Carmen Ariza Part 127

"Well, little girl, at last we are alone. Now we can exchange confidences." It was Ames talking. He had, late in the evening, secured seats well hidden behind a ma.s.s of palms, and thither had led Carmen. "What do you think of it all? Quite a show, eh? Ever see anything like this in Simiti?"

Carmen looked up at him. She thought him wonderfully handsome. She was glad to get away for a moment from the crowd, from the confusion, and from the unwelcome attentions of the now thoroughly smitten young Duke of Altern.

"No," she finally made answer, "I didn't know there were such things in the world."

Ames laughed pleasantly. How refreshing was this ingenuous girl! And what a discovery for him! A new toy--one that would last a long time.

But he must be careful of her.

"Yes," he went on genially, "I'll wager there's millions of dollars'

worth of jewelry here to-night."

"Oh!" gasped Carmen. "And are the people going to sell it and give the money to the poor?"

"Sell it! Ha! ha! Well, I should say not!"

"But--this is a--a charity--"

"Oh, I see. Quite so. No, it's the money derived from the sale of tickets that goes to the poor."

"And how much is that?"

"I haven't the slightest idea."

"But--aren't you interested in the poor?"

"Of course, of course," he hastened to a.s.sure her, in his easy casual tone.

For a long time the girl sat reflecting, while he studied her, speculating eagerly on her next remark. Then it came abruptly:

"Mr. Ames, I have thought a great deal about it, and I think you people by your charity, such as this, only make more charity necessary. Why don't you do away with poverty altogether?"

"Do away with it? Well, that's quite impossible, you know. 'The poor ye have always with you', eh? You see, I know my Bible."

She threw him a glance of astonishment. He was mocking her! She was deeply serious, for charity to her meant love, and love was all in all.

"No," she finally replied, shaking her head, "you do _not_ know your Bible. It is the poor thought that you have always with you, the thought of separation from good. And that thought becomes manifested outwardly in what is called poverty."

He regarded her quizzically, while a smile played about his mouth.

"Why don't you get at the very root of the trouble, and destroy the poverty-thought, the thought that there can be any separation from G.o.d, who is infinite good?" she continued earnestly.

"Well, my dear girl, as for me, I don't know anything about G.o.d. As for you, well, you are very innocent in worldly matters. Poverty, like death, is inevitable, you know."

"You are mistaken," she said simply. "Neither is inevitable."

"Well, well," he returned brightly, "that's good news! Then there is no such thing as 'the survival of the fittest,' and the weak needn't necessarily sink, eh?"

She looked him squarely in the eyes. "Do you consider, Mr. Ames, that you have survived as one of the fittest?"

"H'm! Well, now--what would you say about that?"

"I should say decidedly no," was the blunt reply.

A dark shade crossed his face, and he bit his lip. People did not generally talk thus to him. And yet--this wisp of a girl! Pshaw! She was very amusing. And, heavens above! how beautiful, as she sat there beside him, her head erect, and her face delicately flushed. He reached over and took her hand. Instantly she drew it away.

"You are the kind," she went on, "who give money to the poor, and then take it away from them again. All the money which these rich people here to-night are giving to charity has been wrested from the poor.

And you give only a part of it back to them, at that. This Ball is just a show, a show of dress and jewels. Why, it only sets an example which makes others unhappy, envious, and discontented. Don't you see that? You ought to."

"My dear little girl," he said in a patronizing tone, "don't you think you are a.s.suming a great deal? I'm sure I'm not half so bad as you paint me."

Carmen smiled. "Well, the money you give away has got to come from some source, hasn't it? And you manipulate the stock market and put through wheat corners and all that, and catch the poor people and take their money from them! Charity is love. But your idea of charity makes me pity you. Up here I find a man can pile up hundreds of millions by stifling compet.i.tion, by debauching legislatures, by piracy and legalized theft, and then give a tenth of it to found a university, and so atone for his crimes. That is called charity. Oh, I know a lot about such things! I've been studying and thinking a great deal since I came to the United States."

"Have you come with a mission?" he bantered. And there was a touch of aspersion in his voice.

"I've come with a message," she replied eagerly.

"Well," he said sharply, "let me warn and advise you: don't join the ranks of the muck-rakers, as most ambitious reformers with messages do. We've plenty of 'em now. I can tear down as easily as you or anybody else. But to build something better is entirely another matter."

"But, Mr. Ames, I've got something better!"

"Yes?" His tone spoke incredulous irony. "Well, what is it, if I may ask?"

"Love."

"Love, eh? Well, perhaps that's so," he said, bending toward her and again attempting to take her hand.

"I guess," she said, drawing back quickly, "you don't know what love is, do you?"

"No," he whispered softly. "I don't really believe I do. Will you teach me?"

"Of course I will," she said brightly. "But you'll have to live it.

And you'll have to do just as I tell you," holding up an admonitory finger.

"I'm yours to command, little woman," he returned in mock seriousness.

"Well," she began very softly, "you must first learn that love is just as much a principle as the Binomial Theorem in algebra. Do you know what that is? And you must apply it just as you would apply any principle, to everything. And, oh, it is important!"

"You sweet little thing," he murmured absently, gazing down into her glowing face. "Who taught you such stuff? Where did you learn it? I wonder--I wonder if you really are a daughter of the Incas."

She leaned back and laughed heartily. "Yes," she said, "I am a princess. Of course! Don't I look like one?"

"You look like--I wonder--pshaw!" he pa.s.sed his hand across his eyes.

"Yes, you certainly are a princess. And--do you know?--I wish I might be your prince."

"Oh, you couldn't! Padre Jose has that honor." But then her bright smile faded, and she looked off wistfully down the long corridor.

"Who is he?" demanded Ames savagely. "I'll send him a challenge to-night!"

"No," she murmured gently, "you can't. He's way down in Simiti. And, oh, he was so good to me! He made me leave that country on account of the war."