The Americans
"Is the gentleman anonymous? Is he a great unknown?"
--SHAKESPEARE.
While Joseph and Innocentina remained outside with the animals, the
Boy and I entered a long, dark corridor, dimly lighted at the far end.
Half-way down we came upon a porter, whose look of surprise would have
told us (if we had not learned through bitter experience already) that
Mont Revard's season was over. He guided us to the door of a large
salon, which he threw open with an air of wishing to justify the
hotel; and despite the load of weariness under which the Boy was
almost fainting, he whipped the dressing-gown off in a flash, shook
the snow from his panama, squaring his little shoulders, and
re-entered civilisation with a jauntiness which denied exhaustion and
did credit to his pride. Nevertheless, he availed himself of the first
easy-chair, and dropped into it as a ripe apple drops from its leafy
home into the long grass.
The porter scampered off to send us the landlord, and to see to the
comfort of Joseph and Innocentina, until they and their charges could
be definitely provided for. While we waited--the Boy leaning back,
pale and silent, in an exaggerated American rocking-chair, I standing
on guard beside him--there was time to look about at our surroundings.
The room was immense, and on a warm, bright day of midsummer might
have been delightful, with its polished mosaic floor, its painted
basket chairs and little tables, and its standard lamps with coloured
silk shades. But to-day a stuffy, red-curtained bar-parlour would have
been more cheerful.
At first, I thought we were alone in the waste of painted wicker-work,
for there had been dead silence on our entrance; but hardly had we
settled ourselves to await the coming of the landlord, when a movement
at the far end of the big, dim room told me that it had other
occupants. Two men in knickerbockers were sitting on low chairs drawn
close to a fireplace, and both were looking round at us with evident
curiosity.
As the Boy's chair had its high back half-turned in their direction,
all they could see of him was a little hand dangling over the arm of
the chair, and a small foot in a stout, workmanlike walking boot,
laced far up the ankle. I stood facing them; and though the sole
illumination came flickering from a newly kindled fire, or filtered
through the red shades of three large lamps, not only could they see
what manner of man I was, but I could study their personal
characteristics.
In these I was conscious of no lively interest; but as the men
continued to gaze over their shoulders at me, and the Boy's chair, I
decided that they were from the States. They were both young,
clean-shaven, good-looking; with clear features, keen eyes, and
prominent chins, reminiscent of the attractive "Gibson type" of
American youth.
"Well," said one to the other, turning away from his brief but steady
inspection of the newcomers, "I thought we were the only two fools
stranded here for the night in this weather, but it seems there are a
couple more."
Their voices had a carrying quality which brought the words distinctly
to our ears. Suddenly the "rocker" was agitated, and the Boy's feet
came to the ground. Nervously, he jerked the chair round so that its
back was completely turned to the men at the other end of the room.
His eyes looked so big, and his face was so deeply stained with a
quick rush of colour, that I feared he was ill.
"Anything wrong?" I asked, bending towards him, with my hand on his
chair.
"Nothing. I was only--a little surprised to hear people talking,
that's all. I thought we had the room to ourselves."
His voice was a whisper, and I pitched mine to his in answering. "So
did I at first, but it seems two countrymen of yours are before us. I
wonder if they have had adventures to equal ours? Probably we shall
find out at dinner, for this looks the sort of hotel to herd its
guests together at one long table."
The Boy's hand closed sharply on the arm of his chair. "I'm too tired
to dine in public," said he, still in the same muffled voice. "I shall
have something to eat in my room--if I ever get one."
"If that's your game," said I, "I'll play it with you. We'll ask them
to give us a sitting-room of sorts, and we'll dine there together like
kings."
"No, no. You must go down. I shall have my dinner in bed. I'm worn
out. What are--those men at the other end of the room like?"
"Like sketches from New York _Life_," I replied. "One is dark, the
other fair, with a deep cleft in his chin, and a nose so straight it
might have been ruled. Better take a look at them. Perhaps you may
have met at home."
"All the more reason for not looking," said the Boy. "Thank goodness,
here comes the landlord."
We could have had twenty rooms if we wished, for, said our host,
throwing a glance across the salon, he had only two other guests
besides ourselves. They had come up by the funicular, meaning to walk
next morning down to Chambéry, but whether they could do so or not
depended on the weather. In any case, the hotel would close for the
season in a few days now, and the funicular cease to run. Fires should
be laid in our rooms immediately, and we should be made comfortable,
but as for our animals, unfortunately there were no stables attached
to the hotel, no accommodation whatever for four-footed creatures.
They would have to go back to the châlet, where they and their drivers
could be put up for the night.
"That will not do for Innocentina," exclaimed the boy quickly. In his
eagerness he raised his voice slightly, and the two young men at the
other end of the salon seemed waked suddenly to renewed interest in us
and our affairs. But the Boy's tone fell again instantly. "Innocentina
must have a room at this hotel," he went on. "The châlet will be bad
enough for Joseph. For her it would be impossible. Joseph won't mind
taking the donkeys down and caring for them this one night, for
Innocentina's sake."
"If know Joseph, it will afford him infinite satisfaction; and the
more intense his physical suffering, the happier he'll be in the
thought that he is bearing it for her," I replied. "I'll go out and
break the news to the poor chap."
The Boy sprang up. "No, no; don't leave me alone!" he cried. Then, as
I looked surprised, he added, more quietly: "I mean I'll go with you,
and talk to Innocentina. Meanwhile, our things can be sent up to our
rooms."
Though he had asked "what the men at the other end of the room were
like," he showed no desire to verify for himself the description I had
given. He kept his back religiously turned towards his countrymen, and
did not throw a single glance their way as we left the salon with the
landlord, though I saw that the two young Americans were interested in
him.
We returned to the door at the end of the long corridor, where we had
entered the hotel ten or fifteen minutes earlier, and found Joseph,
Innocentina, and the animals still sheltering against the house wall.
The porter had already retailed the bad news, and the faithful
muleteer had of his own accord volunteered to play the part which the
Boy and I had assigned him. Though he was tired, cold, and hungry, and
had the prospect of a gloomy walk, with a night of discomfort to
follow, he was far from being depressed; and I thought I knew what
supported him in his hour of trial.
We saw him off, followed by a piteous trail of asshood, and then,
shivering once more, we re-entered the dim corridor. Innocentina, much
subdued, was with us now, carrying the famous bag in its snow-powdered
_rücksack_, while a porter went before with the rest of the luggage,
taken from the tired backs of our beasts. We had reached the foot of
the stairs, when we came so suddenly face to face with the two
Americans that it almost seemed we had stumbled upon an ambush.
They stared very hard at the Boy, who did not give them a glance,
though I was conscious of a stiffening of his muscles. He turned his
head a little on one side, so that the shadow of the panama eclipsed
his face from their point of view; but I could see that he had first
grown scarlet, then white.
"By Jove, but it can't be possible!" I heard one of the men say as we
passed and began to ascend the stairs. The answer I did not hear; but
Innocentina, who was close behind me, glared with unchristian
malevolence at the young men, as if instinct whispered that they were
concerning themselves unnecessarily about her master's business.
The Boy ran upstairs as lightly as if he had never known fatigue. The
porter showed him his room; his luggage was taken in, and then he came
out to me in the passage.
"You told Joseph that he needn't come up very early to-morrow, didn't
you?" he enquired.
"Yes, as we're pretty well fagged, and Chambéry isn't an all-day's
journey, I thought we might take our time in the morning. That suits
you, doesn't it?" (It was really of him that I had been thinking, but
I did not say so.)
"Oh, yes," he answered absentmindedly, as if already his brain were
busy with something else. "What time did you fix for starting? I didn't
hear?"
"I said to Joseph that it would do if he were on hand at half-past
ten. You can rest till nine o'clock."
"Thank you. And now, good night. You've been very kind to-day. Maybe I
didn't seem grateful, but I was, all the same; very, very grateful."
"Nonsense!" said I. "If you're too tired to go down, shan't I have my
dinner with you? We could have a table drawn up before the fire, and
it would be quite jolly."
He shook his head, a great weariness in his eyes. "I'm too done up for
society, even yours. I'd rather you went down. You will, won't you?"
"Certainly, if you won't have me. Rest well. I shall see that they
send you up something decent."
"It doesn't matter. I'm not as hungry as I was, somehow. Good night,
Man."
"Good night, Boy."
"Shake hands, will you?"
He pressed mine with all his little force, and shook it again and
again, looking up in my face. Then he bade me "Good night" once more,
abruptly, and retreated into his room.
I went to my quarters at the other end of the passage, and was glad of
the fire which had begun to roar fiercely in a small round stove, like
a gnome with a pipe growing out of his head. I had a sponge, changed,
and descended to the salon, only to learn that the eating arrangements
were carried on in another building, at some distance from the hotel.
Feeling like a belated insect of summer overtaken by winter cold, I
darted down the path indicated, to the restaurant, where I found the
Americans, already seated at just such a long table as I had pictured,
and still in their knickerbockers. There was, in the big room, a
sprinkling of little tables under the closed windows, but they were
not laid for a meal; and a chair being pulled out for me by a waiter,
exactly opposite my two fellow-guests, I took it and sat down.
My first thought was to order something for the Little Pal, and to
secure a promise that it should reach him hot, and soon. I then
devoted myself to my own dinner, which would have been more enjoyable
had I had the Boy's companionship. I had worked slowly through soup
and fish, and arrived at the inevitable veal, when I was addressed by
one of the Americans--him of the cleft chin and light curly hair,
whose voice I had heard first in the salon.
"You came up by the mule path, didn't you?"
I answered civilly in the affirmative, aware that all my "points" were
being noted by both men.
"Must have been a stiff journey in this weather."
"We came into the mist and snow just below the Col."
"Your friend is done up, isn't he?"
"Oh, he's a very plucky young chap," I replied, careful for the Boy's
reputation as a pilgrim; "but he's a bit fagged, and will be better
off dining in his own room."
"I expect he'll be all right to-morrow. Are you going to try and get
to Chambéry, or will you return to Aix by train?"
"We shall push on, unless we're snowed in," I said.
"That's our plan, too. I dare say we shall be starting about the same
time, and if so, if you don't mind, we might join forces."
"Now, what is this chap's game?" I asked myself. "He isn't drawing me
out for nothing; and as these two are together they have no need of
companionship. There's some special reason why they want to join us."
Taking this for granted, the one reason which occurred to me as
probable, was a previous acquaintance with the Boy, which they wished
to keep up, and he did not wish to acknowledge. I determined that he
should not be thus entrapped, through me.
"That would be very pleasant, no doubt," I replied; "but you had
better not wait for us. Our time of starting is uncertain."
Though I spoke with perfect civility, it must have been clear to them
that I preferred not to have my party enlarged by strangers, and I
rather regretted the necessity for this ungraciousness, as the men
were gentlemen, and I usually got on excellently with Americans.
"Oh, very well," returned the handsomer of the two, looking slightly
offended. "We shall meet on the way down, perhaps. By-the-by, if I'm
not mistaken, your young friend is a compatriot of ours. He's
American, isn't he?"
"Yes."
"I believe I've met him in New York, though it was so dark I couldn't
be sure. Do you object to telling me his name?"
"I'm afraid I do object," I answered, stiffly this time. "You must
satisfy yourself as to his identity, if it interests you, when you see
each other to-morrow."
Of all that remained of dinner, I can only say the words which Hamlet
spoke in dying; for indeed, "the rest was silence."
Directly the meal was over, I hurried back to the hotel, like a rabbit
to its warren; smoked a pipe before a roaring fire in my bedroom, and
wondered if the Little Pal were wandering "down the uncompanioned way"
of dreamland. As for me, I never got as far as that land. I fell over
a precipice without a bottom, before my head had found a nest in the
soft pillow, and knew nothing more until suddenly I started awake
with the impression that someone had called.
"What is it, Boy? Do you want me?" I heard myself asking sharply, as
my eyes opened.
It seemed that I had not been asleep for ten minutes, but to my
surprise an exquisite, rosy light filled the room. Well-nigh before I
knew whether I were sleeping or waking, I was out of bed and at the
window.
It was the light of sunrise, shining over a billowy white world, for
the fog had been rent asunder, and through its torn, woolly folds, I
caught an unforgettable glimpse of glory. The sky was a rippling lake
of red-gold fire, whose reflection turned a hundred snow-clad
mountain-crests to blazing helmets for Titans. Above the majestic
ranks rose their leader, towering head and shoulders over all. "Mont
Blanc!" I had just time to say to myself in awed admiration, when the
snow-fog was knit together again, only a jagged line of fading gold
showing the stitches.
Nobody had called me; I knew that, now, yet I had an uneasy impression
that someone wanted me somewhere, and that something was wrong. It was
stupid to let this worry me, I told myself, however; and having
lingered a few moments at the window studying the lovely pattern of
frost-work lace on the glass, and the fringe of priceless pearls on
branch of bush, and stunted tree, I went back to bed. There, I pulled
my watch out from under my pillow, and looked at it. "Only six
o'clock," I yawned. "Three good hours more of sleep. I wonder if the
Boy----" Then I tumbled over another pleasant precipice.
When I waked again, it was almost nine, and nerving myself to the
inevitable, I rang for a cold bath. The morning was bitterly chill,
but the tingling water soon sent the blood racing through my veins,
and by ten o'clock I was knocking at the Boy's door. No answer came,
and thinking that he must already be down, I was on my way across the
white, frozen grass to the restaurant, when I met the muleteer coming
up with Finois.
"Hallo, Joseph!" I exclaimed in surprise. "Where are Fanny and
Souris?"
"Innocentina has taken them, Monsieur," he answered.
"What--they have started?"
"But yes, Monsieur, and very early."
"Tell me what happened," I prompted him.
"Why, Monsieur, it was this way. There was not much sleep for me last
night, if you will pardon my liberty in mentioning such matters,
because of the little animal which bites and jumps away. I know not
what you call him in your language, though I think he is known in all
lands. Besides, the beasts were noisy in the stable underneath the
room where I lay with the men. About half-past four the others got up,
but I lay still, as it was well with my animals, and there was no
hurry. But a little more than an hour later, they called me from
below, laughing, and saying there was a lady to see me. I had not
undressed, Monsieur, for many reasons, and now I was glad, for I knew
who it must be, though not why she should be there, and so early too.
I could not bear that she should be alone with these rough fellows,
and in two minutes I had tumbled down the ladder.
"I had not been mistaken, Monsieur. It was Innocentina. She said her
master had sent her down to fetch the _ânes_, as he was obliged by
certain circumstances to start on in advance of my master. I did not
ask her any questions, but I helped her get ready the donkeys, and I
would have walked up with her to the hotel, had she permitted it. If I
did so, she said, the cattle men would talk; so I stayed behind."
"Well, I suppose we shall overtake them," I replied, hiding surprise,
as I did not care to let Joseph see that I had been left in the dark
concerning this strange change of programme. My mind groped for an
explanation of the mystery, and then suddenly seized upon one. The
Boy, who had evidently met his two compatriots in other days and
another land, disliked and wished to shun them. He had feared that
they might be our companions down to Chambéry, and had taken drastic
measures to avoid their society. Rather than get me up early, for his
convenience, after a day of some hardship and fatigue, the plucky
little chap had gone off without us. Possibly I should find that he
had left a note for me, with some waiter or _femme de chambre_. If
not, our route down to Chambéry and the hotel at which we were to stay
there, had already been decided upon. He would have said to himself
that there could be no mistake, and that he might trust me to find him
at our destination.
The Americans were not at breakfast, but later, as Joseph, Finois, and
I were starting, I saw them standing at a distance in the corridor.
The porter, who had brought down the miserable hold-alls, and was
waiting for his tip, murmured that "_ces messieurs_" were not going to
make the walking expedition to Chambéry; the landlord had advised them
that the weather was too bad, and they had decided to return by the
noon train to Aix-les-Bains.
I felt that I owed the young men a grudge for the Boy's defection; and
as there had been no note or message from him, I was not in a
forgiving mood. Without a second glance towards the pair, I walked
away with Joseph--alone with him for the first time in many a day.