And somehow I got closer to Hillars, spiritually. There were two of
us, so it seemed, only I was stronger, or else my passion did not burn
so furiously as his.
The apartments occupied by Dan were all a bachelor could wish for. The
walls were covered with photographs, original drawings, beer steins,
pipes, a slipper here, a fan there, and books and books and books. I
felt at home at once.
I watched Hillars as he moved about the room, tidying up things a bit,
and I noticed now more than ever how changed he was. His face had
grown thin, his hair was slightly worn at the crown and temples, and
there were dark circles under his eyes. Yet, for all these signs of
dissipation, he was still a remarkably handsome man. Though not so
robust as when I last saw him, his form was yet elegant. In the old
days we had called him Adonis, and Donie had clung to him long after
the Cambridge time.
"Now," said he, when we had lighted our pipes, "I'll tell you why I'm
going to the dogs. I've got to tell it to some one or go daft; and I
can't say that I'm not daft as it is."
"It is a woman," said I, after reflection, "who causes a man to drink,
to lose all ambition."
"It is."
"It is a woman," I went on, holding the amber stem of my pipe before
the light which gleamed golden through the transparent gum, "who causes
a man to pull up stakes and prospect for new claims, to leave the new
country for the old."
"It is a woman indeed," he replied. He was gazing at me with a new
interest. "If the woman had accepted him, he would not have been here."
"No, he would not," said I.
"In either case, yours or mine."
"In either case. Go on with your story; there's nothing more to add to
mine."
Some time passed, and nothing but the breathing of the pipes was heard.
Now and then I would poke away at the ashes in my pipe bowl, and Dan
would do the same.
"Have you a picture of her?" I asked, reaching for some fresh tobacco.
"No; I am afraid to keep one."
To me this was a new phase in the matter of grand passions.
"A likeness which never changes its expression means nothing to me," he
explained. "Her face in all its moods is graven in my mind; I have but
to shut my eyes, and she stands before me in all her loveliness. Do
you know why I wanted this vacation? Rest?" His shoulders went up and
his lips closed tighter. "My son, I want no rest. It is rest which is
killing me. I am going across. I am going to see her again, if only
from the curb as she rolls past in her carriage, looking at me but not
recognizing me, telling her footman to brush me aside should I attempt
to speak to her. Yet I would suffer this humiliation to see that
glorious face once more, to hear again that voice, though it were keyed
to scorn. I am a fool, Jack. What! have I gone all these years
free-heart to love a chimera in the end? Verily I am an ass. She is a
Princess; she has riches; she has a principality; she is the ward of a
King. What has she to do with such as I? Three months in the year she
dwells in her petty palace; the other months find her here and there;
Paris, St. Petersburg, or Rome, as fancy wills. And I, I love her! Is
it not rich? What am I? A grub burrowing at the root of the tree in
which she, like a bird of paradise, displays her royal plumage.
'Masters, remember that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet
forget not that I am an ass.' The father of this Princess once
rendered the present King's father a great service, and in return the
King turned over to his care a principality whose lineal descendants
had died out. It was with the understanding that so long as he
retained the King's goodwill, just so long he might possess the
principality, and that when he died the sovereignty would pass to his
children. The old King died, and his son sat upon his father's throne.
The father of the Princess also died. The King of to-day made the same
terms as his father before him. The Princess Hildegarde accepted them,
not counting the cost. Last spring she was coronated. Shortly before
the coronation, Prince Ernst of Wortumborg became a suitor for her
hand. The King was very much pleased. Prince Ernst was a cousin of
the Princess Hildegarde's father, and had striven for the principality
in the days gone by. The King, thinking to repair the imaginary wrongs
of the Prince, forced the suit. He impressed upon the Princess that it
was marry the Prince or give up her principality. She gave her
consent, not knowing what to do under the circumstances. Prince Ernst
is a Prince without principality or revenues. In marrying the Princess
he acquires both. I shall tell you how I became concerned."