Evening star., 1912-01-05
CHAPTER V-Contiuued.

CoHHo odCK from the cdSlnO AT Niohtc
Carlo. much the worse for wine. she
feared him; yet, in spite of this fear. she
had for him a vague liking. hazy ad-
miration. Whatever his faults might be.
she stood witness to his great physical
strength and courage. He was the only
man, among all those who appeared at
the Villa Fanny and Immediately van
ished. who returned again. And he. too.
soon grew to be a part OF. this unreal
drama, arriving mysteriously one day and
departing the next.
That drama was being enacted under
her eyes she no longer doubted; but It was
as though she had taken her seat among
the audience in the middle OF the second
act. She could make neither head nor
tail to it.
Whenever she accompanied her mother
upon these impromptu Journeys, her char
acter, or rather her attitude. underwent
change. She swept aside her dreams: she
accepted the world as II was. saw things
as they were; laughed, but without mer-
riment; jested, but with the venomed
point. It was the reverse of her real
character to give hurt to any living thing,
but during these forced marches. as the
major humorouSly termed them, ana such
they were in truth, she could no more
stand against giving the cruel stab than,
when alone in her garden, she could re-
sist the tender pleasure Of succoring a
fallen butterfly. She was especially happy
In finding weak spots in her mother s
armor, and she never denied herself the
thrust. Mrs. Chedsoye enjoyed these sharp
encounters, for ii must be added that she
gave as good as she took, and more often
than not her thrusts bit deeper and did
not always heal
Fortune never asked questions relative
to the family finances. II she harbored
any doubts as to their origin, to the
source Of their comparative luxury, she
never put these into speech.
had often heard him referred to as that
brute" or that fool or that drunken
imbecile." II portrait of him existed.
Fortune had not yet seen it. She visited
his lonely grave once year, In the
Protestant cemetery, and dreamily tried
to conjure UP what manner OF man ne
had been. One day she piled her old
Italian nurse with questions.
Handsome? Yes. but 1t was all SO long
ago. cara mia, that I cannot describe
him to you."
there was no sense Of moral obloquy as
applying to the dead.
''Sainted Mary! didn't all men drink
their very souls into purgatory those un-
religious days?"
Had he any relatives?"
at never heard OF any,"
''Was he rich?"
mo; but when the signora, your mother.
married him she thought he was"
1t. was not till later years that Fortune
grasped the true significance OF this state
ment. 1t illumined many pages. She
dropped all Investigations. concluding
wisely that her mother, IL she were
minded to speak at all. could supply only
the Incidents, the details.
It was warm, balmy. like May in the
northern latitudes. Women wore white
dresses and carried sunshades over their
shoulders. A good band played airs from
the new light operas. and at one side OF
the grandstand were tea tables under daz-
zling linen. Fashion was out. Not all
her votaries enjoyed polo. but 1t was ab-
sOlutely necessary to pretend that they
did. When they talked they discussed the
Spanish dancer who paraded back ana
forth across the tea lawn. They dis
cussed her jewels, her clothes. her escort.
and quite frankly her morals. which OF
the four was by all odds the most popular
theme. All agreed that she was hand
some in a bold way. This modification In
variably distinguishes the right sort OF
women from the wrong sort. from which
there is no appeal to q higher court They
could we'll afford to admit Of her beauty.
since the dancer was outside what Is
called the social pale, for all that her
They also discussed the play at bridge
the dullness OF this particular season. the
possibility Of war between England and
Germany. And some one asked others
who were the two well gowned women
down in front, sitting on either side OF the
young chap in pearl gray. No one knew
Mother and daughter. probably. Anyhow,
they knew something about good clothes.
Certainly they weren't ordinary tourists
They had seen What's-his-name tip his
hat; and this simple act would pass any
one into the inner shrine. for the general
was not promiscuous. There, the first
half was over. All down for tea! Thank
goodness!
George was happy. He was proud. too.
He saw the glances: the mods OF approval.
He basked in a kind of sunshine that was
new. What an ass he had been all his
life! To have been afraid OF women lust
because he was Percfval Algernon! What
he should have done was to have gone
forth boldly. taken what pleasures ne
found and laughed with the rest of them.
There weren't two other women In all
Cairo to compare with these two. The
mother, shapely, elegant, with the dark
beauty Of q high-class Spapiard, possess
ing humor, trenchant commen!. Keen oe-
duction and application; worldly, cynical,
high bred. The student of nations might
have tried in vain to place her. She spoke
the French Of the Parisians. the Italian
of the Florentines. the German OF the
Hanoverians. and her English was the
envy of Americans and the wonder of the
Londoners. The daughter fell behind her
but little, but she was more reserved.
The worldly critic called this good form
no daughter should try to outshine her
widowed mother.
AS Fortune sat beside the young col
lector that afternoon she marveled why
they had given him Percival Algernon.
Jones was all right solid and substantial.
but the other two turned it into ridicu'e.
Still, what was the matter with Percival
Algernon? History had given men OF
these names mighty fine things to ac-
complish. Then why ridicule? Was 1t
due to the perverted angle Of vision ere
ated by wits and humorists In the comic
weeklies, who were eternally pillorying
these unhappy prefixes to ordinary cog
nomens? And why this piilorying? She
hadn't studied the subject sufficiently TO
realize that the business Of the humorist
is not so much to amuse as to warn per-
sons against becoming ridiculous. And
Percival Algernon Jones was all Of that.
1t resolved itself into a matter of values.
then. Had his surname been Montmor-
ency, Percival Algernon would have ftted
as q key to its lock. She smiled. No one
but a fond mother would be guilty or such
him well enough, she was going to ask
him all about this mother.
What interest had her own mother in
this harmless young man? Oh, some day
she would burst through this web. this
Jungle; some day she would see beyond
the second act! What then? she never
troubled to ask herself: time enough when
the moment arrived.
'T had an interesting adventure last
night, a most interesting one" began
George who was no longer the shy. blum