CHAPTER VIII
So far Harmony's small world in the old city had consisted of Scatchyand the Big Soprano, Peter, and Anna Gates, with far off in thefirmament the master. Scatchy and the Big Soprano had gone, weepinganxious postcards from every way station it is true, but neverthelessgone. Peter and Anna Gates remained, and the master as long as her fundsheld out. To them now she was about to add Jimmy.
The bathrobe was finished. Out of the little doctor's chaos of pinkflannel Harmony had brought order. The result, masculine and completeeven to its tassels and cord of pink yarn, was ready to be presented. Itwas with mingled emotions that Anna Gates wrapped it up and gave it toHarmony the next morning.
"He hasn't been so well the last day or two," she said. "He doesn'tsleep much--that's the worst of those heart conditions. Sometimes, whileI've been working on this thing, I've wondered--Well, we're making afight anyhow. And better take the letter, too, Harry. I might forget andmake lecture notes on it, and if I spoil that envelope--"
Harmony had arranged to carry the bathrobe to the hospital, meeting thedoctor there after her early clinic. She knew Jimmy's little story quitewell. Anna Gates had told it to her in detail.
"Just one of the tragedies of the world, my dear," she had finished."You think you have a tragedy, but you have youth and hope; I think Ihave my own little tragedy, because I have to go through the rest oflife alone, when taken in time I'd have been a good wife and mother.Still I have my work. But this little chap, brought over here by afather who hoped to see him cured, and spent all he had to bring himhere, and then--died. It gets me by the throat."
"And the boy does not know?" Harmony had asked, her eyes wide.
"No, thanks to Peter. He thinks his father is still in the mountains.When we heard about it Peter went up and saw that he was buried. It tookabout all the money there was. He wrote home about it, too, to the placethey came from. There has never been any reply. Then ever since Peterhas written these letters. Jimmy lives for them."
Peter! It was always Peter. Peter did this. Peter said that. Peterthought thus. A very large part of Harmony's life was Peter in thosedays.
She was thinking of him as she waited at the gate of the hospital forAnna Gates, thinking of his shabby gray suit and unkempt hair, of hisletter that she carried to Jimmy Conroy, of his quixotic proposal ofthe night before. Of the proposal, most of all--it was so eminentlycharacteristic of Peter, from the conception of the plan to itsexecution. Harmony's thought of Peter was very tender that morningas she stood in the arched gateway out of reach of the wind from theSchneeberg. The tenderness and the bright color brought by the wind madeher very beautiful. Little Marie, waiting across the Alserstrasse fora bus, and stamping from one foot to the other to keep warm, recognizedand admired her. After all, the American women were chic, she decided,although some of the doctors had wives of a dowdiness--Himmel! And shecould copy the Fraulein's hat for two Kronen and a bit of ribbon shepossessed.
The presentation of the bathrobe was a success. Six nurses and a Dozentwith a red beard stood about and watched Jimmy put into it, and theDozent, who had been engaged for five years and could not marry becausethe hospital board forbade it, made a speech for Jimmy in awe-inspiringGerman, ending up with a poem that was intended to be funny, but thatmade the nurses cry. From which it will be seen that Jimmy was a greatfavorite.
During the ceremony, for such it was, the Germans loving a ceremony,Jimmy kept his eyes on the letter in Anna Gates's hand and waited. Thatthe letter had come was enough. He lay back in anticipatory joy, andlet himself be talked over, and bathrobed, and his hair parted Austrianfashion and turned up over a finger, which is very Austrian indeed.He liked Harmony. The girl caught his eyes on her more than once. Heinterrupted the speech once to ask her just what part of the robe shehad made, and whether she had made the tassel. When she admitted thetassel, his admiration became mixed with respect.
It was a bright day, for a marvel. Sunlight came through the barredwindow behind Jimmy's bed, and brought into dazzling radiance the pinkbathrobe, and Harmony's eyes, and fat Nurse Elisabet's white apron. Itlay on the bedspread in great squares, outlined by the shadows of thewindow bars. Now and then the sentry, pacing outside, would advance asfar as Jimmy's window, and a warlike silhouette of military cap andthe upper end of a carbine would appear on the coverlet. These events,however, were rare, the sentry preferring the shelter of the gateway andthe odor of boiling onions from the lodge just inside.
The Dozent retired to his room for the second breakfast; the nurses wentabout the business of the ward; Dr. Anna Gates drew a hairpin from herhair and made a great show of opening the many times opened envelope.
"The letter at last!" she said. "Shall I read it or will you?"
"You read it. It takes me so long. I'll read it all day, after you aregone. I always do."
Anna Gates read the letter. She read aloud poor Peter's first haltinglines, when he was struggling against sleep and cold. They were mainlyan apology for the delay. Then forgetting discomfort in the joy ofcreation, he became more comfortable. The account of the near-accidentwas wonderfully graphic; the description of the chamois was fervid, ifnot accurate. But consternation came with the end.
The letter apparently finished, there was yet another sheet. The doctorread on.
"For Heaven's sake," said Peter's frantic postscript, "find out how mucha medium-sized chamois--"
Dr. Gates stopped "--ought to weigh," was the rest of it, "and fix itright in the letter. The kid's too smart to be fooled and I never saw achamois outside of a drug store. They have horns, haven't they?"
"That's funny!" said Jimmy Conway.
"That was one of my papers slipped in by mistake," remarked Dr. Gates,with dignity, and flashing a wild appeal for help to Harmony.
"How did one of your papers get in when it was sealed?"
"I think," observed Harmony, leaning forward, "that little boys mustnot ask too many questions, especially when Christmas is only six weeksoff."
"I know! He wants to send me the horns the way he sent me the boar'stusks."
For Peter, having in one letter unwisely recorded the slaughter of aboar, had been obliged to ransack Vienna for a pair of tusks. The tuskshad not been so difficult. But horns!
Jimmy was contented with his solution and asked no more questions. Themorning's excitement had tired him, and he lay back. Dr. Gates went tohold a whispered consultation with the nurse, and came back, lookinggrave.
The boy was asleep, holding the letter in his thin hands.
The visit to the hospital was a good thing for Harmony--to find some oneworse off than she was, to satisfy that eternal desire of women to dosomething, however small, for some one else. Her own troubles lookedvery small to her that day as she left the hospital and stepped out intothe bright sunshine.
She passed the impassive sentry, then turned and went back to him.
"Do you wish to do a very kind thing?" she asked in German.
Now the conversation of an Austrian sentry consists of yea, yea, andnay, nay, and not always that. But Harmony was lovely and the sun wasmoderating the wind. The sentry looked round; no one was near.
"What do you wish?"
"Inside that third window is a small boy and he is very ill. I do notthink--perhaps he will never be well again. Could you not, now and then,pass the window? It pleases him."
"Pass the window! But why?"
"In America we see few of our soldiers. He likes to see you and thegun."
"Ah, the gun!" He smiled and nodded in comprehension, then, as anofficer appeared in the door of a coffee-house across the street, hestiffened into immobility and stared past Harmony into space. But thegirl knew he would do as she had desired.
That day brought good luck to Harmony. The wife of one of the professorsat the hospital desired English conversation at two Kronen an hour.
Peter brought the news home at noon, and that afternoon Harmony wasengaged. It was little enough, but it was something. It did much morethan offer
her two Kronen an hour; it gave her back her self-confidence,although the immediate result was rather tragic.
The Frau Professor Bergmeister, infatuated with English and withHarmony, engaged her, and took her first two Kronen worth thatafternoon. It was the day for a music-lesson. Harmony arrived fiveminutes late, panting, hat awry, and so full of the Frau ProfessorBergmeister that she could think of nothing else.
Obedient to orders she had placed the envelope containing her fiftyKronen before the secretary as she went in. The master was out of humor.Should he, the teacher of the great Koert, be kept waiting for a chitof a girl--only, of course, he said "das Kindchen" or some other Germanequivalent for chit--and then have her come into the sacred presencebreathless, and salute him between gasps as the Frau ProfessorBergmeister?
Being excited and now confused by her error, and being also rathertremulous with three flights of stairs at top speed, Harmony droppedher bow. In point of heinousness this classes with dropping one's infantchild from an upper window, or sitting on the wrong side of a carriagewhen with a lady.
The master, thus thrice outraged, rose slowly and glared at Harmony.Then with a lordly gesture to her to follow he stalked to the outerroom, and picking up the envelope with the fifty Kronen held it out toher without a word.
Harmony's world came crashing about her ears. She stared stupidly at theenvelope in her hand, at the master's retreating back.
Two girl students waiting their turn, envelopes in hand, giggledtogether. Harmony saw them and flushed scarlet. But the lady secretarytouched her arm.
"It does not matter, Fraulein. He does so sometimes. Always he is sorry.You will come for your next lesson, not so? and all will be well. Youare his well-beloved pupil. To-night he will not eat for grief that hehas hurt you."
The ring of sincerity in the shabby secretary's voice was unmistakable.Her tense throat relaxed. She looked across at the two students whohad laughed. They were not laughing now. Something of fellowship andunderstanding passed between them in the glance. After all, it was inthe day's work--would come to one of them next, perhaps. And they hadmuch in common--the struggle, their faith, the everlasting loneliness,the little white envelopes, each with its fifty Kronen.
Vaguely comforted, but with the light gone out of her day of days,Harmony went down the three long flights and out into the brightness ofthe winter day.
On the Ring she almost ran into Peter. He was striding toward her,giving a definite impression of being bound for some particulardestination and of being behind time. That this was not the case wasshown by the celerity with which, when he saw Harmony, he turned aboutand walked with her.
"I had an hour or two," he explained, "and I thought I'd walk. Butwalking is a social habit, like drinking. I hate to walk alone. Howabout the Frau Professor?"
"She has taken me on. I'm very happy. But, Dr. Byrne--"
"You called me Peter last night."
"That was different. You had just proposed to me."
"Oh, if that's all that's necessary--" He stopped in the center of thebusy Ring with every evident intention of proposing again.
"Please, Peter!"
"Aha! Victory! Well, what about the Frau Professor Bergmeister?"
"She asks so many questions about America; and I cannot answer them."
"For instance?"
"Well, taxes now. She's very much interested in taxes."
"Never owned anything taxable except a dog--and that wasn't a taxanyhow; it was a license. Can't you switch her on to medicine orsurgery, where I'd be of some use?"
"She says to-morrow we'll talk of the tariff and customs duties."
"Well, I've got something to say on that." He pulled from his overcoatpocket a largish bundle--Peter always bulged with packages--and heldit out for her to see. "Tell the Frau Professor Bergmeister with mycompliments," he said, "that because some idiot at home sent me fivepounds of tobacco, hearing from afar my groans over the tobacco here,I have passed from mere financial stress to destitution. The Austriancustoms have taken from me to-day the equivalent of ten dollars in duty.I offered them the tobacco on bended knee, but they scorned it."
"Really, Peter?"
"Really."
Under this lightness Harmony sensed the real anxiety. Ten dollars wasfifty Kronen, and fifty Kronen was a great deal of money. She reachedover and patted his arm.
"You'll make it up in some way. Can't you cut off some littleextravagance?"
"I might cut down on my tailor bills." He looked down at himselfwhimsically. "Or on ties. I'm positively reckless about ties!"
They walked on in silence. A detachment of soldiery, busy with thateternal military activity that seems to get nowhere, passed on adog-trot. Peter looked at them critically.
"Bosnians," he observed. "Raw, half-fed troops from Bosnia, nine outof ten of them tubercular. It's a rotten game, this military play ofEurope. How's Jimmy?"
"We left him very happy with your letter."
Peter flushed. "I expect it was pretty poor stuff," he apologized. "I'venever seen the Alps except from a train window, and as for a chamois--"
"He says his father will surely send him the horns."
Peter groaned.
"Of course!" he said. "Why, in Heaven's name, didn't I make it an eagle?One can always buy a feather or two. But horns? He really liked theletter?"
"He adored it. He went to sleep almost at once with it in his hands."
Peter glowed. The small irritation of the custom-house forgotten, hetalked of Jimmy; of what had been done and might still be done, if onlythere were money; and from Jimmy he talked boy. He had had a boys' clubat home during his short experience in general practice. Boys were hishobby.
"Scum of the earth, most of them," he said, his plain face glowing."Dirty little beggars off the street. At first they stole my tobacco;and one of them pawned a medical book or two! Then they got to playingthe game right. By Jove, Harmony, I wish you could have seen them!Used to line 'em up and make 'em spell, and the two best spellers wereallowed to fight it out with gloves--my own method, and it worked.Spell! They'd spell their heads off to get a chance at the gloves. Gee,how I hated to give them up!"
This was a new Peter, a boyish individual Harmony had never met before.For the first time it struck her that Peter was young. He had alwaysseemed rather old, solid and dependable, the fault of his elder brotherattitude to her, no doubt. She was suddenly rather shy, a bit aloof.Peter felt the change and thought she was bored. He talked of otherthings.
A surprise was waiting for them in the cold lower hallway of the PensionSchwarz. A trunk was there, locked and roped, and on the trunk, inulster and hat, sat Dr. Gates. Olga, looking rather frightened, wascoming down with a traveling-bag. She put down the bag and scuttled upthe staircase like a scared rabbit. The little doctor was grim. She eyedPeter and Harmony with an impersonal hostility, referable to her humor.
"I've been waiting for you two," she flung at them. "I've had a terrificrow upstairs and I'm going. That woman's a devil!"
It had been a bad day for Harmony, and this new development, aftereverything else, assumed the proportions of a crisis. She had clung,at first out of sheer loneliness and recently out of affection, to thesharp little doctor with her mannish affectations, her soft and womanlyheart.
"Sit down, child." Anna Gates moved over on the trunk. "You are faggedout. Peter, will you stop looking murderous and listen to me? How muchdid it cost the three of us to live in this abode of virtue?"
It was simple addition. The total was rather appalling.
"I thought so. Now this is my plan. It may not be conventional, but itwill be respectable enough to satisfy anybody. And it will be cheaper,I'm sure of that: We are all going out to the hunting-lodge of MariaTheresa, and Harmony shall keep house for us!"
The Street of Seven Stars Page 8
