There was practical France speaking, and France, in spite of temperament, in spite of surface excitability and eccentricity, is eminently practical—especially your France of the poorer sort. France may jump, but she jumps with her eyes open, and with a pretty sure knowledge of where she will fall.... The play moved on to its climax, Andree translating, but little translation was necessary, for the pantomime carried the story.
“It will be better for you to see a tragedy,” said Andree. “This is comédie. The actors speak fast in comédie; in tragedy they speak more slow.” She showed him how tragic actors speak, and it was deliciously funny.
Then came the climax in which “thees ol’ man” took “thees yo’ng girl” to the railway station and delivered her into the hands of her youthful lover. Andree was in tears. The magnificent acting affected Kendall himself, touched his emotions. He felt Andree’s hand move spontaneously to touch his arm as though in sympathy with the bereaved and forsaken old man, and Kendall took her little fingers in his palm and patted them very much as he would have stroked the hand of a weeping child.... She was so fragile, so childlike, so nice. He regarded her covertly, wondering what was going on under that curly black hair ... assuring himself that it was impossible for any one to think of anything but sweetness in connection with her. Yet she was a mystery. He was incapable of understanding her, and never came to understand her. A mystery she always remained to him—but a sweet mystery, a dainty mystery, a mystery never touched by unworthy things or thoughts.... And that was another mystery which he might one day understand dimly. He might come to a height from which his vision would be so clear that he could understand that she was good with that natural goodness which comes from God ... not with that conventional, rule-of-thumb goodness which is a product of narrow beliefs and set dogmas. Kendall was good himself, but he was not capable of attaining to a goodness such as Andree’s, for he could never approach her naturalness, the instinct which was in her for following always a path upon which God could smile, even if men should frown.... Doubtless the frowns of men weigh but little in the judgments of God....
They left the theater silently, the emotions evoked by the drama still moving them and drawing them together. He felt a great tenderness for her and almost fancied he was in love. It was a fair imitation. Whatever it was, it was not bad, but good. He would not be the worse, but the better, for having experienced it.
“My friend and I have rented an apartment,” he said, suddenly.
“Your friend? What is his name?”
“Bert Stanley.”
“You will live together?”
“Yes.”
“I will know him then.... You shall show him to me.”