The Hired Girl(95)

But he hasn’t come. Oh, he won’t come! It will be Tuesday before I talk to him again. All the same, he might come back from the Phoenix Club and see the light under the library door. He hasn’t come home yet. I’d have heard him. So he might still come.

I wish I’d let him walk to church with me.

I keep thinking of that moment when he said he wasn’t flirting, but then he said he was, because he couldn’t help it. Does that mean he can’t help flirting with anybody, or just with me? He remembered to buy me a sketchbook, and he knows my day off. . . . But then I imagine him dancing at the Phoenix Club — there will be society girls there, dressed in silk and lace, pretty girls with tiny waists and soft white hands. And I want to laugh scornfully — imagine thinking that David Rosenbach might be interested in me!

And just how old is that fashionable lady, Madame Marechaux?

It’s getting late. My hand aches from writing. Tomorrow the Ladies’ Sewing Society is coming: luncheon for ten. Malka says it’s one thing to cook for the bridge ladies, because they want to eat quickly and get back to their cards, but the sewing ladies are sewing for charity. They take their time eating, and they like a substantial meal.

I’m sleepy and I ought to go to bed.

I might as well go to bed.

I’ll wait another five minutes, and if he still hasn’t come, I’ll go to bed.



Tuesday, September the twelfth, 1911

Oh, what a day I’ve had! I don’t believe any girl ever spent a more beautiful afternoon, even with the rain — and indeed, the rain turned out to be one of the best parts! I want nothing more than to wield my pen and relive it all. No. One thing more I want: for the library door to open and for David to come in. But I must not be greedy; my cup of happiness is full.

Everything went well today. To begin with, Malka let me off early. She saw me rushing through the lunch dishes and said she’d rather do them herself and save the china. Dear, good, grumbly Malka! I flew upstairs and changed into my suit. I wish I’d worn my lacy waist instead of the plain one, but how was I to know the delights that lay in store for me?

The day was overcast, which was a disappointment, because David wanted me in dappled sunlight, like a woman in an Impressionist painting. David has told me all about the Impressionists, who are modern. He says they’re as good as the Old Masters any day, but they aren’t much appreciated because some of them are still alive, and the ones that are dead aren’t dead enough. I like a man who can make me laugh.

We went to the park and David posed me beneath a tree and told me to look rapt. Then he sat on the grass and sketched furiously. From time to time, he consulted his watch. After a little while, he said I could pin up my hair, because it was time to go.

I was disappointed, because I’d hoped we’d be together all afternoon. Only then, David gave me a great mischievous grin and asked me when was the last time I’d been inside a theater. I had to admit I’d never been inside a theater, and he said in that case I’d better hurry, because the opera started at two, and he wouldn’t miss taking me for a farm.

An opera! I was so excited that my hands were all thumbs and I couldn’t manage my hair. But David said it looked fine. We ran to catch the streetcar. All the while, I was thinking, An opera, an opera! I’m going to the opera, and David Rosenbach is taking me!

Actually, it wasn’t a whole opera I was going to see but what’s called a cabinet opera. David explained it to me: there would be only a few singers, in costume, and they would sing the finest airs from La Traviata. There would be scenery, but no ballet and no big choruses. David said he’d set his heart on taking me to the theater, but there isn’t much playing on Tuesday afternoons. Luckily the Columbia Parnassus Touring Company is at the Academy of Music for a week, and they do Tuesday and Wednesday matinees. David said he had a hunch that I’d like the opera better than an ice-cream soda.

Wasn’t that beautiful of him? I do think David Rosenbach is the kindest, most agreeable, most gallant man I ever met. To think of him working out in his head what I’d like best, and guessing right, too! Why, it beats everything I ever heard. I almost feel worshipful when I think of it. I try not to feel too worshipful, though, because I think it’s bad when girls think too highly of the men. It’s more suitable when the men worship the ladies.

On the streetcar, David started to tell me about the opera. He explained that traviata is Italian for lost, because Violetta, the heroine, is a lost woman. I asked how she got lost, and he said that Violetta had abandoned herself to a life of giddy pleasures. I said that didn’t sound too bad to me, which made David laugh. Just then an elderly lady got onto the streetcar. She wasn’t at all well dressed, poor thing, but David got right up and gave her his seat. That shows how chivalrous he is. But it meant we couldn’t talk anymore until we got to the Academy of Music.