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If George rode the huge rocking-horse, he was Paul Revere, or some equally historic figure, and sometimes, to Edith's terror, he was compelled to assume the role of Bluebeard, when Honora submitted to decapitation with a fortitude amounting to stoicism. Hide and seek was altogether too tame for her, a stake of life and death, or imprisonment or treasure, being a necessity.
Nature has sent him abroad in that character, and has advised all creatures of it. Not so with the shrike; here she has concealed the character of a murderer under a form as innocent as that of the robin. Feet, wings, tail, color, head, and general form and size are all those of a songbird, very much like that master songster, the mockingbird, yet this bird is a regular Bluebeard among its kind.
Bluebeard might the door of the chamber of horrors at the sound of her husband's step, and skipped to a remote part of the room, where Cousin Knollys found me in a mysterious state of agitation. On any other subject I would have questioned Cousin Monica unhesitatingly; upon this, somehow, I was dumb.
"The widow of the gallant Bluebeard," she said, "marry an odious wretch who lives in dingy chambers in the Middle Temple! Send for Dr. Sly."
It is believed that she must have been eaten by a wolf, for she was never seen again. After such a disastrous experience, how was it that Bluebeard could make up his mind to contract yet another union? It would be impossible to understand it, were we not well aware of the power which a fine pair of eyes exerts over a generous heart.
"You don't mean to say you've never heard of Bluebeard?" "I've heard of Bluebeard, of course," said she. "Who hasn't?" "I mean the opera Offenbach's." She shook her head, scarce knowing even what an opera was. "Well, well! What next?" He implied that such ignorance stood alone in his experience. Really he was delighted at the cleanness of the slate on which he had to write.
She was big with child, so she fled, but her husband pursued her and cut her throat. The weeping father commanded Saint Gildas to keep his promise, and the Saint resuscitated Triphine. "As you see, this legend comes much nearer than the history of our Bluebeard to the told tale arranged by the ingenious Perrault.
"I wish," said Sister Anne, sulkily, "that I had not been in such a hurry in summoning my brothers." "Ah!" screamed Mrs. Bluebeard, with a harrowing scream, "don't, don't recall that horrid, fatal day, miss! If you had not misled your brothers, my poor, dear, darling Bluebeard would still be in life, still still the soul's joy of his bereaved Fatima!"
He went about the town all day long tuning pianos, and all day long it seemed to him that everyone was looking at his feet and seeing his patched boots with heels worn down at the sides! Apart from his moral agonies he had to suffer physically also; the boots gave him a corn. In the evening he was at the theatre. There was a performance of Bluebeard.
In spite of Pierre's urgent insistence that the view was even more beautiful than the one from the hill, we refused to exchange our first experiences of the beauty of the prospect for a second which would be certain to invite criticism; for it is ever the critic in us that plays the part of Bluebeard to our many-wived illusions. We passed between the hedgerows with not even a sigh of regret.
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