The Girl Philippa. Chambers Robert William

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      "So I'm to do the Wild West business after all," he said gayly. "Right you are, old chap. I know how it's done; I've read about it in your novels. You wait till your enemy takes a drop, then you get the drop!" He laughed at his British joke. And, having no hip pocket, he stowed away the lumpy bluish weapon in a side pocket of his coat.

      "Now, don't let me interfere with your daily routine," he continued. "I shall do very well here in the arbor while you lead your Harem toward the Olympian heights."

      "Sometimes I feel like pushing 'em off those cliffs," muttered Warner. "All right; I fancy you'll be snug enough in the garden, here with Ariadne, till I return. We shall have the whole house to ourselves after dinner. The Harem migrates to Ausone for overnight to do street sketches tomorrow, and returns the next morning for a general criticism. So if you'll amuse yourself – "

      "I shall be quite comfortable, thanks. If anybody climbs the wall to pot me, we'll turn loose on 'em, this time – won't we, old girl?" – caressing Ariadne, who had returned to his knee.

      Half an hour afterward Warner went away in the wake of the Harem; and at the end of the second hour he gave them a final criticism before they started for Ausone.

      Much good it did them; but they adored it; they even adored his sarcasms. For the Harem truly worshiped this young man – a fact of which he remained uncomfortably conscious, timidly aware that warier men than he had been landed by maidens less adept than they.

      So it was with his usual sense of deep relief that he saluted the Harem, picked up his own kit and canvases, and wandered at hazard through a little poplar grove and out of it on the other edge.

      A wild meadow, deep with tasseled grasses and field flowers, stretched away before him, where swallows sailed and soared and skimmed – where blue lupin, bouton d'or, meadowsweet, and slender, silvery stems crowned with queen's lace grew tall, and the heliotrope perfume of hidden hawkweed scented every fitful little wind.

      But what immediately fixed his attention was a distant figure wading waist-deep amid the grasses – a slim, brilliant shape, which became oddly familiar as it drew nearer, moving forward with light and boyish grace, stirring within him vaguely agreeable recollections.

      Then, in spite of her peasant's dress, he recognized her; and he walked swiftly forward to meet her. The figure out there in the sunshine saw him coming and lifted one arm in distant recognition and salute.

      They met in mid-meadow, Warner and the girl Philippa.

      Her short skirt and low peasant bodice had faded to a rose-geranium tint; her white chemisette, laced with black, was open wide below the throat. Black velvet straps crossed it on the shoulders and around the cuffs. Her hair was tied with a big black silk bow.

      "How in the world did you come to be here?" he asked, not yet releasing the eager, warm little hands so frankly clasped between both of his.

      Philippa laughed with sheerest happiness:

      "Figurez-vous, Monsieur. I have been punting since early morning; and when I found myself so near to Saïs I was ready to drop with heat and fatigue: 'Mais, n'importe! Allons!' I said to myself. 'Courage, little one! Very soon you shall see Mr. Warner painting a noble picture by the river!' Et puis – " She tightened her clasp on his hands with an adorable laugh, "Nous voici enfin ensemble – tous les deux – vous et moi! Et je suis bien content et bien fatiguée."

      "But, Philippa – how in the world do you propose to get back to Ausone tonight?"

      She shrugged, looked up as though protesting to the very skies:

      "I have this instant arrived, and his first inquiry is concerning my departure! That is not a very friendly welcome."

      "Philippa, I am glad to see you – "

      "It is time you said so – "

      "I thought you understood – "

      The girl laughed:

      "I understand how glad I am to see you!" She looked about her in the sunshine, and touched a tall blossom of queen's lace with outstretched fingers.

      "How heavenly beautiful is this world of God!" she said with that charming lack of self-consciousness which the skies of France seem to germinate even in aliens. "I am very glad to see you," she repeated abruptly, "and I am awaiting the expression of your sentiments."

      "Of course I am glad to see you, Philippa – "

      "That makes me quite happy." She smiled on him and then looked curiously at his painting kit. "If you will choose your picture," she added, "I shall sit beside you and watch you at your painting. It will be agreeable. We can converse."

      So he chose a ferny spot at the wood's edge, pitched his field easel and camp stool, and opened his color box; and Philippa seated herself cross-legged on the short grass beside him, gathering both slim ankles into her hands.

      While he was fussing with his canvas, she sang to herself blithely, radiantly contented, rocking herself to and fro to the rhythm of her song:

      "'Hussar en vedette,

      What do you see?

      The sun has set

      And a voice is calling me

      Across the Récollette,

      Where the scented rushes fret

      In the May wind's breath —

      Et garde à vous, Hussar!

      'Tis the voice of Death!

      'Hussar en vedette,

      What do you see?

      The moon has set

      And a white shape beckons me

      Across the Récollette,

      Where the scented rushes fret

      In the night wind's breath —

      Et garde à vous, Hussar!

      'Tis the shape of Death!'"

      Singing away with the serene unconsciousness of a bird, rocking her lithe young body, and watching his every movement out of wide grey eyes, Philippa assisted at the artistic preparations with great content, missing nothing.

      "To squeeze color from tubes must be amusing," she remarked. "I like to squeeze out tooth paste."

      "I am very sure," said Warner, "that you accomplish more charming results with your tooth paste than I do with my colors."

      The girl laughed, showing her snowy teeth:

      "Do you find them pretty, Monsieur?"

      "Quite perfect, and therefore in keeping with the remainder of you, Philippa."

      "He really seems to mean it," she said, addressing a grasshopper which had alighted on her knee. And to Warner: "Is my face sufficiently scrubbed to suit you?"

      He glanced down at her:

      "You have kept your word, haven't you?"

      "Ma foi! My word is my word… Listen; I came to Saïs to see you; and partly because I have something to show you. It concerns your friend, I think."

      "Mr. Halkett?"

      "Yes. СКАЧАТЬ