"Daylight was fading in the city of Antwerp. Down into the sea sank
the sun, tinting the vast horizon with flakes of crimson, and touching
with rich deep undertones the tossing waters of the Scheldt. Its glow
fell like a rosy mantle over red-tiled roofs and meadows; and through
the haze the spires of twenty churches pierced the air like sharp,
gilded flames. To the west and south the green plains, over which the
Spanish armies tramped so long ago, stretched away until they met the
sky; the enchantment of the after-glow had turned old Antwerp into
fairy-land; and sea and sky and plain were beautiful and vague as the
night-mists floating in the moats below.
"Along the sea-wall from the Rubens Gate all Antwerp strolled, and
chattered, and flirted, and sipped their Flemish wines from slender
Flemish glasses, or gossiped over krugs of foaming beer.
"From the Scheldt came the cries of sailors, the creaking of cordage,
and the puff! puff! of the ferry-boats. On the bastions of the
fortress opposite, a bugler was standing. Twice the mellow notes of
the bugle came faintly over the water, then a great gun thundered from
the ramparts, and the Belgian flag fluttered along the lanyards to the
ground.
"I leaned listlessly on the sea-wall and looked down at the Scheldt
below. A battery of artillery was embarking for the fortress. The
tublike transport lay hissing and whistling in the slip, and the
stamping of horses, the rumbling of gun and caisson, and the sharp
cries of the officers came plainly to the ear.
"When the last caisson was aboard and stowed, and the last trooper had
sprung jingling to the deck, the transport puffed out into the
Scheldt, and I turned away through the throng of promenaders; and
found a little table on the terrace, just outside of the pretty café.
And as I sat down I became aware of a girl at the next table--a girl
all in white--the most ravishingly and distractingly pretty girl that
I had ever seen. In the agitation of the moment I forgot my name, my
fortune, my aunt, and the Crimson Diamond--all these I forgot in a
purely human impulse to see clearly; and to that end I removed my
monocle from my left eye. Some moments later I came to myself and
feebly replaced it. It was too late; the mischief was done. I was not
aware at first of the exact state of my feelings--for I had never been
in love more than three or four times in all my life--but I did know
that at her request I would have been proud to stand on my head, or
turn a flip-flap into the Scheldt.
"I did not stare at her, but I managed to see her most of the time
when her eyes were in another direction. I found myself drinking
something which a waiter brought, presumably upon an order which I did
not remember having given. Later I noticed that it was a loathsome
drink which the Belgians call 'American grog,' but I swallowed it and
lighted a cigarette. As the fragrant cloud rose in the air, a voice,
which I recognized with a chill, broke, into my dream of enchantment.
Could _he_ have been there all the while--there sitting beside that
vision in white? His hat was off, and the ocean-breezes whispered
about his bald head. His frayed coat-tails were folded carefully over
his knees, and between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand he
balanced a bad cigar. He looked at me in a mildly cheerful way, and
said, 'I know now.'
"'Know what?' I asked, thinking it better to humor him, for I was
convinced that he was mad.
"'I know why cats bite.'
"This was startling. I hadn't an idea what to say.
"'I know why,' he repeated; 'can you guess why?' There was a covert
tone of triumph in his voice and he smiled encouragement. 'Come, try
and guess,' he urged.
"I told him that I was unequal to problems.
"'Listen, young man,' he continued, folding his coat-tails closely
about his legs--'try to reason it out: why should cats bite? Don't you
know? I do.'
"He looked at me anxiously.
"'You take no interest in this problem?' he demanded.
"'Oh yes.'
"'Then why do you not ask me why?' he said, looking vaguely
disappointed.
"'Well,' I said, in desperation, 'why do cats bite?--hang it all!' I
thought, 'it's like a burned-cork show, and I'm Mr. Bones and he's
Tambo!'
"Then he smiled gently. 'Young man,' he said, 'cats bite because they
feed on catnip. I have reasoned it out.'
"I stared at him in blank astonishment. Was this benevolent-looking
old party poking fun at me? Was he paying me up for the morning's
snub? Was he a malignant and revengeful old party, or was he merely
feeble-minded? Who might he be? What was he doing here in
Antwerp--what was he doing now?--for the bald one had turned
familiarly to the beautiful girl in white.
"'Wilhelmina,' he said, 'do you feel chilly?' The girl shook her head.
"'Not in the least, papa.'
"'Her father!' I thought--'her father!' Thank God she did not say
'popper'!
"'I have been to the Zoo to-day,' announced the bald one, turning
towards me.
"'Ah, indeed,' I observed; 'er--I trust you enjoyed it.'
"'I have been contemplating the apes,' he continued, dreamily. 'Yes,
contemplating the apes.'
"I tried to look interested.
"'Yes, the apes,' he murmured, fixing his mild eyes on me. Then he
leaned towards me confidentially and whispered, 'Can you tell me what
a monkey thinks?'
"'I cannot,' I replied, sharply.
"'Ah,' he sighed, sinking back in his chair, and patting the slender
hand of the girl beside him--'ah, who can tell what a monkey thinks?'
His gentle face lulled my suspicions, and I replied, very gravely:
"'Who can tell whether they think at all?'
"'True, true! Who can tell whether they think at all; and if they do
think, ah! who can tell what they think?'
"'But,' I began, 'if you can't tell whether they think at all, what's
the use of trying to conjecture what they _would_ think if they _did_
think?'
"He raised his hand in deprecation. 'Ah, it is exactly that which is
of such absorbing interest--exactly that! It is the abstruseness of
the proposition which stimulates research--which stirs profoundly the
brain of the thinking world. The question is of vital and instant
importance. Possibly you have already formed an opinion.'
"I admitted that I had thought but little on the subject.
"'I doubt,' he continued, swathing his knees in his coat-tails--'I
doubt whether you have given much attention to the subject lately
discussed by the Boston Dodo Society of Pythagorean Research.'
"'I am not sure,' I said, politely, 'that I recall that particular
discussion. May I ask what was the question brought up?'
"'The Felis domestica question.'
"'Ah, that must indeed be interesting! And--er--what may be the Felis
do--do--'
"'Domestica--not dodo. Felis domestica, the common or garden cat.'
"'Indeed,' I murmured.
"'You are not listening,' he said.
"I only half heard him. I could not turn my eyes from his daughter's
face.
"'Cat!' shouted the bald one, and I almost leaped from my chair. 'Are
you deaf?' he inquired, sympathetically.
"'No--oh no!' I replied, coloring with confusion; 'you were--pardon
me--you were--er--speaking of the dodo. Extraordinary bird that--'
"'I was not discussing the dodo,' he sighed. 'I was speaking of cats.'
"'Of course,' I said.
"'The question is,' he continued, twisting his frayed coat-tails into
a sort of rope--'the question is, how are we to ameliorate the present
condition and social status of our domestic cats?'
"'Feed 'em,' I suggested.
"He raised both hands. They were eloquent with patient expostulation.
'I mean their spiritual condition,' he said.
"I nodded, but my eyes reverted to that exquisite face. She sat
silent, her eyes fixed on the waning flecks of color in the western
sky.
"'Yes,' repeated the bald one, 'the spiritual welfare of our domestic
cats.'
"'Toms and tabbies?' I murmured.
"'Exactly,' he said, tying a large knot in his coat-tails.
"'You will ruin your coat,' I observed.
"'Papa!' exclaimed the girl, turning in dismay, as that gentleman gave
a guilty start, 'stop it at once!'
"He smiled apologetically and made a feeble attempt to conceal his
coat-tails.
"'My dear,' he said, with gentle deprecation, 'I am so
absent-minded--I always do it in the heat of argument.'
"The girl rose, and, bending over her untidy parent, deftly untied the
knot in his flapping coat. When he was disentangled, she sat down and
said, with a ghost of a smile, 'He is so very absent-minded.'
"'Your father is evidently a great student,' I ventured, pleasantly.
How I pitied her, tied to this old lunatic!
"'Yes, he is a great student,' she said, quietly.
"'I am,' he murmured; 'that's what makes me so absent-minded. I often
go to bed and forget to sleep.' Then, looking at me, he asked me my
name, adding, with a bow, that his name was P. Royal Wyeth, Professor
of Pythagorean Research and Abstruse Paradox.
"'My first name is Penny--named after Professor Penny, of Harvard,' he
said; 'but I seldom use my first name in connection with my second, as
the combination suggests a household remedy of penetrating odor.'
"'My name is Kensett,' I said, 'Harold Kensett, of New York.'
"'Student?'
"'Er--a little.'
"'Student of diamonds?'
"I smiled. 'Oh, I see you know who my great-aunt was,' I said.
"'I know her,' he said.
"'Ah--perhaps you are unaware that my great-aunt is not now living.'
"'I know her,' he repeated, obstinately.
"I bowed. What a crank he was!
"'What do you study? You don't fiddle away all your time, do you?' he
asked.
"Now that was just what I did, but I was not pleased to have Miss
Wyeth know it. Although my time was chiefly spent in killing time, I
had once, in a fit of energy, succeeded in writing some verses 'To a
Tomtit,' so I evaded a humiliating confession by saying that I had
done a little work in ornithology.
"'Good!' cried the professor, beaming all over. 'I knew you were a
fellow-scientist. Possibly you are a brother-member of the Boston
Dodo Society of Pythagorean Research. Are you a dodo?'
"I shook my head. 'No, I am not a dodo.'
"'Only a jay?'
"'A--what?' I said, angrily.
"'A jay. We call the members of the Junior Ornithological Jay Society
of New York, jays, just as we refer to ourselves as dodos. Are you not
even a jay?'
"'I am not,' I said, watching him suspiciously.
"'I must convert you, I see,' said the professor, smiling.
"'I'm afraid I do not approve of Pythagorean research,' I began, but
the beautiful Miss Wyeth turned to me very seriously, and, looking me
frankly in the eyes, said:
"'I trust you will be open to conviction.'
"'Good Lord!' I thought. 'Can she be another lunatic?' I looked at her
steadily. What a little beauty she was! She also, then, belonged to
the Pythagoreans--a sect I despised. Everybody knows all about the
Pythagorean craze, its rise in Boston, its rapid spread, and its
subsequent consolidation with mental and Christian science, theosophy,
hypnotism, the Salvation Army, the Shakers, the Dunkards, and the
mind-cure cult, upon a business basis. I had hitherto regarded all
Pythagoreans with the same scornful indifference which I accorded to
the faith-curists; being a member of no particular church, I was
scarcely prepared to take any of them seriously. Least of all did I
approve of the 'business basis,' and I looked very much askance indeed
at the 'Scientific and Religious Trust Company,' duly incorporated and
generally known as the Pythagorean Trust, which, consolidating with
mind-curists, faith-curists, and other flourishing salvation
syndicates, actually claimed a place among ordinary trusts, and at the
same time pretended to a control over man's future life. No, I could
never listen--I was ashamed of even entertaining the notion, and I
shook my head.
"'No, Miss Wyeth, I am afraid I do not care to listen to any reasoning
on this subject.'
"'Don't you believe in Pythagoras?' demanded the professor, subduing
his excitement with difficulty, and adding another knot to his
coat-tails.
"'No,' I said, 'I do not.'
"'How do you know you don't?' inquired the professor.
"'Because,' I said, firmly, 'it is nonsense to say that the soul of a
human being can inhabit a hen!'
"'Put it in a more simplified form!' insisted the professor. 'Do you
believe that the soul of a hen can inhabit a human being?'
"'No, I don't!'
"'Did you ever hear of a hen-pecked man?' cried the professor, his
voice ending in a shout.
"I nodded, intensely annoyed.
"'Will you listen to reason, then?' he continued, eagerly.
"'No,' I began, but I caught Miss Wyeth's blue eyes fixed on mine with
an expression so sad, so sweetly appealing, that I faltered.
"'Yes, I will listen,' I said, faintly.
"'Will you become my pupil?' insisted the professor.
"I was shocked to find myself wavering, but my eyes were looking into
hers, and I could not disobey what I read there. The longer I looked
the greater inclination I felt to waver. I saw that I was going to
give in, and, strangest of all, my conscience did not trouble me. I
felt it coming--a sort of mild exhilaration took possession of me. For
the first time in my life I became reckless--I even gloried in my
recklessness.
"'Yes, yes,' I cried, leaning eagerly across the table, 'I shall be
glad--delighted! Will you take me as your pupil?' My single eye-glass
fell from its position unheeded. 'Take me! Oh, will you take me?' I
cried. Instead of answering, the professor blinked rapidly at me for a
moment. I imagined his eyes had grown bigger, and were assuming a
greenish tinge. The corners of his mouth began to quiver, emitting
queer, caressing little noises, and he rapidly added knot after knot
to his twitching coat-tails. Suddenly he bent forward across the table
until his nose almost touched mine. The pupils of his eyes expanded,
the iris assuming a beautiful, changing, golden-green tinge, and his
coat-tails switched violently. Then he began to mew.
"I strove to rouse myself from my paralysis--I tried to shrink back,
for I felt the end of his cold nose touch mine. I could not move. The
cry of terror died in my straining throat, my hands tightened
convulsively; I was incapable of speech or motion. At the same time my
brain became wonderfully clear. I began to remember everything that
had ever happened to me--everything that I had ever done or said. I
even remembered things that I had neither done nor said; I recalled
distinctly much that had never happened. How fresh and strong my
memory! The past was like a mirror, crystal clear, and there, in
glorious tints and hues, the scenes of my childhood grew and glowed
and faded, and gave place to newer and more splendid scenes. For a
moment the episode of the cat at the Hôtel St. Antoine flashed across
my mind. When it vanished a chilly stupor slowly clouded my brain; the
scenes, the memories, the brilliant colors, faded, leaving me
enveloped in a gray vapor, through which the two great eyes of the
professor twinkled with a murky light. A peculiar longing stirred
me--a strange yearning for something, I knew not what--but, oh! how I
longed and yearned for it! Slowly this indefinite, incomprehensible
longing became a living pain. Ah, how I suffered, and how the vapors
seemed to crowd around me! Then, as at a great distance, I heard her
voice, sweet, imperative:
"'Mew!' she said.
"For a moment I seemed to see the interior of my own skull, lighted as
by a flash of fire; the rolling eyeballs, veined in scarlet, the
glistening muscles quivering along the jaw, the humid masses of the
convoluted brain; then awful darkness--a darkness almost tangible--an
utter blackness, through which now seemed to creep a thin, silver
thread, like a river crawling across a world--like a thought gliding
to the brain--like a song, a thin, sharp song which some distant voice
was singing--which I was singing.
"And I knew that I was mewing!
"I threw myself back in my chair and mewed with all my heart. Oh, that
heavy load which was lifted from my breast! How good, how satisfying
it was to mew! And how I did miaul and yowl!
"I gave myself up to it, heart and soul; my whole being thrilled with
the passionate outpourings of a spirit freed. My voice trembled in the
upper bars of a feline love-song, quavered, descended, swelling again
into an intimation that I brooked no rival, and ended with a
magnificent crescendo.
"I finished, somewhat abashed, and glanced askance at the professor
and his daughter, but the one sat nonchalantly disentangling his
coat-tails, and the other was apparently absorbed in the distant
landscape. Evidently they did not consider me ridiculous. Flushing
painfully, I turned in my chair to see how my grewsome solo had
affected the people on the terrace. Nobody even looked at me. This,
however, gave me little comfort, for, as I began to realize what I had
done, my mortification and rage knew no bounds. I was ready to die of
shame. What on earth had induced me to mew? I looked wildly about for
escape--I would leap up--rush home to bury my burning face in my
pillows, and, later, in the friendly cabin of a homeward-bound
steamer. I would fly--fly at once! Woe to the man who blocked my way!
I started to my feet, but at that moment I caught Miss Wyeth's eyes
fixed on mine.
"'Don't go,' she said.
"What in Heaven's name lay in those blue eyes? I slowly sank back into
my chair.
"Then the professor spoke: 'Wilhelmina, I have just received a
despatch.'
"'Where from, papa?'
"'From India. I'm going at once.'
"She nodded her head, without turning her eyes from the sea. 'Is it
important, papa?'
"'I should say so. The cashier of the local trust has compromised an
astral body, and has squandered on her all our funds, including a lot
of first mortgages on Nirvana. I suppose he's been dabbling in futures
and is short in his accounts. I sha'n't be gone long.'
"'Then, good-night, papa,' she said, kissing him; 'try to be back by
eleven.' I sat stupidly staring at them.
"'Oh, it's only to Bombay--I sha'n't go to Thibet
to-night--good-night, my dear,' said the professor.
"Then a singular thing occurred. The professor had at last succeeded
in disentangling his coat-tails, and now, jamming his hat over his
ears, and waving his arms with a batlike motion, he climbed upon the
seat of his chair and ejaculated the word 'Presto!' Then I found my
voice.
"'Stop him!' I cried, in terror.
"'Presto! Presto!' shouted the professor, balancing himself on the
edge of his chair and waving his arms majestically, as if preparing
for a sudden flight across the Scheldt; and, firmly convinced that he
not only meditated it, but was perfectly capable of attempting it, I
covered my eyes with my hands.
"'Are you ill, Mr. Kensett?' asked the girl, quietly.
"I raised my head indignantly. 'Not at all, Miss Wyeth, only I'll bid
you good-evening, for this is the nineteenth century, and I'm a
Christian.'
"'So am I,' she said. 'So is my father.'
"'The devil he is,' I thought.
"Her next words made me jump.
"'Please do not be profane, Mr. Kensett.'
"How did she know I was profane? I had not spoken a word! Could it be
possible she was able to read my thoughts? This was too much, and I
rose.
"'I have the honor to bid you good-evening,' I began, and reluctantly
turned to include the professor, expecting to see that gentleman
balancing himself on his chair. The professor's chair was empty.
"'Oh,' said the girl, smiling, 'my father has gone.'
"'Gone! Where?'
"'To--to India, I believe.'
"I sank helplessly into my own chair.
"'I do not think he will stay very long--he promised to return by
eleven,' she said, timidly.
"I tried to realize the purport of it all. 'Gone to India? Gone! How?
On a broomstick? Good Heavens,' I murmured, 'am I insane?'
"'Perfectly,' she said, 'and I am tired; you may take me back to the
hotel.'
"I scarcely heard her; I was feebly attempting to gather up my numbed
wits. Slowly I began to comprehend the situation, to review the
startling and humiliating events of the day. At noon, in the court of
the Hôtel St. Antoine, I had been annoyed by a man and a cat. I had
retired to my own room and had slept until dinner. In the evening I
met two tourists on the sea-wall promenade. I had been beguiled into
conversation--yes, into intimacy with these two tourists! I had had
the intention of embracing the faith of Pythagoras! Then I had mewed
like a cat with all the strength of my lungs. Now the male tourist
vanishes--and leaves me in charge of the female tourist, alone and at
night in a strange city! And now the female tourist proposes that I
take her home!
"With a remnant of self-possession I groped for my eye-glass, seized
it, screwed it firmly into my eye, and looked long and earnestly at
the girl. As I looked, my eyes softened, my monacle dropped, and I
forgot everything in the beauty and purity of the face before me. My
heart began to beat against my stiff, white waistcoat. Had I
dared--yes, dared to think of this wondrous little beauty as a female
tourist? Her pale, sweet face, turned towards the sea, seemed to cast
a spell upon the night. How loud my heart was beating! The yellow moon
floated, half dipping in the sea, flooding land and water with
enchanted lights. Wind and wave seemed to feel the spell of her eyes,
for the breeze died away, the heaving Scheldt tossed noiselessly, and
the dark Dutch luggers swung idly on the tide with every sail adroop.
"A sudden hush fell over land and water, the voices on the promenade
were stilled; little by little the shadowy throng, the terrace, the
sea itself vanished, and I only saw her face, shadowed against the
moon.
"It seemed as if I had drifted miles above the earth, through all
space and eternity, and there was naught between me and high heaven
but that white face. Ah, how I loved her! I knew it--I never doubted
it. Could years of passionate adoration touch her heart--her little
heart, now beating so calmly with no thought of love to startle it
from its quiet and send it fluttering against the gentle breast? In
her lap her clasped hands tightened--her eyelids drooped as though
some pleasant thought was passing. I saw the color dye her temples, I
saw the blue eyes turn, half frightened, to my own, I saw--and I knew
she had read my thoughts. Then we both rose, side by side, and she was
weeping softly, yet for my life I dared not speak. She turned away,
touching her eyes with a bit of lace, and I sprang to her side and
offered her my arm.
"'You cannot go back alone,' I said.
"She did not take my arm.
"'Do you hate me, Miss Wyeth?'
"'I am very tired,' she said; 'I must go home.'
"'You cannot go alone.'
"'I do not care to accept your escort.'
"'Then--you send me away?'
"'No,' she said, in a hard voice. 'You can come if you like.' So I
humbly attended her to the Hôtel St. Antoine.