Bartlett Hort

“ There would be dark enough afterwards—possibly an eternity of dark. He would face the sun with his last gaze; he would have the mad riot of men and women at midday ringing last in his ears.
As he drew in deep breaths it was as if he inhaled the whole world. He felt as though, if he but stepped out sturdily enough, he could foot the darkness. His head was light; his brain teemed with wild fancies. Then pressing through this medley he saw for a moment the young woman who had come to Barstow's laboratory. The effect was to steady him. ”

“ The powdered women stood out among the peasants who needed only a feather or two to put them back a thousand years. Fine faces, buck faces, pretty girls, hags with tortilla cheeks, all gazed with sympathy at the grave of the child.
A bright cloud hung over the group, its shadow twisting toward the slope of the volcano. Shadows flecked the grove, the bent heads, the casket and its wilting flowers; other shadows fled across fields where oxen grazed. Gabriel said a few words and prayed and Angelina wept, clinging to Raul's arm, hating his black, hating Lucienne. ”

“ Beyond the bridge, sweeping over fields, the rain rippled over sugar cane, breast high. Above, on a rocky hill, was the stone fence line of the Medina property, a great crooked L.
For Manuel, the green sweep of cane held a promise: he hoped for a few acres and felt that Raul would let him have them soon. Many men hoped for acres of their own. Pedro had promised land, if men sided with him, land he had never owned.
Ping of a muzzle-loader stirred a flock of duck from a Medina pond and a scrawny, lame man popped out of bushes and hailed Manuel, a duck slapping his leg. ”

“ Within that hallway of silence, her breathing, the beating of her heart. As though echoing his questions. Waiting, hoping for the answers.
If you would tell me, he said.
Pinpoints of light straining towards the threshold through a soft warm mist. As though they would help him to see, to slip across barriers of being.
If I knew—
Blind beams behind opaque windows. As though in an act of desperation, a man might hurl a stone. The shuddering tinkle of shattered glass. ”

“ Side by side they strolled through the quaint village of stone houses and to the top of a near-by hill, where they found themselves looking down upon Joigny outlined against the hazy tints of the pink-and-gold horizon.
"Oh, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed enthusiastically. "It's a fairy world."
"Better; it's a real world," he answered.
"I doubt it, Monte," she disagreed, with a touch of regret. "It's too perfect."
It would not last. It would begin to fade in a moment, even as her fairy prince would fade and become just Monte. She knew from the past. ”

“ He was the most competent of Miss Bartlett's opponents, but infinitely the least dangerous. Once back in the town, he and his insight and his knowledge would trouble English ladies no more. Of course, it was most unpleasant; she had seen his black head in the bushes; he might make a tavern story out of it. But after all, what have we to do with taverns? Real menace belongs to the drawing-room. It was of drawing-room people that Miss Bartlett thought as she journeyed downwards towards the fading sun. Lucy sat beside her; Mr. Eager sat opposite, trying to catch her eye ”

“ He leaned out of the victoria and called goodbye.
"I hope that spring doesn't come apart," she said.
"Simon's a good driver," Raul said. "We have at least one good spring. We'll make out fine."
"I love you...."
"Goodbye."
"'Bye, Chulo.... Write me...."
It was a superb morning, the sun barely topping the palmera, mist blurring the ocean, haze concealing the volcano. Silver trimming on the guard's saddle sparkled. Creaking and bumping, sagging on its weak spring, the victoria rolled out of the sand, one of the horses whinnying. Sand gave way to hard ground and Simon cracked his whip. ”

“ She thought her father had already decided this question. However, she said nothing. In something of a 248 daze, she allowed herself to be led on toward the park––at night a big, shadowy region with a star-pricked sky overhead. Like one led in a dream she went, her thoughts quite confused, but with the firm grip of his hand upon her arm steadying her. He did not speak again until the paved street and the stone buildings were behind them––until they were among the trees and low bushes and gravel paths. He led her to a bench.
“See those stars?” he asked, pointing.
“Yes, Don.” ”

“ Why not?"
"I was going out to the bungalow."
The old servant looked up shrewdly.
"Is anything the matter?"
"Nothing that you can help," the girl answered.
She had not yet told her of Ben's last disappearance. There was no use in worrying those who could give no help.
"Bien. Go on. It will do you both good."
"The telephone is at your bed—you can summon Dr. Abbot if you need anything."
"Bien."
"And perhaps while I am gone Jacques may come for a visit."
"Perhaps. Run along. The air will do you good."
The girl kissed the wrinkled forehead and hurried to her own room. ”

“ Then the Herr Doctor looked down into the anxious face of the old Emperor.
“Your Majesty need have no fear of the result of to-night’s test,” he said softly, “the little lad will walk.”
“And Grandpapachen,” cried Betty, breaking into the solemn pause which followed, “he’s going to run races with the boy and the dog! The boy with the fiddle, and the dog that can dance, you know,” she explained rapidly. “Why, Grandpapa Franzchen,” stroking his white hair with her dimpled hand, “Max wants that boy and that dog, so! ”

“ He turned to the girl again. She too was one with this past of the room. The straight nose with its shell-like nostrils as sensitive to her thoughts as her eyes, the sharp cut corners of her mouth, and the fine hair over her white forehead dated back to women whose features had long been refined through their souls. All that he wished to crowd into a week, they had possessed for a hundred years or more. It showed even in this girl who had not yet come into the fulness of her womanhood. ”

“ A fisherman, coiling hand line, put his foot on the gunwale, pointed at one and said, "It came from far off," as if he had a magical probe that reached undersea and understood all mysteries.
"Turtles stare in such a sad way," Lucienne said, as they went into the house. She spun her beret onto a chair.
"They know they have to die," said Raul.
"I like plants because they can't look at me, can't accuse, can't plead. They never fill me with a sense of guilt and sorrow." ”

“ Bartlett turned to the Watermelon, genially. "I judge you are planning to take a few days' jaunt somewhere."
"I was thinking of it," acknowledged the Watermelon, with truth, lounging gracefully in the doorway.
Bartlett laughed. "We are crazy, all of us," said he and waved the suggestion aside as a whimsical fancy best forgotten.
"Oh, Daddy, please," teased Billy.
"But, Billy, child, the others don't want to do it, the general or Batchelor."
"I want to," said Henrietta, "and so does the general. Father, wouldn't you like to take a trip in the car somewhere for a week or two?" ”

“ Peter had not had those weeks in Paris in which to get to know her; he had not had that wonderful ride through sunny France with Marjory by his side; and Peter had had nothing approaching such a day as this.
Monte turned to look at her. They had passed through Villefranche, and were now taking the up grade. The exercise had flushed her cheeks, giving her back the color she had lacked in the last few weeks. Her eyes were upon the ground, as if she did not dare raise them. Her face always seemed younger when one did not see the eyes. Asleep, she could not have looked over twenty. ”

“ A wreath of pink and white carnations had leaned against the casket. Candles had burned on the altar and at the ends of the coffin. The virgin's jewels, her rubies and emeralds, gleamed.
Lucienne von Humboldt had come first. From her hacienda, Palma Sola, by the ocean, she had driven to Petaca in her blue and yellow victoria, scarred and bitten by sea air. The black she wore made her seem older than twenty-six, and accentuated her auburn hair and the Germanic character of her face. Her hazel eyes, glossy thick hair, and rose-colored skin impressed everyone. ”

“ Raul felt around for the chair. Dimly, he made out Lucienne; then, as strength returned, as he drank water, he saw her, her auburn hair, her look of concern. She touched him and at the same time he received a shock for there, at his feet, sat Mona, Caterina's fuzzy dog, tongue lolling. She barked happily; the bullet pain dug deeper; he tried to rise.
"Please sit down, Raul," said Lucienne, restraining him. "Jesús Peza is here. He can help you. Marta, run for Jesús."
Marta, a pigtailed girl, Lucienne's maid, dashed out of the living room, with Mona at her heels. ”

“ A muffled beat as upon the steps without again brought him to attention, but again the silence closed in upon it until he doubted whether he had truly heard. But the dark had become alive now, and he seemed to see strange, moving shadows in the corners and hear creakings and rustlings all about him. He turned sharply at a soft tread behind him only to start at the snapping of a coal in the fire from the other side. ”

“ He sat down on the sofa, with his head between his hands and stared at the glittering rows of bottles which caught the sun. Each one of them was a laughing demon. They danced and winked their eyes—yellow, blue, and blood-red. There were a hundred of them keeping step to the bobbing shadows upon the floor. Row upon row of them—purple, brown, and blood-red—all dancing, all laughing.
"You come out wrong every time," Barstow had said. ”

“ Bartlett, again lifting his hat, and retracing his steps. For his life he could not have passed her and run the gauntlet of the faces of her friends upon the narrow path. Every soul of them would have instantly seen what a fool he was. Moreover, he had achieved enough for one day. The soldier who storms a perilous breach and finds himself alive on the inside of it could not be more astonished than he. "I blundered awfully," he thought; "but, after all, it's the one way to learn."—"Who's your friend, Bertha?" asked her brother, Dick Morris, the avant-guard of the party. ”

“ Constance.—"Then,"—with a glance at his devout posture, of which Bartlett has himself become quite unconscious,—"won't you sit down, Mr. Bartlett?"
Bartlett, restored to consciousness and confusion:—"Thanks; I think it will be better." He rises, and in his embarrassment draws a chair to the spot on which he has been kneeling, and sits down very close to her. He keeps the fan in his hand, as he talks: "It's rather nice out there, Miss Wyatt,—there on the island. You must be rowed out as soon as you can stand it. ”

“ Bartlett manage it? A faint percentage of beer, like foreign matter in analyses, is not alone enough to establish integrity. Nor a flavour of clothes.
The wall fell in the end, and Widow Thrale saw a light on the story, after expressing more admiration and sympathy for Mr. Bartlett than was human, under the circumstances. She was much impressed. "And by the mercy of God you were all saved, ma'am," said she. "Her young ladyship and little Dave, and his sister, and yourself!" ”

“ He lighted a cigarette.
"Now we're off," he encouraged her.
He was leaning back with one leg crossed over the other—a big, wholesome boy. His blue eyes this morning were the color of the sky, and just as clean and just as untroubled. As she studied him the thought uppermost in her mind was that she must not hurt him. She must be very careful about that. She must give him nothing to worry over.
"Monte," she began, "I guess women have a lot of queer notions men don't know anything about. Can't we let it go at that?" ”

“ When Betty commenced her story of the races to be run with a boy who carried a violin, and a little dog that could dance, a strange look had flashed into the Emperor’s eyes. This deepened to one of amazement, and then his whole face glowed with the thought within his heart.
It seemed that he was going to be able to give even more pleasure than he had hoped.
“Well, Maxchen,” he laughed, “thou hast set thy grandfather a hard task! To find, in his great city of Vienna, a boy who plays the fiddle and who has a dog that dances! But he will try, Liebchen,” patting his grandson’s head softly. ”

“ A faint color tinged the hitherto pale cheeks, and an unusual sparkle lit up the dark eyes. It would have been hard to find a happier group of people than the five at Idlewild. They were like one family in their interests and efforts. Lizzette flitted in and out of both domiciles, intent now on Elsie’s cooking, now on Antoine’s music, which came to her ears at all hours of the day and night—for the violin had grown to be like a living companion to the crippled lad—now helping Gilbert and Margaret in the garden or gravely puzzling over some of the English books on Margaret’s table. ”

“ Man seemed too coarse for so fine a setting. Even woman, nearest of all creatures to fairy stuff, must needs be at her best to make a fitting part of this.
From out of the shadows of this fringe of trees there stole silently another shadow. This moved slowly like a funeral barge away from the shore. As it came full into the radius of that silver light (a light matching the dead) it seemed more than ever one with sheeted things, for half prone upon this raft lay a girl whose cheeks were white against the background of her black hair and whose eyes saw nothing of the world about her. ”