A Top-Floor Idyl

  CHAPTER XVII

  MISS VAN ROSSUM CALLS

  For some time I have permitted these pages to lie fallow. I thought Iwould not continue to jot down the events and the feelings that crowdedthemselves upon me, since they could serve only to make more permanentto mind and memory a period of my life in which there has been muchsweetness and comfort of mind mingled, however, with the sadness thatcomes upon the man who knows he can never achieve his heart's desire. Ideemed it best to cease my unprofitable ruminations over things flavoredwith some distress. Why keep on rehearsing them over and over again andsitting down in the wee small hours to make confidants of heartlesssheets of paper?

  Yet to-day I feel that, in after years, they may possibly prove of valueto me. Man is so fortunately constituted that he remembers happiness andjoy more vividly than pain. The day may come when I shall pick up thesesheets and smile a little over my sorrows, whose edges will be blunted,and think, dreamily and with a mind at ease, over many hours scatteredhere and there, which made up for the days of unprofitable longing.

  Many surprising things have happened since I last wrote. In spite ofwhat Frances told me, David Cole seems to have changed. In my ownpurview I can distinguish no alteration in my personality, but itappears to be rather evident to some of my acquaintances.

  Jamieson, some weeks ago, met me on Broadway. His wide and hearty palmfailed to smite me as usual on the back. He rushed across the streetwith hand extended and greeted me as a long lost friend, instead of apleasant business acquaintance. His memory, the excellence of which Ihave heard him boast of, appeared to have suffered a partial lapse.

  "Why! Mr. Cole!" he exclaimed. "Ever so happy to see you! I always toldyou I had every reason to believe that some day you would make akilling. It is great! Have you seen the _Nation_, and the _Times_, andthe _Springfield Republican_ and the _Boston Observer_? Of course youhave! They're giving columns to the 'Land o' Love.' The biggest shop onthe Avenue keeps its show-windows filled with it. The first printingmelted like a snowflake on a hot stove. Five more of them already, andanother on the way. How are you getting on with the new manuscript?"

  In his enthusiasm he appeared to remember nothing of his former ratherdark views as to the prospects of my book. He was now exuberant,enthusiastic, and quite impressed by his infallibility. I informed himthat the new book was coming on fairly well and expressed my delight atthe popular demand for the novel so kindly spoken of by the critics. Heinsisted on my taking lunch with him, deplored my inability to accepthis invitation and made me promise to dine with him very soon. He wasanxious that I should meet Mrs. Jamieson and the children, and carefullysaw to my safety as far as the Subway station.

  Needless to say that this sudden stroke of good fortune, after firstleaving me somewhat dazed, has given me a great deal of happiness. Itwas only a couple of days after I had been first informed of the way thepublic was clamoring for the book that I invaded my neighbor's room,stormily.

  "Frances," I announced to her, "I have just been to see ProfessorRichetti. I had an introduction to him from Jamieson, who knowseverybody. He received me very charmingly, quite in the manner of the_grand seigneur_, and then just melted. His bow is a revelation, and hissmile a treat. It appears that he has heard of you. 'I know, I know,' heexclaimed, as soon as I mentioned your name. 'La Signora FrancescaDupont, oh, yes. More as one year ago I 'ear of la Signora. My friendFiorentino in Paris he wrote me she come right away to America. Him sayshe has one voice _di primo cartello_, a very fine beautiful_mezzo-soprano_, very much _maravigliosa_. I much wonder I do not 'earabout the Signora. Her disappear, no one know nothing. Ah, her was sickin de throat! And now all well again. No use the voice long time. _Perfavore_, Signor Cole, you bring me him lady _subito_, and I listen, I'ear 'er sing, I take 'er and make a great _cantatrice_ of 'er again!'"

  Frances looked at me. She rose from her chair and paced about the room,once or twice. Then she leaned against the piano, that had been placedin her room, and held her forehead in her hand.

  "Listen, David," she said slowly. "Don't make me do this. Don't put suchtemptation before me. I'm only a weak woman."

  "Frances, but for the thinness of my locks I'd pull out my hair indespair at your obstinacy," I cried. "I am telling you that they areselling that book faster than they can print it and that money will soonbe flowing into my coffers. Jamieson has intimated that I could have alarge advance at once, if I wanted it. Moreover, Richetti is--he isn'tgoing to charge anything. He--he says that you can pay him long afteryour tuition is ended."

  She came to me, swiftly, and put her hands on my shoulders, her eyessearching mine, which could not stand her gaze.

  "My poor dear Dave. You--you are such a poor hand at deceiving. I--Idon't think you could fool even Baby Paul. There is too much candor andhonesty in you for that sort of thing."

  "Well," I answered, rather lamely, "I--I told him, of course, that Iwould guarantee the payment of his honorarium, and he answered that hemust try your voice first, because, if it was not promising, he wouldrefuse to waste his time on it. He was very frank. Then he told me thatJamieson's note stated that I was a _scrittore celebre_, a _romanzieromolto distinto_, and that whatever arrangements I wanted to make wouldbe perfectly satisfactory. He declared, with his hand on his heart, thatmoney was a great means to an end, but that the thing that reallymattered in this world was art, _Per Bacco_! and the _bel canto_ fromvoices divine! And now, my dear child, you and I are trembling over theedge of a most frightful quarrel, of a bitter fight, of weepings andgnashings of teeth! You shall obey me, or I will take Baby Paul and feedhim to the hippopotamuses--no, they eat hay and carrots and things; butI will throw him to the bears in the pit or squeeze him through the barsof the lion's cage. Do you hear me?"

  She took a step back and sank in the armchair, her hands covering herface.

  "Hello! What's the matter?" came from the open doorway.

  It was Frieda, a fat and rosy _dea ex machina_, arriving to my rescue.

  "Frances," I informed her, "is beginning to shed tears, because she isgoing to Richetti's to have her voice made over again, renovated like mygray suit. She wants to weep, because she will have to sing scales andother horrid things, and be scolded when she is naughty and does notopen her mouth properly."

  "Oh! I'm so glad!" chuckled Frieda, her double chin becoming morepronounced owing to the grin upon her features. "Isn't it fine!"

  "But--but it means that David wants me to be a drag on him," objectedFrances, rising quickly. "He is guaranteeing the fees, and--and I shouldprobably have to stop working at Madame Felicie's, and it means----"

  "It means that he will have to advance a little money for your expenseswhile you study," said Frieda judicially.

  "Yes, of course, and after months and months of study we may find outthat my voice will never again be the same, and that all this has beenwasted, and that I shall never be able to pay it back. He has alwaysworked dreadfully hard and denied himself ever so many things in orderto be kind to others, and now----"

  "And now he is making money hand over fist. I just went to see a friendoff on the steamer to Bermuda and every other passenger has a copy ofthat blessed book in his hand. Now that Dave is being rewarded at last,and is entitled to a bit of extravagance, to a little of the comfortmoney can bring, you won't help him. You know that it will make himperfectly miserable, if you don't accept. Oh, dear! I think I'm talkinga lot of nonsense. Do behave yourself, Frances, and let the poor fellowhave his own way, for once."

  And so it was finally settled, after another tear or two and somelaughter, and Frieda joyously sat down to the piano and began to playsome horrible tango thing and Baby Paul awoke and protested, as anysensible infant would. The next day, I took Frances over to Richetti's,and he was ever so pleasant and courteous to her, and most sympathetic.I left her with him, fearing that my presence might distract herattention from more important matters, and went to a tailor to order asuit of clothes. It gratified me considerably to feel that, for the timebeing,
there would be no sinful extravagance in eschewing theready-made. There is indeed a great comfort in the inkling that one isbeginning to get along in the world. After this I had my hair cut, andreturned, exuding bay rum, to Richetti's studio.

  Frances was waiting for me. The _maestro_ was already engaged withanother pupil, and we went out to find seats on an open car.

  "He says he thinks it will be all right," she told me, eagerly. "Thetone is there and the volume. All I need is exercise, much judiciousexercise. He is the first teacher I ever met who told me that mybreathing was all right. They always want you to follow some entirelynew method of their own. He will give me three lessons a week, in themorning. That will be enough for the present. At first, I must onlypractise an hour a day. And so I can go back to Madame Felicie, becauseshe will be very glad to have me every afternoon and three mornings aweek and so I can keep on making a little money and I won't have toborrow so much from you. Isn't it splendid?"

  "I wish you would give up the shop," I told her.

  But she shook her head, obstinately, and, of course, she had to have herown way. That evening we went to Camus, and I doubt whether the placeever saw three happier people. Frieda beamed all over and gorged herselfon mussels _a la mariniere_. She had just finished a portrait thatpleased her greatly, and was about to take up a nymph and faun she hadlong projected.

  "I don't suppose I would do for the nymph?" asked Frances.

  "You a nymph! I want some slender wisp of a child just changing intowomanhood, my dear. You are the completed article, the flower opened toits full beauty. If I ever paint you, it will have to be as some goddessthat has descended to the earth to mother a child of man."

  "And I presume that as a faun I should hardly be a success," I ventured.

  "What an idea! Frances, think of our dear old Dave prancing on a pair ofgoat's legs and playing pipes of Pan."

  They laughed merrily over the farcical vision thus evoked, and, ofcourse, I joined in the merriment. We remained for some time, watchingthe dancing that took place in a space cleared of tables. Not far fromus rose an old gentleman who might have been profitably employed inreading Victor Hugo's "Art of being a Grandfather," who danced with apretty young girl who looked at him, mischievously. From the depth of myvirtue I somewhat frowned upon him, until he returned to the table wherea white-haired old lady and a young man were still sitting. The girl puther hand on the old lady's arm, and I heard her say something to theeffect that Daddy was growing younger every day, so that I felt properlycontrite.

  There may be much folly in all this dancing, in the spending of manyhours that might be employed in more useful pursuits, but, after all,our hearts are in great part such as we make them. The wicked willalways find no lack of opportunity for the flaunting of evil ways, andthe good will never be any the worse for anything that cheers them, thatlightens drearier bits of life, that may bring smiles to lips trained tothe speaking of truth and kindness.

  After this little feast of ours, some more weeks went by, marked by theparading in the streets of a few old men engaged in sellingpussy-willows, after which the shops displayed the first lilacs whichpresently grew so abundant that they were peddled on everystreet-corner, wherefore I knew that the Spring was fairly establishedand swiftly turning into summer. Frances was going to Richetti's,regularly, and practising every evening, with the assistance of mypiano. To me her scales and exercises sounded more entrancing than anydiva's rendering of masterpieces, I think. It was all in the voice, inthe wonderful clear notes which, like some wonderful bloom come out of ahomely bulb, had so quickly sprung from the poor little husky tones Iremembered so well. Even then there had been charm and sweetness inthem, but, now, her song added greater glory to Frances and seemed to betaking her farther away from me, to make her more intangible.

  I met Richetti in the street, the other day, and he grasped my arm,enthusiastically.

  "But a few more weeks of lessons," he told me, beamingly. "After thatthe _cara signora_ Francesca will work by herself for a few months, whenI go to Newport. By September I return and we begin again. Ah! SignoreCole, we give again to the world a great voice, a ripe full-throatedorgan, with flexibility, with a timbre _magnifico_! She makes progressso quick I cease not to marvel. By middle of winter I give my concertof pupils. Yesterday, I make her sing Massenet's 'Elegie.' It make mecry very nearly. She have a soul full of music, _per Bacco! Addio, carosignore_! I see my friend Gazzoro-Celesti. A thousand pardons!"

  He shook hands effusively and ran across Broadway, where he greeted thegreat _basso buffo_ of the Metropolitan, and I was left to rejoice bymyself, as I went into a shop to buy a new typewriter ribbon.

  And so a time came when the lessons were stopped for some weeks.Richetti deplored the fact that Frances could not go to Newport, wherehe would have kept on teaching her, but assured her that she was gettingon marvelously and that her practice would suffice to prevent her fromlosing anything she had gained back.

  With the beginning of the hot weather, Frances grew somewhat anxiousabout Baby Paul, who was weaned and did not keep up his steady gain inweight. She was looking rather tired, and I insisted on calling in Dr.Porter, who advised an immediate change of air.

  "What you need is a month or two in the country," he declared. "You havebeen working very hard in that shop, and practising at night, andlooking after that young ogre. If you expect to keep your health, youmust take care of it. Without it, there can be no good singing, nor anybig, vigorous Baby Paul."

  "It isn't possible," asserted Frances.

  "It is, and shall be done," I contradicted severely. "When I took mygray suit over to Madame Felicie to clean and press, she complained thatthere was very little business now. I know that she can spare you for atime. She will have to do so anyway, when you begin to sing in public. Iknow just the place for you to go to."

  "Good!" exclaimed Dr. Porter, "and you, Mr. Cole, had better do the samething. You ought to take a holiday. Get some of the cobwebs off yourmind and gather in a little country atmosphere to put into your nextbook."

  "All I need," I said, "is some pills. I shall get you to prescribe themfor me."

  "I won't," he retorted rudely. "You must go to bed at a reasonable hour,consume regular meals, and breathe clean air and take plenty ofexercise. So long, get a move on you and take my advice at once,undiluted."

  "It would be ever so nice, if you could go, David," said Frances, assoon as our good little doctor had left. "I am sure you are tired also.As for me, I know it is not so bad as he thinks. I can take Baby up onthe Palisades, and to Staten Island and back on the ferry, and perhapson the Coney Island boat, and----"

  "Nothing of the sort," I interrupted. "Of course I don't care anythingabout Baby Paul and yourself, but I have a great pecuniary interest inyour voice and I am going to have my money back, and you will have tosing in order to earn it, and----"

  "And you can keep on saying all the horrid things you want to," she putin. "Now, David, be reasonable. You know that a stay in the countrywould do you ever so much good."

  "Very well," I answered. "Then I shall hire Eulalie to elope with BabyPaul and I'll go along to watch his teething, and you can stay here andinhale benzine at Madame's, and lose all your voice and grow thin andugly, and be well punished for disobedience and rebellion, and by thetime you've----"

  We were interrupted by the sound of steps on the stairs. They weresomewhat heavy, but not the deliberate thumps of Frieda's climbing. Itwas a swift and confident progress, in which I recognized none of theinmates of our menagerie. A second later I turned. A fine young woman ofhealthful color and dressed in excellent taste stood at the door.

  "I--I beg your pardon," she said. "The colored woman told me to go rightup to the top floor. How--how do you do, Mr. Cole?"

  It was Miss Sophia Van Rossum, big as life, with a face perhaps morewomanly and handsome than I had ever given her credit for possessing. Inour surroundings she appeared like a fine hot-house flower suddenlytransplanted to a poor little tenement yard. S
he was looking curiouslyat Frances, who was standing at my side.