Ellice Quentin, and other storiesHawthorne, Julian
General
Ellice Quentin, and other stories
Hawthorne, Julian
American fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, American
I had divined as much as this, but I was careful not to say so; nor
did I open my mouth on the subject of Jeff. It was sufficient for me
to perceive that Jeff and the young lady in the case were probably not
far apart, and that to find one would be to find both. Meanwhile I
would not deprive Madame of the gratification of believing that I was
acting in her interests only. So, entreating her to be tranquil and to
expect my return with her daughter in less than a quarter of an hour,
I clambered into the boat with all possible dignity and despatch and
bade my men shove off. Madame observed my departure with eyes that were
genuinely moist.
It was a tolerably mild piece of heroism. Had I been ten years younger
I might have wished that the waves had been running mountains high,
but at thirty-five--the age of sense and of feeling combined--I was
better pleased with the conditions as they were. I was not in love
with anybody, and wished only to combine courtesy and good breeding
with the fulfilment of a private duty. It had gratified me to observe,
in my brief conversation with Madame, her appreciation of the altered
aspect of one whom she had first known as an idiot and a scarecrow: not
to mention his fluency in speaking the language of the most polished
people in the world. I admired, too, the kindly ingenuity with which
Fate had brought me acquainted with the mamma of the beautiful pagan,
and under circumstances so promising.
But it is unsafe to call Fate good-humoured: it spoils her temper.
Our boat was barely afloat when an event occurred which rendered our
proposed voyage unnecessary. Somehow or other, without noise and
without premonition, the fog rolled swiftly back to the horizon whence
it came; and there was Mademoiselle not more than a hundred yards from
shore. She was paddling in with admirable coolness and indifference;
and close behind her I was happy to see the black head and rosy visage
of the poet, who was swimming on his back with every appearance of ease
and comfort.
IV.
I hastened to get on shore again and offer to Madame my
congratulations. She replied that her obligations to Monsieur were none
the less. His courtesy, his chivalry, had been such as one never sees
paralleled.
Monsieur, covered with confusion at consideration so undeserved,
changes the subject by calling the attention of Madame to the charming
picture made by Mademoiselle in approaching the beach. Had he had his
sketch-book with him, he would have been tempted to make a little
drawing of Mademoiselle.
Ah! Monsieur was, then, an artist? Madame, and Mademoiselle likewise,
were all given to artists. They had made purchase of several pictures
during their residence in Paris.
Monsieur will venture to call himself an artist, and will, furthermore,
have the assurance to make Madame acquainted with his name--M. Claude
Campbell, at the service of Madame.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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