If it had not been for the lurking hope of some fresh exciting
experience with a woman, he would have been unconscionably lonely. As it
was, this thought with him--quite as the confirmed drunkard's thought of
whiskey--buoyed him up, kept him from despairing utterly, gave his mind
the only diversion it had from the ever present thought of failure. If
by chance he should meet some truly beautiful girl, gay, enticing, who
would fall in love with him! that would be happiness. Only, Angela was
constantly watching him these days and, besides, more girls would simply
mean that his condition would be aggravated. Yet so powerful was the
illusion of desire, the sheer animal magnetism of beauty, that when it
came near him in the form of a lovely girl of his own temperamental
inclinations he could not resist it. One look into an inviting eye, one
glance at a face whose outlines were soft and delicate--full of that
subtle suggestion of youth and health which is so characteristic of
girlhood--and the spell was cast. It was as though the very form of the
face, without will or intention on the part of the possessor, acted
hypnotically upon its beholder. The Arabians believed in the magic power
of the word Abracadabra to cast a spell. For Eugene the form of a
woman's face and body was quite as powerful.
While he and Angela were in Alexandria from February to May, he met one
night at his sister's house a girl who, from the point of view of the
beauty which he admired and to which he was so susceptible, was
extremely hypnotic, and who for the ease and convenience of a flirtation
was very favorably situated. She was the daughter of a traveling man,
George Roth by name, whose wife, the child's mother, was dead, but who
lived with his sister in an old tree-shaded house on the edge of Green
Lake not far from the spot where Eugene had once attempted to caress his
first love, Stella Appleton. Frieda was the girl's name. She was
extremely attractive, not more than eighteen years of age, with large,
clear, blue eyes, a wealth of yellowish-brown hair and a plump but
shapely figure. She was a graduate of the local high school, well
developed for her years, bright, rosy-cheeked, vivacious and with a
great deal of natural intelligence which attracted the attention of
Eugene at once. Normally he was extremely fond of a natural, cheerful,
laughing disposition. In his present state he was abnormally so. This
girl and her foster mother had heard of him a long time since through
his parents and his sister, whom they knew well and whom they visited
frequently. George Roth had moved here since Eugene had first left for
Chicago, and because he was so much on the road he had not seen him
since. Frieda, on all his previous visits, had been too young to take an
interest in men, but now at this age, when she was just blossoming into
womanhood, her mind was fixed on them. She did not expect to be
interested in Eugene because she knew he was married, but because of his
reputation as an artist she was curious about him. Everybody knew who he
was. The local papers had written up his success and published his
portrait. Frieda expected to see a man of about forty, stern and sober.
Instead she met a smiling youth of twenty-nine, rather gaunt and
hollow-eyed, but none the less attractive for that. Eugene, with
Angela's approval, still affected a loose, flowing tie, a soft turn-down
collar, brown corduroy suits as a rule, the coat cut with a belt,
shooting jacket fashion, a black iron ring of very curious design upon
one of his fingers, and a soft hat. His hands were very thin and white,
his skin pale. Frieda, rosy, as thoughtless as a butterfly, charmingly
clothed in a dress of blue linen, laughing, afraid of him because of his
reputation, attracted his attention at once. She was like all the young,
healthy, laughing girls he had ever known, delightful. He wished he were
single again that he might fall into a jesting conversation with her.
She seemed inclined to be friendly from the first.
Angela being present, however, and Frieda's foster mother, it was
necessary for him to be circumspect and distant. The latter, Sylvia and
Angela, talked of art and listened to Angela's descriptions of Eugene's
eccentricities, idiosyncrasies and experiences, which were a
never-failing source of interest to the common run of mortals whom they
met. Eugene would sit by in a comfortable chair with a weary, genial or
indifferent look on his face as his mood happened to be. To-night he was
bored and a little indifferent in his manner. No one here interested him
save this girl, the beauty of whose face nourished his secret dreams. He
longed to have some such spirit of youth near him always. Why could not
women remain young?
While they were laughing and talking, Eugene picked up a copy of Howard
Pyle's "Knights of the Round Table" with its warm heavy illustrations of
the Arthurian heroes and heroines, and began to study the stately and
exaggerated characteristics of the various characters. Sylvia had
purchased it for her seven-year old boy Jack, asleep upstairs, but
Frieda had read it in her girlhood a few years before. She had been
moving restlessly about, conscious of an interest in Eugene but not
knowing how to find an opportunity for conversation. His smile, which he
sometimes directed toward her, was to her entrancing.
"Oh, I read that," she said, when she saw him looking at it. She had
drifted to a position not far behind his chair and near one of the
windows. She pretended to be looking out at first, but now began to talk
to him. "I used to be crazy about every one of the Knights and
Ladies--Sir Launcelot, Sir Galahad, Sir Tristram, Sir Gawaine, Queen
Guinevere."
"Did you ever hear of Sir Bluff?" he asked teasingly, "or Sir Stuff? or
Sir Dub?" He looked at her with a mocking light of humor in his eyes.
"Oh, there aren't such people," laughed Frieda, surprised at the titles
but tickled at the thought of them.
"Don't you let him mock you, Frieda," put in Angela, who was pleased at
the girl's gayety and glad that Eugene had found someone in whom he
could take an interest. She did not fear the simple Western type of girl
like Frieda and her own sister Marietta. They were franker, more kindly,
better intentioned than the Eastern studio type, and besides they did
not consider themselves superior. She was playing the role of the
condescending leader here.
"Certainly there are," replied Eugene solemnly, addressing Frieda. "They
are the new Knights of the Round Table. Haven't you ever heard of that
book?"
"No, I haven't," answered Frieda gaily, "and there isn't any such.
You're just teasing me."
"Teasing you? Why I wouldn't think of such a thing. And there is such a
book. It's published by Harper and Brothers and is called 'The New
Knights of the Round Table.' You simply haven't heard of it, that's
all."
Frieda was impressed. She didn't know whether to believe him or not. She
opened her eyes in a curiously inquiring girlish way which appealed to
Eugene strongly. He wished he were free to kiss her pretty, red,
thoughtlessly-parted lips. Angela herself was faintly doubtful as to
whether he was speaking of a real book or not.
"Sir Stuff is a very famous Knight," he went on, "and so is Sir Bluff.
They're inseparable companions in the book. As for Sir Dub and Sir Hack,
and the Lady Dope--"
"Oh, hush, Eugene," called Angela gaily. "Just listen to what he's
telling Frieda," she remarked to Miss Roth. "You mustn't mind him
though. He's always teasing someone. Why didn't you raise him better,
Sylvia?" she asked of Eugene's sister.
"Oh, don't ask me. We never could do anything with Gene. I never knew he
had much jesting in him until he came back this time."
"They're very wonderful," they heard him telling Frieda, "all fine rosy
gentlemen and ladies."
Frieda was impressed by this charming, good-natured man. His spirit was
evidently as youthful and gay as her own. She sat before him looking
into his smiling eyes while he teased her about this, that and the other
foible of youth. Who were her sweethearts? How did she make love? How
many boys lined up to see her come out of church on Sunday? He knew.
"I'll bet they look like a line of soldiers on dress parade," he
volunteered, "all with nice new ties and clean pocket handkerchiefs and
their shoes polished and--"
"Oh, ha! ha!" laughed Frieda. The idea appealed to her immensely. She
started giggling and bantering with him and their friendship was
definitely sealed. She thought he was delightful.