CHAPTER XXII
Harmony's only thought had been flight, from Peter, from McLean, fromMrs. Boyer. She had devoted all her energies to losing herself,to cutting the threads that bound her to the life in theSiebensternstrasse. She had drawn all her money, as Peter discoveredlater. The discovery caused him even more acute anxiety. The city wasfull of thieves; poverty and its companion, crime, lurked on everyshadowy staircase of the barracklike houses, or peered, red-eyed, fromevery alleyway.
And into this city of contrasts--of gray women of the night hugginggratings for warmth and accosting passers-by with loathsome gestures, ofsmug civilians hiding sensuous mouths under great mustaches, of dappersoldiers to whom the young girl unattended was potential prey, intothis night city of terror, this day city of frightful contrasts, erminerubbing elbows with frost-nipped flesh, destitution sauntering alongthe fashionable Prater for lack of shelter, gilt wheels of royalty andyellow wheels of courtesans--Harmony had ventured alone for the secondtime.
And this time there was no Peter Byrne to accost her cheerily in thetwilight and win her by sheer friendliness. She was alone. Her fundswere lower, much lower. And something else had gone--her faith. Mrs.Boyer had seen to that. In the autumn Harmony had faced the cityclear-eyed and unafraid; now she feared it, met it with averted eyes,alas! understood it.
It was not the Harmony who had bade a brave farewell to Scatchy and theBig Soprano in the station who fled to her refuge on the upper floor ofthe house in the Wollbadgasse. This was a hunted creature, alternatelyflushed and pale, who locked her door behind her before she took offher hat, and who, having taken off her hat and surveyed her hiding-placewith tragic eyes, fell suddenly to trembling, alone there in thegaslight.
She had had no plans beyond flight. She had meant, once alone, to thinkthe thing out. But the room was cold, she had had nothing to eat,and the single slovenly maid was a Hungarian and spoke no German. Thedressmaker had gone to the Ronacher. Harmony did not know where to finda restaurant, was afraid to trust herself to the streets alone. She wentto bed supperless, with a tiny picture of Peter and Jimmy and the woodensentry under her cheek.
The pigeons, cooing on the window-sill, wakened her early. She wasconfused at first, got up to see if Jimmy had thrown off his blankets,and wakened to full consciousness with the sickening realization thatJimmy was not there.
The dressmaker, whose name was Monia Reiff, slept late after her eveningout. Harmony, collapsing with hunger and faintness, waited as long asshe could. Then she put on her things desperately and ventured out.Surely at this hour Peter would not be searching, and even if he were hewould never think of the sixteenth district. He would make inquiries, ofcourse--the Pension Schwarz, Boyers', the master's.
The breakfast brought back her strength and the morning air gave herconfidence. The district, too, was less formidable than the neighborhoodof the Karntnerstrasse and the Graben. The shops were smaller. Thewindows exhibited cheaper goods. There was a sort of family atmosphereabout many of them; the head of the establishment in the doorway, thewife at the cashier's desk, daughters, cousins, nieces behind thewooden counters. The shopkeepers were approachable, instead of familiar.Harmony met no rebuffs, was respectfully greeted and cheerfully listenedto. In many cases the application ended in a general consultation,shopkeeper, wife, daughters, nieces, slim clerks with tiny mustaches.She got addresses, followed them up, more consultations, more addresses,but no work. The reason dawned on her after a day of tramping, duringwhich she kept carefully away from that part of the city where Petermight be searching for her.
The fact was, of course, that her knowledge of English was her soleasset as a clerk. And there were few English and no tourists in thesixteenth district. She was marketing a commodity for which there was nodemand.
She lunched at a Konditorei, more to rest her tired body than becauseshe needed food. The afternoon was as the morning. At six o'clock,long after the midwinter darkness had fallen, she stumbled back to theWollbadgasse and up the whitewashed staircase.
She had a shock at the second landing. A man had stepped into the angleto let her pass. A gasjet dared over his head, and she recognized theshort heavy figure and ardent eyes of Georgiev. She had her veil downluckily, and he gave no sign of recognition. She passed on, and sheheard him a second later descending. But there had been somethingreminiscent after all in her figure and carriage. The little Georgievpaused, halfway down, and thought a moment. It was impossible, ofcourse. All women reminded him of the American. Had he not, only theday before, followed for two city blocks a woman old enough to behis mother, merely because she carried a violin case? But there wassomething about the girl he had just passed--Bah!
A bad week for Harmony followed, a week of weary days and restlessnights when she slept only to dream of Peter--of his hurt andincredulous eyes when he found she had gone; of Jimmy--that he neededher, was worse, was dying. More than once she heard him sobbing andwakened to the cooing of the pigeons on the window-sill. She grew thinand sunken-eyed; took to dividing her small hoard, half of it with her,half under the carpet, so that in case of accident all would not begone.
This, as it happened, was serious. One day, the sixth, she came back wetto the skin from an all-day rain, to find that the carpet bank had beenlooted. There was no clue. The stolid Hungarian, startled out of herlethargy, protested innocence; the little dressmaker, who seemed honestand friendly, wept in sheer sympathy. The fact remained--half the smallhoard was gone.
Two days more, a Sunday and a Monday. On Sunday Harmony played, andGeorgiev in the room below, translating into cipher a recent conferencebetween the Austrian Minister of War and the German Ambassador, putaside his work and listened. She played, as once before she had playedwhen life seemed sad and tragic, the "Humoresque." Georgiev, handsbehind his head and eyes upturned, was back in the Pension Schwarz thatnight months ago when Harmony played the "Humoresque" and Peter stoopedoutside her door. The little Bulgarian sighed and dreamed.
Harmony, a little sadder, a little more forlorn each day, pursued herhopeless quest. She ventured into the heart of the Stadt and paid apart of her remaining money to an employment bureau, to teach Englishor violin, whichever offered, or even both. After she had paid they toldher it would be difficult, almost impossible without references. She hadanother narrow escape as she was leaving. She almost collided with Olga,the chambermaid, who, having clashed for the last time with Katrina, wasseeking new employment. On another occasion she saw Marie in the crowdand was obsessed with a longing to call to her, to ask for Peter, forJimmy. That meeting took the heart out of the girl. Marie was white andweary--perhaps the boy was worse. Perhaps Peter--Her heart contracted.But that was absurd, of course, Peter was always well and strong.
Two things occurred that week, one unexpected, the other inevitable.The unexpected occurrence was that Monia Reiff, finding Harmony beingpressed for work, offered the girl a situation. The wage was small, butshe could live on it.
The inevitable was that she met Georgiev on the stairs without her veil.
It was the first day in the workroom. The apprentices were carrying homeboxes for a ball that night. Thread was needed, and quickly. Harmony,who did odds and ends of sewing, was most easily spared. She slipped onher jacket and hat and ran down to the shop near by.
It was on the return that she met Georgiev coming down. The afternoonwas dark and the staircase unlighted. In the gloom one face was asanother. Georgiev, listening intently, hearing footsteps, drew backinto the embrasure of a window and waited. His swarthy face was tense,expectant. As the steps drew near, were light feminine instead ofstealthy, the little spy relaxed somewhat. But still he waited,crouched.
It was a second before he recognized Harmony, another instant before herealized his good fortune. She had almost passed. He put out an unsteadyhand.
"Fraulein!"
"Herr Georgiev!"
The little Bulgarian was profoundly stirred. His fervid eyes gleamed.He struggled against the barrier of language, broke out in passio
nateBulgar, switched to German punctuated with an English word here andthere. Made intelligible, it was that he had found her at last. Harmonyheld her spools of thread and waited for the storm of languages tosubside. Then:--
"But you are not to say you have seen me, Herr Georgiev."
"No?"
Harmony colored.
"I am--am hiding," she explained. "Something very uncomfortable happenedand I came here. Please don't say you have seen me."
Georgiev was puzzled at first. She had to explain very slowly, with hisardent eyes on her. But he understood at last and agreed of course. Hisincredulity was turning to certainty. Harmony had actually been in thesame building with him while he sought her everywhere else.
"Then," he said at last, "it was you who played Sunday."
"I surely."
She made a move to pass him, but he held out an imploring hand.
"Fraulein, I may see you sometimes?"
"We shall meet again, of course."
"Fraulein,--with all respect,--sometime perhaps you will walk out withme?"
"I am very busy all day."
"At night, then? For the exercise? I, with all respect, Fraulein!"
Harmony was touched.
"Sometime," she consented. And then impulsively: "I am very lonely, HerrGeorgiev."
She held out her hand, and the little Bulgarian bent over it and kissedit reverently. The Herr Georgiev's father was a nobleman in his owncountry, and all the little spy's training had been to make of a girlin Harmony's situation lawful prey. But in the spy's glowing heart therewas nothing for Harmony to fear. She knew it. He stood, hat in hand,while she went up the staircase. Then:--
"Fraulein!" anxiously.
"Yes?"
"Was there below at the entrance a tall man in a green velours hat?"
"I saw no one there."
"I thank you, Fraulein."
He watched her slender figure ascend, lose itself in the shadows,listened until she reached the upper floors. Then with a sigh he clappedhis hat on his head and made his cautious way down to the street. Therewas no man in a green velours hat below, but the little spy had anuneasy feeling that eyes watched him, nevertheless. Life was growingcomplicated for the Herr Georgiev.
Life was pressing very close to Harmony also in those days, a life shehad never touched before. She discovered, after a day or two in thework-room, that Monia Reiff's business lay almost altogether among thedemi-monde. The sewing-girls, of Marie's type many of them, found inthe customers endless topics of conversation. Some things Harmony wasspared, much of the talk being in dialect. But a great deal of it sheunderstood, and she learned much that was not spoken. They talkedfreely of the women, their clothes, and they talked a great deal abouta newcomer, an American dancer, for whom Monia was making an elaborateoutfit. The American's name was Lillian Le Grande. She was dancing atone of the variety theaters.
Harmony was working on a costume for the Le Grande woman--a gold brocadeslashed to the knee at one side and with a fragment of bodice made ofgilt tissue. On the day after her encounter with Georgiev she met her.
There was a dispute over the gown, something about the draping. Monia,flushed with irritation, came to the workroom door and glanced over thegirls. She singled out Harmony finally and called her.
"Come and put on the American's gown," she ordered. "She wishes--Heavenknows what she wishes!"
Harmony went unwillingly. Nothing she had heard of the Fraulein LeGrande had prepossessed her. Her uneasiness was increased when she foundherself obliged to shed her gown and to stand for one terrible momentbefore the little dressmaker's amused eyes.
"Thou art very lovely, very chic," said Monia. The dress added torather than relieved Harmony's discomfiture. She donned it in one of thefitting-rooms, made by the simple expedient of curtaining off a cornerof the large reception room. The slashed skirt embarrassed her; the lowcut made her shrink. Monia was frankly entranced. Above the gold tissueof the bodice rose Harmony's exquisite shoulders. Her hair was gold;even her eyes looked golden. The dressmaker, who worshiped beauty, gavea pull here, a pat there. If only all women were so beautiful in thethings she made!
She had an eye for the theatrical also. She posed Harmony behind thecurtain, arranged lights, drew down the chiffon so that a bit more ofthe girl's rounded bosom was revealed. Then she drew the curtain asideand stood smiling.
Le Grande paid the picture the tribute of a second's silence. Then:--
"Exquisite!" she said in English. Then in halting German: "Do not changea line. It is perfect."
Harmony must walk in the gown, turn, sit. Once she caught a glimpse ofherself and was startled. She had been wearing black for so long, andnow this radiant golden creature was herself. She was enchanted andabashed. The slash in the skirt troubled her: her slender leg had a wayof revealing itself.
The ordeal was over at last. The dancer was pleased. She ordered anothergown. Harmony, behind the curtain, slipped out of the dress and intoher own shabby frock. On the other side of the curtain the dancerwas talking. Her voice was loud, but rather agreeable. She smoked acigarette. Scraps of chatter came to Harmony, and once a laugh.
"That is too pink--something more delicate."
"Here is a shade; hold it to your cheek."
"I am a bad color. I did not sleep last night."
"Still no news, Fraulein?"
"None. He has disappeared utterly. That isn't so bad, is it? I could usemore rouge."
"It is being much worn. It is strange, is it not, that a child could bestolen from the hospital and leave no sign!"
The dancer laughed a mirthless laugh. Her voice changed, became nasal,full of venom.
"Oh, they know well enough," she snapped. "Those nurses know, andthere's a pig of a red-bearded doctor--I'd like to poison him.Separating mother and child! I'm going to find him, if only to show themthey are not so smart after all."
In her anger she had lapsed into English. Harmony, behind her curtain,had clutched at her heart. Jimmy's mother!
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