The Crocodile | Page 5

it. The floods of light let thus into the hall and dining room seemed to my mind, sophisticated only in dark things, a kind of orgy. But Virginia was the more cheered.
"Now a body can eat," she said. "Ham-hoe-cake-Sally Lunn, is that Sally Lunn? Oh, Richard! I have heard of these things and now ----" wherewith she assaulted the viands.
"Don't you have ham in Europe, Virginia?" I asked.
"Ham!" she cried. "No, Richard, we have quarters of pig cut in thick slices but meat like this was never grown on a pig. This," and she rapped the ham with her fork, and laughed to hear the solid thump, "was once part of an angel, a very fat angel."
"And you are a cannibal," I said. It was my first gallantry.
She gave me a grateful look.
"I had not hoped for it," she said. And for twenty minutes she ate like a hungry man and talked like a running brook.
"And now," she said, "for the house. First the library. Uncle Richard told me about all the death heads with dusty brows."
"Did he tell you about the crocodile?" I asked.
"Which crocodile?" said Virginia gravely.
"We have one only," I answered. "And I'm afraid it won't interest you very much. This is the library."
She was for having the shutters open.
"My father wouldn't like it," I said.
"This once," said she, and I served the whim.
"Yes," she said, after examination, "it is dreadful. Show me the crocodile, and then let's go."
But she was more interested in the scroll.
"It's Arabic," she said. "I can read it."
"You can read Arabic?"
"Indeed, yes. When Papa's lungs went bad we lived in Cairo. He died in Egypt, you know. Listen... It says: 'That man who holds me (it's the crocodile talking) in both hands, and cries thrice the name of Allah, shall see the face of his beloved though she were dead."
"That's not our version," I said. "We believe that the possession of that beast invites misfortune."
"But you don't read Arabic," said Virginia. "Quick, Richard, take this thing in your two hands and call 'Allah' three times aloud, because it's a long way to Egypt -- why, the man doesn't want to play?"
I had taken the crocodile in my hands, but balked, and I believe blushed, at the idea of raising my voice above the conversational pitch to further so absurd an experiment.
"Don't you want to see the face of your beloved?"
"I have none," said I.
"Then I'd cry 'Allah' till I had," said she. "Please -- only three times."
So I held the crocodile, looking very foolish, and called three times upon the prophet. Then I turned to Virginia and met her eyes. The same thought occurred to us both, for we looked away. It was then that my father entered.
"Richard," he said, "the shutters ----"
I made haste to close them, for I was blushing.
"This is Virginia!" said my father. "Welcome to our sad and lonely house. I thought just now that I heard some one calling aloud."
"It was Richard," said Virginia. "This scroll ----" and she translated to my father.
"Oh, for faith to believe," said he.
He took the crocodile in his hands and examined it with sad interest.
"I have just come from her tomb, Virginia," he said. "I have been laying jasmine about it."
"Oh, the dear jasmine!" cried Virginia. "It's splendidly out, and tomorrow I shall fill the house with it."
"The house ----" said my father hazily.
"Don't you like flowers, Uncle John?"
"I neither like nor dislike them," said my father.
"Then why, for heaven's sake ----" but she stopped herself. "And you, Richard, don't you like them?"
"I have grown to think of them," said I, "if at all, as something odorous and sad, vaguely connected with funerals."
"Oh, no!" cried Virginia. "They are beautiful and gay, and they are connected with weddings ----"
"Don't," said my father quickly. He was still holding the crocodile. "But I do not blame you, child. You will soon learn our ways. Since our great loss we have kept very quiet.... Ay, my dear, but you should have seen Richard's mother was she not bonny, Richard?"
I bowed.
"I could fain look upon her again," he said. "And the scroll -- does it not say 'even though she were dead?'... Who was it called 'Allah'?... You Richard?... And what face did you see?"
"Tell him," said Virginia.
"Ay, tell me," said my father.
"I saw Virginia's face," said I.
Then we left him. But in the hall Virginia laid her hand on my shoulder.
"Haven't you noticed?" said she.
"What?" said I.
"Your father," said she.
"No," said I. "What ails him?"
Virginia tapped her forehead.
"Mildewed here," said she.
"I don't understand," said I.
"Never mind then, Richard," said she. "I'll take care of you."
That night I dreamed that I heard my father calling the name of Allah. But in the morning I rose early, and, going to the woods, gathered an armful of jasmine