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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Pandora, by Henry James
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world 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.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+
+Title: Pandora
+
+
+Author: Henry James
+
+
+
+Release Date: February 1, 2015  [eBook #2299]
+[This file was first posted on November 1, 1999]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PANDORA***
+
+
+Transcribed from 1922 MacMillan and Co. “Daisy Miller, Pandora, The
+Patagonia and Other Tales” edition by David Price, email
+ccx074@pglaf.org.  Proofed by David, Jeremy Kwock and Uzma G.
+
+                          [Picture: Book cover]
+
+
+
+
+
+                                 PANDORA
+                              by Henry James
+
+
+I
+
+
+IT has long been the custom of the North German Lloyd steamers, which
+convey passengers from Bremen to New York, to anchor for several hours in
+the pleasant port of Southampton, where their human cargo receives many
+additions.  An intelligent young German, Count Otto Vogelstein, hardly
+knew a few years ago whether to condemn this custom or approve it.  He
+leaned over the bulwarks of the _Donau_ as the American passengers
+crossed the plank—the travellers who embark at Southampton are mainly of
+that nationality—and curiously, indifferently, vaguely, through the smoke
+of his cigar, saw them absorbed in the huge capacity of the ship, where
+he had the agreeable consciousness that his own nest was comfortably
+made.  To watch from such a point of vantage the struggles of those less
+fortunate than ourselves—of the uninformed, the unprovided, the belated,
+the bewildered—is an occupation not devoid of sweetness, and there was
+nothing to mitigate the complacency with which our young friend gave
+himself up to it; nothing, that is, save a natural benevolence which had
+not yet been extinguished by the consciousness of official greatness.
+For Count Vogelstein was official, as I think you would have seen from
+the straightness of his back, the lustre of his light elegant spectacles,
+and something discreet and diplomatic in the curve of his moustache,
+which looked as if it might well contribute to the principal function, as
+cynics say, of the lips—the active concealment of thought.  He had been
+appointed to the secretaryship of the German legation at Washington and
+in these first days of the autumn was about to take possession of his
+post.  He was a model character for such a purpose—serious civil
+ceremonious curious stiff, stuffed with knowledge and convinced that, as
+lately rearranged, the German Empire places in the most striking light
+the highest of all the possibilities of the greatest of all the peoples.
+He was quite aware, however, of the claims to economic and other
+consideration of the United States, and that this quarter of the globe
+offered a vast field for study.
+
+The process of inquiry had already begun for him, in spite of his having
+as yet spoken to none of his fellow-passengers; the case being that
+Vogelstein inquired not only with his tongue, but with his eyes—that is
+with his spectacles—with his ears, with his nose, with his palate, with
+all his senses and organs.  He was a highly upright young man, whose only
+fault was that his sense of comedy, or of the humour of things, had never
+been specifically disengaged from his several other senses.  He vaguely
+felt that something should be done about this, and in a general manner
+proposed to do it, for he was on his way to explore a society abounding
+in comic aspects.  This consciousness of a missing measure gave him a
+certain mistrust of what might be said of him; and if circumspection is
+the essence of diplomacy our young aspirant promised well.  His mind
+contained several millions of facts, packed too closely together for the
+light breeze of the imagination to draw through the mass.  He was
+impatient to report himself to his superior in Washington, and the loss
+of time in an English port could only incommode him, inasmuch as the
+study of English institutions was no part of his mission.  On the other
+hand the day was charming; the blue sea, in Southampton Water, pricked
+all over with light, had no movement but that of its infinite shimmer.
+Moreover he was by no means sure that he should be happy in the United
+States, where doubtless he should find himself soon enough disembarked.
+He knew that this was not an important question and that happiness was an
+unscientific term, such as a man of his education should be ashamed to
+use even in the silence of his thoughts.  Lost none the less in the
+inconsiderate crowd and feeling himself neither in his own country nor in
+that to which he was in a manner accredited, he was reduced to his mere
+personality; so that during the hour, to save his importance, he
+cultivated such ground as lay in sight for a judgement of this delay to
+which the German steamer was subjected in English waters.  Mightn’t it be
+proved, facts, figures and documents—or at least watch—in hand,
+considerably greater than the occasion demanded?
+
+Count Vogelstein was still young enough in diplomacy to think it
+necessary to have opinions.  He had a good many indeed which had been
+formed without difficulty; they had been received ready-made from a line
+of ancestors who knew what they liked.  This was of course—and under
+pressure, being candid, he would have admitted it—an unscientific way of
+furnishing one’s mind.  Our young man was a stiff conservative, a Junker
+of Junkers; he thought modern democracy a temporary phase and expected to
+find many arguments against it in the great Republic.  In regard to these
+things it was a pleasure to him to feel that, with his complete training,
+he had been taught thoroughly to appreciate the nature of evidence.  The
+ship was heavily laden with German emigrants, whose mission in the United
+States differed considerably from Count Otto’s.  They hung over the
+bulwarks, densely grouped; they leaned forward on their elbows for hours,
+their shoulders kept on a level with their ears; the men in furred caps,
+smoking long-bowled pipes, the women with babies hidden in remarkably
+ugly shawls.  Some were yellow Germans and some were black, and all
+looked greasy and matted with the sea-damp.  They were destined to swell
+still further the huge current of the Western democracy; and Count
+Vogelstein doubtless said to himself that they wouldn’t improve its
+quality.  Their numbers, however, were striking, and I know not what he
+thought of the nature of this particular evidence.
+
+The passengers who came on board at Southampton were not of the greasy
+class; they were for the most part American families who had been
+spending the summer, or a longer period, in Europe.  They had a great
+deal of luggage, innumerable bags and rugs and hampers and sea-chairs,
+and were composed largely of ladies of various ages, a little pale with
+anticipation, wrapped also in striped shawls, though in prettier ones
+than the nursing mothers of the steerage, and crowned with very high hats
+and feathers.  They darted to and fro across the gangway, looking for
+each other and for their scattered parcels; they separated and reunited,
+they exclaimed and declared, they eyed with dismay the occupants of the
+forward quarter, who seemed numerous enough to sink the vessel, and their
+voices sounded faint and far as they rose to Vogelstein’s ear over the
+latter’s great tarred sides.  He noticed that in the new contingent there
+were many young girls, and he remembered what a lady in Dresden had once
+said to him—that America was the country of the Mädchen.  He wondered
+whether he should like that, and reflected that it would be an aspect to
+study, like everything else.  He had known in Dresden an American family
+in which there were three daughters who used to skate with the officers,
+and some of the ladies now coming on board struck him as of that same
+habit, except that in the Dresden days feathers weren’t worn quite so
+high.
+
+At last the ship began to creak and slowly bridge, and the delay at
+Southampton came to an end.  The gangway was removed and the vessel
+indulged in the awkward evolutions that were to detach her from the land.
+Count Vogelstein had finished his cigar, and he spent a long time in
+walking up and down the upper deck.  The charming English coast passed
+before him, and he felt this to be the last of the old world.  The
+American coast also might be pretty—he hardly knew what one would expect
+of an American coast; but he was sure it would be different.
+Differences, however, were notoriously half the charm of travel, and
+perhaps even most when they couldn’t be expressed in figures, numbers,
+diagrams or the other merely useful symbols.  As yet indeed there were
+very few among the objects presented to sight on the steamer.  Most of
+his fellow-passengers appeared of one and the same persuasion, and that
+persuasion the least to be mistaken.  They were Jews and commercial to a
+man.  And by this time they had lighted their cigars and put on all
+manner of seafaring caps, some of them with big ear-lappets which somehow
+had the effect of bringing out their peculiar facial type.  At last the
+new voyagers began to emerge from below and to look about them, vaguely,
+with that suspicious expression of face always to be noted in the newly
+embarked and which, as directed to the receding land, resembles that of a
+person who begins to perceive himself the victim of a trick.  Earth and
+ocean, in such glances, are made the subject of a sweeping objection, and
+many travellers, in the general plight, have an air at once duped and
+superior, which seems to say that they could easily go ashore if they
+would.
+
+It still wanted two hours of dinner, and by the time Vogelstein’s long
+legs had measured three or four miles on the deck he was ready to settle
+himself in his sea-chair and draw from his pocket a Tauchnitz novel by an
+American author whose pages, he had been assured, would help to prepare
+him for some of the oddities.  On the back of his chair his name was
+painted in rather large letters, this being a precaution taken at the
+recommendation of a friend who had told him that on the American steamers
+the passengers—especially the ladies—thought nothing of pilfering one’s
+little comforts.  His friend had even hinted at the correct reproduction
+of his coronet.  This marked man of the world had added that the
+Americans are greatly impressed by a coronet.  I know not whether it was
+scepticism or modesty, but Count Vogelstein had omitted every pictured
+plea for his rank; there were others of which he might have made use.
+The precious piece of furniture which on the Atlantic voyage is trusted
+never to flinch among universal concussions was emblazoned simply with
+his title and name.  It happened, however, that the blazonry was huge;
+the back of the chair was covered with enormous German characters.  This
+time there can be no doubt: it was modesty that caused the secretary of
+legation, in placing himself, to turn this portion of his seat outward,
+away from the eyes of his companions—to present it to the balustrade of
+the deck.  The ship was passing the Needles—the beautiful uttermost point
+of the Isle of Wight.  Certain tall white cones of rock rose out of the
+purple sea; they flushed in the afternoon light and their vague rosiness
+gave them a human expression in face of the cold expanse toward which the
+prow was turned; they seemed to say farewell, to be the last note of a
+peopled world.  Vogelstein saw them very comfortably from his place and
+after a while turned his eyes to the other quarter, where the elements of
+air and water managed to make between them so comparatively poor an
+opposition.  Even his American novelist was more amusing than that, and
+he prepared to return to this author.  In the great curve which it
+described, however, his glance was arrested by the figure of a young lady
+who had just ascended to the deck and who paused at the mouth of the
+companionway.
+
+This was not in itself an extraordinary phenomenon; but what attracted
+Vogelstein’s attention was the fact that the young person appeared to
+have fixed her eyes on him.  She was slim, brightly dressed, rather
+pretty; Vogelstein remembered in a moment that he had noticed her among
+the people on the wharf at Southampton.  She was soon aware he had
+observed her; whereupon she began to move along the deck with a step that
+seemed to indicate a purpose of approaching him.  Vogelstein had time to
+wonder whether she could be one of the girls he had known at Dresden; but
+he presently reflected that they would now be much older than that.  It
+was true they were apt to advance, like this one, straight upon their
+victim.  Yet the present specimen was no longer looking at him, and
+though she passed near him it was now tolerably clear she had come above
+but to take a general survey.  She was a quick handsome competent girl,
+and she simply wanted to see what one could think of the ship, of the
+weather, of the appearance of England, from such a position as that;
+possibly even of one’s fellow-passengers.  She satisfied herself promptly
+on these points, and then she looked about, while she walked, as if in
+keen search of a missing object; so that Vogelstein finally arrived at a
+conviction of her real motive.  She passed near him again and this time
+almost stopped, her eyes bent upon him attentively.  He thought her
+conduct remarkable even after he had gathered that it was not at his
+face, with its yellow moustache, she was looking, but at the chair on
+which he was seated.  Then those words of his friend came back to him—the
+speech about the tendency of the people, especially of the ladies, on the
+American steamers to take to themselves one’s little belongings.
+Especially the ladies, he might well say; for here was one who apparently
+wished to pull from under him the very chair he was sitting on.  He was
+afraid she would ask him for it, so he pretended to read, systematically
+avoiding her eye.  He was conscious she hovered near him, and was
+moreover curious to see what she would do.  It seemed to him strange that
+such a nice-looking girl—for her appearance was really charming—should
+endeavour by arts so flagrant to work upon the quiet dignity of a
+secretary of legation.  At last it stood out that she was trying to look
+round a corner, as it were—trying to see what was written on the back of
+his chair.  “She wants to find out my name; she wants to see who I am!”
+This reflexion passed through his mind and caused him to raise his eyes.
+They rested on her own—which for an appreciable moment she didn’t
+withdraw.  The latter were brilliant and expressive, and surmounted a
+delicate aquiline nose, which, though pretty, was perhaps just a trifle
+too hawk-like.  It was the oddest coincidence in the world; the story
+Vogelstein had taken up treated of a flighty forward little American girl
+who plants herself in front of a young man in the garden of an hotel.
+Wasn’t the conduct of this young lady a testimony to the truthfulness of
+the tale, and wasn’t Vogelstein himself in the position of the young man
+in the garden?  That young man—though with more, in such connexions in
+general, to go upon—ended by addressing himself to his aggressor, as she
+might be called, and after a very short hesitation Vogelstein followed
+his example.  “If she wants to know who I am she’s welcome,” he said to
+himself; and he got out of the chair, seized it by the back and, turning
+it round, exhibited the superscription to the girl.  She coloured
+slightly, but smiled and read his name, while Vogelstein raised his hat.
+
+“I’m much obliged to you.  That’s all right,” she remarked as if the
+discovery had made her very happy.
+
+It affected him indeed as all right that he should be Count Otto
+Vogelstein; this appeared even rather a flippant mode of disposing of the
+fact.  By way of rejoinder he asked her if she desired of him the
+surrender of his seat.
+
+“I’m much obliged to you; of course not.  I thought you had one of our
+chairs, and I didn’t like to ask you.  It looks exactly like one of ours;
+not so much now as when you sit in it.  Please sit down again.  I don’t
+want to trouble you.  We’ve lost one of ours, and I’ve been looking for
+it everywhere.  They look so much alike; you can’t tell till you see the
+back.  Of course I see there will be no mistake about yours,” the young
+lady went on with a smile of which the serenity matched her other
+abundance.  “But we’ve got such a small name—you can scarcely see it,”
+she added with the same friendly intention.  “Our name’s just Day—you
+mightn’t think it _was_ a name, might you? if we didn’t make the most of
+it.  If you see that on anything, I’d be so obliged if you’d tell me.  It
+isn’t for myself, it’s for my mother; she’s so dependent on her chair,
+and that one I’m looking for pulls out so beautifully.  Now that you sit
+down again and hide the lower part it does look just like ours.  Well, it
+must be somewhere.  You must excuse me; I wouldn’t disturb you.”
+
+This was a long and even confidential speech for a young woman,
+presumably unmarried, to make to a perfect stranger; but Miss Day
+acquitted herself of it with perfect simplicity and self-possession.  She
+held up her head and stepped away, and Vogelstein could see that the foot
+she pressed upon the clean smooth deck was slender and shapely.  He
+watched her disappear through the trap by which she had ascended, and he
+felt more than ever like the young man in his American tale.  The girl in
+the present case was older and not so pretty, as he could easily judge,
+for the image of her smiling eyes and speaking lips still hovered before
+him.  He went back to his book with the feeling that it would give him
+some information about her.  This was rather illogical, but it indicated
+a certain amount of curiosity on the part of Count Vogelstein.  The girl
+in the book had a mother, it appeared, and so had this young lady; the
+former had also a brother, and he now remembered that he had noticed a
+young man on the wharf—a young man in a high hat and a white overcoat—who
+seemed united to Miss Day by this natural tie.  And there was some one
+else too, as he gradually recollected, an older man, also in a high hat,
+but in a black overcoat—in black altogether—who completed the group and
+who was presumably the head of the family.  These reflexions would
+indicate that Count Vogelstein read his volume of Tauchnitz rather
+interruptedly.  Moreover they represented but the loosest economy of
+consciousness; for wasn’t he to be afloat in an oblong box for ten days
+with such people, and could it be doubted he should see at least enough
+of them?
+
+It may as well be written without delay that he saw a great deal of them.
+I have sketched in some detail the conditions in which he made the
+acquaintance of Miss Day, because the event had a certain importance for
+this fair square Teuton; but I must pass briefly over the incidents that
+immediately followed it.  He wondered what it was open to him, after such
+an introduction, to do in relation to her, and he determined he would
+push through his American tale and discover what the hero did.  But he
+satisfied himself in a very short time that Miss Day had nothing in
+common with the heroine of that work save certain signs of habitat and
+climate—and save, further, the fact that the male sex wasn’t terrible to
+her.  The local stamp sharply, as he gathered, impressed upon her he
+estimated indeed rather in a borrowed than in a natural light, for if she
+was native to a small town in the interior of the American continent one
+of their fellow-passengers, a lady from New York with whom he had a good
+deal of conversation, pronounced her “atrociously” provincial.  How the
+lady arrived at this certitude didn’t appear, for Vogelstein observed
+that she held no communication with the girl.  It was true she gave it
+the support of her laying down that certain Americans could tell
+immediately who other Americans were, leaving him to judge whether or no
+she herself belonged to the critical or only to the criticised half of
+the nation.  Mrs. Dangerfield was a handsome confidential insinuating
+woman, with whom Vogelstein felt his talk take a very wide range indeed.
+She convinced him rather effectually that even in a great democracy there
+are human differences, and that American life was full of social
+distinctions, of delicate shades, which foreigners often lack the
+intelligence to perceive.  Did he suppose every one knew every one else
+in the biggest country in the world, and that one wasn’t as free to
+choose one’s company there as in the most monarchical and most exclusive
+societies?  She laughed such delusions to scorn as Vogelstein tucked her
+beautiful furred coverlet—they reclined together a great deal in their
+elongated chairs—well over her feet.  How free an American lady was to
+choose her company she abundantly proved by not knowing any one on the
+steamer but Count Otto.
+
+He could see for himself that Mr. and Mrs. Day had not at all her grand
+air.  They were fat plain serious people who sat side by side on the deck
+for hours and looked straight before them.  Mrs. Day had a white face,
+large cheeks and small eyes: her forehead was surrounded with a multitude
+of little tight black curls; her lips moved as if she had always a
+lozenge in her mouth.  She wore entwined about her head an article which
+Mrs. Dangerfield spoke of as a “nuby,” a knitted pink scarf concealing
+her hair, encircling her neck and having among its convolutions a hole
+for her perfectly expressionless face.  Her hands were folded on her
+stomach, and in her still, swathed figure her little bead-like eyes,
+which occasionally changed their direction, alone represented life.  Her
+husband had a stiff grey beard on his chin and a bare spacious upper lip,
+to which constant shaving had imparted a hard glaze.  His eyebrows were
+thick and his nostrils wide, and when he was uncovered, in the saloon, it
+was visible that his grizzled hair was dense and perpendicular.  He might
+have looked rather grim and truculent hadn’t it been for the mild
+familiar accommodating gaze with which his large light-coloured
+pupils—the leisurely eyes of a silent man—appeared to consider
+surrounding objects.  He was evidently more friendly than fierce, but he
+was more diffident than friendly.  He liked to have you in sight, but
+wouldn’t have pretended to understand you much or to classify you, and
+would have been sorry it should put you under an obligation.  He and his
+wife spoke sometimes, but seldom talked, and there was something vague
+and patient in them, as if they had become victims of a wrought spell.
+The spell however was of no sinister cast; it was the fascination of
+prosperity, the confidence of security, which sometimes makes people
+arrogant, but which had had such a different effect on this simple
+satisfied pair, in whom further development of every kind appeared to
+have been happily arrested.
+
+Mrs. Dangerfield made it known to Count Otto that every morning after
+breakfast, the hour at which he wrote his journal in his cabin, the old
+couple were guided upstairs and installed in their customary corner by
+Pandora.  This she had learned to be the name of their elder daughter,
+and she was immensely amused by her discovery.  “Pandora”—that was in the
+highest degree typical; it placed them in the social scale if other
+evidence had been wanting; you could tell that a girl was from the
+interior, the mysterious interior about which Vogelstein’s imagination
+was now quite excited, when she had such a name as that.  This young lady
+managed the whole family, even a little the small beflounced sister, who,
+with bold pretty innocent eyes, a torrent of fair silky hair, a crimson
+fez, such as is worn by male Turks, very much askew on top of it, and a
+way of galloping and straddling about the ship in any company she could
+pick up—she had long thin legs, very short skirts and stockings of every
+tint—was going home, in elegant French clothes, to resume an interrupted
+education.  Pandora overlooked and directed her relatives; Vogelstein
+could see this for himself, could see she was very active and decided,
+that she had in a high degree the sentiment of responsibility, settling
+on the spot most of the questions that could come up for a family from
+the interior.
+
+The voyage was remarkably fine, and day after day it was possible to sit
+there under the salt sky and feel one’s self rounding the great curves of
+the globe.  The long deck made a white spot in the sharp black circle of
+the ocean and in the intense sea-light, while the shadow of the
+smoke-streamers trembled on the familiar floor, the shoes of
+fellow-passengers, distinctive now, and in some cases irritating, passed
+and repassed, accompanied, in the air so tremendously “open,” that
+rendered all voices weak and most remarks rather flat, by fragments of
+opinion on the run of the ship.  Vogelstein by this time had finished his
+little American story and now definitely judged that Pandora Day was not
+at all like the heroine.  She was of quite another type; much more
+serious and strenuous, and not at all keen, as he had supposed, about
+making the acquaintance of gentlemen.  Her speaking to him that first
+afternoon had been, he was bound to believe, an incident without
+importance for herself; in spite of her having followed it up the next
+day by the remark, thrown at him as she passed, with a smile that was
+almost fraternal: “It’s all right, sir!  I’ve found that old chair.”
+After this she hadn’t spoken to him again and had scarcely looked at him.
+She read a great deal, and almost always French books, in fresh yellow
+paper; not the lighter forms of that literature, but a volume of
+Sainte-Beuve, of Renan or at the most, in the way of dissipation, of
+Alfred de Musset.  She took frequent exercise and almost always walked
+alone, apparently not having made many friends on the ship and being
+without the resource of her parents, who, as has been related, never
+budged out of the cosy corner in which she planted them for the day.
+
+Her brother was always in the smoking-room, where Vogelstein observed
+him, in very tight clothes, his neck encircled with a collar like a
+palisade.  He had a sharp little face, which was not disagreeable; he
+smoked enormous cigars and began his drinking early in the day: but his
+appearance gave no sign of these excesses.  As regards euchre and poker
+and the other distractions of the place he was guilty of none.  He
+evidently understood such games in perfection, for he used to watch the
+players, and even at moments impartially advise them; but Vogelstein
+never saw the cards in his hand.  He was referred to as regards disputed
+points, and his opinion carried the day.  He took little part in the
+conversation, usually much relaxed, that prevailed in the smoking-room,
+but from time to time he made, in his soft flat youthful voice, a remark
+which every one paused to listen to and which was greeted with roars of
+laughter.  Vogelstein, well as he knew English, could rarely catch the
+joke; but he could see at least that these must be choice specimens of
+that American humour admired and practised by a whole continent and yet
+to be rendered accessible to a trained diplomatist, clearly, but by some
+special and incalculable revelation.  The young man, in his way, was very
+remarkable, for, as Vogelstein heard some one say once after the laughter
+had subsided, he was only nineteen.  If his sister didn’t resemble the
+dreadful little girl in the tale already mentioned, there was for
+Vogelstein at least an analogy between young Mr. Day and a certain small
+brother—a candy-loving Madison, Hamilton or Jefferson—who was, in the
+Tauchnitz volume, attributed to that unfortunate maid.  This was what the
+little Madison would have grown up to at nineteen, and the improvement
+was greater than might have been expected.
+
+The days were long, but the voyage was short, and it had almost come to
+an end before Count Otto yielded to an attraction peculiar in its nature
+and finally irresistible, and, in spite of Mrs. Dangerfield’s emphatic
+warning, sought occasion for a little continuous talk with Miss Pandora.
+To mention that this impulse took effect without mentioning sundry other
+of his current impressions with which it had nothing to do is perhaps to
+violate proportion and give a false idea; but to pass it by would be
+still more unjust.  The Germans, as we know, are a transcendental people,
+and there was at last an irresistible appeal for Vogelstein in this quick
+bright silent girl who could smile and turn vocal in an instant, who
+imparted a rare originality to the filial character, and whose profile
+was delicate as she bent it over a volume which she cut as she read, or
+presented it in musing attitudes, at the side of the ship, to the horizon
+they had left behind.  But he felt it to be a pity, as regards a possible
+acquaintance with her, that her parents should be heavy little burghers,
+that her brother should not correspond to his conception of a young man
+of the upper class, and that her sister should be a Daisy Miller _en
+herbe_.  Repeatedly admonished by Mrs. Dangerfield, the young diplomatist
+was doubly careful as to the relations he might form at the beginning of
+his sojourn in the United States.  That lady reminded him, and he had
+himself made the observation in other capitals, that the first year, and
+even the second, is the time for prudence.  One was ignorant of
+proportions and values; one was exposed to mistakes and thankful for
+attention, and one might give one’s self away to people who would
+afterwards be as a millstone round one’s neck: Mrs. Dangerfield struck
+and sustained that note, which resounded in the young man’s imagination.
+She assured him that if he didn’t “look out” he would be committing
+himself to some American girl with an impossible family.  In America,
+when one committed one’s self, there was nothing to do but march to the
+altar, and what should he say for instance to finding himself a near
+relation of Mr. and Mrs. P. W. Day?—since such were the initials
+inscribed on the back of the two chairs of that couple.  Count Otto felt
+the peril, for he could immediately think of a dozen men he knew who had
+married American girls.  There appeared now to be a constant danger of
+marrying the American girl; it was something one had to reckon with, like
+the railway, the telegraph, the discovery of dynamite, the Chassepôt
+rifle, the Socialistic spirit: it was one of the complications of modern
+life.
+
+It would doubtless be too much to say that he feared being carried away
+by a passion for a young woman who was not strikingly beautiful and with
+whom he had talked, in all, but ten minutes.  But, as we recognise, he
+went so far as to wish that the human belongings of a person whose high
+spirit appeared to have no taint either of fastness, as they said in
+England, or of subversive opinion, and whose mouth had charming lines,
+should not be a little more distinguished.  There was an effect of
+drollery in her behaviour to these subjects of her zeal, whom she seemed
+to regard as a care, but not as an interest; it was as if they had been
+entrusted to her honour and she had engaged to convey them safe to a
+certain point; she was detached and inadvertent, and then suddenly
+remembered, repented and came back to tuck them into their blankets, to
+alter the position of her mother’s umbrella, to tell them something about
+the run of the ship.  These little offices were usually performed deftly,
+rapidly, with the minimum of words, and when their daughter drew near
+them Mr. and Mrs. Day closed their eyes after the fashion of a pair of
+household dogs who expect to be scratched.
+
+One morning she brought up the Captain of the ship to present to them;
+she appeared to have a private and independent acquaintance with this
+officer, and the introduction to her parents had the air of a sudden
+happy thought.  It wasn’t so much an introduction as an exhibition, as if
+she were saying to him: “This is what they look like; see how comfortable
+I make them.  Aren’t they rather queer and rather dear little people?
+But they leave me perfectly free.  Oh I can assure you of that.  Besides,
+you must see it for yourself.”  Mr. and Mrs. Day looked up at the high
+functionary who thus unbent to them with very little change of
+countenance; then looked at each other in the same way.  He saluted, he
+inclined himself a moment; but Pandora shook her head, she seemed to be
+answering for them; she made little gestures as if in explanation to the
+good Captain of some of their peculiarities, as for instance that he
+needn’t expect them to speak.  They closed their eyes at last; she
+appeared to have a kind of mesmeric influence on them, and Miss Day
+walked away with the important friend, who treated her with evident
+consideration, bowing very low, for all his importance, when the two
+presently after separated.  Vogelstein could see she was capable of
+making an impression; and the moral of our little matter is that in spite
+of Mrs. Dangerfield, in spite of the resolutions of his prudence, in
+spite of the limits of such acquaintance as he had momentarily made with
+her, in spite of Mr. and Mrs. Day and the young man in the smoking-room,
+she had fixed his attention.
+
+It was in the course of the evening after the scene with the Captain that
+he joined her, awkwardly, abruptly, irresistibly, on the deck, where she
+was pacing to and fro alone, the hour being auspiciously mild and the
+stars remarkably fine.  There were scattered talkers and smokers and
+couples, unrecognisable, that moved quickly through the gloom.  The
+vessel dipped with long regular pulsations; vague and spectral under the
+low stars, its swaying pinnacles spotted here and there with lights, it
+seemed to rush through the darkness faster than by day.  Count Otto had
+come up to walk, and as the girl brushed past him he distinguished
+Pandora’s face—with Mrs. Dangerfield he always spoke of her as
+Pandora—under the veil worn to protect it from the sea-damp.  He stopped,
+turned, hurried after her, threw away his cigar—then asked her if she
+would do him the honour to accept his arm.  She declined his arm but
+accepted his company, and he allowed her to enjoy it for an hour.  They
+had a great deal of talk, and he was to remember afterwards some of the
+things she had said.  There was now a certainty of the ship’s getting
+into dock the next morning but one, and this prospect afforded an obvious
+topic.  Some of Miss Day’s expressions struck him as singular, but of
+course, as he was aware, his knowledge of English was not nice enough to
+give him a perfect measure.
+
+“I’m not in a hurry to arrive; I’m very happy here,” she said.  “I’m
+afraid I shall have such a time putting my people through.”
+
+“Putting them through?”
+
+“Through the Custom-House.  We’ve made so many purchases.  Well, I’ve
+written to a friend to come down, and perhaps he can help us.  He’s very
+well acquainted with the head.  Once I’m chalked I don’t care.  I feel
+like a kind of blackboard by this time anyway.  We found them awful in
+Germany.”
+
+Count Otto wondered if the friend she had written to were her lover and
+if they had plighted their troth, especially when she alluded to him
+again as “that gentleman who’s coming down.”  He asked her about her
+travels, her impressions, whether she had been long in Europe and what
+she liked best, and she put it to him that they had gone abroad, she and
+her family, for a little fresh experience.  Though he found her very
+intelligent he suspected she gave this as a reason because he was a
+German and she had heard the Germans were rich in culture.  He wondered
+what form of culture Mr. and Mrs. Day had brought back from Italy, Greece
+and Palestine—they had travelled for two years and been
+everywhere—especially when their daughter said: “I wanted father and
+mother to see the best things.  I kept them three hours on the Acropolis.
+I guess they won’t forget that!”  Perhaps it was of Phidias and Pericles
+they were thinking, Vogelstein reflected, as they sat ruminating in their
+rugs.  Pandora remarked also that she wanted to show her little sister
+everything while she was comparatively unformed (“comparatively!” he
+mutely gasped); remarkable sights made so much more impression when the
+mind was fresh: she had read something of that sort somewhere in Goethe.
+She had wanted to come herself when she was her sister’s age; but her
+father was in business then and they couldn’t leave Utica.  The young man
+thought of the little sister frisking over the Parthenon and the Mount of
+Olives and sharing for two years, the years of the school-room, this
+extraordinary pilgrimage of her parents; he wondered whether Goethe’s
+dictum had been justified in this case.  He asked Pandora if Utica were
+the seat of her family, if it were an important or typical place, if it
+would be an interesting city for him, as a stranger, to see.  His
+companion replied frankly that this was a big question, but added that
+all the same she would ask him to “come and visit us at our home” if it
+weren’t that they should probably soon leave it.
+
+“Ah, you’re going to live elsewhere?” Vogelstein asked, as if that fact
+too would be typical.
+
+“Well, I’m working for New York.  I flatter myself I’ve loosened them
+while we’ve been away,” the girl went on.  “They won’t find in Utica the
+same charm; that was my idea.  I want a big place, and of course Utica—!”
+She broke off as before a complex statement.
+
+“I suppose Utica is inferior—?” Vogelstein seemed to see his way to
+suggest.
+
+“Well no, I guess I can’t have you call Utica inferior.  It isn’t
+supreme—that’s what’s the matter with it, and I hate anything middling,”
+said Pandora Day.  She gave a light dry laugh, tossing back her head a
+little as she made this declaration.  And looking at her askance in the
+dusk, as she trod the deck that vaguely swayed, he recognised something
+in her air and port that matched such a pronouncement.
+
+“What’s her social position?” he inquired of Mrs. Dangerfield the next
+day.  “I can’t make it out at all—it’s so contradictory.  She strikes me
+as having much cultivation and much spirit.  Her appearance, too, is very
+neat.  Yet her parents are complete little burghers.  That’s easily
+seen.”
+
+“Oh, social position,” and Mrs. Dangerfield nodded two or three times
+portentously.  “What big expressions you use!  Do you think everybody in
+the world has a social position?  That’s reserved for an infinitely small
+majority of mankind.  You can’t have a social position at Utica any more
+than you can have an opera-box.  Pandora hasn’t got one; where, if you
+please, should she have got it?  Poor girl, it isn’t fair of you to make
+her the subject of such questions as that.”
+
+“Well,” said Vogelstein, “if she’s of the lower class it seems to me
+very—very—”  And he paused a moment, as he often paused in speaking
+English, looking for his word.
+
+“Very what, dear Count?”
+
+“Very significant, very representative.”
+
+“Oh dear, she isn’t of the lower class,” Mrs. Dangerfield returned with
+an irritated sense of wasted wisdom.  She liked to explain her country,
+but that somehow always required two persons.
+
+“What is she then?”
+
+“Well, I’m bound to admit that since I was at home last she’s a novelty.
+A girl like that with such people—it _is_ a new type.”
+
+“I like novelties”—and Count Otto smiled with an air of considerable
+resolution.  He couldn’t however be satisfied with a demonstration that
+only begged the question; and when they disembarked in New York he felt,
+even amid the confusion of the wharf and the heaps of disembowelled
+baggage, a certain acuteness of regret at the idea that Pandora and her
+family were about to vanish into the unknown.  He had a consolation
+however: it was apparent that for some reason or other—illness or absence
+from town—the gentleman to whom she had written had not, as she said,
+come down.  Vogelstein was glad—he couldn’t have told you why—that this
+sympathetic person had failed her; even though without him Pandora had to
+engage single-handed with the United States Custom-House.  Our young
+man’s first impression of the Western world was received on the
+landing-place of the German steamers at Jersey City—a huge wooden shed
+covering a wooden wharf which resounded under the feet, an expanse
+palisaded with rough-hewn piles that leaned this way and that, and
+bestrewn with masses of heterogeneous luggage.  At one end; toward the
+town, was a row of tall painted palings, behind which he could
+distinguish a press of hackney-coachmen, who brandished their whips and
+awaited their victims, while their voices rose, incessant, with a sharp
+strange sound, a challenge at once fierce and familiar.  The whole place,
+behind the fence, appeared to bristle and resound.  Out there was
+America, Count Otto said to himself, and he looked toward it with a sense
+that he should have to muster resolution.  On the wharf people were
+rushing about amid their trunks, pulling their things together, trying to
+unite their scattered parcels.  They were heated and angry, or else quite
+bewildered and discouraged.  The few that had succeeded in collecting
+their battered boxes had an air of flushed indifference to the efforts of
+their neighbours, not even looking at people with whom they had been
+fondly intimate on the steamer.  A detachment of the officers of the
+Customs was in attendance, and energetic passengers were engaged in
+attempts to drag them toward their luggage or to drag heavy pieces toward
+them.  These functionaries were good-natured and taciturn, except when
+occasionally they remarked to a passenger whose open trunk stared up at
+them, eloquent, imploring, that they were afraid the voyage had been
+“rather glassy.”  They had a friendly leisurely speculative way of
+discharging their duty, and if they perceived a victim’s name written on
+the portmanteau they addressed him by it in a tone of old acquaintance.
+Vogelstein found however that if they were familiar they weren’t
+indiscreet.  He had heard that in America all public functionaries were
+the same, that there wasn’t a different _tenue_, as they said in France,
+for different positions, and he wondered whether at Washington the
+President and ministers, whom he expected to see—to _have_ to see—a good
+deal of, would be like that.
+
+He was diverted from these speculations by the sight of Mr. and Mrs. Day
+seated side by side upon a trunk and encompassed apparently by the
+accumulations of their tour.  Their faces expressed more consciousness of
+surrounding objects than he had hitherto recognised, and there was an air
+of placid expansion in the mysterious couple which suggested that this
+consciousness was agreeable.  Mr. and Mrs. Day were, as they would have
+said, real glad to get back.  At a little distance, on the edge of the
+dock, our observer remarked their son, who had found a place where,
+between the sides of two big ships, he could see the ferry-boats pass;
+the large pyramidal low-laden ferry-boats of American waters.  He stood
+there, patient and considering, with his small neat foot on a coil of
+rope, his back to everything that had been disembarked, his neck
+elongated in its polished cylinder, while the fragrance of his big cigar
+mingled with the odour of the rotting piles, and his little sister,
+beside him, hugged a huge post and tried to see how far she could crane
+over the water without falling in.  Vogelstein’s servant was off in
+search of an examiner; Count Otto himself had got his things together and
+was waiting to be released, fully expecting that for a person of his
+importance the ceremony would be brief.
+
+Before it began he said a word to young Mr. Day, raising his hat at the
+same time to the little girl, whom he had not yet greeted and who dodged
+his salute by swinging herself boldly outward to the dangerous side of
+the pier.  She was indeed still unformed, but was evidently as light as a
+feather.
+
+“I see you’re kept waiting like me.  It’s very tiresome,” Count Otto
+said.
+
+The young American answered without looking behind him.  “As soon as
+we’re started we’ll go all right.  My sister has written to a gentleman
+to come down.”
+
+“I’ve looked for Miss Day to bid her good-bye,” Vogelstein went on; “but
+I don’t see her.”
+
+“I guess she has gone to meet that gentleman; he’s a great friend of
+hers.”
+
+“I guess he’s her lover!” the little girl broke out.  “She was always
+writing to him in Europe.”
+
+Her brother puffed his cigar in silence a moment.  “That was only for
+this.  I’ll tell on you, sis,” he presently added.
+
+But the younger Miss Day gave no heed to his menace; she addressed
+herself only, though with all freedom, to Vogelstein.  “This is New York;
+I like it better than Utica.”
+
+He had no time to reply, for his servant had arrived with one of the
+dispensers of fortune; but as he turned away he wondered, in the light of
+the child’s preference, about the towns of the interior.  He was
+naturally exempt from the common doom.  The officer who took him in hand,
+and who had a large straw hat and a diamond breastpin, was quite a man of
+the world, and in reply to the Count’s formal declarations only said,
+“Well, I guess it’s all right; I guess I’ll just pass you,” distributing
+chalk-marks as if they had been so many love-pats.  The servant had done
+some superfluous unlocking and unbuckling, and while he closed the pieces
+the officer stood there wiping his forehead and conversing with
+Vogelstein.  “First visit to our country, sir?—quite alone—no ladies?  Of
+course the ladies are what we’re most after.”  It was in this manner he
+expressed himself, while the young diplomatist wondered what he was
+waiting for and whether he ought to slip something into his palm.  But
+this representative of order left our friend only a moment in suspense;
+he presently turned away with the remark quite paternally uttered, that
+he hoped the Count would make quite a stay; upon which the young man saw
+how wrong he should have been to offer a tip.  It was simply the American
+manner, which had a finish of its own after all.  Vogelstein’s servant
+had secured a porter with a truck, and he was about to leave the place
+when he saw Pandora Day dart out of the crowd and address herself with
+much eagerness to the functionary who had just liberated him.  She had an
+open letter in her hand which she gave him to read and over which he cast
+his eyes, thoughtfully stroking his beard.  Then she led him away to
+where her parents sat on their luggage.  Count Otto sent off his servant
+with the porter and followed Pandora, to whom he really wished to address
+a word of farewell.  The last thing they had said to each other on the
+ship was that they should meet again on shore.  It seemed improbable
+however that the meeting would occur anywhere but just here on the dock;
+inasmuch as Pandora was decidedly not in society, where Vogelstein would
+be of course, and as, if Utica—he had her sharp little sister’s word for
+it—was worse than what was about him there, he’d be hanged if he’d go to
+Utica.  He overtook Pandora quickly; she was in the act of introducing
+the representative of order to her parents, quite in the same manner in
+which she had introduced the Captain of the ship.  Mr. and Mrs. Day got
+up and shook hands with him and they evidently all prepared to have a
+little talk.  “I should like to introduce you to my brother and sister,”
+he heard the girl say, and he saw her look about for these appendages.
+He caught her eye as she did so, and advanced with his hand outstretched,
+reflecting the while that evidently the Americans, whom he had always
+heard described as silent and practical, rejoiced to extravagance in the
+social graces.  They dawdled and chattered like so many Neapolitans.
+
+“Good-bye, Count Vogelstein,” said Pandora, who was a little flushed with
+her various exertions but didn’t look the worse for it.  “I hope you’ll
+have a splendid time and appreciate our country.”
+
+“I hope you’ll get through all right,” Vogelstein answered, smiling and
+feeling himself already more idiomatic.
+
+“That gentleman’s sick that I wrote to,” she rejoined; “isn’t it too bad?
+But he sent me down a letter to a friend of his—one of the examiners—and
+I guess we won’t have any trouble.  Mr. Lansing, let me make you
+acquainted with Count Vogelstein,” she went on, presenting to her
+fellow-passenger the wearer of the straw hat and the breastpin, who shook
+hands with the young German as if he had never seen him before.
+Vogelstein’s heart rose for an instant to his throat; he thanked his
+stars he hadn’t offered a tip to the friend of a gentleman who had often
+been mentioned to him and who had also been described by a member of
+Pandora’s family as Pandora’s lover.
+
+“It’s a case of ladies this time,” Mr. Lansing remarked to him with a
+smile which seemed to confess surreptitiously, and as if neither party
+could be eager, to recognition.
+
+“Well, Mr. Bellamy says you’ll do anything for _him_,” Pandora said,
+smiling very sweetly at Mr. Lansing.  “We haven’t got much; we’ve been
+gone only two years.”
+
+Mr. Lansing scratched his head a little behind, with a movement that sent
+his straw hat forward in the direction of his nose.  “I don’t know as I’d
+do anything for him that I wouldn’t do for you,” he responded with an
+equal geniality.  “I guess you’d better open that one”—and he gave a
+little affectionate kick to one of the trunks.
+
+“Oh mother, isn’t he lovely?  It’s only your sea-things,” Pandora cried,
+stooping over the coffer with the key in her hand.
+
+“I don’t know as I like showing them,” Mrs. Day modestly murmured.
+
+Vogelstein made his German salutation to the company in general, and to
+Pandora he offered an audible good-bye, which she returned in a bright
+friendly voice, but without looking round as she fumbled at the lock of
+her trunk.
+
+“We’ll try another, if you like,” said Mr. Lansing good-humouredly.
+
+“Oh no it has got to be this one!  Good-bye, Count Vogelstein.  I hope
+you’ll judge us correctly!”
+
+The young man went his way and passed the barrier of the dock.  Here he
+was met by his English valet with a face of consternation which led him
+to ask if a cab weren’t forthcoming.
+
+“They call ’em ’acks ’ere, sir,” said the man, “and they’re beyond
+everything.  He wants thirty shillings to take you to the inn.”
+
+Vogelstein hesitated a moment.  “Couldn’t you find a German?”
+
+“By the way he talks he _is_ a German!” said the man; and in a moment
+Count Otto began his career in America by discussing the tariff of
+hackney-coaches in the language of the fatherland.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+HE went wherever he was asked, on principle, partly to study American
+society and partly because in Washington pastimes seemed to him not so
+numerous that one could afford to neglect occasions.  At the end of two
+winters he had naturally had a good many of various kinds—his study of
+American society had yielded considerable fruit.  When, however, in
+April, during the second year of his residence, he presented himself at a
+large party given by Mrs. Bonnycastle and of which it was believed that
+it would be the last serious affair of the season, his being there (and
+still more his looking very fresh and talkative) was not the consequence
+of a rule of conduct.  He went to Mrs. Bonnycastle’s simply because he
+liked the lady, whose receptions were the pleasantest in Washington, and
+because if he didn’t go there he didn’t know what he should do; that
+absence of alternatives having become familiar to him by the waters of
+the Potomac.  There were a great many things he did because if he didn’t
+do them he didn’t know what he should do.  It must be added that in this
+case even if there had been an alternative he would still have decided to
+go to Mrs. Bonnycastle’s.  If her house wasn’t the pleasantest there it
+was at least difficult to say which was pleasanter; and the complaint
+sometimes made of it that it was too limited, that it left out, on the
+whole, more people than it took in, applied with much less force when it
+was thrown open for a general party.  Toward the end of the social year,
+in those soft scented days of the Washington spring when the air began to
+show a southern glow and the Squares and Circles (to which the wide empty
+avenues converged according to a plan so ingenious, yet so bewildering)
+to flush with pink blossom and to make one wish to sit on benches—under
+this magic of expansion and condonation Mrs. Bonnycastle, who during the
+winter had been a good deal on the defensive, relaxed her vigilance a
+little, became whimsically wilful, vernally reckless, as it were, and
+ceased to calculate the consequences of an hospitality which a reference
+to the back files or even to the morning’s issue of the newspapers might
+easily prove a mistake.  But Washington life, to Count Otto’s
+apprehension, was paved with mistakes; he felt himself in a society
+founded on fundamental fallacies and triumphant blunders.  Little
+addicted as he was to the sportive view of existence, he had said to
+himself at an early stage of his sojourn that the only way to enjoy the
+great Republic would be to burn one’s standards and warm one’s self at
+the blaze.  Such were the reflexions of a theoretic Teuton who now walked
+for the most part amid the ashes of his prejudices.
+
+Mrs. Bonnycastle had endeavoured more than once to explain to him the
+principles on which she received certain people and ignored certain
+others; but it was with difficulty that he entered into her
+discriminations.  American promiscuity, goodness knew, had been strange
+to him, but it was nothing to the queerness of American criticism.  This
+lady would discourse to him _à perte de vue_ on differences where he only
+saw resemblances, and both the merits and the defects of a good many
+members of Washington society, as this society was interpreted to him by
+Mrs. Bonnycastle, he was often at a loss to understand.  Fortunately she
+had a fund of good humour which, as I have intimated, was apt to come
+uppermost with the April blossoms and which made the people she didn’t
+invite to her house almost as amusing to her as those she did.  Her
+husband was not in politics, though politics were much in him; but the
+couple had taken upon themselves the responsibilities of an active
+patriotism; they thought it right to live in America, differing therein
+from many of their acquaintances who only, with some grimness, thought it
+inevitable.  They had that burdensome heritage of foreign reminiscence
+with which so many Americans were saddled; but they carried it more
+easily than most of their country-people, and one knew they had lived in
+Europe only by their present exultation, never in the least by their
+regrets.  Their regrets, that is, were only for their ever having lived
+there, as Mrs. Bonnycastle once told the wife of a foreign minister.
+They solved all their problems successfully, including those of knowing
+none of the people they didn’t wish to, and of finding plenty of
+occupation in a society supposed to be meagrely provided with resources
+for that body which Vogelstein was to hear invoked, again and again, with
+the mixture of desire and of deprecation that might have attended the
+mention of a secret vice, under the name of a leisure-class.  When as the
+warm weather approached they opened both the wings of their house-door,
+it was because they thought it would entertain them and not because they
+were conscious of a pressure.  Alfred Bonnycastle all winter indeed
+chafed a little at the definiteness of some of his wife’s reserves; it
+struck him that for Washington their society was really a little too
+good.  Vogelstein still remembered the puzzled feeling—it had cleared up
+somewhat now—with which, more than a year before, he had heard Mr.
+Bonnycastle exclaim one evening, after a dinner in his own house, when
+every guest but the German secretary (who often sat late with the pair)
+had departed: “Hang it, there’s only a month left; let us be vulgar and
+have some fun—let us invite the President.”
+
+This was Mrs. Bonnycastle’s carnival, and on the occasion to which I
+began my chapter by referring the President had not only been invited but
+had signified his intention of being present.  I hasten to add that this
+was not the same august ruler to whom Alfred Bonnycastle’s irreverent
+allusion had been made.  The White House had received a new tenant—the
+old one was then just leaving it—and Count Otto had had the advantage,
+during the first eighteen months of his stay in America, of seeing an
+electoral campaign, a presidential inauguration and a distribution of
+spoils.  He had been bewildered during those first weeks by finding that
+at the national capital in the houses he supposed to be the best, the
+head of the State was not a coveted guest; for this could be the only
+explanation of Mr. Bonnycastle’s whimsical suggestion of their inviting
+him, as it were, in carnival.  His successor went out a good deal for a
+President.
+
+The legislative session was over, but this made little difference in the
+aspect of Mrs. Bonnycastle’s rooms, which even at the height of the
+congressional season could scarce be said to overflow with the
+representatives of the people.  They were garnished with an occasional
+Senator, whose movements and utterances often appeared to be regarded
+with a mixture of alarm and indulgence, as if they would be disappointing
+if they weren’t rather odd and yet might be dangerous if not carefully
+watched.  Our young man had come to entertain a kindness for these
+conscript fathers of invisible families, who had something of the toga in
+the voluminous folds of their conversation, but were otherwise rather
+bare and bald, with stony wrinkles in their faces, like busts and statues
+of ancient law-givers.  There seemed to him something chill and exposed
+in their being at once so exalted and so naked; there were frequent
+lonesome glances in their eyes, as if in the social world their
+legislative consciousness longed for the warmth of a few comfortable laws
+ready-made.  Members of the House were very rare, and when Washington was
+new to the inquiring secretary he used sometimes to mistake them, in the
+halls and on the staircases where he met them, for the functionaries
+engaged, under stress, to usher in guests and wait at supper.  It was
+only a little later that he perceived these latter public characters
+almost always to be impressive and of that rich racial hue which of
+itself served as a livery.  At present, however, such confounding figures
+were much less to be met than during the months of winter, and indeed
+they were never frequent at Mrs. Bonnycastle’s.  At present the social
+vistas of Washington, like the vast fresh flatness of the lettered and
+numbered streets, which at this season seemed to Vogelstein more spacious
+and vague than ever, suggested but a paucity of political phenomena.
+Count Otto that evening knew every one or almost every one.  There were
+often inquiring strangers, expecting great things, from New York and
+Boston, and to them, in the friendly Washington way, the young German was
+promptly introduced.  It was a society in which familiarity reigned and
+in which people were liable to meet three times a day, so that their
+ultimate essence really became a matter of importance.
+
+“I’ve got three new girls,” Mrs. Bonnycastle said.  “You must talk to
+them all.”
+
+“All at once?” Vogelstein asked, reversing in fancy a position not at all
+unknown to him.  He had so repeatedly heard himself addressed in even
+more than triple simultaneity.
+
+“Oh no; you must have something different for each; you can’t get off
+that way.  Haven’t you discovered that the American girl expects
+something especially adapted to herself?  It’s very well for Europe to
+have a few phrases that will do for any girl.  The American girl isn’t
+_any_ girl; she’s a remarkable specimen in a remarkable species.  But you
+must keep the best this evening for Miss Day.”
+
+“For Miss Day!”—and Vogelstein had a stare of intelligence.  “Do you mean
+for Pandora?”
+
+Mrs. Bonnycastle broke on her side into free amusement.  “One would think
+you had been looking for her over the globe!  So you know her already—and
+you call her by her pet name?”
+
+“Oh no, I don’t know her; that is I haven’t seen her or thought of her
+from that day to this.  We came to America in the same ship.”
+
+“Isn’t she an American then?”
+
+“Oh yes; she lives at Utica—in the interior.”
+
+“In the interior of Utica?  You can’t mean my young woman then, who lives
+in New York, where she’s a great beauty and a great belle and has been
+immensely admired this winter.”
+
+“After all,” said Count Otto, considering and a little disappointed, “the
+name’s not so uncommon; it’s perhaps another.  But has she rather strange
+eyes, a little yellow, but very pretty, and a nose a little arched?”
+
+“I can’t tell you all that; I haven’t seen her.  She’s staying with Mrs.
+Steuben.  She only came a day or two ago, and Mrs. Steuben’s to bring
+her.  When she wrote to me to ask leave she told me what I tell you.
+They haven’t come yet.”
+
+Vogelstein felt a quick hope that the subject of this correspondence
+might indeed be the young lady he had parted from on the dock at New
+York, but the indications seemed to point another way, and he had no wish
+to cherish an illusion.  It didn’t seem to him probable that the
+energetic girl who had introduced him to Mr. Lansing would have the
+entrée of the best house in Washington; besides, Mrs. Bonnycastle’s guest
+was described as a beauty and belonging to the brilliant city.
+
+“What’s the social position of Mrs. Steuben?” it occurred to him to ask
+while he meditated.  He had an earnest artless literal way of putting
+such a question as that; you could see from it that he was very thorough.
+
+Mrs. Bonnycastle met it, however, but, with mocking laughter.  “I’m sure
+I don’t know!  What’s your own?”—and she left him to turn to her other
+guests, to several of whom she repeated his question.  Could they tell
+her what was the social position of Mrs. Steuben?  There was Count
+Vogelstein who wanted to know.  He instantly became aware of course that
+he oughtn’t so to have expressed himself.  Wasn’t the lady’s place in the
+scale sufficiently indicated by Mrs. Bonnycastle’s acquaintance with her?
+Still there were fine degrees, and he felt a little unduly snubbed.  It
+was perfectly true, as he told his hostess, that with the quick wave of
+new impressions that had rolled over him after his arrival in America the
+image of Pandora was almost completely effaced; he had seen innumerable
+things that were quite as remarkable in their way as the heroine of the
+_Donau_, but at the touch of the idea that he might see her and hear her
+again at any moment she became as vivid in his mind as if they had parted
+the day before: he remembered the exact shade of the eyes he had
+described to Mrs. Bonnycastle as yellow, the tone of her voice when at
+the last she expressed the hope he might judge America correctly.  _Had_
+he judged America correctly?  If he were to meet her again she doubtless
+would try to ascertain.  It would be going much too far to say that the
+idea of such an ordeal was terrible to Count Otto; but it may at least be
+said that the thought of meeting Pandora Day made him nervous.  The fact
+is certainly singular, but I shall not take on myself to explain it;
+there are some things that even the most philosophic historian isn’t
+bound to account for.
+
+He wandered into another room, and there, at the end of five minutes, he
+was introduced by Mrs. Bonnycastle to one of the young ladies of whom she
+had spoken.  This was a very intelligent girl who came from Boston and
+showed much acquaintance with Spielhagen’s novels.  “Do you like them?”
+Vogelstein asked rather vaguely, not taking much interest in the matter,
+as he read works of fiction only in case of a sea-voyage.  The young lady
+from Boston looked pensive and concentrated; then she answered that she
+liked _some_ of them _very_ much, but that there were others she didn’t
+like—and she enumerated the works that came under each of these heads.
+Spielhagen is a voluminous writer, and such a catalogue took some time;
+at the end of it moreover Vogelstein’s question was not answered, for he
+couldn’t have told us whether she liked Spielhagen or not.
+
+On the next topic, however, there was no doubt about her feelings.  They
+talked about Washington as people talk only in the place itself,
+revolving about the subject in widening and narrowing circles, perching
+successively on its many branches, considering it from every point of
+view.  Our young man had been long enough in America to discover that
+after half a century of social neglect Washington had become the fashion
+and enjoyed the great advantage of being a new resource in conversation.
+This was especially the case in the months of spring, when the
+inhabitants of the commercial cities came so far southward to escape,
+after the long winter, that final affront.  They were all agreed that
+Washington was fascinating, and none of them were better prepared to talk
+it over than the Bostonians.  Vogelstein originally had been rather out
+of step with them; he hadn’t seized their point of view, hadn’t known
+with what they compared this object of their infatuation.  But now he
+knew everything; he had settled down to the pace; there wasn’t a possible
+phase of the discussion that could find him at a loss.  There was a kind
+of Hegelian element in it; in the light of these considerations the
+American capital took on the semblance of a monstrous mystical infinite
+_Werden_.  But they fatigued Vogelstein a little, and it was his
+preference, as a general thing, not to engage the same evening with more
+than one newcomer, one visitor in the freshness of initiation.  This was
+why Mrs. Bonnycastle’s expression of a wish to introduce him to three
+young ladies had startled him a little; he saw a certain process, in
+which he flattered himself that he had become proficient, but which was
+after all tolerably exhausting, repeated for each of the damsels.  After
+separating from his judicious Bostonian he rather evaded Mrs.
+Bonnycastle, contenting himself with the conversation of old friends,
+pitched for the most part in a lower and easier key.
+
+At last he heard it mentioned that the President had arrived, had been
+some half-hour in the house, and he went in search of the illustrious
+guest, whose whereabouts at Washington parties was never indicated by a
+cluster of courtiers.  He made it a point, whenever he found himself in
+company with the President, to pay him his respects, and he had not been
+discouraged by the fact that there was no association of ideas in the eye
+of the great man as he put out his hand presidentially and said, “Happy
+to meet you, sir.”  Count Otto felt himself taken for a mere loyal
+subject, possibly for an office-seeker; and he used to reflect at such
+moments that the monarchical form had its merits it provided a line of
+heredity for the faculty of quick recognition.  He had now some
+difficulty in finding the chief magistrate, and ended by learning that he
+was in the tea-room, a small apartment devoted to light refection near
+the entrance of the house.  Here our young man presently perceived him
+seated on a sofa and in conversation with a lady.  There were a number of
+people about the table, eating, drinking, talking; and the couple on the
+sofa, which was not near it but against the wall, in a shallow recess,
+looked a little withdrawn, as if they had sought seclusion and were
+disposed to profit by the diverted attention of the others.  The
+President leaned back; his gloved hands, resting on either knee, made
+large white spots.  He looked eminent, but he looked relaxed, and the
+lady beside him ministered freely and without scruple, it was clear, to
+this effect of his comfortably unbending.  Vogelstein caught her voice as
+he approached.  He heard her say “Well now, remember; I consider it a
+promise.”  She was beautifully dressed, in rose-colour; her hands were
+clasped in her lap and her eyes attached to the presidential profile.
+
+“Well, madam, in that case it’s about the fiftieth promise I’ve given
+to-day.”
+
+It was just as he heard these words, uttered by her companion in reply,
+that Count Otto checked himself, turned away and pretended to be looking
+for a cup of tea.  It wasn’t usual to disturb the President, even simply
+to shake hands, when he was sitting on a sofa with a lady, and the young
+secretary felt it in this case less possible than ever to break the rule,
+for the lady on the sofa was none other than Pandora Day.  He had
+recognised her without her appearing to see him, and even with half an
+eye, as they said, had taken in that she was now a person to be reckoned
+with.  She had an air of elation, of success; she shone, to intensity, in
+her rose-coloured dress; she was extracting promises from the ruler of
+fifty millions of people.  What an odd place to meet her, her old
+shipmate thought, and how little one could tell, after all, in America,
+who people were!  He didn’t want to speak to her yet; he wanted to wait a
+little and learn more; but meanwhile there was something attractive in
+the fact that she was just behind him, a few yards off, that if he should
+turn he might see her again.  It was she Mrs. Bonnycastle had meant, it
+was she who was so much admired in New York.  Her face was the same, yet
+he had made out in a moment that she was vaguely prettier; he had
+recognised the arch of her nose, which suggested a fine ambition.  He
+took some tea, which he hadn’t desired, in order not to go away.  He
+remembered her _entourage_ on the steamer; her father and mother, the
+silent senseless burghers, so little “of the world,” her infant sister,
+so much of it, her humorous brother with his tall hat and his influence
+in the smoking-room.  He remembered Mrs. Dangerfield’s warnings—yet her
+perplexities too—and the letter from Mr. Bellamy, and the introduction to
+Mr. Lansing, and the way Pandora had stooped down on the dirty dock,
+laughing and talking, mistress of the situation, to open her trunk for
+the Customs.  He was pretty sure she had paid no duties that day; this
+would naturally have been the purpose of Mr. Bellamy’s letter.  Was she
+still in correspondence with that gentleman, and had he got over the
+sickness interfering with their reunion?  These images and these
+questions coursed through Count Otto’s mind, and he saw it must be quite
+in Pandora’s line to be mistress of the situation, for there was
+evidently nothing on the present occasion that could call itself her
+master.  He drank his tea and as; he put down his cup heard the
+President, behind him, say: “Well, I guess my wife will wonder why I
+don’t come home.”
+
+“Why didn’t you bring her with you?” Pandora benevolently asked.
+
+“Well, she doesn’t go out much.  Then she has got her sister staying with
+her—Mrs. Runkle, from Natchez.  She’s a good deal of an invalid, and my
+wife doesn’t like to leave her.”
+
+“She must be a very kind woman”—and there was a high mature competence in
+the way the girl sounded the note of approval.
+
+“Well, I guess she isn’t spoiled—yet.”
+
+“I should like very much to come and see her,” said Pandora.
+
+“Do come round.  Couldn’t you come some night?” the great man responded.
+
+“Well, I’ll come some time.  And I shall remind you of your promise.”
+
+“All right.  There’s nothing like keeping it up.  Well,” said the
+President, “I must bid good-bye to these bright folks.”
+
+Vogelstein heard him rise from the sofa with his companion; after which
+he gave the pair time to pass out of the room before him.  They did it
+with a certain impressive deliberation, people making way for the ruler
+of fifty millions and looking with a certain curiosity at the striking
+pink person at his side.  When a little later he followed them across the
+hall, into one of the other rooms, he saw the host and hostess accompany
+the President to the door and two foreign ministers and a judge of the
+Supreme Court address themselves to Pandora Day.  He resisted the impulse
+to join this circle: if he should speak to her at all he would somehow
+wish it to be in more privacy.  She continued nevertheless to occupy him,
+and when Mrs. Bonnycastle came back from the hall he immediately
+approached her with an appeal.  “I wish you’d tell me something more
+about that girl—that one opposite and in pink.”
+
+“The lovely Day—that’s what they call her, I believe?  I wanted you to
+talk with her.”
+
+“I find she is the one I’ve met.  But she seems to be so different here.
+I can’t make it out,” said Count Otto.
+
+There was something in his expression that again moved Mrs. Bonnycastle
+to mirth.  “How we do puzzle you Europeans!  You look quite bewildered.”
+
+“I’m sorry I look so—I try to hide it.  But of course we’re very simple.
+Let me ask then a simple earnest childlike question.  Are her parents
+also in society?”
+
+“Parents in society?  D’où tombez-vous?  Did you ever hear of the parents
+of a triumphant girl in rose-colour, with a nose all her own, in
+society?”
+
+“Is she then all alone?” he went on with a strain of melancholy in his
+voice.
+
+Mrs. Bonnycastle launched at him all her laughter.
+
+“You’re too pathetic.  Don’t you know what she is?  I supposed of course
+you knew.”
+
+“It’s exactly what I’m asking you.”
+
+“Why she’s the new type.  It has only come up lately.  They have had
+articles about it in the papers.  That’s the reason I told Mrs. Steuben
+to bring her.”
+
+“The new type?  _What_ new type, Mrs. Bonnycastle?” he returned
+pleadingly—so conscious was he that all types in America were new.
+
+Her laughter checked her reply a moment, and by the time she had
+recovered herself the young lady from Boston, with whom Vogelstein had
+been talking, stood there to take leave.  This, for an American type, was
+an old one, he was sure; and the process of parting between the guest and
+her hostess had an ancient elaboration.  Count Otto waited a little; then
+he turned away and walked up to Pandora Day, whose group of interlocutors
+had now been re-enforced by a gentleman who had held an important place
+in the cabinet of the late occupant of the presidential chair.  He had
+asked Mrs. Bonnycastle if she were “all alone”; but there was nothing in
+her present situation to show her for solitary.  She wasn’t sufficiently
+alone for our friend’s taste; but he was impatient and he hoped she’d
+give him a few words to himself.  She recognised him without a moment’s
+hesitation and with the sweetest smile, a smile matching to a shade the
+tone in which she said: “I was watching you.  I wondered if you weren’t
+going to speak to me.”
+
+“Miss Day was watching him!” one of the foreign ministers exclaimed; “and
+we flattered ourselves that her attention was all with us.”
+
+“I mean before,” said the girl, “while I was talking with the President.”
+
+At which the gentlemen began to laugh, one of them remarking that this
+was the way the absent were sacrificed, even the great; while another put
+on record that he hoped Vogelstein was duly flattered.
+
+“Oh I was watching the President too,” said Pandora.  “I’ve got to watch
+_him_.  He has promised me something.”
+
+“It must be the mission to England,” the judge of the Supreme Court
+suggested.  “A good position for a lady; they’ve got a lady at the head
+over there.”
+
+“I wish they would send you to my country,” one of the foreign ministers
+suggested.  “I’d immediately get recalled.”
+
+“Why perhaps in your country I wouldn’t speak to you!  It’s only because
+you’re here,” the ex-heroine of the _Donau_ returned with a gay
+familiarity which evidently ranked with her but as one of the arts of
+defence.  “You’ll see what mission it is when it comes out.  But I’ll
+speak to Count Vogelstein anywhere,” she went on.  “He’s an older friend
+than any right here.  I’ve known him in difficult days.”
+
+“Oh yes, on the great ocean,” the young man smiled.  “On the watery
+waste, in the tempest!”
+
+“Oh I don’t mean that so much; we had a beautiful voyage and there wasn’t
+any tempest.  I mean when I was living in Utica.  That’s a watery waste
+if you like, and a tempest there would have been a pleasant variety.”
+
+“Your parents seemed to me so peaceful!” her associate in the other
+memories sighed with a vague wish to say something sympathetic.
+
+“Oh you haven’t seen them ashore!  At Utica they were very lively.  But
+that’s no longer our natural home.  Don’t you remember I told you I was
+working for New York?  Well, I worked—I had to work hard.  But we’ve
+moved.”
+
+Count Otto clung to his interest.  “And I hope they’re happy.”
+
+“My father and mother?  Oh they will be, in time.  I must give them time.
+They’re very young yet, they’ve years before them.  And you’ve been
+always in Washington?” Pandora continued.  “I suppose you’ve found out
+everything about everything.”
+
+“Oh no—there are some things I _can’t_ find out.”
+
+“Come and see me and perhaps I can help you.  I’m very different from
+what I was in that phase.  I’ve advanced a great deal since then.”
+
+“Oh how was Miss Day in that phase?” asked a cabinet minister of the last
+administration.
+
+“She was delightful of course,” Count Otto said.
+
+“He’s very flattering; I didn’t open my mouth!” Pandora cried.  “Here
+comes Mrs. Steuben to take me to some other place.  I believe it’s a
+literary party near the Capitol.  Everything seems so separate in
+Washington.  Mrs. Steuben’s going to read a poem.  I wish she’d read it
+here; wouldn’t it do as well?”
+
+This lady, arriving, signified to her young friend the necessity of their
+moving on.  But Miss Day’s companions had various things to say to her
+before giving her up.  She had a vivid answer for each, and it was
+brought home to Vogelstein while he listened that this would be indeed,
+in her development, as she said, another phase.  Daughter of small
+burghers as she might be she was really brilliant.  He turned away a
+little and while Mrs. Steuben waited put her a question.  He had made her
+half an hour before the subject of that inquiry to which Mrs. Bonnycastle
+returned so ambiguous an answer; but this wasn’t because he failed of all
+direct acquaintance with the amiable woman or of any general idea of the
+esteem in which she was held.  He had met her in various places and had
+been at her house.  She was the widow of a commodore, was a handsome mild
+soft swaying person, whom every one liked, with glossy bands of black
+hair and a little ringlet depending behind each ear.  Some one had said
+that she looked like the _vieux jeu_, idea of the queen in _Hamlet_.  She
+had written verses which were admired in the South, wore a full-length
+portrait of the commodore on her bosom and spoke with the accent of
+Savannah.  She had about her a positive strong odour of Washington.  It
+had certainly been very superfluous in our young man to question Mrs.
+Bonnycastle about her social position.
+
+“Do kindly tell me,” he said, lowering his voice, “what’s the type to
+which that young lady belongs?  Mrs. Bonnycastle tells me it’s a new
+one.”
+
+Mrs. Steuben for a moment fixed her liquid eyes on the secretary of
+legation.  She always seemed to be translating the prose of your speech
+into the finer rhythms with which her own mind was familiar.  “Do you
+think anything’s really new?” she then began to flute.  “I’m very fond of
+the old; you know that’s a weakness of we Southerners.”  The poor lady,
+it will be observed, had another weakness as well.  “What we often take
+to be the new is simply the old under some novel form.  Were there not
+remarkable natures in the past?  If you doubt it you should visit the
+South, where the past still lingers.”
+
+Vogelstein had been struck before this with Mrs. Steuben’s pronunciation
+of the word by which her native latitudes were designated; transcribing
+it from her lips you would have written it (as the nearest approach) the
+Sooth.  But at present he scarce heeded this peculiarity; he was
+wondering rather how a woman could be at once so copious and so
+uninforming.  What did he care about the past or even about the Sooth?
+He was afraid of starting her again.  He looked at her, discouraged and
+helpless, as bewildered almost as Mrs. Bonnycastle had found him half an
+hour before; looked also at the commodore, who, on her bosom, seemed to
+breathe again with his widow’s respirations.  “Call it an old type then
+if you like,” he said in a moment.  “All I want to know is what type it
+_is_!  It seems impossible,” he gasped, “to find out.”
+
+“You can find out in the newspapers.  They’ve had articles about it.
+They write about everything now.  But it isn’t true about Miss Day.  It’s
+one of the first families.  Her great-grandfather was in the Revolution.”
+Pandora by this time had given her attention again to Mrs. Steuben.  She
+seemed to signify that she was ready to move on.  “Wasn’t your
+great-grandfather in the Revolution?” the elder lady asked.  “I’m telling
+Count Vogelstein about him.”
+
+“Why are you asking about my ancestors?” the girl demanded of the young
+German with untempered brightness.  “Is that the thing you said just now
+that you can’t find out?  Well, if Mrs. Steuben will only be quiet you
+never will.”
+
+Mrs. Steuben shook her head rather dreamily.  “Well, it’s no trouble for
+we of the Sooth to be quiet.  There’s a kind of languor in our blood.
+Besides, we have to be to-day.  But I’ve got to show some energy
+to-night.  I’ve got to get you to the end of Pennsylvania Avenue.”
+
+Pandora gave her hand to Count Otto and asked him if he thought they
+should meet again.  He answered that in Washington people were always
+meeting again and that at any rate he shouldn’t fail to wait upon her.
+Hereupon, just as the two ladies were detaching themselves, Mrs. Steuben
+remarked that if the Count and Miss Day wished to meet again the picnic
+would be a good chance—the picnic she was getting up for the following
+Thursday.  It was to consist of about twenty bright people, and they’d go
+down the Potomac to Mount Vernon.  The Count answered that if Mrs.
+Steuben thought him bright enough he should be delighted to join the
+party; and he was told the hour for which the tryst was taken.
+
+He remained at Mrs. Bonnycastle’s after every one had gone, and then he
+informed this lady of his reason for waiting.  Would she have mercy on
+him and let him know, in a single word, before he went to rest—for
+without it rest would be impossible—what was this famous type to which
+Pandora Day belonged?
+
+“Gracious, you don’t mean to say you’ve not found out that type yet!”
+Mrs. Bonnycastle exclaimed with a return of her hilarity.  “What have you
+been doing all the evening?  You Germans may be thorough, but you
+certainly are not quick!”
+
+It was Alfred Bonnycastle who at last took pity on him.  “My dear
+Vogelstein, she’s the latest freshest fruit of our great American
+evolution.  She’s the self-made girl!”
+
+Count Otto gazed a moment.  “The fruit of the great American Revolution?
+Yes, Mrs. Steuben told me her great-grandfather—” but the rest of his
+sentence was lost in a renewed explosion of Mrs. Bonnycastle’s sense of
+the ridiculous.  He bravely pushed his advantage, such as it was,
+however, and, desiring his host’s definition to be defined, inquired what
+the self-made girl might be.
+
+“Sit down and we’ll tell you all about it,” Mrs. Bonnycastle said.  “I
+like talking this way, after a party’s over.  You can smoke if you like,
+and Alfred will open another window.  Well, to begin with, the self-made
+girl’s a new feature.  That, however, you know.  In the second place she
+isn’t self-made at all.  We all help to make her—we take such an interest
+in her.”
+
+“That’s only after she’s made!” Alfred Bonnycastle broke in.  “But it’s
+Vogelstein that takes an interest.  What on earth has started you up so
+on the subject of Miss Day?”
+
+The visitor explained as well as he could that it was merely the accident
+of his having crossed the ocean in the steamer with her; but he felt the
+inadequacy of this account of the matter, felt it more than his hosts,
+who could know neither how little actual contact he had had with her on
+the ship, how much he had been affected by Mrs. Dangerfield’s warnings,
+nor how much observation at the same time he had lavished on her.  He sat
+there half an hour, and the warm dead stillness of the Washington
+night—nowhere are the nights so silent—came in at the open window,
+mingled with a soft sweet earthy smell, the smell of growing things and
+in particular, as he thought, of Mrs. Steuben’s Sooth.  Before he went
+away he had heard all about the self-made girl, and there was something
+in the picture that strongly impressed him.  She was possible doubtless
+only in America; American life had smoothed the way for her.  She was not
+fast, nor emancipated, nor crude, nor loud, and there wasn’t in her, of
+necessity at least, a grain of the stuff of which the adventuress is
+made.  She was simply very successful, and her success was entirely
+personal.  She hadn’t been born with the silver spoon of social
+opportunity; she had grasped it by honest exertion.  You knew her by many
+different signs, but chiefly, infallibly, by the appearance of her
+parents.  It was her parents who told her story; you always saw how
+little her parents could have made her.  Her attitude with regard to them
+might vary in different ways.  As the great fact on her own side was that
+she had lifted herself from a lower social plane, done it all herself,
+and done it by the simple lever of her personality, it was naturally to
+be expected that she would leave the authors of her mere material being
+in the shade.  Sometimes she had them in her wake, lost in the bubbles
+and the foam that showed where she had passed; sometimes, as Alfred
+Bonnycastle said, she let them slide altogether; sometimes she kept them
+in close confinement, resorting to them under cover of night and with
+every precaution; sometimes she exhibited them to the public in discreet
+glimpses, in prearranged attitudes.  But the general characteristic of
+the self-made girl was that, though it was frequently understood that she
+was privately devoted to her kindred, she never attempted to impose them
+on society, and it was striking that, though in some of her
+manifestations a bore, she was at her worst less of a bore than they.
+They were almost always solemn and portentous, and they were for the most
+part of a deathly respectability.  She wasn’t necessarily snobbish,
+unless it was snobbish to want the best.  She didn’t cringe, she didn’t
+make herself smaller than she was; she took on the contrary a stand of
+her own and attracted things to herself.  Naturally she was possible only
+in America—only in a country where whole ranges of competition and
+comparison were absent.  The natural history of this interesting creature
+was at last completely laid bare to the earnest stranger, who, as he sat
+there in the animated stillness, with the fragrant breath of the Western
+world in his nostrils, was convinced of what he had already suspected,
+that conversation in the great Republic was more yearningly, not to say
+gropingly, psychological than elsewhere.  Another thing, as he learned,
+that you knew the self-made girl by was her culture, which was perhaps a
+little too restless and obvious.  She had usually got into society more
+or less by reading, and her conversation was apt to be garnished with
+literary allusions, even with familiar quotations.  Vogelstein hadn’t had
+time to observe this element as a developed form in Pandora Day; but
+Alfred Bonnycastle hinted that he wouldn’t trust her to keep it under in
+a _tête-à-tête_.  It was needless to say that these young persons had
+always been to Europe; that was usually the first place they got to.  By
+such arts they sometimes entered society on the other side before they
+did so at home; it was to be added at the same time that this resource
+was less and less valuable, for Europe, in the American world, had less
+and less prestige and people in the Western hemisphere now kept a watch
+on that roundabout road.  All of which quite applied to Pandora Day—the
+journey to Europe, the culture (as exemplified in the books she read on
+the ship), the relegation, the effacement, of the family.  The only thing
+that was exceptional was the rapidity of her march; for the jump she had
+taken since he left her in the hands of Mr. Lansing struck Vogelstein,
+even after he had made all allowance for the abnormal homogeneity of the
+American mass, as really considerable.  It took all her cleverness to
+account for such things.  When she “moved” from Utica—mobilised her
+commissariat—the battle appeared virtually to have been gained.
+
+Count Otto called the next day, and Mrs. Steuben’s blackamoor informed
+him, in the communicative manner of his race, that the ladies had gone
+out to pay some visits and look at the Capitol.  Pandora apparently had
+not hitherto examined this monument, and our young man wished he had
+known, the evening before, of her omission, so that he might have offered
+to be her initiator.  There is too obvious a connexion for us to fail of
+catching it between his regret and the fact that in leaving Mrs.
+Steuben’s door he reminded himself that he wanted a good walk, and that
+he thereupon took his way along Pennsylvania Avenue.  His walk had become
+fairly good by the time he reached the great white edifice that unfolds
+its repeated colonnades and uplifts its isolated dome at the end of a
+long vista of saloons and tobacco-shops.  He slowly climbed the great
+steps, hesitating a little, even wondering why he had come.  The
+superficial reason was obvious enough, but there was a real one behind it
+that struck him as rather wanting in the solidity which should
+characterise the motives of an emissary of Prince Bismarck.  The
+superficial reason was a belief that Mrs. Steuben would pay her visit
+first—it was probably only a question of leaving cards—and bring her
+young friend to the Capitol at the hour when the yellow afternoon light
+would give a tone to the blankness of its marble walls.  The Capitol was
+a splendid building, but it was rather wanting in tone.  Vogelstein’s
+curiosity about Pandora Day had been much more quickened than checked by
+the revelations made to him in Mrs. Bonnycastle’s drawing-room.  It was a
+relief to have the creature classified; but he had a desire, of which he
+had not been conscious before, to see really to the end how well, in
+other words how completely and artistically, a girl could make herself.
+His calculations had been just, and he had wandered about the rotunda for
+only ten minutes, looking again at the paintings, commemorative of the
+national annals, which occupy its lower spaces, and at the simulated
+sculptures, so touchingly characteristic of early American taste, which
+adorn its upper reaches, when the charming women he had been counting on
+presented themselves in charge of a licensed guide.  He went to meet them
+and didn’t conceal from them that he had marked them for his very own.
+The encounter was happy on both sides, and he accompanied them through
+the queer and endless interior, through labyrinths of bleak bare
+development, into legislative and judicial halls.  He thought it a
+hideous place; he had seen it all before and asked himself what senseless
+game he was playing.  In the lower House were certain bedaubed walls, in
+the basest style of imitation, which made him feel faintly sick, not to
+speak of a lobby adorned with artless prints and photographs of eminent
+defunct Congressmen that was all too serious for a joke and too comic for
+a Valhalla.  But Pandora was greatly interested; she thought the Capitol
+very fine; it was easy to criticise the details, but as a whole it was
+the most impressive building she had ever seen.  She proved a charming
+fellow tourist; she had constantly something to say, but never said it
+too much; it was impossible to drag in the wake of a _cicerone_ less of a
+lengthening or an irritating chain.  Vogelstein could see too that she
+wished to improve her mind; she looked at the historical pictures, at the
+uncanny statues of local worthies, presented by the different States—they
+were of different sizes, as if they had been “numbered,” in a shop—she
+asked questions of the guide and in the chamber of the Senate requested
+him to show her the chairs of the gentlemen from New York.  She sat down
+in one of them, though Mrs. Steuben told her _that_ Senator (she mistook
+the chair, dropping into another State) was a horrid old thing.
+
+Throughout the hour he spent with her Vogelstein seemed to see how it was
+she had made herself.  They walked about, afterwards on the splendid
+terrace that surrounds the Capitol, the great marble floor on which it
+stands, and made vague remarks—Pandora’s were the most definite—about the
+yellow sheen of the Potomac, the hazy hills of Virginia, the far-gleaming
+pediment of Arlington, the raw confused-looking country.  Washington was
+beneath them, bristling and geometrical; the long lines of its avenues
+seemed to stretch into national futures.  Pandora asked Count Otto if he
+had ever been to Athens and, on his admitting so much, sought to know
+whether the eminence on which they stood didn’t give him an idea of the
+Acropolis in its prime.  Vogelstein deferred the satisfaction of this
+appeal to their next meeting; he was glad—in spite of the appeal—to make
+pretexts for seeing her again.  He did so on the morrow; Mrs. Steuben’s
+picnic was still three days distant.  He called on Pandora a second time,
+also met her each evening in the Washington world.  It took very little
+of this to remind him that he was forgetting both Mrs. Dangerfield’s
+warnings and the admonitions—long familiar to him—of his own conscience.
+Was he in peril of love?  Was he to be sacrificed on the altar of the
+American girl, an altar at which those other poor fellows had poured out
+some of the bluest blood in Germany and he had himself taken oath he
+would never seriously worship?  He decided that he wasn’t in real danger,
+that he had rather clinched his precautions.  It was true that a young
+person who had succeeded so well for herself might be a great help to her
+husband; but this diplomatic aspirant preferred on the whole that his
+success should be his own: it wouldn’t please him to have the air of
+being pushed by his wife.  Such a wife as that would wish to push him,
+and he could hardly admit to himself that this was what fate had in
+reserve for him—to be propelled in his career by a young lady who would
+perhaps attempt to talk to the Kaiser as he had heard her the other night
+talk to the President.  Would she consent to discontinue relations with
+her family, or would she wish still to borrow plastic relief from that
+domestic background?  That her family was so impossible was to a certain
+extent an advantage; for if they had been a little better the question of
+a rupture would be less easy.  He turned over these questions in spite of
+his security, or perhaps indeed because of it.  The security made them
+speculative and disinterested.
+
+They haunted him during the excursion to Mount Vernon, which took place
+according to traditions long established.  Mrs. Steuben’s confederates
+assembled on the steamer and were set afloat on the big brown stream
+which had already seemed to our special traveller to have too much bosom
+and too little bank.  Here and there, however, he became conscious of a
+shore where there was something to look at, even though conscious at the
+same time that he had of old lost great opportunities of an idyllic cast
+in not having managed to be more “thrown with” a certain young lady on
+the deck of the North German Lloyd.  The two turned round together to
+hang over Alexandria, which for Pandora, as she declared, was a picture
+of Old Virginia.  She told Vogelstein that she was always hearing about
+it during the Civil War, ages before.  Little girl as she had been at the
+time she remembered all the names that were on people’s lips during those
+years of reiteration.  This historic spot had a touch of the romance of
+rich decay, a reference to older things, to a dramatic past.  The past of
+Alexandria appeared in the vista of three or four short streets sloping
+up a hill and lined with poor brick warehouses erected for merchandise
+that had ceased to come or go.  It looked hot and blank and sleepy, down
+to the shabby waterside where tattered darkies dangled their bare feet
+from the edge of rotting wharves.  Pandora was even more interested in
+Mount Vernon—when at last its wooded bluff began to command the
+river—than she had been in the Capitol, and after they had disembarked
+and ascended to the celebrated mansion she insisted on going into every
+room it contained.  She “claimed for it,” as she said—some of her turns
+were so characteristic both of her nationality and her own style—the
+finest situation in the world, and was distinct as to the shame of their
+not giving it to the President for his country-seat.  Most of her
+companions had seen the house often, and were now coupling themselves in
+the grounds according to their sympathies, so that it was easy for
+Vogelstein to offer the benefit of his own experience to the most
+inquisitive member of the party.  They were not to lunch for another
+hour, and in the interval the young man roamed with his first and fairest
+acquaintance.  The breath of the Potomac, on the boat, had been a little
+harsh, but on the softly-curving lawn, beneath the clustered trees, with
+the river relegated to a mere shining presence far below and in the
+distance, the day gave out nothing but its mildness, the whole scene
+became noble and genial.
+
+Count Otto could joke a little on great occasions, and the present one
+was worthy of his humour.  He maintained to his companion that the
+shallow painted mansion resembled a false house, a “wing” or structure of
+daubed canvas, on the stage; but she answered him so well with certain
+economical palaces she had seen in Germany, where, as she said, there was
+nothing but china stoves and stuffed birds, that he was obliged to allow
+the home of Washington to be after all really _gemüthlich_.  What he
+found so in fact was the soft texture of the day, his personal situation,
+the sweetness of his suspense.  For suspense had decidedly become his
+portion; he was under a charm that made him feel he was watching his own
+life and that his susceptibilities were beyond his control.  It hung over
+him that things might take a turn, from one hour to the other, which
+would make them very different from what they had been yet; and his heart
+certainly beat a little faster as he wondered what that turn might be.
+Why did he come to picnics on fragrant April days with American girls who
+might lead him too far?  Wouldn’t such girls be glad to marry a
+Pomeranian count?  And _would_ they, after all, talk that way to the
+Kaiser?  If he were to marry one of them he should have to give her
+several thorough lessons.
+
+In their little tour of the house our young friend and his companion had
+had a great many fellow visitors, who had also arrived by the steamer and
+who had hitherto not left them an ideal privacy.  But the others
+gradually dispersed; they circled about a kind of showman who was the
+authorised guide, a big slow genial vulgar heavily-bearded man, with a
+whimsical edifying patronising tone, a tone that had immense success when
+he stopped here and there to make his points—to pass his eyes over his
+listening flock, then fix them quite above it with a meditative look and
+bring out some ancient pleasantry as if it were a sudden inspiration.  He
+made a cheerful thing, an echo of the platform before the booth of a
+country fair, even of a visit to the tomb of the _pater patriæ_.  It is
+enshrined in a kind of grotto in the grounds, and Vogelstein remarked to
+Pandora that he was a good man for the place, but was too familiar.  “Oh
+he’d have been familiar with Washington,” said the girl with the bright
+dryness with which she often uttered amusing things.  Vogelstein looked
+at her a moment, and it came over him, as he smiled, that she herself
+probably wouldn’t have been abashed even by the hero with whom history
+has taken fewest liberties.  “You look as if you could hardly believe
+that,” Pandora went on.  “You Germans are always in such awe of great
+people.”  And it occurred to her critic that perhaps after all Washington
+would have liked her manner, which was wonderfully fresh and natural.
+The man with the beard was an ideal minister to American shrines; he
+played on the curiosity of his little band with the touch of a master,
+drawing them at the right moment away to see the classic ice-house where
+the old lady had been found weeping in the belief it was Washington’s
+grave.  While this monument was under inspection our interesting couple
+had the house to themselves, and they spent some time on a pretty terrace
+where certain windows of the second floor opened—a little rootless
+verandah which overhung, in a manner, obliquely, all the magnificence of
+the view; the immense sweep of the river, the artistic plantations, the
+last-century garden with its big box hedges and remains of old espaliers.
+They lingered here for nearly half an hour, and it was in this retirement
+that Vogelstein enjoyed the only approach to intimate conversation
+appointed for him, as was to appear, with a young woman in whom he had
+been unable to persuade himself that he was not absorbed.  It’s not
+necessary, and it’s not possible, that I should reproduce this colloquy;
+but I may mention that it began—as they leaned against the parapet of the
+terrace and heard the cheerful voice of the showman wafted up to them
+from a distance—with his saying to her rather abruptly that he couldn’t
+make out why they hadn’t had more talk together when they crossed the
+Atlantic.
+
+“Well, I can if you can’t,” said Pandora.  “I’d have talked quick enough
+if you had spoken to me.  I spoke to you first.”
+
+“Yes, I remember that”—and it affected him awkwardly.
+
+“You listened too much to Mrs. Dangerfield.”
+
+He feigned a vagueness.  “To Mrs. Dangerfield?”
+
+“That woman you were always sitting with; she told you not to speak to
+me.  I’ve seen her in New York; she speaks to me now herself.  She
+recommended you to have nothing to do with me.”
+
+“Oh how can you say such dreadful things?” Count Otto cried with a very
+becoming blush.
+
+“You know you can’t deny it.  You weren’t attracted by my family.
+They’re charming people when you know them.  I don’t have a better time
+anywhere than I have at home,” the girl went on loyally.  “But what does
+it matter?  My family are very happy.  They’re getting quite used to New
+York.  Mrs. Dangerfield’s a vulgar wretch—next winter she’ll call on me.”
+
+“You are unlike any Mädchen I’ve ever seen—I don’t understand you,” said
+poor Vogelstein with the colour still in his face.
+
+“Well, you never _will_ understand me—probably; but what difference does
+it make?”
+
+He attempted to tell her what difference, but I’ve no space to follow him
+here.  It’s known that when the German mind attempts to explain things it
+doesn’t always reduce them to simplicity, and Pandora was first
+mystified, then amused, by some of the Count’s revelations.  At last I
+think she was a little frightened, for she remarked irrelevantly, with
+some decision, that luncheon would be ready and that they ought to join
+Mrs. Steuben.  Her companion walked slowly, on purpose, as they left the
+house together, for he knew the pang of a vague sense that he was losing
+her.
+
+“And shall you be in Washington many days yet?” he appealed as they went.
+
+“It will all depend.  I’m expecting important news.  What I shall do will
+be influenced by that.”
+
+The way she talked about expecting news—and important!—made him feel
+somehow that she had a career, that she was active and independent, so
+that he could scarcely hope to stop her as she passed.  It was certainly
+true that he had never seen any girl like her.  It would have occurred to
+him that the news she was expecting might have reference to the favour
+she had begged of the President, if he hadn’t already made up his mind—in
+the calm of meditation after that talk with the Bonnycastles—that this
+favour must be a pleasantry.  What she had said to him had a
+discouraging, a somewhat chilling effect; nevertheless it was not without
+a certain ardour that he inquired of her whether, so long as she stayed
+in Washington, he mightn’t pay her certain respectful attentions.
+
+“As many as you like—and as respectful ones; but you won’t keep them up
+for ever!”
+
+“You try to torment me,” said Count Otto.
+
+She waited to explain.  “I mean that I may have some of my family.”
+
+“I shall be delighted to see them again.”
+
+Again she just hung fire.  “There are some you’ve never seen.”
+
+In the afternoon, returning to Washington on the steamer, Vogelstein
+received a warning.  It came from Mrs. Bonnycastle and constituted, oddly
+enough, the second juncture at which an officious female friend had,
+while sociably afloat with him, advised him on the subject of Pandora
+Day.
+
+“There’s one thing we forgot to tell you the other night about the
+self-made girl,” said the lady of infinite mirth.  “It’s never safe to
+fix your affections on her, because she has almost always an impediment
+somewhere in the background.”
+
+He looked at her askance, but smiled and said: “I should understand your
+information—for which I’m so much obliged—a little better if I knew what
+you mean by an impediment.”
+
+“Oh I mean she’s always engaged to some young man who belongs to her
+earlier phase.”
+
+“Her earlier phase?”
+
+“The time before she had made herself—when she lived unconscious of her
+powers.  A young man from Utica, say.  They usually have to wait; he’s
+probably in a store.  It’s a long engagement.”
+
+Count Otto somehow preferred to understand as little as possible.  “Do
+you mean a betrothal—to take effect?”
+
+“I don’t mean anything German and moonstruck.  I mean that piece of
+peculiarly American enterprise a premature engagement—to take effect, but
+too complacently, at the end of time.”
+
+Vogelstein very properly reflected that it was no use his having entered
+the diplomatic career if he weren’t able to bear himself as if this
+interesting generalisation had no particular message for him.  He did
+Mrs. Bonnycastle moreover the justice to believe that she wouldn’t have
+approached the question with such levity if she had supposed she should
+make him wince.  The whole thing was, like everything else, but for her
+to laugh at, and the betrayal moreover of a good intention.  “I see, I
+see—the self-made girl has of course always had a past.  Yes, and the
+young man in the store—from Utica—is part of her past.”
+
+“You express it perfectly,” said Mrs. Bonnycastle.  “I couldn’t say it
+better myself.”
+
+“But with her present, with her future, when they change like this young
+lady’s, I suppose everything else changes.  How do you say it in America?
+She lets him slide.”
+
+“We don’t say it at all!” Mrs. Bonnycastle cried.  “She does nothing of
+the sort; for what do you take her?  She sticks to him; that at least is
+what we _expect_ her to do,” she added with less assurance.  “As I tell
+you, the type’s new and the case under consideration.  We haven’t yet had
+time for complete study.”
+
+“Oh of course I hope she sticks to him,” Vogelstein declared simply and
+with his German accent more audible, as it always was when he was
+slightly agitated.
+
+For the rest of the trip he was rather restless.  He wandered about the
+boat, talking little with the returning picnickers.  Toward the last, as
+they drew near Washington and the white dome of the Capitol hung aloft
+before them, looking as simple as a suspended snowball, he found himself,
+on the deck, in proximity to Mrs. Steuben.  He reproached himself with
+having rather neglected her during an entertainment for which he was
+indebted to her bounty, and he sought to repair his omission by a proper
+deference.  But the only act of homage that occurred to him was to ask
+her as by chance whether Miss Day were, to her knowledge, engaged.
+
+Mrs. Steuben turned her Southern eyes upon him with a look of almost
+romantic compassion.  “To my knowledge?  Why of course I’d know!  I
+should think you’d know too.  Didn’t you know she was engaged?  Why she
+has been engaged since she was sixteen.”
+
+Count Otto gazed at the dome of the Capitol.  “To a gentleman from Utica?
+
+“Yes, a native of her place.  She’s expecting him soon.”
+
+“I’m so very glad to hear it,” said Vogelstein, who decidedly, for his
+career, had promise.  “And is she going to marry him?”
+
+“Why what do people fall in love with each other _for_?  I presume
+they’ll marry when she gets round to it.  Ah if she had only been from
+the Sooth—!”
+
+At this he broke quickly in: “But why have they never brought it off, as
+you say, in so many years?”
+
+“Well, at first she was too young, and then she thought her family ought
+to see Europe—of course they could see it better _with_ her—and they
+spent some time there.  And then Mr. Bellamy had some business
+difficulties that made him feel as if he didn’t want to marry just then.
+But he has given up business and I presume feels more free.  Of course
+it’s rather long, but all the while they’ve been engaged.  It’s a true,
+true love,” said Mrs. Steuben, whose sound of the adjective was that of a
+feeble flute.
+
+“Is his name Mr. Bellamy?” the Count asked with his haunting
+reminiscence.  “D. F. Bellamy, so?  And has he been in a store?”
+
+“I don’t know what kind of business it was: it was some kind of business
+in Utica.  I think he had a branch in New York.  He’s one of the leading
+gentlemen of Utica and very highly educated.  He’s a good deal older than
+Miss Day.  He’s a very fine man—I presume a college man.  He stands very
+high in Utica.  I don’t know why you look as if you doubted it.”
+
+Vogelstein assured Mrs. Steuben that he doubted nothing, and indeed what
+she told him was probably the more credible for seeming to him eminently
+strange.  Bellamy had been the name of the gentleman who, a year and a
+half before, was to have met Pandora on the arrival of the German
+steamer; it was in Bellamy’s name that she had addressed herself with
+such effusion to Bellamy’s friend, the man in the straw hat who was about
+to fumble in her mother’s old clothes.  This was a fact that seemed to
+Count Otto to finish the picture of her contradictions; it wanted at
+present no touch to be complete.  Yet even as it hung there before him it
+continued to fascinate him, and he stared at it, detached from
+surrounding things and feeling a little as if he had been pitched out of
+an overturned vehicle, till the boat bumped against one of the
+outstanding piles of the wharf at which Mrs. Steuben’s party was to
+disembark.  There was some delay in getting the steamer adjusted to the
+dock, during which the passengers watched the process over its side and
+extracted what entertainment they might from the appearance of the
+various persons collected to receive it.  There were darkies and loafers
+and hackmen, and also vague individuals, the loosest and blankest he had
+ever seen anywhere, with tufts on their chins, toothpicks in their
+mouths, hands in their pockets, rumination in their jaws and diamond pins
+in their shirt-fronts, who looked as if they had sauntered over from
+Pennsylvania Avenue to while away half an hour, forsaking for that
+interval their various slanting postures in the porticoes of the hotels
+and the doorways of the saloons.
+
+“Oh I’m so glad!  How sweet of you to come down!”  It was a voice close
+to Count Otto’s shoulder that spoke these words, and he had no need to
+turn to see from whom it proceeded.  It had been in his ears the greater
+part of the day, though, as he now perceived, without the fullest
+richness of expression of which it was capable.  Still less was he
+obliged to turn to discover to whom it was addressed, for the few simple
+words I have quoted had been flung across the narrowing interval of
+water, and a gentleman who had stepped to the edge of the dock without
+our young man’s observing him tossed back an immediate reply.
+
+“I got here by the three o’clock train.  They told me in K Street where
+you were, and I thought I’d come down and meet you.”
+
+“Charming attention!” said Pandora Day with the laugh that seemed always
+to invite the whole of any company to partake in it; though for some
+moments after this she and her interlocutor appeared to continue the
+conversation only with their eyes.  Meanwhile Vogelstein’s also were not
+idle.  He looked at her visitor from head to foot, and he was aware that
+she was quite unconscious of his own proximity.  The gentleman before him
+was tall, good-looking, well-dressed; evidently he would stand well not
+only at Utica, but, judging from the way he had planted himself on the
+dock, in any position that circumstances might compel him to take up.  He
+was about forty years old; he had a black moustache and he seemed to look
+at the world over some counter-like expanse on which he invited it all
+warily and pleasantly to put down first its idea of the terms of a
+transaction.  He waved a gloved hand at Pandora as if, when she exclaimed
+“Gracious, ain’t they long!” to urge her to be patient.  She was patient
+several seconds and then asked him if he had any news.  He looked at her
+briefly, in silence, smiling, after which he drew from his pocket a large
+letter with an official-looking seal and shook it jocosely above his
+head.  This was discreetly, covertly done.  No one but our young man
+appeared aware of how much was taking place—and poor Count Otto mainly
+felt it in the air.  The boat was touching the wharf and the space
+between the pair inconsiderable.
+
+“Department of State?” Pandora very prettily and soundlessly mouthed
+across at him.
+
+“That’s what they call it.”
+
+“Well, what country?”
+
+“What’s your opinion of the Dutch?” the gentleman asked for answer.
+
+“Oh gracious!” cried Pandora.
+
+“Well, are you going to wait for the return trip?” said the gentleman.
+
+Our silent sufferer turned away, and presently Mrs. Steuben and her
+companion disembarked together.  When this lady entered a carriage with
+Miss Day the gentleman who had spoken to the girl followed them; the
+others scattered, and Vogelstein, declining with thanks a “lift” from
+Mrs. Bonnycastle, walked home alone and in some intensity of meditation.
+Two days later he saw in a newspaper an announcement that the President
+had offered the post of Minister to Holland to Mr. D. F. Bellamy of
+Utica; and in the course of a month he heard from Mrs. Steuben that
+Pandora, a thousand other duties performed, had finally “got round” to
+the altar of her own nuptials.  He communicated this news to Mrs.
+Bonnycastle, who had not heard it but who, shrieking at the queer face he
+showed her, met it with the remark that there was now ground for a new
+induction as to the self-made girl.
+
+
+
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