by Nell Speed
CHAPTER IX.
THE POSTSCRIPT.
The Bents' studio apartment proved to be exactly the thing for Mrs.Brown and the girls, and arrangements were made with the artist and hiswife to have it turned over to them in ten days, which would just fillout their time at _Maison Pace_.
The apartment consisted of a large studio, kitchenette and two smallbedrooms. The plan was for Mrs. Brown to have one of the bedrooms andElise O'Brien the other, while Molly and Judy, to their unboundeddelight, were to sleep in a balcony that ran across one end of thestudio. The Marquise d'Ochte explained to them that this was quitecustomary in Bohemia, and that she and her husband had occupied asimilar roost for several years during their early married life.
"I am versed in many a makeshift and this minute could come to live inthe Latin Quarter on half of what you, with your extravagant Americannotions, will spend," declared the marchioness, as she showed ourfriends over the apartment. "Now this is my advice for the conducting ofyour _menage_, Milly, but I am not like Henny Pace to get riled if youdo not take it. Get your own breakfast, which is a simple matter inFrance, having fresh rolls and butter sent in every morning and makingyour own coffee or chocolate; take your _dejeuner a la fourchette_, Imean your luncheon at a restaurant; and then leave your dinners tocircumstances, sometimes having them at home or going out as theoccasion offers.
"Get a servant to come in and clean for you every morning by the hour,but do not have a regular _bonne_. It would be a useless expense andthen there is no sense in your having to slave over housekeeping. Theway for foreigners to become acquainted with Paris is to see therestaurants, and there are so many you need not get tired of the cookingin any one. All I ask of you is to have a regular Kentucky supper for mesome night with----but never mind what with, it will be sure to be whatI want if Molly cooks it."
Molly was busy inspecting the kitchenette, which Mrs. Bent was showingwith much pride as it was quite unique in the Latin Quarter. There was atiny gas range, a convenience not often enjoyed as gas was a luxury notas a rule afforded in Bohemia. The floor was of octagonal, terra cottatiles and there was a high mullioned window over the infinitesimal sink.Long-handled copper skillets and stew pans were ranged along the walls,suspended from hooks; and a strangely colored china press filled with anodd assortment of dishes was at one side.
Mrs. Bent laughed when she saw Molly examining the press. "That isinherited from Mr. Bent's student days. It is a plain deal closet,colored with palette scrapings. It is always a great stunt with studentsto make something like this. Mr. Bent has long ago outgrown it as astudio furnishing and will have nothing short of mahogany around him,but it is too roomy and useful for me to give up, so it is banished tothe limbo of the kitchen. I have known students to clean their palettesmany times a day just to get a little more scrapings on their presses."
The effect was a peculiarly deep, rich tone and Judy declared that sheliked it.
"It looks like the shadows in some of Monet's landscapes, dark, butclear, with light all through them. Some day I am going to make a pressjust like this one if I have to clean my palette a hundred times a dayto get scrapings."
The apartment was on the ground floor and one entered across a verypretty paved court which had green tubs of evergreens here and therealong the wall. The indoor studio balcony, where Judy and Molly were tosleep, had a long casement that opened on a tiny iron balcony whichoverhung the court. There were four similar balconies belonging to theneighboring studios and all had porch boxes filled with ivy orchrysanthemums, making a wonderful effect of color.
Judy was Judy-like, entranced. She stepped upon the balcony and holdingout her arms to the tubbed spruce trees, exclaimed in a melodramaticvoice:
"'O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name: Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.'"
Suddenly what should she see, from the open door of the opposite studio,but the faun-like face of Pierce Kinsella, grinning delightedly at theunexpected encounter. He proved himself equal to the occasion and saidin a low and feeling voice:
"'Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?'"
And Judy came back with:
"'How cam'st thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here.'"
And Pierce answered:
"'With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do that dares love attempt; Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.'"
By this time Mr. Kinsella had come out into the court and Molly, hearingthe spouting of so much poetry, joined Judy on the balcony to see whatwas going on. She and Mr. Kinsella applauded loudly until the windows ofthe two other balconies opened, and from one the head of a long-hairedman and from the other that of a short-haired woman were poked out.
"Poetry aside, Mr. Kinsella, what are you and Pierce doing here in theRue Brea?" called Judy.
"We are looking at a studio that is for rent. And what are you doinghere, please?"
"Sitting under our own vine and fig tree, sir! At least, it will be oursin about ten days," answered Molly.
"You don't mean it! Well, if this isn't luck! Pierce, I'll go back andsign up with the concierge immediately. Such neighbors as these wouldmake the meanest studio desirable and, after all, these are pretty goodrooms. We could hardly do better in the Quarter."
Pierce was pleased to have the matter settled, as he felt himself to beamong friends and had visions of many good times in store for him afterworking hours with the three bright girls and Mrs. Brown, who was evenmore attractive to him than the girls. Mr. Kinsella had assured Mrs.Brown that Elise would be sure to fall in with any plans that good ladymay have made for her, and he answered for Mrs. Huntington'sacquiescence in any arrangements he saw fit to bring about for herdaughter. She had really washed her hands of the matter, and had givenhim to understand that since he had interfered and insisted upon Elise'shaving a chance to go on with her much interrupted art studies, he couldgo ahead and place her where he chose. For her part, she declared, itmade no difference one way or the other. She had seen too much ofBohemia in the old days to want ever to cross the borderland again. Mr.Kinsella felt sure she had secretly hoped that Mrs. Brown would wantElise with her, and he only awaited their arrival from Brussels to letthem know of the studio apartment in the Rue Brea and of the cordialwelcome Elise O'Brien would have from all three of the ladies concerned.
The next ten days were very busy and exciting ones. Judy and Pierceplunged into their drawing with renewed zest. Pierce was at Julien's,too, but as the men's school is in an entirely different part of Parisfrom the women's, he and Judy saw each other only in picture galleriesor on the delightful jaunts that the whole crowd took. The _Maison Pace_was not a very pleasant place to make a call, as there was always abunch of snuffy old maids huddled together in the parlor, knittingshawls and swapping tales of the good and bad pensions they hadencountered in their travels. When a caller braved the ordeal, theyalways stopped knitting and talking and sat spellbound, intent on notlosing one word of the visitor's conversation.
Mr. Kinsella and Pierce made one essay, but the occasion was so stiffand formal and Mrs. Pace so monopolizing that they determined never torepeat it, but to wait until their friends were installed in their ownapartment. That longed-for time arrived quickly enough for Molly and hermother, who were sight-seeing in a most systematic manner, withBaedecker in one hand and Hare's "Walks in Paris" in the other. Theywould come home tired and footsore but very happy and enthusiastic.
Molly wrote Professor Green that she felt like the little girl at thefair, who, when her mother noticed she lagged behind and asked her ifshe were tired, said: "My hands and feet are tired, but my face isn't."
"We do become weary unto death but each morning we get up with renewedzest," she wrote, "with so many wonderf
ul things to see beforenightfall. One thing that bothers us is having to dress and sit througha formal dinner with the eagle eye of Mrs. Pace upon us. We are lookingforward to the time when we shall be in our own apartment, where we neednot dress for dinner unless we have a mind to. My Cousin Philipped'Ochte declares that already my mother and I know more about Paris thanhe does. We are trying to be systematic in our sight-seeing and not tohurry, as we have the winter before us, but at every corner and squarethere is something interesting to find out about.
"Philippe is very kind to us and ready to escort us through any parts ofthe city where he thinks it best for women not to go alone. For my part,I think we could go anywhere we wished. The Parisians are so obligingand courteous, and so far no one has been the least rude to us. The oldmaids in our pension have many tales to tell of the encounters they havehad with impertinent men, and one lady declares that she never goes onthe street without being insulted. But I agree with Mr. Kean who says:'If you have some business to attend to--and attend to it, you women cango anywhere in the world you want to in perfect safety.'
"I have not begun my studies yet, as my time has been so taken up withseeing the places of interest, but Philippe is going to see that I amput in the proper class in French Lit. at the Sorbonne where he hasobtained a very important degree. He says there are several English andAmerican women there, so I shall not feel strange.
"I am so glad your orchard home is coming on so well. Kent writes usthat it is already beginning to look like a house. The rough stonechimneys and foundations are lovely, I know, and will make such abeautiful support for English ivy.
"We are looking forward to Christmas with great eagerness. This is thefirst Christmas I have had with my mother for five years and the firstone she has spent away from all of her other children ever. I shall haveto make a noise like seven Browns to keep her from being homesick."
Here Molly stopped and reflected that some of those five Christmases shehad spent in the company of Professor Edwin Green and she wondered if hewould remember it, too; and if he would miss her as she felt she wasmissing him, in spite of all the delightful things she was doing andseeing. "I know he is not thinking of me at all and I am a goose towaste any sentiment on him. I have never had a single letter from him Icould not show mother and Judy. When Judy gets a letter from Kent shenever shows it to us, but takes it to her own room and evidently getsgreat satisfaction from its perusal, as she always comes out beaming. Ahme! I am sure I shall die an old maid,--but anyhow I do not intend toknit shawls and sit around a boarding house talking about the food!"
When poor Professor Green received the letter, part of which is givenabove, he, too, was plunged into sad reflections. He reached for apretty azure paper weight that always stood on his desk and reminded himof a certain pair of blue, blue eyes, and looking into it as though hewere crystal-gazing, he shook his head mournfully and said: "Ah, Molly,you little know how you hurt me! And still, what right have I to expectanything else from you? I see you now being conducted around Paris byyour Cousin Philippe. I'll be bound he thinks you need a courier evenwhen you go to a Duval restaurant, the sly dog. I know his type: smalland dark, with a pointed beard and insinuating manner.
"Here I am tied to Wellington and these hated classes and lectures, whenI hoped to be in Paris acting courier for Molly instead of thisdisgusting foreigner, who won't know how to appreciate her----But whatan ass I am! I don't know that Philippe is disgusting, and from whatMiss Molly says of his mother, the marchioness, she must be charming.
"I do wish she would not write so coolly of my 'orchard home.' I shouldthink she would know by telepathy that I always think of it as 'MollyBrown's Orchard Home.' I was a fool to take Mrs. Brown's advice and nottell Molly of my love. It may be too late now, and then what shall Ido?"
The distinguished professor of English at Wellington College groanedaloud. His housekeeper, who was bringing in his tea, heard him andalmost dropped the tray in her alarm.
"And is it the schtomic ache ye be ahfter havin'?"
"No, Mrs. Brady, it is higher up than the stomach. I am glad to see mytea. 'The beverage which cheers but does not inebriate' may make me feelbetter."
"Phwat ye need is a wife to look ahfter ye and keep ye straight.Schmokin', schmokin' all the time an' brroodin' over the fire is notgood for a young gintleman. An' your disk and floor littered up wit'paaperrs and ashes."
The kindly old soul began to clear off the untidy desk and stooped topick up a piece of paper that had fallen from Molly's letter withoutProfessor Green's having read it or noticed its existence. She startedto put it in the waste basket, but the professor noticed the action,being, like most scholars, impatient of having his books and paperstouched. In fact, he had over his desk a framed rubbing of Shakespeare'sepitaph which he had once confided to Molly he kept there especially toscare Mrs. Brady and make her let his things alone:
"Good friend for Iesus sake forbeare To digg ye dust encloased heare Bleste be ye man yt spares the stones And curst be he yt moves my bones."
"Wait, my good Mrs. Brady! What is that you are throwing away?"
"Nawthin' but a bit o' blue paaperr, Profissorr. To be shure there's aschrap o' writin' on the back. Blue things always brring to me mind theswate eyes o' Miss Molly Brown, the saints protict her" and she handedthe stray piece of thin, blue, foreign letter paper to the eager youngman, who clutched it and smoothed it out and read the followingpostscript:
"My cousins, the d'Ochtes, have been very anxious to get up a party andtake us to Fontainebleau to see the palace and then drive through theforest; but I have done everything to keep from going and I hope thescheme has fallen through. You have told me so much of the wonderfulforest and the walk from Fontainebleau to Barbizon that I am hoping tosee the place for the first time with you. The spring is the time to seeit, anyhow, I am sure, and perhaps by then you can find a suitablesubstitute and have a holiday."
Professor Green looked up from the perusal of the little half sheet ofpaper with his face beaming. What can't a woman put in a postscript? Thepain, which he had confessed to Mrs. Brady was a little higher up thanhis stomach, had entirely disappeared. He was no longer jealous of "anylittle, black, dried-up Frenchman." That is the way he thought ofPhilippe; and it was certainly well for the young American's peace ofmind that he did not know that Molly and Judy always spoke of Philipped'Ochte as "the Adonis."
"Mrs. Brady, your good, strong, hot tea has done wonders for me. I amfeeling so much better, I am going to take your advice and go for a longwalk and not sit over the fire any longer."
He accordingly unwound his long legs, put the little blue letter withits health-giving postscript carefully in his breast pocket, (right overthe spot of the vanished pain!) and went for one of his fifteen-miletramps, humming sentimentally, "When the robins nest again, and theflowers are in bloom."
Mrs. Brady looked after him and smilingly shook her head: "He may sayit's the tay, but there was some preschription in that bit o' bluepaaperr I was ahfter destroyin' that was the pain-killer this toime forthe poor young gintleman. Me prrivit opinion is that he, too, isa-missin' the swate eyes o' Miss Molly Brown!"
Professor Edwin Green came home from his long walk in an excellent frameof mind, happy and tired; but he was not too tired to write to Molly aletter that somehow she forgot to read to her mother and Judy.
