So they met in a private dining room of the hotel for dinner on the eve of separation.
Brisson and Estridge had resurrected from their luggage the remains of their evening attire; Ilse and Palla had shopped; and they now included in a limited wardrobe two simple dinner gowns, among more vital purchases.
There were flowers on the table, no great variety of food but plenty of champagne to make upa singular innovation in apology for short rations conceived by the hotel proprietor.
There was a victrola in the corner, too, and this they kept going to stimulate their nerves, which already were sufficiently on edge without the added fillip of music and champagne.
As for me, said Brisson, Im in sight of nervous dissolution already;Im going back to my wife and children, thank God he smiled at Palla. Im grateful to the God you dont believe in, dear little lady. And if He is willing, Ill report for duty in two weeks. He turned to Estridge:
What about you?
Ive cabled for orders but I have none yet. If theyre through with me I shall go back to New York and back to the medical school I came from. I hate the idea, too. Lord, how I detest it!
Why? asked Palla nervously.
Ive had too much excitement. You have tooand so have Ilse and Brisson. Im not keen for the usual again. It bores me to contemplate it. The thought of Fifth Avenuethe very idea of going back to all that familiar routine, social and business, makes me positively ill. What a dull place this world will be when were all at peace again!
We wont be at peace for a long, long while, said Ilse, smiling. She lifted a goblet in her big, beautifully shaped hand and drained it with the vigorous grace of a Vikings daughter.
You think the war is going to last for years? asked Estridge.
Oh, no; not this war. But the other, she explained cheerfully.
What other?
Why, the greatest conflict in the world; the social war. Its going to take many years and many battles. I shall enlist.
Nonsense, said Brisson, youre not a Red!
The girl laughed and showed her snowy teeth: Im one kind of Rednot the kind that sold Russia to the bochebut Im very, very red.
Everybody with a brain and a heart is more or less red in these days, nodded Palla. Everybody knows that the old order is endeddone for. Without liberty and equal opportunity civilisation is a farce. Everybody knows it except the stupid. And theyll have to be instructed.
Very well, said Brisson briskly, heres to the universal but bloodless revolution! An acre for everybody and a mule to plough it! Back to the soil and to hell with the counting house!
They all laughed, but their brimming glasses went up; then Estridge rose to re-wind the victrola. Pallas slim foot tapped the parquet in time with the American fox-trot; she glanced across the table at Estridge, lifted her head interrogatively, then sprang up and slid into his arms, delighted.
While they danced he said: Better go light on that champagne, Miss Dumont.
Dont you think I can keep my head? she demanded derisively.
Not if you keep up with Ilse. Youre not built that way.
I wish I were. I wish I were nearly six feet tall and beautiful in every limb and feature as she is. What wonderful children she could have! What magnificent hair she must have had before she sheared it for the Womans Battalion! Now its all a dense, short mass of goldshe looks like a lovely boy who requires a barber.
Your hair is not unbecoming, either, he remarked, short as it is, its a mop of curls and very fetching.
Isnt it funny? she said. I sheared mine for the sake of Mother Church; Ilse cut off hers for the honour of the Army! Now were both out of a jobwith only our cropped heads to show for the experience!and no more army and no more churchat least, as far as I am concerned!
And she threw back hers with its thick, glossy curls and laughed, looking up at him out of her virginal brown eyes of a child.
Im sorry I cut my hair, she added presently. I look like a Bolshevik.
Its growing very fast, he said encouragingly.
Oh, yes, it grows fast, she nodded indifferently. Shall we return to the table? I am rather thirsty.
Ilse and Brisson were engaged in an animated conversation when they reseated themselves. The waiter arrived about that time with another course of poor food.
Palla, disregarding Estridges advice, permitted the waiter to refill her glass.
I cant eat that unappetising entrée, she insisted, and champagne, they say, is nourishing and Im still hungry.
As you please, said Brisson; but youve had two glasses already.
I dont care, she retorted childishly; I mean to live to the utmost in future. For the first time in my silly existence I intend to be natural. I wonder what it feels like to become a little intoxicated?
It feels rotten, remarked Estridge.
Really? How rotten? She laughed again, laid her hand on the goblets stem and glanced across at him defiantly, mischievously. However, she seemed to reconsider the matter, for she picked up a cigarette and lighted it at a candle.
Bah! she exclaimed with a wry face. It stings!
But she ventured another puff or two before placing it upon a saucer among its defunct fellows.
Ugh! she complained again with a gay little shiver, and bit into a pear as though to wash out the contamination of unaccustomed nicotine.
Where are you going when we all say good-bye? inquired Estridge.
I? Oh, Im certainly going home on the first Danish boathome to Shadow Hill, where I told you I lived.
And you have nobody but your aunt?
Only that one old lady.
You wont remain long at Shadow Hill, he predicted.
Its very pretty there. Why dont you think I am likely to remain?
You wont remain, he repeated. Youve slipped your cable. Youre hoisting sail. And it worries me a little.
The girl laughed. Its a pretty place, Shadow Hill, but its dull. Everybody in the town is dull, stupid, and perfectly satisfied: everybody owns at least that acre which Ilse demands; theres no discontent at Shadow Hill, and no reason for it. I really couldnt bear it, she added gaily; I want to go where theres healthy discontent, wholesome competition, natural aspirationwhere things must be bettered, set right, helped. You understand? That is where I wish to be.
Brisson heard her. Cant you practise your loving but godless creed at Shadow Hill? he inquired, amused. Cant you lavish love on the contented and well-to-do?
Yes, Mr. Brisson, she replied with sweet irony, but where the poor and loveless fight an ever losing battle is still a better place for me to practise my godless creed and my Law of Love.
Aha! he retorted, a brand new excuse for living in New York because all young girls love it!
Indeed, she said with some little heat, I certainly do intend to live and not to stagnate! I intend to live as hard as I canlive and enjoy life with all my might! Can one serve the world better than by loving it enough to live ones own life through to the last happy rags? Can one give ones fellow creatures a better example than to live every moment happily and proclaim the world good to live in, and mankind good to live with?
Ilse whispered, leaning near: Dont take any more champagne, Palla.
Ilse whispered, leaning near: Dont take any more champagne, Palla.
The girl frowned, then looked serious: No, I wont, she said naïvely. But it is wonderful how eloquent it makes one feel, isnt it?
And to Estridge: You know that this is quite the first wine I have ever tastedexcept at Communion. I was brought up to think it meant destruction. And afterward, wherever I travelled to study, the old prejudice continued to guide me. And after that, even when I began to think of taking the veil, I made abstinence one of my first preliminary vows And look what Ive been doing to-night!
She held up her glass, tasted it, emptied it.
There, she said, I desired to shock you. I dont really want any more. Shall we dance? Ilse! Why dont you seize Mr. Brisson and make him two-step?
Please seize me, added Brisson gravely.
Ilse rose, big, fresh, smilingly inviting; Brisson inspected her seriouslyhe was only half as tallthen he politely encircled her waist and led her out.
They danced as though they could not get enough of itexhilaration due to reaction from the long strain during dangerous days.
It was already morning, but they danced on. Pallas delicate intoxication passedreturnedpassedhovered like a rosy light in her brain, but faded always as she danced.
There were snapping-crackers and paper caps; and they put them on and pelted each other with the drooping table flowers.
Then Estridge went to the piano and sang an ancient song, called The Cork Legnot very wellbut well intended and in a gay and inoffensive voice.
But Ilse sang some wonderful songs which she had learned in the Battalion of Death.
And that is what was being done when a waiter knocked and asked whether they might desire to order breakfast.
That ended it. The hour of parting had arrived.
No longer bored with one another, they shook hands cordially, regretfully.
It was not a very long time, as time is computed, before these four met again.
CHAPTER III
The dingy little Danish steamer Elsinore passed in at dawn, her camouflage obscured by sea-salt, her few passengers still prostrated from the long battering administered by the giant seas of the northern route.
A lone Yankee soldier was aboardan indignant lieutenant of infantry named Shotwellsent home from a fighting regiment to instruct the ambitious rookie at Camp Upton.
He had hailed his assignment with delight, thankfully rid himself of his cooties, reported in Paris, reported in London; received orders to depart via Denmark; and, his mission there fullfilled, he had sailed on the Elsinore, already disenchanted with his job and longing to be back with his regiment.
And now, surly from sea-sickness, worried by peace rumours, but still believing that the war would last another year and hopeful of getting back before it ended, he emerged from his stuffy quarters aboard the Elsinore and gazed without enthusiasm at the minarets of Coney Island, now visible off the starboard bow.
Near him, in pasty-faced and shaky groups, huddled his fellow passengers, whom he had not seen during the voyage except when lined up for life-drill.
He had not wished to see them, either, nor, probably, had they desired to lavish social attentions on him or upon one another.
These pallid, discouraged voyagers were fewnot two dozen cabin passengers in all.
Who they might be he had no curiosity to know; he had not exchanged ten words with any of them during the entire and nauseating voyage; he certainly did not intend to do so now.
He favoured them with a savage glance and walked over to the port sidethe Jersey sidewhere there seemed to be nobody except a tired Scandinavian sailor or two.
In the grey of morning the Hook loomed up above the sea, gloomy as a thunder-head charged with lightning.
After a while the batteries along the Narrows slipped into view. Farther on, camouflaged ships rode sullenly at anchor, as though ashamed of their frivolous and undignified appearance. A battleship was just leaving the Lower Bay, smoke pouring from every funnel. Destroyers and chasers rushed by them, headed seaward.
Then, high over the shore mists and dimly visible through rising vapours, came speeding a colossal phantom.
Vague as a sharks long shadow sheering translucent depths, the huge dirigible swept eastward and slid into the Long Island fog.
And at that moment somebody walked plump into young Shotwell; and the soft, fragrant shock knocked the breath out of both.
She recovered hers first:
Im sorry! she faltered. It was stupid. I was watching the balloon and not looking where I was going. Im afraid I hurt you.
He recovered his breath, saluted ceremoniously, readjusted his overseas cap to the proper angle.
Then he said, civilly enough: It was my fault entirely. It was I who walked into you. I hope I didnt hurt you.
They smiled, unembarrassed.
That was certainly a big dirigible, he ventured. There are bigger Zeps, of course.
Are there really?
Oh, yes. But theyre not much good in war, I believe.
She turned her trim, small head and looked out across the bay; and Shotwell, who once had had a gaily receptive eye for pulchritude, thought her unusually pretty.
Also, the steady keel of the Elsinore was making him feel more human now; and he ventured a further polite observation concerning the pleasures of homecoming after extended exile.
She turned with a frank shake of her head: It seems heartless to say so, but Im rather sorry Im back, she said.
He smiled: I must admit, he confessed, that I feel the same way. Of course I want to see my people. But Id give anything to be in France at this moment, and thats the truth!
The girl nodded her comprehension: Its quite natural, she remarked. One does not wish to come home until this thing is settled.
Thats it exactly. Its like leaving an interesting play half finished. Its worseits like leaving an absorbing drama in which you yourself are playing an exciting rôle.
She glanced at hima quick glance of intelligent appraisal.
Yes, it must have seemed that way to you. But Ive been merely one among a breathless audience And yet I cant bear to leave in the very middlenot knowing how it is to end. Besides, she added carelessly, I have nobody to come back to except a rather remote relative, so my regrets are unmixed.
There ensued a silence. He was afraid she was about to go, but couldnt seem to think of anything to say to detain her.
For the girl was very attractive to a careless and amiably casual man of his sortthe sort who start their little journey through life with every intention of having the best kind of a time on the way.
She was so distractingly pretty, so confidently negligent of conventionor perhaps disdainful of itthat he already was regretting that he had not met her at the beginning of the voyage instead of at the end.
She had now begun to button up her ulster, as though preliminary to resuming her deck promenade. And he wanted to walk with her. But because she had chosen to be informal with him did not deceive him into thinking that she was likely to tolerate further informality on his part. And yet he had a vague notion that her inclinations were friendly.
Im sorry, he said rather stupidly, that I didnt meet you in the beginning.
The slightest inclination of her head indicated that although possibly she might be sorry too, regrets were now useless. Then she turned up the collar of her ulster. The face it framed was disturbingly lovely. And he took a last chance.