The Little Moment of Happiness

by Clarence Budington Kelland

Once more he took her to the Place St.-Michel and a little way up the Boulevard. There she dismissed him, but they lingered with their good nights. She seemed very gentle, very desirable, very sweet.... He was not afraid of her as he had been before. Some sort of message had traveled between them.... Kendall took the hand she extended, then he drew her to him and kissed her. She submitted, but did not return his kiss.

“When?” he asked.

“The day following to-morrow. Place de la Concorde. Metro. Sept heures.”

It was becoming a part of their ritual. And then she disappeared into the darkness—whither, he did not know; back into that mystery which was her life, from which she emerged from time to time as mysteriously as she disappeared.... He was impressed by this mystery tonight. He did not know her name—only Andree. She was a sort of apparition that manifested itself daintily, primly, conducted itself bewitchingly, and withdrew itself into the unknown....

He took the Metro back to the Étoile and walked home. The light was burning in the hall. When he hung his hat on the hall tree he found it still encumbered by Madeleine’s hat and jacket....

Kendall went to bed in a frame of mind.... Madeleine had seemed such a nice girl. She was a nice girl. Why, Andree had liked her.... His mother in him was shocked, affronted. Yet, somehow, Kendall was not so shocked as he expected himself to be. He didn’t know how he felt ... his thoughts were a turmoil, and he kept repeating to himself, “She is a nice girl ... she is a nice girl,...” as one who is bewildered in the presence of some incomprehensible phenomenon....

CHAPTER VII

Kendall dressed and went in to breakfast feeling no slight awkwardness. He was apprehensive, too, apprehensive of the concierge. The affair had upset him in a complex sort of way. It had startled him, yet it had not shocked him especially, and he was inclined to take himself to task for not being shocked. He was disappointed, and yet he was not disappointed in Madeleine. Anyhow, he was reluctant to meet her, for fear that the meeting would set him against her irrevocably and so cause trouble between himself and Bert.... And yet he was enjoying the experience as an experience, though he did not quite appreciate that he was enjoying it. Half a dozen times he said to himself, as if carrying on a subconscious argument: “But she’s a nice girl.... Darn it all, she’s a nice girl....” He was afraid a meeting with her would dispel this impression of her niceness.

Bert and Madeleine were already at table, waiting for him. Bert said good morning nonchalantly, and Madeleine smiled brightly and wished him “bon jour” without the least hint of embarrassment or self-consciousness. He was conscious of a feeling of relief. “By Jove! she is a nice girl,” he said to himself, and took the hand which she arose and offered.

Then Arlette came in with the pitcher of chocolate, and Kendall scrutinized her and then shook his head rather bewildered. Arlette might have been serving breakfast to the most circumspect of families. The only thing one could say of Arlette was that she served breakfast. She was normal, everything was normal. Kendall’s bewilderment increased.