the novel madcap

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Title:Madcap
Author:GeorgeGibbs
ReleaseDate:March15,2004[eBook#11584]
Language:English
***STARTOFTHEPROJECTGUTENBERGEBOOKMADCAP***
ThiseBookwasproducedbyCarolynDerkatch.

MADCAP
byGeorgeGibbs
[Illustration:"'Youmustflirt,Mr.Markham-andmakeprettyspeeches-'"]
CONTENTS
ChapterI.HermiaII.TheGorillaIII.TheIneffectualAuntIV.MaroonedV.BreadandSaltVI.The
RescueVII."WakeRobin"VIII.OlgaTchernyIX.OutofHisDepthX.TheFugitiveXI.TheGates


ofChanceXII.TheFairyGodmotherXIII.VagabondiaXIV.TheFabianiFamilyXV.DangerXVI.
ManetCicatrixXVII.PÂreGuÂgou'sRosesXVIII.APhilosopherinaQuandaryXIX.Mountebanks
XX.TheEmptyHouseXXI.NemasisXXII.GreatPanisDeadXXIII.ALadyintheDarkXXIV.The
WingsoftheButterflyXXV.CirceandtheFossilXXVI.Mrs.BerkeleyHammondEntertainsXXVII.
TheSeatsoftheMightyXXVIII.TheBrassBellXXIX.Duo

CHAPTERI
HERMIA

Titineglancedatthepartedcurtainsandemptybed,thenattheclock,and
yawned.Itwasnotyeteighto'clock.Fromthelookofthings,shewassurethat
MissChallonerhadarisenanddepartedforamorningridebeforethebreaking
ofthedawn.Shepeeredoutofthewindowandcontractedhershoulders
expressively.Torideinthecoldmorningairuponaviolenthorsewhenshehad
beenoutlate!B—r!Butthen,Mademoisellewasawonderfulperson—likeno
onesincethebeginningoftheworld.ShemadeherownlawsandTitinewas
reluctantlyobligedtoconfessthatsheherselfwasdelightedtoobeythem.
Anotherslightshrugofincomprehension—ofabsolutionfromsuchpractices—
andTitinemovedtothelinencabinetandtookoutsomefluffythingsoflaceand
ribbon,thentoaclosetfromwhichshebroughtasoftroom-gown,apairofsilk
stockingsandsomeverysmallsuedeslippers.
Shehadhardlycompletedthesepreparationswhentherewasthesoundofadoor
hurriedlycloseddownstairs,aseriesofjoyousyelpsfromadog,arushoffeet
onthestairsandthedooroftheroomgavewaybeforetheprecipitateentrance
ofaslight,almostboyish,femaleperson,withblueeyes,therosiestofcheeks
andamassofyellowhair,mostofwhichhadburstfromitsconfinesbeneathher
hat.
TothequietTitinehermistresscreatedanimpressionofbringingnotonly
herselfintotheroom,butalsotheviolenthorseandthewholeoftheout-ofdoorsbesides.
"Down,Domino!Down,Isay!"totheclamorouspuppy."Now—outwithyou!"
Andasherefusedtoobeyshewavedhercropthreateninglyandatapropitious
momentbangedthedooruponhisimpertinentsnub-nose.


"Quick,Titine,mybathand—why,whatareyoulookingat?"
"Yourhat,Mademoiselle,"inalarm,"Itisbroken,andyourface—"
"It'saperfectlygoodface.What'sthematterwithit?"
BythistimeMissChallonerhadreachedthechevalglass.Herhatwassmashed
inatonesideandseveraldarkstainsdisfiguredhercheekandtemple.

"Oh,I'masight.Hechuckedmeintosomebushes,Titine—"
"Thatterriblehorse—Mademoiselle!"
"Thesame—intosomeverystickybushes—buthedidn'tgetaway.Igoton
withouthelp,too.Lordy,butIdidtakeitoutofhim!Oh,didn'tI!"
Hereyelightedgailyasthoughinchallengeatnothingatallassheremovedher
glovesandtossedherhatandcroponthebedandsprawledintoachairwitha
sigh,whileTitineremovedherbootsandmadetremulousandreproachful
inquiries.
"Mademoiselle—will—willkillherself,Iamsure."
HermiaChallonerlaughed.
"Betterdieliving—thanbelivingdead.Besides,nooneeverdieswhodoesn't
carewhetherhediesornot.Ishalldiecomfortablyinbedattheageofeightythree,I'msureofit.Now,mybath.Vite,Titine!Ihaveahungerlikethatwhich
neverwasbefore."
MissChallonerundressedandenteredherbathroom,whereshesplashed
industriouslyforsomeminutes,emergingatlastradiantandglowingwithhealth
andadelightinthemerejoyofexistence.WhileTitinebrushedherhair,thegirl
satbeforeherdressing-tableputtinglotiononherinjuredcheeksandtemple.Her
hairarranged,shesentthemaidforherbreakfasttraywhileshefinishedher
toiletinleisurelyfashionandwentintohermorningroom.Thesuedeslippers
contributedtheirthreeinchestoherstature,thelonglinesoftheflowingrobe
addedtheirdignity,andthestrandsofherhair,eachwovencarefullyintoits
appointedplace,completedthetransformationfromthetouseled,hoydenish
boy-girlofhalfanhourbeforeintotheluxuriousandsomewhatboredyoung


ladyoffashion.
Butshesankintothechairbeforeherbreakfasttrayandatewithanappetite
whichtooksomethingformthisillusion,whileTitinebroughtherlettersanda
longboxofflowerswhichwereunwrappedandplacedinafloor-vaseofsilver
andglassinanembrasureofthewindow.Theenvelopewhichaccompaniedthe

flowersTitinehandedtohermistress,whoopeneditcarelesslybetween
mouthfulsandfinallyaddedittotheaccumulatedlitteroffashionablestationery.
HermiaeyedherDresdenchocolate-potuncheerfully.Thisbreakfastgifthad
reachedherwithanominousregularityonMondaysandThursdaysforamonth,
andthetimehadcomewhensomethingmustbedoneaboutit.Butshedidnot
permitunpleasantthoughts,ifunpleasanttheyreallywere,todistractherfrom
thecasualdelightsofretrospectionandthepleasuresofherrepast,whichshe
finishedwithathoroughnessthatspokemoreeloquentlyofthewholesomeness
ofherappetiteeventhantherealexcellenceofthecooking.UponTitine,who
broughtherthecigarettesandabrazier,shecreatedtheimpression—asshe
alwaysdidindoors—ofachild,greatlyovergrown,paradingherselfwith
mockingostentationinthegarmentsofmaturity.Thecigarette,too,wasapartof
thisparade,andshesmokeditdaintily,thoughwithoutapparentenjoyment.
Hermealfinished,shewasreadytoreceivefemininevisitors.Sheseldomlacked
company,foritisnotthefateofagirlofHermiaChalloner'sconditiontobeleft
longtoherowndevices.Herfather'sdeath,someyearsbefore,hadfallen
heavilyuponher,butyouthandhealthhadborneheraboveeventhatsadevent
triumphant,andnowatthreeandtwenty,withafortunewhichloomedlarge
eveninadayoflargefortunes,shelivedalonewithalegionofservantsinthe
greathouse,withnoearthlytiesbutanineffectualauntandaTrustCompany.
Butshedidnotsufferforlackofadviceastotheconductofherlifeorofher
affairs,andshealwaystookitwiththesaddevotionalairwhichitsgivershad
learnedmeantthatintheendshewoulddoexactlyasshechose.Andsothe
AuntandtheTrustCompany,likethescandalizedTitine,endedinevitablyin
silentacquiescence.
Ofheracquaintancesmuchmightbesaid,bothgoodandbad.Theyrepresented
almosteveryphaseofsocietyfromtheobjectsofhercharities(whichwere
manyandoftenunreasoning)tothedaughtersofherfather'sfriendswho
belongedinherownsphereofexistence.Andifone'scharactermaybejudged
bythatofone'sfriends,Hermiawasofinfinitevariety.Perhapsthesportivewere

mostofteninhercompany,anditwasagainstthesethatMrs.Westfield
ineffectuallyrailed,buttherewasawarmthinheraffectionforGertrude
Brotherton,wholikedquietpeopleasarule(andmadeHermiatheexceptionto
proveit),andanintellectualflavorinherattachmentforAngelaReeves,who
wasinterestedinsocialproblems,whichmorethancompensatedforMiss
Challoner'sintimacywiththoseofagayersort.
Hernoteswritten,shedressedforthemorning,thenlaybackinherchairwitha
sharplittlesighandpensivelytouchedthescratchesonherface,herexpression
fallingsuddenlyintolinesofdiscontent.Itwasakindofreactionwhich
frequentlyfollowedmomentsofintenseactivityand,realizingitssignificance,
sheyieldedtoitsulkily,hergazeonthefaceoftheclockwhichwastickingoff
purposelessminuteswithmaddeningprecision.Sheglancedoverhershoulderin
reliefashermaidappearedinthedoorway.
"WillMademoiselleseetheCountessTchernyandMeesAshhurst?"Titinewasa
greatbelieverinsocialdistinctions.
"Olga!Yes,Iwasexpectingher.Tellthemtocomerightup."
Thenewarrivalsenteredtheroomgailywiththebreezyassertivenessofpersons
whowereassuredoftheirwelcomeandverymuchathome.HildaAshhurstwas
tall,blonde,aquilineandnoisy;theCountess,dainty,dark-eyedandsvelte,with
theflexiblevoicewhichspokeoffamiliaritywithmanytonguesandrebukedthe
nasalgreetingofhermorefloridcompanion.Hermiametthemwithasigh.Only
yesterdayMrs.WestfieldhadprotestedagainaboutHermia'sgrowingintimacy
withtheCountess,whohadquiteinnocentlytakenuntoherselfallofthe
fashionablevicesofpoliteEurope.
HildaAshhurstwatchedHermia'sexpressionamomentandthenlaughed.
"Beencatchingit—haven'tyou?PoorHermia!It'sdreadfultobetheonechickin
afamilyofuglyducklings—"
"Ortheuglyducklinginafamilyofvirtuouschicks—"

"Notugly,chÂrie,"laughedtheCountess."Oneisneveruglywithamillion
francsayear.Suchafortunewouldbeautifyasatyr.Itevenmakesyourown
prettinessunimportant."


"Itisunimportant—"
"Partlybecauseyoumakeitso.Youdon'tcare.Youdon'tthinkaboutit,voilÂ
tout."
"WhyshouldIthinkaboutit?Ican'tchangeit."
"Oh,yes,youcan.Evenahomelywomanwhoisclevercanmakeherself
beautiful,abeautifulwoman—Dieu!Thereisnothingintheworldthataclever,
beautifulwomancannotbe."
"I'mnotcleveror—"
"Ishallnotflatteryou,caramia.Youare—er—quitehandsomeenough.Ifyou
caredfortheartisticyoucouldgothroughasalonlikethePiperofHamelinwith
aqueueofgentlemenreachingbackintothecorridorsofinfinity.Insteadof
whichyouwearmannishclothes,doyourhairinaBath-bun,andpermitmenthe
privilegeofequality.Oh,la,la!Amanisnolongerusefulwhenoneceasesto
mystifyhim."
Shestrolledtothewindow,sniffedatTrevvyMorehouse'sroses,helpedherself
toacigaretteandsatdown.
Hermiawasnotinartisticandsheresentedtheimputation.Itwasonlythather
artandOlga'sdifferedbythebreadthofanocean.
"Forme,whenamanbecomesmystifiedheceasestobeuseful,"laughed
Hermia.
"Pouf!mydear,"saidtheCountesswithawaveofhercigarette."Isimplydonot
believeyou.Amanisneversousefulaswhenhemovesinthedark.Women
wereborntomystify.Someofusdoitoneway—someinanother.Ifyouwear
mannishclothesandaBath-bun,itisbecausetheybecomeyouextraordinarily
wellandbecausetheyformadisguisemorecompleteandmystifyingthan

anythingelseyoucouldassume."
"Adisguise!"
"Exactly.Youwishtocreatetheimpressionthatyouareindifferenttomen—that
men,bythesametoken,areindifferenttoyou."TheCountessOlgasmiled.


"Yourdisguiseiscomplete,monenfant—exceptforonething—yourfemininity
—whichrefusestobeextinguished.Youdonothatemen.Ifyoudidyouwould
notgotosomuchtroubletolooklikethem.Onedayyouwillloveverybadly—
verymadly.Andthen—"theCountesspausedandraisedhereyebrowsandher
handsexpressively."You'relikeme.It'ssimpleenough,"shecontinued."You
haveeverythingyouwant,includingmenwhoamusebutdonotinspire.
Obviously,youwillonlybesatisfiedwithsomethingyoucan'tget,mydear."
"Horrors!Whatabirdofill-omenyouare.AndIshallloveinvain?"
TheCountesssnuffedouthercigarettedaintilyupontheashtray.
"Canoneloveinvain?Perhaps.
/*
_"'AimerpourÂtreaimÂ,c'estdel'homme,
Aimerpouraimer,c'estPresquedel'ange.'"
*/
"I'mafraidI'mnotthatkindofanangel."
HildaAshhurstlaughed.
"Olgais."
"Olga!"exclaimedHermiawithaglanceofinquiry.
"Haven'tyouheard?Shehasthrownheryoungaffectionsawayuponthatowllikenondescriptwhohasbeendoingherportrait."
"Ican'tbelieveit."
"It'strue,"saidtheCountesscalmly."Iamquitemadabouthim.Hehasthemind
ofaphilosopher,thesoulofachild,theheartofawoman—"
"—themannersofaboorandtheimpudenceofthedevil,"addedHilda
spitefully.

HermialaughedbuttheCountessOlga'snarrowedeyespassedHildascornfully.


"Anyonecanhavegoodmanners.They'rethehallmarkofmediocrity.Andas
forimpudence—thatistheonesinamanmaycommitwhichawomanforgives."
"Ican't,"saidHilda.
TheCountessOlga'srightshouldermovedtowardherearthefractionofaninch.
"He'shateful,Hermia,"continuedHildaquickly,"agorillaofaman,witha
loweringbrow,untidyhair,andabluechin—"
"Heisadorable,"insistedOlga.
"Howveryinteresting!"laughedHermia."Anadorablephilosopher,withthe
impudenceofthedevil,andthebluechinofagorilla!Whendidyoumeetthis
logical—thezoologicalparadox?"
"Oh,inParis.Iknewhimonlyslightly,buthemovedinasetwhoseedges
touchedmine—thetalentedpeopleofmine.Hehadalreadymadehisway.He
hasbeenbackinAmericaonlyayear.Wemetearlyinthewinterquiteby
chance.Youknowtherest.Hehaspaintedmyportrait—areallygreatportrait.
Youshallsee."
"Oh,itwasthismorningweweregoing,wasn'tit?I'llbereadyinamoment,
dear."
"ButHildashallbeleftintheshoppingdistrict,finishedOlga.
"Byallmeans,"saidMissAshhurstscornfully.
CHAPTERII
THEGORILLA

OfallherfriendsOlgaTehernywastheonewhoamusedandentertainedHermia
themost.ShewasolderthanHermia,muchmoreexperiencedandtotellthe
truthquiteasmadinherownwayasHermiawas.Thereweretimeswheneven
Hermiacouldnotentirelyapproveofher,butsheforgavehermuchbecauseshe
washerselfandbecause,nomatterwhatdependeduponit,shecouldnotbe

differentifshetried.OlgaEgertonhadbeenborninRussia,whereherfatherhad


beencalledasaconsultingengineeroftherailwaydepartmentoftheRussian
Government.ThoughAmericanborn,thegirlhadbeeneducatedaccordingto
theEuropeanfashionandattwentyhadmarriedandlosttheyoungnobleman
whosenameshebore,andhadburiedhiminhisfamilycryptinMoscowwith
thesimplefortitudeofonewhoiswelloutofabadbargain.Butshehadpaidher
tolltodisillusionandtheageofthirtyfoundheralittlemorecareless,alittle
moreworldly-wisethanwasnecessary,eveninacosmopolitan.Hercomments
sparedneitherfriendnorfoeandHildaAshhurst,whosemindgraspedonlythe
obviousfactsofexistence,cameinformorethanashareofthelady'sinvective.
Indeed,Markam,thepainter,seemedthismorningtobetheonlyluminousspot
ontheCountessOlga'ssocialhorizonandbythetimethecarhadreachedlower
FifthAvenueshehadrelatedmostoftheknownfactsofhischaracterandcareer
includinghisstruggleforrecognitioninEurope,hisrevolutionaryattitude
towardtheArtoftheAcademiesaswellastowardmodernsociety,andthe
consequentandself-soughtisolationwhichdeprivedhimoftheintercourseof
hisfellowsandseriouslyretardedhisprogresstowardasuccessthathis
professionaltalentsundoubtedlymerited.
Hermialistenedwithanabstractedair.Artistssherememberedwerearaceof
beingsquiteapartfromtherestofhumanityandwiththeexceptionofafew
money-seekingforeigners,oneofwhomhadpaintedherportrait,andTeddy
Vincent,aNewYorkersociallyprominent(whowasunspeakable),her
acquaintancewiththeculthadbeenlimitedandunfavorable.When,therefore,
hercardrewalongsidethecurboftheold-fashionedbuildingtowhichOlga
directedthechauffeur,HermiawasalreadypreparedtodislikeMr.Markham
cordially.ShehadnotalwayscaredforOlga'sfriends.
Therewasnoelevatorinthebuildingbeforewhichtheystopped,andthetwo
womenmountedthestairs,avoidingboththewallandthedustybaluster,contact

witheitherofwhichpromisedtodefiletheirwhitegloves,reaching,somewhat
outofbreath,adoorwithaFlorentineknockerbearingthename"Markham."
Olgaknocked.Therewasnoresponse.SheknockedagainwhileHermiawaited,
aquestiononherlips.Therewasasoundofheavyfootstepsandthedoorwas
flungopenwideandabigmanwithrumpledhair,awell-smearedpaintingsmockandwearingahugepairoftortoise-shellgogglespeeredoutintothedark
hall-way,blurtingoutimpatiently,


"I'mverybusy.Idon'tneedanymodels.Comeanotherday—"
Hewasactuallyonthepointofbangingthedoorintheirfaceswhenthe
Countessinterposed.
"Suchhospitality!"
AtthesoundofhervoiceMarkhampaused,thehugepaletteandbrushes
suspendedintheair.
"Oh,"hemurmuredinsomeconfusion."It'syou,Madame—"
"Itis.Verycrossanddustyaftertheclimbupyourfilthystairs—IsupposeI
oughttobeusedtothiskindofwelcomebutI'mnot,somehow.Besides,I'm
bringingavisitor,andhadhopedtofindyouinapleasantermood."
Heshowedhiswhiteteethashelaughed.
"Oh,Lord!Pleasant!"Andthenasanafterthought,veryfrankly,"Idon'tsuppose
Iamverypleasant!"HestoodasidebowingasHermiaemergedfromthe
shadowsandOlgaTchernypresentedhim.Itwasastiffbow,ratherawkward
andimpatientandrevealedquiteplainlyhisdisappointmentatherpresence,but
HermiafollowedOlgaintotheroomwithaslightinclinationofherhead,
consciousthatinthemomentthathiseyespassedoverhertheymadeabrief
notewhichclassifiedheramongtheunnecessarynuisancestowhichbusy
geniusesmustbesubjected.
OlgaTcherny,whohadnowtakenfullpossessionofthestudio,fellintoits
easiestchairandlookedupatthepainterwithhercaressingsmile.
"You'vebeenworking.You'vegotthefogofitonyou.Arewedetrop?"

"Er—no.It'sinratheramesshere,that'sall.Iwasworking,but
I'mquitewillingtostop."
"I'mafraidyou'venofurtherwishformenowthatI'mnolonger
useful,"shesighed."You'renotgoingtodiscardmesoeasily.
Besides,we'renotgoingtostaylong—onlyaminute.Iwashoping
MissChallonercouldseetheportrait."


HeglancedatHermiaalmostresentfully,andfidgetedwithhisbrushes.
"Yes—ofcourse.It'stheleastIcando—isn'tit?Theportraitisn'tfinished.It's
driedin,too—but—"
Helaidhispaletteslowlydownandwipedhisbrushescarefullyonapieceof
cheese-cloth,putacanvasinaframeupontheeaselandshoveditforwardintoa
betterlight.
Hermiafollowedhismovementscuriously,surethathewasthemost
inhospitablehumanbeinguponwhomtwoprettywomenhadevercondescended
tocall,andstooduncomfortably,realizingthathehasnotevenofferedhera
chair.Butwhentheportraitwasturnedtowardthelight,sheforgoteverything
butthecanvasbeforeher.
ItwasnottheOlgaTchernythatpeopleknewbest—thegay,satiricalmondaine,
whoexactedfromaworldwhichhaddeniedherhappinessherpoundofflesh
andcalleditpleasure.TheOlgaTchernywhichlookedatHermiafromthe
canvaswastheonethatHermiahadglimpsedinthebriefmomentsbetween
bitternessandfrivolity,awomanwithasoulwhichinspiteofherstilldreamed
ofthethingsithadbeendenied.
Itwasastartlingportrait,boldalmosttothepointofbrutality,andevenHermia
recognizeditsindividuality,wonderingatthecapacityforanalysiswhichhad
madethepainter'sdelineationofcharactersoremarkable,andhisbrushso
unerring.Shestoleanother—amorecurious—glanceathim.Thehideous
gogglesandtherumpledhaircouldnotdisguisethestronglinesofhisface

whichshesawinprofile—theheavybrows,thestraightnose,thethin,rather
sensitivelipsandthestrong,cleanlycutchin.Properlydressedandvaletedthis
queercreaturemighthavebeenmadepresentable.Buthismanners!Novaleting
orgroomingcouldevermakesuchamanagentleman.
Ifhewasawareofherscrutinyhegavenosignofitandleanedforwardintently,
hisgazeontheportrait—alone,toallappearances,withthefiresofhisgenius.
Hermia'seyesfollowedhis,thesuperficialandratherfrivolouscommentwhich
hadbeenonherlipsstilledforthemomentbythedignityofhismentalattitude,
intowhichitseemedOlgaTchernyhadalsounconsciouslyfallen.Butthesilence
irritatedHermia—thewrapt,absorbedattitudesofthemanandthewomanand
theairofsacro-sanctitywhichpervadedtheplace.Itwaslikeaceremonialin


whichthisqueeranimalwasbeingdeified.She,atleast,couldn'tdeifyhim.
"It'slikeyouOlga,ofcourse,"shesaidflippantly,"butit'snotatallpretty."
ThewordsfellsharplyandMarkhamandtheCountessturnedtowardthe
Philistinewhostoodwithherheadcockedononeside,herarmsa-kimbo.
Markham'seyespeeredforwardsomberlyforamomentandhespokewithslow
gravity.
"Idon'tpaint'pretty'portraits,"hesaid.
"Mr.Markhammeans,Hermia,thathedoesn'tbelieveinartisticlies,"saidOlga
smoothly.
"AndIcontend,"Hermiawentonundaunted,"thatit'sanartisticlienottopaint
youasprettyasyouare."
"PerhapsMr.Markhamdoesn'tthinkmeasprettyasyoudo—"
Markhambowedhisheadasthoughtoabsolvehimselffromtheguiltsuggested.
"Itrynottothinkintermsofprettiness,"heexplainedslowly."Hadyoubeen
merelyprettyIdon'tthinkIshouldhaveattempted—"
"Butisn'tthemissionofArttobeautify—toadorn—?"brokein
Hermia,mercilesslybromidic.

Markhamturnedandlookedatherasthoughhehadsuddenlydiscoveredthe
presenceofaninsectwhichneededextermination.
"Mydearyounglady,themissionofArtistotellthetruth,"hegrowled."When
Ifinditimpossibletodothat,Ishalltakeupanothertrade."
"Oh,"saidHermia,enjoyingherselfimmensely."Ididn'tmeantodiscourage
you."
"Idon'treallythinkthatyouhave,"putinMarkham.
OlgaTchernylaughedfromherchairinaboredamusement.
"Hermia,dear,"shesaiddryly,"Ihardlybroughtyouheretodeflecttheorbitof


genius.PoorMr.Markham!Ishuddertothinkofhisdisastrouscareerifit
dependeduponyourapproval."
Hermiaopenedhermothtospeak,pausedandthenglancedatMarkham.His
thoughtswereturnedinwardagainandexcludedhercompletely.Indeeditwas
difficulttobelievethatherememberedwhatshehadbeentalkingabout.In
additiontobeingunpardonablyrude,henowsimplyignoredher.Hismanner
enragedher."Perhapsmyopiniondoesn'tmattertoMr.Markham,"sheprobed
withicydistinctness."Nevertheless,Irepresentthepublicwhichjudgespictures
andbuysthem.Whichordersportraitsandpaysforthem.It'smyopinionthat
counts—mymoneyuponwhichthefashionableportraitpaintermustdependfor
hissuccess.Hemustpleasemeorpeoplelikemeandthewaytopleasemost
easilyistopaintmeasIoughttoberatherthanasIam."
Markhamslowlyturnedsothathefacedherandeyedherwithapuzzled
expressionashecaughtthemeaningofherremarks,morepersonalandarrogant
thanhisbriefacquaintancewithherseemedinanywaytowarrant.
"I'mnotafashionableportraitpainter,thankGod."hesaidwithsomewarmth.
"FortunatelyI'mnotobligedtodependuponthewhimsoruponthemoneyofthe
peoplewhosejudgmentyouconsidersoimportanttoanartisticsuccess.Ihave
nointerestinthepeoplewhocomposefashionablesociety,notintheirmoney

northeiraims,idealsorthelackofthem.Ipaintwhatinterestsme—andshall
continuetodoso."
HeshruggedhisshouldersandlaughedtowardOlga."What'stheuse,
Madame?InamomentIshallbetellingMiss—er—"
"Challoner,"saidHermia.
"IshallbetellingMissChallonerwhatIthinkofNewYorksociety—andofthe
peoplewhocomposeit.Thatwouldbeunfortunate."
"Well,rather,"saidOlgawearily."Don't,Ibeg.Life'stooshort.
Mustyoubreakourprettyfadedbutterflyonthewheel?"
Heshruggedhisshouldersandturnedaside.
"Notifitjarsuponyoursensibilities.Ihavenoquarrelwithyoursociety.One
onlyquarrelswithanenemyorwithafriend.Tomesocietyisneither."He


smiledatHermiaamusedly."Societymayhaveitsopinionofmyutilityandmay
expressitfreely—unchallenged."
"Idon'tchallengeyourutility,"repliedHermiatartly."Imerelyquestionyour
pointofview.Youdonotseecouleurderose,Mr.Markham?"
"No.Lifeisnotthatcolor."
"Oh,lala!"fromOlga."Lifeisanycoloronewishes,andsometimesthecolor
onedoesnotwish.Verypaleattimes,gray,yellowandattimesred—oh,sored!
Thesoulisthechameleonwhichabsorbsandreflectsit.Today,"shesigned,"my
chameleonhastakenavacation."Sheroseabruptlyandthrewoutherarmswith
adramaticgesture.
"Oh,youtwoinfants—withyourwisetalkoflife—youhavealreadydepressed
metothepointofdissolution.I'venopatiencewithyou—witheitherofyou.
You'vespoiledmymorning,andI'llnotstayhereanotherminute."Shereached
forhertrinketsonthetableandrattledthemviciously."It'stoobad.Withthe
bestintentionsintheworldIbringtwoofmyfriendstogetherandtheyfall
instantlyintoverbalfisticuffs.Hermia,youdeservenobetterfatethantobe

lockedinherewiththisbearofamanuntilyoubothlearncivility."
ButHermiahadalreadyprecededtheCountesstothedoor,whither
Markhamfollowedthem.
"Ishouldbecharmed,"saidMarkham.
"Tolearncivility?"askedHermiaacidly.
"Imightevenlearnthat—"
"Itisinconceivable,"putintheCountess."Youknow,Markham,Idon'tmind
yourbeingbearishwithme.Infact,I'vetakenitasthegreatestofcompliments.I
thoughtthathumorofyourswasmyspecialprerogativeoffriendship.Butnow
alas!WhenIseehowuncivilyoucanbetoothersIhaveasenseoflostcaste.
Andyou—insteadofbeingamusinglywhimsicalandentÂt—areindangerof
becomingmerelybourgeois.Iwarnyounowthatifyouplantobeuncivilto
everybody—Ishallgiveyouup."
MarkhamandHermialaughed.Theycouldn'thelpit.Shewastooabsurd.


"Oh,Ihopeyouwon'tdothat,"pleadedMarkham.
"I'mcapableofunheardofcrueltiestothosewhoincurmydispleasure.Imay
evenbringMissChallonerintocallagain."
Markham,protesting,followedthemtothedoor.
"Aurevoir,Monsieur,"saidtheCountess.
Markhambowedinthegeneraldirectionoftheshadowinthehallwayinto
whichMissChallonerhadvanishedandthenturnedbackandtookuphispalette
andbrushes.
CHAPTERIII
THEINEFFECTUALAUNT

Thetwowomenhadhardlyreachedthelimousinebeforethevialsof
Hermia'swrathwereopened.
"Whatadreadfulperson!Olga,howcouldyouhavestoodhimallthewhilehe

paintedyou?"
"Wemadeoutverynicely,thankyou."
"Hildawasright.Heisagorilla.Doyouknowheneverevenofferedmea
chair?"
"Isupposehethoughtyou'dhavesenseenoughtositdownifyouwantedto."
"OOlga,don'tquibble.He'simpossible."
TheCountessshrugged.
"It'samatteroftaste."
"Taste!Onedoesn'twanttobeaffronted.Ishelikethistoeveryone?"
"No.That'sjustthepoint.Heisn't.Ithink,Hermia,dear,"andshelaughed,"that
hedidn'tlikeyou."


"Me!Whynot?"
"Hedoesn'tlikeBath-buns.Heoncetoldmeso.Besides,Idon'tthinkhe's
altogetherinsympathywiththethingsyoutypify."
"HowdoesheknowwhatItypify—whenIdon'tknowmyself?Idon'ttypify
anything."
"Oh,yes,youdo,toamanlikeMarkham.Fromtheeyriewherehissouliswont
tosit,JohnMarkhamhasafineperspectiveonlife—yoursandmine.ButI
imaginethatyoumakethemoreconspicuoussilhouette.Tohimyourepresent
'theNewYorkIdea'—onlymoreso.Besidesthatyou'reavellumeditionofthe
FeministMovementwithsuffrageexpurgated.Inotherwords,darling,toa
lonelyandsomewhatmorbidphilosopherlikeMarkhamyou'reahorrible
exampleofwhatmaybecomeofafemalepersonofliberalviewswhohashad
theworldsuddenlylaidinherlap;thespoiledchildlaunchedintothefull
possessionofafabulousfortunewithnoambitionmoreseriousthantobecome
the'champeenlady-aviatorofMadisonAvenue—'"
"Olga!You'rehorrid,"brokeinHermia.
"Iknowit.It'sthereactionfromamorningwhichbegantoocheerfully.Ithink

I'llleaveyounow,ifyou'lldropmeattheBlouseShop—"
"ButIthoughtweweregoing—"
"No.Notthismorning.Themoodhaspassed."
"Oh,verywell,"saidHermia.
Thetwopeckedeachotherjustbelowtheeyeafterthemannerofwomenand
theCountessdeparted,whileHermiaquizzicallywatchedhergracefulbackuntil
ithaddisappearedintheshadowsofthestore.Thecurrentthatusuallyflowed
betweenthemwasabsentnow,soHermialethergo;forOlgaTcherny,whenin
thismood,woreanarmorwhichHermia,cleverasshethoughtherself,had
neverbeenabletopenetrate.
Hermiacontinuedonherwayuptown,awarethatthechangeintheCountess
Olgawasduetointangibleinfluenceswhichshecouldnotdefinebutwhichshe


wassurehadsomethingtodowiththeodiouspersonwhosestudioshehad
visited.CoulditbethatOlgareallycaredforthisqueerMarkhamofthegoggled
eyes,thisabsent-minded,self-centeredcreature,whorumpledhishair,smokeda
pipeandgrowledhischeapphilosophy?Apose,ofcourse,aimedthismorning
atHermia.Heflatteredher.Shefeltobligedforthelineofdemarcationhehadso
carefullydrawnbetweenhislifeandhers.Asifsheneededthechallengeofhis
impudencetobecomeawareofit!AndyetIherheartshefoundherselfdenying
thathisimpudencehadirritatedherlessthanhisindifference.Totellthetruth,
Hermiadidnotlikebeingignored.Itwasthefirsttimeinfact,thatanymanhad
ignoredher,andshedidnotenjoythesensation.Sheshruggedhershoulders
carelesslyandglancedoutofthewindowofhercar—andtobeignoredbysuch
apersonasthisgrubbypainter—itwasmaddening!Shethoughtofhimas
"grubby,"whateverthatmeant,becauseshedidnotlikehim,butitwaseven
moremaddeningforhertothinkofOlgaTcherny'sportrait,which,inspiteof
herflippantremarks,shehadbeenforcedtoadmitrevealedaknowledgeof
femininepsychologythathadexcitedheramazementandadmiration.

Onedeductionledtoanother.Shefoundherselfwonderingwhatkindofa
portraitthisMarkhamwouldmakeofher,whetherhewouldsee,ashehadseen
inOlga—thethingsthatlaybelowthesurface—thedreamsthatcame,the
aspirations,half-formed,towardsomethingdifferent,themomentsofrevulsion
attheemptinessofherlife,which,inspiteofthematerialbenefitsitpossessed,
was,afterall,onlymaterial.Wouldhepaintthose—theshadowsaswellasthe
lights?OrwouldheseeherasMarsac,theFrenchman,hadseenher,thepretty,
irresponsiblechildoffortunewholivedonlyforotherswhowereasgayas
herselfwithnomoreseriouspurposeinlifethantobecome,asOlgahadsaid,
"thechampeenlady-aviatorofMadisonAvenue."
Hermialunchedalone—outofhumorwithalltheworld—andwentupstairswith
avolumeofplayswhichhadjustcomefromthestationer.Butshehadhardly
settledherselfcomfortablywhenTitineannouncedMrs.Westfield.
ItwastheineffectualAunt.
"Oh,yes,"withanairofresignation,"tellMrs.Westfieldtocomeup."
Shepulledthehairoverhertemplestoconcealthescarsofhermorning's
accidentandmetMrs.Westfieldatthelandingoutside.


"DearAuntHarriet.Soglad,"shesaid,grimacingcheerfullytosalveher
conscience."WhathaveIbeendoingnow?"
"Whathaven'tyoubeendoing,child?"
Thegoodladysankintoachair,theseverelinesinherfacemorethanusually
acidulous,butHermiaonlysmiledsweetly,forMrs.Westfield'sforbidding
aspect,asshewellknew,concealedthemostindulgentofdispositions.
"Playingpolowithmen,racinginyourmotorandgettingyourselftalkedabout
inthepapers!Really,Hermia,whatwillyoubedoingnext?"
"Flying,"saidHermia.
Mrs.Westfieldhesitatedbetweenagaspandasmile.
"Idon'tdoubtit.Youarequitecapableofanything—onlyyourwingswillnotbe

sentfromHeaven—"
"No—fromParis.I'mgoingtohaveaBleriot."
"Doyouactuallymeanthatyou'regoingto—OHermia!Notfly—!"
Thegirlnodded.
"I—I'mafraidIam,Auntie.It'sthesportingthing.YouknowInevercouldbear
havingReggieArmisteaddoanythingIcouldn't.Everyonewillbedoingit
soon."
"Ican'tbelievethatyou'reinearnest."
"Iam,awfully."
"Butthedanger!Youmustrealizethat!"
"Ido—that'swhatattractsme."ShegotupandputherarmsaroundMrs.
Westfield'sneck."OAuntie,dear,don'tbother.I'mabsolutelyimpossible
anyway.Ican'tbehappydoingthethingsthatothergirlsdo,andyoumightas
wellletmehavemyownway—"
"Butflying—"


"It'sassimpleaschild'splay.Ifyou'deverdoneityou'dwonderhowpeople
wouldeverbecontenttomotororride—"
"You'vebeenup—?"
"LastweekatGardenCity.I'mcrazyaboutit."
"Yes,child,crazy—mad.I'vedonewhatIcouldtokeepyouramusementswithin
theboundsofreasonandwithoutavail,butIwouldn'tbedoingmydutytoyour
saintedmotherifIdidn'ttrytosaveyoufromyourself.Ishalldosomethingto
preventthis—thismadcapventure—Idon'tknowwhat.IshallseeMr.Winthrop
attheTrustCompany.Theremustbesomeway—"
Thependantsinthegoodlady'searstrembledinthelight,andherhandgroped
forherhandkerchief."Youcan't,Hermia.I'llnotpermitit.I'llgetoutan
injunction—orsomething.Itwasallverywellwhenyouwereachild—butnow
—doyourealizethatyou'reawoman,agrownwoman,withresponsibilitiesto

thecommunity?It'stimethatyouweremarried,settleddownandtookyour
properplaceinNewYork.Ihadhopedthatyouwouldhavematuredand
forgottenthechildishpastimesofyourgirlhoodbutnow—now—"
Mrs.Westfield,havingfoundherhandkerchief,weptintoit,heremotionstoo
deepforotherexpression,whileHermia,nowreallymoved,sankatherfeet
uponthefloor,herarmsaboutherAunt'sshoulders,andtriedtocomforther.
"I'mnottheslightestuseintheworld,Auntie,dear.Ihaven'tasinglehomely
virtuetorecommendme.I'monlyfittorideanddanceandmotorandfrivol.
AndwhomshouldImarry?SurelynotReggieArmisteadorCrosbyDowns!
ReggieandIhavealwaysfoughtlikecatsacrossawire,andasforCrosby—I
wouldaslifemarrythegreatChamofTartary.No,dear,I'mnotreadyfor
marriageyet.Isimplycouldn't.There,there,don'tcry.You'vedoneyourduty.
I'mnotworthbotheringabout.I'mnotgoingtodoanythingdreadful.And
besides—youknowifanythingdidhappentome,themoneywouldgoto
MillicentandTheodore."
"I—Idon'twantanythingtohappentoyou,"saidMrs.Westfield,weepinganew.
"Nothingwill—youknowI'mnothankeringtodie—butIdon'tmindtakinga
sportingchancewithagamelikethat."
"Butwhatgoodcanitpossiblydo?"


HermiaChallonerlaughedalittlebitterly."MydearAuntie,mylifehasnotbeen
plannedwithreferencetotheultimatepossiblegood.I'marenegadeifyoulike,
ahoydenwithashrewdsenseofpersonalmoralitybutwithnoothersense
whatever.Iwasbornunderamadmoonwithsomewildhumorinmyblood
fromanearlierincarnationandIcan't—Isimplycan'tbeconventional.I'vetried
doingasother—andnicer—girlsdobutitweariesmetothepointofdistraction.
Theirlivesaresopale,soempty,sofullofpretensions.Theyhavealways
seemedso.WhenIusedtoromplikeaboymyelderstoldmeitwasan
unnaturalwayforlittlegirlstoplay.ButIkeptonromping.Ifithadn'tbeen

naturalIshouldn'thaveromped.PerhapsSybilTrenchardisnatural—orCaroline
Anstell.They'reconventionalgirls—automaticpartsofthesocialmachinery,
eating,sleeping,deckingthemselvesforthedailyround,merethingsofsex,
theirwholelifeplannedsothattheymaymakeadesirablemarriage.GoodLord,
Auntie!Andwhomwilltheymarry?FellowslikeArchieWestcottorCarol
Gouverneur,fellowswithnotorioushabitswhichmarriageisnotlikelytomend.
Howcouldit?Nooneexpectsitto.Thegirlswhomarrymenlikethatgetwhat
theybargainfor—looksformoney—moneyforlooks—"
"ButTrevelyanMorehouse!"
Hermiapausedandexaminedtherosesinthesilvervasewithaquizzicalair.
"IfIwerenotsorich,IshouldprobablyloveTrevvymadly.But,yousee,then
Trevvywouldn'tloveme.Hecouldn'taffordto.He'sruininghimselfwithroses
asitis.And,curiouslyenough,IhaveanotionwhenImarry,tolove—andbe
lovedformyselfalone.I'mnotinlovewithTrevvyoranyoneelse—orlikelyto
be.ThemanImarry,Auntie,isn'tdoingwhatTrevvyandCrosbyandReggie
Armisteadaredoing.He'sdifferentsomehow—differentfromanymanI'veever
met."
"How,child?"
"Idon'tknow,"shemused,withasmile."Onlyheisn'tlikeTrevvy
Morehouse."
"ButMr.Morehouseisaverypromisingyoungman—"
"ThepersonImarrywon'tbeapromisingyoungman.Promisingyoungmen
continuallyremindmeofmyowndeficiencies.Imaginedomesticatingacritic
likethat,marryingamirrorforone'sfoiblesandbeingabletoseenothingelse.


No,thanks."
"Whomwillyoumarrythen?"sighedMrs.Westfieldresignedly.
HermiaChallonercaughtherbythearm."Oh,Idon'tknow—onlyheisn'tthe
kindofmanwho'dsendmeroses.Ithinkhe'ssomethingbetweenapilgrimand

avagabond,aknight-errantfromsomewherebetweenHeavenandthetrue
Bohemia,adespiserofshamsandvanities,amansomuchbiggerthanIamthat
hecanmakemewhatheis—inspiteofhimself."
"Hermia!ABohemian!Suchapersonwillhardlybefound—"
"OAuntie,youdon'tunderstand.I'mnotlikelytofindhim.I'mnotevenlooking
forhim,youknow,andjustnowIdon'twanttomarryanybody."
"Ionlyhopewhenyoudo,Hermia,thatyouwillcommitnoimprudence,"said
Mrs.Westfieldseverely.
Hermiaturnedquickly.
"Auntie,CaptainLundtoftheKaiserWilhelmusedtotellmethatthereweretwo
waysofgoingintoafog,"shesaid."Onewastogoslowandusethesiren.The
otherwastocrowdonsteamandgolikeh—."
"Hermia!"
"I'msorry,Auntie,butthatdescribesthesituationexactly.I'mtoowealthytorisk
marryingprudently.I'dhavetofindamanwhowasaprudentasIwas,which
meansthathe'dbemarryingmeformymoney—"
"Thatdoesn'tfollow.You'repretty,attractive—"
"Oh,thanks.IknowwhatIam.I'mananimateddollarmark,afinancial
abnormity,withjustaboutasmuchchanceofbeinglovedformyselfaloneasa
foxinNovember.WhenmenusedtoproposetomeIhaltedthem,pressedtheir
hands,badethembehappyandweptatearortwoforthethingthatcouldnotbe.
NowIfixthemwithacoldappraisingeyeandletthemstammerthroughtothe
end.I'velearnedsomething.Thepossessionofmoneymayhaveits
disadvantages,butitsharpensone'switsamazingly."


"I'mafraiditsharpensthemtoomuch,mydear,"saidMrs.Westfieldcoldly.She
lookedaroundtheroomhelplesslyasifseekinginsomemuteobjecttangible
evidenceofherniece'ssanity.
"Oh,well,"shefinished."Ishallhopeandprayforamiracletobringyoutoyour

senses."Andthen,"Whathaveyouplannedforthespring?"
"I'mgoingto'Wake-Robin;first.Bynextweekmyaerodromewillbefinished.
MymachineispromisedbytheendofMay.They'resendingaperfectlyreliable
mechanician—"
"Reliable—intheair!Imagineit!"
"—andI'llbeflyinginamonth."
ThegoodladyroseandHermiawatchedherwithanexpressioninwhichrelief
andguiltwerestrangelymingled.Herconsciencealwayssmoteherafteroneof
herdeclarationsofindependencetoherAunt,whosemildnessandineptitudein
theunequalstrugglealwaysleftthegirlwithanunpleasantsenseofhavingtaken
ameanadvantageofahelplessadversary.ToHermiaMrs.Westfield'sgreatest
effectivenesswaswhenshewasmostineffectual.
"There'snothingmoreformetosay,Isuppose,"saidMrs.Westfield.
"Nothingexceptthatyouapprove,"pleadedherniecewistfully.
"I'llneverdothat,"icily."Idon'tapproveofyouatall.WhyshouldImince
matters?You'regraduallyalienatingme,Hermia—cuttingyourselfofffromthe
fewbloodrelationsyouhaveonearth."
"FromMillicentandTheodore?IthoughtthatMillyfairlydotedonme—"
Mrs.Westfieldstammeredhelplessly.
"It'sI—Iwhoobject.Idon'tlikeyourfriends.Idon'tthinkIwouldbedoingmy
dutytotheirsaintedfatherif—"
"Oh,Isee,"saidHermiathoughtfully."YouthinkImaypervert—contaminate
them—"


"Notyou—yourfriends—"
"Iwashopingthatyouwouldallcometo'Wake-Robin'forJune."
"I—I'vemadeotherplans,"saidMrs.Westfield.
Hermia'sjawsetandherfacehardened.Theywerethoroughlyantipatheticnow.
"That,ofcourse,willbeasyouplease,"shesaidcoldly."SinceThimbleCottage

burned,I'vetriedtomakeyouunderstandthatyouaretousemyplaceasyour
own.Ifyoudon'twanttocomeI'msorry."
"It'snotthatIdon'twanttocome,Hermia.Ishallprobablyvisityouasusual.
ThimbleCottagewillberebuiltassoonastheplansarefinished.Meanwhile,
I'verentedtheisland."
"AndMillyandTheodore?"
"They'regoingabroadwiththeirAuntJulia."
"Ithinkyouaremakingamistakeinkeepingusapart,AuntHarriet."
"Why?Youarefindingnewdiversionsandnewfriends."
"Imustfindnewfriendsifmyrelationsdesertme."Andthenafterapause:
"WhohasrentedThimbleIsland?"
"Anartist—whowilloccupythebarkcabin.Myagentsthoughtitaswelltohave
someonethereuntilthebuildersbegin—aMr.Markham—"
"Markham!"Hermiagasped.
"Doyouknowhim?"
"Oh—er—enoughtobesurethatheisnotthekindofpersonIshallcareto
cultivate."
AndthenasherAuntwavereduncertainly."Oh,ofcourseIshallgetalong.I
can'tprotest.It'syourprivilegetochooseMilly'sfriends,evenifyoumeanto
excludeme.It'salsomyprivilegetochoosemyfriendsandIshalldoso.Ifthis
meansthatIamtabooatyourhouses,IshallrespectyourwishesbutIhope


you'llrememberthatyouareallwelcomeat'Wake-Robin'orherewheneveryou
seefittovisitme."
Havingdeliveredherselfofthisspeech,Hermiapaused,sureofhereffect,and
calmlyawaitedtheusualrecantationandreconciliation.ButtohersurpriseMrs.
Westfieldcontinuedtomoveslowlytowardthedoor,throughwhich,aftera
formalwordoffarewell,shepresentlydisappearedandwasgone.
Hermiastaredattheemptydoorandpondered—reallyonthevergeoftears.The

wholeproceedingviolatedallprecedentsestablishedforineffectualaunts.
CHAPTERIV
MAROONED

Inthecourseofanearlypilgrimageinsearchofanunfrequentedspotwherehe
mightworkoutofdoorsundisturbedinJunebeforegoingtoNormandy,
MarkhamhadstumbledquitebyaccidentonThimbleIsland.There,tohis
delight,hehaddiscoveredtheexactcombinationofrocks,foliageandbarrenhe
waslookingfor—thepainter'slandscape.Theislandwasseparatedfromthe
mainlandbyanarmofthesea,wideenoughtokeepatasafedistancethe
fashionablecottagersintheadjacentcommunity.
FirehaddestroyedthelargeframecottagewhichtheWestfieldshadoccupied,
buttherewasasmallbarkbungalowoftworoomsandakitchenthathadbeen
used,helearned,asquartersforextraguests,whichwouldexactlysuithis
purposes.Somewhatdoubtfully,hemadeinquiriesuponthemainlandand
communicatedwiththeagentsofMrs.WestfieldinNewYork,withwhom,to
hisdelight,hemanagedtomaketheproperarrangementspendingtherebuilding
ofthehouse.
Hehadestablishedhimselfbagandbaggageandattheendoftwoweeksarow
ofcanvasesalongthewallofhisroomboretestimonytohisdiligence.To
Markhamtheyhadbeenweeksofundilutedhappiness.Hewasworkingoutin
hisownwaysomethesesofcolorwhichwouldintimeprovetoothersthathe
knewNatureaswellasheknewhumanity;thatthebrutaltruthspeoplesawin
hisportraitswereonlybrutalbecausetheyweretrue;andtoprovetohimselfthat
somewhereinhim,deeplyhidden,wasaveinoftendernesswhichnowsought