"Sit down--I could not endure your looking at her without me!" he
gasped. "When her turn finished, I had no thought but her; I was
scarcely conscious of the monkeys that came next. In some fifteen
minutes a girl had danced herself into my destiny--and I was swept to
the stage door, like a leaf, on the gale of my emotions.
"I could see nobody inside, to take a message. Ten minutes--a quarter
of an hour passed. I waited in the gloomy little cul-de-sac, dreading,
in every second, to hear the approaching footstep of a rival with an
appointment. So tremendous was my agitation that Spanish tenses with
which I was normally familiar evaded me, and my brain buzzed with the
effort to compose a preliminary phrase.
"The door opened. Before her features were visible in the darkness, the
majesty of her deportment proclaimed that it was she. I advanced. I
bowed, with all my grace.
"'Señorita,' I said, 'I am a poet, and I adore you. Will you honour me
by supping with me?'
"It was not the overwhelming eloquence that I should have had in
French, but I felt that the fervour of my voice should make amends;
and I prayed that she would not be flippant in return. My sentiment
demanded sweet, grave, contralto tones; a giggle would have been
torture to me. Once more, a crisis--a spiritual crisis, in which my
heart ceased to beat. Would she respond gravely, or would she giggle?
"_She did neither one nor the other. As if I had not spoken, she went
by._
"_Comment done_? I had referred clearly to supper; I was well-dressed,
young, handsome--and a dancer at a fifth-rate musique 'all, which was
not precisely a college for decorum, refused to dispense with the
ceremony of an introduction!
"It was prodigious. And by degrees my anger at the affront subsided.
So far from dismissing her from my mind, I paid homage to her virtue.
Yes, my bosom was thrilled by deep esteem. On that sad walk home,
the romantic passion for a danseuse was transmuted into a devout
reverence for a noble woman. I condemned myself for approaching her
so informally. There is, in my complex nature, a vein of humility,
extremely winning. I resolved to write to her, confessing my fault,
before I slept.
"It was a long job, because I had to look up so many words in a
dictionary, but I foresaw that she would be touched by the letter.
In conclusion I said, 'The impulse that you scorned was born, not
of disrespect, but of an admiration, that brooked no curb. If your
vestal pride is not adamant to my remorse, grant me, I supplicate,
an opportunity to express my penitence at the stage door to-morrow
(Wednesday).'
"Wednesday's sunshine already tinged the street when I dropped the
missive in the boite-aux-lettres, but I was not conscious of fatigue.
On the contrary, I regretted that I must kill eighteen hours in sleep,
or some other banality, before the paradise of her presence was
attained. How much had happened in a night! All that was frivolous
in my disposition had passed away, and I realised that this girl had
inspired in me a devotion profound, epoch-making, and supreme."
* * * * *
He paused. From the footlights, the Frenchman of the dirty shirt-front
was to be heard in the capacity of interpreter: "Ladies and gentlemen,
Señorita Pilar Naranjo desires me to translate to you her heartfelt
gratitude for the enthusiasm of your applause. If you will graciously
allow her a few moments for a change of costume, Señorita Naranjo will
have the honour of presenting to you her sensational Toreador Dance."
* * * * *
The poet groaned. "When I woke I hoped to find that I had slept well
into the afternoon. With impatience I saw that it was only mid-day.
However, in dressing, I recognised that I might profitably employ some
of the time with the dictionary, and I prepared a score of burning
declarations for the interview.
"The remaining hours were intolerable. No sooner had the musique 'all
opened than I took my seat, but the exasperating entertainment appeared
to me to endure for æons before her turn. The torments, inflicted on my
suspense by a pair of cross-talk comedians, cannot be surpassed in hell.
"At last I trembled in the cul-de-sac again. At last she came!
"With an obeisance that consigned my career to her feet, I murmured, 'I
am here to learn whether I am pardoned.'
"_Not a syllable! As before, she passed me by._
"Ah, mon Dieu! I cannot tell you how I reached my couch.
"But my zeal survived even this. I was stricken, but indomitable. I
said, 'Behold a saint worth winning!' I said 'Brace up, and demonstrate
that you are worthy of her!'
"My friend, every day for a month I thumbed that exhausting dictionary,
and a Spanish Grammar, that I might send to her a sonnet every night.
For thirty days on end I wrestled with synonyms and inversions in a
foreign tongue, to create for her a nightly proof of my genius and my
love.
"And I waited for an answer vainly.
"Long after despair had mastered me, I was with a good-for-nothing
painter of my acquaintance. He said, 'I have a new flame--delicious.
Have you heard of the Spanish dancer up at the Little Casino?'
"By a superhuman effort I controlled myself. 'Your suit prospers?'
"'It is going strong. And only a week since I first dropped in there
and saw her!'
"'You are a man of action! But since when have you talked Spanish?'
"'Oh, that isn't necessary,' he laughed; 'she is Spanish only on the
stage. Between ourselves, her name is really Marie Durand--she has
never been out of France in her life.'
"_She had not understood a single word that I had said, or written--and
by the time I discovered it, she was another's_! He holds her
still--you hear him now."
The "interpreter" was speaking again: "Señorita Naranjo desires me to
translate----"