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Page 87

Harmony went back to the Siebensternstrasse, having accomplished
what she had set out to do and being very wretched in
consequence. Because she was leaving the boy so soon she strove
to atone for her coming defection by making it a gala evening.
The child was very happy. She tucked him up in the salon, lighted
all the candles, served him the daintiest of suppers there. She
brought in the mice and tied tiny bows on their necks; she played
checkers with him while the supper dishes waited, and went down
to defeat in three hilarious games; and last of all she played to
him, joyous music at first, then slower, drowsier airs, until his
heavy head dropped on his shoulder and she gathered him up in
tender arms and carried him to bed.

It was dawn when Marie arrived. Harmony was sleeping soundly
when the bell rang. Her first thought was that Peter had come
back--but Peter carried a key. The bell rang again, and she
slipped on the old kimono and went to the door.

"Is it Peter?" she called, hand on knob.

"I come from Peter. I have a letter," in German.

"Who is it?"

"You do not know me--Marie Jedlicka. Please let me come in."

Bewildered, Harmony opened the door, and like a gray ghost Marie
slipped by her and into the hall.

There was a gaslight burning very low; Harmony turned it up and
faced her visitor. She recognized her at once--the girl Dr.
Stewart had been with in the coffee-house.

"Something has happened to Peter!"

"No. He is well. He sent this to the Fraulein Wells."

"I am the Fraulein Wells."

Marie held out the letter and staggered. Harmony put her in a
chair; she was bewildered, almost frightened. Crisis of some sort
was written on Marie's face. Harmony felt very young, very
incapable. The other girl refused coffee, would not even go into
the salon until Peter's letter had been read. She was a fugitive,
a criminal; the Austrian law is severe to those that harbor
criminals. Let Harmony read:--

DEAR HARRY,--Will you forgive me for this and spread the wings of
your splendid charity over this poor child? Perhaps I am doing
wrong in sending her to you, but just now it is all I can think
of. If she wants to talk let her talk. It will probably help her.
Also feed her, will you? And if she cannot sleep, give her one of
the blue powders I fixed for Jimmy. I'll be back later to-day if
I can make it.
"PETER"

Harmony glanced up from the letter. Marie sat drooping in her
chair. Her eyes were sunken in her head. She had recognized her
at once, but any surprise she may have felt at finding Harmony in
Peter's apartment was sunk in a general apathy, a compound of
nervous reaction and fatigue. During the long hours in the
express she had worn herself out with fright and remorse: there
was nothing left now but exhaustion.

Harmony was bewildered, but obedient. She went back to the cold
kitchen and lighted a fire. She made Marie as comfortable as she
could in the salon, and then went into her room to dress. There
she read the letter again, and wondered if Peter had gone through
life like this, picking up waifs and strays and shouldering their
burdens for them. Decidedly, life with Peter was full of
surprises.

She remembered, as she hurried into her clothes; the boys' club
back in America and the spelling-matches. Decidedly, also, Peter
was an occupation, a state of mind, a career. No musician, hoping
for a career of her own, could possibly marry Peter.

That was a curious morning in the old lodge of Maria Theresa,
while Stewart in the Pension Waldheim struggled back to
consciousness, while Peter sat beside him and figured on an old
envelope the problem of dividing among four enough money to
support one, while McLean ate his heart out in wretchedness in
his hotel.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Sat 27th Dec 2025, 2:13

The Street of Seven Stars by Mary Roberts Rinehart