The King in Yellow Robert W. Chambers (good books to read for beginners .TXT) đ
- Author: Robert W. Chambers
Book online «The King in Yellow Robert W. Chambers (good books to read for beginners .TXT) đ». Author Robert W. Chambers
âRue BarrĂ©e,â began Clifford, drawing himself up, but he suddenly ceased, for there where the dappled sunlight glowed in spots of gold, along the sun-flecked path, tripped Rue BarrĂ©e. Her gown was spotless, and her big straw hat, tipped a little from the white forehead, threw a shadow across her eyes.
Elliott stood up and bowed. Clifford removed his head-covering with an air so plaintive, so appealing, so utterly humble that Rue Barrée smiled.
The smile was delicious and when Clifford, incapable of sustaining himself on his legs from sheer astonishment, toppled slightly, she smiled again in spite of herself. A few moments later she took a chair on the terrace and drawing a book from her music-roll, turned the pages, found the place, and then placing it open downwards in her lap, sighed a little, smiled a little, and looked out over the city. She had entirely forgotten Foxhall Clifford.
After a while she took up her book again, but instead of reading began to adjust a rose in her corsage. The rose was big and red. It glowed like fire there over her heart, and like fire it warmed her heart, now fluttering under the silken petals. Rue BarrĂ©e sighed again. She was very happy. The sky was so blue, the air so soft and perfumed, the sunshine so caressing, and her heart sang within her, sang to the rose in her breast. This is what it sang: âOut of the throng of passersby, out of the world of yesterday, out of the millions passing, one has turned aside to me.â
So her heart sang under his rose on her breast. Then two big mouse-coloured pigeons came whistling by and alighted on the terrace, where they bowed and strutted and bobbed and turned until Rue Barrée laughed in delight, and looking up beheld Clifford before her. His hat was in his hand and his face was wreathed in a series of appealing smiles which would have touched the heart of a Bengal tiger.
For an instant Rue BarrĂ©e frowned, then she looked curiously at Clifford, then when she saw the resemblance between his bows and the bobbing pigeons, in spite of herself, her lips parted in the most bewitching laugh. Was this Rue BarrĂ©e? So changed, so changed that she did not know herself; but oh! that song in her heart which drowned all else, which trembled on her lips, struggling for utterance, which rippled forth in a laugh at nothingâ âat a strutting pigeonâ âand Mr. Clifford.
âAnd you think, because I return the salute of the students in the Quarter, that you may be received in particular as a friend? I do not know you, Monsieur, but vanity is manâs other name;â âbe content, Monsieur Vanity, I shall be punctiliousâ âoh, most punctilious in returning your salute.â
âBut I begâ âI implore you to let me render you that homage which has so longâ ââ
âOh dear; I donât care for homage.â
âLet me only be permitted to speak to you now and thenâ âoccasionallyâ âvery occasionally.â
âAnd if you, why not another?â
âNot at allâ âI will be discretion itself.â
âDiscretionâ âwhy?â
Her eyes were very clear, and Clifford winced for a moment, but only for a moment. Then the devil of recklessness seizing him, he sat down and offered himself, soul and body, goods and chattels. And all the time he knew he was a fool and that infatuation is not love, and that each word he uttered bound him in honour from which there was no escape. And all the time Elliott was scowling down on the fountain plaza and savagely checking both bulldogs from their desire to rush to Cliffordâs rescueâ âfor even they felt there was something wrong, as Elliott stormed within himself and growled maledictions.
When Clifford finished, he finished in a glow of excitement, but Rue BarrĂ©eâs response was long in coming and his ardour cooled while the situation slowly assumed its just proportions. Then regret began to creep in, but he put that aside and broke out again in protestations. At the first word Rue BarrĂ©e checked him.
âI thank you,â she said, speaking very gravely. âNo man has ever before offered me marriage.â She turned and looked out over the city. After a while she spoke again. âYou offer me a great deal. I am alone, I have nothing, I am nothing.â She turned again and looked at Paris, brilliant, fair, in the sunshine of a perfect day. He followed her eyes.
âOh,â she murmured, âit is hardâ âhard to work alwaysâ âalways alone with never a friend you can have in honour, and the love that is offered means the streets, the boulevardâ âwhen passion is dead. I know itâ âwe know itâ âwe others who have nothingâ âhave no one, and who give ourselves, unquestioningâ âwhen we loveâ âyes, unquestioningâ âheart and soul, knowing the end.â
She touched the rose at her breast. For a moment she seemed to forget him, then quietlyâ ââI thank you, I am very grateful.â She opened the book and, plucking a petal from the rose, dropped it between the leaves. Then looking up she said gently, âI cannot accept.â
VIt took Clifford a month to entirely recover, although at the end of the first week he was pronounced convalescent by Elliott, who was an authority, and his convalescence was aided by the cordiality with which Rue BarrĂ©e acknowledged his solemn salutes. Forty times a day he blessed Rue BarrĂ©e for her refusal, and thanked his lucky stars, and at the same time, oh, wondrous heart of ours!â âhe suffered the tortures of the blighted.
Elliott was annoyed, partly by Cliffordâs reticence, partly by the unexplainable thaw in the frigidity of Rue BarrĂ©e. At their frequent encounters, when she, tripping along the Rue de Seine, with music-roll and big straw hat would pass Clifford and his familiars steering an
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