short stories and essays-第2章

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silent；　blond；　whom　I　at　once　felt　I　could　do；　from　my　acquaintance　with
Scandinavian　lovers　in　Norwegian　novels。　　His　name　was　Janssen；　a　good；
distinctive　Scandinavian　name；　I　do　not　know　but　it　is　Swedish；　and　I
thought　he　might　very　well　be　a　Swede；　I　could　imagine　his　manner　from
that　of　a　Swedish　waitress　we　once　had。

JanssenJan　Janssen；　say…drove　the　coke…cart　which　Marina's　grandmother
used　to　follow　out　of　the　coke…yard；　to　pick　up　the　bits　of　coke　as　they
were　jolted　from　it；　and　he　had　often　noticed　her　with　deep　indifference。
At　first　he　noticed　Marinaor　Nina；　as　I　soon　saw　I　must　call　herwith
the　same　unconcern；　for　in　her　grandmother's　hood　and　jacket　and　check
apron；　with　her　head　held　shamefacedly　downward；　she　looked　exactly　like
the　old　woman。　　I　thought　I　would　have　Nina　make　her　self…sacrifice
rebelliously；　as　a　girl　like　her　would　be　apt　to　do；　and　follow　the
cokecart　with　tears。　　This　would　catch　Janssen's　notice；　and　he　would
wonder；　perhaps　with　a　little　pang；　what　the　old　woman　was　crying　about；
and　then　he　would　see　that　it　was　not　the　old　woman。　　He　would　see　that
it　was　Nina；　and　he　would　be　in　love　with　her　at　once；　for　she　would　not
only　be　very　pretty；　but　he　would　know　that　she　was　good；　if　she　were
willing　to　help　her　family　in　that　way。

He　would　respect　the　girl；　in　his　dull；　sluggish；　Northern　way。　　He　would
do　nothing　to　betray　himself。　　But　little　by　little　he　would　begin　to
befriend　her。　　He　would　carelessly　overload　his　cart　before　he　left　the
yard；　so　that　the　coke　would　fall　from　it　more　lavishly；　and　not　only
this；　but　if　he　saw　a　stone　or　a　piece　of　coal　in　the　street　he　would
drive　over　it；　so　that　more　coke　would　be　jolted　from　his　load。

Nina　would　get　to　watching　for　him。　　She　must　not　notice　him　much　at
first；　except　as　the　driver　of　the　overladen；　carelessly　driven　cart。
But　after　several　mornings　she　must　see　that　he　is　very　strong　and
handsome。　　Then；　after　several　mornings　more；　their　eyes　must　meet；　her
vivid　black　eyes；　with　the　tears　of　rage　and　shame　in　them；　and　his　cold
blue　eyes。　　This　must　be　the　climax；　and　just　at　this　point　I　gave　my
fancy　a　rest；　while　I　went　into　a　drugstore　at　the　corner　of　Avenue　B　to
get　my　hands　warm。

They　were　abominably　cold；　even　in　my　pockets；　and　I　had　suffered　past
several　places　trying　to　think　of　an　excuse　to　go　in。　　I　now　asked　the
druggist　if　he　had　something　which　I　felt　pretty　sure　he　had　not；　and
this　put　him　in　the　wrong；　so　that　when　we　fell　into　talk　he　was　very
polite。　　We　agreed　admirably　about　the　hard　times；　and　he　gave　way
respectfully　when　I　doubted　his　opinion　that　the　winters　were　getting
milder。　　I　made　him　reflect　that　there　was　no　reason　for　this；　and　that
it　was　probably　an　illusion　from　that　deeper　impression　which　all
experiences　made　on　us　in　the　past；　when　we　were　younger；　I　ought　to　say
that　he　was　an　elderly　man；　too。　　I　said　I　fancied　such　a　morning　as　this
was　not　very　mild　for　people　that　had　no　fires；　and　this　brought　me　back
again　to　Janssen　and　Marina；　by　way　of　the　coke…cart。　　The　thought　of
them　rapt　me　so　far　from　the　druggist　that　I　listened　to　his　answer　with
a　glazing　eye；　and　did　not　know　what　he　said。　　My　hands　had　now　got　warm；
and　I　bade　him　good…morning　with　a　parting　regret；　which　he　civilly
shared；　that　he　had　not　the　thing　I　had　not　wanted；　and　I　pushed　out
again　into　the　cold；　which　I　found　not　so　bad　as　before。

My　hero　and　heroine　were　waiting　for　me　there；　and　I　saw　that　to　be　truly
modern；　to　be　at　once　realistic　and　mystical；　to　have　both　delicacy　and
strength；　I　must　not　let　them　get　further　acquainted　with　each　other。
The　affair　must　simply　go　on　from　day　to　day；　till　one　morning　Jan　must
note　that　it　was　again　the　grandmother　and　no　longer　the　girl　who　was
following　his　cart。　　She　must　be　very　weak　from　a　long　sicknessI　was
not　sure　whether　to　have　it　the　grippe　or　not；　but　I　decided　upon　that
provisionally　and　she　must　totter　after　Janssen；　so　that　he　must　get　down
after　a　while　to　speak　to　her　under　pretence　of　arranging　the　tail…board
of　his　cart；　or　something　of　that　kind；　I　did　not　care　for　the　detail。
They　should　get　into　talk　in　the　broken　English　which　was　the　only
language　they　could　have　in　common；　and　she　should　burst　into　tears；　and
tell　him　that　now　Nina　was　sick；　I　imagined　making　this　very　simple；　but
very　touching；　and　I　really　made　it　so　touching　that　it　brought　the　lump
into　my　own　throat；　and　I　knew　it　would　be　effective　with　the　reader。
Then　I　had　Jan　get　back　upon　his　cart；　and　drive　stolidly　on　again；　and
the　old　woman　limp　feebly　after。

There　should　not　be　any　more；　I　decided；　except　that　one　very　cold
morning；　like　that；　Jan　should　be　driving　through　that　street；　and　should
be　passing　the　door　of　the　tenement　house　where　Nina　had　lived；　just　as　a
little　procession　should　be　issuing　from　it。　　The　fact　must　be　told　in
brief　sentences；　with　a　total　absence　of　emotionality。　　The　last　touch
must　be　Jan's　cart　turning　the　street　corner　with　Jan's　figure　sharply
silhouetted　against　the　clear；　cold　morning　light。　　Nothing　more。

But　it　was　at　this　point　that　another　notion　came　into　my　mind；　so　antic；
so　impish；　so　fiendish；　that　if　there　were　still　any　Evil　One；　in　a　world
which　gets　on　so　poorly　without　him；　I　should　attribute　it　to　his
suggestion；　and　this　was　that　the　procession　which　Jan　saw　issuing　from
the　tenement…house　door　was　not　a　funeral　procession；　as　the　reader　will
have　rashly　fancied；　but　a　wedding　procession；　with　Nina　at　the　head　of
it；　quite　well　again；　and　going　to　be　married　to　the　little　brown　youth
with　ear…rings　who　had　long　had　her　heart。

With　a　truly　perverse　instinct；　I　saw　how　strong　this　might　be　made；　at
the　fond　reader's　expense；　to　be　sure；　and　how　much　more　pathetic；　in
such　a　case；　the　silhouetted　figure　on　the　coke…cart　would　really　be。
I　should；　of　course；　make　it　perfectly　plain　that　no　one　was　to　blame；
and　that　the　whole　affair　had　been　so　tacit　on　Jan's　part　that　Nina　might
very　well　have　known　nothing　of　his　feeling　for　her。　　Perhaps　at　the　very
end　I　might　subtly　insinuate　that　it　was　possible　he　might　have　had　no
such　feeling　towards　her　as　the　reader　had　been　led　to　imagine。




III。

The　question　as　to　which　ending　I　ought　to　have　given　my　romance　is　what
has　ever　since　remained　to　perplex　me；　and　it　is　what　has　prevented　my
ever　writing　it。　　Here　is　material　of　the　best　sort　lying　useless　on　my
hands；　which；　if　I　could　only　make　up　my　mind；　might　be　wrought　into　a
short　story　as　affecting　as　any　that　wring　our　hearts　in　fiction；　and　I
think　I　could　get　something　fairly　unintelligible　out　of　the　broken
English　of　Jan　and　Nina's　grandmother；　and　certainly　something　novel。
All　that　I　can　do　now；　however；　is　to　put　the　case　before　the　reader；　and
let　him　decide　for　himself　how　it　should　end。

The　mere　humanist；　I　suppose；　might　say；　that　I　am　rightly　served　for
having　regarded　the　fact　I　had　witnessed　as　material　for　fiction　at　all；
that　I　had　no　business　to　bewitch　it　with　my　miserable　art；　that　I　ought
to　have　spoken　to　that　little　child　and　those　poor　old　women；　and　tried
to　learn　something　of　their　lives　from　them；　that　I　might　offer　my
knowledge　again　for　the　instruction　of　those　whose　lives　are　easy　and
happy　in　the　indifference　which　ignorance　breeds　in　us。　　I　own　there　is
something　in　this；　but　then；　on　the　other　hand；　I　have　heard　it　urged　by
nice　people　that　they　do　not　want　to　know　about　such　squalid　lives；　that
it　is　offensive　and　out　of　taste　to　be　always　bringing　them　in；　and　that
we　ought　to　be　writing　about　good　society；　and　especially　creating
grandes　dames　for　their　amusement。　　This　sort　of　people　could　say　to　the
humanist　that　he　ought　to　be　glad　there　are　coke…carts　for　fuel　to　fall
off　from　for　the　lower　classes；　and　that　here　was　no　case　for　sentiment；
for　if　one　is　to　be　interested　in　such　things　at　all；　it　must　be
aesthetically；　though　even　this　is　deplorable　in　the　presence　of　fiction
already　overloaded　with　low　life；　and　so　poor　in　grades　dames　as　ours。






SUMMER　ISLES　OF　EDEN

It　may　be　all　an　illusion　of　the　map；　where　the　Summer　Islands　glimmer　a
small　and