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his own people-第2章

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〃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 arrested his
gondola and his heart simultaneously; five days ago; in Venice。  He
was on his way to the station when Madame de Vaurigard's gondola
shot out into the Grand Canal from a narrow channel; and at her
signal both boats paused。

〃Ah! but you fly away!〃 she cried; lifting her eyebrows mournfully;
as she saw the steamer…trunk in his gondola。  〃You are goin' return
to America?〃

〃No。  I'm just leaving for Rome。〃

〃Well; in three day' ~I~ am goin' to Rome!〃  She clapped her hands
lightly and laughed。  〃You know this is three time' we meet jus' by
chance; though that second time it was so quick~pff~! like that
we didn't talk much togezzer!  Monsieur Mellin;〃 she laughed again;
〃I think we mus' be frien's。  Three time'an' we are both goin' to
Rome!  Monsieur Mellin; you believe in ~Fate~?〃

With a beating heart he did。

Thence came the invitation to meet her at the Magnifique for tea;
and the card she scribbled for him with a silver pencil。  She gave
it with the prettiest gesture; leaning from her gondola to his as
they parted。  She turned again; as the water between them widened;
and with her 〃~Au revoir~〃 offered him a faintly wistful smile to
remember。

All the way to Rome the noises of the train beat out the measure of
his Parisian verses:

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

He came out of his reverie with a start。  A dozen men and women;
dressed for dinner; with a gold…fish officer or two among them;
swam leisurely through the aquarium on their way to the hotel
restaurant。  They were the same kind of people who had sat at the
little tables for teapeople of the great world; thought Mellin:
no vulgar tourists or 〃trippers〃 among them; and he shuddered at
the remembrance of his pension (whither it was time to return) and
its conscientious students of Baedeker; its dingy halls and permanent
smell of cold food。  Suddenly a high resolve lit his face: he got
his coat and hat from the brass…and…blue custodian in the lobby;
and without hesitation entered the 〃bureau。〃

〃I 'm not quite satisfied where I am stayingwhere I'm stopping;
that is;〃 he said to the clerk。  〃I think I'll take a room here。〃

〃Very well; sir。  Where shall I send for your luggage?〃

〃I shall bring it myself;〃 replied Mellin coldly; 〃in my cab。〃

He did not think it necessary to reveal the fact that he was staying
at one of the cheaper pensions; and it may be mentioned that this
reticence (as well as the somewhat chilling; yet careless; manner
of a gentleman of the 〃great world〃 which he assumed when he returned
with his trunk and bag) very substantially increased the rate put
upon the room he selected at the Magnifique。  However; it was with
great satisfaction that he found himself installed in the hotel; and
he was too recklessly exhilarated; by doing what he called the 〃right
thing;〃 to waste any time wondering what the 〃right thing〃 would do
to the diminishing pad of express checks he carried in the inside
pocket of his waistcoat。

〃Better l
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