"There is an American party."
Harris said:
"Yes - but name the state."
I named one state, Harris named another. We agreed upon
one thing, however - that the young girl with the party
was very beautiful, and very tastefully dressed.
But we disagreed as to her age. I said she was eighteen,
Harris said she was twenty. The dispute between us
waxed warm, and I finally said, with a pretense of being
in earnest:
"Well, there is one way to settle the matter - I will go
and ask her."
Harris said, sarcastically, "Certainly, that is the thing
to do. All you need to do is to use the common formula
over here: go and say, 'I'm an American!' Of course she
will be glad to see you."
Then he hinted that perhaps there was no great danger
of my venturing to speak to her.
I said, "I was only talking - I didn't intend to approach her,
but I see that you do not know what an intrepid person
I am. I am not afraid of any woman that walks.
I will go and speak to this young girl."
The thing I had in my mind was not difficult.
I meant to address her in the most respectful way and ask
her to pardon me if her strong resemblance to a former
acquaintance of mine was deceiving me; and when she should
reply that the name I mentioned was not the name she bore,
I meant to beg pardon again, most respectfully, and retire.
There would be no harm done. I walked to her table,
bowed to the gentleman, then turned to her and was about
to begin my little speech when she exclaimed:
"I KNEW I wasn't mistaken - I told John it was you!
John said it probably wasn't, but I knew I was right.
I said you would recognize me presently and come over;
and I'm glad you did, for I shouldn't have felt much flattered
if you had gone out of this room without recognizing me.
Sit down, sit down - how odd it is - you are the last person I
was ever expecting to see again."
This was a stupefying surprise. It took my wits
clear away, for an instant. However, we shook hands
cordially all around, and I sat down. But truly this
was the tightest place I ever was in. I seemed to vaguely
remember the girl's face, now, but I had no idea where I
had seen it before, or what named belonged with it.
I immediately tried to get up a diversion about Swiss scenery,
to keep her from launching into topics that might
betray that I did not know her, but it was of no use,
she went right along upon matters which interested her more:
"Oh dear, what a night that was, when the sea washed
the forward boats away - do you remember it?"
"Oh, DON'T I!" said I - but I didn't. I wished the sea
had washed the rudder and the smoke-stack and the captain
away - then I could have located this questioner.
"And don't you remember how frightened poor Mary was,
and how she cried?"
"Indeed I do!" said I. "Dear me, how it all comes back!"
I fervently wished it WOULD come back - but my memory was
a blank. The wise way would have been to frankly own up;
but I could not bring myself to do that, after the young
girl had praised me so for recognizing her; so I went on,
deeper and deeper into the mire, hoping for a chance clue
but never getting one. The Unrecognizable continued,
with vivacity:
"Do you know, George married Mary, after all?"
"Why, no! Did he?"
"Indeed he did. He said he did not believe she was half
as much to blame as her father was, and I thought he
was right. Didn't you?"
"Of course he was. It was a perfectly plain case.
I always said so."
"Why, no you didn't! - at least that summer."
"Oh, no, not that summer. No, you are perfectly right
about that. It was the following winter that I said it."
"Well, as it turned out, Mary was not in the least
to blame - it was all her father's fault - at least
his and old Darley's."
It was necessary to say something - so I said:
"I always regarded Darley as a troublesome old thing."
"So he was, but then they always had a great affection
for him, although he had so many eccentricities.
You remember that when the weather was the least cold,
he would try to come into the house."
I was rather afraid to proceed. Evidently Darley was not
a man - he must be some other kind of animal - possibly
a dog, maybe an elephant. However, tails are common
to all animals, so I ventured to say:
"And what a tail he had!"
"ONE! He had a thousand!"
This was bewildering. I did not quite know what to say,
so I only said:
"Yes, he WAS rather well fixed in the matter of tails."
"For a negro, and a crazy one at that, I should say he was,"
said she.
It was getting pretty sultry for me. I said to myself,
"Is it possible she is going to stop there, and wait for
me to speak? If she does, the conversation is blocked.
A negro with a thousand tails is a topic which a person
cannot talk upon fluently and instructively without more
or less preparation. As to diving rashly into such a
vast subject - "
But here, to my gratitude, she interrupted my thoughts
by saying:
"Yes, when it came to tales of his crazy woes, there was
simply no end to them if anybody would listen. His own
quarters were comfortable enough, but when the weather
was cold, the family were sure to have his company - nothing
could keep him out of the house.
