Twelve Men | Page 8

know her by a green
silk scarf about her waist, for it was spring, the ideal season. Seven
o'clock was the hour. She could give him only a moment or two
then--but later--and she gave no address!
The letter was mailed in the West end, as was meet and proper, and in
due season arrived at the office. Peter, working at the next easel,
observed him, as he told me, out of the corner of his eye.
"You should have seen him, Dreiser," he exclaimed, hunting me up
about an hour after the letter arrived. "Oh, ho! Say, you know I believe
he thinks it's the real thing. It seemed to make him a little sick. He tried
to appear nonchalant, but a little later he got his hat and went out, over
to Deck's," a nearby saloon, "for a drink, for I followed him. He's all
fussed up. Wait'll we heave into view that night! I'm going to get
myself up like a joke, a hobo. I'll disgrace him. Oh, Lord, he'll be crazy!
He'll think we've ruined his life, scared her off. There's no address. He
can't do a thing. Oh, ho, ho, ho!"
On the appointed day--and it was a delicious afternoon and evening,
aflame with sun and in May--Dick left off his work at three p.m., as
Peter came and told me, and departed, and then we went to make our
toilets. At six we met, took a car and stepped down not more than a
short block from the point of meeting. I shall never forget the
sweetness of the air, the something of sadness in the thought of love,
even in this form. The sun was singing its evensong, as were the birds.
But Peter--blessings or curses upon him!--was arrayed as only he could
array himself when he wished to look absolutely disconcerting--more
like an unwashed, uncombed tramp who had been sleeping out for
weeks, than anything else. His hair was over his eyes and ears, his face
and hands dirty, his shoes ditto. He had even blackened one tooth
slightly. He had on a collarless shirt, and yet he was jaunty withal and
carried a cane, if you please, assuming, as he always could and in the

most aggravating way, to be totally unconscious of the figure he cut. At
one angle of his multiplex character the man must have been a born
actor.
We waited a block away, concealed by a few trees, and at the exact
hour Dick appeared, hopeful and eager no doubt, and walking and
looking almost all that he hoped--delicate, pale, artistic. The new straw
hat! The pale green "artists'" shirt! His black, wide-buckled belt! The
cane! The dark-brown low shoes! The boutonnière! He was plainly
ready for any fate, his great moment.
And then, before he could get the feeling that his admirer might not be
coming, we descended upon him in all our wretched nonchalance and
unworthiness--out of hell, as it were. We were most brisk, familiar,
affectionate. It was so fortunate to meet him so, so accidentally and
peradventure. The night was so fine. We were out for a stroll in the
park, to eat afterward. He must come along.
I saw him look at Peter in that hat and no collar, and wilt. It was too
much. Such a friend--such friends (for on Peter's advice I was looking
as ill as I might, an easy matter)! No, he couldn't come. He was waiting
for some friends. We must excuse him.
But Peter was not to be so easily shaken off. He launched into the most
brisk and serious conversation. He began his badger game by asking
about some work upon which Dick had been engaged before he left the
office, some order, how he was getting along with it, when it would be
done; and, when Dick evaded and then attempted to dismiss the subject,
took up another and began to expatiate on it, some work he himself was
doing, something that had developed in connection with it. He asked
inane questions, complimented Dick on his looks, began to tease him
about some girl. And poor Dick--his nervousness, his despair almost,
the sense of the waning of his opportunity! It was cruel. He was
becoming more and more restless, looking about more and more
wearily and anxiously and wishing to go or for us to go. He was
horribly unhappy. Finally, after ten or fifteen minutes had gone and
various girls had crossed the plaza in various directions, as well as
carriages and saddle-horses--each one carrying his heiress, no

doubt!--he seemed to summon all his courage and did his best to
dispose of us. "You two'll have to excuse me," he exclaimed almost
wildly. "I can't wait." Those golden moments! She could not approach!
"My people