Nemesis and the Candy Man

by O. Henry

　　

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"We sail at eight in the morning on the Celtic," saidHonoria, plucking a loose thread from her lacesleeve. "I heard so," said young Ives, dropping his hat,and muffing it as he tried to catch it, "and I camearound to wish you a pleasant voyage." "Of course you heard it," said Honoria, coldlysweet, "since we have had no opportunity of inform-ing you ourselves." Ives looked at her pleadingly, but with little hope. Outside in the street a high-pitched voicechanted, not unmusically, a commercial gamut of"Cand-de-ee-ee-s! Nice, fresh cand-ee-ee-ee-ees!d "It's our old candy man," said Honoria, leaningout the window and beckoning. "I want some of hismotto kisses. There's nothing in the Broadwayshops half so good." The candy man stopped his pushcart in front ofthe old Madison Avenue home. He had a holidayand festival air unusual to street peddlers. His tiewas new and bright red, and a horseshoe pin, almostlife-size, glittered speciously from its folds. Hisbrown, thin face was crinkled into a semi-foolishsmile. Striped cuffs with dog-head buttons coveredthe tan on his wrists. "I do believe he's going to get married," saidHonoria, pityingly. "I never saw him taken thatway before. And to-day is the first time in monthsthat he has cried his wares, I am sure." Ives threw a coin to the sidewalk. The candy manknows his customers. He filled a paper bag, climbedthe old-fashioned stoop and banded it in."I remember -- " said Ives. "Wait," said Honoria. She took a small portfolio from the drawer of awriting desk and from the portfolio a slip of flimsypaper one-quarter of an inch by two inches in size. "This," said Honoria, inflexibly, "was wrappedabout the first one we opened." "It was a year ago," apologized Ives, as he heldout his hand for it, "As long as skies above are blue To you, my love, I will be true." This he read from the slip of flimsy paper. "We were to have sailed a fortnight ago," saidHonoria, gossipingly. "It has been such a warmsummer. The town is quite deserted. There is no-where to go. Yet I am told that one or two of theroof gardens are amusing. The, singing -- and thedancing -- on one or two seem to have met with ap-proval." Ives did not wince. When you are in the ring youare not surprised when your adversary taps you onthe ribs. "I followed the candy man that time," said Ives,irrelevantly, "and gave him five dollars at the cornerof Broadway." He reached for the paper bag in Honoria's lap,took out one of the square, wrapped confections andslowly unrolled it. Sara Chillingworth's father," said Honoria,"has given her an automobile." "Read that," said Ives, handing over the slip thathad been wrapped around the square of candy. "Life teaches us -- how to live, Love teaches us -- to forgive." Honoria's checks turned pink."Honoria!" cried Ives, starting up from his chair. "Miss Clinton," corrected Honoria, rising likeVenus from the head on the surf. "I warned younot to speak that name again."' "Honoria," repeated Ives, "you must bear me. Iknow I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I musthave it. There is a madness that possesses one some-times for which his better nature is not responsible.I throw everything else but you to the winds. Istrike off the chains that have bound me. I re-nounce the siren that lured me from you. Let thebought verse of that street peddler plead for me. Itis you only whom I can love. Let your love forgive,and I swear to you that mine will be true 'as longas skies above are blue.' On the west side, between Sixth and Seventh Ave-nues, an alley cuts the block in the middle. It per-ishes in a little court in the centre of the block. Thedistrict is theatrical; the inhabitants, the bubblingfroth of half a dozen nations. The atmosphere isBohemian, the language polyglot, the locality pre-carious. In the court at the rear of the alley lived the candyman. At seven o'clock be pushed his cart into thenarrow entrance, rested it upon the irregular stoneslats and sat upon one of the handles to cool himself.There was a great draught of cool wind through thealley. There was a window above the spot where be al-ways stopped his pushcart. In the cool of the after-noon, Mlle. Adele, drawing card of the Aerial RoofGarden, sat at the window and took the air. Gen-erally her ponderous mass of dark auburn hair wasdown, that the breeze might have the felicity of aid-ing Sidonie, the maid, in drying and airing it.About her shoulders -- the point of her that the pho-tographers always made the most of -- was looselydraped a heliotrope scarf. Her arms to the elbowwere bare -- there were no sculptors there to raveover them -- but even the stolid bricks in the wallsof the alley should not have been so insensate as todisapprove. While she sat thus Fe1ice, another maid,anointed and bathed the small feet that twinkled andso charmed the nightly Aerial audiences. Gradually Mademoiselle began to notice the candyman stopping to mop his brow and cool himself be-neath her window. In the hands of her maids shewas deprived for the time of her vocation -- thecharming and binding to her chariot of man. Tolose time was displeasing to Mademoiselle. Herewas the candy man - no fit game for her darts, truly-- but of the sex upon which she had been born tomake war. After casting upon him looks of unseeing coldnessfor a dozen times, one afternoon she suddenly thawedand poured down upon him a smile that put to shamethe sweets upon his cart. "Candy man," she said, cooingly, while Sidoniefollowed her impulsive dive, brushing the heavyauburn hair, "don't you think I am beautiful? The candy man laughed harshly, and looked up,with his thin jaw set, while he wiped his foreheadwith a red-and-blue handkerchief "Yer'd make a dandy magazine cover," he said,grudgingly. "Beautiful or not is for them thatcares. It's not my line. If yer lookin' for bou-quets apply elsewhere between nine and twelve. Ithink we'll have rain." Truly, fascinating a candy man is like killing rab-bits in a deep snow; but the hunter's blood is widelydiffused. Mademoiselle tugged a great coil ofhair from Sidonie's bands and let it fall out thewindow. "Candy man, have you a sweetheart anywherewith hair as long and soft as that? And with an armso round? " She flexed an arm like Galatea's afterthe miracle across the window-sill. The candy man cackled shrilly as he arranged astock of butter-scotch that had tumbled down. "Smoke up!" said he, vulgarly. "Nothin' doin'in the complimentary line. I'm too wise to be bam-boozled by a switch of hair and a newly massagedarm. Oh, I guess you'll make good in the calcium,all right, with plenty of powder and paint on and theorchestra playing "Under the Old Apple Tree."But don't put on your hat and chase downstairs tofly to the Little Church Around the Corner with me.I've been up against peroxide and make-up boxes be-fore. Say, all joking aside -- don't you think we'llhave rain?" "Candy man," said Mademoiselle softly, with herlips curving and her chin dimpling, "don't you thinkI'm pretty?" The candy man grinned."Savin' money, ain't yer? " said be, "by bein' yerown press agent. I smoke, but I haven't seen yermug on any of the five-cent cigar boxes. It'd takea new brand of woman to get me goin', anyway. Iknow 'em from sidecombs to shoelaces. Gimme agood day's sales and steak-and-onions at seven anda pipe and an evenin' paper back there in the court,and I'll not trouble Lillian Russell herself to wink atme, if you please." Mademoiselle pouted. "Candy man," she said, softly and deeply, "yetyou shall say that I am beautiful. All men say soand so shall you." The candy man laughed and pulled out his pipe. "Well," said be, "I must be goin' in. There is astory in the evenin' paper that I am readin'. Menare divin' in the seas for a treasure, and pirates arewatchin' them from behind a reef. And there ain'ta woman on land or water or in the air. Good-evenin'." And he trundled his pushcart down thealley and back to the musty court where he lived. Incredibly to him who has not learned woman,Mademoiselle sat at the window each day and spreadher nets for the ignominious game. Once she kept agrand cavalier waiting in her reception chamber forhalf an hour while she battered in vain the candyman's tough philosophy. His rough laugh chafed hervanity to its core. Daily he sat on his cart in thebreeze of the alley while her hair was being ministeredto, and daily the shafts of her beauty reboundedfrom his dull bosom pointless and ineffectual. Un-worthy pique brightened her eyes. Pride-hurt sheglowed upon him in a way that would have sent herhigher adorers into an egoistic paradise. The candyman's hard eyes looked upon her with a half-con-cealed derision that urged her to the use of the sharp-est arrow in her beauty's quiver. One afternoon she leaned far over the sill, and shedid not challenge and torment him as usual. "Candy man," said she, "stand up and look intomy eyes." He stood up and looked into her eyes, with hisharsh laugh like the sawing of wood. He took outhis pipe, fumbled with it, and put it back into bigpocket with a trembling band. "That will do," said Mademoiselle, with a slowsmile. "I must go now to my masseuse. Good-evening." The next evening at seven the candy man came andrested his cart under the window. But was it thecandy man? His clothes were a bright new check.His necktie was a flaming red, adorned by a glit-tering horseshoe pin, almost life-size. His shoes werepolished; the tan of his cheeks had paled -- his handshad been washed. The window was empty, and hewaited under it with his nose upward, like a houndhoping for a bone. Mademoiselle came, with Sidonie carrying her loadof hair. She looked at the candy man and smiled aslow smile that faded away into ennui. Instantly sheknew that the game was bagged; and so quicklyshe wearied of the chase. She began to talk toSidonie. "Been a fine day," said the candy man, hollowly."First time in a month I've felt first-class. Hit itup down old Madison, hollering out like I useter.Think it'll rain to-morrow?" Mademoiselle laid two round arms on the cushionon the window-sill, and a dimpled chin upon them. "Candy man," said she, softly, "do you notlove me? " The candy man stood up and leaned against thebrick wall. "Lady," said be, chokingly, "I've got $800 savedup. Did I say you wasn't beautiful? Take it everybit of it and buy a collar for your dog with it." A sound as of a hundred silvery bells tinkled in theroom of Mademoiselle. The laughter filled the alleyand trickled back into the court, as strange a thing toenter there as sunlight itself. Mademoiselle wasamused. Sidonie, a wise echo, added a sepulchral butfaithful contralto. The laughter of the two seemedat last to penetrate the candy man. He fumbledwith his horseshoe pin. At length Mademoiselle, ex-hausted, turned her flushed, beautiful face to the win-dow. "Candy man," said she, "go away. When Ilaugh Sidonie pulls my hair. I can but laugh whileyou remain there." "Here is a note for Mademoiselle," said Fe1ice,coming to the window in the room. "There is no justice," said the candy man, lift-ing the handle of his cart and moving away. Three yards he moved, and stopped. Loud shriekafter shriek came from the window of Mademoiselle.Quickly he ran back. He heard a body thumpingupon the floor and a sound as though heels beat alter-nately upon it. "What is it?" be called. Sidonie's severe head came into the window. "Mademoiselle is overcome by bad news," she said."One whom she loved with all her soul has gone --you may have beard of him -- he is Monsieur Ives.He sails across the ocean to-morrow. Oh, you men!"

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