The Adventures of a Modest Man

"You will when you go to the bazar. Stop fiddling with that newspaper and answer me like a man."

But Kingsbury only reopened the newspaper and blandly scanned the columns. Presently he began muttering aloud as he skimmed paragraph after paragraph; but his mutterings were ignored by Smith, who, coffee-cup in hand, was again buried in his novel.

"I've a mind to try it," repeated Kingsbury in a higher key. "It is the duty of every decent American to improve his own race. If we want physical perfection in anything don't we select the best type obtainable? Why don't we do it in marrying? I tell you, Smith, this is the time for individual courage, honesty and decency. Our duty is clear; we must meet the impoverishment, which these titled marriages threaten, with a restless counter-raid into the enemy's country. When a European takes from us one of our best, let us take from Europe her best, health for health, wealth for wealth, title for title! By Heaven, Smith, I'm going to write a volume on this."

"Oh, you're going to write about it."

"I am."

"And then what?" asked Smith taking the newspaper from Kingsbury and opening it.

"What then? Why – why, some of us ought to give our country an example. I'm willing to do it – when I have time – "

"Here's your chance, then," urged Smith, studying the society column. "Here's all about the charity bazar at Semois-les-Bains this afternoon. The Countess sells dolls there. Our Ambassador will be on hand, and you can meet her easily enough. The rest," he added, politely, "will, of course, be easy."

Kingsbury lighted a cigar, leaned back in his chair, and flung one booted leg over the other.

"If I were not here in Belgium for a rest – " he began.

"You are – but not alone for bodily and mental repose. Think how it would rest your conscience to offset that marriage which has irritated you by marrying the Countess of Semois – by presenting to your surprised and admiring country a superb and titled wife for patriotic purposes."

"I don't know which she is," retorted Kingsbury, intensely annoyed. "If she's the tall girl with dark hair and lots colour I could manage to fall in love easily enough. I may add, Smith, that you have an extraordinary way of messing up the English language."

He arose, walking out toward the gate, where the smiling little postman came trotting up to meet him, fishing out a dozen letters and papers.

"Letters from home, Smith," he observed, strolling back to the arbour. "Here's one for you" – he laid it beside Smith's plate – "and here's one from my sister – I'll just glance at it if you'll excuse me." He opened it and read placidly for a few moments. Then, of a sudden a terrible change came into his face; he hastily clapped his monocle to his eye, glared at the written page, set his teeth, and crumpled it furiously in his hand.

"Smith," he said, hoarsely, "my sister writes that she's engaged to marry an – an Englishman!"

"What of it?" inquired Smith.

"What of it? I tell you my sister – my sister—my sister – is going to marry a British title!"

"She's probably in love, isn't she? What's the harm – "

"Harm?"

For a full minute Kingsbury stood petrified, glaring at space, then he cast his cigar violently among the roses.

"I have a mind," he said, "to get into a top hat and frock coat and drive to Semois-les-Bains… You say she sells dolls?"

"She's due to sell 'em, according to the morning paper."

For a few moments more Kingsbury paced the lawn; colour, due to wrath or rising excitement, touched his smooth, handsome face, deepening the mask of tan. He was good to look upon, and one of the most earnest young men the gods had ever slighted.

"You think I'm all theory, don't you?" he said, nervously. "You shrug those flippant shoulders of yours when I tell you what course an American who honors his country should pursue. Now I'll prove to you whether or not I'm sincere. I am deliberately going to marry the Countess of Semois; and this afternoon I shall take the necessary measures to fall in love with her. That," he added, excitedly, "can be accomplished if she is the dark-haired girl we've seen driving."

"Now, I don't suppose you really intend to do such a – "

"Yes, I do! It sounds preposterous, but it's logical. I'm going to practice what I expect to spend my life in preaching; that's all. Not that I want to marry just now – I don't; it's inconvenient. I don't want to fall in love, I don't want to marry, I don't want to have a dozen children," he said, irritably; "but I'm going to, Smith! I'm going to, for the sake of my country. Pro patria et gloria!"

"Right away?"

"What rot you talk, sometimes! But I'm ready to make my words mean something; I'm ready to marry the Countess of Semois. There is no possible room for doubt; any man can marry any woman he wants to; that is my absolute conviction. Anyhow, I shall ask her."

"As soon as you meet her?"

"Certainly not. I expect to take several days about it – "

"Why employ several days in sweet dissembling?"

"Confound it, I'm not going to dissemble! I'm going to let her know that I admire her the moment I meet her. I'm going to tell her about my theory of scientific marriages. If she is sensible – if she is the woman America requires – if she is the dark-haired girl – she'll understand." He turned squarely on Smith: "As for you, if you were the sort of American that you ought to be you would pick out some ornamental and wholesome young Belgian aristocrat and marry her in the shortest time that decency permits! That's what you'd do if you had a scintilla of patriotism in your lazy make-up!"

"No, I wouldn't – "

"You would! Look at yourself – a great, hulking, wealthy, idle young man, who stands around in puddles catching fish while Europe runs off our loveliest women under your bovine nose. Shame on you! Have you no desire to be up and doing?"

"Oh, of course," said Smith, unruffled; "if several passion-smitten duchesses should climb over the big wall yonder and chase me into the garden – "

Kingsbury swung on his spurred heels and strode into the house.

CHAPTER XXII

A YOUTHFUL PATRIOT

Smith sauntered out to the terrace, looked at the sky, sniffed the roses, and sat down in the shadow of a cherry tree, cocking his feet up and resting his novel on his knees. Several hours later, aroused by the mellow clash of harness and noise of wheels, he looked out over the terrace wall just in time to catch a glimpse of the victoria of his neighbour, gold and green livery, strawberry roans, flashing wheels and all; and quite alone under her brilliant sunshade, the dark-haired girl whom Kingsbury had decided to marry as soon as he could arrange to fall in love with her.

"I fancy she's the Countess, all right," mused Smith; "but, to me, the girl with red hair is vastly – more – more alluring – "

The sound of wheels again broke the thread of his sleepy meditation; their dog-cart was at the gate; and presently he perceived Kingsbury, hatted and gloved to perfection, get in, take the reins from the coachman, loop his whip, assume the posture popularly attributed to pupils of Howlett, and go whirling away through the lazy sunshine of a perfect Belgian afternoon.

"The beast has lunched without me," muttered Smith, yawning and looking at his watch. Then he got up, stretched, tinkled the bell, and when the doll-faced maid arrived, requested an omelet à la Semois and a bottle of claret.

He got it in due time, absorbed it lazily, casting a weatherwise eye on the sky at intervals with a view to afternoon fishing; but the sun was too bright; besides, his book had become interesting in a somewhat maudlin fashion, inasmuch as the lovers must come to a clinch in the next chapter or not at all.

"You can't tell in modern novels," he muttered; "a girl has a way of side-stepping just as the bell rings: but the main guy ought to make good within the next page or two. If he doesn't he's a dub!"

With which comment he sought his hammock for an hour's needed repose; but he had slumbered longer than that when he found himself sitting bolt upright, the telephone bell ringing in his ears.

Comfortably awake now, he slid from the hammock, and, entering the house, stepped into the smoking-room.

"Hello!" he said, unhooking the receiver.

Kingsbury's voice replied: "I'm here in Semois-les-Bains, at the charity bazar. Can you distinguish what I say?"

"Perfectly, my Romeo! Proceed."

"I'm in a fix. Our Ambassador didn't come, and I don't know anybody to take me over and present me."