Cupid En Route/Chapter 2
II
IN spite of the lateness of the hour they were fortunate and secured seats in the first row of the balcony just at the turn on the left. It was Dave's treat and he had been disappointed at not being allowed to pay more for the tickets than he had. “I always thought grand opera was about five dollars a throw," he said doubtfully. "You sure this is the real thing, partner?" When they had left the taxicab at the door Wade had suggested that the driver call back for them after the performance.
“That's so,” agreed Dave. “Son, you come back here in a couple of hours and wait for me. You just let out a yell for Mr. Fisher and I’ll get you.” Then the carriage man slammed the door, said “Eleven-twenty" and thrust a card into Dave’s
The big, heavily-decorated house was well filled, and all save the upper rows of boxes held their quota of over—or under-dressed women, with here and there a dark coat marking the presence of a male escort. One gown, of flamingo red, caught Dave's fancy at once.
"Now there's what I call a real pretty dress, partner," he said in a hoarse whisper. "That's bang-up, ain't it. But, say, boy, ain't she a le-eetle bit old to be wearin' such bright colors?"
That the subject of Dave's remarks didn't overhear them was merely because she was at the other side of the house, for Dave's faintest and most confidential whispers had the soft and dulcet qualities pertaining to a mountain avalanche or a distant thunder storm. Those in his vicinity turned amused glances toward him and put their heads together; Wade heard the low hum of voices, the suppressed mirth. But the next instant he had forgotten them. In the nearest box, distant but a few yards, a girl had turned her face toward them. And such a face! Wade's heart sprang up ip his throat—or so it seemed—turned over twice quite deliberately and went floating, sinking back into place, leaving him dazed and breathless. The girl's dark eyes—violet-blue they looked to Wade—rested a moment on Dave, while the faintest flicker of sympathetic amusement lighted them, and then passed on to his companion. For an instant, a blissful, heart-stirring instant, the blue eyes looked straight into Wade's, very straightly, calmly, impersonally. Then the girl's gaze wandered past him, hovered a moment and returned for just the smallest fraction of time ere she turned her face toward the stage again. But in that second glance there had been a faint interest, a vague question, and short as it was Wade had had read it. What his own eyes conveyed he never knew. He took a long breath and came to himself to find Dave's voice rumbling in his ears.
"That's a hell of a big band," observed Dave.
Wade had purchased a libretto and now he thrust it into his friend's hands. "You'd better read the story of the first act," he said, "so you'll know what it is all about." He pointed out the English translation and Dave bent over it frowningly, his lips working as he read. Wade's eyes and thoughts went back to the girl in the box.
Her back was half toward him so that even by leaning forward he could catch but an imperfect view of her profile. But even so much made him glow and set his heart to thumping again. She was dressed in pale blue, and the soft, satiny gown followed closely every graceful line of the girlish form. Her neck was bare, and short sleeves terminating in silver fringe left the slim round arms to view. There was a double chain of pearls about the straight throat and the dark brown hair held a spray of silver leaves. Now and then a half turn of her head gave a fleeting glimpse of her face in profile, of soft cheek and arched brow, of a nose slightly aquiline, delicate, sensitive, a straight brow under the soft hair, a small, quiet mouth, and a chin that in spite of its soft curves held a certain tranquil strength. She sat erect as though her lithe body disdained the support of the chair-back and reminded Wade of a young queen on her throne. The rolled programme in her right hand took on the likeness of a scepter. Queen or commoner, she had one loyal subject that evening, for Wade's heart had confessed allegiance with that first meeting glance.
There were five women with her in the box, but save that one was elderly with silver-gray hair and that the rest were apparently matrons whose ages ran the gamut of the thirties and forties, Wade could have told nothing of them. And before his attention had opportunity to reach them the house darkened and the big curtain rolled up on a red and green stage.
Dave didn't display much interest in things at first, even Salome's appearance on the scene leaving him unaffected. But when Herodias came on, Wade heard Dave's chair creak.
"She's some on looks, ain't she, boy?" he whispered. "What's the trouble with her? Someone been talkin' sassy?"
"S-sh," cautioned Wade. "You mustn't talk, Dave."
Dave settled back in his chair again and remained silent until John appeared. Then,
"Who's that yellow-whiskered galoot?" he inquired cautiously. Wade explained in whispers.
"John the Baptist? The feller in the Bible?" rumbled Dave in astonishment. "Well, were n't he a pill! But, say, he can sure sing some few, can't he? Looks like she was stuck on him, eh? Ain't that like a fool woman to pass up a King and get dippy about a Jack?"
When the curtain went down Dave had a good many questions to ask and Wade was kept busy answering them, but that didn't prevent him from keeping his eyes on the divinity in the box. He wondered how old she was. It was hard to decide that. She might be eighteen or she might be twenty-two. But the matter of age didn't engage his curiosity long. The problem to be solved was: Who was she? Where did she live? How was he to meet her? For know her he must and love her he would! Various schemes for obtaining the information he desired, came and were rejected. In the end the only thing to do, so far as he could see, was to find out her name, if possible, from someone in the house. He would ask the ushers first, and for that he must wait for the next intermission. The lights sank and the girl in the box became an indistinct figure, only the ivory of her face and neck and arms showing wanly in the purplish gloom.
The act went on, a blaze of color, a riot of sound and movement, to its end. At the fall of the curtain Wade arose. "I want to speak to someone, Dave," he explained. Dave winked gravely and pulled himself out of his seat. "So do I," he said. They parted at the stairs and Wade sought the nearest usher. The box, he learned was the Pearse box and the subscriber herself was the little silver-haired lady in the steel gray satin. But the usher didn't know the young lady in light blue. Neither did the next usher, nor the next. But Wade was satisfied. They would give him the address of the box holder at the office, and if need be, the little silver-haired lady must supply the rest of the information he desired. As an indication of his condition of mind—or heart—I may say that it didn't occur to him then that to apply to a total stranger for the name and address of a guest at the opera would be either outre or ridiculous. He rescued Dave and hurried back to his seat, fearful lest the girl should cast a glance in his direction and he not be there to intercept it. But apparently she had either never realized his existence or promptly forgotten it, for not once did she turn her head. Dave was yawning frankly and looking at his big diamond-encrusted watch.
"It ain't awful lively, is it?" he asked. "Is it goin' to last much longer?"
"About an hour," Wade replied as the house darkened. Dave sighed.
"I reckon a good smart vawderville show was what I needed," he said.
The orchestra began the intermezzo and the audience hushed to silence. Wade, gazing in the mellow twilight at the girl in the box, experienced emotions that were as strange to him as they were sweet, and as sweet as they were sad. The strings tinkled and sobbed, and the wind instruments took up the theme and carried it softly on. And Wade's heart beat faster and faster under the triple spell of music and love and fragrance; for the air about him was laden with the sensuous, lemony odor of gardenias, and for months after the faintest whiff from one of those white blossoms made his pulses leap. When the last strain had died away the house burst into delighted applause and the leader waved his baton again. And at that moment the dim line of white that was Her face broadened to an ivory oval. She had turned and was looking in his direction! Whether her eyes were on him he didn't know, but for a full moment she gazed over her shoulder and Wade gazed hungrily back. Then slowly the face turned away again, and Wade wondered whether those beside him could hear his heart thumping.
Later they made their way with the throng down the stairs through the foyer and out into the cold frosty night. They had stopped at the check room for their coats and so reached the sidewalk in the midst of the confusion. Dave found carriage check after much seeking, surrendered it and followed Wade to a position out of the way. Wade scanned the throng eagerly for sight of the girl, and presently his sight was rewarded. She came through the entrance in the van of her party, a long fur-trimmed wrap enveloping her. At that instant a ragged, liquor-soddened man pushed his way unsteadily toward her.
"What's yer number, lady? Give me yet number!"
Whether he stumbled on his own uncertain feet or tripped over someone else's doesn't matter. But with hand out-stretched for her carriage check he half fell against the girl and to save himself seized her arm. She drew back with a stifled cry and a look of loathing. Wade sprang forward, but Dave was ahead. With one hand he seized the man and sent him reeling into the street.
"Get out, you sneaking coyote!" he roared. And then, dropping his voice to a reassuring rumble: "It's all right, Miss, I reckon he didn't mean no harm, ma'am."
The girl's startled gaze encountered Dave dubiously until recognition came. Then,
"Thank you," she said with a smile. "It doesn't matter. He—rather startled me." Her gaze went past him to Wade, who, inwardly reviling Dave for his luck, stood at his shoulder. "Thank you," she repeated with a little inclination of her head, and the smile that accompanied seemed to include Wade. Then she passed on, the little silver-haired lady discharging questions with the rapidity of a gatling gun, and Wade, following her with his gaze, saw her swallowed up by an electric brougham. Dave, running a finger around inside his collar to ease the pressure, scowled about him.
"Where's that damned drunken galoot?" he growled.
"Gone," said Wade. "And we'd better go too. Here's our taxi."
"Think of him puttin' his dirty hands on a fine-lookin' gal like that, partner! I oughter rung his neck!" And Dave, still muttering his wrath, followed Wade into the cab.
Wade was silent as they were jounced and rattled back toward the hotel. But Dave soon recovered his equanimity and talked for two.
"Did you see that gal, Wade?" he asked. "Wa'n't she a peach?"
"Yes," said Wade.
"She sure was, boy, they certainly do grow 'em good-lookin' in this town. I've seen—" He broke off abruptly and half sprang to his feet. "Jumpin'—Missed him, by God!" He sank back again. "Say, I wouldn't drive one o' these taximobiles for a fortune, Wade! I reckon, though, you'd get used to runnin' over folks after awhile. Reckon that feller out there's got more nicks on his gun than the Apache Kid! Dare say he don't eat real hearty when he ain't killed a half-dozen women an' children. Whoa, you—Honest, partner, this gets on my nerves somethin' awful! The way he just don't hit 'em has me beat. He must have driv a fire-engine 'fore he got this thing. Why, say, boy, I was in a bucket once when it got loose and dropped twelve levels an' it weren't a shake to this; just what you might call mildly exhileratin'! I'd hate like hell to get killed in the middle of New York City, boy; it wouldn't sound well back at Lone Mesa, would it? Folks 'd think I was drunk!"
He heaved a sigh of genuine relief when the cab pulled up with a final plunge in front of the hotel.
"Son," he said, as he paid the driver, "you're sure cheatin' yourself when you only ask eighty cents for that ride. There was eleven dollars' worth of excitement to it. There's a two-spot. You keep the change, son, it'll help pay your funeral expenses some day; and if it ain't mighty soon I miss my guess!"