The Californians

  III

  The night of Mrs. Yorba's long-heralded ball had arrived at last. Forweeks Society had been keenly expectant, for its greatest heiress andits three most beautiful girls were to come forth from the seclusion inwhich they were supposed to have been cultivating their minds, into thegreat world of balls, musicales, and teas, where their success would bein inverse ratio to their erudition.

  Rose and Caro had arrived the winter before, and were no longer "buds;"but Magdalena, Helena, Tiny, and Ila were hardly known by sight outsidethe Menlo Park set. Magdalena had never hung over the banisters at hermother's parties. The others had been abroad so long that the mostexaggerated stories of their charms prevailed.

  The old beaux knotted their white ties with trembling fingers andthought of the city's wild young days when Nina Randolph, GuadalupeHathaway, Mrs. Hunt Maclean, two of the "Three Macs," and the sinuouswife of Don Pedro Earle had set their pulses humming. They were lonelyold bachelors, many of them, living at the Union or the Pacific Club,and they sighed as the memories rose. That was a day when every otherwoman in society was a great beauty, and as full of fascination as a figof seeds. To-day beautiful women in San Francisco's aristocracy wererare. In Kearney Street, on a Saturday afternoon, one could hardly walkfor the pretty painted shop-girls; and in that second stratum which wasled by the wife of a Bonanza king who had been pronounced quiteimpossible by Mrs. Yorba and other dames of the ancient aristocracy,there were many stunningly handsome girls. They could be met at thefashionable summer resorts; they were effulgent on first nights; theywere familiar in Kearney Street on other afternoons than Saturday, andtheir little world was gay in its way; but Society, that exclusive bodywhich owned its inchoation and later its vitality and coherence to thatbrilliant and elegant little band of women who came, capable andexperienced, to the fevered ragged city of the early Fifties, stillstruggled in the Eighties to preserve its traditions, and did not admitthe existence of these people; feminine curiosity was not even roused tothe point of discussion. One day Mrs. Washington met one of the oldbeaux, Ben Sansome by name, on the summit of California Street hill,which commands one of the finest views of a city swarming over anhundred hills.

  Mrs. Washington waved her hand at the large region known as South SanFrancisco.

  "I suppose," she said thoughtfully, "that there are a lot of people inSan Francisco whose names we have never heard."

  "I suppose so!" he exclaimed.

  "I wonder what they are like? How many people are there in SanFrancisco, anyhow?"

  "About three hundred thousand."

  "Really? really?" and Mrs. Washington shrugged her pretty shoulders anddismissed the subject from her mind.

  Would these new beauties compare with that galaxy of long ago? was thethought that danced between Ben Sansome's faded eyes and his mirror.Three to burst forth in a night! That was unwonted measure. Of lateyears one in three seasons had inspired fervent gratitude. NellyWashington had been unchallenged for ten years; Caro Folsom wassecond-rate beside her; and Rose Geary, the favourite of last winter,although piquant and pretty, had not a pretension to beauty. Like theother old beaux, he went only to the balls and dinners of theold-timers, never to the dances and musicales of the youngsters, but hekept a sharp look-out, nevertheless. To-night assumed the proportions ofan event in his life.

  Several of the young men had met two of these beauties during thesummer, but Helena was still to be experienced. The young hands did nottremble, but their eyes were very bright as they wondered if they were"in for it," if they would "get it in the neck," if she were really "alittle tin goddess on wheels." Even Rollins, who was madly enamoured ofTiny, and Fort, who had carefully calculated his chances with Rose, werebig with curiosity. The former, who had known Helena from childhood, hadbeen refused admittance to the Belmont mansion: Helena had a verydistinct intention of making a sensation upon her first appearance inSan Francisco; and as all were fish that came to her net, even Rollinsmust be dazzled with the rest.

  Magdalena's engagement was a closely guarded secret, and more than onehardy youth had made up his mind to storm straight through her intellectto her millions; but even these thought only of Helena as they dressedfor the ball.

  Meanwhile the girls were thinking more of their toilettes than of themen who would admire them. All were to wear white, but each gown hadbeen made at a different Paris house, that there should be no monotonyof touch and cut, and each was of different shade and material:Magdalena's of ivory gauze, Tiny's of pearl-white silk, Ila's ofcream-white embroidered _mousseline de soie_, Helena's of pure whitetulle.

  What little of Magdalena's neck the gown exposed, she concealed with abroad band of cherry-coloured velvet, and a deep necklace of Turkishcoins, a gift from Ila. She revolved before the mirror several times insuccession after the maid had left the room. She was laced so tightlythat she could scarcely breathe, but she rejoiced in her likeness to aFrench fashion-plate, and vowed never to wear a home-made gown again. Inher hair was a string of pearls that Trennahan had given her; and thedagger. Would it work the spell?

  She gave a final shake to her skirts and went downstairs.

  There was no lack of gas to-night; the lower part of the house was onemerciless glare. No flowers graced the square ugly rooms, no decorationsof any sort; but the parlours were canvased, the best band in town wastuning up, and the supper would be irreproachable. The dark-brown paperof the hall looked very old and dingy, the carpet was threadbare inplaces, the big teak-wood tables were in everybody's way and looked asif they were meant for the dead to rest on; but when gay gowns werebillowing one would not notice these things.

  Mrs. Yorba was in the green reception-room at the end of the hall. Shewore black velvet and a few diamonds, and looked impressively null. Tinyand Ila arrived almost immediately. They looked, the one an angel with asense of humour, the other Circean with an eye to the conventions, bothas smart as Paris could make them. It was nearly ten o'clock, and therewas a rush just after.

  Magdalena waited a half-hour for Helena, then opened the ball in a briefwaltz with Alan Rush instead of the quadrille in which the fourdebutantes were to dance. She sent a message to Helena, and Mrs.Cartright scribbled back that the poor dear child had altered thetrimming on her bodice at the last moment, and would not be ready for anhour yet. Caro took her place in the quadrille, as she also wore white.

  The ball promised to be a success. There were more young people than wasusual at Mrs. Yorba's parties, and more men than girls. They danced andchatted with untiring energy, and between the dances they flirted on thestairs and in every possible nook and corner. Magdalena frolickedlittle, having her guests to look after; but whenever she rested for amoment there was an obsequious backbone before her. Tiny and Ila werebesieged for dances, and divided each.

  The older women sat against the wall, a dado of fat and diamonds, andindulged in much caustic criticism.

  The old beaux stood in a group and exchanged opinions on the relativepretensions of the old and the new.

  "Take it all in all, not to compare," said Ben Sansome. "Miss Montgomeryis excessively pretty, but no figure and no style. Miss Brannan lookslike a Parisian cocotte. Miss Folsom has eyes, but nothing else--andwhen you think of 'Lupie Hathaway's eyes! And not one has the beginningsof the polished charm of manner, the fire of glance, the _je ne saisquoi_ of Mrs. Hunt Maclean. Just look at her in her silver brocade, herwhite hair _a la marquise_. She's handsomer than the whole lot ofthem--"

  At that moment Helena entered the room.

  The white tulle gown, made with a half-dozen skirts, floated about herso lightly that she seemed rising from, suspended above it. Even besideher father she looked tall; and her neck and arms, the rise of hergirlish bust, were more dazzlingly white than the diaphanous substanceabout her. Her haughty little head was set well back on a full firmthroat, not too long. Her cheeks were touched with pink; her lips werefull of it. Her long lashes and low straight brows were many shadesdarker than the unruly mane of glittering coppery hair. And
she carriedherself with a swing, with an imperious pride, with a nonchalant commandof immediate and unmeasured admiration which sent every maiden's heartdown with a drop and every man's pulses jumping.

  "I give in!" gasped Ben Sansome. "We never had anything likethat--never! Gad! the girl's got everything. It's almost unfair."

  Alan Rush turned white, but he did not lose his presence of mind. Heasked Don Roberto to present him at once, and secured the next dance. Itwas a waltz; and as the admirably mated couple floated down the room,many others paused to watch them. Helena's limpid eyes, raised to theeager ones above her, did all the execution of which they were capable.During the next entre-dance she was mobbed. Twenty men pressed abouther, introduced by Don Roberto and Rollins, until she finally commandedthem to "go away and give her air," then walked off with Eugene Fort,finishing his first epigram and mocking at his second. He had only afourth of the next dance; but as Helena had refused to permit heradmirers to write their names on her card, and as she was at no pains toremember which fourth was whose, giving her scraps to the first comer,Rush and Fort, who had had the forethought not to pre-engage themselves,and were constantly in her wake, secured more than their share. But theother men had time and energy to fight for their own: Helena wasconstantly stopped in the middle of the room with a firm demand that sheshould keep her word. Between the dances the men crowded about her,eager for a glance, and at supper the small table before her looked likean offering at a Chinese funeral.

  "Well," exclaimed Mrs. Washington, "I always said that no girl could bea belle in this town nowadays, that the men didn't have gumption enough;but I reckon it's because the rest of us haven't come up to the mark.This looks like the stories they tell of old times."

  "It makes me think of old times," said Mr. Sansome. "Makes me feel youngagain; or older than ever. I can't decide which."

  Tiny took her eclipse with unruffled philosophy, and divided her smilesbetween two or three faithful suppliants. Ila had a very high colour,and her primal fascination was less reserved than usual. Rose admiredHelena too extravagantly for jealousy, and what Caro felt no man everknew.

  Colonel Belmont renewed his acquaintance with many of the women of hisyouth, long neglected, although he had loved more than one of them inhis day. They filled his ears with praises of his beautiful daughter.Helena's beauty was of that rare order which compels the willingadmiration of her own sex: it was not only indisputable, but it warmedand irradiated. When Colonel Belmont was not talking, he stood againstthe wall and followed her with adoring eyes. If she had been afailure--admitting the possibility--his disappointment would have beenfar keener than hers.

  "You've cause to be proud, as proud as Lucifer," said Mr. Polk to him."But you ain't looking well, Jack. What's the matter?"

  "I'm well enough. I shall live long enough to give her to someone who'sgood enough for her, and that's all I care about--although I'm in nohurry for that, either. But I'm _not_ feeling right smart, Hi; I don'tjust know what's the matter."

  "We're both getting old. I feel like a worked-out old cart-horse. Butyou've got ten years the best of me, and I'll tell you what's the matterwith you: you can't switch off drink at your age after being two thirdsfull for twenty-five years. We all need whiskey as we grow older, andthe more we've had, the more we need. I'd advise you to take it up againin moderation."

  "Not if it's the death of me! It's nothing or everything with me. Thefirst cocktail, and I'd be off on a jamboree. Then she'd know, and I'dblow out my brains with the shame of it. She thinks I'm the finestfellow in the world now, and so she shall if I suffer the tortures ofthe damned."

  "Well, I guess you're right. The young fellows talk about dying for thegirls, but I guess we're the ones that would do that for our own if itcame to the scratch."

  "It's too bad you have none," said Colonel Belmont, with the sympathy ofhis own full measure. And then, although Mr. Polk's iron features didnot move, he looked away hastily.

  "I guess I didn't deserve any," Mr. Polk answered harshly. "I don't knowthat you did, for that matter, but I certainly didn't. Look at Doncavorting round with those girls," he added viciously. "It's positivelysickening."

  "Not a bit of it. He's making up for what he's missed. And a little ofit would do you good, old fellow. You've never had half enough fun, andyou ought to take a little before it's too late. You haven't a pound offlesh on you, and are as spry as any of them. Go and make yourselfagreeable to the girls. Even a smile from them goes a long way, I assureyou."

  Mr. Polk shook his head. "I couldn't think of a thing to say to them. Ididn't learn when I was young."