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Updated: June 26, 2025
Schuyler answered, lightly: "Well, you'd better take it to a doctor and have it diagnosed." He half turned. "It's only my natural nervousness at leaving Kathryn and Muriel and the importance of my mission. By the way," he asked, abruptly, "what was that crowd doing on the dock as I came up?" Blake, selecting a cigarette, lighted it. "Suicide," he said, curtly. Schuyler started.
For there had entered the room Kathryn, and Muriel. The horror of it all did not show in the eyes of the wife. She would not let it. The child, all gladness, ran to her father; she did not notice. "Daddy! Oh, daddy!" she called. Schuyler, a huddled heap by the desk, straightened, weakly. "You!" he cried, brokenly. Tears welled to his eyes.
I longed for some one to talk with, some one sympathetic to exclaim to; in fact, I wished I were driving up this magnificent, this appalling road, beside the Chauffeulier instead of in Prince Dalmar-Kalm's tonneau. I wondered that Aunt Kathryn usually so impulsive could restrain herself here, and expected at any moment to have her turn to me, our differences forgotten.
Thus it was that, returning from the library, Kathryn, Elinor and Blake came upon a red-faced and puffing butler engaged in giving a most realistic imitation of a bear, while a delighted little girl, clapping tiny hands in glee, adjured him to growl as bears growl, not as cows growl. It was another welcome little break in the tension.
Jack Schuyler and Tom Blake went to one; the daughter of Jimmy Blair and Kathryn Blair to another. And the baby brother that had turned out to be a sister, and who had been named Elinor, stayed at home with the widow of Jimmy Blair; and the widow of Jimmy Blair was now hardly as lonely as were the parents of Jack Schuyler and Tom Blake.
Aunt Kathryn and the Prince had left us twenty minutes before, to stroll up and down the deck, and had been leaning over the rail for some time, talking in low voices, but with great earnestness. As the Count answered me, they had moved and were coming slowly in our direction, Aunt Kathryn looking excited, as if the Prince had been saying something strange.
Kathryn telephoned to him, almost daily, to consult him about her many ills, real or imaginary, about every ill, in short, to which feminine flesh was heir, from nervous palpitations of the heart down, or up, to housemaid's knee. The doctor longed to give her a downright piece of his mind. Instead, he gave her unmedicated sugar pills and as courteous attention as he could pull together.
We hired three; and as there are only two absolutely delightful seats in a gondola, I was trembling lest the Prince should fall to my unlucky lot, when Aunt Kathryn called to him, "Oh, do sit with me, please. I want to ask about your friends who are coming to see us."
The boat was no nearer.... He kept on, doggedly.... He could feel that his strokes were getting weaker; his mouth was under water more than half the time; he had to raise up to breathe.... But he fought on.... He began to grow dizzy there was a ringing in his ears.... Suddenly he thought he saw, right before him, the face of Kathryn Blair. He knew that he did not; he thought he did; that was all.
But inwardly we felt like Torturers of the Inquisition, and I knew by Aunt Kathryn's breathing that she could hardly help exclaiming, "Oh, do pay the poor man whatever he asks for everything." "Will you give five hundred lire for the well-head?" Mr. Barrymore finally demanded, with a reminder of past warnings in his eye. "Yes," answered Aunt Kathryn languidly, her hands clenched under a lace boa.
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