butterfly. Old Missa looked after her as well as she could, and never
lost sight of her if she could help it. But the Princess seemed to
have wings! She would manage somehow or other to vanish in a moment:
_presto!_ gone! And there was Missa left behind in despair.
She would soon come fluttering back again, however, smiling and
irresistible as ever, and throw her arms round Missa's neck and beg
to be forgiven.
The Admiral grumbled and swore he would "put the youngster in irons"
if she did not keep to the house; but the youngster only laughed,
perched herself on the Admiral's knee, and pulled his long white
whiskers; and then he might fall to dreaming ... dreaming of distant
lands, of moonlight nights beneath the palms and agaves, long and
long ago.
He fussed and grumbled and stamped about the house, calling Missa a
lumbering old mud-barge that couldn't keep a proper look-out; but the
Princess fluttered on as before, entirely undismayed.
There was to be a grand festival in the town, a charity entertainment
in aid of the Children's Home.
All the young people of the town were to assist. There was to be a
theatrical performance, and an exhibition of dancing on the stage.
Young Endresen and Karsten junior, of course, took a leading part in
the arrangements; "for a charitable object," they could do no less.
It was generally understood, however, that the real object of both
young gentlemen was to see something of the Princess.
The two heirs-apparent waged a violent struggle for the Princess's
favour. True, they had been duly instructed by their respective
fathers, as these by their respective fathers before them, in the
principle that "the house of Endresen" or "the house of Karsten"
expected every son to do his duty--_i.e._ not to marry beneath his
rank, and also, to "consolidate the standing of the firm," as it was
conveniently put. As regards the question of rank, this was, in the
present instance, a somewhat debatable one, but the question of
consolidation was plain as could be wished. Here was a considerable
fortune to be gained for the town, and thus for one of the two firms.
It was certainly worth a struggle.
The Admiral had grumbled and stormed for a whole week before
consenting to the Princess participating in the affair.
The Princess was to dance--a dance she had composed herself.
There was great excitement; the local theatre was crammed. The
leading notabilities of the place had booked up all the stalls at
more than twice the usual prices. Everyone who could get about at all
was present. Even old Endresen, who generally affected to despise all
such theatrical tomfoolery, had found a seat in the front row, and
confided to his next-door neighbour that he had seen "Pepita" dance
in Paris--had even thrown her a bouquet--"but I was very young, then,
I must say," he added, with a smile.
Old folk in the town still told the story of how Endresen, as a young
man, had led a gay life in Paris; a life so gay, and so expensive,
that the Endresen senior of the period had promptly ordered him to
come back home at once. "And he's turned out a real good man for all
that," they would hasten to add.
The theatrical performance went off quite successfully, but without
arousing any great amount of enthusiasm. There was applause, of
course, and the principal actors had to appear before the curtain;
the leading lady was duly praised for her interpretation. But it was
the Princess all were waiting for.
At last the curtain rose. The scenery was ordinary enough: a
"woodland scene," with the usual trees and a pale moon painted on the
background. It was the standard setting, as used for classical
tragedy, vaudeville and, in fact, almost anything.
Enter the Princess, daintily as if on wings. She wore a long white
robe, that moved in graceful waves about her slender figure; diamonds
shone and glittered in her hair. No one present had ever seen such
stones, and young Endresen swore they were genuine. She wore a row of
pearls too round her neck, and heavy gold rings about her bare
ankles.
The spectators seemed literally to hold their breath with every nerve
on the strain. The little figure up there was like a vision; her feet
hardly touched the floor.
First, she glided softly across the stage, her white robe rising and
falling like the gentle swell of the sea on a summer's day, then
faster and faster. She whirled round, bent right down to the ground,
and fell in a heap, only to spring up again in a moment and whirl
round again at a furious pace.
The public was simply spell-bound. No one had ever seen, ever dreamed
of such a sight.
Her great black eyes shone towards them, while that queer smile
played about her mouth; she seemed to move in a world of her own. The
dusty old scenery faded into nothingness; they saw but the girl
herself, and sat staring, enchanted, hypnotised.
Gone! It was over. The curtain fell, and a silence as in church
reigned for some seconds after; the spectators were getting their
breath again, so to speak. Then something unusual happened. Old
Endresen rose to his feet, clapped his hands and cried: "Encore,
encore!"
Forgotten were his seventy years, his dignity, everything; he was
young again, young and infatuated as he had been in Paris half a
century before, when he joined in the cry of the thousands shouting,
"_Vive Pepita, vive l'Espagne!_"
At last the general enthusiasm found vent in shouts of applause like
the roar of a bursting dam. Handkerchiefs were waved; all rose to
their feet.
Then once more she glided in across the stage.
Again an outburst of delighted applause.
One young man in particular seemed intent on outdoing all the rest--a
fair-haired little fellow with a snub nose and pince-nez.
He sat in the stage box, and his shrill voice could be heard all over
the theatre as he cried in unmistakable west coast dialect: "Bravo,
bravissimo! Bravo, bravissimo!"
All looked at him and laughed. It was Doffen Eriksen, or Doffen,
simply, as he was generally called. He came from Mandal originally,
but had been several years in the town, first as head clerk at
Eriksen's, and later with other local firms. His natural tendency to
continual opposition, and lack of respect for his superiors, indeed
for all recognised authority, prevented him from ever keeping a
situation long.
He had recently gone over to the Socialist party, but at the very
first meeting had abused his new comrades with emphasis: thieves,
scoundrels and political mugwumps were among the expressions he used.
The last in particular aroused their indignation, and after a few
weeks he was excluded from the party. He was now a free-lance, with
no regular employment.
Then it happened that the Admiral advertised for an assistant to help
in the office. The Admiral used his office chiefly as a place where
he could give way to bad language as often as he pleased; he felt he
ought to keep himself in training, and arguing with Missa was too
milk and watery for his taste.
The work in the office consisted for the most part of keeping the
accounts of a couple of small vessels which he owned, together with
the cutting out of coupons and cashier work. The Admiral himself
never condescended to take up a pen; one had coolies to do that sort
of thing, he would say.
His two skippers were rated and bullied every time they came home
from a voyage, but they were so used to the treatment that they never
noticed it.
It was worse, however, for the clerk, who had to endure the same
thing day after day.
During the last year or so, the Admiral had had four or five
different specimens in the office, but they always made haste to
better themselves at the earliest opportunity, or simply "got the
sack." They were all either "a pack of fools that couldn't think for
themselves," or "a lot of impertinent donkeys that fancied they knew
everything."
And when, after one of his usual outbursts, the unfortunate in
question found it too much, and gave notice to leave, the Admiral's
standard answer was "All right! then I'll have to get another idiot
from somewhere."
Doffen applied for the post, referring to his previous experience,
and stated that he had been "simply thrown out of various situations,
not through any lack of ability, but because the principals were so
many blockheads, who could not bear to hear a free and independent
man express his frank opinion." He was at present disengaged, on the
market, and perfectly willing to undertake any kind of work whatever,
"even to playing croquet." The Admiral read the application through;
it was the only one he had received in answer to his advertisement.
He grunted once or twice as he read. Missa laid down her needlework
and prepared for a direct attack.
The opening seemed to take his fancy, but when he came to the part
about playing croquet, he exclaimed:
"What the devil does the fellow mean? Playing croquet?"
"Who?"
"Oh, the new slave I'm getting for the office."
"Well, why not. He might play with Baby."
"Oh go to...." The Admiral got up and put the application into the
fire.
Next day Doffen, as the sole applicant, was accorded the post. He sat
down at the high desk, on one of those scaffold-like office stools
with a big wooden screw in the middle. It was a matter of some
difficulty to climb up, Doffen being small of stature, but with the
aid of some acrobatic backwork, he soon learned to manage it.
Opposite his place was the Admiral's seat. He loved to sit there, in
the very spot where his father had sat, year after year, as far back
as he could remember.
It was not often the Admiral showed any evidence of gentler feeling,
but it happened at times, when very old folk chanced to come into the
office. They would stand still for a long time, looking round in
wonder, and finally exclaim:
"Why, if it's not exactly as it used to be in your father's time!"
and then the Admiral would jump down from his stool and slap the
speaker on the shoulder.
During the first few days Doffen had not seen much of the Admiral,
who had hardly looked in at the office at all. He wanted to get some
idea of the "new slave's" manner and behaviour before he sat down.
On the day after the performance, the Admiral walked in and took his
seat. Silence for a few minutes.
At last Doffen thought he ought to say something, and observed with
the utmost coolness:
"Your daughter danced very nicely last night."
"H'm." The Admiral only grunted, and looked out of the window. Doffen
imagined he had not heard.
"I was saying, Admiral, your daughter gave a deuced fine performance
last night." Doffen raised his voice a little, thinking the Admiral
must be hard of hearing.
"And what the devil's that got to do with you?" Doffen slammed down
the lid of his desk with a bang.
"To do with me? Why, I paid for my ticket, anyway."
"I didn't ask her to dance for you, my lad, and devil take me but it
shall be the last time."
"What's that to do with me?" retorted Doffen coldly.
The Admiral began to feel in his element; here at last was a man who
could stand up to him.
"Can't you see she's like a young palm? Haven't you got a spice of
feeling in you, man?"
"That's my business, Admiral."
The Admiral stopped short. He was on the point of bringing out his
own favourite retort: "Mind your own business," and here was this
fellow taking the very words out of his mouth. He went out of the
room without a word.
Several times after that the Admiral launched his attacks at the new
clerk, but invariably got as good as he gave. More than that, Doffen
would even take the offensive himself.
"What do you think you're doing with these two hulks of yours,
Admiral, eh?"
"Hulks?"
"Yes, these two old wooden arks. The skippers go floundering about
like hunted cockroaches at sea, and the ships themselves go pottering
from pillar to post; it's high time you got some system into the
business."
"You mind your own business, please," said the Admiral, rapping on
the desk. But at that the other let himself go in his barbarous
dialect, like a gramophone:
"It is my business, and as long as I'm stuck here on this
spindle-shanked contrivance of a stool I'll say what I think. Take me
for a dumb beast, do you? Not me! It'll take more than you know to
stop me talking. We're used to rough weather where I come from."
And Doffen went on in the same strain long after the Admiral had got
out of the room. The Admiral himself, however, listened with delight
from the other side of the door, as Doffen thumped his desk again and
again, still in the full torrent of speech. It was worth while going
to the office now. No more sitting glowering at a servile,
stooping-shouldered little scrap of a man, who scribbled away for
dear life and shrank in terror every time he entered. Now he would
generally find the room in a thick haze of tobacco smoke so that he
himself could scarcely breathe. Doffen's pipe was rarely out of his
mouth. Several times the Admiral had invited him, in well-chosen
words, to take his beastly pipe to a hotter place, but only to be met
with the retort that it might be as well, seeing there was never a
box of matches here when a man wanted a light. The Admiral came more
and more often to the office now. Here at least he could be sure of
getting a fair go at any time, for Doffen was always open for a game.
After a while a tone of jovial roughness grew up between the two of
them, and authority was relegated to the background, exactly as
Doffen wished.
Altogether there was every prospect of an idyllic understanding
between the two parties, until one day Doffen fell in love, over head
and ears in love beyond recall.
The Princess had captivated him completely. If she chanced to come
into the office for a stamp, or to deliver a letter, his heart would
start hammering like a riveting machine.
His brain was so confused he hardly knew what he was doing. He would
lie awake at nights in a torment of hatred against the Endresen and
Karsten boys, who were rivals for her favour. And, after all, who was
better fitted than he? Had he not got the Admiral's papers into
proper order? Had he not managed to knock the old porpoise himself
into shape, till he was grown docile and tractable as a tame rabbit?
The Princess smiled on Doffen as she smiled on everyone, and each of
course fancied himself specially favoured. Even old Consul Endresen
brightened up at the sight of her, and was always ready to stop for
a chat; he would draw himself up and endeavour to play the gallant
cavalier. He had been a widower now for many years, and it was
commonly believed that he was not unwilling to enter once more into
the bonds of holy matrimony, should a favourable opportunity occur.
The Admiral growled fiercely whenever Baby was out, and Missa wept
and wrung her hands over the young ladies of the present
day--particularly in this barbarous country.
Paying attentions? It was one continual paying of attentions all day
long. The young men of the place were sick with longing when she was
not to be seen, and Doffen suffered most, having occasion to see her
every day. To make matters worse, she had taken to coming into the
office more frequently of late, and would perch herself up on her
father's high stool. There she would sit and gossip with him for half
an hour at a time. Six times a week at least Doffen was in the
seventh heaven of delight. She asked him questions about everything
under the sun, consulting him on every imaginable subject. And then
she would thank him with one of those wonderful smiles, and a look
from those dark eyes of hers--oh, it was beyond all bearing.
Doffen pondered long and deep, seeking some way of coming to the
point.
He must not let the others get there before him, and he decided on a
_coup de main_, which, as he had read in the life of Napoleon, was
the proper way to win a battle. He would go directly to the Admiral
himself.
One morning, then, the Admiral came into the office, looked long and
attentively at Doffen, and finally said:
"What's the matter with you, man? You're getting to look like a
plucked goose, for all the sign of life in you!" And he jumped up on
his stool.
"It's a dog's life being a man," declared Doffen sententiously.
"You find it easier, no doubt, to be a monkey," said the Admiral.
"Well, anyway, I'd be a sort of relative of yours," said Doffen. "And
it's as well to be on good terms with the devil, they say."
The Admiral laughed. This was a bad sign.
Ugh! So Doffen was going to be funny, and make jokes. That sort of
polite conversation was a thing the Admiral detested; it was blank
tomfoolery; soup without salt.
No; what he enjoyed was proper high temper on both sides like a
couple of flints striking sparks. Anything short of that made life a
washy, milk-and-watery dreariness. And most people, according to his
opinion, were just a set of slack-kneed molly-coddles that sheered
off at the first encounter. Devil take their measly souls! When he
did happen to meet with a fellow-citizen who could get into a proper
towering passion, he felt like falling on his neck out of sheer
gratitude and admiration. Here, at last, was a _man_! Women he placed
in a separate category: they were "fellow-creatures," just as
rabbits, for instance, whose chief business in life was to have young
ones.
Doffen, then, ought to have realised that the moment was not
opportune for a _coup de main_. He had, however, only the day before,
seen the Princess out for a long walk with young Endresen, and he
felt he must act promptly, so he went on:
"You could make a happy man of me, Admiral!"
"You're happy enough as it is, man."
"No, not quite. There's one thing wanting."
"And what's that?"
"Your daughter----"
"Hey? Are you off your head?"
"Your daughter," repeated Doffen. "I'd be a good husband to her, and
a proper son-in-law to you."
"I'll give you son-in-law!" roared the Admiral, and, picking up the
big Directory, he sent it full at Doffen's chest; the latter, taken
by surprise, came tumbling down from his stool, and fell against the
wood-box in the corner.
"You miserable nincompoop!" snorted the Admiral, as he rushed out of
the room.
Doffen lay in the corner by the wood-box, groaning pitifully. The
noise had been heard all over the house, and the Princess came
rushing in to see what was the matter.
"Are you ill, Eriksen?" she asked, taking his hand.
"Oh, I think I must be dying," he said, touching his chest.
"No, no," said she. "It's not so bad as all that."
"And if so, I shall have died for you."
"Let me help you up on the sofa, now, and I'll fetch you a glass of
water."
With her support he limped across to the sofa.
"Better now?" she asked, handing him the glass of water.
"Oh, I'm so fond of you," said he, and tried to take her hand.
"Oh, do stop that nonsense!" said she, with a laugh.
"Stop? How can I stop when I love you as deeply as ... as ..." he
paused, unable to find a sufficiently powerful expression, then
suddenly the inspiration came, and, raising himself on his elbow, he
went on--"as deeply as is possible _in this line of business_!"
"Oh no, really; you can talk about this another time, you know. Come
along now, Eriksen, pull yourself together and be a man."
"Then it's not a final refusal--not a harsh and cruel 'no' such as
your father flung at me just now--with that heavy book? Say it's not
that!"
But she was gone.
Doffen lay back on the sofa once more, closed his eyes, and thought
of her. At last he fell asleep, and lay there, never noticing when
the Admiral peeped in through the door, "to see if the carcass was
still alive." The sound of Doffen's snoring, however, reassured him,
and he went away again, contented and relieved.
The Princess sat in her room, highly amused with the thought of her
latest admirer. What a funny creature he was! She rather liked him
really, for all that; he was always so willing and kind, and if one's
ardent worshippers themselves agree to be reduced to the status of
"just friends," why, it may be very handy at times to have them in
reserve. No, she would not quarrel with Eriksen, because of this, not
at all.
But, to tell the truth, it was getting quite a nuisance with all
these admirers. Everyone of them was always wanting to meet her and
go for a walk with her, and talk of love! Oh, she was so utterly
weary of them all. These simpletons who imagined she was going to
settle down and stay in this little place all her life!
Heavens alive, what an existence! No, thank you, not if she knew it!
It was annoying, in this frame of mind, to recollect that she
promised Endresen junior to meet him at twelve o'clock by the big
pond in the park. Still, a promise was a promise; she would have to
go.
And lo, he came up with a huge bouquet of pale yellow roses, her
favourite flower, as he knew, tied round with a piece of thin red
ribbon.
"When the roses are faded, you can take the ribbon and bind me with
it," he said.
"When the roses have faded? Oh, but that won't be for a long time
yet--thank goodness." And she laughed.
"Well, so much the better; you can tie me up at once."
"But suppose I don't want to?"
"Then I'll die, Baby. Go off and shoot myself, or drown myself."
"Drown yourself? Oh, do it now. I'll bet anything you wouldn't dare."
"I assure you I mean it," he said, placing one hand on his heart.
"Well, now, let me see what sort of a man you are, Endresen. Walk
round the edge of the pond here five times----"
"And what then?"
"Then--oh, then you shall have----"
"Yes?"
"--My sincere admiration, let us say. That'll do to go on with." And
she smiled mischievously.
He jumped up on to the narrow stone edging of the pond and began
balancing his way carefully along, the Princess walking by his side,
counting the rounds. One--two--three--four times round. "One more,
and you've done it," she said encouragingly.
"And then I've won your hand, haven't I?" he cried.
"Once more round, and--we'll think about it. Now, last lap!"
He stepped cautiously along, and was nearing the end of the fifth
round, when all of a sudden she jumped up and gave him a push that
sent him into the water up to his waist.
"No, that's not fair, Baby. I won."
She danced up and down, clapping her hands and laughing delightedly.
"Adieu, Endresen! my sincere admiration. It was splendid! But I don't
think I'll walk home with you now, or people might think you'd been
drowning yourself for my sake." And she ran off. Coming through the
town she encountered old Consul Endresen, who stopped, as usual, to
talk to her.
"You're looking younger than ever, Consul," said the Princess.
"Am I, though? Oh, you know how to get at an old man's heart, little
sunbeam that you are! Looking younger than ever, eh--and I'm
sixty-seven to-day," which, by the way, was three years less than the
truth.
"To-day? Oh, then I must wish you many happy returns--and here, let
me give you these flowers."
He stopped in surprise.
"But, my dearest child, you don't mean it, surely? These flowers,
these charming roses, they were for somebody else now, I'm sure."
"Not a bit of it--they're for you."
"Why, then, since you are pleased to command, I bow--and many
thanks." And, bowing deeply, he took her hand and kissed it.
The Princess hurried homeward, laughing at the face of young Endresen
when his father appeared with the flowers.
While all this was going on, Karsten junior was sitting deep in
thought as to whether he ought not to propose to the Princess
himself. He had sounded his father on the subject, and the latter had
made no positive objection to the match. True, it was not altogether
_comme il faut_, but still, it might be passed over--though he
certainly considered the old man intolerable.
Karsten junior was not much of a speaker, and determined, therefore,
to write instead. But he found this, too, a ticklish business. He had
never "operated in that market" before, and was altogether
unacquainted with the article known as love. The opening phrase of
the contemplated letter was a stumbling-block to begin with. Should
he write "Miss," or "Miss Baby," or "Dear Miss Baby"--or even
straight out, "Dear Baby"--but no, he must do the thing correctly in
due form. The house of Karsten was an old-established firm, and he
must make this evident.
He decided at last for "Miss" simply.
"Referring to our conversation of 7th inst., I hereby beg to inform
you..." etc.
He wrote on his sister's ivory paper, put the letter neatly in an
envelope, and sent it off.
The Princess laughed when she got the letter. She read it aloud to
herself, and exclaimed with conviction: "What a fool!"