I should never have trodden the deck -of the _S. S. Cambodia_, the pride of the great Cunard Line, with my -daughter Dulcima on one side and my daughter Alida on the other side of -me, and my old friend Van Dieman waving me adieu from a crowded pier, -where hundreds of handkerchiefs flutter in the breeze. - -"_Au revoir et bon voyage!_" he called up to me. - -"_Toujours la politesse_," I muttered, nodding sagely. - -"That was a funny reply to make, papa," said Dulcima. - -"Not at all," I replied, with animation; "to know a language is to know -when to use its idioms." They both looked a little blank, but continued -to wave their handkerchiefs. - -"_À bien-tôt!_" called Alida softly, as the towering black sides of the -steamer slipped along the wooden wharf. - -Van Dieman raised his hat on the pier below, and answered: "_À bien-tôt? -C'est la mort, jusqu'à bien-tôt! Donc, vîve la vie, Mademoiselle!_" - -"There is no necessity in chattering like a Frenchman when you talk -French," I observed to Alida. "Could you make out what Van Dieman said -to you?" - -"Y--yes," she admitted, with a slight blush. - -I glanced at Dulcima. There was a mischievous light in her blue eyes. - -"Pooh!" I thought; "Van Dieman is forty if he's a day." - -While the ship slid on past Castle William and poked her nose toward the -forts at the Narrows, I watched the distant pier which we had left. It -was still black with people, moving like ants. And, as I looked, I -muttered ever: "Pooh! Van Dieman's forty. There's nothing in it, nothing -in it, nothing whatever." - -Off Fort Hamilton I noticed that Alida had a tear in one of her brown -eyes. "There's nothing in it," I repeated obstinately. - -Off Sandy Hook we ran into a sea-storm. In a few minutes many of the -passengers went below; in a few more minutes the remainder of the -passengers went below; and I was on the way below with my daughter Alida -on one arm and my daughter Dulcima on the other. - -"There is nothing in it," I reflected, as the ship shuddered, pitched, -and we involuntarily began running down a toboggan slide, taking little -timorous steps. Then the deck flew up and caught the soles of our shoes -before we were ready to put our feet down. "Alida," I said, "do you feel -bored?" - -There was no mistaking the tears in her eyes now. "There's nothing in -it. There's nothing in anything," I muttered faintly. And I was right as -far as it concerned the passengers on the pitching _Cambodia_. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER II - -A CHAPTER DEPICTING A RATHER GARRULOUS REUNION - - -The second day we ran out of the storm. I remember on that day that I -wore a rather doggy suit of gray--a trifle too doggy for a man of my -years. In my button-hole reposed a white carnation, and as I strolled -into the smoking-room I was humming under my breath an air from "Miss -Helyet"--a thing I had not thought of in twenty years. - -"Well, upon my word!" exclaimed a man who looked up from his novel as I -entered the doorway. "Gad! You haven't changed in twenty years!--except -that your moustache is----" - -"Sure! And my temples, Williams! Besides, I have two grown-up daughters -aboard! How are you, anyway, you Latin Quarter come-back?" - -We settled ourselves, hands still warmly clasped. - -"You're not going back to Paris?" I asked. - -"Why, man, I live there." - -"By George, so you do! I forgot." - -There was a silence--that smiling, retrospective silence which ends -inevitably in a sigh not entirely painful. - -"Are any of the old men left there?" I asked. - -"Some." - -"I--I suppose the city has changed a lot. Men who've been over since, -say so." - -"It hasn't changed, radically." - -"Hasn't it, Williams?" I asked wistfully. - -"No. The old café is exactly the same. The Luxembourg Quarter will seem -familiar to you----" - -"I'm not going there," I said hastily. - -He smiled; I could see him doing it, askance. But my features remained -dignified and my attitude detached. - -"I wonder," I began carelessly, "whether----" - -"She got married," he said casually; "I'm glad. She was a sweet little -thing." - -"She was exceedingly charming," I said, selecting a cigar. "And the -other?" - -"Which?" - -"I forget her name." - -"Oh, you mean Delancy's?" - -"Yes." - -"I don't know whatever became of her," he said. - -"Whatever became of Delancy?" - -"Oh, he did what we all usually do--he came back, married, and spent the -better part of his life in trying to keep his daughter from marrying -that young Harroll." - -"Sir Peter's son?" - -"Yes. I was a guest at the Delancy's at the time, and I nearly died. -Harroll confided in me, Catharine Delancy confided in me, John Delancy -told me his woes. It's an amusing story. Do you want to hear it?" - -"Go ahead," I said. "My sympathies are already with Delancy. I've a pair -of daughters myself, and I'm trying to shoo away every sort of man and -keep 'em for myself a little longer." - -Williams smiled: - -"Well, you listen to what those two did to John Delancy. It was some." - -I lit my cigar; he lit his; and I settled back, looking at him -attentively as he began with a wave of his gloved hand, a story of -peculiar interest to a man with two unusually attractive daughters: - - * * * * * - -Now, although Harroll had been refused a dozen times--not by Miss -Delancy, but by her father--the young man's naturally optimistic spirits -suffered only temporary depression; and a few evenings later he asked -for her again, making it a bakers' dozen--an uncanny record. - -"No," said Mr. Delancy. - -"Won't you let me have her when I become tenth vice-president of the -Half-Moon Title Guarantee and Trust----" - -"No, I won't." - -"When will you let me try for her?" - -There was no reply. - -"Well, sir," said the young man cheerfully, "there must be some way, of -course." - -"Really, Jim, I don't see what way," said Mr. Delancy, without emotion. -"I don't want you for a son-in-law, and I'm not going to have you. -That's one of the reasons I allow you the run of the house. My daughter -sees too much of you to care for you. It's a theory of my own, and a -good one, too." - -"Why don't you want me for a son-in-law?" asked the young man, for the -hundredth time. - -"Can you give me one single reason why I should want you?" asked Mr. -Delancy wearily. - -Harroll stood buried in meditation for a few moments. "No," he said, "I -can't recall any important reasons at the moment." - -"I can supply you with one--your sense of honor--but it doesn't count in -this case, because you wouldn't be in my house if you didn't have any." - -Harroll looked at the fire. - -"I've told you a hundred times that when my little girl marries, she -marries one of her own kind. I don't like Englishmen. And that is all -there is to it, Jim." - -"Don't you like me?" - -"I'm not infatuated with you." - -"Well," said Harroll, slowly pacing the rug in front of the fire, "it's -curious, isn't it?--but, do you know, I think that I am going to marry -Catharine one of these days?" - -"Oh, I think not," replied Mr. Delancy amiably. "And perhaps this is a -good opportunity to say good-by for a while. You know we go to Palm -Beach to-morrow?" - -"Catharine told me," said the young man, placidly. "So I've wired for -quarters at The Breakers--for two weeks." - -The two men smiled at one another. - -"You take your vacation late," said Mr. Delancy. - -"Not too late, I trust." - -"You think you can afford Palm Beach, Jim?" - -"No; but I'm going." - -Mr. Delancy rose and stood thoughtfully twirling his monocle by the -string. Then he threw away his cigar, concealed a yawn, and glanced -gravely at the clock on the mantel. - -"May I go in and say good-night to Catharine, sir?" asked young Harroll. - -Mr. Delancy looked bored, but nodded civilly enough. - -"And, Jim," he drawled, as the young man started toward the -drawing-room, "I wouldn't go to Palm Beach if I were you." - -"Yes, you would, sir--if you were I." - -"Young man," said Mr. Delancy, mildly, "I'm damned if I have you for a -son-in-law! Good-night." - -They shook hands. Harroll walked into the drawing-room and found it -empty. The music-room, however, was lighted, and Catharine Delancy sat -tucked up in a deep window-seat, studying a map of southern Florida and -feeding bonbons to an enormous white Persian cat. - -"Jim," she said, raising her dark eyes as he sauntered up, "you and -father have lately fallen into the disreputable habit of sitting behind -closed doors and gossiping. You have done it thirteen times in three -months. Don't be such pigs; scandal, like other pleasures, was meant to -be shared." - -At a gesture of invitation he seated himself beside her and lifted the -Persian pussy to his lap. - -"Well," she inquired, "are you really going with us?" - -"I can't go when you do, but I'm going to The Breakers for a week or -two--solely to keep an eye on your behavior." - -"That is jolly!" she said, flushing with pleasure. "Was father pleased -when you told him?" - -"He didn't say he was pleased." - -"He is always reticent," she said, quickly. "But won't it be too jolly -for words! We'll travel miles and miles together in bicycle-chairs, and -we'll yacht and bathe and ride and golf, and catch amber-jack and -sharks, and--you'll persuade father to let me gamble just once at the -club--won't you?" - -"Not much! Where did you hear that sort of talk, Catharine?" - -"Don't tweak Omar's tail and I'll tell you--there! you've done it again, -and I won't tell you." - -He fell to stroking the cat's fur, gazing the while into space with an -absent eye that piqued her curiosity. For a year now he had acquired -that trick of suddenly detaching himself from earth and gazing -speculatively toward heaven, lost in a revery far from flattering to the -ignored onlooker. And now he was doing it again under her very nose. -What was he thinking about? He seemed, all at once, a thousand miles -removed from her. Where were his thoughts? - -Touched in her _amour propre_, she quietly resumed the map of southern -Florida; but even the rustle of the paper did not disturb his -self-centred and provoking meditation. - -She looked at him, looked at the map, considered him again, and finally -watched him. - -Suddenly, for the first time in her life, she thought him dangerously -attractive. Surprised and interested, she regarded him in this new -light, impersonally for the moment. So far away had he apparently -drifted in his meditation that it seemed to her as though she were -observing a stranger--a most interesting and most unusual young man. - -He turned and looked her straight in the eyes. - -Twenty-two, and her first season half over, and to be caught blushing -like a school-girl! - -There was no constraint; her self-possession cooled her cheeks--and he -was not looking at her, after all: he was looking through her, at -something his fancy focused far, far beyond her. - -Never had she thought any man half as attractive as this old friend in a -new light--this handsome, well-built, careless young fellow absorbed in -thoughts which excluded her. No doubt he was so habituated to herself in -all her moods that nothing except the friendliest indifference could -ever---- - -To her consternation another tint of warm color slowly spread over neck -and cheek. He rose at the same moment, dropped the cat back among the -cushions, and smiling down at her, held out his hand. She took it, met -his eyes with an effort; but what message she divined in them Heaven -alone knows, for all at once her heart stood still and a strange thrill -left her fingers nerveless in his hand. - -He was saying slowly, "Then I shall see you at Palm Beach next week?" - -"Yes.... You will come, won't you?" - -"Yes, I will come." - -"But if you--change your mind?" - -"I never change. May I write you?" - -"Good-night.... You may write me if you wish." - -"I will write, every day--if you don't mind." - -"No--I don't mind," she said thoughtfully. - -She withdrew her hand and stood perfectly still as he left the room. She -heard a servant open the door, she heard Harroll's quick step echo on -the stoop, then the door closed. - -A second later Mr. Delancy in the library was aroused from complacent -meditation by the swish of a silken skirt, and glancing up, beheld a -tall, prettily formed girl looking at him with a sober and rather -colorless face. - -"Father," she said, "I'm in love with Jim Harroll!" - -Mr. Delancy groped for his monocle, screwed it into his left eye, and -examined his daughter. - -"It's true, and I thought I'd better tell you," she said. - -"Yes," he agreed, "it's as well to let me know. Ah--er--when and how did -it occur?" - -"I don't know, father. I was feeding Omar bonbons and looking over the -map of South Florida, and thinking about nothing in particular, when Jim -came in. He said he was going to Palm Beach, and I said, 'How jolly!' -and he sat down and picked up Omar, and--I don't know how it was, but I -began to think him very attractive, and the first thing I -knew--it--happened!" - -"Oh! So that's the way it happened?" - -"I think it was, father." - -"No doubt you'll outgrow it." - -"Do you think so?" - -"I haven't a doubt of it, little daughter." - -"I have." - -Mr. Delancy dropped his monocle and looked at the fire. The fire was all -right. - -"Do you--do you suppose that Jim is--does--thinks--knows----" - -"I never speculate on what Jim is, does, thinks, or knows," said her -father, thoughtfully, stirring the embers and spoiling a perfectly good -fire. When he looked up again she had gone. - -"One theory smashed!" observed Mr. Delancy. "I'll try another, with -separation as the main ingredient." - -He sat down before the fire and lighted a fresh cigar, which wasn't good -for him. - -"Must avoid making a martyr of Jim or there will be trouble," he mused. -"There remains another way--make a martyr of myself." - -He sat swinging his monocle around his forefinger, gazing vacantly at -the pattern the shadows cast across the hearth. - -"Avalon!" he said, abruptly. "Avalon! The 'back-to-nature' business, -'grass-cure' and all. It can't harm either Catharine or me, I fancy--or -any other pair of donkeys!" - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER III - -TROUBLE FOR TWO - - -_A Note Found by Young Harroll on his Dresser the Evening of his Arrival -at Palm Beach._ - - "11.30 A.M. - - "DEAR JIM--Everything is spoiled, after all! Father's failing health - has suddenly become a serious matter, and we are going to try the - 'nature cure,' or whatever they call it, at Avalon Island. I had no - idea he was really ill. Evidently he is alarmed, for we have only - been here six days, and in a few minutes we are to start for - Avalon. Isn't it perfectly horrid? And to think that you are - coming this evening and expecting to find us here! - - "Father says you can't come to Avalon; that only invalids are - received (I didn't know I was one, but it seems I'm to take the - treatment, too!), and he says that nobody is received for less - than a month's treatment, so I suppose that bars you even if you - were self-sacrificing enough to endure a 'nature cure' for the - pleasure of spending two weeks with [_me_, crossed out] us. - - "I'm actually on the verge of tears when I think of all we had - planned to do together! And there's my maid at the door, knocking. - Good-by. You will write, won't you? - - "CATHARINE DELANCY." - - * * * * * - -_Mr. James Harroll to Miss Catharine Delancy, Avalon, Balboa County, -Florida._ - - "HOLY CROSS LIGHT, FEBRUARY 15. - - "DEAR CATHARINE--Your father was right: they refuse to take me at - Avalon. As soon as I found your note I telegraphed to Avalon for - accommodations. It seems Avalon is an island, and they have to wait - for the steamers to carry telegrams over from the mainland. So the - reply has just reached me that they won't take me for less than a - month; and my limit from business is two weeks or give up my - position with your father. - - "Yesterday I came out here to Holy Cross Spring to shoot ducks. - I'd scarcely begun shooting, at dawn, when along came a couple of - men through the fog, rowing like the mischief plump into my - decoys, and I shouted out, 'What the deuce are you about?' and - they begged my pardon, and said they had thought the point - unoccupied, and that the fog was thicker than several - things--which was true. - - "So I invited them into the blind to--oh, the usual ceremony--and - they came, and they turned out to be Jack Selden--the chap I told - you about who was so decent to me in Paris--and his guide. - - "So we had--ceremonies--several of them--and Selden stayed to - shoot with me over my decoys, and our bag was fifty-three, all big - duck except fifteen bluebills. - - "Selden is a godsend to me. We're going to stay out here to-night - at the lighthouse, and shoot all to-morrow if it doesn't blow too - hard. It's blowing great guns now. I'm here in the lighthouse, - writing in the glow of a lamp in the keeper's living-room, with - his good little wife sewing by the fire and a half-dozen of his - kids tumbling about on the floor. It's a pretty sight; I love - children and firesides and that sort of thing. They've got hold of - Selden now, and are making him tell stories of adventure. He's - been all over the world, and is perfectly crazy to get married. - Says he would prefer a widow with yellow hair and blue eyes. Do - you know any? He's a nice chap." - - "Catharine, I wish I were in Avalon. They could put me in a - strait-jacket and I wouldn't care as long as [_you were_, crossed - out] I could be with [_you_, crossed out] your father and you in - Avalon. - - "It's growing late, and Selden and I should be on the - ducking-grounds to-morrow before dawn. The keeper's wife says it - will blow too hard, but Selden only smiles. He's a cool one, and - if he has the nerve to go out I'll go, too. - - "With sincere regards to your father and every wish for his speedy - recovery, I remain - - "Yours faithfully, - "JAMES HARROLL." - - * * * * * - -_Lines Scribbled on the Leaf of a Note-book and Found in a Bottle in the -Pocket of an old Shooting-coat a Year Later._ - - "ATLANTIC OCEAN, - "MILES SOUTH OF HOLY CROSS LIGHT, - "FEBRUARY 16. - - "CATHARINE--I think this is the end. Selden and I have been blown - out to sea in a rowboat, and it's leaking. I only want to say - good-by. Telegraph Selden's mother, Lenox, Massachusetts. I have - nobody to notify. Good-by. - - "JAMES HARROLL." - - * * * * * - -_Telegram to James Harroll, Received and Opened by the Keeper while -Search-boats Were still Out after Mr. Harroll and Mr. Selden, Two Days -Missing._ - - "JAMES HARROLL, HOLY CROSS LIGHT, FLORIDA, EAST COAST: - - "Don't run any risks. Be careful for our sakes. Terrible storm on - the coast reported here. Wire me that you are safe. - - "CATHARINE DELANCY, - "Avalon, Florida." - - * * * * * - -_Telegrams Addressed to Young Harroll, and Opened by the Keeper of the -Lighthouse after the Search-boats Had Returned._ - -No. 1. - - "Why don't you telegraph us? Your silence and the reports of the - storm alarm us. Reply at once. - - "CATHARINE." - -No. 2. - - "Wire Catharine, Jim. You surely were not ass enough to go out in - such a storm. - - "S. DELANCY." - -No. 3. - - "For pity's sake telegraph to me that you are safe. I cannot sleep. - - "CATHARINE." - - * * * * * - -_Telegram to Miss Catharine Delancy, Avalon, Florida._ - - "HOLY CROSS LIGHT. - - "MISS CATHARINE DELANCY: - - "Rowboat containing Mr. Harroll and Mr. Selden blown out to sea. - Search-boats returned without finding any trace of them. - - "CASWELL, _Keeper_." - - * * * * * - -_Telegram from Mr. Delancy to Keeper of Holy Cross Light._ - - "CASWELL: - - "Charter a fast ocean-going tug and as many launches as necessary. - Don't give up the search. Spare no expense. Check mailed to you - to-day. - - "I will give ten thousand dollars to the man who rescues James - Harroll. You may draw on me for any amount necessary. Keep me - constantly informed of your progress by wire. - - "STEPHEN DELANCY." - - * * * * * - -In from the open sea drifted the castaways, the sun rising in tropic -splendor behind them, before them a far strip of snowy surf edging green -shores. - -Selden sat in the bow, bailing; Harroll dug vigorously into the Atlantic -with both oars; a heavy flood-tide was doing the rest. Presently Selden -picked up the ducking-glass and examined the shore. - -Harroll rested his oars, took a pull at the mineral water, and sighed -deeply. "Except for the scare and the confounded leak it's been rather -amusing, hasn't it?" he said. - -"It's all right.... Hope you didn't set that farewell message afloat." - -"What message?" - -"Oh--I thought I saw you scribbling in your notebook and----" - -"And what?" - -"And stick the leaf into the bottle of gun-oil. If I was mistaken, -kindly give me my bottle of gun-oil." - -"Pooh!" said Harroll. "The storm was magnificent. Can't a man jot down -impressions? Open a can of sardines, will you? And pass me the bread, -you idiot!" - -Selden constructed a sandwich and passed it aft. "When we near those -ducks," he said, "we'd better give them a broadside--our larder's -getting low. I'll load for us both." - -He fished about among the cartridge-sacks for some dry shells, loaded -the guns, and laid them ready. - -"Bluebills," observed Harroll, as the boat drew near. "How tame they -are! Look, Selden! It would be murder to shoot." - -The boat, drifting rapidly, passed in among the raft of ducks; here and -there a glistening silver-breasted bird paddled lazily out of the way, -but the bulk of the flock floated serenely on either side, riding the -swell, bright golden eyes fearlessly observing the intruders. - -"Oh, a man can't shoot at things that act like that!" exclaimed Selden -petulantly. "Shoo! Shoo--o!" he cried, waving his gun in hopes that a -scurry and rise might justify assassination. But the birds only watched -him in perfect confidence. The boat drove on; the young men sat staring -across the waves, guns idly balanced across their knees. Presently -Harroll finished his sandwich and resumed the oars. - -"Better bail some more," he said. "What are you looking at?"--for -Selden, using the ducking-glass, had begun to chuckle. - -"Well, upon my word!" he said slowly--"of all luck! Where do you suppose -we are?" - -"Well, where the devil are we?" - -"Off Avalon!" - -"Avalon!" repeated Harroll, stupidly. "Why, man, it's a hundred miles -south of Holy Cross!" - -"Well, we've made it, I tell you. I can see one of their dinky little -temples shining among the trees. Hark! There go the bells ringing for -meditation!" - -A mellow chime came across the water. - -"It can't be Avalon," repeated Harroll, not daring to hope for such -fortune. "What do you know about Avalon, anyway?" - -"What I've heard." - -"What's that?" - -"Why, it's a resort for played-out people who've gone the pace. When a -girl dances herself into the fidgets, or a Newport matron goes to -pieces, or a Wall Street man begins to talk to himself, hither they -toddle. It's the fashionable round-up for smashed nerves and -wibbly-wobbly intellects--a sort of "back-to-nature" enterprise run by a -"doctor." He makes 'em all wear garments cut in the style of the humble -bed-sheet, and then he turns 'em out to grass; and they may roll on it -or frisk on it or eat it if they like. Incidentally, I believe, they're -obliged to wallow in the ocean several times a day, run races afoot, -chuck the classic discus, go barefooted and sandal-shod, wear wreaths of -flowers instead of hats, meditate in silence when the temple bells -ring, eat grain and fruit and drink milk, and pay enormous bills to the -quack who runs the place. It must be a merry life, Harroll. No tobacco, -no billiards, no bridge. And hit the downy at nine-thirty by the -curfew!" - -"Good Lord!" muttered Harroll. - -"That's Avalon," repeated Selden. "And we're almost there. Look sharp! -Stand by for a ducking! This surf means trouble ahead!" - -It certainly did; the boat soared skyward on the crest of the swell; a -smashing roller hurled it into the surf, smothering craft and crew in -hissing foam. A second later two heads appeared, and two half-suffocated -young men floundered up the beach and dropped, dripping and speechless, -on the sand. - -They lay inert for a while, salt water oozing at every pore. Harroll was -the first to sit up. - -"Right?" he inquired. - -"All right. Where's the boat?" - -"Ashore below us." He rose, dripping, and made off toward the battered -boat, which lay in the shoals, heeled over. Selden followed; together -they dragged the wreck up high and dry; then they sat down on the sand, -eying one another. - -"It's a fine day," said Selden, with a vacant grin. He rolled over on -his back, clutching handfuls of hot sand. "Isn't this immense?" he -said. "My! how nice and dry and solid everything is! Roll on your back, -Harroll! You'll enjoy it more that way." - -But Harroll got up and began dragging the guns and cartridge-sacks from -the boat. - -"I've some friends here," he said briefly. "Come on." - -"Are your friends hospitably inclined to the shipwrecked? I'm about -ready to be killed with hospitality," observed Selden, shouldering gun -and sack and slopping along in his wet boots. - -They entered a thicket of sweet-bay and palmetto, breast-high, and -forced a path through toward a bit of vivid green lawn, which gave -underfoot like velvet. - -"There's a patient now--in his toga," said Selden, in a low voice. -"Better hit him with a piteous tale of shipwreck, hadn't we?" - -The patient was seated on a carved bench of marble under the shade of a -live oak. His attitude suggested _ennui_; he yawned at intervals; at -intervals he dug in the turf with idle bare toes. - -"The back of that gentleman's head," said Harroll, "resembles the back -of a head I know." - -"Oh! One of those friends you mentioned?" - -"Well--I never saw him in toga and sandals, wearing a wreath of flowers -on his head. Let's take a front view." - -The squeaky, sloppy sound of Selden's hip boots aroused the gentleman in -the toga from his attitude of bored meditation. - -"How do you do, sir?" said Harroll, blandly, "I thought I'd come to -Avalon." - -The old gentleman fumbled in his toga, found a monocle, screwed it -firmly into his eye, and inspected Harroll from head to heel. - -"You're rather wet, Jim," he said, steadying his voice. - -Harroll admitted it. "This is my old friend, Jack Selden--the Lenox -Seldens, you know, sir." And, to Selden, he reverently named Mr. -Delancy. - -"How do?" said Mr. Delancy. "You're wet, too." - -There was a silence. Mr. Delancy executed a facial contortion which -released the monocle. Then he touched his faded eyes with the hem of his -handkerchief. The lashes and furrowed cheeks were moist. - -"You're so devilish abrupt, Jim," he said. "Did you get any telegrams -from us?" - -"Telegrams? No, sir. When?" - -"No matter," said Mr. Delancy. - -Another silence, and Harroll said: "Fact is, sir, we were blown out to -sea, and that's how we came here. I fancy Selden wouldn't mind an -invitation to dinner and a chance to dry his clothes." - -Selden smiled hopefully and modestly as Mr. Delancy surveyed him. - -"Pray accept my hospitality, gentlemen," said Mr. Delancy, with a grim -smile. "I've been ass enough to take a villa in this forsaken place. The -food I have to offer you might be relished by squirrels, perhaps; the -clothing resembles my own, and can be furnished you by the simple -process of removing the sheets from your beds." - -He rose, flung the flap of his toga over one shoulder, and passed his -arm through Harroll's. - -"Don't you like it here?" asked Harroll. - -"_Like_ it!" repeated Mr. Delancy. - -"But--why did you come?" - -"I came," said Mr. Delancy slowly, "because I desired to be rid of you." - -Selden instinctively fell back out of earshot. Harroll reddened. - -"I thought your theory was----" - -"You smashed that theory--now you've shattered this--you and Catharine -between you." - -Harroll looked thoughtfully at Selden, who stood watching two pretty -girls playing handball on the green. - -"Young man," said Mr. Delancy, "do you realize what I've been through in -one week? I have been obliged to wear this unspeakable garment, I've -been obliged to endure every species of tomfoolery, I've been fed on -bird seed, deprived of cigars, and sent to bed at half past nine. And -I'm as sound in limb and body as you are. And all because I desired to -be rid of you. I had two theories! both are smashed. I refuse to -entertain any more theories concerning anything!" - -Harroll laughed; then his attention became concentrated on the exquisite -landscape, where amid green foliage white villas of Georgia marble -glimmered, buried in blossoming thickets of oleander, wistaria, and -Cherokee roses--where through the trees a placid lake lay reflecting the -violet sky--where fallow-deer wandered, lipping young maple buds--where -beneath a pergola heavily draped with golden jasmine a white-robed -figure moved in the shade--a still, sunny world of green and gold and -violet exhaling incense under a cloudless sky. - -"I would like to see Catharine," he said, slowly, "with your -permission--and in view of the fate of the theories." - -"Jim," said Mr. Delancy, "you are doubtless unconscious of the trouble -you have created in my family." - -"Trouble, sir?" repeated the young man, flushing up. - -"Trouble for two. My daughter and I believed you drowned." - -Harroll stood perfectly still. Mr. Delancy took a step or two forward, -turned, and came back across the lawn. "She is sitting under that -pergola yonder, looking out to sea, and I'm afraid she's crying her eyes -out for something she wants. It's probably not good for her, either. -But--such as it is--she may have it." - -The two men looked at one another steadily. - -"I'm rather glad you were not drowned," said Mr. Delancy, "but I'm not -infatuated with you." - -They shook hands solemnly, then Mr. Delancy walked over and joined -Selden, who appeared to be fascinated by an attractive girl in Greek -robes and sandals who was playing handball on the green. - -"Young man," said Mr. Delancy, "there's always trouble for two in this -world. That young woman with yellow hair and violet eyes who is playing -handball with her sister, and who appears to hypnotize you, is here to -recuperate from the loss of an elderly husband." - -"A widow with yellow hair and blue eyes!" murmured Selden, entranced. - -"Precisely. Your train, however, leaves to-night--unless you mean to -remain here on a diet of bird-seed." - -Selden smiled absently. Bird-seed had no terror for him. - -"Besides," he said, "I'm rather good at handball." - -A moment later he looked around, presumably for Harroll. That young man -was already half-way to the jasmine-covered arbor, where a young girl -sat, dry-eyed, deathly pale, staring out to sea. - -The sea was blue and smiling; the soft thunder of the surf came up to -her. She heard the gulls mewing in the sky and the hum of bees in the -wind-stirred blossoms; she saw a crested osprey plunge into the shallows -and a great tarpon fling its mass of silver into the sun. Paroquets -gleaming like living jewels rustled and preened in the china-trees; -black and gold butterflies, covered with pollen, crawled over and over -the massed orange bloom. Ah, the mask of youth that the sly world wore -to mock her! Ah, the living lie of the sky, and the false, smooth sea -fawning at her feet! - -Little persuasive breezes came whispering, plucking at the white hem of -her robe to curry favor; the ingratiating surf purred, blinking with a -million iridescent bubbles. The smug smile of nature appalled her; its -hypocrisy sickened her; and she bent her dark eyes fiercely on the sea -and clinched her little hands. - -[Illustration: "'Give up my dead!' she whispered. 'Give up my dead!'"] - -"Give up my dead!" she whispered. "Give up my dead!" - -"Catharine!" - -Dazed, she rose to her sandalled feet, the white folds of her robe -falling straight and slim. - -"Catharine!" - -Her voiceless lips repeated his name; she swayed, steadying herself by -the arm around her waist. - -Then trouble for two began. - - * * * * * - -As Williams ended, I looked at him with indignation. - -"As far as I can see," I said, "you are acting as attorney for the -defense. That's a fine story to tell a father of two attractive -daughters. You needn't repeat it to them." - -"But it happened, old man----" - -"Don't call me 'old man,' either. I'll explain to you why." And I did, -peevishly. - -After that I saw less of Williams, from choice. He has a literary way -with him in telling a story--and I didn't wish Alida and Dulcima to -sympathize with young Harroll and that little ninny, Catharine Delancy. -So I kept clear of Williams until we arrived in Paris. - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER IV - -WHEREIN A MODEST MAN IS BULLIED AND A LITERARY MAN PRACTICES STYLE - - -"What was your first impression of Paris, Mr. Van Twiller?" inquired the -young man from East Boston, as I was lighting my cigar in the corridor -of the Hôtel des Michetons after breakfast. - -"The first thing I noticed," said I, "was the entire United States -walking down the Boulevard des Italiens." - -"And your second impression, sir?" he asked somewhat uncertainly. - -"The entire United States walking back again." He lighted a cigarette -and tried to appear cheerful. He knew I possessed two daughters. A man -in possession of such knowledge will endure much. - -Presently the stout young man from Chicago came up to request a light -for his cigar. "See Paris and die, eh?" he observed with odious -affability. - -"I doubt that the city can be as unhealthy as that," I said coldly. - -Defeated, he joined forces with the young man from East Boston, and they -retired to the terrace to sit and hate me. - -My daughter Alida, my daughter Dulcima, and I spent our first day in -Paris "_ong voitoor_" as the denizen of East Boston informed me later. - -"What is your first impression, Alida?" I asked, as our taxi rolled -smoothly down the Avenue de l'Opera. - -"Paris? An enormous blossom carved out of stone!--a huge architectural -Renaissance rose with white stone petals!" - -I looked at my pretty daughter with pride. - -"That is what Mr. Van Dieman says," she added conscientiously. - -My enthusiasm cooled at once. - -"Van Dieman exaggerates," I said. "Dulcima, what do you find to -characterize Paris?" - -"The gowns!" she cried. "Oh, papa! did you see that girl driving past -just now?" - -I opened my guidebook in silence. I _had_ seen her. - -The sunshine flooded everything; the scent of flowers filled the soft -air; the city was a garden, sweet with green leaves, embroidered with -green grass--a garden, too, in architecture, carved out in silvery gray -foliage of stone. The streets are as smooth and clean as a steamer's -deck, with little clear rivulets running in gutters that seem as -inviting as country brooks. It did not resemble Manhattan. - -Paris! - -Paris is a big city full of red-legged soldiers. - -Paris is a forest of pink and white chestnut blossoms under which the -inhabitants sit without their hats. - -Paris is a collection of vistas; at the end of every vista is a misty -masterpiece of architecture; on the summit of every _monument_ is a -masterpiece of sculpture. - -Paris is a city of several millions of inhabitants, every inhabitant -holding both hands out to you for a tip. - -Paris is a park, smothered in foliage, under which asphalted streets -lead to Paradise. - -Paris is a sanitarium so skillfully conducted that nobody can tell the -patients from the physicians; and all the inmates are firmly convinced -that the outside world is mad. - -I looked back at the gilded mass of the Opera--that great pile of stone -set lightly there as the toe of a ballet-girl's satin slipper---- - -"What are you thinking, papa?" asked Alida. - -"Nothing," I said hastily, amazed at my own frivolity. "Notice," said I, -"the exquisite harmony of the sky-line. Here in Paris the Government -regulates the height of buildings. Nothing inharmonious can be built; -the selfishness and indifference of private ownership which in New York -erects skyscrapers around our loveliest architectural remains, the City -Hall, would not be tolerated here, where artistic _ensemble_ is as -necessary to people as the bread they eat." - -"Dear me, where have I read that?" exclaimed Alida innocently. - -I said nothing more. - -We were now passing through that wing of the Louvre which faces the -Carousal, and we turned sharply to the right under the little arc, and -straight past the Tuileries Gardens, all blooming with tulips and -hyacinths, past the quaint weather-stained statues of an epoch as dead -as its own sculptors, past the long arcades of the Rivoli, under which -human spiders lurk for the tourist of Cook, and out into the Place de la -Concorde--the finest square in the world. - -The sun glittered on the brass inlaid base on which towered the -monolyth. The splashing of the great fountains filled the air with a -fresh sweet sound. Round us, in a vast circle, sat the "Cities of -France," with "Strasburg" smothered in crêpe and funeral wreaths, each -still stone figure crowned with battlemented crowns and bearing the -carved symbols of their ancient power on time-indented escutcheons, all -of stone. - -The fresh wet pavement blazed in the sunshine; men wheeled handcarts -filled with violets or piled high with yellow jonquils and silvery -hyacinths. - -Violet, white, and yellow--these are the colors which Paris wears in -springtime, twined in her chaplet of tender green. - -I said this aloud to Dulcima, who replied that they were wearing blue in -Paris this spring, and that she would like to know how soon we were -going to the dressmakers. - -Now at last we were rolling up the Champs Elysées, with the Arc de -Triomphe, a bridge of pearl at the end of the finest vista in the world. -Past us galloped gay cavalry officers, out for a morning canter in the -Bois de Boulogne; past us whizzed automobiles of every hue, shape and -species. - -Past us, too, trotted shoals of people well diluted by our fellow -countrymen, yet a truly Parisian crowd for all that. Hundreds of -uniforms dotted the throngs; cuirassiers in short blue stable jackets, -sabres hooked under their left elbows, little _piou-piou_ lads, in baggy -red trousers and shakos bound with yellow; hussars jingling along, -wearing jackets of robin's-egg blue faced with white; chasseurs à -Cheval, wearing turquoise blue braided with black; then came the priests -in black, well groomed as jackdaws in April; policemen in sombre -uniforms, wearing sword bayonets; gendarmes off duty--for the Republican -Guard takes the place of the Gendarmerie within the walls of Paris; -smart officers from the Fontainebleau artillery school, in cherry-red -and black; Saint-Cyr soldiers in crude blues and reds, with the blue -shako smothered under plumes; then Sisters, in their dark habits and -white coifs, with sweet, serene faces looking out on the sinful world -they spend their lives in praying for. - -"Dulcima," I said, "what particular characteristic strikes you when you -watch these passing throngs of women?" - -"Their necks; every Parisienne is a beauty from behind--such exquisite -necks and hair." - -"Their ankles," added Alida innocently; "they are the best-shod women in -the world!" - -I had noticed something of the sort; in fact, there is no escape for a -man's eyes in Paris. Look where he will, he is bound to bring up against -two neat little shoes trotting along demurely about their own frivolous -business. One cannot help wondering what that business may be or where -those little polished shoes are going so lightly, tap! tap! across the -polished asphalt. And there are thousands on thousands of such shoes, -passing, repassing, twinkling everywhere, exquisite, shapely, gay little -shoes of Paris, pattering through boulevard and avenue, square, and -street until the whole city takes the cadence, keeping time, day and -night, to the little tripping feet of the Parisienne--bless her, heart -and sole! - -"Of what are you thinking, papa?" asked Alida. - -"Nothing, child, nothing," I muttered. - -We left our taxi and mounted to the top of the Arc de Triomphe. The -world around us was bathed in a delicate haze; silver-gray and emerald -the view stretched on every side from the great Basilica on Montmârtre -to the silent Fortress of Mont-Valerien; from the vast dome of the -Pantheon, springing up like a silver bubble in the sky, to the dull -golden dome of the Invalides, and the dome of the Val-de-Grâce. - -Spite of the Sainte Chapel, with its gilded lace-work, spite of the -bizarre Tour Saint-Jacques, spite of the lean monster raised by Monsieur -Eiffel, straddling the vase Esplanade in the west, the solid twin towers -of Nôtre-Dame dominated the spreading city by their sheer -majesty--dominated Saint-Sulpice, dominated the Trocadero, dominated -even the Pantheon. - -"From those towers," said I, "Quasimodo looked down and saw the slim -body of Esmeralda hanging on the gibbet." - -"What became of her goat?" asked Alida, who was fond of pets. - -"That reminds me," began Dulcima, "that now we are safely in Paris we -might be allowed to ask papa about that----" - -"There is a steamer which sails for New York to-morrow," I said calmly. -"Any mention of that pig will ensure us staterooms in half an hour." - -Considerably subdued, the girls meekly opened their Baedekers and -patronized the view, while I lighted a cigar and mused. - -It was my second cigar that morning. Certainly I was a changed man--but -was it a change for the better? Within me I felt something stirring--I -knew not what. - -It was that long-buried germ of gayety, that latent uncultivated and -embryotic germ which lies dormant in all Anglo-Saxons; and usually dies -dormant or is drowned in solitary cocktails at a solemn club. - -Certainly I was changing. Van Dieman was right. Doubtless any change -could not be the worse for a man who has not sufficient intelligence to -take care of his own pig. - -"There is," said Dulcima, referring to her guidebook, "a café near here -in the Bois de Boulogne, called the Café des Fleurs de Chine. I should -so love to breakfast at a Chinese café." - -"With chopsticks!" added Alida, soulfully clasping her gloved hands. - -"Your Café Chinois is doubtless a rendezvous for Apaches," I said, "but -we'll try it if you wish." - -I am wondering, now, just what sort of a place that café is, set like a -jewel among the green trees of the Bois. I know it is expensive, but not -very expensive; I know, also, that the dainty young persons who sipped -mint on the terrace appeared to disregard certain conventionalities -which I had been led to believe were never disregarded in France. - -The safest way was to pretend a grave abstraction when their bright eyes -wandered toward one; and I did this, without exactly knowing why I did. - -"I wish," said I to Dulcima, "that Van Dieman were here. He understands -all this surface life one sees in the parks and streets." - -"Do you really wish that Mr. Van Dieman were here?" asked Alida, softly -coloring. - -I looked at her gravely. - -"Because," she said, "I believe he is coming about the middle of May." - -"Oh, he is, is he?" I said, without enthusiasm. "Well, we shall -doubtless be in the Rhine by the middle of May." - -"My gowns couldn't be finished until June any way," said Dulcima, laying -her gloved fingers on Alida's chair. - -So they were allies, then. - -"I didn't know you had ordered any gowns," I said superciliously. - -"I haven't--yet," she said coolly. - -"Neither have I," began Alida; but I refused to hear any more. - -"When you are at your modistes you may talk gowns until you faint away," -said I; "but now let us try to take an intelligent interest in this -famous and ancient capital of European civilization and liberty----" - -"Did you notice that girl's gown?" motioned Alida to Dulcima. - -I also looked. But it was not the beauty of the gown that I found so -remarkable. - -"I wonder," thought I--"but no matter. I wish that idiot Van Dieman were -here." - - * * * * * - -That evening, after my daughters had retired, I determined to sit up -later than I ought to. The reckless ideas which Paris inspired in me, -alarmed me now and then. But I was game. - -So I seated myself in the moonlit court of the hotel and lighted an -unwise cigar and ordered what concerns nobody except the man who -swallowed it, and, crossing my legs, looked amiably around. - -Williams sat at the next table. - -"Hello, old sport," he said affably. - -"Williams," I said, "guess who I was thinking about a moment ago." - -"A girl?" - -"No, of course not. I was thinking of Jim Landon. What ever became of -him?" - -"Jim? Oh, he's all right." - -"Successful?" - -"Very. You ought to have heard of him over there; but I suppose you -don't keep up with art news." - -"No," I admitted, ashamed--"it's rather difficult to keep up with -anything on Long Island. Does Jim Landon live here?" - -"In Normandy, with his wife." - -"Oh, he got married. Was it that wealthy St. Louis girl who----" - -"No; she married into the British Peerage. No, Landon didn't do anything -of that sort. Quite the contrary." - -"He--he didn't marry his model, did he?" - -"Yes--in a way." - -"In a way?" - -Williams summoned a waiter who shifted his equipment to my table. - -"It's rather an unusual story," he said. "Would you care to hear it?" - -"Does it portray, with your well known literary skill, the confusion of -a parent?" I inquired cautiously. "If it does, don't tell it." - -"It doesn't." - -"Oh. Nobody puts it all over the old man?" - -"No, not in this particular instance. Shall I begin?" - -"Shoot," I said. - -He began with his usual graceful gesture: - - * * * * * - -Landon was dead broke. - -As it had not been convenient for him to breakfast that morning, he was -irritable. The mockery of handsome hangings and antique furniture in the -outer studio increased his irritation as he walked through it into the -rough, inner workshop, which was hung with dusty casts and dreary with -clay and plaster. - -Here Ellis found him, an hour later, smoking a cigarette to deceive his -appetite, and sulkily wetting down the clay bust of a sheep-faced old -lady--an order of the post-mortem variety which he was executing from a -gruesome photograph. - -"How," inquired Ellis, "is the coy Muse treating you these palmy, balmy -days?" - -Landon swore and squirted a spongeful of water over the old lady's side -curls. - -"My! my! As bad as that?" commented Ellis, raising his eyebrows. "I -thought you expected to be paid for that tombstone." - -"Man, I've been eating, drinking, and sleeping on that tombstone all -winter. Last night I gnawed off the 'Hic Jacet' and washed it down with -the date. There's nothing left." - -"You've--ah--breakfasted, dear friend?" - -"That's all right----" - -"_Have_ you?" - -"No. But there's a man from Fourth Avenue coming to buy some of that -superfluous magnificence in the show studio. Besides, I'll be paid for -this old lady in a day or two-- Where are you going?" - -"Out," said Ellis, briefly. - -Landon, left alone, threw a bit of wet clay at the doorknob, stood -irresolutely, first on one foot, then on the other; then with a hearty -scowl at the sheep-faced old lady washed her complacent face with a -dripping sponge. - - * * * * * - -"Williams!" I interrupted violently, "how do you know all those -details?" - -"My Lord, man!" he retorted; "I write for a living. I've got to know -them." - -"Go on, then," I said. - -He went on: - - * * * * * - -A few moments later Ellis came in with rolls, milk and fruit. - -"That's very decent of you," said Landon, but the other cut him short, -excitedly. - -"Jim, who is the divinity I just met in your hallway? Yours?" - -"What divinity?" - -"Her hair," said Ellis, a little wildly, "is the color of Tuscan gold; -her eyes, ultra marine; and the skin of her is just pure snow with a -brushful of carmine across the lips--and the Great Sculptor Himself must -have moulded her body----" - -Landon shrugged and buttered a roll. "You let her alone," he said. - -"Reveal to me instantly her name, titles, and quality!" shouted Ellis, -unsheathing a Japanese sword. - -"Her name," said Landon, "is O'Connor; her quality is that of a -shopgirl. She is motherless and alone, and inhabits a kennel across the -hall. Don't make eyes at her. She'll probably believe whatever the first -gentlemanly blackguard tells her." - -Ellis said: "Why may I not--in a delicately detached and gayly -impersonal, yet delightfully and evasively irrational manner, calculated -to deceive nobody----" - -"That would sound very funny in the Latin Quarter. This is New York." He -rose, frowning. Presently he picked up the sponge. "Better let a lonely -heart alone, unless you're in earnest," he said, and flung the sponge -back into a bucket of water, dried his hands, and looked around. - -"Have you sold any pictures yet?" - -"Not one. I thought I had a Copper King nailed to the easel, but Fate -separated us on a clinch and he got away and disappeared behind the bars -of his safe deposit. How goes the market with you?" - -"Dead. I can live on my furniture for a while." - -"I thought you were going in on that competition for the Department of -Peace at Washington." - -"I am, if I have enough money left to hire a model." - -Ellis rose, twirled his walking-stick meditatively, glanced at his -carefully brushed hat, and placed it gravely on his head. - -"Soon," he said cheerfully, "it will be time for straw hats. But where -I'm going to get one I don't know. Poverty used to be considered funny -in the Quarter; but it's no idle jest in this town. Well--I'll let your -best girl alone, Jim, if you feel that way about it." - -They laughed and shook hands. - -In the corridor Ellis looked hard at the closed door opposite, and his -volatile heart gave a tortured thump; he twirled his stick and sauntered -out into Stuyvesant Square. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER V - -DREAMLAND - - -As winter faded into spring the first tracery of green fringed the -branches in Stuyvesant Square. The municipal authorities decorated the -grass with tulips and later with geraniums. Later still, cannas and -foliage plants were planted, over which two fountains spurted aqua -Crotonis. - -But in spite of tasteless horticulture it is a quaint old square, a -little sad and shabby, perhaps, yet mercifully green inside its two -iron-railed parallelograms. Above the great sycamores and elms the -truncated towers of St. George's brood heavily; along the short, leafy -reach of Rutherford Place an old-time Quaker meeting-house keeps gentle -vigil; northward, aged mansions peer at the square through time-dimmed -windows; south, above the Sisters of The Assumption, a painted Virgin -clasps her stone hands and looks down on the little children of the -poor. - -Along the east side of the square runs Livingston Place; behind it an -elevated railroad roars; in front lies the square, shabby, unkempt, but -lovely always, when night lends to it her mystery. For at night the -trees loom gigantic; lights sparkle over lawn and fountain; the -illuminated dial of St. George's hangs yellow as a harvest moon above -the foliage; and the pleasant bell sounds from the towers, changing, for -a moment, the streets' incessant monotone to a harmony. - -Into this square went Landon; oftener, as the summer grew hotter and -work grew scarcer. - -Once, at the close of a scorching afternoon, his pretty neighbour from -across the corridor came slowly into the square and rested for a few -moments on the same bench he occupied. - -So lovely and fresh and sweet she seemed in the early dusk that he, for -an instant, was tempted from his parched loneliness to speak to her; but -before he could bring himself to it she turned, recognized him, rose and -went back to the house without a second glance. - -"We've been neighbours for a year," he thought, "and she has never been -civil enough to look at me yet--and I've been too civil to look at her. -I was an ass." - -He was wrong; she had looked at him often, when unafraid that his eyes -might surprise her. - -He was amusingly wrong. Waking, she remembered him; during the long day -she thought of him; at night, when she returned from business, the -radiance from his studio lamp streaming through the transom had for her -all the thrilling fascination that a lighted shop window, at Christmas, -has for a lonesome child passing in darkness. - -From the dim monotony of her own life she had, at times, caught glimpses -through his open door of splendours scarcely guessed. In her eyes an -enchanted world lay just beyond his studio's threshold; a bright, warm, -mellow wonderland, indistinct in the golden lamplight, where only a -detail here and there half revealed a figured tapestry or carved -foliation--perhaps some soft miracle of ancient Eastern weaving on the -floor, perhaps a mysterious marble shape veiled in ruddy shadow--enough -to set her youthful imagination on fire, enough to check her breath and -start the pulses racing as she turned the key in her own door and -reëntered the white dusk of her own life once more. - -The three most important events of her brief career had occurred within -the twelvemonth--her mother's death, her coming here to live--and love. -That also had happened. But she did not call it love; it did not occur -to her to consider him in any possible, tangible relation to herself. - -She never even expected to know him, to speak to him, or that he could -possibly care to speak to her. As far as the east is from the west, so -far apart were their two worlds. For them the gusty corridor was wider -than interstellar voids; she had not even a thought that a miracle might -bridge the infinite from her tiny world to his, which seemed to her so -bright and splendid; she had never advanced farther than the happiness -of lying still after the day's work, and thinking, innocently, of what -she knew about him and what she timidly divined. - -At such times, stretched across her bed, the backs of her hands resting -on her closed lids, she pondered on that alluring wonderland, his -studio--of the mystery that so fittingly surrounded his artist's life. -She saw him always amid the tints and hues of ancient textiles, -sometimes dreaming, sometimes achieving with fiery inspiration--but -precisely how or what he achieved remained to her part of his mystery. -She cherished only the confused vision of the youth of him, and its -glorious energy and wisdom. - -He could be very human, too, she thought; and often the smile curved her -lips and cheeks at the recollection of the noisy gayety coming in gusts -through his transom on those nights when his friends were gathered -there--laughter and song--the incense of tobacco drifting into her own -white room from the corridor. She loved it; the odor seemed spicy with a -delicate hint of sweet-brier, and she opened her transom wider to let it -in. - -Usually she fell asleep, the distant uproar of gayety lulling her into -happier slumbers. And for days and nights afterward its recollection -made life easier and pleasanter, as though she lived with amusing -memories of events in which she herself had participated. - -All day long, in a fashionable dry-goods shop, she sold cobweb finery -and frail, intimate, lacy stuffs to very fine ladies, who usually drew a -surprised breath at her beauty, and sometimes dealt with her as though -they were dealing with one of their own caste. - -At night, tired, she looked forward to her return, when, behind her own -closed door, she could rest or read a little, or lie still and think of -Landon. But even in the daring magic of waking dreams she had scarcely -ventured any acquaintance with him; in dreamland they were as yet only -just aware of one another. He had lately--oh, breathless and audacious -imagination of hers!--smiled at her in the corridors of dreamland; and -she had been a good many days trying to decide what she was going to do -about it. In her phantom world matters were going well with her. - -Meanwhile, except for the stupefying heat, the actual world was also -going well with her. She had saved a little money, enough to give her -ten days of luxury and fresh air when the time came. She needed it; the -city had been hard on her. Yet the pleasure of going was not unmixed; -for, as the day of her release drew nearer, she realized how, within the -year, he had, in her dreams, insensibly become to her a part of her real -life, and that she would miss him sorely. Which gave her courage to -hasten their acquaintance in dreamland; and so it came about that he -spoke to her one night as she lay dreaming, awake on her pillow; and she -felt her cheeks burn in the dark as though it had all been real. - -Yet he was very gentle with her in dreamland--quite wonderful--indeed, -all that the most stilted vision of a young girl could desire. - -Less unquiet, now that they knew each other, she looked forward to the -real separation with comparative resignation. - -Then came that unexpected episode when she seated herself on the same -bench with him, unintentionally braving him in the flesh. - -All that night she thought about it in consternation--piteously -explaining it to him in dreamland. He understood--in dreamland--but did -he understand in real life? Would he think she had meant to give him a -chance to speak--horror of crimson dismay! Would he think her absurd to -leave so abruptly when he caught her eye? And oh, she cared so much what -he might think, so much more than she supposed she dared care! - -All day long it made her miserable as she moved listlessly behind the -counter; at night the heated pavements almost stunned her as she walked -home to save the pennies. - -She saw no light in his studio as she slipped through the corridor into -her stifling room. Later, she bathed and dressed in a thinner gown, but -it, also, was in black, in memory of her mother, and seemed to sere her -body. The room grew hotter; she went out to the passage; no light -threatened her from his transom, so she ventured to leave her door open. - -But even this brought no relief; the heat became unendurable; and she -rose at last, pinned on her big black hat of straw, and went out into -the dusk. - -Through the gates of the square she saw the poor surging into the park. -The police had opened the scant bits of lawn to them. Men, women, -children, lay half-naked on the grass, fighting for breath. And, after -a little while, she crossed the street and went in among them. - -The splash of the fountain was refreshing. She wandered at random, past -the illuminated façade of the Lying-in Hospital, past the painted -Virgin, then crossed Second Avenue, entered the gates again, and turned -aimlessly by the second fountain. There seemed to be no resting-place -for her on the crowded benches. - -Beyond the fountain a shadowy sycamore stood in the centre of a strip of -lawn. She went toward it, hesitated, glancing at the motionless, -recumbent figures near by, then ventured to seat herself on the grass -and lean back against the tree. Presently, she unpinned her hat, lifted -a white face to the night, and closed her eyes. - -How long she sat there she did not know when again she opened her tired -lids. - -A figure stood near her. For a moment she confused dream and reality and -smiled at him; then sat up, rigid, breathless, as the figure stirred and -came forward. - -She remembered attempting to rise, remembered nothing else very -distinctly--not even his first words, though his voice was gentle and -pleasant, just as it was in dreamland. - -"Do you mind my speaking to you?" he was asking now. - -"No," she said faintly. - -He raised his head and looked out across the feverish city, passing one -thin hand across his eyes. Then, with a slight movement of his -shoulders, he seated himself on the ground at her feet. - -"We have been neighbours so long," he said, "that I thought perhaps I -might dare to speak to you to-night. My name is Landon--James Landon. I -think I know your last name." - -"O'Connor--Ellie O'Connor--Eleanor, I mean," she added, unafraid. A -curious peace seemed to possess her at the sound of his voice. There was -a stillness in it that reassured. - -The silence between them was ringed with the distant roar of the city. -He looked around him at the shadowy forms flung across bench and lawn; -his absent glance swept the surrounding walls of masonry and iron, all -a-glitter with tiny, lighted windows. Overhead a tarnished moon looked -down into the vast trap where five million souls lay caught, gasping for -air--he among the others--and this young girl beside him--trapped, -helpless, foredoomed. The city had got them all! But he sat up the -straighter, giving the same slightly-impatient shake to his shoulders. - -"I came," he said, "to ask you one or two questions--if I may." - -"Ask them," she answered, as in a dream. - -"Then--you go to business, do you not?" - -"Yes." - -He nodded: "And now I'm going to venture another question which may -sound impertinent, but I do not mean it so. May I?" - -"Yes," she said in a low, hushed voice, as though a clearer tone might -break some spell. - -"It is about your salary. I do not suppose it is very large." - -"My wages? Shall I tell you?" she asked, so innocently that he flushed -up. - -"No, no!--I merely wish to--to find out from you whether you might care -to take a chance of increasing your salary." - -"I don't think I know what you mean," she said, looking at him. - -"I know you don't," he said, patiently; "let me begin a little farther -back. I am a sculptor. You know, of course, what that is----" - -"Yes. I am educated." She even found courage to smile at him. - -His answering smile covered both confusion and surprise; then perplexity -etched a crease between his brows. - -"That makes it rather harder for me"--he hesitated--"or easier; I don't -know which." - -"What makes it harder?" she asked. - -"Your being--I don't know--different--from what I imagined----" - -"Educated?" - -"Y-yes----" - -She laughed deliciously in her new-born confidence. - -"What is it you wish to ask?" - -"I'll tell you," he said. "I need a model--and I'm too poor to pay for -one. I've pledged everything in my studio. A chance has come to me. It's -only a chance, however. But I can't take it because I cannot afford a -model." - -There was a silence; then she inquired what he meant by a model. And he -told her--not everything, not clearly. - -"You mean that you wish me to sit for my portrait in marble?" - -"There are two figures to be executed for the new Department of Peace in -Washington," he explained, "and they are to be called 'Soul' and 'Body.' -Six sculptors have been invited to compete. I am one. We have a year -before us." - -She remained silent. - -"It is perfectly apparent, of course, that you are exquis--admirably -fitted"--he stammered under her direct gaze, then went on; "I scarcely -dared dream of such a model even if I had the means to afford--" He -could get no further. - -"Are you really poor?" she asked in gentle wonder. - -"At present--yes." - -"I never dreamed it," she said. "I thought--otherwise." - -"Oh, it is nothing; some day things will come out right. Only--I have a -chance now--if you--if you would help me.... I _could_ win with you; I -know it. And if I do win--with your aid--I will double your present -salary. And that is what I've come here to say. Is that fair?" - -He waited, watching her intently. She had dropped her eyes, sitting -there very silent at the foot of the tree, cradling the big straw hat in -her lap. - -"Whatever you decide to be fair--" he began again, but she looked up -wistfully. - -"I was not thinking of that," she said; "I was only--sorry." - -"Sorry?" - -"That you are poor." - -He misunderstood her. "I know; I wish I could offer you something beside -a chance----" - -"Oh-h," she whispered, but so low that he heard only a long, indrawn -breath. - -She sat motionless, eyes on the grass. When again she lifted them their -pure beauty held him. - -"What is it you wish?" she asked. "That I should be your model for -the--this prize which you desire to strive for?" - -"Yes; for that." - -"How can I? I work all day." - -"I could use you at night and on Saturday afternoons, and all day -Sunday. And--have you had your yearly vacation?" - -She drew a quietly tired breath. "No," she said. - -"Then--I will give you two hundred dollars extra for those ten days," he -went on eagerly--so eagerly that he forgot the contingency on which hung -any payment at all. As for her, payment was not even in her thoughts. - -Through the deep, sweet content which came to her with the chance of -serving him, ran an undercurrent of confused pain that he could so -blindly misunderstand her. If she thought at all of the amazing -possibility of such a fortune as he offered, she knew that she would not -accept it from him. But this, and the pain of his misunderstanding, -scarcely stirred the current of a strange, new happiness that flowed -through every vein. - -"Do you think I could really help you?" - -"If you will." His voice trembled. - -"Are you sure--quite sure? If you are--I will do what you wish." - -He sprang up buoyant, transfigured. - -"If I win it will be _you_!" he said. "Could you come into the studio a -moment? I'll show you the two sketches I have made for 'Soul' and -'Body'." - -On the prospect of a chance--the chance that had come at last--he was -completely forgetting that she must be prepared to comprehend what he -required of her; he forgot that she could know nothing of a sculptor's -ways and methods of production. On the way to the studio, however, he -tardily remembered, and it rather scared him. - -"Do you know any painters or sculptors?" he asked, keeping impatient -pace beside her. - -"I know a woman who makes casts of hands and arms," she said shyly. "She -stopped me in the street once and asked permission to cast my hands. -Would you call her a sculptor?" - -"N--well, perhaps she may be. We sculptors often use casts of the human -body." He plunged into it more frankly: "You know, of course, that to -become a sculptor or a painter, one has to model and paint from living -people." - -"Yes," she said, undisturbed. - -"And," he continued, "it would be impossible for a sculptor to produce -the beautiful marbles you have seen--er--around--unless he could pose a -living model to copy from." - -An unquiet little pulse began to beat in her breast; she looked up at -him, but he was smiling so amiably that she smiled, too. - -Mortally afraid of frightening her, he could not exactly estimate how -much she divined of what was to be required of her. - -He continued patiently: "Unless a student dissects he can never become a -surgeon. It is the same with us; our inspiration and originality must be -founded on a solid study of the human body. That is why we must always -have before us as perfect a living model as we can find." - -"Do--do you think--" she stopped, pink and confused. - -"I think," he said, quietly impersonal, "that, speaking as a sculptor, -you are as perfect and as beautiful a model as ever the old Greek -masters saw, alive or in their dreams." - -"I--did not--know it," she faltered, thrilling from head to foot. - -They entered the corridor together. Her breath came faster as he -unlocked his door and, turning up a lamp, invited her to enter. - -At last in the magic world! And with _him_! - -Figured tapestries hung from the golden mystery of the ceiling; ancient -dyes glowed in the soft rugs under foot; the mellow light glimmered on -dull foliations. She stood still, looking about her as in a trance. - -"All this I will buy back again with your help," he said, laughingly; -but his unsteady voice betrayed the tension to which he was keyed. A -slow excitement was gaining on her, too. - -"I will redeem all these things, never fear," he said, gayly. - -"Oh--if you only can.... It is too cruel to take such things from you." - -The emotion in her eyes and voice surprised him for one troubled moment. -Then the selfishness of the artist ignored all else save the work and -the opportunity. - -"You _will_ help me, won't you?" he asked. "It is a promise?" - -"Yes--I will." - -"Is it a _promise_?" - -"Yes," she said, wondering. - -"Then please sit here. I will bring the sketches. They merely represent -my first idea; they are done without a living model." He was off, -lighting a match as he hastened. A tapestry fell back into place; she -lifted her blue eyes to the faded figures of saints and seraphim -stirring when the fabric moved. - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER VI - -SOUL AND BODY - - -As in a blessed vision, doubting the reality of it all, she sat looking -upward until his step on some outer floor aroused her to the wondrous -reality. - -He came, holding two clay figures. The first was an exquisite winged -shape, standing with delicate limbs parallel, arms extended, palms -outward. The head was lifted a little, poised exquisitely on the perfect -neck. Its loveliness thrilled her. - -"Is it an angel?" she asked, innocently. - -"No.... I thought you understood--this is only a sketch I made. And this -is the other." And he placed on a table the second figure, a smooth, -youthful, sensuous shape, looking aside and down at her own white -fingers playing with her hair. - -"Is it Eve?" she inquired, wondering. - -"These," he said slowly, "are the first two sketches, done without a -model, for my two figures 'Soul' and 'Body'." - -She looked at him, not comprehending. - -"I--I must have a _living_ model--for these," he stammered. "Didn't you -understand? I want _you_ to work from." - -From brow to throat the scarlet stain deepened and spread. She turned, -laid one small hand on the back of the chair, faltered, sank onto it, -covering her face. - -"I thought you understood," he repeated stupidly. "Forgive me--I thought -you understood what sort of help I needed." He dropped on one knee -beside her. "I am so sorry. Try to reason a little. You--you must know I -meant no offense--that I never could wish to offend you. Look at me, -please; I am not that sort of a man. Can't you realize how desperate I -was--how I dared hazard the chance that you might help me?" - -She rose, her face still covered. - -"_Can't_ you comprehend?" he pleaded, "that I meant no offense?" - -"Y-yes. Let me go." - -"Can you forgive me?" - -"I--yes." - -"And you cannot--help me?" - -"H-help you?... Oh, no, no, no!" She broke down, sobbing in the chair, -her golden head buried in her arms. - -Confused, miserable, he watched her. Already the old helpless feeling -had come surging back, that there was to be no chance for him in the -world, no hope of all he had dared to believe in, no future. Watching -her he felt his own courage falling with her tears, his own will -drooping as she drooped there--slender and white in her thin, black -gown. - -Again he spoke, for the moment forgetting himself. - -"Don't cry, because there is nothing to cry about. You know I did not -mean to hurt you; I know that you would help me if you could. Isn't it -true?" - -"Y-yes," she sobbed. - -"It was only a sculptor who asked you, not a man at all. You understand -what I mean?--only a poor devil of a sculptor, carried away by the -glamour of a chance for better fortune that seemed to open before him -for a moment. So you must not feel distressed or sensitive or -ashamed----" - -She sat up, wet eyed, cheeks aflame. - -"I am thinking of _you_!" she cried, almost fiercely, "not of myself; -and you don't understand! Do you think I would cry over myself? I--it is -because I cannot help _you_!" - -He found no words to answer as she rose and moved toward the door. She -crossed the threshold, turned and looked at him. Then she entered her -own doorway. - - * * * * * - -And the world went badly for her that night, and, after that, day and -night, the world went badly. - -Always the confusion of shame and dread returned to burn her; but that -was the least; for in the long hours, lying amid the fragments of her -shattered dreams, the knowledge that he needed her and that she could -not respond, overwhelmed her. - -The house, the corridor, her room became unendurable; she desired to -go--anywhere--and try to forget. But she could not; she could not leave, -she could not forget, she could not go to him and offer the only aid he -desired, she could not forgive herself. - -In vain, in vain, white with the agony of courage, she strove to teach -herself that she was nothing, her body nothing, that the cost was -nothing, compared to the terrible importance of his necessity. She knew -in her heart that she could have died for him; but--but--her courage -could go no further. - -In terrible silence she walked her room, thinking of him as one in -peril, as one ruined for lack of the aid she withheld. Sometimes she -passed hours on her knees, tearless, wordless; sometimes sheerest fear -set her creeping to the door to peer out, dreading lest his closed door -concealed a tragedy. - -And always, burning like twin gray flames before her eyes, she saw the -figures he had made, 'Soul' and 'Body.' Every detail remained clear; -their terrible beauty haunted her. Night after night, rigid on her bed's -edge, she stretched her bared, white arms, staring at them, then flung -them hopelessly across her eyes, whispering, "I cannot--O God--I -cannot--even for him." - -And there came a day--a Saturday--when the silence of the house, of her -room, the silence in her soul, became insupportable. - -All day she walked in the icy, roaring streets, driving herself forward -toward the phantom of forgetfulness which fled before her like her -shadow. And at the edge of noon she found herself--where she knew she -must come one day--seeking the woman who made plaster casts of hands and -arms and shapely feet. - -For a little while they talked together. The woman surprised, smiling -sometimes, but always very gentle; the girl flushed, stammering, -distressed in forming her naïve questions. - -Yes, it could be done; it had been done. But it was a long process; it -must be executed in sections, then set together limb by limb, for there -were many difficulties--and it was not pleasant to endure, even -sometimes painful. - -"I do not mind the pain," said the girl. "Will it scar me?" - -"No, not that.... But, another thing; it would be expensive." - -"I have my vacation money, and a little more." She named the sum -timidly. - -Yes, it was enough. And when could she come for the first casts to be -taken? - -She was ready now. - -A little later, turning a lovely, flushed face over her bare shoulder: -"One figure stood like this," and, after a pause, "the other this -way.... If you make them from me, can a sculptor work from life casts -such as these?" - -A sculptor could. - -About dusk she crept home, trembling in every nerve. Her vacation had -begun. - -She had been promoted to a position as expert lace buyer, which -permitted larger liberty. From choice she had taken no vacation during -the summer. Now her vacation, which she requested for December, lasted -ten days; and at the end of it her last penny had been spent, but in a -manner so wonderful, so strange, that no maid ever dreamed such things -might be. - -[Illustration: "Christmas Eve she knelt, crying, before the pedestal."] - -And on the last evening of it, which was Christmas Eve, she knelt, -crying, before two pedestals from which rose her body and soul as white -as death. - -An hour later the snowy twins stood in his empty studio, swathed in -their corpse-white winding-sheets--unstained cerements, sealing beneath -their folds her dead pride, dead hope--all that was delicate and -intimate and subtle and sweet--slain and in cerements, for his sake. - -And now she must go before he returned. Her small trunk was ready; her -small account settled. With strangely weak and unsteady hands she stood -before the glass knotting her veil. - -Since that night together last summer she had not spoken to him, merely -returning his low greeting in the corridor with a silent little -inclination of her head. But, although she had had no speech with him, -she had learned that he was teaching at the League now, and she knew his -hours and his movements well enough to time her own by them. - -He was not due for another hour; she looked out into the snowy darkness, -drawing on her gloves and buttoning the scant fur collar close about her -throat. - -The old janitor came to say good-by. - -"An' God be with you, miss, this Christmas Eve"--taking the coin -irresolutely, but pocketing it for fear of hurting her. - -His fingers, numbed and aged, fumbling in the pocket encountered another -object. - -"Musha, thin, I'm afther forgettin' phwat I'm here f'r to tell ye, -miss," he rambled on. "Misther Landon wishes ye f'r to know that he do -be lavin' the house"--the old man moistened his lips in an effort to -remember with all the elegance required of him--"an' Misther Landon is -wishful f'r to say a genteel good luck to ye, miss." - -The girl shook her head. - -"Tell Mr. Landon good-by for me, Patrick. Say--from me--God bless -him.... Will you remember?... And a--a happy Christmas." - -"I will, Miss." - -She touched her eyes with her handkerchief hastily, and held out her -hand to the old man. - -"I think that is all," she whispered. - -She was mistaken; the janitor was holding out a note to her. - -"In case ye found it onconvaynient f'r to see Misther Landon, I was to -projooce the letter, Miss." - -She took it; a shiver passed over her. - -When the old man had shambled off down the passage she reëntered her -room, held the envelope a moment close under the lighted lamp, then -nervously tore it wide. - -"_You will read this in case you refuse to say good-by to me. But I -only wanted to offer you a little gift at Christmastide--not in -reparation, for I meant no injury--but in deepest respect for you. And -so I ask you once more to wait for me. Will you?_" - -Minute after minute she sat there, dumb, confused, nerves at the -breaking point, her heart and soul crying out for him. Then the memory -of what was awaiting him in his studio choked her with fright. She -sprang to her feet, and at the same moment the outer gate clanged. - -Terror froze her; then she remembered that it was too early for him; it -must be the expressman for her trunk. And she went to the door and -opened it. - -"Oh-h!" she breathed, shrinking back; but Landon had seen his letter in -her hand, and he followed her into the room. - -He was paler than she: his voice was failing him, too, as he laid his -gift on the bare table--only a little book, prettily bound. - -"Will you take it?" he asked in a colorless voice; but she could not -answer, could not move. - -"I wish you a happy Christmas," he whispered. "Good-by." - -She strove to meet his eyes, strove to speak, lifted her slim hand to -stay him. It fell, strength spent, in both of his. - -Suddenly Time went all wrong, reeling off centuries in seconds. And -through the endless interstellar space that stretched between her world -and his she heard his voice bridging it: "I love you--I love you -dearly.... Once more I am the beggar--a beggar at Christmastide, asking -your mercy--asking more, your love. Dear, is it plain this time? Is all -clear, dearest among women?" - -She looked up into his eyes; his hands tightened over hers. - -"Can you love me?" he said. - -"Yes," answered her eyes and the fragrant mouth assented, quivering -under his lips. - -Then, without will or effort of her own, from very far away, her voice -stole back to her faintly. - -"Is all this true? I have dreamed so long--so long--of loving you----" - -He drew her closer; she laid both hands against his coat and hid her -face between them. - -He whispered: - -"It was your unselfishness, your sweetness, and--_you_--all of -you--yes--your beauty--the loveliness of you, too! I could not put it -from me; I knew that night that I loved you--and to-day they said you -were going--so I came with my Christmas gift--the sorry, sorry -gift--myself----" - -"Ah!" she whispered, clinging closer. "And what of my gift--my twin -gifts--there, in your studio! Oh, you don't know, you don't know----" - -"Dearest!" - -"No--you can never know how much easier it had been for me to die than -to love--as I have loved a man this day." - - * * * * * - -"Confound you, Williams," I said, blinking. - -But he did not hear me, sitting there in a literary revery, mentally -repolishing the carefully considered paragraphs with which he had just -regaled me. - -"Williams?" - -"What?" - -"So--they're living in Normandy." - -"Who?" - -"Jim Landon and that girl, dammit!" I said, crossly. - -"Yes--oh, yes, of course. Children--bunches of 'em--and all that." - -"Williams?" - -"What?" - -"_Was_ she so pretty?" - -"Certainly," he said, absently. "Don't bother me now; I've got an idea -for another story." - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER VII - -THE BITER, THE BITTEN, AND THE UN-BITTEN - - -"Mais tout le monde," began the chasseur of the Hôtel des -Michetons--"mais, monsieur, tout le grand monde----" - -"Exactly," said I, complacently. "Le grand monde means the great world; -and," I added, "the world is a planet of no unusual magnitude, inhabited -by bipeds whose entire existence is passed in attempting to get -something for nothing." - -The chasseur of the Hôtel des Michetons bowed, doubtfully. - -"You request me," I continued, "not to forget you when I go away. Why -should I not forget you? Are you historical, are you antique, are you -rococo, are you a Rosacrucian?" - -The chasseur, amiably perplexed, twirled his gold-banded cap between his -fingers. - -"Have you," I asked, "ever done one solitary thing for me besides -touching your expensive cap?" - -The chasseur touched his cap, smiled, and hopefully held out his large -empty hand. - -"Go to the devil," I said gently; "it is not for what you have done but -for what you have not done that I give you this silver piece," and I -paid the tribute which I despised myself for paying. Still, his gay -smile and prompt salute are certainly worth something to see, but what -their precise value may be you can only determine when, on returning to -New York, you hear a gripman curse a woman for crossing the sacred -tracks of the Metropolitan Street Railroad Company. So, with my daughter -Dulcima and my daughter Alida, and with a wagon-load of baggage, I left -the gorgeously gilded Hôtel des Michetons--for these three reasons: - -Number one: it was full of Americans. - -Number two: that entire section of Paris resembled a slice of the -Waldorf-Astoria. - -Number three: I wanted to be rid of the New York _Herald_. Surely -somewhere in Paris there existed French newspapers, French people, and -French speech. I meant to discover them or write and complain to the -_Outlook_. - -The new hotel I had selected was called the Hôtel de l'Univers. I had -noticed it while wandering out of the Luxembourg Gardens. It appeared to -be a well situated, modest, clean hotel, and not only thoroughly -respectable--which the great gilded Hôtel des Michetons was not--but -also typically and thoroughly French. So I took an apartment on the -first floor and laid my plans to dine out every evening with my -daughters. - -They were naturally not favourably impressed with the Hôtel de -l'Univers, but I insisted on trying it for a week, desiring that my -daughters should have at least a brief experience in a typical French -hotel. - -On the third day of our stay my daughters asked me why the guests at the -Hôtel de l'Univers all appeared to be afflicted in one way or another. I -myself had noticed that many of the guests wore court-plaster on hands -and faces, and some even had their hands bandaged in slings. - -I thought, too, that the passers-by in the street eyed the modest hotel -with an interest somewhat out of proportion to its importance. But I set -that down to French alertness and inbred curiosity, and dismissed the -subject from my mind. The hotel was pretty clean and highly -respectable. Titled names were not wanting among the guests, and the -perfect courtesy of the proprietor, his servants, and of the guests was -most refreshing after the carelessness and bad manners of the crowds at -the Hôtel des Michetons. - -"Can it be possible?" said Alida, as we three strolled out of our hotel -into the Boulevard St. Michel. - -"What?" I asked. - -"That we are in the Latin Quarter? Why this boulevard is beautiful, and -I had always pictured the Latin Quarter as very dreadful." - -"It's the inhabitants that are dreadful," said I with a shudder as a -black-eyed young girl, in passing, gave me an amused and exceedingly -saucy smile. - -The "Quarter!" It is beautiful--one of the most beautiful portions of -Paris. The Luxembourg Gardens are the centre and heart of the Latin -Quarter--these ancient gardens, with their groves of swaying chestnuts -all in bloom, quaint weather-beaten statues in a grim semicircle looking -out over the flowering almonds on the terrace to the great blue basin of -the fountain where toy yachts battle with waves almost an inch high. - -Here the big drab-colored pigeons strut and coo in the sunshine, here -the carp splash in the mossy fountain of Marie de Medici, here come the -nursemaids with their squalling charges, to sit on the marble benches -and coquette with the red-trousered soldiers, who are the proper and -natural prey of all nursemaids in all climes. - -"What is that banging and squeaking?" asked Alida, as we entered the -foliage of the southern terrace. "Not Punch and Judy--oh, I haven't seen -Punch since I was centuries younger! Do let us go, papa!" - -Around the painted puppet box children sat, open-mouthed. Back of them -crowded parents and nurses and pretty girls and gay young officers, -while, from the pulpit, Punch held forth amid screams of infantile -delight, or banged his friends with his stick in the same old fashion -that delighted us all--centuries since. - -"Such a handsome officer," said Alida under her breath. - -The officer in question, a dragoon, was looking at Dulcima in that -slightly mischievous yet well-bred manner peculiar to European officers. - -Dulcima did not appear to observe him. - -"Why--why, that is Monsieur de Barsac, who came over on our ship!" said -Alida, plucking me by the sleeve. "Don't you remember how nice he was -when we were so--so sea--miserable? You really ought to bow to him, -papa. If you don't, I will." - -I looked at the dragoon and caught his eye--such a bright, intelligent, -mischievous eye!--and I could not avoid bowing. - -Up he came, sword clanking, white-gloved hand glued to the polished -visor of his crimson cap, and--the girls were delighted. - -Now what do you suppose that Frenchman did? He gave up his entire day to -showing us the beauties of the Rive Gauche. - -Under his generous guidance my daughters saw what few tourists see -intelligently--the New Sorbonne, with its magnificent mural decorations -by Puvis de Chavannes; we saw the great white-domed Observatory, piled -up in the sky like an Eastern temple, and the beautiful old palace of -the Luxembourg. Also, we beheld the Republican Guards, _à cheval_, -marching out of their barracks on the Rue de Tournon; and a splendid -glittering company of cavalry they were, with their silver helmets, -orange-red facings, white gauntlets, and high, polished boots--the -picked men of all the French forces, as far as physique is concerned. - -In the late afternoon haze the dome of the Pantheon, towering over the -Latin Quarter, turned to purest cobalt in the sky. Under its majestic -shadow the Boulevard St. Michel ran all green and gold with gas-jets -already lighted in lamps and restaurants and the scores of students' -cafés which line the main artery of the "Quartier Latin." - -"I wish," said Alida, "that it were perfectly proper for us to walk -along those terraces." - -Captain de Barsac appeared extremely doubtful, but entirely at our -disposal. - -"You know what our students are, monsieur," he said, twisting his short -blond moustache; "however--if monsieur wishes----?" - -So, with my daughters in the centre, and Captain de Barsac and myself -thrown out in strong flanking parties, we began our march. - -The famous cafés of the Latin Quarter were all ablaze with electricity -and gas and colored incandescent globes. On the terraces hundreds of -tables and chairs stood, occupied by students in every imaginable -civilian costume, although the straight-brimmed stovepipe and the -_béret_ appeared to be the favorite headgear. At least a third of the -throng was made up of military students from the Polytechnic, from -Fontainebleau, and from Saint-Cyr. Set in the crowded terraces like -bunches of blossoms were chattering groups of girls--bright-eyed, -vivacious, beribboned and befrilled young persons, sipping the -petit-verre or Amer-Picon, gossiping, babbling, laughing like dainty -exotic birds. To and fro sped the bald-headed, white-aproned waiters, -balancing trays full of glasses brimming with red and blue and amber -liquids. - -Here was the Café d'Harcourt, all a-glitter, with music playing -somewhere inside--the favorite resort of the medical students from the -Sorbonne, according to Captain de Barsac. Here was the Café de la -Source, with its cascade of falling water and its miniature mill-wheel -turning under a crimson glow of light; here was the famous Café -Vachette, celebrated as the centre of all Latin Quarter mischief; and, -opposite to it, blazed the lights of the "CAFÉ DES BLEAUS," so called -because haunted almost exclusively by artillery officers from the great -school of Fontainebleau. - -Up the boulevard and down the boulevard moved the big double-decked -tram-cars, horns sounding incessantly; cabs dashed up to the cafés, -deposited their loads of students or pretty women, then darted away -toward the river, their lamps shining like stars. - -It was truly a fairy scene, with the electric lights playing on the -foliage of the trees, turning the warm tender green of the chestnut -leaves to a wonderful pale bluish tint, and etching the pavements -underfoot with exquisite Chinese shadows. - -"It is a shame that this lovely scene should not be entirely -respectable," said Alida, resentfully. - -"Vice," murmured de Barsac to me, "could not exist unless it were made -attractive." - -As far as the surface of the life before us was concerned, there was -nothing visible to shock anybody; and, under escort, there is no earthly -reason why decent women of any age should not enjoy the spectacle of the -"BOUL' MICH." on a night in springtime. - -An innocent woman, married or unmarried, ought not to detect anything -unpleasant in the St. Michel district; but, alas! what is known as -"Smart Society" is so preternaturally wise in these piping times o' -wisdom, that the child is not only truly the father of the man, but also -his instructor and interpreter--to that same man's astonishment and -horror. It may always have been so--even before the days when our -theatres were first licensed to instruct our children in object lessons -of the seven deadly sins--but I cannot recollect the time when, as a -youngster, I was tolerantly familiar with the scenes now nightly offered -to our children through the courtesy of our New York theatre managers. - -Slowly we turned to retrace our steps, strolling up the boulevard -through the fragrant May evening, until we came to the gilded railing -which encircles the Luxembourg Gardens from the School of Mines to the -Palais-du-Sénat. - -Here Captain De Barsac took leave of us with all the delightful and -engaging courtesy of a well-bred Frenchman; and he seemed to be grateful -for the privilege of showing us about over a district as tiresomely -familiar to him as his own barracks. - -I could do no less than ask him to call on us, though his devotion to -Dulcima both on shipboard and here made me a trifle wary. - -"We are stopping," said I, "at the Hôtel de l'Univers----" - -He started and gazed at me so earnestly that I asked him why he did so. - -"The--the Hôtel de l'Univers?" he repeated, looking from me to Dulcima -and from Dulcima to Alida. - -"Is it not respectable?" I demanded, somewhat alarmed. - -"--But--but perfectly, monsieur. It is, of course, the very best hotel -of _that_ kind----" - -"_What_ kind?" I asked. - -"Why--for the purpose. Ah, monsieur, I had no idea that you came to -Paris for _that_. I am so sorry, so deeply grieved to hear it. But of -course all will be well----" - -He stopped and gazed earnestly at Dulcima. - -"It is not--not _you_, mademoiselle, is it?" - -My children and I stared at each other in consternation. - -"What in heaven's name is the matter with that hotel?" I asked. - -Captain de Barsac looked startled. - -"Is there anything wrong with the guests there?" asked Dulcima, faintly. - -"No--oh, no--only, of course, they are all under treatment----" - -"Under treatment!" I cried nervously. "For what!!!" - -"Is it possible," muttered the captain, "that you went to that hotel not -knowing? Did you not notice anything peculiar about the guests there?" - -"They all seem to wear court-plaster or carry their arms in slings," -faltered Dulcima. - -"And they come from all over the world--Russia, Belgium, Spain," -murmured Alida nervously. "What do they want?" - -"Thank heaven!" cried De Barsac, radiantly; "then you are not there for -the treatment!" - -"Treatment for what?" I groaned. - -"Hydrophobia!" - -I wound my arms around my shrinking children. - -"It is the hotel where all the best people go who come to Paris for -Pasteur's treatment," he said, trying to look grave; but Dulcima threw -back her pretty head and burst into an uncontrollable gale of laughter; -and there we stood on the sidewalk, laughing and laughing while passing -students grinned in sympathy and a cloaked policeman on the corner -smiled discreetly and rubbed his chin. - -That evening, after my progeny were safely asleep, casting a furtive -glance around me I slunk off to my old café--the Café Jaune. I hadn't -been there in over twenty years; I passed among crowded tables, skulked -through the entrance, and slid into my old corner as though I had never -missed an evening there. - -They brought me a Bock. As I lifted the icy glass to my lips, over the -foam I beheld Williams, smiling. - -"Eh bien, mon vieux?" he said, pleasantly. - -"By gad, Williams, this seems natural--especially with you sitting -next." - -"It sure does," he said. - -I pointed toward a leather settee. "Archie used to sit over there with -his best girl. Do you remember? And that was Dillon's seat--and Smithy -and Palmyre--Oh, Lord!--And Seabury always had that other corner."... I -paused, lost in happy reminiscences. "What has become of Jack Seabury?" -I inquired. - -"The usual." - -"Married?" - -"Oh, very much." - -"Where does he live." - -"In Philadelphia." - -I mused for a while. - -"So he's married, too," I said, thoughtfully. "Well--it's a funny life, -isn't it, Williams." - -"I've never seen a funnier. Seabury's marriage was funny too--I mean his -courtship." - -I looked up at Williams, suspiciously. - -"Is this one of your professional literary stories?" - -"It's a true one. What's the harm in my enveloping it in a professional -glamour?" - -"None," I said, resignedly; "go ahead." - -"All right, mon vieux." - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER VIII - -A MATTER OF PRONUNCIATION - - -This is a story of the Mystic Three--Fate, Chance, and Destiny; and what -happens to people who trifle with them. - -It begins with a young man running after a train. He had to run. - -The connection at Westport Junction was normally a close one, but now, -even before the incoming train had entirely stopped, the local on the -other line began to move out, while the engineers of the two -locomotives, leaning from their cab windows, exchanged sooty grins. It -was none of their business--this squabble between the two roads which -was making the term, "Junction," as applied to Westport, a snare and a -derision. - -So the roads squabbled, and young Seabury ran. Other passengers ran, -too, amid the gibes of newsboys and the patronizing applause of station -loafers. - -He heard them; he also heard squeaks emitted by females whose highest -speed was a dignified and scuttering waddle. Meanwhile he was running, -and running hard through the falling snow; the ice under foot did not -aid him; his overcoat and suit-case handicapped him; the passengers on -the moving train smiled at him behind frosty windows. - -One very thin man smoking a cigar rubbed his thumb on the pane in order -to see better; he was laughing, and Seabury wished him evil. - -There were only two cars, and the last one was already rolling by him. -And at one of the windows of this car he saw a pretty girl in chinchilla -furs watching him curiously. Then she also smiled. - -It may have been the frank amusement of a pretty woman, and it may have -been the sorrowful apathy of a red-nosed brakeman tying the loose end of -the signal rope on the rear platform; doubtless one or the other spurred -him to a desperate flying leap which landed him and his suit-case on the -rear platform of the last car. And there he stuck, too mad to speak, -until a whirlwind of snow and cinders drove him to shelter inside. - -The choice of cars was limited to a combination baggage and smoker and a -more fragrant passenger coach. He selected a place in the latter across -the aisle from the attractive girl in chinchilla furs who had smiled at -his misfortunes--not very maliciously. Now, as he seated himself, she -glanced up at him without the slightest visible interest, and returned -to her study of the winter landscape. - -The car was hot; he was hot. Burning thoughts concerning the insolence -of railroads made him hotter; the knowledge that he had furnished -amusement for the passengers of two trains did not cool him. - -Meanwhile everybody in the car had become tired of staring at him; a -little boy across the aisle giggled his last giggle; several men resumed -their newspapers; a shopgirl remembered her gum and began chewing it -again. - -A large mottled man with a damp moustache, seated opposite him, said: -"Vell, Mister, you runned pooty quvick alretty py dot Vestport train!" - -"It seems to me," observed Seabury, touching his heated face with his -handkerchief, "that the public ought to do something." - -"Yaw; der bublic it runs," said the large man, resuming his eyeglasses -and holding his newspaper nearer to the window in the fading light. - -Seabury smiled to himself and ventured to glance across the aisle in -time to see the dawning smile in the blue eyes of his neighbor die out -instantly as he turned. It was the second smile he had extinguished -since his appearance aboard the train. - -The conductor, a fat, unbuttoned, untidy official, wearing spectacles -and a walrus moustache, came straddling down the aisle. He looked over -the tops of his spectacles at Seabury doubtfully. - -"I managed to jump aboard," explained the young man, smiling. - -"Tickuts!" returned the conductor without interest. - -"I haven't a ticket; I'll pay----" - -"Sure," said the conductor; "vere you ged owid?" - -"What?" - -"Vere do you ged _owid_?" - -"Oh, where do I get _out_? I'm going to Beverly----" - -"Peverly? Sefenty-vive cends." - -"Not to Peverly, to Beverly----" - -"Yaw, Peverly----" - -"No, no; Beverly! not Peverly----" - -"Aind I said Peverly alretty? Sefenty-vive----" - -"Look here; there's a Beverly and a Peverly on this line, and I don't -want to go to Peverly and I do want to go to Beverly----" - -"You go py Peverly und you don'd go py Beverly alretty! Sure! -Sefenty-vive ce----" - -The young man cast an exasperated glance across the aisle in time to -catch a glimpse of two deliciously blue eyes suffused with mirth. And -instantly, as before, the mirth died out. As an extinguisher of smiles -he was a success, anyway; and he turned again to the placid conductor -who was in the act of punching a ticket. - -"Wait! Hold on! Don't do that until I get this matter straight! Now, do -you understand where I wish to go?" - -"You go py Peverly----" - -"No, Beverly! Beverly! _Beverly_," he repeated in patiently studied -accents. - -The large mottled man with the damp moustache looked up gravely over his -newspaper: "Yaw, der gonductor he also says Peverly." - -"But Peverly isn't Beverly----" - -"Aind I said it blenty enough dimes?" demanded the conductor, becoming -irritable. - -"But you haven't said it right yet!" insisted Seabury. - -The conductor was growing madder and madder. "Peverly! Peverly!! -_Peverly!!!_ In Gottes Himmel, don'd you English yet alretty -understandt? Sefenty-vive cends! Und"--here he jammed a seat check into -the rattling windows-sill--"Und ven I sez Peverly it iss Peverly, und -ven I sez Beverly it iss Beverly, und ven I sez sefenty-vive cends so -iss it sefenty-vi----" - -Seabury thrust three silver quarters at him; it was impossible to pursue -the subject; madness lay in that direction. And when the affronted -conductor, mumbling muffled indignation, had straddled off down the -aisle, the young man took a cautious glance at the check in the -window-sill. But on it was printed only, "Please show this to the -conductor," so he got no satisfaction there. He had mislaid his -time-table, too, and the large mottled man opposite had none, and began -an endless and patient explanation which naturally resulted in nothing, -as his labials were similar to the conductor's; even more so. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER IX - -FATE - - -Turning to the man behind him Seabury attempted to extract a little -information, and the man was very affable and anxious to be of help, but -all he could do was to nod and utter Teutonic gutturals through a bushy -beard with a deep, buzzing sound, and Seabury sank back, beaten and -dejected. - -"Good Lord!" he muttered to himself, "is the entire Fatherland -travelling on this accursed car! I--I've half a mind----" - -He stole a doubtful sidelong glance at his blue-eyed neighbor across the -aisle, but she was looking out of her own window this time, her cheeks -buried in the fur of her chinchilla muff. - -"And after all," he reflected, "if I ask her, she might turn out to be -of the same nationality." But it was not exactly that which prevented -him. - -The train was slowing down; sundry hoarse toots from the locomotive -indicated a station somewhere in the vicinity. - -"Plue Pirt Lake! Change heraus für Bleasant Falley!" shouted the -conductor, opening the forward door. He lingered long enough to glare -balefully at Seabury, then, as nobody apparently cared either to get out -at Blue Bird Lake or change for Pleasant Valley, he slammed the door and -jerked the signal rope; the locomotive emitted a scornful Teutonic -grunt; the train moved forward into the deepening twilight of the -December night. - -The snow was now falling more heavily--it was light enough to see -that--a fine gray powder sifting down out of obscurity, blowing past the -windows in misty streamers. - -The bulky man opposite breathed on the pane, rubbed it with a thumb like -a pincushion, and peered out. - -"Der next station iss Beverly," he said. - -"The next is Peverly?" - -"No, der next iss _B_everly; und der nextest iss Peverly. - -"Then, if I am going to Beverly, I get out at the next station, don't -I?" stammered the perplexed young fellow, trying to be polite. - -The man became peevish. "Nun, wass ist es?" he growled. "I dell you -Peverly und you say Beverly. Don'd I know vat it iss I say alretty?" - -"Yes--but _I_ don't----" - -"Also, you ged owid vere you tam blease!" retorted the incensed -passenger, and resumed his newspaper, hunching himself around to present -nothing to Seabury except a vast expanse of neck and shoulder. - -Seabury, painfully embarrassed, let it go at that. Probably the poor man -_had_ managed to enunciate the name of the station properly; no doubt -the next stop was Beverly, after all. He was due there at 6.17. He -looked at his watch. It was a quarter past six already. The next stop -_must_ be Beverly--supposing the train to be on time. - -And already the guttural warning of the locomotive sounded from the -darkness ahead; already he sensed the gritting resistance of the brakes. - -Permitting himself a farewell and perfectly inoffensive glance across -the aisle, he perceived her of the blue eyes and chinchilla furs -preparing for departure; and, what he had not before noticed, her maid -in the seat behind her, gathering a dainty satchel, umbrella, and -suit-case marked C. G. - -So she was going to Beverly, too! He hoped she might be bound for the -Christmas Eve frolic at the Austins'. It was perfectly possible--in -fact, probable. - -He was a young man whose optimism colored his personal wishes so vividly -that sometimes what he desired became presently, in his imagination, a -charming and delightful probability. And already his misgivings -concerning the proper name of the next station had vanished. He _wanted_ -Beverly to be the next station, and already it was, for him. Also, he -had quite made up his mind that she of the chinchillas was bound for the -Austins'. - -A cynical blast from the locomotive; a jerking pull of brakes, and, from -the forward smoker, entered the fat conductor. - -"Beverly! Beverly!" he shouted. - -So he, too, had managed to master his _P's_ and _B's_, concluded the -young man, smiling to himself as he rose, invested himself with his -heavy coat, and picked up his suit-case. - -The young lady of the chinchillas had already left the car, followed by -her maid, before he stepped into the aisle ready for departure. - -A shadow of misgiving fell upon him when, glancing politely at his -fellow-passenger, he encountered only a huge sneer, and concluded that -the nod of courtesy was superfluous. - -Also he hesitated as he passed the fat conductor, who was glaring at -him, mouth agape--hesitated a moment only, then, realizing the dreadful -possibilities of reopening the subject, swallowed his question in -silence. - -"It's _got_ to be Beverly, now," he thought, making his way to the snowy -platform and looking about him for some sign of a conveyance which might -be destined for him. There were several sleighs and depot-wagons -there--a number of footmen bustling about in furs. - -"I'll just glance at the name of the station to be sure," he thought to -himself, peering up through the thickly descending snow where the name -of the station ought to be. And, as he stepped out to get a good view, -he backed into a fur-robed footman, who touched his hat in hasty -apology. - -"Oh, Bailey! Is that you?" said Seabury, relieved to encounter one of -Mrs. Austin's men. - -"Yes, sir. Mr. Seabury, sir! Were you expected----?" - -"Certainly," nodded the young man gayly, abandoning his suit-case to the -footman and following him to a big depot-sleigh. - -And there, sure enough, was his lady of the chinchillas, nestling under -the robes to her pretty chin, and her maid on the box with the -coachman--a strangely fat coachman--no doubt a new one to replace old -Martin. - -When Seabury came up the young lady turned and looked at him, and he -took off his hat politely, and she acknowledged his presence very -gravely and he seated himself decorously, and the footman swung to the -rumble. - -Then the chiming silver sleigh-bells rang out through the snow, the -magnificent pair of plumed horses swung around the circle under the -bleared lights of the station and away they speeded into snowy darkness. - -A decent interval of silence elapsed before he considered himself at -liberty to use a traveller's privilege. Then he said something -sufficiently commonplace to permit her the choice of conversing or -remaining silent. She hesitated; she had never been particularly wedded -to silence. Besides, she was scarcely twenty--much too young to be -wedded to anything. So she said something, with perfect composure, which -left the choice to him. And his choice was obvious. - -"I have no idea how far it is; have you?" he asked. - -"Yes," she said coolly. - -"This is a jolly sleigh," he continued with unimpaired cheerfulness. - -She thought it comfortable. And for a while the conversation clung so -closely around the sleigh that it might have been run over had not he -dragged it into another path. - -"Isn't it amazing how indifferent railroads are to the convenience of -their passengers?" - -She turned her blue eyes on him; there was the faintest glimmer in their -depths. - -"I know you saw me running after that train," he said, laughingly -attempting to break the ice. - -"I?" - -"Certainly. And it amused you, I think." - -She raised her eyebrows a trifle. "What is there amusing about that?" - -"But you _did_ smile--at least I thought so." - -Evidently she had no comment to offer. She _was_ hard to talk to. But he -tried again. - -"The fact is, I never expected to catch your--that train. It was only -when I saw--saw"--he floundered on the verge of saying "you," but veered -off hastily--"when I saw that brakeman's expression of tired contempt, I -simply sailed through the air like a--a--like a--one of those--er you -know----" - -"Do you mean kangaroos?" she ventured so listlessly that the quick flush -of chagrin on his face died out again; because it was quite impossible -that such infantine coldness and candour could be secretly trifling with -his dignity. - -"It was a long jump," he concluded gayly, "but I did some jumping at -Harvard and I made it and managed to hold on." - -"You were very fortunate," she said, smiling for the first time. - -And, looking at her, he thought he was; and he admitted it so blandly -that he overdid the part. But he didn't know that. - -"I fancy," he continued, "that everybody on that train except you and I -were Germans. Such a type as sat opposite me----" - -"Which car were you in?" she asked simply. - -"Why--in your car----" - -"In _my_ car?" - -"Why--er--yes," he explained; "you were sitting across the aisle, you -know." - -"Was I?" she asked with pleasant surprise; "across the aisle from you?" - -He grew red; he had certainly supposed that she had noticed him enough -to identify him again. Evidently she had not. Mistakes like that are -annoying. Every man instinctively supposes himself enough of an entity -to be noticed by a pretty woman. - -"I had no end of trouble of finding out where Beverly was," he said -after a minute. - -"Oh! And how did you find out?" - -"I didn't until I backed into Bailey, yonder.... Do you know that I had -a curious sort of presentiment that I should find you in this sleigh?" - -"That is strange," she said. "When did you have it?" - -"In the car--long before you got off." - -She thought it most remarkable--rather listlessly. - -"Those things happen, you know," he went on; "like thinking of a person -you don't expect to see, and looking up and suddenly seeing that very -person walking along." - -"How does that resemble your case?" she asked. - -It didn't. He realised it even before he began to try to explain the -similarity. It really didn't matter one way or the other; it was nothing -to turn red about, but he was turning. Somehow or other she managed to -say things that never permitted that easy, graceful flow of language -which characterised him in his normal state. Somehow or other, he felt -that he was not doing himself justice. He could converse well enough -with people as a rule. Something in that topsy-turvy and maddeningly -foolish colloquy with those Germans must have twisted his tongue or -unbalanced his logic. - -"As a matter of fact," he said, "there's no similarity between the two -cases except the basic idea of premonition." - -She had been watching him disentangle himself with bright eyes in which -something was sparkling--perhaps sympathy and perhaps not. It may have -been the glimmer of malice. Perhaps she thought him just a trifle too -ornamental--for he certainly was a very good-looking youth--perhaps -something in the entire episode appealed to her sense of mischief. -Probably even she herself could not explain just why she had thought it -funny to see him running for his train, and later entangling himself in -a futile word-fest with the conductor and the large mottled man. - -"So," she said thoughtfully, "you were obsessed by a premonition." - -"Not--er--exactly obsessed," he said suspiciously. Then his face -cleared. How could anybody be suspicious of such sweetly inquiring -frankness? "You see," he admitted, "that I--well, I rather hoped you -would be going to the Austins'." - -"The _Austins'_!" she repeated. - -"Yes. I--I couldn't help speculating----" - -"About me?" she asked. "Why should you?" - -"I--there was no reason, of course, only I k-kept seeing you without -trying to----" - -"Me?" - -"Certainly. I couldn't help seeing you, could I?" - -"Not if you were looking at me," she murmured, pressing her muff to her -face. Perhaps she was cold. - -Again it occurred to him that there was something foolish in her reply. -Certainly she was a little difficult to talk to. But then she was -young--very young and--close enough to being a beauty to excuse herself -from any overstrenuous claim to intellectuality. - -"Yes," he said kindly and patiently, "I did see you, and I did hope that -you were going to the Austins'. And then I bumped into somebody and -there you were. I don't mean," as she raised her pretty eyebrows--"mean -that you were Bailey. Good Lord, _what_ is the matter with my tongue!" -he said, flushing with annoyance. "I don't talk this way usually." - -"Don't you?" she managed to whisper behind her muff. - -"No, I don't. That conductor's jargon seems to have inoculated me. You -will probably not believe it, but I _can_ talk the English tongue -sometimes----" - -She was laughing now--a clear, delicious, irrepressible little peal that -rang sweetly in the frosty air, harmonising with the chiming -sleigh-bells. And he laughed, too, still uncomfortably flushed. - -"Do you think it would help if we began all over again?" she asked, -looking wickedly at him over her muff. "Let me see--you had an obsession -which turned into a premonition that bumped Bailey and you found it -wasn't Bailey at all, but a stranger in chinchillas who was going -to--_where_ did you say she was going? Oh, to the Austins'! _That_ is -clear, isn't it?" - -"About as clear as anything that's happened to me to-night," he said. - -"A snowy night does make a difference," she reflected. - -"A--a difference?" - -"Yes--doesn't it?" she asked innocently. - -"I--in _what_?" - -"In clearness. Things are clearer by daylight?" - -"I don't see--I--exactly how--as a matter of fact I don't follow you at -all," he said desperately. "You say things--and they sound all -right--but somehow my answers seem queer. _Do_ you suppose that German -conversation has mentally twisted me?" - -Her eyes above the fluffy fur of her muff were bright as stars, but she -did not laugh. - -"Suppose," she said, demurely, "that _you_ choose a subject of -conversation and try to make sense of it. If you _are_ mentally twisted -it will be good practice." - -"And you will--you won't say things--I mean things not germane to the -subject?" - -"Did you say German?" - -"No, germane." - -"Oh! Have _I_ been irrelevant, too?" - -"Well, you mixed up mental clarity with snowy nights. Of course it was a -little joke--I saw that soon enough; I'd have seen it at once, only I -_am_ rather upset and nervous after that German experience." - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER X - -CHANCE - - -She considered him with guileless eyes. He was _too_ good-looking, too -attractive, too young, and far too much pleased with himself. That was -the impression he gave her. And, as he was, in addition, plainly one of -her own sort, a man she was likely to meet anywhere--a well-bred, -well-mannered and agreeable young fellow, probably a recent -undergraduate, which might account for his really inoffensive -breeziness--she felt perfectly at ease with him and safe enough to -continue imprudently her mischief. - -"If you are going to begin at the beginning," she said, "perhaps it -might steady your nerves to repeat your own name very slowly and -distinctly. Physicians recommend it sometimes," she added seriously. - -"My name is John Seabury," he said, laughing. "Am I lucid?" - -"Lucid so far," she said gravely. "I knew a Lily Seabury----" - -"My sister. She's in Paris." - -"Yes, I knew that, too," mused the girl, looking at him in a different -light--different in this way that his credentials were now -unquestionable, and she could be as mischievous as she pleased with the -minimum of imprudence. - -"Do you ever take the advice of physicians," he asked naïvely, "about -repeating names?" - -"Seldom," she said. "I don't require the treatment." - -"I was only wondering----" - -"You were wondering what C. G. stood for on my satchel? I will be very -glad to tell you, Mr. Seabury. _C_ stands for Cecil, and _G_ for Gay; -Cecil Gay. Is that lucid?" - -"Cecil!" he said; "that's a man's name." - -"How rude! It is _my_ name. Now, do you think your mental calibre -requires any more re-boring?" - -"Oh, you know about calibres and things. Do you shoot? I _can_ talk -about dogs and guns. Listen to me, Miss Gay." The subject shifted from -shooting to fishing, and from hunting to driving four-in-hand, and -eventually came back to the horses and the quaint depot-sleigh which was -whirling them so swiftly toward their destination. - -"Jack Austin and I were in Paris," he observed. - -"Oh--recently?" - -"Last year." - -"I thought so." - -"Why?" he asked. - -"Oh, I suppose it was one of those obsessed premonitions----" - -"You are laughing at me, Miss Gay." - -"Am I? Why?" - -"Why? How on earth is a man to know why? _I_ don't know why you do it, -but you do--all the time." - -"Not _all_ the time, Mr. Seabury, because I don't know you well enough." - -"But you know my sister!" - -"Yes. She is a dear." - -"Won't that introduce me? And, besides, you know Jack Austin----" - -"No, I don't." - -"Isn't that odd?" he said. "You don't know Jack Austin and I don't know -Mrs. Austin. It was nice of her to ask me. They say she is one of the -best ever." - -"It was certainly nice of her to ask you," said the girl, eyes -brightening over her muff. - -"I was in Europe when they were married," he said. "I suppose you were -there." - -"No, I wasn't. That sounds rather strange, doesn't it?" - -"Why, yes, rather!" he replied, looking up at her in his boyish, -perplexed way. And for a moment her heart failed her; he _was_ nice, but -also he was a living temptation. Never before in all her brief life had -she been tempted to do to anybody what she was doing to him. She had -often been imprudent in a circumspect way--conventionally unconventional -at times--even a little daring. At sheer audacity she had drawn the -line, and now the impulse to cross that line had been too much for her. -But even she did not know exactly why temptation had overcome her. - -There was something that she ought to tell him--and tell him at once. -Yet, after all, it was really already too late to tell him--had been too -late from the first. Fate, Chance and Destiny, the Mystic Three, -disguised, as usual, one as a German conductor; one as a large mottled -man; the other as a furry footman had been bumped by Seabury and jeered -at by a girl wearing dark blue eyes and chinchillas. And now the -affronted Three were taking exclusive charge of John Seabury and Cecil -Gay. She was partly aware of this; she did not feel inclined to -interfere where interference could do no good. And that being the case, -why not extract amusement from matters as they stood? Alas, it is not -well to laugh at the Mystic Three! But Cecil Gay didn't know that. You -see, even _she_ didn't know everything. - - * * * * * - -"You will like Jack Austin," he asserted. - -"Really?" - -"I'm willing to bet----" - -"Oh, wait till we know one another officially before we begin to make -wagers.... Still, I might, perhaps safely wager that I shall not find -your friend Jack Austin very agreeable to-night." - -So they settled the terms of the wager; cigarettes versus the inevitable -bonbons. - -"Everybody likes Jack Austin on sight," he said triumphantly, "so you -may as well send the cigarettes when you are ready;" and he mentioned -the brand. - -"You will never smoke those cigarettes," she mused aloud, looking -dreamily at him, her muff pressed alongside of her pretty cheek. "Tell -me, Mr. Seabury, are you vindictive?" - -"Not very." - -"Revengeful?" - -"Well--no, I don't think so," he replied. "Why?" - -"I'm much relieved," she said, simply. - -"Why?" - -"Because I've done a dreadful thing--perfectly dreadful." - -"To me?" - -She nodded. - -Perplexed and curious, he attempted to learn what she meant, but she -parried everything smiling. And now, the faster the horses sped, the -faster her pulses beat, and the more uncertain and repentant she became -until her uncertainty increased to a miniature panic, and, thoroughly -scared, she relapsed into a silence from which he found it beyond his -powers to lure her. - -For already a bright light was streaming out toward them from somewhere -ahead. In its rays the falling snow turned golden, every separate flake -distinct as they passed a great gate with the lodge beside it and went -spinning away along a splendid wooded avenue and then straight up toward -a great house, every window ablaze with light. - -John Seabury jumped out and offered his aid to Cecil Gay as several -servants appeared under the porte-cochère. - -"I had no idea that Jack Austin lived so splendidly," he whispered to -Miss Gay, as they entered the big hall. - -But she was past speech now--a thoroughly scared girl; and she lost no -time in following a maid into the elevator, whither Seabury presently -followed her in tow of a man-servant. - -"Luxury! Great Scott," thought Seabury. "This dubbing a palace a cottage -is the worse sort of affectation, and I'll tell Jack Austin so, too." - -The elevator stopped; the doors clicked open; Seabury turned smilingly -to Cecil Gay, but she hurried past him, crimson-cheeked, head bent, and -he followed his pilot to his room. - -"Dinner is hannounced at 'awf awfter height, sir," announced the man -with dignity. - -"Thank you," said Seabury, watching a valet do sleight-of-hand tricks -with the contents of his suit-case. And when he was alone he hopped -nimbly out of his apparel and into a bath and out again in a high state -of excitement, talking to himself all the while he was dressing. - -"Good old Jack! The Mrs. must have had the means to do this sort of -thing so well. I'm delighted!--de--lighted!... If ever a man deserved -affluence, it's Jack Austin! It suits him. It will do him good. It -becomes him.... Plucky fellow to go on grinding at the law!... Only -thing to do, of course--decent thing to do--self-respect and all -that.... But, by jingo!"--he looked about him as he stood buttoning his -collar. "Hah!" stepping to the wall and examining a picture--"Great -Jenkins!--why, here's a real Fortuny--in a _bedroom_!" - -He cared for good pictures, and he stood before the exquisite aquarelle -as long as he dared. Then, glancing at his watch, he completed his -toilet, opened his door, and, scorning the lift, fled blithely down the -great staircase on pleasing bent--and on being pleased. - -A big drawing-room, charmingly lighted, and gay already with the chatter -and laughter of a very jolly throng--this is what confronted him as a -servant offered him a tray containing cards. - -"I don't see my name here," he said, examining the slim envelopes. - -"Beg pardon, sir--what name, sir?" - -"Mr. Seabury." - -The servant looked and Seabury looked in vain. - -"An oversight," commented the young fellow, coolly. "I'll ask Mrs. -Austin about it." And he walked in, and, singling out the hostess, -advanced with smiling confidence, thinking to himself: "She _is_ pretty; -Jack's right. But--but, by George!--she looks like Cecil Gay!" - -His hostess received him very charmingly, saying that it was so good of -him to come; and he said it was so good of her to have asked him, and -then they said several similar things. He spoke of Jack--mentioning him -and continuing to another subject; and she smiled a trifle uncertainly. -Her smile was still more vague and uncertain when he laughingly -mentioned the dinner-cards; and she said it was a vexing oversight and -would be immediately arranged--glancing rather sharply at an amiable -gentleman standing near her. And this amiable gentleman came up to -Seabury and shook hands very cordially, and said several agreeable -things to which Seabury responded, until new arrivals separated him from -his hostess and the amiable gentleman, and he fell back and glanced -about him. And, after a little while an odd expression came into his -eyes; he stood very still; a slight flush slowly spread over his face -which had grown firmer. In a few moments the color went as it had come, -slowly; the faint glitter died out in his eyes. - -There were several people he knew among the guests; he nodded quietly to -young Van Guilder, to Brimwell and others, then crossed to speak to -Catherine Hyland and Dorothy Minster. He was very agreeable, but a -little distrait. He seemed to have something on his mind. - -Meanwhile his hostess was saying to her husband: "Who _is_ that, Jim?" -And her husband said: "You can search me. Didn't you ask him?" And his -wife responded: "He's talking to nearly everybody. It's curious, isn't -it?" Here she was interrupted by the flushed entrance of her unmarried -sister, Cecil Gay. - -Meanwhile, Seabury was saying coolly: "I haven't seen Jack yet." - -"Jack?" repeated Dorothy Minster. "Which Jack?" - -"Jack Austin." - -"Oh," said Miss Minster, who did not know him; "is he to be here?" - -But Seabury only smiled vaguely. His mind, his eyes, his attention were -fixed upon a vision of loveliness in the foreground--a charmingly -flushed young girl who knew everybody and was evidently a tremendous -favorite, judging from the gay greetings, the little volleys of -laughter, and the animated stirring of groups among which she passed. - -Watching her, quite oblivious to his surroundings, the servant at his -elbow was obliged to cough discreetly half a dozen times and repeat "Beg -pardon, sir," before he turned to notice the silver salver extended. - -"Oh--thank you," he said, picking up an envelope directed, "Mr. -Seabury," and opening it. Then a trifle surprised but smiling, he turned -to find the girl whose name was written on the card. She was speaking to -the hostess and the amiable man who had first greeted him. And this is -what he didn't hear as he watched her, waiting grimly for a chance at -her: - -"Cecil! _Who_ is that very young man?" - -"Betty, how should _I_ know----" - -"Look here, Cis," from the amiable gentleman; "this is some of your -deviltry----" - -"Oh, _thank_ you, Jim!" - -"Yes, it is. Who is he and where did you rope him?" - -"Jim!" - -"Cecil! What nonsense is this?" demanded her hostess and elder sister. -"How did he get here and who is he?" - -"I did _not_ bring him, Betty. He simply came?" - -"How?" - -"In the depot-sleigh, of course----" - -"With _you_?" - -"Certainly. He wanted to come. He _would_ come! I couldn't turn him out, -could I--after he climbed in?" - -Host and hostess glared at their flushed and defiant relative, who tried -to look saucy, but only looked scared. "_He_ doesn't know he's made a -mistake," she faltered; "and there's no need to tell him yet--is -there?... I put my name down on his card; he'll take me in.... Jim, -don't, for Heaven's sake, say anything if he calls Betty Mrs. Austin. -Oh, Jim, be decent, please! I _was_ a fool to do it; I don't know what -possessed me! Wait until to-morrow before you say anything! Besides, he -may be furious! Please wait until I'm out of the house. He'll breakfast -late, I hope; and I promise you I'll be up early and off by the seven -o'clock train----" - -"In Heaven's name, who _is_ he?" broke in the amiable man so fiercely -that Cecil jumped. - -"He's only Lily Seabury's brother," she said, meekly, "and he thinks -he's at the Austins'--and he might as well be, because he knows half the -people here, and I've simply _got_ to keep him out of their way so that -nobody can tell him where he is. Oh, Betty--I've spoiled my own -Christmas fun, and his, too! _Is_ there any way to get him to the -Austins' now?' - -"The Jack Austins' of Beverly!" exclaimed her sister, incredulously. "Of -course not!" - -"And you _let_ him think he was on his way there?" demanded her -brother-in-law. "Well--you--are--the--limit!" - -"So is _he_," murmured the abashed maid, slinking back to give place to -a new and last arrival. Then she turned her guilty face in a sort of -panic of premonition. She was a true prophetess; Seabury had seen his -chance and was coming. And _that's_ what comes of mocking the Mystic -Three and cutting capers before High Heaven. - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XI - -DESTINY - - -He had taken her in and was apparently climbing rapidly through the -seven Heavens of rapture--having arrived as far as the third unchecked -and without mishap. It is not probable that she kept pace with him: she -had other things to think of. - -Dinner was served at small tables; and it required all her will, all her -limited experience, every atom of her intelligence, to keep him from -talking about things that meant exposure for her. Never apparently had -he been so flattered by any individual girl's attention; she was gay, -witty, audacious, charming, leading and carrying every theme to a -scintillating conclusion. - -The other four people at their table he had not before met--she had seen -to that--and it proved to be a very jolly group, and there was a steady, -gay tumult of voices around it, swept by little gusts of laughter; and -he knew perfectly well that he had never had such a good time as he was -having--had never been so clever, so interesting, so quick with his wit, -so amusing. He had never seen such a girl as had been allotted to -him--never! Besides, something else had nerved him to do his best. And -he was doing it. - -"It's a curious thing," he said, with that odd new smile of his, "what a -resemblance there is between you and Mrs. Austin." - -"What Mrs. Austin?" began the girl opposite; but got no further, for -Cecil Gay was appealing to him to act as arbiter in a disputed Bridge -question; and he did so with nice discrimination and a logical -explanation which tided matters over that time. But it was a close call; -and the color had not all returned to Cecil's cheeks when he finished, -with great credit to his own reputation as a Bridge expert. - -But the very deuce seemed to possess him to talk on subjects from which -she strove to lead him. - -These are the other breaks he made, and as far as he got with each -break--stopped neatly every time in time: - -"Curious I haven't seen Jack Aus----" - -"Mrs. Austin _does_ resemble----" - -"This is the first time I have ever been in Bev----" - -And each time she managed to repair the break unnoticed. But it was -telling on her; she couldn't last another round--she knew that. Only the -figurative bell could save her now. And she could almost _hear_ it as -her sister rose. - -Saved! But--but--_what_ might some of these men say to him if he -lingered here for coffee and cigarettes? - -"You won't, will you?" she said desperately, as all rose. - -"Won't--what?" he asked. - -"Stay--_long_." - -He rapidly made his way from the third into the fourth Heaven. She -watched him. - -"No, indeed," he said under his breath. - -She lingered, fascinated by her own peril. _Could_ she get him away at -once? - -"I--I wonder, Mr. Seabury, what you would think if I--if I suggested -that you smoke--smoke--on the stairs--now--with me?" - -He hastily scrambled out of the fourth Heaven into the fifth. She saw -him do it. - -"I'd rather smoke there than anywhere in the world----" - -"Quick, then! Saunter over to the door--stroll about a little first--no, -don't do even that!--I--I mean--you'd better hurry. _Please!_" She cast -a rapid look about her; she could not linger another moment. Then, -concentrating all the sweetness and audacity in her, and turning to him, -she gave him one last look. It was sufficient to send him in one wild, -flying leap from the fifth Heaven plump into the sixth. The sixth Heaven -was on the stairs; and his legs carried him thither at a slow and -indifferent saunter, though it required every scrap of his self-control -to prevent his legs from breaking into a triumphant trot. Yet all the -while that odd smile flickered, went out, and flickered in his eyes. - -She was there, very fluffy, very brilliant, and flustered and adorable, -the light from the sconces playing over her bare arms and shoulders and -spinning all sorts of aureoles around her bright hair. Hah! She had him -alone now. She was safe; she could breathe again. And he might harp on -the Austins all he chose. Let him! - -"No, _I_ can't have cigarettes," she explained, "because it isn't good -for my voice. I'm supposed to possess a voice, you know." - -"It's about the sweetest voice I ever heard," he said so sincerely that -the bright tint in her cheeks deepened. - -"That is nicer than a compliment," she said, looking at him with a -little laugh of pleasure. He nodded, watching the smoke rings drifting -through the hall. - -"Do you know something?" he said. - -"Not very much. What?" - -"If I were a great matrimonial prize----" - -"You are, aren't you?" - -"_If_ I was," he continued, ignoring her, "like a king or a grand -duke----" - -"Exactly." - -"I'd invite a grand competition for my hand and heart----" - -"We'd all go, Mr. Seabury----" - -"----And then I'd stroll about among them all----" - -"Certainly--among the competing millions." - -"Among the millions--blindfolded----" - -"Blinfo----" - -"Yes." - -"Why?" - -"----Blindfolded!" he repeated with emphasis. "I would choose a -_voice_!--before everything else in the world." - -"Oh," she said, rather faintly. - -"A voice," he mused, looking hard at the end of his cigarette which had -gone out: and the odd smile began to flicker in his eyes again. - -Mischief prompting, she began: "I wonder what chance I should have in -your competition? First prize I couldn't aspire to, but--there would be -a sort of booby prize--wouldn't there, Mr. Seabury?" - -"There would be only one prize----" - -"Oh!" - -"And that would be the booby prize; the prize booby." And he smiled his -odd smile and laid his hand rather gracefully over his heart. "You have -won him, Miss Gay." - -She looked at him prepared to laugh, but, curiously enough, there was -less of the booby about him as she saw him there than she had -expected--a tall, clean-cut, attractive young fellow, with a well-shaped -head and nice ears--a man, not a boy, after all--pleasant, amiably -self-possessed, and of her own sort, as far as breeding showed. - -Gone was the indescribably indefinite suggestion of _too_ good looks, of -latent self-sufficiency. He no longer struck her as being pleased with -himself, of being a shade--just a shade--too sure of himself. A change, -certainly; and to his advantage. Kindness, sympathy, recognition make -wonderful changes in some people. - -"I'll tell you what I'd do if I were queen, and"--she glanced at him--"a -matrimonial prize.... Shall I?" - -"Why be both?" he asked. - -"That rings hollow, Mr. Seabury, after your tribute to my voice!... -Suppose I were queen. _I'd_ hold a caucus, too. Please say you'd come." - -"Oh, I am already there!" - -"_That_ won't help you; it isn't first come, first served at _my_ -caucus!... So, suppose millions of suitors were all sitting around -twisting their fingers in abashed hopeful silence." - -"Exactly." - -"_What_ do you think I'd do, Mr. Seabury?" - -"Run. _I_ should." - -"No; I should make them a speech--a long one--oh, dreadfully long and -wearisome. I should talk and talk and talk, and repeat myself, and pile -platitude on platitude, and maunder on and on and on. And about -luncheon-time I should have a delicious repast served me, and I'd -continue my speech as I ate. And after that I'd ramble on and on until -dinner-time. And I should dine magnificently up there on the dais, and, -between courses, I'd continue my speech----" - -"You'd choose the last man to go to sleep," he said simply. - -"_How_ did you guess it!" she exclaimed, vexed. "I--it's too bad for you -to know _everything_, Mr. Seabury." - -"I thought you were convinced that I didn't know _anything_?" he said, -looking up at her. His voice was quiet--too quiet; his face grave, -unsmiling, firm. - -"I? Mr. Seabury, I don't understand you." - -He folded his hands and rested his chin on the knuckles. "But I -understand you, Miss Gay. Tell me"--the odd smile flickered and went -out--"_Tell me, in whose house am I?_" - -Sheer shame paralyzed her; wave on wave of it crimsoned her to the hair. -She sat there in deathly silence; he coolly lighted another cigarette, -dropped one elbow on his knee, propping his chin in his open palm. - -"I'm curious to know--if you don't mind," he added pleasantly. - -"Oh--h!" she breathed, covering her eyes suddenly with both hands. She -pressed the lids for a moment steadily, then her hands fell to her lap, -and she faced him, cheeks aflame. - -"I--I have no excuse," she stammered--"nothing to say for myself ... -except I did not understand what a--a common--dreadful--insulting thing -I was doing----" - -He waited; then: "I am not angry, Miss Gay." - -"N-not angry? You are! You must be! It was too mean--too -contemptible----" - -"Please don't. Besides, I took possession of your sleigh. Bailey did the -business for me. I didn't know he had left the Austins, of course." - -She looked up quickly; there was a dimness in her eyes, partly from -earnestness; "I did not know you had made a mistake until you spoke of -the Austins," she said. "And then something whispered to me not to tell -you--to let you go on--something possessed me to commit this folly----" - -"Oh, no; _I_ committed it. Besides, we were more than half-way here, -were we not?" - -"Ye-yes." - -"And there's only one more train for Beverly, and I couldn't possibly -have made that, even if we had turned back!" - -"Y-yes. Mr. Seabury, _are_ you trying to defend me?" - -"You need no defense. You were involved through no fault of your own in -a rather ridiculous situation. And you simply, and like a philosopher, -extracted what amusement there was in it." - -"Mr. Seabury! You shall not be so--so generous. I have cut a wretchedly -undignified figure----" - -"You couldn't!" - -"I could--I have--I'm doing it!" - -"You are doing something else, Miss Gay." - -"W-what?" - -"Making it very, very hard for me to go." - -"But you can't go! You mustn't! Do you think I'd let you go--_now_? Not -if the Austins lived next door! I mean it, Mr. Seabury. I--I simply must -make amends--all I can----" - -"Amends? You have." - -"I? How?" - -"By being here with me." - -"Th-that is--is very sweet of you, Mr. Seabury, but I--but they--but -you--Oh! I don't know what I'm trying to say, except that I like -you--_they_ will like you--and everybody knows Lily Seabury. Please, -please forgive----" - -"I'm going to telephone to Beverly.... Will you wait--_here_?" - -"Ye-yes. Wh-what are you going to telephone? You can't go, you know. -Please don't try--will you?" - -"No," he said, looking down at her. - -Things were happening swiftly--everything was happening in an -instant--life, youth, time, all were whirling and spinning around her in -bewildering rapidity; and her pulses, too, leaping responsive, drummed -cadence to her throbbing brain. - -She saw him mount the stairs and disappear--no doubt to his room, for -there was a telephone there. Then, before she realized the lapse of -time, he was back again, seating himself quietly beside her on the broad -stair. - -"Shall I tell you what I am going to do?" he said after a silence -through which the confused sense of rushing unreality had held her mute. - -"Wh-what are you going to do?" - -"Walk to Beverly." - -"Mr. Seabury! You promised----" - -"Did I?" - -"You did! It is snowing terribly.... It is miles and miles and the snow -is already too deep. Besides, do you think I--we would let you _walk_! -But you shall not go--and there are horses enough, too! No, no, no! I--I -wish you would let me try to make up _something_ to you--if I--all that -I can possibly make up." - -"At the end of the hall above there's a window," he said slowly. "Prove -to me that the snow is too deep." - -"Prove it?" She sprang up, gathering her silken skirts and was on the -landing above before he could rise. - -He found her, smiling, triumphant, beside the big casement at the end of -the hallway. - -"Now are you convinced?" she said. "Just look at the snowdrifts. Are you -satisfied?" - -"No," he said, quietly--too quietly by far. She looked up at him, a -quick protest framed on her red lips. Something--perhaps the odd glimmer -in his eyes--committed her to silence. From silence the stillness grew -into tension; and again the rushing sense of unreality surged over them -both, leaving their senses swimming. - -"There is only one thing in the world I care for now," he said. - -"Ye-yes." - -"And that is to have you think well of me." - -"I--I do." - -"--And each day--think better of me." - -"I--will--probably----" - -"And in the end----" - -She neither stirred nor turned her eyes. - -"--In the end--_Listen_ to me." - -"I am wi-willing to." - -[Illustration: "'Only one person in the world can ever matter to -me--now.'"] - -"Because it will be then as it is now; as it was when even I didn't know -it--as it must be always, for me. Only one person in the world can ever -matter to me--now.... There's no escape from it for me." - -"Do--do you wish to--escape?" - -"Cecil!" he said under his breath. - - * * * * * - -"They're dancing, below," she said leaning over the gallery, one soft -white hand on the polished rail, the other abandoned to -him--carelessly--as though she were quite unconscious where it lay. - -"They are dancing," she repeated, turning toward him--which brought them -face to face, both her hands resting listlessly in his. - -A silence, then: - -"Do you know," she said, "that this is a very serious matter?" - -"I know." - -"And that it's probably one of those dreadful, terrible and sudden -strokes of Fate?" - -"I know." - -"And that--that it serves me right?" - -He was smiling; and she smiled back at him, the starry beauty of her -eyes dimming a trifle. - -"You say that you have chosen a 'Voice,'" she said; "and--do you think -that you would be the last man to go to sleep?" - -"The very last." - -"Then--I suppose I must make my choice.... I will ... some day.... And, -are you going to dance with me?" - -He raised her hands, joining them together between his; and she watched -him gravely, a tremor touching her lips. In silence their hands fell -apart; he stepped nearer; she lifted her head a little--a very -little--closing her lids; he bent and kissed her lips, very lightly. - -That was all; they opened their eyes upon one another, somewhat dazed. A -bell, very far off, was sounding faintly through the falling -snow--faintly, persistently, the first bell for Christmas morning. - -Then she took the edges of her silken gown between thumb and forefinger, -and slowly, very slowly, sank low with flushed cheeks, sweeping him an -old-time curtsey. - -"I--I wish you a Merry Christmas," she said.... "And thank you for -_your_ wish.... And you may take me down, now"--rising to her slim and -lovely height--"and I think we had better dance as hard as we can and -try to forget what our families are likely to think of what we've -done.... Don't you?" - -"Yes," he said seriously, "I do." - - * * * * * - -"And _that's_ what comes of running after trains, and talking to fat -conductors, and wearing chinchilla furs, and flouting the Mystic Three!" -added Williams throwing away his cigar. - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XII - -IN WHICH A MODEST MAN MAUNDERS - - -"In my opinion," said I, "a man who comes to see Paris in three months is -a fool, and kin to that celebrated ass who circum-perambulated the globe -in eighty days. See all, see nothing. A man might camp a lifetime in the -Louvre and learn little about it before he left for Père Lachaise. Yet -here comes the United States in a gigantic "_mônome_" to see the city in -three weeks, when three years is too short a time in which to appreciate -the Carnavalet Museum alone! I'm going home." - -"Oh, papa!" said Alida. - -"Yes, I am," I snapped. "I'd rather be tried and convicted in Oyster Bay -on the charge of stealing my own pig than confess I had 'seen Paris' in -three months." - -We had driven out to the Trocadero that day, and were now comfortably -seated in the tower of that somewhat shabby "palace," for the purpose of -obtaining a bird's eye view of the "Rive Droite" or right bank of the -Seine. - -Elegant, modern, spotless, the Rive Droite spread out at our feet, -silver-gray squares of Renaissance architecture inlaid with the delicate -green of parks, circles, squares, and those endless double and quadruple -lines of trees which make Paris slums more attractive than Fifth Avenue. -Far as the eye could see stretched the exquisite monotony of the Rive -Droite, discreetly and artistically broken by domes and spires of -uncatalogued "monuments," in virgin territory, unknown and unsuspected -to those spiritual vandals whose hordes raged through the boulevards, -waving ten thousand blood-red Baedekers at the paralyzed Parisians. - -"Well," said I, "now that we have 'seen' the Rive Droite, let's cast a -bird's-eye glance over Europe and Asia and go back to the hotel for -luncheon." - -My sarcasm was lost on my daughters because they had moved out of -earshot. Alida was looking through a telescope held for her by a friend -of Captain de Barsac, an officer of artillery named Captain Vicômte -Torchon de Cluny. He was all over scarlet and black and gold; when he -walked his sabre made noises, and his ringing spurs reminded me of the -sound of sleigh-bells in Oyster Bay. - -My daughter Dulcima was observing the fortress of Mont-Valerien through -a tiny pair of jewelled opera-glasses, held for her by Captain de -Barsac. It was astonishing to see how tirelessly De Barsac held those -opera-glasses, which must have weighed at least an ounce. But French -officers are inured to hardships and fatigue. - -"Is _that_ a fortress?" asked Dulcima ironically. "I see nothing but -some low stone houses." - -"Next to Gibraltar," said De Barsac, "it is the most powerful fortress -in the world, mademoiselle. It garrisons thousands of men; its stores -are enormous; it dominates not only Paris, but all France." - -"But where are the cannon?" asked Dulcima. - -"Ah--exactly--where? That is what other nations pay millions to find -out--and cannot. Will you take my word for it that there are one or two -cannon there--and permit me to avoid particulars?" - -"You might tell me where just one little unimportant cannon is?" said my -daughter, with the naïve curiosity which amuses the opposite and still -more curious sex. - -"And endanger France?" asked De Barsac, with owl-like solemnity. - -"Thank you," pouted Dulcima, perfectly aware that he was laughing. - -Their voices became low, and relapsed into that buzzing murmur which -always defeats its own ends by arousing parental vigilance. - -"Let us visit the aquarium," said I in a distinct and disagreeable -voice. Doubtless the "voice from the wilderness" was gratuitously -unwelcome to Messieurs De Barsac and Torchon de Cluny, but they appeared -to welcome the idea with a conciliatory alacrity noticeable in young men -when intruded upon by the parent of pretty daughters. Dear me, how fond -they appeared to be of me; what delightful information they volunteered -concerning the Trocadero, the Alexander Bridge, the Champ de Mars. - - * * * * * - -The aquarium of the Trocadero is underground. To reach it you simply -walk down a hole in France and find yourself under the earth, listening -to the silvery prattle of a little brook which runs over its bed of -pebbles _above your head_, pouring down little waterfalls into endless -basins of glass which line the damp arcades as far as you can see. The -arcades themselves are dim, the tanks, set in the solid rock, are -illuminated from above by holes in the ground, through which pours the -yellow sunshine of France. - -Looking upward through the glass faces of the tanks you can see the -surface of the water with bubbles afloat, you can see the waterfall -tumbling in; you can catch glimpses of green grass and bushes, and a bit -of blue sky. - -Into the tanks fall insects from the world above, and the fish sail up -to the surface and lazily suck in the hapless fly or spider that tumbles -onto the surface of the water. - -It is a fresh-water aquarium. All the fresh-water fish of France are -represented here by fine specimens--pike, barbels, tench, dace, perch, -gudgeons, sea-trout, salmon, brown-trout, and that lovely delicate -trout-like fish called _l'Ombre de Chevallier_. What it is I do not -know, but it resembles our beautiful American brook-trout in shape and -marking; and is probably a hybrid, cultivated by these clever French -specialists in fish-propagation. - -Coming to a long crystal-clear tank, I touched the glass with my -finger-tip, and a slender, delicate fish, colored like mother-of-pearl, -slowly turned to stare at me. - -"This," said I, "is that aristocrat of the waters called the 'Grayling.' -Notice its huge dorsal fin, its tender and diminutive mouth. It takes a -fly like a trout, but the angler who would bring it to net must work -gently and patiently, else the tender mouth tears and the fish is lost. -Is it not the most beautiful of all fishes? - - "'Here and there a lusty trout; - Here and there a Grayling--' - -"Ah, Tennyson knew. And that reminds me, Alida," I continued, preparing -to recount a personal adventure with a grayling in Austria--"that -reminds me----" - -I turned around to find I had been addressing the empty and somewhat -humid atmosphere. My daughter Alida stood some distance away, gazing -absently at a tank full of small fry; and Captain Vicômte Torchon de -Cluny stood beside her, talking. Perhaps he was explaining the habits of -the fish in the tank. - -My daughter Dulcima and Captain de Barsac I beheld far down the arcades, -strolling along without the faintest pretence of looking at anything but -each other. - -"Very well," thought I to myself, "this aquarium is exactly the place I -expect to avoid in future--" And I cheerfully joined my daughters as -though they and their escorts had long missed me. - -Now, of course, they all expressed an enthusiastic desire to visit -every tank and hear me explain the nature of their contents; but it was -too late. - -"No," said I, "it is damp enough here to float all the fishes in the -Seine. And besides, as we are to 'see' the Rive Droite, we should -hasten, so that we may have at least half an hour to devote to the -remainder of France." - -From the bowels of the earth we emerged into the sunshine, to partake of -an exceedingly modest luncheon in the Trocadero restaurant, under the -great waterfall. - -Across the river a regiment of red-legged infantry marched, drums and -bugles sounding. - -"All that territory over there," said De Barsac, "is given up to -barracks. It is an entire quarter of the city, occupied almost -exclusively by the military. There the streets run between miles of -monotonous barracks, through miles of arid parade grounds, where all day -long the _piou-pious_ drill in the dust; where the cavalry exercise; -where the field-artillery go clanking along the dreary streets toward -their own exercise ground beyond the Usine de Gaz. All day long that -quarter of the city echoes with drums beating and trumpets sounding, and -the trample of passing cavalry, and the clank and rattle of cannon. -Truly, in the midst of peace we prepare for--something else--we -French." - -"It is strange," said I, "that you have time to be the greatest -sculptors, architects, and painters in the world." - -"In France, monsieur, we never lack time. It is only in America that you -corner time and dispense it at a profit." - -"Time," said I, "is at once our most valuable and valueless commodity. -Our millionaires seldom have sufficient time to avoid indigestion. Yet, -although time is apparently so precious, there are among us men who -spend it in reading the New York _Herald_ editorials. I myself am often -short of time, yet I take a Long Island newspaper and sometimes even -read it." - -We had been walking through the gardens, while speaking, toward a large -crowd of people which had collected along the river. In the centre of -the crowd stood a taxicab, on the box of which danced the cabby, -gesticulating. - -When we arrived at the scene of disturbance the first person I saw -distinctly was our acquaintance, the young man from East Boston, -hatless, dishevelled, all over dust, in the grasp of two agents de -police. - -"He has been run over by a taxi," observed De Barsac. "They are going to -arrest him." - -"Well, why don't they do it?" I said, indignantly, supposing that De -Barsac meant the chauffeur was to be arrested. - -"They have done so." - -"No, they haven't! They are holding the man who has been run over!" - -"Exactly. He has been run over and they are arresting him." - -"Who?" I demanded, bewildered. - -"Why, the man who has been run over!" - -"But why, in Heaven's name!" - -"Why? Because he allowed himself to be run over!" - -"What!" I cried. "They arrest the man who has been run over, and not the -man who ran over him?" - -"It is the law," said De Barsac, coolly. - -"Do you mean to tell me that the _runner_ is left free, while the -_runnee_ is arrested?" I asked in deadly calmness, reducing my question -to legal and laconic language impossible to misinterpret. - -"Exactly. The person who permits a vehicle to run over him in defiance -of the French law, which says that nobody ought to let himself be run -over, is liable to arrest, imprisonment, and fine--unless, of course, so -badly injured that recovery is impossible." - -Now at last I understood the Dreyfus Affaire. Now I began to comprehend -the laws of the Bandarlog. Now I could follow the subtle logic of the -philosophy embodied in "Alice in Wonderland" and "Through the -Looking-Glass!" - -This was the country for me! Why, certainly; these people here could -understand a man who was guilty of stealing his own pig. - -"I think I should like to live in Paris again," I said to my daughters; -then I approached the young man from East Boston and bade him cheer up. - -He was not hurt; he was only rumpled and dusty and hopping mad. - -"I shall pay their darned fine," he said. "Then I'm going to hire a cab -and drive it myself, and hunt up that cabman who ran over me, by Judas!" - - * * * * * - -That night I met Williams at the Café Jaune by previous and crafty -agreement; and it certainly was nice to be together after all these -years in the same old seats in the same café, and discuss the days that -we never could live again--and wouldn't want to if we could--alas! - -The talk fell on Ellis and Jones, and immediately I perceived that -Williams had skillfully steered the conversation toward those two young -men--and I knew devilish well he had a story to tell me about them. - -So I cut short his side-stepping and circling, and told him to be about -it as I wanted to devote one or two hours that night to a matter which I -had recently neglected--Sleep. - -"That Jones," he said, "was a funny fellow. He and Ellis didn't meet -over here; Ellis was before his time. But they became excellent friends -under rather unusual circumstances. - -"Ellis, you know, was always getting some trout fishing when he was over -here. He was a good deal of a general sportsman. As for Jones--well, you -remember that he had no use for anything more strenuous than a motor -tour." - -"I remember," I said. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XIII - -A CHANCE ACQUAINTANCE - - -Well, then, the way that Ellis and Jones met each other--and several -other things--was this. It chanced to be in the northern forests, I -believe--both were fishing, neither knew the other nor was even aware of -their mutual proximity. - -Then the wind changed abruptly, blowing now from the south; and with the -change of wind Ellis fancied that he smelled green wood burning. A few -minutes later he was sure of it; he stood knee-deep in the stream -sniffing uneasily, then he lifted his trout-rod, reeled in his line, and -waded silently shoreward, his keen nose twitching. - -Ah! There it was--that misty bluish bloom belting a clump of hemlocks. -And the acrid odor grew, impregnating the filtered forest air. He -listened, restless eyes searching. The noise of the stream filled his -ears; he tightened the straps of his pack, shortened his trout rod, -leaving line and cast on, and crawled up the ravine, shoulder-deep in -fragrant undergrowth, until the dull clash of flashing spray and the -tumult of the falls were almost lost in the leafy depths behind. - -Ranker, stronger, came the pungent odor of smoke; halting to listen he -heard the hissing whisper of green wood afire; then, crawling up over an -enormous boulder, he saw, just beyond and below, a man in tweeds, -squatting on his haunches, and attempting to toss a flapjack over a -badly constructed camp-fire. - -The two young men caught sight of one another at the same instant; -alert, mistrustful, each stared at the other in questioning silence -while the first instinct of unpleasant surprise lasted. - -"How are you?" said the man, cautiously. - -"Good-morning," replied Ellis. "When the wind turned I scented your fire -down the stream. Thought I'd see what was burning." - -"Are you up here fishing?" inquired he of the tweeds. - -"Yes; came here by canoe to the forks below. I am out for a week by -myself. The Caranay water is my old-time trail.... Looks like a storm, -doesn't it?" - -"Anything doing with the trout?" - -"Not much; two in the falls pool that come an ounce short of the pound. -I should be glad to divide--if you are shy on trout." - -Again they regarded one another carefully. - -"My name," said the man by the fire, "is Jones--but that can't be helped -now. So if you'll overlook such matters I'll be glad of a trout if you -can spare one." - -"My name is Ellis; help yourself." - -The man by the fire glanced at the burnt flapjack, scraped it free from -the pan, tossed it into the bushes, and straightened to his full height. - -"Come into camp, Mr. Ellis," he said, politely. The freemasonry of caste -operates very quickly in the wilderness; Ellis slid down the boulder on -the re-enforced seat of his knickerbockers, landing, with hob-nailed -shoes foremost, almost at the edge of the fire. Then he laid his rod -aside, slipped the pack to the ground, unslung his creel, and, fishing -out a handkerchief, mopped his sunburnt countenance. - -"Anything else you're short of, Mr. Jones?" he asked, pleasantly. "I'm -just in from the settlements, and I can let you have a pinch of almost -anything." - -"Have you plenty of salt?" inquired Jones, wistfully. - -"Plenty; isn't there anything else? Bacon? Sugar?" - -"Matches?" - -Ellis looked at him keenly; good woodsmen don't run short of matches; -good woodsmen don't build such fires. - -"Certainly," he said. "Did you have an accident?" - -"No--that is, several boxes got wet, and I've been obliged to sit around -this confounded fire for fear it might go out--didn't dare fish very far -from it." - -He looked gloomily around, rubbed his forehead as though trying to -recollect something, and finally sat down on a log. - -"Fact is," he said, "I don't know very much about the woods. Do you? -Everything's gone wrong; I tore my canoe in the Ledge Rapids yesterday. -I'm in a fix." - -Ellis laughed; and his laugh was so pleasant, so entirely without -offence, that young Jones laughed, too, for a while, then checked -himself to adjust his eyeglasses, which his mirth had displaced. - -"Can you cook?" he asked, so seriously that Ellis only nodded, still -laughing. - -"Then, for Heaven's love, would you, when you cook your own breakfast -over that fire, cook enough for two?" - -"Why, man, I believe you're hungry," said Ellis, sharply. - -"Hungry? Well, I don't know whether you would call it exactly hunger, -because I have eaten several things which I cooked. I ought not to be -hungry; I tried to toss a flapjack, but it got stuck to the pan. Fact -is, I'm a rotten cook, and I guess it's simply that I'm half starved for -a decent meal." - -"Why, see here," said Ellis, rising to his feet, "I can fix up something -pretty quick if you like." - -"I _do_ like. Yonder is my cornmeal, coffee, some damp sugar, flour, and -what's left of the pork. You see I left it in a corner of the lean-to, -and while I was asleep a porcupine got busy with it; then I hung it on a -tree, and some more porcupines invited their relatives, and they all -climbed up and nearly finished it. Did you suppose that a porcupine -could climb a tree?" - -"I've heard so," said Ellis, gravely, busy with the stores which he was -unrolling from his own blanket. The guilelessness of this stray brother -appalled him. Here was a babe in the woods. A new sort of babe, too, -for, in the experience of Ellis, the incompetent woodsman is ever the -loudest-mouthed, the tyro, the most conceited. But this forest-squatting -innocent not only knew nothing of the elements of woodcraft, but had -called a stranger's attention to his ignorance with a simplicity that -silenced mirth, forestalled contempt, and aroused a curious respect for -the unfortunate. - -"He is no liar, anyway," thought Ellis, placing a back-log, mending the -fire, emptying the coffee pot, and settling the kettle to boil. And -while he went about culinary matters with a method born of habit, Jones -watched him, aided when he saw a chance; and they chatted on most -animatedly together as the preparations for breakfast advanced. - -"The very first day I arrived in the woods," said Jones, "I fell into -the stream and got most of my matches wet. I've had a devil of a time -since." - -"It's a good idea to keep reserve matches in a water-tight glass -bottle," observed Ellis, carelessly, and without appearing to instruct -anybody about anything. - -"I'll remember that. What is a good way to keep pork from porcupines?" - -Ellis mentioned several popular methods, stirred the batter, shoved a -hot plate nearer the ashes, and presently began the manufacture of -flapjacks. - -"Don't you toss 'em?" inquired Jones, watching the process intently. - -"Oh, they can be tossed--like this! But it is easier for me to turn them -with a knife--like this. I have an idea that they toss flapjacks less -often in the woods than they do in fiction." - -"I gathered my idea from a book," said Jones, bitterly; "it told how to -build a fire without matches. Some day I shall destroy the author." - -Presently Jones remarked in a low, intense voice: "Oh, the fragrance of -that coffee and bacon!" which was all he said, but its significance was -pathetically unmistakable. - -"Pitch in, man," urged Ellis, looking back over his shoulder. "I'll be -with you in a second." But when his tower of browned and smoking -flapjacks was ready, and he came over to the log, he found that his -host, being his host, had waited. That settled his convictions -concerning Jones; and that was doubtless why, inside of half an hour, he -found himself calling him Jones and not Mr. Jones, and Jones calling him -Ellis. They were a pair of well knit, clean-limbed young men, throat and -face burnt deeply by wind and sun. Jones did not have much hair; Ellis's -was thick and short, and wavy at the temples. They were agreeable to -look at. - -"Have another batch of flapjacks?" inquired Ellis, persuasively. - -Jones groaned with satisfaction at the prospect, and applied himself to -a crisp trout garnished with bacon. - -"I've tried and tried," he said, "but I cannot catch any trout. When I -found that I could not I was horrified, Ellis, because, you see, I had -supposed that the forest and stream were going to furnish me with -subsistence. Nature hasn't done a thing to me since I've tried to shake -hands with her." - -"I wonder," said Ellis, "why you came into the woods alone?" - -Jones coyly pounced upon another flapjack, folded it neatly and inserted -one end of it into his mouth. This he chewed reflectively; and when it -had vanished according to Fletcher, he said: - -"If I tell you why I came here I'll begin to get angry. This breakfast -is too heavenly to spoil. Pass the bacon and help yourself." - -Ellis, however, had already satisfied his hunger. He set the kettle on -the coals again, dumped into it cup and plate and fork, wiped his -sheath-knife carefully, and, curling up at the foot of a hemlock, -lighted his pipe, returning the flaming branch to the back-log. - -Jones munched on; smile after smile spread placidly over his youthful -face, dislodging his eyeglasses every time. He resumed them, and ate -flapjacks. - -"The first time my canoe upset," he said, "I lost my book of artificial -flies. I brought a box of angle-worms with me, too, but they fell into -the stream the second time I upset. So I have been trying to snare one -of those big trout under the ledge below----" - -Ellis's horrified glance cut him short; he shrugged his shoulders. - -"My friend, I know it's dead low-down, but it was a matter of pure -hunger with me. At all events, it's just as well that I caught nothing; -I couldn't have cooked it if I had." - -He sighed at the last flapjack, decided he did not require it, and -settling down with his back against the log blissfully lighted his pipe. - -For ten minutes they smoked without speaking, dreamily gazing at the -blue sky through the trees. Friendly little forest birds came around, -dropping from twig to branch; two chipmunks crept into the case of eggs -to fill their pouched chops with the oats that the eggs were packed in. -The young men watched them lazily. - -"The simpler life is the true existence," commented Ellis, drawing a -long, deep breath. - -"What the devil is the simpler life?" demanded Jones, with so much -energy that the chipmunks raced away in mad abandon, and the flock of -black-capped birds scattered to neigbouring branches, remarking in -unison, "_Chick-a-dee-dee-dee_." - -"Why, you're leading the simpler life now," said Ellis, laughing, "are -you not?" - -"Am I? No, I'm not. I'm not leading a simple life; I'm leading a -pace-killing, nerve-racking, complex one. I tell you, Ellis, that it has -taken just one week in the woods to reveal to me the complexity of -simplicity!" - -"Oh, you don't like the life?" - -"I like it all right, but it's too complex. Listen to me. You asked me -why anybody ever let me escape into the woods. I'll tell you.... You're -a New Yorker, are you not?" - -Ellis nodded. - -"All right. First look on this picture: I live in the Sixties, near -enough to the Park to see it. It's green, and I like it. Besides, there -are geraniums and other posies in my back yard, and I can see them when -the laundress isn't too busy with the clothes-line. So much for the -_mise en scène_; me in a twenty-by-one-hundred house, perfectly -contented; Park a stone's toss west, back yard a few feet north. My -habits? Simple enough to draw tears from a lambkin! I breakfast at -nine--an egg, fruit, coffee and--I hate to admit it--the _Sun_. At -eleven I go down-town to see if there's anything doing. There never is, -so I smoke one cigar with my partner and then we lunch together. I then -walk uptown--_walk_, mind you. At the club I look at the ticker, or out -of the window. Later I play cowboy or billiards for an hour. I take one -cocktail--_one_, if you please. I converse." He waved his pipe; Ellis -nodded solemnly. - -"Then," continued Jones, "what do I do?" - -"I don't know," replied Ellis. - -"I'll tell you. I call a cab--one taxi, or one hansom, as the state of -the weather may suggest--I drive through the Park, pleasantly aware of -the verdure, the squirrels, and the babies; I arrive at my home; I mount -to the library and there I select from my limited collection some -accursed book I've always heard of but have never read--not fiction, but -something stupefying and worth while. This I read for exactly one hour. -I then need a drink. I then dress; and if I'm dining out, out I go--if -not, I dine at home. Twice a week I attend the theatre, but I neutralise -that by doing penance at the opera every Monday during the season.... -There, Ellis, is the story of a simple life! Look on _that_ picture. Now -look on _this_: Me in the backwoods, fly-bitten, smoke-choked, a -half-charred flapjack in my fist, a porcupine-gnawed rind of pork on a -stick, attempting to broil the same at a fire, the smoke of which blinds -me. Me, again, belly down, peering hungrily over the bank of a stream, -attempting to snatch a trout with a bare hook, my glasses slipping off -repeatedly, the spectre of starvation scourging on me. Me, once more, -frantic with indigestion and mosquitoes, lurking under a blanket, the -root of a tree bruising my backbone; me in the morning, done up, shaving -in icy water and cutting my chin; me, half shaved, searching for a scrap -of nourishment, gauntly prowling among cold and greasy fry-pans! Ellis! -_Which_ is the simpler life, in Heaven's name?" - -Ellis's laughter was the laughter of a woodsman, full, infectious, but -almost noiseless. The birds came back and teetered on adjacent twigs, -cheeping in friendly unison; a chipmunk, chops distended, popped up from -the case of eggs like a striped jack-in-a-box, not at all afraid of a -man who laughed that way. - -"_How_ did you ever come into the woods?" he asked at length. - -"Lunatic friends and fool books persuaded me I was missing something. I -read all about how to tell a woodcock from a peacock; how to dig holes -in the ground and raise little pea vines, and how to make two blades of -grass grow where the laundress had set a devastating shoe. Then I tired -of it. But friends urged me on, and one idiot said that I looked like -the victim of a rare disease and gave me a shotgun--whether to shoot -myself or the dicky birds I'm not perfectly certain yet. Besides, as I -have a perfect hatred of taking life, I had no temptation to shoot -guides in Maine or niggers in South Carolina, where the quail come from. -Still, I was awake to the new idea. I read more books on bats and -woodchucks; I smelled every flower I saw; I tried to keep up," he said, -earnestly; "by Heaven, I did my best! And now, look at me! Nature hands -me the frozen mitt!" - -Ellis could only laugh, cradling his knees in his clasped and sun-tanned -hands. - -"I am fond of Nature; I admire the geraniums in my backyard," continued -Jones, excitedly. "I like a simple life, too; but I don't wish to pursue -a live thing and eat it for my dinner. The idea is perfectly obnoxious -to me. I like flowers on a table or in the Park, but I don't want to -know their names, or the names of the creatures that buzz and crawl over -them, or the names of the birds that feed on the buzzy things! I don't; -I know I don't, and I won't! Nature has strung me; I shall knock Nature -hereafter. This is all for mine. I'll lock up and leave the key of the -fields to the next Come-on lured into the good green goods by that most -accomplished steerer, Mrs. Nature. I've got my gilt brick, Ellis--I'm -going home to buy a card to hang over my desk; and on it will be the -wisest words ever written: - - "'Who's Loony Now?'" - -"But, my dear fellow----" - -"No, you don't. You're an accomplice of this Nature dame; I can tell by -the way you cook and catch trout and keep your matches in bottles. One -large and brilliant brick is enough for one New York man. The asphalt -for mine--and a Turkish bath." - -After a grinning silence, Ellis arose, stretched, tapped his pipe -against a tree trunk, and sauntered over to where his rod lay. "Come on; -I'll guarantee you a trout in the first reach," he said, affably, -slipping ferrule into socket, disentangling the cast and setting the -line free. - -So they strolled off toward the long amber reach which lay a few yards -below the camp, Jones explaining that he didn't wish to take life from -anything except a mosquito. - -"We've got to eat; we'd better stock up while we can, because it's going -to rain," observed Ellis. - -"Going to rain? How do you know?" - -"I smell it. Besides, look there--yonder above the mountains. Do you see -the sky behind the Golden Dome?" - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XIV - -A STATE OF MIND - - -Up the narrow valley, over the unbroken sweep of treetops, arose tumbled -peaks; and above the Golden Dome, pushing straight upward into the -flawless blue of heaven, towered a cloud, its inky convolutions edged -with silver. - -Jones inspected the thunderhead with disapproval; Ellis offered his rod, -and, being refused, began some clever casting, the artistic beauty of -which was lost upon Jones. - -One trout only investigated the red-and-white fly; and, that fish safely -creeled, Ellis turned to his companion: - -"Three years ago, when I last came here, this reach was more prolific. -But there's a pool above that I'll warrant. Shall we move?" - -As they passed on upstream Jones said: "There's no pool above, only a -rapid." - -"You're in error," said Ellis, confidently. "I've known every pool on -the Caranay for years." - -"But there is no pool above--unless you mean to trespass." - -"Trespass!" repeated Ellis, aghast. "_Trespass_ in the free Caranay -forests! You--you don't mean to say that any preserve has been -established on the Caranay! I haven't been here for three years.... _Do_ -you?" - -"Look there," said Jones, pointing to a high fence of netted wire which -rose above the undergrowth and cut the banks of the stream in two with a -barrier eight feet high; "that's what stopped me. There's their -home-designed trespass notice hanging to the fence. Read it; it's worth -perusal." - -Speechless, but still incredulous, Ellis strode to the barrier and -looked up. And this is what he read printed in mincing "Art Nouveau" -type upon a swinging zinc sign fashioned to imitate something or other -which was no doubt very precious: - - OYEZ! - - Ye simple livers of ye simpler life have raised thys barrier - against ye World, ye Flesh and ye Devyl. Turn back in Peace and - leave us to our Nunnery. - - YE MAIDS AND DAMES OF VASSAR. - -"What the devil is that nonsense?" demanded Ellis hoarsely. - -"Explained on our next tree," remarked Jones, wiping his eyeglasses -indifferently. - -An ordinary trespass notice printed on white linen was nailed to the -flank of a great pine; and, below this, a special warning, done in red -on a white board: - - NOTICE! - - This property belongs to the Vassar College Summer School. - Fishing, shooting, trapping, the felling of trees, the picking of - wild flowers, and every form of trespass, being strictly - forbidden, all violators of this ordinance under the law will be - prosecuted. One hundred dollars reward is offered for evidence - leading to the detection and conviction of any trespasser upon - this property. - - THE DIRECTORS OF THE VASSAR SUMMER SCHOOL. - -"Well?" inquired Jones, as Ellis stood motionless, staring at the sign. -The latter slowly turned an enraged visage toward his companion. - -"What are you going to do?" repeated Jones, curiously. - -"Do? I'm going to fish the Caranay. Come on." - -"Trespass on Vassar?" asked Jones. - -"I'm going to fish the Caranay, my old and favorite and beloved -stream," retorted Ellis, doggedly. "Do you suppose a dinky zinc -sign in this forest can stop me? Come on, Jones. I'll show you a -trout worth tossing this Caranay Belle to." And he looped on a -silver-and-salmon-tinted fly and waded out into the rapids. - -Jones lighted his pipe and followed him, giving his views of several -matters in a voice pitched above the whispering rush of the ripples: - -"That's all very well, Ellis, but suppose we are pinched and fined? A -nice place, these forests, for a simple liver to lead a simple life in! -Simple life! What? And some of these writers define the 'simple life' as -merely a 'state of mind.' That's right, too; I was in a state of mind -until I met you, let me tell you! They're perfectly correct; it is a -state of mind." - -He muttered to himself, casting an anxious eye on the thundercloud which -stretched almost to the zenith over the Golden Dome and shadowed Lynx -Peak like a pall. - -"Rain, too," he commented, wading in Ellis's wake. "There's a most -devilish look about that cloud. I wish I were a woodchuck--or a shiner, -or an earnest young thing from Vassar. What are we to do if pinched with -the goods on us, Ellis?" - -The other laughed a disagreeable laugh and splashed forward. - -"Because," continued Jones, wiping the spray from his glasses, "the -woods yonder may be teeming with these same young things from Vassar. -Old 'uns, too--there's a faculty for that Summer School. You can never -tell what a member of a ladies' Summer School faculty would do to you. I -dare say they might run after you and frisk you for a kiss--out here in -the backwoods." - -"Do you know anything about this absurd Summer School?" asked Ellis, -halting to wait for his companion. - -"Only what the newspapers print." - -"And what's that? I've not noticed anything about it." - -"Why, they all tell about the scope of the Vassar Summer School. It's -founded"--and he grinned maliciously--"on the simple life." - -"How?" snapped Ellis, clambering up out of the water to the flat, sandy -shore of an exquisite pool some forty rods in length. - -"Why, this way: The Vassar undergraduates, who formerly, after -commencement, scattered into all the complexities of a silly, -unprofitable, good old summer time, now have a chance to acquire -simplicity and a taste for the rudimentary pleasures and pursuits they -have overlooked in their twentieth-century gallop after the complex." - -Ellis sullenly freed his line and glanced up at the clouds. It was -already raining on the Golden Dome. - -"So," continued Jones, "the Summer School took to the woods along with -the rest of the simple-minded. I hear they have a library; doubtless it -contains the _Outlook_ and the Rollo books. They have courses in the -earlier and simpler languages--the dead 'uns--Sanskrit, Greek, Latin; -English, too, before it grew pin-feathers. They have a grand-stand built -of logs out yonder where the mosquito hummeth; and some trees and a pond -which they call a theatre devoted to the portrayal of the great -primitive and simple passions and emotions. They have also dammed up the -stream to make a real lake when they give tank-dramas like Lohengrin and -the Rheingold; and the papers say they have a pair of live swans hitched -to a boat--that is, a yellow reporter swears they have, but he was -discovered taking snapshots at some Rhine-wine daughters, and hustled -out of the woods----" - -He paused to watch Ellis hook and play and presently land a splendid -trout weighing close to two pounds. - -"It's an outrage, an infernal outrage, for such people to dam the -Caranay and invade this God-given forest with their unspeakable tin -signs!" said Ellis, casting again. - -"But they're only looking for a simpler life--just like you." - -Ellis said something. - -"That," replied Jones, "is a simple and ancient word expressing tersely -one of the simplest and most primitive passions. You know, the simple -life is merely a "state of mind"; you're acquiring it; I recognize the -symptoms." - -Ellis made another observation, more or less mandatory. - -"Yes, that is a locality purely mythical, according to our later -exponents of theology; therefore I cannot accept the suggestion to go -there----" - -"Confound it!" exclaimed Ellis, laughing, as he landed a trout, "let up -on your joking. I'm mad all through, and it's beginning to rain. When -that thunder comes nearer it will end the fishing, too. Look at Lynx -Peak! Did you see that play of lightning? There's a corker of a storm -brewing. I hope," he added, savagely, "it will carry away their -confounded dam and their ridiculous lake. The nerve of women to dam a -trout stream like the Caranay.... What was that you said?" - -"I said," hissed Jones in a weird whisper, "that there are two girls -standing behind us and taking our pictures with a kodak! Don't look -around, man! They'll snap-shoot us for evidence!" - -But the caution was too late; Ellis had turned. There came a click of a -kodak shutter; Jones turned in spite of himself; another click sounded. - -"Stang!" breathed Jones as two young girls stepped from the shelter of a -juniper brush and calmly confronted the astonished trespassers. - -"I am very sorry to trouble you," said the taller one severely, "but -this is private property." - -Ellis took off his cap; Jones did the same. - -"I saw your signs," said Ellis, pleasantly. Jones whispered to him: "The -taller one is a corker!" and Ellis replied under his breath: "The other -is attractive, too." - -"You admit that you deliberately trespassed?" inquired the shorter girl -very gravely. - -"Not upon you--only upon what you call your property," said Ellis, -gaily. "You see, we really need the trout in our business--which is to -keep soul and body on friendly terms." - -No answering smile touched the pretty grey eyes fixed on his. She said -gravely: "I am very sorry that this has happened." - -"We're sorry, too," smiled Jones, "although we can scarcely regret the -charming accident which permits us----" - -But it wouldn't do; the taller girl stared at him coldly from a pair of -ornamental brown eyes. - -Presently she said: "We students are supposed to report cases like this. -If you have deliberately chosen to test the law governing the protection -of private property no doubt our Summer School authorities will be -willing to gratify you before a proper tribunal.... May I ask your -names?" She drew a notebook from the pocket of her kilted skirt, -standing gracefully with pencil poised, dark eyes focused upon Jones. -And, as she waited, the thunder boomed behind the Golden Dome. - -"It's going to rain cats and dogs," said Jones, anxiously "and you -haven't an umbrella----" - -The dark-eyed girl gazed at him scornfully. "Do you refuse your name?" - -"No--oh, not at all!" said Jones hastily; "my name is Jones----" - -The scorn deepened. "And--is this Mr. Smith?" she inquired, looking at -Ellis. - -"My name _is_ Jones," said Jones so earnestly that his glasses fell off. -"And what's worse, it's John Jones." - -Something in his eye engaged her attention--perhaps the unwinking -innocence of it. She wrote "John Jones" on her pad, noted his town -address, and turned to Ellis, who was looking fixedly, but not -offensively, at the girl with the expressive grey eyes. - -"If you have a pad I'll surrender to you," he said, amiably. "There is -glory enough for all here, as our admiral once remarked." - -The grey eyes glimmered; a quiver touched the scarlet mouth. But a crash -of nearer thunder whitened the smile on her lips. - -"Helen, I'm going!" she said hastily to her of the brown eyes. - -"That storm," said Ellis calmly, "has a long way to travel before it -strikes the Caranay valley." He pointed with his rod, tracing in the sky -the route of the crowding clouds. "Every storm that hatches behind the -Golden Dome swings south along the Black Water first, then curves and -comes around by the west and sweeps the Caranay. You have plenty of time -to take my name." - -"But--but the play? I was thinking of the play," she said, looking -anxiously at the brown eyes, which were raised to the sky in silent -misgiving. - -"If you don't mind my saying so," said Ellis, "there is ample time for -your outdoor theatricals--if you mean that. You need not look for that -storm on the upper Caranay before late this afternoon. Even then it may -break behind the mountains and you may see no rain--only a flood in the -river." - -"Do you really think so?" she asked. - -"I do; I can almost answer for it. You see, the Caranay has been my -haunt for many years, and I know almost to a certainty what is likely to -happen here." - -"That is jolly!" she exclaimed, greatly relieved. "Helen, I really think -we should be starting----" - -But Helen, pencil poised, gazed obdurately at Ellis out of brown eyes -which were scarcely fashioned for such impartial and inexorable work. - -"If your name is not Smith I should be very glad to note it," she said. - -So he laughed and told her who he was and where he lived; and she wrote -it down, somewhat shakily. - -"Of course," she said, "you cannot be the _artist_--James Lowell Ellis, -_the_ artist--the great----" - -She hesitated; brown eyes and grey eyes, very wide now, were -concentrated on him. Jones, too, stared, and Ellis laughed. - -"_Are_ you?" blurted out Jones. "Great Heaven! I never supposed----" - -Ellis joined in a quartet of silence, then laughed again, a short, -embarrassed laugh. - -"You _don't_ look like anything famous, you know," said Jones -reproachfully. "Why didn't you tell me who you are? Why, man, I own two -of your pictures!" - -To brown-eyes, known so far as "Helen," Ellis said: "We painters are a -bad lot, you see--but don't let that prejudice you against Mr. Jones; he -really doesn't know me very well. Besides, I dragged him into this -villainy; didn't I, Jones? You didn't want to trespass, you know." - -"Oh, come!" said Jones; "I own two of your pictures--the Amourette and -the Corrida. That ought to convict me of almost anything." - -Grey-eyes said: "We--my father--has the Espagnolita, Mr. Ellis." She -blushed when she finished. - -"Why, then, you must be Miss Sandys!" said Ellis quickly. "Mr. Kenneth -Sandys owns that picture." - -The brown eyes, which had widened, then sparkled, then softened as -matters developed, now became uncompromisingly beautiful. - -"I am dreadfully sorry," she said, looking at her notebook. "I trust -that the school authorities may not press matters." Then she raised her -eyes to see what Jones's expression might resemble. It resembled -absolutely nothing. - -After a silence Miss Sandys said: "Do you think Helen, that we are--that -we ought to report this----" - -"Yes, Molly, I do." - -"I'm only an architect; fine me, but spare my friend, Ellis," said -Jones far too playfully to placate the brown-eyed Helen. She returned -his glance with a scrutiny devoid of expression. The thunder boomed -along the flanks of Lynx Peak. - -"We--we are very sorry," whispered Miss Sandys. - -"I am, too," replied Ellis--not meaning anything concerning his legal -predicament. - -Brown-eyes looked at Jones; there was a little inclination of her pretty -head as she passed them. A moment later the two young men stood alone, -caps in hand, gazing fixedly into the gathering dimness of Caranay -forest. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XV - -FLOTSAM AND JETSAM - - -"Ellis," said Jones, earnestly, as they climbed to the camp and stood -gazing at the whitening ashes of their fire, "the simple life is a state -of mind. I'm in it, now. And--do you know, Ellis, that--I--I could learn -to like it?" - -Ellis prodded the back-log, and tossed on some dry sticks. - -"Great Heaven!" breathed Jones, "did you ever see such eyes, Ellis?" - -"The grey ones? They're very noticeable----" - -"I meant--well, let it go at that. Here be two of us have lost a -thousand shillings to-day." - -"And the ladies were not in buckram," rejoined Ellis, starting a blaze. -"Jones, can you prepare trout for the pan with the aid of a knife? Here, -rub salt in 'em--and leave all but two in that big tin--dry, mind, then -cover it and sink it in the spring, or something furry will come nosing -and clawing at it. I'll have things ready by the time you're back." - -"About our canoes," began Jones. "I've daubed mine with white lead, but -I cut it up badly. Hadn't we better attend to them before the storm -breaks?" - -"Get yours into camp. I'll fetch mine; it's cached just below the forks. -This storm may tear things." - -A quarter of an hour later two vigorous young men swung into camp, -lowered the canoes from their heads and shoulders, carried the strapped -kits, poles and paddles into the lean-to, and turned the light crafts -bottom up as flanking shelters to headquarters. - -"No use fishing; that thunder is spoiling the Caranay," muttered Ellis, -moving about and setting the camp in order. "This is a fine lean-to," he -added; "it's big enough for a regiment." - -"I told you I was an architect," said Jones, surveying the open-faced -shanty with pride. "I had nothing else to do, so I spent the time in -making this. I'm a corker on the classic. Shall I take an axe and cut -some wood in the Ionic or Doric style?" - -Ellis, squatting among the provisions, busily bringing order out of -chaos, told him what sort of wood to cut; and an hour later, when the -echoing thwacks of the axe ceased and Jones came in loaded with -firewood, the camp was in order; hambones, stale bedding, tin cans, the -heads and spinal processes of trout had been removed, dishes polished, -towels washed and drying, and a pleasant aroma of balsam tips mingled -with the spicy scent of the fire. - -"Whew!" said Jones, sniffing; "it smells pleasant now." - -"Your camp," observed Ellis, "had all the fragrance of a dog-fox in -March. How heavy the air is. Listen to that thunder! There's the deuce -to pay on the upper waters of the Caranay by this time." - -"Do you think we'll get it?" - -"Not the rain and wind; the electrical storms usually swing off, -following the Big Oswaya. But we may have a flood." He arose and picked -up his rod. "The thunder has probably blanked me, but if you'll tend -camp I'll try to pick up some fish in a binnikill I know of where the -trout are habituated to the roar of the fork falls. We may need every -fish we can get if the flood proves a bad one." - -Jones said it would suit him perfectly to sit still. He curled up close -enough to the fire for comfort as well as æsthetic pleasure, removed his -eyeglasses, fished out a flask of aromatic mosquito ointment, and -solemnly began a facial toilet, in the manner of a comfortable house cat -anointing her countenance with one paw. - -"Ellis," he said, blinking up at that young man very amiably, "it would -be agreeable to see a little more of--of Miss Sandys; wouldn't it? And -the other----" - -"We could easily do that." - -"Eh? How?" - -"By engaging an attorney to defend ourselves in court," said Ellis -grimly. - -"Pooh! You don't suppose that brown-eyed girl----" - -"Yes, I do! _She_ means mischief. If it had rested with the other----" - -"You're mistaken," said Jones, warmly. "I am perfectly persuaded that if -I had had half an hour's playful conversation with the brown-eyed -one----" - -"You tried playfulness and fell down," observed Ellis, coldly. "If I -could have spoken to Miss Sandys----" - -"What! A girl with steel-grey eyes like two poniards? A lot of mercy she -would show us! My dear fellow, trust in the brown eye every time! The -warm, humane, brown eye--the emotional, the melting, the tender -brown----" - -"Don't trust it! Didn't she kodak twice? You and I are now in her -Rogues' Gallery. Besides, didn't she take notes on her pad? I never -observed anything humane in brown eyes." - -Jones polished his nose with the mosquito salve. - -"How do you know what she wanted my picture for?" he asked, annoyed. -"Perhaps she means to keep it for herself--if that grey-eyed one lets -her alone----" - -"Let the grey-eyed one alone yourself," retorted Ellis, warmly. - -"You'd better, too. Any expert in human character can tell you which of -those girls means mischief." - -"If you think you're an expert--" began Ellis, irritated, then stopped -short. Jones followed his eyes. - -"Look at that stream," said Ellis, dropping his rod against the lean-to. -"There's been a cloudburst in the mountains. There's no rain here, but -_look_ at that stream! Yellow and bank-full! Hark! Hear the falls. I -have an idea the woods will be awash below us in an hour." - -They descended to the ledge which an hour ago had overhung the stream. -Now the water was level with it, lapping over it, rising perceptibly in -the few seconds they stood there. Alders and willows along the banks, -almost covered, staggered in the discolored water; drift of all sorts -came tumbling past, rotten branches, piles of brush afloat, ferns and -shrubs uprooted; the torrent was thick with flakes of bark and forest -mould and green-leaved twigs torn from the stream-side. - -From the lower reaches a deer came galloping toward the ridges; a fox -stole furtively into the open, hesitated, and slunk off up the valley. - -And now the shallow gorge began to roar under the rising flood; tumbling -castles of piled-up foam whirled into view; the amber waves washed -through the fringing beech growth, slopping into hollows, setting the -dead leaves afloat. A sucking sound filled the woods; millions of tiny -bubbles purred in the shallow overflow; here and there dead branches -stirred, swung and floated. - -"Our camp is going to be an island pretty soon," observed Ellis; "just -look at----" - -But Jones caught him by the arm. "_What_ is that?" he demanded shakily. -"Are there things like that in these woods?" - -At the same instant Ellis caught sight of something in midstream bearing -down on them in a smother of foam--an enormous lizard-like creature -floundering throat-deep in the flood. - -"What is it, Ellis? Look! It's got a tail ten feet long! Great Heaven, -look at it!" - -"I see it," said Ellis, hoarsely. "I never saw such a thing----" - -"It's opening its jaws!" gasped Jones. - -Ellis, a trifle white around the cheekbones, stared in frozen silence at -the fearsome creature as it swept down on them. A crested wave rolled -it over; four fearsome claws waved in the air; then the creature righted -itself and swung in toward the bank. - -"Upon my word!" stammered Ellis; "it's part of their theatrical -property. Lord! how real it looked out yonder. I knew it couldn't be -alive, but--Jones, see how my hands are shaking. Would you believe a man -could be rattled like that?" - -"Believe it? I should say I could! Look at the thing wabbling there in -the shallows as though it were trying to move its flippers! _Look_ at -it, Ellis; see how it seems to wriggle and paddle----" - -The words froze on his lips; the immense creature was moving; the scaled -claws churned the shallows; a spasm shook the head; the jaws gaped. - -"Help!" said a very sweet and frightened voice. - -Ellis got hold of one claw, Jones the other, almost before they -comprehended--certainly before, deep in the scaly creature's maw, they -discovered the frightened but lovely features of the grey-eyed girl who -had snap-shot them. - -"Please pull," she said; "I can't swim in _this_!" - -Almost hysterically they soothed her as they tugged and steered the -thing into the flooded forest. - -"Mr. Ellis--please--_please_ don't pull quite so hard," she called out. - -"Oh, did I hurt you?" he cried so tenderly that, even in the shock of -emotions, Jones was ashamed of him. - -"No, you don't hurt me, Mr. Ellis; I'm all right inside here, but -I--I--you must not pull this papier-mâché dragon to pieces----" - -"What do I care for the dragon if you are in danger?" cried Ellis, -excitedly. - -But it was a frightened and vexed voice that answered almost tearfully: -"If you pull too hard on the pasteboard legs something dreadful may -happen. I--this dragon is--is about the only clothing I have on!" - -Ellis dropped the flipper, seized it again, and gazed into the scared -eyes of Jones. - -"For Heaven's sake, go easy," he hissed, "or the thing will come apart!" - -Jones, in a cold perspiration, stood knee-deep in the flood, not daring -to touch the flipper again. - -"You help here," he whispered, hoarsely. "If she stands up, now, you can -support her to camp, can't you?" - -Ellis bent over and looked into the gaping jaws of Fafnir the Dragon. - -"Miss Sandys," he said seriously, "do you think you could get on your -hind--on your feet?" - -The legs of the monster splashed, groping for the bottom; Ellis passed -his arm around the scaly body; Fafnir arose, rather wabbly, and took -one dripping step forward. - -[Illustration: "Beyond, rocking wildly in a gilded boat, sat two people -and a placid swan."] - -"I fancy we can manage it now, Jones," said Ellis, cheerfully, turning -around; but Jones did not answer; he was running away, dashing and -splashing down the flooded forest. Beyond, rocking wildly in a gilded -boat, sat two people and a placid swan. - -"Good Lord!" faltered Ellis, as the dragon turned with a little shriek. -"Is the whole Summer School being washed away?" - -"No," she said excitedly, "but the dam broke. Helen and Professor Rawson -tried to save the swan-boat--we were giving tableaux from "Lohengrin" -and "The Rheingold"--and--oh! oh! oh! such a torrent came! Helen--there -she is in armour--Helen tried to paddle the boat, but the swans pulled -the other way, and they flapped so wildly that Helen called for help. -Then one of the Rhine-maidens--Professor Rawson--waded in and got -aboard, but the paddle broke and they were adrift. Then one of those -horrid swans got loose, and everybody screamed, and the water rose -higher and higher, and nobody helped anybody, so, so--as I swim well, I -jumped in without waiting to undress--you see I had been acting the -dragon, Fafnir, and I went in just as I was; but the papier-mâché dragon -kept turning turtle with me, and first I knew I was being spun around -like a top." - -There was a silence; they stood watching Jones scrambling after the -swan-boat, which had come to grief in shallow water. Professor Rawson, -the Rhine-maiden, gave one raucous and perfunctory shriek as Jones -floundered alongside--for the garb of the normal Rhine-daughter is -scanty, and Professor Rawson's costume, as well as her maidenly -physique, was almost anything except redundant. - -As for Helen, sometime known as brown-eyes, she rose to her slim height, -all glittering in tin armour, and gave Jones a smile of heavenly -gratitude that shot him through and through his Norfolk jacket. - -"Don't look!" said Professor Rawson, in a voice which, between the -emotions of recent terror and present bashfulness, had dwindled to a -squeak. "Don't look; I'm going to jump." And jump she did, taking to the -water with a trifle less grace than the ordinary Rhine-maiden. - -There was a spattering splash, a smothered squawk which may have been -emitted by the swan, and the next moment Professor Rawson was churning -toward dry land, her wreath of artificial seaweed over one eye, her -spectacles glittering amid her dank tresses. - -Jones looked up at brown-eyes balancing in the bow of the painted boat. - -"I can get you ashore quite dry--if you don't mind," he said. - -She considered the water; she considered Jones; she looked carefully at -the wallowing Rhine-daughter. - -"Are you sure you can?" she asked. - -"Perfectly certain," breathed Jones. - -"I am rather heavy----" - -The infatuated man laughed. - -"Well, then, I'll carry the swan," she said calmly; and, seizing that -dignified and astonished bird, she walked demurely off the prow of the -gaudy boat into the arms of Jones. - -To Ellis and the grey-eyed dragon, and to Professor Rawson, who had -crawled to a dry spot on the ridge, there was a dreadful fascination in -watching that swaying pyramid of Jones, Lohengrin, and swan tottering -landward, knee-deep through the flood. The pyramid swayed dangerously at -times; but the girl in the tin armour clasped Jones around the neck and -clung to the off leg of the swan, and Jones staggered on, half-strangled -by the arm and buffeted by the flapping bird, until his oozing shoes -struck dry land. - -"Hurrah!" cried Ellis, his enthusiasm breaking out after an agonizing -moment of suspense; and Miss Sandys, forgetting her plight, waved her -lizard claws and hailed rescuer and rescued with a clear-voiced cheer as -they came up excited and breathless, hustling before them the outraged -swan, who waddled furiously forward, craning its neck and snapping. - -"_What is that?_" muttered Jones aside to Ellis as the dragon and -Lohengrin embraced hysterically. He glanced toward the Rhine-maiden, who -was hiding behind a tree. - -"Rhine wine with the cork pulled," replied Ellis, gravely. "Go up to -camp and get her your poncho. I'll do what I can to make things -comfortable in camp." - -The girl in armour was saying, "You poor, brave dear! How perfectly -splendid it was of you to plunge into the flood with all that pasteboard -dragon-skin tied to you--like Horatius at the bridge. Molly, I'm simply -overcome at your bravery!" - -And all the while she was saying this, Molly Sandys was saying: "Helen, -how did you ever dare to try to save the boat, with those horrid swans -flapping and nipping at you every second! It was the most courageous -thing I ever heard of, and I simply revere you, Helen Gay!" - -Jones, returning from camp with his poncho, said: "There's a jolly fire -in camp and plenty of provisions;" and sidled toward the tree behind -which Professor Rawson was attempting to prevent several yards of -cheese cloth from adhering too closely to her outline. - -"Go away!" said that spinster, severely, peering out at him with a -visage terminating in a length of swan-like neck which might have been -attractive if feathered. - -"I'm only bringing you a poncho," said Jones, blushing. - -Ellis heard a smothered giggle behind him, but when he turned Molly -Sandys had shrunk into her dragon-skin, and Helen Gay had lowered the -vizor of her helmet. - -"I think we had better go to the camp-fire," he said gravely. "It's only -a step." - -"We think so, too," they said. "Thank you for asking us, Mr. Ellis." - -So Ellis led the way; after him slopped the dragon, its scaled tail -dragging sticks and dead leaves in its wake; next waddled the swan, -perforce, prodded forward by the brown-eyed maid in her tin armor. -Professor Rawson, mercifully disguised in a rubber poncho, under which -her thin shins twinkled, came in the rear, gallantly conducted by Jones -in oozing shoes. - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE SIMPLEST SOLUTION OF AN ANCIENT PROBLEM - - -In the silence befitting such an extraordinary occasion the company -formed a circle about the camp-fire. - -Presently Professor Rawson looked sharply at the damp dragon. "Child!" -she exclaimed, "you ought to take that off this instant!" - -"But--but I haven't very much on," protested Molly Sandys with a shiver. -"I'm only dressed as a--a page." - -"It can't be helped," retorted the professor with decision; "that dragon -is nothing but soaking pulp except where the tail is on fire!" - -Ellis hastily set his foot on the sparks, just as Molly Sandys jumped. -There was a tearing, ripping sound, a stifled scream, and three-quarters -of a page in blue satin and lisle thread, wearing the head and shoulders -of a dragon, shrank down behind Professor Rawson's poncho-draped figure. - -"Here's my poncho," cried Ellis, hastily; "I am awfully sorry I ripped -your gown--I mean your pasteboard tail--but you switched it into the -fire and it was burning." - -"Have you something for me?" inquired Miss Gay, coloring, but calm; "I'm -not very comfortable, either." - -Jones's enraptured eyes lingered on the slim shape in mail; he hated to -do it, but he brought a Navajo blanket and draped in it the most -distractingly pretty figure his rather nearsighted eyes had ever -encountered. - -"There," explained Ellis, courteously, "is the shanty. I've hung a -blanket over it. Jones and I will sleep here by the fire." - -"Sleep!" faltered Molly Sandys. "I think we ought to be starting----" - -"The forests are flooded; we can't get you back to the Summer School -to-night," said Ellis. - -Professor Rawson shuddered. "Do you mean that we are cut off from -civilization entirely?" she asked. - -"Look!" replied Ellis. - -The ridge on which the camp lay had become an island; below it roared a -spreading flood under a column of mist and spray; all about them the -water soused and washed through the forest; below them from the forks -came the pounding thunder of the falls. - -"There's nothing to be alarmed at, of course," he said, looking at Molly -Sandys. - -The grey eyes looked back into his. "Isn't there, really?" she asked. - -"Isn't there?" questioned Miss Gray's brown eyes of Jones's pleasant, -nearsighted ones. - -"No," signalled the orbs of Jones through his mud-spattered eyeglasses. - -"I'm hungry," observed Professor Rawson in a patient but plaintive -voice, like the note of a widowed guinea-hen. - -So they all sat down on the soft pine-needles, while Ellis began his -culinary sleight-of-hand; and in due time trout were frying merrily, -bacon sputtered, ash-cakes and coffee exhaled agreeable odors, and -mounds of diaphanous flapjacks tottered in hot and steaming fragrance on -either flank. - -There were but two plates; Jones constructed bark platters for Professor -Rawson, Ellis and himself; Helen Gay shared knife and fork with Jones; -Molly Sandys condescended to do the same for Ellis; Professor Rawson had -a set of those articles to herself. - -And there, in the pleasant glow of the fire, Molly Sandys, cross-legged -beside Ellis, drank out of his tin cup and ate his flapjacks; and Helen -Gay said shyly that never had she tasted such a banquet as this forest -fare washed down with bumpers of icy, aromatic spring water. As for -Professor Rawson, she lifted the hem of her poncho and discreetly dried -that portion of the Rhine-maiden's clothing which needed it; and while -she sizzled contentedly, she ate flapjack on flapjack, and trout after -trout, until merriment grew within her and she laughed when the younger -people laughed, and felt a delightful thrill of recklessness tingling -the soles of her stockings. And why not? - -"It's a very simple matter, after all," declared Jones; "it's nothing -but a state of mind. I thought I was leading a simple life before I came -here, but I wasn't. Why? Merely because I was _not_ in a state of mind. -But"--and here he looked full at Helen Gay--"but no sooner had I begun -to appreciate the charm of the forest"--she blushed vividly "no sooner -had I realised what these awful solitudes might contain, than, -instantly, I found myself in a state of mind. Then, and then only, I -understood what heavenly perfection might be included in that frayed and -frazzled phrase, 'The Simple Life.'" - -"I understood it long ago," said Ellis, dreamily. - -"Did you?" asked Molly Sandys. - -"Yes--long ago--about six hours ago"--he lowered his voice, for Molly -Sandys had turned her head away from the firelight toward the cooler -shadow of the forest. - -"What happened," she asked, carelessly, "six hours ago?" - -"I first saw you." - -"No," she said calmly; "I first saw you and took your picture!" She -spoke coolly enough, but her color was bright. - -"Ah, but before that shutter clicked, convicting me of a misdemeanor, -your picture had found a place----" - -"Mr. Ellis!" - -"Please let me----" - -"No!" - -"Please----" - -A silence. - -"Then you must speak lower," she said, "and pretend to be watching the -stream." - -Professor Rawson gleefully scraped her plate and snuggled up in her -poncho. She was very happy. When she could eat no more she asked Jones -what his theory might be concerning Wagner's influence on Richard -Strauss, and Jones said he liked waltzes, but didn't know that the man -who wrote The Simple Life had anything to do with that sort of thing. -And Professor Rawson laughed and laughed, and quoted a Greek proverb; -and presently arose and went into the shanty, dropping the blanket -behind her. - -"Don't sit up late!" she called sleepily. - -"Oh, _no_!" came the breathless duet. - -"And don't forget to feed the swan!" - -"Oh, _no_!" - -A few minutes later a gentle, mellow, muffled monotone vibrated in the -evening air. It was the swan-song of Professor Rawson. - -Ellis laid fresh logs on the blaze, lighted a cigarette, and returned to -his seat beside Molly Sandys, who sat, swathed in her poncho, leaning -back against the base of a huge pine. - -"Jones _is_ right," he said; "the simple life--the older and simpler -emotions, the primal desire--_is_ a state of mind." - -Molly Sandys was silent. - -"And a state of--heart." - -Miss Sandys raised her eyebrows. - -"Why be insincere?" persisted Ellis. - -"I'm not!" - -"No--no--I didn't mean you. I meant everybody----" - -"I'm somebody----" - -"Indeed you _are_!"--much too warmly; and Molly Sandys looked up at the -evening star. - -"The simple life," said Ellis, "is an existence replete with sincerity. -Impulse may play a pretty part in it; the capacity for the enjoyment of -simple things grows out of impulse; and impulse is a child's reasoning. -Therefore, impulse, being unsullied, unaffected in its source, is to be -respected, cherished, guided into a higher development, so that it may -become a sweet reasonableness, an unerring philosophy. Am I right, Miss -Sandys?" - -"I think you are." - -"Well, then, following out my theorem logically, what is a man to do -when, without an instant's warning, he finds himself----" - -There was a pause, a long one. - -"Finds himself where?" asked Molly Sandys. - -"In love." - -"I--I don't know," she said, faintly. "Doesn't the simple life teach him -what is--is proper--on such brief acquaintance----" - -"_I_ didn't say the acquaintance was brief. I only said the love was -sudden." - -"Oh--then I--I don't know----" - -"M-Mo-Mi-M-M----" - -He wanted to say "Molly," and he didn't want to say "Miss Sandys," and -he couldn't keep his mouth shut, so that was the phonetic result--a -muttering monotone which embarrassed them both and maddened him till he -stammered out: "The moment I saw you I--I can't help it; it's the -simplest thing to do, anyhow--to tell you----" - -"Me!" - -"You, M-M-Mo-Mi-M----" He couldn't say it. - -"Try," she whispered, stifling with laughter. - -"Molly!" Like a cork from a popgun came the adored yet dreaded name. - -Molly turned scarlet as Miss Gay and Jones looked up in pure amazement -from the farther side of the camp-fire. - -"_Don't_ you know how to make love?" she whispered in a fierce little -voice; "_don't_ you? If you don't I am going off to bed." - -"Molly!" That was better--in fact, it was so low that she could scarcely -hear him. But she said: "Doesn't Helen Gay look charming in her tin -armour? She _is_ the dearest, sweetest girl, Mr. Ellis. She's my cousin. -Do you think her pretty?" - -"Do you know," whispered Ellis, "that I am in dead earnest?" - -"Why, I--I hope so." - -"Then tell me what chance I stand. I am in love; it came awfully -quickly, as quickly as you snapped that kodak--but it has come to -stay----" - -"But I am not in--love. - -"That is why I speak. I can't endure it to let you go--Heaven knows -where----" - -"Only to New York," she said, demurely, and, in a low voice, she named -the street and the number. "In an interval of sanity you shall have an -opportunity to reflect on what you have said to me, Mr. Ellis. Being -a--a painter--and a rather famous one--for so young a man--you are, no -doubt, impulsive--in love with love--_not_ with a girl you met six hours -ago." - -"But if I _am_ in love with her?" - -"We will argue that question another time." - -"In New York?" - -She looked at him, a gay smile curving her lips. Suddenly the clear, -grey eyes filled; a soft, impulsive hand touched his for an instant, -then dropped. - -"Be careful," she said, unsteadily; "so far, I also have only been in -love with love." - -Stunned by the rush of emotion he rose to his feet as she rose, eye -meeting eye in audacious silence. - -Then she was gone, leaving him there--gone like a flash into the -camp-hut; he saw the blanket twitching where she had passed behind it; -he heard the muffled swan-song of her blanket-mate; he turned his -enchanted eyes upon Jones. Jones, his elbows on the ground, chin on his -palms, was looking up into the rapt face of Helen Gay, who sat by the -fire, her mailed knees gathered up in her slim hands, the reflection of -the blaze playing scarlet over her glittering tin armour. - -"Why may I not call you Helen?" he was saying. - -"Why should you, Mr. Jones?" - -The infatuated pair were oblivious of him. _Should_ he sneeze? No; his -own case was too recent; their attitude fascinated him; he sat down -softly to see how it was done. - -"If--some day--I might be fortunate enough to call you more than -Helen----" - -"Mr. Jones!" - -"I can't help it; I love you so--so undauntedly that I have got to tell -you _something_ about it! You don't mind, do you?" - -"But I _do_ mind." - -"Very much?" - -Ellis thought: "Is _that_ the way a man looks when he says things like -that?" He shuddered, then a tremor of happiness seized him. Molly Sandys -had emerged from the hut. - -Passing the fire, she came straight to Ellis. "It's horrid in there. -Don't you hear her? It's muffled, I know, because she's taken the swan -to bed with her, and it's asleep, too, and acting as though Professor -Rawson's head were a nest-egg. I am not sleepy; I--I believe I shall sit -up by this delightful fire all night. Make me a nest of blankets." - -Jones and Helen were looking across the fire at them in silence; Ellis -unrolled some blankets, made a nest at the foot of the pine full in the -fire-glow. Swathed to her smooth white throat, Molly sank into them. - -"Now," she said, innocently, "we can talk. Helen! Ask Mr. Jones to make -some coffee. Oh, _thank_ you, Mr. Jones! Isn't this perfectly delicious! -So simple, so primitive, so sincere"--she looked at Ellis--"so jolly. If -the simple life is only a state of mind I can understand how easy it is -to follow it to sheerest happiness." And in a low voice, to Ellis: "Can -_you_ find happiness in it, too?" - -Across the fire Helen called softly to them: "Do you want some toasted -cheese, too? Mr. Jones knows how to make it." - -A little later, Jones, toasting bread and cheese, heard a sweet voice -softly begin the Swan-Song. It was Helen. Molly's lovely, velvet voice -joined in; Ellis cautiously tried his barytone; Jones wisely remained -mute, and the cheese sizzled a discreet tremolo. It was indeed the -swan-song of the heart-whole and fancy-free--the swan-song of the -unawakened. For the old order of things was passing away--had passed. -And with the moon mounting in silvered splendor over the forest, the -newer order of life--the simpler, the sweeter--became so plain to them -that they secretly wondered, as they ate their toast and cheese, how -they could have lived so long, endured so long, the old and dull -complexity of a life through the eventless days of which their hearts -had never quickened to the oldest, the most primitive, the simplest of -appeals. - -And so, there, under the burnished moon, soberly sharing their toasted -cheese, the muffled swan-song of the incubating maiden thrilling their -enraptured ears, began for them that state of mind in the inviolate -mystery of which the passion for the simpler life is hatched. - -"If we only had a banjo!" sighed Helen. - -"I have a jew's-harp," ventured Jones. "I am not very musical, but every -creature likes to emit some sort of melody." - -Ellis laughed. - -"Why not?" asked Helen Gay, quickly; "after all, what simpler instrument -can you wish for?" And she laughed at Jones in a way that left him -light-headed. - -So there, in the moonlight and the shadows of the primeval pines, -Jones--simplest of men with simplest of names--produced the simplest of -all musical instruments, and, looking once into the beautiful eyes of -Helen, quietly began the simplest of all melodies--the Spanish Fandango. - -And for these four the simple life began. - - * * * * * - -I waited for a few moments, but Williams seemed to consider that there -was nothing more to add. So I said: - -"Did they marry those two girls?" - -He glanced at me in a preoccupied manner without apparently -understanding. - -"Did they marry 'em?" I repeated, impatiently. - -"What? Oh, yes, of course." - -"Then why didn't you say so?" - -"I didn't have to say so. Didn't you notice the form in which I ended?" - -"What's that got to do with it? You're not telling me a short story, -you're telling me what really happened. And what really happens never -ends artistically." - -"It does when I tell it," he said, with a self-satisfied smile. "Let -Fate do its worst; let old man Destiny get in his work; let Chance fix -up things to suit herself. I wait until that trio finishes, then _I_ -step in and tell the truth in my own way. And, by gad! when I get -through, Fate, Chance, and Destiny set up a yell of impotent fury and -Truth looks at herself in the mirror in delighted astonishment, amazed -to discover in herself attractions which she never suspected." - -"In other words," said I, "Fate no longer has the final say-so." - -"Not while the short-story writer exists," he grinned. "It's up to him. -Fate slaps your face midway in a pretty romance. All right. But when I -make a record of the matter I pick, choose, sort, re-assort my box of -words, and when things are going too rapidly I wink at Fate with my -tongue in my cheek and round up everybody so amiably that nobody knows -exactly what did happen--and nobody even stops to think because -everybody has already finished the matter in their own minds to their -own satisfaction." - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XVII - -SHOWING HOW IT IS POSSIBLE FOR ANY MAN TO MAKE OF HIMSELF A CHUMP - - -After a while I repeated: "They _did_ marry, didn't they?" - -"What do _you_ think?" - -"I'm perfectly certain they did." - -"Well, then, what more do you want?" he laughed. - -"Another of your reminiscences disguised as fiction," I said, tinkling -my spoon on the edge of my tumbler to attract the waiter. - -"Two more," I said, lighting a caporal cigarette, the penetrating aroma -of which drifted lazily through forgotten years, drawing memory with it -in its fragrant back-draught. - -"Do you remember Seabury's brother?" he asked. - -"Beaux Arts? Certainly. Architect, wasn't he?" - -"Yes, but he came into a lot of money and started for home to hit a -siding." - -"Little chump," I said; "I remember him. There was a promising architect -spoiled." - -"Oh, I don't know. He is doing a lot to his money." - -"Good?" - -"Of course. Otherwise I should have said that his money is doing a lot -to him." - -"Cut out these fine shades and go back to galley-proof," I said, -sullenly. "What about him, anyway?" - -Williams said, slowly: "A thing happened to that man which had no right -to happen anywhere except in a musical comedy. But," he shrugged his -shoulders, "everybody's lives are really full of equally grotesque -episodes. The trouble is that the world is too serious to discover any -absurdity in itself. We writers have to do that for it. For example, -there was Seabury's brother. Trouble began the moment he saw her." - -"Saw who?" I interrupted. - -"Saw her! Shut up!" - -I did so. He continued: - - * * * * * - -They encountered one another under the electric lights in the wooden -labyrinth which forms the ferry terminal of the Sixth Avenue Elevated -Railroad, she hastening one way, he hurrying the opposite. There was -ample room for them to pass each other; it may have been because she was -unusually pretty, it may have been his absent-mindedness, but he made -one of those mistakes which everybody makes once in a lifetime: he -turned to the left, realised what he was doing, wheeled hastily to the -right--as she, too, turned--only to meet her face to face, politely -dodge, meet again, lose his head and begin a heart-breaking -contra-dance, until, vexed and bewildered, she stood perfectly still, -and he, redder than she, took the opportunity to slink past her and -escape. - -"Hey!" said a sarcastic voice, as, blinded with chagrin, he found -himself attempting to force a locked wooden gate. "You want to go the -other way, unless you're hunting for the third rail." - -"No, I don't," he said, wrathfully; "I want to go uptown." - -"That's what I said; you want to go the other way, even if you don't -know where you want to go," yawned the gateman disdainfully. - -Seabury collected his scattered wits and gazed about him. Being a New -Yorker, and acquainted with the terminal labyrinth, he very quickly -discovered his error, and, gripping suit-case and golf-bag more firmly, -he turned and retraced his steps at the natural speed of a good New -Yorker, which is a sort of a meaningless lope. - -Jammed into the familiar ticket line, he peered ahead through the yellow -glare of light and saw the charming girl with whom he had danced his -foolish contra-dance just receiving her ticket from the boxed automaton. -Also, to his satisfaction, he observed her disappear through the -turnstile into the crush surging forward alongside of the cars, and, -when he presently deposited his own ticket in the chopper's box, he had -no more expectation of ever again seeing her than he had of doing -something again to annoy and embarrass her. - -But even in Manhattan Destiny works overtime, and Fate gets busy in a -manner that no man knoweth; and so, personally though invisibly -conducted, Seabury lugged his suit-case and golf-bag aboard a train, -threaded his way into a stuffy car and took the only empty seat -remaining; and a few seconds later, glancing casually at his right-hand -neighbour, he blushed to find himself squeezed into a seat beside his -unusually attractive partner in the recent contra-dance. - -That she had already seen him, the calm indifference in her blue eyes, -the poise of her flushed face, were evidence conclusive. - -He shrank back, giving her all the room he could, set his bag of -golf-clubs between his knees, and looked innocent. First, as all New -Yorkers do, he read the line of advertisements opposite with the usual -personal sense of resentment; then he carelessly scanned the people -across the aisle. As usual, they resembled everybody he had never -particularly noticed; he fished out the evening paper, remembered that -he had read it on the ferryboat, stuck it into his golf-bag, and -contemplated the battered ends of his golf-clubs. - -Station after station flashed yellow lamps along the line of car -windows; passengers went and passengers took their places; in one of the -streets below he caught a glimpse of a fire engine vomiting sparks and -black smoke; in another an ambulance with a squalid assemblage crowded -around a policeman who was emerging from a drug store. - -He had pretty nearly succeeded in forgetting the girl and his -mortification; he cast a calmly casual glance over his well-fitting -trousers and shoes. The edge of a shoe-lace lay exposed, and he -leisurely remedied this untidy accident, leaning over and tying the lace -securely with a double knot. - -Fourteenth, Eighteenth, Twenty-third, ran the stations. He gathered his -golf-bag instinctively and sat alert, prepared to rise and leave the car -with dignity. - -"Twenty-eighth!" It was his station. Just as he rose the attractive girl -beside him sprang up, and at the same instant his right leg was jerked -from under him and he sat down in his seat with violence. Before he -comprehended what had happened, the girl, with a startled exclamation, -fell back into her seat, and he felt a spasmodic wrench at his foot -again. - -Astonished, he struggled to rise once more, but something held him--his -foot seemed to be caught; and as he turned he encountered her bewildered -face and felt another desperate tug which brought him abruptly into his -seat again. - -"What on earth is the matter?" he asked. - -[Illustration: "'I--I don't know,' she stammered; 'my shoe seems tied to -yours.'"] - -"I--I don't know," she stammered; "my shoe seems to be tied to yours." - -"Tied!" he cried, bending down in a panic, "wasn't that _my_ shoe-lace?" -His golf-bag fell, he seized it and set it against the seat between -them. "Hold it a moment," he groaned. "I tied your shoe-lace to mine!" - -"_You_ tied it!" she repeated, furiously. - -"I saw a shoe-lace--I thought it was mine--I tied it fast--in a -d-d-double knot----" - -"Untie it at once!" she said, crimson to the roots of her hair. - -"Great Heavens, madam! I didn't mean to do it! I'll fix it in a -moment----" - -"Don't," she whispered, fiercely; "the people opposite are looking at -us! Do you wish to hold us both up to ridicule?" He straightened up, -thoroughly flurried. - -"But--this is my station--" he began. - -"It is mine, too. I'd rather sit here all night than have those people -see you untie your shoe from mine! How--how _could_ you----" - -"I've explained that I didn't mean to do it," he returned, dropping into -the breathless undertone in which she spoke. "Happening to glance down, -I saw a shoe-lace end and thought my shoe was untied----" - -She looked at him scornfully. - -"And I tied it tight, that's all. I'm horribly mortified; this is the -second time I've appeared to disadvantage----" - -"People in New York usually turn to the right; even horses----" - -"I doubt," he said, "that you can make me feel much worse than I feel -now, but it's a sort of a horrible relief to know what a fool you think -me." - -She said nothing, sitting there, cooling her hot face in the breeze -from the forward door; he, numb with chagrin, stole an apprehensive -glance at the passengers opposite. Nobody appeared to have observed -their plight, and he ventured to say so in a low voice. - -"Are you certain?" she asked, her own voice not quite steady. - -"Perfectly. Look! Nobody is eying our feet." - -Her own small feet were well tucked up under her gown; she instinctively -drew them further in; he felt a little tug; they both coloured -furiously. - -"This is simply unspeakable," she said, looking straight ahead of her -through two bright tears of mortification. - -"Suppose," he whispered, "you edge your foot a trifle this way--I think -I can cut the knot with my penknife--" He glanced about him stealthily. -"Shall I try?" - -"Not now. Wait until those people go." - -"But some of them may live in Harlem." - -"I--I can't help it. Do you suppose I'm going to let you lean over -before all those people and try to untie our shoes?" - -"Do you mean to sit here until they're all gone?" he asked, appalled. - -"I do. Terrible as the situation is, we've got to conceal it." - -"Even if some of them go to the end of the line?" - -"I don't care!" She turned on him with a hint of that pretty fierceness -again. "Do you know what you've done? You've affronted and mortified me -and humiliated me beyond endurance. I have a guest to dine with me: I -shall not arrive before midnight!" - -"Do you suppose," he said miserably, "that anything you say can add to -my degradation? Can't you imagine how a man must feel who first of all -makes a four-footed fool of himself before the most attractive girl -he----" - -"Don't say that!" she cried, hotly. - -"Yes, I will! You are! And I dodged and tumbled about like a headless -chicken and ran into the wrong gate. I wish I'd climbed out on the third -rail! And then, when I hoped I'd never see you again, I found myself -beside you, and--Good Heavens! I lost no time in beginning my capers -again and doing the most abandoned deed a man ever accomplished on -earth!" - -She appeared to be absorbed in contemplation of a breakfast-food -advertisement; her color was still high; at times she worried her under -lip with her white teeth, but her breath rose and fell under the fluffy -bosom of her gown with more regularity, and the two bright tears in her -eyes had dried unshed. Wrath may have dried them. - -"I wish it were possible," he said very humbly, "for you to see the -humour----" - -"Humour!" she repeated, menacingly. - -"No--I didn't mean that, I meant the--the----" - -"You did! You meant the humour of the situation. I will answer you. I do -_not_ see the humour of it!" - -"You are quite right," he admitted, looking furtively at the edge of her -gown which concealed his right foot. "It is, as you say, simply ghastly -to be tied together by the feet. Don't you suppose I could--without -awakening suspicion--cut the--the laces with a penknife?" - -"I beg you will attempt nothing whatever until this car is empty." - -"Certainly," he said. "I will do anything in the world I can to spare -you." - -She did not reply, and he sat there nervously balanced on the edge of -his seat, watching the lights of Harlem flash into view below. He had -been hungry; he was no longer. Appetite had been succeeded by a gnawing -anxiety. Again and again warm waves of shame overwhelmed him, -alternating with a sort of wild-eyed pity for the young girl who sat so -rigidly beside him, face averted. Once a mad desire to laugh seized him; -he wondered whether it might be a premonition of hysteria, and -shuddered. It did not seem as though he could possibly endure it -another second to be tied by the foot to this silently suffering and -lovely companion. - -"Do you think," he said, hoarsely, "at the next station that if we rose -together--and kept step----" - -She shook her head. - -"A--a sort of lock-step," he explained, timidly. - -"I would if I thought it possible," she replied under her breath; "but I -dare not. Suppose you should miss step! You are likely to do anything if -it's only sufficiently foolish." - -"You could take my arm and pretend you are my lame sister," he ventured. - -"Suppose the train started. Suppose, by any one of a thousand possible -accidents, you should become panic-stricken. What sort of a spectacle -would we furnish the passengers of this car? No! No! No! The worst of it -is almost over. My guest is there--astounded at my absence. Before I am -even half-way back to Twenty-eighth Street she will have become -sufficiently affronted to leave the house. I might as well go on to the -end of the road." She turned toward him hastily: "Where is the end of -this road?" - -"Somewhere in the Bronx, I believe," he said, vaguely. - -"That is hours from Twenty-eighth Street, isn't it?" - -"I believe so." - -The train whirled on; stations were far between, now. He sat so silent, -so utterly broken and downcast, that after a long while she turned to -him with a hint of softness in her stern reserve. - -"Of course," she said, "I do not suppose you deliberately intended to -tie our feet together. I am not absurd. But the astonishment, the horror -of finding what you had done exasperated me for a moment. I'm cool -enough now; besides, it is perfectly plain that you are the sort of man -one is--is accustomed to know." - -"I hope not!" he said, devoutly. - -"Oh, I mean--" She hesitated, and the glimmer of a smile touched her -eyes, instantly extinguished, however. - -"I understand," he said. "You mean that it's lucky your shoe-laces are -tied to the shoe-lace of a man of your own sort. I hope to Heaven you -may find a little comfort in that." - -"I do," she said, with the uncertain violet light in her eyes again. -"It's bad enough, goodness knows, but I--I am very sure you did not -mean----" - -"You are perfectly right; I mean well, as they say of all chumps. And -the worst of it is," he added, wildly, "I never before knew that I was -a chump! I never before saw any symptoms. Would you believe me, I never -in all my life have been such an idiot as I was in those first few -minutes that I crossed your path. How on earth to account for it; how to -explain, to ask pardon, to--to ever forget it! As long as I live I shall -wake at night with the dreadful chagrin burning my ears off. Isn't it -the limit? And I--I shouldn't have felt so crushed if it had been -anybody excepting you----" - -"I do not understand," she said gravely. - -"I do," he muttered. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE MASTER KNOT OF HUMAN FATE - - -The conversation dropped there: she gazed thoughtfully out upon the -Teutonic magnificence of One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street by -gaslight; he, arms folded, relapsed into bitter contemplation of the -breakfast-food. So immersed he became in the picture of an unctuous -little boy stuffing himself to repletion under the admiring smirk of a -benevolent parent that he forgot his manacles, and attempting to stretch -his cramped leg, returned to his senses in a hurry. - -"I think," she suggested, quietly, "that, if you care to stretch, I -wouldn't mind it, either. Can you do it discreetly?" - -"I'll try," he said in a whisper. "Shall I count three?" - -She nodded. - -"One, two, three," he counted, and they cautiously stretched their legs. - -"I now know how the Siamese twins felt," he said, sullenly. "No wonder -they died young." - -She laughed--a curious, little laugh which was one of the most agreeable -sounds he had ever heard. - -"I take it for granted," he said, "that you will always cherish for me a -wholesome and natural hatred." - -"I shall never see you again," she replied, simply. - -That silenced him for a while; he fished about in his intellect to find -mitigating circumstances. There was none that he knew of. - -"Suppose--under pleasanter auspices, we should some day meet?" he -suggested. - -"We never shall." - -"How do you know?" - -"It is scarcely worth while speculating upon such an improbability," she -said, coldly. - -"But--suppose----" - -She turned toward him. "You desire to know what my attitude would be -toward you?" - -"Yes, I do." - -"It would be one of absolutely amiable indifference--if you really wish -to know," she said so sweetly that he was quite sure his entire body -shrank at least an inch. - -"By the way," she added, "the last passenger has left this car." - -"By Jove!" he exclaimed, sitting bolt upright. "Now's our time. Would -you mind----" - -"With the very greatest pleasure," she said, quickly; "please count one, -two, three." - -He counted; there came a discreet movement, and from under the hem of -her gown there appeared a dainty shoe, accompanied by a larger masculine -companion. He bent down, his fingers seemed to be all thumbs, and he -grew redder and redder. - -"Perhaps I can do it," she said, stripping off her gloves and bending -over. A stray tendril of bright hair brushed his cheek as their heads -almost came together. - -"Goodness, what a dreadful knot!" she breathed, her smooth fingers busy. -The perfume of her hair, her gloves, her gown thrilled him; he looked at -her face, now flushed with effort; his eyes fell on her delicate hands, -her distractingly pretty foot, in its small, polished shoe. - -"Patience," she said, calmly; "this knot must give way----" - -"If it doesn't----" - -"Madness lies that way," she breathed. "Wait! Don't dare to move your -foot!" - -"We are approaching a station; shall I cut it?" he asked. - -"No--wait! I think I have solved it. There!" she cried with a breathless -laugh. "We are free!" - -There was not an instant to lose, for the train had already stopped; -they arose with one accord and hurried out into the silvery Harlem -moonlight--which does not, perhaps, differ from normal moonlight, -although it seemed to him to do astonishing tricks with her hair and -figure there on the deserted platform, turning her into the loveliest -and most unreal creature he had ever seen in all his life. - -"There ought to be a train pretty soon," he said cheerfully. - -She did not answer. - -"Do you mind my speaking to you now that we are----" - -"Untethered?" she said with a sudden little flurry of laughter. "Oh, no; -why should I care what happens to me now, after taking a railroad -journey tied to the shoe-strings of an absent-minded stranger?" - -"Please don't speak so--so heartlessly----" - -"Heartlessly? What have hearts to do with this evening's lunacy?" she -asked, coolly. - -He had an idea, an instinctive premonition, but it was no explanation to -offer her. - -Far away up the track the starlike headlight of a train glittered: he -called her attention to it, and she nodded. Neither spoke for a long -while; the headlight grew larger and yellower; the vicious little train -came whizzing in, slowed, halted with a jolt. He put her aboard and -followed into a car absolutely empty save for themselves. When they had -gravely seated themselves side by side she looked around at him and said -without particular severity: "I can see no reason for our going back -together; can you?" - -"Yes," he answered with such inoffensive and guileless conviction that -she was silent. - -He went on presently: "Monstrous as my stupidity is, monumental ass as I -must appear to you, I am, as a matter of fact, rather a decent -fellow--the sort of man a girl need not flay alive to punish." - -"I do not desire to punish you. I do not expect to know you----" - -"Do you mean 'expect,' or 'desire'?" - -"I mean both, if you insist." There was a sudden glimmer in her clear -eyes that warned him; but he went on: - -"I beg you to give me a chance to prove myself not such a clown as you -think me." - -"But I don't think about you at all!" she explained. - -"Won't you give me a chance?" - -"How?" - -"Somebody you--we both know--I mean to say----" - -"You mean, will I sit here and compare notes with you to find out -whether we both know Tom, Dick, and Harry? No, I will not." - -"I mean--so that--if you don't mind--somebody can vouch for me----" - -"No," she said, decisively. - -"I mean--I would be so grateful--and I admire you tremendously----" - -"Please do not say that." - -"No--I won't, of course; I don't admire anybody very much, and I didn't -dream of being offensive--only--I--now that I've known you----" - -"You don't know me," she observed, icily. - -"No, of course, I don't know you at all; I'm only talking to you----" - -"A nice comment upon us both," she observed; "could anything be more -pitifully common?" - -"But being tied together, how could we avoid talking about it?" he -pleaded. "When you're tied up like that to a person, it's per--permitted -to speak, you know----" - -"We talked entirely too much," she said with decision. "Now we are not -tied at all, and I do not see what decent excuse we can have for -conversing about anything.... Do you?" - -"Yes, I do." - -"What excuse?" she asked. - -"Well, for one thing, a sense of humour. A nice spectacle we should be, -you in one otherwise empty car, I in another, bored to death----" - -"Do you think," she said, impatiently, "that I require anybody's society -to save myself from _ennui_?" - -"No--but I require----" - -"That is impertinent!" - -"I didn't mean to be; you must know that!" he said. - -She looked out of the window. - -"I wonder," he began in a cheerful and speculative tone, taking courage -from her silence--"I wonder whether you know----" - -"I will not discuss people I know with you," she said. - -"Then let us discuss people I know," he rejoined, amiably. - -"Please don't." - -"Please let me----" - -"No." - -"Are you never going to forgive me?" he asked. - -"I shall forget," she said, meaningly. - -"Me?" - -"Certainly." - -"Please don't----" - -"You are always lingering dangerously close to the border of -impertinence," she said. "I do not wish to be rude or ungracious. I have -been unpardonably annoyed, and--when I consider my present false -situation--I am annoyed still more. Let me be unmistakably clear and -concise; I do not feel any--anger--toward you; I have no feeling -whatever toward you; and I do not ever expect to see you again. Let it -rest so. I will drop you my best curtsey when you lift your hat to me at -Twenty-ninth Street. Can a guilty man ask more?" - -"Your punishment is severe," he said, flushing. - -"My punishment? Who am I punishing, if you please?" - -"Me." - -"What folly! I entertain no human emotions toward you; I have no desire -to punish you. How could I punish you--if I wished to?" - -"By doing what you are doing." - -"And what is that?" she asked rather softly. - -"Denying me any hope of ever knowing you." - -"You are unfair," she said, biting her lip. "I do not deny you that -'hope,' as you choose to call it. Consider a moment. Had you merely seen -me on the train you could not have either hoped or even desired ever to -know me. Suppose for a moment--" she flushed, but her voice was cool and -composed "suppose you were attracted to me--thought me agreeable to look -at? You surely would never have dreamed of speaking to me and asking -such a thing. Why, then, should you take unfair advantage of an accident -and ask it now? You have no right to--nor have I to accord you what you -say you desire." - -She spoke very sweetly, meeting his eyes without hesitation. - -"May I reply to you?" he asked soberly. - -"Yes--if you wish." - -"You will not take it as an affront?" - -"Not--not if--" She looked at him. "No," she said. - -"Then this is my reply: Wherever I might have seen you I should -instantly have desired to know you. That desire would have caused you no -inquietude; I should have remained near you without offense, perfectly -certain in my own mind that somehow and somewhere I must manage to know -you; and to that end--always without offense, and without your -knowledge--I should have left the train when you did, satisfied myself -where you lived, and then I should have scoured the city, and moved -heaven and earth to find the proper person who might properly ask your -permission to receive me. That is what I should have done if I had -remained thirty seconds in the same car with you.... Are you offended?" - -"No," she said. - -They journeyed on for some time, saying nothing; she, young face bent, -sensitive lips adroop, perhaps considering what he said; he, cradling -his golf-sticks, trying to keep his eyes off her and succeeding very -badly. - -"I wonder what your name is?" she said, looking up at him. - -"James Seabury," he replied so quickly that it was almost pathetic. - -She mused, frowning a little: "Where have I heard your name?" she asked -with an absent-minded glance at him. - -"Oh--er--around, I suppose," he suggested, vaguely. - -"But I have heard it. Are you famous?" - -"Oh, no," he said quickly. "I'm an architect, or ought to be. Fact is, -I'm so confoundedly busy golfing and sailing and fishing and shooting -and hunting that I have very little time for business." - -"What a confession!" she exclaimed, laughing outright; and the beauty -that transfigured her took his breath away. But her laughter was brief, -her eyes grew more serious than ever: "So you are not in business?" - -"No." - -"I am employed," she said calmly, looking at him. - -"Are you?" he said, astonished. - -"So, you see," she added gaily, "I should have very little time to see -anybody----" - -"You mean me?" - -"Yes, you, for example." - -"You don't work all the while, do you?" he asked. - -"Usually." - -"All the time?" - -"I dine--at intervals." - -"That's the very thing!" he said with enthusiasm. - -She looked at him gravely. - -"Don't you see," he went on, "as soon as you'll let me know you my -sister will call, and then you'll call, and then my sister will -invite----" - -She was suddenly laughing again--a curious laugh, quite free and -unguarded. - -"Of course, you'll tell your sister how we met," she suggested; "she'll -be so anxious to know me when she hears all about it." - -"Do you suppose," he said coolly, "that I don't know one of my own sort -whenever or however I happen to meet her?" - -"Men cannot always tell; I grant you women seldom fail in placing one -another at first glance; but men rarely possess that instinct.... -Besides, I tell you I am employed." - -"What of it? Even if you wore the exceedingly ornamental uniform of a -parlor-maid it could not worry me." - -"Do you think your sister would hasten to call on a saleswoman at -Blumenshine's?" she asked carelessly. - -"Nobody wants her to," he retorted, amused. - -"Or on a parlor-maid--for example?" - -"Let her see you first; you can't shock her after that.... Are you?" he -inquired gently--so gently, so pleasantly, that she gave him a swift -look that set his heart galloping. - -"Do you really desire to know me?" she asked. But before he could answer -she sprang up, saying: "Good gracious! This is Twenty-eighth Street! It -seems impossible!" - -He could not believe it, either, but he fled after her, suit-case and -golf-bag swinging; the gates slammed, they descended the stairs and -emerged on Twenty-eighth Street. "I live on Twenty-ninth Street," she -said; "shall we say good-bye here?" - -"I should think not!" he replied with a scornful decision that amazed -her, but, curiously enough, did not offend her. They walked up -Twenty-eighth Street to Fifth Avenue, crossed, turned north under the -white flare of electricity, then entered Twenty-ninth Street slowly, -side by side, saying nothing. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XIX - -THE TIME AND THE PLACE - - -She halted at the portal of an old-fashioned house which had been turned -into an apartment hotel--a great brownstone mansion set back from the -street. A severely respectable porter in livery appeared and bowed to -her, but when his apoplectic eyes encountered Seabury's his shaven jaw -dropped and a curious spasm appeared to affect his knees. - -She did not notice it; she turned to Seabury and, looking him straight -in the face, held out her hand. - -"Good-night," she said. "Be chivalrous enough to find out who I -am--without sacrificing me.... You--you have not displeased me." - -He took her hand, held it a moment, then released it. - -"I live here," he said calmly. - -A trifle disconcerted, she searched his face. "That is curious," she -said uneasily. - -"Oh, not very. I have bachelor apartments here; I've been away from town -for three months. Here is my pass-key," he added, laughing, and to the -strangely paralyzed porter he tossed his luggage with a nod and a -pleasant: "You didn't expect me for another month, William, did you?" - -"That explains it," she said smiling, a tint of excitement in her pretty -cheeks. "I've been here only for a day or two." - -They were entering now, side by side; he followed her into the elevator. -The little red-haired boy, all over freckles and gilt buttons, who -presided within the cage, gaped in a sort of stupor when he saw Seabury. - -"Well, Tommy," inquired that young gentleman, "what's the matter?" - -"What floor?" stammered Tommy, gazing wildly from one to the other. - -"The usual one, in my case," said Seabury, surprised. - -"The usual one, in my case," said the girl, looking curiously at the -agitated lad. The cage shot up to the third floor; they both rose, and -he handed her out. Before either could turn the elevator hurriedly -dropped, leaving them standing there together. Then, to the -consternation of Seabury, the girl quietly rang at one of the only two -apartments on the floor, and the next instant a rather smart-looking -English maid opened the door. - -Seabury stared; he turned and examined the corridor; he saw the number -on the door of the elevator shaft; he saw the number over the door. - -"There seems to be," he began slowly, "something alarming the matter -with me to-night. I suppose--I suppose it's approaching dementia, but do -you know that I have a delusion that this apartment is mine?" - -"Yours!" faltered the girl, turning pale. - -"Well--it was once--before I left town. Either that or incipient lunacy -explains my hallucination." - -The maid stood at the door gazing at him in undisguised astonishment. -Her pretty mistress looked at her, looked at Seabury, turned and cast an -agitated glance along the corridor--just in time to catch a glimpse of -the curly black whiskers and the white and ghastly face of the -proprietor peering at them around the corner. Whiskers and pallor -instantly vanished. She looked at Seabury. - -"Please come in a moment, Mr. Seabury," she said calmly. He followed her -into the familiar room decorated with his own furniture, and lined with -his own books, hung with his own pictures. At a gesture from her he -seated himself in his own armchair; she sat limply in a chair facing -him. - -"Are these your rooms?" she asked unsteadily. - -"I thought so, once. Probably there's something the matter with me." - -"You did not desire to rent them furnished during your absence?" - -"Not that I know of." - -"And you have returned a month before they expected you, and I--oh, this -is infamous!" she cried, clenching her white hands. "How dared that -wretched man rent this place to me? How dared he!" - -A long and stunning silence fell upon them--participated in by the -British maid. - -Then Seabury began to laugh. He looked at the maid, he looked at her -angry and very lovely young mistress, looked at the tables littered with -typewriters and stationery, he caught sight of his own dining-room with -the little table laid for two. His gayety disconcerted her--he rose, -paced the room and returned. - -"It seems my landlord has tried to turn a thrifty penny by leasing you -my rooms!" he said, soberly. "Is that it?" - -She was close to tears, controlling her voice and keeping her -self-possession with a visible effort. "I--I am treasurer and secretary -for the new wing to--to St. Berold's Hospital," she managed to say. -"We--the women interested, needed an office--we employ several -typewriters, and--oh, goodness! What on earth will your sister think!" - -"My sister? Why, she's at Seal Harbor----" - -"Your sister was there visiting my mother. I came on to town to see our -architects; I wired her to come. She--she was to dine with me here -to-night! Sherry was notified!" - -"My sister?" - -"Certainly. What on earth did she think when she found me installed in -your rooms? And that's bad enough, but I invited her to dine and go over -the hospital matters--she's one of the vice presidents--and then--then -you tied our feet together and it's--what time is it?" she demanded of -her maid. - -"It is midnight, mem," replied the maid in sepulchral tones. - -"Is that man from Sherry's still there?" - -"He is, mem." - -Her mistress laid her charming head in her hands and covered her -agreeable features with a handkerchief of delicate and rather valuable -lace. - -The silence at last was broken by Seabury addressing the maid: "Is that -dinner spoiled?" - -"Quite, sir." - -Her mistress looked up hastily: "Mr. Seabury, you are not going to----" - -"Yes, I am; this is the time and the place!" And he rose with decision -and walked straight to the kitchen, where a stony-faced individual sat -amid the culinary ruins, a statue of despair. - -"What I want you to do," said Seabury, "is to fix up a salad and some of -the cold duck, and attend to the champagne. Meanwhile I think I'll go -downstairs; I have an engagement to kill a man." - -However, a moment later he thought better of it; _she_ was standing by -the mirror--his own mirror--touching her eyes with her lace handkerchief -and patting her hair with the prettiest, whitest hands. - -"Kill him? Never: I'll canonize him!" muttered Seabury, enchanted. -Behind him he heard the clink of glass and china, the pleasant sound of -ice. She heard it, too, and turned. - -"Of all the audacity!" she said in a low voice, looking at him under her -level brows. But there was something in her eyes that gave him -courage--and in his that gave her courage.... Besides, they were -dreadfully hungry. - - * * * * * - -"You refuse to tell me?" - -"I do," she said. "If you have not wit enough to find out my name -without betraying me to your sister you do not deserve to know my -name--or me." - -It was nearly two o'clock, they had risen, and the gay little flowery -table remained between them; the salad and duck were all gone. But the -froth purred in their frail glasses, breaking musically in the -candle-lit silence. - -"Will you tell me your name before I go?" - -"I will not." Her bright eyes and fair young face defied him. - -"Very well; as soon as I learn it I shall be more generous--for I have -something to tell you; and I'll do it, too!" - -"Are you sure you will?" she asked, flushing up. - -"Yes, I am sure." - -"I may not care to hear what you have to say, Mr. Seabury." - -They regarded one another intently, curiously. Presently her slender -hand fell as by accident on the stem of her wine-glass; he lifted his -glass: very, very slowly. She raised hers, looking at him over it. - -"To--what I shall tell you--when I learn your name!" he said, -deliberately. - -Faint fire burned in her cheeks; her eyes fell, then were slowly raised -to his; in silence, still looking at one another, they drank the toast. - - * * * * * - -"Dammit!" I said, impatiently, "is that all?" - -"Yes," he said, "that will be about all. I'm going home to bed." - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XX - -DOWN THE SEINE - - -My daughter Alida and my daughter Dulcima had gone to drive with the -United States Ambassador and his daughter that morning, leaving me at -the Hôtel with instructions as to my behaviour in their absence, and -injunctions not to let myself be run over by any cab, omnibus, -automobile, or bicycle whatever. - -Considerably impressed by their solicitude, I retired to the -smoking-room, believing myself safe there from any form of vehicular -peril. But the young man from Chicago sauntered in and took a seat close -beside me, with benevolent intentions toward relieving my isolation. - -I preferred any species of juggernaut to his rough riding over the -English language, so I left him murkily enveloped in the fumes of his -own cigar and sauntered out into the street. - -The sky was cloudless; the air was purest balm. Through fresh clean -streets I wandered under the cool shadows of flowering chestnuts, and -presently found myself on the quay near the Pont des Arts, leaning over -and looking at the river slipping past between its walls of granite. - -In a solemn row below me sat some two dozen fishermen dozing over their -sport. Their long white bamboo poles sagged, their red and white -quill-floats bobbed serenely on the tide. Truly here was a company of -those fabled Lotus-eaters, steeped in slumber; a dreamy, passionless -band of brothers drowsing in the sunshine. - -Looking east along the grey stone quays I could see hundreds and -hundreds of others, slumbering over their fishpoles; looking west, the -scenery was similar. - -"The fishing must be good here," I observed to an aged man, leaning on -the quay-wall beside me. - -"_Comme ça_," he said. - -I leaned there lazily, waiting to see the first fish caught. I am an -angler myself, and understand patience; but when I had waited an hour by -my watch I looked suspiciously at the aged man beside me. He was asleep, -so I touched him. - -He roused himself without resentment. "Have you," said I, sarcastically, -"ever seen better fishing than this, in the Seine?" - -"Yes," he said; "I once saw a fish caught." - -"And when was that?" I asked. - -"That," said the aged man, "was in 1853." - -I strolled down to the lower quay, smoking. As I passed the row of -anglers I looked at them closely. They all were asleep. - -Just above was anchored one of those floating _lavoirs_ in which the -washerwomen of Paris congregate to beat your linen into rags with flat -wooden paddles, and soap the rags snow-white at the cost of a few -pennies. - -The soapsuds from the washing floated off among the lines of the -slumbering fishermen. Perhaps that was one reason why the fish were -absent from the scenery. On the other hand, however, I was given to -understand that a large sewer emptied into the river near the Pont des -Arts, and that the fishing was best in such choice spots. Still -something certainly was wrong somewhere, for either the sewer and the -soapsuds had killed the fish, or they had all migrated up the sewer on -an inland and subterranean picnic to meet the elite among the rats of -Paris, and spend the balance of the day. - -The river was alive with little white saucy steamboats, rushing up and -down the Seine with the speed of torpedo craft. There was a boat-landing -within a few paces of where I stood, so, when a boat came along and -stopped to discharge a few passengers, I stepped aboard, bound for -almost anywhere, and not over-anxious to get there too quickly. Neither -did I care to learn my own destination, and when the ticket agent in -naval uniform came along to inquire where I might be going, I told him -to sell me a pink ticket because it looked pretty. As all Frenchmen -believe that all Americans are a little mad, my request, far from -surprising the ticket agent, simply confirmed his national theory; and -he gave me my ticket very kindly, with an air of protection such as one -involuntarily assumes toward children and invalids. - -"You are going to Saint Cloud," he said. "I'll tell you when to get off -the boat." - -"Thank you," said I. - -"You ought to be going the other way," he added. - -"Why?" I asked. - -"Because Charenton lies the other way," he replied, politely, and passed -on to sell his tickets. - -Now I had forgotten much concerning Paris in my twenty years of absence. - -There was a pretty girl sitting on the bench beside me, with elbows -resting on the railing behind. I glanced at her. She was smiling. - -"Pardon, madame," said I, knowing enough to flatter her, though she had -"mademoiselle" written all over her complexion of peaches and -cream--"pardon, madame, but may I, a stranger, venture to address you -for a word of information?" - -"You may, monsieur," she said, with a smile which showed an edge of -white teeth under her scarlet lips. - -"Then, if you please, where is Charenton?" - -"Up the river," she replied, smiling still. - -"And what," said I, "is the principal feature of the town of Charenton?" - -"The Lunatic Asylum, monsieur." - -I thanked her and looked the other way. - -Our boat was now flying past the Louvre. Above in the streets I could -see cabs and carriages passing, and the heads and shoulders of people -walking on the endless stone terraces. Below, along the river bank, our -boat passed between an almost unbroken double line of dozing fishermen. - -Now we shot out from the ranks of _lavoirs_ and bathhouses, and darted -on past the Champ de Mars; past the ugly sprawling Eiffel Tower, past -the twin towers of the Trocadero, and out under the huge stone viaduct -of the Point du Jour. - -Here the banks of the river were green and inviting. Cafés, pretty -suburban dance-houses, restaurants, and tiny hotels lined the shores. I -read on the signs such names as "The Angler's Retreat," "At the Great -Gudgeon," "The Fisherman's Paradise," and I saw sign-boards advertising -fishing, and boats to let. - -"I should think," said I, turning to my pretty neighbor, "that it would -pay to remove these fisherman's signs to Charenton." - -"Why?" she asked. - -"Because," said I, "nobody except a Charentonian would ever believe that -any fish inhabit this river." - -"Saint Cloud! Saint Cloud!" called out the ticket-agent as the boat -swung in to a little wooden floating pier on the left bank of the river. - -The ticket-agent carefully assisted me over the bridge to the -landing-dock, and I whispered to him that I was the Duke of Flatbush and -would be glad to receive him any day in Prospect Park. - -Then, made merry at my own wit, I strolled off up the steps that led to -the bank above. - -There, perched high above the river, I found a most delightful little -rustic restaurant where I at once ordered luncheon served for me on the -terrace, in the open air. - -The bald waiter sped softly away to deliver my order, and I sipped an -Amer-Picon, and bared my head to the warm breeze which swept up the -river from distant meadows deep in clover. - -There appeared to be few people on the terrace. One young girl, however, -whom I had seen on the boat, I noticed particularly because she seemed -to be noticing me. Then, fearing that my stare might be misunderstood, I -turned away and soon forgot her when the bald waiter returned with an -omelet, bread and butter, radishes and a flask of white wine. - -Such an omelet! such wine! such butter! and the breeze from the west -blowing sweet as perfume from a nectarine, and the green trees waving -and whispering, and the blessed yellow sunshine over all---- - -"Pardon, monsieur." - -I turned. It was my pretty little Parisienne of the steamboat, seated at -the next small table, demurely chipping an egg. - -"I beg _your_ pardon," said I, hastily, for the leg of my chair was -pinning her gown to the ground. - -"It is nothing," she said brightly, with a mischievous glance under her -eyes. - -"My child," said I, "it was very stupid of me, and I am certainly old -enough to know better." - -"Doubtless, monsieur; and yet you do not appear to be very, very old." - -"I am very aged," said I--"almost forty-five." And I smiled a -retrospective smile, watching the bubbles breaking in my wine-glass. - -Memory began to work, deftly, among the debris of past years. I saw -myself a student of eighteen, gayly promenading Paris with my tutor, -living a monotonous colourless life in a city of which I knew nothing -and saw nothing save through the windows of my English pension or in the -featureless streets of the American quarter, under escort of my tutor -and my asthmatic aunt, Miss Janet Van Twiller. - -That year spent in Paris, to "acquire the language" in a house where -nothing but English was spoken, had still a vague, tender charm for me, -because in that year I was young. I grew older when I shook the tutor, -side-stepped my aunt, and moved across the river. - -Once, only once, had the placid serenity of that year been broken. It -was one day--a day like this in spring--when, for some reason, even now -utterly unknown to me, I deliberately walked out of the house alone in -defiance of my tutor and my aunt, and wandered all day long through -unknown squares and parks and streets intoxicated with my own freedom. -And I remember, that day--which was the twin of this--sitting on the -terrace of a tiny café in the Latin Quarter, I drifted into idle -conversation with a demure little maid who was sipping a red syrup out -of a tall thin glass. - -Twenty-seven years ago! And here I was again, in the scented spring -sunshine, with the same west wind whispering of youth and freedom, and -my heart not a day older. - -"My child," said I to the little maid, "twenty-seven years ago you drank -pink strawberry syrup in a tall iced glass." - -"I do not understand you, monsieur," she faltered. - -"You cannot, mademoiselle. I am drinking to the memory of my dead -youth." - -And I touched my lips to the glass. - -"I wonder," she said, under her breath, "what I am to do with the rest -of the day?" - -"I could have told you," said I--"twenty-seven years ago." - -"Perhaps you could tell me better now?" she said, innocently. - -I looked out into the east where the gold dome of the Tomb rose -glimmering through a pale-blue haze. "Under that dome lies an Emperor in -his crypt of porphyry," said I. "Deeper than his dust, bedded in its -stiff shroud of gold, lies my dead youth, sleeping forever in the heart -of this fair young world of spring." - -I touched my glass idly, then lifted it. - -"Yet," said I, "the pale sunshine of winter lies not unkindly on snow -and ice, sometimes. I drink to your youth and beauty, my child." - -"Is that all?" she asked, wonder-eyed. - -I thought a moment: "No, not all. Williams isn't the only autocratic -interpreter of Fate, Chance, and Destiny." - -"Williams!" she repeated, perplexed. - -"You don't know him. He writes stories for a living. But he'll never -write the story I might very easily tell you in the sunshine here." - -After a pause she said: "Are you going to?" - -"I think I will," I said. And my eyes fixed smiling upon the sunny -horizon, I began: - - * * * * * - -Now, part of this story is to be vague as a mirrored face at dusk; and -part is to be as precise as the reflection of green trees in the glass -of the stream; and all is to be as capricious as the flight of that -wonderful butterfly of the South which is called Ajax by the reverent, -and The White Devil by the profane. Incidentally, it is the story of -Jones and the Dryad. - -The profession of Jones was derided by the world at large. He collected -butterflies; and it may be imagined what the American public thought of -him when they did not think he was demented. But a large, -over-nourished and blasé millionaire, wearied of collecting pigeon-blood -rubies, first editions and Rembrandts, through sheer _ennui_ one day -commissioned Jones to gather for him the most magnificent and complete -collection of American butterflies that could possibly be secured--not -only single perfect specimens of the two sexes in each species, but -series on series of every kind, showing local varieties, seasonal -variations in size and colour, strange examples of albinism and -polymorphic phenomena--in fact, this large, benevolent and intellectual -capitalist wanted something which nobody else had, so he selected Jones -and damned the expense. Nobody else had Jones: that pleased him; Jones -was to secure specimens that nobody else had: and that would be doubly -gratifying. Therefore he provided Jones with a five-year contract, an -agreeable salary, turned him loose on a suspicious nation, and went back -to hunt up safe investments for an income the size of which had begun to -annoy him. - - * * * * * - -"This part of the story is clear enough, is it not, my child?" - -"Are _you_ Jones?" - -"Don't ask questions," I said, seriously. - -"The few delirious capers cut by Jones subsequent to the signing of the -contract consisted of a debauch at the Astor Library, a mad evening -with seven aged gentlemen at the Entomological Society, and the purchase -of a ticket to Florida. This last spasm was his undoing; he went for -butterflies, and the first thing he did was to trip over the maliciously -extended foot of Fate and fall plump into the open arms of Destiny. And -in a week he was playing golf. This part is sufficiently vague, I hope. -Is it?" - -She said it was; so I continued: - - * * * * * - -The Dryad, with her sleeves rolled up above her pretty elbows, was -preparing to assault a golf ball; Jones regarded the proceedings with -that inscrutable expression which, no doubt, is bestowed upon certain -creatures as a weapon for self-protection. - -"Don't talk to me while I'm driving," said the Dryad. - -"No," said Jones. - -"Don't even say 'no'!" insisted the Dryad. - -A sharp thwack shattered the silence; the golf ball sailed away toward -the fifth green, landing in a gully. "Oh, bother!" exclaimed the Dryad, -petulantly, as the small black caddie pattered forward, irons rattling -in his quiver. "Now, Mr. Jones, it is up to you"--doubtless a -classically mythological form of admonition common to Dryads but now -obsolete. - -The Dryad, receiving no reply, looked around and beheld Jones, net -poised, advancing on tiptoe across the green. - -"What is it--a snake?" inquired the Dryad in an unsteady voice. - -"It is The White Devil!" whispered Jones. - -The Dryad's skirts were short enough as it was, but she hastily picked -them up. She had a right to. "Does it bite?" she whispered, looking -carefully around in the grass. But all she could see was a strangely -beautiful butterfly settled on a blue wild blossom which swayed gently -in the wind on the edge of the jungle. So she dropped her skirts. She -had a right to. - -Now, within a few moments of the hour when Jones had first laid eyes on -her, and she on Jones, he had confided to her his family history, his -ambitions, his ethical convictions, and his theories concerning the four -known forms of the exquisite Ajax butterfly of Florida. She had been -young enough to listen without yawning--which places her age somewhere -close to eighteen. Besides, she had remembered almost everything that -Jones had said, which confirms a diagnosis of her disease. There could -be no doubt about it; the Dryad was afflicted with extreme Youth, for -she now recognized the butterfly from the eulogy of Jones, and her -innocent heart began a steady tattoo upon her ribs as Jones, on tiptoe, -crept nearer and nearer, net outstretched. - -The moment was solemn; breathless, hatless, bare-armed, the Dryad -advanced, skirts spread as though to shoo chickens. - -"Don't," whispered Jones. - -But the damage had been accomplished; Ajax jerked his pearl and ashen -banded wings, shot with the fiery crimson bar, flashed into the air, and -was gone like the last glimmer of a fading sun-spot. - -"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" cried the Dryad, clasping her highly ornamental -hands; "what on earth will you think of my stupidity?" - -"Nothing," said Jones, resolutely, swallowing hard and gazing at the -tangled jungle. - -"It was too stupid," insisted the Dryad; and, as the silence of Jones -assented, she added, "but it is not very nice of you to say so." - -"Why, I didn't," cried Jones. - -"You did," said the Dryad, tears of vexation in her blue eyes. "And to -pay for your discourtesy you shall make me a silk net and I shall give -up golf and spend my entire time in hunting for White Devils, to make -amends." - -The suggested penance appeared to attract Jones. - -"Give up golf--which I am perfectly mad about," repeated the Dryad, -"just because you were horrid when I tried to help you." - -"That will be delightful," said Jones, naïvely. "We will hunt Ajax -together--all day, every day----" - -"Oh, I shall catch--something--the first time I try," observed the -Dryad, airily. She teed up a practice ball, hit it a vicious whack, -followed its flight with narrowing blue eyes, and, turning placidly upon -Jones, smiled a dangerous smile. - -"If I don't catch an Ajax before you do I'll forfeit anything you -please," she said. - -"I'll take it," said Jones. - -"But," cried the Dryad, "what do you offer against it?" - -"Whatever I ask from you," he said, deliberately. - -"You are somewhat vague, Mr. Jones." - -"I won't be when I win." - -"Tell me what you want--if you win!" - -"What? With this caddie hanging around and listening?" The Dryad, -wide-eyed and flushed, regarded him in amazement. - -Jones picked up a pinch of wet sand from the box, moulded it with great -care into a tiny truncated cone, set it on the tee, set his ball on top -of it, whipped the air persuasively with his driver once or twice, and, -settling himself into the attitude popularly attributed to the Colossus -of Rhodes, hit the ball for the longest, cleanest drive he had ever -perpetrated. - -"Dryad," he said, politely, "it is now up to you." - - * * * * * - -Of all the exquisite creatures that float through the winter sunshine of -the semi-tropics this is the most exquisite and spirituelle. Long, -slender, swallow-tailed wings, tinted with pearl and primrose, crossed -with ashy stripes and double-barred with glowing crimson--this is the -shy, forest-haunting creature that the Dryad sought to snare, and sought -in vain. - -Sometimes, standing on the long, white shell roads, where myriads of -glittering dragon-flies sailed, far away a pale flash would catch the -sun for an instant; and "Ready! Look out!" would cry the Dryad. Vanity! -Swifter than a swallow the Ajax passed, a pearly blurr against the glare -of the white road; swish! swish! the silken nets swung in vain. - -"Oh, bother," sighed the Dryad. - -Again, in the dim corridors of the forest, where tall palms clustered -and green live oaks spread transparent shadows across palmetto thickets, -far in some sunlit glade a tiny wing-flash would bring the Dryad's -forest cry: "Quick! Oh, quick!" But the woodland ghost was gone. - -"Oh, bother, bother!" sighed the Dryad. "There are flowers--the -sparkleberry is in blossom--there is bloom on the China tree, but this -phantom never stops! Can nothing stop it?" - -Day after day, guarding the long, white road, the Dryad saw the phantom -pass--always flying north; day after day in the dim forest, the -hurrying, pale-winged, tireless creatures fled away, darting always -along some fixed yet invisible aërial path. Nothing lured them, neither -the perfumed clusters of the China-berry, nor the white forest flowers; -nothing checked them, neither the woven curtain of creepers across the -forest barrier, nor the jungle walled with palms. - -To the net of the Dryad and of Jones had fallen half a thousand jewelled -victims; the exquisite bronzed Berenice, the velvet and yellow -Palamedes, the great orange-winged creatures brilliant as lighted -lanterns. But in the gemmed symmetry of the casket the opalescent heart -was missing; and the Dryad, uncomforted, haunted the woodlands, roaming -in defiance of the turquoise-tinted lizards and the possible serpent -whose mouth is lined with snow-white membranes--prowling in contempt of -that coiled horror that lies waiting, S shaped, a mass of matted grey -and velvet diamond pattern from which two lidless eyes glitter -unwinking. - -"How on earth did anybody ever catch an Ajax?" inquired the Dryad at -the close of one fruitless, bootless day's pursuit. - -"I suppose," said Jones, "that every year or so the Ajax alights." That -was irony. - -"On what?" insisted the Dryad. - -"Oh, on--something," said Jones, vaguely. "Butterflies are, no doubt, -like the human species; flowers tempt some butterflies, mud-puddles -attract others. One or the other will attract our Ajax some day." - -That night Jones, with book open upon his knees, sat in the lamplight of -the great veranda and read tales of Ajax to the Dryad; how that, in the -tropics, Ajax assumes four forms, masquerading as Floridensis in winter -and as Telamonides in summer, and how he wears the exquisite livery of -Marcellus, too, and even assumes, according to a gentleman named Walsh, -a fourth form. Beautiful pictures of Ajax illumined the page where were -also engraved the signs of Mars and of Venus. The Dryad looked at these; -Jones looked at her; the rest of the hotel looked at them. Jones read -on. - -Sleepy-eyed the Dryad listened; outside in the burnished moonlight the -whippoorwill's spirit call challenged the star-set silence; and far away -in the blue night she heard the deep breathing of the sea. Presently the -Dryad slept in her rocking-chair, curved wrist propping her head; Jones -was chagrined. He need not have been, for the Dryad was dreaming of him. - - * * * * * - -There came a day late in April when, knee deep in palmetto scrub, the -Dryad and Jones stood leaning upon their nets and scanning the -wilderness for the swift-winged forest phantom they had sought so long. -Ajax was on the wing; glimpse after glimpse they had of him, a pale -shadow in the sun, a misty spot in the shadow, then nothing but miles of -palmetto scrub and the pink stems of tall pines. - -Suddenly an Ajax darted into the sunny glade where they stood, and a -ragged, faded brother Ajax fluttered up from the ground and, Ajax-like, -defied the living lightning. - -Wing beating wing they closed in battle, whirling round and round one -another above the palmetto thicket. The ragged and battered butterfly -won, the other darted away with the speed of a panic-stricken jacksnipe, -and his shabby opponent quietly settled down on a sun-warmed twig. - -Then it was that inspiration seized the Dryad: "Mr. Jones, you trick -wild ducks into gunshot range by setting painted wooden ducks afloat -close to the shore where you lie hidden. Catch that ragged Ajax, place -him upon a leaf, and who knows?" - -Decoy a butterfly? Decoy the forest phantom drunk with the exhilaration -of his own mad flight! It was the invention of a new sport. - -Scarcely appearing to move at all, so cautious was his progress, Jones -slowly drew near the basking and battle-tattered creature that had once -been Ajax. There was a swift drop of the silken net, a flutter, and all -was over. In the palm of Jones's hand, dead, lay the faded and torn -insect with scarce a vestige of former beauty on the motionless wings. - -Doubting, yet stirred to hope, he placed the dead butterfly on a -palmetto frond, wings expanded to catch the sun; and then, standing -within easy net-stroke, the excited Dryad and Jones strained their eyes -to catch the first far glimpse of Ajax in the wilderness. - -What was that distant flash of light? A dragon-fly sailing? There it is -again! And there again! Nearer, nearer, following the same invisible -aërial path. - -"Quick!" whispered the Dryad. A magnificent Ajax flashed across the -glade, turned an acute angle in mid-air, and in an instant hung hovering -over the lifeless insect on the palm leaf. - -Swish-h! A wild fluttering in the net, a soft cry of excitement from the -Dryad, and there, dead, in the palm of the hand of Jones, lay the first -perfect specimen, exquisite, flawless, beautiful beyond words. - -Before the Dryad could place the lovely creature in safety another Ajax -darted into the glade, sheered straight for the decoy, and the next -instant was fluttering, a netted captive. - -Then the excitement grew; again and again Ajax appeared in the vicinity; -and the tension only increased as the forest phantom, unseeing or -unheeding the decoy, darted on in a mad ecstasy of flight. - -No hunter, crouched in the reeds, could find keener excitement watching -near his decoys than the Dryad found that April day, motionless, almost -breathless, scanning the forest depths for the misty-winged phantom of -the tropic wilderness. One in six turned to the decoy; there were long, -silent intervals of waiting and of strained expectancy; there were false -alarms as a distant drifting dragon-fly glimmered in the sun; but one by -one the swift-winged victims dashed at the decoy and were taken in their -strength and pride and all their unsullied beauty. And when the sport of -that April morning was over, and when Denis, the Ethiopian, turned the -horses' heads homeward, Ajax Floridensis, Ajax Marcellus and Ajax -Telamonides were no longer mysteries to the Dryad and to Jones. - -But there was a deeper mystery to solve before returning to the vast -caravansary across the river; and while they hesitated to attack it, I, -mademoiselle, having met and defeated Ajax in fair and open trial of -cunning and of wit, think fit to throw a ray of modern light upon this -archaic tale. - -It is true that Ajax, of the family of Papilio, rivals the wind in -flight, and seldom, in spring and summer, deigns to alight. Yet I have -seen Ajax Telamonides alight in the middle of the roadway, and, netting -him, have found him fresh from the chrysalis, and therefore weak and -inexperienced. Ajax Floridensis I have taken with a net as he feasted on -the bunches of white sparkleberry on the edge of the jungle. - -Rarely have I seen Ajax seduced by the wild phlox blossoms, but I have -sometimes caught him sipping there. - -As for the decoy, I have used it and taken with it scores and scores of -Ajax butterflies which otherwise I could not have hoped to capture. This -is not all; the great Tiger Swallowtail of the orange groves can be -decoyed by a dead comrade of either sex; so, too, can the royal, -velvet-robed Palamedes butterfly; and when the imperial Turnus sails -high among the magnolias' topmost branches, a pebble cast into the air -near him will sometimes bring him fluttering down, following the stone -as it falls to the ground. These three butterflies, however, are -generally easily decoyed, and all love flowers. Yet, in experimenting -with decoys, I have never seen an Ajax decoy to any dead butterfly -except an Ajax; and the dead butterfly may be of either sex, and as -battered as you please. - -It is supposed by some that butterflies can distinguish colour and form -at no greater distance than five feet; and experiments in decoying -appear to bear out this theory. Butterflies decoy to their own species, -even to faded and imperfect ones. - -Of half a dozen specimens set out on leaves and twigs, among which were -Papilio Palamedes, Cresphontes, and Turnus, Ajax decoyed only to an -imperfect and faded Ajax, and finally, when among that brilliant array -of specimens a single upper wing of a dead Ajax was placed on a broad -leaf, Ajax came to it, ignoring the other perfect specimens. - -Yet Ajax will fight in single combat with any live butterfly, and so -will Palamedes, Turnus, and Cresphontes. - -If a female Luna moth is placed in a cage of mosquito netting and hung -out of the window at night she is almost certain to attract all the male -Luna moths in the neighbourhood before morning. In this case, as it is -in the case of the other moths of the same group, it is the odor that -attracts. - -But in the case of a dead Ajax butterfly it appears to be colour even -more than form; and it can scarcely be odor, because the Ajax -butterflies of both sexes decoy to a dead and dried butterfly of either -sex. With this abstruse observation, mademoiselle, I, personally, retire -into the jungle to peep out at a passing vehicle driven by an Ethiopian -known as Denis, and containing two young people of sexes diametrically -opposed. And I am pleasantly conscious that I can no longer conceal -their identity from you, mademoiselle. - -"No," she said, "I know who they are. Please continue about them." - -So I smiled and continued: - -"And after all these weeks, during which I have so faithfully -accompanied you, are you actually going to insist that I lost my bet?" -asked the Dryad in a low voice. - -"But you didn't, did you?" said the pitiless Jones. - -"I let you catch the first Ajax. I might have prevented you; I might -have even caught it myself!" - -"But you didn't, did you?" said the pitiless Jones. - -"Because," continued the Dryad, flushing, "I was generous enough to -think only of capturing the butterflies, while all the time it appears -_you_ were thinking of something else. How sordid!" she added, -scornfully. - -"You admit I won the bet?" persisted that meanest of men. - -"I admit nothing, Mr. Jones." - -"Didn't I win the bet?" - -Silence. - -"Didn't I----" - -"Goodness, yes!" cried the Dryad. "Now what are you going to do about -it?" - -"You said," observed Jones, "that you would forfeit anything I desired. -Didn't you?" - -The Dryad looked at him, then looked away. - -"Didn't you?" - -Silence. - -"Di----" - -"Yes, I did." - -"Then I am to ask what I desire?" - -No answer. - -"So," continued Jones in a low voice, "I do ask it." - -Still no answer. - -"Will you----" - -"Mr. Jones," she said, turning a face toward him on which was written -utter consternation. - -"Will you," continued Jones, "permit me to name the first new butterfly -that I capture, after you?" - -Her eyes widened. - -"Is--is _that_ all you desire?" she faltered. Suddenly her eyes filled. - -"Absolutely all," said Jones simply--"to name a new species of butterfly -after my wife----" - -However, that was the simplest part of the whole matter; the trouble was -all ahead, waiting for them on the veranda--two hundred pounds of -wealthy trouble sitting in a rocking-chair, tatting, and keeping tabs -upon the great clock and upon the trolley cars as they arrived in -decorous procession from the golf links. - - * * * * * - -There was a long, long silence. - -"Is--is that all?" inquired my little neighbour. - -"Can't you guess the rest?" - -But she only sighed, looking down at the lace handkerchief which she had -been absently twisting in her lap. - -"You know," said I, "what keys unlock the meaning of all stories?" - -She nodded. - -"The keys of The Past," I said. - -She sighed, looking down into her smooth little empty hands: - -"I threw them away, long ago," she said. "For me there remains only one -more door. And that unlocks of itself." - -And we sat there, thinking, through the still summer afternoon. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XXI - -IN A BELGIAN GARDEN - - -That evening I found Williams curled up in his corner at the Café Jaune. - -"You are sun-burned," he said, inspecting me. - -"A little. I've been in Florida." - -"What?" - -"With the ghosts of years ago. But it seemed very realistic to me as I -sat in the sun and recalled it. Possibly it was even real enough to -sun-burn me a little." - -He eyed me with considerable chagrin. Perhaps he thought that he had the -monopoly of poetic fancies. It was most agreeable to me to touch him -up. They're a jealous bunch, those whittlers of fact into fiction. - -However, he brightened as he drew a letter from his pocket: - -"You remember Kingsbury, of course?" he asked. - -"Perfectly." - -"And his friend Smith?" - -"Certainly." - -"I've a letter here from Kingsbury. He expects to be in Paris this -autumn." - -"I'd like to see him," said I, "but I'm going home before Autumn." - -"Haven't you seen him in all these years?" - -"Not once." - -"And you never heard----" - -"Oh, go on, Williams, and tell your story. I'm perfectly willing to -listen. Cut out all that coy business and tear off a few page-proofs. -Besides," I added, maliciously, "I know how it's done, now." - -"_How_ do you know?" - -"Because I did a little in that line myself this afternoon. Let me tell -you something; there isn't a profession in all the world which can be so -easily and quickly acquired as yours. Therefore pin no more orders and -ribbons and stars and medals on yourself. The only difference between -you and your public is that they have no time to practice your -profession in addition to their own." - -Which took him down a peg or two, until we both took down another peg or -two. But when I called the waiter and ordered a third, he became more -cheerful. - -"You're a jollier," he said, "aren't you?" - -"I did a little this afternoon. Go on about Kingsbury and Smithy. After -all, Williams, you really do it much better than I." - -Which mollified him amazingly, and he began with a brisk confidence in -his powers of narration: - - * * * * * - -When Kingsbury had finished his course at the University of Paris, there -appeared to be little or nothing further in the way of human knowledge -for him to acquire. However, on the chance of disinterring a fragment or -two of amorphous information which he might find use for in his -projected book, The Economy of Marriage, he allowed himself another year -of travel, taking the precaution to invite Smith--the flippancy of Smith -being calculated to neutralise any over-intellectual activity in -himself. - -He needed a rest; he had had the world on his hands too long--ever since -his twentieth year. Smith was the man to give him mental repose. There -was no use attempting to discuss social economy with Smith, or of -interesting that trivial and inert mind in race suicide. Smith was -flippant. Often and often Kingsbury thought: "How can he have passed -through The University of Paris and remained flippant?" But neither -Sorbonne nor Pantheon produced marked effect upon Smith, and although it -is true that Paris horridly appealed to him, in the remainder of Europe -he found nothing better to do than to unpack his trout-rod and make for -the nearest puddle wherever they found themselves, whether in the Alps, -the Tyrol, the Vosges, or the forests of Belgium, where they at present -occupied a stucco-covered villa with servants, stables, hot-houses, and -a likely trout stream for Smith to dabble in, at a sum per month so -ridiculously reasonable that I shall not mention it for fear of -depopulating my native land. - -Besides, they had the youthful and widowed Countess of Semois for their -neighbour. - -And so it came about that, in this leafy, sunny land of cream and honey, -one very lovely morning, young Kingsbury, booted and spurred and still -flushed from his early gallop through the soft wood-roads of the forest, -found Smith at breakfast under the grape-arbour, immersed in a popular -novel and a bowl of strawberries. - -"Hello," said Smith, politely, pushing the fruit across the table. "The -berries are fine; I took a corking trout an hour ago; we'll have it -directly." - -"I saw the Countess," said Kingsbury, carelessly unbuttoning his gloves -as he stood there. - -"Oh, you did? Well, which one is the Countess, the girl with the dark -hair, or that stunning red-haired beauty?" - -"How could I tell? I couldn't ride up and ask, could I? They were -driving, as usual. The King was out, too; I wish he'd wear a decent -hat." - -"With the moral welfare of two hemispheres on your hands, you ought not -to feel responsible for the King's derby," observed Smith. - -Any exaggeration of fact always perplexed Kingsbury. He flattened out -his gloves, stuck his riding-crop into his left boot, and looked at -Smith through his monocle. - -"For all the talk about the King," he said, "the peasantry salute him as -reverently as though he were their father." - -To which Smith, in his flippancy, replied: - - "The children for their monarch pray, - Each buxom lass and laddie; - A thousand reasons good have they - To call the King their daddy." - -Kingsbury retired to make his toilet; returned presently smelling less -of the stables, seated himself, drowned a dozen luscious strawberries -in cream, tasted one, and cast a patronising eye upon the trout, which -had been prepared à la Meunière. - -"Corker, isn't he?" observed Smith, contemplating the fish with -pardonable pride. "He's poached, I regret to inform you." - -"Poached?" - -"Oh, not like an egg; I mean that I took him in private waters. It was a -disgusting case of poaching." - -"What on earth did you do that for?" - -"Now, I'll explain that in a minute. You know where our stream flows -under the arch in the wall which separates our grounds from the park -next door? Well, I was casting away on our side, never thinking of -mischief, when, flip! flop! spatter! splash! and, if you please, right -under the water-arch in the wall this scandalous trout jumped. Of -course, I put it to him good and plenty, but the criminal creature, on -purpose to tempt me, backed off down stream and clean through the arch -into our neighbour's water. - -"'Is it poaching if I go over after him?' thought I. And, Kingsbury, do -you know I had no time to debate that moral question, because, before I -could reply to myself, I found myself hoisting a ladder to the top of -the wall and lowering it on the other side--there are no steps on the -other side. And what do you think? Before I could rouse myself with the -cry of 'Trespasser! Help!' I found myself climbing down into the park -and casting a fly with sinful accuracy. - -"'Is it right?' I asked myself in an agony of doubt. But, alas, -Kingsbury, before I had a ghost of a chance to answer myself in the -negative I had hooked that trout fast; and there was the deuce to pay, -for I'd forgotten my landing-net!" - -He shook his head, helped Kingsbury to a portion of the trout, and -refilled his own cup. "Isn't it awful," he said. - -"It's on a par with most of your performances," observed the other, -coldly. "I suppose you continued your foolish conduct with that girl, -too." - -"What girl?" - -"And I suppose you kissed her again! Did you?" - -"Kiss a girl?" stammered Smith. "Where have you been prowling?" - -"Along the boundary wall on my side, if you want to know. A week ago I -chanced to be out by moonlight, and I saw you kiss her, Smith, across -the top of the park wall. It is your proper rôle, of course, to deny it, -but let me tell you that I think it's a pretty undignified business of -yours, kissing the Countess of Semois's servants----" - -"What the deuce----" - -"Well, _who_ was it you kissed over the top of the wall, then?" - -"I don't know," said Smith, sullenly. - -"You don't know! It wasn't the Countess, was it?" - -"Of course it wasn't the Countess. I tell you I don't know who it was." - -"Nonsense!" - -"No, it isn't. What happened was this: I climbed up the niches to sit on -the wall by moonlight and watch the trout jump; and just as my head -cleared the wall the head of a girl came up on the other side--right -against the moon, so it was just a shadow--a sort of silhouette. It was -an agreeable silhouette; I couldn't really see her features." - -"That was no reason for kissing them, was it?" - -"No--oh, not at all. The way _that_ came about was most extraordinary. -You see, we were both amazed to find our two noses so close together, -and I said--something foolish--and she laughed--the prettiest, -disconcerted little laugh, and that moon was there, and suddenly, to my -astonishment, I realised that I was going to kiss her if she didn't -move.... And--she didn't." - -"You mean to say----" - -"Yes, I do; I haven't the faintest notion who it was I kissed. It -couldn't have been the Countess, because I've neither fought any duels -nor have I been arrested. I refuse to believe it could have been the -cook, because there was something about that kiss indescribably -aromatic--and, Kingsbury, she didn't say a word--she scarcely breathed. -Now a cook would have screamed, you know----" - -"I _don't_ know," interrupted Kingsbury. - -"No, no, of course--neither do I." - -"Idiot!" said Kingsbury wrathfully. "Suppose it _had_ been the Countess! -Think of the consequences! Keep away from that wall and don't attempt to -ape the depravity of a morally sick continent. You shocked me in Paris; -you're mortifying me here. If you think I'm going to be identified with -your ragged morals you are mistaken." - -"That's right; don't stand for 'em. I've been reading novels, and I need -a jar from an intelligence absolutely devoid of imagination." - -"You'll get it if you don't behave yourself," said Kingsbury -complacently. "The Countess of Semois probably knows who we are, and ten -to one we'll meet her at that charity bazar at Semois-les-Bains this -afternoon." - -"I'm not going," said Smith, breaking an egg. - -"Not going? You said you would go. Our Ambassador will be there, and we -can meet the Countess if we want to." - -"I don't want to. Suppose, after all, I had kissed _her_! No, I'm not -going, I tell you." - -"Very well; that's your own affair," observed the other, serenely -occupied with the trout. "Perhaps you're right, too; perhaps the happy -scullion whom you honoured may have complained about you to her -mistress." - -Smith sullenly tinkled the bell for more toast; a doll-faced maid in cap -and apron brought it. - -"Probably," said Kingsbury in English, "_that_ is the species you -fondled----" - -Smith opened his novel and pretended to read; Kingsbury picked up the -morning paper, propped it against a carafe, sipped his coffee, and -inspected the headlines through his single eyeglass. For a few minutes -peace and order hovered over the American breakfast; the men were young -and in excellent appetite; the fragrance of the flowers was not too -intrusive; discreet breezes stirred the leaves; and well-behaved little -birds sang judiciously in several surrounding bushes. - -As Kingsbury's eyes wandered over the paper, gradually focussing up a -small paragraph, a frown began to gather on his youthful features. - -"Here's a nice business!" he said, disgusted. - -Smith looked up indifferently. "Well, what is it?" he asked, and then, -seeing the expression on his friend's face, added: "Oh, I'll bet I -know!" - -"This," said Kingsbury, paying him no attention, "is simply sickening." - -"A young life bartered for a coronet?" inquired Smith, blandly. - -"Yes. Isn't it shameful? What on earth are our women thinking of? Are -you aware, Smith, that over ninety-seven and three tenths per cent of -such marriages are unhappy? Are you? Why, I could sit here and give you -statistics----" - -"Don't, all the same." - -"Statistics that would shock even you. And I say solemnly, that I, as an -American, as a humanitarian, as a student of social economics----" - -"Help! Help!" complained Smith, addressing the butter. - -"Social economics," repeated the other, firmly, "as a patriot, a man, -and a future father, I am astounded at the women of my native land! Race -suicide is not alone what menaces us; it is the exportation of our -finest and most vigorous stock to upbuild a bloodless and alien -aristocracy at our expense." - -Smith reached for the toast-rack. - -"And if there's one thing that irritates me," continued Kingsbury, "it's -the spectacle of wholesome American girls marrying titles. Every time -they do it I get madder, too. Short-sighted people like you shrug their -shoulders, but I tell you, Smith, it's a terrible menace to our country. -Beauty, virtue, wealth, all are being drawn away from America into the -aristocratic purlieus of England and the Continent." - -"Then I think you ought to see about it at once," said Smith, presenting -himself with another slice of toast. - -Kingsbury applied marmalade to a muffin and flattened out the newspaper. - -"I tell you what," he said, "some American ought to give them a dose of -their own medicine." - -"How?" - -"By coming over here and marrying a few of their titled women." - -Smith sipped his coffee, keeping his novel open with the other hand: "We -do that sort of thing very frequently in literature, I notice. There's -an American doing it now in this novel. I've read lots of novels like -it, too." He laid his head on one side, musing. "As far as I can -calculate from the romantic literature I have absorbed, I should say -that we Americans have already carried off practically all of the -available titled beauties of Europe." - -"My friend," said Kingsbury, coldly, "do you realise that I am serious?" - -"About what?" - -"About this scandalous chase after titles. In the book on which I am now -engaged I am embodying the following economic propositions: For every -good, sweet, wholesome American girl taken from America to bolster up a -degenerate title, we men of America ought to see to it that a physically -sound and titled young woman be imported and married to one of us." - -"Why a titled one?" - -"So that Europe shall feel it the more keenly," replied Kingsbury -sternly. "I've often pondered the matter. If only one American could be -found sufficiently self-sacrificing to step forward and set the example -by doing it, I am convinced, Smith, that the tardy wheels of justice -would begin to revolve and rouse a nation too long imposed upon." - -"Why don't you do something in that way yourself? There's a fine -physical specimen of the Belgian nobility in the villa next door." - -"I don't know her," said Kingsbury, turning a delicate shell pink. - -"You will when you go to the bazar. Stop fiddling with that newspaper -and answer me like a man." - -But Kingsbury only reopened the newspaper and blandly scanned the -columns. Presently he began muttering aloud as he skimmed paragraph -after paragraph; but his mutterings were ignored by Smith, who, -coffee-cup in hand, was again buried in his novel. - -"I've a mind to try it," repeated Kingsbury in a higher key. "It is the -duty of every decent American to improve his own race. If we want -physical perfection in anything don't we select the best type -obtainable? Why don't we do it in marrying? I tell you, Smith, this is -the time for individual courage, honesty and decency. Our duty is clear; -we must meet the impoverishment, which these titled marriages threaten, -with a restless counter-raid into the enemy's country. When a European -takes from us one of our best, let us take from Europe her best, health -for health, wealth for wealth, title for title! By Heaven, Smith, I'm -going to write a volume on this." - -"Oh, you're going to _write_ about it." - -"I am." - -"And then what?" asked Smith taking the newspaper from Kingsbury and -opening it. - -"What then? Why--why, some of us ought to give our country an example. -I'm willing to do it--when I have time----" - -"Here's your chance, then," urged Smith, studying the society column. -"Here's all about the charity bazar at Semois-les-Bains this afternoon. -The Countess sells dolls there. Our Ambassador will be on hand, and you -can meet her easily enough. The rest," he added, politely, "will, of -course, be easy." - -Kingsbury lighted a cigar, leaned back in his chair, and flung one -booted leg over the other. - -"If I were not here in Belgium for a rest--" he began. - -"You are--but not alone for bodily and mental repose. Think how it would -rest your conscience to offset that marriage which has irritated you by -marrying the Countess of Semois--by presenting to your surprised and -admiring country a superb and titled wife for patriotic purposes." - -"I don't know which she is," retorted Kingsbury, intensely annoyed. "If -she's the tall girl with dark hair and lots colour I could manage to -fall in love easily enough. I may add, Smith, that you have an -extraordinary way of messing up the English language." - -He arose, walking out toward the gate, where the smiling little postman -came trotting up to meet him, fishing out a dozen letters and papers. - -"Letters from home, Smith," he observed, strolling back to the arbour. -"Here's one for you"--he laid it beside Smith's plate--"and here's one -from my sister--I'll just glance at it if you'll excuse me." He opened -it and read placidly for a few moments. Then, of a sudden a terrible -change came into his face; he hastily clapped his monocle to his eye, -glared at the written page, set his teeth, and crumpled it furiously in -his hand. - -"Smith," he said, hoarsely, "my sister writes that she's engaged to -marry an--an Englishman!" - -"What of it?" inquired Smith. - -"What of it? I tell you my sister--my _sister_--_my_ sister--is going to -marry a British title!" - -"She's probably in love, isn't she? What's the harm----" - -"Harm?" - -For a full minute Kingsbury stood petrified, glaring at space, then he -cast his cigar violently among the roses. - -"I have a mind," he said, "to get into a top hat and frock coat and -drive to Semois-les-Bains.... You say she sells dolls?" - -"She's due to sell 'em, according to the morning paper." - -For a few moments more Kingsbury paced the lawn; colour, due to wrath or -rising excitement, touched his smooth, handsome face, deepening the mask -of tan. He was good to look upon, and one of the most earnest young men -the gods had ever slighted. - -"You think I'm all theory, don't you?" he said, nervously. "You shrug -those flippant shoulders of yours when I tell you what course an -American who honors his country should pursue. Now I'll prove to you -whether or not I'm sincere. I am deliberately going to marry the -Countess of Semois; and this afternoon I shall take the necessary -measures to fall in love with her. That," he added, excitedly, "can be -accomplished if she is the dark-haired girl we've seen driving." - -"Now, I don't suppose you really intend to do such a----" - -"Yes, I do! It sounds preposterous, but it's logical. I'm going to -practice what I expect to spend my life in preaching; that's all. Not -that I want to marry just now--I don't; it's inconvenient. I don't want -to fall in love, I don't want to marry, I don't want to have a dozen -children," he said, irritably; "but I'm going to, Smith! I'm going to, -for the sake of my country. Pro patria et gloria!" - -"Right away?" - -"What rot you talk, sometimes! But I'm ready to make my words mean -something; I'm ready to marry the Countess of Semois. There is no -possible room for doubt; any man can marry any woman he wants to; that -is my absolute conviction. Anyhow, I shall ask her." - -"As soon as you meet her?" - -"Certainly not. I expect to take several days about it----" - -"Why employ several days in sweet dissembling?" - -"Confound it, I'm not going to dissemble! I'm going to let her know that -I admire her the moment I meet her. I'm going to tell her about my -theory of scientific marriages. If she is sensible--if she is the woman -America requires--if she is the dark-haired girl--she'll understand." He -turned squarely on Smith: "As for you, if you were the sort of American -that you ought to be you would pick out some ornamental and wholesome -young Belgian aristocrat and marry her in the shortest time that decency -permits! That's what you'd do if you had a scintilla of patriotism in -your lazy make-up!" - -"No, I wouldn't----" - -"You would! Look at yourself--a great, hulking, wealthy, idle young man, -who stands around in puddles catching fish while Europe runs off our -loveliest women under your bovine nose. Shame on you! Have you no desire -to be up and doing?" - -"Oh, of course," said Smith, unruffled; "if several passion-smitten -duchesses should climb over the big wall yonder and chase me into the -garden----" - -Kingsbury swung on his spurred heels and strode into the house. - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XXII - -A YOUTHFUL PATRIOT - - -Smith sauntered out to the terrace, looked at the sky, sniffed the -roses, and sat down in the shadow of a cherry tree, cocking his feet up -and resting his novel on his knees. Several hours later, aroused by the -mellow clash of harness and noise of wheels, he looked out over the -terrace wall just in time to catch a glimpse of the victoria of his -neighbour, gold and green livery, strawberry roans, flashing wheels and -all; and quite alone under her brilliant sunshade, the dark-haired girl -whom Kingsbury had decided to marry as soon as he could arrange to fall -in love with her. - -"I fancy she's the Countess, all right," mused Smith; "but, to me, the -girl with red hair is vastly--more--more alluring----" - -The sound of wheels again broke the thread of his sleepy meditation; -their dog-cart was at the gate; and presently he perceived Kingsbury, -hatted and gloved to perfection, get in, take the reins from the -coachman, loop his whip, assume the posture popularly attributed to -pupils of Howlett, and go whirling away through the lazy sunshine of a -perfect Belgian afternoon. - -"The beast has lunched without me," muttered Smith, yawning and looking -at his watch. Then he got up, stretched, tinkled the bell, and when the -doll-faced maid arrived, requested an omelet à la Semois and a bottle of -claret. - -He got it in due time, absorbed it lazily, casting a weatherwise eye on -the sky at intervals with a view to afternoon fishing; but the sun was -too bright; besides, his book had become interesting in a somewhat -maudlin fashion, inasmuch as the lovers must come to a clinch in the -next chapter or not at all. - -"You can't tell in modern novels," he muttered; "a girl has a way of -side-stepping just as the bell rings: but the main guy ought to make -good within the next page or two. If he doesn't he's a dub!" - -With which comment he sought his hammock for an hour's needed repose; -but he had slumbered longer than that when he found himself sitting bolt -upright, the telephone bell ringing in his ears. - -Comfortably awake now, he slid from the hammock, and, entering the -house, stepped into the smoking-room. - -"Hello!" he said, unhooking the receiver. - -Kingsbury's voice replied: "I'm here in Semois-les-Bains, at the charity -bazar. Can you distinguish what I say?" - -"Perfectly, my Romeo! Proceed." - -"I'm in a fix. Our Ambassador didn't come, and I don't know anybody to -take me over and present me." - -"Buy a doll, idiot!" - -"Confound it, I've already bought ten! That doesn't give me the -privilege of doing anything but buying ten more. She's busy; about five -million people are crowding around her." - -"Buy every doll she has! Put her out of business, man! Then if you can't -fix it somehow you're a cuckoo. Is the Countess the dark-haired girl?" - -"Certainly." - -"How do you know?" - -"Isn't she here selling dolls? Didn't the paper say she was going to?" - -"Yes--but hadn't you better find out for certain before you----" - -"I am certain; anyway, I don't care. Smith, she is the most -radiantly----" - -"All right; ring off----" - -"Wait! I wanted to tell you that she has the prettiest way of smiling -every time I buy a doll. And then, while she wraps up the infernal thing -in ribbons and tissue we chat a little. I'd like to murder our -Ambassador! Do you think that if I bought her entire stock----" - -"Yes, I do!" - -"What do you think?" - -"What you do." - -"But I don't think anything at all. I am asking you----" - -"Try it, anyhow." - -"All right. Hold the wire, Smith. I'll report progress----" - -"What! Stand here and wait----" - -"Don't be selfish. I'll return in a moment." - -The "moment" stretched into a buzzing, crackling half hour, punctuated -by impatient inquiries from Central. Suddenly an excited: "Hello, -Smith!" - -"Hello, you infernal----" - -"I've done it! I've bought every doll! She's the sweetest thing; I told -her I had a plan for endowing a ward in any old hospital she might name, -and she thinks we ought to talk it over, so I'm going to sit out on the -terrace with her--Smith!" - -"What?" - -"Oh, I thought you'd gone! I only wanted to say that she is far, far -lovelier than I had supposed. I can't wait here talking with you any -longer. Good-by!" - -"Is she the Countess?" shouted Smith incredulously. But Kingsbury had -rung off. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XXIII - -ON THE WALL - - -Smith retired to his room to bathe, clothed himself in snowy linen and -fresh tennis flannels, and descended again, book under his arm, to -saunter forth through heavy tangles of cinnamon-tinted Flemish roses and -great sweet-scented peonies, musing on love and fate. - -"Kingsbury and his theories! The Countess of Semois will think him -crazy. She'll think us both crazy! And I am not sure that we're not; -youth is madness; half the world is lunatic! Take me, for example; I -never did a more unexpected thing than kissing that shadow across the -wall. I don't know why, I don't know how, but I did it; and I am out of -jail yet. Certainly it must have been the cook. Oh, Heavens! If cooks -kiss that way, what, _what_ must the indiscretion of a Countess -resemble?... She _did_ kiss back.... At least there was a soft, -tremulous, perfumed flutter--a hint of delicate counter-pressure----" - -But he had arrived at the wall by that time. - -"How like a woodland paradise!" he murmured sentimentally, youthful face -upraised to the trees. "How sweet the zephyr! How softly sing the -dicky-birds! I wonder--I wonder--" But what it was that perplexed him he -did not say; he stood eying the top of the wall as the furtive turkey -eyes its selected roost before coyly hopping thither. - -"What's the use? If I see her I'll only take fright and skulk homeward. -Why do I return again and again to the scene of guilt? Is it Countess or -cook that draws me, or some one less exalted in the culinary confine? -Why, why should love get busy with me? Is this the price I pay for that -guileless kiss? Am I to be forever 'it' in love's gay game of tag?" - -He ascended the steplike niche in the wall, peeped fearfully over into -his neighbour's chasse. Tree and tangle slept in the golden light of -afternoon; a cock-pheasant strutted out of a thicket, surveyed the -solitude with brilliant eyes, and strutted back again; a baby rabbit -frisked across the carrefour into the ferny warren beyond; and "Bubble, -bubble, flowed the stream, like an old song through a dream." - -Sprawling there flat on top of the sun-warmed stucco wall, white -sunlight barring the pages of his book, he lifted his head to listen. -There was a leafy stirring somewhere, perhaps the pheasant rustling in -the underbrush. The sing-song of the stream threaded the silence; and as -he listened it seemed to grow louder, filling the woods with low, -harmonious sounds. In the shallows he heard laughter; in the pouring -waterfalls, echoes like wind-blown voices calling. Small grey and -saffron tinted birds, passing from twig to twig, peered at him -fearlessly; a heavy green lizard vanished between the stones with an -iridescent wriggle. Suddenly a branch snapped and the underbrush -crackled. - -"Probably a deer," thought Smith, turning to look. Close inspection of -the thicket revealed nothing; he dropped his chin on his hands, crossed -his legs, and opened his book. - -The book was about one of those Americans who trouble the peace of mind -of Princesses; and this was the place to read it, here in the enchanted -stillness of the ancient Belgian forest, here where the sunshine spread -its net on fretted waters, where lost pools glimmered with azure when -the breeze stirred overhead--here where his neighbor was a Countess and -some one in her household wore a mass of gold-red hair Greek -fashion--and Aphrodite was not whiter of neck nor bluer eyed than she. - -The romance that he read was designed to be thickly satisfying to -American readers, for it described a typical American so accurately that -Smith did not recognize the type. Until he had been enlightened by -fiction he never imagined Americans were so attractive to exotic -nobility. So he read on, gratified, cloyed, wondering how the Princess, -although she happened to be encumbered with a husband, could stand for -anything but ultimate surrender to the Stars and Stripes; and trustfully -leaving it to another to see that it was done morally. - -Hypnotized by the approaching crisis, he had begun already to finger the -next page, when a slight crash in the bushes close by and the swish of -parting foliage startled him from romance to reality. - -But he had looked up too late; to slink away was impossible; to move was -to reveal himself. It was _she_! And she was not ten feet distant. - -One thing was certain: whether or not she was the shadowy partner of his -kiss, she could not be the Countess, because she was fishing, -unattended, hatless, the sleeves of her shirtwaist rolled up above her -white elbows, a book and a short landing-net tucked under her left arm. -Countesses don't go fishing unattended; gillies carry things. Besides, -the Countess of Semois was in Semois-les-Bains selling dolls to -Kingsbury. - -The sun glowed on her splendid red hair; she switched the slender rod -about rather awkwardly, and every time the cast of flies became -entangled in a nodding willow she set her red lips tight and with an -impatient "_Mais, c'est trop bête! Mais, c'est vraiment trop_----" - -It was evident that she had not seen him where he lay on the wall; the -chances were she would pass on--indeed her back was already toward -him--when the unexpected happened: a trout leaped for a gnat and fell -back into the pool with a resounding splash, sending ring on ring of -sunny wavelets toward the shore. - -"Ah! _Te voilà!_" she said aloud, swinging her line free for a cast. - -Smith saw what was coming and tried to dodge, but the silk line whistled -on the back-cast, and the next moment his cap was snatched from his head -and deposited some twenty feet out in the centre of the pool. - -The amazement of the fair angler was equal to his own as she looked -hastily back over her shoulder and discovered him on the wall. - -There is usually something undignified about a man whose hat has been -knocked off; to laugh is as fatal as to show irritation; and Smith did -neither, but quietly dropped over to her side of the wall, saying, "I'm -awfully sorry I spoiled your cast. Don't mind the cap; that trout was a -big one, and he may rise again." - -He had spoken in English, and she answered in very pretty English: "I am -so sorry--could I help you to recover your hat?" - -"Thank you; if you would let me take your rod a moment." - -"Willingly, monsieur." - -She handed him the rod; he loosened the line, measured the distance with -practiced eye, turned to look behind him, and, seeing there was scant -room for a long back-cast, began sending loop after loop of silken line -forward across the water, using the Spey method, of which none except an -expert is master. - -The first cast struck half-way, but in line; the next, still in line, -slipped over the cap, but failed to hook. Then, as he recovered, there -was a boiling rush in the water, a flash of pink and silver, and the rod -staggered. - -"I--I beg your pardon!" he exclaimed aghast; "I have hooked your trout!" - -"Play him," she said quickly. The elfin shriek of the reel answered; he -gave the fish every ounce the quivering rod could spare, the great trout -surged deeply, swerved, circled and bored slowly upstream. - -"This fish is magnificent," said Smith, guiltily. "You really must take -the rod----" - -"I shall not, indeed." - -"But this is not fair!" - -"It is perfectly fair, monsieur--and a wonderful lesson in angling to -me. Oh, I beg you to be careful! There is a sunken tree limb beyond!" - -Her cheeks were the colour of wild roses, her blue eyes burned like -stars. - -"He's down; I can't stir him," said Smith. "He's down like a salmon!" - -She linked her hands behind her back. "What is to be done?" she asked -calmly. - -"If you would gather a handful of those pebbles and throw one at a time -into the pool where he is lying----" - -Before he finished speaking she had knelt, filled her palms with golden -gravel, and stood ready at the water's edge. - -"Now?" she nodded, inquiringly. - -"Yes, one at a time; try to hit him." - -The first pebble produced no effect; neither did the second, nor yet the -third. - -"Throw a handful at him," he suggested, and braced himself for the -result. A spray of gravel fell; the great fish sulked motionless. - -"There's a way--" began Smith, feeling in his pockets for his key-ring. -It was not there. - -"Could I be of any use?" she asked, looking up at Smith very -guilelessly. - -"Why, if I had something--a key-ring or anything that I could hang over -the taut line--something that would slide down and jog him gently----" - -"A hairpin?" she asked. - -"I'm afraid it's too light." - -She reflected a moment; her bent forefinger brushed her velvet lips. -Then she began to unfasten a long gold pin at her throat. - -"Oh, not that!" exclaimed Smith, anxiously. "It might slip off." - -"It can't; there's a safety clasp. Anyway, we must have that trout!" - -"But I could not permit----" - -"It is I who permit myself, monsieur." - -"No, no, it is too generous of you----" - -"Please!" She held the pin toward him; he shook his head; she hesitated, -then with a quick movement she snapped the clasp over the taut line and -sent it spinning toward the invisible fish. - -He saw the gold glimmer become a spark under water, die out in dusky -depths; then came a rushing upheaval of spray, a flash, the rod quivered -to the reel-plate, and the fight began in fury. The rod was so slim, so -light--scarce three ounces--that he could but stand on the defensive at -first. Little by little the struggle became give and take, then -imperceptibly he forced the issue, steadily, delicately, for the tackle -was gossamer, and he fought for the safety of the golden clasp as well -as for his honour as an angler. - -"Do you know how to net a trout?" he asked presently. She came and stood -at his shoulder, net poised, blue eyes intent upon the circling fish. - -"I place it behind him, do I not?" she asked coolly. - -"Yes--when I give the word----" - -One more swerve, a half circle sheering homeward, nearer, nearer---- - -A moment later the huge trout lay on the moss; iridescent tints played -over its broad surface, shimmering hues deepened, waxing, warning; the -spots glowed like rubies set in bronze. - -Kneeling there, left hand resting on the rod, Smith looked up at her -over his shoulder; but all she said was: "Ah, the poor, brave thing! The -gallant fish! This is wrong--all wrong. I wish we had not taken a life -we cannot give again." - -"Shall I put the trout back madame?" - -She looked at him surprised. - -"Would you?" she asked incredulously. - -"If you desire it." - -"But it is your fish." - -"It is yours, madame." - -"Will it live? Oh, try to make it live!" - -He lifted the beautiful fish in both hands, and, walking to the water's -edge, laid it in the stream. For a while it floated there, gold and -silver belly turned to the sky, gills slowly inflating and collapsing. -Presently a fin stirred; the spasmodic movement of the gill-covers -ceased, and the breathing grew quiet and steady. Smith touched the -pectoral fins; the fish strove to turn over; he steadied the dorsal fin, -then the caudal, righting the fish. Slowly, very slowly, the great trout -moved off, farther, farther, sinking into cool, refreshing depths; there -was a dull glitter under the water, a shadow gliding, then nothing -except the green obscurity of the pool criss-crossed with surface -sunshine. - -When Smith turned around the girl was pensively regarding the water. His -cap had stranded on a shoal almost at his feet; he recovered it, wrung -the drops from it, and stood twirling it thoughtfully in the sunlight. - -"I've ruined it, haven't I?" she asked. - -"Oh, no; it's a shooting-cap. Like Tartarin, I shall probably ventilate -it later in true Midi fashion." - -She laughed; then, with the flushed composure of uneasiness: "Thank you -for a lesson in angling. I have learned a great deal--enough at least -to know that I shall not care to destroy life, even in a fish." - -"That is as it should be," he replied coolly. "Men find little charm in -women who kill." - -"That is scarcely in accord with the English novels I read--and I read -many," she said laughing. - -"It is true, nevertheless. Saint Hubert save us from the woman who can -watch the spark of life fade out in the eye of any living thing." - -"Are you not a little eccentric, monsieur?" - -"If you say so. Eccentricity is the full-blown blossom of mediocrity." - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XXIV - -A JOURNEY TO THE MOON - - -There was a silence so politely indifferent on her part that he felt it -to be the signal for his dismissal. And he took his leave with a -formality so attractive, and a good humour so informal, that before she -meant to she had spoken again--a phrase politely meaningless in itself, -yet--if he chose to take it so--acting as a stay of execution. - -"I was wondering," he said, amiably, "how I was going to climb back over -the wall." - -A sudden caprice tinged with malice dawned in the most guileless of -smiles as she raised her eyes to his: - -"You forgot your ladder this time, didn't you?" - -Would he ever stop getting redder? His ears were afire, and felt -enormous. - -"I am afraid you misunderstood me," she said, and her smile became -pitilessly sweet. "I am quite sure a distinguished foreign angler could -scarcely condescend to notice trespass signs in a half-ruined old -park----" - -His crimson distress softened her, perhaps, for she hesitated, then -added impulsively: "I did not mean it, monsieur; I have gone too -far----" - -"No, you have not gone too far," he said. "I've disgraced myself and -deserve no mercy." - -"You are mistaken; the trout may have come from your side of the -wall----" - -"It did, but that is a miserable excuse. Nothing can palliate my -conduct. It's a curious thing," he added, bitterly, "that a fellow who -is decent enough at home immediately begins to do things in Europe." - -"What things, monsieur?" - -"Ill-bred things; I might as well say it. Theoretically, poaching is -romantic; practically, it's a misdemeanor--the old conflict between -realism and romance, madame--as typified by a book I am at present -reading--a copy of the same book which I notice you are now carrying -under your arm." - -She glanced at him, curious, irresolute, waiting for him to continue. -And as he did not, but stood moodily twirling his cap like a sulky -schoolboy, she leaned back against a tree, saying: "You are very severe -on romance, monsieur." - -"You are very lenient with reality, madame." - -"How do you know? I may be far more angry with you than you suspect. -Indeed, every time I have seen you on the wall--" she hesitated, paling -a trifle. She had made a mistake, unless he was more stupid than she -dared hope. - -"But until this morning I had done nothing to anger you?" he said, -looking up sharply. Her features wore the indifference of perfect -repose; his latent alarm subsided. She had made no mistake in his -stupidity. - -And now, perfectly conscious of the irregularity of the proceedings, -perhaps a trifle exhilarated by it, she permitted curiosity to stir -behind the curtain, ready for the proper cue. - -"Of course," he said, colouring, "I know you perfectly well by -sight----" - -"And I you, monsieur--perfectly well. One notices strangers, -particularly when reading so frequently about them in romance. This -book"--she opened it leisurely and examined an illustration--"appears to -describe the American quite perfectly. So, having read so much about -Americans, I was a trifle curious to see one." - -He did not know what to say; her youthful face was so innocent that -suspicion subsided. - -"That American you are reading about is merely a phantom of romance," he -said honestly. "His type, if he ever did exist, would become such a -public nuisance in Europe that the police would take charge of -him--after a few kings and dukes had finished thrashing him." - -"I do not believe you," she said, with a hint of surprise and defiance. -"Besides, if it were true, what sense is there in destroying the -pleasure of illusion? Romance is at least amusing; reality alone is a -sorry scarecrow clothed in the faded rags of dreams. Do you think you do -well to destroy the tinted film of romance through which every woman -ever born gazes at man--and pardons him because the rainbow dims her -vision?" - -She leaned back against the silver birch once more and laid her white -hand flat on the open pages of the book: - -"Monsieur, if life were truly like this, fewer tears would fall from -women's eyes--eyes which man, in his wisdom, takes pains to clear--to -his own destruction!" - -She struck the book a light blow, smiling up at him: - -"Here in these pages are spring and youth eternal--blue skies and roses, -love and love and love unending, and once more love, and the world's -young heart afire! Close the book and what remains?" She closed the -covers very gently. "What remains?" she asked, raising her blue eyes to -him. - -"You remain, madame." - -She flushed with displeasure. - -"And yet," he said, smiling, "if the hero of that book replied as I have -you would have smiled. That is the false light the moon of romance sheds -in competition with the living sun." He shrugged his broad shoulders, -laughing: "The contrast between the heroine of that romance and you -proves which is the lovelier, reality or romance----" - -She bit her lips and looked at him narrowly, the high colour pulsating -and dying in her cheeks. Under cover of the very shield that should have -protected her he was using weapons which she herself had sanctioned--the -impalpable weapons of romance. - -Dusk, too, had already laid its bloom on hill and forest and had spun a -haze along the stream--dusk, the accomplice of all the dim, jewelled -forms that people the tinted shadows of romance. Why--if he had -displeased her--did she not dismiss him? It is not with a question that -a woman gives a man his congé. - -"Why do you speak as you do?" she asked, gravely. "Why, merely because -you are clever, do you twist words into compliments. We are scarcely on -such a footing, monsieur." - -"What I said I meant," he replied, slowly. - -"Have I accorded you permission to say or mean?" - -"No; that is the fashion of romance--a pretty one. But in life, -sometimes, a man's heart beats out the words his lips deliver untricked -with verbal tinsel." - -Again she coloured, but met his eyes steadily enough. - -"This is all wrong," she said; "you know it; I know it. If, in the woman -standing here alone with you, I scarcely recognise myself, you, -monsieur, will fail to remember her--if chance wills it that we meet -again." - -"My memory," he said in a low voice, "is controlled by your mind. What -you forget I cannot recall." - -She said, impulsively, "A gallant man speaks as you speak--in agreeable -books of fiction as in reality. Oh, monsieur"--and she laughed a pretty, -troubled laugh--"how can you expect me now to disbelieve in my Americans -of romance?" - -She had scarcely meant to say just that; she did not realise exactly -what she had said until she read it in his face--read it, saw that he -did not mean to misunderstand her, and, in the nervous flood of relief, -stretched out her hand to him. He took it, laid his lips to the fragrant -fingers, and relinquished it. Meanwhile his heart was choking him like -the clutch of justice. - -"Good-by," she said, her outstretched hand suspended as he had released -it, then slowly falling. A moment's silence; the glow faded from the -sky, and from her face, too; then suddenly the blue eyes glimmered with -purest malice: - -"Having neglected to bring your ladder this time, monsieur, pray accept -the use of mine." And she pointed to a rustic ladder lying half-buried -in the weedy tangle behind him. - -He gave himself a moment to steady his voice: "I supposed there was a -ladder here--somewhere," he said, quietly. - -"Oh! And why did you suppose--" She spoke too hurriedly, and she began -again, pleasantly indifferent: "The foresters use a ladder for pruning, -not for climbing walls." - -He strolled over to the thicket, lifted the light ladder, and set it -against the wall. When he had done this he stepped back, examining the -effect attentively; then, as though not satisfied, shifted it a trifle, -surveyed the result, moved it again, dissatisfied. - -"Let me see," he mused aloud, "I want to place it exactly where it was -that night--" He looked back at her interrogatively. "Was it about where -I have placed it?" - -Her face was inscrutable. - -"Or," he continued, thoughtfully, "was it an inch or two this way? I -could tell exactly if the moon were up. Still"--he considered the ladder -attentively--"I might be able to fix it with some accuracy if you would -help me. Will you?" - -"I do not understand," she said. - -"Oh, it is nothing--still, if you wouldn't mind aiding me to settle a -matter that interests me--would you?" - -"With pleasure, monsieur," she said, indifferently. "What shall I do?" - -So he mounted the ladder, crossed the wall, and stood on a stone niche -on his side, looking down at the ladder. "Now," he said, "if you would -be so amiable, madame, as to stand on the ladder for one moment you -could aid me immensely." - -"Mount that ladder, monsieur?" - -She caught his eyes fixed on her; for just an instant she hesitated, -then met them steadily enough; indeed, a growing and innocent curiosity -widened her gaze, and she smiled and lifted her pretty shoulders--just a -trifle, and her skirts a trifle, too; and, with a grace that made him -tremble, she mounted the ladder, step by step, until her head and -shoulders were on a level with his own across the wall. - -"And now?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. - -"The moon," he said, unsteadily, "ought to be about--there!" - -"Where?" She turned her eyes inquiringly skyward. - -But his heart had him by the throat again, and he was past all speech. - -"Well, monsieur?" She waited in sweetest patience. Presently: "Have you -finished your astronomical calculations? And may I descend?" He tried to -speak, but was so long about it that she said very kindly: "You are -trying to locate the moon, are you not?" - -"No, madame--only a shadow." - -"A shadow, monsieur?"--laughing. - -"A shadow--a silhouette." - -"Of what?" - -"Of a--a woman's head against the moon." - -"Monsieur, for a realist you are astonishingly romantic. Oh, you see I -was right! You do belong in a book." - -"You, also," he said, scarcely recognising his own voice. "Men--in -books--do well to risk all for one word, one glance from you; men--in -books--do well to die for you, who reign without a peer in all -romance----" - -"Monsieur," she faltered. - -But he had found his voice--or one something like it--and he said: "You -are right to rebuke me; romance is the shadow, life the substance; and -_you_ live; and as long as you live, living men must love you; as I love -you, Countess of Semois." - -"Oh," she breathed, tremulously, "oh,--you think _that_? You think _I_ -am the Countess of Semois? And _that_ is why----" - -For a moment her wide eyes hardened, then flashed brilliant with tears. - -"Is that your romance, monsieur?--the romance of a Countess! Is your -declaration for mistress or servant?--for the Countess or for her -secretary--who sometimes makes her gowns, too? Ah, the sorry romance! -Your declaration deserved an audience more fitting----" - -"My declaration was made a week ago! The moon and you were audience -enough. I love you." - -"Monsieur, I--I beg you to release my hand----" - -"No; you must listen--for the veil of romance is rent and we are face to -face in the living world! Do you think a real man cares what title you -wear, if you but wear his name? Countess that you are _not_--if you say -you are not--but woman that you _are_, is there anything in Heaven or -earth that can make love _more_ than love? Veil your beautiful true eyes -with romance, and answer me; look with clear, untroubled eyes upon -throbbing, pulsating life; and answer me! Love is no more, no less, -than love. I ask for yours; I gave you mine a week ago--in our first -kiss." - -Her face was white as a flower; the level beauty of her eyes set him -trembling. - -"Give me one chance," he breathed. "I am not mad enough to hope that the -lightning struck us both at a single flash. Give me, in your charity, a -chance--a little aid where I stand stunned, blinded, alone--you who can -still see clearly!" - -She did not stir or speak or cease to watch him from unwavering eyes; he -leaned forward, drawing her inert hands together between his own; but -she freed them, shivering. - -"Will you not say one word to me?" he faltered. - -"Three, monsieur." Her eyes closed, she covered them with her slender -hands: "I--love--you." - - * * * * * - -Before the moon appeared she had taken leave of him, her hot, young face -pressed to his, striving to say something for which she found no words. -In tremulous silence she turned in his arms, unclasping his hands and -yielding her own in fragrant adieu. - -"Do you not know, oh, most wonderful of lovers--do you not know?" her -eyes were saying, but her lips were motionless; she waited, reluctant, -trembling. No, he could not understand--he did not care, and the -knowledge of it suffused her very soul with a radiance that transfigured -her. - -So she left him, the promise of the moon silvering the trees. And he -stood there on the wall, watching the lights break out in the windows of -her house--stood there while his soul drifted above the world of moonlit -shadow floating at his feet. - -"Smith!" - -Half aroused, he turned and looked down. The moonlight glimmered on -Kingsbury's single eyeglass. After a moment his senses returned; he -descended to the ground and peered at Kingsbury, rubbing his eyes. - -With one accord they started toward the house, moving slowly, shoulder -to shoulder. - -"Not that I personally care," began Kingsbury. "I am sorry only on -account of my country. I was, perhaps, precipitate; but I purchased one -hundred and seven dolls of Mademoiselle Plessis--her private -secretary----" - -"What!" - -"With whom," continued Kingsbury, thoughtfully, "I am agreeably in love. -Such matters, Smith, cannot be wholly controlled by a sense of duty to -one's country. Beauty and rank seldom coincide except in fiction. It -appears"--he removed his single eyeglass, polished it with his -handkerchief, replaced it, and examined the moon--"it appears," he -continued blandly, "that it is the Countess of Semois who is--ah--so to -speak, afflicted with red hair.... The moon--ahem--is preternaturally -bright this evening, Smith." - -After a moment Smith halted and turned, raising his steady eyes to that -pale mirror of living fire above the forest. - -"Well," began Kingsbury, irritably, "can't you say something?" - -"Nothing more than I have said to her already--though she were Empress -of the World!" murmured Smith, staring fixedly at the moon. - -"Empress of _what_? I do not follow you." - -"No," said Smith, dreamily, "you must not try to. It is a long journey -to the summer moon--a long, long journey. I started when I was a child; -I reached it a week ago; I returned to-night. And do you know what I -discovered there? Why, man, I discovered the veil of Isis, and I looked -behind it. And what do you suppose I found? A child, Kingsbury, a winged -child, who laughingly handed me the keys of Eden! What do you think of -that?" - -But Smith had taken too many liberties with the English language, and -Kingsbury was far too mad to speak. - - - - -[Illustration] - -CHAPTER XXV - -THE ARMY OF PARIS - - -I was smoking peacefully in the conservatory of the hotel, when a -bellboy brought me the card of Captain le Vicômte de Cluny. - -In due time Monsieur the Viscount himself appeared, elegant, graceful, -smart; black and scarlet uniform glittering with triple-gold arabesques -on sleeve and Képi, spurs chiming with every step. - -We chatted amiably for a few moments; then the Captain, standing very -erect and stiff, made me a beautiful bow and delivered the following -remarkable question: - -"Monsieur Van Twillaire, I am come to-day according to the American -custom, to beg your permission to pay my addresses to mademoiselle, -your daughter." - -I inhaled the smoke of my cigarette in my astonishment. That was bad for -me. After a silence I asked: - -"Which daughter?" - -"Mademoiselle Dulcima, monsieur." - -After another silence I said: - -"I will give you an answer to-morrow at this hour." - -We bowed to each other, solemnly shook hands, and parted. - -I was smoking restlessly in the conservatory of the hotel when a bellboy -brought me the card of Captain le Vicômte de Barsac. - -In due time the Vicômte himself appeared, elegant, graceful, smart; -black, scarlet, and white uniform glittering with triple-gold arabesques -on sleeve and Képi, spurs chiming with every step. - -We chatted amiably for a few moments; then the Captain, standing very -erect and stiff, made me a beautiful bow and delivered the following -remarkable question: - -"Monsieur Van Twillaire, I am come to-day according to the American -custom, to beg your permission to pay my addresses to mademoiselle, your -daughter." - -I dropped my cigarette into the empty fireplace. - -"Which daughter?" I asked, coldly. - -"Mademoiselle Dulcima, monsieur." - -After a silence I said: - -"I will give you an answer to-morrow at this hour." - -We bowed to each other, solemnly shook hands, and parted. - -I was smoking violently in the conservatory of the hotel, when a bellboy -brought me a card of my old friend, Gillian Van Dieman. - -In due time Van Dieman appeared, radiant, smiling, faultlessly groomed. - -"Well," said I, "it's about time you came over from Long Island, isn't -it? My daughters expected you last week." - -"I know," he said, smiling; "I couldn't get away, Peter. Didn't Alida -explain?" - -"Explain what?" I asked. - -"About our engagement." - -In my amazement I swallowed some smoke that was not wholesome for me. - -"Didn't she tell you she is engaged to marry me?" he asked, laughing. - -After a long silence, in which I thought of many things, including the -formal offers of Captains de Barsac and Torchon de Cluny, I said I had -not heard of it, and added sarcastically that I hoped both he and Alida -would pardon my ignorance on any matters which concerned myself. - -"Didn't you know that Alida came over here to buy her trousseau?" he -inquired coolly. - -I did not, and I said so. - -"Didn't you know about the little plot that she and I laid to get you to -bring her to Paris?" he persisted, much amused. - -I glared at him. - -"Why, Peter," he said, "when you declared to me in the clubhouse that -nothing could get you to Paris unless, through your own stupidity, -something happened to your pig----" - -I turned on him as red as a beet. - -"I know you stole that pig, Van!" - -"Yes," he muttered guiltily. - -"Then," said I earnestly, "for God's sake let it rest where it is, and -marry Alida whenever you like!" - -"With your blessing, Peter?" asked Van Dieman, solemnly. - -"With my blessing--dammit!" - -We shook hands in silence. - -"Where is Alida?" he asked presently. - -"In her room, surrounded by thousands of dressmakers, hatmakers, -mantua-makers, furriers, experts in shoes, lingerie, jewelry, and other -inexpensive trifles," said I with satisfaction. - -But the infatuated man never winced. - -"_You_ will attend to that sort of thing in the future," I remarked. - -The reckless man grinned in unfeigned delight. - -"Come," said I, wearily, "Alida is in for all day with her trousseau. -I've a cab at the door; come on! I was going out to watch the parade at -Longchamps. Now you've got to go with me and tell me something about -this temperamental French army that seems more numerous in Paris than -the civilians." - -"What do you want to see soldiers for?" he objected. - -"Because," said I, "I had some slight experience with the army this -morning just before you arrived; and I want to take a bird's-eye view of -the whole affair." - -"But I----" - -"Oh, we'll return for dinner and then you can see Alida," I added. "But -only in my company. You see we are in France, Van, and she is the _jeune -fille_ of romance." - -"Fudge!" he muttered, following me out to the cab. - -"We will drive by the Pont Neuf," he suggested. "You know the proverb?" - -"No," said I; "what proverb?" - -"The bridegroom who passes by the Pont Neuf will always meet a priest, a -soldier, and a white horse. The priest will bless his marriage, the -soldier will defend it, the white horse will bear his burdens through -life." - -As a matter of fact, passing the Pont Neuf, we did see a priest, a -soldier, and a white horse. But it is a rare thing not to meet this -combination on the largest, longest, oldest, and busiest bridge in -Paris. All three mascots are as common in Paris as are English sparrows -in the Bois de Boulogne. - -I bought a book on the quay, then re-entered the taxi and directed the -driver to take us to the race-course at Longchamps. - -Our way led up the Champs Elysées, and, while we whirled along, Van -Dieman very kindly told me as much about the French army as I now write, -and for the accuracy of which I refer to my future son-in-law. - -There are, in permanent garrison in Paris, about thirty thousand troops -stationed. This does not include the famous Republican Guard corps, -which is in reality a sort of municipal gendarmerie, composed of several -battalions of infantry, several squadrons of gorgeous cavalry, and a -world-famous band, which corresponds in functions to our own Marine Band -at Washington. - -The barracks of the regular troops are scattered about the city, and -occupy strategic positions as the armouries of our National Guard are -supposed to do. All palaces, museums of importance, and government -buildings are guarded day and night by infantry. The cavalry guard only -their own barracks; the marines, engineers, and artillery the same. - -At night the infantry and cavalry of the Republican Guard post sentinels -at all theatres, balls, and public functions. In front of the Opera only -are the cavalry mounted on their horses, except when public functions -occur at the Elysées or the Hôtel de Ville. - -In the dozen great fortresses that surround the walls of Paris, -thousands of fortress artillery are stationed. In the suburbs and -outlying villages artillery and regiments of heavy and light -cavalry have their permanent barracks--dragoons, cuirassiers, -chasseurs-à-cheval, field batteries, and mounted batteries. At Saint -Cloud are dragoons and remount troopers; at Versailles the engineers and -cuirassiers rule the region; and the entire Department of the Seine is -patrolled by gendarmes, mounted and on foot. - -When we reached the beautiful meadow of Longchamps, with its grand-stand -covered with waving flags and the sunshine glowing on thousands of -brilliant parasols, we left the taxi, and found a place on what a New -Yorker would call "the bleachers." The bleachers were covered with -pretty women, so we were not in bad company. As for the great central -stand, where the President of the Republic sat surrounded by shoals of -brilliant officers, it was a mass of colour from flagstaff to pelouse. - -The band of the Republican Guards was thundering out one of Sousa's -marches; the vast green plain glittered with masses of troops. Suddenly -three cannon-shots followed one another in quick order; the band ended -its march with a long double roll of drums; the Minister of War had -arrived. - -"They're coming," said Van Dieman. "Look! Here come the Saint-Cyrians. -They lead the march one year, and the Polytechnic leads it the next. But -I wish they could see West Point--just once." - -The cadets from Saint-Cyr came marching past, solid ranks of scarlet, -blue, and silver. They marched pretty well; they ride better, I am told. -After them came the Polytechnic, in black and red and gold, the queer -cocked hats of the cadets forming a quaint contrast to the toy soldier -headgear of the Saint-Cyr soldiers. Following came battalion after -battalion of engineers in sombre uniforms of red and dark blue, then a -bizarre battalion of Turcos or Algerian Riflemen in turbans and pale -blue Turkish uniforms, then a company of Zouaves in scarlet and white -and blue, then some special corps which was not very remarkable for -anything except the bad fit of its clothing. - -After them marched solid columns of line infantry, great endless masses -of dull red and blue, passing steadily until the eye wearied of the -monotony. - -Trumpets were sounding now; and suddenly, the superb French artillery -passed at a trot, battery after battery, the six guns and six caissons -of each in mathematically perfect alignment, all the gunners mounted, -and not a man sitting on limber or caisson. - -In my excitement I rose and joined the roar of cheers which greeted the -artillerymen as battery after battery passed, six guns abreast. - -"Sit down," said Van Dieman, laughing. "Look! Here come the cavalry!" - -In two long double ranks, ten thousand horsemen were galloping -diagonally across the plain--Hussars in pale robin's-egg blue and black -and scarlet, Chasseurs-à-cheval in light blue and silver tunics, -Dragoons armed with long lances from which fluttered a forest of -red-and-white pennons, Cuirassiers cased in steel helmets and -corselets--all coming at a gallop, sweeping on with the earth shaking -under the thunder of forty thousand horses' hoofs, faster, faster, -while in the excitement the vast throng of spectators leaped up on the -benches to see. - -There was a rumble, a rolling shock, a blast from a hundred trumpets. -"Halt!" - -Then, with the sound of the rushing of an ocean, ten thousand swords -swept from their steel scabbards, and a thundering cheer shook the very -sky: "VIVE LA RÉPUBLIC!" - - * * * * * - -That evening we dined together at the Hôtel--Alida, Dulcima, Van Dieman, -and I. - -Alida wore a new ring set with a brilliant that matched her shining, -happy eyes. I hoped Van Dieman might appear foolish and ill at ease, but -he did not. - -"There is," said he, "a certain rare brand of champagne in the secret -cellars of this famous café. It is pink as a rose in colour, and drier -than a British cigar. It is the only wine, except the Czar's Tokay, fit -to drink to the happiness of the only perfect woman in the world." - -"And her equally perfect sister, father and fiancé," said I. "So pray -order this wonderful wine, Van, and let me note the brand; for I very -much fear that we shall need another bottle at no distant date." - -"Why?" asked Dulcima, colouring to her hair. - -"Because," said I, "the French army is expected to encamp to-morrow -before this hotel." - -"Cavalry or artillery?" she asked faintly. - -"Both," said I; "so let us thank Heaven that we escape the infantry, at -least. Alida, my dear, your health, happiness, and long, long life!" - -We drank the toast standing. - -[Illustration] - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Adventures of a Modest Man, by -Robert W. Chambers - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF A MODEST MAN *** - -***** This file should be named 43702-8.txt or 43702-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/7/0/43702/ - -Produced by Annie R. McGuire. This book was produced from -scanned images of public domain material from the Google -Print archive. - - -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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