A Woman's Will Part 44

"Yes, surely there is plenty of room for that," she said dryly; "but you don't see many ruined castles or historic battlefields _en route_. And the dust, _oh, la, la_! And the steam coils under your seat--and the air--and the ventilation--and the nights--and the days."

"You would better stay here," he remarked.

"Oh, _I_ think so," she responded frankly; "it's so jolly getting your gloves cleaned for two cents a pair; but if we don't change the subject I shall cry."

He looked at her quickly.

"That is the University there," he told her, pointing to their left; "shall we go there?"

"What for?"

"To look upon it."

"Why, I've seen it dozens of times."

He took his cigarette out of his mouth, examined it carefully, and replaced it between his lips.

"But one washes here," he said presently.

"One--washes--" she stammered blankly; and then it flashed across her that it was the bath-tub that was rankling in his soul, and she gasped, adjusted herself, and answered:

"Of course one washes here. But in America it is all made so convenient, and is regarded as less of an event."

"It is no event to me to wash," he said indignantly; "I find no excitement in was.h.i.+ng."

"I never said you did; I was comparing quite another cla.s.s of society with their equals in the other country."

"But to shave," he went on, "that I find terrible."

"It's no worse than having a _coiffure_ to make."

"But I have no _coiffure_ to make."

"No; but I have."

He threw his cigarette into the street.

"It is not so bad as shaving."

"It takes longer."

"Yes; but shaving you may cut yourself."

Rosina laughed; he heard her and turned suspiciously.

"Why do you laugh?"

"Because."

"What amuses you?"

"You do."

He smiled and they walked one or two blocks in silence. They were now in the suburb of Schwabing, far out by the western end of the Englischergarten. The street was very uninteresting and comparatively deserted.

"Do you see my cravat?" he asked.

She was wondering if they had not better be returning towards home.

"I know that you have one on," she said; "I can't say that I notice anything especial about it."

"I will show you something very curious about it."

"You're not going to take it off, are you?"

"I will show you how I tie it."

"I know how to tie that kind myself."

"Not as I tie it."

Then he deliberately handed her his umbrella and untied his cravat, and proceeded to turn one end up and fold the other across and poke a loop through and draw an end under, and thus manipulate the whole into a reproduction of the same tiny bowknot as before. She held the umbrella and contemplated the performance with an interest which was most flattering to his labor.

"I don't see how you ever do it," she exclaimed when the job was complete and he took the umbrella again.

"I will teach you some day," he said readily. "I have myself invented four cravats," he added with pride.

"Will you teach me all the four?"

"Yes; I have thought, if I shall ever be poor, to go to Paris and have a cab and drive about from house to house each morning and tie cravats _pour les messieurs_. You can see how many would pay for that."

"Yes; but when you arrived and they were not ready,--were still in bed, you know,--what would you do then?"

He reflected, and then shrugged his shoulders.

"I would put on the collar, tie the cravat, and leave monsieur to sleep again."

Rosina's marital past presented her mind with a lively picture of one of the cravat-tier's clients struggling to bring his s.h.i.+rt into proper connection with the _chef d'uvre_, when he should arise to attire himself for the day. She laughed outright. Then she grew sober and said:

"We ought to go back; it must be after five."

He took out his watch.

"No, it is not."

"Yes, it is; it was after four when we left the _pension_. I know it's after five now."

"It is not after five," he declared calmly; "it is not after five because it is after six."