5EV 
 
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 v. 
 
 PLVH 
 
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 PROPERTV OF 
 
 CINCINNATI, OHIO. 
 
 WTRAND SMITH* 
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 ON BFACH r:A! 1"
 
 by 
 
 ONE SUMMER. A Novel. Illustrated by AUGUSTUS 
 HOPPIN. i6mo, $ 1.25. 
 
 ONE YEAR ABROAD. European Travel Sketches. i8mo, 
 $1.25. 
 
 THE OPEN DOOR. i2mo, $1.5 \ paper, 3 cents. 
 AULNAY TOWER. i2mo, $1.50 ; paper, 50 cents. 
 AUNT SERENA. i6mo, $1.25 ; paper, 50 cents. 
 GUENN. Illustrated. i2mo, $i. 50; paper, 50 cents. 
 
 NO HEROES. A Book for Boys. Illustrated. Square 
 i2mo. 75 cents. 
 
 A FELLOWE AND HIS WIFE. By BLANCHE WILLIS 
 HOWARD and WILLIAM SHARP. i6mo, $1.25; paper, 50 
 cents. 
 
 SEVEN ON THE HIGHWAY. i6mo, $1.25. 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY, 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK.
 
 SEVEN ON THE 
 HIGHWAY 
 
 BY 
 
 BLANCHE WILLIS HOWARD 
 
 AUTHOR OF "GUENN," "THE OPEN DOOR" 
 "ONE SUMMER," ETC. 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
 re#, Cambri&0e 
 
 MDCCCXCVH
 
 r 7 
 
 L l 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1897, BY 
 
 BLANCHE WILLIS HOWARD VON TEUFFEL 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
 
 You try to set yourself apart from the 
 vulgar. It is in vain. In that instant 
 vulgarity attaches itself to you. 
 
 CARPENTER S Towards Democracy.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL i 
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 56 
 
 THALATTA! 90 
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 114 
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED . . 174 
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW ... 211 
 
 ALL SAILS SPREAD FOR MONKEYLAND . 245
 
 SEVEN ON THE HIGHWAY 
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 I 
 
 MARIGOLD -MICHEL strode 
 down the mountain. It was 
 five o clock in the morning, and 
 the world was fresh. From his broad- 
 brimmed rush hat wreathed with marsh 
 marigolds, streamed long stems of oak 
 leaves dancing and nodding like a cava 
 lier s plumes. His face was brown, gay, 
 and clean-shaved except for a big mus 
 tache rather yellower than his faded hat, 
 or even the straggling ends of fair hair 
 curling loosely on his shoulders. On his 
 arm he carried a large basket covered 
 with plantain leaves ; strapped upon his 
 back, a canister ; thrust through his belt, 
 a peasant s knife sheathed and a solid
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 bunch of marigolds. Tall, powerfully 
 built, in a weather-beaten brown jacket, 
 his long legs encased in foresters boots 
 of stout russet leather reaching halfway 
 up the thigh, he swung along as if his 
 soul were singing a blithe tune. The 
 woods were full of birds ; he piped to 
 them like a thrush-initiate. The trees 
 were his own familiar friends. He smiled 
 as in response to the vehement babble 
 of the small brook that accompanied his 
 swift feet down the slope. 
 
 Not far from the edge of the forest he 
 crossed a few fields and approached a 
 lonely hut. Deftly as he took from his 
 basket and put upon the window-ledge 
 some cresses, mint, mushrooms, Wald- 
 meister, and a few flowers, the casement 
 opened slightly, and a voice gruff as that 
 of Red Riding Hood s pseudo-grandmo 
 ther croaked, "Is that you, Michel ? " 
 
 " Yes, granny. I hope you are feel 
 ing comfortable this morning." 
 
 " Comfortable ? Pray what should 
 make me comfortable, I d like to know ? 
 Old age and poverty and the rheumatism 
 in every bone I Ve got ? Being shunned
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 like poison, and my great-grandson a jail 
 bird ? Comfortable ! That s your fool- 
 talk, Marigold-Michel." 
 
 "All right, granny," the man returned 
 cheerily. "Can I do anything for you 
 in town ? " 
 
 " Oh, it s town-day again, is it ? No 
 thing better to do than to strut about 
 with your weeds dangling, and the folk 
 a-staring ? " 
 
 " Not much," he said, with an amused 
 laugh. 
 
 " Laughing s cheap!" she growled. 
 "Wait till you are a rheumatic old wo 
 man neglected of every mortal soul, your 
 own children quarreling with you tooth 
 and nail whenever they cross your thresh 
 old, and Hans in jail." 
 
 "I know, I know," he answered sooth 
 ingly, his voice indulgent and mellow. 
 " There s a lot of bad luck in the world." 
 
 " You don t know, Marigold-Michel ! " 
 retorted the exasperated voice behind 
 the casement. " Nobody knows any 
 thing about my rheumatism. Those that 
 never had any better keep still. It stands 
 to reason they know nothing about it. 
 3
 
 MARIGOLD-MIC HEL 
 
 Those that had it once, they ve forgot 
 ten, and what they say is trash and fibs ; 
 they re only making themselves impor 
 tant. And those that have got it, they 
 are thinking of their own pains every 
 breath they draw, and that s why I say 
 nobody on earth knows anything about 
 my rheumatism." 
 
 " Come, granny, what do you want to 
 day ? A little snuff ? " 
 
 "That last was pretty nasty," she 
 grumbled. 
 
 " We 11 try to get some that s good. 
 And a wee drop of gin ? That s a bit 
 comforting for our rheumatism, eh, 
 granny ? " 
 
 "Any child knows that without ask- 
 ing." 
 
 "Coffee?" 
 
 "Perhaps you think the last quarter- 
 pound parcel you brought ought to last 
 forever ? " she rejoined acrimoniously. 
 
 " Fuel you have for a month, at least, 
 and beer and potatoes ; bread and milk 
 and eggs the child Genoveva brings. 
 As to Hans, poor little chap, I shall go 
 to see him to-day, if they 11 let me in. 
 4
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 But he s all right. He had no more to 
 do with the burglary than I had. If he 
 refuses to explain why he was lurking in 
 the neighborhood, it s a sure case of 
 sweetheart." . 
 
 " Minx ! " 
 
 " But I think he will tell me about it. 
 He s rather fond of me. He inherits it 
 from his great-grandmother." 
 
 " Rubbish ! " 
 
 " And he 11 be up to see you before 
 long." 
 
 " If he dare to show himself, I 11 tell 
 him he s disgraced the family, and I 11 
 slam the door in his face." 
 
 " And drive away the only one of your 
 children s children that still comes to 
 brighten you up a bit ? The youngest, 
 little Hans ! Oh, you 11 never do 
 that. I know you better. You 11 be very 
 amiable and affable, and awfully nice, 
 granny, and you 11 give him a mug of 
 beer, and bid him come again as soon 
 as ever he can and bring his sweet 
 heart." 
 
 " H m ! Michel, I want a hank of 
 yarn, gray yarn : plain, not mottled ; 
 5
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 dark, not light ; and medium, neither 
 coarse nor fine. Here s a sample, which 
 of course you 11 lose, and you 11 come 
 back empty-handed and say you forgot. 
 It s a mean sort of world for a poor lone 
 lame old woman. If you re young and 
 strong and go-as-you-please, with a hoity- 
 toity and a whoop and hurrah and hulla 
 baloo, and " 
 
 " Now I m off. I 11 fetch all your 
 things, never fear. And I would n t be 
 quite so solitary, day in, day out. Why 
 do you not talk with Genoveva ? " 
 
 "You live alone yourself, Marigold- 
 Michel ! " 
 
 " Quite true. She s a jolly little maid, 
 and might amuse you. Can t you tell 
 her a story or something ? " 
 
 " Her mother, the last time she ever 
 came, said in my very face that I " 
 
 " Oh, but the child is not to blame that 
 all you people have spicy tongues. To 
 morrow I 11 come down and spend the 
 afternoon with you if I may, being, as 
 you say, so alone myself. I m weaving 
 a new basket, and will bring my work 
 along." 
 
 6
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 "Then see that you wipe your great 
 dirty boots. I 11 not have my floor lit 
 tered with rushes or tracked with black 
 slime from the woods." 
 
 The tall man stood bending toward the 
 tiny curtained casement which screened 
 his amused smile. 
 
 "We ll have a famous gossip." 
 
 " If you bring any news worth hear 
 ing. Your talk is mostly as dull as a 
 son-in-law." 
 
 " Good-by, granny. Take care of 
 yourself." 
 
 " If I don t, nobody else will, that s 
 pretty clear." 
 
 " Michel ! " she called presently. 
 
 He stopped and turned. " Well, 
 granny ? 
 
 "Those last mushrooms were vile." 
 
 He let loose a long-suppressed chuckle 
 before calling back politely, "These, to 
 day, are better, I hope." 
 
 " You 11 poison me yet ! " 
 
 He went on a few steps. 
 
 " Michel ! " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Plain gray." 
 
 7
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 " Not mottled," he returned jovially. 
 
 "Dark." 
 
 " Not light." 
 
 " Medium," she insisted. 
 
 " Neither coarse nor fine." 
 
 " Michel ! " 
 
 " Yes, granny, but say it all, this time." 
 
 "Well, you needn t be so impatient. 
 Men-folks never have the least control 
 of their tempers." Her grim and wiz 
 ened face, framed by a nightcap, peered 
 out of the window. " Tell Hans he may 
 come up when he gets out. You 11 get 
 the lad out sure, won t you, Marigold- 
 Michel ? And tell him not to be such a 
 dyed-in-the-wool idiot another time ! " 
 
 Michel swung his hat, and shouted in 
 a great sonorous voice, " I 11 tell him 
 you know he is innocent, and long to see 
 him ! " 
 
 "Well, don t roar the roof off." 
 
 Her suspicious, thankless gaze mus 
 tered his offerings on the window-ledge. 
 
 "Michel!" she screamed, "these 
 cresses ! " and again, " Michel ! " or some 
 other sound of rasping protest jarred 
 across the quiet fields.
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 But he, going on at a great pace, took 
 care not to pause again or turn his head. 
 
 " Hullo there ! Stop that, will you ? 
 Stop, I say ! " he commanded, as he 
 reached the main road, where, at the foot 
 of a steep byway, a peasant stood pom 
 meling his nag with the butt end of his 
 whip, and had already lifted a hobnailed 
 boot. 
 
 Presently he crawled from the gutter, 
 and rubbed various portions of his per 
 son as he advanced red and scowling 
 toward Michel, who remarked, " Directly, 
 directly," in an amiable and slightly pre 
 occupied tone. 
 
 Having propped the cartwheels, Michel 
 was engaged in inspecting the animal, 
 freeing his head, loosening straps, giving 
 him a little water, and, with a wet sponge 
 from the botanical canister, wiping the 
 dust from his eyes and nostrils. 
 
 " What the devil are you doing to my 
 horse ? " 
 
 " Encouraging him." 
 
 " What do you mean by pitching me 
 into the gutter ? " 
 
 "It was necessary." 
 9
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 " I 11 teach you ! " blustered the peas 
 ant, squaring. 
 
 " Do," said Michel pleasantly. 
 
 But eying the other s size and shape, 
 the man came no nearer. 
 
 " I 11 complain of you. I 11 have you 
 up for it. Who are you, anyhow, with 
 your silly looks and woman s hair, and 
 posies like a lovesick maid ? Why, wait ! 
 I say ! I ve heard of you. Your name s 
 Michel, Wildflower-Michel." 
 
 "That is one of my names." 
 
 "Marigold-Michel." 
 
 "That is another." 
 
 " Fool-Michel." 
 
 " At your service." 
 
 "Well, I ll not fight a fool." 
 
 " Nor I," returned Michel genially. 
 
 The man stared and slowly grinned, 
 watched him awhile, and said at last : 
 " Just leave me my own horse, will you, 
 Fool-Michel ? I must get on." 
 
 " You Ve lost no time. He 11 go now 
 without blows. I ve whispered in his 
 ear." 
 
 " Oh yes, I ve heard of your tricks," 
 muttered the peasant, reluctantly credu-
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 lous. " See here. It s my horse, and 
 none of your business, but even a fool 
 can see there s nothing the matter with 
 him." 
 
 " He s a good little beast, not ill fed, 
 but overloaded and fagged. Galled here, 
 too, see ? I Ve protected it. You Ve 
 come far, I presume ? " 
 
 " I Ve been on the road four days, and 
 not hit him once until he was jaloux just 
 now." 
 
 Michel repressed a smile at the odd 
 foreign word, a relic of the French oc 
 cupation, and used in all seriousness by 
 peasants of that region exclusively for 
 balky horses. 
 
 " Then why did you begin ? " 
 
 " Because I Ve got an ill boy. He s 
 all the boy I have. Perhaps it would 
 get into your own nerves, Fool-Michel, 
 to see the nag go jaloux so near home." 
 
 " What ails your boy ? " 
 
 " As if I knew ! He hangs his head 
 and moans, my wife writes. There never 
 was anything the matter with him be 
 fore," the man exclaimed indignantly. 
 
 " How old is he ? "
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 "Eight years old next September." 
 
 " Your name and village." 
 
 The peasant gave them. 
 
 " I 11 come to see him to-morrow morn 
 ing. Send for the doctor at once. See, 
 the horse pulls well. It s only the start 
 that s steep. Take care of him. You 11 
 have to pay somewhere, somehow, for 
 every blow you give him. A good wash- 
 down and extra feed, eh ? I m sorry 
 about your boy. But cheer up. You 
 may find him brighter than you expect." 
 
 Michel had walked a short distance 
 with the cart. In his manner was a cer 
 tain benevolent authority, an innocent 
 lordliness, and he no longer spoke in dia 
 lect. With a friendly tap on the man s 
 shoulder, he turned back. 
 
 " I say, you re no fool, are you, now ? " 
 demanded the peasant, staring curiously. 
 
 But Michel merely smiled, and walked 
 off swiftly. The other, looking after him, 
 noted the waving oak plumage and all 
 the yellow bravery, and grinned. 
 
 " Anybody d know he was a fool ! 
 Get along, old fellow. We re almost 
 home." Cheerfully cracking his whip,
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 he slapped with harmless palm the will 
 ing horse, now pulling stoutly up the 
 hill. 
 
 Down the long road to the town went 
 Michel, now and again branching off to 
 the right or left to leave a rare botanical 
 specimen with a world-forgotten old pro 
 fessor, a bunch of wood violets, anem 
 ones, or ferns at the doors of humble 
 and mostly cross-grained invalids. Cer 
 tain sylvan wares he sold at early mar 
 ket for fair prices, and jested in dialect 
 and rough humor with old wives who 
 hailed him jovially. 
 
 Everywhere he was greeted with nods, 
 smiles, and chaff. A coarse fellow on a 
 tram, winking at his mates, called out 
 as Michel sat rearranging his basket, 
 "What s that yellow M for in that 
 bunch of wildflowers ?" 
 
 Michel, silent, foolish and sly with half- 
 closed lids, bent over his posies and moss. 
 
 "What does it cost, Michel ? " 
 
 " Fifty pfennigs." 
 
 "But for my sweetheart, because her 
 name is Marie, you 11 sell it me cheap 
 er ? " 
 
 3
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 " Is his sweetheart s name Marie ? " 
 inquired Michel. 
 
 "It really is," several asserted, laugh 
 ing. 
 
 "Give it me for twenty pfennigs be 
 cause her name begins with M," urged 
 the red-faced jester. 
 
 Michel extended the bouquet. "Give 
 it her for comfort," he added gravely, 
 amid the laughter of the men. "And 
 keep your twenty pfennigs. You look 
 as if you d need them when you go to 
 housekeeping." 
 
 " When he is in a good vein he makes 
 very fair shots. Such foolish fellows 
 of ten can," a solemn gentleman explained 
 as Michel stepped off the tram. 
 
 Passing rapidly by an hotel entrance, 
 he nearly ran into an immaculate man of 
 fashion emerging languidly in clothes of 
 which the elbows and knees knew no de 
 rogatory wrinkles, and the shirt-collar was 
 like unto a high and shining tower, so 
 that when the wearer turned his head he 
 had to turn his toes. The two exchanged 
 brief glances. An involuntary smile of 
 amazement crept into the stranger s eyes. 
 14
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 " Good Lord ! " reflected the emanci 
 pated one, stretching himself in his lazy 
 woolens, "to think I too used to thrust 
 my body into broadcloth tubes and hang 
 a glazed platter on my breast ! " 
 
 In a sculptor s studio he posed long. 
 
 "Ah, give me another hour, Michel. 
 I 11 make it worth your while." 
 
 "Not for your weight in gold." 
 
 "Ah, Michel, an idle, devil-may-care, 
 happy vagabond like you ! " 
 
 "Not to-day." 
 
 " But to-morrow ? " 
 
 "Not to-morrow. Saturday all day, 
 if you like." 
 
 " Is it a sweetheart that makes you so 
 inflexible ? " 
 
 " Sweethearts, yes." 
 
 " I cannot make head or tail of the 
 fellow," said the sculptor to his friend. 
 
 " At all events, you are making a glo 
 rious Siegfried of him." 
 
 The two studied the wet clay in silence 
 for some time, pacing solemnly round it, 
 hands behind them, chins in the air. 
 
 "It s great." 
 
 " Well," the artist returned, drawing a
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 deep breath and smiling, " at least it s 
 the best I Ve done yet. I m supersti 
 tious about it," he added, covering it 
 with a damp cloth. " I scarcely dare 
 look at it when Michel s not here. I 
 posed him several times. No good. 
 How s this ? he asked suddenly. 
 Don t budge for your life ! I cried, and 
 worked like a madman. It s a superb 
 body the queer fellow s got." 
 
 " But a bee in his bonnet." 
 
 " If he is half-witted, I wish I had the 
 other half. That is why I tell you I 
 don t know what to make of him. You 
 meet him in the street, where he wears, 
 for reasons of his own, a foolish counte 
 nance. What of that ? Do not even the 
 pillars of society the same, and never sus 
 pect it ? Here, hour after hour, though 
 he is silent and keeps a wonderfully 
 straight face, the spirit of the man speaks. 
 He simply cannot disguise intelligence 
 and education. I d swear he knows the 
 meaning of everything here, of all our 
 talk and traps. He likes it. He knows 
 authors. The other day, I caught in the 
 mirror there his quick smile as some of 
 16
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 us were quarreling over a quotation from 
 Pindar, Leo mangling it awfully, and 
 old Arnim spouting Greek like a school 
 boy. The man s a gentleman, or I m 
 daft. The first day he posed he did n t 
 like it, you know, and he hated the 
 money for it. I cannot explain why, but 
 when he got up there stripped, and 
 turned his eyes on me, I had a vision of 
 a soldier marched out to be shot by his 
 comrades." 
 
 " Oh, come, you are fanciful ! Of 
 course he gathers up the crumbs that 
 fall from your table. He continually 
 hears the art-chatter of you men here. 
 But you are off the scent, I assure you. 
 You are not yet acquainted with all our 
 landmarks. Marigold-Michel is a public 
 character, who has been roaming about 
 here ten or fifteen years ; twenty, for all 
 I know to the contrary. Children adore 
 him. He s a sort of Pied Piper minus 
 the pipe. Always looks the same. No 
 body knows his age. But he s a bit gray 
 at the temples, I noticed to-day." 
 
 "On one side only. He may have 
 been that at twenty." 
 17
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 " Well, my dear fellow, he may be less 
 foolish than he acts, I grant you ; al 
 though I incline to the current belief in 
 his silliness, he does get himself up so 
 like a male travesty of Ophelia, don t you 
 know ? " 
 
 " He s a better dressed man than you 
 or I." 
 
 The other shrugged his shoulders. 
 "If you mount that hobby, I yield at 
 discretion. But anyhow he s a simple 
 rustic : you cannot rout me on that 
 point." 
 
 " It is possible you are right," returned 
 the sculptor, lighting another cigarette; 
 " but then, you see, I know better. How 
 ever, since he elects to travel incognito, 
 I shall be precious careful to respect his 
 whim." 
 
 " Yes, for either there is nothing be 
 hind the mask, or something monstrously 
 unsavory." 
 
 "Exactly. Whereas my model, Mi 
 chel the marvelous, Michel the magnifi 
 cent " 
 
 " Non olet!" suggested the other, 
 smiling. " Suppose we go to lunch." 
 18
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 Meanwhile, Michel was passed along 
 with due ceremony by liveried servants 
 through the courtyard, portals, stairways, 
 and corridors of a palace. These men, 
 although, being the lackeys of a duke, 
 very great men indeed, were less haughty 
 to Michel than to small tradespeople and 
 such trash. The ducal retainers even 
 smiled upon him, with a certain contemp 
 tuous tolerance of his vagaries. Men 
 growing rotund upon the bread and beer 
 of idleness, and displaying the splendors 
 of scarlet and gold raiment and opulent 
 calves, naturally found Michel s costume 
 ludicrous, and his habit of tramping over 
 hill and dale fatuity. Still, he too was 
 a sort of vassal of the palace. At all 
 events, he came often and was always 
 admitted. Then he could do an obli 
 ging thing for one, as many of them 
 knew from experience. So the languid 
 great men were not more than pheno 
 menally insolent, as Michel was announced 
 along the line and advanced in proper 
 form from pillar to post, until he stood 
 on the threshold of a large and some 
 what darkened room, where from a 
 19
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 cot-bed a long, " Ah ! " of intense relief 
 greeted him, and a child s voice, sharp 
 and imperious, cried, " Everybody go ex 
 cept Michel ! " 
 
 A nurse, a maid, and a man obediently 
 stole out. 
 
 " Where you left off ! " commanded 
 the small pale tyrant. " Begin exactly 
 where you left off, Michel ! " 
 
 II 
 
 " So the King and his fifty glittering 
 knights rode ever on and on, day after 
 day, month after month, in the Strange 
 Country," began Michel, advancing slowly 
 down the long room, his green leaves nod 
 ding, his marigolds and bright hair shin 
 ing, as he crossed some fugitive sunbeam 
 that stole in despite Venetian blinds and 
 draperies. Smiling, moving very slowly, 
 telling the tale as if born for the purpose, 
 he came on, his eyes fixed upon the child, 
 who, with the habitual frown of pain on 
 his forehead and drawn lines of pain 
 about his mouth, watched breathless, ex 
 ultant " in the Strange Country, which
 
 M ARIGOLD-MIC HEL 
 
 became ever stranger. The trees and the 
 grass were sapphire blue. The birds were 
 snow white, marvelous in song, and not 
 one was smaller than an eagle. Voices 
 called, one knew not from whence, in 
 words no man had ever heard. Jewels 
 grew on stalks, and the knights, as you 
 may believe, were not too proud to fill 
 their pockets. But as all the streams ran 
 molten silver, and the noble company, 
 having ridden far without resting, were 
 consumed with thirst, and ready, man 
 and beast, to drop from weariness, even 
 diamonds and rubies as big as your fist 
 began to pall upon them, and they would 
 have given all that they possessed for a 
 cup of cold water. Encircling the vast 
 plain loomed the blood-red smoking moun 
 tains of the Strange Country, and as yet 
 was no sign of a town or any human habi 
 tation. So the knights were despondent, 
 and the King no less, but no man uttered 
 his thought. 
 
 " Presently they heard a delicious 
 splashing. Hastening past a luxuriant 
 mass of beautiful aluminum shrubbery, 
 to their exceeding joy they discovered a
 
 MARIGOLD-MIC HEL 
 
 fountain of purest water playing into a 
 tiny lake. 
 
 "As quick as a flash the king s cup 
 bearer whipped out his tray and golden 
 cup. 
 
 " Nay, lad, quoth the King, rather 
 thus ! Promptly kneeling upon his 
 royal knees, he drank with his kingly 
 lips from the refreshing stream, thereby 
 proving what an exceptionally clever and 
 enlightened monarch he was, while the 
 fifty glittering knights stood in a row 
 with courtly mien, each wishing for all 
 he was worth that his Majesty would be 
 quick about it. 
 
 " But when the King had drunk copi 
 ously, thoroughly quenched his thirst, 
 and would fain withdraw his august head, 
 he found that his great beard, five and a 
 half feet long, was clutched and held 
 immovable in the water by hands that 
 seemed to weigh a ton, and a voice from 
 the depths cried : 
 
 " You are in my power, O King, and 
 the swords of your knights are naught 
 against my spells. Speak not to them. 
 If you call, they will immediately be-
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 come aluminum. There they will stand, 
 and here you will remain, until you ac 
 cede to the request I shall shortly make, 
 as soon as I think you able to bear it. 
 
 "Now only a king with a beard five 
 and a half feet long, the pride of the 
 kingdom, can appreciate the subtle awk 
 wardness of this situation ; not to men 
 tion the obvious indignity of having one s 
 royal mane pulled at all, and the em 
 barrassing consciousness that fifty good 
 knights and true are thirstily drawn up 
 on the shore, and etiquette forbids them 
 to cool their parched throats and those 
 of their red roan and piebald steeds, until 
 the sacred person of royalty rises from 
 its knees and gives them a chance. 
 
 " Listen, O King/ said the awful gur 
 gle in the depths. I will release you 
 upon one sole, single, and solitary condi 
 tion. You will pledge your sovereign 
 word that on your return to your own 
 realm, to your people, your palace, and 
 your queen, you will " 
 
 Across Michel s mouth the child sud 
 denly clapped his hand, exclaiming, 
 "Time sup! Halt!" 
 23
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 The tale stopped short. The boy 
 closed his eyes and sighed. " Oh, Mi 
 chel, nobody s got any sense but you." 
 
 Michel inspected him closely and said 
 nothing. 
 
 The child seized the rustic hat and 
 patted the marigolds. " Nice ! " he mur 
 mured. His gaze wandered with gloat 
 ing delight over the details of the man s 
 costume. " The others bore me so. They 
 are all idiots, except mamma. I say, 
 Michel, how long could you rattle on like 
 that miles ? " 
 
 Michel laughed. " Like that ? Well, 
 yes, I rather think so." 
 
 " Some time I 11 try you a whole day." 
 
 " All right. In the woods. But there 
 we 11 have better things to do than to spin 
 that rubbish." 
 
 " It is rubbish if you hear a lot," the 
 boy remarked dispassionately. 
 
 " I should say so." 
 
 " But a little of it is nice, and I stopped 
 you at exactly the right place. For I 
 shall be wondering until next time what 
 old Gurgle was going to make King Long- 
 beard promise. So I shall enjoy it three 
 24
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 times, don t you see ? now, and next 
 time, and all the time between." 
 
 " Little sybarite ! " 
 
 " I know what that means." 
 
 " You know a lot too much. Wait till 
 I get you in the woods ten miles from 
 your books." 
 
 " Ah, Michel, the woods ! But in this 
 stupid place a fellow has to read, you 
 know." 
 
 "Such awfully old books for such a 
 little man." 
 
 " Wait, Michel ! " cried the boy eagerly. 
 " How would you account for this ? Solon 
 said, Call no man happy till he dies. But 
 Socrates said, No harm can befall the 
 truly wise man. Now, I think Solon 
 was a coward and afraid of life, and Soc 
 rates was brave : and that is how I ac 
 count for it, Michel, don t you see ! " 
 
 " Yes, I see," said Michel gravely. 
 
 The child s hands strayed like a baby s 
 over his big friend s face, patting it, pull 
 ing and remodeling. 
 
 " I say, Michel, why don t you wax 
 the ends of your mustache, like papa ? 
 Would n t you be a guy ! No, don t. 
 25
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 Don t do a single thing different. Just 
 stay so, Michel, exactly as you are, your 
 hair, your clothes, and all of you, do you 
 hear ? " 
 
 " All right, my Lord Duke. I 11 not 
 budge an inch, I promise you, from the 
 ways I find most comfortable." 
 
 " Michel," demanded the boy, with a 
 sudden gleam of malice on his sensitive, 
 mobile, and far too clever face, " how do 
 you know anything about Socrates and 
 Solon ? " 
 
 " Oh, that amount of wisdom one can 
 buy for a penny at the first bookstall." 
 
 "Why do you speak peasant dialect 
 before the servants, and like a gentleman 
 when you are alone with me ? " 
 
 "Do I ? " asked Michel placidly. 
 
 " Michel, you are a gentleman ! " ex 
 claimed the boy triumphantly. 
 
 " Oh, come, now, Azor ! Do I like 
 you because you are his Gracelessness 
 the little Duke of Spitzfels-Hochstberg- 
 Aussicht-iiber-Alles ? " 
 
 " Oh, what a funny name ! It does 
 sound like ours, though," laughed Azor. 
 
 " Or because you happen to be a little 
 26
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 chap I like ? And suppose I were the 
 Emperor of Japan in disguise, would you 
 like me better ? " 
 
 " I could n t like you any better, Mi 
 chel," Azor answered, with extreme sim 
 plicity and sweetness. " I like you best 
 except mamma." 
 
 " Besides " 
 
 "Well?" the boy said sharply, divin 
 ing Michel s thought. 
 
 Smiling, tender, ironical, boundlessly 
 indulgent, the big man continued, 
 "There s no possible doubt that Kon- 
 stantin Albrecht Azor Karl Eugen is a 
 gentleman, I presume ? " 
 
 " No," returned the little duke haugh 
 tily. 
 
 " And you and I are friends, are we 
 not ? " 
 
 " Yes, Michel." 
 
 "Well, then." 
 
 The boy s eyelids drooped an instant. 
 Presently he looked up into the face 
 bending over him and said peevishly, 
 "You are awfully unkind not to come 
 here and live." 
 
 " I could not, dear boy. I have ex- 
 27
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 plained that before. I have other things 
 to do and other people to see." 
 
 " Other boys with hips ? " asked Azor 
 jealously. 
 
 " No. Besides, if I were always here, 
 you d not like me as well. You d get 
 tired of me." 
 
 " Mamma is always here." 
 
 " Your mamma is a most lovely lady." 
 
 " And you are Marigold-Michel ! " 
 
 " But you d not get tired of me in 
 the woods, little man. That I promise. 
 When once they let you come, when once 
 you are well enough." 
 
 " I ve waited so long," wailed Azor. 
 " I m always waiting. I m dead tired 
 of everything except mamma. I hate 
 this nasty room ; I hate to be carried 
 about the garden in an old box in a foot 
 man s arms ; I hate to drive in the stupid 
 park. Oh, I do want to go and live in 
 the woods with you ! Oh, dear ! Oh, 
 dear!" he moaned, all his precocious 
 wisdom fled. 
 
 "You are very tired to-day, my poor 
 little Azor. You slept badly, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Yes, and I would n t let nurse know.
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 I hate her fussing and her horrid-tasting 
 things. Oh, how they all bother ! I hate 
 the whole business. It is so slow, Michel ! 
 It is so nasty to live in a box ! " 
 
 His slight hands fluttered restlessly. 
 Michel took them in his quiet grasp and 
 leaned close to the child. 
 
 " Look in my eyes, Azor, and listen," 
 said the strong man s low, loving voice. 
 " Look straight in my eyes. There is a 
 place in the woods where some day you 
 shall be. The way is steep and there is 
 no path. It is a hidden place, only for 
 you and me. But I will carry you softly 
 in my arms and nothing shall harm you, 
 and you shall lie in a hammock under a 
 great beech-tree, and squirrels will come 
 and throw bits of bark at you and scam 
 per off and chatter. It is a cool, green 
 place. Its name is Azor s Camp. The 
 sunshine flickers down in patches on vel 
 vety warm moss where last year s nuts 
 are beginning to grow tails and two little 
 ears in front. All day long you can watch 
 the birds. There are oaks centuries old, 
 a big solemn fir now and then, and lovely 
 white stems scattered about. Out be- 
 29
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 yond in the heather are hares sitting on 
 their haunches, and looking as wise as the 
 School Board. Sometimes a deer will 
 point his nose at you and wonder what 
 sort of queer new animal you are. 
 
 "Down below is a wet, shady place 
 where my marigolds grow, among long 
 grasses, reeds and rushes, and Solomon s 
 seal stretches up ever so high. You 
 shall weave a hat and a basket like mine. 
 And I will fetch you lizards and flat- 
 headed salamanders with very wriggly 
 tails, and little toads speckled orange and 
 blue, and wee bright green baby-frogs. 
 There are splendid bright green beetles 
 too, hundreds of them, and daddy-long 
 legs ; and beautiful spiders with crosses 
 on their backs will take impertinent 
 walks on you and tickle your nose, and 
 never so much as say, By your leave, 
 Azor. The air is warm and the breeze 
 is cool, and it s all fragrant and silent 
 and full of murmurs exactly as you 
 love it best. A little rill comes tumbling 
 over steep rocks, and lulls you with many 
 voices when you wish to sleep. Under 
 all the bending ferns, among the dead
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 oak leaves of last year, are innumerable 
 little shy things rustling, and I will tell 
 you stories about them from morning till 
 night, how they live and work and 
 play. Whatever I know I 11 tell you. 
 There s not a thing in the woods, not 
 a leaf, not an insect, that has not its 
 story. And if you watch them and love 
 them, they will tell you their stories them 
 selves, and that is the best of all. The 
 main thing is to love them. They do the 
 rest." 
 
 The little hands were tranquil. On 
 the wan face was restfulness. With a 
 rapt smile the child gazed straight into 
 the clear eyes that held him in thrall. 
 Health, strength, serenity the living 
 breath of the woods had subtly en 
 compassed his frail being with brief but 
 potent blessing. He basked in the gen 
 erous sunshine of the man s presence. 
 Michel s calm, controlling hands, his blue 
 eyes smiling steadily, never varied, and 
 the low voice ran on ceaselessly : 
 
 " When they begin to tell you their 
 stories, old Solon and Socrates can take 
 a back seat. Azor s library will be full 
 3 1
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 to bursting without those gentlemen. I 
 never could tell you the distinguished 
 names of all your authors and their 
 works : 
 
 " The History of the Ant Republic ; 
 The Glorious Reign of her Majesty, 
 Queen Bee; Butterfly s Intimations of 
 Immortality ; The Ascent of the Acorn ; 
 The Commonwealth of Frogs ; Carols by 
 A Lark and Wood Thrush, M. A., and 
 Principles of Harmony by Signer Black 
 bird ; The Rise and Fall of Dewdrops ; 
 Nightingale on Love and Breeze on Lib 
 erty ; Brook s Voyages and Adventures ; 
 The Tail of a Tadpole ; Anemone s Se 
 cret ; Wild Rose and her Wooers ; Owls 
 Night-Thoughts ; The Emancipation of 
 Miss Moss ; Reincarnation, by Lizardius, 
 F. R. S., and The Mystery of Wings, 
 both published by the Soaraway Soci 
 ety ; Bullfrog s Commentaries ; Bunny s 
 Pilgrim s Progress, and Fox s Martyrs ; 
 Black Beetles Digest ; Snakes Lives ; 
 Cuckoo s Essays on Domesticity ; Dr. 
 Snail, D. D., on Races ; and Urwald s 
 Architecture. 
 
 "The beauty of these books is they 
 32
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 have no horrid little black letters that 
 spoil one s eyes, but voices that will speak 
 sweetly to my little Azor, and tell him 
 lovely stories in the cool greenness of 
 the place in the woods that is only for 
 Azor and me. Everything will tell its 
 tale : the swarms of insects, the flick 
 ering patches of sunlight, the patter of 
 millions of leaves, the ceaseless trickling 
 of the brook, and all the sleepy, droning 
 tones from far and near in the warm 
 summer noon that is yet silent and cool 
 and restful in the heart of the great 
 woods. For the myriad murmuring 
 leaves, and innumerable fluttering wings, 
 and legions of humming buzzing things, 
 and the sweet breath of earth and 
 ferns and breeze and trees " 
 
 Michel s voice became lower slower 
 ceased. He waited awhile, rose noise 
 lessly. Azor s dark lashes swept his 
 sunken cheeks. The broad eyelids had 
 begun to droop in happy languor long 
 before, had opened, closed, and fluttered 
 drowsily ; the flexible mouth had smiled 
 faintly but a moment gone. Now he was 
 sleeping profoundly. 
 33
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 As Michel went out, the nurse at the 
 door stole in. A valet informed him as 
 usual that the duchess desired to speak 
 with him. To-day, instead of his stereo 
 typed answer that he " could n t stop," 
 he intimated in shy, rustic fashion that 
 he "didn t mind." 
 
 Shown into the presence of her Grace, 
 he bowed gravely and stood by the door, 
 hat in hand, his oak leaves trailing. 
 Neither the old crone nor the peasant, 
 neither the sculptor nor little Azor, had 
 ever seen Marigold-Michel bear himself 
 with this fine deference. 
 
 For some minutes after the door closed 
 there was no sound or movement in the 
 room. 
 
 Ill 
 
 " Guido," began the lady, hardly above 
 her breath. 
 
 He merely looked at her. 
 
 She rose and came forward a few steps, 
 a slight small woman with Azor s eyes. 
 " Ah, Guido ! " she faltered. 
 
 "The youth Guido is dead," he an- 
 
 34
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 swered gently. " I read his death in the 
 papers years ago. They said he died in 
 India." 
 
 " Is it worth while to speak so to 
 me ? " she said, trembling. " Do you 
 imagine you deceived me for one mo 
 ment ? Did I not know you were inno 
 cent ? Could I doubt you a second in 
 spite of all you did to prove yourself 
 guilty ? So mad so good so glori 
 ous so unheard of so senseless so 
 like you, Guido ! " 
 
 Over his face flashed the sudden light 
 of great joy. "Madam," he returned 
 quietly, " I could almost at this moment 
 wish it were possible for me to have the 
 honor to receive your commands in my 
 castle, where are neither doors nor ser 
 vants, not for the sake of the youth 
 Guido, since he is dead and nothing can 
 harm him, but on account of #11 who 
 were dear to him years ago." 
 
 " No one will hear. I have given or 
 ders we are not to be disturbed. Was 
 it well to let me wait years to tell you 
 I understood ? Why, if it were not for 
 my poor little Azor s whim, I might never 
 35
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 have been able to speak with you at all. 
 And why only to-day ? Why not months 
 ago, Guido ? " 
 
 " Your Grace will pardon me. I ven 
 ture to present myself to-day to entreat 
 a special favor." 
 
 " Ah," she said most sorrowfully, " not 
 even now because you wanted to speak 
 with me ? " She sat down, looked at him 
 drearily, covered her face with her hands, 
 and dropped her head on a table. 
 
 Michel stood a few moments irreso 
 lute before he crossed the room and said, 
 " Forgive me, Erika." 
 
 She wept on softly. At last she mur 
 mured : " Tears are rare with me. But 
 it is all so utterly hopeless." Turning 
 toward him abruptly, "The favor. Let 
 us get it out of the way, for we two have 
 long accounts to settle." 
 
 "Two favors, indeed. First the child 
 Azor. May I interfere ? " 
 
 "You? All you like." 
 
 " Ought he not to have more air ? Is 
 he not too cooped up ? " 
 
 "Of course. He ought to live out 
 doors from morning till night. How can 
 36
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 I manage it in town, and with the sort of 
 life I lead ? I am going off with him. 
 Konstantin has at last consented. The 
 doctors say Azor must follow the sun 
 shine round the world." 
 
 " Bravo ! Then I need say no more. 
 I had designs on the boy. When you 
 return and he is stronger, if you could 
 trust him to me for a while, I dare to 
 believe you would never repent it." 
 
 " I would have trusted him to Gui- 
 do." 
 
 "Trust Michel no less," he replied 
 quietly. " The other favor is this. A 
 word from the duke, if that were possi 
 ble, would, I suppose, induce the proper 
 authorities, whoever they may be, to per 
 mit me to see a young fellow in prison. 
 Appearances are against him, and he is 
 obstinately silent. I am sure he is inno 
 cent, and I think he would speak freely 
 to me. It is a pity for him " 
 
 " To sacrifice himself outright ? I 
 agree, Guido. Let us save him, by all 
 means. Why should silly boys insist 
 upon self - destruction ? Give me his 
 name and the necessary facts." 
 
 37
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 Having written a few words, she rang 
 for a servant. 
 
 " Konstantin is in his study, I believe. 
 He will be eager to do, not this, but a 
 real service for you. He often speaks 
 of your devotion to our boy, and your 
 strange reluctance to meet us." 
 
 Replying to the sudden question in 
 Michel s eyes, " No, Guido," she contin 
 ued, " I have never intimated to my hus 
 band that you are other than you seem. 
 I have respected your secret. How 
 could I do otherwise when you guarded 
 it so jealously, when you have shunned 
 me all these years, and let me gaze at 
 you with a great heartache as you walked 
 the streets in your cap and bells ? How 
 often I have driven past you and longed 
 to stop my carriage and say, Guido, 
 cousin, playmate, dear old friend, best of 
 men, come up where you belong, come 
 to your own ! But you went flaunting 
 by, the crowd grinning. It is incredi 
 ble ! It is heart-breaking ! Don t stand 
 there, Guido, like an errand-boy," she 
 exclaimed, frowning. " It is distressing. 
 It annoys me. Sit down." 
 38
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 " It is better so till the calves-in-wait 
 ing have returned, is it not ? " he sug 
 gested tranquilly. 
 
 " I am glad," he said, as she presently 
 handed him a cordially worded message 
 from the duke. " I thank you. I had no 
 other way. I know one man of influence 
 here who would befriend me in need, but 
 I cannot see him to-day." 
 
 " Does he know you ? " 
 
 "He may suspect." 
 
 " But is discreet ? " 
 
 "Perfectly." 
 
 " Ah," retorted the duchess with spirit, 
 "he has no reason to intrude ! He never 
 was your comrade, your other self, your 
 shadow, through all the young, happy 
 years." 
 
 " No, little Erika, he was not." 
 
 " Sit here and talk to me, dear Guido, 
 now that I have you at last." 
 
 " If I may talk in my own way," he 
 said simply, and went on, pausing a little 
 between his sentences : " It is not easy 
 to bridge over the years. I knew it 
 would be terribly painful, yet I could not 
 refuse Azor. I knew too, of course, 
 39
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 coming to your house, that this meeting 
 must sooner or later take place. I could 
 not put it off forever." 
 
 "Well," she said impatiently, "you 
 did very nearly, and here you are, tem 
 porizing." 
 
 " I cannot bear to pain you, Erika, but 
 for the past there is no explanation, and 
 I have lived this sort of life so long " 
 he glanced down good-humoredly at his 
 clothes " it really seems odd to me that 
 it should need justification." 
 
 " Oh," she cried, surprised and indig 
 nant, " a mountebank ! You ! " 
 
 "Not quite that," he returned with 
 gentleness. 
 
 " You, with your talents," she contin 
 ued bitterly, " leading this utterly wasted 
 life ! Forgive me. You are so sweet to 
 Azor. You have a marvelous influence 
 over him. You help him when none else 
 can. I know it. I feel it. But how for 
 gotten, how ignoble is your existence ! 
 Ah, when I look back ! Why, there was 
 nothing beyond your grasp. What a 
 general you might have become, what a 
 statesman ! " 
 
 40
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 He smiled. " I am not of much use, 
 I admit, but upon the whole I do little 
 harm. Perhaps the generals and the 
 statesmen cannot always say as much." 
 
 "A man should serve his country." 
 
 "I am totally without patriotism," he 
 replied, with a certain sweetness of voice 
 and expression. " I hold it to be a gross 
 error. I have reverence for few national 
 or social rubrics. But I 11 not bore you 
 with my theories. They wax strong in 
 solitude." 
 
 " Guido, tell me this : when you are not 
 displaying yourself in town for fools to 
 gape at, how do you spend your days ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don t know. Doing odd jobs." 
 
 " What sort of odd jobs ? " she asked 
 sharply. 
 
 "Well, I mended a man s roof the 
 other day. Don t groan. I did it very 
 well." 
 
 "They say," her face expressed repug 
 nance and distress, " but this I refuse to 
 believe, that you pose for artists." 
 
 " I do sometimes. Why not ? " 
 
 "Oh, Guido! oh, Guido!" 
 
 "I wish I could comfort you, Erika," 
 41
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 he said very kindly. " You see, I think 
 one can so easily do worse things. If I 
 keep my body wholesome and strong, it 
 seems to me I do my duty by it. I don t 
 know that I owe it any special obsequi 
 ousness." 
 
 " A gentleman born " 
 
 " I admit I had some scruples at first. 
 It is odd how tenacious certain senti 
 ments are. But all you have to do is to 
 change your point of view and shake off 
 a few husks. I assure you I don t mind 
 it an atom now." 
 
 " They say you sleep on the ground in 
 the woods or in a cave ; at any rate, like 
 a beast of the field. Is that true too ? " 
 
 " Sigh no more, lady," he returned, 
 with a laugh. " I ve got a capital little 
 cabin, originally a forester s lodge, which 
 suits me perfectly. It is not a large es 
 tablishment. You could put it in that 
 bay window. But it s really got a bed 
 in it, Erika ; oh, dear, yes, a most re 
 spectable sort of bed, which I greatly 
 esteem in winter, sometimes, and in 
 long storms. But I confess, at the risk 
 of your displeasure, I have a graduated 
 42
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 set of bunks in the open, nicely ad 
 justed to my whims and the Lord s sea 
 sons, and I d be more explicit, but 
 you d never understand. You re not 
 educated up to it. You see I am terribly 
 epicurean." 
 
 It was true, then, all true, the im 
 possible tales people told of Marigold- 
 Michel ; yet there he sat, brown, hand 
 some, superb in strength, his blue eyes 
 shining with mirth as in the old days. 
 He had spoken in the old, boyish, jest 
 ing way. His voice had a mellow, con 
 tented ring. The tragedy of facts seemed 
 persistently set aside by his comfortable 
 unconcern. It was stupendous, but she 
 felt herself yielding, against knowledge 
 and conviction, to the potent cheerful 
 ness of his interpretation of things. Not 
 thus had she pictured this interview. 
 
 " Guido," she persisted, " tell me, how 
 can you live so out of the movement, 
 with no refinements, no advantages, no 
 society of your kind, no talk of the day, 
 no politics, no art, no books ? Or have 
 you books ? I suppose you do not even 
 read the papers ? " 
 
 43
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 " Papers ? Not habitually, thank Hea 
 ven ! " he replied devoutly. " Books I 
 have, not many, but sufficient, the 
 masters. After all, the best of our read 
 ing most men get young, and then we 
 keep mammaling it the rest of our lives, 
 as an old sailor his old quid. Still, per 
 haps you d not be quite displeased with 
 me in that one respect, Erika. It is 
 not difficult in this electrical year of our 
 Lord to keep somewhat in touch with 
 vital things, even if one is uninformed by 
 the gossip of drawing-rooms and clubs. 
 You do not suspect what wisdom is in the 
 air, on the road, on the lips, it may be, 
 of the unknown workingman with whom 
 one chances to walk as one goes home 
 in the dusk. Besides, I do not live in a 
 desert, but near a large town. I can get 
 what I want. I am only a pinchbeck 
 hermit, you see. But I am spared, 
 oh, such a lot of jibber-jabber that you 
 have to put up with, my poor little duch 
 ess ! " 
 
 " I believe you," she returned wearily, 
 with a strange look. After a long si 
 lence she resumed : " There are many 
 
 44
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 detestable social functions, I admit ; ma 
 chinery so cumbersome, arduous, inexo 
 rable, soul-stifling, that I, even I could 
 comprehend your glee in being able to 
 snap your fingers at it, if if only your 
 mask were less ignoble." 
 
 " Ah, my marigolds ! " 
 
 " Your whole position. The crucial 
 step once taken, your great renunciation 
 made, I grasp the sad necessity of self- 
 effacement, but not of self-abasement, not 
 the choice of your low, grotesque garb 
 and clown-tricks." 
 
 " Is it so bad ? " In his smile was a 
 wealth of affection and serenity. " See, 
 Erika, my cap and bells as you call 
 them give me the right of way every 
 where and disarm suspicion. Dear cou 
 sin, before I go let me comfort you if I 
 can, let me try to reconcile you to my 
 fate." 
 
 " You will reconcile me to nothing, 
 Guido, neither to your insensate mag 
 nificent self-immolation nor to this mot 
 ley anti-climax." 
 
 " Erika," he pleaded, "there are things 
 you say which it is impossible for me to 
 45
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 answer. I entreat you to let sleeping 
 dogs lie. Let me talk to you a little 
 about the evolution of the cap and bells. 
 Let us suppose, merely by way of illus 
 tration, a young fellow " he paused an 
 instant " commits some sort of crime 
 and " 
 
 " Never will I suppose that ! " she 
 broke in passionately. " Let us suppose 
 instead that a quixotic boy assumes the 
 onus of a felony committed by his older 
 brother. Let us suppose things look 
 most ominous for the older. Suddenly 
 the younger disappears like a thief in the 
 night. He too had access to the room 
 where the deeds were. This is guilt ! 
 cry the wiseacres. This is Guido, says 
 one girl, but only to herself. To what 
 end speak ? To whom ? When did she 
 ever reveal any prank of his ? His mon 
 strous flight throws inquiry off the scent. 
 The scandal is gradually hushed up out 
 of consideration for so old and influential 
 a family. All people in general know is 
 that there was some mystery about a 
 scapegrace who disappeared. And the 
 much respected older brother lives in 
 4 6
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 peace on the lands of his forefathers ; 
 and much good may it do him, for 
 Philip was not worth so much love, 
 Guido, not worth heroism, exile, cru 
 cifixion like yours ! " 
 
 " Don t, Erika ! " exclaimed the lis 
 tener sternly. " He was always a good 
 brother to me." His face half averted 
 and concealed by his hand, he had drunk 
 in every word thirstily, though once or 
 twice he had sought to restrain her by 
 word or gesture. After a long pause, 
 " In the hypothetical case under dis 
 cussion," he continued imperturbably, 
 " it is immaterial why the young fellow 
 finds it imperative to leave home sud 
 denly. The point is he goes off. An 
 other young fellow is with him, ostensi 
 bly his servant, but always his best friend, 
 a gardener s son brought up with him. 
 The boy follows without permission ; 
 gives no sign until it is too late to send 
 him back." 
 
 "Michel always worshiped you," said 
 the duchess softly. 
 
 "Three years later the poor lad dies 
 in India, and is buried it is all very 
 47
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 simple, you see under the name of the 
 other man, who is not much of a fellow, 
 for after the death of his companion he 
 grows so deadly homesick he is literally 
 good for nothing, and droops like an 
 anaemic girl. He has a tremendous ad 
 miration for strong men who can orien 
 talize or occidentalize themselves at will, 
 turn sheik or cowboy, and carve their 
 way anywhere. But he s not that sort. 
 Lacks character or something. Finds no 
 rest, pines for his home, cannot recover 
 his strength. You see, he left behind 
 much that he cared for." 
 
 "Go on, dear Guido," murmured the 
 duchess. 
 
 "Well, after looking about in pretty 
 much all the hemispheres there are, he 
 finally sneaks back to his own land, to 
 a corner of it where he is unknown. 
 Remember he is legally dead, and ap 
 pears under the name and papers of the 
 dead boy. He is bound, in the nature 
 of the case, to lie more or less perdu 
 forever. He has always loved the woods, 
 and naturally enough drifts thither. He 
 does a good turn now and then for an
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 old forester, and wins his confidence. 
 Slowly, very slowly the wanderer learns 
 to shape his life anew. 
 
 " But a serious man who lives alone 
 in the woods is naturally to the general 
 public a suspicious character, planning 
 the assassination of monarchs or con 
 structing dynamite bombs. Ergo, the 
 cap and bells. I spare you obvious 
 historical examples, but trust me, judi 
 cious fooling is the only complete dis 
 guise. For some occult reason, silliness 
 the childish-foolish is ingratiating ; 
 sense repels. What if the man looked 
 wise, studious, or even respectable ? He 
 could not escape probing and embarrass 
 ment from all quarters. As it is, no 
 mortal enjoys such unbounded freedom. 
 Every policeman in town grins at him 
 for a harmless fool, and at midnight as at 
 high noon he is protected by the bene 
 ficence of his mask." 
 
 She looked at him thoughtfully. " Al 
 most you persuade me you are happy." 
 
 "I am content. I have space." 
 
 " You might die all alone up there." 
 
 " Everybody dies alone." 
 49
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 "It is marvelous," she sighed. 
 
 " And you," he said gently, after a 
 while, " are you happy, Erika ? " 
 
 "Oh, Konstantin is very considerate 
 and good," she replied, rather indiffer 
 ently. " He is always much occupied, 
 of course, with affairs of state. We see 
 each other less than one expects before 
 marriage. Azor s ill health is a great 
 blow to his father s ambition." Reply 
 ing to his slightly elevated eyebrows : 
 " Oh, you know how men are, what they 
 want. It is natural they should be am 
 bitious, particularly a man in his posi 
 tion. It is an unfree, artificial world 
 we live in. We all are forced to work 
 and strive so hard. I sometimes ask 
 myself for what. Court life is thank 
 less business. My only real happiness, 
 strangely enough, my little ill boy gives 
 me." 
 
 Michel was silent, smiling faintly, his 
 eyes regarding her thoughtfully. Pre 
 sently he asked, " And your brothers ? 
 Jolly little beggars, how have they turned 
 out ? " 
 
 " It is certainly not their fault that 
 5
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 they are not beggars in earnest," she 
 answered dryly. " Papa storms periodi 
 cally, and calls upon the gods to witness 
 he 11 not put up with this sort of thing 
 a day longer, then pays their bills like a 
 holy martyr. Oh, they are not bad 
 fellows ; only a little selfish and ter 
 ribly gay, like all their set. When cav 
 alry lieutenants dine, and play, and 
 keep racers Well, you know how it 
 is." 
 
 " Yes, I know." 
 
 Michel paced the room once or twice 
 before asking, rather low, "Are Philip 
 and Aline happy ? " 
 
 "In their own way. They jog along 
 together pretty much like the rest of the 
 world." 
 
 His look was still wistful. 
 
 " They have three fine boys and a 
 charming little girl." 
 
 "Thank God," he broke out, "there s 
 life and laughter still on the old place ! " 
 And his jubilant heart sang : " For them 
 it was for those children even then, 
 and in all dark hours, though I knew it 
 not for them ! " 
 
 51
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 " Philip has named his last boy 
 Guido," she said suddenly, and wondered 
 at Michel s face, touched, grateful, and 
 strangely illumined. 
 
 Still transfigured, he approached with 
 extended hand. 
 
 " You are not going ? " 
 
 "I must." 
 
 " But you will come again ? Surely, 
 Guido ! " 
 
 " When you consider," he said gently, 
 "you will see it is inexpedient. From 
 this time let me be only Marigold-Michel. 
 I beg, dear Erika, I implore you." 
 
 She hesitated long, deeply agitated. 
 " But if you should need me " 
 
 " For myself or another, I will let you 
 know. If you need me, you have but to 
 command." 
 
 " Oh, Guido," she said as they stood 
 hand in hand, " I see I may interfere 
 with the strange course you have chosen 
 no more than with the orbit of a planet. 
 But it is sad to say farewell. Still, it is 
 better than before you came. At least, 
 I know now you have not avoided me 
 from want of affection." 
 52
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 " Never that ! " 
 
 " You dared not see me because you 
 dared not deny your innocence," she de 
 clared with sudden vehemence. " You 
 have not denied it. You cannot deny it. 
 You can do all the rest, but you cannot 
 look me in the eyes and lie. Thank 
 God, your honor is spotless. Thank 
 God, I always knew it." 
 
 He breathed deep ; across his face flit 
 ted swift reflections of varying emotions, 
 as if he fain would respond a thousand 
 things to her sweet turbulence, yet he 
 merely stooped and slowly kissed her 
 hands, and said in his kind and simple 
 way : 
 
 " Little Erika was always a loyal lit 
 tle thing," and in answer to her trou 
 bled gaze, " It is not really good-by. I 
 shall always come to Azor. We will 
 make him a strong man yet. Some time 
 you will trust him to me. And you and 
 I are always at heart the old " 
 
 " Rascals ! " she suggested, smiling 
 with wet eyes. 
 
 " And we shall see each other now 
 and then, if only to pass with a good 
 53
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 thought and the memories that will al 
 ways live. But Guido is dead. These 
 marigolds grew on his grave. There is 
 nothing at all gloomy about them. See 
 how gay and sunny they look. Let us 
 never mourn or resurrect him again. 
 Now give Michel one good word before 
 he goes." 
 
 " It is inconceivable, humiliating," she 
 exclaimed, between a sob and a laugh, 
 " but I am actually beginning to like Mi 
 chel and his marsh-marigolds ! " 
 
 " Always my generous little Erika, so 
 straight and honest, so utterly her old 
 self, so like Azor ! Marigold-Michel 
 thanks you from his heart that you could 
 say that. It will help him in hours when 
 he is not jingling his bells." 
 
 "Ah, such hours come ! " 
 
 Again he bent over her hands. " Fare 
 well, dear little duchess." 
 
 "Farewell Michel," she faltered. 
 
 " Now smile, Serenissime ; and ring 
 and hand me over to the tender mercies 
 of the calves." 
 
 " Show Marigold-Michel out," said her 
 Grace languidly. 
 
 54
 
 MARIGOLD-MICHEL 
 
 Turning away, she paid no further at 
 tention to the tall bright figure crossing 
 the room, but bent over a bunch of yel 
 low flowers lying on her writing-table. 
 
 55
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 \HEN Emma was born her mo 
 ther was rather preoccupied. In 
 some human, as in feline circles, 
 a birth more or less is never a matter of 
 moment. Besides, Frau Rupp had had 
 eight infants already, was by nature 
 scatter-brained, and contemplated moving 
 to Zurich. Emma was wrapped in some 
 thing and laid aside while the packing 
 went on. She appeared in no respect 
 agitated by her new environment. A 
 large placidity in accepting the inevitable 
 distinguished her from first to last, while 
 the unphilosophical tendency toward 
 gourmandise her unique vice evinced 
 in the dawn of her history, marked also 
 its brief high noon and flickering twi 
 light. All the contrasts of a checkered 
 career were powerless to render her 
 other than consistent, equable, and just. 
 She left despair to smaller minds. 
 56
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 Frau Rupp happened to marry about 
 this time, thereby changing her name ; 
 but Rupp will be retained for the pur 
 poses of this narrative. She had had 
 already two or three husbands, and was 
 never particularly engrossed by anything 
 of the sort, or "careful of the type." 
 The new husband was about to establish 
 himself in the beer and grog business 
 in Zurich, whither he proceeded shortly 
 after the ceremony, leaving Frau Rupp 
 and all the little Rupplets to follow. 
 The contracting parties had been delayed 
 slightly by Emma s impending entrance 
 into this stage of being ; but, once an 
 accomplished fact, she was but a minute 
 obstacle in their path, and Frau Rupp s 
 few and not very clean possessions were 
 speedily ready for the emigration. Emma 
 blinked and said nothing, except when 
 her inherent gourmandise triumphed 
 briefly over her habitual serenity of man 
 ner. 
 
 On the day of Frau Rupp s depar 
 ture her cheeks looked glazed, her eyes 
 unnaturally brilliant, and her utterance 
 sounded husky, all of which may have 
 57
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 been due to fatigue or to emotion called 
 forth by the painful necessity of bidding 
 farewell to her neighbors in the Man 
 sard : Lotte Mez, the washerwoman and 
 house-cleaner ; Leni and Mina the fac 
 tory girls ; the Widow Dugenhubel and 
 her offspring ; old Daddy Schanz, who 
 was a little silly but could still read 
 publishers proofs ; Granny Schanz, who 
 could not ; and the consumptive little 
 chimney-sweep, jolly Nack Nickerson, 
 called by his intimates Nick - Nack. 
 Happily they could all be present, for the 
 hour appointed for the exodus was early 
 on a Sunday morning, so that Frau 
 Rupp s cousin the teamster might, un 
 impeded by the exactions of employers, 
 place himself and his cart at her disposal. 
 Sympathetic animation pervaded the 
 Mansard. Each helped after his own 
 fashion. Leni and Mina skipped up and 
 down five flights to fling things into the 
 cart and bold jokes at the inviting driver. 
 The Widow Dugenhubel stood at her 
 door and talked solid cubic feet. Old 
 Daddy Schanz walked about, smiling 
 feebly and rubbing his hands. Nick- 
 58
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 Nack, having emerged from his cloud of 
 soot, shone upon the world with his hand 
 some Sunday-face, sat upon a box, and 
 laughed like a young god. Lotte Mez 
 quietly did three quarters of the work, 
 while Frau Rupp wept in a confused 
 maudlin way and diligently dropped par 
 cels ; but this may have been due to over 
 powering regret. The available Rupp 
 children the older ones were in ser 
 vice, the later-born mostly dead obeyed 
 Lotte Mez s orders and bore, with care 
 worn, anxious little faces, the burden of 
 responsibility which for some reason or 
 other, was slipping more and more from 
 their mother s shoulders. 
 
 Everything was collected except a few 
 straggling parcels. Frau Rupp took 
 several at once under her arm. One of 
 them was Emma. Making Widow Du- 
 genhubel ceremonious, prolonged, ex 
 haustive, emotional, and even teary adieux 
 which was not unnatural, they being 
 very old neighbors who had never quar 
 reled beyond human capacity Frau 
 Rupp dropped one of her encumbrances. 
 It was not Emma. But Lotte Mez 
 59
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 thought it might have been, and for this 
 and other reasons said abruptly : 
 
 "Why not leave the baby here until 
 you get settled ? " 
 
 The cart drove off without Emma. 
 Lotte Mez, the washerwoman and house- 
 cleaner, took no airing that Sunday, but 
 sat all day long in her room, old memo 
 ries tugging at her heart, and with a 
 strange mixture of pain and bliss, watched 
 and tended a feeble mite, breathing in 
 deed, evidently manifesting no prejudice 
 against life, but making no distinct claims 
 upon it. This impartial attitude the 
 child never abandoned. It was an un- 
 christened infant. Frau Rupp, who for 
 got most things, had forgotten to think 
 of a name for this most irrelevant baby. 
 Lotte, with hot tears and shuddering 
 stifled sobs, although she was alone in 
 the Mansard, knelt before it and mur 
 mured Emma. Five and twenty years 
 previous had appeared, incidentally, in 
 her own life just such a soft helpless 
 thing. It had lived long enough to stam 
 mer sweet absurd words, and laugh, and 
 be adorable, and fill its mother s life with 
 60
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 delight, although her former friends no 
 longer spoke to her. When it died sud 
 denly, Lotte left her home, a change in 
 all respects commendable and worldly 
 wise. She was now forty-five years old, 
 the most able, conscientious, and re 
 spected of her profession, had her circle 
 of regular patrons and was usually en 
 gaged six months deep a rugged wo 
 man, strong as a man. 
 
 The exigencies of Lotte s profession 
 necessitated days at home and days 
 abroad. On the latter, Emma was 
 handed over to Granny Schanz or the 
 Widow Dugenhubel. Some babies ob 
 ject, and not unreasonably, to constant 
 changes of temperature, milk, method, 
 and handling. Emma s composure re 
 mained unruffled. The multifariousness 
 of her diet would have destroyed the off 
 spring of Titans. During the first weeks 
 of her existence, she mouthed meat, 
 lapped beer, sucked painted sugar-birds 
 Nick-Nack s tribute to her charms 
 partook, according to her degree, of 
 saurkraut, bits of raw carrot, cold boiled 
 potatoes and other urgent invitations to 
 
 61
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 colic, and survived. Nay, more, she 
 thrived in a certain sense, for although 
 pallid and puny, her frail organism was 
 less addicted to unseemly revolt and woe 
 ful spasms than is ordinarily the most 
 robust and pampered heir to an ancient 
 name. 
 
 Possessed thus of rare social tact, she 
 was the pet of the entire population of 
 the Mansard. Leni and Mina, when not 
 at the factory or running about with 
 sweethearts in rotation adored her 
 and fondled her in spasmodic excess. 
 Whether exposed to their loud assidui 
 ties, whether her pillow lay submerged 
 by Daddy Schanz s proof-sheets, or on 
 a chair in Widow Dugenhubel s room 
 flooded by that dame s ceaseless oratory, 
 whether whistled to, laughed at, pinched, 
 and stealthily caressed by Nick-Nack, or 
 whether the object of Lotte s devotion 
 and sensible care, Emma accepted irreg 
 ularities and homages alike, with a lofty 
 indifference, a mild remoteness, which 
 seemed a veritable triumph of mind over 
 matter. 
 
 None of the gentlemen and ladies of 
 62
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 the Mansard had had opportunity and 
 leisure to meditate upon occult lore, or 
 they might have surmised the soul of 
 Seneca or Marcus Aurelius had deigned 
 to reincarnate in wee Emma Rupp. 
 Lotte, unoccult but no fool, merely re 
 marked : 
 
 " She s a wise one, Emma-le ! Looks 
 as if she just knew." 
 
 The baby-stoic s eyes were in truth 
 knowing, large, long, deep-set, of the 
 blue that merges into gray, and so start- 
 lingly intelligent that the dwellers in the 
 Mansard were of the unanimous opinion 
 she privately reflected upon all that hap 
 pened in her presence, and were inclined 
 to lower their voices when discussing 
 secrets and intimate family matters. At 
 this period of her career, she seemed to be 
 chiefly composed of a scrap of old shawl 
 and eyes that took your measure. " She 
 listens to every word I say," Widow 
 Dugenhubel protested. If this was the 
 case, it testifies to more intrepid po 
 liteness on Emma s part than could be 
 alleged of any other human creature. 
 
 Baby Emma continued to manifest her 
 63
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 high stoicism, except when she vibrated 
 to lush Epicureanism as above indicated, 
 and at the age of two years was still 
 tiny, frail, never ill, and the gracious 
 recipient of the bounty of the Mansard, 
 where changes now and then took place, 
 Leni and Mina being succeeded by 
 Betti and Netti, and they by others like 
 unto them. Hair, eyes, and names dif 
 fered, but rarely the cruel drudgery of 
 the day s work, or the fierce and frantic 
 frivolousness of the reaction in free hours. 
 Widow Dugenhubel had moved on, to 
 exercise her tongue let us for her sake 
 hope, for talking was what she loved best 
 on earth in another and a better world. 
 But all new - comers vied with old resi 
 dents in paying court to the child. 
 
 When Nick-Nack, who had princely 
 tastes, asked her what he should bring 
 her from a fair or merry-making, she in 
 variably responded, " Something good to 
 eat," and usually specified prunes, dates, 
 or sweets. Nick-Nack, like most of his 
 colleagues, was a youth of brilliant expec 
 tations. Chimney-sweeping is a lucra 
 tive, as well as gallant profession, but 
 6 4
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 has an awkward effect upon the respi 
 ratory organs of the ambitious young 
 gentlemen who follow it, and is apt to 
 instigate a break-neck race between com 
 petence and consumption, the chances 
 strongly in favor of the latter. 
 
 In Lotte s evenings at home she made 
 smart frocks for Emma-le and was a 
 happy woman. Her prospects looked 
 peaceful and assured. She had for many 
 years earned well, if at an enormous ex 
 penditure of her good strength, had a fair 
 amount in the savings bank and would 
 have had more, were she not helpful to 
 relatives even to such as had turned a 
 cold but strictly moral shoulder upon her 
 in the days when she was young and 
 forsaken. Now she was zealously work 
 ing for Emma-le, contentedly planning 
 her future, and already ruminating with 
 enjoyment upon the remote questions 
 of schooling and a trade, at any rate 
 a better sort of school, a gentle sort of 
 trade, Lotte determined. 
 
 She dreaded no interference on the 
 part of Frau Rupp, of whose Swiss ex 
 periences few rumors had reached the 
 6s
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 Mansard. One incoherent letter had 
 come indeed, inquiring for certain miss 
 ing objects, among which Emma was not 
 included, but the mother added she 
 should come for the child some day, 
 when she was quite settled. Lotte was 
 profoundly skeptical in regard to any 
 finite completion of the settling process. 
 Then a pedlar who had returned from 
 Zurich who met a man who knew the 
 apple-woman on the corner who chatted 
 with Frau Rupp s teamster-cousin who 
 stopped to gossip with Nick-Nack, strid 
 ing along with ladder and black face, who 
 duly reported to Lotte had hinted that 
 the beer and grog business was rolling 
 down hill, and its conductors likewise. 
 The velocity and momentum of Frau 
 Rupp s rolling were factors which Lotte 
 had often reckoned in her straight, 
 shrewd way. 
 
 " Nothing will stop her, short of the 
 final thump," she reflected. "So much 
 the worse for her. So much the better 
 for us," - hugging Emma-le closer and 
 weighing the comparative merits of milli 
 nery and art-embroidery. 
 66
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 "It is pretty work, ribbons and flow 
 ers, and paying for such as has the 
 knack in their fingers. Ma-le has. But 
 that big embroidery is great. If you 
 have a talent for drawing Ma-le has 
 you can work in all you see ; a bunch 
 of horse-chestnuts, or even sunflowers. 
 Anyhow, she shall never scour and 
 scrub. Such wrists and ankles ! A little 
 tiny mite of a wee bit fine lady ! She 
 shall learn to sing if she likes, so there, 
 now ! " This with a defiant mien toward 
 future warnings of worldly prudence, her 
 own or another s. 
 
 She must make her will, too, and 
 take legal steps to adopt Ma-le. Then 
 she could be christened Protestant of 
 course. Here Lotte frowned, and decided 
 there was no need of haste. For bap 
 tism involved some queer complications, 
 and she had the invincible repugnance 
 of the respectable working - woman to 
 ward lawyers. If you so much as spoke 
 to one of them, you could find yourself 
 in a disgraceful law-court before you 
 knew it ! No, there was time enough 
 for all that. So Lotte, secure, dreamed 
 67
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 loving and ambitious dreams while the 
 frail child slept in her arms. 
 
 On the morrow, a boy spied Lotte 
 balancing herself at the top of a high 
 ladder and dusting some carved wood 
 work in the ceiling of one of his father s 
 palatial rooms. He thought it would 
 be fun to shake her a bit. He was fond 
 of what he called chaff, and merely 
 meant to frighten her. He succeeded. 
 She was taken unconscious to a hos 
 pital. 
 
 Not all the sweets that Nick-Nack 
 brought could quite console Ma-le for 
 Lotte s absence. The child ate them 
 seriously, never declined any kindness, 
 attention or adulation, yet for weeks 
 glanced up, discreetly expectant and 
 wistful, whenever a step approached the 
 door. Petted by all, docile with all, she 
 bestowed upon none, not even Nick- 
 Nack, the more intimate caressing 
 ways reserved for Lotte alone. Born old 
 and wise, Ma-le waited. 
 
 It seemed probable that she would 
 wait long. The nice little chaffing boy 
 had played a very thorough-going prank. 
 68
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 Nick-Nack went on Sundays to the hos 
 pital, when he wore fine black clothes, 
 polished boots and gaiters, a silk hat, 
 and moved with a certain light elegance 
 which may be acquired in chimneys. 
 At first he took Ma-le with him. She 
 behaved with her wonted weary gentle 
 ness, as if hospitals, doctors, and nurses 
 were familiar trifles, but lavished upon 
 Lotte faint baby touches of deep and 
 still affection which subtly implied the 
 sacredness of reminiscence and the 
 strength of old association. 
 
 Nick-Nack went one Sunday alone. 
 Then he went no more. The prank was 
 consummated. 
 
 In the Mansard a council was held at 
 which Nick-Nack, sitting on the table 
 with Ma-le, presided. After floundering 
 about for a while in helpless irrelevance, 
 the assembly under Nick-Nack s guidance 
 pulled itself sufficiently into shape to vote 
 unanimously that Ma-le must on no ac 
 count leave the garret. Those least con 
 cerned, Widow Dugenhubel s successor 
 and Nanne and Fanni the new factory 
 girls, voted loudest. 
 69
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 Now Ma-le from the garret-point of 
 view had been looked upon as a quasi 
 heiress. But as poor Lotte had merely 
 contemplated those dreaded legal steps, 
 all her savings fell with ironical prompti 
 tude to her kindred who had cast her out 
 when she was in trouble. Some of these 
 points Nick-Nack accentuated in his able 
 speech, and little Ma-le at his side seemed 
 like a dethroned queen grave, reserved, 
 and sucking barley-sugar. 
 
 Daddy Schanz with unwonted acute- 
 ness remarked that life was uncertain 
 and such things did happen. Nanne and 
 Fanni declared they would think them 
 selves awfully lucky if they ever got as 
 near as that to a fortune. Widow Du- 
 genhubel s successor was good enough to 
 regale the company with a convoluted 
 narration of various episodes which, in 
 her opinion, bore upon the subject under 
 discussion. Granny Schanz murmured 
 in her timid, deprecating voice she had 
 not even considered the possibility of re 
 linquishing her care of Ma-le. Nick- 
 Nack laughed and said he would pay 
 for her milk and toggery. The cheerful 
 70
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 little dressmaker, who had moved with a 
 crippled husband and some young chil 
 dren into Lotte s room, stated that it 
 would be no trouble at all for her to do 
 any little job the child needed. 
 
 So the Mansard possessed Ma-le and 
 Ma-le possessed the Mansard, and was 
 regarded anew as a favorite of fortune, 
 for was not Nick-Nack, her special patron, 
 a man of independent means ? Not even 
 the morality of a garret can resist the 
 prestige of reiterated prospective inheri 
 tances. Alone with him she would often 
 ask when Lotte was coming back, and 
 look at him with searching eyes that 
 seemed to penetrate his paltry inventions. 
 Meanwhile nothing was heard from Frau 
 Rupp. 
 
 Ma-le speedily assumed mental control 
 of the worthy Schanz couple. It was the 
 inevitable result of her intellectual supe 
 riority and quiet force of character. The 
 children of garrets are necessarily far 
 cleverer in practical ways than the chil 
 dren of luxury. But even for a garret 
 child, Ma-le was singularly clear-headed, 
 observant, and deft of hand. A dozen 
 71
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 times a day she would silently foresee 
 and prevent the loss of Daddy Schanz s 
 spectacles, the search for which had 
 been hitherto a frequent and time-con 
 suming rite. She knew where things 
 were and where they ought to be, and in 
 stinctively harmonized these mostly con 
 flicting conditions. Things indeed never 
 embarrassed or intimidated her ; she 
 commanded them ; whereas they had 
 overawed and perplexed Granny Schanz 
 all her life. Hence the child s easy 
 supremacy. The Schanz manage gained 
 in perspicuity from the day Ma-le took 
 it under her wing. She presided over 
 Daddy Schanz s proof-sheets and invoked 
 order among those distraught waves. It 
 is probable that she also meditated mak 
 ing the queer little marks in the margin, 
 for she was watching his work continu 
 ally with her shrewd deliberate gaze. 
 But about this time he became too silly 
 even to read proof, and was conveyed to 
 a place where he with other harmless 
 and helpless old men enjoyed, it is to be 
 hoped, protection even better than little 
 
 Ma-le s. 
 
 72
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 For financial considerations Granny 
 Schanz now moved into a smaller room 
 in another garret. Its doors and passages 
 bewildered her sadly, and Ma-le piloted 
 her. Nick-Nack moved also. In the 
 hours when he was not dangling between 
 earth and sky, it mattered little to him 
 where his tent was pitched, provided he 
 was near Ma-le, who delighted in him 
 and all his phases, black and white. 
 
 In the new garret lived a childless 
 widow named Kathe who stitched cloth 
 ing for men employed on the railway, 
 and was therefore greatly respected by 
 her neighbors. A government appoint 
 ment has everywhere its own dignity. 
 She often stopped on the stairs to see 
 three-year-old Ma-le encouraging Granny 
 Schanz and leading her home. Once the 
 child looked up, shaking her head appre 
 hensively, and said " She s rather poorly 
 to-day," and she and Kathe became 
 friends on the spot. 
 
 Kathe had two neat rooms, a sewing- 
 machine, a cat, plants, and a tiny veranda. 
 Ma-le, introduced into this more esthetic 
 sphere, grew in no respect forgetful of 
 73
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 less favored friends and older ties. She 
 continued to protect Granny Schanz with 
 gentle assiduity, frequently escorted her 
 to their former garret- home, and never 
 declined sweets from Widow Dugenhu- 
 bel s successor, from Polle and Dolle the 
 new factory-girls, or indeed from any 
 other person. 
 
 Kathe was a quiet strong - featured 
 woman, and thoughtful. Ma-le tacitly 
 recognized her as a mental peer, and 
 honored her with closer communion and 
 more clinging affection than the waif 
 had evinced since Lotte s death. Be 
 side straightening the tangled mazes of 
 Granny Schanz s daily occupations, Ma-le 
 went to school, where, either by intui 
 tion, or as reminiscence of previous incar 
 nations, she seemed to know everything 
 without learning it. Her duties done, 
 she associated with Kathe and Nick- 
 Nack in refreshing companionship. Frau 
 Rupp gave no sign, and Kathe, growing 
 visibly younger, began to make plans not 
 unlike those once cherished by Lotte. 
 
 Ma-le s fleeting years could never over 
 take the maturity of her spirit, but they 
 74
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 were doing their best. She was now 
 seven years old, a delicate, anaemic, old- 
 fashioned, wise little creature with brood 
 ing eyes ; yet on a sudden, in the presence 
 of her own familiar friends, unbending 
 as it were, relaxing into moods of deli 
 cious merriment. Her brain was a power 
 in the small community. Her hands by 
 their sensitiveness, suppleness and deft 
 ness seemed to multiply themselves. 
 Nick-Nack was coughing rather more 
 than formerly, but laughed no less, and 
 his elegance on Sundays was of the most 
 distinguished character. On summer 
 evenings the three sat on Kathe s ve 
 randa and looked down on the town, 
 as cool as nabobs. These were Ma-le s 
 halcyon days. 
 
 Into them plunged ominously a mes 
 sage, nay, a mandate, from Frau Rupp. 
 Whether her belated maternal instinct 
 had now arrived upon the scene, or 
 whether she merely happened, while in 
 dangerous proximity to pen and ink, to 
 remember Ma-le, is difficult for the his 
 torian to determine. Such evil conjunc 
 tions are attributed by some to the in- 
 75
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 fluence of Saturn, by others tout court 
 to Satan. Either will serve the pur 
 poses of this tale, which is not argumenta 
 tive. Whoever threw the bomb, it caused 
 consternation and left a heartache and a 
 void in its wake. Frau Rupp s language 
 if that noble word may be applied to 
 her headless and tailless phrases inti 
 mated, it would seem somewhat huskily, 
 that it was high time Ma-le should begin 
 to help her poor unfortunate mother, and 
 the pedlar who knew her cousin the 
 teamster would fetch her. 
 
 The pedlar fetched her. She wore 
 the prettiest new frock and jacket the 
 desperate Nick-Nack could buy, and all 
 her pockets were stuffed with pralines 
 and Kaiser-bonbons. She was deathly 
 white, but did not weep, only clung 
 speechless and motionless to Kathe. Go 
 ing off to Switzerland, away from home 
 and friends, with a strange man, to an 
 unknown mother, was an event never 
 yet dreamed of in her philosophy, and 
 her great sad eyes looked, it may be, a 
 bit frightened. All heroes have their 
 moments of human weakness. 
 76
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 It is possible that nothing so lasting 
 and solid as an opinion, a conviction, or 
 even a distinct impression can be attrib 
 uted to Frau Rupp at this stage of her 
 existence, but some vague sense of dis 
 appointment she must have felt, when 
 she folded Ma-le to the maternal bosom 
 and perceived, crookedly, through fumes 
 and vapors, that the child was too small, 
 cold and undemonstrative, and had far 
 too searching unchildlike eyes to succeed 
 in the chosen profession. And this dis 
 appointment, fed indeed by subsequent 
 events, must have recurred, dully per 
 sisted, and acquired a certain position in 
 that muddled brain ; or surely Frau Rupp 
 would not have administered blows, the 
 force of which her chronic cerebral ex 
 citement prevented her from accurately 
 measuring ; nor would she, as expression 
 of general dissatisfaction with the paucity 
 of Ma-le s emoluments as street-beggar, 
 have flung her violently down the cellar- 
 stairs. Those stairs and their supplement 
 of awful darkness shook Ma-le s philoso 
 phy to its foundations. 
 
 It was not unnatural that Frau Rupp 
 
 77
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 should desire some assistance. She was 
 all alone, as she lamented in major or 
 minor key, according to what may be 
 called the prevailing psychic manifesta 
 tion. The beer and grog business was 
 no more. Her fourth Mann, with ad 
 mirable presence of mind, had fled to 
 America. The daughters who had ac 
 companied her to Ztirich were gone also. 
 The oldest had married and wisely dis 
 appeared. The second had gone into 
 service from which she refused to budge. 
 The little one had run away with some 
 strolling players. Ma-le in time became 
 aware that her mother s bloated and 
 blurred sensibilities still retained an im 
 age of this errant child, who, it seemed, 
 was bold and saucy, a field-marshal in 
 planning campaigns, a most seductive 
 beggar, which Ma-le emphatically was 
 not. 
 
 For weeks she came home empty- 
 handed. Neither her fine personality 
 nor her thrifty self-respecting traditions 
 could efface themselves all at once. She 
 roamed about in a dazed, sad way, and 
 took her mother s reproaches, and worse, 
 78
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 rather than pennies from tourists. Mean 
 while she grew thinner, and homesick 
 ness haunted her eyes. Her innermost 
 famished thought was flight the first pos 
 sible moment, but she was too far-sighted 
 to run away ineffectually. The first 
 things she begged were postage-stamps 
 of the friendly corner grocer, who also 
 gave her bits of red and white broken 
 candy when she fetched her mother s 
 grog. In her careful little letters the 
 margin was very wide, the phrases am 
 bitious, the capitals had curly tops, she 
 hoped the cat and the plants were well, 
 and never mentioned herself or her 
 mother. 
 
 The letters, at first so frequent, grew 
 rarer. " It s trouble," said Kathe gloom 
 ily, and Nick-Nack nodded. Presently 
 the child wrote business was bad and 
 they were going to Lucerne. Silence 
 followed dead silence, and she had 
 been gone but six months. Kathe was 
 growing older fast, Nick-Nack coughed 
 more and laughed less. They both tried 
 to steer Granny Schanz as well as they 
 could, but without Ma-le she was in sorry 
 79
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 plight, and benevolent relatives finally 
 gathered her up and put her away in the 
 country. 
 
 In Lucerne, after long resistance, 
 Ma-le began at last to do the hated work. 
 Few stoics of nine years could have held 
 out so long, and blows day after day are 
 a forcible argument. Then, some gay 
 children driving along the Axenstrasse 
 stopped their carriage to ask her funny 
 questions, which amused them greatly, 
 and tossed her some chocolate. It was 
 long since she had tasted sweets. So 
 she hung about the hotels and the Lion, 
 and chased carriages along the lake- 
 shore, with animation only when she 
 spied children. 
 
 When she began to beg, she ceased to 
 write to her old friends. She never at 
 tained real proficiency in the art, never 
 loved it for its own sake, but she could 
 not fail utterly in anything she under 
 took. For the most part she merely 
 stood, a squalid, listless little figure on 
 the highroad, and took what fell to her 
 lot. When she got sweets she sat down 
 on the ground and promptly made sure 
 80
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 of them. Every penny she brought to 
 her mother. 
 
 More than two years passed, and Ma-le 
 was still on the road. She had become 
 hardened to harshness, abuse, and to 
 the dreary routine of begging. She saw 
 ignominious phases of life, associated 
 with vice and squalor, and comprehended 
 them deplorably well. Her eyes were 
 not always mournful now. Watching for 
 pennies had made them stolid, happy 
 travelers sometimes called them brazen ; 
 the constant sight of her mother turned 
 them haggard and hopeless. Fatigue, 
 exposure to all weathers, poor and scanty 
 food, and more especially her breathless 
 and involuntary excursions into the cellar, 
 were giving her a singularly yellow and 
 witchy aspect and a whole gamut of pains. 
 Something inside her felt queer and puffy 
 when she ran. With the decrease of her 
 business energy, her revenues diminished. 
 Hence the cellar offered her rich oppor 
 tunity for meditations upon tempi passati. 
 She uttered no complaint, but kept un 
 swerving her determination to return to 
 her beloved garret. 
 
 Si
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 Now Frau Rupp was unquestionably 
 of a social temperament, nor should she 
 be judged conclusively by her inordinate 
 activity cellar-wards, which occurred with 
 out rancune and in but one species of her 
 shifting, irresponsible, incoherent moods. 
 She forgot the circumstance in a twin 
 kling and would wonder where Ma-le was. 
 But Ma-le forgot nothing, and inscribed 
 her memories in hard set lines about her 
 mouth. The vaunted voice of nature 
 never spoke in her heart. She was re 
 mote, taciturn, and a " poor stick " finan 
 cially, as Frau Rupp asserted not without 
 reason. In a phenomenal access of lucid 
 ity, she entered into a sort of copartner 
 ship with and took under her roof an 
 enterprising young vagabond, a girl of 
 fourteen, but past-master in mendicancy, 
 who knew all fat prospects in the canton 
 and had even exploited the Engadine. 
 Great, too, was her convivial receptiv- 
 ity. 
 
 The letter which Kathe received had 
 no curly-headed capitals, no vestige of 
 margin, was soiled, ambitionless, and said 
 only this :
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 DEAR KATHE, 
 
 If Nick-Nack comes quick he can get 
 me. Your loving 
 
 MA-LE. 
 
 Nick-Nack came quick. 
 
 Ma-le s keenness had recognized and 
 used the psychological moment, while 
 the moment before or after might have 
 proved fatal. Frau Rupp happened not 
 to mind. Nick-Nack, hollow-eyed and 
 emaciated, but gay, debonair, and attired 
 with the old airy elegance, sat on a bench 
 at the station and waited for the next 
 train. Beside him crouched a dirty, 
 unkempt child, all eyes, who clung to his 
 hand and would not speak, had peremp 
 torily refused to take time enough to buy 
 a clean frock, breathed too short, shud 
 dered, and cast furtive glances behind 
 her. 
 
 When Kiithe s close arms once re 
 leased the trembling little form, Ma-le 
 with one slow gloating look verified her 
 reminiscences, satisfied herself that her 
 long lost heaven was all there, the 
 plants, the cat, the cleanness, and the 
 veranda under the sky, smiled a beati- 
 83
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 fic smile of repossession, and went to bed 
 for six weeks. 
 
 The unkempt hair grew soft again, the 
 beatific smile, as she lay still and saw 
 Kathe and Nick-Nack near, veiled the 
 hard lines about the mouth, but the doc 
 tor could not mend her heart. It seemed 
 incredible that, appertaining to Ma-le, it 
 refused to listen to reason. It had, how 
 ever, become large, startlingly large for 
 its narrow accommodations, and obsti 
 nate. This was its way of expressing 
 radical disapproval of certain episodes in 
 her history. It disturbed Ma-le s serenity 
 in no wise. Indeed, she sometimes told 
 people how large it was, with mild pride 
 as if it were a mammoth vegetable in a 
 garden, and would add, affably, that the 
 doctor said she could not possibly live 
 very long. 
 
 Her ways of wise, still happiness re 
 turned. Her deep sense of the blessed 
 ness of comradeship had never, indeed, 
 deserted her. Periods of bed alternated 
 with intervals of semi - convalescence. 
 Kathe never grasped the fact that a bed 
 ridden child, not of one s own blood, 
 84
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 could be an inconvenience, but was 
 always extolling Ma-le s usefulness and 
 narrating the wonders that child accom 
 plished the instant she was on her feet, 
 - her quick, silent, thorough ways, 
 " more help than any two grown women." 
 Yet Kathe gradually discovered that her 
 genteel government appointment, which 
 paid her as much as two shillings a day 
 when she worked steadily, grew less lu 
 crative if she was continually leaving her 
 machine. This would have mattered less, 
 had not Nick-Nack been persuaded by a 
 sanguine and enterprising colleague to 
 speculate a bit. Nick-Nack laughed, and 
 said he could easily enough make more 
 than he had lost, as soon as his cold got 
 better. 
 
 With the advice of the doctor, and 
 others who were showing some interest 
 in the little group in the garret, which 
 was kind of them, for there was nothing 
 at all extraordinary in Ma-le or Nick- 
 Nack or Kathe, such as they grow 
 all round us as thick as blackberries, - 
 Kathe consented to apply to the town for 
 a certain provision for the little girl. For 
 85
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 the practical realization of this project, 
 Frau Rupp s cognizance and signature 
 were required. Whereupon she declared 
 that if money were forthcoming from any 
 source, her daughter s place was with 
 her mother. This unexpected logic and 
 decision would seem to imply the robust 
 influence of the new girl, whose hand 
 undeniably wrote the letters which 
 caused Ma-le to shiver and cower in 
 her bed and turn speechless to the wall. 
 Then uprose Kathe and repudiated all 
 alien aid. The city fathers, nothing loth, 
 withdrew. Frau Rupp receded grum 
 bling, and peace again descended upon 
 Ma-le. 
 
 It may perhaps be claimed, without 
 exaggeration, that this garret child 
 unconsciously possessed some spiritual 
 gifts for the mere shadow of which most 
 of us have to struggle hard : the graces 
 of wise reticence, dignity, patience, for 
 bearance, steadfast affection, fortitude, 
 and, rarest of all, pure gratitude. But 
 the impartial observer will concede these 
 may be pagan as well as Christian virtues, 
 and Ma-le s religious notions, it must be 
 86
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 confessed, were baroques in the extreme. 
 Her ecclesiastical refuges had proved as 
 impermanent as her local habitations. 
 The mother who bore and forgot her was 
 Catholic, but had reeled far from the 
 fold. The child s first baby prayer was 
 lisped at Lotte s knee in Lutheran form. 
 Granny Schanz was a Methodist, inclined 
 to Spiritualism. All that she could im 
 part of these topics Ma-le had imbibed 
 and assimilated. In Switzerland she had 
 occasionally strayed into a Catholic 
 church and regarded the lights and the 
 incense approvingly. But her devotions, 
 in the true sense of the word, took place 
 without priest or bell, and, after the 
 fashion of the early Christians, in a spe 
 cies of catacomb. 
 
 Kathe, ostensibly Catholic, was not 
 over-occupied with the next world. But, 
 being of a practical turn of mind, it 
 seemed to her, in view of what in all 
 probability would be Ma-le s next jour 
 ney, no more than orderly to have her 
 properly equipped. She was therefore 
 christened and instructed, fixing her 
 penetrating eyes on the priest s face and 
 87
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 seeming to read his soul and that of all 
 the wise people who approached. They 
 were many, for she had become popular, 
 an occasional but not usual penalty of 
 greatness. Nothing could be more satis 
 factory, intelligent, and docile than her 
 spiritual attitude, but she would have 
 embraced with the same sweetness the 
 faith of Timbuctoo had Kathe and Nick- 
 Nack proposed it. Still, the wan little 
 pilgrim had at last booked her seat for the 
 kingdom of heaven, and her gentle spirit 
 was what is termed " reconciled with its 
 Creator," which was naturally gratifying 
 to all parties concerned. 
 
 Her days out of bed grew fewer. In 
 the spring came a brief revival of 
 strength, but soon the unreasonable 
 heart declined to let her take slow walks 
 with Nick-Nack and climb stairs. Por 
 tions of his mechanism were playing him 
 the same trick about this time. Al 
 though he did not suspect it, in the break 
 neck race he had undertaken, the rider 
 on the pale horse had long ago won. 
 
 So Nick-Nack sat gayly by Ma-le s bed 
 and laughed and gleamed with hope, and,
 
 NO CONTINUING CITY 
 
 whenever he could get grip enough on 
 his voice, told whimsical, brave tales of 
 what they would do next year, and the 
 next, and other years. And Ma-le had a 
 graduated row of dolls standing on her 
 bed and leaning against the wall, and 
 she munched sweets and basked in the 
 gentleness of the world. While Kathe 
 stitched like mad, and for the rest took 
 things as they came, having found they 
 usually came quite soon enough. All 
 three were cheerful and content, but then, 
 you see, they were common persons, 
 and very matter-of-fact.
 
 THALATTA ! 
 
 was glorious ! " thought Hen- 
 " ette Vischer with exultation, 
 as she mechanically smoothed 
 her iron gray hair, put on her. plain dress 
 and prim collar, set her room austere 
 as an anchorite s cell to rights, opened 
 her casements and turned back her bed 
 to air. 
 
 " It was so strong, so vivid. I never 
 had a stronger. It was wonderful. It 
 will last till I get there. Ack, grosser 
 Gott im Himmel, to think I am going ! 
 What will Ottilie and Miezle say ! How 
 will they bear the surprise ? It seems a 
 crime to undertake it all alone. Twenty- 
 two hours by rail. Du meine Giite! Two 
 days there, to spend exactly as I like. 
 Twenty-two hours back remembering. 
 How I ever got so far as to plan it and 
 set the day I don t know, and I feel like 
 the Prodigal Son. Yet, if you Ve hun- 
 90
 
 THALATTA 
 
 gered and thirsted for just one thing all 
 your life, and are sixty-eight years old, 
 and never saw the day you could do it, 
 and now you can with a clear conscience, 
 at least so far as the money is concerned 
 well, selfish or not, I m going to be 
 hold it once with waking eyes before I 
 die ! " 
 
 With an expression of singular deter 
 mination even for Henriette Vischer, 
 she went briskly downstairs to see that 
 Fritz, the little apprentice and errand 
 boy, had opened the shop and properly 
 begun his day s work. 
 
 Her mouth looked grim, but the deep 
 wrinkles about her shrewd eyes were 
 benevolent and humorous. The grim- 
 ness had of necessity waxed strong, con 
 fronting the inordinate silliness of the 
 two sisters she was trailing through life ; 
 and, Heaven knows, daily intercourse 
 with those dames required a liberal sea 
 soning of benevolence and humor to 
 make it in anywise palatable. She had 
 an excellent head, both in its outward 
 form and interior furnishings, a resolute 
 profile, and a still erect and vigorous fig- 
 91
 
 THALATTA 
 
 ure. In her little shop she sold lamp 
 shades, beribboned boxes and photograph 
 frames, leather handkerchief and glove 
 cases and other very clean and respect 
 able objects of home manufacture, besides 
 cards for birthdays, confirmations, Christ 
 mas, and the like. Hers were the patient 
 old hands that might always be depended 
 upon to complete embroidered tokens of 
 affection for blushing girls to present to 
 their lovers. In the background was a 
 somnolent book-bindery, relic of her hus 
 band dead these thirty years and 
 still conducted by his old foreman. Al 
 together, she enjoyed steady patronage, 
 much respect, and had no fault to find 
 with her modest humdrum business in a 
 back street of a small inland town, ex 
 cept in the most secret chamber of 
 her heart that the town was inland. 
 
 " Eberhard not yet down ? " she asked, 
 glancing into the workrooms. 
 
 " No," grumbled old Gottlieb, " and I 
 never set eye on him yesterday and hardly 
 on Monday either." 
 
 "He s younger than you and I," she 
 responded with so strong a note of good 
 92
 
 THALATTA 
 
 cheer that the old man looked up from 
 his work and smiled. 
 
 In the breakfast-room her sister Otti- 
 lie, a heavy woman with blurred features 
 and a sententious manner, was talking 
 thus, between large sips of coffee and 
 liberal mouthfuls of bread: 
 
 " It was a green silk frock, apple green 
 with large white polka dots good-morn 
 ing, Henriette made with five tucks 
 and a frill. And I wore a pink sprigged 
 jaconet bertha-cape and a broad Leghorn 
 hat trimmed with straw-colored ribbons. 
 They had been washed and ironed but 
 they looked perfectly new. I remember 
 Martha Pfitzer, she that was afterwards 
 Frau Gemeinderath Stolz, said to me that 
 morning what pretty ribbons they were. 
 That was the twenty-seventh of April, 
 1840. Ribbons were better then. She 
 had three boys. On the third of June, I 
 wore the dress again to the Kranzchen 
 and Lucie Kaltenbock spilled whipped 
 cream all down the front breadth. She 
 was fifteen, just confirmed and already 
 engaged to her cousin Carl, and they 
 moved to Ulm and set up a hardware 
 93
 
 THALATTA 
 
 business. She that was afterwards Frau 
 Reviser Berner whispered to me at the 
 Musik Fest on the nineteenth of June, 
 at half-past six in the evening, as we were 
 going up the stairway to the left gallery 
 third row back in an awful jam I re 
 member it was the nineteenth because it 
 was the day after Cousin Helene Ritter s 
 birthday, and the next Musik Fest three 
 years later they began on the twenty-first 
 in unusually hot weather for the season 
 that she could not for her life imagine 
 what any man could see in that silly little 
 Lucie Kaltenbock. The stains never 
 came out." 
 
 Meanwhile Miezle, a spoiled child of 
 fifty-six, was toying capriciously with her 
 roll, feeding her canary with sugar, and 
 chirping to him with shrill coquettish 
 cries, and trills, a sort of airy clarionet- 
 solo, insolently independent of the heavy 
 bassoon accompaniment of Ottilie s voice. 
 
 "It was a pretty frock," Henriette 
 remarked benevolently, her thoughts re 
 turning from a wide and breezy flight as 
 Ottilie paused for breath and refresh 
 ments. In a moment her vast flood of 
 94
 
 THALATTA 
 
 reminiscence was rolling on anew, while 
 Miezle, impertinently unheeding, fitfully 
 babbled to her bird. 
 
 With a distinct sense of guilt, Henri- 
 ette regarded their unsuspecting faces. 
 What she was contemplating savored 
 of wild adventure. Then her motive 
 how explain it ? How put her longing 
 into words, she a staid old woman ? Years 
 before, she used to speak of the dream, 
 but nobody cared about it. Not even 
 her good husband had understood. After 
 all, what was so utterly devoid of interest 
 and significance as another s dream ? Yet 
 this dream, if the truth were known, was 
 no small part of her existence. 
 
 From her earliest childhood it had 
 haunted her. Sometimes it came night 
 after night in an unbroken series ; again, 
 after varying intervals. If it was ever 
 absent longer than eight or ten days, she 
 missed it sorely and grew ill at ease. Al 
 ways inherently the same, it presented 
 itself under changing conditions. There 
 might be ships, masts, crowds of hur 
 rying men with vivid dark faces, and 
 steep narrow streets between houses 
 95
 
 THALATTA 
 
 such as she had never seen, but // 
 lay beyond. Or ultra-foreign scenes 
 quaint, neat, like pictures on tea-cups 
 and //"waiting in its might. It shore 
 less, trackless, boundless, and no vestige 
 of humanity except her itinerant dream- 
 self. Oftenest, a vast expanse of rocky 
 coast, // surging gloriously and a group 
 of strong men hailing It with cries of 
 joy. 
 
 She had waked, indeed, with that tri 
 umphant cry upon her lips, but never 
 in all the years could she carry it quite 
 over the mystic boundary of dreamland, 
 though a sense of gladness and exhilara 
 tion would linger, and pervade her homely 
 and monotonous duties. If she dreamed 
 other dreams, she never remembered 
 them. Why always this unique vision, 
 strenuous dominant ? Did other 
 souls seek by night scenes diametrically 
 opposed to the whole tenor of their lives, 
 traditions, and occupations by day ? Not 
 Ottilie, not Miezle, at all events. She 
 had heard them tell their dreams. They 
 were precisely like their other experi 
 ences. 
 
 96
 
 THALATTA 
 
 " Helma and Julia Kernick write they 
 are coming to have coffee with me this 
 afternoon," said Miezle, wiry and auto 
 cratic. " You must get me some cakes, 
 Ottilie, and some whipped cream. But 
 don t spill it on your front breadth," she 
 added with a school-girl cackle and a 
 gratified sense of aptness. 
 
 " On the day of old Otto Kernick s 
 funeral," Ottilie began portentously, "the 
 sixth of November, 1837, at three in the 
 afternoon from the Hospital Church, 
 Emilie Braun s first husband Herr Asses 
 sor Greiner was just coming round the 
 corner of " 
 
 "Don t spoil your front breadth," gig 
 gled Miezle, still enjoying her wit. "I 
 hope it will not rain. I think it looks 
 like rain. I said to Cousin Dorothea 
 Siegle I thought we were probably going 
 to have rain. And Cousin Dorothea 
 said she did n t know, but it did cer 
 tainly look like rain. I said I thought 
 when it looked as it has looked lately it 
 generally rained. I said to myself the 
 first thing this morning that it looked 
 cloudy and as if it might rain." 
 
 97
 
 THALATTA 
 
 " The bearded man near me wore san 
 dals," reflected Henriette. " I saw them 
 distinctly on the shore. Is there no 
 thing else you would like, Miezle ? " 
 
 Miezle considered, interpolating flip 
 pant, satisfied ejaculations in Ottilie s 
 droning verbosity. 
 
 " They will resent it," mused Henriette 
 with a pang of self - reproach. " They 
 will think me crazy and wickedly extrava 
 gant and I suppose I am. I shall never 
 hear the last of it, it is so altogether like 
 riotous living. There they sit suspecting 
 nothing. I shall not dare to tell them 
 till half -past eleven to-morrow just as I m 
 flying off to catch the noon train." 
 
 " Some jelly, Miezle ? How would 
 some Rheinwein jelly do? Oh, Ottilie, 
 if you would like the real lace barb on 
 your summer hat, I don t mind letting 
 you wear it this season." 
 
 Whereupon Ottilie amid effusive 
 thanks began to weave a convoluted tale 
 of lace, her numbers as unassailable as 
 an astronomer s. 
 
 " And if they should ever discover I 
 had dared to speculate a wee bit in stocks
 
 THALATTA 
 
 and had good luck and was going to 
 use my gains for this journey, I believe 
 they would simply faint." Conscience- 
 stricken, with the soul of a conspirator, 
 she surveyed their familiar features, her 
 calm shrewd face betraying no trace of 
 emotion. " But it was the first and last 
 time and how else could I ever have 
 gone ? Nothing could induce me to touch 
 my little capital ; the business goes about 
 so-so, well enough it is true ; but liv 
 ing is dearer every year, and it would be 
 a sin to let them suffer in the slightest 
 degree through my wild notions. No, 
 there was really no other way if it was 
 gambling and I fear it was and I 
 hope the Lord will forgive me, crazy 
 old woman that I am ! " 
 
 Ottilie s recital continued imperturb- 
 ably. Miezle, interrupting ad libitum, 
 was inspecting her hands tiny, claw- 
 like objects of which she was very proud. 
 She was one of the ugliest and daintiest 
 little women on earth. All three sisters 
 were scrupulously neat, but Miezle was 
 almost preternaturally exquisite. They 
 had always been proud of her ; no one in- 
 99
 
 THALATTA 
 
 quired why or demanded her credentials. 
 It was the family tradition even before 
 her illness that she should be admired 
 and humored in all things. 
 
 For many years she had been a chronic 
 invalid, having early in life lost the use 
 of her legs. Her complaint fortunately 
 was painless, and by another beneficent 
 dispensation her mental horizon, not spa 
 cious at the start, had assumed in her 
 narrow environment dimensions more or 
 less similar to her canary s, so that she 
 seemed not to beat against her cage. It 
 is true she now and then called attention 
 to her imprisonment, but rather as a his 
 trionic attempt to increase her importance 
 than as actual lamentation. 
 
 For she passed her days pleasantly 
 enough with minute attention to her toi 
 lette, pasting birds and flowers in her 
 scrap-book, doing fancy work, reading 
 the evening paper gloatingly, that is 
 to say its local news, continued tale and 
 advertisements, never its leaders or tele 
 grams tyrannizing over Ottilie who, 
 whatever her limitations, was most con 
 scientious and patient in servitude, -
 
 THALATTA 
 
 and receiving visitors for gossip and cof 
 fee, at which feasts Miezle in her wheel 
 chair presided with sovereign ease and 
 dignity. 
 
 Doubtless noble resignation goes far 
 towards rendering such a life endurable, 
 but still more potent, it would seem, is 
 inordinate self-satisfaction. It is fair, 
 perhaps, to add that the gentle fidelity 
 of spirit which forbids people ever to 
 let a little elderly, witchlike, unamiable 
 woman with a beaky face, an obvious 
 moustache and no ideas suffer from 
 loneliness and neglect, and which keeps 
 them, merely because they happened to 
 know her forty or fifty years ago, troop 
 ing in still with their children and chil 
 dren s children, indefatigably offering 
 flowers and modest gifts, is essentially 
 "made in Germany." 
 
 Poor little Miezle, Henrietta reflected, 
 had never taken the smallest journey. 
 Even Ottilie had been only to and from 
 the near village where her husband was 
 Biirgermeister, until he died, the profane 
 insisted, of over-exertion of the larynx 
 Ottilie s larynx. Henriette also had
 
 THALATTA 
 
 never left her native town, yet contem 
 plated them pityingly. It was almost as 
 if she had gone, seen, and returned a 
 conqueror. 
 
 She would bring them some remem 
 brance from her wild mad roving (second- 
 class return ticket to Hamburg) and 
 Eberhard, too, although her conscience 
 was at rest about him. He would inherit 
 all she had, and the snug business. The 
 time would come when he could travel at 
 his pleasure. Her strange journey was 
 no wrong to him at least. She could 
 hardly accuse herself of niggardliness to 
 the boy, nor did he, she was well aware. 
 Well, she was so fond of him, and so 
 glad to give him a pleasure, and he too 
 loved her dearly. Not steady at his work 
 of late, no and somewhat moody and 
 irritable not his bright self. No doubt 
 a little too wild. That would pass. He 
 would sober down. He was a dear fellow 
 at heart, always after the smallest fault so 
 penitent and gentle as a child, and full 
 of the best intentions. She must have 
 a good talk with him immediately upon 
 her return.
 
 THALATTA 
 
 She knew her sisters had a way of 
 calling her, behind her back, severe and 
 even stingy, because she sometimes de 
 nied them a wish. They had good heads 
 for reckoning their own money a chan- 
 cellor-of-the-exchequer, to say the least, 
 was lost in Ottilie but what Henriette 
 expended upon them they deigned not to 
 compute. Their little annuities they 
 were wont to discuss rather grandly ; 
 that she for long years had provided 
 them with their home and the necessities 
 of life, they ignored for the most part. 
 It seemed more genteel to be silent on 
 this point. If they ever distantly alluded 
 to it, they took care to remind each other 
 that after all she could "afford it," - 
 she had "the business." The qualities 
 that went to make her modest commer 
 cial success they never appreciated 
 Miezle from sheer incapacity, Ottilie be 
 cause too preoccupied by her chronologi 
 cal tables. Besides, Henriette never ex 
 plained her methods. The sisters helped 
 her to fill extra orders at Christmas-tide 
 and Easter, and this was almost their 
 only connection with the shop. She was 
 103
 
 THALATTA 
 
 therefore the more content that Eberhard 
 was quick, intelligent, in all practical 
 things her confidant, more and more 
 familiar with every detail of the business, 
 particularly since he had become so 
 clever a penman, and kept the books so 
 handsomely ; that was a great relief, now 
 that she was getting older. 
 
 Henriette had long since finished her 
 breakfast, but lingered still, torn by curi 
 ous compunctions. After all, these sis 
 ters were the powers with which she had 
 to reckon. Perhaps she was too curt 
 with Ottilie and Miezle at times, in 
 the hard years especially. Thank Hea 
 ven, she d paid off the mortgage. When 
 she came back, they should each have 
 some great pleasure whatever they 
 liked best. Ottilie should buy a new 
 mantilla, taking her own time and going 
 to all the shops to talk and compare. 
 Then she should wear it somewhere and 
 show it, say at a garden-concert. She 
 had always been fond of music because 
 it collects a crowd. 
 
 Once Miezle had stayed ten days at 
 some small Baths in the suburbs, drunk 
 104
 
 THALATTA 
 
 water at the springs in the mornings, and 
 wheeled herself with grandezza along 
 shady walks. The self-glorification which 
 she had brought back from this campaign 
 made her incredibly happy, and doubt 
 less no conqueror ever alluded to the tri 
 umphs of a world-convulsing epoch with 
 a tithe of the purely personal compla 
 cency which Miezle derived from her 
 innocuous summer exploits. Ottilie had 
 journeyed to her per tram every day and 
 had the celestial pleasure of sitting on a 
 bench and watching strangers and being 
 thereby voluminously reminded of the 
 old, exhaustless and never-to-be-forgot 
 ten. The two should do it again. If 
 anything else could be devised to make 
 them happy, they should have it upon 
 her return. Poor Ottilie was looking 
 rather waxen, and far from strong. 
 
 " Henriette," said Ottilie, " I forgot 
 to mention that I heard the same myste 
 rious noises night before last that I no 
 ticed last Thursday at two o clock in the 
 morning, and I really should think you d 
 look into the matter. For you remember 
 the great bank robbery that took place 
 105
 
 THALATTA 
 
 on the second of March, 1 863 my 
 sainted Sigmund was discussing it with 
 the Herr Inspektor Botzen on the ninth 
 of March between ten and eleven in the 
 evening, while I was embroidering a blue 
 poppy pattern in the corners of my plum- 
 colored lady s-cloth table-cover with the 
 pinked edge. That was the year I had 
 my sciatica in the following November 
 after wetting my feet coming home from 
 church on Sunday evening the sixteenth. 
 They were having four bottles of beer 
 with black bread and Krauterkas and 
 my Sigmund said, and the Herr Inspektor 
 said also, and his father had been Bur- 
 germeister, a solid man and father of a 
 large family, that if proper precautions 
 had been taken beforehand, that burglary 
 never would have occurred." 
 
 " How can I look into the matter, Ot- 
 tilie, two days after it happened ? Be 
 sides you never tell me what you hear 
 footsteps, doors or what. You talk in 
 riddles. It is quite mystifying." 
 
 "How can I tell you when I do not 
 know myself? You know as much as I 
 know if it comes to that. I cannot pre- 
 106
 
 THALATTA 
 
 tend to explain what I did not see and 
 do not understand. I m worried, so I 
 worry you. I m mystified, so I mystify 
 you. I tell you what I heard and I sur 
 mise burglars. It is all very well to be 
 scornful about noises in the night, but 
 Frau Stadtpfarrer Nussbaum who was a 
 Mayer from Waiblingen " 
 
 " There, there, Ottilie, let us keep to 
 the subject in hand." 
 
 "That is just what we cannot do. 
 There is no subject in hand. The sub 
 ject is in the dark. The subject goes 
 wandering round your house at night and 
 bodes no good, and you refuse to be 
 warned while there is yet time, before we 
 are all murdered in our beds like the 
 entire Polt-Schmidt family on the seven 
 teenth of August, 1856." 
 
 Miezle uttered a shrill little scream. 
 
 " It is very inconsiderate of you not to 
 mind, Henriette. It is your own house 
 and you ought to look after it. If there s 
 anything I do detest, it s burglars prowl 
 ing about by night." 
 
 "Child, what can I do?" returned 
 Henriette indulgently. "Had I heard 
 107
 
 THALATTA 
 
 anything, I should have gone out to see 
 what it was. Ottilie prefers to stay on 
 the safe side of a locked door. I miss 
 nothing. The till was quite right. I 
 locked up below as usual. It must have 
 been Ottilie s nerves or ghosts, per 
 haps." 
 
 "If you do not hear that stealthy 
 creeping " 
 
 "Oh, if they should get me!" cried 
 Miezle, as if she were a species of Kohi- 
 noor. 
 
 " You must sleep like a log." 
 
 In Henriette s face was an indescrib 
 ably happy light. 
 
 "I sleep remarkably," she said. 
 " But don t insist upon frightening poor 
 Miezle, for probably your burglar is no 
 body but Eberhard." 
 
 " Eberhard ! As if he would sneak 
 about in the night and frighten his own 
 mother ! If my sainted Sigmund had 
 lived to hear you say that, he would 
 wonder, yes, wonder at you, Henriette ! 
 Eberhard, dear boy, having gone to his 
 room night before last at twenty-three 
 minutes past eleven, for I had just fin- 
 108
 
 THALATTA 
 
 ished putting a new braid on my second 
 best cashmere skirt, and the lamp begin 
 ning to flicker, I " 
 
 " Did you see Eberhard yesterday ? " 
 asked Henriette abruptly. " Do you 
 know where he was ? " 
 
 " On Monday," replied the aggrieved 
 mother, vaguely belligerent, slightly lach 
 rymose, " he said he should go out of 
 town on Tuesday to take Professor Hart- 
 wig s special orders for binding a lot of 
 books." 
 
 " It is curious," thought Henriette, 
 " that I ve heard nothing from Professor 
 Hart wig. Somebody wants me, Fritz ? 
 I 11 come at once." 
 
 Miezle s bird was pecking her finger. 
 She giggled girlishly and prattled baby- 
 talk, unmindful of Ottilie, who, wiping her 
 eyes, discoursed upon the feelings of a 
 mother, which she declared Henriette 
 never understood. 
 
 " No, I don t," Henriette admitted 
 with blunt good-humor as she rose to go 
 down-stairs. " Some feelings of mothers 
 I never pretend to understand others 
 perhaps I may. But I meant no harm, 
 109
 
 THALATTA 
 
 Ottilie. You know very well I think the 
 world of Eberhard. If he s a bit late 
 now and then, I cannot say he goes to 
 roost with the chickens, can I ? But 
 Eberhard s got no better friend on earth 
 than Henriette Vischer." 
 
 In the middle of the shop stood her 
 banker. 
 
 " Can I see you alone ? " he said, and 
 as she closed the door of a private room, 
 " I am so exceedingly distressed, I have 
 come myself," he murmured. " Having 
 always known you and your family 
 having so much esteem for you all 
 and and " 
 
 " Has anything happened to Eber 
 hard ?" she demanded. "An accident? 
 Is he dead? " 
 
 " Control yourself, my dear Frau Vis 
 cher," he urged as people will, though 
 she was regarding him with the strength 
 of a rock in her rugged face. " It may 
 be quite in order, of course yet I 
 fear and if there s anything wrong 
 we ve not a moment to lose allow 
 me"
 
 THALATTA 
 
 Taking two cheques from his pocket- 
 book he placed them in her hand. 
 
 As she stared at them, it seemed to 
 him her strong and comely face visibly 
 shrank into that of an old, old woman 
 with gray and haggard features. 
 
 " The first was presented on Friday 
 last, you observe. It was submitted to 
 me as usual. I thought it rather large, 
 but suspected nothing irregular. It was 
 from your cheque-book and bore your 
 signature. Your nephew Eberhard has 
 frequently of late years presented your 
 cheques, payable to yourself or bearer. 
 Yesterday, unfortunately, I was out of 
 town, and have indeed only j ust returned 
 this morning. I certainly should have 
 hesitated to cash it without consulting 
 you, the sum is so astoundingly at vari 
 ance with your business habits. In fact, 
 the two cheques practically close your 
 account with us. 
 
 " It was just before we closed yesterday 
 that the second was presented. There 
 was rather a run, and the cashier who 
 received it was exceedingly busy. He
 
 THALATTA 
 
 cashed it, but afterwards became uneasy, 
 thought he perceived something queer 
 in the signature. The quirl of the V is 
 not yours, he maintains. He was waiting 
 at my house this morning when I arrived 
 and here I am, deeply distressed, I need 
 not assure you, to be the bearer of such 
 tidings -but entirely at your service. 
 It is most deplorable, but of course we 
 must lose no time. With your permis 
 sion I will without delay inform the po 
 lice. I am of the opinion your unfortu 
 nate nephew is on his way to Hamburg. 
 Sometimes," he spoke with a certain rou 
 tine, "they try Zurich, but usually Ham 
 burg, and the first ship sailing." 
 
 Suddenly into that narrow room, be 
 tween her and the solicitous face upon 
 which her physical eyes were gazing, 
 broke space strength freedom ; the 
 slow plunge of breakers ; the poise of 
 wide-winged birds. 
 
 "He will behold it," cried her heart 
 with a mighty pang. 
 
 She set her lips grimly. 
 
 " There is nothing the matter with the
 
 THALATTA 
 
 quirl of the V," she said in a matter- 
 of-fact tone. 
 
 " You condone," gasped the banker 
 " you assume "- 
 
 Her grave gesture silenced him. 
 
 "The signature is mine." 
 "3
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 i 
 
 two young men were weary 
 and footsore, and the road was 
 steep. The pale one dropped 
 under a tree and closed his eyes. 
 
 " It s no use, Florio. You d better 
 give it up." 
 
 " Idiot ! " returned the other, a big 
 blond fellow with a soft voice, sat 
 down, hugged his knees, and scowled. 
 Presently he exclaimed : 
 
 " Chardo ! You re not going to play 
 me the shabby trick of fainting again ? " 
 
 " Not if I can help it," Richard replied 
 feebly. 
 
 " Well, mind what you re about ! 
 Wait." 
 
 Running down the bank, he wet his 
 handkerchief in a bit of brook trickling 
 114
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 between vineyards and bathed his friend s 
 face. 
 
 " It costs nothing, which is one for us ; 
 but, alas!" he muttered ruefully, "it is 
 not filling. Don t faint, little one ! " 
 
 " I m all right." 
 
 " You look it. Never mind. You 11 
 look better soon. Just you wait till your 
 stomach s full of roast capon and Bur 
 gundy." 
 
 Richard smiled in languid irony. 
 
 " See ! The very thought is illuminat 
 ing. If you d only grin a little oftener, 
 and drop that bad habit of going about 
 with your Sorrows-of-Werther, starved- 
 greyhound expression, this copartnership 
 would make a better impression on the 
 public." 
 
 Richard propped himself on one elbow. 
 
 " My dear old boy, I want to speak to 
 you. I m quite played out, you see, 
 and"- 
 
 " Not a bit of it ! " 
 
 "Worse still, I m ruining you." 
 
 " Don t drivel, little one." 
 
 " Alone, you d get along all right, 
 even now that you ve wasted all you 
 "5
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 had on me ; and I ve made up my mind 
 once for all " 
 
 " Oh, have you ! You tell me about 
 that later, will you ? I can t stop just 
 now. Ricardo mio, we stand upon the 
 threshold of our enterprise ! " 
 
 "Don t swagger. Listen, Florio." 
 
 " I 11 be damned if I will. You are 
 starving. Has a starving man sense ? 
 You have been eleven weeks in a hospi 
 tal. Does that tend to cheerful and sane 
 views of life ? What were you at be 
 fore, when I found you ? Gluttonizing on 
 black coffee, while you did nasty little 
 jobs for that confounded illustrated paper 
 and tried to scrape enough together to 
 paint your picture, until you broke down 
 flat, black coffee being proverbially not 
 filling. Now don t lie there in a ditch 
 and get maudlin. Just answer me this. 
 Suppose you have bread and beer, and a 
 room, and your canvas and traps, are you 
 or are you not, man enough to paint your 
 picture ? " 
 
 The painter s soul leaped in his eyes. 
 
 " Well, you are going to paint it, my 
 boy. So what s the use of whining ? 
 
 116
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 But first we ve got to eat. I ve talked 
 enough. Now, I m going to gird up my 
 loins and storm the town." 
 
 "As we ve stormed the others," 
 Richard said bitterly. 
 
 " Not at all. Quite otherwise. This 
 town will be squeezed." He opened and 
 closed his hand significantly. " We ve 
 been, up to this present, too virtuous. 
 Virtue is not filling. Nor does it make 
 for respectability. Look at our clothes. 
 I shall now take to the road. Put money 
 in thy purse" 
 
 " I ve no conception what you mean, 
 Florio," the other returned wearily. 
 
 " Nor I. That is, I have created the 
 gigantic outlines, but not yet the fine 
 details. I advise you to pull your hat 
 over your eyes and take a nap. It will 
 cost us nothing. Anyhow, don t worry. 
 Things are going to be all right. I 11 be 
 back soon. Don t faint, little one ! 
 Mind, no nonsense." 
 
 " Florio, have you one single penny ? " 
 
 " Not I. If I had a penny, pray where 
 would be the genius in getting some 
 bread?" 
 
 117
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 Richard sighed and covered his face. 
 Too disheartened to hope, too hungry to 
 sleep, he lay motionless and miserable 
 by the roadside, while Florio tramped up 
 hill with a spirited effect at the start, 
 but soon with lagging feet and a per 
 plexed countenance. 
 
 "Oh, Lord," he groaned, "whet my 
 wits, or I cannot keep Chardo s soul and 
 body together, and when you are driven 
 into a corner it s no use splitting hairs. 
 I told them the truth," he reflected re 
 sentfully, " and nobody believed or cared. 
 Old fools, that pretend to know every 
 thing beforehand, and are always sight 
 ing and scenting something rotten ! 
 Dolts that imagine themselves shrewd 
 because they invite disappointment and 
 fatten on suspicion ! I tell them hon 
 estly who my father was, and what I 
 know and can do and want, and what 
 sort of fellow Richard is, and what a 
 heroic fight he has made. The sleek 
 ones with full bellies smile. It sounds 
 rather improbable, they say. The art 
 professors are very sorry. Of course, in 
 their position, and so on and so forth, 
 118
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 they have a good many such applications. 
 Besides did n t I want to punch that 
 smirk ! if a man has genuine talent he 
 is sure to make his mark somehow, 
 sooner or later. Then out stalks my 
 lord Richard, as haughty as a hidalgo 
 with a patch in his trousers. The com 
 mercial nabobs make still shorter work of 
 me, and no newspaper needs a stevedore 
 about my size. 
 
 " Improbable ? Of course it is improb 
 able. The truth mostly is, deuce take 
 it ! I don t know that I d believe it my 
 self, if my stomach would sit down and 
 be mannerly. All the same, two young 
 fellows of fair education with no crimes 
 on their conscience, no disgrace in their 
 families, and through no fault of their 
 own, are nearly famishing on the out 
 skirts of this rich town this day. 
 
 "Well, town, if truth is too good for 
 
 you, I 11 give you some ornamental lying. 
 
 Richard s got to have three square meals 
 
 a day, which means color in his face, flesh 
 
 on his bones, and the old spirit in his 
 
 heart. For this I 11 dig, I 11 beg, I 11 
 
 well, I do draw the line at stealing. 
 
 119
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 But I 11 treat you to all the impudence 
 and hocus-pocus you can swallow, and 
 take without prejudice whatever the 
 Lord sends in my way." 
 
 A carriage was slowly passing the 
 cross-road on the brow of the hill where 
 he stopped an instant. The chubby 
 hand of a child seated by the coach 
 man negligently dangled a large Bretzel. 
 The vagabond at the horses heads lifted 
 his hands to his mouth and suddenly ut 
 tered a prolonged and terrific yell, which 
 by straining a point might be considered 
 a Jodel, but rather resembled the howl of 
 a demon in anguish. The horses started, 
 the child screamed, swayed and dropped 
 the Bretzel, three women simultaneously 
 comforted the victim, expostulated with 
 the miscreant, and gave orders to the 
 irate coachman who threatened with his 
 long whip. 
 
 But these futile demonstrations receded 
 with the brisk trot of the startled horses, 
 and Florio in gleeful possession of the 
 plunder retraced his steps down hill. 
 
 " An omen ! " he exulted, for an 
 instant regarding with a peculiar ex-
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 pression his crisp, brown booty, then 
 thrusting it behind him, beyond sight 
 and smell, and whistling ostentatiously. 
 
 " Where did you get it ? " asked Rich 
 ard, but not before biting the thickest 
 part. 
 
 " I found it up there in the road." 
 
 " Oh, gammon ! " 
 
 " Upon my word I did," Florio assured 
 him with a candid air. " Children drop 
 such things sometimes, don t they ? " 
 
 Richard broke off half and proffered 
 it. 
 
 " Oh, I ate mine coming down the 
 hill," Florio said, picking up a twig and 
 chewing it, while hugging his knees and 
 keeping his eyes fixed like a dog s on his 
 friend, until he had consumed the last 
 morsel and leaned back against the tree 
 with a little sigh. 
 
 "It is astonishing what a difference 
 even a trifle like that makes in a man." 
 
 " Quite my opinion." 
 
 " But rather humiliating, is it not ? " 
 
 "That we, hence our thoughts, are 
 what we eat ? Not a bit humiliating. 
 But if you please, our genius is to be 
 
 121
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 no product of the humble Bretzel. Good 
 juicy beef and mutton pictures you shall 
 paint. You have proved that a diet of 
 thin air does not foster art. And I 
 claim that my great thoughts need succu 
 lent food, and a lot of it, washed down 
 with foaming beer. A gnawing stomach 
 writes bilious verse." 
 
 " Florio, I 11 come along with you now. 
 It s more cheerful, and I feel better." 
 
 " No, no. Wait a bit. You re too 
 tired. Let me go foraging alone once 
 more. I have considerable business to 
 transact before night. Judging by the 
 cuckoo which has just struck sixteen, it 
 must now be about two o clock by my 
 watch at the pawnbroker s in Cologne." 
 
 Again Florio climbed the hill. 
 
 " Upon my word, I could devour not 
 only the Bretzel but the fat child on 
 the box. Hermes, god of rogues, guide 
 my yearning stomach. I don t know 
 whether I can write a comedy, but I be 
 lieve I can perform a large sized one, solo. 
 I feel all sorts of latent iniquities bub 
 bling up in me since I took to the road 
 and the motto : " No prejudice." There s
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 a house across the field. They can do 
 no more than set the dogs on me. If I 
 do not eat, I shall fall down like Chardo, 
 and then where are we ? Why should 
 they not give me some bread if I m hun 
 gry ? I would give it them. I refuse to 
 consider it begging. Anyhow, I 11 just 
 stroll down their lane and look over their 
 hedge." 
 
 He buttoned his coat across his chest, 
 set his teeth, and marched stiffly toward 
 the little farm. 
 
 Out came a shrewish woman and ac 
 costed him with a harsh 
 
 " What do you want ? " 
 
 " No boon at your hands," thought he, 
 "though I die." 
 
 " I am merely admiring your salad," 
 he replied politely, lifted his hat and re 
 treated whence he came. 
 
 He went some distance along the hot, 
 dusty road, reached the top of the long 
 hill, met no tempting morsels waiting to 
 fall into his mouth, seated himself on a 
 stile, wiped his moist face and racked his 
 brains. 
 
 "Food and a bed for Chardo before 
 123
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 nightfall ! They shall be forthcoming. 
 But firstly, eat I must, eat I will. I 11 
 march up to that cottage and spin them 
 a yarn. I 11 offer to tell their fortunes, 
 regulate their clocks, mend their roofs, 
 wash their poodles or cut their corns. 
 No Gorgon and no pestilence shall deter 
 me." 
 
 Bristling with determination, he 
 knocked. 
 
 A benign and diminutive old woman 
 opened the door and peered up curiously 
 at him. 
 
 His romances all took flight. Before 
 so much gentleness and simplicity he 
 could invent nothing. 
 
 She bade him a friendly good day. 
 
 " My daughter is out, and the children. 
 They are with my son in the vineyard. 
 Did you want to see my son ? " 
 
 " No," said Florio helplessly. 
 
 " My daughter, then ? " 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 She waited, wondering. 
 
 " I am tired," he stammered, deadly 
 ashamed of his ulterior object. " Would 
 you let me come in and rest awhile ? " 
 124
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 "Certainly. I was cautioned not to 
 let tramps and beggars in," she added 
 smiling, " but I m sure you are none of 
 that sort." 
 
 He walked into the clean cool kitchen 
 and sat down opposite a dresser, upon 
 which was a large brown loaf and a 
 pitcher of cider. 
 
 The little old woman, pleased to ob 
 tain a listener, resumed her knitting and 
 prattled guilelessly of her son, her son s 
 wife, her grandchildren s recent measles, 
 the weather, the vines, the prognostica 
 tions for the crops, last year s crops, the 
 fowls, the potatoes, the hard times, and 
 her native village fifty years gone. 
 
 "Why don t I get up and take it?" 
 Florio asked himself desperately. " It is 
 mere prejudice, the miserable shackles 
 of conventionality. Somehow I can t beg 
 of this nice old woman. But it is evi 
 dent I must, unless I construct the sort 
 of woman of whom I can beg." 
 
 " Is there any sort of work I could do 
 for you ? " he mumbled, " any hoeing or 
 digging or splitting or weeding or water 
 ing or chopping ? " 
 
 125
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 She glanced shrewdly in his face, and 
 at his clothes, which if shabby were not 
 those of a laboring man, and answered 
 placidly : 
 
 " My Blasius does all that and my 
 daughter with other help if needed, 
 but such work is not for such as you." 
 
 " Being dead famished," he reflected, 
 " and worn out and penniless, I cannot 
 ask for that bread. If I did not need it, 
 were well fed, and rich, I could smirk 
 patronizingly : Oh, do let me try your 
 good barley loaf ! And this we call 
 being human. I d rather be a dog and 
 bay the moon." 
 
 Staring straight before him at the 
 dresser he waited, strangely unable to 
 frame in words his first venture in men 
 dicancy. If she had only not made 
 that fatally apt allusion to beggars and 
 tramps, he was certain he would not 
 hesitate. Involuntarily his inward hol- 
 lowness sought expression in a despair 
 ing groan. 
 
 She looked up startled. 
 
 " I have come far," he faltered, " and 
 eaten no dinner to-day. Could I have a 
 126
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 slice of that bread ? " His voice was shy 
 and low, his heart beat fast, and a flush 
 overspread his face. 
 
 "Bless me, why didn t you say so 
 before ? " 
 
 She trotted about briskly, set the loaf 
 before him, and some cheese. 
 
 " What would you like to drink ? 
 Cider s not good on an empty stomach. 
 In a few minutes you shall have a cup of 
 hot coffee. Bless me, bless me ! How 
 could I know, at this time of day ? Of 
 course, at Vesper-time, I should have 
 offered it." 
 
 Florio had taken one heavenly mouth 
 ful of brown bread, when his heart sank 
 with the awful suspicion he might be de 
 ceiving her unwittingly. 
 
 " I have no money," he bluntly an 
 nounced. 
 
 " Sometimes that happens," returned 
 the little old woman equably. 
 
 He said no more. He simply fell to. 
 He could have wept or shouted for thank 
 fulness. If this was begging he would 
 make the most of it. His heart grew 
 light as the loaf diminished. A sense of 
 127
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 security and peace pervaded his being. 
 He stretched his legs lazily, and smiled 
 at the little old woman as she bustled 
 about and served his coffee and fetched 
 some beer and took evident delight in 
 the daimtlessness of his appetite. 
 
 " Well, you are hungry ! " exclaimed 
 his admiring hostess. 
 
 "Rather!" he agreed, continuing 
 doughtily. The more he ate, the better 
 tasted the hot coffee. The more coffee 
 he drank, the greater his zest for thick 
 slices of bread and cheese, and on this 
 substratum he finally poured down a tall 
 mug of beer. 
 
 At length he leaned back, wiping his 
 smiling mouth, and suddenly remem 
 bered Chardo lying by the roadside. 
 
 With a muffled but robust imprecation, 
 he sprang up : 
 
 " See here, perhaps I am a tramp " 
 
 " No, no, you have not a tramp s face, 
 my pretty young gentleman. Nor do 
 you speak like a tramp." 
 
 " If having no money, no work, no food 
 to speak of in days and not a morsel 
 since yesterday morning, is being a tramp, 
 128
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 I m a tramp fast enough, and I 11 not 
 deny it. But I m an honest man, and I 
 shan t be a tramp long, I promise you. 
 Now, see here. While I ve been gor 
 ging myself, beast that I am, my chum s 
 down there in the road, ill and worn out 
 and aching for food. And I want you to 
 just give me a lot of things for him as fast 
 as ever you can, some of that coffee, 
 and bread, and " 
 
 " I 11 boil him some eggs," she pro 
 posed briskly. 
 
 " Engclmutterchcn ! Boil half a dozen. 
 Make up a good parcel, will you ? any 
 thing you happen to have. Cake, if 
 you ve got a bit. He likes cake. Or 
 even cold pudding. I don t suppose 
 you ve got a piece of meat ? Never 
 mind. A lot of that cheese, please. It s 
 awfully good cheese. And what s your 
 name, and your son s, and the children s, 
 and all your names ? Some day I 11 
 come back in a different fashion, and 
 you 11 never be sorry as long as you live 
 that I did my first begging in your house. 
 What I ve eaten I 11 take as a gift from 
 you to me," he went on, with a flashing 
 129
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 smile, and shaking both her hands " as 
 your bounty, Miitterchen, and I 11 bless 
 you for it. But all this here I m borrow 
 ing, you understand. I m your bond fide 
 debtor, and I 11 pay compound interest, 
 you 11 see ! " 
 
 " I see you are a merry young gen 
 tleman, and love your jest." Somewhat 
 hypnotized by his eagerness and verve, 
 his gentle benefactress now committed 
 extensive depredations upon the family 
 larder. 
 
 " We must all do one another good 
 turns in this world," she said simply, 
 handing him a well - filled basket. " If 
 you don t mind my saying it, if I were 
 you I would n t call myself tramp and 
 beggar, because," with a smile of mellow 
 sagacity, " some folks never know how 
 foolish they are." 
 
 " Oh, angel-granny, I thank thee for 
 that word," thought Florio, hastening 
 down the hill. " It shall be the corner 
 stone of Chardo s fortunes." 
 
 " Nnnc plaudite. There s coffee in 
 that beer-bottle." 
 
 Richard whistled. 
 130
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 " Begged or stolen ? " 
 
 " An it please you, borrowed ! Bor 
 rowed of a friend of mine after first 
 dining like an alderman myself, of course. 
 Look out for number one saves nine, is 
 my motto," Florio returned with a swag 
 ger, his chest well out, his feet planted 
 far apart, his face flushed and smiling. 
 
 Richard, after a long pull at the com 
 forting bottle, gazed up with affectionate 
 yet somewhat pathetic eyes, muttered: 
 " You are such a donkey ! " and turned 
 his face quickly aside. 
 
 " It s all right, little one. Amuse 
 yourself now with that basket. Stay 
 where you are and keep house. I m off 
 for the third trip. They always go three 
 times my prototypes, you know 
 Noah s weary dove and the others." 
 
 Leaving the main road, he struck off 
 at random, by narrow ways through vine 
 yards, where men in blue blouses were 
 stooping in the strong sunshine hard 
 at work loosing the rocky soil round the 
 vine-roots. 
 
 " Most of them look as if they might 
 casually suspect what fools they are.
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 I must find one who, as Granny Aristotle 
 said, never knows. This old bumpkin 
 may do." 
 
 Negligently leaning on a stone wall, 
 he gazed at nothing in particular, and be 
 gan to whistle. 
 
 II 
 
 Beyond a surly glance now and then 
 the vintner paid no heed to the idle fellow, 
 but gradually, after the fashion of even 
 unsocial animals, became vaguely accus 
 tomed or reconciled to his presence. 
 When Florio judged sufficient time had 
 elapsed, he cautiously let fall a series of 
 isolated remarks of ultra-humdrum pur 
 port, the vintner responding, it is true, only 
 by grunts, which, however, Florio ventured 
 to hope were designed rather to sustain 
 than to repress intercourse. Meanwhile 
 he relentlessly noted that the blue figures 
 against the brown warm earth along the 
 whole broad hill were, for the most part, 
 fairly young lithe men, advancing rapidly 
 from hillock to hillock, where the new 
 small vines were pushing, while this 
 132
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 man s movements were slow, reluctant, 
 and impeded by an Athos of formidable 
 dimensions. 
 
 "Tough, eh?" said the lazy youth, 
 seating himself astride the wall. 
 
 A covert, oracular glance answered 
 him. 
 
 " Especially for one man alone " 
 
 No response except some rather vin 
 dictive hacking and picking. 
 
 " In our vineyards we turn out a score 
 of men at a time even on a little place 
 like this." 
 
 The vintner lifted his slow gaze. 
 
 " Although, to be sure, we have no 
 such soil. Our earth is soft as butter. 
 Our grapes are big as good-sized plums. 
 Our vineyards well, there s money in 
 our vineyards. Only of course we don t 
 sell." 
 
 The vintner paused, his foot on his 
 spade. 
 
 "Whose vineyards ? " 
 
 "My master s." 
 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 " Prince Chardo," replied the sunny 
 youth on the wall and never blinked. 
 133
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 " Don t know him," said the man stol 
 idly, and resumed his task. 
 
 Now Florio had had no notion in which 
 direction his wayward genius would leap. 
 He had but meant to win the peasant s 
 confidence and earn a little money. " My 
 master," was said in unpremeditated mis 
 chief, but it seemed to the rogue from 
 this moment his course was clear. I 
 ought not to have been ashamed to ask 
 seraphic granny for bread and I was. I 
 ought to be ashamed of myself now and 
 I m not. On the contrary en avant ! 
 Hurrah for Prince Chardo ! HocJi ! " 
 
 Presently it was Prince Chardo here, 
 Prince Chardo there, Prince Chardo 
 round all corners. " Our estates," and 
 the phenomenal size and sweetness of the 
 melons, nectarines, peaches, strawberries, 
 and figs grown in those delectable lands 
 and forwarded in huge hampers when 
 his highness deigned to travel in foreign 
 parts ; Prince Chardo s castles, villas, and 
 hunting-lodges, his cattle, horses, dogs, 
 and game, his mines, his forests, his im 
 mense retinue and oriental pomp. 
 
 The taciturn old vintner doggedly
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 hacked the stubborn earth, but he was 
 ruminating, Florio plainly perceived. 
 
 " Where are his estates ? " 
 
 " Hungry." 
 
 " Hungary ? That s far ? " 
 
 " Hungry," rejoined the youth airily, 
 "is near or far, according as you go." 
 
 The old man mused bitterly upon the 
 inequalities of fortune and vineyards. 
 
 " Soft as butter ? " 
 
 "As fresh butter." 
 
 " What s his whole name ? " 
 
 " Scdet, ^Eternumque Sedebit Infelix 
 Theseus" replied Florio glibly, without 
 the quiver of an eyelash. " And that s 
 not all of it. He s got a lot more. Gen 
 tlemen of quality always have, you know. 
 Bless you, they don t mind how many 
 names they have ! " 
 
 By this time the vintner had heard 
 Prince Chardo s name so frequently reit 
 erated it had become an established fact, 
 which naturally proved the authenticity 
 of Florio s claims. The man belonged 
 to that large category of individuals 
 not exclusively vintners who, of an un 
 imaginative and essentially suspicious 
 135
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 turn of mind, will yet believe the most 
 monstrous tale if they but hear it often 
 enough. 
 
 " He is here, your prince ? " 
 
 " He is on the way," Florio said 
 sweetly. " You need n t say anything 
 about it just yet. He prefers to travel 
 quietly. That s why I m not wearing 
 my livery. I am only one of the under 
 servants, you know. A lot of us were 
 sent on in advance. It matters nothing 
 to him how many come. He s not one 
 that counts noses." Florio stared at the 
 sky and the earth, yawned, and swung his 
 heels with lordly irresponsibility. 
 
 The peasant, whose back ached, be 
 trayed some envy in the dense gutturals 
 of his monosyllabic response. 
 
 Unexpectedly and unwarrantably the 
 amiable trifler now grew didactic, began 
 to suggest, to instruct, to relate how 
 much better things were done in Prince 
 Chardo s noble vineyards ; in fact, to 
 meddle and dictate. 
 
 The vintner responded wrathfully that 
 he wanted none of that. 
 
 "If you really don t care about get- 
 136
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 ting on," Florio shrugged his shoul 
 ders. 
 
 The old man deliberately seated him 
 self on the ground, drew a small bottle 
 of beer and some black bread from a 
 basket behind a currant bush, and, eye 
 ing his environment disapprovingly, si 
 lently partook of his Vesper. Somewhat 
 mollified, he remarked succinctly : 
 
 "Do three hundred vines and you 
 sweat." 
 
 Between other appeasing draughts, he 
 added : 
 
 " Besides, it s not my work. I ve 
 other jobs. I m sixty-five years old and 
 my back s stiff. But my son Vincenz 
 has broken his arm. It s easy to sit on 
 a wall and brag." 
 
 " Oh, I don t mind lending a hand just 
 while you are at your beer," returned the 
 prince s minion affably, jumped from the 
 wall, flung off his coat, seized a pick, and 
 being twenty-two years old, strong and 
 supple, besides having most urgent rea 
 sons for desiring to please, set to work 
 in a manner that vineyard had never be 
 fore experienced.
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 When the old man resumed his toil, 
 Florio still continued. He was rather 
 tired, he said, lolling about and waiting 
 for the prince. He not only worked 
 steadily and swiftly until seven o clock, 
 but he told exactly the sort of safe and 
 creaking joke which the vintner relished, 
 and finally declared he was welcome to 
 the three hours assistance. It was not 
 worth talking about when one had a 
 good situation. 
 
 They parted on the best of terms, after 
 Florio had consented to help again on 
 the morrow this time for the usual 
 wages. He sauntered off, but returned 
 to ask, as mere afterthought, if the man 
 could recommend quiet lodgings not too 
 far off. Happening to have a cousin 
 who sometimes let rooms, he wrote her 
 name and address at Florio s request, 
 "so she ll know I m all right," the 
 young man explained pleasantly. " I ve 
 a mate with me," he added, "a nice fel 
 low, but lazy. He d not touch your 
 vineyard." 
 
 " But you 11 not fail me to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Oh dear, no. Only one thing could 
 138
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 prevent, sudden orders from Prince 
 Chardo. It is fair to tell you that." 
 
 The peasant nodded approval. He 
 hated strangers, but when you know who 
 is who it is different. 
 
 That night as Richard lay in a good 
 bed in a simple but clean room, Florio 
 with a chuckle asked : 
 
 " Is your Highness quite comfort 
 able?" 
 
 " Surprisingly." 
 
 " Does Prince Chardo want any more 
 to eat ? There s a lot still in the basket." 
 
 " Oh no, thanks. I m full to the 
 brim. Why does the old schoolboy name 
 amuse you on a sudden so immensely ? " 
 
 Florio slapped his thigh and laughed 
 uproariously. 
 
 After a while Richard said half sadly : 
 
 " You must not think me glum if I do 
 not always see the joke nowadays. I 
 used to, you know." 
 
 "And will again," Florio said heartily, 
 laughing no more. "Besides, my jokes 
 are gaseous." 
 
 " He is so awfully fastidious," he re 
 flected, " has so many notions, it would
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 be confounded bad luck if he should hap 
 pen to stroll through the vineyards to 
 morrow and get a shock to his nervous 
 system." 
 
 "See here, Chardo. What if you 
 should stay in bed to-morrow and have a 
 good rest ? You need it badly. I 11 tell 
 the woman to look after you." 
 
 Richard smiled drearily. 
 
 " I really should n t mind much. It s 
 a very good place. The best except 
 one for dummies." 
 
 "You are weak, and it will do you 
 good," Florio continued equably. "You 
 must begin to recover your strength." 
 
 " It s a mystery to me how you evolve 
 food and beds out of your inner conscious 
 ness." 
 
 "That s all right, little one. I ll tell 
 you about it later. I m going to evolve 
 a lot of things. I ve got some commer 
 cial transactions on hand. Now you go 
 to sleep and don t bother." 
 
 Richard was too exhausted to remon 
 strate. Florio soon lay listening to his 
 friend s soft breathing, and reviewed the 
 day. Its victories, in spite of a certain 
 140
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 diabolical luck, seemed paltry and puerile 
 enough, now that the excitement was 
 over and night s merciless inner light 
 shone on them. Still there they two 
 wanderers lay housed and fed. " Im 
 probable " but a solid fact. The bed 
 was short for Florio, but he rather en 
 joyed the insistence of the footboard, 
 which proved possession. 
 
 Beyond the shadow of a doubt, had he, 
 a vagrant, without diplomatic prelimina 
 ries simply demanded work of the vint 
 ner, that suspicious and crusty individual 
 would have sent him about his business. 
 Had he frankly intimated that he was a 
 man of the better sort of associations, 
 but, owing to a peculiar combination of 
 adverse circumstances, homeless, impe 
 cunious, sorely in need of employment, 
 and dead eager to do the hardest work 
 for the meanest wages that would keep 
 himself and his ill friend afloat, in all 
 probability the case would have seemed 
 so utterly disreputable it would have 
 forthwith been handed over to the police. 
 
 " Lord, Lord, how this world is given 
 to lying ! Yea, verily, it doteth upon it," 
 141
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 he mused, yet a certain lankness of spirit 
 had succeeded to his hollowness of stom 
 ach. How could he pay for the lodging 
 requisitioned in this high-handed manner ? 
 How buy food ? How sustain Chardo s 
 spirits without money to provide him 
 with the one thing needful for his physi 
 cal and moral health the opportunity 
 to paint in peace ? How, in short, tide 
 over until Chardo and he both should 
 find their grooves ? 
 
 Night thoughts are naked and strong. 
 Florio surveyed his dubiously. The 
 house was in the suburbs. Rustic sounds 
 entered the open window, among them 
 the insistent croaking of frogs, which 
 he for a long time heard mechanically. 
 They gradually awakened memories, and 
 finally inspired him with a project, absurd 
 yet reassuring, which set him heaving 
 with silent laughter, and wishing Chardo 
 were well enough to be waked up to lis 
 ten. Still it was wiser, perhaps, to say 
 nothing. Chardo was fastidious. 
 
 Two days later no night thoughts or 
 misgivings clouded the landscape. The 
 sun was up and so was Florio s fun. 
 142
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 " How great men spend the first money 
 earned by the sweat of their brows 
 and heaven knows mine dripped like 
 Niobe is always gloated over by their 
 biographers," whereupon he bought at a 
 hatter s a nice little silvery tin bauble, 
 a prince s coronet such as serving-men 
 wear on their caps. 
 
 " What a blessed thing is a high state 
 of civilization," reflected the philosopher, 
 examining it contentedly before dropping 
 it into his pocket. The toy had two little 
 flexible pointed ends, and could be ad 
 justed or removed in the twinkling of an 
 eye. He also purchased and put on a 
 towering shirt-collar. For this prome 
 nade he had taken the precaution to don 
 Chardo s coat, it having no hole in the 
 elbow. 
 
 " Destiny is more just than we some 
 times acknowledge, " he had, while dress 
 ing, informed his friend ; " the seat of my 
 trousers is intact." 
 
 Strolling on he fraternized with sun 
 dry newsboys and ne er-do-wells. The 
 sort of information he desired was the 
 easiest in the world to obtain. 
 143
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 " What s your line ? " demanded the 
 harassed director of a small variety 
 theatre fiercely, for he was still writhing 
 under a recent bouleversement. 
 
 " Oh, I can sit up and beg and hold a 
 stick on my nose," drawled Florio, twirl 
 ing his young mustache and cocking his 
 eye over his new collar. 
 
 This was evidently a music-hall favor 
 ite. 
 
 The tired man s tone softened. 
 
 " Sung much ? " 
 
 " Rather ! " 
 
 " Name ? " 
 
 "Varies." 
 
 "Oh, that s all right," muttered the 
 director, never shy of a celebrity lying 
 perdu. " Fresh, plenty of nerve," he 
 reflected. " Step this way, if you please. 
 My Kapellmeister is here at the mo 
 ment." 
 
 Indifferent, a trifle arrogant of mien, 
 inwardly quaking, yet cheering himself 
 on with adaptations of ancient wisdom 
 such as "Modesty is the thief of time," 
 "Cheek is its own reward," "Patient 
 waiting gathers no moss," "Coming 
 144
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 events are soon parted," " It s never too 
 late to throw stones," Florio followed 
 through dark, stuffy and tortuous pas 
 sages, and finally found himself on a 
 small, meagrely lighted stage before a 
 dusky auditorium crowded with chairs 
 and tables and redolent of tobacco and 
 beer. 
 
 A little greasy, good-natured man sat 
 at a piano. 
 
 " Just let me try my paces, will you ? " 
 
 Florio put his hands on his hips, 
 opened his audacious mouth, and roared 
 an "ah " scale with a good light baritone 
 fairly well trained. 
 
 " Now one of your specialties, if you 
 please," the director, ever more expan 
 sive, requested. If the young fellow had 
 a hit, it would really be a godsend, for 
 that little vixen Ninette had torn up her 
 contract in his face, refused point-blank 
 to appear that evening, and threatened 
 unless he doubled her salary to go over 
 altogether to the Colosseum. The public 
 were daft about her, and her celebrated 
 No. 14 promised to be a blank. " You ve 
 brought no music ? "
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 " I ve been on a walking tour with a 
 friend and not yet looked up my luggage. 
 I don t mind singing with no accompani 
 ment." 
 
 Florio nonchalantly sauntered toward 
 the footlights and began " The Bullfrog s 
 Roundelay," a mocking, nonsensical, 
 wise, delicious thing, written by his dear 
 dead father, and set to music by the 
 equally happy and whimsical genius of 
 a friend for a Christmas merrymaking 
 not a decade ago. It seemed to Florio 
 but yesterday that he was one of a 
 chorus of rapturous urchins who, in com 
 plete frog garb, crouched on their hind 
 legs during the solo, and croaked and 
 gurgled the refrain, while hopping after 
 the agile mode of the marshes. As he 
 sang, remembering the kindly light of 
 other days, the present grievous strait 
 looked black enough, and in his throat 
 were divers gulps foreign to the origi 
 nal composition, but he acquitted himself 
 creditably for all that, and the director 
 rubbed his fat hands. 
 
 "A good thing." 
 
 "A very good thing," echoed the 
 146
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 pleased Kapellmeister. " I 11 get you up 
 a fine accompaniment, sir. Strings ? " 
 
 " Strings," decreed the lofty Florio, 
 with a vile desire to weep. 
 
 " You sang in F." The Kapellmeister 
 struck some chords and ran prettily 
 through the melody. 
 
 "Just give me some sudden double- 
 croaks in the refrain, will you ? Horn, 
 flageolet, bassoon, and that sort of thing, 
 you know," suggested the singer, as one 
 born in the music-hall purple. 
 
 " You shall have them, never fear." 
 
 " Capital ! " exulted the director. 
 "They are mooing at the Colosseum. 
 All it wants is some local hits,"- pri 
 vately assured it would bring down the 
 house. " Hinkenfuss must write you 
 some gags." 
 
 " I always do my own gags," responded 
 the star stiffly. 
 
 " So much the better. I 11 merely 
 give you a few hints, since you are a 
 stranger. I 11 note them for you. Poli 
 tics, Court gossip, news about town, all 
 as risky as possible, you know, without 
 being actually compromising." 
 147
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 " Quite my genre" said Florio gravely, 
 accompanying the exceedingly urbane 
 director back to his private room. 
 
 "As to terms," that gentleman re 
 marked suavely, " I like your song and 
 don t mind paying for it," suggesting a 
 third of Ninette s salary. 
 
 Florio looked him in the eyes, put on 
 his hat, and walked toward the door. 
 
 " Oh, come now, since it s to oblige 
 you." The director named two thirds of 
 the capricious little dame s emoluments. 
 
 Florio paused on the threshold. 
 
 "Good -morning," he said amiably. 
 "I 11 just look in at the Colosseum." 
 
 " Oh, I say, come back. You re a 
 spoiled one, I see plainly. I 11 not deny 
 I want your song. It s fresh." 
 
 " It s not bad," Florio admitted negli 
 gently. " In fact, it s one of my best. 
 It is Prince Chardo s favorite." 
 
 " Ah, indeed ! " 
 
 " Oh dear, yes. I Ve sung it to him 
 in private audience fifty times if I have 
 once." 
 
 The singer, under the name of Willy 
 Winkel, was shortly being engaged by 
 148
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 written contract on the gratifying terms 
 paid hitherto, in that chaste temple of art, 
 only to Ninette, the darling of the pub 
 lic. 
 
 " Minx, she s led me a pretty dance ! 
 She 11 sing in a different key to-morrow 
 morning. Six months ? " he asked in 
 sidiously, glancing up from his desk to 
 the youth sitting easily on the corner of 
 a table, who shook his head oracularly. 
 
 " Na, na ! I have larger things in 
 view. I may and may not stay with you 
 some months, but I can engage only by 
 the week. What time am I on to-night ? " 
 he asked languidly. 
 
 "No. 14, between ten and eleven. Be 
 here at ten, if you please. The Kapell 
 meister may want you a moment. Sec 
 ond entrance left. The bills are out, of 
 course, but I 11 announce you with a 
 rousing placard." 
 
 " I say ! It s awkward about my 
 luggage. I had forgotten. I can t sing 
 to-night." 
 
 " Donnerwetter ! What do you mean ? 
 
 "Why, my frog costume, man ! You 
 don t suppose I can sing my song with- 
 149
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 out my own complete frog-mask ? You 11 
 have to wait till next week." 
 
 " Wait till next week ! Not to save 
 your soul ! Well, you artists are all alike 
 as two peas. You all want your own ca 
 pricious little way, don t you ? No, sir. 
 You don t know what you are talking 
 about. You 11 find a first - class frog- 
 costume in your dressing-room, sir. 
 Trust me for that. And it s an admir 
 able idea, Herr Willy Winkel, and so 
 opportune, for the Colosseum has a cow 
 on three nights already. Not sing 
 for want of your own costume ? You 
 shall be satisfied, sir. Only look in early 
 enough to try it." 
 
 Florio sat for a while on a bench in a 
 park and played with his cap. His fea 
 tures wore the happy, artless smile we 
 love to see upon the face of youth. 
 Stepping into a shop, he begged to be 
 allowed to glance at a directory, from 
 which he copied a long list of picture 
 dealers. 
 
 " Have you anything by Richard Burg- 
 dorf ? " he inquired of each and all of 
 them. 
 
 150
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 They regretted to say they had never 
 even heard of him. 
 
 " Ah ? Indeed ! " 
 
 Polite but unmistakable surprise upon 
 the open countenance of the young man, 
 obviously the intelligent servant of a 
 magnate. They noted the name of the 
 artist. 
 
 Most of these shops were too sumptu 
 ous, too lavishly provided with supernu 
 meraries, to suit the delicate poise of 
 Florio s designs. Finally he found in a 
 quiet street a place of modest yet appar 
 ently prosperous character, although its 
 rosy young proprietor was not too busy 
 to be standing at his door gazing benevo 
 lently at the passers-by. 
 
 Florio examined the pictures in the 
 window. 
 
 "Have you anything by that very 
 remarkable young painter Richard Burg- 
 dorf?" 
 
 " Never heard of him," replied the 
 other, but not in the Olympian manner 
 of his predecessors. 
 
 Florio raised his eyebrows. 
 
 "Well, you see," explained the young
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 man frankly, attracted by the other s 
 face and, being himself of humble extrac 
 tion, quite at ease with a person of that 
 class, " I am a beginner. I ve always 
 been in frames. But I m fond of pic 
 tures and am gradually working over. 
 They say I m not a bad judge. Of 
 course I have a good deal to learn. 
 Won t you come in and look about ? 
 I ve got one or two nice things, and 
 some fine engravings I d be happy to 
 show you." 
 
 "Oh, guilelessness," sighed Florio, 
 " how beautiful thou art ! To think I, 
 too, was once like that, before I got hun 
 gry and hardened." 
 
 " You have painter s materials, I see," 
 he said pleasantly. "Very tolerable 
 stock." 
 
 " Oh, yes. Everything." 
 
 " He s a good fellow. It s a pity. It s 
 almost like lying to the blessed granny 
 of my dreams. Whereas the thrifty 
 husbandman and the serpentine director 
 got not a whit more than they deserved. 
 Still " - 
 
 "We shall soon be wanting a lot of 
 152
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 things in that line, I suppose," he ob 
 served carelessly. " My master, Prince 
 Chardo, paints." 
 
 " Should be honored by his High 
 ness patronage," returned the young 
 man, erect, brisk, and respectful. 
 
 "Just hand me your business card, 
 will you ? I 11 try to remember to come 
 again. I always attend to such things. 
 Of course we are besieged by tradespeo 
 ple, and being new here" he muttered 
 vaguely. 
 
 "What painter was it you asked for ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, Burgdorf. Richard Burg- 
 dorf. My master is uncommonly inter 
 ested in his work, thinks the world will 
 hear great things of him yet. By the 
 way, could you recommend me a studio, 
 a quiet, simple place ? The prince will 
 be wanting something of the sort. He 
 naturally prefers not to work among colo 
 nies of painters in great art buildings. 
 His Highness works very steadily, you 
 understand ; needs a good studio, but se 
 cluded, where he can go about incognito." 
 
 " I know just the place," exclaimed 
 the young man with animation. "An 
 153
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 artist left suddenly only this morning. 
 But it s always in demand. If you don t 
 hurry you 11 not get it." 
 " I 11 hurry fast enough." 
 " I 11 write the address for you." 
 " Here, just write it on your card." 
 " It s not far. Up this street to the 
 fountain. Then turn to the left, up the 
 hill and the long stone steps to the gar 
 dens. They are quiet old people a 
 gardener and his wife. You 11 find no 
 thing so good in town. A large atelier 
 and sleeping-room adjoining, built up there 
 in the garden by a painter who searched 
 far and wide before he found the light 
 and conditions that suited him, and then 
 died before he could move in, poor 
 chap ! " 
 
 " Peace to his ashes ! I m obliged to 
 you. You ve done us a greater service 
 than you are aware." 
 
 " It is in my own interest. I shall hope 
 to see you often. Nothing at all to 
 day ? " 
 
 "Well, I hardly know. I might call 
 in on my way back for some canvas, a 
 small one. Stretch it, please, about that 
 154
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 size. Just put up a few paints, too, and 
 some brushes, the usual thing, please. 
 I don t really know what is needed." 
 He made an easy movement toward his 
 pocket. 
 
 " Oh, never mind. Pay with the larger 
 order." 
 
 "Bless you, honest Johannes Mezler, 
 all the days of your pilgrimage ! " said 
 the schemer to himself, as he walked 
 away. " You shall never lose one penny 
 through me. After all, it is not as if 
 Chardo were not a born genius. That 
 he is, I swear it." 
 
 Armed with the glittering fib on his 
 cap, together with trusty Johannes Mez 
 ler s recommendation, Florio engaged 
 the rooms without difficulty. Under the 
 pledge of secrecy he confided Prince 
 Chardo s name, even the long Latin one, 
 to the gardener, and urged the necessity 
 of leaving the highborn gentleman en 
 tirely to his own devices ; for although 
 of winning and amiable character he was 
 singularly eccentric, and particularly, to 
 preserve his incognito, would hesitate at 
 nothing. 
 
 155
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 The gardener sagely replied that sov 
 ereigns and such had mostly nowadays a 
 screw loose in the upper story. All he 
 and his old woman cared about was steady 
 pay and a quiet tenant on the premises, 
 for a carousing painter such as they d 
 last had they could not abide. 
 
 Florio found Richard doubled up in an 
 attitude of concentrated gloom. 
 
 " Here, little one ! Now show the stuff 
 you re made of." 
 
 Chardo sprang up, glorified. 
 
 " I don t ask where you got it. I don t 
 much care if you stole it. Look ! Just 
 look at them ! " thrusting under his 
 friend s nose some maniacal black streaks 
 which to the artist meant two bare-legged 
 urchins bathed in spring sunshine and 
 fishing in a brook. " Are n t they beau 
 ties ! " He smiled ecstatically. " I m 
 fairly aching to get at them. If you 
 could have seen the light this morning ! 
 They are coming to-morrow. I 11 be 
 there waiting on the opposite bank. And 
 you ve got me all these things ? Oh, 
 Florio, I was just ready to curse God and 
 die. I cannot live unless I paint." 
 156
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 " Live and paint, Chardo ! Paint some 
 sketchy little things, and I swear I 11 sell 
 them for you, every one. Then you can 
 paint the great one. Now you and I are 
 going out to have a good hot Christian 
 supper and some beer. Hear the chink- 
 chink? I earned it." 
 
 "But how?" 
 
 " It s all right, I tell you. Just give 
 me my head for a little while. Some day 
 I 11 tell you some things that will make 
 your toes curl. You stick to your last. 
 How long do you want to paint the beg 
 gars ? Of course you can t tell how long 
 they 11 come. Will a week do ? Well, 
 we ll stay here a week. Then we will 
 honorably pay our bill and move on to 
 better things. Stepping heavenwards, 
 you know. Don t look incredulous ; you 
 pain me, my son. It is almost as if you 
 were aspersing my commercial integrity." 
 
 Ill 
 
 Willy Winkel was a " screaming suc 
 cess." The public said the best thing 
 about him was he never was at a loss for 
 157
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 a new gag. In his speckled green mum 
 mery he warbled and croaked and flopped 
 several months with unabated vigor, be 
 fore he felt that he had amassed suffi 
 cient ill-gotten gains to permit him to 
 retire from those gilded halls and tread 
 the humble and less remunerative path 
 of literature. But beyond question the 
 Bullfrog gallantly filled the breach. He 
 enabled Florio to meet decently and in 
 order the manifold indebtedness he had 
 assumed with such temerity ; to nourish 
 Prince Chardo with blood-producing vi 
 ands and clothe him in suitable raiment ; 
 to lavish upon angel granny kerchiefs, 
 sugar-loaves, snuff, and caps, against the 
 time when he could more substantially 
 respond to her gracious hospitality. 
 One day, indeed, moved doubtless by 
 pangs of conscience, he hunted up his 
 surly vintner and presented him with a 
 portly pipe and some tobacco, yet could 
 not resist the temptation to wear, even 
 upon this quasi - penitential pilgrimage, 
 the coronet of princely servitude. It 
 seemed but to cap the climax, he assured 
 himself apologetically. One must al- 
 158
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 ways dot one s z s. In short, the Frog 
 paid their bills, gratified all their simple 
 tastes, and fairly started them on the 
 road to prosperity, but ah, how Florio 
 loathed him ! 
 
 Chardo looked anxiously at his friend 
 when regularly about yawning time he 
 began to mumble that he d got to meet 
 a man, absented himself for an hour or 
 two, and reappeared, somewhat flushed, 
 long after midnight. 
 
 " You are not playing, are you, old fel 
 low ? " Richard asked suddenly one night, 
 as Florio came in. " You cannot be." 
 
 " Playing ? " Florio turned very red. 
 " How ? Where ? What in the deuce 
 do you mean ? " 
 
 " Why cards, of course." 
 
 "Oh, cards. Well, that is an idea. 
 Cards? Heaven forbid." With a great 
 laugh : " I should say not. Don t bother, 
 little one." After a while with beautiful 
 candor : " It is merely some work I am 
 doing for a man who cannot give it me 
 any other time. He pays me well, so 
 it s worth while." 
 
 Chardo, never inquisitive, still weak
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 and greatly preoccupied, troubled his 
 head no more about his friend s noctur 
 nal engagement, and somehow got the 
 fixed impression it was of a literary na 
 ture, writing at dictation, revision, or 
 something of the sort. 
 
 "He seems to be a rabid smoker of 
 vile tobacco," the invalid once murmured 
 drowsily from his pillow, and Florio 
 chuckled as he pulled off his shoes. 
 
 Again later, in the studio one day, the 
 painter, glancing at a newspaper, ex 
 claimed with a certain resentment : 
 
 " Why, here s a chap pretending to 
 sing a frog-song. Willy Winkel is his 
 sweet little tootums-name. Tremendous 
 success, it says. I don t believe he can 
 hold a candle to you. Let s go and 
 hear him." 
 
 Florio, his back turned, made a wry 
 face as at some nauseous compound, and 
 replied, with his head out the window : 
 
 " We cannot afford luxuries just yet, 
 can we, little one ? Besides, the man is 
 probably a blank idiot." 
 
 " No doubt," acquiesced his Serene 
 Highness. 
 
 160
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 Sometimes all things work together 
 for the naughty. Florio s frivolous 
 music-hall experiences suggested to him 
 a series of sketches which he called 
 "Behind the Scenes." The first of these 
 papers he submitted in person to the 
 editor of a large journal the day after 
 the frog s d6but. The great man hap 
 pened to be suffering from a plague of 
 anaemic contributions. He was of a 
 robust and sanguine temperament, and 
 it annoyed him to see his young col 
 leagues floundering in pessimism. 
 
 As Florio entered the sanctum the 
 amiable dictator was roundly asserting 
 that Schopenhauer, von Hartmann, and 
 even Nietsche were well enough in their 
 way, but no fitting food for journalistic 
 babes. Ibsen he profoundly admired, yet 
 could shoot him in cold blood for the 
 huge mental indigestion he had caused 
 among feeble-minded disciples. As for 
 Max Nordau, somebody ought to wring 
 his little neck. " Vital, full-blooded things 
 are what we want." At this moment in 
 came Florio, whatever he lacked, preem 
 inently vital, his article no less. The 
 161
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 autocrat raised his eyebrows, smiled, 
 liked it and its author, gave him sugges 
 tions, counsel, and, still better, regular 
 work. The relationship proved of value 
 to both. Chardo, fully persuaded his 
 friend was one of the most brilliant 
 young men the world had ever seen, was 
 yet astonished that his first journalis 
 tic work was so remunerative, for they 
 wanted for nothing. 
 
 Nemesis ought obviously to have over 
 taken Florio, but in this instance was 
 unpunctual. The classic dame some 
 times misses our modern connections. 
 It is true he imagined her dogging his 
 footsteps, and he frequently had to real 
 ize that the way of the transgressor is 
 hard. But just as his perjuries seemed 
 on the point of being found out, some 
 fresh burst of inspired impudence would 
 rescue him. His progeny of fibs pros 
 pered amazingly well, never jostled one 
 another rudely and put their progenitor 
 to shame. 
 
 His most precarious task was to man 
 age the prince, who, as his health im 
 proved and spirits rose, would persist in 
 162
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 slapping Florio on the back at inoppor 
 tune moments, throwing an affectionate 
 arm across his shoulders, as the friends 
 strolled toward evening in the garden, 
 even condescending to call him "old 
 boy " or " Dumpling," a nursery name 
 resulting from certain quondam contours 
 which the years had kindly obliterated, 
 
 - when Florio would shoot a sneaking 
 glance at the worthy old couple in their 
 cottage porch, as much as to say, " It s 
 only his little eccentric way ! " and they 
 would nod astutely. 
 
 But Florio enjoyed exquisite moments 
 of compensation. He liked to stand at 
 an open window, the cigarette box in his 
 hand, and inquire in the most solicitous 
 and devoted manner conceivable : 
 
 "Does your Highness deign to 
 smoke ? " 
 
 His Highness, working away as usual 
 at a picture, would rarely turn his head, 
 but merely say, in his pleasant, low 
 voice : 
 
 "What an incorrigible ass you are!" 
 
 - " quite prince-like," the gardener told 
 his wife. 
 
 163
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 Chardo not being an infant, a convict, 
 or a maniac, could hardly be locked up 
 for safe-keeping. Like other young men 
 he had the inveterate habit of going 
 where he pleased. Whenever Florio 
 found the rooms deserted, he would pace 
 them restlessly until he saw Richard 
 striding in with still unclouded brow. 
 He not unnaturally strayed into picture- 
 exhibitions, chatted with painters, and 
 now and again, to Florio s grim despair, 
 went of an evening to drink a glass of 
 beer in a cheerful place frequented by 
 the fraternity. If a stray artist chanced 
 to walk into the studio, he always found 
 that other fellow unsocial, if not surly. 
 Policemen and postmen, in the innocu 
 ous discharge of their duties, occasioned 
 Florio many not insignificant frights. 
 
 In every reasonable and unreasonable 
 way did he seek to avert the ever im 
 pending disastrous carambolage of Burg- 
 dorf and Prince Chardo, at least until 
 the former young gentleman had built 
 up a reputation upon legitimate founda 
 tions. 
 
 But the conspirator fared better than 
 164
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 his deserts and escaped with his fears and 
 forebodings. Luckily for him, Richard 
 for the most part desired nothing better 
 than to shun mankind and paint. Re 
 served, sensitive, moody, inspired by 
 large hopes and chafing at the prolonged 
 delay in their fruition, proud of Florio s 
 success, yet longing to bear his own share 
 of their burdens, he worked unceasingly, 
 bided his time, lived the life of a hermit, 
 and cared for no society but that of his 
 friend. 
 
 Yet if the painter so much as stopped 
 to look at something in Johannes Mez- 
 ler s window, Florio shivered with appre 
 hension, and would resort to the meanest 
 inventions and the longest way round to 
 avoid that street. 
 
 " I saw Prince Chardo yesterday," 
 Mezler announced one morning with 
 some complacency. " I had a good stare 
 at him." 
 
 " Oh, did you ! " 
 
 " Handsome fellow, is n t he ? No end 
 
 aristocratic. So pale, and a bit haughty. 
 
 Would n t do for you and me, eh ? but 
 
 just suits him. He stood a long time at 
 
 165
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 my window. He almost came in. Then 
 he changed his mind." 
 
 " Oh, did he ! " 
 
 " I was just about to run and open the 
 door for him when he went on." 
 
 Recovering from his alarm, Florio re 
 plied with singular vehemence : 
 
 " It is lucky for you that you did not, 
 Mezler. He does not like that sort of 
 thing at all. Never open doors for him, 
 never ! The prince likes to open his 
 own doors. Never take any notice of 
 him at all. If he should come in here, 
 be as indifferent as you can. Never on 
 any account say your Highness. If you 
 should make any such slip, he would 
 never enter your place again or let me. 
 I told you he was eccentric. He insists 
 upon the strictest incognito. Do you 
 ever see me in livery ? " 
 
 " Oh, I understand all that. I was n t 
 born yesterday. I 11 be very careful, you 
 may be sure. I must say I like his ap 
 pearance, and I believe you ve got an 
 awfully good berth. He seems rather 
 fond of you, do you know ? I noticed 
 his smiling and gracious manner as you 
 166
 
 FUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 were walking by last week. After all, it 
 is no wonder." 
 
 " Do you think so ? " Florio returned 
 modestly. "You see we are about the 
 same age and grew up together, as it 
 were. That is to say, I was permitted 
 to play with his Highness when we were 
 boys." 
 
 " Oh, anybody can see with half an eye 
 that you have enjoyed unusual advan 
 tages," retorted Mezler encouragingly. 
 " I noticed that the day we met." 
 
 Having taken the precaution to re- 
 stretch the Boys Fishing fearing Mez 
 ler might have some occult method 
 of recognizing his own wares Florio 
 brought it down, and said amiably : 
 
 " I thought perhaps you might like to 
 see this. It is one of Richard Burgdorf s 
 sketches. The prince happens to have 
 several at his rooms just now." 
 
 " Oh, that is a good thing. I like that. 
 I wish I could exhibit it in my window." 
 
 "Well, I don t know. I must ask the 
 prince, of course. I suppose I can leave 
 it an hour or so." 
 
 Mezler met him upon his return with 
 167
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 the somewhat embarrassed announcement 
 that a rich customer had taken a fancy to 
 the little painting, particularly when in 
 formed it was by a young painter of note, 
 a protege" of his Highness Prince Chardo. 
 
 "I hardly knew what to say. I sug 
 gested a pretty big price, just as a dam 
 per, you know. She instantly declared 
 she d pay it. She s a person I don t like 
 to disappoint. I explained it was not put 
 into my hands to sell, and the decision 
 rested entirely with Prince Chardo, but 
 that only made her wild." 
 
 " Well," said Florio dispassionately, " I 
 suppose all I can do is to go and ask 
 him." 
 
 Off he went at a great pace two miles 
 straight up a hill and two miles down 
 again, and exercised heroic self-control 
 not to break into a war dance in the pub 
 lic thoroughfares ; for beyond all things 
 he longed that Chardo, after his strug 
 gles, his long illness, his helplessness, en 
 forced restraint and champing of the bit, 
 should have the joy of selling a picture 
 and feeling his own strength. 
 
 " His Highness has not the least ob- 
 168
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 jection," Florio in due time announced 
 blandly. " He might perhaps have kept 
 the sketch himself, but that is no matter. 
 No price is intimated, and the artist is 
 not at the moment accessible. Of course 
 it s a slight thing. Still it s a Burg- 
 dorf. The prince thinks under the cir 
 cumstances you ought to set rather a 
 fancy value on it, with a handsome com 
 mission for yourself, of course." 
 
 " Hurrah ! Won t I ? And if by hook 
 or by crook you can get me another little 
 Burgdorf, you 11 be doing me the greatest 
 possible service, for I know a woman 
 who will neither eat nor sleep until she 
 has one a size larger than the Boys Fish 
 ing." 
 
 " Count upon me, Mezler." 
 
 The twain concocted a price which the 
 lady proudly paid in solid coin of the 
 realm. Two more charming little Burg- 
 dorfs the delighted Mezler sold at roman 
 tic rates. Discreet but strongly com 
 mendatory paragraphs about the young 
 artist now began to appear simultaneously 
 in many papers and were largely copied 
 by exchanges. Mezler kindly showed 
 169
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 them to Florio, who said they surprised 
 him not at all. But those journals never 
 lay about the studio. 
 
 From the day the Boys Fishing was 
 sold, Chardo seemed to take a new lease 
 of life. His step became buoyant, his 
 bearing erect, his eye calm, his laugh 
 jolly, and his large picture grew apace. 
 
 Florio, covertly watching the transfor 
 mation, felt warm and stout of heart, and 
 repented naught of his sins. But as he 
 was slaving much in those days with 
 his writing and his nauseating night oc 
 cupation, beside piloting his fibs and 
 Chardo was now fortuitously launched, it 
 happened that the star known as Willy 
 Winkel disappeared suddenly from the 
 music-hall firmament, to the chagrin of 
 the public, still more of the director, who 
 declared with pecttis he would engage 
 him again " at any time and on his own 
 terms, for the Frog or any new creation." 
 
 Willy Winkel thanked him and bade 
 him farewell amicably, as one who may 
 look in on the morrow ; for, Florio re 
 flected, in the marvelous variety enter 
 tainment which we call life, it is always 
 170
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 well to have, as sailors say, something 
 "to windward." 
 
 Soon he was heard in the studio jo 
 vially humming : 
 
 Ug-gl-loo ! 
 
 Ker-chunk, ker-chunk ! 
 Ug-gl-loo ! 
 
 for now he loved his frog again, and that 
 is human nature. 
 
 "How jolly good that sounds!" ex 
 claimed Chardo. " Do you know you ve 
 not sung it in an age ? " 
 
 Hardly a score of months from the day 
 the beggars were coming to town, they 
 sat one evening on the deck of a Mes- 
 sagerie steamer bound for the Far East, 
 their way and work clearly appointed un 
 der sufficiently liberal conditions. Char- 
 do s first real picture had been snapped 
 up by the Dresden Gallery, one of 
 the incredible events which occasionally 
 confound the prudent, and prevent them 
 from becoming altogether too bumptious. 
 
 It was dark and quiet. Florio opened 
 his heart, and made clean confession. 
 When he had finished, Chardo was si 
 lent. 
 
 171
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 " I thought it might amuse you. Some 
 how it does n t sound very funny. One s 
 jokes so often fall upon the buttered 
 side." 
 
 He was right. It did not sound funny. 
 Still Chardo did not speak. 
 
 At length Florio said with curious shy 
 ness : 
 
 " I hope you don t mind too much, 
 Chardo. Of course it was awfully low 
 down. But so were we. And oh, did n t 
 the lies boom ? " 
 
 But Chardo, viewing the long perspec 
 tive, saw neither fun nor fibs. Some 
 thing of which Florio was quite uncon 
 scious streamed warm and radiant upon 
 the vista and revealed nothing petty or 
 base. 
 
 The painter reached over and wrung 
 his friend s hand abruptly, got up, walked 
 off and stood awhile alone, returned still 
 unrhetorical until finally he muttered : 
 
 " It must have been a terribly hard 
 pull, and I a thankless lump ! " 
 
 "Stuff!" 
 
 " But of course it s like you, Dump 
 ling." 
 
 172
 
 PUSS-IN-BOOTS 
 
 " Ug - gl - loo ! Kerchunk ! Got an 
 other cigarette, little one ? " 
 
 The two young men stood silent, vastly 
 content with their lot and each other, 
 and listened to the throb of the ship bear 
 ing them onward toward their brave 
 hopes. 
 
 At length Florio, half laughing, yet 
 not quite at ease, remarked : 
 
 " Your Highness need not henceforth 
 be anxious about me. It s not a chronic 
 complaint, you understand. I really 
 don t think the disease has struck in 
 deep. Apparently it has not yet seized 
 my vitals. It was only an acute attack 
 of"- 
 
 "Of the literary quality," suggested 
 Chardo cheerfully.
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER 
 SMILED 
 
 writing doggedly all day, 
 toward evening she saw that 
 her work was bad, and wished 
 it and she had never been born. Near 
 the house was a breezy height, whither 
 she often fled to fight out her battles, 
 gentle feminine sobbing in a corner being 
 to her an unattainable grace. 
 
 Lost in thought, she went up the long 
 flight of rough stone steps between the 
 rich vineyards clothing the hillside. On 
 a bench, as she passed, sat a slight soli 
 tary figure of which she was but vaguely 
 aware. The wind swept strong across 
 the broad-backed hill, and the October 
 sun was low. Circling the park, she 
 hardly heard the boisterous shouts of 
 children from the crater-like playground, 
 and responded but mechanically to the 
 174
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 working - men, who, tramping heavily 
 homeward in little squads, pulled off their 
 caps with a civil good - evening and a 
 curious but not unfriendly stare at the 
 black-robed woman they were wont to 
 meet hurrying along the windy hilltop. 
 
 The holy men of old walked with God 
 upon the mountain and came down sanc 
 tified. In her sorrowful, most restless 
 heart, where revolt and submission rose 
 and fell like great successive all - sub 
 merging waves, where problems solved 
 yesterday confronted her to-day with new 
 born vitality, and the same hot battles 
 were raging incessantly, never lost and 
 never won, holiness had indeed no abid 
 ing-place. Yet in her pagan passionate 
 way, she too had erected her altar to the 
 Unknown God and was seeking Him on 
 the height. 
 
 She was what they called resigned. 
 She could listen, with a somewhat 
 wooden countenance, to the amiable 
 platitudes of consolation, and answer in 
 dry-eyed automatic fashion, when people 
 solicitously inquired as to her health, her 
 feelings, and cross - examined her al- 
 175
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 though then, indeed, she wondered why 
 there was no cave into which she could 
 creep and die like any other wounded 
 animal even as to the details of her 
 tragedy. Her way of meeting the 
 veneered brutality of sentiment which 
 obtains in polite society was however 
 less due to virtuous striving after self- 
 control than to the ironical imperturba 
 bility of her physical machinery. Hers 
 was a good machine ; there could be no 
 doubt of that. It gazed at visitors. It 
 opened its mouth on time and uttered 
 correct commonplaces. It needed no 
 repairs. Altogether, it ran as smoothly 
 as if it belonged to some other soul to 
 a placid soul that had no history. 
 
 She ought to be very thankful for her 
 wonderful health, they were always assur 
 ing her. Grief was quite a different 
 thing when one was delicate. Where 
 upon the machine would duly emit a 
 species of assent. But the inner spirit 
 of the woman, inaccessible and remote, 
 if it deigned to listen at all to their unc 
 tuous prattle, would wonder what they 
 meant and how they knew. 
 176
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 For some women there were benevo 
 lent drugs, a merciful forgetfulness in 
 fainting and languor, and pain that 
 might be temporarily absolute mon 
 arch. Whereas strength her strength 
 meant throbbing intensity of life ; the 
 power to feel and recall unremittingly ; 
 to thrill with anguish in every nerve and 
 fibre ; and to gaze wide-eyed upon desola 
 tion. Did they imagine health meant 
 anything less ? But what mattered their 
 theories ? Nor was it Lethe that she 
 craved. Ah, no ! In memory lay agony, 
 but also in those most rare moments 
 when her stormy heart grew still enough 
 to receive it ineffable benediction. 
 
 What could she still desire ? It was a 
 year now that she had been battering, 
 with puny yet importunate hands, at the 
 portals of manifold religions and philoso 
 phies ; groping in darkness, listening in 
 the great silence, fancying in some up 
 lifted moment that she caught a faint, 
 far-off response, an echo from the Infi 
 nite, but hearing oftenest only the sound 
 of her own despair. 
 
 What was she seeking now and ever, 
 177
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 without respite ? Not a personal God 
 on a white throne, for He had vanished 
 with other visions. But whatever might 
 be left strength to endure, courage, 
 relief from her own turbulence ; and 
 knowledge yes, knowledge she unceas 
 ingly longed for. The knowledge of the 
 mysteries of life and death and anguish, 
 and love strongest of all. The know 
 ledge unrevealed to the mightiest, denied 
 to Plato and to Shakespeare, she, rash 
 and feeble woman, craved unceasingly. 
 
 She stood motionless on the highest 
 point. West, south, east, north, flamed 
 the last glories of the sunset sky, and be 
 neath that splendid golden dome lay the 
 town in the valley long, elusive, hazy, 
 a city in a dream with vanishing hills 
 beyond, veiled in dense blue mist like 
 the bloom on grapes and sleeping among 
 long purple vistas that faded into an 
 ocean of twilight. 
 
 " In the cloud and in the sea," she 
 sighed. But why such beauty ? Was it 
 mockery, or a message prophecy ? A 
 breath, so light, so light, upon her eye 
 lids, a caress fainter, finer than air 
 178
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 upon her cheek, and when she did not 
 storm and rebel but stood quite still and 
 patient in the dusk, almost almost the 
 vanished touch upon her hand. 
 
 " Ah, God ah God ! " she murmured 
 helplessly, gazing into the darkening 
 skies, while, unconsciously uttering the 
 burden of that ancient chorus, chanting 
 down the ages, her spirit cried : 
 
 " Zeus ! Whoever thou art, if this be 
 the name acceptable to thee, under this 
 name I implore thee. 
 
 But from that overshadowing immens 
 ity no peace descended, no response, no 
 sign. 
 
 " If it were not so pitiless. If but a 
 hint, a message, a sign would come, to 
 give one strength to go on ! On this 
 whole great earth is no soul so forsaken, 
 so unutterably lonely." 
 
 Into her troubled thoughts floated an 
 ancient Brahmin prayer uttered by sor 
 rowing human hearts thousands of years 
 before the Nazarene taught His disciples 
 " Thy will be done : " 
 
 "Thou seest. Thou knowest to the 
 end. As thou wilt." 
 179
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 "I cannot say As Thou wilt/" she 
 groaned. " I will not. What in all eter 
 nity can atone ! " 
 
 Once more she endeavored to formu 
 late her soul-need. "O Thou Thou," 
 she stammered piteously, "Thou know- 
 est I never want to be a coward." 
 
 Slowly she descended the dusky vine 
 yards where at long intervals a weak, 
 desultory light now burned. On the 
 bench halfway down sat the same lonely 
 figure. Without a glance or conscious 
 thought of him she went on, when her 
 feet, apparently wiser than her head, 
 stopped short of their own accord, turned 
 and retraced their steps until she found 
 herself, she knew not how or why, stand 
 ing by the bench. Its indistinct occu 
 pant was, she vaguely perceived, a man, 
 and she felt rather than saw that his 
 clothing was flapping emptily with a 
 bizarre effect, not as beseemed the 
 tailor s art and good substantial feet. 
 
 Uncertain how to address him, she 
 stood silent in the dusk, and the pause 
 grew strangely long. 
 
 "Good-evening," began at length an 
 1 80
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 unmistakably young voice. " Good-even 
 ing," she returned relieved, instinctively 
 adding struck by the indefinable qual 
 ity of his tone " You are not well ? " 
 
 "No," was the gentle answer. 
 
 "Are you in pain ?" 
 
 " Yes," said the young voice in the 
 dark, with its subtle suggestiveness, 
 whether of resignation, meekness, or apa 
 thy she could not tell, yet recognized it 
 was the voice of one who suffered and 
 had foregone complaint. 
 
 He was evidently no beggar. He had 
 no tale to tell, no ready whine and vol 
 uble appeal. He had not spoken as 
 she passed him twice, and if she should 
 leave him now, he would not call her 
 back. 
 
 He would sit there still and uncomplain 
 ing, with mysterious shadowy features 
 under his slouched hat, and with that 
 miserable empty flapping down below, 
 and the night would close round him, for 
 lorn, ill, and young. 
 
 "You say you are in pain," she re 
 sumed, "and cold, surely?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 181
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER -SMILED 
 
 " And hungry, perhaps ? " 
 
 He did not reply. 
 
 " Are you not hungry ? " she persisted 
 gently. 
 
 Silence. 
 
 "When to-day have you eaten any 
 thing ? " 
 
 " Not to-day," said the patient voice, 
 cutting her to the heart like the keenest 
 reproach. 
 
 "This will never do," she exclaimed, 
 assuming briskness. " Sitting here shiv 
 ering and hungry ! Won t you come 
 down to our house ? It is the third on 
 the right, there where you see the lights. 
 It is just dinner-time. Some good hot 
 soup will do you good." 
 
 No reply. 
 
 " It will do me good, I know. I m 
 rather chilly myself." 
 
 Still no response. 
 
 She drew a step nearer to the inscruta 
 ble shape. She was trembling and a lit 
 tle sob caught her breath. 
 
 " Please come. It will hurt me very 
 much if you do not." 
 
 " I 11 come, then," returned the boy. 
 182
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 She descended a few steps and waited. 
 
 He had not stirred. 
 
 " You are coming ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " But now with me ? " 
 
 " I 11 follow you," he said tranquilly, as 
 before. 
 
 Wondering, she went on, and at the 
 foot of the stone stairway looked back 
 and listened. The vineyards were one 
 steep silent mass of gloom. No footstep 
 followed hers. 
 
 Doubtful, yet inclined to believe he 
 would appear, she gave certain orders for 
 his reception and awaited her singular 
 guest. 
 
 Presently she heard something hob 
 bling up the few stairs of the servants 
 entrance, and an exhausted boy appar 
 ently on the verge of fainting, staggered 
 across the threshold, and fell into a 
 chair. 
 
 " Lean back," she said. " Swallow this. 
 You 11 be better soon," giving him tea- 
 spoonfuls of hot bouillon and offering 
 wine which he feebly waved away. Grad 
 ually his face assumed a less ghastly hue 
 183
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 and he opened his eyes. Seeing the 
 lady, he tried to rise. 
 
 " Sit still," she said. 
 
 When he turned fully toward her un 
 der the bright light, she motioned the 
 others away and stood speechless before 
 the youth as when he was but a vague 
 shape in the twilight. She knew not 
 what to say or how to reach him, for the 
 sad severity of his young face appalled 
 her. Pure in outline, with the limpid 
 eyes of a child, and about the resolute 
 lips a stern sweetness as of a seraph 
 guarding heaven s gates, it was an ex 
 traordinary face above a slight long body, 
 squalid clothes and a stump instead of a 
 right foot. 
 
 He finished drinking the cup of soup. 
 
 " Thank you. I think I d better go 
 along now." Again he rose. 
 
 " Ah, not just yet. You ve eaten no 
 thing." 
 
 " It is quite enough for me." 
 
 "I want to talk with you a little 
 that is, if you don t mind," she added 
 pleading, smiling. 
 
 The austere young face did not return 
 184
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 her smile. Tacitly conceding the point, 
 he leaned back and looked at her with 
 dignity. 
 
 " I hope you do not often get as faint 
 as you were just now," she said in a hesi 
 tating way, for she found him most diffi 
 cult to aborder, yet some sort of catechism 
 seemed imperative. 
 
 " Not very often ; sometimes." 
 
 "You had been sitting there long 
 alone. It was cold and late. Will no 
 body be anxious about you ? " she ven 
 tured to ask. 
 
 He shook his head, with no change 
 of expression, but always the inexorable 
 sweetness which discountenanced her. 
 
 "Nobody." 
 
 " You have no father or mother ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " No home ? " 
 
 " My mother died when I was twelve 
 years old. I never saw my father." 
 
 "Then you are quite alone in the 
 world," she said softly. 
 
 " I have one brother, a soldier in 
 Ulm," he announced with evident frater 
 nal pride. "He does all he can for me. 
 185
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 He pays for my room. But I am alone. 
 Oh, yes," he repeated gazing straight 
 before him, and speaking with extreme 
 composure, "I am alone in the world." 
 
 She wished he would smile just once. 
 She wondered if he ever smiled. With 
 compassionate eyes she observed the well- 
 shaped blond head of which any mother 
 might be proud ; the bold profile it 
 would have been called patrician in an 
 other sort of lad ; the peculiarly deli 
 cate beauty of contour of the beardless 
 cheek and throat, like those of an ill 
 child ; the transparent skin revealing 
 smallest veins ; the long silky lashes. 
 
 "You are so young," she sighed. 
 
 " I am not young," he rejoined with in 
 tense gravity. " I am nearly nineteen." 
 
 " You have not yet told me your name." 
 
 " My name is Gustav Maur." 
 
 " May I call you Gustav ? " 
 
 He nodded his serious assent. 
 
 "Tell me," she said after a while, 
 " why were you up among the vineyards. 
 It must be hard for you to climb so 
 high." 
 
 " To get away from the people. I can 
 1 86
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 think better up there. Besides, it is 
 beautiful." 
 
 She wondered to hear her own motives 
 from his lips. 
 
 Suddenly he for the first time volun 
 teered a remark : 
 
 " I have seen you on the hill often. I 
 saw you months ago." 
 
 " I never saw you," she rejoined with 
 regret. 
 
 " No, you never looked," the boy said 
 simply. 
 
 " You are there every day ? " 
 
 " Every day toward evening when the 
 weather is not too bad and I am not pre 
 vented. In summer, all day long some 
 times." 
 
 " Did nobody ever speak to you ? Not 
 one of all the people that go up and 
 down those steps continually ? " 
 
 " I never spoke to any of them either," 
 he returned coldly. 
 
 Her heart was oppressed with strange 
 remorse. How was it humanly possible 
 to let all this sadness and loneliness 
 crouch uncared for by the wayside? 
 How was it possible that this boy could 
 187
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 starve and faint and die in his haughty 
 reticence, while people, happy people, 
 kindly enough people too, no doubt, must 
 have brushed his flapping empty clothing 
 as they climbed the narrow path to chat 
 and laugh and admire the mellow light 
 flooding the vineyards ? Worse still was 
 she blind to his misery, because seeing 
 only herself, her own sorrow ; because 
 lost in endless fruitless introspection. 
 For what then were they and she wait 
 ing, before they should feed and aid him ? 
 For what is called an introduction ? For 
 somebody to mumble This is young 
 starving Gustav Maur? While in draw 
 ing-rooms one pretended to be consumed 
 with delight merely to meet any well- 
 vouched for, well-fed stranger and this 
 was civilization. But his beautiful sol 
 emn eyes still rebuked her. Not even 
 yet did she know what ailed him. 
 
 "I shall look now," she said. "I shall 
 always look for you, and I hope you will 
 come here every evening. I shall be 
 glad, and the others too. There will al 
 ways be something warm for you, a warm 
 corner a warm welcome." 
 1 88
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 He gave her a searching look which 
 she found wholly incomprehensible. 
 
 " Thank you," he returned gravely, 
 whether in acceptance or mere acknow 
 ledgment, she could not determine, but 
 hastened to say : 
 
 " You told me you were in pain to 
 night." 
 
 " I m always in pain," was the mild 
 amendment. 
 
 " It is not your lungs ? " she hazarded, 
 for though exceedingly pallid and emaci 
 ated he had no cough, and his voice was 
 sweet and clear. 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 " If you would tell me about it," she 
 pleaded very gently, "if you would try to 
 forget I am only a stranger, I might be 
 of some little use to you. Indeed, I am 
 not inexperienced." 
 
 The boy s face softened. He seemed 
 about to speak, wavered, eyed her keenly 
 as if she, not he, vagrant and outcast, 
 were before the tribunal, then in his pas 
 sionless tones, he once more excluded 
 her from his confidence : 
 
 " Nobody can be of any use. Besides 
 189
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 you only think you want to know about 
 me. But you don t. Nobody does." 
 
 " Ah, why should you not believe me ! " 
 she exclaimed distressed and amazed. 
 "I care. I care really, whatever it is." 
 
 The pale boy watching her closely an 
 swered, whether in simplicity or irony she 
 knew not : 
 
 " It is not a pretty disease, madam." 
 
 " Ah," she said simply, at ease at last 
 before her forbidding young guest 
 "then, Gustav, tell it me" and something 
 in her face constrained him. 
 
 "Well," --he began deliberately, after 
 a while, " it is in my blood and in my 
 bones. It is eating me slowly too 
 slowly. I have dragged it about, off and 
 on, since I was born. Still I ve been 
 to school. I Ve learned about as much 
 as other fellows. I Ve read whatever I 
 could get hold of, and I Ve learned my 
 trade. I m a goldsmith," he said with 
 boyish pride. " Only if you faint and 
 fall on the floor when you are at work, it 
 is disturbing to your employer. Some 
 times I m better, sometimes worse. 
 When I can earn my wages like an honest 
 190
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 man I ask nothing of nobody. But for 
 the last six weeks it s pretty bad. I 
 cannot sleep without my drops, the pain 
 never ceases. I cannot eat for sickness 
 and if I do not eat I faint. I m every 
 other day at the hospital for the knife 
 business. See," pointing to his stump 
 -"they did that at Tubingen when I 
 was fourteen," a sudden burst of re 
 sentment in his face and voice " at 
 Tubingen," he repeated with grim em 
 phasis. After some moments he re 
 sumed in his unimpassioned, almost im 
 personal way, "the other leg is pretty 
 far gone. There s a girdle round my 
 waist. And see," - slightly pulling up 
 one sleeve. 
 
 She was breathing rapidly. 
 " I told you it was not pretty." 
 " Pretty ! " she gasped, made a sorry 
 attempt to smile, shook her head help 
 lessly, murmured "Wait," and fled into 
 her dark dressing-room where she who 
 wept not for herself shuddered and 
 sobbed in an overwhelming passion of 
 grief for this poor lost life, lost before 
 he had it the dear lost childhood 
 191
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 the joy of companionship, the conscious 
 freshness of the strong sound body 
 all lost from the beginning, while the 
 boy with his beautiful head, proud pure 
 spirit and loathsome disease wandered 
 on earth like a pariah. It was a sudden 
 tempest of emotion and left her weak and 
 spent, leaning against some low book 
 shelves, the first object that had met her 
 flight. 
 
 She lighted her rooms, hesitated, un 
 locked a wardrobe. On shelves and in 
 drawers lay man s underclothing of fin 
 est linen, wool and silk, fragrant with 
 rose leaves and lavender. She looked 
 long, passed her hands lingeringly over 
 the smooth layers, buried her face in them 
 and was still. "It is better so!" she 
 sighed, quickly made a great parcel and 
 rejoined Gustav, who was standing on 
 his stump uncertain whether to hobble 
 off. 
 
 "These things are soft," she said in a 
 matter of fact way. "They may make 
 you more comfortable. Now, Gustav, 
 drink this milk at least if you cannot eat. 
 I really cannot let you leave my house so 
 192
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 poorly cared for. And you 11 come to 
 morrow ? " 
 
 " Yes, I 11 come," he answered quite 
 as he had spoken from his bench, but 
 watching her intently. 
 
 " And where are you going now ? " 
 she persisted, as if she had the right to 
 know. 
 
 " To my room to bed. " 
 
 "That is good. Do you happen to 
 have any money ? " 
 
 He hesitated. 
 
 "A little enough," he replied with 
 reserve. 
 
 " That is good too. Please put this in 
 your pocket to eat with your milk to 
 morrow morning. And here is a book 
 I should like to lend you. You said you 
 liked to read. Books help a little 
 sometimes." 
 
 He seized the volume abruptly, turned 
 over the leaves, looked alternately at it, 
 at her, a gleam of eagerness in his face, 
 impulsively extended his hand as if to 
 thank her and as suddenly withdrew it. 
 She comprehended the pitiful panto 
 mime. 
 
 193
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 She happened to be a person afflicted 
 more or less with that vile complaint 
 fastidiousness. She was ready to make 
 sacrifices for her fellow-creatures pro 
 vided she need not touch them. Deep- 
 rooted in her nature was the instinct 
 which in one way or another proclaims 
 "The hand of Douglas is his own," and 
 in spite of all her pyschic sympathy for 
 the ideal qualities of this poor lad, she 
 was now conscious of distinct physical 
 repugnance, of which baseness, how 
 ever, she was deadly ashamed. 
 
 Smiling, she held out her hand. 
 
 He made no movement to take it, but 
 stood quietly looking down on it and 
 her. 
 
 "Do you think you quite understand 
 about me ? " he asked with a sort of manly 
 solicitude for her. " I don t know my 
 self whether I m contagious, but people 
 rather avoid me. It is only natural." 
 
 "Nonsense! " she said, her hand out 
 stretched, and his, slender, soft, unused, 
 with the confiding clasp of a child closed 
 over it suddenly and long. 
 194
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 II 
 
 Thus the strange boy found in the 
 vineyards entered her life. Seeking, 
 stumbling, groping still, righting the old 
 battles never lost and never won, she 
 could yet forget them and herself in the 
 profound pity that possessed her more 
 and more, contemplating that slight still 
 uncomplaining lonely shape waiting for 
 her in the gloaming. For that he waited 
 and watched for her, that he clung to 
 her in his undemonstrative fashion was 
 evident. 
 
 When as often happened, he was al 
 ready on his bench as she went up, she 
 could note by daylight never without 
 a pang the pretty line of the back of 
 his head, the blond hair that persisted in 
 its curliness although cropped short, the 
 touching mingling of childlike and ado 
 lescent beauty in his features, the grave 
 repose of his bearing. 
 
 As she came down, in the beginning 
 of their acquaintance, she would stand 
 and talk with him awhile, but finally 
 195
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 she seated herself by him as a matter of 
 course. She never could prevail upon 
 him to accompany her home. He fol 
 lowed in his own good time, partook of 
 his light repast, sat awhile in the bright 
 ness and warmth, grew familiar with no 
 one, never without special entreaty pro 
 longed his brief stay, got up with his 
 quiet "Thank you good-night," and 
 hobbled away, his pride and reserve 
 intact. 
 
 It was a long sunny autumn, followed 
 by a mild brief winter and an early 
 spring. In six months of almost daily 
 intercourse he never once volunteered 
 any information about himself. Only 
 very gradually by dint of questioning did 
 she learn the general outlines of his mode 
 of existence. He could, it appeared, ob 
 tain refuge, care, and the opportunity to 
 work when able, in more than one bene 
 volent institution ; free lodging and food 
 in various Homes provided for such as 
 he. But his freedom even his he 
 guarded jealously, and had not the re 
 motest intention of submitting his one 
 precious possession to the charitable dis- 
 196
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 cipline of an asylum. The dignity of 
 the suffering boy who fought no battles, 
 never stormed at life or arraigned fate, 
 seemed little less than Christlike. His 
 touching youthfulness gave her a great 
 heartache and she longed to devise some 
 way of letting a gleam of sunshine into 
 his joyless existence, and of inducing 
 that fine unsmiling mouth to relax in 
 curves of gladness. 
 
 " Are you fond of music ? " she asked 
 him one evening. 
 
 He opened his eyes wide. 
 
 " Because if you d like to go to the 
 opera to-night," - they 11 make him 
 climb to the fourth gallery, she reflected ; 
 still he mounts the vineyard steps ; he 
 looks terribly ill and his hand is ban 
 daged to-day ; but if he should die listen 
 ing to Fidelio it might be the best thing 
 that ever happened to him, " here is a 
 ticket. There are a good many stairs, 
 Gustav." 
 
 " I don t mind," he stammered. " I 
 can get up all right. I never went any 
 where in all my life." Snatching the 
 ticket he dashed out of the room with 
 197
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 amazing rapidity, and went off at a reck 
 less pace on his foot and stump with no 
 crutch or cane, as if his fiery spirit dis 
 dained its mortal impedimenta altogether. 
 She watched the pathetic breakneck 
 scramble down the stairs and thought : 
 
 " Only a boy and does not know how 
 to smile ! " 
 
 "It was beautiful," he began at once, 
 a strong ring of excitement in his tone, 
 as she joined him the following evening. 
 " I did n t know there was anything like 
 that. I didn t hear quite all." 
 
 " You were too tired to stay ? " 
 
 " Oh, no. But, you see, I fainted and 
 fell on the floor. They had to carry me 
 out, but they did n t mind much. The 
 doorkeeper said he knew I could n t help 
 it. I got more than half. Oh, it was 
 great ! " 
 
 Dismayed, she sat down beside him 
 and watched him sadly. 
 
 "You can hear everything in that 
 music," the boy went on excitedly ; 
 " winds and water and voices. It is the 
 fiddles that have the voices. I like them 
 even better than the singing." 
 198
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 " Gustav, why did you faint ? Was 
 the music too exciting ? " 
 
 " I suppose," he admitted reluctantly, 
 " it was because they chopped off two 
 of my fingers at the hospital yester 
 day morning. My left hand ; " he added 
 quickly. " It won t prevent me working 
 at my trade as soon as I m well enough. 
 Do you know how the sea sounds ? Is 
 that noise in the pines up there like it ? 
 I heard a fellow say so." 
 
 "It sounds singularly like it," she re 
 plied as soon as she could command her 
 voice. "You can even hear the little 
 rush of pebbles when the great wave 
 recedes. There at the end after the 
 swell the long, low, grating sound, 
 do you hear ? " 
 
 He listened. After a while he said : 
 
 "Sometimes I dream of the sea. I 
 climb masts and man the yards ; that s 
 what they call it, is n t it ? There I am 
 under the sky like a bird, and the ship 
 goes sailing on." 
 
 She sat very still with tightly clasped 
 hands and heard the wind moaning in 
 the pines, and the patient voice of the 
 199
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 mangled boy. He said no more, but with 
 drew as usual within himself. 
 
 She, silent also, full of pity unspeak 
 able, was sad with exceeding sadness 
 because of her helplessness before him, 
 because of her inability to penetrate his 
 isolation, to be of any true comfort, to 
 give him anything worth giving. For 
 what was soup, she demanded scornfully, 
 and what were clothes and a few creature 
 comforts and smooth words from time to 
 time ? and even the music which had 
 briefly unsealed his thoughts ? Him, his 
 true self, she had never once reached. 
 It evaded her benevolence, eluded her 
 kind inquiries that, gently as they were 
 put, doubtless savored to him of patron 
 age. 
 
 At length she broke the long si 
 lence : 
 
 " Gustav, your loneliness is immeasur 
 able, your life most cruel ; it breaks my 
 heart to think of it ; but if I could show 
 you, if I could find words and courage, 
 there are other sorrows, different from 
 yours, others who suffer, and appall 
 ing, ghastly griefs."
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 " I know," replied the boy compassion 
 ately, and turned toward her. 
 
 Simply, quietly, briefly, as if it were a 
 remote tale, the woman sketched the out 
 lines of her life, its conflicts, loves, and 
 losses, its agony, its Calvary. What 
 ever was most heart-breaking, most holy, 
 most beloved, what she had guarded 
 from the friendliest, she now revealed. 
 
 A deep-drawn breath, a sigh, a half 
 movement, a turning toward her from 
 time to time was his only comment. But 
 she knew without words that he compre 
 hended, as if nothing sorrowful in hu 
 manity were intrinsically strange to him, 
 however remote from his stunted experi 
 ence. Dusk and silence and mists closed 
 round and made an island of their bench 
 halfway up the height, and shut them off 
 from the long valley below, and the busy 
 town glimmering through vapors. The 
 two were alone in the world like lovers. 
 
 " But you had it," said the slow, sweet 
 voice. It was as if the night, or nature 
 itself, or an angel from above, had uttered 
 this eternal verity. Humbled, she bowed 
 her head. 
 
 201
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 " Of course, what I want most is to 
 die," and she knew subtly, instantly, even 
 as he began, that his reserve was melted, 
 that in giving him of herself she had at 
 last given something worth the giving. 
 " In that, nobody can help me unless I 
 help myself. It would be easy enough, 
 but somehow I don t want to hurry the 
 Lord. It cannot be very long to wait, 
 now that my heart is so weak. But there 
 is one thing I m afraid of, one thing 
 always hanging over me," his voice 
 was hard " and I hate it worse than 
 the devil ! That s Tubingen." 
 
 "Tubingen?" 
 
 " I was a little chap, you see, only 
 fourteen. I had no mother and no 
 money. So the town sent me to Tubin 
 gen and they cut off my foot. If I had 
 had a little money, I need never have 
 lost it. I know fellows like me who have 
 kept both feet. Two years ago they 
 sent me again. I was there six months, 
 and all those young doctors learned on 
 me." He was hoarse with emotion. 
 " They learned on me ! " 
 
 202
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 " Poor Gustav ! And that makes you 
 bitter ? " 
 
 "That makes me bitter," he repeated 
 sternly. 
 
 " Yet they are wise there," she ven 
 tured to urge. " They could have made 
 no mistake." 
 
 "I don t know whether they did or 
 not. I only know I will never go there 
 again and let those young doctors learn 
 on me." 
 
 He was shivering. 
 
 "You are cold, Gustav." 
 
 " No, I am not cold. But whenever I 
 think of those young doctors learning on 
 me, I can t bear it. Suppose some day 
 I should be worse and could n t get up 
 in the morning. I ve got a little room 
 under the eaves. It belongs to the 
 beer-shop on the ground-floor. Nobody 
 troubles me, and I trouble nobody. But 
 nobody wants an ill man as lodger, 
 least of all, my kind. They would notify 
 the police quick enough and pack me off 
 to Tubingen. My surgeon at the hospital 
 here says every time he sees me, You d 
 203
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 better go back to Tubingen. I m an 
 interesting case, you know. That s why 
 they kept me so long for that crowd of 
 young doctors to learn on. And some 
 times I get a great fright that I shall be 
 sent back there in spite of myself. I 
 don t want to die there. I want to die 
 respectable." 
 
 " You shall never go back, my poor 
 Gustav. Oh, why did you not tell me 
 this before ? " 
 
 " I never thought of telling you un 
 til to-night." 
 
 " And is there nothing else that per 
 haps you might be able to tell me to 
 night ?" she asked humbly. " Have you 
 no wish, Gustav ? All boys have wishes." 
 
 With an eagerness that burst all bar 
 riers he, the silent one, broke out : 
 
 " There s a peasant in the Remsthal. 
 He could help me. It is a mystery. He 
 prays to God w r hen he gathers his herbs. 
 Nobody knows what herbs. He prays 
 over you, and tells you to believe you will 
 be cured and you are cured. You drink 
 herb tea and take herb baths, two a day. 
 He prays all the time. He asks nothing 
 204
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 for the treatment, you know. He gives 
 his time and care, but you have to pay 
 your board, because he is poor himself. 
 His house is always full, and he has cured 
 hundreds the doctors have given up and 
 sent to Tubingen and such places. He 
 is kind as a father to you. A fellow who 
 was there told me so. He was almost as 
 bad as I, and now he is sound and clean. 
 If you will let me go to the peasant, I will 
 pay you back every penny. For he will 
 cure me, you see, and I am a good work 
 man. I can earn three marks a day as 
 soon as I can keep at it, and stop faint 
 ing and falling on the floor and disturb 
 ing the workshop. And if you will trust 
 me, madam ah, if you will only trust 
 me!" 
 
 She was grateful to the darkness that 
 concealed her consternation and startled 
 prejudice. What was this outbreak of 
 ignorance and crass superstition ? 
 
 " He prays over you," Gustav repeated 
 in a sort of ecstasy. "It is a mystery. 
 It is quiet out there. You go out in the 
 woods. You drink all the milk you want. 
 And he is as kind as a father." 
 205
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 Tubingen was centuries old and cen 
 turies wise, she reflected ; but for this 
 doomed and dying boy why not the won 
 der-peasant with his prayers and herbs, 
 rather than the prayerless young students 
 with their knives ? What mattered it 
 whether Gustav were in point of science 
 orthodox ? 
 
 " I don t suppose you have any faith 
 in it," said the boy shrewdly. " How 
 could you ? But when I am cured you 
 will believe. When I am well enough to 
 wear a wooden leg I can walk down with 
 you," he added, a certain manliness in his 
 tone. " I never will on my stump. It s 
 not decent for a lady like you." 
 
 "Oh, Gustav, Gustav, I believe now. 
 That is, I believe it is good for you to 
 go out there if you want to, and you 
 certainly shall go at once to-morrow 
 whenever you like." For he should have 
 his one wish, she resolved ; he should be 
 glad with the gladness of hope once be 
 fore he died. 
 
 In his delight he chattered freely like 
 any boy, revealed how for years he had 
 dreamed of the peasant as an unattain- 
 206
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 able salvation, told the exact distance 
 and fare, described the route and every 
 way-station. She, listening, marveled at 
 nothing, least of all at the manifestation 
 of the instinctive desire for life flaming 
 up sudden and strong after long repres 
 sion. 
 
 " I never thought I d get any chance 
 down here," he exulted. " Of course I 
 knew I must get one somewhere. That 
 is why I never could decide to hurry the 
 Lord. I always knew He and I had got 
 accounts to be squared somewhere. I 
 never hurt Him. He s hurt me pretty 
 bad. Now I want to see how He means 
 to make up to me for it all. If I inter 
 fere and cut things short, it does n t seem 
 fair to Him." 
 
 " How do you know you 11 have an 
 other chance, Gustav ? I believe you 
 will, but why do you say you know ? " 
 
 " Why, because I ve never had any 
 down here. I Ve seen every kind of sin 
 and sinner, things a lady like you knows 
 nothing about. I m not a great sinner. 
 It is no feather in my cap. I was never 
 strong enough to be worth anything 
 207
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 either for good or bad. I told lies when 
 I was little. I don t now. Sometimes I 
 have evil thoughts. Not long ago I threw 
 a stone at a fellow on a bicycle, hit him, 
 too. I had just fainted and lost my place, 
 and my pains were bad, and he came 
 spinning along, and I hated him. Only 
 for a moment, you know, but it was aw 
 fully mean, for he d never done me any 
 harm. And those young doctors that 
 learned on me, I hate them always. 
 I d hurt them if I could with knives. 
 I d pay them back for all they ve learned 
 on me, and for the way they look. But 
 hurt them as much and as long as the 
 Lord has hurt me, and never give them 
 another chance ? No, I would n t, I 
 could n t, and, among all the bad fellows 
 I Ve seen, I don t know one bad enough 
 for that. That would be devilish." 
 
 "You see," he resumed tranquilly, "if 
 the Lord could serve me so, He must 
 have His reasons. It s not sense, is it, 
 to suppose a great God big enough to 
 make a world would hurt a poor chap like 
 me for nothing ? That is why I ve made 
 up my mind to be as quiet as I can until 
 208
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 I see what next. I rather think it s all 
 right and He knows what He s about. 
 Being alone, I think about such things a 
 good deal. Somehow, it does n t seem 
 fair to find fault with what you are too 
 small to understand. It s best to bear 
 things, is n t it ? " 
 
 " Did you ever know any one you 
 thought worse off than you ? " 
 
 " Sometimes, waiting for death that 
 would not come, unwholesome, so that 
 nobody wanted me near, always so lonely 
 and so" he hesitated "unloved, I 
 have thought I was the worst off on earth, 
 the most God-forsaken. But it is not 
 true. There are worse. I had my 
 mother once. Then there s my brother 
 and there s you," he added shyly. 
 
 She questioned no more. She under 
 stood. For the first time, they were 
 peers. He at last had deigned to grant 
 her right of way in his proud spirit s ter 
 ritory. 
 
 " Let us go down, dear Gustav. It is 
 cool, and we have sat here too long." 
 
 " I ll follow," he replied, immovable in 
 his punctiliousness. 
 
 209
 
 THE YOUTH THAT NEVER SMILED 
 
 It was not long before a light bore 
 swiftly down upon him hobbling across a 
 dim street. A bell rang vehemently, but 
 the imperative warning was too late. A 
 wheel struck him, flung him violently 
 upon a heap of paving stones, and was 
 itself with its rider overthrown. The 
 cyclist helped to carry him into the near 
 est house. A woman bent over him ten 
 derly. He lay unconscious. 
 
 " Gustav, my poor Gustav ! " 
 
 He opened his eyes upon the little 
 group, the frightened face of the 
 strange boy, her, and the others. 
 
 His lips moved. His gaze sought hers. 
 She bent nearer. 
 
 " Those - - young -- doctors / " he 
 gasped, smiling, as his spirit passed, a 
 splendid flashing smile of boyish tri 
 umph. The afterglow of that strange 
 farewell lingered upon the young fea 
 tures marvelously chiselled in death, and 
 merged into a godlike smile of mystery 
 and peace. 
 
 210
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 I 
 
 )AYING nothing of his purpose, 
 to whom, indeed, should he 
 speak now that Christel was 
 dead ? the little old man set forth. 
 This, in substance, is the tale he told the 
 lawyer whom he journeyed to town to 
 consult : 
 
 His name was Jakob Bleibtreu, a 
 peasant of Sonnenheim, seventy - three 
 years old. He had lived a laborious and 
 honest life. None of his race was ever 
 charged with crime or misdemeanor. 
 For more than two hundred years they 
 had tilled the soil of Sonnenheim, toiled 
 in their cornfields and vineyards, wronged 
 no man, and been gathered, ripe in years 
 of stainless reputation, to their fathers. 
 Such had been the Sonnenheim Bleib- 
 treus, not indeed among the richest, but 
 a solid, thrifty, law-abiding race.
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 He had owned his cottage, his father s 
 and grandfather s before him. In it, on 
 his own land, he had lived forty-nine 
 years with his wife Christel. During 
 that long time they had met their share 
 of good and ill luck with cattle, wine, and 
 crops, had lost both sons good lads, 
 and sturdy as you d seldom find in 
 the war ; one daughter had married and 
 moved away and one had died ; there had 
 been storm as well as fair weather : yet, 
 all in all, he would not say they d not 
 been peaceful and prosperous enough, 
 and he could complain of nothing, for 
 he and his old Christel had got on rarely 
 together from the first. 
 
 It was two years and one month now 
 since he had begun to build his new 
 fangled house near the village. What 
 induced him to do it he knew not. He 
 had never been one of those that are 
 troubled with ideas ; never been tempted 
 to start up and do things; was always 
 content to plod along the safe way of his 
 forefathers. But other men were build 
 ing. They talked large at the village inn 
 over their beer. Times were changing,
 
 they said. Some even prophesied that 
 before many years the shriek of the 
 steam-engine would be heard in those 
 quiet meadows. It was like a fever, 
 that talk at the Waldhorn. Solid men, 
 they said, should come forward, when 
 land was going up like pancakes, and 
 show themselves enterprising and public- 
 spirited, not stick in their shells like 
 snails. Projects, advice, figures, and 
 probabilities were paraded until his head 
 swam. 
 
 He used to go home across the fields 
 and try to explain what he had heard to 
 Christel. He remembered better than 
 yesterday the first time he broached the 
 subject. He came into the kitchen and 
 took off his boots, and she fetched him 
 his carpet-slippers and skull-cap, all 
 still and friendly, as was her way. After 
 they had had their usual supper of good 
 boiled potatoes and thick sour milk, 
 which they always ate in silence for 
 it was best to give your mind to your 
 meals and after she had handed him 
 his long pipe and tobacco pouch and he 
 had puffed awhile, he began to talk, and 
 213
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 not before ; for when he had anything to 
 say he liked to sit down quietly and get 
 ready and not feel hurried. 
 
 So he sat in his chair and smoked, and 
 spoke between his whiffs, while Christel 
 sat in hers and knitted and said nothing. 
 But somehow, in the still cottage away 
 from the men s encouragement, things 
 sounded altogether different. At any 
 rate, he could not rouse her to any sense 
 of their importance, or make her under 
 stand. She listened quite unconcerned, 
 and clicked on busily, asking no ques 
 tions and making no comments. But 
 when nine o clock came, and she got up 
 to lay aside her spectacles and knitting 
 and look after fire and lights, she said in 
 her quiet way she was always a quiet 
 woman, his wife Christel she thought 
 she and her good old Jokel would be apt 
 to sleep well and long on it before they 
 took up outlandish notions. And some 
 how it secretly irritated him that she felt 
 so secure, and every day at the Waldhorn 
 the men s talk pulled him the other way. 
 
 It was long before she seemed able to 
 grasp the fact that he was in earnest, and 
 214
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 no wonder, for never before had they two 
 divided opinions upon any course what 
 ever. When she at length perceived his 
 mind was made up, she opposed most 
 bitterly. Why at their age, so near the 
 grave, build houses ? Why have notions ? 
 Why sink their hard-earned savings in 
 building when they had their own good 
 Haus und Hof ? Why vex themselves 
 with noise and change ? Were they not 
 well enough and content ? Let strangers 
 come to the village, and the railway 
 and loads of money-bags, if such things 
 were to be ; but all was not gold that 
 glittered, and the Queen of Sheba and 
 her gorgeousness had not yet arrived. 
 Sonnenheim was pretty much as she re 
 membered it going on sixty or seventy 
 years, except for an unusual lot of fool 
 ish men-folk s talk. Surely she and her 
 Jokel would not grow feather-brained, 
 but go on, steady and sure, hand in hand, 
 and keeping to old fashions. 
 
 The more she pleaded, the more stub 
 born he became, as if in his old age sud 
 denly possessed of a devil. He might 
 have remembered Christ el was always 
 215
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 right. Never a woman of many words, 
 but what she said rang true. An eye for 
 a horse, for cattle, well sharper than 
 his own, or any man s he knew ; a sound 
 head at market and for farm work, and 
 judgment in all things. But he in anger 
 told her men s schemes were too deep 
 for womenfolk. And so it came about 
 they had their first hard words about 
 that house, and Christel said she d die 
 before she d so much as even look at it. 
 
 They quarreled, and had been man 
 and wife nine and forty years and never 
 before discontented with each other one 
 whole day, no, not really for an hour. 
 It was known far and wide that they two 
 pulled strong and smooth together, and, 
 old as young, sat snugly side by side. 
 At weddings, in the whole region round 
 about, it was customary to wish the 
 young pair wedlock as long and peaceful 
 as old Jokel s and his Christel s. That 
 is what they were until he built the new 
 house. 
 
 Well, he built it. It cost more than 
 he had reckoned. It swallowed all his 
 savings, and even that was not enough. 
 216
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 Ill-luck pursued him from the day he 
 laid the foundations. Somehow all his 
 money transactions went wrong. He 
 had to mortgage his cottage and his 
 farm. Then came the great drought and 
 distress on every side ; no crops, no 
 fodder, and his cattle sold for a song. 
 Finally his health gave way and Christel 
 sickened and died. He buried her on 
 the ninth of November seventeen months 
 gone. She had drooped from the time 
 he began building, she took it so to 
 heart. That is what the new house cost 
 him. 
 
 There it stood, empty and useless. 
 No one would buy it. He hated it. The 
 cottage of his fathers, where he and 
 Christel had lived half a century in good 
 and evil days and where their children 
 were born, he was obliged to sell. The 
 new-comers left him his old sleeping- 
 room which he occupied. A lonely old 
 man, he came and went silently, trou 
 bling nobody. The new faces and voices 
 fretted him sorely. Day and night he 
 missed his Christel and brooded over his 
 misfortunes. 
 
 217
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 The new house was his curse. Had 
 he not built it he would not have lost his 
 health, his money, his home and farm, 
 his peace of mind, and his good old wife. 
 Over the very thought of it they two fell 
 out for the first time in their lives. She 
 kept her word ; never looked at it build 
 ing ; never saw it done : it was hardly 
 finished when she died. Had he listened 
 to her, all would still be well. Thus he 
 brooded continually, and a dull, impotent 
 rage possessed him more and more, 
 a sense of personal enmity toward the 
 house which neither he nor anybody else 
 wanted, and which had robbed him of his 
 Christel the blessing of all his days. 
 
 One evening the previous November 
 he was returning from a neighboring 
 market town with some of the villagers. 
 He had done little enough business, 
 merely a few small matters which he had 
 undertaken for the young couple in his 
 cottage, and once he was one of the most 
 important and respected men on the 
 market. Such reflections galled him. It 
 was hard in one s old age to lose the 
 fruits of all the patient labor of one s life, 
 218
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 as well as the consciousness that one is of 
 weight in the community. 
 
 So he was taciturn and came along 
 with the others mostly young men - 
 merely from habit, and because they were 
 all from Sonnenheim ; and sat with them 
 in the Drei Mohren and the Schwalbe 
 and the Traube, and the other inns where 
 they stopped for beer or cider or new 
 wine, yet drank nothing himself except 
 one glass of the new, young Thomas 
 Bolz, who was a bit merry, insisting upon 
 it, and hardly heard their boasts and 
 laughter, so lost was he in his own dreari 
 ness. 
 
 Finally, however, on the road home 
 ward, their loud wit turned upon him. 
 Bolz, chaffing him noisily about what 
 people now called Bleibtreu s Folly, 
 asked him if he was going to hang lace 
 curtains in the windows and have a door 
 bell like city folk ; perhaps, who knew ? 
 a piano, or even a smart young wife ; 
 such things had happened before now 
 to sly old men. Bolz joked on, not un 
 kindly, but after the jovial fashion of 
 young men who have partaken at brief 
 219
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 intervals of beer and cider and new wine. 
 Yet as they parted at the stile for 
 Bleibtreu s way lay over the fields, the 
 others down the high-road to the village 
 young Bolz was not too merry to no 
 tice how wearily the old man walked, and 
 to turn and accompany him a bit across 
 the fields, holding his arm ; and this was 
 not much after ten o clock, as all of them 
 could and did testify. 
 
 Toward five o clock on the following 
 morning Bleibtreu, sleeping soundly, was 
 waked by the young couple, who in 
 formed him his new house was burned to 
 the ground. He made no comment, got 
 up, went over and quietly surveyed the 
 scene of the conflagration, returned and 
 ate a better breakfast than usual. 
 
 The authorities, as a mere matter of 
 form, examined and discharged him 
 promptly. No shade of suspicion clung 
 to him for a moment. The building was 
 uninsured. What motive, then, could a 
 man have to destroy his own property ? 
 Besides, the young men testified Bolz had 
 assisted him some distance on the night 
 of the fire, and it seemed scarcely reason-
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 able to suppose he had retraced his fee 
 ble steps and gone the long way twice, 
 late and alone. The young couple, too, 
 had bade him good - night when he re 
 turned. They protested it would have 
 been impossible for him to leave or en 
 ter the house without their knowledge. 
 There he was, sound asleep, at five o clock. 
 Does a man commit a deed of that sort 
 and sleep like an innocent child ? 
 
 He went about silent as usual for a 
 few weeks, after which his various bodily 
 infirmities culminated in a long illness, 
 and he was more or less bedridden all 
 the winter, but seemed able to bear his 
 lot placidly ; in fact, the young couple 
 thought him rather less melancholy than 
 before. 
 
 Meanwhile, in the sober little village, 
 where one robust sensation might afford 
 entertainment for years, the motives of 
 the mysterious incendiary were exhaus 
 tively discussed. The peasants con 
 fronted the gruesome possibility that 
 their own good farmhouses and fat barns 
 might blaze up at the touch of the same 
 miscreant hand. Unimaginative pates
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 produced and proclaimed monstrous the 
 ories. A certain agitation and suspicion 
 inflamed late oratory over beer-mugs at 
 the Waldhorn. Young Bolz was the last 
 person seen in the street by the watch 
 man on the fatal night. Some good folk 
 knew for a positive fact that nobody but 
 he set Bleibtreu s new house afire. For 
 what motive ? Why, for devilry. Was 
 that not motive enough for Thomas Bolz ? 
 Perhaps when people were grilled and 
 roasted in their beds, they would begin 
 to perceive what a dangerous and repre 
 hensible young scamp he was. There 
 was a distinct anti-Bolz faction. A poor 
 lad who once in a pet - but this was 
 years ago had threatened to set fire 
 to somebody s mill was anathematized by 
 another group. 
 
 But rare and mild versions of such 
 rumors reached the ill old man during 
 the winter. People, curiously enough, 
 were too intent upon the mystery of his 
 burned house to concern themselves 
 much about him. Late in March he 
 ventured out for the first time, listened 
 to stern as well as foolish talk at the
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 Waldhorn, and became suddenly cogni 
 zant of the strong feeling that had been 
 accumulating steadily for a half year, 
 and that public sentiment was like a 
 swollen stream seeking an outlet. 
 
 So, saying nothing to anybody, for 
 to whom should he speak now that Chris- 
 tel was dead ? he got a lift to the mar 
 ket town, and came down by rail for the 
 first time in his life to the capital, to tell 
 to the learned gentleman whom, Bleibtreu 
 said, men at the Waldhorn and the Drei 
 Mohren had called the Friend of the Folk, 
 all the evil that had befallen him ; and to 
 confess that he himself, the night that 
 the young fellows, meaning no harm, 
 jeered him, and his grief and rage were 
 greater than he could bear, had recrossed 
 the fields, hid himself from the watch 
 man, waited until all was still, stolen into 
 the new house, brought down and dis 
 tributed everywhere straw which was 
 stored in the garret, set fire to the ac 
 cursed place at several points, locked 
 the door, and crept away unseen and un 
 heard as he came. From afar he watched 
 it begin to blaze, and his heart then and 
 223
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 there threw off a great load of wrong 
 toward his good old Christel, and he went 
 to bed and slept soundly. 
 
 He had not one moment on his own ac 
 count repented the deed. It was his own 
 house and he destroyed it. In nearly fifty 
 years the building of it was the first wrong 
 he had done his wife Christel, and it had 
 broken her heart. He wished he had 
 but burned it before she died. Still it 
 was gone now, burned to the ground, and 
 that was well. 
 
 But what he could not bear was that 
 innocent men should be accused in his 
 stead. There was angry talk, and good 
 men were named for a fault not their 
 own, and harm might still come of it. 
 But, even if not, he could not bear it, for 
 his conscience gave him no rest day or 
 night ; and somehow the concealment in 
 itself weighed heavy on him. Therefore 
 he had journeyed to the great town to 
 give himself up, for speech was less 
 stumbling before strangers than to men 
 who have stood with you at market two- 
 score years and more, and seen you regu 
 lar in your seat in church, and drunk 
 224
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 many a mug with you at the Waldhorn, 
 and always bade you a neighborly Griiss 
 Gott, and respected you all your days. 
 
 Infirm, sad-eyed, mild and slow, the 
 old man told his tale. He seemed sur 
 prised to learn, if he denounced himself, 
 he would be placed in custody. Some 
 how he had not thought of that, he said. 
 
 After some reflection he replied the 
 Bleibtreus had been a law-abiding race, 
 and he was an old man now ; still, as his 
 conscience gave him no choice and he 
 had come to town to speak and take the 
 consequences, he should not retract. 
 
 Moved with exceeding pity, his legal 
 confessor urged him to consider well : no 
 man was compelled to incriminate him 
 self ; he must remember the village au 
 thorities had pronounced him innocent ; 
 the affair was six months old ; the excite 
 ment must soon abate and be forgotten ; 
 now that he had thoroughly freed his 
 mind he would no doubt feel easier : he d 
 better go quietly home, and if later, say 
 in five or six months, he should want to 
 reopen the subject, the legal gentleman 
 was heartily at his service. 
 225
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 Bleibtreu gently shook his head. 
 
 Informed if he insisted upon formally 
 confessing then and there, the police 
 must be notified and would forthwith de 
 tain him, he seemed for a moment a shade 
 more dreary and desolate, and replied 
 humbly, as he had not understood it 
 would be necessary to lock him up, he 
 thought it would be best for him to go 
 home and put everything in order ; par 
 ticularly because it being already April 
 and good sowing - time, he should like 
 to give some instructions to the young 
 couple who were not yet acquainted with 
 the ways of his land. 
 
 He departed, and the lawyer sincerely 
 hoped he should never see the poor old 
 fellow again. But in five days he reap 
 peared, and was handed over to the 
 august manipulations of the law. 
 
 II 
 
 The massive stone building, rich with 
 
 carving, cost approximately eight million 
 
 marks : ten million francs, two million 
 
 dollars, four hundred thousand pounds 
 
 226
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 sterling, a stately and sonorous sum, 
 however reckoned ; in this instance de 
 rived chiefly from the milliards extorted 
 as war indemnity from a great conquered 
 nation, and otherwise from the taxes un 
 der which the people groaned. 
 
 Rotund burghers, the rectitude of 
 whose incomes led them not into tempta 
 tion that is to say, into certain forms 
 of temptation smirkingly pointed out 
 the beauties of the huge and imposing 
 edifice to strangers, but the poor and 
 those of no repute looked askance at it. 
 Such as they, once in, rarely emerged 
 under pleasurable conditions. 
 
 It was lighted by electricity, warmed 
 by steam, and employed a retinue of 
 liveried servants, who stood about assidu 
 ously with somewhat haughty mien. 
 Keen-faced men with portfolios under 
 their arms hastened in every direction 
 along its spacious corridors and up and 
 down its marble stairways, smiling at one 
 another like the augurs as they 
 passed toward some lofty hall which 
 would shortly resound with their elo 
 quence, or withdrew to a still nook to 
 227
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 prepare repartees and impassioned bursts 
 of oratory. 
 
 Guards splendid of presence and gleam 
 ing as to uniform decorated all chief 
 portals. Busts of eminent lawgivers, 
 classic and modern, awed even the ultra- 
 flippant into a passing sense of nothing 
 ness, while the average serious-minded 
 mortal was incited to considerable exal 
 tation. Instinctively the human breast 
 inflated, the spine straightened, the foot 
 trod proudly, under these august influ 
 ences. It was impossible to so much as 
 walk through the building without paying 
 this involuntary tribute to the majesty 
 of the Law, and to one s own remote, 
 abashed, yet as member of the universal 
 human brotherhood, indisputable connec 
 tion therewith. 
 
 To maintain this superb Palace of Jus 
 tice, its oligarchy of incorruptible magis 
 trates, its learned and zealous prosecutors 
 for the Crown, its troop of recorders, 
 clerks, and scribes of various sorts and 
 degrees, its gendarmerie with the air of 
 vikings, its troop of well - paid menials 
 conscious of rectitude, its libraries, read- 
 228
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 ing and writing rooms, studies, and count 
 less other amenities for the initiated, per 
 haps four hundred thousand marks were 
 annually required : five hundred thousand 
 francs, one hundred thousand dollars, 
 twenty thousand pounds sterling an 
 appetizing morsel, however reckoned. 
 
 On a certain summer morning, in one 
 of the larger court-rooms, the benches re 
 served for the public were crowded, and 
 although it was haying-time a conspicuous 
 and sturdy contingent of peasantry sat 
 manfully along the front in their knee- 
 breeches, scarlet waistcoats, and many 
 rows of silver buttons. 
 
 It was long before court opened, much 
 after the academic quarter ; but who 
 would venture to expect here the lowly 
 virtue of punctuality ? The public waited, 
 for the most part, silent and docile. 
 Chaste, temple-like, the noble propor 
 tions and discreet light of the high and 
 oblong judgment-hall tended to restrain 
 unseemly chatter. Even the careless 
 and such as had strayed in from mere 
 curiosity became gradually hushed, and 
 astonished at their own elevated senti- 
 229
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 ments, as they vaguely meditated upon 
 the transcendental wisdom permeating 
 the atmosphere ; gazed ingenuously upon 
 those lofty precincts, drenched, as it were, 
 in that virtue which we deem the most 
 godlike attribute of man ; and stared 
 meekly at the empty but portentous 
 judges dais across the opposite end of 
 the room, where, behind a fine railing of 
 demarcation, were a long and vastly eru 
 dite table and five magisterial Gothic 
 chairs a sort of Sinai in carved oak. 
 
 High above the vulgar a row of small 
 loges, skirting the hall and entered by 
 glass doors from the gallery without, were 
 occupied by privileged guests those 
 favored by great lights of the tribunal, 
 or strangers of distinction. Peradven- 
 ture those astute men in royal livery 
 might also unlock the loge - doors for 
 travelers who presented no credentials 
 but a deft swift movement of the hand. 
 It is not difficult to guess why the great 
 statue of Justice in that gallery preferred 
 to wear a bandage over her eyes. 
 
 The vast machinery began at length to 
 revolve. Two gleaming sentinels swung 
 230
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 open the great doors on the right and 
 stood on guard. A pause long enough 
 to whet the public s appetite for a felon 
 of large dimensions. A stir. Should 
 then a culprit let the righteous wait ? 
 Two stalwart blond warriors successfully 
 conveyed the malefactor in and deposited 
 him in a pew-like receptacle against the 
 right wall a mild-eyed, white-haired old 
 peasant walking with extreme difficulty, 
 who shrank small and motionless into 
 the corner and stared at the floor. 
 
 His counsel, a rather young augur 
 with pleasant eyes, entered in black 
 gown and cap, seated himself on his 
 bench below the prisoner, opened a port 
 folio, and studied acts with an admirably 
 absorbed expression. Presently more 
 stout guards unflinchingly did their duty, 
 swung open other doors, and ushered in 
 the Prosecutor for the Crown, who, also 
 in Tatar and Barett, took his place at the 
 right of the dais and bent with impres 
 sive intentness over his papers. Strongly 
 guarded, a herd of thirty unhappy look 
 ing jurors stamped in. The clerk, like 
 wise capped and gowned and immensely 
 231
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 preoccupied, took the left chair on the 
 dais. 
 
 Finally a phalanx of three caps and 
 gowns together advanced with fine effect 
 from what may be designated purely for 
 convenience the stage-back, and the 
 President of the Tribunal and two other 
 species of learned judge filled with am 
 plitude of person and sombre dignity the 
 vacuum in the centre ; so that five black- 
 robed figures prepared to weigh human 
 souls in the balance, now loomed from 
 that judgment - seat and presented a 
 ghastly likeness to Rhadamanthus, Mi 
 nos, and JEacus flanked by two more 
 sinister shapes like unto them. A flock 
 of timorous witnesses all villagers 
 under reassuringly strong escort, were 
 marshalled to their seats back to the 
 public and mercilessly facing these five 
 gentlemen exhaling subterranean gloom. 
 
 Nothing, in point of fact, had as yet 
 transpired. The participants had but 
 assembled. Yet already the wondering 
 layman was convinced of three things : 
 that the Law has indeed other methods 
 of procedure than our careless, unimpres- 
 232
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 sive, unhistrionic ways of coming into 
 rooms and sitting down among our fel 
 low creatures quite simply as if naught 
 depended on the action ; that the armed 
 force in that building in time of peace 
 could unless its looks belied it with 
 stand an invasion of barbarians ; and that 
 if one were personally led innocent be 
 fore that awful Five the ominous envi 
 ronment well might hypnotize one into 
 confessing unattempted and undreamed 
 of crimes. Still the world moves ; the 
 Council of Three and the Vehmgericht 
 wore masks, one patch of black prog 
 nostication more. 
 
 Meanwhile the thankless old man for 
 whom all this pageant was unfolded sat 
 small, humble, and unheeding in his cor 
 ner and never raised his eyes, or had any 
 proper appreciation of the complicated 
 and imposing apparatus in movement at 
 the moment solely for him ; never 
 thought of the enormous expenses of 
 that Temple of Justice, the Honorarium 
 of each of the five Sublimities, and the 
 salaries of the vassals, all accruing during 
 the time required for his case, in a certain 
 233
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 sense exclusively on his account that, 
 in short, justice might be done him. 
 
 Eighteen things now happened in due 
 course ; all indispensable beyond a doubt 
 as that which had preceded, or surely 
 wisdom and learning, at the very thought 
 of which the laical brain reels, would 
 never have ordained and crystallized 
 them in adamantine form, to shake which 
 ever so lightly were sheer profanity. 
 
 But since it was publicly known the 
 prisoner had confessed his deed and de 
 livered himself up to the authorities, 
 homely common sense was altogether 
 in a bad plight and wellnigh discouraged 
 before the legal bill of fare was half com 
 pleted. The originally clear questions 
 of right and wrong became hardly per 
 ceptible, so wadded were they in here- 
 withs, hereins, to wits, aforesaids, hereto- 
 fores, and such judicial mufflers. Things 
 at other times of no import, the pushing 
 about of pink-covered acts and inkstands 
 by the five transcendental ravens, became 
 after the triumphal impressiveness of 
 their entrance fraught with strange sig 
 nificance. The Prosecutor for the Crown 
 234
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 regarding his well-shaped hands seemed 
 no ordinary man inspecting ordinary hu 
 man nails, but a supernal being drawing 
 pure vovs from those polished sources. 
 Only a little group of the augur frater 
 nity, bending sharp, busy faces over docu 
 ments, were quite unmoved by all the 
 florid circumstance they best knew 
 why. And always in his corner sat the 
 meek old man, detached, remote, with 
 downcast brooding eyes. 
 
 1. The names of thirty worthy men were read 
 out by the Clerk. 
 
 2. After much rejection on the part of Prose 
 cution or Defense, twelve of the thirty were 
 finally impaneled as jurors. 
 
 3. Johann Senfft, joiner, Karl Bauer, vintner, 
 Adam Mollenkopf, plumber, etc., were sworn ; a 
 process which they, being a little heavy tongued, 
 unaccustomed since their remote school days to 
 public feats of verbal repetition, and doubtless 
 like everybody else in deadly fear of the black 
 Sublimities, found curiously embarrassing. 
 
 4. Blood-curdling admonition to rustic wit 
 nesses to tell the truth, and warning against per 
 jury. Witnesses, already more dead than alive, 
 reconducted under strong guard from court room 
 to place outside, and held in a sort of limbo. 
 
 5. Interrogation as to name, age, parents, reli- 
 
 2 35
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 gion, and occupation of accused, and whether 
 previously indicted. 
 
 6. Reading of the accusation a rare privi 
 lege for the unjuridical. In most serious and 
 abstruse language was alleged of a man who, 
 voluntarily confessing he had burned down his 
 house, had surrendered himself to the authori 
 ties, that he was under the impeachment of af 
 fording sufficient grounds for suspicion that he 
 on a certain date did willfully, deliberately, con 
 sciously, intentionally, with malice prepense, etc., 
 etc., by setting fire to his dwelling-house, perpe 
 trate arson. 
 
 7. Jakob Bleibtreu was transported by the 
 giants on guard to the very foot of Sinai. 
 
 Being an aged man, infirm and ill, he 
 was permitted to sit. He still preserved 
 his weary, sad, and unconscious demeanor. 
 The public could see little but the top of 
 his bowed white head. He never glanced 
 at the jury. 
 
 At first under the presiding Magis 
 trate s examination Bleibtreu s voice was 
 almost inaudible, but as he continued and 
 related in his own fashion what had hap 
 pened, the court room became hushed 
 and his slow and gentle accents were 
 distinctly heard. 
 
 In him truth spoke and grief. The 
 236
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 pomp and circumstance which preceded 
 and surrounded him vanished like mist. 
 Bent, wizened, humble, unlearned, un 
 mindful of effect, uneloquent, he alone 
 for a brief period dominated that forum. 
 When he ceased a great stillness pre 
 vailed. What that loving, remorseful, 
 single-hearted, dazed, and baffled old man 
 had done, what he had felt and endured, 
 was clear as light. What ought now to 
 occur no less. 
 
 When a child confesses a fault because 
 he will not see a mate blamed for it, 
 what decrees the tender wisdom of mo 
 thers by no means the least sound 
 code on earth ? What were those famil 
 iar words in the Book all Law Courts 
 openly profess to venerate ? If we con 
 fess our sins, God is faithful and just to 
 forgive us our sins and to cleanse us 
 from all unrighteousness. That aged 
 infirm man had already been in custody 
 three months awaiting trial. Were it not 
 rank heresy, one fain would choose for 
 Bleibtreu and his like, instead of this 
 vast enlightenment of judicature, some 
 ruder plein air method of early shep- 
 23?
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 herd folk. It might have better served 
 the purpose. 
 
 Vague speculation, too, upon the essen 
 tial meaning and uses of punishment fol 
 lowed. What dire convulsion would have 
 rent the Commonwealth had it straight 
 way forgiven the broken-hearted man of 
 threescore and thirteen years ? There is 
 no worse torture than the torture of laws, 
 wrote one named Francis Bacon, bidding 
 judges "beware of hard constructions 
 and strained inferences." Then the 
 solemn thought arose unbidden and lin 
 gered were Christ there that day, how 
 would He judge, how look upon this gen 
 tle old culprit ? But these at best were 
 mere laical visions, idle, irrelevant, and 
 distinctly lawless. Bleibtreu was recon- 
 ducted to his corner and the business of 
 the court went relentlessly on. 
 
 8. Witnesses one after another were called, 
 questioned, and cross-questioned by the counsels 
 for prosecution and defense to prove, it would 
 seem, the probability that Bleibtreu did the deed 
 he had confessed. Their testimony went appar 
 ently to establish the mooted points that Jakob 
 Bleibtreu had had a house, a wooden house, 
 a hereinbefore mentioned, now (presumably) 
 238
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 burned house and its distance, thirty feet or 
 more, from other buildings, was made manifest 
 by a diagram at which Johann Senfft blinked 
 long. 
 
 9. Examination of " experts " who declared 
 Bleibtreu to be of sound mind, and who one 
 knew not the cause of this favoritism had been 
 permitted to remain in the hall instead of being 
 promenaded painfully back and forth by gen 
 darmes. 
 
 10. The President of the Tribunal (but in no 
 such plebeian terms as follow) framed the ques 
 tions to be determined by Senfft and Co. : 
 
 a. Was the prisoner guilty of setting his dwell 
 ing-house afire, thereby committing the offense 
 of arson ? 
 
 b. If so, were there extenuating circumstances ? 
 n. The Prosecutor for the Crown and the 
 
 Counsel for the Self- Accused pleaded long, with 
 Replik and Duplik. But what was here to pro 
 secute, the ignorant and merely human person 
 asked himself aghast. 
 
 The learned Counsel for the Crown in 
 timated, indeed, that on account of the 
 infrequent circumstance of self-denuncia 
 tion he should in this instance overflow 
 with magnanimity. He then proceeded 
 to paint a picture of an inky black night, 
 a peacefully sleeping village, a dangerous 
 old man speeding across fields, the burst- 
 239
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 ing forth of lurid and hungry flames, 
 until Johann Senfft, Karl Bauer, and 
 Adam Mollenkopf began to tremble for 
 their roofs. 
 
 And what was in the prisoner s mind 
 as he stole stealthily across those mid 
 night fields ? What, Gentlemen of the 
 Jury, were his i-n-t-e-n-t-i-o-n-s ? A dwell 
 ing-house was thirty yards northwest of 
 Bleibtreu s. Forty yards in another 
 direction stood a well-stocked unsuspect 
 ing barn. What loss of life and property 
 might not have ensued had there been in 
 that still and sheltered valley a tornado, a 
 cyclone ? What mercy had Bleibtreu on 
 the slumbering and respectable fathers 
 and mothers of large families, and their 
 innocent and promising babes ? Here 
 Johann Senfft and the eleven gazed 
 round-eyed at the speaker, and even the 
 patient little old man in the box glanced 
 up once, mild and wondering. 
 
 The wind, it appeared, was north, but, 
 Gentlemen of the Jury, what if the wind 
 had been southeast ! 
 
 The augur, usually a young thunderer, 
 for some reason was moved on this occa- 
 240
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 sion to speak with peculiar gentleness 
 and briefly. Is it conceivable that even 
 augurs may sometimes long for simpli 
 city ? No word of his, he said, could 
 deepen the profound and memorable im 
 pression produced by his client ; claimed 
 that his manliness in submitting at his 
 age to the humiliation of imprisonment 
 should have great consideration in the 
 verdict ; accentuated the fact that no 
 self-interest actuated the deed, no other 
 property was harmed ; dwelt upon his 
 heavy sorrow and mental depression, 
 his irreproachable life, his years and 
 his infirmities : pleaded strongly for ac 
 quittal. 
 
 12. The Prisoner, being informed the last word 
 was his privilege, shook his head wearily. 
 
 13. The President charged the jury as if in 
 structing twelve hopeless idiots, so long, often, 
 and strenuously did he repeat his utterances. 
 Yet if their intellects felt as shattered as those 
 of most unprofessional persons present, his 
 method was perhaps not ill advised. What 
 should chiefly govern their deliberations must 
 be, it appeared, whether the prisoner in setting 
 incendiary hands upon his own property had or 
 had not oh marvelous jurisprudence ! incen 
 diary designs upon the property of others. 
 
 241
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 14. The Court withdrew, Bleibtreu was re 
 moved, and the crushed public wandered drear 
 ily about and stared at Moses, Solomon, Solon, 
 and Lycurgus. Honest Johann Senfft, joiner, 
 Karl Bauer, vintner, Adam Mollenkopf, plumber, 
 etc., were convoyed by the still unexhausted guard 
 to some stronghold and remained absent a full 
 hour, conscious the eyes of the nation were 
 upon them, while they officially made up their 
 minds whether or no Jakob Bleibtreu had delib 
 erately, willfully, intentionally, and with malice 
 prepense, set fire to his dwelling-house, thereby 
 committing the offense of arson, and, if so, what 
 were his motives in doing it. 
 
 15. The Court it were impious to suspect 
 their Honors had stooped to beer in the long in 
 terval sailed in again black and majestic. The 
 prisoner was detained without. Johann Senfft, 
 being called upon, announced in stentorian tones 
 the verdict : 
 
 "In answer to the first question Yes, with 
 more than seven voices." 
 
 " In answer to the second question Yes, with 
 more than seven voices." 
 
 1 6. Whereupon the two Samsons in charge of 
 the prisoner brought him in and held him up 
 that he might listen with fitting respect to what 
 Senfft and the others had determined were the 
 ultimate facts of the case. 
 
 " Prisoner at the bar, hear the verdict of the 
 jury," was thundered down from Sinai. 
 
 The Clerk then proclaimed the oracu- 
 
 242
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 lar utterance : " In answer to first ques 
 tion Yes, with more than seven voices" 
 But as he did not reread the question, 
 and the prisoner had long since forgotten 
 or indeed never grasped it, the truly legal 
 beauty of this situation was that the per 
 son most concerned could not possibly 
 comprehend whether he was acquitted or 
 found guilty. 
 
 " In answer to second question Yes, 
 with more than seven voices." 
 
 17. Considerable discussion and pleading as 
 to degree of severity of Bleibtreu s penalty. 
 
 1 8. Rhadamanthus, Minos, and ^Eacus retired 
 to concentrate their combined genius upon the 
 sentence. After a prolonged absence they re 
 appeared, their august, sable state quite un 
 impaired, and the prisoner was once more 
 shoved and propped into deference to hear his 
 doom : 
 
 Two YEARS IMPRISONMENT, AND RECOM 
 MENDATION TO THE MERCY OF THE KING. 
 
 As at this season the sovereign was 
 busy entertaining foreign potentates, and 
 as the formalities of the law must pro 
 ceed with inexorable circumstance who 
 ever pines and dies, it happened that 
 some weeks elapsed before Jakob Bleib- 
 243
 
 THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 
 
 treu s humble griefs could be laid before 
 the throne. In the meantime another 
 monarch, all merciful, came unannounced 
 by night and released the weary old man 
 from prison and from pain. 
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 MONKEYLAND 
 
 FROLIC cherub, sailing at ran- 
 dom about the universe, spied 
 from afar the bright windows of 
 a palace on our earth, darted downwards, 
 and floated in. He was an affable little 
 being of an inquiring turn of mind, con 
 sisted at first sight of but a charming 
 head, wings, et preterea nihil quite like 
 St. Cecilia s artless and amiable conge 
 ries in the picture ; and he traveled very 
 comfortably on his own little rosy cloud. 
 
 Only a poet perceived him. 
 
 Arriving suddenly from cool starry 
 spaces, he was at first confused by the 
 bad air, the din of human speech, and 
 the braying of wide-mouthed instruments, 
 whirled in giddy circles round and round 
 like a helpless moth, and dashed against 
 chandeliers and mirrors. But aware of 
 the imperative duty of the well-bred tour- 
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 ist, he bravely adapted himself to his en 
 vironment, became mildly asphyxiated - 
 the sole condition under which large gath 
 erings in hot rooms can be enjoyed - 
 steered for a statue in a corner, reefed 
 his wisp of cumulus, and anchored on a 
 departed monarch s marble brow. 
 
 The poet strolled near, to be on hand 
 in case he were wanted. Poets are less 
 unpractical than is popularly supposed. 
 
 From that corner floated a faint fra 
 grance fresh as the breath of gorse upon 
 a wind-swept headland, but some fine 
 ladies sniffed, sneezed, frowned, and said 
 they felt a draught. 
 
 The little stranger propped his rosy 
 visage upon his chubby fist in the atti 
 tude of the first cherub of the Sistine 
 Madonna and contemplated with silent 
 bewilderment the human antics before 
 him. (It is an unscientific and untena 
 ble theory that cherubs are limbless. 
 The body of the cherub exists potentially 
 in the cloud, as the oak in the acorn. 
 He merely draws forth an arm, a leg, or 
 whatever is required at the moment, and 
 re-inclouds it when superfluous, thus 
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 easily commanding, unlike the methods 
 of luckless human adolescence, complete 
 and agreeable absence of body.) 
 
 " How wretched they look, poor dears," 
 he murmured compassionately. " What 
 is this dreadful place, I wonder, and what 
 have they done that they are compelled 
 to be here ? " 
 
 "This," replied the poet, "is a festival 
 in the king s palace. To many present 
 it is the proudest moment of their lives. 
 Some have pushed, struggled, stooped to 
 incredible meannesses, sold their souls, 
 indeed, to be seen here this night. 
 Others can ill afford the outlay, and they 
 and their children will suffer months of 
 privation for this one pageant. But 
 they would all assure you they were 
 happy. They are protesting one to an 
 other how supremely happy they are, 
 and in truth this is the highest ideal of 
 happiness many of them possess." 
 
 " Thank you so very much," the 
 cherub returned, polite but puzzled. 
 " Pardon me, but where am I ? Is it 
 possible I am on Terra ? I have never 
 happened to visit one of the wee rural 
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 planets before, and as I rounded the tail 
 of the Great Bear I was a little flighty 
 and lost my reckoning. But from your 
 kind remarks I judge this can only be 
 the Earth. Some of my colleagues who 
 used to come down occasionally to sit for 
 their portraits told me it was the most 
 topsy - turvy place imaginable. But I 
 really beg your pardon. I should be so 
 sorry to " 
 
 " Oh, pray don t mind me. I never 
 felt at home here." 
 
 The innocent wanderer again regarded 
 the brilliant throng and turned his pretty 
 profile in all directions after the fash 
 ion of Sir Joshua Reynolds s group. 
 
 "They jerk their mouths," 
 
 "Those are smiles," the poet hastened 
 to explain. 
 
 " But their eyes are wary and unloving. 
 Why is that ? " 
 
 "I cannot tell you, dear Cherub. I 
 only know it is the habitual expression of 
 elderly human countenances confronting 
 one another on festive occasions." 
 
 " Are there none present who have 
 not scrambled or sold their souls ? " 
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 " Oh, certainly. Some are here as a 
 matter of course, by right of birth, - 
 and a few have been distinguished for 
 merit." 
 
 " Birth ? On earth all are born, are 
 they not ? " 
 
 " Why, yes. But some are born with 
 distinct advantages highborn don t 
 you know, the hereditary nobility ? " 
 
 The cherub shook his ambrosial locks 
 dubiously, and became pensive as the 
 little Carpaccio with the mandolin. 
 
 "Are they not all born babies ? Not 
 unlike us, except they cannot subsist on 
 pure sunshine, and they pucker, grow red 
 in the face, and wail ? At least, that is 
 what my colleagues have told me." 
 
 "That is true enough. But on our 
 earth one baby is born to honor and 
 privileges, another to hardship, neglect, 
 and misery." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Merely because the first baby s re 
 mote ancestor was strong or shrewd 
 enough to own and keep his land which 
 often he stole ; or he went to the wars, 
 or changed his name, or pleased the fancy 
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 or the pocket of a king, or got some 
 other sort of better chance than his fel 
 lows." 
 
 " But that is most unholy ! However," 
 he added blithely upon second thought, 
 "fortunately you are an ephemeral spe 
 cies down here on this minute object. 
 You bloom only sixty or eighty of your 
 own infinitesimal years, I believe. Af 
 terwards you 11 find those pernicious 
 ideas will soon be set to rights." 
 
 " Where ? " demanded the poet eagerly. 
 
 "Beyond," responded the babe of 
 heaven, "among the verities, the im 
 mensities, and the eternities," his hands 
 clasped, his gaze uplifted in adoration, 
 like the rapturous cherubim of the Ro- 
 mani Altar-piece. 
 
 " Ah ! " sighed the longing poet. 
 
 " Still," the cherub after a while re 
 marked practically, " you are really 
 among them now, even if it seems quite 
 the other way round. Nothing and no 
 body can escape them. So it is the great 
 est mistake not to set things right as one 
 goes along. And this most amazing mat 
 ter of the hereditary babies " 
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 The poet smiled. 
 
 "Will be remedied, never fear, dear 
 Cherub. It is a tottering institution. 
 Strong hands are undermining its foun 
 dations. Strong hearts condemn it." 
 
 " It is well," said the cherub with em 
 phasis, "for the most fantastic, unreason 
 able, and ominous notion I have met 
 with in all my travels in this or any other 
 solar system is your monstrous illusion 
 of high and low birth. Now, if you 
 please, sir, what is merit ? " 
 
 "Merit ? " repeated the poet modestly. 
 " Well, there are various kinds. Merit 
 in this special sense is ascribed chiefly to 
 those who have excelled in the arts and 
 sciences. For instance, there is a re 
 cently knighted man of the haute finance" 
 
 " Knighted ? Haute finance ? What 
 art is that ? " 
 
 The soft features were screwed up in 
 helpless incomprehension. 
 
 "The noble art of getting rich. Still 
 more, the science of playing astutely 
 with fortunes, thereby controlling men, 
 commerce, politics, love, and war. 
 Cherub, I see it is too tough for you, 
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 and I confess wealth never was my forte. 
 Let s drop it." 
 
 " Most gladly, for it is indeed a grue 
 some theme, and unethereal." 
 
 "Do you see that pale, thoughtful 
 man ? " 
 
 " A gentle face with divination in the 
 eyes, as one on a purer planet ? Pray, 
 what is his merit ? " 
 
 " He is a great scientist and inventor. 
 He has produced the worst explosive yet. 
 No army, no town, can exist an instant 
 before it." 
 
 "Oh, is it thus cruelly he employs 
 his divine intellect, when on every side 
 myriads of beneficent secrets are waiting 
 to be discovered by such as he, for the 
 comfort, progress, and happiness of man 
 kind ? But you, friend, so patient with 
 my ignorance, so courteous, you, too, 
 look mild, and in your deep eyes dwells 
 thought. Why are you here ? Have 
 you perchance struggled, pushed, and 
 demeaned yourself to attain to this place 
 of unrest ? Or were you born high ? 
 Or did you study to exterminate your 
 fellow-creatures ? " 
 
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 The poet blushed. 
 
 " I wrote a Patriotic Ode," he fal 
 tered. 
 
 "I m sure you ll never do it again," 
 rejoined the cherub consolingly, secretly 
 wondering what manner of thing it 
 might be terribly earthy and insular, 
 he feared, perceiving the other s de 
 jection. "Would you kindly interpret 
 the eccentric conduct of the assembly, 
 so convulsive, you observe, and their 
 smiles, I believe you call them ? all 
 aimed in one direction ? " 
 
 " His Majesty stands at some distance 
 talking with a foreign ambassador." 
 
 "Nobody down here can hear what 
 they say ? " 
 
 " Not a syllable. But when his Ma 
 jesty deigns to jest, those standing near 
 delight to look as if they were part and 
 parcel of the royal wit. Those afar off, 
 disliking to be left out in the cold, insist 
 upon smiling also. Thus a great, obse 
 quious, expectant grin ripples over the 
 whole surface of the company." 
 
 " Does it matter much what one Ter- 
 ranean says to another ? " 
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 The poet stared, this inquiry striking 
 him as too preposterously nai ve for even 
 the other-worldliness of cherubim. 
 
 " Still," continued the artless prattler, 
 intent as the little Correggio sharpen 
 ing the arrow, who, strictly speaking, 
 is an Amor, but that is only a cherub s 
 first cousin once removed, "I really 
 need not be surprised, for I remember 
 a friend of mine was relating to a lot of 
 us, at the last Aurora Borealis, that you 
 earth-born could one minute be fiercely 
 hurling cocoanuts at one another s heads, 
 and the next might grin and jabber and 
 mimic prodigiously, quite as at present." 
 
 " Cherub," retorted the poet severely, 
 for the first time rather hurt, " you d 
 better read some good scientific books 
 and improve your mind. The pitchers of 
 cocoanuts are not human beings, and, if 
 ever even remotely related to us, it was 
 aeon upon aeon ago." 
 
 The little angel now nestling in the 
 classic pose of the second cherub of the 
 Sistine Madonna nodded sagaciously. 
 
 "Ah, yes, I had forgotten. Time 
 has another meaning, ici-bas. From the 
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 aerated point of view, your arbitrary dis 
 tinctions are quite unimportant. It was, 
 as you suggest, some few aeons ago that 
 my friend noted the vivacious manners 
 of the cocoanut ladies and gentlemen. 
 An arboreal race, was it not ? You are 
 not fond of these relatives ? Let us talk 
 of something else. Those men in bright 
 clothes with little toys and trinkets on 
 their breasts, what are they, and why 
 do they wear danglers ? " 
 
 " They are eminent generals. They 
 lead our armies to battle." 
 
 " Killers ! " The cherub shuddered. 
 
 " The bits of metal, the crosses and 
 stars in gold and silver and enamel, are 
 orders, decorations, marks of distinction 
 conferred by the sovereign in commem 
 oration of gallantry and success in war." 
 
 " In killing ! I have heard of these 
 most painful customs. Men decorate 
 themselves, as well, with chains of beads 
 and shells and human teeth, and some 
 times leap and howl round fires, and wear 
 as trophies the skulls of their victims." 
 
 " Cherub, you re off the track," re 
 monstrated the poet. 
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 " No doubt," returned the little one 
 sweetly, with a lovely, outstretched 
 movement as of floating down the ray in 
 Paul Veronese s Adoration of the Magi, 
 " one does get so very dcsoriente 
 when one travels so much and so rapidly 
 as we, and roams through millions of 
 mansions. Besides, I am a particularly 
 scatter-brained cherub. You see," he 
 cooed confidingly, "few of us small 
 fellows have any regular work on Earth. 
 We may chance to drift hither in play 
 hours and holidays on idle voyages of 
 discovery. But the truth is, we are con 
 sidered too light weight for this line of 
 business. It takes our strongest, most 
 able-bodied, large-sized seraphs to tackle 
 things down here." 
 
 His innocent glance fell upon a small, 
 bright object attached to the poet s coat. 
 
 " You, friend, wear a dangler ? You 
 are, then, a " 
 
 " I am what is called a minor poet," 
 replied the young man gloomily. 
 
 " Poets I know well," said the cherub 
 softly, with a rapt look, holy, wonder 
 ful, as the most beautiful Murillo. " God 
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 loves them. In the Beyond, unspeak 
 able is their bliss. Even on this Earth, 
 their mystic hints reveal the high destiny 
 of the soul. They are the prophets, 
 the sacred seers of secrets. Let kings 
 come bow to them." 
 
 The listener snatched his decoration 
 from his breast. 
 
 After a while the cherub remarked : 
 " Two care-worn, venerable men are walk 
 ing together down the room. They also 
 wear many rows of childish gewgaws, 
 yet are not killers surely, still less 
 poets." 
 
 " The Minister of War and the Minis 
 ter of the Interior, both grown gray in 
 the service of the state, which practi 
 cally means helping it to recuperate from 
 one war and preparing it to meet the de 
 mands of the next." 
 
 "War, war!" murmured the grieved 
 cherub. " Hatred, bloodshed, desola 
 tion, and tears, internecine massacre ! 
 I was dimly aware of the existence of 
 primitive and barbarous spheres where 
 tribal conditions obtain, but have never 
 before realized the gloom of such re- 
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 tarded development. My colleagues 
 were quite right. They warned me I 
 should find it altogether too depressing 
 in your tiny but fierce hamlet, and bade 
 me wait a few cycles. Those are your 
 young savage chiefs ? " 
 
 " We call them officers." 
 
 " Whom will they go out to tomahawk 
 and spear ? " 
 
 "Their weapons, too, we designate 
 otherwise. Still, after all, that may be 
 a mere detail. It matters little against 
 whom war is declared. Here, there, any 
 where. All the nations are more or less 
 alike. Each glorifies itself and vilifies 
 its neighbor. This habit of mind we 
 esteem a virtue and give it an imposing 
 name. We are chiefly employed in snarl 
 ing about geographical boundaries. A 
 trifle precipitates the animosity. Then 
 we march forth and destroy one another." 
 
 " Alas, a topsy-turvy globe indeed, or, 
 rather, globule ! " exclaimed the little 
 one, fluttering a lively multiplicity of pin 
 ions with a fine Donatello or della Rob- 
 bia effect. " Yet take heart, Poet. As 
 we were tobogganing on the rainbow 
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 the other day, one of our most luminous 
 cherubs, an authority, too, on World- 
 Germs, remarked : Terra is slow, but 
 she will arrive. Who are those amiable 
 gentlemen in gay coats, stars, and rib 
 bons ? " 
 
 " That is the diplomatic corps. They 
 represent the nations." 
 
 " In what respect, pray ? " 
 
 " Ah ! that nobody knows exactly. If 
 one could possibly imagine what they 
 did, it would no longer be diplomacy. 
 Visibly, they dine a good deal, make 
 ornate speeches, amuse themselves fa 
 mously, cable tremendous dispatches, 
 and compose wit and wisdom for their 
 autobiographies." 
 
 " But at least they do not help to let 
 loose wars ? " 
 
 " They ? Rather ! " 
 
 " Yonder stands a white-haired, saintly 
 old man in simple black. His occupa 
 tion, kind Poet ?" 
 
 " He is a distinguished Christian pre 
 late. He preaches peace. He exhorts 
 us to return good for evil, to love our 
 enemies and bless our persecutors." 
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 " At last ! " cried the cherub joyously. 
 
 " But in time of war he implores the 
 God of battles" 
 
 "There is none ! " solemnly ejaculated 
 the cherub. 
 
 "To grant us victory, while the 
 saintly divines of our enemies are as 
 fervently beseeching Him to defeat our 
 forces and let theirs triumph." 
 
 The cherub drooped his wings. 
 
 "Tribal," he sighed, "essentially tribal," 
 
 and under his breath repeated words 
 
 amazingly like : " Cannibals that each 
 
 other eat, the Anthropophagi." 
 
 " Cannibals ! Oh I say Cherub ! " 
 
 " But is not this the dreary planet of 
 blood-stained food ? Stained with the 
 blood of lowly kindred ? Brothers and 
 sisters in feathers and fur, and those pos 
 sessed, it may be, of a few more legs 
 and horns than you human animals have 
 at the moment, yet all of the selfsame 
 Mother Earth stock. Do you not merci 
 lessly enslave and torture, kill and habit 
 ually devour the non-human animals ? Or 
 do I wrong you ? Is it elsewhere that 
 cruelty reigns supreme ? " 
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 "Alas ! " sighed the poet, "it is here." 
 
 After a prolonged silence the cherub 
 gravely resumed : " It is, I fear, a super 
 fluous question, where all are either kill 
 ers or abettors of carnage ; but those tall 
 men in scarlet and gold moving every 
 where, and bearing shining disks ? " 
 
 " Are harmless men of peace," re 
 sponded the poet carelessly, " being only 
 servants." 
 
 " Only ? " 
 
 "Well," - hesitating, - - "we look 
 upon them as inferiors." 
 
 " Have they, then, committed crimes 
 even worse than war ? " 
 
 " By no means, little Cherub. They 
 minister to our comfort, and do for us 
 what we are too lazy or too ignorant to 
 do for ourselves." 
 
 Perplexity clouded the baby -angel s 
 brow and his lip quivered. 
 
 " Poet, your Earth is strangely sad. I 
 think I 11 go home." 
 
 " Ah, do not leave me," entreated the 
 
 poet. " Remain yet a little. You have 
 
 chanced upon some of our ugliest traits. 
 
 But Earth has also its loveliness. Come 
 
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 with me and I will show you. You shall 
 look upon wholesome home-life, upon 
 friendship, sympathy, unselfish devotion; 
 upon the strong love of man and woman, 
 which at its highest sees heaven open. 
 We mortals know brief seasons of peace, 
 holy instincts of protection and pity. At 
 all times have been ardent souls ready 
 to lay down their lives for the oppressed. 
 Some of Earth s vistas are fair as dreams 
 of Paradise. Earth s flowers, Earth s 
 young children have faces pure as your 
 own. Earth s music, all her longing, 
 soaring art, is heaven-born. We are not 
 wholly base. Surely a breath of the Be 
 yond inspires even us." 
 
 " It vivifies the universe, and therefore 
 even you. In spite of yourselves you 
 cannot escape the eternal Law of Pro 
 gress which rules all life. But while 
 your butchery of war prevails, your sys 
 tem of international assassination, it re 
 mains a brutal and benighted place, 
 ce bas monde" 
 
 "Look!" cried the young man eager 
 ly. "Look through the great doorway 
 where the crowd breaks, and see our 
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 maidens dance ! Surely that is no dreary 
 sight." 
 
 " Is that dancing ? " the cherub gently 
 turned away after one glance. "The 
 men s legs are so many and so obvious ! 
 You should see us dance, in space, at a 
 dawn party." His iridescent pinions flut 
 tered rhythmically, and his cloud swayed 
 to and fro as he carolled under his breath a 
 mystic measure of unearthly beauty which 
 ever after haunted the poet s brain. 
 
 " Blessed Arch-cherub who may hear 
 the morning stars sing together ! Now 
 watch our young girls drifting in, all 
 whiteness and sweetness." For an in 
 stant the poet was light of heart and 
 exclaimed proudly : " Behold Earth s 
 best and dearest ! " 
 
 The winsome being put his thumb in 
 his mouth and cuddled down content. 
 
 " They look familiar as my own dear 
 mates, and are doubtless wise and good 
 as they are fair." 
 
 The poet stroked his moustache. 
 
 " Well, perhaps they might be a grain 
 wiser. You see these are girls of the 
 best society." 
 
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 " The which ? Again, I cannot under 
 stand your terrestrial patois. " 
 
 " Upon my word, Society is a vastly 
 difficult thing to explain to a cherub. 
 You see it is a condition that surrounds 
 them." 
 
 "And draws them toward the great 
 light ? " 
 
 " Quite the contrary. I m bound to 
 confess it stunts their intellects, cools 
 their hearts, and weakens their bodies." 
 
 " Bless my wings ! A disease ? " 
 
 "It may well be called a disease, deep- 
 seated and infectious. It debars them 
 from knowledge that would lend mean 
 ing and consecration to their lives, and 
 excludes as rather worse than sin all 
 healthful activity, self-reliance, and large 
 aims." 
 
 " Poor, pretty dears ! But at least 
 they are able to fly with a message of 
 tenderness and comfort to the sorrowful, 
 the scorned, the outcast, the erring, the 
 sorely tempted ? " 
 
 " Not they ! They may associate only 
 with the very genteel." 
 
 " Genteel ? An uncelestial word, and 
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 wearisome. We cherubs know it not. 
 How do they employ the hours God 
 lends them ? " 
 
 " Alas ! they fritter them away and are 
 self-satisfied. They sleep and know not 
 their strength. Yet they are more 
 sinned against than sinning, for they 
 have been sacrificed for ages." 
 
 The cherub s bewilderment had waxed 
 larger than himself, but now he replied, 
 with a delightful air of reminiscence : 
 
 " Such virgins, I have heard, are sacri 
 ficed by scores to Artemis." 
 
 " Cherub ! I really must protest ! 
 Those were heathen misdeeds now quite 
 out of date. Our maids marry. Each 
 counts herself blessed to be chosen by 
 a man whether she truly care for him 
 or no, and to secure a soldier or great 
 wealth is her chief ambition." 
 
 "Wealth? Ah, I remember. We 
 must not speak of it. That is where we 
 draw the line. What are the young 
 chiefs saying to the maids, that they 
 smile and look down ? " 
 
 "Possibly that their eyes are large 
 and their hands small." 
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 "But that they must know already. 
 Can such honeyed marrons please 
 them ? " roguish as the Bordone Love 
 crowning Daphnis and Chloe with a 
 wreath. 
 
 "Presumably, since they listen greed 
 ily generation after generation." 
 
 " Do they in turn inform the men what 
 sort of eyes and hands they have, and 
 chins and ears ? " 
 
 "That would be most indelicate." 
 
 " But why ? What is the difference ? 
 I assure you, on the planet Mars, where 
 they are far more " With a startled 
 expression he pressed both dimpled 
 hands upon his mouth. 
 
 " Where they are far more what ? Ah, 
 tell me, only speak ! One word, one 
 hint ! " 
 
 "I am really the most inadvertent 
 youngster upon the aerial plane! Tale 
 bearing from world to world is not al 
 lowed. One world at a time is the rule 
 for you, at least until your spirits sprout. 
 The fair maids strive, then, above all 
 things, to please the killers ? And are 
 the sachems pleased ? " 
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 " Oh yes, for a season or so." 
 
 " And what then ? " 
 
 " Well, they marry and settle down in 
 the usual mundane way." 
 
 " Do they still tell them of their eyes 
 and hands ? " 
 
 " Not much." 
 
 "And afterwards?" 
 
 "In due time they grow like these 
 matrons here." 
 
 " What ! With the unquiet eyes ? " 
 
 " Even so. And assiduously rear 
 daughters to be seen of marriageable 
 men." 
 
 The cherub distractedly ran his fin 
 gers through his curls until he pushed 
 his nimbus quite awry. " Oh Poet, why 
 was it worse to die for Artemis ? That 
 was so much less lingering ! " 
 
 Again the two regarded the fair girls, 
 a radiant sight ; despite all mortal imper 
 fections, warming to the heart and fraught 
 with nameless promise. 
 
 "When they awaken," pronounced 
 the cherub in prophecy. 
 
 " And know their strength," responded 
 the other. 
 
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 " They shall be the peacemakers " 
 
 "The true mothers of the nations." 
 
 " Yet not amid this grievous tumult 
 shall their high mission be revealed." 
 
 "But you see they must come out 
 and be presented to the King. Such are 
 our inexorable rites." 
 
 " The King ! Ah, yes. This is his 
 palace. All are here because of him, 
 eager for his glance, his lightest word. 
 He doubtless is the solution of much 
 that bewilders me. Why was he chosen 
 guide and father of his people ? For 
 what virtues, what great and glorious 
 achievements of love and luminousness ? " 
 
 "He was born King." 
 
 " Born ? A high, hereditary baby ? " 
 
 " The highest." 
 
 " Then he rules not because he is illu 
 mined from within, and pitiful, but on 
 account of something or other done 
 by somebody long dead ? " 
 
 " That s about it, Cherubino." 
 
 " Oh mad Earth ! " sighed the little 
 one and fell into a pink study. 
 
 "But being King," he resumed more 
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 hopefully, "he has made himself lofty, 
 magnanimous, serene ? " 
 
 " Oh, as to that, he s not a bad sort." 
 
 " Beloved ? " 
 
 "If we may believe the government 
 newspapers." 
 
 "He labors for his folk and suffers 
 with them ? " 
 
 "His Majesty s existence is not pre 
 cisely laborious." 
 
 " In time of calamity he strengthens 
 and sustains by his presence? " 
 
 " A Cabinet Secretary s secretary 
 writes a document or telegram." 
 
 "But the poor, the oppressed, the 
 humble men and women with wrongs 
 and petitions, may always by day or night 
 claim audience and justice before his 
 throne ? " 
 
 " Cherub ! Do we dwell in tents ? 
 Such tramps would not be allowed to 
 pass the first sentry at the palace gates. 
 You will presently see what his Majesty 
 is like. By the backbone of the com 
 pany, I infer he is approaching. Watch 
 the dowagers dip." 
 
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 The infantile features expressed dis 
 tinct perturbation, and the caressing 
 voice lisped hurriedly : " If you don t 
 mind, Poet, I 11 not wait to see them 
 sink into the ground before a mere born 
 man whom they neither love nor revere. 
 That must be an awful spectacle even 
 when you are used to it, and it is some 
 thing no cherub can understand. Be 
 sides, my tete-de-linotte is as full as it 
 will hold." 
 
 With a bright and dewy smile he 
 added : 
 
 "As my province is planets in full 
 florescence, my opinion on a small, late 
 bulb like Earth is, like myself, the merest 
 winged nothing, a trifle light as air, 
 and I beg your indulgence for my chat 
 ter. Even your mumpsimus and myopy 
 must some time disappear, and I doubt 
 not the matter is already in the proper 
 hands. Nil Desperandum. 
 
 " So farewell, Poet, dear, and a thou 
 sand thanks," he murmured with a suave, 
 Botticelli manner. "Take care of your 
 afflatus. I 11 look in again shortly and see 
 how you are getting on ; say in a milliard 
 270
 
 ALL SAILS SPREAD FOR MONKEYLAND 
 
 years, when Earth shall have become a 
 little less arboreal." 
 
 " Ah ! but you 11 not find me." 
 "As if that were a thing to weep 
 about ! Do you suppose in your next 
 ttape you are going to miss your cocoa- 
 nuts ? How doggedly you Terraneans 
 cling to your dense Simian bodies and to 
 your murky little islet ! Do you never 
 long to travel ? Never desire to behold 
 other and purer humanities ? Never re 
 member you are, after all, souls, hence 
 allied with high cosmic races ? Even be 
 fore your spirits are released from their 
 unwieldly shells, if you would only stop 
 fighting long enough to learn the first 
 principles of aerostation and interstellar 
 communication, you might enlighten your 
 selves amazingly. Already Mars, and 
 even Venus, not to speak of But 
 there I am at it again ! " 
 
 Some one happened to open a case 
 ment. 
 
 "Here s my cherubic chance. Auf 
 Wicdersehen in the star where poets go 
 to meet their dreams." 
 
 Enchantingly alert, mischievous yet 
 271
 
 ALL SAILS SPREAD FOR MONKEYLAND 
 
 mysterious a la Albani s winsome Loves, 
 the cherub loosed his moorings, and, 
 drawn up to his full height on the quar 
 ter-deck, put off. 
 
 The poet wistfully watched him as 
 he rose gallantly on the breeze, swept 
 across the face of the moon, and steered 
 E.S.E. for Sirius. 
 
 272
 
 CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS U. S. , 
 
 ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED BY 
 
 H. O. HOUGHTON AND CO.
 
 DATE DUE 
 
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