his own people-第1章

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His　Own　People

by　Booth　Tarkington






I。　A　Change　of　Lodging

The　glass…domed　〃palm…room〃　of　the　Grand　Continental　Hotel　Magnifique
in　Rome　is　of　vasty　heights　and　distances；　filled　with　a　mellow　green
light　which　filters　down　languidly　through　the　upper　foliage　of　tall
palms；　so　that　the　two　hundred　people　who　may　be　refreshing　or
displaying　themselves　there　at　the　tea…hour　have　something　the　look
of　under…water　creatures　playing　upon　the　sea…bed。　　They　appear；
however；　to　be　unaware　of　their　condition；　even　the　ladies；　most　like
anemones　of　that　gay　assembly；　do　not　seem　to　know　it；　and　when　the
Hungarian　band　　（crustacean…like　in　costume；　and　therefore　well
within　the　picture）　has　sheathed　its　flying　tentacles　and　withdrawn
by　dim　processes；　the　tea…drinkers　all　float　out　through　the　doors；
instead　of　bubbling　up　and　away　through　the　filmy　roof。　　In　truth；
some　such　exit　as　that　was　imagined　for　them　by　a　young　man　who
remained　in　the　aquarium　after　they　had　all　gone；　late　one　afternoon
of　last　winter。　They　had　been　marvelous　enough；　and　to　him　could　have
seemed　little　more　so　had　they　made　such　a　departure。　　He　could
almost　have　gone　that　way　himself；　so　charged　was　he　with　the　uplift
of　his　belief　that；　in　spite　of　the　brilliant　strangeness　of　the
hour　just　past；　he　had　been　no　fish　out　of　water。

While　the　waiters　were　clearing　the　little　tables；　he　leaned　back　in
his　chair　in　a　content　so　rich　it　was　nearer　ecstasy。　　He　could　not
bear　to　disturb　the　possession　joy　had　taken　of　him；　and；　like　a
half…awake　boy　clinging　to　a　dream　that　his　hitherto　unkind　sweetheart
has　kissed　him；　lingered　on　in　the　enchanted　atmosphere；　his　eyes
still　full　of　all　they　had　beheld　with　such　delight；　detaining　and
smiling　upon　each　revelation　of　this　fresh　memory？the　flashingly
lovely　faces；　the　dreamily　lovely　faces；　the　pearls　and　laces　of　the
anemone　ladies；　the　color　and　romantic　fashion　of　the　uniforms；　and
the　old　princes　who　had　been　pointed　out　to　him：　splendid　old　men
wearing　white　mustaches　and　single　eye…glasses；　as　he　had　so　long
hoped　and　dreamed　they　did。

〃Mine　own　people！〃　he　whispered。　　〃I　have　come　unto　mine　own　at　last。
Mine　own　people！〃　　After　long　waiting　（he　told　himself）；　he　had　seen
themthe　people　he　had　wanted　to　see；　wanted　to　know；　wanted　to　be
~of！~　　Ever　since　he　had　begun　to　read　of　the　〃beau　monde〃　in　his
schooldays；　he　had　yearned　to　know　some　such　sumptuous　reality　as
that　which　had　come　true　to…day；　when；　at　last；　in　Rome　he　had　seen
as　he　wrote　home　that　night〃the　finest　essence　of　Old…World
society　mingling　in　Cosmopolis。〃

Artificial　odors　（too　heavy　to　keep　up　with　the　crowd　that　had　worn
them）　still　hung　about　him；　he　breathed　them　deeply；　his　eyes　half…
closed　and　his　lips　noiselessly　formed　themselves　to　a　quotation　from
one　of　his　own　poems：

　　While　trails　of　scent；　like　cobweb's　films
　　　　Slender　and　faint　and　rare；
　　Of　roses；　and　rich；　fair　fabrics；
　　　　Cling　on　the　stirless　air；
　　The　sibilance　of　voices；
　　　　At　a　wave　of　Milady's　glove；
　　Is　stilled

He　stopped　short；　interrupting　himself　with　a　half…cough　of　laughter
as　he　remembered　the　inspiration　of　these　verses。　　He　had　written
them　three　months　ago；　at　home　in　Cranston；　Ohio；　the　evening　after
Anna　McCord's　〃coming…out　tea。〃　　〃Milady〃　meant　Mrs。　McCord；　she　had
〃stilled〃　the　conversation　of　her　guests　when　Mary　Kramer　（whom　the
poem　called　a　〃sweet；　pale　singer〃）　rose　to　sing　Mavourneen；　and　the
stanza　closed　with　the　right　word　to　rhyme　with　〃glove。〃　　He　felt　a
contemptuous　pity　for　his　little；　untraveled；　provincial　self　of
three　months　ago；　if；　indeed；　it　could　have　been　himself　who　wrote
verses　about　Anna　McCord's　〃coming…out　tea〃　and　referred　to　poor；
good　old　Mrs。　McCord　as　〃Milady〃！

The　second　stanza　had　intimated　a　conviction　of　a　kind　which　only
poets　may　reveal：

　　She　sang　to　that　great　assembly；
　　　　They　thought；　as　they　praised　her　tone；
　　But　she　and　my　heart　knew　better：
　　　　Her　song　was　for　me　alone。

He　had　told　the　truth　when　he　wrote　of　Mary　Kramer　as　pale　and　sweet；
and　she　was　paler；　but　no　less　sweet；　when　he　came　to　say　good…by　to
her　before　he　sailed。　　Her　face；　as　it　was　at　the　final　moment　of　the
protracted　farewell；　shone　before　him　very　clearly　now　for　a　moment：
young；　plaintive；　white；　too　lamentably　honest　to　conceal　how　much
her　〃God…speed〃　to　him　cost　her。　　He　came　very　near　telling　her　how
fond　of　her　he　had　always　been；　came　near　giving　up　his　great　trip
to　remain　with　her　always。

〃Ah！〃　　He　shivered　as　one　shivers　at　the　thought　of　disaster　narrowly
averted。　　〃The　fates　were　good　that　I　only　came　near　it！〃

He　took　from　his　breast…pocket　an　engraved　card；　without　having　to
search　for　it；　because　during　the　few　days　the　card　had　been　in　his
possession　the　action　had　become　a　habit。

〃Comtesse　de　Vaurigard；〃　was　the　name　engraved；　and　below　was　written
in　pencil：　　〃To　remember　Monsieur　Robert　Russ　Mellin　he　promise　to
come　to　tea　Hotel　Magnifique；　Roma；　at　five　o'clock　Thursday。〃


There　had　been　disappointment　in　the　first　stages　of　his　journey；
and　that　had　gone　hard　with　Mellin。　　Europe　had　been　his　goal　so
long；　and　his　hopes　of　pleasure　grew　so　high　when　（after　his　years
of　saving　and　putting　by；　bit　by　bit；　out　of　his　salary　in　a　real…
estate　office）　he　drew　actually　near　the　shining　horizon。　　But
London；　his　first　stopping…place；　had　given　him　some　dreadful　days。
He　knew　nobody；　and　had　not　understood　how　heavily　sheer　loneliness
which　was　something　he　had　never　felt　until　thenwould　weigh　upon
his　spirits。　　In　Cranston；　where　the　young　people　〃grew　up　together；〃
and　where　he　met　a　dozen　friends　on　the　street　in　a　half…hour's　walk；
he　often　said　that　he　〃liked　to　be　alone　with　himself。〃　　London；
after　his　first　excitement　in　merely　being　there；　taught　him　his
mistake；　chilled　him　with　weeks　of　forbidding　weather；　puzzled　and
troubled　him。

He　was　on　his　way　to　Paris　when　（as　he　recorded　in　his　journal）　a
light　came　into　his　life。　　This　illumination　first　shone　for　him　by
means　of　one　Cooley；　son　and　inheritor　of　all　that　had　belonged　to
the　late　great　Cooley；　of　Cooley　Mills；　Connecticut。　　Young　Cooley；
a　person　of　cheery　manners　and　bright　waistcoats；　was　one　of
Mellin's　few　sea…acquaintances；　they　had　played　shuffleboard
together　on　the　steamer　during　odd　half…hours　when　Mr。　Cooley　found
it　possible　to　absent　himself　from　poker　in　the　smoking…room；　and
they　encountered　each　other　again　on　the　channel　boat　crossing　to
Calais。

~〃Hey！〃~　was　Mr。　Cooley's　lively　greeting。　　〃I'm　meetin'　lots　of
people　I　know　to…day。　　You　runnin'　over　to　Paris；　too？　　Come　up　to
the　boat…deck　and　meet　the　Countess　de　Vaurigard。〃

〃Who？〃　said　Mellin；　red　with　pleasure；　yet　fearing　that　he　did　not
hear　aright。

〃The　Countess　de　Vaurigard。　　Queen！　met　her　in　London。　　Sneyd
introduced　me　to　her。　　You　remember　Sneyd　on　the　steamer？　　Baldish
Englishmanred　nosedoesn't　talk　muchyounger　brother　of　Lord
Rugden；　so　he　says。　　Played　poker　some。　　Well；　~yes！~〃

〃I　saw　him。　　I　didn't　meet　him。〃

〃You　didn't　miss　a　whole　lot。　　Fact　is；　before　we　landed　I　almost
had　him　sized　up　for　queer；　but　when　he　introduced　me　to　the
Countess　I　saw　my　mistake。　　He　must　be　the　real　thing。　　~She~
certainly　is！　　You　come　along　up　and　see。〃

So　Mellin　followed；　to　make　his　bow　before　a　thin；　dark；　charmingly
pretty　young　woman；　who　smiled　up　at　him　from　her　deck…chair　through
an　enhancing　mystery　of　veils；　and　presently　he　found　himself　sitting
beside　her。　　He　could　not　help　trembling　slightly　at　first；　but　he
would　have　giving　a　great　deal　if；　by　some　miraculous　vision；　Mary
Kramer　and　other　friends　of　his　in　Cranston　could　have　seen　him
engaged　in　what　he　thought　of　as　〃conversational　badinage〃　with　the
Comtesse　de　Vaurigard。

Both　the　lady　and　her　name　thrilled　him。　　He　thought　he　remembered
the　latter　in　Froissart：　　it　conjured　up　〃baronial　halls〃　and
〃donjon　keeps；〃　rang　resonantly　in　his　mind　like　〃Let　the　portcullis
fall！〃　　At　home　he　had　been　wont　to　speak　of　the　〃oldest　families　in
Cranston；〃　complaining　of　the　invasions　of　〃new　people〃　into　the
social　territory　of　the　McCords　and　Mellins　and　Kramersa　pleasant
conception　which　the　presence　of　a　De　Vaurigard　revealed　to　him　as
a　petty　and　shameful　fiction；　and　yet　his　humility；　like　his　little
fit　of　trembling；　was　of　short　duration；　for　gay　geniality　of　Madame
de　Vaurigard　put　him　amazingly　at　ease。

At　Calais　young　Cooley　（with　a　matter…of…course　air；　and　not
seeming　to　feel　the　need　of　asking　permission）　accompanied　her　to　a
compartment；　and　Mellin　walked　with　them　to　the　steps　of　the　coach；
where　he　paused；　murmuring　some　words　of　farewell。

Madame　de　Vaurigard　turned　to　him　with　a　prettily　assumed　dismay。

〃What！　　You　stay　at　Calais？〃　she　cried；　pausing　with　one　foot　on　the
step　to　ascend。　　〃Oh！　　I　am　sorry　for　you。　　Calais　is　ter…rible！〃

〃No。　I　am　going　on　to　Paris。〃

〃So？　　You　have　frien's　in　another　coach　which　you　wish　to　be　wiz？〃

〃No；　no；　indeed；〃　he　stammered　hastily。

〃Well；　my　frien'；〃　she　laughed　gayly；　〃w'y　don'　you　come　wiz　us？〃

Blushing；　he　followed　Cooley　into　the　coach；　to　spend　five　happy
hours；　utterly　oblivious　of　the　bright　French　landscape　whirling
by　outside　the　window。

There　ensued　a　month　of　conscientious　sightseeing　in　Paris；　and　that
unfriendly　city　afforded　him　only　one　glimpse　of　the　Countess。　　She
whizzed　by　him　in　a　big　touring…car　one　afternoon　as　he　stood　on　an
〃isle　of　safety〃　at　the　foot　of　the　Champs　Elysees。　　Cooley　was
driving　the　car。　　The　raffish；　elderly　Englishman　（whose　name；　Mellin
knew；　was　Sneyd）　sat　with　him；　and　beside　Madame　de　Vaurigard　in　the
tonneau　lolled　a　gross…looking　manunmistakably　an　Americanwith　a
jovial；　red；　smooth…shaven　face　and　several　chins。　　Brief　as　the
glimpse　was；　Mellin　had　time　to　receive　a　distinctly　disagreeable
impression　of　this　person；　and　to　wonder　how　Heaven　could　vouchsafe
the　society　of　Madame　de　Vaurigard　to　so　coarse　a　creature。

All　the　party　were　dressed　as　for　the　road；　gray　with　dust；　and　to
all　appearances　in　a　merry　mood。　　Mellin's　heart　gave　a　leap　when
he　saw　that　the　Countess　recognized　him。　　Her　eyes；　shining　under
a　white　veil；　met　his　for　just　the　instant　before　she　was　quite　by；
and　when　the　machine　had　passed　a　little　handkerchief　waved　for　a
moment　from　the　side　of　the　tonneau　where　she　sat。

With　that　he　drew　the　full　breath　of　Romance。

He　had　always　liked　to　believe　that　~〃grandes　dames〃~　leaned　back
in　the　luxurious　upholstery　of　their　victorias；　landaulettes；
daumonts　or　automobiles　with　an　air　of　inexpressible　though　languid
hauteur。　　The　Newport　letter　in　the　Cranston　Telegraph　often　referred
to　it。　　But　the　gayety　of　that　greeting　from　the　Countess'　little
handkerchief　was　infinitely　refreshing；　and　Mellin　decided　that
animation　was　more　becoming　than　hauteureven　to　a　~〃grande　dame。〃~

That　night　he　wrote　（almost　without　effort）　the　verses　published　in
the　Cranston　Telegraph　two　weeks　later。　　They　began：

　　~Marquise；　ma　belle~；　with　your　kerchief　of
　　　　lace
　　Awave　from　your　flying　car；
　　And　your　slender　hand

The　hand　to　which　he　referred　was　the　same　which　had　arr