A Book o' Nine Tales Part 31

_She._ So you advertise yourself as a marrying man?

_He._ Every bachelor is a marrying man. It is only a question of finding a convenient wife.

_She._ Like a convenient house, I suppose.

_He._ Exactly.

_She._ I wonder any woman ever consents to marry a man.

_He._ They know their own s.e.x too well to be willing to marry a woman.

_She._ But men are such selfish creatures!

_He._ You are amazingly pretty when you toss your head that way. It is worth coming from New York to see.

_She._ It is well you think so; otherwise you might consider your voyage a waste of time.

_He._ What, with the certainty of your consenting to marry me?

_She._ I like your a.s.surance! Why should I marry you?

_He._ I supposed that with your s.e.x the fact of my amazing attachment would be a sufficient reason.

_She._ Your knowledge of our s.e.x is then remarkably limited. Apparently, whether I happen to love you is of no particular consequence.

_He._ Oh, love is said to beget love.

_She._ But you love me, you say, because I amuse you. Now you don't amuse me in the least, and as I do not know just how to cultivate a pa.s.sion simply on the rather doubtful ground of your affection, especially with the chance of its being transient, there really seems to be very little chance of reciprocity.

_He._ Do you know what a tremendously hot day it is?

_She._ I don't see the connection, and I am sure I am cool enough.

_He._ But you make it very hot for me! How picturesque that ragged fellow over there looks, riding on the top of his high saddle.

_She._ With a string of mules tied to his horse's tail. I am fond of the mules, their bells are so musical.

_He._ And their bray.

_She._ And the muleteers sing such weird songs. I hear them going by about four o'clock in the morning, on their way to the Havana market, and the effect is most fascinating.

_He._ I should have expected you to be fond of the mules.

_She._ Why?

_He._ A fellow feeling is said to have a softening effect, and the mule's strongest characteristic is--

_She._ Consistency!

_He._ And as I was about to remark, we are apt to value others most for the virtues we do not ourselves possess.

_She._ You are sufficiently rude.

_He._ There is always danger that honesty will be thought rude.

_She._ Really, you begin to amuse me. Please go on; I would like to try falling in love on the amus.e.m.e.nt plan; it must be very droll.

_He._ Oh, bother the amus.e.m.e.nt! Like the young ladies in novels, I would be loved for myself alone.

_She._ I fear that would be more difficult than the other way. What have you ever done to make me admire you?

_He._ Perhaps nothing. Admiration presupposes the capability of appreciation.

_She._ Ah! What have you done, then, worthy of admiration?

_He._ I have managed to find you at Marianao, and bring about a tete-a-tete before I have been here fifteen hours.

_She._ Wonderful man! And of all that, what comes?

_He._ That I ask you to marry me. That is certainly something.

_She._ Yes; it isn't much, and you have done it before. But as you say, it is certainly something.

_He._ You are always flattering! Really, one wouldn't have expected you to be light now, when it is my deepest affections and all that sort of touching thing with which you are trifling.

_She._ You are a humbug!

_He._ Of course; so are you; so is everybody. Civilization is merely the apotheosis of humbug.

_She._ My friend, that trick of striving after epigram is fast making you as bad as a confirmed punster.

_He._ Still, it is all true. I am a humbug in proposing to you; you, if you reject me--

_She._ I certainly do, most emphatically and finally!

_He._ You make me the happiest of men.

_She._ You make your system of humbug far too complicated for me to follow.

_He._ Why, this is genuine.

_She._ Anything genuine from you, I fear, is impossible.

_He._ Oh, no; I have to be genuine occasionally, for the sake of contrast. The humbug was in asking you to marry me, and I wouldn't have had you say yes for the world.

_She._ I never suspected you of insanity, Mr. Chester. Am I to infer that the climate of Cuba, or the wines--

_He._ Oh, neither, I a.s.sure you. Besides, Cuba has no wines, as you ought to know. Now, see; I'll do you the rare honor of telling you the truth. Of course, you are at liberty to believe it or not, as you please; and very likely you won't, because it happens to be as true as the Gospel, revised version. Some days since, I asked Annie Cleaves to marry me.