THE PORTER'S SON [8]
engine. A glance out of the window, and the acacia tree
reminded of the days of childhood. Flowers and leaves had fallen,
but there stood the tree covered with hoar frost, looking like a
single huge branch of coral, and the moon shone clear and large
among the twigs, unchanged in its changings, as it was when George
divided his bread and butter with little Emily.
Out of a box the girl took the drawings of the Czar's palace and
of her own castle- remembrances of George. The drawings were looked
at, and many thoughts came. She remembered the day when, unobserved by
her father and mother, she had gone down to the porter's wife who
lay dying. Once again she seemed to sit beside her, holding the
dying woman's hand in hers, hearing the dying woman's last words:
"Blessing George!" The mother was thinking of her son, and now Emily
gave her own interpretation to those words. Yes, George was
certainly with her on her birthday.
It happened that the next day was another birthday in that
house, the General's birthday. He had been born the day after his
daughter, but before her of course- many years before her. Many
presents arrived, and among them came a saddle of exquisite
workmanship, a comfortable and costly saddle- one of the Princes had
just such another. Now, from whom might this saddle come? The
General was delighted. There was a little note with the saddle. Now if
the words on the note had been "many thanks for yesterday's
reception," we might easily have guessed from whom it came. But the
words were "From somebody whom the General does not know."
"Whom in the world do I not know?" exclaimed the General. "I
know everybody;" and his thoughts wandered all through society, for he
knew everybody there. "That saddle comes from my wife!" he said at
last. "She is teasing me- charming!"
But she was not teasing him; those times were past.
Again there was a feast, but it was not in the General's house, it
was a fancy ball at the Prince's, and masks were allowed too.
The General went as Rubens, in a Spanish costume, with a little
ruff round his neck, a sword by his side, and a stately manner. The
General's lady was Madame Rubens, in black velvet made high round
the neck, exceedingly warm, and with a mill-stone round her neck in
the shape of a great ruff- accurately dressed after a Dutch picture in
the possession of the General, in which the hands were especially
admired. They were just like the hands of the General's lady.
Emily was Psyche. In white crape and lace she was like a
floating swan. She did not want wings at all. She only wore them as
emblematic of Psyche.
Brightness, splendor, light and flowers, wealth and taste appeared
at the ball; there was so much to see, that the beautiful hands of
Madame Rubens made no sensation at all.
A black domino, with an acacia blossom in his cap, danced with
Psyche.
"Who is that?" asked the General's lady.
"His Royal Highness," replied the General. "I am quite sure of it.
I knew him directly by the pressure of his hand."
The General's lady doubted it.
General Rubens had no doubts about it. He went up to the black
domino and wrote the royal letters in the mask's hand. These were
denied, but the mask gave him a hint.
The words that came with the saddle: "One whom you do not know,
General."
"But I do know you," said the General. "It was you who sent me the
saddle."
The domino raised his hand, and disappeared among the other
guests.
"Who is that black domino with whom you were dancing, Emily?"
asked the General's lady.
"I did not ask his name," she replied, "because you knew it. It is
the Professor. Your protege is here, Count!" she continued, turning to
that nobleman, who stood close by. "A black domino with acacia
blossoms in his cap."
"Very likely, my dear lady," replied the Count. "But one of the
Princes wears just the same costume."
"I knew the pressure of the hand," said the General.
reminded of the days of childhood. Flowers and leaves had fallen,
but there stood the tree covered with hoar frost, looking like a
single huge branch of coral, and the moon shone clear and large
among the twigs, unchanged in its changings, as it was when George
divided his bread and butter with little Emily.
Out of a box the girl took the drawings of the Czar's palace and
of her own castle- remembrances of George. The drawings were looked
at, and many thoughts came. She remembered the day when, unobserved by
her father and mother, she had gone down to the porter's wife who
lay dying. Once again she seemed to sit beside her, holding the
dying woman's hand in hers, hearing the dying woman's last words:
"Blessing George!" The mother was thinking of her son, and now Emily
gave her own interpretation to those words. Yes, George was
certainly with her on her birthday.
It happened that the next day was another birthday in that
house, the General's birthday. He had been born the day after his
daughter, but before her of course- many years before her. Many
presents arrived, and among them came a saddle of exquisite
workmanship, a comfortable and costly saddle- one of the Princes had
just such another. Now, from whom might this saddle come? The
General was delighted. There was a little note with the saddle. Now if
the words on the note had been "many thanks for yesterday's
reception," we might easily have guessed from whom it came. But the
words were "From somebody whom the General does not know."
"Whom in the world do I not know?" exclaimed the General. "I
know everybody;" and his thoughts wandered all through society, for he
knew everybody there. "That saddle comes from my wife!" he said at
last. "She is teasing me- charming!"
But she was not teasing him; those times were past.
Again there was a feast, but it was not in the General's house, it
was a fancy ball at the Prince's, and masks were allowed too.
The General went as Rubens, in a Spanish costume, with a little
ruff round his neck, a sword by his side, and a stately manner. The
General's lady was Madame Rubens, in black velvet made high round
the neck, exceedingly warm, and with a mill-stone round her neck in
the shape of a great ruff- accurately dressed after a Dutch picture in
the possession of the General, in which the hands were especially
admired. They were just like the hands of the General's lady.
Emily was Psyche. In white crape and lace she was like a
floating swan. She did not want wings at all. She only wore them as
emblematic of Psyche.
Brightness, splendor, light and flowers, wealth and taste appeared
at the ball; there was so much to see, that the beautiful hands of
Madame Rubens made no sensation at all.
A black domino, with an acacia blossom in his cap, danced with
Psyche.
"Who is that?" asked the General's lady.
"His Royal Highness," replied the General. "I am quite sure of it.
I knew him directly by the pressure of his hand."
The General's lady doubted it.
General Rubens had no doubts about it. He went up to the black
domino and wrote the royal letters in the mask's hand. These were
denied, but the mask gave him a hint.
The words that came with the saddle: "One whom you do not know,
General."
"But I do know you," said the General. "It was you who sent me the
saddle."
The domino raised his hand, and disappeared among the other
guests.
"Who is that black domino with whom you were dancing, Emily?"
asked the General's lady.
"I did not ask his name," she replied, "because you knew it. It is
the Professor. Your protege is here, Count!" she continued, turning to
that nobleman, who stood close by. "A black domino with acacia
blossoms in his cap."
"Very likely, my dear lady," replied the Count. "But one of the
Princes wears just the same costume."
"I knew the pressure of the hand," said the General.