XXIVTHE GODS INTERFERE

WHILE in the vicinity of Olympus it was, of course, quite natural for the gods to take an interest in Adele and Paul at this critical period in their affairs. They had heard of Adele as an Idyl—and assumed her to be an interesting, romantic and possibly poetic little creature, and in their old-time way of looking at things were far from imagining what a modern American Idyl might have become.

Mrs. Cultus in turn also had her own ideal. “Those Grecian gods,” said she, “are so frightfully anthro-popo—something, I forget the exact word, but it means meddlesome men. If I had my way we would leave this place at once. Who is Aphrodite, anyhow? I thought Venus was the most popular at Olympus. Oh, dear, my Greek is awfully rusty. I wish I had a copy of Took’s—good old Took’s Pantheon was full of such things.”

Now, unfortunately for Mrs. Cultus, her flippant words flew upwards. They were heard in Olympus by the great Aphrodite herself, ever one of the most influential of the Twelve Court Divinities. Hearing herself referred to in this trivial manner she determined to prove to this modern woman her potency, and that too by hastening events before madame and daughter could escape from her realm. The campaign opened at once.

Aphrodite whispered in Adele’s ear to be sure to make herself attractive to Paul, especially in personal appearance, for he was acutely sensitive to certain impressions just at that time.

Adele’s natural instincts would no doubt have taught herthat much, but as she was under the brow of Olympus it is better to call natural instincts and some other forces in nature by their proper names.

At any rate Adele was thus affected, using every natural womanly effort to make herself agreeable, and Paul responded with a keen sense of appreciation. If Adele expressed a desire to stroll on deck, Paul cleared the deck to give plenty of room; if she wished to rest after a promenade he hurried to bring two chairs, one in either hand; if she said the night was dark, he said “ebony;” and if she expressed admiration for the heavenly moonlight he was ready to agree they were together in a Paradise.

Things would have worked admirably if some of the deities other than Aphrodite and some busybodies who hang around Courts and courting in general had not further interfered. Juno the Jealous and Diana the Golf-player, both Roman divinities visiting Zeus and his consort Hera, conceived the idea that the course-links in the game Adele and Paul were playing were entirely too smooth for real life, and it was astonishing how many of the lesser dignitaries with their relations came to the same conclusion. Complications at once arose, since all were in the secret.

Juno promptly stirred up Boreas, whose special domain was a little farther round the coast in the Ægean Sea, inciting him to blow great guns which reverberated from shore to shore across the billows. This in turn ruffled up Neptune, and in consequence there was a tremendous commotion in the roadstead where the steamer lay. Neptune’s venerable locks shone like white-caps in all directions at once.

As to Adele, she admired the sea in commotion and Paul agreed it was “the most magnificent spectacle.” Adele thought she could stand the movement, in fact did at first, until the united efforts of Boreas and Neptune acting simultaneously produced a very peculiar motion of the vessel, and a diversity of feelings so complicated within herself that she naturallytook to her state-room on short notice. Paul at once pronounced the weather “beastly,” and the previous magnificence took flight on the wings of the wind.

Now, with all these divinities conspiring against her, Adele’s resemblance to her mother was certainly brought into prominence as never before, and all the romance of her nature seemed to vanish.

Adele in her state-room: “It is a physical impossibility to look well, much less be agreeable, when things are tossing about in this frightful way. Where’s my trunk?” and as she reached down to open it, the trunk slid across the room. Alas, too late! When she raised her head a new sensation.

“Oh, what’s that? Oh, dear, what a peculiar pain! Call the steward, somebody. Steward, steward!”

Enter steward. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m miserable, steward.”

“Yes, ma’am, take tea and toast and a little porridge.”

Adele, sharply: “Go for Miss Winchester at once, steward. Tell her I’m—I’m——”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Enter Miss Winchester. “Awful sorry you feel so upset, Adele. What can I do for you?”

“I never felt so collapsed in my life,” moaned the sufferer. “Now, tell me, Frank, shall I really die of this or not? Really, I couldn’t stand a joke!” Miss Winchester smiled when she perceived this universal symptom.

“No joke? Not even an antique in Greece, good yet? You know what Ulysses said when he passed this way: ‘You fear you will, then fear you won’t, and don’t’; that’s what he thought, I’m sure.”

“Frank Winchester, you’re positively heartless! You make me feel like throwing both you and Ulysses through that port-hole. Oh, dear, dear! How badly I do feel!”

Miss Winchester did what she could to quiet matters. “No, Adele, you certainly won’t die on purpose, not just yet.”

“Oh, Frank, what an awful thing to say, when you know it’s really so critical;” then musing as if of unutterable things, “what will Paul think of me?”

Now Paul, as luck would have it, was constitutionally opposed to seasickness even in the roughest weather; and as for Adele she had never before been so badly affected. “Owing to too much ‘Egyptian Delight’ and dates,” said Miss Winchester, feeling her pulse.

Paul thought the trouble would prove merely a trivial matter on Adele’s part. If he had suspected how miserable she really felt he would have acted differently, but being a veritable tease at times, he sent her, by Miss Winchester, the following verses from a newspaper clipping “for consolation.”

Frank proceeded to console Adele by reading these newspaper verses:

I“In the steamer, oh, my darling!When the fog horns shriek and blow,And the footsteps of the stewardsSoftly come and softly go;When the passengers are moaningWith a deep and heartfelt woe,Will you think of me and love meAs you did a week ago?II“In the cabin, oh, my darling!Think not bitterly of me,Tho’ I rushed away and left youIn the middle of our tea;I was seized with sudden longing,Wished to gaze upon the sea,It was best to leave you thus, dear,Best for you and best for me.”

“In the steamer, oh, my darling!When the fog horns shriek and blow,And the footsteps of the stewardsSoftly come and softly go;When the passengers are moaningWith a deep and heartfelt woe,Will you think of me and love meAs you did a week ago?

“In the steamer, oh, my darling!

When the fog horns shriek and blow,

And the footsteps of the stewards

Softly come and softly go;

When the passengers are moaning

With a deep and heartfelt woe,

Will you think of me and love me

As you did a week ago?

“In the cabin, oh, my darling!Think not bitterly of me,Tho’ I rushed away and left youIn the middle of our tea;I was seized with sudden longing,Wished to gaze upon the sea,It was best to leave you thus, dear,Best for you and best for me.”

“In the cabin, oh, my darling!

Think not bitterly of me,

Tho’ I rushed away and left you

In the middle of our tea;

I was seized with sudden longing,

Wished to gaze upon the sea,

It was best to leave you thus, dear,

Best for you and best for me.”

“In the gloaming,” said Frank, and finished with a deep sigh. Adele looked unutterable things. “Best keep Paul out of my presence—to send me such stuff, and just now, too!” The vessel gave an awful lurch, and a tumbler broke in falling. “Oh, Frank, I feel those terrible twists again! Is that awful propeller still at it?—it feels just that way.”

“It will soon untwist, dear—don’t mind; think of the consolation in those lovely verses.”

“I shall never speak to him again!” said Adele—“never!”

“Oh, yes, you will, and before the moon sets.” Miss Winchester was thinking of other lovers’ quarrels in her experience.

“Moon!” exclaimed Adele. “If this continues there’ll be no moon and I will be a lunatic. I have a thunder-gust headache.”

Frank bathed her temples with cologne.

“Oh, how delicious that is! It’s so kind of you, Frank. The Doctor would say your hand is sympathetic; I think it’s you, Frank. How much better I should feel if this ship would only keep still one minute, just one minute, half a minute, quarter of a——”

“That’s right, dear, go to sleep,” and Miss Winchester kissed her on the forehead as she slept.

And while she slept, one should remember the season when these events occurred—during the early autumn, the period when summer changes and a purer radiancy obtains in nature. The compensations of age in the year supplied the “unthought-of deficiencies of an ardent past.”

Luna, the Italian goddess, was also visiting Olympus at this time. She was behind a cloud during the pranks of Boreas and Neptune, but overheard the conversation between Adele and Miss Winchester, and her appeal to Adele that the lovers’ quarrel should be settled before she sank beneath the horizon touched her pride as a goddess. Luna was generally considered cold and purely philosophic and at times artisticin relation to lovers, but when in her march across the heavens her pride and power were touched or called in question, she could see very clearly and influence coming events with great force. In fact all the tides in mundane revolutions were affected by Luna.

Being a great personal friend of Aphrodite, the two goddesses put their heads together and approached Zeus. The very sight of two such exquisitely beautiful creatures of his own creation, embodying both philosophy and love in league towards one accomplishment, proved eminently effective. Their anthropomorphous paternal progenitor, as usual, listened to their request and granted it, his reason for so doing being markedly paternal in its character. In order to keep peace in the family while strangers were looking on, Zeus directed Neptune to cease his uproarious behavior, and sent Zephyr to take the place of Boreas. Zephyr, well known as the mildest and gentlest of the sylvan deities, was only too glad of the opportunity to take his family for an outing at the seaside. He and the little Zephyrs played with ripples on the waves like children enjoying themselves on the beach, while Mrs. Zephyr waved the tree branches to and fro when fanning herself in a hammock beneath. Thus, while Boreas scudded off with the heavy clouds from above, the Zephyr family wafted in gentle and delicious breezes below.

Luna looked down, smiling at intervals between clouds, at the result of her visit to Zeus, and her open countenance, often mistaken for that of a man, assumed the likeness of a cameo goddess.

While this went on Paul, on deck, was watching the heavens clearing after the storm, the breaking away of the clouds, the falling of the wind, the quieting of the sea. Through rifts in the sombre sky he caught glimpses of a silvery glow in the mysterious depths, the glow became a radiancy, and darker clouds hurried by in troops, their places taken by delicatedraperies, gauze-like, upon which the silvery light played in form of a halo.

This celestial scenery riveted Paul’s attention. As the last shadow-cloud passed away the gauze-like draperies also receded from view, as a veil withdrawn from before a beautiful face.

Luna of Italy—Queen of the Night—shone forth.

Paul, keenly susceptible and appreciative, became absorbed in admiration, but such his mood at this time that never before had he been so affected by the moon’s glory.

“Our harvest moon at home,” thought he, “the merrymaking moon for lads and lassies, so they say. I like it better for yachting; no, I don’t, either;—the cozy twosing moon when one feels like confiding after the day’s work is done. Yes, I feel just that way—in some one we love best: Yes, I think so, too. The moon which settles things before the winter comes on—the moon—the—confound it! that moon knows entirely too much! let me think for myself.” He imagined he heard a whisper putting his secret longings into words, and telling him he ought not to live alone—that is to say, not enjoying this moon alone—no! And off he started, as if something very urgent suggested itself.

It was Aphrodite who had whispered to him.

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