XVI
FLAVILLA
_Containing a Parable Told with Such Metaphorical Skill that the AuthorIs Totally Unable to Understand It_
The Green Mouse now dominated the country; the entire United States wasoccupied in getting married. In the great main office on Madison Avenue,and in a thousand branch offices all over the Union, Destyn-Carr machineswere working furiously; a love-mad nation was illuminated by theirsparks.
Marriage-license bureaus had been almost put out of business by thesudden matrimonial rush; clergymen became exhausted, wedding bells in thechurches were worn thin, California and Florida reported no orange crops,as all the blossoms had been required for brides; there was a shortage ofsolitaires, traveling clocks, asparagus tongs; and the corner in riceperpetrated by some conscienceless captain of industry produced a panicequaled only by a more terrible _coup_ in slightly worn shoes.
All America was rushing to get married; from Seattle to Key West therailroads were blocked with bridal parties; a vast hum of merrymakingresounded from the Golden Gate to Governor's Island, from Niagara to theGulf of Mexico. In New York City the din was persistent; all day longchurch bells pealed, all day long the rattle of smart carriages and hiredhacks echoed over the asphalt. A reporter of the _Tribune_ stood on topof the New York Life tower for an entire week, devouring cold-slawsandwiches and Marie Corelli, and during that period, as his affidavitruns, "never for one consecutive second were his ample ears free from thenear or distant strains of the Wedding March."
And over all, in approving benediction, brooded the wide smile of thegreatest of statesmen and the great smile of the widest of statesmen--these two, metaphorically, hand in hand, floated high above their people,scattering encouraging blessings on every bride.
A tremendous rise in values set in; the newly married required homes;architects were rushed to death; builders, real-estate operators,brokers, could not handle the business hurled at them by impatientbridegrooms.
Then, seizing time by the fetlock, some indescribable monster secured thenext ten years' output of go-carts. The sins of Standard Oil wereforgotten in the menace of such a national catastrophe; mothers' meetingswere held; the excitement became stupendous; a hundred thousand bridesinvaded the Attorney-General's office, but all he could think of to saywas: "Thirty centuries look down upon you!"
These vague sentiments perplexed the country. People understood that theGovernment meant well, but they also realized that the time was not faroff when millions of go-carts would be required in the United States. Andthey no longer hesitated.
All over the Union fairs and bazaars were held to collect funds for agreat national factory to turn out carts. Alarmed, the Trust tried tounload; militant womanhood, thoroughly aroused, scorned compromise. Inevery city, town, and hamlet of the nation entertainments were given,money collected for the great popular go-cart factory.
The affair planned for Oyster Bay was to be particularly brilliant--awater carnival at Center Island with tableaux, fireworks, andilluminations of all sorts.
Reassured by the magnificent attitude of America's womanhood, businessdiscounted the collapse of the go-cart trust and began to recover fromthe check very quickly. Stocks advanced, fluctuated, and suddenly whizzedupward like skyrockets; and the long-expected wave of prosperityinundated the country. On the crest of it rode Cupid, bow and arrowsdiscarded, holding aloft in his right hand a Destyn-Carr machine.
For the old order of things had passed away; the old-fashioned doubts andfears of courtship were now practically superfluous.
Anybody on earth could now buy a ticket and be perfectly certain thatwhoever he or she might chance to marry would be the right one--the oneintended by destiny.
Yet, strange as it may appear, there still remained, here and there, afew young people in the United States who had no desire to be safelyprovided for by a Destyn-Carr machine.
Whether there was in them some sporting instinct, making hazardattractive, or, perhaps, a conviction that Fate is kind, need not bediscussed. The fact remains that there were a very few youthful andmarriageable folk who had no desire to know beforehand what their fatemight be.
One of these unregenerate reactionists was Flavilla. To see her entirefamily married by machinery was enough for her; to witness suchconsummate and collective happiness became slightly cloying. Perfectioncan be overdone; a rift in a lute relieves melodious monotony, and whendiscords cease to amuse, one can always have the instrument mended or buya banjo.
"What I desire," she said, ignoring the remonstrances of the family, "isa chance to make mistakes. Three or four nice men have thought they werein love with me, and I wouldn't take anything for the--experience. Or,"she added innocently, "for the chances that some day three or four moreagreeable young men may think they are in love with me. One learns bymaking mistakes--very pleasantly."
Her family sat in an affectionately earnest row and adjured her--fourmarried sisters, four blissful brothers-in-law, her attractivestepmother, her father. She shook her pretty head and continued sewing onthe costume she was to wear at the Oyster Bay Venetian Fete and Go-cartFair.
"No," she said, threading her needle and deftly sewing a shining, silveryscale onto the mermaid's dress lying across her knees, "I'll take mychances with men. It's better fun to love a man not intended for me, andmake him love me, and live happily and defiantly ever after, than to havea horrid old machine settle you for life."
"But you are wasting time, dear," explained her stepmother gently.
"Oh, no, I'm not. I've been engaged three times and I've enjoyed itimmensely. That isn't wasting time, is it? And it's _such_ fun!He thinks he's in love and you think you're in love, and you have such anagreeable time together until you find out that you're spoons on somebodyelse. And then you find out you're mistaken and you say you always wanthim for a friend, and you presently begin all over again with a perfectlynew man----"
"Flavilla!"
"Yes, Pa-_pah_."
"Are you utterly demoralized!"
"Demoralized? Why? Everybody behaved as I do before you and Williaminvented your horrid machine. Everybody in the world married at hazard,after being engaged to various interesting young men. And I'm notdemoralized; I'm only old-fashioned enough to take chances. Please letme."
The family regarded her sadly. In their amalgamated happiness theydeplored her reluctance to enter where perfect bliss was guaranteed.
Her choice of role and costume for the Seawanhaka Club water tableauxthey also disapproved of; for she had chosen to represent a character nowsuperfluous and out of date--the Lorelei who lured Teutonic yachtsmen todestruction with her singing some centuries ago. And that, in thesetimes, was ridiculous, because, fortified by a visit to the nearestDestyn-Carr machine, no weak-minded young sailorman would care what aLorelei might do; and she could sing her pretty head off and comb herselfbald before any Destyn-Carr inoculated mariner would be lured overboard.
But Flavilla obstinately insisted on her scaled and fish-tailed costume.When her turn came, a spot-light on the clubhouse was to illuminate thefloat and reveal her, combing her golden hair with a golden comb andsinging away like the Musical Arts.
"And," she thought secretly, "if there remains upon this machine-madeearth one young man worth my kind consideration, it wouldn't surprise mevery much if he took a header off the Yacht Club wharf and requested meto be his. And I'd be very likely to listen to his suggestion."
So in secret hopes of this pleasing episode--but not giving any suchreason to her protesting family--she vigorously resisted all attempts todeprive her of her fish scales, golden comb, and role in the coming waterfete. And now the programmes were printed and it was too late for them tointervene.
She rose, holding out the glittering, finny garment, which flashed like acollapsed fish in the sunshine.
"It's finished," she said. "Now I'm going off somewhere by myself torehearse."
"In the water?" asked her father uneasily.
"Certainly."
As Flavilla
was a superb swimmer nobody could object. Later, a maid wentdown to the landing, stowed away luncheon, water-bottles and costume inthe canoe. Later, Flavilla herself came down to the water's edge,hatless, sleeves rolled up, balancing a paddle across her shoulders.
As the paddle flashed and the canoe danced away over the sparkling watersof Oyster Bay, Flavilla hummed the threadbare German song which she wasto sing in her role of Lorelei, and headed toward Northport.
"The thing to do," she thought to herself, "is to find some nice, little,wooded inlet where I can safely change my costume and rehearse. I mustknow whether I can swim in this thing--and whether I can sing whileswimming about. It would be more effective, I think, than merely sittingon the float, and singing and combing my hair through all those verses."
The canoe danced across the water, the paddle glittered, dipped, sweptastern, and flashed again. Flavilla was very, very happy for noparticular reason, which is the best sort of happiness on earth.
There is a sandy neck of land which obstructs direct navigation betweenthe sacred waters of Oyster Bay and the profane floods which wash thegravelly shores of Northport.
"I'll make a carry," thought Flavilla, beaching her canoe. Then, lookingaround her at the lonely stretch of sand flanked by woods, she realizedat once that she need seek no farther for seclusion.
First of all, she dragged the canoe into the woods, then rapidlyundressed and drew on the mermaid's scaly suit, which fitted her to thethroat as beautifully as her own skin.
It was rather difficult for her to navigate on land, as her legs wereincased in a fish's tail, but, seizing her comb and mirror, she managedto wriggle down to the water's edge.
A few sun-warmed rocks jutted up some little distance from shore; with afinal and vigorous wriggle Flavilla launched herself and struck out forthe rocks, holding comb and mirror in either hand.
Fishtail and accessories impeded her, but she was the sort of swimmer whotook no account of such trifles; and after a while she drew herself upfrom the sea, and, breathless, glittering, iridescent, flopped down upona flat rock in the sunshine. From which she took a careful survey of thesurroundings.
Certainly nobody could see her here. Nobody would interrupt her either,because the route of navigation lay far outside, to the north. All aroundwere woods; the place was almost landlocked, save where, far away throughthe estuary, a blue and hazy horizon glimmered in the general directionof New England.
So, when she had recovered sufficient breath she let down the flashing,golden-brown hair, sat up on the rock, lifted her pretty nose skyward,and poured forth melody.
As she sang the tiresome old Teutonic ballad she combed away vigorously,and every now and then surveyed her features in the mirror.
_Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten Dass ich so traurig bin----_
she sang happily, studying her gestures with care and cheerfully floppingher tail.
She had a very lovely voice which had been expensively cultivated. One ortwo small birds listened attentively for a while, then started in to helpher out.
On the veranda of his bungalow, not very far from Northport, stood ayoung man of pleasing aspect, knickerbockers, and unusually symmetricallegs. His hands reposed in his pockets, his eyes behind their eyeglasseswere fixed dreamily upon the skies. Somebody over beyond that screen ofwoods was singing very beautifully, and he liked it--at first.
However, when the unseen singer had been singing the Lorelei for an hour,steadily, without intermission, an expression of surprise graduallydeveloped into uneasy astonishment upon his clean-cut and unusuallyattractive features.
"That girl, whoever she is, can sing, all right," he reflected, "but whyon earth does she dope out the same old thing?"
He looked at the strip of woods, but could see nothing of the singer. Helistened; she continued to sing the Lorelei.
"It can't be a phonograph," he reasoned. "No sane person could endure anhour of that fool song. No sane person would sing it for an hour,either."
Disturbed, he picked up the marine glasses, slung them over his shoulder,walked up on the hill back of the bungalow, selected a promising tree,and climbed it.
Astride a lofty limb the lord of Northport gazed earnestly across thefringe of woods. Something sparkled out there, something moved,glittering on a half-submerged rock. He adjusted the marine glasses andsquinted through them.
"Great James!" he faltered, dropping them; and almost followed theglasses to destruction on the ground below.
How he managed to get safely to earth he never knew. "Either I'm crazy,"he shouted aloud, "or there's a--a mermaid out there, and I'm going tofind out before they chase me to the funny house!"
There was a fat tub of a boat at his landing; he reached the shore in aseries of long, distracted leaps, sprang aboard, cast off, thrust bothoars deep into the water, and fairly hurled the boat forward, so that italternately skipped, wallowed, scuttered, and scrambled, like a henoverboard.
"This is terrible," he groaned. "If I _didn't_ see what I think I saw,I'll eat my hat; if I did see what I'm sure I saw, I'm madder than thehatter who made it!"
Nearer and nearer, heard by him distinctly above the frantic splashing ofhis oars, her Lorelei song sounded perilously sweet and clear.
"Oh, bunch!" he moaned; "it's horribly like the real thing; and here Icome headlong, as they do in the story books----"
He caught a crab that landed him in a graceful parabola in the bow, wherehe lay biting at the air to recover his breath. Then his boat's noseplowed into the sandy neck of land; he clambered to his feet, jumped out,and ran headlong into the belt of trees which screened the singer. Speedand gait recalled the effortless grace of the kangaroo; when heencountered logs and gullies he rose grandly, sailing into space, landingwith a series of soft bounces, which presently brought him to the otherside of the woods.
And there, what he beheld, what he heard, almost paralyzed him. Weak-kneed, he passed a trembling hand over his incredulous eyes; with thecourage of despair, he feebly pinched himself. Then for sixty sickeningseconds he closed his eyes and pressed both hands over his ears. But whenhe took his hands away and opened his terrified eyes, the exquisitelyseductive melody, wind blown from the water, thrilled him in every fiber;his wild gaze fell upon a distant, glittering shape--white-armed, golden-haired, fish-tailed, slender body glittering with silvery scales.
The low rippling wash of the tide across the pebbly shore was in hisears; the salt wind was in his throat. He saw the sun flash on goldencomb and mirror, as her snowy fingers caressed the splendid masses of herhair; her song stole sweetly seaward as the wind veered.
A terrible calm descended upon him.
"This is interesting," he said aloud.
A sickening wave of terror swept him, but he straightened up, squaringhis shoulders.
"I may as well face the fact," he said, "that I, Henry Kingsbury, ofPebble Point, Northport, L.I., and recently in my right mind, am now,this very moment, looking at a--a mermaid in Long Island Sound!"
He shuddered; but he was sheer pluck all through. Teeth might chatter,knees smite together, marrow turn cold; nothing on earth or Long Islandcould entirely stampede Henry Kingsbury, of Pebble Point.
His clutch on his self-control in any real crisis never slipped; hismental steering-gear never gave way. Again his pallid lips moved inspeech:
"The--thing--to--do," he said very slowly and deliberately, "is to swimout and--and touch it. If it dissolves into nothing I'll probably feelbetter----"
He began to remove coat, collar, and shoes, forcing himself to talkcalmly all the while.
"The thing to do," he went on dully, "is to swim over there and get alook at it. Of course, it isn't really there. As for drowning--it reallydoesn't matter.... In the midst of life we are in Long Island.... And, ifit _is_ there--I c-c-can c-capture it for the B-B-Bronx----"
Reason tottered; it revived, however, as he plunged into the s. w.[A] ofOyster Bay and struck out, silent as a sea otter for the shimmering shapeon the ruddy roc
ks.
[Footnote A: Sparkling Waters or Sacred Waters.]
Flavilla was rehearsing with all her might; her white throat swelled withthe music she poured forth to the sky and sea; her pretty fingers playedwith the folds of burnished hair; her gilded hand-mirror flashed, shegently beat time with her tail.
So thoroughly, so earnestly, did she enter into the spirit of the sirenshe was representing that, at moments, she almost wished some fishermanmight come into view--just to see whether he'd really go overboard afterher.
However, audacious as her vagrant thoughts might be, she was entirelyunprepared to see a human head, made sleek by sea water, emerge from thefloating weeds almost at her feet.
"Goodness," she said faintly, and attempted to rise. But her fish tailfettered her.
"Are you real!" gasped Kingsbury.
"Y-yes.... Are you?"
"Great James!" he half shouted, half sobbed, "are you _human?_"
"V-very. Are _you?_"
He clutched at the weedy rock and dragged himself up. For a moment he laybreathing fast, water dripping from his soaked clothing. Once he feeblytouched the glittering fish tail that lay on the rock beside him. Itquivered, but needle and thread had been at work there; he drew a deepbreath and closed his eyes.
When he opened them again she was looking about for a likely place tolaunch herself into the bay; in fact, she had already started to glidetoward the water; the scraping of the scales aroused him, and he sat up.
"I heard singing," he said dreamily, "and I climbed a tree and saw--you!Do you blame me for trying to corroborate a thing like _you?_"
"You thought I was a _real_ one?"
"I thought that I thought I saw a real one."
She looked at him hopefully.
"Tell me, _did_ my singing compel you to swim out here?"
"I don't know what compelled me."
"But--you _were_ compelled?"
"I--it seems so----"
"O-h!" Flushed, excited, laughing, she clasped her hands under her chinand gazed at him.
"To think," she said softly, "that you believed me to be a real siren,and that my beauty and my singing actually did lure you to my rock! Isn'tit exciting?"
He looked at her, then turned red:
"Yes, it is," he said.
Hands still clasped together tightly beneath her rounded chin, shesurveyed him with intense interest. He was at a disadvantage; the sleek,half-drowned appearance which a man has who emerges from a swim does notexhibit him at his best.
But he had a deeper interest for Flavilla; her melody and loveliness hadactually lured him across the water to the peril of her rocks; this humanbeing, this man creature, seemed to be, in a sense, hers.
"Please fix your hair," she said, handing him her comb and mirror.
"My hair?"
"Certainly. I want to look at you."
He thought her request rather extraordinary, but he sat up and with theaid of the mirror, scraped away at his wet hair, parting it in the middleand combing it deftly into two gay little Mercury wings. Then, fishing inthe soaked pockets of his knickerbockers, he produced a pair of smartpince-nez, which he put on, and then gazed up at her.
"Oh!" she said, with a quick, indrawn breath, "you _are_ attractive!"
At that he turned becomingly scarlet.
Leaning on one lovely, bare arm, burnished hair clustering against hercheeks, she continued to survey him in delighted approval which sometimesmade him squirm inwardly, sometimes almost intoxicated him.
"To think," she murmured, "that _I_ lured _you_ out here!"
"I _am_ thinking about it," he said.
She laid her head on one side, inspecting him with frankest approval.
"I wonder," she said, "what your name is. I am Flavilla Carr."
"Not one of the Carr triplets!"
"Yes--but," she added quickly, "I'm not married. Are you?"
"Oh, no, no, no!" he said hastily. "I'm Henry Kingsbury, of Pebble Point,Northport----"
"Master and owner of the beautiful but uncertain _Sappho?_ Oh, tell me,_are_ you the man who has tipped over so many times in Long Island Sound?Because I--I adore a man who has the pluck to continue to capsize everyday or two."
"Then," he said, "you can safely adore me, for I am that yachtsman whohas fallen off the _Sappho_ more times than the White Knight fell off hishorse."
"I--I _do_ adore you!" she exclaimed impulsively.
"Of course, you d-d-don't mean that," he stammered, striving to smile.
"Yes--almost. Tell me, you--I know you are not like other men! _You_never have had anything to do with a Destyn-Carr machine, have you?"
"Never!"
"Neither have I.... And so you are not in love--are you?"
"No."
"Neither am I. Oh, I am so glad that you and I have waited, and notbecome engaged to somebody by machinery.... I wonder whom you aredestined for."
"Nobody--by machinery."
She clapped her hands. "Neither am I. It is too stupid, isn't it? I_don't_ want to marry the man I ought to marry. I'd rather take chanceswith a man who attracts me and who is attracted by me.... There was, inthe old days--before everybody married by machinery--something notaltogether unworthy in being a siren, wasn't there?... It's perfectlydelightful to think of your seeing me out here on the rocks, and theninstantly plunging into the waves and tearing a foaming right of way towhat might have been destruction!"
Her flushed, excited face between its clustering curls looked straightinto his.
"It _was_ destruction," he said. His own voice sounded odd to him. "Utterdestruction to my peace of mind," he said again.
"You--don't think that you love me, do you?" she asked. "That would betoo--too perfect a climax.... _Do_ you?" she asked curiously.
"I--think so."
"Do--do you _know_ it?" He gazed bravely at her: "Yes."
She flung up both arms joyously, then laughed aloud:
"Oh, the wonder of it! It is too perfect, too beautiful! You really loveme? Do you? Are you _sure_?"
"Yes.... Will you try to love me?"
"Well, you know that sirens don't care for people.... I've already beenengaged two or three times.... I don't mind being engaged to you."
"Couldn't you care for me, Flavilla?"
"Why, yes. I do.... Please don't touch me; I'd rather not. Of course, youknow, I couldn't really love you so quickly unless I'd been subjected toone of those Destyn-Carr machines. You know that, don't you? But," sheadded frankly, "I wouldn't like to have you get away from me. I--I feellike a tender-hearted person in the street who is followed by a lostcat----"
"What!"
"Oh, I _didn't_ mean anything unpleasant--truly I didn't. You know howtenderly one feels when a poor stray cat comes trotting after one----"
He got up, mad all through.
"_Are_ you offended?" she asked sorrowfully. "When I didn't mean anythingexcept that my heart--which is rather impressionable--feels very warmlyand tenderly toward the man who swam after me.... Won't you understand,please? Listen, we have been engaged only a minute, and here already isour first quarrel. You can see for yourself what would happen if we evermarried."
"It wouldn't be machine-made bliss, anyway," he said.
That seemed to interest her; she inspected him earnestly.
"Also," he added, "I thought you desired to take a sportsman's chances?"
"I--do."
"And I thought you didn't want to marry the man you ought to marry."
"That is--true."
"Then you certainly ought not to marry me--but, will you?"
"How can I when I don't--love you."
"You don't love me because you ought not to on such briefacquaintance.... But _will_ you love me, Flavilla?"
She looked at him in silence, sitting very still, the bright hair veilingher cheeks, the fish's tail curled up against her side.
"_Will_ you?"
"I don't know," she said faintly.
"Try."
"I--am."
"Shall I help you?"
Evidently she had gazed at him long enough; her eyes fell; her whitefingers picked at the seaweed pods. His arm closed around her; nothingstirred but her heart.
"Shall I help you to love me?" he breathed.
"No--I am--past help." She raised her head.
"This is all so--so wrong," she faltered, "that I think it must beright.... Do you truly love me?... Don't kiss me if you do.... Now Ibelieve you.... Lift me; I can't walk in this fish's tail.... Now set meafloat, please."
He lifted her, walked to the water's edge, bent and placed her in thesea. In an instant she had darted from his arms out into the waves,flashing, turning like a silvery salmon.
"Are you coming?" she called back to him.
He did not stir. She swam in a circle and came up beside the rock. Aftera long, long silence, she lifted up both arms; he bent over. Then, veryslowly, she drew him down into the water.
* * * * *
"I am quite sure," she said, as they sat together at luncheon on thesandspit which divides Northport Bay from the s.w. of Oyster Bay, "thatyou and I are destined for much trouble when we marry; but I love you sodearly that I don't care."
"Neither do I," he said; "will you have another sandwich?"
And, being young and healthy, she took it, and biting into it, smiledadorably at her lover.