by Owen Wister
IX: Juno
Each recent remarkable occurrence had obliterated its predecessor, andit was with difficulty that I made a straight parting in my hair. Had itbeen Miss Rieppe that John so suddenly ran away to? It seemed now moreas if the boy had been running away from somebody. The waitress hadstared at him with extraordinary interest; she had seen his bruise;perhaps she knew how he had got it. Her excitement--had he smashed uphis official superior at the custom house? That would be an impossiblething, I told myself instantly; as well might a nobleman cross swordswith a peasant. Perhaps the stare of the waitress had reminded him ofhis bruise, and he might have felt disinclined to show himself with itin a company of gossiping strangers. Still, that would scarcely accountfor it--the dismay with which he had so suddenly left me. Was Junothe cause--she had come up behind me; he must have seen her and herportentous manner approaching--had the boy fled from her?
And then, his fierce outbreak about taking orders from a negro when Iwas moralizing over the misfortune of marrying a jackass! I got a sortof parting in my hair, and went down to the dining room.
Juno was there before me, with her bonnet, or rather her headdress,still on, and I heard her making apologies to Mrs. Trevise for being solate. Mrs. Trevise, of course, sat at the head of her table, and Junosat at her right hand. I was very glad not to have a seat near Juno,because this lady was, as I have already hinted, an intolerable personto me. Either her Southern social position or her rent (she took thewhole second floor, except Mrs. Trevise's own rooms) was of importanceto Mrs. Trevise; but I assure you that her ways kept our landlady'scold, impervious tact watchful from the beginning to the end of almostevery meal. Juno was one of those persons who possess so many and suchstrong feelings themselves that they think they have all the feelingsthere are; at least, they certainly consider no one's feelings buttheir own. She possessed an inexhaustible store of anecdote, but it wasexclusively about our Civil War; you would have supposed that nothingelse had ever happened in the world. When conversation among the rest ofus became general, she preserved a cold and acrid inattention; whenthe fancy took her to open her own mouth, it was always to begin somereminiscence, and the reminiscence always began: "In September, 1862,when the Northern vandals," etc., etc., or "When the Northern vandalswere repulsed by my husband's cousin, General Braxton Bragg," etc., etc.Now it was not that I was personally wounded by the term, because at thetime of the vandals I was not even born, and also because I know thatvandals cannot be kept out of any army. Deeply as I believed the Marchto the Sea to have been imperative, of "Sherman's bummers" and theirexcesses I had a fair historic knowledge and a very poor opinion; andthis I should have been glad to tell Juno, had she ever given me thechance; but her immodest sympathy for herself froze all sympathy forher. Why could she not preserve a well-bred silence upon her sufferings,as did the other old ladies I had met in Kings Port? Why did she dragthem in, thrust them, poke them, shove them at you? Thus it was that forher insulting disregard of those whom her words might wound Idetested Juno; and as she was a woman, and nearly old enough to bemy grandmother, it was, of course, out of the question that I shouldretaliate. When she got very bad indeed, it was calm Mrs. Trevise'slast, but effective, resort to tinkle a little handbell and scold one ofthe waitresses whom its sound would then summon from the kitchen. Thisbell was tinkled not always by any means for my sake; other travellersfrom the North there were who came and went, pausing at Kings Portbetween Florida and their habitual abodes.
At present our company consisted of Juno; a middle-class Englishmanemployed in some business capacity in town; a pair of very younghoneymooners from the "up-country"; a Louisiana poetess, who wore thelong, cylindrical ringlets of 1830, and who was attending a conventionthe Daughters of Dixie; two or three males and females, best describedas et ceteras; and myself. "I shall only take a mouthful for the sakeof nourishment," Juno was announcing, "and then I shall return to hisbedside."
"Is he very suffering?" inquired the poetess, in melodious accent.
"It was an infamous onslaught," Juno replied.
The poetess threw up her eyes and crooned, "Noble, doughty champion!"
"You may say so indeed, madam," said Juno.
"Raw beefsteak's jolly good for your eye," observed the Briton.
This suggestion did not appear to be heard by Juno.
"I had a row with a chap," the Briton continued. He's my best friendnow. He made me put raw beefsteak--"
"I thank you," interrupted Juno. "He requires no beefsteak, raw orcooked."
The face of the Briton reddened. "Too groggy to eat, is he?"
Mrs. Trevise tinkled her bell. "Daphne! I have said to you twice to handthose yams."
"I done handed 'em twice, ma'am."
"Hand them right away, Daphne, and don't be so forgetful." It was noteasy to disturb the composure of Mrs. Trevise.
The poetess now took up the broken thread. "Had I a son," she declared,"I would sooner witness him starve than hear him take orders from amenial race."
"But mightn't starving be harder for him to experience than for you towitness, y' know?" asked the Briton.
At this one of the et ceteras made a sort of snuffing noise, and ate hisdinner hard.
It was the male honeymooner who next spoke. "Must have been quite atussle, ma'am."
"It was an infamous onslaught!" repeated Juno. "Wish I'd seen it!"sighed the honeymooner.
His bride smiled at him beamingly. "You'd have felt right lonesome to beout of it, David."
"No apology has yet been offered," continued Juno.
"But must your nephew apologize besides taking a licking?" inquired theBriton.
Juno turned an awful face upon hint. "It is from his brutal assailantthat apologies are due. Mr. Mayrant's family" (she paused here forblighting emphasis) "are well-bred people, and he will be coerced intobehaving like a gentleman for once."
I checked an impulse here to speak out and express my doubts as tothe family coercion being founded upon any dissatisfaction with John'sconduct.
"I wonder if reading or recitation might not soothe your nephew?" saidthe poetess, now.
"I should doubt it," answered Juno. "I have just come from his bedside."
"I should so like to soothe him, if I could," the poetess murmured. "Ifhe were well enough to hear my convention ode--"
"He is not nearly well enough," said Juno.
The et cetera here coughed and blew his nose so remarkably that we allstarted.
A short silence followed, which Juno relieved.
"I will give the young ruffian's family the credit they deserve," shestated. "The whole connection despises his keeping the position."
Another et cetera now came into it. "Is it known what exactlyprecipitated the occurrence?"
Juno turned to him. "My nephew is a gentleman from whose lips nounworthy word could ever fall.'
"Oh!" said the et cetera, mildly. "He said something, then?"
"He conveyed a well-merited rebuke in fitting terms."
"What were the terms?" inquired the Briton.
Juno again did not hear him. "It was after a friendly game of cards.My nephew protested against any gentleman remaining at the custom housesince the recent insulting appointment."
I was now almost the only member of the party who had preserved strictsilence throughout this very interesting conversation, because, havingno wish to converse with Juno at any time, I especially did not desireit now, just after her seeing me (I thought she must have seen me) inamicable conference with the object of her formidable displeasure.
"Every Mayrant is ferocious that I ever heard of," she continued. "Youcannot trust that seemingly delicate and human exterior. His father hadit, too--deceiving exterior and raging interior, though I will say forthat one that he would never have stooped to humiliate the family nameas his son is doing. His regiment was near by when the Northern vandalsburned our courthouse, and he made them run, I can tell you! It's amercy for that poor girl that the scales have dropped from her eyes and
she has broken her engagement with him."
"With the father?" asked a third et cetera.
Juno stared at the intruder.
Mrs. Trevise drawled a calm contribution. "The father died before thisboy was born."
"Oh, I see!" murmured the et cetera, gratefully.
Juno proceeded. "No woman's life would be safe with him."
"But mightn't he be safer for a person's niece than for their nephew?"said the Briton.
Mrs. Trevise's hand moved toward the bell.
But Juno answered the question mournfully: "With such hereditarybloodthirstiness, who can tell?" And so Mrs. Trevise moved her hand awayagain.
"Excuse me, but do you know if the other gentleman is laid up, too?"inquired the male honeymooner, hopefully.
"I am happy to understand that he is," replied Juno.
In sheer amazement I burst out, "Oh!" and abruptly stopped.
But it was too late. I had instantly become the centre of interest. Theet ceteras and honeymooners craned their necks; the Briton leaned towardme from opposite; the poetess, who had worn an absent expression sincebeing told that the injured champion was not nearly well enough tolisten to her ode, now put on her glasses and gazed at me kindly; whileJuno reared her headdress and spoke, not to me, but to the air in mygeneral neighborhood.
"Has any one later intelligence than what I bring from my nephew'sbedside?"
So she hadn't perceived who my companion at the step had been! Well, sheshould be enlightened, they all should be enlightened, and vengeance wasmine. I spoke with gentleness:--
"Your nephew's impressions, I fear, are still confused by his deplorablemisadventure."
"May I ask what you know about his impressions?"
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the hand of Mrs. Trevise move towardher bell; but she wished to hear all about it more than she wishedconcord at her harmonious table; and the hand stopped.
Juno spoke again. "Who, pray, has later news than what I bring?"
My enemy was in my hand; and an enemy in the hand is worth I don't knowhow many in the bush.
I answered most gently: "I do not come from Mr. Mayrant's bedside,because I have just left him at the front door in sound health--saving abruise over his left eye."
During a second we all sat in a high-strung silence, and then Junobecame truly superb. "Who sees the scars he brazenly conceals?"
It took away my breath; my battle would have been lost, when the Britonsuggested: "But mayn't he have shown those to his Aunt?"
We sat in no silence now; the first et cetera made extraordinary soundson his plate, Mrs. Trevise tinkled her handbell with more unction than Ihad ever yet seen in her; and while she and Daphne interchanged streamsof severe words which I was too disconcerted to follow, the other etceteras and the honeymooners hectically effervesced into small talk. Ipresently found myself eating our last course amid a reestablished calm,when, with a rustle, Juno swept out from among us, to return (I suppose)to the bedside. As she passed behind the Briton's chair, that invaluableperson kicked me under the table, and on my raising my eyes to him hegave me a large, robust wink.
