"Well, madam, in that case it's about the fiftieth promise I've given to-day."
It was just as he heard these words, uttered by her companion in reply, that Count Otto checked himself, turned away and pretended to be looking for a cup of tea. It wasn't usual to disturb the President, even simply to shake hands, when he was sitting on a sofa with a lady, and the young secretary felt it in this case less possible than ever to break the rule, for the lady on the sofa was none other than Pandora Day. He had recognised her without her appearing to see him, and even with half an eye, as they said, had taken in that she was now a person to be reckoned with. She had an air of elation, of success; she shone, to intensity, in her rose-coloured dress; she was extracting promises from the ruler of fifty millions of people. What an odd place to meet her, her old shipmate thought, and how little one could tell, after all, in America, who people were! He didn't want to speak to her yet; he wanted to wait a little and learn more; but meanwhile there was something attractive in the fact that she was just behind him, a few yards off, that if he should turn he might see her again. It was she Mrs.
Bonnycastle had meant, it was she who was so much admired in New York. Her face was the same, yet he had made out in a moment that she was vaguely prettier; he had recognised the arch of her nose, which suggested a fine ambition. He took some tea, which he hadn't desired, in order not to go away. He remembered her entourage on the steamer; her father and mother, the silent senseless burghers, so little "of the world," her infant sister, so much of it, her humorous brother with his tall hat and his influence in the smoking-room. He remembered Mrs. Dangerfield's warnings--yet her perplexities too--and the letter from Mr. Bellamy, and the introduction to Mr. Lansing, and the way Pandora had stooped down on the dirty dock, laughing and talking, mistress of the situation, to open her trunk for the Customs. He was pretty sure she had paid no duties that day; this would naturally have been the purpose of Mr. Bellamy's letter. Was she still in correspondence with that gentleman, and had he got over the sickness interfering with their reunion? These images and these questions coursed through Count Otto's mind, and he saw it must be quite in Pandora's line to be mistress of the situation, for there was evidently nothing on the present occasion that could call itself her master. He drank his tea and as; he put down his cup heard the President, behind him, say: "Well, I guess my wife will wonder why I don't come home."
"Why didn't you bring her with you?" Pandora benevolently asked.
"Well, she doesn't go out much. Then she has got her sister staying with her--Mrs. Runkle, from Natchez. She's a good deal of an invalid, and my wife doesn't like to leave her."
"She must be a very kind woman"--and there was a high mature competence in the way the girl sounded the note of approval.
"Well, I guess she isn't spoiled--yet."
"I should like very much to come and see her," said Pandora.
"Do come round. Couldn't you come some night?" the great man responded.
"Well, I'll come some time. And I shall remind you of your promise."
"All right. There's nothing like keeping it up. Well," said the President, "I must bid good-bye to these bright folks."
Vogelstein heard him rise from the sofa with his companion; after which he gave the pair time to pass out of the room before him.
They did it with a certain impressive deliberation, people ****** way for the ruler of fifty millions and looking with a certain curiosity at the striking pink person at his side. When a little later he followed them across the hall, into one of the other rooms, he saw the host and hostess accompany the President to the door and two foreign ministers and a judge of the Supreme Court address themselves to Pandora Day. He resisted the impulse to join this circle: if he should speak to her at all he would somehow wish it to be in more privacy. She continued nevertheless to occupy him, and when Mrs. Bonnycastle came back from the hall he immediately approached her with an appeal. "I wish you'd tell me something more about that girl--that one opposite and in pink."
"The lovely Day--that's what they call her, I believe? I wanted you to talk with her."
"I find she is the one I've met. But she seems to be so different here. I can't make it out," said Count Otto.
There was something in his expression that again moved Mrs.
Bonnycastle to mirth. "How we do puzzle you Europeans! You look quite bewildered."
"I'm sorry I look so--I try to hide it. But of course we're very ******. Let me ask then a ****** earnest childlike question. Are her parents also in society?"
"Parents in society? D'ou tombez-vous? Did you ever hear of the parents of a triumphant girl in rose-colour, with a nose all her own, in society?"
"Is she then all alone?" he went on with a strain of melancholy in his voice.
Mrs. Bonnycastle launched at him all her laughter.
"You're too pathetic. Don't you know what she is? I supposed of course you knew."
"It's exactly what I'm asking you."
"Why she's the new type. It has only come up lately. They have had articles about it in the papers. That's the reason I told Mrs.
Steuben to bring her."
"The new type? WHAT new type, Mrs. Bonnycastle?" he returned pleadingly--so conscious was he that all types in America were new.
