VI
"I'm not a bit blase," remarked Helena, "but I'd like to be engaged fora change--not to last, of course. Only I can't make up my mind which ofthe four; and whichever I choose the other three will be sodisagreeable. If I could only let them know I didn't mean it,--at leastwouldn't later,--but that would never do, because I shouldn't enjoymyself unless I really thought I was in earnest. Besides, I haven't beenable to fall in love with any of them yet."
"You don't really mean what you say when you talk that way, do you,Helena?" asked Magdalena, with much concern. "It would be so--sounprincipled; and I can't bear to think that of you."
"But, 'Lena dearest, I should be in earnest for the time being; I'm justtalking from the outside, as it were. At the time I should think Ireally meant it. Otherwise I'd be bored to death, and the engagementwouldn't last five minutes after I was. I'm simply wild to fall in love,if only to see what it's like. You won't tell me; anyhow, I don't thinkthat would satisfy all my curiosity if you did. I wish some new manwould come along."
"Alan Rush is charming."
"He's too much in love with me."
"Mr. Fort keeps your wits on the jump."
"My wits are in my brain, not my heart."
"Mr. Howard?"
"He has so much tact that he has no sincerity."
"There is still Mr. Webster."
"Poor Dolly!"
"What _do_ you want?"
Helena was moving restlessly about her boudoir,--a bower of pearl-greyembroidered with wild roses, in which she reclined luxuriously when freefrom social duties, and improved her mind. A volume of Motley lay on thefloor. Walter Pater's "Imaginary Portraits" was slipping off the divan,and there was a pile of Reviews on the table. She was biting the cornerof a volume of Herrick.
"I haven't any ideal, if that's what you mean. I think it would have tobe a man of the world, for conversation so soon gives out with the menof this village. Mr. Fort takes refuge in epigrams. If I married--becameengaged to him--I should feel as if I were living on pickles. I thinkthat one reason why Alan Rush and Mr. Howard are so determined to makelove to me is because they have nothing left to talk about."
"You've told me twice what you don't want, but you don't seem to knowwhat you do. 'A man of the world' is not very definite."
"No; he must be capable of falling violently in love with me, and at thesame time not make himself ridiculous; to keep his head except when Iparticularly want him to lose it. Of course I want to inspire a grandpassion as well as to feel one, but I don't want to be surrounded by it;and the first time he looked ridiculous would be the last of him as faras I was concerned. I might be in the highest stages of the divinepassion, and that would cure me."
"Well! is that all? Some men could not be ridiculous if they tried."
"You are thinking of Mr. Trennahan, of course. If he did, I do believeyou wouldn't see it. But I should; I have a hideous sense of theridiculous. Well, lemme see. He must have read and travelled and thoughta lot, so that he would know more than I, and I could look up to him;also that subjects of conversation would not give out. The platitudes oflove! That would be fatal."
"I don't believe they ever sound like platitudes."
"Hm! I won't undertake to discuss that point, knowing my limitations.What next? He must have suffered. That gives a man weight, as thesculptors say. My quartette will be much more interesting to the nextdivinity than they are to me. Then of course he must have charmingmanners and an agreeable voice: I could not stand the brain of a Bismarkin the skull of an Apollo if he had a nasal American voice. I believethat's all. I'm not so particular about looks, so long as he's neithersmall nor fat."
"And if you found all that wouldn't you marry it?"
"N-o-o--I don't know--but I'd be engaged a good long time. You see Iwant to be a belle for years and years."
"And what is to become of the poor men when you are through with them?"
"Oh, they'll get over it. I shall. Why shouldn't they?"
"I thought you said once you wanted to marry a statesman."
"Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't. I'll consider that question tenyears hence. I want to be a perfectly famous belle first."
"You are that already."
"Oh, I must have a season in New York, and another in Washington, andanother in London. The gods have given me all the gifts, and I intend tomake the most of them. Now let's read a chapter of Motley out loud, andif I jump off to other things you jerk me back. Let's finish Pater,though. It's like lying under a cascade of bubbles on a hot summer'sday. My brains are addled between trying to be well read and trying tokeep four men from proposing. You read aloud, and I'll brush my hair.No, I'll embroider on papa's mouchoir case; I've been at it for thirteenmonths. Oh, by the bye, I didn't tell you that I had a brilliant idea.It darted into my head just as I was dropping off last night. I forgotto speak about it to papa this morning, but I will to-night. It's this:I'm going to give a ball at Del Monte. Take everybody down on a specialtrain. Don't you think it will be a change? The spring has come so earlythat we can have the grounds lit up with Chinese lanterns; and there maybe some Eastern men there. There often are. So much the better for myball--and me. Now read."
The Californians Page 36
