Youth and the Bright Medusa | Page 2

stairs in the front hall, and
he would always be running into her as he came or went from his bath.
He would have to be more careful to see that Caesar didn't leave bones
about the hall, too; and she might object when he cooked steak and
onions on his gas burner.
As soon as the talking ceased and the women left, he forgot them. He
was absorbed in a study of paradise fish at the Aquarium, staring out at
people through the glass and green water of their tank. It was a highly
gratifying idea; the incommunicability of one stratum of animal life
with another,--though Hedger pretended it was only an experiment in
unusual lighting. When he heard trunks knocking against the sides of
the narrow hall, then he realized that she was moving in at once.
Toward noon, groans and deep gasps and the creaking of ropes, made
him aware that a piano was arriving. After the tramp of the movers died
away down the stairs, somebody touched off a few scales and chords on

the instrument, and then there was peace. Presently he heard her lock
her door and go down the hall humming something; going out to lunch,
probably. He stuck his brushes in a can of turpentine and put on his hat,
not stopping to wash his hands. Caesar was smelling along the crack
under the bolted doors; his bony tail stuck out hard as a hickory withe,
and the hair was standing up about his elegant collar.
Hedger encouraged him. "Come along, Caesar. You'll soon get used to
a new smell."
In the hall stood an enormous trunk, behind the ladder that led to the
roof, just opposite Hedger's door. The dog flew at it with a growl of
hurt amazement. They went down three flights of stairs and out into the
brilliant May afternoon.
Behind the Square, Hedger and his dog descended into a basement
oyster house where there were no tablecloths on the tables and no
handles on the coffee cups, and the floor was covered with sawdust,
and Caesar was always welcome,--not that he needed any such
precautionary flooring. All the carpets of Persia would have been safe
for him. Hedger ordered steak and onions absentmindedly, not realizing
why he had an apprehension that this dish might be less readily at hand
hereafter. While he ate, Caesar sat beside his chair, gravely disturbing
the sawdust with his tail.
After lunch Hedger strolled about the Square for the dog's health and
watched the stages pull out;--that was almost the very last summer of
the old horse stages on Fifth Avenue. The fountain had but lately begun
operations for the season and was throwing up a mist of rainbow water
which now and then blew south and sprayed a bunch of Italian babies
that were being supported on the outer rim by older, very little older,
brothers and sisters. Plump robins were hopping about on the soil; the
grass was newly cut and blindingly green. Looking up the Avenue
through the Arch, one could see the young poplars with their bright,
sticky leaves, and the Brevoort glistening in its spring coat of paint, and
shining horses and carriages,--occasionally an automobile, misshapen
and sullen, like an ugly threat in a stream of things that were bright and
beautiful and alive.

While Caesar and his master were standing by the fountain, a girl
approached them, crossing the Square. Hedger noticed her because she
wore a lavender cloth suit and carried in her arms a big bunch of fresh
lilacs. He saw that she was young and handsome,--beautiful, in fact,
with a splendid figure and good action. She, too, paused by the fountain
and looked back through the Arch up the Avenue. She smiled rather
patronizingly as she looked, and at the same time seemed delighted.
Her slowly curving upper lip and half-closed eyes seemed to say:
"You're gay, you're exciting, you are quite the right sort of thing; but
you're none too fine for me!"
In the moment she tarried, Caesar stealthily approached her and sniffed
at the hem of her lavender skirt, then, when she went south like an
arrow, he ran back to his master and lifted a face full of emotion and
alarm, his lower lip twitching under his sharp white teeth and his hazel
eyes pointed with a very definite discovery. He stood thus, motionless,
while Hedger watched the lavender girl go up the steps and through the
door of the house in which he lived.
"You're right, my boy, it's she! She might be worse looking, you
know."
When they mounted to the studio, the new lodger's door, at the back of
the hall, was a little ajar, and Hedger caught the warm perfume of lilacs
just brought in out of