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An Open…Eyed ConspiracyAn Idyl of Saratoga

by William Dean Howells







CHAPTER I



The day had been very hot under the tall trees which everywhere
embower and stifle Saratoga; for they shut out the air as well as
the sun; and after tea (they still have an early dinner at all the
hotels in Saratoga; and tea is the last meal of the day) I strolled
over to the pretty Congress Park; in the hope of getting a breath of
coolness there。  Mrs。 March preferred to take the chances on the
verandah of our pleasant little hotel; where I left her with the
other ladies; forty fanning like one; as they rocked to and fro
under the roof lifted to the third story by those lofty shafts
peculiar to the Saratoga architecture。  As far as coolness was
concerned; I thought she was wise after I reached the park; for I
found none of it there。  I tried first a chair in the arabesque
pavilion (I call it arabesque in despair; it might very well be
Swiss; it is charming; at all events); and studied to deceive myself
with the fresh…looking ebullition of the spring in the vast glass
bowls your goblets are served from (people say it is pumped; and
artificially aerated); but after a few moments this would not do;
and I went out to a bench; of the rows beside the gravelled walks。
It was no better there; but I fancied it would be better on the
little isle in the little lake; where the fountain was flinging a
sheaf of spray into the dull air。  This looked even cooler than the
bubbling spring in the glass vases; and it sounded vastly cooler。
There would be mosquitoes there; of course; I admitted in the debate
I had with myself before I decided to make experiment of the place;
and the event proved me right。  There were certainly some mosquitoes
in the Grecian temple (if it is not a Turkish kiosk; perhaps we had
better compromise; and call it a Grecian kiosk); which you reach by
a foot…bridge from the mainland; and there was a damp in the air
which might pass for coolness。  There were three or four people
standing vaguely about in the kiosk; but my idle mind fixed itself
upon a young French…Canadian mother of low degree; who sat; with her
small boy; on the verge of the pavement near the water。  She scolded
him in their parlance for having got himself so dirty; and then she
smacked his poor; filthy little hands; with a frown of superior
virtue; though I did not find her so very much cleaner herself。  I
cannot see children beaten without a heartache; and I continued to
suffer for this small wretch even after he had avenged himself by
eating a handful of peanut shells; which would be sure to disagree
with him and make his mother more trouble。  In fact; I experienced
no relief till his mother; having spent her insensate passion;
gathered him up with sufficient tenderness; and carried him away。
Then; for the first time; I noticed a girl sitting in a chair just
outside the kiosk; and showing a graceful young figure as she partly
turned to look after the departing mother and her child。  When she
turned again and glanced in my direction; at the noise I made in
placing my chair; I could see two thingsthat she had as much
beauty as grace; and that she was disappointed in me。  The latter
fact did not wound me; for I felt its profound impersonality。  I was
not wrong in myself; I was simply wrong in being an elderly man with
a grey beard instead of the handsome shape and phase of youth which
her own young beauty had a right to in my place。  I was not only not
wounded; but I was not sorry not to be that shape and phase of
youth; except as I hate to disappoint any one。

Her face was very beautiful; it was quite perfectly beautiful; and
of such classic mould that she might well have been the tutelary
goddess of that temple (if it was a temple; and not a kiosk); in the
white duck costume which the goddesses were wearing that summer。
Her features were Greek; but her looks were American; and she was
none the less a goddess; I decided; because of that air of something
exacting; of not quite satisfied; which made me more and more
willing to be elderly and grey…bearded。  I at least should not be
expected to supply the worship necessary to keep such a goddess in
good humour。

I do not know just how I can account for a strain of compassion
which mingled with this sense of irresponsibility in me; perhaps it
was my feeling of security that attuned me to pity; but certainly I
did not look at this young girl long without beginning to grieve for
her; and to weave about her a web of possibilities; which grew
closer and firmer in texture when she was joined by a couple who had
apparently not left her a great while before; and who spoke; without
otherwise saluting her; as they sat down on either side of her。  I
instantly interpreted her friends to be the young wife and middle…
aged husband of a second marriage; for they were evidently man and
wife; and he must have been nearly twice as old as she。  In person
he tended to the weight which expresses settled prosperity; and a
certain solidification of temperament and character; as to his face;
it was kind; and it was rather humorous; in spite of being a little
slow in the cast of mind it suggested。  He wore an iron…grey beard
on his cheeks and chin; but he had his strong upper lip clean
shaven; some drops of perspiration stood upon it; and upon his
forehead; which showed itself well up toward his crown under the
damp strings of his scanty hair。  He looked at the young goddess in
white duck with a sort of trouble in his friendly countenance; and
his wife (if it was his wife) seemed to share his concern; though
she smiled; while he let the corners of his straight mouth droop。
She was smaller than the young girl; and I thought almost as young;
and she had the air of being somehow responsible for her; and cowed
by her; though the word says rather more than I mean。  She was not
so well dressed; that is; not so stylishly; though doubtless her
costume was more expensive。  It seemed the inspiration of a village
dressmaker; and her husband's low…cut waistcoat; and his expanse of
plaited shirt…front; betrayed a provincial ideal which she would
never decrywhich she would perhaps never find different from the
most worldly。  He had probably; I swiftly imagined; been wearing
just that kind of clothes for twenty years; and telling his tailor
to make each new suit like the last; he had been buying for the same
period the same shape of Panama hat; regardless of the continually
changing type of straw hats on other heads。  I cannot say just why;
as he tilted his chair back on its hind…legs; I felt that he was
either the cashier of the village bank at home; or one of the
principal business men of the place。  Village people I was quite
resolute to have them all; but I left them free to have come from
some small manufacturing centre in western Massachusetts or southern
Vermont or central New York。  It was easy to see that they were not
in the habit of coming away from their place; wherever it was; and I
wondered whether they were finding their account in the present
excursion。

I myself think Saratoga one of the most delightful spectacles in the
world; and Mrs。 March is of the same mind about it。  We like all the
waters; and drink them without regard to their different properties;
but we rather prefer the Congress spring; because it is such a
pleasant place to listen to the Troy military band in the afternoon;
and the more or less vocal concert in the evening。  All the Saratoga
world comes and goes before us; as we sit there by day and by night;
and we find a perpetual interest in it。  We go and look at the deer
(a herd of two; I think) behind their wire netting in the southward
valley of the park; and we would feed the trout in their blue tank
if we did not see them suffering with surfeit; and hanging in
motionless misery amid the clear water under a cloud of bread
crumbs。  We are such devotees of the special attractions offered
from time to time that we do not miss a single balloon ascension or
pyrotechnic display。  In fact; it happened to me one summer that I
studied so earnestly and so closely the countenance of the lady who
went up (in trunk…hose); in order to make out just what were the
emotions of a lady who went up every afternoon in a balloon; that
when we met near the end of the season in Broadway I thought I must
have seen her somewhere in society; and took off my hat to her (she
was not at the moment in trunk…hose)。  We like going about to the
great hotels; and sponging on them for the music in the forenoon; we
like the gaudy shops of modes kept by artists whose addresses are
French and whose surnames are Irish; and the bazaars of the
Armenians and Japanese; whose rugs and bric…a…brac are not such
bargains as you would think。  We even go to the races sometimes; we
are not sure it is quite right; but as we do not bet; and are never
decided as to which horse has won; it is perhaps not so wrong as it
might be。

Somehow I could not predicate these simple joys of the people I have
been talking of; for the very reason; that they were themselves so
simple。  It was our sophistication which enabled us to taste
ple

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