The Triflers Part 23

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.

Besides, it was absolutely essential that this should not last. If it did--why, that would be absurd. It would be worse. It made her uncomfortable even to imagine this possibility for a moment, thus bringing about the very condition most unfavorable for fairy princes.

For, if there is one advantage they have over ordinary princes, it is the gift of keeping their princesses always happy and content.

Somewhat shyly she glanced up at Monte. He was standing with his uninjured hand thrust into the pocket of his Norfolk jacket, staring fixedly at the western sky as if he had lost himself there. She thought his face was a bit set; but, for all that, he looked this moment more as she had known him at twenty-one than when he came back at twenty-two. After his travels of a year he had seemed to her so much wiser than she that he had instantly become her senior. She had listened to him as to a man of the world, with something of awe. It was more difficult then to have him for a prince, because princes, though brave and adventurous, must not be too wise.

She smiled as she realized that, as he stood there now, Monte did not in the least inspire her with awe or fear or a sense of superior wisdom. The mellow light softened his features and the light breeze had tousled his hair, so that for all his years told he might have been back in his football days. He had been like that all the afternoon.

A new tenderness swept over her. She would have liked to reach up her hand and smooth away the little puzzled frown between his brows. She almost dared to do it. Then he turned.

"You're right," he said, with a shrug of his shoulders. "It is n't real. See, it's fading now."

The pink clouds were turning a dull gray.

"Perhaps it's better it should," she suggested. "If it stayed like that all the time, we'd get so used to it we would n't see it."

He took out his watch.

"I ordered supper to be ready in a half hour," he said. "We'd better get back."

She fell in step by his side--by the side of her fairy prince. For, oddly enough, he had not begun to fade as the sunset faded. The twilight was deepening into the hushed night--a wonderful night that was like beautiful music heard at a distance. It left her scarcely conscious of moving. In the sky the stars were becoming clearer; in the houses, candles were beginning to twinkle. It was difficult to tell which were which--as if the sky and the earth were one.

There was no abrupt change even when they came into the inn, where near the open window a table had been set and two candles were burning.

"Oh," she exclaimed again, "here is another bit of fairy world."

He laughed abruptly.

"I hope the supper is real, anyhow," he said.

He spoke as if making a conscious effort to break the spell. It made her glance up as he seated her; but all she thought of then was that she would like to smooth back his hair. The spell was not broken.

Chops and cauliflower and a salad were served to them, with patties of fresh b.u.t.ter and crusted white bread. She was glad to see him eat heartily. She prepared his salad with a dash of salt and pepper, a little vinegar and oil. That much, at least, she was at liberty to do for him. It gave her a new pleasure.

"Monte," she asked, "do you suppose it's always as nice as this here?"

"If it were, would you like to stay?" he asked.

She thought a moment over that. Would it be possible just to drift on day after day, with Monte always a fairy prince beside her? She glanced up and met his eyes.

"I--I guess it's best to follow our schedule," she decided, with a little gasp.

CHAPTER XIII

A WEDDING JOURNEY (_continued_)

Through the golden suns.h.i.+ne and beneath the blue sky, they went on the next day, until with a nod she chose her place to stop for lunch, until with another nod, as the sun was getting low, she chose her place to stop for the night. This time they did not ask to know even the name of the village. It was his suggestion.

"Because," he explained, "that makes it seem as if we were trying to get somewhere. And we are n't, are we?"

"Wherever we are, we are," she nodded gayly.

"It is n't even important that we get to etois," he insisted.

"Not in the slightest," she agreed. "Only, if we keep on going we'll get to the sea, won't we?"

"Then we can either skirt the sh.o.r.e or take a boat and cross the sea.

It's all one."

"All one! You make me feel as if I had wings."

"Then you're happy?"

"Very, very happy, Monte. And you?"

"Yes," he answered abruptly.

She had no reason to doubt it. That night, as she sat alone in her room, she reviewed this day in order to satisfy herself on this point; for she felt a certain obligation. He had given to her so generously that the least she in her turn could do was to make sure that he was comfortable and content. That, all his life, was the most he had asked for. It was the most he asked for now. He must wake each morning free of worries, come down to a good breakfast and find his coffee hot, have a pleasant time of it during the day without being bored, and end with a roast and salad and later a good bed. These were simple desires--thoroughly wholesome, normal desires. With the means at his command, with the freedom from restraint that had been his ever since he left college, it was a great deal to his credit that he had been able to retain such modest tastes. He had been at liberty to choose what he wished, and he had chosen decently.

This morning she had come down early and looked to his coffee herself.

It was a slight thing, but she had awakened with a desire to do something positive and personal for him. She had been satisfied when he exclaimed, without knowing the part she played in it:--

"This coffee is bully!"

It had started the day right and given her a lightness of spirit that was reflected in her talk and even in her smiles. She had smiled from within. She was quite sure that the day had been a success, and that so far, at any rate, Monte had not been either bored or worried.

Sitting there in the dark, she felt strangely elated over the fact.

She had been able to send her fairy prince to his sleep contented. It gave her a motherly feeling of a task well done. After all, Monte was scarcely more than a boy.

Her thoughts went back to the phrase he had used at the end of the day's journey.

"We aren't getting anywhere, are we?" he had asked.

At the moment she had not thought he meant anything more than he said.

He seldom did. It was restful to know that she need never look for hidden meanings in his chance remarks. He meant only that there was no haste; that it made no difference when they reached this town or that.

They had no destination.

That was true, and yet the thought disturbed her a trifle. It did not seem quite right for Monte to have no destination. He was worth something more than merely to revolve in a circle. He should have a Holy Grail. Give him something to fight for, and he would fight hard.