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"Do you really think I'm nice, Thusis?"
"I think you're adorable!"
The rush of emotion to the head made me red and dizzy. I had never been talked to that way by a young girl. I didn't know it was done.
And another curious thing about this perfectly gay and unembarrassed eulogy of hers, she said it as frankly and spontaneously as she might have spoken to another girl or to an attractive child: there was absolutely no sex consciousness about her.
"Are you going to let us remain and be your very faithful and diligent servants?" she asked, mischievously amused at the shock she had administered.
"Thusis," I said, "it's going to be rather difficult for me to treat you as a servant. And if your friends are of the same quality – "
"It's perfectly easy," she insisted. "If we presume, correct us. If we are slack, punish us. Be masculine and exacting; be bad tempered about your food – " She laughed delightfully – "Raise the devil with us if we misbehave."
I didn't believe I could do that and said so; and she turned on me that bewildering smile and sat looking at me very intently, with her white hands clasped in her lap.
"You don't think we're a band of robbers conspiring to chloroform you and Mr. Smith some night and make off with your effects?" she inquired.
We both laughed.
"You're very much puzzled, aren't you, Mr. O'Ryan," she continued.
"I am, indeed."
"But you're so nice – so straight and clean yourself – that you'd give me the benefit of any doubt, wouldn't you?"
"Yes."
"That's because you're a sportsman. That's because you play all games squarely." Her face became serious; her gray eyes met mine and seemed to look far into them.
"Your country is neutral, isn't it?" she said.
"Yes."
"You are not."
"I have my ideas."
"And ideals," she added.
"Yes, I have them still, Thusis."
"So have I," she said. "I am trying to live up to them. If you will let me."
"I'll even help you – "
"No! Just let me alone. That is all I ask of you." Her youthful face grew graver. "But that is quite enough to ask of you. Because by letting me alone you are incurring danger to yourself.
"Why do you tell me?"
"Because I wish to be honest with you. If you retain me as your servant and accept me and my friends as such, – even if you live here quietly and blamelessly, obeying the local and Federal laws and making no inquiries concerning me or my three friends, – yet, nevertheless, you may find yourself in very serious trouble before many days."
"Political trouble?"
"All kinds of trouble, Mr. O'Ryan."
There was a silence; she sat there with slender fingers tightly interlocked as though under some sort of nervous tension, but the faint hint of a smile in the corners of her mouth – which seemed to be part of her natural expression – remained.
She said: "And more than that: if you let us remain as your servants, we shall trust to you and to Mr. Smith that neither one of you by look or word or gesture would ever convey to anybody the slightest hint that I and my friends are not exactly what we appear to be – your household servants."
"Thusis," said I, "what the deuce are you up to?"
"What am I up to?" She laughed outright: – "Let me see! First – " counting on her fingers, "I am trying to find a way to live up to my ideals; second, I am going to try to bring happiness to many, many people; third, I am prepared to sacrifice myself, my friends, my nearest and dearest." … She lifted her clear eyes: "I am quite ready to sacrifice you, too," she said.
I smiled: "That would cost you very little," I said.
There was another short silence. The girl looked at me with a curious intentness as though mentally appraising me – trying to establish in her mind any value I might represent to her – if any.
"It's like an innocent bystander being hit by a bullet in a revolution," she murmured: "it's a pity: but it is unavoidable, sometimes."
"I represent this theoretical and innocent bystander?"
"I'm afraid you do, Mr. O'Ryan; the chances are that you'll get hurt."
A perfectly inexplicable but agreeable tingling sensation began to invade me, amounting almost to exhilaration. Was it the Irish in me, subtly stirred, by the chance of a riot? Was it a possible opportunity to heave a brick, impartially and with Milesian enthusiasm?
"Thusis," said I, "there is only one question I must ask you to answer."
"I know what it is."
"What?"
"You are going to remind me that, to-day, the whole world is divided into two parts; that the greatest war of all times is being waged between the forces of light and of darkness. And you are going to ask me where I stand."
"I am."
The girl rose; so did I. Then she stepped forward, took my right hand and rested her other upon it.
"I stand for light, for the world's freedom, for the liberties of the weaker, for the self-determination of all peoples. I stand for their right to the pursuit of happiness. I stand for the downfall of all tyranny – the tyranny of the mob as well as the tyranny of all autocrats. That is where I stand, Mr. O'Ryan… Where do you stand?"
"Beside you."
She dropped my hand with an excited little laugh:
"I was certain of that. In Berne I learned all about you. I took no chances in coming here. I took none in being frank with you." She began to laugh again, mischievously: "Perhaps I took chances in being impertinent to you. There is a dreadful and common vein of frivolity in me. I'm a little reckless, too. I adore absurd situations, and the circumstances – when you unwillingly discovered that I was attractive – appealed to me irresistibly. And I am afraid I was silly enough – common enough – malicious enough to thoroughly enjoy it… But," she added naïvely, "you gave me rather a good scare when you threatened to kiss me."
"I'm glad of that," said I with satisfaction.
"Of course," she remarked, "that would have been the climax of absurdity."
"Would it?"
"Certainly."
"Why?"
"Fancy such a nice young man kissing his cook in the cellar."
"That isn't what you meant."
"Isn't it?" she asked airily.
"No."
"What did I mean then, Mr. O'Ryan?"
"I don't know," said I thoughtfully.
She gave me one of her smiling but searching looks, in which there seemed a hint of apprehension. Then, apparently satisfied by her scrutiny, she favored me with a bewitching smile in which I thought to detect a slight trace of relief.
"You will keep me, then?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Thank you!"
She stretched out her beautiful hand impulsively: I took it.
"Thanks – and good-by," she said a trifle gravely, Then, with a shadow of the smile still lingering: "Good-by: because, from now on, it is to be master and servant. We must both remember that."
I was silent.
"You will remember, won't you?" she said – the laughter flashed in her eyes: – "especially if we ever happen to be in the cellar together?"
I said, forcing a smile and my voice not quite steady: "Suppose we finish that scene, now, Thusis?"
"Good heavens!" she said: – "and the Admiral watching us!" She drew her hand from mine and pointed at the picture over my mantel.
"I'm afraid of that man," she said. "The cellar is less terrifying – "
"Thusis!"
But she laughed and slipped through the door. "Good-by, Don Michael!" she called back softly from the stairs.
I walked back slowly to the center of my room and for a long time I stood there quite motionless, staring fixedly at the Admiral.
V
AN ODD SONG
"There's one thing certain," thought I; "my household personnel is altogether too pulchritudinous for a man like Smith, and it begins to worry me."
Considerably disturbed in my mind I reconnoitered Smith's rooms, and found him, as I suspected, loitering there on pretense of re-arranging the contents of his bureau-drawers.
Now Smith had no legitimate business there; it was Clelia's hour to do his rooms. But, as I say, I already had noticed his artless way of hanging about at that hour, and several times during the last two weeks I had encountered him conversing with the girl while she, her blonde hair bound up in a beguiling dust-cap, and otherwise undeniably fetching, leaned at ease on her broom and appeared quite willing to be cornered and conversed with.
My advent always galvanized this situation; Clelia instantly became busy with her broom and duster, and Smith usually pretended he had been inquiring of Clelia where I might be found.
He attempted the same dishonesty now, and, with every symptom of delight, cordially hailed me and inquired where I'd been keeping myself since breakfast.
"I've been out doors," said I coldly, "where I hoped – if I did not really expect – to find you."
This sarcasm put a slight crimp in his assurance, and he accompanied me out with docile alacrity, which touched me.
"It's too good a household to spoil," said I. "A little innocent gaiety – a bit of persiflage en passant – that doesn't interfere with discipline. But this loitering about the vicinity of little Clelia's too brief skirts is almost becoming a habit with you."
"She's a nice girl," returned Smith, vaguely.
"Surely. And you're a very nice young man; but you know as well as I do that we can't arrange our social life to include the circle below stairs."
"You mean, in the event of travelers arriving, they might misconstrue such a democracy?"
"Certainly, they'd misjudge it. We couldn't explain why our cook was playing the piano in the living-room or why Clelia laid aside her dust-pan for a cup of tea with us at five, could we?"
"Or why Thusis and you went trout fishing together," he added pleasantly.
A violent blush possessed my countenance. So he was aware of that incident! He had gone to Zurich that day. I hadn't mentioned it.
"Smith," said I, "these are war times. To catch fish is to conserve food. Under no other circumstances – "
"I understand, of course! Two can catch more fish than one. Which caught it?"
"Thusis," I admitted. "Thusis happened to know where these Swiss trout hide and how to catch them. Naturally I was glad to avail myself of her knowledge."
"Very interesting. You need no further instruction, I fancy."
"To become proficient," said I, "another lesson or two – possibly – " I paused out near the fountain to stoop over and break off a daisy. From which innocent blossom, absent-mindedly, I plucked the snowy petals one by one as I sauntered along beside Smith.
Presently he began to mutter to himself. At first I remained sublimely unconscious of what he was murmuring, then I caught the outrageous words: "Elle m'aime – un peu – beaucoup – passablement – pas-du-tout – "
"What's that?" I demanded, glaring at him. "What are you gabbling about?"
He seemed surprised at my warmth. I hurled the daisy from me; we turned and strode back in hostile silence toward the bottling house.
My farmer, Raoul Despres, was inside and the door stood open. We could hear the humming of the dynamo. Evidently, obeying my orders of yesterday, he had gone in to look over and report upon the condition of the plant with a view to resuming business where my recent uncle had left off.
We could see his curly black head, and athletic figure inside the low building. As he prowled hither and thither investigating the machinery he was singing blithely to himself:
"Crack-brain-cripple-arm
You have done a heap of harm —
