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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Beautiful Lady, by Booth Tarkington 
+#13 in our series by Booth Tarkington 
+
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+Title: The Beautiful Lady
+
+Author: Booth Tarkington 
+
+Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5798]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on September 3, 2002]
+
+Edition: 10
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+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BEAUTIFUL LADY ***
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+The Beautiful Lady
+
+Booth Tarkington
+
+
+
+
+Chapter One
+
+
+Nothing could have been more painful to my sensitiveness than to
+occupy myself, confused with blushes, at the center of the whole
+world as a living advertisement of the least amusing ballet in
+Paris.
+
+To be the day's sensation of the boulevards one must possess an
+eccentricity of appearance conceived by nothing short of genius;
+and my misfortunes had reduced me to present such to all eyes
+seeking mirth. It was not that I was one of those people in
+uniform who carry placards and strange figures upon their backs,
+nor that my coat was of rags; on the contrary, my whole costume
+was delicately rich and well chosen, of soft grey and fine linen
+(such as you see worn by a marquis in the pe'sage at Auteuil)
+according well with my usual air and countenance, sometimes
+esteemed to resemble my father's, which were not wanting in
+distinction.
+
+To add to this my duties were not exhausting to the body. I was
+required only to sit without a hat from ten of the morning to
+midday, and from four until seven in the afternoon, at one of
+the small tables under the awning of the Cafe' de la Paix at the
+corner of the Place de l'Opera--that is to say, the centre of
+the inhabited world. In the morning I drank my coffee, hot in
+the cup; in the afternoon I sipped it cold in the glass. I spoke
+to no one; not a glance or a gesture of mine passed to attract
+notice.
+
+Yet I was the centre of that centre of the world. All day the
+crowds surrounded me, laughing loudly; all the voyous making
+those jokes for which I found no repartee. The pavement was
+sometimes blocked; the passing coachmen stood up in their boxes
+to look over at me, small infants were elevated on shoulders to
+behold me; not the gravest or most sorrowful came by without
+stopping to gaze at me and go away with rejoicing faces. The
+boulevards rang to their laughter--all Paris laughed!
+
+For seven days I sat there at the appointed times, meeting the
+eye of nobody, and lifting my coffee with fingers which trembled
+with embarrassment at this too great conspicuosity! Those
+mournful hours passed, one by the year, while the idling
+bourgeois and the travellers made ridicule; and the rabble
+exhausted all effort to draw plays of wit from me.
+
+I have told you that I carried no placard, that my costume was
+elegant, my demeanour modest in all degree.
+
+"How, then, this excitement?" would be your disposition to
+inquire. "Why this sensation?"
+
+It is very simple. My hair had been shaved off, all over my
+ears, leaving only a little above the back of the neck, to give
+an appearance of far-reaching baldness, and on my head was
+painted, in ah! so brilliant letters of distinctness:
+
+Theatre
+
+Folie-Rouge
+
+Revue
+
+de
+
+Printemps
+
+Tous les Soirs
+
+Such was the necessity to which I was at that time reduced! One
+has heard that the North Americans invent the most singular
+advertising, but I will not believe they surpass the Parisian.
+Myself, I say I cannot express my sufferings under the notation
+of the crowds that moved about the Cafe' de la Paix! The French
+are a terrible people when they laugh sincerely. It is not so
+much the amusing things which cause them amusement; it is often
+the strange, those contrasts which contain something horrible,
+and when they laugh there is too frequently some person who is
+uncomfortable or wicked. I am glad that I was born not a
+Frenchman; I should regret to be native to a country where they
+invent such things as I was doing in the Place de l'Opera; for,
+as I tell you, the idea was not mine.
+
+As I sat with my eyes drooping before the gaze of my terrible
+and applauding audiences, how I mentally formed cursing words
+against the day when my misfortunes led me to apply at the
+Theatre Folie-Rouge for work! I had expected an audition and a
+role of comedy in the Revue; for, perhaps lacking any experience
+of the stage, I am a Neapolitan by birth, though a resident of
+the Continent at large since the age of fifteen. All Neapolitans
+can act; all are actors; comedians of the greatest, as every
+traveller is cognizant. There is a thing in the air of our
+beautiful slopes which makes the people of a great instinctive
+musicalness and deceptiveness, with passions like those burning
+in the old mountain we have there. They are ready to play, to
+sing--or to explode, yet, imitating that amusing Vesuvio, they
+never do this last when you are in expectancy, or, as a
+spectator, hopeful of it.
+
+How could any person wonder, then, that I, finding myself
+suddenly destitute in Paris, should apply at the theatres? One
+after another, I saw myself no farther than the director's door,
+until (having had no more to eat the day preceding than three
+green almonds, which I took from a cart while the good female
+was not looking) I reached the Folie-Rouge. Here I was
+astonished to find a polite reception from the director. It
+eventuated that they wished for a person appearing like myself
+a person whom they would outfit with clothes of quality in
+all parts, whose external presented a gentleman of the great
+world, not merely of one the galant-uomini, but who would impart
+an air to a table at a cafe' where he might sit and partake. The
+contrast of this with the emplacement of the establishment on
+his bald head-top was to be the success of the idea. It was
+plain that I had no baldness, my hair being very thick and I but
+twenty-four years of age, when it was explained that my hair
+could be shaved. They asked me to accept, alas! not a part in
+the Revue, but a specialty as a sandwich-man. Knowing the
+English tongue as I do, I may afford the venturesomeness to play
+upon it a little: I asked for bread, and they offered me not a
+role, but a sandwich!
+
+It must be undoubted that I possessed not the disposition to
+make any fun with my accomplishments during those days that I
+spent under the awning of the Cafe' de la Paix. I had consented
+to be the advertisement in greatest desperation, and not
+considering what the reality would be. Having consented, honour
+compelled that I fulfil to the ending. Also, the costume and
+outfittings I wore were part of my emolument. They had been
+constructed for me by the finest tailor; and though I had
+impulses, often, to leap up and fight through the noisy ones
+about me and run far to the open country, the very garments I
+wore were fetters binding me to remain and suffer. It seemed to
+me that the hours were spent not in the centre of a ring of
+human persons, but of un-well-made pantaloons and ugly skirts.
+Yet all of these pantaloons and skirts had such scrutinous eyes
+and expressions of mirth to laugh like demons at my conscious,
+burning, painted head; eyes which spread out, astonished at the
+sight of me, and peered and winked and grinned from the big
+wrinkles above the gaiters of Zouaves, from the red breeches of
+the gendarmes, the knickerbockers of the cyclists, the white
+ducks of sergents de ville, and the knees of the boulevardiers,
+bagged with sitting cross-legged at the little tables. I could
+not escape these eyes;--how scornfully they twinkled at me
+from the spurred and glittering officers' boots! How with amaze
+from the American and English trousers, both turned up and
+creased like folded paper, both with some dislike for each other
+but for all other trousers more.
+
+It was only at such times when the mortifications to appear so
+greatly embarrassed became stronger than the embarrassment
+itself that I could by will power force my head to a straight
+construction and look out upon my spectators firmly. On the
+second day of my ordeal, so facing the laughers, I found myself
+facing straight into the monocle of my half-brother and ill-
+wisher, Prince Caravacioli.
+
+At this, my agitation was sudden and very great, for there was
+no one I wished to prevent perceiving my condition more than
+that old Antonio Caravacioli! I had not known that he was in
+Paris, but I could have no doubt it was himself: the monocle,
+the handsome nose, the toupee', the yellow skin, the dyed-black
+moustache, the splendid height--it was indeed Caravacioli! He
+was costumed for the automobile, and threw but one glance at me
+as he crossed the pavement to his car, which was in waiting.
+There was no change, not of the faintest, in that frosted tragic
+mask of a countenance, and I was glad to think that he had not
+recognized me.
+
+And yet, how strange that I should care, since all his life he
+had declined to recognize me as what I was! Ah, I should have
+been glad to shout his age, his dyes, his artificialities, to
+all the crowd, so to touch him where it would most pain him! For
+was he not the vainest man in the whole world? How well I knew
+his vulnerable point: the monstrous depth of his vanity in that
+pretense of youth which he preserved through superhuman pains
+and a genius of a valet, most excellently! I had much to pay
+Antonio for myself, more for my father, most for my mother. This
+was why that last of all the world I would have wished that old
+fortune-hunter to know how far I had been reduced!
+
+Then I rejoiced about that change which my unreal baldness
+produced in me, giving me a look of forty years instead of
+twenty-four, so that my oldest friend must take at least three
+stares to know me. Also, my costume would disguise me from the
+few acquaintances I had in Paris (if they chanced to cross the
+Seine), as they had only seen me in the shabbiest; while, at my
+last meeting with Antonio, I had been as fine in the coat as
+now.
+
+Yet my encouragement was not so joyful that my gaze lifted
+often. On the very last day, in the afternoon when my
+observances were most and noisiest, I lifted my eyes but once
+during the final half-hour--but such a one that was!
+
+The edge of that beautiful grey pongee skirt came upon the lid
+of my lowered eyelid like a cool shadow over hot sand. A sergent
+had just made many of the people move away, so there remained
+only a thin ring of the laughing pantaloons about me, when this
+divine skirt presented its apparition to me. A pair of North-
+American trousers accompanied it, turned up to show the ankle-
+bones of a rich pair of stockings; neat, enthusiastic and
+humorous, I judged them to be; for, as one may discover, my only
+amusement during my martyrdom--if this misery can be said to
+possess such alleviatings--had been the study of feet,
+pantaloons, and skirts. The trousers in this case detained my
+observation no time. They were but the darkest corner of the
+chiaroscuro of a Rembrandt--the mellow glow of gold was all
+across the grey skirt.
+
+How shall I explain myself, how make myself understood? Shall I
+be thought sentimentalistic or but mad when I declare that my
+first sight of the grey pongee skirt caused me a thrill of
+excitation, of tenderness, and--oh-i-me!--of self-
+consciousness more acute than all my former mortifications. It
+was so very different from all other skirts that had shown
+themselves to me those sad days, and you may understand that,
+though the pantaloons far outnumbered the skirts, many hundreds
+of the latter had also been objects of my gloomy observation.
+
+This skirt, so unlike those which had passed, presented at once
+the qualifications of its superiority. It had been constructed
+by an artist, and it was worn by a lady. It did not pine, it did
+not droop; there was no more an atom of hanging too much than
+there was a portion inflated by flamboyancy; it did not assert
+itself; it bore notice without seeking it. Plain but exquisite,
+it was that great rarity--goodness made charming.
+
+The peregrination of the American trousers suddenly stopped as
+they caught sight of me, and that precious skirt paused,
+precisely in opposition to my little table. I heard a voice,
+that to which the skirt pertained. It spoke the English, but not
+in the manner of the inhabitants of London, who seem to sing
+undistinguishably in their talking, although they are
+comprehensible to each other. To an Italian it seems that many
+North-Americans and English seek too often the assistance of the
+nose in talking, though in different manners, each equally
+unagreeable to our ears. The intelligent among our lazzaroni of
+Naples, who beg from tourists, imitate this, with the purpose of
+reminding the generous traveller of his home, in such a way to
+soften his heart. But there is some difference: the Italian, the
+Frenchman, or German who learns English sometimes misunderstands
+the American: the Englishman he sometimes understands.
+
+This voice that spoke was North-American. Ah, what a voice!
+Sweet as the mandolins of Sorento! Clear as the bells of Capri!
+To hear it, was like coming upon sight of the almond-blossoms of
+Sicily for the first time, or the tulip-fields of Holland. Never
+before was such a voice!
+
+"Why did you stop, Rufus?" it said.
+
+"Look!" replied the American trousers; so that I knew the pongee
+lady had not observed me of herself.
+
+Instantaneously there was an exclamation, and a pretty grey
+parasol, closed, fell at my feet. It is not the pleasantest to
+be an object which causes people to be startled when they behold
+you; but I blessed the agitation of this lady, for what caused
+her parasol to fall from her hand was a start of pity.
+
+"Ah!" she cried. "The poor man!"
+
+She had perceived that I was a gentleman.
+
+I bent myself forward and lifted the parasol, though not my eyes
+I could not have looked up into the face above me to be
+Caesar! Two hands came down into the circle of my observation;
+one of these was that belonging to the trousers, thin, long, and
+white; the other was the grey-gloved hand of the lady, and never
+had I seen such a hand--the hand of an angel in a suede glove,
+as the grey skirt was the mantle of a saint made by Doucet. I
+speak of saints and angels; and to the large world these may
+sound like cold words.--It is only in Italy where some people
+are found to adore them still.
+
+I lifted the parasol toward that glove as I would have moved to
+set a candle on an altar. Then, at a thought, I placed it not in
+the glove, but in the thin hand of the gentleman. At the same
+time the voice of the lady spoke to me--I was to have the joy
+of remembering that this voice had spoken four words to me.
+
+"Je vous remercie, monsieur," it said.
+
+"Pas de quoi!" I murmured.
+
+The American trousers in a loud tone made reference in the idiom
+to my miserable head: "Did you ever see anything to beat it?"
+
+The beautiful voice answered, and by the gentleness of her
+sorrow for me I knew she had no thought that I might understand.
+"Come away. It is too pitiful!"
+
+Then the grey skirt and the little round-toed shoes beneath it
+passed from my sight, quickly hidden from me by the increasing
+crowd; yet I heard the voice a moment more, but fragmentarily:
+"Don't you see how ashamed he is, how he must have been starving
+before he did that, or that someone dependent on him needed--"
+
+I caught no more, but the sweetness that this beautiful lady
+understood and felt for the poor absurd wretch was so great that
+I could have wept. I had not seen her face; I had not looked up
+--even when she went.
+
+"Who is she?" cried a scoundrel voyous, just as she turned.
+"Madame of the parasol? A friend of monsieur of the ornamented
+head?"
+
+"No. It is the first lady in waiting to his wife, Madame la
+Duchesse," answered a second. "She has been sent with an equerry
+to demand of monseigneur if he does not wish a little sculpture
+upon his dome as well as the colour decorations!"
+
+"'Tis true, my ancient?" another asked of me.
+
+I made no repartee, continuing to sit with my chin dependent
+upon my cravat, but with things not the same in my heart as
+formerly to the arrival of that grey pongee, the grey glove, and
+the beautiful voice.
+
+Since King Charles the Mad, in Paris no one has been completely
+free from lunacy while the spring-time is happening. There is
+something in the sun and the banks of the Seine. The Parisians
+drink sweet and fruity champagne because the good wines are
+already in their veins. These Parisians are born intoxicated and
+remain so; it is not fair play to require them to be like other
+human people. Their deepest feeling is for the arts; and, as
+everyone had declared, they are farceurs in their tragedies,
+tragic in their comedies. They prepare the last epigram in the
+tumbril; they drown themselves with enthusiasm about the
+alliance with Russia. In death they are witty; in war they have
+poetic spasms; in love they are mad.
+
+The strangest of all this is that it is not only the Parisians
+who are the insane ones in Paris; the visitors are none of them
+in behaviour as elsewhere. You have only to go there to become
+as lunatic as the rest. Many travellers, when they have
+departed, remember the events they have caused there as a person
+remembers in the morning what he has said and thought in the
+moonlight of the night.
+
+In Paris it is moonlight even in the morning; and in Paris one
+falls in love even more strangely than by moonlight.
+
+It is a place of glimpses: a veil fluttering from a motor-car, a
+little lace handkerchief fallen from a victoria, a figure
+crossing a lighted window, a black hat vanishing in the distance
+of the avenues of the Tuileries. A young man writes a ballade
+and dreams over a bit of lace. Was I not, then, one of the least
+extravagant of this mad people? Men have fallen in love with
+photographs, those greatest of liars; was I so wild, then, to
+adore this grey skirt, this small shoe, this divine glove, the
+golden-honey voice--of all in Paris the only one to pity and
+to understand? Even to love the mystery of that lady and to
+build my dreams upon it?--to love all the more because of the
+mystery? Mystery is the last word and the completing charm to a
+young man's passion. Few sonnets have been written to wives
+whose matrimony is more than five years of age--is it not so?
+
+
+
+Chapter Two
+
+
+When my hour was finished and I in liberty to leave that
+horrible corner, I pushed out of the crowd and walked down the
+boulevard, my hat covering my sin, and went quickly. To be in
+love with my mystery, I thought, that was a strange happiness!
+It was enough. It was romance! To hear a voice which speaks two
+sentences of pity and silver is to have a chime of bells in the
+heart. But to have a shaven head is to be a monk! And to have a
+shaven head with a sign painted upon it is to be a pariah. Alas!
+I was a person whom the Parisians laughed at, not with!
+
+Now that at last my martyrdom was concluded, I had some
+shuddering, as when one places in his mouth a morsel of
+unexpected flavour. I wondered where I had found the courage to
+bear it, and how I had resisted hurling myself into the river,
+though, as is known, that is no longer safe, for most of those
+who attempt it are at once rescued, arrested, fined, and
+imprisoned for throwing bodies into the Seine, which is
+forbidden.
+
+At the theatre the frightful badge was removed from my head-top
+and I was given three hundred francs, the price of my shame,
+refusing an offer to repeat the performance during the following
+week. To imagine such a thing made me a choking in my throat,
+and I left the bureau in some sickness. This increased so much
+(as I approached the Madeleine, where I wished to mount an
+omnibus) that I entered a restaurant and drank a small glass of
+cognac. Then I called for writing-papers and wrote to the good
+Mother Superior and my dear little nieces at their convent. I
+enclosed two hundred and fifty francs, which sum I had fallen
+behind in my payments for their education and sustenance, and I
+felt a moment's happiness that at least for a while I need not
+fear that my poor brother's orphans might become objects of
+charity--a fear which, accompanied by my own hunger, had led
+me to become the joke of the boulevards.
+
+Feeling rich with my remaining fifty francs, I ordered the
+waiter to bring me a goulasch and a carafe of blond beer, after
+the consummation of which I spent an hour in the reading of a
+newspaper. Can it be credited that the journal of my perusement
+was the one which may be called the North-American paper of the
+aristocracies of Europe? Also, it contains some names of the
+people of the United States at the hotels and elsewhere.
+
+How eagerly I scanned those singular columns! Shall I confess to
+what purpose? I read the long lists of uncontinental names over
+and over, but I lingered not at all upon those like "Muriel,"
+"Hermione," "Violet," and "Sibyl," nor over "Balthurst,"
+"Skeffington-Sligo," and "Covering-Legge"; no, my search was for
+the Sadies and Mamies, the Thompsons, Van Dusens, and Bradys. In
+that lies my preposterous secret.
+
+You will see to what infatuation those words of pity, that sense
+of a beautiful presence, had led me. To fall in love must one
+behold a face? Yes; at thirty. At twenty, when one is something
+of a poet--No: it is sufficient to see a grey pongee skirt! At
+fifty, when one is a philosopher--No: it is enough to perceive
+a soul! I had done both; I had seen the skirt; I had perceived
+the soul! Therefore, while hungry, I neglected my goulasch to
+read these lists of names of the United States again and again,
+only that I might have the thought that one of them--though I
+knew not which--might be this lady's, and that in so
+infinitesimal a degree I had been near her again. Will it be
+estimated extreme imbecility in me when I ventured the
+additional confession that I felt a great warmth and tenderness
+toward the possessors of all these names, as being, if not
+herself, at least her compatriots?
+
+I am now brought to the admission that before to-day I had
+experienced some prejudices against the inhabitants of the
+North-American republic, though not on account of great
+experience of my own. A year previously I had made a disastrous
+excursion to Monte Carlo in the company of a young gentleman of
+London who had been for several weeks in New York and Washington
+and Boston, and appeared to know very much of the country. He
+was never anything but tired in speaking of it, and told me a
+great amount. He said many times that in the hotels there was
+never a concierge or portier to give you information where to
+discover the best vaudeville; there was no concierge at all! In
+New York itself, my friend told me, a facchino, or species of
+porter, or some such good-for-nothing, had said to him,
+including a slap on the shoulder, "Well, brother, did you
+receive your delayed luggage correctly?" (In this instance my
+studies of the North-American idiom lead me to believe that my
+friend was intentionally truthful in regard to the
+principalities, but mistaken in his observation of detail.) He
+declared the recent willingness of the English to take some
+interest in the United-Statesians to be a mistake; for their
+were noisy, without real confidence in themselves; they were
+restless and merely imitative instead of inventive. He told me
+that he was not exceptional; all Englishmen had thought
+similarly for fifty or sixty years; therefore, naturally, his
+opinion carried great weight with me. And myself, to my
+astonishment, I had often seen parties of these republicans
+become all ears and whispers when somebody called a prince or a
+countess passed by. Their reverence for age itself, in anything
+but a horse, had often surprised me by its artlessness, and of
+all strange things in the world, I have heard them admire old
+customs and old families. It was strange to me to listen, when I
+had believed that their land was the only one where happily no
+person need worry to remember who had been his great-
+grandfather.
+
+The greatest of my own had not saved me from the decoration of
+the past week, yet he was as much mine as he was Antonio
+Caravacioli's; and Antonio, though impoverished, had his motor-
+car and dined well, since I happened to see, in my perusal of
+the journal, that he had been to dinner the evening before at
+the English Embassy with a great company. "Bravo, Antonio! Find
+a rich foreign wife if you can, since you cannot do well for
+yourself at home!" And I could say so honestly, without spite,
+for all his hatred of me,--because, until I had paid my
+addition, I was still the possessor of fifty francs!
+
+Fifty francs will continue life in the body of a judicial person
+a long time in Paris, and combining that knowledge and the good
+goulasch, I sought diligently for "Mamies" and "Sadies" with a
+revived spirit. I found neither of those adorable names--in
+fact, only two such diminutives, which are more charming than
+our Italian ones: A Miss Jeanie Archibald Zip and a Miss Fannie
+Sooter. None of the names was harmonious with the grey pongee --
+in truth, most of them were no prettier (however less
+processional) than royal names. I could not please myself that I
+had come closer to the rare lady; I must be contented that the
+same sky covered us both, that the noise of the same city rang
+in her ears as mine.
+
+Yet that was a satisfaction, and to know that it was true gave
+me mysterious breathlessness and made me hear fragments of old
+songs during my walk that night. I walked very far, under the
+trees of the Bois, where I stopped for a few moments to smoke a
+cigarette at one of the tables outside, at Armenonville.
+
+None of the laughing women there could be the lady I sought; and
+as my refusing to command anything caused the waiter uneasiness,
+in spite of my prosperous appearance, I remained but a few
+moments, then trudged on, all the long way to the Cafe' de
+Madrid, where also she was not.
+
+How did I assure myself of this since I had not seen her face? I
+cannot tell you. Perhaps I should not have known her; but that
+night I was sure that I should.
+
+Yes, as sure of that as I was sure that she was beautiful!
+
+
+
+Chapter Three
+
+
+Early the whole of the next day, endeavoring to look
+preoccupied, I haunted the lobbies and vicinity of the most
+expensive hotels, unable to do any other thing, but ashamed of
+myself that I had not returned to my former task of seeking
+employment, although still reassured by possession of two louis
+and some silver, I dined well at a one-franc coachman's
+restaurant, where my elegance created not the slightest
+surprise, and I felt that I might live in this way indefinitely.
+
+However, dreams often conclude abruptly, and two louis always
+do, as I found, several days later, when, after paying the rent
+for my unspeakable lodging and lending twenty francs to a poor,
+bad painter, whom I knew and whose wife was ill, I found myself
+with the choice of obtaining funds on my finery or not eating,
+either of which I was very loath to do. It is not essential for
+me to tell any person that when you seek a position it is better
+that you appear not too greatly in need of it; and my former
+garments had prejudiced many against me, I fear, because they
+had been patched by a friendly concierge. Pantaloons suffer as
+terribly as do antiques from too obvious restorations; and while
+I was only grateful to the good woman's needle (except upon one
+occasion when she forgot to remove it), my costume had reached,
+at last, great sympathies for the shade of Praxiteles, feeling
+the same melancholy over original intentions so far
+misrepresented by renewals.
+
+Therefore I determined to preserve my fineries to the uttermost;
+and it was fortunate that I did so; because, after dining, for
+three nights upon nothing but looking out of my window, the
+fourth morning brought me a letter from my English friend. I had
+written to him, asking if he knew of any people who wished to
+pay a salary to a young man who knew how to do nothing. I place
+his reply in direct annexation:
+
+"Henrietta Street, Cavendish Square, May 14.
+
+"My dear Ansolini,--Why haven't you made some of your
+relatives do something? I understand that they do not like you;
+neither do my own, but after our crupper at Monte Carlo what
+could mine do, except provide? If a few pounds (precious few, I
+fear!) be of any service to you, let me know. In the mean time,
+if you are serious about a position, I may, preposterously
+enough, set you in the way of it. There is an old thundering
+Yankee here, whom I met in the States, and who believed me a god
+because I am the nephew of my awful uncle, for whose career he
+has ever had, it appears, a life-long admiration, sir! Now, by
+chance, meeting this person in the street, it developed that he
+had need of a man, precisely such a one as you are not: a sober,
+tutorish, middle-aged, dissenting parson, to trot about the
+Continent tied to a dancing bear. It is the old gentleman's cub,
+who is a species of Caliban in fine linen, and who has taken a
+few too many liberties in the land of the free. In fact, I
+believe he is much a youth of my own kind with similar
+admiration for baccarat and good cellars. His father must return
+at once, and has decided (the cub's native heath and friends
+being too wild) to leave him in charge of a proper guide,
+philosopher, courier, chaplain, and friend, if such can be
+found, the same required to travel with the cub and keep him out
+of mischief. I thought of your letter directly, and I have given
+you the most tremendous recommendation--part of it quite true,
+I suspect, though I am not a judge of learning. I explained,
+however, that you are a master of languages, of elegant though
+subdued deportment, and I extolled at length your saintly
+habits. Altogether, I fear there may have been too much of the
+virtuoso in my interpretation of you; few would have recognized
+from it the gentleman who closed a table at Monte Carlo and
+afterwards was closed himself in the handsome and spectacular
+fashion I remember with both delight and regret. Briefly, I lied
+like a master. He almost had me in the matter of your age; it
+was important that you should be middle-aged. I swore that you
+were at least thirty-eight, but, owing to exemplary habits,
+looked very much younger. The cub himself is twenty-four.
+
+"Hence, if you are really serious and determined not to appeal
+to your people, call at once upon Mr. Lambert R. Poor, of the
+Hotel d'Iena. He is the father, and the cub is with him. The
+elder Yankee is primed with my praises of you, and must engage
+someone at once, as he sails in a day or two. Go--with my
+blessing, an air of piety, and as much age as you can assume.
+When the father has departed, throw the cub into the Seine, but
+preserve his pocket-book, and we shall have another go at those
+infernal tables. Vale! J.G.S."
+
+I found myself smiling--I fear miserably--over this kind
+letter, especially at the wonder of my friend that I had not
+appealed to my relatives. The only ones who would have liked to
+help me, if they had known I needed something, were my two
+little nieces who were in my own care; because my father, being
+but a poet, had no family, and my mother had lost hers, even her
+eldest son, by marrying my father. After that they would have
+nothing to do with her, nor were they asked. That rascally old
+Antonio was now the head of all the Caravacioli, as was I of my
+own outcast branch of our house--that is, of my two little
+nieces and myself. It was partly of these poor infants I had
+thought when I took what was left of my small inheritance to
+Monte Carlo, hoping, since I seemed to be incapable of
+increasing it in any other way, that number seventeen and black
+would hand me over a fortune as a waiter does wine. Alas! Luck
+is not always a fool's servant, and the kind of fortune she
+handed me was of that species the waiter brings you in the other
+bottle of champagne, the gold of a bubbling brain, lasting an
+hour. After this there is always something evil to one's head,
+and mine, alas! was shaved.
+
+Half an hour after I had read the letter, the little paper-
+flower makers in the attic window across from mine may have seen
+me shaving it--without pleasure--again. What else was I to
+do? I could not well expect to be given the guardianship of an
+erring young man if I presented myself to his parent as a
+gentleman who had been sitting at the Cafe' de la Paix with his
+head painted. I could not wear my hat through the interview. I
+could not exhibit the thick five days' stubble, to appear in
+contrast with the heavy fringe that had been spared;--I could
+not trim the fringe to the shortness of the stubble; I should
+have looked like Pierrot. I had only, then, to remain bald, and,
+if I obtained the post, to shave in secret--a harmless and
+mournful imposition.
+
+It was well for me that I came to this determination. I believe
+it was the appearance of maturity which my head and dining upon
+thoughts lent me, as much as my friend's praises, which created
+my success with the amiable Mr. Lambert R. Poor. I witness that
+my visit to him provided one of the most astonishing interviews
+of my life. He was an instance of those strange beings of the
+Western republic, at whom we are perhaps too prone to pass from
+one of ourselves to another the secret smile, because of some
+little imperfections of manner. It is a type which has grown
+more and more familiar to us, yet never less strange: the man in
+costly but severe costume, big, with a necessary great
+waistcoat, not noticing the loudness of his own voice; as
+ignorant of the thousand tiny things which we observe and feel
+as he would be careless of them (except for his wife) if he
+knew. We laugh at him, sometimes even to his face, and he does
+not perceive it. We are a little afraid that he is too large to
+see it; hence too large for us to comprehend, and in spite of
+our laughter we are always conscious of a force--yes, of a
+presence! We jeer slyly, but we respect, fear a little, and
+would trust.
+
+Such was my patron. He met me with a kind greeting, looked at me
+very earnestly, but smiling as if he understood my good
+intentions, as one understands the friendliness of a capering
+poodle, yet in such a way that I could not feel resentment, for
+I could see that he looked at almost everyone in the same
+fashion.
+
+My friend had done wonders for me; and I made the best account
+of myself that I could, so that within half an hour it was
+arranged that I should take charge of his son, with an
+honourarium which gave me great rejoicing for my nieces and my
+accumulated appetite.
+
+"I think I can pick men," he said, "and I think that you are the
+man I want. You're old enough and you've seen enough, and you
+know enough to keep one fool boy in order for six months."
+
+So frankly he spoke of his son, yet not without affection and
+confidence. Before I left, he sent for the youth himself,
+Lambert R. Poor, Jr.,--not at all a Caliban, but a most
+excellent-appearing, tall gentleman, of astonishingly meek
+countenance. He gave me a sad, slow look from his blue eyes at
+first; then with a brightening smile he gently shook my hand,
+murmuring that he was very glad in the prospect of knowing me
+better; after which the parent defined before him, with singular
+elaboration, my duties. I was to correct all things in his
+behaviour which I considered improper or absurd. I was to
+dictate the line of travel, to have a restraining influence upon
+expenditures; in brief, to control the young man as a governess
+does a child.
+
+To all of his parent's instructions Poor Jr. returned a dutiful
+nod and expressed perfect acquiescence. The following day the
+elder sailed from Cherbourg, and I took up my quarters with the
+son.
+
+
+
+Chapter Four
+
+
+It is with the most extreme mortification that I record my
+ensuing experiences, for I felt that I could not honourably
+accept my salary without earning it by carrying out the parent
+Poor's wishes. That first morning I endeavoured to direct my
+pupil's steps toward the Musee de Cluny, with the purpose of
+inciting him to instructive study; but in the mildest, yet most
+immovable manner, he proposed Longchamps and the races as a
+substitute, to conclude with dinner at La Cascade and supper at
+Maxim's or the Cafe' Blanche, in case we should meet engaging
+company. I ventured the vainest efforts to reason with him,
+making for myself a very uncomfortable breakfast, though without
+effect upon him of any visibility. His air was uninterruptedly
+mild and modest; he rarely lifted his eyes, but to my most
+earnest argument replied only by ordering more eggs and saying
+in a chastened voice:
+
+"Oh no; it is always best to begin school with a vacation. To
+Longchamps--we!"
+
+I should say at once that through this young man I soon became
+an amateur of the remarkable North-American idioms, of humour
+and incomparable brevities often more interesting than those
+evolved by the thirteen or more dialects of my own Naples. Even
+at our first breakfast I began to catch lucid glimpses of the
+intention in many of his almost incomprehensible statements. I
+was able, even, to penetrate his meaning when he said that
+although he was "strong for aged parent," he himself had
+suffered much anguish from overwork of the "earnest youth
+racquette" in his late travels, and now desired to "create
+considerable trouble for Paris."
+
+Naturally, I did not wish to begin by antagonizing my pupil --
+an estrangement at the commencement would only lead to his
+deceiving me, or a continued quarrel, in which case I should be
+of no service to my kind patron, so that after a strained
+interval I considered it best to surrender.
+
+We went to Longchamps.
+
+That was my first mistake; the second was to yield to him
+concerning the latter part of his programme; but opposition to
+Mr. Poor, Jr. had a curious effect of inutility. He had not in
+the least the air of obstinacy,--nothing could have been less
+like rudeness; he neither frowned not smiled; no, he did not
+seem even to be insisting; on the contrary, never have I beheld
+a milder countenance, nor heard a pleasanter voice; yet the
+young man was so completely baffling in his mysterious way that
+I considered him unique to my experience.
+
+Thus, when I urged him not to place large wagers in the pesage,
+his whispered reply was strange and simple--"Watch me!" This
+he conclusively said as he deposited another thousand-franc
+note, which, within a few moments, accrued to the French
+government.
+
+
+Longchamps was but the beginning of a series of days and nights
+which wore upon my constitution--not indeed with the intensity
+of mortification which my former conspicuosity had engendered,
+yet my sorrows were stringent. It is true that I had been, since
+the age of seventeen, no stranger to the gaieties and
+dissipations afforded by the capitals of Europe; I may say I had
+exhausted these, yet always with some degree of quiet, including
+intervals of repose. I was tired of all the great foolishnesses
+of youth, and had thought myself done with them. Now I found
+myself plunged into more uproarious waters than I had ever known
+I, who had hoped to begin a life of usefulness and peace, was
+forced to dwell in the midst of a riot, pursuing my
+extraordinary charge.
+
+There is no need that I should describe those days and nights.
+They remain in my memory as a confusion of bad music, crowds,
+motor-cars and champagne of which Poor Jr. was a distributing
+centre. He could never be persuaded to the Louvre, the
+Carnavalet, or the Luxembourg; in truth, he seldom rose in time
+to reach the museums, for they usually close at four in the
+afternoon. Always with the same inscrutable meekness of
+countenance, each night he methodically danced the cake-walk at
+Maxim's or one of the Montemarte restaurants, to the cheers of
+acquaintances of many nationalities, to whom he offered
+libations with prodigal enormity. He carried with him, about the
+boulevards at night, in the highly powerful car he had hired,
+large parties of strange people, who would loudly sing airs from
+the Folie-Rouge (to my unhappy shudderings) all the way from the
+fatiguing Bal Bullier to the Cafe' de Paris, where the waiters
+soon became affluent.
+
+And how many of those gaily dressed and smiling ladies whose
+bright eyes meet yours on the veranda of the Theatre Marigny
+were provided with excessive suppers and souvenir fans by the
+inexhaustible Poor Jr.! He left a trail of pink hundred-franc
+notes behind him, like a running boy dropping paper in the
+English game; and he kept showers of gold louis dancing in the
+air about him, so that when we entered the various cafes or
+"American bars" a cheer (not vocal but to me of perfect
+audibility) went up from the hungry and thirsty and borrowing,
+and from the attendants. Ah, how tired I was of it, and how I
+endeavoured to discover a means to draw him to the museums, and
+to Notre Dame and the Pantheon!
+
+And how many times did I unwillingly find myself in the too
+enlivening company of those pretty supper-girls, and what
+jokings upon his head-top did the poor bald gentleman not
+undergo from those same demoiselles with the bright eyes, the
+wonderful hats, and the fluffy dresses!
+
+How often among those gay people did I find myself sadly
+dreaming of that grey pongee skirt and the beautiful heart that
+had understood! Should I ever see that lady? Not, I knew, alas!
+in the whirl about Poor Jr.! As soon look for a nun at the Cafe'
+Blanche!
+
+For some reason I came to be persuaded that she had left Paris,
+that she had gone away; and I pictured her--a little
+despairingly--on the borders of Lucerne, with the white Alps
+in the sky above her,--or perhaps listening to the evening
+songs on the Grand Canal, and I would try to feel the little
+rocking of her gondola, making myself dream that I sat at her
+feet. Or I could see the grey flicker of the pongee skirt in the
+twilight distance of cathedral aisles with a chant sounding from
+a chapel; and, so dreaming, I would start spasmodically, to hear
+the red-coated orchestra of a cafe' blare out into "Bedelia,"
+and awake to the laughter and rouge and blague which that dear
+pongee had helped me for a moment to forget!
+
+To all places, Poor Jr., though never unkindly, dragged me with
+him, even to make the balloon ascent at the Porte Maillot on a
+windy evening. Without embarrassment I confess that I was
+terrified, that I clung to the ropes with a clutch which frayed
+my gloves, while Poor Jr. leaned back against the side of the
+basket and gazed upward at the great swaying ball, with his
+hands in his pockets, humming the strange ballad that was his
+favourite musical composition:
+
+"The prettiest girl I ever saw
+
+Was sipping cider through a straw-aw-haw!"
+
+In that horrifying basket, scrambling for a foothold while it
+swung through arcs that were gulfs, I believed that my sorrows
+approached a sudden conclusion, but finding myself again upon
+the secure earth, I decided to come to an understanding with the
+young man.
+
+Accordingly, on the following morning, I entered his apartment
+and addresses myself to Poor Jr. as severely as I could (for,
+truthfully, in all his follies I had found no ugliness in his
+spirit--only a good-natured and inscrutable desire of wild
+amusement) reminding him of the authority his father had deputed
+to me, and having the venturesomeness to hint that the son
+should show some respect to my superior age.
+
+To my consternation he replied by inquiring if I had shaved my
+head as yet that morning. I could only drop in a chair,
+stammering to know what he meant.
+
+"Didn't you suppose I knew?" he asked, elevating himself
+slightly on his elbow from the pillow. "Three weeks ago I left
+my aged parent in London and ran over here for a day. I saw you
+at the Cafe' de la Paix, and even then I knew that it was
+shaved, not naturally bald. When you came here I recognized you
+like a shot, and that was why I was glad to accept you as a
+guardian. I've enjoyed myself considerably of late, and you've
+been the best part of it,--I think you are a wonderation! I
+wouldn't have any other governess for the world, but you surpass
+the orchestra when you beg me to respect your years! I will bet
+you four dollars to a lead franc piece that you are younger than
+I am!"
+
+Imagine the completeness of my dismay! Although he spoke in
+tones the most genial, and without unkindness, I felt myself a
+man of tatters before him, ashamed to have him know my sorry
+secret, hopeless to see all chance of authority over him gone at
+once, and with it my opportunity to earn a salary so generous,
+for if I could continue to be but an amusement to him and only
+part of his deception of Lambert R. Poor, my sense of honour
+must be fit for the guillotine indeed.
+
+I had a little struggle with myself, and I think I must have
+wiped some amounts of the cold perspiration from my absurd head
+before I was able to make an answer. It may be seen what a
+coward I was, and how I feared to begin again that search for
+employment. At last, however, I was in self-control, so that I
+might speak without being afraid that my voice would shake.
+
+"I am sorry," I said. "It seemed to me that my deception would
+not cause any harm, and that I might be useful in spite of it --
+enough to earn my living. It was on account of my being very
+poor; and there are two little children I must take care of. --
+Well, at least, it is over now. I have had great shame, but I
+must not have greater."
+
+"What do you mean?" he asked me rather sharply.
+
+"I will leave immediately," I said, going to the door. "Since I
+am no more than a joke, I can be of no service to your father or
+to you; but you must not think that I am so unreasonable as to
+be angry with you. A man whom you have beheld reduced to what I
+was, at the Cafe' de la Paix, is surely a joke to the whole
+world! I will write to your father before I leave the hotel and
+explain that I feel myself unqualified--"
+
+"You're going to write to him why you give it up!" he exclaimed.
+
+"I shall make no report of espionage," I answered, with,
+perhaps, some bitterness, "and I will leave the letter for you
+to read and to send, of yourself. It shall only tell him that as
+a man of honour I cannot keep a position for which I have no
+qualification."
+
+I was going to open the door, bidding him adieu, when he called
+out to me.
+
+"Look here!" he said, and he jumped out of bed in his pajamas
+and came quickly, and held out his hand. "Look here, Ansolini,
+don't take it that way. I know you've had pretty hard times, and
+if you'll stay, I'll get good. I'll go to the Louvre with you
+this afternoon; we'll dine at one of the Duval restaurants, and
+go to that new religious tragedy afterwards. If you like, we'll
+leave Paris to-morrow. There's a little too much movement here,
+maybe. For God's sake, let your hair grow, and we'll go down to
+Italy and study bones and ruins and delight the aged parent! --
+It's all right, isn't it?"
+
+I shook the hand of that kind Poor Jr. with a feeling in my
+heart that kept me from saying how greatly I thanked him--and
+I was sure that I could do anything for him in the world!
+
+
+
+Chapter Five
+
+
+Three days later saw us on the pretty waters of Lake Leman, in
+the bright weather when Mont Blanc heaves his great bare
+shoulders of ice miles into the blue sky, with no mist-cloak
+about him.
+
+Sailing that lake in the cool morning, what a contrast to the
+champagne houpla nights of Paris! And how docile was my pupil!
+He suffered me to lead him through the Castle of Chillon like a
+new-born lamb, and even would not play the little horses in the
+Kursaal at Geneva, although, perhaps, that was because the
+stakes were not high enough to interest him. He was nearly
+always silent, and, from the moment of our departure from Paris,
+had fallen into dreamfulness, such as would come over myself at
+the thought of the beautiful lady. It touched my heart to find
+how he was ready with acquiescence to the slightest suggestion
+of mine, and, if it had been the season, I am almost credulous
+that I could have conducted him to Baireuth to hear Parsifal!
+
+There were times when his mood of gentle sorrow was so like mine
+that I wondered if he, too, knew a grey pongee skirt. I wondered
+over this so much, and so marvellingly, also, because of the
+change in him, that at last I asked him.
+
+We had gone to Lucerne; it was clear moonlight, and we smoked on
+our little balcony at the Schweitzerhof, puffing our small
+clouds in the enormous face of the strangest panorama of the
+world, that august disturbation of the earth by gods in battle,
+left to be a land of tragic fables since before Pilate was
+there, and remaining the same after William Tell was not. I sat
+looking up at the mountains, and he leaned on the rail, looking
+down at the lake. Somewhere a woman was singing from Pagliacci,
+and I slowly arrived at a consciousness that I had sighed aloud
+once or twice, not so much sadly, as of longing to see that
+lady, and that my companion had permitted similar sounds to
+escape him, but more mournfully. It was then that I asked him,
+in earnestness, yet with the manner of making a joke, if he did
+not think often of some one in North America.
+
+"Do you believe that could be, and I making the disturbance I
+did in Paris?" he returned.
+
+"Yes," I told him, "if you are trying to forget her."
+
+"I should think it might look more as if I were trying to forget
+that I wasn't good enough for her and that she knew it!"
+
+He spoke in a voice which he would have made full of ease --
+"off-hand," as they say; but he failed to do so.
+
+"That was the case?" I pressed him, you see, but smilingly.
+
+"Looks a good deal like it," he replied, smoking much at once.
+
+"So? But that is good for you, my friend!"
+
+"Probably." He paused, smoking still more, and then said, "It's
+a benefit I could get on just as well without."
+
+"She is in North America?"
+
+"No; over here."
+
+"Ah! Then we will go where she is. That will be even better for
+you! Where is she?"
+
+"I don't know. She asked me not to follow her. Somebody else is
+doing that."
+
+The young man's voice was steady, and his face, as usual, showed
+no emotion, but I should have been an Italian for nothing had I
+not understood quickly. So I waited for a little while, then
+spoke of old Pilatus out there in the sky, and we went to bed
+very late, for it was out last night in Lucerne.
+
+Two days later we roared our way out of the gloomy St. Gotthard
+and wound down the pass, out into the sunshine of Italy, into
+that broad plain of mulberries where the silkworms weave to
+enrich the proud Milanese. Ah, those Milanese! They are like the
+people of Turin, and look down upon us of Naples; they find us
+only amusing, because our minds and movements are too quick for
+them to understand. I have no respect for the Milanese, except
+for three things: they have a cathedral, a picture, and a dead
+man.
+
+We came to our hotel in the soft twilight, with the air so balmy
+one wished to rise and float in it. This was the hour for the
+Cathedral; therefore, leaving Leonardo and his fresco for the
+to-morrow, I conducted my uncomplaining ward forth, and through
+that big arcade of which the people are so proud, to the Duomo.
+Poor Jr. showed few signs of life as we stood before that
+immenseness; he said patiently that it resembled the postals,
+and followed me inside the portals with languor.
+
+It was all grey hollowness in the vast place. The windows showed
+not any colour nor light; the splendid pillars soared up into
+the air and disappeared as if they mounted to heights of
+invisibility in the sky at night. Very far away, at the other
+end of the church it seemed, one lamp was burning, high over the
+transept. One could not see the chains of support nor the roof
+above it; it seemed a great star, but so much all alone. We
+walked down the long aisle to stand nearer to it, the darkness
+growing deeper as we advanced. When we came almost beneath, both
+of us gazing upward, my companion unwittingly stumbled against a
+lady who was standing silently looking up at this light, and who
+had failed to notice our approach. The contact was severe enough
+to dislodge from her hand her folded parasol, for which I began
+to grope.
+
+There was a hurried sentence of excusation from Poor Jr.,
+followed by moments of silence before she replied. Then I heard
+her voice in startled exclamation:
+
+"Rufus, it is never you?"
+
+He called out, almost loudly,
+
+"Alice!"
+
+Then I knew that it was the second time I had lifted a parasol
+from the ground for the lady of the grey pongee and did not see
+her face; but this time I placed it in her own hand; for my head
+bore no shame upon it now.
+
+In the surprise of encountering Poor Jr. I do not think she
+noticed that she took the parasol or was conscious of my
+presence, and it was but too secure that my young friend had
+forgotten that I lived. I think, in truth, I should have
+forgotten it myself, if it had not been for the leaping of my
+heart.
+
+Ah, that foolish dream of mine had proven true: I knew her, I
+knew her, unmistaking, without doubt or hesitancy--and in the
+dark! How should I know at the mere sound of her voice? I think
+I knew before she spoke!
+
+Poor Jr. had taken a step toward her as she fell back; I could
+only see the two figures as two shadows upon shadow, while for
+them I had melted altogether and was forgotten.
+
+"You think I have followed you," he cried, "but you have no
+right to think it. It was an accident and you've got to believe
+me!"
+
+"I believe you," she answered gently. "Why should I not?"
+
+"I suppose you want me to clear out again," he went on, "and I
+will; but I don't see why."
+
+Her voice answered him out of the shadow: "It is only you who
+make a reason why. I'd give anything to be friends with you;
+you've always known that."
+
+"Why can't we be?" he said, sharply and loudly. "I've changed a
+great deal. I'm very sensible, and I'll never bother you again
+-- that other way. Why shouldn't I see a little of you?"
+
+I heard her laugh then--happily, it seemed to me,--and I
+thought I perceived her to extend her hand to him, and that he
+shook it briefly, in his fashion, as if it had been the hand of
+a man and not that of the beautiful lady.
+
+"You know I should like nothing better in the world--since you
+tell me what you do," she answered.
+
+"And the other man?" he asked her, with the same hinting of
+sharpness in his tone. "Is that all settled?"
+
+"Almost. Would you like me to tell you?"
+
+"Only a little--please!"
+
+His voice had dropped, and he spoke very quietly, which
+startlingly caused me to realize what I was doing. I went out of
+hearing then, very softly. Is it creible that I found myself
+trembling when I reached the twilit piazza? It is true, and I
+knew that never, for one moment, since that tragic, divine day
+of her pity, had I wholly despaired of beholding her again; that
+in my most sorrowful time there had always been a little, little
+morsel of certain knowledge that I should some day be near her
+once more.
+
+And now, so much was easily revealed to me: it was to see her
+that the good Lambert R. Poor Jr., had come to Paris, preceding
+my patron; it was he who had passed with her on the last day of
+my shame, and whom she had addressed by his central name of
+Rufus, and it was to his hand that I had restored her parasol.
+
+I was to look upon her face at last--I knew it--and to speak
+with her. Ah, yes, I did tremble! It was not because I feared
+she might recognize her poor slave of the painted head-top, nor
+that Poor Jr. would tell her. I knew him now too well to think
+he would do that, had I been even that other of whom he had
+spoken, for he was a brave, good boy, that Poor Jr. No, it was a
+trembling of another kind--something I do not know how to
+explain to those who have not trembled in the same way; and I
+came alone to my room in the hotel, still trembling a little and
+having strange quickness of breathing in my chest.
+
+I did not make any light; I did not wish it, for the precious
+darkness of the Cathedral remained with me--magic darkness in
+which I beheld floating clouds made of the dust of gold and
+vanishing melodies. Any person who knows of these singular
+things comprehends how little of them can be told; but to those
+people who do not know of them, it may appear all great
+foolishness. Such people are either too young, and they must
+wait, or too old--they have forgotten!
+
+It was an hour afterward, and Poor Jr. had knocked twice at my
+door, when I lighted the room and opened it to him. He came in,
+excitedly flushed, and, instead of taking a chair, began to walk
+quickly up and down the floor.
+
+"I'm afraid I forgot all about you, Ansolini," he said, "but
+that girl I ran into is a--a Miss Landry, whom I have known a
+long--"
+
+I put my hand on his shoulder for a moment and said:
+
+"I think I am not so dull, my friend!"
+
+He made a blue flash at me with his eyes, then smiled and shook
+his head.
+
+"Yes, you are right," he answered, re-beginning his fast pace
+over the carpet. "It was she that I meant in Lucerne--I don't
+see why I should not tell you. In Paris she said she didn't want
+me to see her again until I could be--freiendly--the old way
+instead of something considerably different, which I'd grown
+to be. Well, I've just told her not only that I'd behave like a
+friend, but that I'd changed and felt like one. Pretty much of a
+lie that was!" He laighed, without any amusement. "But it was
+successful, and I suppose I can keep it up. At any rate we're
+going over to Venice with her and her mother to-morrow.
+Afterwards, we'll see them in Naples just before they sail."
+
+"To Venice with them!" I could not repress crying out.
+
+"Yes; we join parties for two days," he said, and stopped at a
+window and looked out attentively at nothing before he went on:
+"It won't be very long, and I don't suppose it will ever happen
+again. The other man is to meet them in Rome. He's a countryman
+of yours, and I believe--I believe it's--about--settled!"
+
+He pronounced these last words in an even voice, but how slowly!
+Not more slowly than the construction of my own response, which
+I heard myself making:
+
+"This countryman of mine--who is he?"
+
+"One of your kind of Kentucky Colonels," Poor Jr. laughed
+mournfully. At first I did not understand; then it came to me
+that he had sometimes previously spoken in that idiom of the
+nobles, and that it had been his custom to address one of his
+Parisian followers, a vicomte, as "Colonel."
+
+"What is his name?"
+
+"I can't pronounce it, and I don't know how to spell it," he
+answered. "And that doesn't bring me to the verge of the grave!
+I can bear to forget it, at least until we get to Naples!"
+
+He turned and went to the door, saying, cheerfully: "Well, old
+horse-thief" (such had come to be his name for me sometimes, and
+it was pleasant to hear), "we must be dressing. They're at this
+hotel, and we dine with them to-night."
+
+
+
+Chapter Six
+
+
+How can I tell of the lady of the pongee--now that I beheld
+her? Do you think that, when she came that night to the salon
+where we were awaiting her, I hesitated to lift my eyes to her
+face because of a fear that it would not be so beautiful as the
+misty sweet face I had dreamed would be hers? Ah, no! It was the
+beauty which was in her heart that had made me hers; yet I knew
+that she was beautiful. She was fair, that is all I can tell. I
+cannot tell of her eyes, her height, her mouth; I saw her
+through those clouds of the dust of gold--she was all glamour
+and light. It was to be seen that everyone fell in love with her
+at once; that the chef d'orchestre came and played to her; and
+the waiters--you should have observed them!--made silly,
+tender faces through the great groves of flowers with which Poor
+Jr. had covered the table. It was most difficult for me to
+address her, to call her "Miss Landry." It seemed impossible
+that she should have a name, or that I should speak to her
+except as "you."
+
+Even, I cannot tell very much of her mother, except that she was
+adorable because of her adorable relationship. She was florid,
+perhaps, and her conversation was of commonplaces and echoes,
+like my own, for I could not talk. It was Poor Jr. who made the
+talking, and in spite of the spell that was on me, I found
+myself full of admiration and sorrow for that brave fellow. He
+was all gaieties and little stories in a way I had never heard
+before; he kept us in quiet laughter; in a word, he was
+charming. The beautiful lady seemed content to listen with the
+greatest pleasure. She talked very little, except to encourage
+the young man to continue. I do not think she was brilliant, as
+they call it, or witty. She was much more than that in her
+comprehension, in her kindness--her beautiful kindness!
+
+She spoke only once directly to me, except for the little things
+one must say. "I am almost sure I have met you, Signor
+Ansolini."
+
+I felt myself burning up and knew that the conflagration was
+visible. So frightful a blush cannot be prevented by will-power,
+and I felt it continuing in hot waves long after Poor Jr. had
+effected salvation for me by a small joke upon my
+cosmopolitanism.
+
+Little sleep visited me that night. The darkness of my room was
+luminous and my closed eyes became painters, painting so
+radiantly with divine colours--painters of wonderful portraits
+of this lady. Gallery after gallery swam before me, and the
+morning brought only more!
+
+What a ride it was to Venice that day! What magical airs we rode
+through, and what a thieving old trickster was time, as he
+always becomes when one wishes hours to be long! I think Poor
+Jr. had made himself forget everything except that he was with
+her and that he must be a friend. He committed a thousand
+ridiculousnesses at the stations; he filled one side of the
+compartment with the pretty chianti-bottles, with terrible
+cakes, and with fruits and flowers; he never ceased his joking,
+which had no tiresomeness in it, and he made the little journey
+one of continuing, happy laughter.
+
+And that evening another of my foolish dreams came true! I sat
+in a gondola with the lady of the grey pongee to hear the
+singing on the Grand Canal;--not, it is true, at her feet, but
+upon a little chair beside her mother. It was my place--to be,
+as I had been all day, escort to the mother, and guide and
+courier for that small party. Contented enough was I to accept
+it! How could I have hoped that the Most Blessed Mother would
+grant me so much nearness as that? It was not happiness that I
+felt, but something so much more precious, as though my heart-
+strings were the strings of a harp, and sad, beautiful arpeggios
+ran over them.
+
+I could not speak much that evening, nor could Poor Jr. We were
+very silent and listened to the singing, our gondola just
+touching the others on each side, those in turn touching others,
+so that a musician from the barge could cross from one to
+another, presenting the hat for contributions. In spite of this
+extreme propinquity, I feared the collector would fall into the
+water when he received the offering of Poor Jr. It was
+"Gra-a-az', Mi-lor! Graz'!" a hundred times, with bows and
+grateful smiles indeed!
+
+It is the one place in the world where you listen to a bad voice
+with pleasure, and none of the voices are good--they are harsh
+and worn with the night-singing--yet all are beautiful because
+they are enchanted.
+
+They sang some of our own Neapolitan songs that night, and last
+of all the loveliest of all, "La Luna Nova." It was to the
+cadence of it that our gondoliers moved us out of the throng,
+and it still drifted on the water as we swung, far down, into
+sight of the lights of the Ledo:
+
+"Luna d'ar-gen-to fal-lo so-gnar--
+
+Ba-cia-lo in fron-te non lo de-star. . . ."
+
+Not so sweetly came those measures as the low voice of the
+beautiful lady speaking them.
+
+"One could never forget it, never!" she said. "I might hear it a
+thousand other times and forget them, but never this first
+time."
+
+I perceived that Poor Jr. turned his face abruptly toward hers
+at this, but he said nothing, by which I understood not only his
+wisdom but his forbearance.
+
+"Strangely enough," she went on, slowly, "that song reminded me
+of something in Paris. Do you remember"--she turned to Poor
+Jr.--"that poor man we saw in front of the Cafe' de la Paix
+with the sign painted upon his head?"
+
+Ah, the good-night, with its friendly cloak! The good, kind
+night!
+
+"I remember," he answered, with some shortness. "A little
+faster, boatman!"
+
+"I don't know what made it," she said, "I can't account for it,
+but I've been thinking of him all through that last song."
+
+Perhaps not so strange, since one may know how wildly that poor
+devil had been thinking of her!
+
+"I've thought of him so often," the gentle voice went on. "I
+felt so sorry for him. I never felt sorrier for any one in my
+life. I was sorry for the poor, thin cab-horses in Paris, but I
+was sorrier for him. I think it was the saddest sight I ever
+saw. Do you suppose he still has to do that, Rufus?"
+
+"No, no," he answered, in haste. "He'd stopped before I left.
+He's all right, I imagine. Here's the Danieli."
+
+She fastened a shawl more closely about her mother, whom I, with
+a ringing in my ears, was trying to help up the stone steps.
+"Rufus, I hope," the sweet voice continued, so gently,--"I
+hope he's found something to do that's very grand! Don't you?
+Something to make up to him for doing that!"
+
+She had not the faintest dream that it was I. It was just her
+beautiful heart.
+
+The next afternoon Venice was a bleak and empty setting, the
+jewel gone. How vacant it looked, how vacant it was! We made not
+any effort to penetrate the galleries; I had no heart to urge my
+friend. For us the whole of Venice had become one bridge of
+sighs, and we sat in the shade of the piazza, not watching the
+pigeons, and listening very little to the music. There are times
+when St. Mark's seems to glare at you with Byzantine cruelty,
+and Venice is too hot and too cold. So it was then. Evening
+found us staring out at the Adriatic from the terrace of a cafe'
+on the Ledo, our coffee cold before us. Never was a greater
+difference than that in my companion from the previous day. Yet
+he was not silent. He talked of her continually, having found
+that he could talk of her to me--though certainly he did not
+know why it was or how. He told me, as we sat by the grey-
+growing sea, that she had spoken of me.
+
+"She liked you, she liked you very much," he said. "She told me
+she liked you because you were quiet and melancholy. Oh Lord,
+though, she likes everyone, I suppose! I believe I'd have a
+better chance with her if I hadn't always known her. I'm afraid
+that this damn Italian--I beg your pardon, Ansolini!--"
+
+"Ah, no," I answered. "It is sometimes well said."
+
+"I'm afraid his picturesqueness as a Kentucky Colonel appeals to
+her too much. And then he is new to her--a new type. She only
+met him in Paris, and he had done some things in the Abyssinian
+war--"
+
+"What is his rank?" I asked.
+
+"He's a prince. Cheap down this way; aren't they? I only hope"
+--and Poor Jr. made a groan--"it isn't going to be the old
+story--and that he'll be good to her if he gets her."
+
+"Then it is not yet a betrothal?"
+
+"Not yet. Mrs. Landry told me that Alice had liked him well
+enough to promise she'd give him her answer before she sailed,
+and that it was going to be yes. She herself said it was almost
+settled. That was just her way of breaking it to me, I fear."
+
+"You have given up, my friend?"
+
+"What else can I do? I can't go on following her, keeping up
+this play at second cousin, and she won't have anything else.
+Ever since I grew up she's been rather sorrowful over me because
+I didn't do anything but try to amuse myself--that was one of
+the reasons she couldn't care for me, she said, when I asked
+her. Now this fellow wins, who hasn't done anything either,
+except his one campaign. It's not that I ought to have her, but
+while I suppose it's a real fascination, I'm afraid there's a
+little glitter about being a princess. Even the best of our
+girls haven't got over that yet. Ah, well, about me she's right.
+I've been a pretty worthless sort. She's right. I've thought it
+all over. Three days before they sail we'll go down to Naples
+and hear the last word, and whatever it is we'll see them off on
+the 'Princess Irene.' Then you and I'll come north and sail by
+the first boat from Cherbourg.
+
+"I--I?" I stammered.
+
+"Yes," he said. "I'm going to make the aged parent shout with
+unmanly glee. I'm going to ask him to take me on as a hand.
+He'll take you, too. He uses something like a thousand Italians,
+and a man to manage them who can talk to them like a Dutch uncle
+is what he has always needed. He liked you, and he'll be glad to
+get you."
+
+He was a good friend, that Poor Jr., you see, and I shook the
+hand that he offered me very hard, knowing how great would have
+been his embarrassment had I embraced him in our own fashion.
+
+"And perhaps you will sail on the 'Princess Irene,' after all,"
+I cried.
+
+"No," he shook his head sadly, "it will not happen. I have not
+been worth it."
+
+
+
+Chapter Seven
+
+
+That Naples of mine is like a soiled coronet of white gems,
+sparkling only from far away. But I love it altogether, near or
+far, and my heart would have leaped to return to it for its own
+sake, but to come to it as we did, knowing that the only lady in
+the world was there. . . . Again, this is one of those things I
+possess no knowledge how to tell, and that those who know do
+know. How I had longed for the time to come, how I had feared
+it, how I had made pictures of it!
+
+Yet I feared not so much as my friend, for he had a dim, small
+hope, and I had none. How could I have? I--a man whose head
+had been painted? I--for whom her great heart had sorrowed as
+for the thin, beaten cab-horses of Paris! Hope? All I could hope
+was that she might never know, and I be left with some little
+shred of dignity in her eyes!
+
+Who cannot see that it was for my friend to fear? At times, with
+him, it was despair, but of that brave kind one loves to see --
+never a quiver of the lip, no winking of the eyes to keep tears
+back. And I, although of a people who express everything in
+every way, I understood what passed within him and found time to
+sorrow for him.
+
+Most of all, I sorrowed for him as we waited for her on the
+terrace of the Bertolini, that perch on the cliff so high that
+even the noises of the town are dulled and mingle with the sound
+of the thick surf far below.
+
+Across the city, and beyond, we saw, from the terrace, the old
+mountain of the warm heart, smoking amiably, and the lights of
+Torre del Greco at its feet, and there, across the bay, I
+beheld, as I had nightly so long ago, the lamps of Castellamare,
+of Sorrento; then, after a stretch of water, a twinkling which
+was Capri. How good it was to know that all these had not taken
+advantage of my long absence to run away and vanish, as I had
+half feared they would. Those who have lived here love them
+well; and it was a happy thought that the beautiful lady knew
+them now, and shared them. I had never known quite all their
+loveliness until I felt that she knew it too. This was something
+that I must never tell her--yet what happiness there was in
+it!
+
+I stood close to the railing, with a rambling gaze over this
+enchanted earth and sea and sky, while my friend walked
+nervously up and down behind me. We had come to Naples in the
+late afternoon, and had found a note from Mrs. Landry at our
+hotel, asking us for dinner. Poor Jr. had not spoken more than
+twice since he had read me this kind invitation, but now I heard
+a low exclamation from him, which let me know who was
+approaching; and that foolish trembling got hold of me again as
+I turned.
+
+Mrs. Landry came first, with outstretched hand, making some talk
+excusing delay; and, after a few paces, followed the loveliest
+of all the world. Beside her, in silhouette against the white
+window lights of the hotel, I saw the very long, thin figure of
+a man, which, even before I recognized it, carried a certain
+ominousness to my mind.
+
+Mrs. Landry, in spite of her florid contentedness, had sometimes
+a fluttering appearance of trivial agitations.
+
+"The Prince came down from Rome this morning," she said
+nervously, and I saw my friend throw back his head like a man
+who declines the eye-bandage when they are going to shoot him.
+"He is dining with us. I know you will be glad to meet him."
+
+The beautiful lady took Poor Jr.'s hand, more than he hers, for
+he seemed dazed, in spite of the straight way he stood, and it
+was easy to behold how white his face was. She made the
+presentation of us both at the same time, and as the other man
+came into the light, my mouth dropped open with wonder at the
+singular chances which the littleness of our world brings about.
+
+"Prince Caravacioli, Mr. Poor. And this is Signor Ansolini."
+
+It was my half-brother, that old Antonio!
+
+
+
+Chapter Eight
+
+
+Never lived any person with more possession of himself than
+Antonio; he bowed to each of us with the utmost amiability; and
+for expression--all one saw of it was a little streak of light
+in his eye-glass.
+
+"It is yourself, Raffaele?" he said to me, in the politest
+manner, in our own tongue, the others thinking it some
+commonplace, and I knew by his voice that the meeting was as
+surprising and as exasperating to him as to me.
+
+Sometimes dazzling flashes of light explode across the eyes of
+blind people. Such a thing happened to my own, now, in the
+darkness. I found myself hot all over with a certain rashness
+that came to me. I felt that anything was possible if I would
+but dare enough.
+
+"I am able to see that it is the same yourself!" I answered, and
+made the faintest eye-turn toward Miss Landry. Simultaneously
+bowing, I let my hand fall upon my pocket--a language which he
+understood, and for which (the Blessed Mother be thanked!) he
+perceived that I meant to offer battle immediately, though at
+that moment he offered me an open smile of benevolence. He knew
+nothing of my new cause for war; there was enough of the old!
+
+The others were observing us.
+
+"You have met?" asked the gentle voice of Miss Landry. "You know
+each other?"
+
+"Exceedingly!" I answered, bowing low to her.
+
+"The dinner is waiting in our own salon," said Mrs. Landry,
+interrupting. She led the way with Antonio to an open door on
+the terrace where servants were attending, and such a forest of
+flowers on the table and about the room as almost to cause her
+escort to stagger; for I knew, when I caught sight of them, that
+he had never been wise enough to send them. Neither had Poor Jr.
+done it out of wisdom, but because of his large way of
+performing everything, and his wish that loveliest things should
+be a background for that lady.
+
+Alas for him! Those great jars of perfume, orchids and hyacinths
+and roses, almost shut her away from his vision. We were at a
+small round table, and she directly in opposition to him. Upon
+her right was Antonio, and my heart grew cold to see how she
+listened to him.
+
+For Antonio could talk. At that time he spoke English even
+better than I, though without some knowledge of the North-
+American idiom which my travels with Poor Jr. had given me. He
+was one of those splendid egoists who seem to talk in modesty,
+to keep themselves behind scenes, yet who, when the curtain
+falls, are discovered to be the heroes, after all, though shown
+in so delicate a fashion that the audience flatters itself in
+the discovery.
+
+And how practical was this fellow, how many years he had been
+developing his fascinations! I was the only person of that small
+company who could have a suspicion that his moustache was dyed,
+that his hair was toupee, or that hints of his real age were
+scorpions and adders to him. I should not have thought it, if I
+had not known it. Here was my advantage: I had known his
+monstrous vanity all my life.
+
+So he talked of himself in his various surreptitious ways until
+coffee came, Miss Landry listening eagerly, and my poor friend
+making no effort; for what were his quiet United States
+absurdities compared to the whole-world gaieties and Abyssinian
+adventures of this Othello, particularly for a young girl to
+whom Antonio's type was unfamiliar? For the first time I saw my
+young man's brave front desert him. His mouth drooped, and his
+eyes had an appearance of having gazed long at a bright light. I
+saw that he, unhappy one, was at last too sure what her answer
+would be.
+
+For myself, I said very little--I waited. I hoped and believed
+Antonio would attack me in his clever, disguised way, for he had
+always hated me and my dead brother, and he had never failed to
+prove himself too skilful for us. In my expectancy of his
+assault there was no mistake. I comprehended Antonio very well,
+and I knew that he feared I might seek to do him an injury,
+particularly after my inspired speech and gesture upon the
+terrace. Also, I felt that he would, if possible, anticipate my
+attempt and strike first. I was willing; for I thought myself in
+possession of his vulnerable point--never dreaming that he
+might know my own!
+
+At last when he, with the coffee and cigarettes, took the knife
+in his hand, he placed a veil over the point. He began,
+laughingly, with the picture of a pickpocket he had helped to
+catch in London. London was greatly inhabited by pickpockets,
+according to Antonio's declaration. Yet, he continued, it was
+nothing in comparison to Paris. Paris was the rendezvous, the
+world's home, for the criminals, adventurers, and rascals if the
+world, English, Spanish, South-Americans, North-Americans,--
+and even Italians! One must beware of people one had met in
+Paris!
+
+"Of course," he concluded, with a most amiable smile, "there are
+many good people there also. That is not to be forgotten. If I
+should dare to make a risk on such a trifle, for instance, I
+would lay wager that you"--he nodded toward Poor Jr.--"made
+the acquaintance of Ansolini in Paris?"
+
+This was of the greatest ugliness in its underneath
+significance, though the manner was disarming. Antonio's smile
+was so cheerful, his eye-glass so twinkling, that none of them
+could have been sure he truly meant anything harmful of me,
+though Poor Jr. looked up, puzzled and frowning.
+
+Before he could answer I pulled myself altogether, as they say,
+and leaned forward, resting my elbows upon the table. "It is
+true," and I tried to smile as amiably as Antonio. "These
+coincidences occur. You meet all the great frauds of the world
+in Paris. Was it not there"--I turned to Mrs. Landry--"that
+you met the young Prince here?"
+
+At this there was no mistaking that the others perceived. The
+secret battle had begun and was not secret. I saw a wild gleam
+in Poor Jr.'s eyes, as if he comprehended that strange things
+were to come; but, ah, the face of distress and wonder upon Mrs.
+Landry, who beheld the peace of both a Prince and a dinner
+assailed; and, alas! the strange and hurt surprise that came
+from the lady of the pongee! Let me not be a boastful fellow,
+but I had borne her pity and had adored it--I could face her
+wonder, even her scorn.
+
+It was in the flash of her look that I saw my great chance and
+what I must try to do. Knowing Antonio, it was as if I saw her
+falling into the deep water and caught just one contemptuous
+glance from her before the waves hid her. But how much juster
+should that contempt have been if I had not tried to save her!
+
+As for that old Antonio, he might have known enough to beware. I
+had been timid with him always, and he counted on it now, but a
+man who has shown a painted head-top to the people of Paris will
+dare a great deal.
+
+"As the Prince says," replied Mrs. Landry, with many flutters,
+"one meets only the most agreeable people in Paris!"
+
+"Paris!" I exclaimed. "Ah, that home of ingenuity! How they
+paint there! How they live, and how they dye--their beards!"
+
+You see how the poor Ansolini played the buffoon. I knew they
+feared it was wine, I had been so silent until now; but I did
+not care, I was beyond care.
+
+"Our young Prince speaks truly," I cried, raising my voice. "He
+is wise beyond his years, this youth! He will be great when he
+reaches middle age, for he knows Paris and understands North
+America! Like myself, he is grateful that the people of your
+continent enrich our own! We need all that you can give us!
+Where should we be--any of us" (I raised my voice still louder
+and waved my hand to Antonio),--"where should we be, either of
+us" (and I bowed to the others) "without you?"
+
+Mrs. Landry rose with precipitousness, and the beautiful lady,
+very red, followed. Antonio, unmistakably stung with the
+scorpions I had set upon him, sprang to the door, the palest
+yellow man I have ever beheld, and let the ladies pass before
+him.
+
+The next moment I was left alone with Poor Jr. and his hyacinth
+trees.
+
+
+
+Chapter Nine
+
+
+For several minutes neither of us spoke. Then I looked up to
+meet my friend's gaze of perturbation.
+
+A waiter was proffering cigars. I took one, and waved Poor Jr.'s
+hand away from the box of which the waiter made offering.
+
+"Do not remain!" I whispered, and I saw his sad perplexity. "I
+know her answer has not been given. Will you present him his
+chance to receive it--just when her sympathy must be stronger
+for him, since she will think he has had to bear rudeness?"
+
+He went out of the door quickly.
+
+I dod not smoke. I pretended to, while the waiters made the
+arrangements of the table and took themselves off. I sat there a
+long, long time waiting for Antonio to do what I hoped I had
+betrayed him to do.
+
+It befell at last.
+
+Poor Jr. came to the door and spoke in his steady voice.
+"Ansolini, will you come out here a moment?"
+
+Then I knew that I had succeeded, had made Antonio afraid that I
+would do the thing he himself, in a panic, had already done --
+speak evil of another privately.
+
+As I reached the door I heard him call out foolishly, "But Mr.
+Poor, I beg you--"
+
+Poor Jr. put his hand on my shoulder, and we walked out into the
+dark of the terrace. Antonio was leaning against the railing,
+the beautiful lady standing near. Mrs. Landry had sunk into a
+chair beside her daughter. No other people were upon the
+terrace.
+
+"Prince Caravacioli has been speaking of you," said Poor Jr.,
+very quietly.
+
+"Ah?" said I.
+
+"I listened to what he said; then I told him that you were my
+friend, and that I considered it fair that you should hear what
+he had to say. I will repeat what he said, Ansolini. If I
+mistake anything, he can interrupt me."
+
+Antonio laughed, and in such a way, so sincerely, so gaily, that
+I was frightened.
+
+"Very good!" he cried. "I am content. Repeat all."
+
+"He began," Poor Jr. went on, quietly, though his hand gripped
+my shoulder to almost painfulness,--"he began by saying to
+these ladies, in my presence, that we should be careful not to
+pick up chance strangers to dine, in Italy, and--and he went
+on to give me a repetition of his friendly warning about Paris.
+He hinted things for a while, until I asked him to say what he
+knew of you. Then he said he knew all about you; that you were
+an outcast, a left-handed member of his own family, an
+adventurer--"
+
+"It is finished, my friend," I said, interrupting him, and gazed
+with all my soul upon the beautiful lady. Her face was as white
+as Antonio's or that of my friend, or as my own must have been.
+She strained her eyes at me fixedly; I saw the tears standing
+still in them, and I knew the moment had come.
+
+"This Caravacioli is my half-brother," I said.
+
+Antonio laughed again. "Of what kind!"
+
+Oh, he went on so easily to his betrayal, not knowing the
+United-Statesians and their sentiment, as I did.
+
+"We had the same mother," I continued, as quietly as I could.
+"Twenty years after this young--this somewhat young--Prince
+was born she divorced his father, Caravacioli, and married a
+poor poet, whose bust you can see on the Pincian in Rome, though
+he died in the cheapest hotel in Sienna when my true brother and
+I were children. This young Prince would have nothing to do with
+my mother after her second marriage and--"
+
+"Marriage!" Antonio laughed pleasantly again. He was admirable.
+"This is an old tale which the hastiness of our American friend
+has forced us to rehearse. The marriage was never recognized by
+the Vatican, and there was not twenty years--"
+
+"Antonio, it is the age which troubles you, after all!" I said,
+and laughed heartily, loudly, and a long time, in the most good-
+natured way, not to be undone as an actor.
+
+"Twenty years," I repeated. "But what of it? Some of the best
+men in the world use dyes and false--"
+
+At this his temper went away from him suddenly and completely. I
+had struck the right point indeed!
+
+"You cammorrista!" he cried, and became only himself, his hands
+gesturing and flying, all his pleasant manner gone. "Why should
+we listen one second more to such a fisherman! The very seiners
+of the bay who sell dried sea-horses to the tourists are better
+gentlemen than you. You can shrug your shoulders! I saw you in
+Paris, though you thought I did not! Oh, I saw you well! Ah! At
+the Cafe de la Paiz!"
+
+At this I cried out suddenly. The sting and surprise of it were
+more than I could bear. In my shame I would even have tried to
+drown his voice with babblings but after this one cry I could
+not speak for a while. He went on triumphantly:
+
+"This rascal, my dear ladies, who has persuaded you to ask him
+to dinner, this camel who claims to be my excellent brother, he,
+for a few francs, in Paris, shaved his head and showed it for a
+week to the people with an advertisement painted upon it of the
+worst ballet in Paris. This is the gentleman with whom you ask
+Caravacioli to dine!"
+
+It was beyond my expectation, so astonishing and so cruel that I
+could only look at him for a moment or two. I felt as one who
+dreams himself falling forever. Then I stepped forward and
+spoke, in thickness of voice, being unable to lift my head:
+
+"Again it is true what he says. I was that man of the painted
+head. I had my true brother's little daughters to care for. They
+were at the convent, and I owed for them. It was also partly for
+myself, because I was hungry. I could find not any other way,
+and so--but that is all."
+
+I turned and went stumblingly away from them.
+
+In my agony that she should know, I could do nothing but seek
+greater darkness. I felt myself beaten, dizzy with beatings.
+That thing which I had done in Paris discredited me. A man whose
+head-top had borne an advertisement of the Folie-Rouge to think
+he could be making a combat with the Prince Caravacioli!
+
+Leaning over the railing in the darkest corner of the terrace, I
+felt my hand grasped secondarily by that good friend of mine.
+
+"God bless you!" whispered Poor Jr.
+
+"On my soul, I believe he's done himself. Listen!"
+
+I turned. That beautiful lady had stepped out into the light
+from the salon door. I could see her face shining, and her eyes
+--ah me, how glorious they were! Antonio followed her.
+
+"But wait," he cried pitifully.
+
+"Not for you!" she answered, and that voice of hers, always
+before so gentle, rang out as the Roman trumpets once rang from
+this same cliff. "Not for you! I saw him there with his painted
+head and I understood! You saw him there, and you did nothing to
+help him! And the two little children--your nieces, too,--
+and he your brother!"
+
+Then my heart melted and I found myself choking, for the
+beautiful lady was weeping.
+
+"Not for you, Prince Caravacioli," she cried, through her tears,
+--"Not for you!"
+
+
+
+Chapter Ten
+
+
+All of the beggars in Naples, I think, all of the flower-girls
+and boys, I am sure, and all the wandering serenaders, I will
+swear, were under our windows at the Vesuve, from six o'clock on
+the morning the "Princess Irene" sailed; and there need be no
+wonder when it is known that Poor Jr. had thrown handfuls of
+silver and five-lire notes from our balcony to strolling
+orchestras and singers for two nights before.
+
+They wakened us with "Addio, la bella Napoli, addio, addio!"
+sung to the departing benefactor. When he had completed his
+toilet and his coffee, he showed himself on the balcony to them
+for a moment. Ah! What a resounding cheer for the signore, the
+great North-American nobleman! And how it swelled to a
+magnificent thundering when another largess of his came flying
+down among them!
+
+Who could have reproved him? Not Raffaele Ansolini, who was on
+his knees over the bags and rugs! I think I even made some
+prolongation of that position, for I was far from assured of my
+countenance, that bright morning.
+
+I was not to sail in the "Princess Irene" with those dear
+friends. Ah no! I had told them that I must go back to Paris to
+say good-bye to my little nieces and sail from Boulogne--and I
+am sure they believed that was my reason. I had even arranged to
+go away upon a train which would make it not possible for me to
+drive to the dock with them. I did not wish to see the boat
+carry them away from me.
+
+And so the farewells were said in the street in all that crowd.
+Poor Jr. and I were waiting at the door when the carriage
+galloped up. How the crowd rushed to see that lady whom it bore
+to us, blushing and laughing! Clouds of gold-dust came before my
+eyes again; she wore once more that ineffable grey pongee!
+
+Servants ran forward with the effects of Poor Jr. and we both
+sprang toward the carriage.
+
+A flower-girl was offering a great basket of loose violets. Poor
+Jr. seized it and threw them like a blue rain over the two
+ladies.
+
+"Bravo! Bravo!"
+
+A hundred bouquets showered into the carriage, and my friend's
+silver went out in another shower to meet them.
+
+"Addio, la bella Napoli!" came from the singers and the violins,
+but I cried to them for "La Luna Nova."
+
+"Good-bye--for a little while--good-bye!"
+
+I knew how well my friend liked me, because he shook my hand
+with his head turned away. Then the grey glove of the beautiful
+lady touched my shoulder--the lightest touch in all the world
+--as I stood close to the carriage while Poor Jr. climbed in.
+
+"Good-bye. Thank you--and God bless you!" she said, in a low
+voice. And I knew for what she thanked me.
+
+The driver cracked his whip like an honest Neapolitan. The
+horses sprang forward. "Addio, addio!"
+
+I sang with the musicians, waving and waving and waving my
+handkerchief to the departing carriage.
+
+Now I saw my friend lean over and take the beautiful lady by the
+hand, and together they stood up in the carriage and waved their
+handkerchiefs to me. Then, but not because they had passed out
+of sight, I could see them not any longer.
+
+They were so good--that kind Poor Jr. and the beautiful lady;
+they seemed like dear children--as if they had been my own
+dear children.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Beautiful Lady, by Booth Tarkington 
+
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