darlings--Aylorff, my husband!" There was a wail rose up off her words,
like the smoke of incense curling, circling around her. "My darlings what
died to make free!"
"Mama! Darling! Mama! Mr. Haas! Help! Mama! My God!"
"Aylorff--my husband--I paid with my blood to make free--my blood--. My
son--my--own--" Immovable there, her arms flung up and tears so heavy that
they rolled whole from her face down to the black grenadine, she was as
sonorous as the tragic meter of an Alexandrine line; she was like Ruth,
ancestress of heroes and progenitor of kings.
"My boy--my own! They died for it! _Mein Mann! Mein Sühn_!"
On her knees, frantic to press her down once more into the chair, terrified
at the rigid immobility of the upright figure, Mrs. Coblenz paused then,
too, her clasp falling away, and leaned forward to the open sheet of the
newspaper, its black head-lines facing her:
RUSSIA FREE
BANS DOWN 100,000 SIBERIAN PRISONERS LIBERATED
In her ears a ringing silence, as if a great steel disk had clattered down
into the depths of her consciousness. There on her knees, trembling seized
her, and she hugged herself against it, leaning forward to corroborate her
gaze.
MOST RIGID AUTOCRACY IN THE WORLD OVERTHROWN
RUSSIA REJOICES
"Mama! Mama! My God! Mama!"
"Home, Shila; home! My husband who died for it--Aylorff! Home now, quick!
My wreaths! My wreaths!"
"O my God! Mama!"
"Home!"
"Yes, darling--yes--"
"My wreaths!"
"Yes, yes, darling; your wreaths. Let--let me think. Freedom! O my God!
help me to find a way! O my God!"
"My wreaths!"
"Here, darling, here!"
From the floor beside her, the raffia wreath half in the making, Mrs.
Coblenz reached up, pressing it flat to the heaving old bosom.
"There, darling, there!"
"I paid with my blood--"
"Yes, yes, mama; you--paid with your blood. Mama--sit, please. Sit
and--let's try to think. Take it slow, darling; it's like we can't take it
in all at once. I--We--Sit down, darling. You'll make yourself terrible
sick. Sit down, darling; you--you're slipping."
"My wreaths--"
Heavily, the arm at the waist gently sustaining, Mrs. Horowitz sank rather
softly down, her eyelids fluttering for the moment. A smile had come out on
her face, and, as her head sank back against the rest, the eyes resting at
the downward flutter, she gave out a long breath, not taking it in again.
"Mama! You're fainting!" She leaned to her, shaking the relaxed figure by
the elbows, her face almost touching the tallow-like one with the smile
lying so deeply into it. "Mama! My God! darling, wake up! I'll take you
back. I'll find a way to take you. I'm a bad girl, darling, but I'll find a
way to take you. I'll take you if--if I kill for it! I promise before God
I'll take you. To-morrow--now--nobody can keep me from taking you. The
wreaths, mama! Get ready the wreaths! Mama darling, wake up! Get ready the
wreaths! The wreaths!" Shaking at that quiet form, sobs that were full of
voice tearing raw from her throat, she fell to kissing the sunken face,
enclosing it, stroking it, holding her streaming gaze closely and burningly
against the closed lids. "Mama, I swear to God I'll take you! Answer me,
mama! The bank-book--you've got it! Why don't you wake up, mama? Help!"
Upon that scene, the quiet of the room so raucously lacerated, burst Mr.
Haas, too breathless for voice.
"Mr. Haas--my mother! Help--my mother! It's a faint, ain't it? A faint?"
He was beside her at two bounds, feeling of the limp wrists, laying his ear
to the grenadine bosom, lifting the reluctant lids, touching the flesh that
yielded so to touch.
"It's a faint, ain't it, Mr. Haas? Tell her I'll take her back. Wake her
up, Mr. Haas! Tell her I'm a bad girl, but I--I'm going to take her back.
Now! Tell her! Tell her, Mr. Haas, I've got the bank-book. Please! Please!
O my God!"
He turned to her, his face working to keep down compassion.
"We must get a doctor, little lady."
She threw out an arm.
"No! No! I see! My old mother--my old mother--all her life a nobody--She
helped--she gave it to them--my mother--a poor little widow nobody--She
bought with her blood that freedom--she--"
"God! I just heard it down-stairs--it's the tenth wonder of the world. It's
too big to take in. I was afraid--"
"Mama darling, I tell you, wake up! I'm a bad girl, but I'll take you back.
Tell her, Mr. Haas, I'll take her back. Wake up, darling! I swear to God
I'll take you!"
"Mrs. Coblenz, my--poor little lady, your mother don't need you to take
her back. She's gone back where--where she wants to be. Look at her face,
little lady. Can't you see she's gone back?"
"No! No! Let me go. Let me touch her. No! No! Mama darling!"
"Why, there wasn't a way, little lady, you could have fixed it for that
poor--old body. She's beyond any of the poor fixings we could do for her.
You never saw her face like that before. Look!"
"The wreaths--the wreaths!"
He picked up the raffia circle, placing it back again against the quiet
bosom.
"Poor little lady!" he said. "Shila--that's left for us to do. You and me,
Shila--we'll take the wreaths back for her."
"My darling--my darling mother! I'll take them back for you! I'll take them
back for you!"
"_We'll_ take them back for her--Shila."
"I'll--"
"_We'll_ take them back for her--Shila."
"_We'll_ take them back for you, mama. We'll take them back for you,
darling!"
THE END