tales of trail and town- 第18部分

part　of　an　old　courtyard　in　the　Faubourg　St。　Germain；all　very

fresh　and　striking。　　Yet；　with　the　recollection　of　his　poverty　in

her　mind；　she　could　not　help　saying；　〃But　if　you　copied　one　of

those　masterpieces；　you　know　you　could　sell　it。　　There　is　always　a

demand　for　that　work。〃



〃Yes；〃　he　replied；　〃but　these　help　me　in　my　line；　which　is

architectural　study。　　It　is；　perhaps；　not　very　ambitious；〃　he　added

thoughtfully；　〃but；〃　brightening　up　again；　〃I　sell　these　sketches；

too。　　They　are　quite　marketable；　I　assure　you。〃



Helen's　heart　sank　again。　　She　remembered　now　to　have　seen　such

sketchesshe　doubted　not　they　were　hisin　the　cheap　shops　in　the

Rue　Poissoniere；　ticketed　at　a　few　francs　each。　　She　was　silent　as

he　patiently　turned　them　over。　　Suddenly　she　uttered　a　little　cry。



He　had　just　uncovered　a　little　sketch　of　what　seemed　at　first　sight

only　a　confused　cluster　of　roof　tops；　dormer　windows；　and　chimneys；

level　with　the　sky…line。　　But　it　was　bathed　in　the　white　sunshine

of　Paris；　against　the　blue　sky　she　knew　so　well。　　There；　too；　were

the　gritty　crystals　and　rust　of　the　tiles；　the　red；　brown；　and

greenish　mosses　of　the　gutters；　and　lower　down　the　more　vivid

colors　of　geraniums　and　pansies　in　flower…pots　under　the　white

dimity　curtains　which　hid　the　small　panes　of　garret　windows；　yet

every　sordid　detail　touched　and　transfigured　with　the　poetry　and

romance　of　youth　and　genius。



〃You　have　seen　this？〃　she　said。



〃Yes；　it　is　a　study　from　my　window。　　One　must　go　high　for　such

effects。　　You　would　be　surprised　if　you　could　see　how　different　the

air　and　sunshine〃



〃No；〃　she　interrupted　gently；　〃I　HAVE　seen　it。〃



〃You？〃　he　repeated；　gazing　at　her　curiously。



Helen　ran　the　point　of　her　slim　finger　along　the　sketch　until　it

reached　a　tiny　dormer　window　in　the　left…hand　corner；　half…hidden

by　an　irregular　chimney…stack。　　The　curtains　were　closely　drawn。

Keeping　her　finger　upon　the　spot；　she　said；　interrogatively；　〃And

you　saw　THAT　window？〃



〃Yes；　quite　plainly。　　I　remember　it　was　always　open；　and　the　room

seemed　empty　from　early　morning　to　evening；　when　the　curtains　were

drawn。〃



〃It　is　my　room；〃　she　said　simply。



Their　eyes　met　with　this　sudden　confession　of　their　equal　poverty。

〃And　mine；〃　he　said　gayly；　〃from　which　this　view　was　taken；　is　in

the　rear　and　still　higher　up　on　the　other　street。〃



They　both　laughed　as　if　some　singular　restraint　had　been　removed；

Helen　even　forgot　the　incident　of　the　bread　in　her　relief。　　Then

they　compared　notes　of　their　experiences；　of　their　different

concierges；　of　their　housekeeping；　of　the　cheap　stores　and　the

cheaper　restaurants　of　Paris；except　one。　　She　told　him　her　name；

and　learned　that　his　was　Philip；　or；　if　she　pleased；　Major

Ostrander。　　Suddenly　glancing　at　her　companions；　who　were

ostentatiously　lingering　at　a　little　distance；　she　became　conscious

for　the　first　time　that　she　was　talking　quite　confidentially　to　a

very　handsome　man；　and　for　a　brief　moment　wished；　she　knew　not　why；

that　he　had　been　plainer。　　This　momentary　restraint　was　accented　by

the　entrance　of　a　lady　and　gentleman；　rather　distingue　in　dress　and

bearing；　who　had　stopped　before　them；　and　were　eying　equally　the

artist；　his　work；　and　his　companion　with　somewhat　insolent

curiosity。　　Helen　felt　herself　stiffening；　her　companion　drew

himself　up　with　soldierly　rigidity。　　For　a　moment　it　seemed　as　if；

under　that　banal　influence；　they　would　part　with　ceremonious

continental　politeness；　but　suddenly　their　hands　met　in　a　national

handshake；　and　with　a　frank　smile　they　separated。



Helen　rejoined　her　companions。



〃So　you　have　made　a　conquest　of　the　recently　acquired　but　unknown

Greek　statue？〃　said　Mademoiselle　Renee　lightly。　　〃You　should　take

up　a　subscription　to　restore　his　arm；　ma　petite；　if　there　is　a

modern　sculptor　who　can　do　it。　　You　might　suggest　it　to　the　two

Russian　cognoscenti；　who　have　been　hovering　around　him　as　if　they

wanted　to　buy　him　as　well　as　his　work。　　Madame　La　Princesse　is　rich

enough　to　indulge　her　artistic　taste。〃



〃It　is　a　countryman　of　mine；〃　said　Helen　simply。



〃He　certainly　does　not　speak　French；〃　said　mademoiselle　mischievously。



〃Nor　think　it；〃　responded　Helen　with　equal　vivacity。　　Nevertheless；

she　wished　she　had　seen　him　alone。



She　thought　nothing　more　of　him　that　day　in　her　finishing　exercises。

But　the　next　morning　as　she　went　to　open　her　window　after　dressing；

she　drew　back　with　a　new　consciousness；　and　then；　making　a　peephole

in　the　curtain；　looked　over　the　opposite　roofs。　She　had　seen　them

many　times　before；　but　now　they　had　acquired　a　new　picturesqueness；

which　as　her　view　was；　of　course；　the　reverse　of　the　poor　painter's

sketch；　must　have　been　a　transfigured　memory　of　her　own。　　Then　she

glanced　curiously　along　the　line　of　windows　level　with　hers。　　All

these；　however；　with　their　occasional　revelations　of　the　menage

behind　them；　were　also　familiar　to　her；　but　now　she　began　to　wonder

which　was　his。　　A　singular　instinct　at　last　impelled　her　to　lift　her

eyes。　　Higher　in　the　corner　house；　and　so　near　the　roof　that　it

scarcely　seemed　possible　for　a　grown　man　to　stand　upright　behind　it；

was　an　oeil　de　boeuf　looking　down　upon　the　other　roofs；　and　framed

in　that　circular　opening　like　a　vignette　was　the　handsome　face　of

Major　Ostrander。　　His　eyes　seemed　to　be　turned　towards　her　window。

Her　first　impulse　was　to　open　it　and　recognize　him　with　a　friendly

nod。　　But　an　odd　mingling　of　mischief　and　shyness　made　her　turn　away

quickly。



Nevertheless；　she　met　him　the　next　morning　walking　slowly　so　near

her　house　that　their　encounter　might　have　been　scarcely　accidental

on　his　part。　　She　walked　with　him　as　far　as　the　Conservatoire。　　In

the　light　of　the　open　street　she　thought　he　looked　pale　and　hollow…

cheeked；　she　wondered　if　it　was　from　his　enforced　frugality；　and

was　trying　to　conceive　some　elaborate　plan　of　obliging　him　to

accept　her　hospitality　at　least　for　a　single　meal；　when　he　said：



〃I　think　you　have　brought　me　luck；　Miss　Maynard。〃



Helen　opened　her　eyes　wonderingly。



〃The　two　Russian　connoisseurs　who　stared　at　us　so　rudely　were

pleased；　however；　to　also　stare　at　my　work。　　They　offered　me　a

fabulous　sum　for　one　or　two　of　my　sketches。　　It　didn't　seem　to　me

quite　the　square　thing　to　old　Favel　the　picture…dealer；　whom　I　had

forced　to　take　a　lot　at　one　fifteenth　the　price；　so　I　simply

referred　them　to　him。〃



〃No！〃　said　Miss　Helen　indignantly；　〃you　were　not　so　foolish？〃



Ostrander　laughed。



〃I'm　afraid　what　you　call　my　folly　didn't　avail；　for　they　wanted

what　they　saw　in　my　portfolio。〃



〃Of　course；〃　said　Helen。　　〃Why；　that　sketch　of　the　housetop　alone

was　worth　a　hundred　times　more　than　what　you〃　　She　stopped；　she

did　not　like　to　reveal　what　he　got　for　his　pictures；　and　added；

〃more　than　what　any　of　those　usurers　would　give。〃



〃I　am　glad　you　think　so　well　of　it；　for　I　do　not　mean　to　sell　it；〃

he　said　simply；　yet　with　a　significance　that　kept　her　silent。



She　did　not　see　him　again　for　several　days。　　The　preparation　for

her　examination　left　her　no　time；　and　her　earnest　concentration　in

her　work　fully　preoccupied　her　thoughts。　　She　was　surprised；　but

not　disturbed；　on　the　day　of　the　awards　to　see　him　among　the

audience　of　anxious　parents　and　relations。　　Miss　Helen　Maynard　did

not　get　the　first　prize；　nor　yet　the　second；　an　accessit　was　her

only　award。　　She　did　not　know　until　afterwards　that　this　had　long

been　a　foregone　conclusion　of　her　teachers　on　account　of　some

intrinsic　defect　in　her　voice。　　She　did　not　know　until　long

afterwards　that　the　handsome　painter's　nervousness　on　that　occasion

had　attracted　even　the　sympathy　of　some　of　those　who　were　near　him。

For　she　herself　had　been　calm　and　collected。　　No　one　else　knew　how

crushing　was　the　blow　which　shattered　her　hopes　and　made　her　three

years　of　labor　and　privation　a　useless　struggle。　　Yet　though　no

longer　a　pupil　she　could　still　teach；　her　master　had　found　her　a

small　patronage　that　saved　her　from　destitution。　　That　night　she

circled　up　quite　cheerfully　in　her　usual　swallow　flight　to　her　nest

under　the　eaves；　and　even　twittered　on　the　landing　a　little　over

the　condolences　of　the　conciergewho　knew；　mon　Dieu！　what　a　beast

the　director　of　the　Conservatoire　was　and　how　he　could　be　bribed；

but　when　at　last　her　brown　head　sank　on　her　pillow　she　criedjust

a　little。



But　what　was　all　this　to　that　next　morningthe　glorious　spring

morning　which　bathed　all　the　roofs　of　Paris　with　warmth　and　hope；

rekindling　enthusiasm　and　ambition　in　the　breast　of　youth；　and

gilding　even　much　of　the　sordid　dirt　below。　　It　seemed　quite

natural　that　she　should　meet　Major　Ostrander　not　many　yards　away　as

she　sallied　out。　　In　that　bright　spring　sunshine　and　the　hopeful

spring　of　their　youth　they　even　laughed　at　the　previous　day's

disappointment。　　Ah！　what　a　claque　it　was；　after　all！　　For　himself；