The Argonauts Part 25

"Have you some plan of a journey again?" inquired Malvina, alarmed.

"Yes. It is in indistinct lines yet, but is becoming more definite every day. This will be the step of a giant--fleeing before that rod with which the all-mighty father is pleased to beat his children."

Again, with a gesture he pointed to the door leading to the more distant apartments, and in the short laugh which accompanied his last words there was sarcasm--almost hatred. At the same moment he met Cara's eyes, and asked:

"Why look at me, little one, in that way? There are eyes!

curious, anxious, and as frightened as those of a hunted deer.

Why so curious? What do you fear?"

Cara hid her face in her mother's dress, quickly.

"But how would it please you, mamma, to make a trip with me to America?" called Irene from before the mirror.

She put up the last of her hair, fastened it with a fantastic pin, and said, turning toward her mother:

"I have such Tom Thumb boots that when I put them on I shall be beyond the sea with three great steps. How does that plan please you?"

"You give a shower of plans to-day," jested Malvina.

"A portrait, flight from the rod, America."

"A ball!" exclaimed Cara, raising her head. "Do you know of it, Maryan? In a few weeks we shall have a real ball--a grand one."

"Your tale is curious, little one, tell on," answered Maryan.

"When talk is the question, there is never need to beg Cara twice."

She sprang up from her knees and told of the hour which she had spent in her father's study a few days before. She had told her mother and sister of the plan of the ball, but how it rose she had not told. Something had prevented. Now she would tell them all. Three gentlemen had visited her father: Prince Zeno, Count Charski, and a third person whose name she did not remember, but he was a large man, tall and broad; his breast glittered with stars and crosses. She, Cara, wished to hide from the guests behind the bookshelves--there were shelves behind which she sat often, invisible herself, she saw and heard everything. It was a wonderfully comfortable hiding-place, in which her only trouble was Puff; for, when anyone came to the study he wanted to bark, but she squeezed his nose with her hand tightly, and he was silent. That day she did not go behind the book-shelves, for her father commanded her to sit in the armchair. So she sat there with dignity.

Now she sat on the stool, and showed them in what a posture she had sat in presence of her father's guests, her hands on her knees, bolt upright, with dignity on her rosy face. Puffie alone interrupted this dignity, she said; he crawled up behind her, put his paws on her shoulder, and touched her with his moist nose.

One of the gentlemen turned then to her, and said:

"You have a beautiful dog, young lady."

"He is very nice," answered she.

"And what is his name?" asked the man.

"Puffie," explained she.

She did not laugh, for there was no cause. Puffie was really very nice, and he had a good name, but those gentlemen, while looking at her, smiled very agreeably, and one of them said to her father:

"How time pa.s.ses! Not long ago I saw your younger daughter a little child, and now--"

The other interrupted: "She is almost grown. And as tall it seems as her elder sister."

"We have only very rarely the pleasure of seeing your family in society this winter," said the other.

"Your wife and daughter pa.s.s a very secluded life this year,"

said the second visitor.

"My wife complains of frequent neuralgia," answered father, and then the unknown, large man talked.

Hitherto Cara, while giving the conversation of the two gentlemen, changed her voice, imitating the tones, and posture of each; now she repeated the words of the large man in the rudest voice that she could command:

"I have not yet had the honor of being presented to your wife and elder daughter, but I have heard so much, etc."

Then they talked longer with her father about something else, and when going away gave her some nice compliments. She courtesied.

She might say with confidence that she had played the role of a mature young lady brilliantly. Her father said, after the departure of the guests, that he was glad to receive the large man's visit. The large man might aid him greatly. Then he thought a while, and said:

"Do you know what, little one, you must show yourself in society."

Here Maryan muttered in an undertone:

"He needs a new column in his temple."

Irene smiled. Malvina feigned not to hear; Cara, given up to her twittering, twittered on:

"Then father said that mamma and Ira were leading almost the life of a cloister, that they received few persons, and went out little. That had the appearance of domestic misfortune, or of bankruptcy. Such an appearance was ugly in general, and harmful to business. To avoid this there was need to arrange a reception, but grand, and as splendid as possible. The carnival would be over soon, and at the end of the carnival we would give a ball in which the 'little one 'would appear in society for the first time. Today, an hour ago, father said he would come to us at dinner, and would talk at length about this ball with mamma."

Here Cara finished the narrative which was somewhat of a dramatic representation. Maryan rose suddenly from his seat.

"I must go," said he, standing rigidly, and with a serious face.

"Stay, Maryan," said Malvina, in a low voice.

On her face was a look of pain; a deep wrinkle appeared on her forehead; her voice was imploring. Maryan looked at her, hesitated a while, then dropping into an armchair with the movement of an automaton, muttered:

"Let thy will be done! Let a pot be painted with the color of a son's love--for you, mother."

From the thought that he must meet his father soon, the interior of his heart began to desiccate.

A servant announced the dinner. Cara sprang up from the stool:

"I will go to conduct father!"

She went to the door, but turned back from it, and, dropping on her knees before her mother, put a number of long, pa.s.sionate kisses on her knees and her hand. Then hanging on her neck, she whispered in a low voice:

"Golden, only, dearest mamma." And springing from her knees she flew out of the room like a bird.

What did that violent outburst of tenderness for her mother mean?

No one knew, neither did she herself, perhaps. Was it a prayer for someone, or the a.s.surance that she loved greatly not only that one, but her mother too? or was it delight that at last she would see them both together? She flew like a bird through the drawing-rooms, lighted by lamps burning here and there, till she pushed quietly into her father's study, and put her hand under his arm at the writing-desk. All rosy, imitating the deep and solemn voice of the servant, she said:

"Dinner is served!"

Darvid felt a stream of warmth and sweetness flowing to his breast.

"Oh, you rogue!" said he, "you sunray! You little one!"