Polly the Pagan: Her Lost Love Letters Page 5
_PART III_
_UNCERTAINTY_
CABLE FROM A. D.
_Rome, November. Three weeks later._
Will you marry me? Uncertainty in our relations troubling me deeply.Where do I stand? Heaven or Hell?
* * * * *
CABLE FROM POLLY
_New York, November._
Call it Heaven.
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_Rome, November._
I do call it Heaven, or I would if only you were here. As it is, thedoors are locked, for you are my golden key to happiness, to Paradiseitself. It seems ages since your last letter came. Don't play with meagain, will you, dearest? Although your letters this summer have beenso sweet, I know what a little Pagan you are. Sometimes I wonder ifyou have any conscience at all about me. If you have, I've not as yetdiscovered it, but--my heart is in your keeping. Mona Lisa hasdisappeared from my life.
Of course your Aunt is set on your marrying the Prince. That has beenplain all along,--how did he behave in Paris?--but you, my darling,_who_ could have guessed whether or not you were ready to make up yourmind to settle down? So I delayed asking you to marry me--in so manywords. But now that we have quarrelled, I long to make up and haveeverything settled. There is no peace left your lover till he knowsthat you love him, once and always. This letter is serious because,beneath it all, I am serious.
Your letters have been the key-notes to my days, and when they haveseemed confidential and affectionate, I have been very happy, and whenthey have been less enthusiastic, I have been troubled and cast down.So, they have enabled me to measure my own disposition. What I wish towrite you is this; that everything I ever told you or have writtenyou, was the truth.
I realize more and more as time goes on, and on, that my love goesback farther into the past than I had dared to acknowledge to myself.
One day, you appeared in Rome and were stopping at your sunny Palazzo.Over I went to see--your Aunt, of course. I recall so vividly justwhere you stood in the little room, how you came frankly forward tomeet me, and how I made my call, with the Prince, whom I met on thestreet just outside your door.
Then at your apartment and out in society, I saw you often; when youcame to dine with me, I determined just to be nice to you,--I know Iwas flirting with Lisa,--but I had a sort of pride that you shouldenjoy your stay in Rome, and wished to add what I could to it. Ithought your Aunt would be gratified, and frankly, I liked you. Iallowed myself to think that much.
Then came moments, Polly dear, when I felt a thrill, a glow, that Icouldn't explain. Can I ever forget that evening when we were togetherin the Coliseum, while the moon swam in the sky, and the great blackchasm of the excavations yawned below us, while the shadowy ruinstowered around and above us. I treasure in my heart the memory of therollicking fun of the escapade at the Carnival Ball, the Veglione,with its confidences, and the privilege, too, of that drive from theDuchess of Sermoneta's, through the narrow streets, across the bridge,when I saw you home, and those afternoons and evenings in the littleroom in the roof garden, one after another. Each seemed more wonderfuland more complete to me, till that last night before you went away toSorrento, when I first spoke words of love. I was overwhelmed andstaggered, my pulses beat with a new strange gladness till I couldscarcely see you. How I got back to my rooms, I have forgotten.
I had determined not to make love to you in Rome, but I couldn't helpit, I couldn't help speaking as I did. Then came romantic days atSorrento and Florence and those enchanting dream moments in Venice.Were they real, ah, tell me, were they true?
It is months now, dear, since we met in Venice. What perfect hours wehad there! So completely happy. I can feel you near me, next to me,while far away, mysteriously, I seem even yet to hear the music andthe love songs.
"And of all the happiest moments which were wrought Within the web of my existence, some From thee, fair Venice! have their colors caught."
How bewitching you were! How unspeakably lovely the last evening was,and how I treasure every little confidence you made me, as we glidedalong over the placid lagoon, while about us rose the palaces, thecampanile, the churches, balconies, and arches, reflected below in themirroring waters. I could put out my hand and take yours, and turn andlook into the wonder of your eyes, my Polly! Some days are immortal,the memory of them can never die. We may pass away, but still thethought of those moments will live forever, for they are divine andheavenly.
* * * * *
POLLY TO A. D.
_New York, November._
My A. D. Well, you are in a way mine now, aren't you? How I hated allthose horrid telegrams we sent each other, and what a long time Ihave gone without a letter from you.
I do know what I want! It's you, you, but oh, things are so hard whenit comes to facing down Aunt. It is not any open opposition--thatwould be something definite that I could fight, but she simply assumesthat I don't mean it when I say I am engaged, and sits bland andsmiling, and pretty soon, makes a remark about Boris.
A. D., if you won't come over soon to look after me, you've just gotto take the risks. Don't forget I'm a little Pagan, who does enjoythings, even the Prince. Come home and settle here at once if you loveme as much as you say you do. I am so happy you sent the cable,because you are the only person in the world I love. So we are reallyengaged now and going to be married soon and live happily ever after?
You want to know what I did those few days in Paris? Well, by jinks,we were off on a shopping rampage most of the time. I went to Worth'sand ordered some pretty clothes--the prevailing colors this year arethe hummingbird's.
How did the Prince behave in Paris? On the whole very attentive, butonce in a while just a bit difficult to manage. He brought with him amagnificent Russian wolf hound, who was very well-trained and wouldobey no one but his master. One day Boris invited us all to hisapartment in the hotel to luncheon, but Aunt had such a bad headachethat she left in the midst of it, taking Checkers along to see hersafely back. He was going to return for me since we had more galleriesto inspect. As soon as the lift with them in it had disappeared, Borisclosed the door and smiled meaningly and when I asked him to open it,he shook his head. I started to open it myself when the wolf hound,who was lying before it, growled. First I thought it was a joke, butwhen I saw the queer look in my host's eyes, a cold creepy feeling offear came over me.
"Once before you were in my power," he said, "in the stateroom on the_Cleopatra_. I, a fool, let you go. Now I got dog, no fool any more."
Backing away from him, I laughed, hysterically, "I came here to eatand not to make love."
"Did you?" he inquired, putting his face down close to mine andtaking hold of my shoulders.
I stared straight back at him, saying, "I am not afraid either of youor your old dog." At that moment, thank heaven, the door opened and incame the waiter. I dashed out and downstairs, Boris following me andprotesting that he was only trying to make a little fun, but I am notsure. Aunt says I made a fuss over nothing, and insisted that we allgo together to the circus with him that night, but you may be sure Ihung onto Checkers pretty closely. However, the Prince pointed out tome the girl on the trapeze, the same one you had admired in Rome. Shewas very beautiful--I am a little jealous for she looked like Mona.
Boris and I rode several times together and one day jumped our horsesin the Bois, much to the amusement of a female seminary that waspassing. I had a fine time and thought how the people at home wouldlaugh if they could see me--such a change was my smart riding habitfrom my old duds at the farm, and with a Prince. Then the other day hetook me to the Luxembourg gallery to look at a curious sculpture ofthe sphinx--the head of a beautiful woman on the body of a lioness,with a man in her clutches, just their lips touching, everythingthrown away for that one kiss. It made me think of some verses I readthe other day,
"Inviolate and immobile, she does not
rise, she does not stir, For silver moons are naught to her, and naught to her the suns that reel. Come forth, my lovely seneschal! So somnolent, so statuesque! Come forth, you exquisite grotesque! Half woman and half animal! And did you talk with Thoth and did you hear the horn-mooned Io weep? And know the painted kings who sleep beneath the wedge-shaped pyramid? Lift up your large black satin eyes which are like cushions where one sinks, Fawn at my feet, fantastic Sphinx! and sing me all your memories! A thousand weary centuries are thine while I have scarcely seen Some twenty summers cast their green for Autumn's gaudy liveries."
The Prince said he believed I was somewhat like her. I told himindignantly I wasn't, but maybe I am ... and he tells me I _was_ thecause of the duel!
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_Rome, November._
The top o' the marnin' to ye, Polly Darlin'! It would be veryinappropriate, wouldn't it, if this came to you by evening delivery?At any rate it is the top o' the marnin' here in Rome, and I ampretending you are right next to me, my kitten-sphinx, and I'mgreeting you with a morning kiss in token of our peace, or is it anarmistice? Your letter makes me happy and yet your remarks about thePrince trouble me. There is, however, one clear way out of yourdifficulties, and that is to make our engagement known at once toeveryone. I do not want to urge the point too strongly, but doesn't itseem that circumstances have combined to make an announcementdesirable?
Putting aside all consideration of what people may say or think, Ifeel it would be franker, more dignified, more true to yourself, toothers, to me, that the relation between us should be told. All kindsof complications will arise if we keep it secret. Do not act hastilyon receiving this. Think it over carefully. Oh, I love you, Polly,with my whole soul! But I can't come home at once; my friend Charltonis now seriously ill and Embassy matters are tied up. Under thecircumstances, I am glad you left Paris when you did. Did Boris seeyou off?
How bustling and busy your getting away from the hotel must havebeen,--the drive to the station through the gay streets, theexcitement at the train, the helter-skelter of passengers and porterswith their bags, baggage, boxes, baskets, and rugs. Then the steamer,the good-byes, the buzz of the engine, the splash of water and arealization at last that you were homeward bound!
It will seem odd to hear about Rome now that you are in America, aboutthe streets yellow with flooding sunshine, and crowded with carts fromthe Campagna, and cabbies on their rattletrap carriages cracking theirwhips and crying "ah!" in deep guttural tones at their horses,instead of saying "Whoa!" or "Gee up!" in the proper American way.
Early one afternoon Charlton and I started out in an ancient cab and adecrepit horse to go to the Piazza San Pietro, or perish in theattempt. I had the enthusiasm and he the perseverance. Indeed we tookturns in exhibiting these qualities, for there came a time when he wasenthusiastic and I persevered. There were moments when the old horsewent so slowly that we thought he would never get there, but thedriver used the whip encouragingly. Finally we reached St. Peter's,surrounded by its huge colonnade, with its splashing fountains, wentup the broad terrace steps and beneath the great _loggia_, and intothe overwhelming interior with its vast distance, out of allproportion to anything else in the world.
Inside the people were kissing the toe of St. Peter, while crowdswalked about and men were hammering away until the whole placeresounded with the work of putting up tribunes for some ceremonies.But a great shaft of yellow sunshine came streaming down from thedome, making the gloom golden, and above the hum of voices could beheard the Pope's angel chanting beautifully.
When I came out and looked over toward your palace and saw the tops ofthe plants of the garden on the terrace, I could not resist going into see Peppi. You know he has lately taken your old apartment, inmemory of your Aunt, I suppose. Up the stairway we climbed till wecame to the door and rang. There was a great rattling of chains andunbolting of locks; the door finally opened and we were told he washome. He asked us to take pot luck with him, so we went up first onthe terrace and examined the roses, some poor weedy sunflowers, and afew little pansies that looked pleadingly up at me while I stood inthe corner of the terrace where you stood that last night, Polly.
The sky was glorious; the sun had gone down and St. Peter's and thehuge pile of the Vatican, with only here and there a twinkling lightin the darkness of the massive building, loomed up in silhouetteagainst a heaven of delicate brown which shaded into pale green. Aboveus in a pure vault of blue, the crescent moon floated, all silver,while in the opposite horizon, over the Alban Mountains and theAppenines, great banks of clouds rolled up, black and threateningbeneath, reflecting the afterglow above, while forked lightning playedceaselessly through them. Later the facade of the cathedral becameoutlined in lights, although the dome was left in blackness, and allthe Borgo was hung with paper lanterns and was very gay and bright.But I felt lonely without you.
D. V., it will not be long before I reach home! Already I can see thebeautiful bay, the boats passing and repassing, and the arrival ofQuarantine and Custom officials. The great city--greater NewYork--faintly appearing through the morning mist, and the hugebuildings towering above the fog, like a city in the clouds. We passthe statue, the busy ferry boats hurry beneath our great bow and--ah,Polly, I must confess my eyes are tearful with the excitement andhappiness of the thought. My great anxiety to be with you should carrythe ship more quickly, though alas, in this practical age, it dependsmore on the quality of the coal than on the burning anxiety of alover.
* * * * *
PRINCE BORIS TO POLLY
_Paris, December._
I followed you to Paris and showed you nightly and by day in therestaurants and the Bois, and all the places of fashion, and everybodyhe look with eyes of admiration at you and at me glances of envy. Whenyou smile with me, then I was for a moment happy. But though yousmile, you do not stay--you go away to America. You are like prettyfloating milkweed, you touch here and there in your travels. The wind(your Aunt) blow you from place to place.
In sables from Siberia I would dress you and jewels from the Urals,and take you to the opera at Moscow. We would travel in the East, andyou are so clever, you would help me in my secret missions. We woulddecipher riddles and gather secret news. You would fascinate the greatones of the earth, and they would tell you tales of State that wouldhelp the great cause. What would you say, _ma petite_? Be my Princessand let me carry you to my castle in the mountains; it is a littlesavage among the Tartars, but I hope the hummingbird find it in herheart to make her nest there with me some day.
Soon I meet you in America and we talk again.
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_Rome, December._
Your cable telling me of your willingness to announce our engagementwas received with inexpressible happiness. I did not realize thatmaking known our secret would bring such a new joy into my life. Italmost makes me burst from sheer felicity when people say pleasantthings. Dear old Checkers sent me an engagement book because, hewrote, I was engaged! Beaming, round-faced Pan bustled in, with hisred fez on one side, and his fingers strung with all his jewelledrings, to talk about you and my wonderful luck. He got as excited as Idid, and we both rattled on at the same time. Then we went out todinner and had a bottle of champagne. Up he got to drink ourhealths,--can't you see him?--reciting,
"May your joys be as deep as the ocean, Your sorrows as light as its foam!"
But poor Charlton! I went in to tell him of our engagement and he gaveme the warmest congratulations. He doesn't seem any better. Indeed,Polly, I doubt if he is ever going to get well. I shall hurryhomewards as soon as possible, but I can't leave him now. Pay noattention to your Aunt's obstacles, my dear, if they threaten our lovefor each other, will you? Surely, surely, you will be true.
* * * * *
&nbs
p; PRINCE BORIS TO POLLY
_Moscow, December._
Ah, the pleasure to have been with you in Paris! I think about itevery night and wish to have you near.
You say to me once, write about my country,--Russia, oh my Russia,hail! You think only of bombs and Nihilists in _la Russie_, but wehave many good things, museums best in the world, artistes most fine,ballet splendid, and Slavic music, ah, it make the blood stir. When Igo to opera, and lover makes love to his lady, then I think of--you.Do you think of Boris walking the streets of Moscow, where roofs aregreen as malachite and strange domes grow in the sky like vegetables?Learn our history, about Ivan the Terrible, about Peter the Great, andCatherine the great lover. Read, too, our literature, Turgeniev, closeto the heart, Pushkin, melancholy poet, and Artzibasheff ironical. No!Me I read them to you some day with a tremble of the voice and thenyou will surely fall in love with a Muscovite.
Your Aunt she write me come to New York. Perhaps you make me Americanwhen I come over. Why you not say me come yourself? I remind me of theproverb, "A thousand raps on the door but no salute or invitation fromwithin." Your American diplomat he amuse himself very well in Rome. Asyou know, he went often to the circus, to see pretty girl there wholook like your enemy, the lady of the gray eyes. That the reason henot come to Paris, I think. He not want to see you both there at onetime.
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_Rome, December._
Behold me at my desk! I couldn't bear this place, my own, if it hadnot, on every hand, remembrances of you. Here in this very office, youhave sat. The last day or two in Florence, whither Embassy affairstook me, brought thronging memories of our hours together there. Thismorning as the train crawled across the Campagna in the weird twilightof the moon just before dawn, I gazed out of the window and watchedthe ruins rise out of the uncanny plain like tombstones of a deadcivilization,--spectres of decay and times long past. Think of all thelovers they have looked on since first the aqueducts went marching offto the hills in gigantic strides.
My precious, when the gray dawn was just breaking, I entered the GrandHotel, and then thought of you again, of the night I first called you,Pollykins, by your own little name, right there in the doorway. Don'tbe disappointed in my letters, if from time to time they tell onlysomebody's feelings, and forget to mention what is happening. Now youalone are my life. But write and let me know how _you_ feel.
* * * * *
POLLY TO A. D.
_Black Horse Farm on the Hudson, December._
Here we are at the Farm, Aunt, Checkers, and I. Although ourengagement may be announced in Rome, my stern relative says we mustwait until we're settled a bit before announcing it in New York. I wasgoing to give a luncheon and tell everyone, but she suddenly dashedaway into the country with me in her wake, flying like Alice throughthe Looking Glass after the Mad Queen.
You would like this place, dear,--an old Colonial house of brick withwings and white trimmings, surrounded by great elms overlooking theHudson. The furniture is Chippendale, queer ancient panoramic wallpaper makes a background for some delightful eighteenth-centuryprints, and fireplaces ablaze with logs are in every room. I've beensecretly wondering if we couldn't have our honeymoon here. Do youfancy the idea, dearest?
There is still a sheet of paper left right under my nose, staring upas much as to say, "Why don't you use me? Why not write more to yoursecretary?" Well, it will have to be in pencil, for to use ink willmean going down stairs where there are still people dashing about;while up in my bedroom I am quite alone except for John Sullivan, ourbull pup.
Isn't it perfectly pathetic to be left all solitary this long coldwinter with the only boy I love so far away?
P. S. Is Charlton really so ill that you do not like to leave him? Noother reason? You wrote that Mona Lisa had disappeared from your life.Are you sure she has no successor?
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_Rome, December._
Your letter came yesterday telling of your visit to Black Horse Farm,and as for spending our honeymoon there, it would be a bit out ofParadise! But don't, Polly, don't, I beg of you, put off announcingyour engagement in New York. Think of the position it puts me in; asyou know, Rome is all agog with it. Ask your Aunt frankly why she isso hesitant. Apparently she liked me, and she offered no objections inEurope to what she must have known was coming. In any case she cannotforce you to accept the attentions of the Prince.
I wish, dearest, you might have been at the diplomatic reception atthe Court, at the Quirinal, the other evening. How sweet you wouldhave looked in your Court dress! I was overwhelmed, absolutelyoverwhelmed by congratulations and good wishes. Even the ministers andchiefs of missions seemed to know of my great happiness and took theoccasion to say nice things. The world does indeed love a lover. WhenI reached my apartment I danced the Highland fling with two umbrellascrossed together for swords, and felt like sliding down the banisters,too!
At Court the reception is always a very fine function; first to rattlethrough the entrance of the palace, across the court to the foot ofthe broad staircase where the big _portiers_ in red liveries saluteand bow, then up the brilliantly-lighted, crimson-carpeted staircaseto the huge _antecamera_ hung with tapestries, a vast chamber where acompany of splendid _corazzieri_ in gleaming helmets and cuirassesstand at attention and salute each Ambassador.
The reception-room is magnificent, and there the diplomats in theiruniforms, gaudy with all sorts of tinsel plaques, stars, crescents,and gold embroidery, stand about till the approach of the Royalties isannounced. Then they bustle into line according to precedence--aprocession that reaches around the room, each Ambassador with hisstaff behind him. Thereupon the King and Queen arrive! They bow; weall bow. His Majesty shakes hands with the Ambassadors, and makesconversation. One by one, the secretaries step forward and areaddressed, while the Queen speaks only to the Chiefs of Missions.Meanwhile the Ladies-in-waiting stand in a row arranged opposite; sodo we all remain for over an hour and a half.
In conversation with Pan this evening he let it slip out that thePrince was going to America before long on a secret mission. I haveno idea what he is up to. Don't delay, my sweetheart, in announcingour engagement--write me that you love me.
P. S. Really I do not know where Mona Lisa has gone, and I aminterested in nobody but you, dear.
* * * * *
PRINCE BORIS TO POLLY
_Moscow, December._
A silver plate I send you for bread and cellar for salt, so doRussians give to the Tsar, the Little Father, in token of homage. Asthe Cossacks say, "Feed the mouth, the eyes will not be bashful." Imake you gifts, in other words, and you will be ashamed not to look onme with kindness. Often I dream of your eyes, blue as lapis lazulifrom the Urals.
From Rome comes news,--you engaged to American diplomat. I cannotbelieve serious--tell me not true. Lady from Virginia say once, oftenAmerican girls engage to two, three men all same time--is it so? Itmay be. Turks and Chinese have several wifes, and lady Laplanders,they have several husbands, _n'est ce pas?_ Is it you write no morebecause you really serious engage? Your Aunt she say why no, ofcourse; you not know your own mind. Peppi say she wish title for you.But I still wait that little Hummingbird welcome me to New York.
* * * * *
POLLY TO A. D.
_Black Horse Farm, Christmas Morning._
This morning, dearest, what should arrive but the most beautiful rosesin the world from you, and in the toe of my Xmas stocking, I found aheavenly diamond engagement-ring! How can I ever thank you enough?Polly is very proud and happy to wear it. Did Gilet put the littlecuff links I sent in your sock, or perhaps you didn't hang one up inthe chimney?
A. D., I love you madly--yes, I do, you can't know, you never willknow how much. Every day I want to be with you. Whenever I have a
goodtime I say to myself, "I wish my dear 'Dip' were here to enjoy it,too." America seems pretty empty with someone I love in beautifulItaly.
Aunt wants news of Peppi, says she hasn't heard from him lately. ThePrince sent me a lovely present, and wants to know if you and I areseriously engaged.
I wish I could have seen you do the sword-dance! It takes a lot ofcourage to tackle Aunt and get her to go back with us to New York andtell of the engagement of a proud little Pagan to a dear diplomat.Your father sent me a sweet letter from California.
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_Rome, Christmas Day._
In my dreams last night were all sorts of Christmas things--home andmistletoe and you under it, my love. On my breakfast-tray this morninglay your lovely cuff-links. A thousand thanks,--I shall wear themevery day.
The Christmas decorations at church were holly and palms. The greenswere dotted with oranges and apples, the high pillars wreathed withivy, the chancel and altar banked with flowers, for the Reverend Nevinis very artistic in his arrangement of such things. I was so full ofgratitude and thanksgiving, so placidly content that even when anawkward worshipper knocked my silk hat (Gilet's shining pride) on thefloor and rumpled and broke it, I didn't mutter, or even think awicked thing!
I said a little prayer for you, Polly dear. Then I hurried home, forthere were so many things to attend to,--as Checkers would remark,"Merry Christmas, but not a dish washed!"
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_Rome, December 31._
Tell your Aunt that Peppi is looking better but still far from well.He will not stay in bed and take care of himself, but keeps onpainting and painting behind locked doors. The endless rains thisautumn have been bad for him, though he seems gay and talks alot--calls me the birdcage, because I have caught the Hummingbird. Forme the place is full of memories of you--the terrace, thesitting-room with the corner where you used to make tea, and where Iwould sit, falling deeper and deeper in love, hour by hour.
This is the last day of the dear old year, a year blessed as no othercan be, for therein have I met my Polly, known her, loved her. Ah, oldyear, you have been good to me passing belief! How many moments ofsupreme happiness have you given me, days of bliss with my beloved,nights of anxiety away from her, moments of doubt and fear, moments ofheavenly exaltation.
Think of the mystery of the years! I was born the Lord knows when; youflew right down from heaven, and we loved so on this old earth. Thelast words I shall ever write in this year are--I love you, Polly!
* * * * *
POLLY TO A. D.
_New York, December 31._
It is seven o'clock here and I somehow feel that you are thinking ofme--in Rome it must be midnight, the beginning of the New Year. If wecould only hold hands for just one little minute, it would make me sohappy. An hour ago I sent you a cable, so you'll get my message withyour breakfast.
There's just a moment left in which to write a line before dressingfor dinner. Then comes a ball to which I shall wear a frock all littlefluttering iridescent draperies, suggesting an airy hummingbird. Sybilis spending the night here--it is months since I last saw her in Rome.She is just as pretty and lively as ever, smoking cigarettes all thetime and using the same exaggerated language,--that you're thehandsomest man that ever existed, that I'm "the luckiest girl inHeaven or Hell." She's much excited over our betrothal and hopes wemay live a million years and have a thousand children!
Sybil went with me to ask Aunt to put an announcement in the papers,to which my autocratic relative replied that she would see. Do yousuppose your Polly will have any partners now that she is engaged? Forrumors are leaking out, of course. Partners or no partners, if Auntdoesn't, I'll put it in the papers myself, I will!
You wouldn't believe it of me, would you, but I'm growing positivelysentimental. Half the time I live in a dream with you, dear, thinkingof you, wanting so much to please you, wondering what you would likeme to do. The little forget-me-not enclosed, carries a kiss.
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_Rome, New Year's Day._
I love you with all my heart! These are the first words that I writein the new year--just as you were the first thought in my mind as thebells chimed out midnight. God guard us, my own, during the comingmonths, and grant us His blessing!
New Year's Eve, the municipality sends a band to serenade theEmbassies, a pretty custom, but I wandered over to your Palazzoinstead, to Peppi's where we had a little supper and drank toasts tothe old year and the new one, to you and your Aunt. "Here's to theladies," sighed P.--"God bless 'em! We can't do anything with 'em,and we can't do anything without 'em."
At breakfast Gilet walked in on me with your cable of greetings in hishand, so you see how timely it arrived. Thank you, my Sweetheart, forthe dear message which began our New Year. This morning is brilliantand a _bersaglieri_ regiment has just gone past on a quick-step withfeathers waving, and the band of _carabinieri_ playing a lively air.The movement and the music are entrancing but all is incompletewithout you.
_Later._
I have passed the afternoon very quietly, for the news of Charlton'sdeath today has shocked me so. Poor old fellow! Accordingly I onlyleft a few cards officially and then went and sat a long time in theChurch of the Jesuits where vespers were being sung. The building wasoutlined with candles, the effect fine, solemn and religious. Theaisles were thronged with people while organ-music and singing roseand fell. Then I hurried back to my fireside, through the narrowcrowded streets, across the Corso with its endless files of carriages,for the dread chill of Rome came on, and the men and women wrappedtheir cloaks about them.
Now that poor Charlton is gone, I am sending in my resignation to thePresident. I have decided to go into business, for a very good offerhas turned up that I hope you will approve. Moreover, the Ambassadorhimself dispatched his own resignation yesterday. Mine will followclose upon its heels "to take effect at the earliest convenience ofthe Department of State," and I added "an earnest request to berelieved of my duties at the first opportunity as private matters ofan anxious and urgent nature call me home."
If the Department either loves me much or hates me much, it will letme off promptly. My feelings wouldn't be hurt if a cablegram shouldcome marked _urgent_, and stating, "Your resignation accepted withpleasure, and to take effect _at once_," the last two wordsunderlined. I'd knock over the tables and chairs, slam the doors, andgo home so quickly that one wouldn't have time to say "Jack Robinson!"Then I would cry, "Gilet! Gilet! Where in thunder are you, Gilet? Packmy things, throw them in helter skelter, pellmell, all in a heap. Itdoesn't matter--nothing matters, for we are going home!Hip-hip-hurrah!" I am all excited at the mere thought. And if anyonewondered at this indecent haste ("Haste which mars all decency ofact"), I'd say, "I am going back to my love," and they would neverblame me.
* * * * *
POLLY TO A. D.
_New York, January._
Your photograph is beside me, and I have kissed it so many times todayand every day that it would be quite worn out if it weren't for theglass in front. The separation has made my love for you grow strongerand finer, and shows me clearly that it is you and you only I love andwant. The weeks since we became engaged have found me very happy inthe knowledge that there was someone who would always take care of me,someone whom I would look up to and respect. I am behaving so well forme that soon I shall no longer be known as Polly the Pagan.
I was very sorry to hear of Lord Ronald Charlton's death, for I knowyou must miss him greatly. So you have sent in your resignation.Splendid! I shall expect you shortly. Cable me when you leave.
Auntie says I ought not to announce my engagement here until you canset a definite date to return. Won't you do that for me?
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A. D. TO POLLY
_Rome, January._
Fi, fo, fum! I should indeed like to be at "hum." The days arebecoming longer, and so I find my only happiness in thinking thatbefore they begin to shorten again, I shall have come to you, myangel, to love and to hold and to cherish you forever. But meantime myletters are blue because I am blue, and I am a deep cerulean becauseyou are so far off. Why, being away from you is enough to make me turninto a box of indigo. Blue indeed--I am Black!
To console myself I read and re-read your letters and daydream aboutthe future. Yes, I shall come and as soon as the State Departmentwill let me. It won't be long now--not long, though I cannot as yetset a date. I think May would be the prettiest time of the whole yearto be married in, and then go (as you suggest) to Black Horse Farm,though nobody must know; afterwards we'll cruise slowly South downthrough the Spanish Main, across the Equator, skirting the coast ofGuiana, past Brazil. We'll round the Horn together and see if we canfind the Enchanted Isles and other heavenly ineffable places. What doyou think of this plan, my darling?
Meantime, I have only your picture, as you have mine. In case you maylike to see the arrangement of my habitation, I have sketched it foryou. The little cross is where my altar is placed, the point to whichyour devotee turns, not twice or thrice or four times a day, as do theMahometans toward their place of worship, but constantly in prayer andthanksgiving. Your photograph is my Mecca and you are my little Pagangoddess, part nymph, part naughty elfin sprite, and part some wingedflitting creature out of a fairy mythology not as yet discovered. Buthere in this room you are my Lares and Penates--you are my Love.
Last night I said goodbye to your picture, and went off to the CourtBall, where I saw many of our fair compatriots. It was a fine sight.It makes me think of what Mr. Dooley said, "at coort rayciptions th'Ambassadure iv England wore th' gorgeous unyform iv his station, th'Ambassadure iv France jingled with medals, th' American Ambassadurelooked like a detictive at a fancy ball." Three sides of the greatroom were lined with rows of people who all bowed and curtseyed as theKing and Queen entered, while the orchestra played the Royal March.The Queen danced in the Quadrille of Honor, and after that the musicstruck up the first waltz and the moment arrived when, it may interestyou to know, I opened the Ball!
The Grand Master of Ceremonies asked me to dance with his daughter,and so, bang! out in front of all the people I walked on my tremblinglegs, bowed to her Majesty, and went across and asked the signorina.Round and round the room we spun while all gazed upon us; at last someothers took the floor and the ball was on! It was about the mosttrying thing that I have ever done; in fact we almost danced down theKing and the wife of the Prime Minister, and a few other dignitarieswho stood in our parabolic way. After things got started, I tried todance with all the American girls present but it was warm work. TheQueen and Mona Lisa, who has come back to Rome, to Peppi's intensejoy--but don't tell your aunt--were probably the two most remarkablewomen there, both beautifully dressed, and they looked at each other,as ladies will. My last Court Ball!
But my troubles are not over, for our Ambassador and his wife are toreceive the King and Queen; so I have that to arrange. The legend isthat the Queen has expressed a desire to go to the United StatesEmbassy. It is going to make a lot of work, of course, for TheirMajesties very seldom do this thing, though Embassies are, as youknow, among the few places which may entertain them. It should be afine function--the palace of our Ambassador is so magnificent--and Ihope it may be well done, though the preparation must needs betremendous. Only certain people can be asked, and great statemaintained. Oh, my darling, if you were only here to enjoy it!
A thousand invisible fibres are drawing me towards you ever andalways. But Polly, I am beginning to be uneasy. I had hoped surely togo when the Ambassador left Rome, but now he says very emphaticallythat it is my duty to stay here until a new secretary comes, and thatis the reason I have not heard from the State Department. I am, oh, sodisappointed. Trust me! Believe in me! Don't let this separation, thisuncertainty bring about any misunderstanding between us, no matter howslight. I have fought off a feeling of foreboding all day. Love me,dearest, always.
* * * * *
PRINCE BORIS TO POLLY
_Moscow, February._
For America I start, though to Rome I must go on the way. I amflattered that you say you read our Russian authors. But read a littleFrench poetry, too, some very beautiful but destructive to the morals.My little blond rose, though very young, knows how to fish forhearts--the Parisian need not teach her that, for she has alreadycaught many.
I have not written to you for days because you tell me you areengaged, but if so, why is it American Diplomat he not go to you soonlike me? Is it a pretty divorcee holds him yet, as you say "with thecome hither eye?" She is much _eprise_ of him, I hear. But I shouldnot tell you this. That she has returned to Rome many weeks ago, youknow already, yes? I kiss your hand.
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_Rome, February._
Last night our Embassy Ball took place and the King and Queen came. Itwas quite stately, the Palace is so spacious and imposing and theRoyalties were very gracious. At the last minute while we stoodwaiting for the royal carriages to be announced, the FrenchAmbassadress arrived, saying that her lord had suddenly been taken illwith (literally) _un mal a l'estomac_. So the plans for the_Quadrille d'honneur_, which had been arranged with all sorts offinality during the days beforehand, had to be done over, and alas! byme. However, the invited guests had arrived, and the sheep separatedfrom the goats. The Ambassador and Ambassadress walked down to thefront door, beneath the vast entrance, while others of the officialfamily stood at the head of the staircase. A red carpet was rolled outto the carriage and I had to go ahead and act as a sort of grandmaster of ceremonies. The Queen and the Ambassador, the King and theAmbassadress, followed by the Diplomatic Corps, moved down between thelines of curtseying people to the ball-room where a throne on a raiseddais had been placed.
Gilet was stationed near the door so that I was able to signal to himand start the band playing the Royal March, followed by a few bars ofthe Star Spangled Banner. All stood until the Queen sat down. Thencame the Royal Quadrille, as at the Court Ball, and the waltzes and"dancing in the barn" which Her Majesty wanted to see. At last Royaltymade a move, and they were escorted to the little salon where a smalltable with two places had been set for the Queen and the Ambassadress,and a small buffet at one side for the ladies of the court. The Kingstood and drank a glass of wine with the Ambassador. Back again to theballroom--I thought they would never go, but at last they departed,the host and hostess going down the stairs with Their Majestiesbetween the banks of flowers to the carriage.
Then the great dining-hall with its lofty ceiling and glitteringlights concealed in towering palm trees, was opened, for it was notetiquette to serve the guests with supper while the King and Queenremained. In a little while it looked as if a plague of locusts hadpassed over the land. There was nothing left but bones and crumbs andglasses and empty bottles. I never before felt so glad when a thingwas over! It has been a good deal of a strain for all of us.
This morning I feel like a boy just out of school. Although I only gotto bed at dawn, my forty winks have rejuvenated me, and I am aschipper as can be. The echoes of the ball are very enthusiastic. Itappears now that the other embassies are trying to get TheirMajesties to go to them.
What do you think I am doing these afternoons? Why, riding horsebacklike a little man! It took me days to find a respectable (looking)horse, but at last I found at Ferini's, near the Borghese villa, anice chestnut with two white stockings and a good deal of style whenshe frisks about. Peppi calls her Mona Lisa. So, in the afternoons,early or late, according to the amount of work I have to do, I may beseen sallying forth, and an hour later, returning, the horse fresh andwithout a hair unturned, but the rider pretty well done up.
But
oh how I want to leave it all and come flying to you! Remember mecourteously to your Aunt. Does she still think of Peppi?
* * * * *
POLLY TO A. D.
_New York, February._
Every night I read your letters over and over. You are my love and mysweetheart and I adore you. I can hardly believe such happiness iscoming to me, for there never was anyone so dear in all the world,there never has been, there never will be. Your friends have been sokind to me and your father has sent me such nice letters.
Oh by the way, whom are you riding horseback with? Mona Lisa? Ahem,and the horse is called after her. So the grass widow is back in Rome,and Peppi, you say, is cocking his eye at her? I think Aunt is toobusy with her charities lately to remember about her handsome artistwith his wild hair. She no longer wears floppy artistic gowns, shereally likes titles, and is getting quite excited over Prince Boris'coming.
Now, A. D., I've got some news for you. Aunt just wouldn't formallyannounce our engagement, so I did! Yes, my dear! I sent a noticemyself to the papers, chuckling as I wrote it. Now it's up to you. Theonly thing for you to do, I warn you, is to come over as quickly asyou can and carry off your Pagan Polly, provided you still want her.
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_Rome, February._
Here I am at the office, receiving company in the mildest manner,trying to soothe my dissatisfied countrymen, and do impossibilities ofone sort and another. I have already had several visitors thismorning. One was a young man who has had the cheerful but fruitfulexperience of being buncoed out of several thousand francs at Naplesand is accordingly needy. I helped him out of the store of my wisdomand out of the store of my bank account, and he has departed wiser ifsomewhat sadder.
Last night Jan and I went again to Peppi's studio. It seemed as if youwere really in the terrace room--you seemed to pervade the place withits old tapestries and sketches, its rugs and easels and paints andbooks of photographs, and the northern window letting in a flood ofmoonlight. And there your shadow sat, while Jan played the pianodelightfully, gavottes, mazurkas, ballets.
I have adopted a plan which makes me the happiest of men. I carry thelast letter which I receive from you in my pocket until the next onecomes, and so I am never disappointed in not having a missive fromyou. It is a splendid scheme, for then I always have something toread. I shan't want to give up the one I received today, though, whenthe next one comes, for it is so nice. But then, the next one may bestill nicer.
* * * * *
POLLY TO A. D.
_Black Horse Farm, March._
At the farm again. It is lonely up here without you. The winter withits drifting snow was fine, but now that is melting. The roads aremuddy and make such hard pulling for the horses that Checkers ishitching up four while I write, and I plan to drive them.
How you would laugh if you could see me; I am the funniest lookingobject--huge rubber boots, a queer-looking short skirt with half ayard of tear down the side made by the bull pup, (he is the dearestthing, though) an old brown jacket very much the worse for wear, aScotch tam, and Checker's furry gloves--you know what I mean, thelovely pussy ones. Now we are off!
_Later, a postscript._
This afternoon Checkers and I had a horseback ride and I cansympathize with you after your Campagna rides, for I don't feel asspry as I might. Though, after all, you have Mona Lisa with you towhile away the time, and I?--Well, Boris is coming to America soon, soyou'd better be on your best behavior. It is midnight and I havehopped into bed and spilt the ink; it's high time I stopped writingand went to sleep and to dream of--well, of one of you, anyway.
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PRINCE BORIS TO POLLY
_Rome, March._
_Mon ange_, I am in Rome again, but will soon be in America with you.American Secretary like me no more because I follow after you; he gothe other way, if possible, and I look in sky as if observinginteresting eclipse. It make me very angry--wish to pull his nose--myheart is inky as the devil's pit.
Your Aunt, she likes me, at least. The Carthorse she calls herself,but not of your family surely, for you are like wild Arab colt. I trywithout success to tempt you with sweets and with fresh dates of thedesert, but you not let me put on bridle. After Paris, my heart havebig hole. Now I run after you to America to try mend the hole.
You can be princess if you wish, and live in a country that will someday soon be master of the world.
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_Rome, March._
Your letters, dear, from the farm bring the fine country air withthem. I can see the still cold moonlight on the pure white snow andhear the ringing of the sleigh bells, I can see the old house, thefire crackling up the chimney, and the cozy room with the old prints,the warmth and geniality. Thank you, dear, for the picture.
But your mood changed, didn't it, darling, when you got back from yourride? I am sure your Aunt dropped some little bit of gossip, possiblysomething the Prince or Peppi may have written, though I feared he hadquite forgotten her. He's too deeply in love with Mona Lisa now to actlike a sensible person, and whatever he says is colored by his insanejealousy of every other man in Rome who even looks on his divinity.But I'm coming home, Polly. I'll do anything to get away. I know youwant to live in America and so do I.
Last night was the ball at the Austrian Embassy to which came the Kingand Queen. In a word--and a slang word at that--it wasn't a patch onour Embassy Ball. Their palace, for one thing, doesn't compare withours, and then, notwithstanding all the etiquette and fuss of theAustrians, all their punctiliousness, it didn't go off so smoothly.The fact is, it wasn't so well done, and out of this I privately foundmuch gratification. The American function had been a great success,while the reception of last night was rather a commonplace affair.
I stood around and watched the Austrian secretaries work--five or sixof them to do what I alone had done, and I delighted in seeing themrun about, and look sheepish or important, according to their natures,as they did the more or less foolish things the occasion demanded. Assoon as their Majesties had gone, I departed, so got to bed at acomparatively early hour. They had a cotillion afterwards which we hadthe good sense not to undertake. Rather a funny thing was the factthat a class of Americans who hadn't been asked to our ball wereinvited to this one!
I took a ride on my chestnut horse this afternoon--yes, the one Peppidubbed Mona Lisa. But don't you worry about the real ladyLisa--she--well, she just helps to pass the time away. Today as westarted out, great banks of clouds toward the East had gathered,casting shadows on the hills, and these advanced till a gloriousdouble rainbow arched across the Campagna. It was all so beautifulthat we innocently rode right into the storm and were drenched in apelting rain.
The Embassy is humming with people calling, making inquiries, askingfor passports, demanding everything from a room in the best hotel to agood store where an American can buy a pair of suspenders, and athousand and one other requests. Then the Ambassador is getting readyto go away, so all is topsy-turvey. As soon as he goes, I shall beginto pack my boxes--a few books and pictures; and then some evening whenthe new secretary gets here, I shall quietly go to the station, takethe train, and ride rattling across the uncanny old Campagna for thelast time, and say goodbye to old Rome, goodbye! I follow your peskyPrince!
* * * * *
POLLY TO A. D.
_New York, March._
Here I am, twenty-one years old and everything to make me happy excepttwo little things. One is I don't like to have that grass-widow withher gray cat's eyes again in Rome. She's much too smartly dressed, andcalculating, too, yes, she is, A. D. She just goes after what shewants, then if it's not obtainable, takes whatever else is handy. Shemay be amusing, but even if you and Peppi do rave about her looks, Idon't th
ink she's a bit pretty.
And this is the other thing. Aunt has inserted a denial of ourengagement, after the nice announcement I had put in the paper. That'swhy we darted up to the Black Horse Farm last week. To get me away soI shouldn't see it contradicted in the Sunday papers. But Sybil didand sent it to me. What shall I do next?
I'm grateful anyway for the dearest sweetheart in the world; that'smore than anyone else has! This morning the sun shining brightly intomy room awoke me, and the day has turned out glorious, not a cloud inthe sky. Don't you hope our wedding-day will be like this? Louisadecorated the breakfast table and on it were some birthday gifts--apair of pretty bedroom slippers, a work-bag from Grandmother (Ahem, Isew so much!) and a pretty cardcase from Aunt, and a little silvercoffee pot, just big enough for two, from Checkers. Aunt sniffed whenCheckers explained elaborately the two it was meant for. I believe sheis still actually set on my becoming a Princess.
And then! There lay two letters and a cable--all three from you. Theygot torn open first, even before I untied the great box that containedyour roses. I put away the letters till I could take them off to mylair, to read and re-read secretly--such dear letters and such lovelyflowers. I'd like to kiss you and tell you so this very minute, butyou're leagues and leagues away, so there's something lacking to mybirthday after all.
After breakfast there was business to be attended to. Now I'm of age,Aunt is no longer my guardian. (Do you suppose she's heaving a sigh ofrelief?) So forth I sallied into town with our business man, Mr.French--we went in a cab--quite improper, don't you think? And at suchan early hour! Well, we got to the office and were closeted togetherfor ages and ages while he talked and talked and read and read againpapers and documents, I signing them above and below and around aboutuntil my wrist ached. Then a man with a red stamp came in to helpofficiate till finally we got them all fixed up. After that Mr. Frenchtook me to a safe where there was a little tin box; here we put theprecious papers with my John Hancock all over them, and after he hadgiven me two keys, he left me. And what do you suppose I did? Havingfor the first time a little money of my own, I went to a jeweller andbought a very pretty ring--for Sybil. Now are you disappointed? Nevermind. Something else was bought for somebody I won't mention.
On coming home I found, well! ! ! There are no words enthusiastic enoughto thank you for the glorious great pearl on a chain to go about myneck. But you know that these few poor inadequate thanks come from myheart, and hidden somewhere in them are endless devotion and perfectfaithfulness to you.
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_Rome, March._
I enclose some photographs of the "meets" on the Campagna--of the packand the huntsmen and tent, and a group of onlookers--the princess ofSan Faustino, the last Orsini, and Prince Solofra who seems to bescratching his head and meditating on the past glories of the greatfeudal families. Also one of your friends, Gonzaga, with the Countesshe is going to marry.
There is an attempt being made to revive the Carnival fetes--the racesin the Corso--but the Veglione won't be so much fun as last year, Iknow. Every moment of that night together is unforgettable. Poorerratic Pittsburgo, how you did tease him! And dear old Checkers!There'll never again be anything so funny as he was in that roundmasque with its fixed grin, dancing about on the floor of theCostanzi. But now it isn't carnival for me. Who could feel gay whenhis love is not here? So I am only an observer, while others sport andplay the fool, more or less amusingly.
The Corso has been crowded, and many of the balconies draped withbright carpets, and wreathed with flowers. Through the throngs theremoved an irregular succession of fantastic figures, men on horseback,dressed in red and yellow, heralds, groups of historic patriots andwarriors, and even Marcus Aurelius so ingeniously imitated that heappeared exactly like the statue on the Capitol, which is supposed tohave left its pedestal and come down to enjoy the mirth. Then therewas a "char" with Venus--to whom as the Goddess of love, I took off myhat and bowed,--drawn by tinsel cupids and snowy pigeons tugging awayat the ends of stiff wires. There were sacrificial chariots, too, andfloats of hanging gardens, and still more Roman statues,--
"Priests and prophets of the ages, Vestals, augurs, pontiffs, mages, Brazen-belted, scarlet-shrouded, All their altars incense-clouded, Roman wealth of aeons massing Now in golden pageant passing."
The people threw flowers and confetti and everything else they couldlay their hands on. Between certain hours there was complete license,and a mask could hit or kiss or be as wild as he pleased. (You know,dear, there _is_ a certain kind of kissing I do not disapprove of.)
Yesterday, too, was gay with crowds of people in the streets, for itwas the King's birthday, and I was awakened by the music of marchingbands, in time to see from my window the Persian Ambassador startingto call on the King at the Quirinal. The gala carriages made a fineshow with their caparisoned horses, the three liveried footmen behindand bewigged coachman stuck up in front. This important Embassy hadtraveled all the way from Persia to tell the King that a new Shah hadcome to the throne, a bit of news we had learned by telegraph monthsago,--but such are the ways of monarchs. I wonder when the Ambassadorwill arrive from America to announce the accession of the newAdministration! The evening found me dining at the Foreign Office inhonor of His Majesty's birthday. It was a very splendid and statelyaffair, the diplomats and officials all in uniforms of gold lace,cocked hats, with swords and fine feathers, my simple, unadorned blackcoat being the only one at the table. (However, the servants weredressed like me, though to be sure, even some of them were decorated!)It was a dinner of fifty, long and ceremonious, and afterwards we allstood about while I watched the Greek and Turk dodging each other, andtaking turns in talking excitably to their fellow guests. Tomorrowthey will probably be at each other's throats.
The Ambassadorial family has just left, with a good many people to seethem off, chiefly officials. I put some flowers in their compartment,as I did when my darling Polly left Rome. I had hoped to be able toleave with them, but, as I wrote you, I must wait until a newAmbassador, or his Secretary, arrives before I can turn over theaffairs and leave. Oh, Polly, I am so sorry for this further delay.You know how disappointed I am, and you will be patient with me, won'tyou, dear?
* * * * *
PRINCE BORIS TO POLLY
_Rome, March._
_Dushenka moya_, you do not know what these little words mean? Thenyou cannot forbid that I call you that. Long time I am coming but hadmuch work to do. Now my passage at last is engage, and the boat thatbring me I hope she fly. So I fascinated you with my mysterious tales,your letter says? Then shall I tell you more when we meet, about theenchanted Princess with the beautiful golden hair, yes?
Ah, my poor little Hummingbird, I hear your young Diplomat he isstaying in Rome; there is no need, but then, oh la la! Always thegray-eyed lady of Da Vinci is with him, and they tell me that everyday they go off into the Campagna and ride and ride and come back verycheerful. I am angry for you. When I come, will you receive me kindlylike the true friend who will always remain your obedient Boris?
* * * * *
POLLY TO A. D.
_New York, March._
Thank Heaven your clever old Ambassador has finally departed, but I amvery cross that you didn't come with him. Why wait for anotherSecretary? Can't someone else turn over those ridiculous "affairs?" Ifyou still linger in Rome, I shall complain to the Cruelty to ChildrenSociety, because your staying there is making me pine away. Besides,it may be months before your successor arrives. It isn't by any chanceMona Lisa who is keeping you? That day in Rome when she tore up yourpicture, she said she would make trouble. Hateful thing, I wish shewere in Jericho or Halifax or anywhere except in Rome!
When do you think you'll get back? Ever? And what about the date ofthe wedding? Do you prefer the autumn? Put it off if you want to, orshall we give it up entirely?
&nbs
p; You might write me a little gossip. Do you see anything of Boris thesedays, for I believe he's been making Rome a flying visit? Don't youlike him any more? I do. Does he still carry his fascinating Persiancane? Aunt thought he was on his way to America, but like someoneelse, he seems to care more about remaining in Rome than journeyingtowards me. But now he writes he is starting.
* * * * *
A. D. TO POLLY
_Rome, March._
As to the date of the wedding, of course it rests with you, dear, tofix it. It should be, if possible, a week or so after I get home butas for waiting until autumn, I should die! Why not May--that time ofyear would be lovely at the farm? My plan would be to make a festivelittle program of pre-nuptial events and a small wedding in church andthen you and I would go away and leave everybody in the midst of itall.
But my Polly will arrange everything quite perfectly, I'm sure. A poorman, who is an awkward creature at best, is simply disorganized whenit comes to a wedding--and that wedding his own, whew! Nevertheless,we're talking about it, and just that alone makes me want to danceanother of my celebrated Highland flings. Make it May, and near thelatter part. I simply cannot fail to be relieved of my work in time toreach home by that date.
Your letter hurt me. Nothing but duty keeps me in Rome, and you mustlearn to trust me, and not tease and provoke me, because thisseparation is quite as hard for me as it is for you. Your Prince ishere again, but is becoming impossible. I have seen little of him andwould like to see even less. Pan, dear Pan who never has a hard wordfor anyone, much less for one of his own colleagues, tells me he isthe most malicious man he knows, that he likes trouble and does themost abominable things. Even the Russians at his own Embassy seem tobe watching him closely. He couldn't do much to trouble us, could he,dear? Has he been writing, to you often, I wonder? And what about?Tell me.
Polly, I write you everything! The other night, just Turkish Pan andartist Peppi and Madame Mona Lisa came to a little dinner in my rooms.While we were talking of not drinking, (I had planned to stop duringLent) I said, with you in my mind, there were of course some toasts Icouldn't resist. Quick as a wink Peppi lifted his glass with "To MonaLisa!" I was furious, but had to drink it. Dear kind bejewelled Panthen raised his and said "Miss Polly."
Of course Gilet had to refill my glass which he did with evidentdelight, for he does not like a dry Lent. But to the second toast Idrank heel taps, you may be sure. Then my lady Lisa took an imitationpansy from her dress, saying she knew that Miss Polly gave me freshones, but while yours would fade, hers would last forever and bestowedit upon me. Peppi, to my great amusement, looked daggers--he was justlike an angry spaniel with his fuzzy hair,--so I made a great show ofsentiment in accepting the flower.
Will you forgive me? not for breaking my Lenten sacrifice, for alas!what is that to my little Pagan? You wouldn't give up your tiny glassunless you took it to pour a libation to some heathen god of mischief.Forgive me for the first toast I drank, that's all.
There is one thing also I must speak of. I have seen the gold St. Marklion I gave you on the Prince's chain. I am sure it was the one,because it had ruby eyes. Although we have not been speaking, I wentdeliberately up to him and asked him where he got it. He lookedconfused and said something about having picked it up in Paris. Then Iremarked, "I think some pretty American girl gave it to you." Helaughed and replied, "Maybe, who knows?" And Peppi tells me today thathe has already sailed for New York. Will you kindly tell me why yougave it to him?
Just what does this mean? The more I think of my lion, the moreindignant I am. To pay you back, I am going really to flirt with Mona.I give you fair warning. What do you think of that?
* * * * *
PRINCE BORIS TO POLLY
_New York, March. Telegram._
Oh how happy I am to think I shall see you once again. Shall be withyou tomorrow.
* * * * *
POLLY TO A. D.
_New York,_ _March._
I'm getting desperate. It is impossible to write you how I feel orwhy, but I'm so alone except for Checkers. He said today, "Why young'un, you're getting restless," and so I am. The Prince arrivestomorrow--Aunt still continues to be queer about our engagement. Soyou think I really gave the lion to the Prince? And you are flirtingwith the dangerous Mona Lisa. Oh, everything seems topsy turvey!
* * * * *
POLLY TO A. D.
_Cable. New York, April 1st._
Breaking my engagement for reasons you can no doubt surmise.