Frances Waldeaux Part 9

"Don't know," he said, "whether I can digest food, eating out of doors.

Myself, I never give in to these foreign ways. It's time they learned manners from us."

"I have no doubt," said Miss Vance placidly, "that you can find one of the usual hotels built for rich Americans in the town. We avoid them.

We search out the inns du pays to see as far behind the scenes as we can. I don't care to go to those huge houses with mobs of Chicagoans and New Yorkers; and have the couriers and portiers turn the flashlights on Europe for me, as if it were a burlesque show."

"Now, that's just what I like!" said Perry. "I always go to the houses where the royalties put up. I like to order better dishes and give bigger tips than they do. They don't know Jem Perry from Adam, but it's my way of waving the American flag."

"I am afraid we have no such patriotic motive," said Clara. "My girls seem to care for nothing now but art. We have made this little inn our headquarters in the Tyrol chiefly out of love for the old church yonder."

Mr. Perry glanced contemptuously across the Platz at the frowning gray building, and sat down with his back to it.

"Art, eh? Well, I've no doubt I could soon catch on to Art, if I turned my mind that way. It pays, too,--Art. Not the fellows who paint, but the connoisseurs. There's Miller from our town. He was a drummer for a candy firm. Had an eye for color. Well, he buys pictures now for Americans who want galleries in their houses. He bought his whole collection for Stout--the great dealer in hams. Why, Miller can tell the money value within five dollars, at sight, of any picture in Europe. He's safe, too. Never invests in pictures that aren't sure to go up in price. Getting rich! And began as a candy drummer! No, ma'am! Art's no mystery. I've never taken it up myself.

Europe is sheer pleasure to me. I get the best out of it. I know where to lodge well, and I can tell you where the famous plats are cooked, and I have my coats built by Toole. The house pays me a salary which justifies me in humoring my little follies," stroking his red beard complacently.

Lucy's chubby face and steady blue eyes were turned on him thoughtfully, and presently, when they sauntered down the windy street together, he talked and she still silently watched him.

"Miss Precision is weighing him in the balance," said Jean, laughing, as she poured out more black coffee. "With all of her soft ways Lucy is shrewd. She knows quite well why he races across the Atlantic, and why Prince Wolfburgh has backed away from us and charged on us again all summer. She is cool. She is measuring poor Perry's qualifications for a husband now just as she would materials for a cake. A neat little inventory. So much energy, so much honest kindness--so much vulgarity. I couldn't do that. If ever a man wants to marry me, I'll fly to him or away from him, as quick as the steel needle does when the magnet touches it." Miss Vance listened to her attentively. "Jean,"

she said, after a pause, "are you sure that it is Lucy whom the prince wishes to marry?"

"It is not I," said Miss Ha.s.sard promptly. "He has thought of me several times--he has weighed my qualifications. But the man is in love with Lucy as honestly as a ploughman could be. Don't you think I've tough luck?" she said, resting her elbow on the table and her chin on her palm, her keen gray eyes following Miss Dunbar and her lover as they loitered under the shadow of the church. "I am as young as Lucy.

I have a better brain and as big a dot. But her lovers make her life a burden, and I never have had one. Just because our noses and chins are made up differently!"

"Oh, my dear!" said Clara anxiously. "I never thought you cared for that kind of success!"

"I'm only human," Jean laughed. "Of course I'm an artist. I'm going to paint a great picture some day that all the world shall go mad about. Of Eve. I'll put all the power of all women into her. But in the meantime I'd like to see one man turn pale and pant before me as the fat little prince does when Lucy snubs him."

"Lucy is very hard to please," complained Miss Vance. "She snubs Mr.

Perry--naturally. But the prince--why should she not marry the prince?"

"Your generation," said Jean, smiling slyly, "used to think that an unreasonable whim called love was a good thing in marriage----"

"But why should she not love the prince? He is honorable and kind, and quite pa.s.sable as to looks---- Can there be any one else?" turning suddenly to Jean.

Miss Ha.s.sard looked at her a moment, hesitating. "Your cousin George used to be Lucy's type of a hero----"

"Why! the man is married!" Miss Vance stood up, her lean face reddening. "Jean! You surprise me! That kind of talk--it's indecent!

It is that loose American idea of marriage that ends in hideous divorce cases. But for one of my girls----"

"It is a very old idea," said Jean calmly.

"David loved another man's wife. Mind you, I don't accuse Lucy of loving any body, but when the needle has once touched the magnet it answers to its call ever after."

Miss Vance vouchsafed no answer. She walked away across the Platz, jerking her bonnet strings into a knot. Jean was one of the New Women!

Her opinions stuck out on every side like Briareus' hundred elbows!

You could not come near her without being jabbed by them. Such women were all opinions; there was no softness, no feeling, no delicacy about them. Skeletons with no flesh! As for Lucy, she had no fear. If even the child had loved George, she would have cast out every thought of him on his wedding day, as a Christian girl should do!

She pa.s.sed Lucy at that moment. She was leaning against one of the huge stone lions which crouch in front of the church, listening to Mr.

Perry. If ever a pure soul looked into the world it was through those limpid eyes!

The Platz was nearly empty. One or two men in blouses clattered across the cobblestones and going into the dark church dropped on their knees.

The wind was high, and now and then swept heavy clouds low across the sunlight s.p.a.ce overhead.

Lucy, as Jean had guessed, knew why the man beside her had crossed the Atlantic, and she had decided last night to end the matter at once.

The tears had stood in her eyes for pity at the thought of the pain she must give him. Yet she had put on her new close-fitting coat and a becoming fur cap, and pulled out the loose hair which she knew at this moment was blowing about her pink cheeks in curly wisps in a way that was perfectly maddening. Clara, seeing the mischief in her eyes as she listened shyly to Perry, went on satisfied. There was no abyss of black loss in that girl's life!

Lucy just now was concerned only for Perry. How the poor man loved her! Why not marry him after all, and put him out of his pain? She was twenty-four. Most women at twenty-four had gone through their little tragedy of love. But she had had no tragedy. She told herself firmly that there had been no story of love in her life. There never could be, now. She was too old.

She was tired, too, and very lonely. This man would seat her on a throne and worship her every day. That would be pleasant enough.

"I am ashamed of myself," he was saying, "to pursue you in this way.

You have given me no encouragement, I know. But whenever I go to New York and bone down to work, something tells me to come back and try again."

Lucy did not answer, and there was a brief silence.

"Of course I'm a fool,"--prodding the ground with his stick. "But if a man were in a jail cell and knew that the sun was shining just outside, he'd keep on beating at the wall."

"Your life is not a jail cell. It's very comfortable, I think."

"It has been bare enough. I have had a hard fight to live at all. I told you that I began as a ca.n.a.l-boy."

She looked at him with quick sympathy. At once she fancied that she could read old marks of want on his face. His knuckles were k.n.o.bbed like a laborer's. He had had a hard fight! It certainly would be pleasant to rain down comfort and luxury on the good, plucky fellow!

"Of course that was all long ago," said Perry. "I'm not ashamed of it.

As Judge Baker remarked the other day, 'The acknowledged aristocrats of America, to-day, are its self-made men.' He ought to know. The Bakers are the top of the heap in New York. Very exclusive. I've been intimate there for years. No, Miss Dunbar, I may have begun as a mule-driver on a ca.n.a.l, but I am choice in my society. My wife will not find a man or woman in my circle who is half-cut."

Lucy drew a long breath. To live all day and every day with this man!

And yet--she was so tired! There was a good deal of money to manage, and he could do that. He would like a gay, hospitable house, and so would she, and they would be kind to the poor--and he was an Episcopalian, too. There would be no hitch there. Lucy was a zealous High Churchwoman.

Why should she not do it? The man was as good as gold at heart. Jean called him a cad, but the caddishness was only skin deep.

Mr. Perry watched her, reading her thoughts more keenly than she guessed.

"One thing I will say in justice to myself," he said. "You are a rich woman. If you marry me, YOU will know, if n.o.body else does, that I am no fortune-hunter. I shall always be independent of my wife. Every dollar she owns shall be settled on her before I go with her to the altar."

"Oh, I'm not thinking of the money," said Lucy impatiently.

"Then you are thinking of me!" He leaned over her. She felt as if she had been suddenly dragged too close to a big unpleasant fire. "I know you don't love me," he panted, "you cold little angel, you! But you do like me? Eh? just a little bit, Lucy? Marry me. Give me a chance.

I'll bring you to me. If there is a single spark of love in your heart for me, I'll blow it into a flame! I can do it, I tell you!" He caught her fiercely by the shoulder.

Lucy drew back and threw out her hands. "Let me have time to think!"

"Time? You've had a year!"

"One more day. Come again this evening----"

"This evening? I've come so often!" staring breathlessly into her face. "It will be no use, I can see that. Well, as you please. I'll come once more."

The young fellow in his jaunty new clothes shook as if he had the ague.