A Dead-Head [pp. 428-438]

-A DEAD - HEAD.
bar from my mines in the mountains."
"I," said Vane, "shall contribute several bars-of music. I'm down for a
song."
"Cecil and I," said Thornton, "may
bar your progress in her favor by a gift
of shares in stock-that of our mines in
the mountains."
"Yours!" exclaimed Pruyn.
"Yes- ours- in the mountains-of
the moon!"
"H'm! Don't know any such stock,"
muttered Pruyn.
"Ah!" said Vane, "Pruyn and I know
better than to'discourse fustian with
one's own shadow.'"
The expression of profound scorn
that for an instant mingled with Pruyn's
usual look of stolid conceit threw me
into a fit of laughter which choked the
tears into my eyes. I hastily snatched
my handkerchief from my pocket. A
violet paper with violet lines and violet
perfume flew on the table before Vane,
who exclaimed: "So your love hath
writ to you in rhyme!"
"A lady's writing!" said Pruyn.
"Only a contribution to a magazine,
submitted to my judgment by a lady
friend," I stammered, striving to regain it.
"Indeed!" cried Thornton, seizing
and looking at it curiously. "Then let
us all have the benefit of it."
He read it aloud, while Pruyn and
Vane restrained me in my chair. My
poor Aline! -I was furious to hear her
tender words thus made public:
"White ashes creeping o'er the glow
Of burning coal, strange waxen show
Of fire, the full pomegranate-blow
That Jaffa pilgrims know.
"Sweet heliotrope and mignonnette
That baffled words with blissful fret
Of dreams intense, enchanting, yet
Of rapture never met.
"Dare I interpret this bouquet?
So passion-filled, its perfume may
Thy fervent longing well portray.
The pomegranate doth say:
"'Though burnt-out years in ashen heap
Turn white thy head, thy heart's great deep
Through life's brief turmoil, death's long sleep,
Aglow with love shall keep!'
"0 blazing bloom! 0 ardent heart!
From melting flame I stand apart
As maiden must; my only art
To shy response impart
"Is not through blossoms' breath of balm
But-sung from happy heart-this psalm,
Which heard by thee should prove a charm
To doubts and fears disarm!"
While he read my head whirled. The
fantastic figures on my oriental plate
seemed to nod and grimace at me. One,
with a weird resemblance to Terentieff,
carried his head in his arms like Saint
Bruno, and appeared to try to allure me
into a grotesque tomb - like temple he
was about to enter.
Thornton refolded the scented sheet,
and tossed it toward me with a mocking
bow.
"It is said there were never two blades
alike of striped grass," he remarked; "is
it not so with bouquets?"
Pruyn was plainly evolving a new and
mighty problem suggested to his consciousness by these words.
Vane, under pretense of picking his
napkin from the floor, leaned near me
to whisper: "'A slippery and a subtle
knave!'"
I caught a wine-glass to dash it in
Thornton's face, when a servant with
coffee opened the door. Behind him I
saw Terentieff passing through the hall;
I rushed to catch him, but was too late.
The cool outer air brought me to my
senses, and I did not return to the dinner.
I avoided them all for some time. I
applied myself to political leaders, and
prepared speeches for an electioneering
tour throughout the States, for I had
become a fast-rising politician.
Absorbed as I was in my play, the
night it came.o be produced I was glad
to have Terentieff enter my box and sit
beside me. His snuff- colored suit was
434
[MAY,