American fiction -- 20th century; Manhattan (New York, N.Y.) -- Fiction; Women artists -- Fiction
"The regulation trio," laughed Easter. "A maid, a poodle, a lover. The
inevitable...." Madame saw her get into the car, and fancied she also
saw a man. Waving her hand Easter disappeared. "Ça y est!" said Madame.
The lesson was resumed. Do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, si, do!
When Easter rushed into his music-room, followed by Madame Felicé, the
legs of Ulick trembled. It was more than a surprise, it was a shock
in the nature of hallucination. He took her in his arms and tenderly
kissed her, ejaculating: "Easter, Easter, it can't be you! It's a
dream!" She, too, was affected; she returned his kisses, and with more
fervour. "Good old Jewel. I've come back to you, haven't I Madame?" But
Madame had vanished, no doubt wondering over the versatility of young
Americans. She had not forgotten Mona. But she was fond of Easter, and
admired her, particularly after her newspaper notoriety.
The chums had a thousand things to say. Ulick did not disguise his
affection. He hugged her till she broke away, advising prudence.
"The same crazy Jewel," she said, as she tidied her hair. He was
disappointed. Were they never to begin again? he asked. "Surely," she
answered, and mischievously added: "If we ever really began." Another
scene ensued. He pursued her from the bedroom to the bathroom, and back
again into the music-room. There she stopped and seizing him by the
wrists with the grip of a giantess--he carried black and blue marks
for a week--she bade him stop his nonsense. Some other day! Besides,
she hadn't come to see him for such things. "Why," she blurted out with
her accustomed brutal frankness, "why I believe you are overtrained,
Jewel. Have you been saving up for me during these years?" Ulick was
confused. "A little bird wrote me that there were two girls while I was
away, quoi donc, mon cher!" (Damn Alfred! thought Ulick.) "But I must
be going. Doesn't Alfred dine here any more? I want to see him badly.
He must look after me the night of my début."
"The night of your début?" "Yes, didn't I tell you? I sing Isolde the
first night next month at the Metropolitan." Ulick's eyes opened wide.
"Does Alfred know the news?" "No,'and I fancy he will be wrathy. I
can't help it. The offer came. It was so big that I chucked Berlin,
Paris, London and took the first steamer leaving Genoa. Paul said--"
"Paul?"...
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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