下载辰思小说免费APP
"Yes，Ido.There’sacollegeinNewYorkjustforwomen.AuntKihmsentmetheprospectus，andit’soneofthebestinthecountry.Idon’tdreamofpracticing，youknow;atleast，Idon’tthinkaboutthatnow.Butonemusthavesomeoccupation;andisn’tstudyingmedicine，Condy，betterthanpiano—playing，orFrenchcourses，orliteraryclassesandBrowningcircles？Oh，I’venopatiencewiththatkindofgirl！AndlookatthechanceIhavenow;andAuntKihmissuchadear！Think，shewrites，Icouldgotoandfromthecollegeinhercoupeeveryday，andIwouldseeNewYork;andjustbeinginabigcitylikethatisaneducation."
"You’reright，itwouldbeabigthingforyou，"assentedCondy，"andIliketheideaofyoustudyingsomething.Itwouldbethemakingofsuchagirlasyou，Blix."
AndthenBlix，seeinghimthusacquiescent，said：
"Well，it’sallsettled;PapumandIbothwrotelastnight."
"Whenareyougoing？"
"ThefirstweekinJanuary."
"Well，that’snotsoAWFULLYsoon.Butwhowilltakeyourplacehere？Howeverintheworldwouldyourfathergetalongwithoutyou——andSnookyandHoward？"
"AuntDoddisgoingtocome."
"Suddenenough，"saidCondy，"butitISagreatthingforyou，Blix，andI’mmightygladforyou.Yourfutureisallcutoutforyounow.Ofcourseyouraunt，ifshe’ssofondofyouandhasn’tanychildren，willleaveyoueverything——maybesettlesomethingonyourightaway;andyou’llmarrysomeoneofthoseNewYorkchaps，andbegreatbigpeoplebeforeyouknowit."
"Theidea，Condy！"sheprotested."No;I’mgoingtheretostudymedicine.Oh，youdon’tknowhowenthusiasticIamovertheidea！
I’veboughtsomeofthefirst—yearbooksalready，andhavebeenreadingthem.Really，Condy，theyareevenbetterthan’ManyInventions.’"
"WishIcouldgetEast，"mutteredCondygloomily.Blixforgotherowngoodfortuneupontheinstant.
"IdosowishyouCOULD，Condy！"sheexclaimed."YouaretoogoodforaSundaysupplement.IknowitandYOUknowit，andI’veheardeversomanypeoplewhohavereadyourstoriessaythesamething.
Youcouldspendtwentyyearsworkingasyouarenow，andattheendwhatwouldyoube？JustanassistanteditorofaSundaysupplement，andstillinthesameplace;andworse，you’dcometobecontentedwiththat，andthinkyouwereonlygoodforthatandnothingbetter.You’vegotitinyou，Condy，tobeagreatstory—
teller.Ibelieveinyou，andI’veeveryconfidenceinyou.Butjustsolongasyoustayhereandarewillingtodohackwork，justsolongyouwillbeahackwriter.Youmustbreakfromit;
youMUSTgetaway.Iknowyouhaveagoodtimehere;buttherearesomanythingsbetterthanthatandmoreworthwhile.YououghttomakeupyourmindtogetEast，andworkforthatandnothingelse.Iknowyouwanttogo，butwantingisn’tenough.
Enthusiasmwithoutenergyisn’tenough.Youhaveenthusiasm，Condy;butyouMUSThaveenergy.Youmustbewillingtogiveupthings;youmustmakeupyourmindthatyouwillgoEast，andthensetyourteethtogetheranddoit.Oh，ILOVEamanthatcandothat——makeuphismindtoathingandthenputitthrough！"
Condywatchedherasshetalked，herbrown—blackeyescoruscating，hercheeksglowing，hersmallhandscurledintoroundpinkfists.
"Blix，you’resplendid！"heexclaimed;"you’refine！Youcouldputlifeintoadeadman.You’rethekindofgirlthatarethemakingofmen.ByJove，you’dbackamanup，wouldn’tyou？You’dstandbyhimtillthelastditch.Ofcourse，"hewentonafterapause——
"ofcourseIoughttogotoNewYork.But，Blix，supposeIwent——
well，thenwhat？Itisn’tasthoughIhadanyincomeofmyown，orrichaunt.SupposeIdidn’tfindsomethingtodo——andthechancesarethatIwouldn’tforthreeorfourmonths——whatwouldI
liveoninthemeanwhile？’Whatwouldtherobindothen，poorthing？’I’mapooryoungman，MissBessemer，andI’vegottoeat.
No;myonlychanceis’tobediscovered’byamagazineorapublishinghouseorsomebody，andgetabidofsomekind."
"Well，thereistheCentennialCompany.Theyhavetakenaninterestinyou，Condy.Youmustfollowthatrightupandkeepyournamebeforethemallthetime.Haveyousentthem’AVictoryOverDeath’yet？"
Condysatdowntohiseggsandcoffeethenextmorninginthehotel，harriedwithacertainsenseofdepressionanddisappointmentforwhichhecouldassignnocause.Nothingseemedtointeresthim.Thenewspaperwasdull.Hecouldlookforwardtonopleasureinhisday’swork;andwhatwasthematterwiththesunthatmorning？Ashewalkeddowntotheofficehenotednocloudinthesky，butthebrightnesswasgonefromtheday.Hesatdowntohisdeskandattackedhiswork，but"copy"wouldnotcome.Thesportingeditorandhisinanejokesharassedhimbeyondexpression.Justthesightoftheclippingeditor’sbackwasanirritation.Theofficeboywasamereincentivetoprofanity.
TherewasnospringinCondythatmorning，noelasticity，noneofhisnaturalbuoyancy.Asthedayworeon，hisennuiincreased;
hisluncheonattheclubwastasteless，tobaccohadlostitscharm.Heorderedacocktailinthewine—room，andputitasidewithawryface.
Theafternoonwasonelongtedium.Ateveryhourheflunghispencildown，utterlyunabletoformulatethenextsentenceofhisarticle，and，hishandsinhispockets，gazedgloomilyoutofthewindowoverthewildernessofroofs——grimy，dirty，uglyroofsthatspreadoutbelow.Hecraveddiversion，amusement，excitement.
Somethingtherewasthathewantedwithallhisheartandsoul;
yethewasquiteunabletosaywhatitwas.Somethingwasgonefromhimto—daythathehadpossessedyesterday，andheknewhewouldnotregainitonthemorrow，northenextday，northedayafterthat.Whatwasit？Hecouldnotsay.Forhalfanhourheimaginedhewasgoingtobesick.Hismotherwasnottobeathomethatevening，andCondydinedathisclubinthehopesoffindingsomeonewithwhomhecouldgotothetheatrelateronintheevening.Sargeantjoinedhimoverhiscoffeeandcigarette，butdeclinedtogowithhimtothetheatre.
"Anothergameonto—night？"askedCondy.
"Isupposeso，"admittedtheother.
"IguessI’lljoinyouto—night，"saidCondy."I’vehadthebluedevilssincemorning，andI’vegottohavesomethingtodrivethemoff."
"Don’tletmeurgeyou，youknow，"returnedSargeant.
"Oh，that’sallright！"Condyassuredhim."Mytime’saboutup，anyways."
Anhourlater，justashe，Sargeant，andtheothermenoftheir"set"wereintheactofgoingupstairstothecard—rooms，ahall—
boygaveCondyanote，atthatmomentbroughtbyamessenger，whowaswaitingforananswer.ItwasfromBlix.Shewrote：
"Don’tyouwanttocomeupandplaycardswithmeto—night？Wehaven’thadagameinoveraweek？"
"Howdidsheknow？"thoughtCondytohimself——"howcouldshetell？"Aloud，hesaid：
"Ican’tjoinyoufellows，afterall.’Despatchfromthemanagingeditor.’Somespecialdetailorother."
ForthefirsttimesincethepreviouseveningCondyfelthisspiritsriseashesetofftowardtheWashingtonStreethill.ButthoughheandBlixspentasmerryaneveningastheyrememberedinalongtime，hisnameless，formlessirritationreturneduponhimalmostassoonashehadbiddenhergood—night.Itstayedwithhimallthroughtheweek，andtolduponhiswork.Asaresult，threeofhisarticleswerethrownoutbytheeditor.
"Wecan’trunsuchrotasthatinthepaper，"thechiefhadsaid.
"Can’tyougiveusastory？"
"Oh，I’vegotakindofayarnyoucanrunifyoulike，"answeredCondy，hisweek’sdepressionatitsverylowest.
"AVictoryOverDeath"waspublishedinthefollowingSunday’ssupplementofthe"Times，"withillustrationsbyoneofthestaffartists.Itattractednottheleastattention.
JustbeforehewenttobedtheSundayeveningofitsappearance，Condyreaditoveragainforthelasttime.
"It’sarottenfailure，"hemutteredgloomilyashecastthepaperfromhim."Simpledrivel.IwonderwhatBlixwillthinkofit.
IwonderifIamounttoahillofbeans.IwonderWHATshewantstogoEastfor，anyway."
ChapterIX
Theold—fashionedUnionStreetcablecar，withitslow，comfortableoutsideseats，putBlixandCondydownjustinsidethePresidioGovernmentReservation.CondyaskedadirectionofasentrynursinghisKrag—Jorgensenattheterminusofthetrack，andthenwithBlixsetoffdownthelongboardwalkthroughthetunnelofoverhangingevergreens.
Thedaycouldnothavebeenmoredesirable.ItwasalittleaftertenofaMondaymorning，Condy’sweeklyholiday.Theairwasneithercoolnorwarm，effervescentmerely，briskandfullofthesmellofgrassandofthesea.Theskywasaspecklesssheenofpaleblue.Totheirright，andnotfaroff，wasthebay，blueasindigo.Alcatrazseemedcloseathand;beyondwastheenormousgreen，red，andpurplepyramidofTamalpaisclimbingoutofthewater，headandshouldersabovethelittlefoothills，andlookingouttotheseaandtothewest.
TheReservationitselfwasdelightful.Therewererowsoftheofficers’houses，allalike，drawnupinlineslikeanassemblyofthestaff;therewerehugebarracks，mostlikecollegedormitories;andontheirporchesenlistedmeninshirtsleevesandoverallswerecleaningsaddles，andpolishingthebrassofhead—stallsandbridles，whistlingthewhileorsmokingcorn—cobpipes.Hereontheparade—groundasoldier，hiscoatandvestremoved，wasbattinggroundersandfliestoahalf—dozenofhisfellows.Overbythestables，stringsofhorses，allofthesamecolor，werebeingcurriedandcleaned.Ayounglieutenantuponabicyclespunsilentlypast.Anofficercamefromhisfrontgate，hiscoatunbuttonedandabriarinhisteeth.Thewalksandroadswereflankedwithlinesofblack—paintedcannon—balls;invertedpiecesofabandonedordnancestoodatcorners.Fromadistancecamethemellowsnarlingofabugle.
BlixandCondyhadplannedalongwalkforthatday.TheyweretogooutthroughthePresidioReservation，pastthebarracksandofficers’quarters，andontotheoldfortattheGoldenGate.
Heretheywouldturnandfollowtheshore—lineforaway，thenstrikeinlandacrossthehillsforashorthalf—mile，andregainthecityandthestreet—carlinesbywayofthegolf—links.Condyhadinsisteduponwearinghisbicycleoutfitfortheoccasion，and，moreover，carriedalittlesatchel，which，hesaid，containedapairofshoes.
ButBlixwasassweetasarosethatmorning，allintailor—madeblackbutfortheinevitablebandsofwhitesatinwrappedhighandtightaboutherneck.TheSt.Bernarddog—collardiddutyasabelt.Shehaddisdainedaveil，andheryellowhairwasalreadyblowingabouthersmoothpinkcheeks.Shewalkedathisside，herstepasfirmandsolidashisown，herround，strongarmsswinging，herlittlebrowneyesshiningwithgoodspiritsandvigor，andthepure，cleananimaljoyofbeingaliveonthatfinecoolWesternmorning.Shetalkedalmostincessantly.Shewaspositivelygarrulous.Shetalkedaboutthefinedaythatitwas，aboutthequeernewforagecapsofthesoldiers，aboutthebaregreenhillsoftheReservation，aboutthelittlecemeterytheypassedjustbeyondthelimitsofthebarracks，aboutarabbitshesaw，andaboutthequailtheybothheardwhistlingandcallinginthehollowsunderthebushes.
Condywalkedathersideinsilence，yetnolesshappythanshe，smokinghispipeandcastingoccasionalglancesatagreatship——afour—masterthatwasbeingtowedouttowardtheGoldenGate.Ateverymomentandateveryturntheynotedthingsthatinterestedthem，andtowhichtheycalledeachother’sattention.
"Look，Blix！"
"Oh，Condy，lookatthat！"
TheyweresoonoutoftheminiaturecityofthePost，andheldondownthroughthelowreachoftulesandsand—dunesthatstretchbetweenthebarracksandtheoldredfort.
"Look，Condy！"saidBlix."What’sthatbuildingdownthereontheshoreofthebay——theonewiththeflagstaff？"
"Ithinkthatmustbethelifeboatstation."
"Iwonderifwecouldgodownandvisitit.Ithinkitwouldbegoodfun."
"Idea！"exclaimedCondy.
Thestationwascloseathand.Toreachittheyhadbuttoleavethecrazyboardwalkthatledontowardthefort，andcrossafewhundredyardsofsand—dune.Condyopenedthegatethatbrokethelineofevergreenhedgearoundthelittletwo—storyhouse，andpromptlyunchainedaveritablepandemoniumofdogs.
Inside，theplacewasnotwithoutacertaincharmofitsown.A
brickwall，borderedwithshells，ledtothefrontofthestation，whichgavedirectlyuponthebay;alittlewell—keptlawnopenedtorightandleft，andsixoreightgaily—paintedoldrowboatsweresetabout，halffilledwithloaminwhichfuchsias，geraniums，andmignonetteswereflowering.Acatortwodozeduponthewindow—sillsinthesun.Uponasortofporchoverhead，twoofthecrewpacedupanddowninamannerthatatoncesuggestedthepoop.Hereandtherewasagleamofhighlypolishedredcopperorbrasstrimmings.Thebaywaswithintwostepsofthefrontdoor，whilealittlefurtherdownthebeachwasthehousewherethesurf—boatwaskept，andthelongrunwayleadingdownfromittothewater.Condyrappedloudlyatthefrontdoor.
ItwasopenedbyCaptainJack.
CaptainJack，andnoother;onlynowheworeabluesweaterandaleather—visoredcap，withthelettersU.S.L.B.S.aroundtheband.
Notaninstantwasgiventhemforpreparation.Thethinghadhappenedwiththeabruptnessofatransformationsceneatatheatre.Condy’sknockhadevokedasituation.Speechwasstrickenfromtheirmouths.Foramomenttheywerebereftevenofaction，andstoodthereonthethreshold，staringopen—mouthedandopen—eyedatthesuddenreappearanceoftheir"matrimonialobject."Condywasliterallydumb;intheenditwasBlixwhotidedthemoverthecrisis.
"Wewerejustgoingby——justtakingawalk，"sheexplained，"andwethoughtwe’dliketoseethestation.Isitallright？Canwelookaround？"
"Why，ofcourse，"assentedtheCaptainwithgreatcordiality.
"Comerightin.Thisisvisitors’day.Youjusthappenedtohitit——onlyit’smightyfewvisitorsweeverhave，"headded.
WhileCondywasregisteringforhimselfandBlix，theymanagedtoexchangealightningglance.ItwasevidenttheCaptaindidnotrecognizethem.Thesituationreadjusteditself，evenpromisedtobeofextraordinaryinterest.Andforthatmatteritmadelittledifferencewhetherthecaptainrememberedthemornot.
"No，wedon’tgetmanyvisitors，"theCaptainwenton，asheledthemoutofthestationanddownthesmallgravelwalktothehousewherethesurf—boatwaskept."Thisisaquietstation.
Peopledon’tfetchoutthiswayveryoften，andwe’renotcalledoutveryoften，either.We’reaninsidepost，yousee，andusuallywedon’tgetacallunlessthesea’ssohighthattheCliffHousestationcan’tlaunchtheirboat.So，yousee，wedon’tgooutmuch，butwhenweDO，itmeansbusinesswithagreatbigB.Now，thishere，yousee，"continuedtheCaptain，rollingbacktheslidingdoorsofthehouse，"isthesurf—boat.Bytheway，let’ssee;Iain’tjustcaughtyournamesyet."
"Well，myname’sRivers，"saidCondy，"andthisisMissBessemer.
We’rebothfromthecity."
"Happytoknowyou，sir;happytoknowyou，miss，"hereturned，pullingoffhiscap."Myname’sHoskins，butyoucanjustcallmeCaptainJack.I’msousedtoitthatIdon’tkindofanswertotheother.Well，now，MissBessemer，thishere’sthesurf—boat;
she’sself—rightin’，self—bailin’，shecan’tcapsize，andifIwastotellyouhowmanythousandsofdollarsshecost，youwouldn’tbelieveme."
CondyandBlixspentadelightfulhalf—hourintheboat—housewhileCaptainJackexplainedandillustrated，andtoldthemanecdotesofwrecks，escapes，andrescuestilltheyheldtheirbreathsliketen—year—olds.
ItdidnottakeCondylongtoknowthathehaddiscoveredwhatthestory—tellersooftentellsofbutsoseldomfinds，andwhat，forwantofabettername，heelectstocall"acharacter."
CaptainJackhadbeeneverywhere，hadseeneverything，andhaddonemostofthethingsworthdoing，includingagreatmanythingsthathehadfarbetterhaveleftundone.ButonthislatterpointtheCaptainseemedtobeinnocentlyandcompletelydevoidofamoralsenseofrightandwrong.ItwasquiteevidentthathesawnomatterforconscienceinthesmugglingofChinamenacrossthe，Canadianborderatthirtydollarsahead——aventureinwhichhehadhadtheassistanceoftheprodigalsonofanAmericandivineofinternationalrenown.ThetradetoPeruvianinsurgentsofcondemnedrifleswastoberegrettedonlybecausetheringmanipulatingitwasbrokenup.TheappropriationofaschoonerintheharborofCallaowasastoryinitself;whiletherobberyofthirtythousanddollars’worthofsea—otterskinsfromaRussiantrading—postinAlaska，accomplishedchieflythroughtheagencyofabarrelofrummanufacturedfromsugar—cane，wasaveritableachievement.
Hehadbeenborn，sohetoldthem，inWinchester，inEngland，and——
Heavensavethemark！——hadbeenbroughtupwithaviewoftakingorders.ForsometimehewasachoirboyinthegreatWinchesterCathedral;then，whileyetalad，hadgonetosea.Hehadbeenboat—steereronaNewBedfordwhaler，andstruckhisfirstwhalewhenonlysixteen.HehadfilibustereddowntoChili;hadactedasicepilotonanArcticreliefexpedition;hadcaptainedacrewofChinamenshark—fishinginMagdalenaBay，andhadbeennearlymurderedbyhismen;hadbeenadeep—seadiver，andhadbursthisear—drumsatthebusiness，sothatnowhecouldblowtobaccosmokeoutofhisears;hehadbeenshipwreckedintheGilberts，foughtwiththeSerisonthelowerCaliforniaIslands，soldchampagne——
madefromrockcandy，effervescentsalts，andReislingwine——totheCoreans，haddreamedof"holdingup"aCunardliner，andhadriddenontheStrandinahansomwithWilliamEwartGladstone.
Buttheonethingofwhichhewasproud，theonepictureofhislifehemostdelightedtorecall，washimselfasmanagerofanegrominstreltroupe，inahireddrum—major’suniform，marchingdownthestreetsofSacramentoattheheadofthebrassbandinburntcorkandregimentals.
"Thestarofthetroupe，"hetoldthem，"wastheladywiththeironjore.WebustedinStockton，andshegavemeherdiamondstopawn.Ipawned’em，andkeptbacksomethinginthehandformyselfandhookedittoSanFrancisco.Strikemestraightifshedidn’tfollowme，thatiron—joredpiece;metmeonedayinfrontoftheBushStreetTheatre，andhorsewhippedmeproperly.Now，justthinkofthat"——andhelaughedasthoughitwasthebestkindofajoke.
"But，"hazardedBlix，"don’tyoufinditratherdullouthere——
lonesome？Ishouldthinkyouwouldwanttohavesomeonewithyoutokeepyoucompany——to——todoyourcookingforyou？"
ButCondy，ignoringherdiplomacyandthinkingonlyofpossiblestories，blunderedoffuponanothertrack.
"Yes，"hesaid，"you’veledsuchalifeofaction，Ishouldthinkthisstationwouldbeprettydullforyou.Howdidyouhappentochooseit？"
"Well，yousee，answeredtheCaptain，leaningagainstthesmoothwhiteflankofthesurf—boat，hishandsinhispockets，"I’mlyinglowjustnow.IgotintoascrapedownatLibertad，inMexico，thatmadetalk，andI’mwaitingforthattodiedownsome.Yousee，itwasthisway."
Mindfuloftheirexperiencewiththemateofthewhaleback，CondyandBlixwereallattentioninaninstant.Blixsatdownuponanupturnedbox，herelbowsonherknees，leaningforward，herlittleeyesfixedandshiningwithinterestandexpectation;Condy，thestory—tellerallaliveandvibrantinhim，stoodatherelbow，smokingcigaretteaftercigarette，hisfingersdancingwithexcitementandanimationastheCaptainspoke.
AndthenitwasthatCondyandBlix，inthatisolatedstation，thebaylappingattheshorewithinear—shot，inthatatmosphereredolentofpaintandoakumandofseaweeddecayinguponthebeachoutside，firstheardthestoryof"InDefianceofAuthority."
CaptainJackbeganitwithhisexperienceasarestaurantkeeperduringtheboomdaysinSeattle，Washington.Hetoldthemhowhewasthecashierofadining—saloonwhosedailynetprofitsexceededeighthundreddollars;howitsproprietorsuddenlydied，andhowhe，CaptainJack，continuedthemanagementoftherestaurantpendingasettlementoftheproprietor’saffairsandanappearanceofheirs;howintheconfusionandexcitementoftheboomnosettlementwasevermade;andhow，noheirsappearing，heassumedchargeoftheestablishmenthimself，payingbills，makingcontracts，andsigningnotes，untilhecametoconsiderthebusinessandallitsenormousprofitsashisown;andhowatlast，whentherestaurantwasburned，hefoundhimselfsomefortythousanddollars"aheadofthegame."
Thenhetoldthemofthestrangecluboftheplace，called"TheExiles，"madeupchieflyof"youngersons"ofEnglishandBritish—
Canadianfamilies，everymemberpossessedofa"past"moreorlessdisreputable;menwhohadlefttheircountryfortheircountry’sgood，andfortheirfamily’speaceofmind——adventurers，wanderers，soldiersoffortune，gentlemen—vagabonds，menofhyphenatednamesandevennoblebirth，whoseappellationswereavowedlyaliases.HetoldthemofhismeetingwithBillyIsham，oneoftheclub’sdirectors，andofthehappy—go—lucky，reckless，unpracticalcharacteroftheman;oftheiracquaintance，intimacy，andsubsequentpartnership;ofhowthefilibusteringprojectwasstartedwithCaptainJack’sfortythousand，andthenever—to—be—
forgotteninterviewinSanFranciscowithSenoraEstrada，theagentoftheinsurgents;oftheincidentofhercalling—card——howshetoreitintwoandgaveone—halftoIsham;oftheiroutfitting，andthebrokensextantthatwastocausetheirultimatediscomfitureanddisaster，andofthevoyagetotherendezvousonaPanamaliner.
"Strikeme！"continuedCaptainJack，"youshouldhaveseenBillyIshamonthatPanamadough—dish;apassengershipshewas，andBillywasthelifeofherfromstemtostern—post.TherewasachurchpulpitaboardthattheyweretakingdowntoMazatlanforsomechapelorother，andthisherepulpitwaslashedondeckaft.
Well，Billyhadbeenmostkindsofafoolinhislife，andamongothersaplay—actor;calledhimselfGastonMaundeville，andwascleandaftonhisknowledgeofShakespeareandhisownpowerofinterpretin’thehiddenmeanin’ofthelines.Iain’tnevergoingtoforgitthedayhegaveusPortia’sspeech.Wewerejustunderthetropic，andthedaywasascorcher.Therewasmostlymenfolkaboard，andwelayaroundthedeckinourpajamas，whileBilly——
GastonMaundeville，dressedinstripedredandwhitepajamas——clumupinthatballypulpit，withtheship’sShakespeareinhishands，an’letushave——’Thequalityo’mercyisn’tstrained;itdroppethasthegenteeldewfromheavun.’Laugh，ItellyouIwassorewithit.Lord，howweguyedhim！An’themoreweguyedandthemorewelaughed，themoreserioushegotandthemadderhegrew.Hesaidhewasinterpretin’thehiddenmeanin’ofthelines."
AndsotheCaptainranthroughthatwild，fierytale——offightingandloving，buccaneeringandconspiring;mandolinstinkling，knivesclicking;oathsminglingwithsonnets，andspilledwinewithspilledblood.HetoldthemofIsham’sknifeduelwiththeMexicanlieutenant，theirleftwristslashedtogether;ofthe"battleofthethirty"inthepitchdarkoftheCustomHousecellar;ofSenoraEstrada’sloveforIsham;andalltherollandplungeofactionthatmakeupthestoryof"InDefianceofAuthority."
Attheend，Blix’slittleeyesweresnappinglikesparks;Condy’sfacewasflaming，hishandswerecold，andhewasshiftinghisweightfromfoottofoot，likeanexcitedthoroughbredhorse.
"Heavensandearth，whatayarn！"heexclaimedalmostinawhisper.
Blixdrewalong，tremulousbreathandsatbackupontheupturnedbox，lookingaroundherasthoughshehadbutthatmomentbeenawakened.
"Yes，sir，"saidtheCaptain，rollingacigarette."Yes，sir，thoseweregreatdays.Getdowntherearoundthelineinthoselittle，out—o’—the—wayrepublicsalongtheSouthAmericancoast，andthingshappentoyou.Youholdaman’slifeinthecrookofyourforefinger，an’nothing’sdonebyhalves.Ifyouhateaman，youlayawakenightsbitingyourmattress，justthinkinghowyouhatehim;an’ifyouloveawoman——goodLord，howyoudoLOVE
her！"
"But——but！"exclaimedCondy，"Idon’tseehowyoucanwanttodoanythingelse.Why，you’relivingsixtytotheminutewhenyou’replayingagamelikethat！"
"Oh，Iain’tdeadyet！"answeredtheCaptain."IgotafewschemesleftthatIcouldgetfunoutof."
"Howcanyouwaitaminute！"exclaimedBlixbreathlessly."Whydon’tyougetashiprightaway——to—morrow——andgorightoffonsomeotheradventure？"
"Well，Ican’tjustnow，"returnedtheCaptain，blowingthesmokefromhiscigarettethroughhisears."There’sagoodmanyreasons;oneof’emisthatI’vejustbeenmarried."
ChapterX
Mum——mar——married！gaspedCondy，swallowingsomethinginhisthroat.
Blixrosetoherfeet.
"JustbeenMARRIED！"sherepeated，alittlefrightened."Why——
why——why;howDELIGHTFUL！"
"Yes——yes，"mumbledCondy."Howdelightful.Icongratulateyou！"
"Comein——comebacktothestation，"saidtheCaptainjovially，"andI’llintroduceyoutom’wife.WeweremarriedonlylastSunday."
"Why，yes——yes，ofcourse，we’dbedelighted，"vociferatedthetwoconspiratorsalittlehysterically.
"She’samightyfinelittlewoman，"declaredtheCaptain，asherolledthedooroftheboat—housetoitsplaceandprecededthemupthegravelwalktothestation.
"Ofcoursesheis，"respondedBlix.BehindCaptainJack’sbackshefixedCondywithawide—eyedlook，andnudgedhimfiercelywithanelbowtorecallhimtohimself;forCondy’switswerescatteredlikeaflockofterrifiedbirds，andhewasgazingblanklyattheCaptain’scoatcollarwithavacant，maniacalsmile.
"ForHeaven’ssake，Condy！"shehadtimetowhisperbeforetheyarrivedinthehallwayofthestation.
Butfortunatelytheywereallowedaminuteorsotorecoverthemselvesandprepareforwhatwascoming.CaptainJackusheredthemintowhatwaseithertheparlor，office，orsitting—roomofthestation，andleftthemwiththewords：
"Justmakeyourselvescomfortablehere，an’I’llgofetchthelittlewoman."
Nosoonerhadhegonethanthetwoturnedtoeachother.
"Well！"
"WELL！"
"We’reinforitnow."
"Butwemustseeitthrough，Condy;actjustasnaturalasyoucan，andwe’reallright."
"ButsupposingSHErecognizesus！"
"Supposingshedoes——whatthen.HowAREtheytoknowthatwewrotetheletters？"
"Sh，Blix，notsoloud！TheyknowbynowthatTHEYdidn’t."
"Butitseemsthatithasn’tmadeanydifferencetothem;theyaremarried.Andbesides，theywouldn’tspeakaboutputting’personals’inthepapertous.Theywouldneverletanybodyknowthat."
"Doyousupposetheycouldpossiblysuspect？"
"I’msuretheycouldn’t."
"Heretheycome."
"Keepperfectlycalm，andwe’resaved."
"Supposeitisn’tK.D.B.，afterall？"
Butitwas，ofcourse，andsherecognizedtheminaninstant.SheandtheCaptain——thelatterallgrins——cameinfromthedirectionofthekitchen，K.D.B.wearinganeatbluecalicogownandanapronthatwasreallyamarvelofcleanlinessandstarch.
"Kitty！"exclaimedCaptainJack，seizedagainwithanunexplainablemirth，"here’ssomeyoungfolkscomeouttoseetheplacean’Iwantyoutoknow’em.Mr.Rivers，thisism’wife，Kitty，and——lessee，miss，Idon’trightlyrememberyourname."
"Bessemer！"exclaimedCondyandBlixinabreath.
"Oh！"exclaimedK.D.B.，"youwereintherestaurantthenightthattheCaptainandI——I——thatis——yes，I’mquitesureI’veseenyoubefore."Sheturnedfromonetotheother.beginningtoblushfuriously.
"Yes，yes，inLuna’srestaurant，wasn’tit？"saidCondydesperately."ItseemstomeIdojustbarelyremember."
"Andwasn’ttheCaptainthere？"Blixventured.
"Iforgotmystick，Iremember，"continuedCondy."Icamebackforit;andjustasIwasgoingoutitseemstomeIsawyoutwoatatablenearthedoor."
Hethoughtitbesttoallowtheir"matrimonialobjects"tobelievehehadnotseenthembefore.
"Yes，yes，wewerethere，"answeredK.D.B.tactfully."WedinetherealmosteveryMondaynight."
BlixguessedthatK.D.B.wouldprefertohavetherealfactsofthesituationignored，anddeterminedsheshouldhavethechancetochangetheconversationifshewished.
"Whatadelicioussupperonehasthere！"shesaid.
"Can’tsayIlikeMexicancookingmyself，"answeredK.D.B.，forgettingthattheydinedthereeveryMondaynight."PlainUnitedStatesisgoodenoughforme."
SuddenlyCaptainJackturnedabruptlytoCondy，exclaiming："Oh，youwasthechapthatcalledthepictureofthatschoonerabarkentine."
"Yes;WASN’Tthatabarkentine？"heansweredinnocently.
"BarkentineyourEYE！"splutteredtheCaptain."Why，thatwasaschoonerasplainasapieplate."
Buttenminuteslatertheordealwasover，andBlixandCondy，oncemorebreathingeasily，wereontheirwalkagain.TheCaptainandK.D.B.hadevenaccompaniedthemtothegateofthestation，andhadstrenuouslyurgedthemto"comeinandseethemagainthenexttimetheywereoutthatway."
"Married！"murmuredCondy，puttingbothhandstohishead."We’vedoneit，we’vedoneitnow."
"Well，whatofit？"declaredBlix，alittledefiantly."Ithinkit’sallright.YoucanseetheCaptainisinlovewithher，andshewithhim.No，we’venothingtoreproachourselveswith."
"But——but——butsosudden！"whisperedCondy，allaghast."That’swhatmakesmefaint——thesuddennessofit."
"Itshowshowmuchtheyareinlove，how——howreadilythey——
adaptedthemselvestoeachother.No，it’sallright."
"Theyseemedtolikeus——actually."
"Well，theyhadbetter——iftheyknewthetruth.Withoutustheyneverwouldhavemet."
"Theybothaskedustocomeoutandseethemagain，didyounoticethat？Let’sdoit，Blix，"Condysuddenlyexclaimed;"let’sgettoknowthem！"
"Ofcoursewemust.Wouldn’titbefuntocallonthem——togetregularlyacquaintedwiththem！"
"Theymightaskustodinnersometime."
"Andthinkofthestorieshecouldtellyou！"
Theyenthusedimmediatelyuponthissubject，bothtalkingexcitedlyatthesametime，goingoverthedetailsoftheCaptain’syarns，recallingtheincidentstoeachother.
"Fancy！"exclaimedCondy——"fancyBillyIshaminhispajamas，redandwhitestripes，readingShakespearefromthatpulpitonboardtheship，andtheothermenguyinghim！Isn’tthataSCENEforyou？Can’tyoujustSEEit？
"IwonderiftheCaptainwasn’tmakingallthosethingsupashewentalong.Hedon’tseemtohaveanysenseofrightandwrongatall.Hemighthavebeenlying，Condy."
"Whatdifferencewouldthatmake？"
Andsotheywentalonginthatfine，clear，Westernmorning，ontheedgeoftheContinent，bothofthemyoungandstrongandvigorous，thePacificundertheireyes，thegreatcleanTradesblowingintheirfaces，thesmellofthesaltseacominginlongaromaticwhiffstotheirnostrils.Youngandstrongandfresh，theirimaginationsthrongingwithpicturesofvigorousactionandadventure，buccaneering，filibustering，andalltheswing，theleap，therushandgallop，theexuberant，stronglifeofthegreat，unchartedworldofRomance.
AndallunknowinglytheywereaRomanceinthemselves.Cynicism，oldage，andthewearinessofallthingsdonehadnoplaceintheworldinwhichtheywalked.Theystillhadtheirillusions，allthekeennessoftheirsensations，allthevividnessoftheirimpressions.Thesimplethingsoftheworld，thegreat，broad，primalemotionsoftheracestirredinthem.Astheyswungalong，goingtowardtheocean，theirbrainswerealmostasemptyofthoughtorofreflectionasthoseoftwofine，cleananimals.
Theywereallfortheimmediatesensation;theydidnotthink——
theyFELT.Theintellectwasdormant;theylookedatthings，theyheardthings，theysmelledthesmellofthesea，andoftheseaweed，ofthefat，rankgrowthofcressesinthesaltmarshes;
theyturnedtheircheekstothepassingwind，andfilledtheirmouthsandbreastswithit.Theirlifewassweettothem;everyhourwasonegladeffervescence.Thefactthattheoceanwasbluewasamatterforrejoicing.Itwasgoodtobealiveonthatroyalmorning.Justtobeyoungwasanexhilaration;andeverythingwasyoungwiththem——thedaywasyoung，thecountrywasyoung，andthecivilizationtowhichtheybelonged，teemingthereuponthegreen，Westernfringeofthecontinent，wasyoungandheadyandtumultuouswiththeboisterous，redbloodofanewrace.
Condyevenforgot，orratherdisdainedonsuchamorningasthat，topiecetogetherandrearrangeCaptainJack’syarnsintostoryform.Tolookattheseaandthegreenhills，towatchthepinkonBlix’scheekandheryellowhairblowingacrosshereyesandlips，wasbetterthanthinking.Lifewasbetterthanliterature.
Tolivewasbetterthantoread;onelivehumanbeingwasbetterthantenthousandShakespeares;anactwasbetterthanathought.
Why，justtoloveBlix，tobewithher，toseethesweet，cleanflushofhercheek，toknowthatshewasthereathisside，andtohavethetouchofherelbowastheywalked，wasbetterthanthebeststory，thegreatestnovelhecouldeverhopetowrite.Lifewasbetterthanliterature，andlovewasthebestthinginlife.
ToloveBlixandtobenearher——whatelsewasworthwhile？Couldheeverthinkoffindinganythinginlifesweeterandfinerthanthisdearyounggirlofnineteen？
SuddenlyCondycametohimselfwithanabruptstart.Whatwasthishewasthinking——whatwasthishewastellinghimself？LoveBlix！HelovedBlix！Why，ofCOURSEhelovedher——lovedherso，thatwiththethoughtofittherecameagreat，suddenclutchattheheartandastrangesenseoftenderness，sovagueandyetsogreatthatiteludedspeechandallexpression.Loveher！Ofcoursehelovedher！Hehad，allunknowing，lovedherevenbeforethiswonderfulmorning：hadlovedherthatdayatthelake，andthatnever—to—be—forgotten，deliciousafternoonintheChineserestaurant;allthoselong，quieteveningsspentinthewindowofthelittledining—room，lookingdownuponthedarkeningcity，hehadlovedher.Why，allhisdaysforthelastfewmonthshadbeenfulloftheloveofher.
Howelsehadhebeensohappy？howelsediditcomeaboutthatlittlebylittlehewaswithdrawingfromthesocietyandinfluenceofhisartificialworld，asrepresentedbysuchmenasSargeant？
howelsewasheslowlylooseningthegripoftheoneevilandvicioushabitthathadclutchedhimsolong？howelsewashisambitionstirring？howelsewashishithertoaimlessenthusiasmhardeningtoenergyanddetermination？Shehadnotalwayssoinfluencedhim.Inthedayswhentheyhadjustknowneachother，andmeteachotherintheweeklycourseoftheirformallife，ithadnotbeenso，eventhoughtheypretendedacertainamountofaffection.HerememberedtheeveningwhenBlixhadbroughtthosedaystoanabruptend，andhowatthemomenthehadtoldhimselfthatafterallhehadneverknowntherealBlix.Sincethen，inthecharming，unconventionallifetheyhadled，everythinghadbeenchanged.Hehadcometoknowherforwhatshewas，toknowhergenuinegoodness，hersincerity，hercontemptofaffectations，hercomradeship，hercalm，finestrengthandunbrokengoodnature;
anddaybyday，herealittleandtherealittle，hisloveforherhadgrownsoquietly，soevenly，thathehadneverknownit，untilnow，behold！itwassuddenlycometoflower，fullandstrong——aflowerwhosefragrancehadsuddenlyfilledallhislifeandallhisworldwithitssweetness.
Halfanhourafterleavingthelifeboatstation，CondyandBlixreachedtheold，red—brickfort，deserted，abandoned，andrime—
incrusted，attheentranceoftheGoldenGate.Theyturneditsangle，andthererolledthePacific，abluefloorofshiftingwater，stretchingoutthereforeverandforeveroverthecurveoftheearth，overtheshoulderoftheworld，withneverasailinviewandneverabreakfromhorizontohorizon.
Theyfolloweddowntheshore，sometimesupontheoldandbrokenflumethatrunsalongtheseawardfaceofthehillsthatrisefromthebeach，orsometimesuponthebeachitself，steppingfrombowldertobowlder，orholdingalongattheedgeofthewateruponreachesofwhite，hardsand.
Thebeachwassolitary;notasoulwasinsight.Closeathand，tolandward，greathills，bareandgreen，shutoffthesky;andhereandtherethelandcametumblingdownintotheseaingreat，jagged，craggyrocks，knee—deepinswirlingfoam，andallblackwithwet.Theairwasfulloftheprolongedthunderofthesurf，andatintervalssea—birdspassedoverheadwithanoccasionalpipingcry.Wreckagewastumbledabouthereandthere;andinnumerablecocoanutshards，huge，browncupsoffuzzybark，layunderfootandinthecrevicesoftherocks.Theyfoundajelly—
fish——apulpytranslucentmass;andonceevencaughtasightofasealinthehollowofabreaker，withsleekandshininghead，hisbarbelsbristling，andheardhishoarsecroakingbarkashehuntedtheoff—shorefish.
BlixrefusedtoallowCondytohelpherintheleast.Shewasquiteasactiveandstrongashe，andclamberedfromrocktorockandovertheshatteredscantlingoftheflumewiththevigorandagilityofayoungboy.Shemuddiedhershoestotheverytopsscratchedherhands，toreherskirt，andeventwistedherankle;
butherlittleeyeswereneversobright，norwasthepinkflushofhercheeksevermoreadorable.Andshewasneverdonetalking——
averitablechatterbox.Shesaweverythingandtalkedabouteverythingshesaw，quiteindifferentastowhetherornoCondylistened.Nowitwasaqueerbitofseaweed，nowitwasagroupofgullsclamoringoveradeadfish，nowapurplestarfish，nowabreakerofunusualsize.Hersplendidvitalitycarriedheraway.
Shewasexcited，alivetoherveryfinger—tips，vibranttotheleastsensation，quiveringtotheleastimpression.
"Let’sgetuphereandsitdownsomewhere，"saidCondy，atlength.
Theyleftthebeachandclimbeduptheslopeofthehills，nearapointwherealongarmoflandthrustoutintotheseaandshutoffthewind;apathwasthere，andtheyfolloweditforafewyards，tilltheyhadcometoalittleamphitheatresurroundedwithblackberrybushes.
Heretheysatdown，Blixsettlingherselfonanoldlogwithalittlesighofcontentment，Condystretchinghimselfout，anew—
lightedpipeinhisteeth，hisheadrestingonthelittlehandbaghehadpersistentlycarriedeversincemorning.ThenBlixfellsuddenlysilent，andforalongtimethetwosattherewithoutspeaking，absorbedintheenjoymentoflookingattheenormousgreenhillsrollingdowntothesea，thebreakersthunderingatthebeach，thegashedpinnaclesofrock，thevastreachofthePacific，andthedistantprospectoftheoldfortattheentranceoftheGoldenGate.
"Wemightbeathousandmilesawayfromthecity，forallthelooksofit，mightn’twe，Condy？"saidBlix，afterawhile."AndI’mthatHUNGRY！Itmustbenearlynoon."
Foranswer，Condysatupwithprofoundgravity，andwithagreatairofnonchalanceopenedthehandbag，and，insteadofshoestookout，first，apintbottleofclaret，then"devilish"hamsandwichesinoiledpaper，abottleofstuffedolives，agreatbagofsaltedalmonds，twolittletumblers，apaper—coverednovel，andamouthorgan.
Blixfairlycrowedwithdelight，claspingherhandsuponherknees，androckingtoandfrowhereshesatuponthelog.
"Oh，Condy，andyouthoughtofaLUNCH——yousaiditwasshoes——andyourememberedIlovedstuffedolives，too;andabooktoread.
Whatisit——’TheSevenSeas.’No，IneverWASsohappy.Butthemouthorgan——what’sthatfor？"
"Toplayon.Whatdidyouthink——thinkitwasacan—opener？"
Blixchokedwithmerrimentoverhisfoolery，andCondyaddedproudly：
"Lookthere！Imadethosesandwiches！"
Theylookedasthoughhehad——great，fatchunksofbread，thecruststillon;the"devilish"haminthickstratabetween;and，positively，hehadBUTTEREDthebread.Butitwasallonewiththem;theyateasthoughatabanquet，andBlixeventookoffherhatandhungitupononeofthenearbybushes.OfcourseCondyhadforgottenacorkscrew.Hetriedtodigoutthecorkoftheclaretbottlewithhisknife，untilhehadbrokenbothbladesandwasabouttogiveupindespair，whenBlix，attheendofherpatience，tookthebottlefromhimandpushedinthecorkwithherfinger.
"Wine，music，literature，andfeasting，"observedCondy."We’regettingregularlyluxurious，justlikeSardine—apalus."
ButCondyhimselfhadsuddenlyenteredintoanatmosphereofhappiness，thelikeofwhichhehadneverknownordreamedofbefore.HelovedBlix——hehadjustdiscoveredit.Helovedherbecauseshewassogenuine，soradiantlyfreshandstrong;lovedherbecauseshelikedthethingsthatheliked，becausetheytwolookedattheworldfrompreciselythesamepointofview，hatingshamsandaffectations，happyinthethingsthatweresimpleandhonestandnatural.Helovedherbecauseshelikedhisbooks，appreciatingthethingsthereinthatheappreciated，likingwhatheliked，disapprovingofwhathecondemned.Helovedherbecauseshewasnineteen，andbecauseshewassoyoungandunspoiledandwashappyjustbecausetheoceanwasblueandthemorningfine.
Helovedherbecauseshewassopretty，becauseofthesoftnessofheryellowhair，becauseofherround，whiteforeheadandpinkcheeks，becauseofherlittle，dark—browneyes，withthatlookinthemasifshewerejustdonesmilingorjustabouttosmile，onecouldnotsaywhich;lovedherbecauseofhergood，firmmouthandchin，becauseofherfullneckanditshigh，tightbandsofwhitesatin.Andhelovedherbecauseherarmswerestrongandround，andbecausesheworethegreatdog—collararoundhertrim，firm—
corsetedwaist，andbecausethereemanatedfromherwitheverymovementabarelyperceptible，delicious，feminineodor，thatwasinpartperfume，butmostlyasubtle，vaguearoma，charmingbeyondwords，thatcamefromhermouth，herhair，herneck，herarms，herwholesweetpersonality.Andhelovedherbecauseshewasherself，becauseshewasBlix，becauseofthatstrange，sweetinfluencethatwasdisengagedfromherinthosequietmomentswhensheseemedsoclosetohim，whensomeunnamed，mysterioussixthsenseinhimstirredandwokeandtoldhimofhergoodness，ofhercleanpurityandwomanliness;andthatcertain，vaguetendernessinhimwentouttowardher，atendernessnotforheronly，butforallthegoodthingsoftheworld;andhefelthisnoblersiderousingupandtheawakeningofthedesiretobehisbetterself.
Covertlyhelookedather，asshesatnearhim，heryellowhairrollingandblowingbackfromherforehead，herhandsclaspedoverherknee，lookingoutovertheocean，thoughtful，hereyeswide.
Shehadtoldhimshedidnotlovehim.Condyrememberedthatperfectlywell.Shewassincereinthematter;shedidnotlovehim.Thatsubjecthadbeenonceandforallbanishedfromtheirintercourse.Anditwasbecauseofthatveryreasonthattheircompanionshipofthelastthreeorfourmonthshadbeensocharming.Shelookeduponhimmerelyasachum.Shehadnotchangedintheleastfromthattimeuntilnow，whereashe——why，allhisworldwasnewforhimthatmorning！Why，helovedherso，shehadbecomesodeartohim，thattheverythoughtofhermadehisheartswellandleap.
Buthemustkeepallthistohimself.Ifhespoketoher，toldherofhowhelovedher，itwouldspoilandendtheircompanionshipupontheinstant.Theyhadbothagreeduponthat;
theyhadtriedtheother，andithadworkedout.Asloverstheyhadweariedofeachother;aschumstheyhadbeenperfectlycongenial，thoroughlyandcompletelyhappy.
Condysethisteeth.Itwasahardsituation.Hemustchoosebetweenbringinganendtothischarmingcomradeshipoftheirs，orelsefightbackallshowofloveforher，keepitdownandunderhand，andthatatatimewheneverynerveofhimquiveredlikeasmittenharp—string.Itwasnotinhimorinhistemperamenttolovehercalmly，quietly，oratadistance;hewantedthetouchofherhand，thetouchofhercool，smoothcheek，thedeliciousaromaofherbreathinhisnostrilsherlipsagainsthis，herhairandallitsfragranceinhisface"Condy，what’sthematter？"Blixwaslookingathimwithanexpressionofnolittleconcern."Whatareyoufrowningsoabout，andclinchingyourfists？Andyou’repale，too.What’sgonewrong？"
Heshotaglanceather，andbestirredhimselfsharply.
"Isn’tthisajollylittlecorner？"hesaid."Blix，howlongisitbeforeyougo？"
"Sixweeksfromto—morrow."
"Andyou’regoingtobegonefouryears——fouryears！Maybeyouneverwillcomeback.Can’ttellwhatwillhappeninfouryears.
Where’sthebloomingmouth—organ？"
Butthemouth—organwasfullofcrumbs.Condycouldnotplayonit.Toallhiseffortsitrespondedonlybygasps，mournfulestdeath—rattles，andlamentablewails.Condyhurleditintothesea.
"Well，where’sthebloomingbook，then？"hedemanded."You’resittingonit，Blix.Here，readsomethinginit.Openitanywhere."
"No;youreadtome."
"Iwillnot.Haven’tIdoneenough？Didn’tIbuythebookandgetthelunch，andmakethesandwiches，andpaythecar—fare？Ithinkthisexpeditionwillcostmeprettynearthreedollarsbeforewe’rethroughwiththeday.No;theleastyoucandoistoreadtome.Here，we’llmatchforit."
Condydrewadimefromhispocket，andBlixaquarterfromherpurse.
"You’rematchingme，"shesaid.
Condytossedthecoinandlost，andBlixsaid，ashepickedupthebook：
"Foramanthathassuchunvaryingbadluckasyou，gamblingisjustsimplemadness.YouandIhaveneverplayedagameofpokeryetthatI’venotwoneverycentofmoneyyouhad."
"Yes;andwhatareyoudoingwithitall？"
"Spendingit，"shereturnedloftily;"glovesandveilsandlacepins——allkindsofthings."
ButCondyknewthewayshespokethatthiswasnottrue.
Forthenexthourorsohereadtoherfrom"TheSevenSeas，"
whiletheafternoonpassed，thewindstirringthechaparralandblackberrybushesinthehollowsofthehuge，barehills，thesurfrollingandgrumblingonthebeachbelow，thesea—birdswheelingoverhead.Blixlistenedintently，butCondycouldnothavetoldofwhathewasreading.Livingwasbetterthanreading，lifewasbetterthanliterature，andhisnew—foundloveforherwaspoetryenoughforhim.Hereadsothathemightnottalktoherorlookather，foritseemedtohimattimesasthoughsomesecondselfinhimwouldspeakandbetrayhiminspiteofhisbestefforts.
Neverbeforeinallhislifehadhebeensohappy;neverbeforehadhebeensotroubled.Hebegantojumblethelinesandwordsasheread，over—runningperiods，eventurningtwopagesatonce.
"Whatasplendidline！"Blixexclaimed.
"Whatline——what——whatareyoutalkingabout？Blix，let’salwaysrememberto—day.Let’smakeapromise，nomatterwhathappensorwhereweare，let’salwayswritetoeachotherontheanniversaryofto—day.Whatdoyousay？"
"Yes;I’llpromise——andyou——"
"I’llpromisefaithfully.Oh，I’llneverforgetto—daynor——yes，yes，I’llpromise——why，to—day——Blix——where’sthatdamnbookgone？"
"Condy！"
"Well，Ican’tfindthebook.You’resittingonitagain.
Confoundthebook，anyway！Let’swalksomemore."
"We’vealongwaystogoifwe’retogethomeintimeforsupper.
Let’sgotoLuna’sforsupper."
"Ineversawsuchagirlasyoutothinkofwaysforspendingmoney.Whatkindofapurse—proudplutocratdoyouthinkIam？
I’veonlyseventy—fivecentsleft.Howmuchhaveyougot？"
Blixhadfifty—fivecentsinherpurse，andtheyhadagravecouncilovertheirfinances.Theyhadjustenoughforcar—fareandtwo"suppersMexican，"withtencentsleftover."
"That’sforRichard’stip，"saidBlix.
"That’sformyCIGAR，"heretorted.
"YoumadeMEgivehimfiftycents.YousaiditwastheleastI
couldofferhim——noblesseoblige."
"Well，then，ICOULDN’Tofferhimadime，don’tyousee？I’lltellhimwearebrokethistime."
Theystartedhome，notastheyhadcome，butclimbingthehillandgoingacrossabreezyopendown，radiantwithblueiris，wildheliotrope，yellowpoppies，andevenaviolethereandthere.A
littlefurtherontheygainedoneoftheroadsoftheReservation，redearthsmoothasabilliardtable;andjustatananglewheretheroadmadeasharpelbowandtrendedcityward，theypausedforamomentandlookeddownandbackatthesuperbviewoftheocean，thevasthalf—moonofland，andtherollinghillsintheforegroundtumblingdowntowardthebeachandallspangledwithwildflowers.
Somefifteenminuteslatertheyreachedthegolf—links.
"Wecangoacrossthelinks，"saidCondy，"andstrikeanynumberofcarlinesontheotherside."
Theylefttheroadandstruckacrossthelinks，Condysmokinghisnew—lightedpipe.Butastheycamearoundtheedgeofalonglineofeucalyptustreesneartheteeingground，awarningvoicesuddenlycalledout：
"Fore！"
CondyandBlixlookedupsharply，andthereinagroupnottwentyfeetaway，intweedsand"knickers，"insmart，shortgolfingskirtsandplaidcloaks，theysawyoungSargeantandhissister，twoothergirlswhomtheyknewasmembersofthefashionable"set，"andJackCarterintheactofswinginghisdrivingiron.
ChapterXI
Astheclockinthelibraryoftheclubstruckmidnight，Condylaiddownhispen，shovedthecloselywrittensheetsofpaperfromhim，andleanedbackinhischair，hisfingerstohistiredeyes.
HewassittingatadeskinoneofthefurthercornersoftheroomandshutoffbyagreatJapanesescreen.Hewasinhisshirt—
sleeves，hishairwastumbled，hisfingersink—stained，andhisfacealittlepale.
Sincelateintheeveninghehadbeensteadilywriting.Threechaptersof"InDefianceofAuthority"weredone，andhewasnowatworkonthefourth.ThedayaftertheexcursiontothePresidio——thatwonderfuleventwhichseemedtoCondytomarkthebirthdayofsomenewmanwithinhim——theideahadsuddenlyoccurredtohimthatCaptainJack’sstoryofthecluboftheexiles，theboomrestaurant，andthefilibusteringexpeditionwaspreciselythenovelofadventureofwhichtheCentennialCompanyhadspoken.Atoncehehadsettoworkuponit，withanenthusiasmthat，withshutteeth，hedeclaredwouldnotbelackinginenergy.Thestorywouldhavetobewrittenoutofhisbusinesshours.Thatmeanthewouldhavetogiveuphiseveningstoit.
Buthehaddonethis，andfornearlyaweekhadsettledhimselftohistaskinthequietcorneroftheclubateighto’clock，andheldtoitresolutelyuntiltwelve.
Thefirsttwochaptershadrunoffhispenwithdelightfulease.
Thethirdcameharder;theeventsandincidentsofthestorybecameconfusedandcontradictory;thecharacterofBillyIshamobstinatelyrefusedtotaketheprominentplacewhichCondyhaddesignedforhim;andwiththebeginningofthefourthchapter，Condyhadfinallycometoknowtheenormousdifficulties，theexasperatingcomplications，thediscouragementsthatbeginanewwitheveryparagraph，theobstaclesthatrefusetobesurmounted，andallthepain，thelabor，thedownrightmentaltravailandanguishthatfalltothelotofthewriterofnovels.
Towriteashortstorywiththeendinplainsightfromthebeginningwasaneasymattercomparedtotheupbuilding，grainbygrain，atombyatom，ofthefabricof"InDefianceofAuthority."
Condysoonfoundthattherewasbutonewaytogoaboutthebusiness.Hemustshuthiseyestotheendofhisnovel——thatfar—off，divineevent——andtakehistaskchapterbychapter，evenparagraphbyparagraph;grindingoutthetale，asitwere，bymainstrength，drivinghispenfromlinetoline，hatingtheeffort，happyonlywiththeterminationofeachchapter，andworkingaway，hourbyhour，minutebyminute，withthedogged，sullen，hammer—
and—tongsobstinacyofthegalley—slave，scourgedtohisdailytoil.
Attimesthetale，apparentlyoutofsheerperversity，wouldcometoafullstop.Towriteanotherwordseemedbeyondthepowerofhumaningenuity，andforanhourormoreCondywouldsitscowlingatthehalf—writtenpage，gnawinghisnails，scouringhishair，dippinghispenintotheink—well，andsquaringhimselftothesheetofpaper，alltonopurpose.
Therewasnopleasureinitforhim.Acharacteroncefixedinhismind，asceneoncepicturedinhisimagination，andevenbeforehehadwrittenawordthecharacterlostthecharmofitsnovelty，thescenethefreshnessofitsoriginalconception.
Then，withinfinitepainstakingandwithapatiencelittleshortofmiraculous，hemustslowlybuildup，brickbybrick，theplanhisbrainhadoutlinedinasingleinstant.Itwasallwork——
hard，disagreeable，laboriouswork;andnojugglingwithphrases，nofalsenotionsastothe"delightofcreation，"couldmakeitappearotherwise."Andforwhat，"hemutteredasherose，rolleduphissheafofmanuscript，andputonhiscoat;"whatdoIdoitfor，Idon’tknow."
Itwasbeyondquestionthat，hadhebegunhisnovelthreemonthsbeforethistime，Condywouldhavelongsinceabandonedthehatefultask.ButBlixhadchangedallthat.AsuddenmaleforcehadbeguntodevelopinCondy.Amaster—emotionhadshakenhim，andhehadcommencedtoseeandtofeeltheserious，moreabiding，andperhapsthesternersideoflife.Blixhadsteadiedhim，therewasnodenyingthat.Hewasnotquitethesameboyish，hairbrainedfellowwhohadmade"abuffoonofhimself"intheChineserestaurant，threemonthsbefore.
ThecarshadstoppedrunningbythetimeCondyreachedthestreet.
Hewalkedhomeandflunghimselftobed，hismindtired，hisnervesunstrung，andallthebloodofhisbodyapparentlyconcentratedinhisbrain.Workingatnightafterwritingalldaylongwastellinguponhim，andheknewit.
WhatwithhisworkandhiscompanionshipwithBlix，Condysoonbegantodropoutofhiswontedplaceinhis"set."Hewasobligedtodeclineoneinvitationafteranotherthatwouldtakehimoutintheevening，andinsteadoflunchingathisclubwithSargeantorGeorgeHands，ashehadbeenaccustomedtodoatonetime，hefellintoanotherhabitoflunchingwithBlixattheflatonWashingtonStreet，andspendingthetwohoursallowedtohiminthemiddleofthedayinhercompany.
Condy’sdesertionofthemwasoftenspokenofbythemenofhisclubwithwhomhehadbeenatonetimesointimate，andthesubjecthappenedtobebroughtupagainonenoonwhenJackCarterwasintheclubasGeorgeHands’guest.Hands，Carter，andEckertwereatoneofthewindowsovertheirafter—dinnercigarsandliqueurs.
"Isay，"saidEckertsuddenly，"who’sthatgirlacrossthestreetthere——theoneinblack，justgoingbythatfurrier’ssign？I’veseenhersomewherebefore.Knowwhoitis？"
"That’sMissBessemer，isn’tit？"saidGeorgeHands，leaningforward."Ratherastunning—lookinggirl."
"Yes，that’sTravisBessemer，"assentedJackCarter;adding，amomentlater，"it’stoobadaboutthatgirl."
"What’sthematter？"askedEckert.
Carterliftedashoulder."Isn’tANYTHINGthematterasfarasI
know，onlysomehowthebestpeoplehavedroppedher.SheUSEDtobereceivedeverywhere."
"Cometothink，IHAVEN’Tseenheroutmuchthisseason，"saidEckert."ButIheardshehadboltedfrom’Society’withthebigS，andwasgoingEast——goingtostudymedicine，Ibelieve."
"I’vealwaysnoticed，"saidCarter，withasmile，"thatsosoonasagirlisdeclassee，shedevelopsapurposeinlifeandgetsearnest，andallthatsortofthing.
"Oh，well，come，"growledGeorgeHands，"TravisBessemerisnotdeclassee."
"Ididn’tsayshewas，"answeredCarter;"butshehasmadeherselftalkedaboutagooddeallately.GoingaroundwithRivers，asshedoes，isn’tthemostdiscreetthingintheworld.Ofcourse，it’sallright，butitallmakestalk，andIcameacrossthembyagroveoftreesoutonthelinkstheotherday——"
"Yes，"observedSargeant，leaningonthebackofCarter’sarmchair;"yes;andInoticed，too，thatshecutyoudead.Youfellowsshouldhavebeenthere，"hewenton，inperfectgoodhumor，turningtotheothers."Youmissedagoodlittlescene.
RiversandMissBessemerhadbeentakingatrampovertheReservation——and，bytheway，it’sagreatplacetowalk，somysistertellsme;sheandDickForsythetakeaconstitutionaloutthereeverySaturdaymorning——well，asIwassaying，RiversandMissBessemercameuponourpartyratherunexpectedly.Wewerealltoggedoutinourgolfingbags，andIpresumewelookedmoreliketailor’smodels，posingforthegallery，thanpeoplewhoweretakinganouting;butRiversandMissBessemerhadbeenregularlyexercising;lookedasthoughtheyhaddonetheirfifteenmilessincemorning.Theyhadtheiroldclotheson，andtheyweredustyandmuddy.
"YouwouldhavethoughtthatayounggirlsuchasMissBessemeris——forshe’sveryyoung——wouldhavebeenalittleembarrassedatrunningupagainstsuchaspickandspanlotaswewere.Notabitofit;didn’tloseherpoiseforamoment.Shebowedtomysisterandtome，asthoughfromthetopofadrag，byJove！andasthoughshewerefreshfromRedfernandVirot.Youknowagirlthatcanmanageherselfthatwayisathoroughbred.SheevenrememberedtocutlittleJohnnieCarterhere，becauseJohnnieforcedhimselfuponheronenightatadancewhenhewasdrunk;
didn’tshe，Johnnie？Johnniecameuptoherthere，outonthelinks，freshasadaisy，andputouthishand，with，’Why，howdoyoudo，MissBessemer？’and’whereverdidyoucomefrom？’and’I
haven’tseenyouinsolong’;andshesays，’No，notsinceourlastdance，Ibelieve，Mr.Carter，’andlookedathishandasthoughitwassomethingfunny.
"LittleJohnniemumbledandflushedandstammeredandbackedoff;
anditwaswellthathedid，becauseRivershadbeguntogetredaroundthewattles.Isaythelittlegirlisathoroughbred，andmysisterwantstogiveheradinnerassoonasshecomesout.
ButJohnniesaysshe’sdeclassee，somaybemysisterhadbetterthinkitover."
"Ididn’tsayshewasdeclassee，"exclaimedCarter."Ionlysaidshewoulddowelltobemorecareful."
Sargeantshiftedhiscigartotheothercornerofhismouth，oneeyeshuttoavoidthesmoke.
"Onemightsayasmuchoflotsofpeople，"heanswered.
"Idon’tlikeyourtone！"Carterflaredout.
"Oh，gotothedevil，Johnnie！Shallweallhaveadrink？"
OntheFridayeveningofthatweek，Condysethimselftohisworkathisaccustomedhour.Buthehadhadaharddayonthe"Times，"
Supplement，andhisbrain，likeanoverdrivenhorse，refusedtowork.Inhalfanhourhehadnotwrittenaparagraph.
"Ithoughtitwouldbebetter，intheend，toloafforoneevening，"heexplainedtoBlix，sometwentyminuteslater，astheysettledthemselvesinthelittledining—room."Icangoatitbetterto—morrow.Seehowyoulikethislastchapter."
Blixwasenthusiasticover"InDefianceofAuthority."Condyhadtoldhertheoutlineofthestory，andhadreadtohereachchapterashefinishedit.
"It’sthebestthingyouhaveeverdone，Condy，andyouknowit.
Isupposeithasfaults，butIdon’tcareanythingaboutthem.
It’sthestoryitselfthat’ssointeresting.Afterthatfirstchapteroftheboomrestaurantandtheexiles’club，nobodywouldwanttolaythebookdown.You’redoingthebestworkofyourlifesofar，andyousticktoit."
"It’sgrindingoutcopyfortheSupplementatthesametimethattakesallthestarchoutofme.You’venoideawhatitmeanstowriteallday，andthensitdownandwriteallevening."
"IWISHyoucouldgetoffthe’Times，’"saidBlix."You’rejustgivingthebestpartofyourlifetohackwork，andNOWit’sinterferingwithyournovel.Iknowyoucoulddobetterworkonyournovelifyoudidn’thavetoworkonthe’Times，’couldn’tyou？"
"Oh，ifyoucometothat，ofcourseIcould，"heanswered."Buttheywon’tgivemeavacation.Iwassoundingtheeditoronitdaybeforeyesterday.No;I’llhavetomanagesomehowtoswingthetwotogether."
"Well，let’snottalkshopnow.Condy.Youneedarest.Doyouwanttoplaypoker？"
Theyplayedforupwardofanhourthatevening，andCondy，asusual，lost.Hisill—luckwaspositivelyastonishing.DuringthelasttwomonthshehadplayedpokerwithBlixonanaverageofthreeorfoureveningsintheweek.andatthecloseofeverygameitwasBlixwhohadallthechips.
