The Point of View | Page 7

told Stella at her door,
and recommended an hour's quiet reading up of the guide-book while
resting to her niece.
It was quarter after six before Miss Rawson descended the stairs to the
hall again. She had deliberately made up her mind--she would go and
drive with the count. She would live and amuse herself, if it was only
for this once in her life, come what might of it! And since he would be
presented with all respectable ceremony at the English Embassy the
following night, it could not matter a bit--and if it did--! Well, she did
not care!
He was sitting there as immovable as before, and she thrilled as she
crossed the hall. She was so excited and frightened that she could
almost have turned back when she reached the street, but there,
standing by the trees, was a large blue motor car, and as she advanced
the chauffeur stepped forward and opened the door, and she got in--and
before she had time to realize what she had done, Count Roumovski
had joined her and sat down by her side.
"You have no wrap," he said. "I thought you would not have, so I had
prepared this," and he indicated a man's gray Russian,
unremarkable-looking cloak, which, however, proved to be lined with
fine sable, "and here, also, is a veil. If you will please me by putting
them on, we can then have the auto open and no one will recognize
you--even should we meet your uncle and aunt; that is fun, is it not?"
Stella had thrown every consideration to the winds, except the
determination to enjoy herself. Years of rebellion at the boredom of her
existence seemed to be urging her on. So she meekly slipped into the
cloak, and wrapped the veil right over her hat, and they started. Her

heart was thumping so with excitement she could not have spoken for a
moment.
But as they went rapidly on through the crowded streets, her
companion's respectful silence reassured her. There seemed to be some
rapport between them, she was conscious of a feeling that he
understood her thoughts, and was not misjudging her.
"You are like a little frightened bird," he said presently. "And there is
nothing to cause you the least fear. We shall soon come to the lovely
gardens, and watch the lowering sun make its beautiful effects in the
trees, and we shall hear the nightingales throbbing out love songs--the
world is full of rest and peace-- when we have had enough passion and
strife and want its change-- but you do not know anything of it, and this
simple drive is causing you tumults and emotions--is it not so?"
"Yes," said Stella, with a feeling that she had burnt all her ships.
"It is because you have never been allowed to be YOU, I suppose," he
went on softly. "So doing a natural and simple thing seems
frightful--because it would seem so to the rigid aunt. Now, I have been
ME ever since I was born--I have done just what seemed best to me. Do
you suppose I am not aware that the way my hair is cut is a shock to
most civilized persons; and that you English would strongly disapprove
of my watch and my many other things. But I like them myself--it is no
trouble for one of my valets to draw a straight line with a pair of
scissors--and if I must look at the time, I prefer to look at something
beautiful. I am entirely uninfluenced by the thoughts or opinions of any
people--they do not exist for me except in so far as they interest me and
are instructive or amusing. I never permit myself to be bored for an
instant."
"How good that must be," Stella ventured to say--her courage was
returning.
"Civilized human beings turn existence into a prison," he went on,
meditatively, "and loaded themselves with shackles, because some
convention prevents their doing what would give them innocent

pleasure. If I had been under the dominion of these things we should
not now be enjoying this delightful drive--at least, it is delightful to
me--to be thus near you and alone out of doors."
Stella did not speak, she was altogether too full of emotion to trust
herself to words just yet. They had turned into the Corso by now, and,
as ever, it appeared as though it were a holiday, so thronged with
pedestrians was the whole thoroughfare. Count Roumovski seemed
quite unconcerned, but Miss Rawson shrank back into her corner, a
new fear in her heart.
"Do not be so nervous," her companion said gently. "I always calculate
the chances before I suggest another person's risking anything for me.
They are a million to one that anyone could recognize