The Bacillus of Beauty

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The Bacillus of Beauty, by Harriet Stark

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Title: The Bacillus of Beauty A Romance of To-day
Author: Harriet Stark
Release Date: October, 2005 [EBook #9081] [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on September 4, 2003]
Edition: 10
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BACILLUS OF BEAUTY ***

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BACILLUS
OF
BEAUTY
A Romance of To-day
BY
HARRIET STARK
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER
Book
I: The Broken Chrysalis:
I. THE METAMORPHOSIS II. THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IN THE WORLD III. THE HORNETS' NEST IV. THE GODDESS AND THE MOB V. A HIGH-CLASS CONCERT
Book II: The Birth of the Butterfly:
I. THE PSYCHOLOGICAL MOMENT II. A SUNDAY-SCHOOL LESSON III. THE QUEST OF KNOWLEDGE IV. GIRL BACHELOR AND BIOLOGIST V. THE FINDING OF THE BACILLUS VI. THE GREAT CHANGE VII. THE COMING OF THE LOVER
Book III: The Joy of the Sunshine:
I. CHRISTMAS II. A LOOKING OVER BY THE PACK III. SNARLING AT THE COUNCIL ROCK IV. IN THE INTERESTS OF MUSIC V. A PLAGUE OF REPORTERS VI. LOVE IS NOTHING VII. LOVE IS ALL VIII. A LITTLE BELATED EARL
BOOK IV: The Bruising of the Wings:
I. THE KISS THAT LIED II. THE IRONY OF LIFE III. THE SUDDENNESS OF DEATH IV. SOME REMARKS ABOUT CATS V. THE LOVE OF LORD STRATHAY VI. LITTLE BROWN PARTRIDGES VII. LETTERS AND SCIENCE VIII. A CHAPERON ON A CATTLE TRAIN IX. A BURST OF SUNLIGHT X. PLIGHTED TROTH
BOOK V: The End of the Beginning:
I. THE DEEDS OF THE FARM II. CADGE'S ASSIGNMENT III. "P.P.C."

BOOK I.
THE BROKEN CHRYSALIS.
(From the Shorthand Notes of John Burke.)
THE BACILLUS OF BEAUTY
CHAPTER I.
THE METAMORPHOSIS.
NEW YORK, Sunday, Dec. 16.
I am going to set down as calmly and fully as I can a plain statement of all that has happened since I came to New York.
I shall not trim details, nor soften the facts to humour my own amazement, nor try to explain the marvel that I do not pretend to understand.
I begin at the beginning--at the plunge into fairy tale and miracle that I made, after living twenty-five years of baldest prose, when I met Helen Winship here.
Why, I had dragged her to school on a sled when she was a child. I watched her grow up. For years I saw her nearly every day at the State University in the West that already seems so unreal, so far away, I loved her.
Man, I knew her face better than I knew my own! Yet when I met her here-- when I saw my promised wife, who had kissed me good-by only last June--I did not recognise her. I looked full into her great eyes and thought she was a stranger; hesitated even when she called my name. It's a miracle! Or a lie, or a wild dream; or I am going crazy. The thing will not be believed. And yet it's true.
This is my calmness! If I could but think it might be a tremendous blunder out of which I would sometime wake into verity! But there has been no mistake; I have not been dreaming unless I am dreaming now.
As distinctly as I see the ugly street below, I remember everything that has befallen me since my train pulled into Jersey City last Thursday morning. I remember as one does who is served by sharpened senses. Only once in a fellow's lifetime can he look upon New York for the first time-- and to me New York meant Helen. Everything was vividly impressed upon my mind.
I crossed the Cortlandt Street ferry and walked up Broadway, wondering what Helen would say if I called before breakfast. I could scarcely wait. I stopped in front of St. Paul's Church, gaping up at a twenty-six story building opposite; a monstrous shaft with a gouge out of its south side as if lightning had rived off a sliver. I went over to it and saw that I had come to Ann Street, where Barnum's museum used