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Page 111

In the next room the dressmaker still slept, dreaming early
morning dreams of lazy apprentices, overdue bills, complaining
customers.

Harmony moved lightly not to disturb her. She set her room in
order, fed the pigeons,--it was then she saw the carrier with its
message,--made her morning coffee by setting the tiny pot inside
the stove. And all the time, moving quietly through her morning
routine, she was there in that upper room in body only.

In soul she was again in the courtyard back of the old lodge, in
the Street of Seven Stars, with the rabbits stirring in the
hutch, and Peter, with rapt eyes, gazing out over the city. Bed,
toilet-table, coffee-pot, Peter; pigeons, rolls, Peter; sunrise
over the church roof, and Peter again. Always Peter!

Monia Reiff was stirring in the next room. Harmony could hear
her, muttering and putting coal on the stove and calling to the
Hungarian maid for breakfast. Harmony dressed hastily. It was one
of her new duties to prepare the workroom for the day. The
luminous streak above the church was rose now, time for the day
to begin.

She was not certain at once that some one had knocked at the
door, so faint was the sound.

She hesitated, listened. The knob turned slightly. Harmony,
expecting Monia, called "Come in."

It was the little Georgiev, very apologetic, rather gray of face.
He stood in the doorway with his finger on his lips, one ear
toward the stairway. It was very silent. Monia was drinking her
coffee in bed, whither she had retired for warmth.

"Pardon!" said the Bulgarian in a whisper. "I listened until I
heard you moving about. Ah, Fraulein, that I must disturb you!"

"Something has happened!" exclaimed Harmony, thinking of Peter,
of course.

"Not yet. I fear it is about to happen. Fraulein, do me the honor
to open your window. My pigeon comes now to you to be fed, and I
fear--on the sill, Fraulein."

Harmony opened the window. The wild pigeons scattered at once,
but the carrier, flying out a foot or two, came back promptly and
set about its breakfast.

"Will he let me catch him?"

"Pardon, Fraulein, If I may enter--"

"Come in, of course."

Evidently the defection of the carrier had been serious. A
handful of grain on a wrong window-sill, and kingdoms overthrown!
Georgiev caught the pigeon and drew the message from the tube.
Even Harmony grasped the seriousness of the situation. The little
Bulgarian's face, from gray became livid; tiny beads of cold
sweat came out on his forehead.

"What have I done?" cried Harmony. "Oh, what have I done? If I
had known about the pigeon--"

Georgiev recovered himself.

"The Fraulein can do nothing wrong," he said. "It is a matter of
an hour's delay, that is all. It may not be too late."

Monia Reiff, from the next room, called loudly for more coffee.
The sulky Hungarian brought it without a glance in their
direction.

"Too late for what?"

"Fraulein, if I may trouble you--but glance from the window to
the street below. It is of an urgency, or I--Please, Fraulein!"

Harmony glanced down into the half-light of the street. Georgiev,
behind her, watched her, breathless, expectant. Harmony drew in
her head.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Mon 29th Dec 2025, 6:23

The Street of Seven Stars by Mary Roberts Rinehart