XI
"My God, will you look who's here! Billy, wretched creature, I
haven't laid eyes on you for two months! Do you have to desert me
entirely, just because you've fallen in love with a society girl
with the face of a Japanese doll-baby? What's the matter with me,
that I lose my lovers faster than I get them? Edgerton Rosythe, come
in here--you've got a good excuse, I admit--I'm almost as much
scared of your wife as you are yourself. But still, I'd like a
chance to get tired of some man first. Hello, Planchet, how's my old
grannie making out in your scalping-shop? Say, would you think it
would take three days labor for half a dozen Sioux squaws to pull
the skin off one old lady's back? And a week to tie up the corners
of her mouth and give her a permanent smile! 'Why, grannie,' I said,
'good God, it would be cheaper to hire Charlie Chaplin to walk round
in front of you all the rest of your life!' And--why, what's this?
For the love of Peter, somebody introduce me to this gentleman. Is
he a friend of yours, Billy? Carpenter? Excuse me, Mr. Carpenter,
but we picture people learn to talk about our faces and our styles,
and it isn't every day I come on a million dollars walking round on
two legs. Who does the gentleman work for?"
The storm of Mary Magna stopped long enough for her to stare from
one to another of us. "What? You mean nobody's got him? And you all
standing round here, not signing any contracts? You, Edgerton--you
haven't run to the telephone to call up Eternal City? Well, as it
happens, T-S is going to be here in five minutes--his wife is being
made beautiful once again somewhere in this scalping-shop. Take my
advice, Mr. Carpenter, and don't sign today--the price will go up
several hundred per week as long as you hold off."
Mary stopped again; and this was most unusual, for as a general rule
she never stopped until somebody or something stopped her. But she
was fascinated by the spectacle of Carpenter. "My good God! Where
did he come from? Why, it seems like--I'm trying to think--yes,
it's the very man! Listen, Billy; you may not believe it, but I was
in a church a couple of weeks ago. I went to see Roxanna Riddle
marry that grand duke fellow. It was in a big church over by the
park--St. Bartholomew's, they call it. I sat looking at a stained
glass window over the altar, and Billy, I swear I believe this Mr.
Carpenter came down from that window!"
"Maybe he did, Mary," I put in.
"But I'm not joking! I tell you he's the living, speaking image of
that figure. Come to think of it, he isn't speaking, he hasn't said
a word! Tell me, Mr. Carpenter, have you got a voice, or are you
only a close up from 'The Servant in the House' or 'Ben Hur'? Say
something, so I can get a line on you!"
Again I stood wondering; how would Carpenter take this? Would he bow
his head and run before a hail-storm of feminine impertinence? Would
she "vamp" him, as she did every man who came near her? Or would
this man do what no man alive had yet been able to do--reduce her to
silence?
He smiled gently; and I saw that she had vamped him this much, at
least--he was going to be polite! "Mary," he said, "I think you are
carrying everything but the nose jewels."
"Nose jewels? What a horrid idea! Where did you get that?"
"When you came in, I was quoting the prophet Isaiah. Some eighty
generations of ladies have lived on earth since his day, Mary; they
have won the ballot, but apparently they haven't discovered anything
new in the way of ornaments. Some of the prophet's words may be
strange to you, but if you study them you will see that you've got
everything he lists: 'their tinkling ornaments about their feet, and
their cauls, and their round tires like the moon, the chains, and
the bracelets, and the mufflers, the bonnets, and the ornaments of
the legs, and the headbands, and the tablets, and the earrings, the
rings, and nose jewels, the changeable suits of apparel, and the
mantles, and the wimples, and the crisping pins, the glasses, and
the fine linen, and the hoods, and the veils.'"
As Carpenter recited this list, his eyes roamed from one part to
another of the wondrous "get up" of Mary Magna. You can imagine her
facing him--that bold and vivid figure which you have seen as
"Cleopatra" and "Salome," as "Dubarry" and "Anne Boleyn," and I know
not how many other of the famous courtesans and queens of history.
In daily life her style and manner is every bit as staggering; she
is a gorgeous brunette, and wears all the colors there are--when she
goes down the street it is like a whole procession with flags. I'll
wager that, apart from her jewels, which may or may not have been
real, she was carrying not less than five thousand dollars worth of
stuff that fall afternoon. A big black picture hat, with a flower
garden and parts of an aviary on top--but what's the use of going
over Isaiah's list?
"Everything but the nose jewels," said Carpenter, "and they may be
in fashion next week."
"How about the glasses?" put in Rosythe, entering into the fun.
"Oh, shucks!" said I, protecting my friend. "Turn out the contents
of your vanity-bag, Mary."
"And the crisping-pins?" laughed the critic.
"Hasn't Madame Planchet just shown us those?"
All this while Mary had not taken her eyes off Carpenter. "So you
are really one of those religious fellows!" she exclaimed. "You'll
know exactly what to do without any directing! How perfectly
incredible!" And at that appropriate moment T-S pushed open the door
and waddled in!
