As he explained his reasons for keeping in with the “vashe” in question mademoiselle contented herself with shedding radiance and paying no attention. Neither did she pay attention when he went on to tell of the girl who had disappeared, and of her stepfather’s reasons for finding her. She woke to cognizance of the subject only when Gorry repeated the exact words of Miss Tina Vanzetti that morning: “Name of Letty Gravely.”
It was mademoiselle’s turn for repetition. “But me, I know dat name. I ’ear it not so long ago. Name of Let-ty Grav-el-ly! I sure ’ear zat name all recently.” She reflected, tapping her forehead with vivacity. “Mais quand? Mais oui? C’était—Ah!” The exclamation was the sharp cry of discovery. “Tina Vanzetti—my frien’! She tell me zis morning. 216 Zat girl—Let-ty Grav-el-ly—she come chez Margot with ole man—what he keep ze white slave—and he command her grand beautiful trousseau—Tina Vanzetti she will give me ze address—and I will tell you—and you will tell him—and he will put you on to riche affairs––”
“It’ll be dollars and cents in the box office for me,” Gorry interpreted, forcibly, while the band belched forth a chord like the groan of a dying monster, calling them again to their feet.
“‘Remember,’ said the witch,” Allerton continued to read, “‘when you have once assumed a human form you can never again be a mermaid—never return to your home or to your sisters more. Should you fail to win the prince’s love, so that he leaves father and mother for your sake, and lays his hand in yours before the priest, an immortal soul will never be granted you. On the same day that he marries another your heart will break, and you will drift as sea-foam on the water.’ ‘So let it be,’ said the little mermaid, turning pale as death.’”
Allerton lifted his eyes from the book. “Does it bore you?”
There was no mistaking her sincerity. “No! I love it.”
“Then perhaps we’ll read a lot of things. After this we’ll find a good novel, and then possibly somebody’s life. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Her joy was such that he could hardly hear the “Yes,” for which he was listening. He listened because he was so accustomed to boring people that to know he was not boring them was a consolation.