The Point of View

Chapter 4

The Rev. Eustace Medlicott, when the stains of travel had been

removed from his thin person, came down to tea in the hall of the

Grand Hotel with a distinct misgiving in his heart. He did not

approve of it as a place of residence for his betrothed. Another

and equally well-drained hostelry might have been found for the

party he thought, where such evidences of worldly occupations and

amusements would not so forcibly strike the eye. Music with one's

meals savored of paganism. He was still very emaciated with his

Lenten fast. It took him until July, generally, to pick up again;

and he was tired with his journey. Stella was not there to greet

him, only the Aunt Caroline, and he felt a sense of injury

creeping over him. She might have been in time. Nancy Ruggles, the

Bishop's second daughter, had given him tea and ministered to his

wants in a spirit of solicitous devotion every day since the

Ebleys had left Exminster, but Nancy's hair was not full of

sunlight, nor did her complexion suggest cream and roses. Things

which, to be sure, the Rev. Eustace Medlicott felt he ought not to

dwell upon; they were fleshly lusts and should be discouraged.

He had been convinced that celibacy was the only road to salvation

for a priest, until Stella Rawson's fair young charms had

unconsciously undermined this conviction. But even if he had been

able to arrange his conscience to his liking upon the vital point,

he felt he must fight bravely against allowing himself or his

betrothed to get any pleasure out of the affair. It was better to

marry than to burn, he had St. Paul's authority for this--but when

he felt emotion toward Stella because of her loveliness, he was

afterward very uncomfortable in his thoughts, and it took him at

least an hour to throw dust in his own eyes in regard to the

nature of his desire for her, which he determined to think was

only of the spirit. Love, for him, was no god to be exalted, but a

too strong beast to be resisted, and every one of his rites were

to be succumbed to shamefacedly and under protest. Thus did he

criticize the scheme of his Creator like many another before him.

He sat now in the hall of the Grand Hotel at Rome feeling ill at

ease and expressed some mild disapproval of the surroundings to

Mrs. Ebley, who fired up at once. She was secretly enjoying

herself extremely, and allowed the drains to assume gigantic

proportions in her reasons for their choice of abode. So there was

nothing more to be said, and Stella, looking rather pale,

presently came down the steps from the corridor where their lift

was situated, and joined the group in the far corner of the large

hall.

She was so slender and fresh and graceful, and, even in the week's

sight-seeing in Paris, she seemed to have picked up a new air,

though she wore the same gray Sunday dress her fiance was

accustomed to see at home--it appeared to be put on differently,

and she had altered the doing of her hair. There was no doubt

about it, his future wife was a most delectable-looking creature,

but these tendencies toward adornment of the person which he

observed must be checked at once.

They shook hands with decorous cordiality, and Stella sat down

demurely in the vacant chair. She felt as cold as ice toward him,

and looked it more or less. It made Mr. Medlicott nervous,

although she answered gently enough when he addressed her.

Inwardly she was trying to overcome the growing revulsion she was

experiencing. Tricks of speech, movements of hands--even the way

Eustace's hair grew--were all irritating her. She only longed to

contradict every word the poor man said, and she felt wretched and

unjust and at war with herself and fate. At last things almost

came to a point when he moved his chair so that he should be close

to her and a little apart from the others, and whispered with an

air of absolute proprietorship:

"My little Stella has changed her sweetly modest way of

hairdressing. I hardly think the new style is suitable to my

retiring dove."

"Why, it is only parted in the middle and brushed back into a

simple knot," Miss Rawson retorted, with sparkling eyes. "How can

you be so ridiculous, Eustace--it is merely because it is becoming

and more in the fashion that you object, there is nothing the

least remarkable in the style itself."

Mr. Medlicott's thin lips grew into a straight line.

"It is that very point--the suggestion of fashion that I object

to--the wife of a clergyman cannot be too careful not to make

herself attractive or remarkable in any way," he said

sententiously, his obstinate chin a little forward.

"But I am not a clergyman's wife yet," said Stella with some

feeling, "and can surely enjoy a few things of my age until I am--

and doing my hair how I please is one of them."

Mr. Medlicott shrugged his shoulders, he refused to continue this

unseemly altercation with his betrothed. He would force her to see

reason when once she should be his wife, until then he might have

to waive his authority, but should show her by his manner that she

had offended him, and judging from the attitudes of the adoring

spinsters he had left at Exminster that should be punishment

enough.

He turned to the Aunt Caroline now and addressed her exclusively

and Stella rebelliously moved her seat back a few inches and

looked across the room; and at that moment the tall, odd-looking

Russian came in, and retired to a seat far on the other side,

exactly opposite them. Here he ordered a hock and seltzer with

perfect unconcern, and smoked his cigarette. Miss Rawson could

hardly bear it.

"There is that extraordinary man again, Stella," Mrs. Ebley turned

to her and said. "I thought he had gone as he was not at luncheon

to-day. I am sure your fiance will agree with me that such an

appearance is sacrilegious--he must know he looks like a saint--

and I am quite sure, from what I have heard from Martha, he is not

one at all. He lives in the greatest luxury, Eustace," she

continued, turning to the Rev. Mr. Medlicott. "and probably does

no good to anyone in the world."

"How can you suppose that, Aunt Caroline," Stella answered with

some spirit, "it is surely very uncharitable to judge of people by

their appearances and--and what Martha repeats to you."

Mrs. Ebley gasped--never in her whole life had her niece spoken to

her in this tone. She to be rebuked! It was unspeakable. She could

only glare behind her glasses. What had come to the girl in the

last two days--if this manner was the result of travel, far better

to have stayed at home!

Here Canon Ebley joined in, hoping to bring peace:

"You have told Eustace what is in store for him to-night, have you

not, Caroline, my dear?" he asked. "We have to put on our best and

take our ladies to the Embassy to a rout, Eustace," he went on,

genially. "There are a Russian Grand Duke and Duchess passing

through, it appears, who are going to be entertained."

"There will be no dancing, I suppose," said Mr. Medlicott primly,

"because, if so, I am sorry, but I cannot accompany you--it is not

that I disapprove of dancing for others," he hastened to add, "but

I do not care to watch it myself. And I do not think it wise for

Stella to grow to care for it, either."

"It is merely a reception," Mrs. Ebley said, "and it will be a

very interesting sight."

Stella sat silent; she was overcome with the whole situation; and

her fiance grew more distasteful to her every moment--how had she

ever been persuaded to be engaged to such a person!--while the

attraction of the strange-looking Russian seemed to increase. In

spite of the grotesque hair and unusual beard, there was an air of

great distinction about him. His complete unconsciousness and calm

were so remarkable. You might take him for an eccentric person,

but certainly a gentleman, and with an extraordinary magnetism,

she felt. When once you had talked to him, he seemed to cast a

spell over you. But, beyond this, she only knew that she was

growing more unhappy every moment, and that by her side one man

represented everything that was tied and bound in sentiment and

feeling and existence, and that across the hall another opened the

windows of her reason and imagination, and exhorted her to be

free, and herself.

Presently she could bear it no more. She got up rather suddenly,

and, saying she was very tired and had letters to write, she left

them and went toward the lift.

"Stella is not at all like herself," Mr. Medlicott said, when she

had disappeared from view. "I trust she is not sickening with

Roman fever."

Meanwhile, Miss Rawson had reached her room and pulled her writing

case in front of her. There were one or two girl friends who ought

to be written to, but the sheets remained blank--and in about ten

minutes there was a gentle knock at the door, and, on opening it,

she saw Count Roumovski's discreet-looking servant, who handed her

a note respectfully, and then went on his way without a word.

How agreeable it must be to have well-trained servants to do one's

bidding like that! she thought, and then went back eagerly to her

window to read the missive. It had no beginning or date, and was

just a few lines.

I have observed the whole situation, and judged of the character

of your fiance. I know how you feel. Do not be depressed--remain

calm and trust me, circumstances can always be directed in the

hands of a strong man. I will have the honor to be presented to

you and to your family soon after you arrive at the Embassy to-

night. All is well.

There was no signature, and the writing was rather large and

unlike any she had seen before.

Suddenly her feeling of unrest left her, and a lightness of heart

took its place. She was living, at all events, and the horizon was

not all gray. It seemed almost delightful to be putting on a real

evening dress presently, even though it was a rather homely white

thing with a pink sash, and to be going down to the restaurant in

it with Aunt Caroline in front in her best black velvet and point

lace.

That lady's desire to be in time at the party alone determined her

to this breach of the rules--and there were Eustace and Uncle

Erasmus in their stiff clerical evening coats awaiting them in the

corridor--while, as luck would have it, the lift stopped at the

second floor to admit the Russian. He got in with his usual air of

being unaware that he was not alone--though Stella could feel that

he was touching her hand--perhaps unconsciously. He seemed to

radiate some kind of joy for her always, and the pink grew to that

of a June rose in her cheeks, and her brown eyes shone like two

stars.

"That was the man you spoke of in the hall, Mrs. Ebley, was it

not?" Eustace Medlicott's intoning voice said, as they went along

to the restaurant. "He certainly is a most remarkable person to

look at close--but I do not dislike his face, it has noble lines."

"Really, how condescending of you!" Stella almost said aloud. But

the Aunt Caroline answered serenely:

"Perhaps I am prejudiced, Eustace, but want of convention always

shocks me to such a degree that I cannot appreciate anything

else."

Stella almost enjoyed her dinner, she was so excited with the

prospect of some unknown coming events, and she had the

satisfaction of observing that once Count Roumovski actually

turned his head in their direction and met her eyes. His were full

of a whimsical smile for the instant he looked, and then he

relapsed into his habitual indifference.

The crowd had begun to thicken when they got to the Embassy, and

they waited among them for the Royalties' arrival; Stella looking

at everything with fresh, interested eyes. When this ceremony was

over people began to disperse about the large rooms, and Miss

Rawson was conscious that her strange secret acquaintance was in

conversation with the Grand Duke and Duchess; she had not seen him

come in. The Aunt Caroline noticed this, too, and drew her

attention to the fact.

"Look, Stella, that dreadful man is talking to Royalty!" she said.

"I suppose he must be a gentleman, after all--one never can tell

with foreigners, as their titles mean nothing, and half of them

are assumed. Your Uncle Carford had a valet once who afterward was

arrested for posing as a Polish count."

"I should think anyone could see this man was a gentleman, Aunt

Caroline," Stella answered, "even without his talking to

Royalties."

They were soon joined by the secretary cousin, who was charmed to

welcome so pretty a relation to Rome, and was profuse in his

apologies for not having been able to do more than leave cards

upon them as yet.

"We should so like to know the names of the celebrities," Mrs.

Ebley said, "especially can you tell us about the very curious-

looking person now conversing with her Imperial Highness; he is at

our hotel."

"That--Oh! that is by far the most interesting man here--it is the

famous Count Roumovski. He is a most celebrated traveler; he has

been all over the world and Africa and Asia in unaccessible

places. He is a fabulously rich Russian--a real Muscovite from

near Moscow, and he does everything and anything he pleases; he

gives enormous sums for the encouragement of science. He is

immensely intelligent--he lunched at the Embassy to-day."

"Really!" said the Aunt Caroline, somewhat impressed. "His

appearance is greatly against him."

"Oh, do you think so?" said the cousin. "I think it adds to his

attraction, it is such superlative audacity. No Englishman would

have the nerve to cut his hair like that."

"I should hope not," said Mrs. Ebley severely, and dropped the

subject.

"To think of this charming rosebud of a girl going to marry

Eustace Medlicott--insufferable, conceited prig, I remember him at

Oxford," the cousin was musing to himself. "Lord Carford is an old

stick-in-the-mud, or he would have prevented that. She is his own

niece, and one can see by her frock that the poor child never even

goes to London."

At this moment they saw the Russian Count putting his heels

together and bowing himself out of the circle of his Royalties;

and straight as a dart he came over to where their group was

standing, and whispered in the cousin's--Mr. Deanwood's ear--who

then asked if he might present Count Roumovski to the Aunt

Caroline and the rest.

When this ceremony was over Mrs. Ebley found herself conversing

with her whilom object of contempt, and coming gradually under the

influence of his wonderful charm, while Stella stood there

trembling with the wildest excitement she had yet known. The words

of Eustace, her betrothed, talking to her, carried no meaning to

her brain, her whole intelligence was strung up to catch what the

others were saying.

With great dexterity the Russian presently made the conversation

general, and drew her into it, and then he said with composure

that the Gardens were illuminated--and, as it was such a very hot

night, would mademoiselle like to take a turn that way, to have

some refreshment? At the same moment, Mr. Deanwood gave Mrs. Ebley

his arm, and they all moved forward--followed by Canon Ebley and

the Rev. Eustace Medlicott, with no great joy upon his face.

Stella, meanwhile, felt herself being drawn rapidly ahead, and so

maneuvered that in a moment or two they had completely lost sight

of the rest of the relations, and were practically alone in a

crowd.

"At last!" Count Roumovski whispered, "even I, who am generally

calm, was beginning to feel I should rush over, throw prudence to

the winds and--" then he stopped abruptly, and Stella felt her

heart thump in her throat, while her little hand on his arm was

pressed against his side.

They made the pretense of taking some refreshment at the buffet,

and then went toward the open doors of the garden. The part all

round the house was illuminated, and numbers of people strolled

about, the night was deliciously warm. Count Roumovski seemed to

know the paths, for he drew his companion to a seat just beyond

the radius of the lights, and they sat down upon a bench under a

giant tree. He had not spoken a word, but now he leaned back and

deliberately looked into her eyes, while his voice, with

vibrations of feeling in it which thrilled Stella, whispered in

her ear:

"It cannot go on, of course--you agree with me about that, do you

not?"

"What cannot go on?" she asked, to gain time to recover her

composure.

"This situation," he answered. "I am sure now that I love you--and

I want to teach you a number of things, first in importance being

that you shall love me."

"Oh, you must not say this," Stella protested feebly.

"Yes, I must, and you will listen to me, little star."

He drew nearer to her, and the amazing power of propinquity began

to assert itself. She felt as if the force to resist him were

leaving her, she was trembling all over with delicious thrills.

"I made up my mind almost immediately I saw you, sweet child," he

went on, "that you were what I have been waiting for all my life.

You are good and true--and balanced--or you will be that when I

have made your love education. Stella, look at me with those soft

eyes, and tell me that I mean something to you already, and that

the worthy Mr. Medlicott does not exist any more."

"I--I--but I have only known you for two days," Stella answered

confusedly: she was so full of emotion that she dared not trust

herself further.

"Does time count, then, so much with conventional people?" he

demanded. "For me it has no significance in relation to feeling.

If you would only look at me instead of down at those small hands,

then you would not be able to tell me these foolish things!"

This was so true that Stella could not deny it, her breath came

rather fast; it was the supreme moment her life had yet known.

"You are frightened because the training of your education still

holds you and not nature. Your acquired opinion tells you you are

engaged to another man, and ought not to listen to me."

"Of course I ought not to," she murmured.

"Of course you ought--how else can you come to any conclusion if

you do not hear my arguments--sweet, foolish one!"

She did look at him now with two startled eyes.

"Listen attentively, darling pupil, and sweet love," he said. He

was leaning with one arm on the back of the bench supporting his

head on his hand, turned quite toward her, who sat with clasped

nervous fingers clutching her fan. His other hand lay idly on his

knee, his whole attitude was very still. The soft lights were just

enough for him to see distinctly her small face and shining hair;

his own face was in shadow, but she could feel the magnetism of

his eyes penetrating through her very being.

"You were coerced by those in charge of you," he went on in a

level voice of argument, which yet broke into notes of tenderness,

"you were influenced into becoming engaged to this man who is

ridiculously unsuited to you. You, so full of life and boundless

joy! You, who will learn all of love's meaning presently, and what

it makes of existence, and what God meant by giving it to us

mortals. You are intended by nature to be a complete woman if you

did but know it--but such a life, tied to that half fish man, would

atrophy all that is finest in your character. You would grow really

into what they are trying to make you appear--after years of

hopelessness and suffering. Do you not feel all this, little star,

tell me?"

"Yes," Stella answered, "it is true--I have seemed to feel the

cords and the shackles pulling at me often, but never that they

were unbearable until I--spoke with you--and you put new thoughts

into my head."

"I did well, then. And because of a silly convention you would

ruin all your life by going on with these ways--it is

unthinkable!" and his deep voice vibrated with feeling. "It is a

mistake, that is all, and can be rectified,--if you were already

married to this man I would not plead so, because then you would

have crossed the Rubicon, and assumed responsibilities which you

would have to accept or suffer the consequences. But this

preliminary bond can be broken without hurt to either side. A man

of the good clergyman's type will not suffer in his emotions at

the loss of you--he suffices unto himself for those; his vanity

will be wounded--that is all. And surely it is better that should

gall for a little than that you should spoil your life. Sweet flower,

realize yourself these things--that sunny hair and that beautiful

skin and those velvet eyes were made for the joy and glory of a

man--not for temptations to a strict priest, who would resent

their power as a sin every time he felt himself influenced by

their charm. Gods above! he would not know what to do with you,

heart of me!"

Stella was thrilling with exquisite emotion, but the influence of

her strict and narrow bringing up could not be quite overcome in

these few moments. She longed to be convinced, and yet some

altruistic sentiment made her feel still some qualms and

misgivings. If she should be causing Eustace great pain by

breaking her engagement; if it were very wrong to go against her

uncle and aunt--especially her Aunt Caroline, her own mother's

sister. She clasped her little hands nervously, and looked up in

this strong man's face with pathetic, pleading intensity.

"Oh, please tell me, what ought I to do, then--what is right?" she

implored. "And because I want so much to believe you, I fear it

must be wrong to do so."

He leaned nearer to her and spoke earnestly. His stillness was

almost ominous, it gave the impression of such immense self-

control, and his voice was as those bass notes of the priests of

St. Isaac's in his own northern land.

"Dear, honest little girl," he said tenderly, "I worship your

goodness. And I know you will presently see the truth. Love is of

God and is imperious, and because she loves him is the only reason

why a woman should give her life to a man. Quite apart from the

law, which proclaims that each individual must be the arbiter of

his own fate, and not succumb to the wishes of others, it would be

an ethical sin for you to marry the worthy Mr. Medlicott--not

loving him. Surely, you can see this."

"Yes--yes, it would be dreadful," she murmured, "but Aunt

Caroline--she caused me to accept him--I mean, she wanted me to so

much. I never really felt anything for him myself, and lately--

ever since the beginning, in fact, I have been getting more and

more indifferent to him."

"Then, surely, it is plain that you must be free of him, darling.

Throw all the responsibility upon me, if you will. I promise to

take every care of you. And I want you only to promise you will

follow each step that I explain to you--" then he broke off, and

the seriousness of his tone changed to one of caressing

tenderness. "But first I must know for certain, little star, shall

I be able to teach you to love me--as I shall love you?"

"Yes," was all Stella could utter, and then, gaining more voice,

she went on, "I did not know--I could not guess what that would

mean--to love--but--"

He answered her with fond triumph:

"Now you are beginning to understand, darling child--that is

enough for me to know for the present. In your country, a man asks

a woman to marry him: he says, 'Will you marry me?'--is it not so?

of course, I need not say that to you, because you know that is

what I mean. When these wearisome thongs are off your wrists you

will belong to me, and come with me into my country and be part of

my life."

"Ah!" whispered Stella, the picture seemed one of heaven, that was

all.

"You must have freedom to assert your individuality, Stella," he

continued. "I can but show you the way and give you a new point of

view, but I will never try to rule you and drag you to mine. I

will never put any chains upon you but those of love. Do they

sound as if they would be too heavy, dearest?"

"I think not," she said very low. "I feel as though I were looking

into a beautiful garden from the top of an ugly, barren, cold

mountain. I shall like to come down and go in among the unknown

flowers."

"It will be so glorious for us," he said exultantly, "because we

have still all the interesting things to find out about each

other,--" And then, her sweet face so very near him, the

temptation to caress her became too intense; he quivered and

changed his position, clasping his hands.

"Darling," he said hoarsely, "we must soon go back to the company,

because, although I count always upon my will to make my actions

obey it, still I can hardly prevent myself from seizing you in my

arms and kissing your tender lips--and that I must not do--as

yet."

Stella drew herself together, the temptation was convulsing her

also, though she did not guess it. She looked up into his blue

eyes there in the shadow, and saw the deep reverence in them, and

she understood and loved him with her soul.

He did not so much as touch her dress; indeed, now that he had won

his fight, he moved a little further from her--and resumed his

calm voice:

"The first thing we shall do is to stroll back through the people

and find the aunt--I will then leave you with her, and soon it

will be time to go home. Do not make much conversation with any of

them to-night--leave everything to me. I will see the Rev. Mr.

Medlicott when we return to the hotel. Whatever they say to you

to-morrow, remain firm in your simple determination to break your

engagement. Argue with them not at all. I will see your uncle in

the morning and demand your hand; they will be shocked, horrified,

scandalized--we will make no explanations. If they refuse their

consent, then you must be brave, and the day after to-morrow you

must come to my sister. She will have arrived by then; she was in

Paris, and I telegraphed for her to join me immediately; the

Princess Urazov she is called. She will receive you with

affection, and you will stay with her until the formalities can be

arranged, when we shall be married, and--but I cannot permit

myself to think of the joy of that--for the moment."

Stella's eyes, with trust and love, were now gazing into his, and

he rose abruptly to his feet.

"You may, when you are alone, again think that it is heartless to

go quite contrary to your relations like this, because they have

brought you up, but remember that marriage is an act which can

mean almost life or death to a woman, and that no human beings

have any right to coerce you in this matter. You are of age and so

am I, and we are only answerable to God and to the laws of our

countries, not to individuals."

"I will try to think of it like that," said Stella, greatly moved,

and then, with almost childish irrelevance, which touched him

deeply, she asked, "What must I call you, please?"

"Oh, you sweetest star!" he exclaimed, "do not tempt me too

strongly--I love you wildly and I want to fold you in my arms--and

explain everything with your little head here on my breast--but I

must not--must not yet. Call me Sasha--say it now that I may hear

its sound in your tender voice--and we must fly, fly back to the

lights--or I cannot answer for myself."

She whispered it softly, and a shiver ran through all his tall

frame--and he said, with tender masterfulness:

"Say, 'Sasha, I love,'" and this she did, also--and then he almost

brusquely placed her hand upon his arm, and led her among the

people, and so to her frowning relations, and then he bowed a

correct good-night.