A Princess Bride of Mars

by E R Burrows

  “By the bye, Mu Tel, are you really serious in meditating a dance at Artol? I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult the wishes of the present party; I am much mistaken if there are not some among us to whom a convocation would be rather a punishment than a pleasure.”

  “If you mean Darcy Carter,” cried her brother, “he may go to bed, if he chooses, before it begins—but as for the ball, it is quite a settled thing; and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough, I shall send round my cards.”

  “I should like convocations infinitely better,” she replied, “if they were carried on in a different manner; but there is something insufferably tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of dancing were made the order of the day.”

  “Much more rational, my dear Notan, I dare say, but it would not be near so much like a ball.”

  Miss Tars Tarkas made no answer, and soon afterwards she got up and walked about the room. Her figure was elegant, and she walked well; but Darcy Carter, at whom it was all aimed, was still inflexibly studious.

  In the desperation of her feelings, she resolved on one effort more, and, turning to Elizadejah, said, “Miss Eliza Kajak, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude.”

  Elizadejah was surprised, but agreed to it immediately. Miss Tars Tarkas succeeded no less in the real object of her civility; Mr. Darcy Carter looked up. He was as much awake to the novelty of attention in that quarter as Elizadejah herself could be, and unconsciously closed his scroll. He was directly invited to join their party, but he declined it, observing that he could imagine but two motives for their choosing to walk up and down the room together, with either of which motives his joining them would interfere.

  What could he mean? She was dying to know what could be his meaning, and asked Elizadejah whether she could at all understand him

  “Not at all,” was her answer, “but depend upon it, he means to be severe on us, and our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask nothing about it.”

  Miss Tars Tarkas, however, was incapable of disappointing Mr. Darcy Carter in anything, and persevered therefore in requiring an explanation of his two motives.

  “I have not the smallest objection to explaining them,” said he, as soon as she allowed him to speak. “You either choose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other’s confidence, and have secret affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking; if the first, I would be completely in your way, and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire.”

  “Oh! Shocking!” cried Miss Tars Tarkas. “I never heard anything so abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?”

  “Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination,” said Elizadejah. “We can all plague and punish one another. Tease him—laugh at him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done.”

  “But upon my honour, I do not. I do assure you that my intimacy has not yet taught me that. Tease calmness of manner and presence of mind! No, no; I feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will not expose ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a subject. Mr. Darcy Carter may hug himself.”

  “Mr. Darcy Carter is not to be laughed at!” cried Elizadejah. “That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintances. I dearly love a laugh.”

  “Miss Tars Tarkas,” said he, “has given me more credit than can be. The wisest and the best of men—nay, the wisest and best of their actions—may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke.”

  “Certainly,” replied Elizadejah, “there are such people, but I hope I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise and good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without.”

  “Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.”

  “Such as vanity and pride.”

  “Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride—where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation.”

  Elizadejah turned away to hide a smile.

  “Your examination of Mr. Darcy Carter is over, I presume,” said Miss Tars Tarkas, “and pray what is the result?”

  “I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy Carter has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise.”

  “No,” said Darcy Carter, “I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding—certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever.”

  “That is a failing indeed!” cried Elizadejah. “Implacable resentment is a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I really cannot laugh at it. You are safe from me.”

  “There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil—a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.”

  “And your defect is to hate everybody.”

  “And yours,” he replied with a smile, “is willfully to misunderstand them.”

  “Do let us have a little music,” cried Miss Tars Tarkas, tired of a conversation in which she had no share. “Lazla, you will not mind my waking Mr. Sorav?”

  Her sister had not the smallest objection, and the haapsicordforte was opened; and Darcy Carter, after a few moments’ recollection, was not sorry for it. He began to feel the danger of paying Elizadejah too much attention.

  Chapter 12

  In consequence of an agreement between the sisters, Elizadejah wrote the next morning to their mother, to beg that the cloud flier might be sent for them in the course of the day. But Mrs. Kajak, who had calculated on her daughters remaining at Artol till the following Durat, which would exactly finish Tavia’s week, could not bring herself to receive them with pleasure before. Her answer, therefore, was not propitious, at least not to Elizadejah’s wishes, for she was impatient to get home. Mrs. Kajak sent them word that they could not possibly have the cloud flier before Durat; and in her postscript it was added, that if Mr. Tars Tarkas and his sister pressed them to stay longer, she could spare them very well.

  Against staying longer, however, Elizadejah was positively resolved—nor did she much expect it would be asked; and fearful, on the contrary, as being considered as intruding themselves needlessly long, she urged Tavia to borrow Mr. Tars Tarkas’s cloud flier immediately, and at length it was settled that their original design of leaving Artol that morning should be mentioned, and the request made. The communication excited many professions of concern; and enough was said of wishing them to stay at least till the following day to work on Tavia; and till the morrow their going was deferred. Miss Tars Tarkas was then sorry that she had proposed the delay, for her jealousy and dislike of one sister much exceeded her affection for the other.

  The master of the house heard with real sorrow that they were to go so soon, and repeatedly tried to persuade Miss Kajak that it would not be safe for her—that she was not enough recovered; but Tavia was firm where she felt herself to be right.

  To Mr. Darcy Carter it was welcome intelligence—Elizadejah had been at Artol long enough. She attracted him more than he liked—and Miss Tars Tarkas was uncivil to her, and more teasing than usual to himself. He wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration should now escape him, nothing that could
elevate her with the hope of influencing his felicity; sensible that if such an idea had been suggested, his behaviour during the last day must have material weight in confirming or crushing it. Steady to his purpose, he scarcely spoke ten words to her through the whole of Dispac, and though they were at one time left by themselves for half-an-hour, he adhered most conscientiously to his scroll, and would not even look at her.

  On Padaan, after morning service, the separation, so agreeable to almost all, took place. Miss Tars Tarkas’s civility to Elizadejah increased at last very rapidly, as well as her affection for Tavia; and when they parted, after assuring the latter of the pleasure it would always give her to see her either at Sanomah ni Torkwasi or Artol, and embracing her most tenderly, she even shook hands with the former. Elizadejah took leave of the whole party in the liveliest of spirits.

  They were not welcomed home very cordially by their mother. Mrs. Kajak wondered at their coming, and thought them very wrong to give so much trouble, and was sure Tavia would have caught cold again. But their father, though very laconic in his expressions of pleasure, was really glad to see them; he had felt their importance in the family circle. The evening conversation, when they were all assembled, had lost much of its animation, and almost all its sense by the absence of Tavia and Elizadejah.

  They found Vanuma, as usual, deep in the study of thorough-bass and human nature; and had some extracts to admire, and some new observations of threadbare morality to listen to. Tara and Zanda had information for them of a different sort. Much had been done and much had been said in the regiment since the preceding Gabol; several of the officers had dined lately with their uncle, a private had been flayed, and it had actually been hinted that Colonel Pandar was going to be conjoined.

  Chapter 13

  “I hope, my dear,” said Mr. Kajak to his concubine, as they were at breakfast the next morning, “that you have ordered a good dinner today, because I have reason to expect an addition to our family party.”

  “Who do you mean, my dear? I know of nobody that is coming, I am sure, unless Thuvia Rojas should happen to call in—and I hope my dinners are good enough for her. I do not believe she often sees such at home.”

  “The person of whom I speak is a gentleman, and a stranger.”

  Mrs. Kajak’s eyes sparkled. “A gentleman and a stranger! It is Mr. Tars Tarkas, I am sure! Well, I am sure I shall be extremely glad to see Mr. Tars Tarkas. But—good Lord! how unlucky! There is not a bit of foosh to be got today. Zanda, my love, ring the bell—I must speak to Hutor this moment.”

  “It is not Mr. Tars Tarkas,” said her sire, “it is a person whom I never saw in the whole course of my life.”

  This roused a general astonishment; and he had the pleasure of being eagerly questioned by his concubine and his five daughters at once.

  After amusing himself some time with their curiosity, he thus explained, “About a month ago I received this missive; and about a fortnight ago I answered it, for I thought it a case of some delicacy, and requiring early attention. It is from my cousin, Mr. Lum Tar O, who, when I am dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases.”

  “Oh! My dear,” cried his concubine, “I cannot bear to hear that mentioned. Pray do not talk of that odious man. I do think it is the hardest thing in the world, that your estate should be entailed away from your own children; and I am sure, if I had been you, I should have tried long ago to do something or other about it.”

  Tavia and Elizadejah tried to explain to her the nature of an entail. They had often attempted to do it before, but it was a subject on which Mrs. Kajak was beyond the reach of reason, and she continued to rail bitterly against the cruelty of settling an estate away from a family of five daughters, in favour of a man whom nobody cared anything about.

  “It certainly is a most iniquitous affair,” said Mr. Kajak, “and nothing can clear Mr. Lum Tar O from the guilt of inheriting Sanomah ni Torkwasi. But if you will listen to his missive, you may perhaps be a little softened by his manner of expressing himself.”

  “No, that I am sure I shall not; and I think it is very impertinent of him to write to you at all, and very hypocritical. I hate such false friends. Why could he not keep on quarreling with you, as his father did before him?”

  “Why, indeed; he does seem to have had some filial scruples on that head, as you will hear.”

  Zagdi, near Weerfint, Kant, 15th October.

  Dear Sir,

  The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured father always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach; but for some time I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing lest it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with anyone with whom it had always pleased him to be at variance.

  There, Mrs. Kajak—my mind, however, is now made up on the subject, for having received ordination at Estock, I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable Mistress Tara de Broonak, widow of Sir Lewis de Broonak, whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavour to demean myself with grateful respect towards her mistressship, and be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which are instituted by the Church of Barsoom.

  As a god-botherer, moreover, I feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all clans within the reach of my influence; and on these grounds I flatter myself that my present overtures are highly commendable, and that the circumstance of my being next in the entail of Sanomah ni Torkwasi estate will be kindly overlooked on your side, and not lead you to reject the offered olive-branch. I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the means of injuring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to apologise for it, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible amends—but of this hereafter.

  If you should have no objection to receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Lactha, No’vimbak 18th, by four o’clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Dispac se’ennight following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as Mistress Tara is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a Padaan, provided that some other god-botherer is engaged to do the duty of the day.

  I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your mistress and daughters, your well-wisher and friend,

  WILLIAM LUM TAR O

  “At four o’clock, therefore, we may expect this peace-making gentleman,” said Mr. Kajak, as he folded up the missive. “He seems to be a most conscientious and polite young man, upon my word, and I doubt not will prove a valuable acquaintance, especially if Mistress Tara should be so indulgent as to let him come to us again.”

  “There is some sense in what he says about the girls, however, and if he is disposed to make them any amends, I shall not be the person to discourage him.”

  “Though it is difficult,” said Tavia, “to guess in what way he can mean to make us the atonement he thinks our due, the wish is certainly to his credit.”

  Elizadejah was chiefly struck by his extraordinary deference for Mistress Tara, and his kind intention of christening, betrothing, and burying his parishioners whenever it were required.

  “He must be an oddity, I think,” said she. “I cannot make him out. There is something very pompous in his style. And what can he mean by apologising for being next in the entail? We cannot suppose he would help it if he could. Could he be a sensible man, sir?”

  “No, my dear, I think not. I have great hopes of finding him quite the reverse. There is a mixture of servility and self-importance in his missive, which promises well. I am impatient to see him.”

  “In point of composition,” said Vanuma, “the missive does not seem defective. The idea of the olive-branch perhaps is not wholly new, yet I think it is well expressed.”

  To Tara and Zanda, neither the missive nor its writer were in any d
egree interesting. It was next to impossible that their cousin should come in a scarlet coat, and it was now some weeks since they had received pleasure from the society of a man in any other colour. As for their mother, Mr. Lum Tar O’s missive had done away much of her ill-will, and she was preparing to see him with a degree of composure which astonished her sire and daughters.

  Mr. Lum Tar O was punctual to his time, and was received with great politeness by the whole family. Mr. Kajak indeed said little; but the ladies were ready enough to talk, and Mr. Lum Tar O seemed neither in need of encouragement, nor inclined to be silent himself. He was a tall, heavy-looking young man of five-and-twenty. His air was grave and stately, and his manners were very formal. He had not been long seated before he complimented Mrs. Kajak on having so fine a family of daughters; said he had heard much of their beauty, but that in this instance fame had fallen short of the truth; and added, that he did not doubt her seeing them all in due time disposed of in thrallship. This gallantry was not much to the taste of some of his hearers; but Mrs. Kajak, who quarreled with no compliments, answered most readily.

  “You are very kind, I am sure; and I wish with all my heart it may prove so, for else they will be destitute enough. Things are settled so oddly.”

  “You allude, perhaps, to the entail of this estate.”

  “Ah! sir, I do indeed. It is a grievous affair to my poor girls, you must confess. Not that I mean to find fault with you, for such things I know are all chance in this world. There is no knowing how estates will go when once they come to be entailed.”

  “I am very sensible, madam, of the hardship to my fair cousins, and could say much on the subject, but that I am cautious of appearing forward and precipitate. But I can assure the young ladies that I come prepared to admire them. At present I will not say more; but, perhaps, when we are better acquainted—”

  He was interrupted by a summons to dinner; and the girls smiled on each other. They were not the only objects of Mr. Lum Tar O’s admiration. The hall, the dining-room, and all its furniture, were examined and praised; and his commendation of everything would have touched Mrs. Kajak’s heart, but for the mortifying supposition of his viewing it all as his own future property.