Chapter XII. Forbidden Fruit

by Louisa May Alcott

　　Chapter XII. Forbidden Fruit"I'm perfectly aching for some fun," said Polly to herself as sheopened her window one morning and the sunshine and frosty airset her blood dancing and her eyes sparkling with youth, health,and overflowing spirits. "I really must break out somewhere andhave a good time. It's quite impossible to keep steady any longer.Now what will I do?" Polly sprinkled crumbs to the doves, whocame daily to be fed, and while she watched the gleaming necksand rosy feet, she racked her brain to devise some unusuallydelightful way of enjoying herself, for she really had bottled up herspirits so long, they were in a state of uncontrollableeffervescence."I'll go to the opera," she suddenly announced to the doves. "It'sexpensive, I know, but it's remarkably good, and music is such atreat to me. Yes, I'll get two tickets as cheap as I can, send a noteto Will, poor lad, he needs fun as much as I do, and we'll go andhave a nice time in some corner, as Charles Lamb and his sisterused to."With that Polly slammed down the window, to the dismay of hergentle little pensioners, and began to fly about with great energy,singing and talking to herself as if it was impossible to keep quiet.She started early to her first lesson that she might have time to buythe tickets, hoping, as she put a five-dollar bill into her purse, thatthey would n't be very high, for she felt that she was not in a moodto resist temptation. But she was spared any struggle, for when shereached the place, the ticket office was blocked up by eagerpurchasers and the disappointed faces that turned away told Pollythere was no hope for her."Well, I don't care, I'll go somewhere, for I will have my fun," shesaid with great determination, for disappointment only seemed towhet her appetite. But the playbills showed her nothing invitingand she was forced to go away to her work with the money burningher pocket and all manner of wild schemes floating in her head. Atnoon, instead of going home to dinner, she went and took an ice,trying to feet very gay and festive all by herself. It was rather afailure, however, and after a tour of the picture shops she went togive Maud a lesson, feeling that it was very hard to quench herlongings, and subside into a prim little music teacher.Fortunately she did not have to do violence to her feelings verylong, for the first thing Fanny said to her was: "Can you go?""Where?""Did n't you get my note?""I did n't go home to dinner.""Tom wants us to go to the opera to-night and " Fan got no further,for Polly uttered a cry of rapture and clasped her hands."Go? Of course I will. I've been dying to go all day, tried to gettickets this morning and could n't, been fuming about it ever since,and now oh, how splendid!" And Polly could not restrain anecstatic skip, for this burst of joy rather upset her."Well, you come to tea, and we'll dress together, and go allcomfortable with Tom, who is in a heavenly frame of mindto-day.""I must run home and get my things," said Polly, resolving on thespot to buy the nicest pair of gloves the city afforded."You shall have my white cloak and any other little rigging youwant. Tommy likes to have his ladies a credit to him, you know,"said Fanny, departing to take a beauty sleep.Polly instantly decided that she would n't borrow Becky's bestbonnet, as she at first intended, but get a new one, for in herpresent excited state, no extravagance seemed too prodigal inhonor of this grand occasion. I am afraid that Maud's lesson wasnot as thorough as it should have been, for Polly's head was such achaos of bonnets, gloves, opera-cloaks and fans, that Maudblundered through, murdering time and tune at her own sweet will.The instant it was over Polly rushed away and bought not only thekids but a bonnet frame, a bit of illusion, and a pink crape rose,which had tempted her for weeks in a certain shop window, thenhome and to work with all the skill and speed of a distractedmilliner."I'm rushing madly into expense, I'm afraid, but the fit is on meand I'll eat bread and water for a week to make up for it. I mustlook nice, for Tom seldom takes me and ought to be gratifiedwhen he does. I want to do like other girls, just for once, and enjoymyself without thinking about right and wrong. Now a bit of pinkribbon to tie it with, and I shall be done in time to do up my bestcollar," she said, turning her boxes topsy-turvy for the necessaryribbon in that delightful flurry which young ladies feel on suchoccasions.It is my private opinion that the little shifts and struggles we poorgirls have to undergo beforehand give a peculiar relish to our funwhen we get it. This fact will account for the rapturous mood inwhich Polly found herself when, after making her bonnet, washingand ironing her best set, blacking her boots and mending her fan,she at last, like Consuelo, "put on a little dress of black silk" and,with the smaller adornments pinned up in a paper, started for theShaws', finding it difficult to walk decorously when her heart wasdancing in her bosom.Maud happened to be playing a redowa up in the parlor, and Pollycame prancing into the room so evidently spoiling for a dance thatTom, who was there, found it impossible to resist catching herabout the waist, and putting her through the most intricateevolutions till Maud's fingers gave out."That was splendid! Oh, Tom, thank you so much for asking meto-night. I feel just like having a regular good time," cried Polly,when she stopped, with her hat hanging round her neck and herhair looking as if she had been out in a high wind."Glad of it. I felt so myself and thought we'd have a jolly littleparty all in the family," said Tom, looking much gratified at herdelight."Is Trix sick?" asked Polly."Gone to New York for a week.""Ah, when the cat's away the mice will play.""Exactly. Come and have another turn."Before they could start, however, the awful spectacle of a little dogtrotting out of the room with a paper parcel in his mouth, madePolly clasp her hands with the despairing cry: "My bonnet! Oh, mybonnet!""Where? what? which?" And Tom looked about him, bewildered."Snip's got it. Save it! save it!""I will!" And Tom gave chase with more vigor than discretion.Snip, evidently regarding it as a game got up for his specialbenefit, enjoyed the race immensely and scampered all over thehouse, shaking the precious parcel like a rat while his master ranand whistled, commanded and coaxed, in vain. Polly followed,consumed with anxiety, and Maud laughed till Mrs. Shaw sentdown to know who was in hysterics. A piteous yelp from the lowerregions at last announced that the thief was captured, and Tomappeared bearing Snip by the nape of the neck in one hand andPolly's cherished bonnet in the other."The little scamp was just going to worry it when I grabbed him. I'm afraid he has eaten one of your gloves. I can't find it, and thisone is pretty well chewed up," said Tom, bereaving Snip of thetorn kid, to which he still pertinaciously clung."Serves me right," said Polly with a groan. "I'd no business to get anew pair, but I wanted to be extra gorgeous to-night, and this is mypunishment for such mad extravagance.""Was there anything else?" asked Tom."Only my best cuffs and collar. You'll probably find them in thecoal-bin," said Polly, with the calmness of despair."I saw some little white things on the dining-room floor as I racedthrough. Go get them, Maud, and we'll repair damages," said Tom,shutting the culprit into the boot closet, where he placidly rolledhimself up and went to sleep."They ain't hurt a bit," proclaimed Maud, restoring the losttreasures."Neither is my bonnet, for which I'm deeply grateful," said Polly,who had been examining it with a solicitude which made Tom'seyes twinkle."So am I, for it strikes me that is an uncommonly'nobby' littleaffair," he said approvingly. Tom had a weakness for pale pinkroses, and perhaps Polly knew it."I'm afraid it's too gay," said Polly, with a dubious look."Not a bit. Sort of bridal, you know. Must be becoming. Put it onand let's see.""I would n't for the world, with my hair all tumbling down. Don'tlook at me till I'm respectable, and don't tell any one how I'vebeen acting. I think I must be a little crazy to-night," said Polly,gathering up her rescued finery and preparing to go and find Fan."Lunacy is mighty becoming, Polly. Try it again," answered Tom,watching her as she went laughing away, looking all the prettierfor her dishevelment. "Dress that girl up, and she'd be a raving,tearing beauty," added Tom to Maud in a lower tone as he look herinto the parlor under his arm.Polly heard it and instantly resolved to be as "raving and astearing" as her means would allow, "just for one night," she said asshe peeped over the banisters, glad to see that the dance and therace had taken the "band-boxy" air out of Tom's elegant array.I deeply regret being obliged to shock the eyes and ears of such ofmy readers as have a prejudice in favor of pure English byexpressions like the above, but, having rashly undertaken to write alittle story about Young America, for Young America, I feel boundto depict my honored patrons as faithfully as my limited powerspermit. Otherwise, I must expect the crushing criticism, "Well, Idare say it's all very prim and proper, but it is n't a bit like us," andnever hope to arrive at the distinction of finding the covers of "AnOld-Fashioned Girl" the dirtiest in the library.The friends had a social "cup o' tea" upstairs, which Pollyconsidered the height of luxury, and then each took a mirror andproceeded to prink to her heart's content. The earnestness withwhich Polly made her toilet that night was delightful to behold.Feeling in a daring mood, she released her pretty hair from thebraids in which she usually wore it and permitted the curls todisplay themselves in all their brown abundance, especially severaldangerous little ones about the temples and forehead. The puttingon of the rescued collar and cuffs was a task which absorbed herwhole mind. So was the settling of a minute bit of court-plasterjust to the left of the dimple in her chin, an unusual piece ofcoquetry in which Polly would not have indulged, if an almostinvisible scratch had not given her an excuse for doing it. Thewhite, down-trimmed cloak, with certain imposing ornaments onthe hood, was assumed with becoming gravity and draped withmuch advancing and retreating before the glass, as its wearerpractised the true Boston gait, elbows back, shoulders forward, abend and a slide, occasionally varied by a slight skip. But whenthat bonnet went on, Polly actually held her breath till it was safelylanded and the pink rose bloomed above the smooth waves of hairwith what Fanny called "a ravishing effect." At this successfulstage of affairs Polly found it impossible to resist the loan of a pairof gold bands for the wrists and Fanny's white fan with the littlemirror in the middle."I can put them in my pocket if I feel too much dressed," said Pollyas she snapped on the bracelets, but after a wave or two of the fanshe felt that it would be impossible to take them off till theevening was over, so enticing was their glitter.Fanny also lent her a pair of three-button gloves, which completedher content, and when Tom greeted her with an approving, "Here'sa sight for gods and men! Why, Polly, you're gorgeous!" she feltthat her "fun" had decidedly begun."Would n't Polly make a lovely bride?" said Maud, who wasrevolving about the two girls, trying to decide whether she wouldhave a blue or a white cloak when she grew up and went to operas."Faith, and she would! Allow me to congratulate you, Mrs.Sydney," added Tom, advancing with his wedding-reception bowand a wicked look at Fanny."Go away! How dare you?" cried Polly, growing much redder thanher rose."If we are going to the opera to-night, perhaps we'd better start, asthe carriage has been waiting some time," observed Fan coolly,and sailed out of the room in an unusually lofty manner."Don't you like it, Polly?" whispered Tom, as they went downstairs together."Very much.""The deuce you do!""I'm so fond of music, how can I help it?"I'm talking about Syd.""Well, I'm not.""You'd better try for him.""I'll think of it.""Oh, Polly, Polly, what are you coming to?""A tumble into the street, apparently," answered Polly as sheslipped a little on the step, and Tom stopped in the middle of hislaugh to pilot her safely into the carriage, where Fanny was alreadyseated."Here's richness!" said Polly to herself as she rolled away, feelingas Cinderella probably did when the pumpkin-coach bore her tothe first ball, only Polly had two princes to think about, and poorCinderella, on that occasion, had not even one. Fanny did n't seeminclined to talk much, and Tom would go on in such a ridiculousmanner that Polly told him she would n't listen and began to humbits of the opera. But she heard every word, nevertheless, andresolved to pay him for his impertinence as soon as possible byshowing him what he had lost.Their seats were in the balcony, and hardly were they settled,when, by one of those remarkable coincidences which arecontinually occurring in our youth, Mr. Sydney and Fanny's oldfriend Frank Moore took their places just behind them."Oh, you villain! You did it on purpose," whispered Polly as sheturned from greeting their neighbors and saw a droll look on Tom'sface."I give you my word I did n't. It's the law of attraction, don't yousee?""If Fan likes it, I don't care.""She looks resigned, I think."She certainly did, for she was talking and laughing in the gayestmanner with Frank while Sydney was covertly surveying Polly asif he did n't quite understand how the gray grub got so suddenlytransformed into a white butterfly. It is a well-known fact thatdress plays a very important part in the lives of most women andeven the most sensible cannot help owning sometimes how muchhappiness they owe to a becoming gown, gracefully arranged hair,or a bonnet which brings out the best points in their faces and putsthem in a good humor. A great man was once heard to say thatwhat first attracted him to his well-beloved wife was seeing her ina white muslin dress with a blue shawl on the chair behind her.The dress caught his eye, and, stopping to admire that, the wearer'sintelligent conversation interested his mind, and in time, thewoman's sweetness won his heart. It is not the finest dress whichdoes the most execution, I fancy, but that which best interpretsindividual taste and character. Wise people understand this, andeverybody is more influenced by it than they know, perhaps. Pollywas not very wise, but she felt that every one about her foundsomething more attractive than usual in her and modestlyattributed Tom's devotion, Sydney's interest, and Frank'sundisguised admiration, to the new bonnet or, more likely, to thatdelightful combination of cashmere, silk, and swan's-down, which,like Charity's mantle, seemed to cover a multitude of sins in otherpeople's eyes and exalt the little music teacher to the rank of ayoung lady.Polly scoffed at this sort of thing sometimes, but to-night sheaccepted it without a murmur rather enjoyed it in fact, let herbracelets shine before the eyes of all men, and felt that it was goodto seem comely in their sight. She forgot one thing, however: thather own happy spirits gave the crowning charm to a picture whichevery one liked to see a blithe young girl enjoying herself with allher heart. The music and the light, costume and company, excitedPolly and made many things possible which at most times shewould never have thought of saying or doing. She did not mean toflirt, but somehow "it flirted itself" and she could n't help it, for,once started, it was hard to stop, with Tom goading her on, andSydney looking at her with that new interest in his eyes. Polly'sflirting was such a very mild imitation of the fashionable thing thatTrix & Co. would not have recognized it, but it did very well for abeginner, and Polly understood that night wherein the fascinationof it lay, for she felt as if she had found a new gift all of a sudden,and was learning how to use it, knowing that it was dangerous, yetfinding its chief charm in that very fact.Tom did n't know what to make of her at first, though he thoughtthe change uncommonly becoming and finally decided that Pollyhad taken his advice and was "setting her cap for Syd," as hegracefully expressed it. Sydney, being a modest man, thoughtnothing of the kind, but simply fancied that little Polly wasgrowing up to be a very charming woman. He had known her sinceher first visit and had always liked the child; this winter he hadbeen interested in the success of her plans and had done what hecould to help them, but he never thought of failing in love withPolly till that night. Then he began to feel that he had not fullyappreciated his young friend; that she was such a bright andlovable girl, it was a pity she should not always be gay and pretty,and enjoy herself; that she would make a capital wife forsomebody, and perhaps it was about time to think of "settling," ashis sister often said. These thoughts came and went as he watchedthe white figure in front, felt the enchantment of the music, andfound everybody unusually blithe and beautiful. He had heard theopera many times, but it had never seemed so fine before, perhapsbecause he had never happened to have had an ingenuous youngface so near him in which the varying emotions born of the music,and the romance it portrayed, came and went so eloquently that itwas impossible to help reading them. Polly did not know that thiswas why he leaned down so often to speak to her, with anexpression which she did not understand but liked very muchnevertheless."Don't shut your eyes, Polly. They are so full of mischief to-night, Ilike to see them," said Tom, after idly wondering for a minute ifshe knew how long and curly her lashes were."I don't wish to look affected, but the music tells the story so muchbetter than the acting that I don't care to look on half the time,"answered Polly, hoping Tom would n't see the tears she had socleverly suppressed."Now I like the acting best. The music is all very fine, I know, butit does seem so absurd for people to go round telling tremendoussecrets at the top of their voices. I can't get used to it.""That's because you've more common-sense than romance. I don'tmind the absurdity, and quite long to go and comfort that poor girlwith the broken heart," said Polly with a sigh as the curtain fell ona most affecting tableau."What's-his-name is a great jack not to see that she adores him. Inreal life we fellows ain't such bats as all that," observed Tom, whohad decided opinions on many subjects that he knew very littleabout, and expressed them with great candor.A curious smile passed over Polly's face and she put up her glass tohide her eyes, as she said: "I think you are bats sometimes, butwomen are taught to wear masks, and that accounts for it, Isuppose.""I don't agree. There's precious little masking nowadays; wishthere was a little more sometimes," added Tom, thinking of severalblooming damsels whose beseeching eyes had begged him not toleave them to wither on the parent stem."I hope not, but I guess there's a good deal more than any onewould suspect.""What can you know about broken hearts and blighted beings?"asked Sydney, smiling at the girl's pensive tone.Polly glanced up at him and her face dimpled and shone again, asshe answered, laughing: "Not much; my time is to come.""I can't imagine you walking about the world with your back hairdown, bewailing a hard-hearted lover," said Tom."Neither can I. That would n't be my way.""No; Miss Polly would let concealment prey on her damask cheeksand still smile on in the novel fashion, or turn sister of charity andnurse the heartless lover through small-pox, or some othercontagious disease, and die seraphically, leaving him to theagonies of remorse and tardy love."Polly gave Sydney an indignant look as he said that in a slowsatirical way that nettled her very much, for she hated to bethought sentimental."That's not my way either," she said decidedly. "I'd try to outliveit, and if I could n't, I'd try to be the better for it. Disappointmentneed n't make a woman a fool.""Nor an old maid, if she's pretty and good. Remember that, anddon't visit the sins of one blockhead on all the rest of mankind,"said Tom, laughing at her earnestness."I don't think there is the slightest possibility of Miss Polly's beingeither," added Sydney with a look which made it evident thatconcealment had not seriously damaged Polly's damask cheek asyet."There's Clara Bird. I have n't seen her but once since she wasmarried. How pretty she looks!" and Polly retired behind the bigglass again, thinking the chat was becoming rather personal."Now, there's a girl who tried a different cure for unrequitedaffection from any you mention. People say she was fond of Belle'sbrother. He did n't reciprocate but went off to India to spoil hisconstitution, so Clara married a man twenty years older than she isand consoles herself by being the best-dressed woman in the city.""That accounts for it," said Polly, when Tom's long whisper ended."For what?""The tired look in her eyes.""I don't see it," said Tom, after a survey through the glass."Did n't expect you would.""I see what you mean. A good many women have it nowadays,"said Sydney over Polly's shoulder."What's she tired of? The old gentleman?" asked Tom."And herself," added Polly."You've been reading French novels, I know you have. That's justthe way the heroines go on," cried Tom."I have n't read one, but it's evident you have, young man, and you'd better stop.""I don't care for'em; only do it to keep up my French. But howcame you to be so wise, ma'am?""Observation, sir. I like to watch faces, and I seldom see agrown-up one that looks perfectly happy.""True for you, Polly; no more you do, now I think of it. I don'tknow but one that always looks so, and there it is.""Where?" asked Polly, with interest."Look straight before you and you'll see it."Polly did look, but all she saw was her own face in the little mirrorof the fan which Tom held up and peeped over with a laugh in hiseyes."Do I look happy? I'm glad of that," And Polly surveyed herselfwith care.Both young men thought it was girlish vanity and smiled at itsnaive display, but Polly was looking for something deeper thanbeauty and was glad not to find it."Rather a pleasant little prospect, hey, Polly?""My bonnet is straight, and that's all I care about. Did you ever seea picture of Beau Brummel?" asked Polly quickly."No.""Well, there he is, modernized." And turning the fan, she showedhim himself."Any more portraits in your gallery?" asked Sydney, as if he likedto share all the nonsense going."One more.""What do you call it?""The portrait of a gentleman." And the little glass reflected agratified face for the space of two seconds."Thank you. I'm glad I don't disgrace my name," said Sydney,looking down into the merry blue eyes that thanked him silentlyfor many of the small kindnesses that women never can forget."Very good, Polly, you are getting on fast," whispered Tom,patting his yellow kids approvingly."Be quiet! Dear me, how warm it is!" And Polly gave him a frownthat delighted his soul."Come out and have an ice, we shall have time.""Fan is so absorbed, I could n't think of disturbing her," said Polly,fancying that her friend was enjoying the evening as much as shewas a great mistake, by the way, for Fan was acting for effect, andthough she longed to turn and join them, would n't do it, unless acertain person showed signs of missing her. He did n't, and Fannychatted on, raging inwardly over her disappointment, andwondering how Polly could be so gay and selfish.It was delicious to see the little airs Polly put on, for she felt as ifshe were somebody else, and acting a part. She leaned back, as ifquite oppressed by the heat, permitted Sydney to fan her, and paidhim for the service by giving him a flower from her bouquet,proceedings which amused Tom immensely, even while it piquedhim a little to be treated like an old friend who did n't count."Go in and win, Polly; I'll give you my blessing," he whispered, asthe curtain rose again."It's only part of the fun, so don't you laugh, you disrespectfulboy," she whispered back in a tone never used toward Sydney.Tom did n't quite like the different way in which she treated them,and the word "boy" disturbed his dignity, for he was almosttwenty-one and Polly ought to treat him with more respect. Sydneyat the same moment was wishing he was in Tom's place young,comely, and such a familiar friend that Polly would scold andlecture him in the delightful way she did Tom; while Polly forgotthem both when the music began and left them ample time to lookat her and think about themselves.While they waited to get out when all was over Polly heard Fanwhisper to Tom: "What do you think Trix will say to this?""What do you mean?""Why, the way you've been going on to-night.""Don't know, and don't care; it's only Polly.""That's the very thing. She can't bear P.""Well, I can; and I don't see why I should n't enjoy myself as wellas Trix.""You'll get to enjoying yourself too much if you are n't careful.Polly's waked up.""I'm glad of it, and so's Syd.""I only spoke for your good.""Don't trouble yourself about me; I get lecturing enough in anotherquarter and can't stand any more. Come, Polly."She took the arm he offered her, but her heart was sore and angry,for that phrase, "It's only Polly," hurt her sadly. "As if I was n'tanybody, had n't any feelings, and was only made to amuse orwork for people! Fan and Tom are both mistaken and I'll showthem that Polly is awake," she thought, indignantly. "Why shouldn't I enjoy myself as well as the rest? Besides, it's only Tom," sheadded with a bitter smile as she thought of Trix."Are you tired, Polly?" asked Tom, bending down to look into herface."Yes, of being nobody.""Ah, but you ain't nobody, you're Polly, and you could n't betterthat if you tried ever so hard." said Tom, warmly, for he really wasfond of Polly, and felt uncommonly so just then."I'm glad you think so, anyway. It's so pleasant to be liked." Andshe looked up with her face quite bright again."I always did like you, don't you know, ever since that first visit.""But you teased me shamefully, for all that.""So I did, but I don't now."Polly did not answer, and Tom asked, with more anxiety than theoccasion required: "Do I, Polly?""Not in the same way, Tom," she answered in a tone that did n'tsound quite natural."Well, I never will again.""Yes, you will, you can't help it." And Polly's eye glanced atSydney, who was in front with Fan.Tom laughed, and drew Polly closer as the crowd pressed, saying,with mock tenderness: "Did n't she like to be chaffed about hersweethearts? Well, she shan't be if I can help it. Poor dear, did sheget her little bonnet knocked into a cocked hat and her littletemper riled at the same time?"Polly could n't help laughing, and, in spite of the crush, enjoyed theslow journey from seat to carriage, for Tom took such excellentcare of her, she was rather sorry when it was over.They had a merry little supper after they got home, and Polly gavethem a burlesque opera that convulsed her hearers, for her spiritsrose again and she was determined to get the last drop of funbefore she went back to her humdrum life again."I've had a regularly splendid time, and thank you ever so much,"she said when the "good-nights" were being exchanged."So have I. Let's go and do it again to-morrow," said Tom, holdingthe hand from which he had helped to pull a refractory glove."Not for a long while, please. Too much pleasure would soon spoilme," answered Polly, shaking her head."I don't believe it. Good-night,'sweet Mistress Milton,' as Sydcalled you. Sleep like an angel, and don't dream of I forgot, noteasing allowed." And Tom took himself off with a theatricalfarewell."Now it's all over and done with," thought Polly as she fell asleepafter a long vigil. But it was not, and Polly's fun cost more than theprice of gloves and bonnet, for, having nibbled at forbidden fruit,she had to pay the penalty. She only meant to have a good time,and there was no harm in that, but unfortunately she yielded to thevarious small temptations that beset pretty young girls and didmore mischief to others than to herself. Fanny's friendship grewcooler after that night. Tom kept wishing Trix was half assatisfactory as Polly, and Mr. Sydney began to build castles thathad no foundation.