The Street of Seven Stars

. The trunks were gone now. Only the concerto score still lay on the piano, where little Scatchett, mentally on the dock at New York with Henry's arms about her, had forgotten it. The candle

house in the background, was a forbidding place at best. She had rung the bell and had stood, her back against the door, eyes and ears strained in the darkness. She had

miled at her. The Portier liked Harmony in spite of the early morning practicing; she looked like a singer at the opera for whom he cherished a

ive Hellers of custom. But the Portier was keen, and Rosa was a niece of h

"It is for me a pleasure to admit you. And per

he was beautiful. She tried to speak and could not but she held out her hand in impulsive gratitude, and the Portier in his best manner bent over and kissed it.

. From the safety of the darkened salon she peered out into the garden again, but no skul

d reechoed sadly through the silent rooms-it was when she was ready for bed that she found the money under her pillow, and a scrawl from Scatc

have it-the real thing, you know, whatever it is-and I haven't. None of the rest of us had. And you must stay. To go now, just when lessons would mean everything-well, you must not think of it. We have scads to take us home, more than we

et us tell you so. And Sadie says you have a soul and I haven't, and that souls are deadly things to have. I feel to-night that in urging you to stay I am taking the burde

haps we are needlessly worried. In any case, of course it's a loan, and you can preserve that magnificent independence of yours by sending it back when you get to work to make your fortune. And if you are doubtful at

ying good-b

ATC

g Soprano had not known everything. There had been no insurance on her father's life; the little mother was penniless. A married sister would care for her, but what then? Harmony had enough remaining of her letter of credit to take her home, and she had-the hoard un

h. The Viennese were crazy about English. Some of the stores advertised "Englis

and comfortable, but on the toilet table there lay a disreputable comb with most of the teeth gone. Harmony kissed this unromantic object!

r his feathers, opened the door into the hall and listened. She was playing, not practicing, and the music was the barcarolle from the "Tales" of Hoffmann. Stan

d the door sheepishly. His wife stood over the st

he American

umbled with his mustache bandage, which was knotted behind, keeping o

," she announced,

is alone.

eaves

e-tied and pulled to smooth comp

what saw I last night, after she entered and you stood m

through the bandage, which had slipped down

and, raising the knife, he cut the knotted string. His mu

And when you see men at the gat

ike the angel at

lling one's cousin, who keeps a brushshop, what is in one's heart. Yes

e. She must find somewhere a tiny room with board, a humble little room but with a stove. It is folly t

would stay with the Fraulein for her keep, because it was not the custom for young ladies t

not keep her. And at noon, having packed her trunk, she went down to intervie

ly that the lease was up and it was her privilege to go. In the daylight she was not so like the angel, and after all sh

one; it was with a heavy heart that Harmon

ozen. Across the street a spotted deer, shot in the mountains the day before and hanging from a hook before a wild-game shop, was frozen qui

irl, isn't it?" he as

knew everything of Harmony that Rosa knew except her name. Rosa called her "The Beautiful One." Also he was short

the plume and the suit and heard the soft swish of silk beneath, which marks only self-respect in the American woman but is extravagance in Europe, and added to their regular terms until poor Harmony's heart almost stood still. And then at last toward eve

pear higher than the other and twisted one's nose. But there was an odor of stewing cabbage in the air. Also, alas, there was the

er way down. She reeled once or twice. At the bottom of the dark stairs she stood for a moment with her eyes

ges on the stone floo

membering. "Bist du krank?" He colored violently at

smiled

id in English. "And

herself from his supporting hand. He w

tairs is full of it. I live there, and I've eat

ive there. Is it

toward the parce

delicatessens-odorous, because only rugged flavors rise above the atmosphere up there. Cheese is the

eer relief from the loneliness o

offee at the coffee-house on t

es

hink a cup of coffee w

ttractive,"-

pped cream and s

ung American-young, she knew by his voice, tall by his silhouette, strong by t

mean-w

m going to fill my

s were not as other men; they w

it is not p

y the landlady? Come now-to the coffee-house and the Paris edition of the 'Herald'!" But the next moment he paused and ran his h

rence does

heese and the tinned fish, "it makes a difference in me that

later Harmony was in the open air, rather dazed, a bit excited, and lovely with the color the adventure brought into her face. Her companio

enly there flashed into the girl'

ny one you do not know spea