It occurred to me that it
might be the mate of the one already mine. For some time all the efforts I
could contrive, either to capture or free it, were vain. Round and round
it flew, silently beating and bruising its exquisite little head against
the lofty ceiling, the glory of its luminous red throat seeming to
heighten into an expression of unspeakable agony. At last Mrs. Smith ran
for a long broom, and, as in her absence I stood watching the self-snared
captive's struggle, the long, tiny beak which had never done worse than go
twittering with rapture to the grateful hearts of thousands of flowers,
began to trace along the smooth, white ceiling a scarlet thread of pure
heart's blood. The broom came. I held it up, the flutterer lighted upon
it, and at first slowly, warily, and then triumphantly, I lowered it under
the lintel out into the veranda, and the bird darted away into the garden
and was gone like a soul into heaven.
In the middle of my short recital Manouvrier had sunk down upon the arm of
his wife's rocking-chair with one huge hand on both of hers folded over
her sewing, and as I finished he sat motionless, still gazing into my
face.
"But," I started, with sudden pretence of business impulse, "how much am I
to pay?"
He rose, slowly, and looked dreamily at his wife; she smiled at him, and
he grunted,
"Nut'n'.
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