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eyes. And Jeanne's heart sickens. In this mo- ing them. 'Tis a taste, like that for olives or ment it is given her to taste of the tree of mun- caviare, no doubt, that wants education. Still, dane knowledge, and, with a cold chill, she real- Miss Dempster, I am sorry for your Herr Wolfizes that its flavor is bitter, exceedingly.

gang. Whatever his sins of priggishness, or “Let us waltz, of course," she cries impetu- otherwise, the Teuton is too good for the evil ously — “waltz, like other civilized people, or quarter of an hour that lies before him.” walk about, or sit down. Why in the world, Sir "My Herr Wolfgang !" repeats Jeanne pasChristopher, are we making ourselves so ridicu- sionately. “Say Miss Vivash's Herr Wolfgang lous ? "

-anybody's Herr Wolfgang, rather than mine!” They waltz—they waltz to perfection. Can "Ach, ist dass so? I have progressed, you Jeanne help it that, though her spirit be heavy, see, in German, as well as in other accomplishher step is buoyant ? Her peasant hat is slung ments, since I came to Schloss Egmont. Miss across her arm, the Raphael red hair hangs loose Vivash's Herr Wolfgang, then, as you prefer the and shining round her throat. A light, whose phrase, has an evil quarter of an hour in store fountain source a less vain man than Sir Christo- for him. Let Miss Vivash's Herr Wolfgang take pher might fail to guess at, is in her dark, implor- care of himself. You and I, little Jeanne, for ing eyes.

our part, will burn our wings and our fingers “If Badenweiler were at the antipodes, just as badly as we choose!” 'twould be worth the journey to have one such Jeanne answers not; and her companion-no dance," he whispers, when the fiddling dies into greater coxcomb, probably, than his peers—resilence. “It is not waltzing, as we in London gards her silence as an expression of consciousknow the word—'tis music turned into motion. ness. Sir Christopher's own heart begins to grow A man as old as Methuselah, as gouty as the soft. Poor Jeanne, with her big dark eyes, her Duke of Beaujolais, would have life put into him blushes, her dimples-she really is a charming by such a partner. Yes, Miss Dempster, a cou- little girl, red hair, doubtful English, and freckles ple of turns with you would put fire into a stone.” notwithstanding. At any rate she is not a Beauty

As he indulges in this bold and original trope, -a positive charm to a man who, like Kit Marthey pass out of the ballroom into the Erkerweg, lowe, has fallen madly in love with a Beauty a trellised wooden veranda, overgrown with ja- reputation once, and outlived his madness! ponica, sweet-brier, and passion-flower that runs Within thirty steps of the Kursaal is a lime round two thirds of the Kursaal building. Wolf- avenue, fragrant, though no longer crowned with gang and Vivian, slowly pacing, side by side, in the nectared sweetness of its bee-haunted July the warm, hushed darkness, come across them. prime. Thither Sir Christopher leads his partner.

“What are those vain regrets that you are in- No perceptible breath of wind stirs upon the dulging in, Sir Christopher?" cries Miss Vivash, earth's face; but high among the trees little soft looking sharply back at him across her shoulder. airs must be stirring, for you can hear the shiver“Methuselah—the Duke of Beaujolais ! Willing of light boughs, the kissing of the leaves overexperience never bring you beyond that first vol- head. Flowers, shrubs, grass, send forth the ume of the romance?”

pungent odor that prophesies on a sultry summer “On the contrary, one has a foolish fancy for night of rain. The sky is low-hanging, black; studying a new romance altogether," says Kit only the lamps hung at uncertain intervals, along Marlowe readily; "a romance likely to leave the garden pathways, enable one to see one's one-for a change after too much of Zola and way. Daudet—with a good taste in one's mouth. And Jeanne is blinded somewhat, after the ball

room's brilliant light, it may be from some other “We are spectators,” says Wolfgang, before foolish cause; and her foot slips. Sir Christopher Vivian can reply—“ spectators looking on with saves her from falling ; at the same time he gets quiet curiosity, while moths burn their wings, possession of her hand, holds it tenderly for a and children” (he gives a momentary glance at moment or two, then draws it through his arm. Jeanne's flushed cheek) “ their fingers." Sir Christopher shakes his head gravely as

And ye sall walk in silk attire,

And siller ha'e to spare"the pair continue their walk; the master talking low and earnestly, as though his theme moved So he sings with theatrical attitude and spirit; him—Miss Vivash listening with bent-down face, the long perspective of avenue, the lamplit with an air, real or admirably dissembled, of half

slips,” the distant Kursaal fiddles, heightening reluctant submission.

the dramatic effect of the scene“I have not had overmuch experience of philosophers, personally," he observes. “And as “ Gin ye'll consent to be his bride, yet, I can not say I have got to the stage of lik

Nor think of Donald mair.”




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Sir Christopher's voice is not without a cer- speaking affectionately. Although the path is tain canary-like sweetness; yet does its quality broad, they do not walk any farther apart. fit it rather for music-hall burlesque or nigger “You have seen my character on one side melody than for pathetic ballad. And Jeanne only.” So, after a little space, he begins again. begins to laugh.

“Naturally and logically you think me a fool.” Laughter and tears both lie nearer to the sur- “I do not, indeed,” cries the girl, conscienceface with her to-night than is their wont.

stricken. “On the contrary, I think in many “Yes, I should like to have it out about that things-oh, ever so many things-you are”. some one,'" says Sir Christopher, harking back she stammers, casting about her for a wordto their ballroom conversation. “Your ambi- “are very clever.” tion, I believe, is bounded by five hundred a year “A clever fool! You are trying to let me pin-money, unlimited opportunities of going into down as easily as you can. I thank you for the debt-"

intention. A fool, gifted enough, like Dundreary, And every two months a bonus in the shape to ask a widdle, forgetting the answer; to sing a of jewelry. The last few days have taught me mild comic song (music-hall and water); whistle the weighty influence of bracelets on human hap- a waltz ; lead a cotillon; and, generally, go piness. Don't forget the jewelry.”

through whatever monkey-tricks may, as a pro“It shall be put in the settlements, if you like. fessional funny man, be required of me by sociI can not speak fairer than that. Miss Dempster, ety. Yes, Jeanne, I am all this. I am something when is it to be?”

more. If a sweet, simple little girl gave me her He has an intention, Jeanne divines, of again love, I believe I am not such a fool but that I taking possession of her hand! She snatches it could keep it-ay, and wear it worthily.” quickly from his arm, and, turning aside, buries The sharpest pang of remorse she has ever her face amid the blooming odorous masses of a known stabs Jeanne's heart. A big lump rises honeysuckle that overhangs the path. A horri- in her throat. In another moment, unless she ble suspicion that Sir Christopher thinks her in takes care what she is about, she will infallibly earnest makes her flush hot with shame. have promised to become Kit Marlowe's wife.

“If by 'settlements' you mean when you shall remember me in your will, sir, you may set

“ And ye sall walk in silk attire." about it as speedily as you like. Considering

Unfortunately, you have been defectively you are just ten years my senior, I shall be tol- educated. You do not care for silk attire, or erably advanced in life before I come into my siller, either. The question is-Donald. Is there inheritance."

a Donald in the case, Jeanne? You have only "Oh, wha would buy a silken gown

to tell me so, and I withdraw. If she be not

made for me, what care I,' et cetera. Is there a Wi' a puir broken heart ? ”

Donald ?" "Jeanne," cries Sir Christopher fervently, “I felt a drop of rain on my nose," answers “are you crying ? No! I could have sworn I Jeanne, vainly trying to escape from him. “One, heard a sob. Jeanne, don't walk so quick,” for two—we shall have a thunderstorm! Ange all this time she has been getting on steadily and Hans both predicted it when we started, and ahead, “and confess the truth. Is your gentle none of us brought our waterproofs." heart melting?"

Rain, or no rain, I intend that you shall give He overtakes her; ere Jeanne has time to me an answer. Is there" (putting the question suspect, or contravene his design, steals his arm slowly and syllabically) “a Donald ? " around her waist.

“I don't know what you mean!” she ex"Is your heart melting ?” he repeats. “Does claims, growing frightened. “Who is Donald ? the thought of pin-money touch you? Speak; I We have no people of that name in the Schwarzcan bear anything but suspense.”

wald, and I think I would like to go back to the If I could have the pin-money without in- ballroom, if you please. It is raining in earnest, cumbrances,” she observed, "you would not have and Ange will not give me another hat before long to wait for


Michaelmas.” "Meanwhile, my dear?"

Sir Christopher moves a couple of steps away “Meanwhile, Sir Christopher Marlowe, I think from her. it would be quite as nice if you were to leave off You are a child,” he remarks, somewhat speaking affectionately, and, please, could we not coolly, “but you are old enough to know that manage to walk farther apart? Surely, the path what I say now is no joke. Oh, there is no rain is broad enough for us both ?”

to hurt. You can stay here long enough to give But Jeanne's opinions are not those of Sir me an answer, without spoiling your ribbons. Christopher Marlowe. He does not leave off As you will not speak about third persons, as


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Donald's is to be a name tabooed, we will con- Sir Christopher, taking off his hat, and emptying fine our thoughts to ourselves. Fräulein Jeanne, out a pond of water from its brim. “Well, my do you detest me?”

dear, the day may arrive when he and you will “Detest you—no!” she exclaims, with prompt discover that virtuous attachment is a snare; and compunction. · Why, Sir Christopher, I should a cottage, vanity. If it does, and I am living, no be a wretch if I were not very fond—I mean matter how bald, and gouty, and prosy, come to very grateful—I mean—"

me. You may, at least, promise that.” “I believe I know better what you mean than “And be your housekeeper, a new edition you know yourself,” interrupts Kit Marlowe, sotto of Ange, with account-books that won't come voce.

straight, blue cap-ribbons, and flounces. Well, "You, who always take my part, who never yes; if the place is not already more suitably laugh at me-no, for even that first dreadful day filled,” says Jeanne, with significance, “I promat dinner, you laughed good-naturedly. And the ise.” time passes so quickly when we are together, " What do you mean by more suitably filled ?" and"

cries Sir Christopher in a suddenly sobered voice. And we match in height! And our step, I mean-oh, I mean just what I say, sir," when we waltz. Janet, I say it without vanity, she answers innocently. “When your cousin, you will never find any fellow, even among your Lady Pamela, marries again, as in the common beloved Germans, whose step suits you half as course of things she will, and you are left alone well as mine. Will you have me?"

in the world, why, naturally, you will want a Even as he speaks, comes a lightning-flash, housekeeper, me or somebody else, to take care accompanied, rather than followed, by a very of you." artillery of thunder; and then the rain, hot, del- Sir Christopher Marlowe's face could not unuging rain, the specialty of the Black Forest der any circumstances be tragic; but at this sugclimate, begins to rush down in sheets. Jeanne gestion of little Jeanne's, his expression turns and Sir Christopher creep under shelter of a lime- black as the clouds above them. At no point of tree, somewhat more thickly spreading than its their love-scene, such love-scene as it was, did he fellows, and with the big drops falling in ever look half so moved. increasing volume on their heads, proceed with “My cousin, Lady Pamela, has a vast deal their “love-scene."

too much nous to take a second husband-after “Will you have me?" repeats Sir Christo- such an experience as her first! And if she did, pher, and pretty loudly; the rolling of the thun- it would make no difference in our relations. Lader, the incessant splashing of the rain, put ama- dy Pamela and I have grown up together, have tive whispers out of the question.

quarreled, kissed and quarreled, like brother and “I wish I could have an umbrella," says sister, all our lives." Jeanne, with a wretched attempt at a laugh. " Then of course, sir, if a second marriage “An umbrella and a waterproof would be more was for Lady Pamela's happiness, her brother to the point than silk attire just at present.” would not say nay ? ”

“We are not talking of silk attire ; and co- Lady Pamela has a vast deal too much nous quetry, let me tell you, child, does not sit well on to take a second husband,” repeats Sir Christoyou. Come! There is no time to lose. A set pher, the subject evidently not supplying him of ribbons might not matter, but I will not ask with any large stock of original ideas. you to catch a cold for my sake. Yes or no, At any rate,” observes Jeanne, “you have Janet?"

my promise. When Lady Pamela is-amusing The light from a neighboring lamp gleams herself somewhere, in the world, as there must fitfully upon them at this juncture. Jeanne be no talk of a second marriage—and when you catches a glimpse of Kit Marlowe's roseate, are old, prosy, gouty, and want a housekeeper, I dapper, most unlover-like face, and takes cour- will come to you." age.

“ If you and Donald chance to have dis“Yes or no? As if there could be any doubt covered, meanwhile, that you are not each othas to my answer! Yes, of course, a hundred er's affinities.'" times, yes. You are rich, Sir Christopher, and a How often must I tell you that I never in Hochwohlgeboren. Could I be ignorant enough my life knew any one called Donald ?" to say 'no' to a Herr Baron ? I, a pauper with Jeanne turns from him pettishly, then launches one mark a week—that is the allowance Ange boldly forth into the rain. makes me, sir—and to find myself in gloves, col- " And how am I to know that Donald is not lars, neckties, and the pastor's plate on Sun- High Dutch for Wolfgang ?” asks Sir Christodays."

pher, following in her steps. "Jeanne, my dear, “There must be a Donald in the case,” says I believe, after all this, we shall both die and

VOL. VII.-32



worms eat us, but 'twill be from a pleurisy, take drear moment, on Jeanne's memory. The pinkmy word for it, not from love!”

cheeked doll—her first great anguish—who was They skirt as best they may under shelter of fondly hushed to sleep in an August sun, and the lindens while shelter lasts. Then comes an who “woke,” a ghastly heap of wax, blonde wig, open gravel space which must be taken by as- sawdust, and eyes! The wounded robin she sault, and then, blinded, dripping, with sentiment nursed so tenderly, and who obstinately declined blown and scattered to the winds, they find them- either to sing songs in his cage or to recover! selves under cover of the Kursaal veranda. The tortoise-shell cats, a long-doomed race, who

The venetians of the windows are up. Jeanne used to vanish, generation after generation, by looks in: she sees, strikingly contrasted with her violence or treachery from her arms! What is own wet, disheveled condition, the beauties of life, she thinks, attaining in a leap to Solomon's the ballroom, pink, blue, and green, as they whirl philosophy, but loss? Loving passionately toround in the arms of spurred and epauleted part- day that which shall be empty air to-morrow, ners. Lady Pamela and her Faust remain faith- and discerning meaning neither in our love nor ful to each other. Vivian is waltzing.

in our loss? For an instant's space Jeanne does not recog- A fear, the ghost of a suspicion, rather, flashnize the Beauty's partner. She catches glimpses es across her that in the last half hour she has only of the training Derby white, of an upheld acted like a fool; honestly, it may be, according snowy wrist, a gleaming bracelet. An instant's to the notions she once had of such matters, but space! Then an opening in the crowd brings like a fool-has taken happiness (or what might the faces of both dancers full before her. Viv- have passed very decently well for happiness) ian's partner is Wolfgang.

between her two hands, and wantonly thrown it “Man proposes, but woman fulfills," says -as a child disappointed of the moon throws its Sir Christopher Marlowe. “The serpent is be- toy-away from her. guiled of Eve. The philosophy of the Teuton Sir Christopher Marlowe is young, accomhas turned to foolishness.”

plished, likable; better than all, Sir Christopher Marlowe is rich. When Jeanne first heard Lady Pamela discourse of high-stepping horses, Paris

milliners, good dinners, well-looking partners, she CHAPTER XV.

remembers that she listened with a kind of envy;

felt that in herself were as keen capabilities for THOSE HORRIBLE PHOTOGRAPHERS ! pleasure as in any Lady Pamela, any Hyde Park

goddess of them all. As Sir Christopher MarThe waltz, ere long, changes to a mazurka; lowe’s wife, whatever else were piteously wantbut Vivian and the master continue partners. ing, these things, at least, had lain to her hand. Under pretext of reassuring Lady Pamela as to For the sake of what vain dream has she rejecther safety, Jeanne has dispatched Sir Christophered them—her master's love, perhaps, her masinto the ballroom ; and, sick in spirit, chilled, ter's fidelity! wretched in the flesh, she stands alone, screened Jeanne Dempster has not far to seek, she has from observation by the darkness, an outside not long to wait, ere that question be practically watcher of the scene.

answered. The sleek head of Beauty reposes on Wolf- A covered pathway, or veranda, extends, as I gang's shoulder—an attitude, let me say, not in have said, round two thirds of the Kursaal. On vogue among the wives and daughters of the Fa- the north side, where Jeanne stands, this verantherland. His whispers make her smile as they da is sheltered; the newly-risen southwest wind glide round in swift, smooth unison with the mu- bearing away the rain as it descends from the sic, the two the most noticeable pair of dancers steep, tiled roof above, in sheets. The air is in the room. Lady Pamela, cruelly abandoning sweet with the thousand odors that the silent her Faust, has taken pity on Kit Marlowe. The chemistry of summer rain distills from thirsty, many-colored Fräuleins and their warriors gyrate grateful earth. It has grown cool, almost keen; merrily. Flute, violin, and bassoon play their and when the mazurka is finished a score or so loudest.

of men and girls come forth to enjoy the freshWhat cares the herd for the shorn lamb ? ness of the night-perhaps to exchange a little What matters it to fifty or sixty wildly-spinning whispered sentiment beyond the watchful ken of human creatures that one forlorn child should be chaperon or of rival. breaking her jealous heart in the rain and dark- Two of the number linger longer than the ness of the night?

rest, Wolfgang and his partner. At first Jeanne All the sorrows, all the losses she has known feels secure from observation, expecting at every during her little span of life crowd back, in this moment to see them reênter the ballroom with


the crowd. Presently, Miss Vivash, it would scarcely perceptible change of position, a foot or seem, taking the initiative, they extend their walk so nearer to the master. along the more dimly lighted portions of the Jeanne bethinks her of her own plainness. veranda. They approach nearer and nearer, and Convulsively clasping a fold of her drenched skirt Jeanne's breath comes thick. Hemmed in on all within her hands, she realizes the contrast that sides but one by storm and darkness, what choice exists at this moment between her rival and herhas she left but to hide herself? A thickly trel- self : Vivian in her shining white silk (that does lised screen of ivy shuts off the veranda from duty, like some clap-trap sentiments, for fresh, the garden at two or three yards’ distance, and by lamp-light); with her fair, calm face, her behind this, her heart beating loud and fast, she trained low voice, her self-command—and she, creeps.

Jeanne, rough, ill-dressed, graceless, with her Miss Vivash and Wolfgang stop short. She heart on fire, with her cheeks, at no time alabascan see their faces distinctly; with morbid acute- ter, burning under the mingled influence of rain, ness, born of jealousy, every faculty concentrated wretchedness, and tears ! on one sense, can hear each word they utter more Happily she is well hidden out of sight, and clearly than she ever heard human speech at any likely to remain so. The night continues dark as prior moment of her life.

Erebus. The lovers, if lovers they be, are too “Yes," observes Beauty, in her lowest, lan- thoroughly engrossed in themselves, and in their guidest tones, evidently in reply to some remark own hopes and fears, to pay attention to shadof Wolfgang's. “ Jeanne is, no doubt-er-di- ows. verting, in her way, quite a curiosity-ah—for “No man knows where his neighbor's shoe those who appreciate the kind of thing! I don't pinches," says Wolfgang, somewhat skeptically. know that I have much taste for unearthly, Top- "Judging only from the surface of things, I should sy-like children, myself. Time, perhaps, and ex- not say that suffering and Miss Vivash had made perience, may give the creature feeling. I re- intimate acquaintance. Has there been one member being told by a celebrated author at a crumpled rose-leaf, half a one-" dinner-you can understand the celebrities all “In the velvet-piled couch fate has given me trying to get next me—that the one gift a writer to repose on?” Vivian interrupts; and, lifting her might attain by practice was originality, just what face, she gives him a very full gaze, then hastily the crowd and Dogberry would say comes by turns away. “Even in your life, Mr. Wolfgang, nature. It may be the same with heart." even in the wilds of Germany, you may have

How differently Vivian talks with no member heard ” (actually there is an approach to a blush of her own sex near! Her mind seems to have upon her cheek) " that I am—or was, for, if my taken up new thoughts, her very voice to have friends say true, my reign is over—that unfortuacquired new modulations.

nate product of civilization called by the loungers “Whatever Jeanne's faults may be, I should at London club-doors, 'A Beauty'?" certainly not reckon want of heart among them,” “ It is a fact to be divined, a story that needs says the master.

no telling," says Wolfgang gallantly, yet with a “ No? Well, with your discernment of char- certain coldness in his voice. “A man who has acter you are pretty certain to be right. (And I eyes to see, and a heart to feel, needs not the fear you are awfully discerning. Mr. Wolfgang! verdict of St. James's Street to confirm his I often tell Lady Pamela I could not keep a se- taste." cret hid from you.) Besides, you know Jeanne “St. James's Street ?" cries Miss Vivash, liftso very much better than I do. And I'm sure " ing up her head, and rapidly making good her (with a sigh) “one should be charitable, when one retreat from the debatable land of sentiment. remembers one's own failings. Naturally, at her “Oh! You know more of London, then, than age, the enjoyment of the moment, the love of we have given you credit for, Mr. Wolfgang ?" change and attention are everything. It requires “I know most of the world's capitals, from an education to teach one to suffer! Yes, and the outside,” he replies. “My business calls me to go through that teaching thoroughly, to learn to London yearly, a very different business, a very how to feel, and at the same time to know the different London, to anything that comes within madness of feeling, a life of the world, such as the experience of Miss Vivash.” mine, is needed!”

“ London is London. You must mix in some She rests her elbows on the balustrade of the kind of society," she persists. “You must see veranda; then lightly bows down her cheek on the Exhibition surely, go to the theatres, read the her clasped hands. The attitude is charmingly papers ? Whatever your occupation, if you have photographic; well considered, well executed. It been in town during the last two seasons, you brings every best point of Vivian's face into re- can scarcely have failed, one would think, to lief. It brings Vivian herself, through a quick, know my face?"

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