Polly the Pagan: Her Lost Love Letters
Page 6
_PART IV_
_THE PRINCE IN PURSUIT_
A. D. TO POLLY
_Rome, April 1st._
On entering my room I saw a cable lying on my desk and eagerly sprangforward, tore it open, only to stagger back and sink into a chair, forit said, "Breaking my engagement for reasons you can no doubtsurmise." Your name was signed.
I have gone over everything. Perhaps you thought I was really flirtingwith the divorcee--perhaps the Prince has been at the bottom ofthis--maybe you have felt unduly wounded at my delay in returning,which you must know is not my fault.
Exactly what I intended to do I am not sure, but in my excitement Itelephoned Lisa. She said, "Come over at once," and I went. She knowsabsolutely no reason for your action, and begged my forgiveness if shehad unwittingly caused trouble between us. Thank Heaven there is oneloyal woman. Oh! Polly my Pagan, is it the Prince?
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_Cable from Rome, Evening, April 1._
Another cable was brought me late tonight. "April Fool!" it read.Thank God. Polly, don't do that again.
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_Rome, April 2d._
Your dear cablegram came this morning begging my forgiveness. You haveit, dearest, absolutely. Evidently somebody's little consciencetroubled her about her naughty message of April first. You'll get, Ifear, a pretty sharp letter which ought not, however, to offend you.Anyway the last cable made me happy, and yet another, telling me thatthe Senate had confirmed the nomination of the new Ambassador, made mehappier still and my heart lighter than it had been for weeks. Atleast, someone is coming now.
But we're doing the only thing to be done under the circumstances, andmy Polly, I know, expects every man to do his duty, doesn't she? Ishall be home by May, you can be sure, even if I have to resort to thedesperate measure of deserting my post. But that would be a hard stepto take.
Yesterday I went about a bit--that is, this earthly shell of mine did,while my heart and soul were with you, dear--first to take luncheonwith Peppi and to look at his curious copies of old masters. Do youknow, he has even taken to painting them on wood, exactly like thefifteenth century--and his own Mona Lisa is uncannily like the one inthe Louvre. I told him so and he looked queerly at me. Some had beenboxed for sending and whose name do you think was blackly lettered onthem? The Prince's--and the address somewhere down on New York's eastside. Curious, isn't it?
I didn't stay long, being too distracted (my nerves are so strung up,they make me the worst company in the world). So I wandered homethrough the beautiful sunny streets, down past the foot of the Spanishsteps where we used to meet, past the fountain and the flower-sellers.Write soon, won't you?
* * * * *
POLLY TO A. D.
_New York, April._
Truly you lost no time in hurrying to your Mona Lisa with mycablegram. Moreover, there's a little doubt in your letter when youask, "Is it the Prince?" Can you blame me if--well, I'll leave therest unwritten. In the meantime, Aunt is going to take Checkers, Sybiland me to Louisville for the races, and then to Canada, just for abrief camping trip. She says it's to cheer me up, for I showed heryour letter and she's much annoyed with you. Indeed it raised the poorthing's hopes that I was making the April Fool joke a reality. It didcome rather near to being serious. The Prince joins us at Louisville.Strange about those pictures. I guess I'll watch him.
Do you still think I really gave Boris your lion? Well, only to showyou how wrong you are about me, I will tell you that I did lose it inParis, but not until your letter came, did I have any idea the Princehad it. I suppose he must have picked it up, and I am not at all surehe even knew that it was mine. Now aren't you ashamed?
I'm going right on, however, with preparations for the wedding inspite of Aunt's denials. A few presents are arriving, for I put a boldface on to my friends and say we are engaged and you are coming soon.We have a vase, a tea-set, a great silver bowl; so far that's aboutall. My old beaux are sending things, all except Boris, who seems tothink his constant presence is the one thing to bestow. I am workingon the wedding list,--it seems endless, and Aunt sniffs incredulouslywhen she sees me at it.
How long I've sat over this letter I don't know, just dreaming of youand thinking of Venice so many months ago. Now it is Spring and warmand lovely; the flowers are in bloom and you are not here. Will any ofmy dreams come true, I wonder?
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_Rome, April._
Sweetheart, on coming home I found a letter from the new Secretarywho is leaving Washington for Rome even before the Ambassador. I amgoing to pack up at once and be ready to start as soon as he arrives.Now you can settle on some date towards the end of May for thewedding.
Hurrah! Gilet shall go around and get my bills in to pay them, thebutcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker. There must be some officialcards printed with a little p.p.c. in the lower left-hand corner readyto leave. I must look up the dates of sailings of the ships for home,say goodbye, give a lot of tips to porters, ushers, chambermaids,_sommeliers_, and go to the station and so to you!
Peppi, who, I believe, is more and more hopelessly in love every daywith the lady Lisa, got up a party for her, and invited some painters,sculptors, a few Dips and their wives, all to drive out for tea at theexcavation of the Villa Olivia. We met at the foot of our SpanishSteps, and drove through the Porto del Populo across the Campagna,along the valley of the Tiber by Civita Castellana, to the Villastanding on a hill. After our tea and little cakes, we romped througha wild Virginia reel. I danced with Mona while Peppi, sick withjealousy, stared sombrely at me as if he wished to tuck a _stiletto_beneath my fifth rib. It was a relief to come away, though, for thelady's gray eyes glittered when she asked me what further news you haddeigned to give me regarding your flirtation with the Prince. I trustmy Polly.
* * * * *
PRINCE BORIS TO POLLY
_Washington, April._
You ask me what I do--and what I think of North America? I busy and domuch work, travel and not think of any girls but you. Men I see instreet, without mustache, wear glasses, have dentist fill mouth withgold, rush about madly and speak, "What say?" and "Sure!" and "Dotell," wear celluloid collar and ready-made suit and hang big cigarfrom corner of mouth and--spit! Excuse my funs, dear.
People are lavish if you are Prince, turn somersaults on top of eachother to entertain you, but of foreigners suspicious more or less.All American women have too much freedom and know too well how toflirt, and too pretty they are for the heart of a man. Most of the menare uneducate in art and languages and such things; they only knowbusiness and politics.
Many buildings are handsome like in Paris and Berlin, but the citiesrising into the sky are astounding, abominable. The country and themountains so very beautiful, they are create to be a home for you, mylittle wild bird.
Perhaps you not like me say such things but you ask me. I travel nowagain from place to place. Your army is small, and your big guns burstby each fire. Soon I will be with you at Louisville. Please tell yourAunt that I kiss her hand, and your little hands, I kiss both.
* * * * *
POLLY TO A. D.
_Louisville, Ky., April._
Such a wonderful trip as we have had on the train! We are now in theland of the clayeaters, moonshine, and mountain feuds, in the regionof blue grass, fast horses, and pretty women. Every man is a coloneland every woman a cousin. Our days are filled with hearty handshakesand racy stories, our mouths cooled with mint juleps in silver frostedcups, and our appetites satisfied with beaten biscuits and otherdelicious Southern dishes.
Sports from all over the country have gathered here for the greatDerby--forty thousand or more were at the races--such a mixed crowd,men in checked suits,
painted ladies, blacks, whites, all together.First we watched them making bets, then we strolled into the paddockto see the race-horses being led round and round in an enclosed ring,covered with blankets so that only their beautiful heads and bandagedlegs could be seen. Each one had his pony or stable companion, as heis called. We hung over the railing and I did love it. Such a varietyof names the horses had--By Golly, Up Shot, Bungo Buck. The great racewe watched from a box in the grand stand. There was much excitement,cheering, clapping, and money changing hands. On came the horses roundthe track, faster and faster, till Speed Limit unexpectedly won therace, leaving some people very sad and others wildly hilarious.
Checkers has won--not money on the races--but something else. Andwhat? A girl! Guess if you can--Sybil! ! ! And she is the dearest girlin the world. Checkers is in kingdom come; he declares, "She's aspretty as a pair of pink boots and as enticing as a glass of Kentuckymoonshine. I can go to the races and lose; I can pick a horse withnothing but a mane and a tail; can't pick a clown in a circus, but Ican pick a blue-eyed doll all right!"
How did he ever do it? Why, those two scamps pretended, just to amuseeach other and everybody else, to have a mock engagement--Checkerscalled it a "trial hitch." He says it worked like magic and they'reonto it for all time and that you must give him "the glad hand." Butoh, how unexpected for the rest of us--they've known each other foryears. Seeing them so happy together makes me very lonely, A. D. I amglad to hear the new secretary has started over.
The house where we are staying is quite beautiful--of gray stone builtin the chateau style, surrounded by formal gardens and terraces withfountains and statues. Mrs. Courtney serves mint juleps everyafternoon in the gallery where superb tapestries hang on the walls,and the enormous stone fireplace has logs as big as trees burning init. The German Ambassador, an old friend of Boris', by the way, ishere, and also some racing swells.
Boris and I took a walk in the garden today and he pretended to tellme the story of his life, how his father was a Russian, his mother aGerman countess,--how he had lived in St. Petersburg till his fatherdied,--how (and then he became vague), he wandered from place toplace, but perhaps you know all this. He is passionately fond ofhorses, "me much Cossack" he said, whereupon I proposed a ride.
My mare pulled a good deal and Boris tightened the bit, but as wegalloped along, both our mounts became excited and went faster andfaster. Nearing a sharp corner, I sang out a warning to the Prince whowas just behind. Then, suddenly his horse stumbled and fell. My marestopped for I turned off the road into a brook. Looking back, I sawBoris lying on the ground very still, the horse standing by.
The terrifying thought swept over me that he had been killed and itwas my fault, but he was only stunned and his face considerably cutand scratched. Though pretty well knocked out, Boris was game enoughto mount again, so back we rode. He is going to wear a scar, but saysit is nothing to the wound I have made on a more vital organ. Ratherneat, don't you think so? Of course I have to be extra sweet to him onaccount of the accident.
We had great fun at dinner, just a series of jokes and laughs.Afterwards Mrs. Courtney went to the piano and we danced and dancedtill the clock struck twelve. The whole house is like fairyland, it isso wonderful, and oh, there's a winding secret stairway that is verymysterious. I can't make out where it comes from or where it goes, butin one place Mrs. Courtney can suddenly emerge into the library byslipping back a concealed panel. The Prince is greatly intrigued withit; I surprised him as he was trying to make a diagram of itswanderings.
Aunt is still adamant against our marriage. She says I'm to wait tillwe return to New York before even talking wedding or dreaming ofsetting a date. But she doesn't know what I've done! And that is,I've despatched you a cablegram, suggesting the thirty-first of May,tra-la! And added Checkers' news. No more tonight, for I'm sleepy,dear.
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_Rome, April._
I had been in bed some time, Polly my love, dozing and dreaming ofyou, when I heard the door in the salon open and someone knockingabout in the dark, so I called out to know who it was. The half-asleep_portier_ said, "Two telegrams, signor." Up I got; up the light went,too. Eagerly the yellow envelopes were torn open. One was yours,"Hurry up! Come soon. How about May 31?"
For a moment I stood dazed, overwhelmed by the thought--my weddingday! Then suddenly the realization in a great flood of happiness cameover me. Oh, indeed, I'll hurry!
And the other cable? Aha! That was from my successor, the newSecretary. He has already arrived in London and stopping there for afew days' business.
Checkers and Sybil have my congratulations. They certainly have sprunga surprise.
* * * * *
POLLY TO A. D.
_New York, May._
Just back from Louisville and staying here for a couple of days beforestarting for Canada. I am chuckling to myself and wondering how thePrince and Aunt will like it, for they've never been camping before.And I'm chuckling about something else, too. As soon as your lettercame, I ordered the invitations engraved, writing on from Louisvilleto the stationer's. Aunt has continued blandly obstinate, and deepdown in her heart she is still intending that this trip will giveBoris his best chance to make me change my mind--but we will see. Iasked her if we could be married as soon as you came back. Shetightened up her mouth with a crisp, "No!" Nevertheless, she can'tstop me; I'm of age.
Then what do you think we did, Sybil, Checkers, and I? We went to ourRector--your father's old friend, you know he thinks everything ofyour family--and he said he'd perform the ceremony. So we've securedthe church. We ordered the music and decorations--crimson azaleas.Just an hour ago while Aunt was wrestling with a few last detailsregarding the trip, Checkers took a traveling bag, filled it with theinvitations I had been surreptitiously addressing, and we went out andmailed them, dancing around the mail-box till passers-by thought wewere utter lunatics.
Oh, A. D., do for goodness' sake come home! I am so tired of waiting,it seems as if it was impossible to stand it much longer. Don't youhope and pray we will live happily together? I wish we were marriednow, that it was done, for in a way I do dread it. All I want is thatwe may go far off into some little nook in the woods by ourselves awayfrom people.
Forgive this dismal letter but somehow everything makes me sadtonight. Boris upsets me, I don't know why. But I won't be so any moreafter you arrive. Do hurry.
But there's one more thing, A. D., before this letter closes. TheRector said I must tell Aunt our plans, and I promised to. I did try,without any success, however. As we shall be traveling, she won't seethe acceptances for some time. When I think of the inevitableinterview, I shake in my shoes. You'll come dashing in, though, won'tyou, and rescue me?
* * * * *
POLLY KEEPS A JOURNAL LETTER FOR A. D.
_Island Lake, Algonquin Park, Canada._
No nice fat Embassy letter was waiting for me at the hotel, I am sorryto say, but Aunt says we shall have time enough to get mail after thecamping-trip, so there was nothing forwarded for any of us. I am goingto keep this note-book with me and make a kind of diary, so as to jotdown everything that happens.
A glorious morning; we started off with guides, tents, and canoes, andpaddled through Cache Pond to Island Lake, our first camp, with onlytwo short carries. Boris insisted on having me and a guide in hiscanoe. I won't say I haven't been flirting, but when my consciencepricks me, I think of Mona Lisa in Rome with you, and go at it again.Now aren't you sorry?
The events have begun. We struck a nice little run of rapids, and justwhen we got to the deepest part, the canoe slewed, hit a rock, andthen over it went, and we with it. The next thing I knew, someone wasdragging me up, blinking, choking, spluttering. I opened my eyes tobehold my rescuer, the Prince! Don't you think, A. D., I should beproperly grateful to him? He saved my life--without an instant'shesitation, Aunt says. So you see
you owe your future wife's veryexistence to him. I've _got_ to be sweet to him, haven't I?
It is now near the end of our first day in the wilderness. I donothing but think how good it will be to see you again. I would likeso much to be in New York to greet you on the dock, but instead I'mpaddling with the Prince.
First day's remarks by the party:
Sybil: "Oh! Ah! Heaven!"
Checkers: "Bully!"
Prince: "Bozhe moi!" (Whatever that means.)
Aunty: "This box has got soap! Not eggs!"
Polly: "I'm game for the next event!"
For supper we had beans, flapjacks, and tea. For beds, fir balsam.
I think that Aunt and Boris prefer the comforts of home. The Princecertainly has her ear, and when I surprise them in one of theirlong and confidential interviews, they act like a couple ofarch-conspirators. But he is very nice just now and it is my lastchance for a fling, isn't it?
* * * * *
We had a carry to Lake Kootchie, the second day, then a long portageand four miles of paddling to the end of Big Smoke this morning, andended the day at Lake Bear. Checkers and Boris played cards on makingcamp, and after gambling for a while, it looked as if the Prince sawthings were not going his way, so he stopped to arrange his fishingtackle. Checkers screwed up his eyebrows at me and winked.
For supper--pea-soup, fish, and prunes.
Second Day's remarks:
Sybil: "The loons are so jolly. I want to take one home."
Checkers: "Every minute I like it better."
Aunt: "The beds are so hard--sno-r-r-r-r-oh!"
Prince (gazing soulfully at me): "To rescue beautiful ladies--ah, itis heaven."
Confession: I let the Prince kiss my hand. After all, he saved mylife, you know. You weren't here and I had to have somebody kiss it.
* * * * *
Breaking camp at seven-thirty a short but pretty portage brought us tothe three Bonnecherre and then to Lake Rod and Gun where we are nowtenting. Butter-ball ducks flew by on the way, and we saw a fewpartridges and deer, but not much big game, for moose are farthernorth. Last night was an eventful one; wolves howled, the wind blew,the rain descended. Suddenly our tent fell down amid loud cries forhelp. Boris came to our rescue, but tripped over a rope and stood onhis head from whence issued a flood of Russian. Which, if I could haveunderstood it, would probably have paralyzed me for a week. Later amuskrat came and ate up all our chocolate.
Third Day's remarks at supper:
Aunt: "Oh, but I'm so tired! I didn't sleep a wink last night."
Checkers: "I'm hungry! I'd like to be the muskrat."
Sybil: (Holding his hand under cover of her poncho) "I'm a frozen dog,but I'm having the time of my life."
Prince (_sotto voce_): "Only forty-eight hours more."
Polly: "Can't be too few for me."
_Later._
A. D., I've made an awful mistake! I was too good to the Prince and hetook advantage of it. In fact he was pretty naughty. You see hethought we were quite alone this afternoon, the others had gonefishing, and before I knew what he was doing, he entered my tent andhad me in his arms, kissing my hair, my eyes, my mouth. I screamed andone of the guides ran in. Boris cursed him for interfering, so Isimply asked the man to remain. There was nothing for the Prince to dobut walk out. Then the guide looked at me funnily and said that thecanoe didn't tip over that time in the wind, that Boris had hired himto upset it, the spot being fairly shallow and perfectly safe.Apparently our Russian wanted to get the credit of an heroic rescue.So you were right after all. He's not to be trusted.
Also, there is a very queer thing that your little Sherlock Holmes hasjust discovered. He's had letters come to him over another name, notin the least like his own. They fell out of his pocket when he wasstruggling with me. I picked them up--one was marked up in the cornerwith the name of some antique dealer. Can Boris be selling Peppi'spictures? Is that the mysterious "business" that takes him from onebig city to another? When you get back to Washington, ask about him atthe Russian Embassy. Oh give me a good straight American man, say I!
We're about a hundred miles north of Toronto now. One day more andthen we leave for home.
* * * * *
Fourth Day. A gray mist and an early start. I insisted on going inCheckers' canoe. Boris and I are not speaking. Our two mile portageled to Rock Lake. Saw a bear and caught some trout and bass forsupper. Railway in sight. To celebrate our last meal we indulged in abonfire, had soup and a welsh rarebit, and gambled late into the nightby the light of candles stuck into broken bottles.
Fourth Day's Remarks:
Aunt: "Fiddlesticks! What's all this trouble about?"
Checkers: "Bow wow."
Sybil: "Meow, meow."
Polly: (Silence.)
Prince: (More silence.)
* * * * *
Fifth Day. This morning the tents came down, fishing tackle was putaway, clothes shoved into the duffle bags for the last time. Wepaddled across the lake to the hotel. Closing remarks by the Party:
Aunt: "Camp generally becomes passably comfortable just as one nearsthe end of the trip."
Prince: "How I love the railway."
Sybil: "At the end of the last carry, still carrying on!"
Checkers: "Prince Tripp tripped up--a spring trip! Polly's eyes havebeen opened."
Polly: "They've never been entirely shut. I only winked occasionally."
These journal notes I am sending you with my love, care of the StateDepartment, Washington.
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_En Route, May._
Goodbye, Rome! I'm on the train at last, speeding away from theEternal City.
When I came home to dress for my farewell Roman dinner last evening,there was a note on the table from the Doyen of the Ambassadorsstating that the King would receive at twenty-one hours and thirtyminutes. I hurriedly calculated this would be half-past ten, so calmlywent off to dine with some of my old pals, a sort of goodbye party,thinking there would be plenty of time. Suddenly I had a lucid momentand realized that twenty-one thirty meant half-past nine! I looked atmy watch--just twenty-eight minutes past. Whew, but I flew--took acab and galloped at full speed to the Quirinal, rushed up the greatstaircase past the astonished lackeys, through the guard room into theState Reception Rooms, got there, terribly out of breath, but--on theminute!
It was a pretty sight, the Royal Circle in the Salon of the Mirrors.We stood in a row,--"we few, we happy few, we band of brothers"--whilethe King and Queen went as usual to each and talked. When he came tome, I told him I was going home to be married, and got so enthusiasticin telling how happy I was, how anxious and eager, how it was the onlything which made me willing to leave His Majesty's Court that he gotroused, too, and said really very pleasant things, and shook me by thehand with a hearty good wish and good-bye, and strutted away mostamicably. To the Queen, also, I insisted on talking of my felicity,and she said she had heard of it and wished us well. So! A Royal Pairapproves our wedding, if not an Aunt. You might point that out to yourtitle-loving guardian; perhaps she will think a little more kindly ofme.
Today before I left the Embassy, my successor arrived, and to him Ihanded all the lire that were left, and papers and so forth. Theoffice had been thoroughly cleaned and dusted, a new carpet put down,and new window-curtains put up. I showed him everything I could thinkof, shook him by the hand, and just caught my train.
Now we are climbing the Italian Alps, which are wonderfully beautifulin the afternoon sun, and in a little while we shall pass through thetunnel of Mt. Cenis and out of Italy. Every day will bring me nearerto you, dear Polly, and twenty thousand times more happy. Dearest, afew weeks more, and we shall begin the first of our married life, andyou--my wife!
A telegram was handed me on the train just now which quite takes mybreath away, though its new
s does not surprise me as much as it willyou. Peppi and his little divorcee, gray eyes, Mona Lisa smile, andall, were married today in Rome, with only Gonzaga, Pan, and JonkheerJan at the wedding!
My dear, I am going to tell you something. The lady came to my roomsquite unexpectedly the other day, and asked for tea, which Gilet madefor her, and then she just sat and looked at me with her inscrutablesmile and her mysterious eyes. Finally she got up and went over andlooked at your photograph for a long while, then turned and said,"Your little Polly is very sweet, even if she doesn't like me. Is ittrue that you return for your wedding soon?"
"Quite true," I replied.
"We've been very good friends, you and I," she went on, "and I amsorry to have you go. Goodbye." She gave me her hand which I kissed,for there were tears on her lashes, and I followed her down to put herin the cab. She said with that usual cryptic look of hers, "I've madeup my mind to something this afternoon. Don't be surprised when youget word of it. Farewell."
The man cracked his whip and off she went.
But still, there remains some mystery about her and about Peppi to beunravelled yet. The two are married, so far, so good, but where doesthe Prince come in? Surely he and she were conspiring aboutsomething. She evidently wanted you to marry him, and she may havethought then that I could be more devoted to her, who knows? Then,too, there were those paintings, the copies of old masters, all packedand addressed to Boris in New York. Peppi I trust, Lisa I pity, butyour Muscovite I believe is a rascal. Won't we have a lot to talkover? And think, too, dear, from now on I'll be traveling every hourtoward you.
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_London, May._
This is the last way station, dearest, on my journey to New York andyou. I delight in these stages, the jump from Rome to Paris--Paris toLondon--and London to Home!
The crossing from Paris was wretched, a great gale blowing up thechannel, but at least we were able to make it, which wasn't the caseevery day this week. England hasn't changed much since my last visit.I am always amused on landing to find everything exactly thesame--the same weather, the same incomprehensible accent and mannerof talking, the same points of view, the newspapers harping on thesame subjects, the same items in the society columns--everything soconventional.
We were landed in the same old uncomfortable manner at Folkestone,while the same crowds of mannish-looking women with great buns of hairstood in line and stared, and men in knickerbockers and mackintoshesstood sturdily in the wet gale and smoked bull-dog pipes, just aspictures in "Punch" show they did a generation ago. Then in the samecold compartment carriages we came speeding across the same country,past the same roof tops, into the same Charing Cross station. Andbehold, the atmosphere was made up of the same smoke and fog I learnedto know so well, and the lights burned dimly as of old.
The change from gay, well-lighted Paris, all en fete, to London,sombre, melancholy, was just as great as ever, and just as complete.And how small great but little Rome seems beside these huge,up-to-date cities! I feel lost in them, and am terrified at thecrossings of the streets, and, like an elderly country woman, I passmost of my time on the "Islands" in Piccadilly.
I have visited many of my former haunts, gone to the Embassy, seenmany old friends, and feel quite jollied up. I even went to a teayesterday, where some men and women stood around unintroduced, in thedelightfully awkward way which Du Maurier, alas, will no longer draw.The evening found me dining at Prince's Restaurant and later going onto the Palace Varieties, where again I saw the pretty circus rider,and although a certain person thought much of the performance, yet hethought a great deal more of--you!
This morning I walked out--the London haze was pearly gray andopalescent and a lozenge sun was in the sky, a beautiful day forLondon--and I went down to the foot of Curzon Street and throughLansdowne passage, and there, yes, there was my old friend thecock-eyed sweeper, standing by his little pile of dust. I gave him ashilling in my delight at seeing him again, and with his broom. Haveyou kept my broom, I wonder?
It is still cold in London, and I try to keep warm with a foolishlittle fire in a tiny grate. It is dismal enough, too, for candlelight. The British are afraid of "over heating," as they callit--which means really that they are careful of their coal. But then,one is "stoking up" all day long in this climate, a heavy breakfast, aheavier luncheon, the heaviest of dinners, with tea and toast andmuffins in the afternoon, and a supper at night.
Last night I had a dream which, although there wasn't anybody to tellit to before breakfast and so make it come true, I hope may berealized. The only one to confide in, for Gilet was out on business,was the fluffy-haired footman who wasn't sufficiently sympathetic forme to commune with. But indeed I am not superstitious, and the dreamwas pleasant enough for me to think over to myself--because it wasabout you!
Although this letter may go by the same steamer that I sail on, yet Ican't help writing and sending you my love.
* * * * *
POLLY TO A. D.
_En route, May._
A. D., dearest, how exciting it must be for you about now, sightingfrom the steamer deck that low-lying Long Island shore, Sandy Hook,the channel, and beyond them, the beautiful bay. I can imagine yourfather going to meet you on the busy, snubnosed, important littletug,--but then, I think of so many things happening, for while we werecamping and your letters stopped, "thinks" were all I had to live on.
We are flying at sixty miles an hour, nearer and nearer to you. Afterdays of silence I found your two wonderful letters waiting for me whenwe got back to civilization. The clerk at the hotel said Aunt hadgiven orders to hold them. I wonder if she did this on purpose, forsurely they could have been sent in to us by a guide. The Prince waswith me when I made my inquiries; I saw him trying to suppress asmile. But he does not like my ignoring him and he is getting a bitugly. When I broke the news of Peppi's marriage to Mona Lisa, both heand Aunt seemed disturbed, and Boris acted quite upset, and as if hehad lost an ally. I left them talking it over. He certainly has Aunthypnotized. My twin wagered he would try for her hand next.
Checkers and Sybil spend their time on the train shamelessly makinglove and telling me I must begin to inform Aunt about the wedding. Iscrewed up my courage an hour ago and began, "The Rector says he'llperform the ceremony, Aunt--" but she broke in with "Whose ceremony?"
"Mine and A. D.'s," I continued, trying to look determined.
"Humph!" she said, and closed her eyes, pretending to go to sleep.
When she awoke, I tackled her again. "I've engaged the church, Aunt,"quoth I.
"What for?" said she.
"For the thirty-first," I replied blandly while Checkers snickered.
"What are you talking about?" and by now Aunt was truly cross.
"The same thing," I sighed, "our wedding."
She muttered something about that ceremony never coming off anddeparted for the observation car to join the Prince. But she lookedworried.
Checkers egged me on to begin again when she re-appeared. "As I wassaying, Aunt, when we were interrupted, everything's all ready, youknow. Checkers will give me away. Sybil is to be maid of honor--she'sto wear white lace and carry Lady Battersea roses--and the decorationsare to be wine-red azaleas--"
"Not another word!" she snapped, and I drew a long breath and stoppedfor a few minutes to get ready for the next attack. After a pause,"The thirty-first's the day, you know," I observed casually. Auntblinked.
"The wedding day," piped up my brother. "Our Polly's!"
"How about Boris?" she inquired. "You are a little fool not to becomea princess."
I ignored this remark and continued, "Ricci is going to sing and St.Laurent will be at the organ and--" I found I was addressing an emptychair, for my relative had stalked off once more.
The next opportunity another bolt was shot at her. "My wedding dressis ordered, and it's a beauty! The veil will be four yards--"
"Porte
r!" shouted Aunt, and as that coffee-colored individual stoppedshort, she started him on a long explanation of the route ahead of us,while I withdrew, baffled and brooding, to re-read your letters. Howam I going to bring my guardian around finally?
Later I began again, "I think the reception at the house after theceremony should not be very large," this apropos of nothing, "for bythe thirty-first a good many people will have left town, though, ofcourse they'd run up for a wedding like ours,--"
"Are you crazy?" she demanded. "We shan't be home till thetwenty-eighth, and you can't get your invitations engraved in time,let alone sending them out."
Checkers and Sybil drew near. "They're all done and sent!" wechorused.
"I mailed part of them!" proclaimed my brother.
"I, too!" piped up Sybil.
"When was all this?" cried Aunt.
"The day we left New York, so you see, you really can't do anythingabout it," Checkers continued politely.
Aunt turned purple. "I don't believe a word of it, and I shall notcountenance it," whereupon she stamped her foot. And that's thesituation now, dear.
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_Washington, May._
Behold me, dear, on my native soil, hungrily awaiting a love letterfrom you, even though I am a little ahead of my schedule. I didn'tcable, in order to surprise you, but nevertheless I hoped you mightguess the steamer from my letters. Father was on hand to greet me butI was disappointed when I dashed up the gang plank not to see you onthe wharf and later to learn from your butler at the house you werestill hundreds of miles away. Then I came on to Washington at once toreport. All, everybody--customs-officers, collectors, bank-cashiers,down to the smallest clerk in the Department, when I told them thenews, congratulated me heartily and added good wishes till I was ashappy as I could possibly be without you.
As soon as I hear you have arrived I will take the train to New Yorkand go to the Waldorf. Almost a year ago we began to love each other,though the world did not know, and we kept our secret to ourselves.Don't worry. Everything will be all right. Aunt will have to comeround.
* * * * *
POLLY TO A. D.
_En route, May._
Dearest! Hurrah! You have arrived and we have just left Montreal onour way to New York. Apparently Aunt left word for our mail to beforwarded there, for when we got to the hotel, the clerk producedsimply a bushel-basketful. Of course you know what they allwere,--acceptances for the wedding! It was the last crushing blow. Weleft her alone with them in her room, heaps in her lap, pilesscattered at her feet, and our vanquished relative sitting in theirmidst like Caius Marius on the ruins of Carthage. A. D., has shedefinitely succumbed, I wonder?--She remarked I was a stubborn littleheathen.
A few minutes ago, just before we crossed the border, the strangestthing happened. Two officials came on board the train and began to gothrough it, car by car, asking the names of the passengers, staringinto their faces, and making hasty rummages in their luggage. Whenthey came near us, the Prince started violently, then sauntered overand sat down beside me without saying a word. His face was like chalk.
I inquired what the trouble was and if they were looking for anyone inparticular. They said a foreigner had been discovered doing a veryclever bit of rascality--stealing valuable old Masters from themuseums in several large cities, and leaving such admirable imitationsin their places that the theft hadn't been detected for some time, andno one could tell just how he had been operating. But certain lettershad helped furnish clues, and they had reason to think the man was onthe train.
Aunt called out, "All these people are in my party. We've beencamping," and off started the official. As he moved away, he said tohis assistant, "No, I don't believe Kosloff is on this train." It wasmy turn to look at the Prince. _Kosloff was the name on his letters!_
After the officials went out, I walked off astounded. Dear A. D., what_should_ I have done? He is even worse than we thought, isn't he?
* * * * *
TELEGRAM TO A. D.
_Care of the Department of State, Washington, May._
We reach New York the 28th. Plan dinner for wedding party the night ofthe 30th. Invite ushers. Much love.
POLLY.
* * * * *
PRINCE BORIS TO POLLY
_New York, May._
The last days on the trip you speak little to me.
Yes I have played tricks and upset canoe but my love for you, that isexcuse. Why do you refuse to see me? I can to you easily explain thepictures and the name Kosloff. If you intended to--what you callit?--throw me down, why have you and your Aunt so encourage me? I askyou that. Again I shall come to your door and you will grant me yetone conversation. Bah! I am not a fool!
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_Washington, May._
Your journal notes and letters, my beloved, are before me, and I havealternately boiled with rage at that Russian imposter, and grinned atthe thought of your baffled relative. You did exactly right, yourjudgment was good and my faith in you complete. I am so glad you toldme fully about all the suspicious circumstances regarding the Prince,_if_ he is a prince. How abominable of him to lay even a finger onyou. I should like to throttle him!
I called at the Russian Embassy and asked a few questions regardingthe creature, of course saying nothing that could possibly drag youinto the affair. The Ambassador was rather guarded, and said he knewvery little about him. The Prince had been in Washington, he had notcalled at the Embassy, but it was known that he had dined more thanonce at the German Embassy. The Ambassador's attitude was curious andleft me wondering if Boris might not be in the pay of some countryother than Russia. But we shall see.
Something kept me from speaking about the counterfeit old Masters. Andit was well, for on returning to the hotel, I found a letter fromPeppi, anxiety in every line of it. Boris had taken some work toAmerica to sell for him on commission--as copies, honestly, he assuredPeppi, who believed him. But it was to be a secret, lest the Prince beknown to have disgraced his noble blood by descending to trade. Nowour artist is plainly worried and wants to be assured there is nothingunderhanded being done. Mona Lisa has evidently revealed something,for she was intimate enough with Boris and clever enough to see he wasup to some rascality. I wrote our poor friend to have no furtherdealings with the Russian; that was all I felt I could do. Nicefriends we have had!
Now you have told me your troubles, you have relieved your mind andheart of all their anxieties, I hope. You can tell me anything in theworld, and find me absolutely true, for I love you with every drop ofblood in my body, and I would stake my soul on you.
Postscript: Have received your telegram. I will leave for New Yorktomorrow, the thirtieth. Have sent invitations to ushers. We shallmeet at your house for dinner, and then at noon the next day your lifewill be in my own safe keeping.
* * * * *
POLLY MAKES A LAST ENTRY IN HER JOURNAL
_Early morning, May 31st._
There are only a few hours left before A. D. and I shall be marriedbut I won't try to write a word about how wonderfully happy I am, forthere is so much to put down! Something most extraordinary happened.The Prince has been bothering me since we reached New York, bycalling at the door and sending in the most imperative messages. But Irefused flatly to see him, though Aunt maintained that he wouldexplain everything to all of us in a perfectly satisfactory manner.Poor Aunt, she's a dear, silly, old thing. I believe she's actuallybeen in love with him all the time herself.
But yesterday, the thirtieth, Boris got the better of me. The butlerannounced that Sister Beatrice, a nun whom I had known in Rome, wishedto see me. So naturally I told him to admit her, and in walked ablack-robed figure. Imagine my surprise and anger when under the veilI saw the blue eyes of the Princ
e. He looked so like a naughty boythat before I knew it, I laughed.
All of a sudden he became intensely serious and said that he hadreally come to take me away, that he worshiped me, that he knew deepdown I loved him, too, that we must take the steamer that evening--theCarpathia--he had reservations engaged--and that we could be marriedon the boat, and he had everything arranged.
I showed him at once that he had made a mistake and ordered him togo. An ugly vindictive look came over his face and then I realized howdesperate he was. He asked me if I thought he was such a fool as toleave me in possession of certain information about himself; moreoverhe declared he had to have money, that he was at the end of his rope.I replied that I was sorry but could not help him again, that I mighthave given him over to the officials on the train. Then he saidsneeringly I had better go with him, if I put a value on--life, forinstance, that he, a Russian, would stop at nothing. I rang the belland when the butler appeared, Boris saw that he had failed, and said,"You will regret this hour," and went out. Aunt met him in the halland after some whispered conversation, he departed. Later she left thehouse. Nor did she come back the entire evening. My exasperatingrelative! She had not planned to be at our dinner party, so I wasn'talarmed, though anything but jolly. Boris's uncanny threat was echoingin my ear amid all the joyousness and excitement and flowers, ringingof bells and arrival of telegrams of congratulation. When everybodyhad gone except A. D. and it was very late--we were sitting togetherin the parlor near the front door,--I heard footsteps, and thinking itmust be Aunt returning, I peered out. There was a dark figure thatdarted hastily up the front steps, apparently left a package and ranswiftly down the street and out of sight. A premonition told mesomething was wrong and that we were in danger. A. D. dashed out toinvestigate.
"What's this?" he said, picking up a box in the vestibule. Inside wasa ticking noise like an alarm clock.
"Maybe something the Prince sent," I gasped. "He threatened to dosomething desperate."
"Run!" A. D. shouted and began to strip off the wrappings. Quick as aflash he rushed into the house, out into the pantry, and dropped thepackage into a pail of water. "A bomb--I've fixed it," he told me,"and it's as harmless now as a plain box of gunpowder. But it was aclose call, the thing was set for one o'clock." Just as we looked ateach other, the hall clock chimed once. A. D. caught me in his arms. Ilaughed hysterically, and he asked, "Is it to be shown with the otherwedding gifts?"
We both went rather shakily into the parlor, but at that very moment,Checkers came in, his face quite pale and sober. "Look what I found inmy room!" he said. It was a note from Aunt, saying that Boris and shewere going to elope, that she had always loved him and knew they wouldbe happy. "Scandalous!" he declared, "and what are we going to doabout it?"
"He's a worse scoundrel even than I thought," said A. D.
"Checkers, it's up to you to stop her. Take a taxicab to the steamshipdock as quick as you can get there. Carpathia!" I shouted.
Checkers hurried out of the house while A. D. stayed on to comfort meand talk over the next step we could take in case Checkers was toolate, and what people would say about the whole thing. At two o'clockthere was no word, and calling up the dock by telephone, we found thatthe Carpathia had sailed at exactly one-thirty. Then I made A. D. go,and went sorrowfully up to bed, but not to sleep, hoping that nothinghad happened to my twin.
Nor did he come back for hours. Finally, when it was almost daylight,there was a tap at my door and Checkers tiptoed in and began, "I foundAunt but she wouldn't listen to me when I got to the dock. No go! Shewouldn't budge and Boris was pouring out a torrent of Russian thatsounded to me like a bunch of fire crackers. The steamer sailed and Istayed on board, still arguing. Finally I told Boris I'd hand him overto the captain on any one of half a dozen charges that would put himbehind the bars till he was ninety. He gave me an ugly look and slunkoff,--I don't know where for we didn't see him again. Fortunately theyhad not succeeded in getting a clergyman to marry them. At last Auntconsented to return with me on the pilot boat on condition thatneither of us would ever mention Boris's name to her again."
"Where is she now?" I asked.
"Gone into her room and shut the door. Poor defiant old dame. Polly,she's ashamed of herself!" And Checkers went off to bed to make up hislost sleep.
I shall try to forget the Prince too if I can, but he's a strange,fascinating and wicked person. Somehow I feel our paths will touchagain some day, and I have deep down in my heart a pagan yearning toshow him up in his real colors.
But that's the end of it for now. A. D. will be with me soon. We'llforget our troubles and be happy. Let the Prince go hang, for we loveeach other.
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_An hour before the wedding._
Polly my darling, just a line of love. What a terrible night! Haveheard from Checkers. Thank heaven your Aunt returned. I shall not seeyou now until you come up the aisle towards me, and I shall never goaway from you again. I am all excitement at the thought of the greathappiness that is to be mine today. Oh, my dearest, you have becomesuch a part of my life that I feel like rushing to your house for justone more glimpse of you. From now on, I shall cherish you and protectyou. Until noon and then....