Part 3 (1/2)
At any rate, there was a sniff of contempt imparted, as I have said, to the atmosphere I was breathing as Xanthippe answered my question, and the sniff saved me, just as it did in the London hotel, when I complained of the lordly lack of manners on the part of the head waiter.
I a.s.serted my independence.
”Don't trouble yourself,” I put in. ”Of course I shall be interested in anything you may choose to say, but as a gentleman I do not care to put a woman to any inconvenience and I do not press the question.”
And then I tried to crush her by adding, ”What a lovely day we have had,” as if any subject other than the most commonplace was not demanded by the situation.
”If you contemplate discussing the weather,” was the retort, ”I wish you would kindly seek out some one else with whom to do it. I am not one of your latter-day sit-out-on-the-stairs-while-the-others-dance girls. I am, as I have always been, an ardent admirer of principles, of great problems. For small talk I have no use.”
”Very well, madame--” I began.
”You asked me a moment ago why I laughed,” clicked the machine.
”I know it,” said I. ”But I withdraw the question. There is no great principle involved in a woman's laughter. I have known women who have laughed at a broken heart, as well as at jokes, which shows that there is no principle involved there; and as a problem, I have never cared enough about why women laugh to inquire deeply into it. If she'll just consent to laugh, I'm satisfied without inquiring into the causes thereof. Let us get down to an agreeable basis for yourself. What problem do you wish to discuss? Servants, baby-food, floor-polish, or the number of G.o.dets proper to the skirt of a well-dressed woman?”
I was regaining confidence in myself, and as I talked I ceased to fear her. Thought I to myself, ”This att.i.tude of supreme patronage is man's safest weapon against a woman. Keep cool, a.s.sume that there is no doubt of your superiority, and that she knows it. Appear to patronize her, and her own indignation will defeat her ends.” It is a good principle generally. Among mortal women I have never known it to fail, and when I find myself worsted in an argument with one of man's greatest blessings, I always fall back upon it and am saved the ignominy of defeat. But this time I counted without my antagonist.
”Will you repeat that list of problems?” she asked, coldly.
”Servants, baby-food, floor-polish, and G.o.dets,” I repeated, somewhat sheepishly, she took it so coolly.
”Very well,” said Xanthippe, with a note of amus.e.m.e.nt in her manipulation of the keys. ”If those are your subjects, let us discuss them. I am surprised to find an able-bodied man like yourself bothering with such problems, but I'll help you out of your difficulties if I can.
No needy man shall ever say that I ignored his cry for help. What do you want to know about baby-food?”
This turning of the tables nonplussed me, and I didn't really know what to say, and so wisely said nothing, and the machine grew sharp in its clicking.
”You men!” it cried. ”You don't know how fearfully shallow you are. I can see through you in a minute.”
”Well,” I said, modestly, ”I suppose you can.” Then calling my feeble wit to my rescue, I added, ”It's only natural, since I've made a spectacle of myself.”
”Not you!” cried Xanthippe. ”You haven't even made a monocle of yourself.”
And here we both laughed, and the ice was broken.
”What has become of Boswell?” I asked.
”He's been sent to the ovens for ten days for libelling Shakespeare and Adam and Noah and old Jonah,” replied Xanthippe. ”He printed an article alleged to have been written by Baron Munchausen, in which those four gentlemen were held up to ridicule and libelled grossly.”
”And Munchausen?” I cried.
”Oh, the Baron got out of it by confessing that he wrote the article,”
replied the lady. ”And as he swore to his confession the jury were convinced he was telling another one of his lies and acquitted him, so Boswell was sent up alone. That's why I am here. There isn't a man in all Hades that dared take charge of Boswell's paper--they're all so deadly afraid of the government, so I stepped in, and while Boswell is baking I'm attending to his editorial duties.”
”But you spoke contemptuously of the Sunday newspapers awhile ago, Mrs.
Socrates,” said I.
”I know that,” said Xanthippe, ”but I've fixed that. I get out the Sunday edition on Sat.u.r.days.”
”Oh--I see. And you like it?” I queried.