Part 4 (1/2)
Also I observed that flesh-mountains when exposed to heat do not stand up of their own consistency, but have a tendency to melt and flatten; it was necessary that this bulk should be supported, so there were three attendants, one securely braced under each armpit, and the third with a more precarious grip under the mountain's chin.
Every thirty seconds or so the heaving, sliding ma.s.s would emit one of those explosive groans: ”O-o-o-o-o-oh!” Then it would collapse, an avalanche would threaten to slide, and the living caryatids would shove and struggle.
Said Madame Planchet, in her stage-whisper: ”The serveece of the young G.o.d of beautee!” And my fancy took flight. I saw proud vestals tending sacred flames on temple-clad islands in blue Grecian seas; I saw acolytes waving censers, and grave, bearded priests walking in processions crowned with myrtle-wreaths. I wondered if ever since the world began, the young G.o.d of beautee looking down from his crystal throne had beheld a stranger ritual of adoration!
Silently we drew back from the door-way, and Madame closed the door, reducing the promethean groans and the strong ammoniacal odors. I did not see the face of Carpenter, because he had turned it from us.
Rosythe favored me with a smile, and whispered, ”Your friend doesn't care for beautee!” Then he added, ”What do you suppose he meant by that stuff about 'the price of life' and 'the choice of G.o.d?'”
”Didn't you really get it?” I asked.
”I'm d.a.m.ned if I did.”
”My dear fellow,” I said, ”you didn't tell us what sort of place this was; and Carpenter thought it must be a maternity-ward.”
The moving picture critic of the Western City ”Times” gave me one wild look; then from his throat there came a sound like the sudden bleat of a young sheep in pain. It caused Carpenter to start, and Madame Planchet to start, and for the first time since we entered the place, the birds of paradise gave signs of life elsewhere than in the eye-muscles. The sheep gave a second bleat, and then a third, and Rosythe, red in the face and apparently choking, turned and fled to the corridor.
Madame Planchet drew me apart and said: ”Meester Billee, tell me something. Ees eet true that thees gentleman ees a healer? He takes away the pains?”
”He did it for me,” I answered.
”He ees vairy handsome, eh, Meester Billee?”
”Yes, that is true.”
”I have an idea; eet ees a wondair.” She turned to my friend.
”Meester Carpentair, they tell me that you heal the pains. I think eet would be a vairy fine thing eef you would come to my parlor and attend the ladies while I give them the permanent wave, and while I skeen them, and make them the dimples and the sweet smiles. They suffer so, the poor dears, and eef you would seet and hold their hands, they would love eet, they would come every day for eet, and you would be famous, and you would be reech. You would meet--oh, such lovely ladies! The best people in the ceety come to my beauty parlors, and they would adore you, Meester Carpentair--what do you say to eet?”
It struck me as curious, as I looked back upon it; Madame Planchet so far had not heard the sound of Carpenter's voice. Now she forced him to speak, but she did not force him to look at her. His gaze went over her head, as if he were seeing a vision; he recited:
”Because the daughters of Zion are haughty, and walk with stretched forth necks and wanton eyes, walking and mincing as they go, and making a tinkling with their feet; therefore the Lord will smite with a scab the crown of the head of the daughters of Zion, and the Lord will discover their secret parts.”
”Oh, mon Dieu!” cried Madame Planchet.
”In that day the Lord will take away the bravery of their twinkling ornaments about their feet, and their cauls, and their round tires like the moon, the chains, and the bracelets, and the m.u.f.flers, the bonnets, and the ornaments of the legs, and the headbands, and the tablets, and the earrings, the rings and nose jewels, the changeable suits of apparel, and the mantles, and the wimples, and the crisping pins, the gla.s.ses, and the fine linen, and the hoods, and the veils.
And it shall come to pa.s.s that instead of sweet smell there shall be stink; and instead of a girdle a rent; and instead of well set hair, baldness; and instead of a stomacher a girding of sackcloth: and burning instead of beauty.”
And at that moment the door from the corridor was flung open, and Mary Magna came in.
XI
”My G.o.d, will you look who's here! Billy, wretched creature, I haven't laid eyes on you for two months! Do you have to desert me entirely, just because you've fallen in love with a society girl with the face of a j.a.panese doll-baby? What's the matter with me, that I lose my lovers faster than I get them? Edgerton Rosythe, come in here--you've got a good excuse, I admit--I'm almost as much scared of your wife as you are yourself. But still, I'd like a chance to get tired of some man first. h.e.l.lo, Planchet, how's my old grannie making out in your scalping-shop? Say, would you think it would take three days labor for half a dozen Sioux squaws to pull the skin off one old lady's back? And a week to tie up the corners of her mouth and give her a permanent smile! 'Why, grannie,' I said, 'good G.o.d, it would be cheaper to hire Charlie Chaplin to walk round in front of you all the rest of your life!' And--why, what's this?
For the love of Peter, somebody introduce me to this gentleman. Is he a friend of yours, Billy? Carpenter? Excuse me, Mr. Carpenter, but we picture people learn to talk about our faces and our styles, and it isn't every day I come on a million dollars walking round on two legs. Who does the gentleman work for?”
The storm of Mary Magna stopped long enough for her to stare from one to another of us. ”What? You mean n.o.body's got him? And you all standing round here, not signing any contracts? You, Edgerton--you haven't run to the telephone to call up Eternal City? Well, as it happens, T-S is going to be here in five minutes--his wife is being made beautiful once again somewhere in this scalping-shop. Take my advice, Mr. Carpenter, and don't sign today--the price will go up several hundred per week as long as you hold off.”
Mary stopped again; and this was most unusual, for as a general rule she never stopped until somebody or something stopped her. But she was fascinated by the spectacle of Carpenter. ”My good G.o.d! Where did he come from? Why, it seems like--I'm trying to think--yes, it's the very man! Listen, Billy; you may not believe it, but I was in a church a couple of weeks ago. I went to see Roxanna Riddle marry that grand duke fellow. It was in a big church over by the park--St. Bartholomew's, they call it. I sat looking at a stained gla.s.s window over the altar, and Billy, I swear I believe this Mr.