The Green Mouse

by Robert W. Chambers

  XIII

  THE CROWN PRINCE

  _Wherein the Green Mouse Squeaks_

  A few minutes later the paper hanging young man entered, swinging anempty dinner pail and halted in polite surprise before a flushed younggirl in full fencing costume, who sat on his operating table, feetcrossed, convulsively hugging a book to the scarlet heart embroidered onher plastron.

  "I--hope you don't mind my sitting here," she managed to say. "I wantedto watch the work."

  "By all means," he said pleasantly. "Let me get you a chair----"

  "No, thank you. I had rather sit th-this way. Please begin and don't mindif I watch you."

  The young man appeared to be perplexed.

  "I'm afraid," he ventured, "that I may require that table for cuttingand----"

  "Please--if you don't mind--begin to paste. I am in-intensely interestedin p-pasting--I like to w-watch p-paper p-pasted on a w-wall."

  Her small teeth chattered in spite of her; she strove to control hervoice--strove to collect her wits.

  He stood irresolute, rather astonished, too.

  "I'm sorry," he said, "but----"

  "_Please_ paste; won't you?" she asked.

  "Why, I've got to have that table to paste on----"

  "Then d-don't think of pasting. D-do anything else; cut out some strips.I am so interested in watching p-paper hangers cut out things--"

  "But I need the table for that, too----"

  "No, you don't. You can't be a--a very skillful w-workman if you've gotto use your table for everything----"

  "'I'm afraid', he ventured 'that I may require that tablefor cutting.'"]

  He laughed. "You are quite right; I'm not a skillful paper hanger."

  "Then," she said, "I am surprised that you came here to paper ourlibrary, and I think you had better go back to your shop and send acompetent man."

  He laughed again. The paper hanger's youthful face was curiouslyattractive when he laughed--and otherwise, more or less.

  He said: "I came to paper this library because Mr. Carr was in a hurry,and I was the only man in the shop. I didn't want to come. But they mademe.... I think they're rather afraid of Mr. Carr in the shop.... And thiswork _must_ be finished today."

  She did not know what to say; anything to keep him away from the tableuntil she could think clearly.

  "W-why didn't you want to come?" she asked, fighting for time. "You saidyou didn't want to come, didn't you?"

  "Because," he said, smiling, "I don't like to hang wall paper."

  "But if you are a paper hanger by trade----"

  "I suppose you think me a real paper hanger?"

  She was cautiously endeavoring to free one edge of her skirt; she noddedabsently, then subsided, crimsoning, as a faint tearing of cloth sounded.

  "Go on," she said hurriedly; "the story of your career is _so_interesting. You say you adore paper hanging----"

  "No, I don't," he returned, chagrined. "I say I hate it."

  "Why do you do it, then?"

  "Because my father thinks that every son of his who finishes collegeought to be disciplined by learning a trade before he enters aprofession. My oldest brother, De Courcy, learned to be a blacksmith; mynext brother, Algernon, ran a bakery; and since I left Harvard I've beenslapping sheets of paper on people's walls----"

  "Harvard?" she repeated, bewildered.

  "Yes; I was 1907."

  "_You!_"

  He looked down at his white overalls, smiling.

  "Does that astonish you, Miss Carr?--you are Miss Carr, I suppose----"

  "Sybilla--yes--we're--we're triplets," she stammered.

  "The beauti--the--the Carr triplets! And you are one of them?" heexclaimed, delighted.

  "Yes." Still bewildered, she sat there, looking at him. Howextraordinary! How strange to find a Harvard man pasting paper! Diremisgivings flashed up within her.

  "Who are you?" she asked tremulously. "Would you mind telling me yourname. It--it isn't--_George!_"

  He looked up in pleased surprise:

  "So you know who I am?"

  "N-no. But--it isn't George--is it?"

  "Why, yes----"

  "O-h!" she breathed. A sense of swimming faintness enveloped her: sheswayed; but an unmistakable ripping noise brought her suddenly toherself.

  "I am afraid you are tearing your skirt somehow," he said anxiously. "Letme----"

  "No!"

  The desperation of the negative approached violence, and he involuntarilystepped back.

  For a moment they faced one another; the flush died out on her cheeks.

  "If," she said, "your name actually is George, this--this is the most--the most terrible punishment--" She closed her eyes with her fingers asthough to shut out some monstrous vision.

  "What," asked the amazed young man, "has my name to do with----"

  Her hands dropped from her eyes; with horror she surveyed him, his paste-spattered overalls, his dingy white cap, his dinner pail.

  "I--I _won't_ marry you!" she stammered in white desperation. "I _won't!_If you're not a paper hanger you look like one! I don't care whetheryou're a Harvard man or not--whether you're playing at paper hanging ornot--whether your name is George or not--I won't marry you--I won't! I_won't!_"

  With the feeling that his senses were rapidly evaporating the young mansat down dizzily, and passed a paste-spattered but well-shaped handacross his eyes.

  Sybilla set her lips and looked at him.

  "I don't suppose," she said, "that you understand what I am talkingabout, but I've got to tell you at once; I can't stand this sort ofthing."

  "W-what sort of thing?" asked the young man, feebly.

  "Your being here in this house--with me----"

  "I'll be very glad to go----"

  "Wait! _That_ won't do any good! You'll come back!"

  "N-no, I won't----"

  "Yes, you will. Or I--I'll f-follow you----"

  "What?"

  "One or the other! We can't help it, I tell you. _You_ don't understand,but I do. And the moment I knew your name was George----"

  "What the deuce has that got to do with anything?" he demanded, turningred in spite of his amazement.

  "Waves!" she said passionately, "psychic waves! I--somehow--knew thathe'd be named George----"

  "Who'd be named George?"

  "_He!_ The--man... And if I ever--if you ever expect me to--to c-care fora man all over overalls----"

  "But I don't--Good Heavens!--I don't expect you to care for--foroveralls----"

  "Then why do you wear them?" she asked in tremulous indignation.

  The young man, galvanized, sprang from his chair and began running about,taking little, short, distracted steps. "Either," he said, "I need mentaltreatment immediately, or I'll wake up toward morning.... I--don't knowwhat you're trying to say to me. I came here to--to p-paste----"

  "That machine sent you!" she said. "The minute I got a spark youstarted----"

  "Do you think I'm a motor? Spark! Do you think I----"

  "Yes, I do. You couldn't help it; I know it was my own fault, and this--_this_ is the dreadful punishment--g-glued to a t-table top--with a mannamed George----"

  "What!!!"

  "Yes," she said passionately, "everything disobedient I have done hasbrought lightning retribution. I was forbidden to go into the laboratory;I disobeyed and--you came to hang wall paper! I--I took a b-book--which Ihad no business to take, and F-fate glues me to your horrid table andholds me fast till a man named George comes in...."

  Flushed, trembling, excited, she made a quick and dramatic gesture ofdespair; and a ripping sound rent the silence.

  "_Are you pasted to that table?_" faltered the young man, aghast.

  "Yes, I am. And it's utterly impossible for you to aid me in theslightest, except by pretending to ignore it."

  "But you--you can't remain there!"

  "I can't help remaining here," she said hotly, "until you go."

  "Then I'd better----"

  "No! You shall _n
ot_ go! I--I won't have you go away--disappear somewherein the city. Certainty is dreadful enough, but it's better than the awfulsuspense of knowing you are somewhere in the world, and are sure to comeback sometime----"

  "But I don't want to come back!" he exclaimed indignantly. "Why should Iwish to come back? Have I said--acted--done--looked--_Why_ should youimagine that I have the slightest interest in anything or in--in--anybodyin this house?"

  "Haven't you?"

  "No!... And I cannot ignore your--your amazing--and intenselyf-flattering fear that I have d-designs--that I desire--in other words,that I--er--have dared to cherish impossible aspirations in connectionwith a futile and absurd hope that one day you might possibly be inducedto listen to any tentative suggestion of mine concerning a matrimonialalliance----"

  He choked and turned a dull red.

  She reddened, too, but said calmly:

  "Thank you for putting it so nicely. But it is no use. Sooner or lateryou and I will be obliged to consider a situation too hopeless to admitof discussion."

  "What situation?"

  "Ours."

  "I can't see any situation--except your being glued--I _beg_ yourpardon!--but I must speak truthfully."

  "So must I. Our case is too desperate for anything but plain and terribletruths. And the truths are these: _I_ touched the forbidden machine andgot a spark; your name is George; _I'm_ glued here, unable to escape;_you_ are not rude enough to go when I ask you not to.... And now--here--in this room, you and I must face these facts and make up our minds....For I simply _must_ know what I am to expect; I can't endure--I couldn'tlive with this hanging over me----"

  "_What_ hanging over you?"

  He sprang to his feet, waving his dinner pail around in frantic circles:

  "What is it, in Heaven's name, that is hanging over you?"

  "Over _you_, too!"

  "Over me?"

  "Certainly. Over us both. We are headed straight for m-marriage."

  "T-to _each other?_"

  "Of course," she said faintly. "Do you think I'd care whom you are goingto marry if it wasn't I? Do you think I'd discuss my own maritalintentions with you if you did not happen to be vitally concerned?"

  "Do _you_ expect to marry _me?_" he gasped.

  "I--I don't _want_ to: but I've got to."

  He stood petrified for an instant, then with a wild look began to gatherup his tools.

  She watched him with the sickening certainty that if he got away shecould never survive the years of suspense until his inevitable return. Amad longing to get the worst over seized her. She knew the worst, knewwhat Fate held for her. And she desired to get it over--have the worsthappen--and be left to live out the shattered remains of her life insolitude and peace.

  "If--if we've got to marry," she began unsteadily, "why not g-get it overquickly--and then I don't mind if you go away."

  She was quite mad: that was certain. He hastily flung some brushes intohis tool kit, then straightened up and gazed at her with deep compassion.

  "Would you mind," she asked timidly, "getting somebody to come in andmarry us, and then the worst will be over, you see, and we need never,never see each other again."

  He muttered something soothing and began tying up some rolls of wallpaper.

  "Won't you do what I ask?" she said pitifully. "I-I am almost afraidthat--if you go away without marrying me I could not live and endurethe--the certainty of your return."

  He raised his head and surveyed her with deepest pity. Mad--quite mad!And so young--so exquisite... so perfectly charming in body! And the minddarkened forever.... How terrible! How strange, too; for in the pure-lidded eyes he seemed to see the soft light of reason not entirelyquenched.

  Their eyes encountered, lingered; and the beauty of her gaze seemed tostir him to the very wellspring of compassion.

  "Would it make you any happier to believe--to know," he added hastily,"that you and I were married?"

  "Y-yes, I think so."

  "Would you be quite happy to believe it?"

  "Yes--if you call that happiness."

  "And you would not be unhappy if I never returned?"

  "Oh, no, no! I--that would make me--comparatively--happy!"

  "To be married to me, and to know you would never again see me?"

  "Yes. Will you?"

  "Yes," he said soothingly. And yet a curious little throb of painflickered in his heart for a moment, that, mad as she undoubtedly was,she should be so happy to be rid of him forever.

  He came slowly across the room to the table on which she was sitting. Shedrew back instinctively, but an ominous ripping held her.

  "Are you going for a license and a--a clergyman?" she asked.

  "Oh, no," he said gently, "that is not necessary. All we have to do is totake each other's hands--so----"

  She shrank back.

  "You will have to let me take your hand," he explained.

  She hesitated, looked at him fearfully, then, crimson, laid her slimfingers in his.

  The contact sent a quiver straight through him; he squared his shouldersand looked at her.... Very, very far away it seemed as though he heardhis heart awaking heavily.

  What an uncanny situation! Strange--strange--his standing here to humorthe mad whim of this stricken maid--this wonderfully sweet youngstranger, looking out of eyes so lovely that he almost believed the deadintelligence behind them was quickening into life again.

  "What must we do to be married?" she whispered.

  "Say so; that is all," he answered gently. "Do you take me for yourhusband?"

  "Yes.... Do you t-take me for your--wife?"

  "Yes, dear----"

  "Don't say _that_!... Is it--over?"

  "All over," he said, forcing a gayety that rang hollow in the pathos ofthe mockery and farce.... But he smiled to be kind to her; and, to makethe poor, clouded mind a little happier still, he took her hand again andsaid very gently:

  "Will it surprise you to know that you are now a princess?"

  "A--_what?_" she asked sharply.

  "A princess." He smiled benignly on her, and, still beaming, struck a notungraceful attitude.

  "I," he said, "am the Crown Prince of Rumtifoo."

  She stared at him without a word; gradually he lost countenance; a vaguemisgiving stirred within him that he had rather overdone the thing.

  "Of course," he began cheerfully, "I am an exile in disguise--er--disinherited and all that, you know."

  She continued to stare at him.

  "Matters of state--er--revolution--and that sort of thing," he mumbled,eying her; "but I thought it might gratify you to know that I am PrinceGeorge of Rumtifoo----"

  "_What!_"

  The silence was deadly.

  "Do you know," she said deliberately, "that I believe you think I ammentally unsound. _Do_ you?"

  "I--you--" he began to stutter fearfully.

  "_Do_ you?"

  "W-well, either you or I----"

  "Nonsense! I _thought_ that marriage ceremony was a miserably inadequateaffair!... And I am hurt--grieved--amazed that you should do such a--acowardly----"

  "What!" he exclaimed, stung to the quick.

  "Yes, it is cowardly to deceive a woman."

  "I meant it kindly--supposing----"

  "That I am mentally unsound? Why do you suppose that?"

  "Because--Good Heavens--because in this century, and in this city, peoplewho never before saw one another don't begin to talk of marrying----"

  "I explained to you"--she was half crying now, and her voice brokedeliciously--"I told you what I'd done, didn't I?"

  "You said you had got a spark," he admitted, utterly bewildered by hertears. "Don't cry--please don't. Something is all wrong here--there issome terrible misunderstanding. If you will only explain it to me----"

  She dried her eyes mechanically: "Come here," she said. "I don't believeI did explain it clearly."

  And, very carefully, very minutely, she began to tell him about thepsychic waves, and the instrument
, and the new company formed to exploitit on a commercial basis.

  She told him what had happened that morning to her; how her disobediencehad cost her so much misery. She informed him about her father, and thatflorid and rotund gentleman's choleric character.

  "If you are here when I tell him I'm married," she said, "he willprobably frighten you to death; and that's one of the reasons why I wishto get it over and get you safely away before he returns. As for me, nowthat I know the worst, I want to get the worst over and--and live out mylife quietly somewhere.... So now you see why I am in such a hurry, don'tyou?"

  He nodded as though stunned, leaning there on the table, hands folded,head bent.

  "I am so very sorry--for you," she said. "I know how you must feel aboutit. But if we are obliged to marry some time had we not better get itover and then--never--see--one another----"

  He lifted his head, then stood upright.

  Her soft lips were mute, but the question still remained in her eyes.

  So, for a long while, they looked at each other; and the color under hischeekbones deepened, and the pink in her cheeks slowly became pinker.

  "Suppose," he said, under his breath, "that I--wish--to return--to you?"

  "_I_ do not wish it----"

  "Try."

  "Try to--to wish for----"

  "For my return. Try to wish that you also desire it. Will you?"

  "If you are going to--to talk that way--" she stammered.

  "Yes, I am."

  "Then--then----"

  "Is there any reason why I should not, if we are engaged?" he asked. "We_are_--engaged, are we not?"

  "Engaged?"

  "Yes. Are we?"

  "I--yes--if you call it----"

  "I do.... And we are to be--married?" He could scarcely now speak theword which but a few moments since he pronounced so easily; for a totallynew significance attached itself to every word he uttered.

  "Are we?" he repeated.

  "Yes."

  "Then--if I--if I find that I----"

  "Don't say it," she whispered. She had turned quite white.

  "Will you listen----"

  "No. It--it isn't true--it cannot be."

  "It is coming truer every moment.... It is very, very true--even now....It is almost true.... And now it has come true. Sybilla!"

  White, dismayed, she gazed at him, her hands instinctively closing herears. But she dropped them as he stepped forward.

  "I love you, Sybilla. I wish to marry you.... Will you try to care forme--a little----"

  "I couldn't--I can't even try----"

  "Dear----"

  He had her hands now; she twisted them free; he caught them again. Overtheir interlocked hands she bowed her head, breathless, cheeks aflame,seeking to cover her eyes.

  "Will you love me, Sybilla?"

  She struggled silently, desperately.

  "_Will_ you?"

  "No.... Let me go----"

  "Don't cry--please, dear--" His head, bowed beside hers over theirclasped hands, was more than she could endure; but her upflung face,seeking escape, encountered his. There was a deep, indrawn breath, a sob,and she lay, crying her heart out, in his arms.

  * * * * *

  "Darling!"

  "W-what?"

  It is curious how quickly one recognizes unfamiliar forms of address.

  "You won't cry any more, will you?" he whispered.

  "N-n-o," sighed Sybilla.

  "Because we _do_ love each other, don't we?"

  "Y-yes, George." Then, radiant, yet sweetly shamed, confident, yetfearful, she lifted her adorable head from his shoulder.

  "George," she said, "I am beginning to think that I'd like to get offthis table."

  "You poor darling!"

  "And," she continued, "if you will go home and change your overalls forsomething more conventional, you shall come and dine with us thisevening, and I will be waiting for you in the drawing-room.... And,George, although some of your troubles are now over----"

  "All of them, dearest!" he cried with enthusiasm.

  "No," she said tenderly, "you are yet to meet Pa-_pah_."