Manners and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, American
"It's none ze less real because it is often hid," said the count.
"I watch you very closely, more closely than perhaps you even
think. You have all the heartlessness of youth and health and
beauty. I would be wrong to put my one little piece of money on
the table and lose all; and so I save and save, and play ze only
game that offers me the least chance--ze waiting game!"
"I believe that's true," said Florence.
"Were I to act ze distracted lover, you would laugh in my face,"
he went on earnestly. "Were I to propose and be refused, my pride
would not let me--my instinct as gentleman would not let me--go
trailing after you with my long face. The idyll would be over. I
would go!"
"There are times when I think a heap of you," said Florence
encouragingly.
"Oh, I know so well how it would be," he continued. "A week of
doubt--of fever; a rain of little notes; and then with your good
clear honest Far Vest sense you would say: No, mon cher, it is
eempossible!"
"Yes, I suppose I would," said Florence.
"I would rather be your friend all my life," said the count, "than
to be merely one of the rejected. I have no ambition to place my
name on that already great list. I have never yet asked a woman to
marry me, and when I do I care not for the expectation of being
refused!"
"You are like all Europeans," said Florence, "you believe in a
sure thing."
"My heart is not on my sleeve," he returned, "and I value it too
highly to lose it without compensation."
"It is interesting to hear all your views," said Florence. "I am
sure I appreciate the compliment highly. It's a new idea, this of
the wolf making a confidant of the lamb."
"Oh, my dear!" he broke out, "I am only a poor devil holding back
from committing a great stupidity."
"Is that how you describe marrying me?" she said lightly.
"Ze day will come," he said, disregarding her question, "I think
it will--I hope it will--when you will say to me: My dear fellow,
I am tired of all this fictitious gaiety; of all this rush and
bustle and flirtation; of this life of fever and emptiness. I long
for peace and do not know where to find it. I am like a piece of
music to whom one waits in vain for the return to the keynote.
Tell me where to find it or else I die!"
"Rather forward of me to say all that, Count," observed the girl.
"But suppose I did--what then?"
The count opened wide his arms.
"I would answer: here!" he said.
V
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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