Arms and the Woman

"Gone? Where?"

"It matters not where. Suffice it is that she has gone. Pembroke, you

and I were very unfortunate fellows. What earthly use have Princesses

for you and me? The little knowledge of court we have was gotten out

of cheap books and newspaper articles. To talk with Kings and

Princesses it requires an innate etiquette which commoners cannot

learn. We are not to the manner born. These Princesses are but

candles; and now that we have singed our mothy wings, and are crippled

so that we may not fly again, let us beware. This may or may not be my

last night on earth. . . . Let us go to the opera. Let us be original

in all things. I shall pay a prima donna to sing my requiem from the

footlights--before I am dead."

"Jack!" cried Pembroke, anxiously.

"Oh, do not worry," said I. "I am only trying to laugh--but I can't!"

"Are you truly serious about going to the opera?" he asked.

"Yes. Hurry and dress," said I.

I leaned against the mantel and stared into the flickering tongues of

flame. A caprice? I read the letter again, then threw it into the

grate and watched the little darts of light devour it. Now and then a

word stood out boldly. Finally the wind carried the brown ashes up the

chimney, I would keep the other letter--the one she had asked for--and

the withered rose till the earth passed over me. She was a Princess; I

was truly an adventurer, a feeble pawn on the chess-board. What had I

to do with Kings and bishops and knights? The comedy was about to

end--perhaps with a tragedy. I had spoken my few lines and was going

behind the scenes out of which I had come. As I waited for Pembroke

the past two years went by as in a panorama. I thought of the old

lawyer and the thousand-dollar check; the night at the opera with

Phyllis; the meeting of Hillars and his story. "When there is nothing

more to live for, it is time to die." If there was such a place as

Elysium in the nether world, Hillars and I should talk it all over

there. It is pleasant to contemplate the fact that when we are dead we

shall know "the reason why."

"Come along," said Pembroke, entering.

So we went to the opera. They are full of wonderful scenes, these

continental opera houses. Here and there one sees the brilliant

uniforms, blue and scarlet and brown, glittering with insignias and

softened by furs. Old men with sashes crossing the white bosoms of

their linen dominate the boxes, and the beauty of woman is often lost

in the sparkle of jewels. And hovering over all is an oppressive

fragrance. Pembroke's glasses were roving about. Presently he touched

my arm.