XII
SYBILLA
_Showing What Comes of Disobedience, Rosium, and Flour-Paste_
About noon Bushwyck Carr bounced into the gymnasium, where the tripletshad just finished their fencing lesson.
"Did any of you three go into the laboratory this morning?" he demanded,his voice terminating in a sort of musical bellow, like the blast of amellow French horn on a touring car.
The triplets--Flavilla, Drusilla, and Sybilla--all clothed preciselyalike in knee kilts, plastrons, gauntlets and masks, came to attention,saluting their parent with their foils. The Boznovian fencing mistress,Madame Tzinglala, gracefully withdrew to the dressing room and departed.
"Which of you three girls went into the laboratory this morning?"repeated their father impatiently.
The triplets continued to stand in a neat row, the buttons of their foilsaligned and resting on the hardwood floor. In graceful unison theyremoved their masks; three flushed and unusually pretty faces regardedthe author of their being attentively--more attentively still when thatround and ruddy gentleman, executing a facial contortion, screwed hismonocle into an angry left eye and glared.
"Didn't I warn you to keep out of that laboratory?" he asked wrathfully;"didn't I explain to you that it was none of your business? I believe Iinformed you that whatever is locked up in that room is no concern ofyours. Didn't I?"
"Yes, Pa-_pah_."
"Well, confound it, what did you go in for, then?"
An anxious silence was his answer. "You didn't all go in, did you?" hedemanded in a melodious bellow.
"Oh, no, Pa-_pah!_"
"Did two of you go?"
"Oh-h, n-o, Pa-_pah!_"
"Well, which one did?"
The line of beauty wavered for a moment; then Sybilla stepped slowly tothe front, three paces, and halted with downcast eyes.
"I told you not to, didn't I?" said her father, scowling the monocle outof his eye and reinserting it.
"Y-yes, Pa-_pah_."
"But you _did?_"
"Y-yes----"
"That will do! Flavilla! Drusilla! You are excused," dismissing the twoguiltless triplets with a wave of the terrible eyeglass; and when theyhad faced to the rear and retired in good order, closing the door behindthem, he regarded his delinquent daughter in wrathy and rubicund dismay.
"What did you see in that laboratory?" he demanded.
Sybilla began to count on her fingers. "As I walked around the room Inoticed jars, bottles, tubes, lamps, retorts, blowpipes, batteries----"
"Did you notice a small, shiny machine that somewhat resembles theinterior economy of a watch?"
"Yes, Pa-_pah_, but I haven't come to that yet----"
"Did you go near it?"
"Quite near----"
"You didn't touch it, did you?"
"I was going to tell you----"
"_Did_ you?" he bellowed musically. "Answer me, Sybilla!"
"Y-yes--I did."
"What did you suppose it to be?"
"I thought--we all thought--that you kept a wireless telephone instrumentin there----"
"Why? Just because I happen to be president of the Amalgamated WirelessTrust Company?"
"Yes. And we were dying to see a wireless telephone work.... I thoughtI'd like to call up Central--just to be sure I could make the thing go--_What_ is the matter, Pa-_pah?_"
He dropped into a wadded armchair and motioned Sybilla to a seatopposite. Then with another frightful facial contortion he reimbedded themonocle.
"So you deliberately opened that door and went in to rummage?"
"No," said the girl; "we were--skylarking a little, on our way to thegymnasium; and I gave Brasilia a little shove toward the laboratory door,and then Flavilla pushed me--very gently--and somehow I--the door flewopen and my mask fell off and rolled inside; and I went in after it. Thatis how it happened--partly."
She lifted her dark and very beautiful eyes to her stony parent, thenthey dropped, and she began tracing figures and arabesques on thepolished floor with the point of her foil. "That is partly how," sherepeated.
"What is the other part?"
"The other part was that, having unfortunately disobeyed you, and beingalready in the room, I thought I might as well stay and take a littlepeep around----"
Her father fairly bounced in his padded chair. The velvet-eyed descendantof Eve shot a fearful glance at him and continued, still casually tracinginvisible arabesques with her foil's point.
"You see, don't you," she said, "that being actually _in_, I thought Imight as well do something before I came out again, which would make mydisobedience worth the punishment. So I first picked up my mask, then Itook a scared peep around. There were only jars and bottles andthings.... I was dreadfully disappointed. The certainty of being punishedand then, after all, seeing nothing but bottles, _did_ seem ratherunfair.... So I--walked around to--to see if I could find something tolook at which would repay me for the punishment.... There is a proverb,isn't there Pa-_pah?_--something about being executed for a lamb----"
"Go on!" he said sharply.
"Well, all I could find that looked as though I had no business to touchit was a little jeweled machine----"
"_That_ was it! Did you touch it?"
"Yes, several times. Was it a wireless?"
"Never mind! Yes, it's one kind of a wireless instrument. Go on!"
Sybilla shook her head:
"I'm sure I don't see why you are so disturbingly emphatic; because Ihaven't an idea how to send or receive a wireless message, and I hadn'tthe vaguest notion how that machine might work. I tried very hard to makeit go; I turned several screws and pushed all the push-buttons----"
Mr. Carr emitted a hollow, despairing sound--a sort of musical groan--andfeebly plucked at space.
"I tried every lever, screw, and spring," she went on calmly, "but themachine must have been out of order, for I only got one miserable littlespark----"
"You got a _spark?_"
"Yes--just a tiny, noiseless atom of white fire----"
Her father bounced to his feet and waved both hands at her distractedly.
"Do you know what you've done?" he bellowed.
"N-no----"
"Well, you've prepared yourself to fall in love! And you've probablyinduced some indescribable pup to fall in love with you! And _that's_what you've done!"
"In--_love!_"
"Yes, you have!"
"But how can a common wireless telephone----"
"It's another kind of a wireless. Your brother-in-law, William Destyn,invented it; I'm backing it and experimenting with it. I told you to keepout of that room. I hung up a sign on the door: _'Danger! Keep out!'_"
"W-was that thing loaded?"
"Yes, it _was_ loaded!"
"W-what with?"
"Waves!" shouted her father, furiously. "Psychic waves! You little ninny,we've just discovered that the world and everything in it is enveloped inpsychic waves, as well as invisible electric currents. The minute you gotnear that machine and opened the receiver, waves from your subconsciouspersonality flowed into it. And the minute you touched that spring andgot a spark, your psychic waves had signaled, by wireless, thesubconscious personality of some young man--some insufferable pup--who'llcome from wherever he is at present--from the world's end if need be--andfall in love with you."
Mr. Carr jumped ponderously up and down in pure fury; his daughterregarded him in calm consternation.
"I am so very, very sorry," she said; "but I am quite certain that I amnot going to fall in love----"
"You can't help it," roared her father, "if that instrument worked."
"Is--is that what it's f-for?"
"That's what it's invented for; that's why I'm putting a million into it.Anybody on earth desiring to meet the person with whom they're destined,some time or other, to fall in love, can come to us, in confidence, buy aticket, and be hitched on to the proper psychic connection which insuresspeedy courtship and marriage--Damnation!"
"Pa-_pah!_"
/>
"I can't help it! Any self-respecting, God-fearing father would swear! Doyou think I ever expected to have my daughters mixed up with thismachine? My daughters wooed, engaged and married by _machinery!_ Andyou're only eighteen; do you hear me? I won't have it! I'll certainly nothave it!"
"But, dear, I don't in the least intend to fall in love and marry ateighteen. And if--_he_--really--comes, I'll tell him very frankly that Icould not think of falling in love. I'll quietly explain that the machinewent off by mistake and that I am only eighteen; and that Flavilla andDrusilla and I are not to come out until next winter. That," she addedinnocently, "ought to hold him."
"The thing to do," said her father, gazing fixedly at her, "is to keepyou in your room until you're twenty!"
"Oh, Pa-_pah!_"
Mr. Carr smote his florid brow.
"You'll stay in for a week, anyway!" he thundered mellifluously. "Nomotoring party for you! That's your punishment. You'll be safe for today,anyhow; and by evening William Destyn will be back from Boston and I'llconsult him as to the safest way to keep you out of the path of thiswhippersnapper you have managed to wake up--evoke--stir out of space--wherever he may be--whoever he may be--whatever he chances to callhimself----"
"George," she murmured involuntarily.
"_What!!_"
She looked at her father, abashed, confused.
"How absurd of me," she said. "I don't know why I should have thought ofthat name, George; or why I should have said it out loud--that way--Ireally don't----"
"Who do you know named George?"
"N-nobody in particular that I can think of----"
"Sybilla! Be honest!"
"Really, I don't; I am always honest."
He knew she was truthful, always; but he said:
"Then why the devil did you look--er--so, so moonily at me and call meGeorge?"
"I can't imagine--I can't understand----"
"Well, _I_ can! You don't realize it, but that cub's name must be George!I'll look out for the Georges. I'm glad I've been warned. I'll see thatno two-legged object named George enters this house! You'll never goanywhere where there's anybody named George if I can prevent it."
"I--I don't want to," she returned, almost ready to cry. "You are verycruel to me----"
"I wish to be. I desire to be a monster!" he retorted fiercely. "You'rean exceedingly bad, ungrateful, undutiful, disobedient and foolish child.Your sisters and I are going to motor to Westchester and lunch there withyour sister and your latest brother-in-law. And if they ask why youdidn't come I'll tell them that it's because you're undutiful, and thatyou are not to stir outdoors for a week, or see anybody who comes intothis house!"
"I--I suppose I d-deserve it," she acquiesced tearfully. "I'm quite readyto be disciplined, and quite willing not to see anybody named George--ever! Besides, you have scared me d-dreadfully! I--I don't want to go outof the house."
And when her father had retired with a bounce she remained alone in thegymnasium, eyes downcast, lips quivering. Later still, sitting inprecisely the same position, she heard the soft whir of the touring caroutside; then the click of the closing door.
"There they go," she said to herself, "and they'll have such a jollytime, and all those very agreeable Westchester young men will be there--particularly Mr. Montmorency.... I _did_ like him awfully; besides, hisname is Julian, so it is p-perfectly safe to like him--and I _did_ wantto see how Sacharissa looks after her bridal trip."
Her lower lip trembled; she steadied it between her teeth, gazedmiserably at the floor, and beat a desolate tattoo on it with the tip ofher foil.
"I am being well paid for my disobedience," she whimpered. "Now I can'tgo out for a week; and it's April; and when I do go out I'll be soanxious all the while, peeping furtively at every man who passes andwondering whether his name might be George.... And it is going to behorridly awkward, too.... Fancy their bringing up some harmless dancingman named George to present to me next winter, and I, terrified, pickingup my debutante skirts and running.... I'll actually be obliged to fleefrom every man until I know his name isn't George. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!What an awful outlook for this summer when we open the house at OysterBay! What a terrible vista for next winter!"
She naively dabbed a tear from her long lashes with the back of hergauntlet.
Her maid came, announcing luncheon, but she would have none of it, norany other offered office, including a bath and a house gown.
"You go away somewhere, Bowles," she said, "and please, don't come nearme, and don't let anybody come anywhere in my distant vicinity, because Iam v-very unhappy, Bowles, and deserve to be--and I--I desire to be alonewith c-conscience."
"But, Miss Sybilla----"
"No, no, no! I don't even wish to hear your voice--or anybody's. I don'twish to hear a single human sound of any description. I--_what_ is thatscraping noise in the library?"
"A man, Miss Sybilla----"
"A _man!_ W-what's his name?"
"I don't know, miss. He's a workman--a paper hanger."
"Oh!"
"Did you wish me to ask him to stop scraping, miss?"
Sybilla laughed: "No, thank you." And she continued, amused at herselfafter her maid had withdrawn, strolling about the gymnasium, makingpasses with her foil at ring, bar, and punching bag. Her anxiety, too,was subsiding. The young have no very great capacity for continuedanxiety. Besides, the first healthy hint of incredulity was alreadycreeping in. And as she strolled about, swishing her foil, she musedaloud at her ease:
"What an extraordinary and horrid machine!... _How_ can it do suchexceedingly common things? And what a perfectly unpleasant way to fall inlove--by machinery!... I had rather not know who I am some day to--tolike--very much.... It is far more interesting to meet a man by accident,and never suspect you may ever come to care for him, than to buy aticket, walk over to a machine full of psychic waves and ring up somestrange man somewhere on earth."
With a shudder of disdain she dropped on to a lounge and took her facebetween both hands.
She was like her sisters, tall, prettily built, and articulated, with thesame narrow feet and hands--always graceful when lounging, no matter whatposition her slim limbs fell into.
And now, in her fencing skirts of black and her black stockings, she wasexceedingly ornamental, with the severe lines of the plastron accentingthe white throat and chin, and the scarlet heart blazing over her ownlittle heart--unvexed by such details as love and lovers. Yes, unvexed;for she had about come to the conclusion that her father had frightenedher more than was necessary; that the instrument had not really done itsworst; in fact, that, although she had been very disobedient, she had hada rather narrow escape; and nothing more serious than paternaldispleasure was likely to be visited upon her.
Which comforted her to an extent that brought a return of appetite; andshe rang for luncheon, and ate it with the healthy nonchalance usually socharacteristic of her and her sisters.
"Now," she reflected, "I'll have to wait an hour for my bath"--one of theinculcated principles of domestic hygiene. So, rising, she strolledacross the gymnasium, casting about for something interesting to do.
She looked out of the back windows. In New York the view from backwindows is not imposing.
Tiring of the inartistic prospect she sauntered out and downstairs to seewhat her maid might be about. Bowles was sewing; Sybilla looked on for awhile with languid interest, then, realizing that a long day ofpunishment was before her, that she deserved it, and that she ought toperform some act of penance, started contritely for the library withresolute intentions toward Henry James.
As she entered she noticed that the bookshelves, reaching part way to theceiling, were shrouded in sheets. Also she encountered a pair ofsawhorses overlaid with boards, upon which were rolls of green flockpaper, several pairs of shears, a bucket of paste, a large, flat brush, aknife and a T-square.
"The paper hanger man," she said. "He's gone to lunch. I'll have time toseize on Henry James and flee."
Now He
nry James, like some other sacred conventions, was, in thatlibrary, a movable feast. Sometimes he stood neatly arranged on oneshelf, sometimes on another. There was no counting on Henry.
Sybilla lifted the sheets from the face of one case and peered closer.Henry was not visible. She lifted the sheets from another case; no Henry;only G.P.R., in six dozen rakish volumes.
Sybilla peeped into a third case. Then a very unedifying thing occurred.Surely, surely, this was Sybilla's disobedient day. She saw a forbiddenbook glimmering in old, gilded leather--she saw its classic back turnedmockingly toward her--the whole allure of the volume was impudent, dog-eared, devil-may-care-who-reads-me.
She took it out, replaced it, looked hard, hard for Henry, found him not,glanced sideways at the dog-eared one, took a step sideways.
"I'll just see where it was printed," she said to herself, drawing outthe book and backing off hastily--so hastily that she came into collisionwith the sawhorse table, and the paste splashed out of the bucket.
But Sybilla paid no heed; she was examining the title page of old Dog-ear: a rather wonderful title page, printed in fascinating red and blackwith flourishes.
"I'll just see whether--" And the smooth, white fingers hesitated; butshe had caught a glimpse of an ancient engraving on the next page--a veryquaint one, that held her fascinated.
"I wonder----"
She turned the next page. The first paragraph of the famous classic begandeliciously. After a few moments she laughed, adding to herself: "I can'tsee what harm----"
There was no harm. Her father had meant another book; but Sybilla did notknow that.
"I'll just glance through it to--to--be sure that I mustn't read it."
She laid one hand on the paper hanger's table, vaulted up sideways, and,seated on the top, legs swinging, buried herself in the book, unconsciousthat the overturned paste was slowly fastening her to the spattered tabletop.
An hour later, hearing steps on the landing, she sprang--that is, shewent through all the graceful motions of springing lightly to the floor.But she had not budged an inch. No Gorgon's head could have consigned herto immovability more hopeless.
Restrained from freedom by she knew not what, she made one frantic anddemoralized effort--and sank back in terror at the ominous tearing sound.
She was glued irrevocably to the table.