The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 3, 1905, Page 1

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3 2 3 The Susday Call has secured 3 { - the merial rights of Alfred Henry & ? Lewis great movel of modern & $ politics, “The Prest@ent” and % 8 to-day gives Its readers the $ first installment of what is & conceded’ to be the best mmd 3 sirongest work of this bril- trenchant writer, already 3% ¥ w0 well known as the suthor of $ b4 %X “Woltville Days” and The R 3 Boss.” “Fhe President” will ;: appenr fm teekly imstaliments in The Sumday Call until com- pleted. e 000220002 CHAPTER L right, 1904, t nes & Co.) How Richard Began to belonging to A fortune had e effécts in picturéa and chinas and ers and laces and as you walked the sde no more noise than chard’s caprice to have e very lap of splendor, a3 & woman. ne beat a swirl and white W, wintér broke early hard turned an eye. of gray ndow. The downcome disquieted himi; there in _ his .blood, se, - that Even lils ne & Laplander. e tor ran -away to scenes of snow and wind-whipped wolds with drifts 5 hig These, if well drawn, he woul ok at, whilée he turned his back gs tropical ¢ which made him As Rich- came. back from the window ¢ the brown ‘eyes of Mr. wick :cone'dering him through a 'sil- fringy thicket of hair. Mr. Pick- was $aid 10 be royally descended; ver that might have been, pedigree -harbored somewhere both e dcormat and & mop. observed Richard Ratg!” to Mr." Pick- 4 @id not say this because it was t 46 show Mr. Pickwick that the ties which bound them were friendly. On sidé Mr. -Pickwick, albeit he stopd well aware how there was never a rat in the room, arouse vivaciously and went Ming and scuffiing behind curtains and gofas, and =il in & mood pro- dire. his réom b g exhaustively searched, Mr. Pickwick came an Richard, rvals oceeded -to dis- septs of rats, and s y of all such vermin deer. yig freed his mind on the important ats, “Mr. Pickwick returned to hion and curled up. A e Japanese valet,” brought in e breakfast—steak, potatoes, "eggs, rmralade and coffee. - The deft the tray on the mahogany s elbow. Richard did not like of personal attendants. Of Is within the walls of that meet only Mr. Matzal. This was as the wis- n, since neglect is born of ' was a personage— ) tall and slim and solemn and ¢ age. He was as wholly Eng- Pickwick was wholly Bkye, 4 an indomitable respectability aven face. Rumor had ynn was fabulously rich. se when Mr. Gwynn came d-the house just vacated 3 , late head of the Aus- trign @iplomatic corps. This leasing of stself half-established Mr. Gwynn in the Jocal bsteem; his belng English highest aid the rest, since in the capital of Amer- jca I is better socially to come from where rather than from home. In ad- tion to those advantages of Baron Trenk’s house and an English emanation, Mr. Gwynn made his advent indorsed to ‘ Washington _b«nlu by the Bank of gland; alse hé was recelved by the Eritish Embassador, on whom he made a call of respect the moment he set foot & in town. It became known that Mr. Gwynn wag coupled with his having taken a large house, the hope crept about that in the entertain. The latter self tenderly to the was ready to be re- e abode gaod cooks ynn, it should ly elected a member ropolitan ( —where he never likewise Richard—who was great deal. appetite, wherever was d not come to town until both d his house were estab- he did appear it was diffi- ic to fix him in his proper e was reserved and icily taciturn, did not blandly set his moderate h no friends and few acquaint- seemed to prefer his own so- at of whomsoever came about o was he? he? were his relations with Mr. Richard could be nelther son ' hew of that English gentleman. Richard was too obviously the American of full blood; his high cheek-bones, square and lean, curved nose told of two ries of Western lineage. Could: it at Richard was Mr. Gwynn's secre- This looked in no wise probable; he wenteabout too much at lordly ease for In the end, the notion obtained that rd must be a needy dependent of r. Gwynn, and his perfect clothes and the thoroughbred horse he rode were pointed to as evidences of that gentle- man’s generosity, Indeed, Mr. Gwynn was much profited in reputation thereby. Richard, while not known, was not liked, tered, and cold to all judgments except his own. This last makes no friends, but only enemies for him whose position is problematical. Richard’s pose of insolent indifference would have been beautiful in 2 gentleman who counted his fortune by millions; in a dollarless beggar who lived off alme it was detestable. Where- fore, the town, so far as Richard encoun- tered it, left our silent, supercilious one to himself, which neglect dovetalled with his humor and was the precise lonely thing he sought. This gave still further edge to the public’s disregard; no one likes you to accept with grace what is intended for punishment. Matzal carried away the breakfast tray, and Richard lighted a cigar. Matzal re- turned and stood mute inside the door, awalting new commands, Richard pointed through the cigar smoke to the clock— one of those soundless, curfous creatures of brass and glass and ivory which is wound but once In 400 days, and of which the hair-hung pendulum twists and turns and does not swing. “In an hour! . Eleven o'clock!” said Richard. At the risk of shaking him in general standing it should be called to your notice - that Richard preceded breakfast with no strong waters. Richard would drink noth- ing more generous than coffee, and, speaking in the sense limited, tobacco was his only vice. Perhaps he stuck to ci- gars to retain his hold on earth, and avold translation before his -our was ripe. i 5 It was no pale morality that got be- tween Richard and the wine cup. In an- other day at college he had emptied many. But early in his twenties, Richard dis- covered that he carried his drink uneasi- ly; it gave a2 Gothic cant to his spirit, which, under its warm spell, turned war- like. Once, having sat late at dinner— this was in that seminary town ia France where he attended school—he bestrode a certain jron lon, the same strange to him and guarding the portals of a public building. Being thus happily placed, he drew two huge American six-shooters, whereof his possession was wrapped in mystery even to himself, and blazed vac- uously, yet ferociously, at the moon. Spoken to by the constabulary who came filying to the spot, Richard replied with acrimony. < “If you interfere with me, remarked Richard on that explosive occasion, ad- dressing the French constables, “I'll buy your town and burn it TEs last with a splendid disdain of limitations that was congenital. . T Exploits similar to the above taught Richard the futility of alcoholic things, and thereupon he cultivated a Puritan'so- briety upon coffee and tobacco. P Richard cast the half-burned cigar into the fire. Stepping to the mantel, he took from it a small metal casket, builded to hold jewels. What should be tHose gems of price which the metal box protected? Richard did not strike one as the man to nurse a weakness for barbaric adornment. A bathrobe is not a costume calculated to teach one the wearer’s fineness, To say best, a bathrobe is but a savage thing. It is the garb most likely. to obscure and set backward even a Walpole or a Chester- ficld in any impression of gentility. In spite of this primitive regalia, however, Richard gave forth an idea of elevation, and as though his ancestors in their civ- ilization bad long ago climbed above a level where men put on gold to embellish their worth. What, then, did that casket of carved bronze contain? Richard took from itg veivet {nterior the He wore the alr of ons-self-cen~ - heel of & woman’s shoe and kissed it. It was a lttle kissable ‘neel, elegant in fashion; one could tell how it belonged aforetime to the footwear of a beautiful girl. Perhaps this thought was aided by the reverent preoccupation of Richard as he regarded it, for he set the boot heel on the table and hung over it in'a rapt way that had the outward features of idolatry. It was right that he should; the little heel spoke of Richard’s first strong passion. You will retrace the year to the 10th of June, Richard, after roving the East- o> ANV EVEFR JIORE ANV A LITTLE HOPE THAT TEARTUL GEI CATE GI’JHI?)HG-G g = ern ‘earth for a decade, had just returned to his own land, which he ‘hardly knew. Throughout those ten years of long idling from ‘one Buropean city to another, had Richard met the woman he might love, he would have lald slege to her, con- quered her, and brought her home as his wife. But his instinct was too tribal, too American. Whether it were Naples 'or Paris or Vienna or Bt. Petersburg or Ber- lin, thoge women whom he met might have pleased: him in.everything save wed- lock. In London, and for a moment, Richard saw a girl he looked at twice. But she straightway drank beer with the gusto of a bargeman, and the vision passed. It was the evening after his return, and 7€ Richard at the Waldorf sat amusing him~ self With those tides of vulgar humanity that ebb and flow in a stretch of garish corridor known as Peacock lane. Sure- 1y it was a hopeless place wherein to seek a wife, and Richard had_no such thought. But who shall ‘tell how and when and where his fate will overtake him? Who is.to know when, Satan—or a more benevolent spirit will be hiding be- hind the hedge to play good folk & mar- rlage trick? And Richard' had been warned. Once, in Calcutta, price one rupee, a necromancer after fullest read- ing of the signs informed him that whem. he met the woman who should’ make a wife to him she would come upon him suddenly. Wherefore, he should bhave \ N kept a brighter watch, expecting the un- expected. Richard’s gaze went following two rus- tical people—clearly bride and groom. In a cloudy way he loathed the groom, and was foggily wondering why. His sec- ond thought would have told him that ‘the male of his species—such is his sub- lime egotism—feels cheated with every wedding not his own, and, for an earll- est impulse on belolding a woman with another man, would tear her from that other one by force. Thus did his skin- clad ancestors when time was. However, Richard had but scanty space wherein either to_enjoy his blunt hatred of that bridegroom or, theorize as to its ‘roots. His ear caught a muffled scream, and. then down the wide staircase in front of him a winsome girl came tumbling. With a dexterity born of a-youth more or less replete of football, Richard sprang forward and caught the girl in lis arms. He caught and held her as though she Were feather-light: and that feat of a Ifi 1 fi %‘ ‘ il iy N brutal strength, even through her fright, worked upon the saved one, who, remem- bering her one hundred and thirty pounds, did not think herself down of thistles. 4 “Are you hurt?” asked Richard, still -holding her lightly close. Richard looked at' the girl; black halr, white skin, lashes of Ink, eyes of blue, rose-leat lips, teeth white as rice, a spot of red in her cheeks—the last the fruit of fright, no doubt. He had never seen aught so beautiful! Even while she was in his‘arms the face fitted Into his heart like a picture into its frame, and Richard thought on that prophet of Calicut. ‘*“Are'you injured?” he asked again. “Thanks to you—no,” said the girl. ‘With a kind of modest energy, she took herself out of his arms, for Richird had held her stoutly, and might have been holding her until now had she not come to ‘her own rescue. For all that, she had leisure to admire the steel-like grasp and the deep, even voice. Her own . S i '%“ & ; , ~words as she replied came In gasps. 4No,” she repeated, “I'm not lnjurfl- Help me to a seat.” 3 The beautiful rescued one limped, and Richard turned white “Your ankle!” he exclaimed. “No, my heel,” she retorted, with a little flutter of a laugh. “My French heel caught on the stalr; it was torn away. No wonder I lmp!™ Then came the girl's mother and called her “Dorothy.”™ Richard, who was mot without pres- ence of mind, climbed six steps and se- cretly made prize of the baby boot-heel. Perhaps you will think he did this on the argument by which an Indian takes a scalp. Whatever the argument, he placed the sweet trophy over that heart which held the picture of the girl; once there, the boot-heel showed bulgingly foolish through his coat.. Richard returned to the mother and daughter; the latter had regained her poise. He introduced himself: “My. Rich-

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