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tales of trail and town-第17部分

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〃I am glad you think so well of it; for I do not mean to sell it;〃

he said simply; yet with a significance that kept her silent。



She did not see him again for several days。  The preparation for

her examination left her no time; and her earnest concentration in

her work fully preoccupied her thoughts。  She was surprised; but

not disturbed; on the day of the awards to see him among the

audience of anxious parents and relations。  Miss Helen Maynard did

not get the first prize; nor yet the second; an accessit was her

only award。  She did not know until afterwards that this had long

been a foregone conclusion of her teachers on account of some

intrinsic defect in her voice。  She did not know until long

afterwards that the handsome painter's nervousness on that occasion

had attracted even the sympathy of some of those who were near him。

For she herself had been calm and collected。  No one else knew how

crushing was the blow which shattered her hopes and made her three

years of labor and privation a useless struggle。  Yet though no

longer a pupil she could still teach; her master had found her a

small patronage that saved her from destitution。  That night she

circled up quite cheerfully in her usual swallow flight to her nest

under the eaves; and even twittered on the landing a little over

the condolences of the conciergewho knew; mon Dieu! what a beast

the director of the Conservatoire was and how he could be bribed;

but when at last her brown head sank on her pillow she criedjust

a little。



But what was all this to that next morningthe glorious spring

morning which bathed all the roofs of Paris with warmth and hope;

rekindling enthusiasm and ambition in the breast of youth; and

gilding even much of the sordid dirt below。  It seemed quite

natural that she should meet Major Ostrander not many yards away as

she sallied out。  In that bright spring sunshine and the hopeful

spring of their youth they even laughed at the previous day's

disappointment。  Ah! what a claque it was; after all!  For himself;

he; Ostrander; would much rather see that satin…faced Parisian girl

who had got the prize smirking at the critics from the boards of

the Grand Opera than his countrywoman!  The Conservatoire settled

things for Paris; but Paris wasn't the world!  America would come

to the fore yet in art of all kindsthere was a free academy there

nowthere should be a Conservatoire of its own。  Of course; Paris

schooling and Paris experience weren't to be despised in art; but;

thank heaven! she had THAT; and no directors could take it from

her!  This and much more; until; comparing notes; they suddenly

found that they were both free for that day。  Why should they not

take advantage of that rare weather and rarer opportunity to make a

little suburban excursion?  But where?  There was the Bois; but

that was still Paris。  Fontainebleau?  Too far; there were always

artists sketching in the forest; and he would like for that day to

〃sink the shop。〃  Versailles?  Ah; yes!  Versailles!



Thither they went。  It was not new to either of them。  Ostrander

knew it as an artist and as an American reader of that French

historic romancea reader who hurried over the sham intrigues of

the Oeil de Boeuf; the sham pastorals of the Petit Trianon; and the

sham heroics of a shifty court; to get to Lafayette。  Helen knew it

as a child who had dodged these lessons from her patriotic father;

but had enjoyed the woods; the parks; the terraces; and particularly

the restaurant at the park gates。  That day they took it like a boy

and girl;with the amused; omniscient tolerance of youth for a past

so inferior to the present。  Ostrander thought this gray…eyed;

independent American…French girl far superior to the obsequious

filles d'honneur; whose brocades had rustled through those

quinquonces; and Helen vaguely realized the truth of her fellow

pupil's mischievous criticism of her companion that day at the

Louvre。  Surely there was no classical statue here comparable to the

one…armed soldier…painter!



All this was as yet free from either sentiment or passion; and was

only the frank pride of friendship。  But; oddly enough; their mere

presence and companionship seemed to excite in others that

tenderness they had not yet felt themselves。  Family groups watched

the handsome pair in their innocent confidences; and; with French

exuberant recognition of sentiment; thought them the incarnation of

Love。  Something in their manifest equality of condition kept even

the vainest and most susceptible of spectators from attempted

rivalry or cynical interruption。  And when at last they dropped

side by side on a sun…warmed stone bench on the terrace; and Helen;

inclining her brown head towards her companion; informed him of the

difficulty she had experienced in getting gumbo soup; rice and

chicken; corn cakes; or any of her favorite home dishes in Paris;

an exhausted but gallant boulevardier rose from a contiguous bench;

and; politely lifting his hat to the handsome couple; turned slowly

away from what he believed were tender confidences he would not

permit himself to hear。



But the shadow of the trees began to lengthen; casting broad bars

across the alle; and the sun sank lower to the level of their eyes。

They were quite surprised; on looking around a few moments later;

to discover that the gardens were quite deserted; and Ostrander; on

consulting his watch; found that they had just lost a train which

the other pleasure…seekers had evidently availed themselves of。  No

matter; there was another train an hour later; they could still

linger for a few moments in the brief sunset and then dine at the

local restaurant before they left。  They both laughed at their

forgetfulness; and then; without knowing why; suddenly lapsed into

silence。  A faint wind blew in their faces and trilled the thin

leaves above their heads。  Nothing else moved。  The long windows of

the palace in that sunset light seemed to glisten again with the

incendiary fires of the Revolution; and then went out blankly and

abruptly。  The two companions felt that they possessed the terrace

and all its memories as completely as the shadows who had lived and

died there。



〃I am so glad we have had this day together;〃 said the painter;

with a very conscious breaking of the silence; 〃for I am leaving

Paris to…morrow。〃



Helen raised her eyes quickly to his。



〃For a few days only;〃 he continued。  〃My Russian customers

perhaps I ought to say my patronshave given me a commission to

make a study of an old chateau which the princess lately bought。〃



A swift recollection of her fellow pupil's raillery regarding the

princess's possible attitude towards the painter came over her and

gave a strange artificiality to her response。



〃I suppose you will enjoy it very much;〃 she said dryly。



〃No;〃 he returned with the frankness that she had lacked。  〃I'd

much rather stay in Paris; but;〃 he added with a faint smile; 〃it's

a question of money; and that is not to be despised。  Yet II

somehow feel that I am deserting you;leaving you here all alone

in Paris。〃



〃I've been all alone for four years;〃 she said; with a bitterness

she had never felt before; 〃and I suppose I'm accustomed to it。〃



Nevertheless she leaned a little forward; with her fawn…colored

lashes dropped over her eyes; which were bent upon the ground and

the point of the parasol she was holding with her little gloved

hands between her knees。  He wondered why she did not look up; he

did not know that it was partly because there were tears in her

eyes and partly for another reason。  As she had leaned forward his

arm had quite unconsciously moved along the back of the bench where

her shoulders had rested; and she could not have resumed her

position except in his half embrace。



He had not thought of it。  He was lost in a greater abstraction。

That infinite tenderness;far above a woman's;the tenderness of

strength and manliness towards weakness and delicacy; the

tenderness that looks down and not up; was already possessing him。

An instinct of protection drew him nearer this bowed but charming

figure; and if he then noticed that the shoulders were pretty; and

the curves of the slim waist symmetrical; it was rather with a

feeling of timidity and a half…consciousness of unchivalrous

thought。  Yet why should he not try to keep the brave and honest

girl near him always?  Why should he not claim the right to protect

her?  Why should they notthey who were alone in a strange land

join their two lonely lives for mutual help and happiness?



A sudden perception of delicacy; the thought that he should have

spoken before her failure at the Conservatoire had made her feel

her helplessness; brought a slight color to his cheek。  Would it

not seem to her that he was taking an unfair advantage of her

misfortune?  Yet it would be so easy now to slip a loving arm

around her waist; while he could work for her and protect her with

the other。  THE OTHER!  His eye fell on his empty sleeve。  Ah; he

had forgotten that!  He had but ONE arm!



He rose up abruptly;so abruptly that Helen; rising too; almost

touched the arm that was hurriedly withdrawn。  Yet in that

accidental contact; which sent a vague tremor through the young

girl's frame; there was still time for him to have spoken。  But he

only said:



〃Perhaps we had better dine。〃



She assented quickly;she knew not why;with a feeling of relief。

They walked very quietly and slowly towards the restaurant。  Not a

word of love had been spoken; not even a glance of understanding

had passed between them。  Yet they both knew by some mysterious

instinct that a crisis of their lives had come and gone; and that

they never again could be to each other as they were but a brief

moment ago。  They talked very sensibly and gravely during their

frugal meal; the previous spectator of their confidences would
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