



Produced by Robert Cicconetti and the Online Distributed
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Italics have been transcribed using _underscores_, small capitals as ALL
CAPITALS. Inconsistencies in hyphenation and spelling have not been
corrected. Punctuation has been silently corrected. A list of other
corrections can be found at the end of the document. THE MYSTERY OF CHOICE


BY ROBERT W. CHAMBERS

AUTHOR OF THE KING IN YELLOW, THE RED REPUBLIC, A KING AND A FEW DUKES,
THE MAKER OF MOONS, ETC. NEW YORK D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 1897




COPYRIGHT, 1897,
BY ROBERT W. CHAMBERS. _DEDICATION._


 _There is a maid, demure as she is wise,
  With all of April in her winsome eyes,
  And to my tales she listens pensively,
  With slender fingers clasped about her knee,
  Watching the sparrows on the balcony._

   _Shy eyes that, lifted up to me,
    Free all my heart of vanity;
    Clear eyes, that speak all silently,
    Sweet as the silence of a nunnery--
    Read, for I write my rede for you alone,
    Here where the city's mighty monotone
    Deepens the silence to a symphony--
    Silence of Saints, and Seers, and Sorcery._

 _Arms and the Man! A noble theme, I ween! Alas! I can not sing of these, Eileen--
  Only of maids and men and meadow-grass,
  Of sea and fields and woodlands, where I pass;
  Nothing but these I know, Eileen, alas!_

   _Clear eyes that, lifted up to me,
    Free all my soul from vanity;
    Gray eyes, that speak all wistfully--
    Nothing but these I know, alas!_

                                       _R. W. C._

 _April, 1896._




INTRODUCTION. _I._

 _Where two fair paths, deep flowered
                        And leaf-embowered,
  Creep East and West across a World concealed,
  Which shall he take who journeys far afield?_

 _II._

 _Canst thou then say, "I go,"
                        Or "I forego"? What turns thee East or West, as thistles blow? Is fair more fair than fair--and dost thou know?_

 _III._

 _Turn to the West, unblessed
                        And uncaressed;
  Turn to the East, and, seated at the Feast
  Thou shalt find Life, or Death from Life released._

 _IV._

 _And thou who lovest best
                        A maid dark-tressed,
  And passest others by with careless eye,
  Canst thou tell why thou choosest? Tell, then; why?_

  _V._

 _So when thy kiss is given
                        Or half-forgiven,
  Why should she tremble, with her face flame-hot,
  Or laugh and whisper, "Love, I tremble not"?_

 _VI._

 _Or when thy hand may catch
                        A half-drawn latch,
  What draws thee from the door, to turn and pass
  Through streets unknown, dim, still, and choked with grass?_

 _VII._

 _What! Canst thou not foresee
                        The Mystery? Heed! For a Voice commands thy every deed! And it hath sounded. And thou needs must heed!_

                                       _R. W. C._

 _1896._




CONTENTS. PAGE

  THE PURPLE EMPEROR              1

  POMPE FUNÈBRE                  39

  THE MESSENGER                  47

  THE WHITE SHADOW              109

  PASSEUR                       175

  THE KEY TO GRIEF              185

  A MATTER OF INTEREST          213

  ENVOI                         283




THE PURPLE EMPEROR. THE PURPLE EMPEROR. Un souvenir heureux est peut-être, sur terre,
    Plus vrai que le bonheur. A. DE MUSSET. I. The Purple Emperor watched me in silence. I cast again, spinning out
six feet more of waterproof silk, and, as the line hissed through the
air far across the pool, I saw my three flies fall on the water like
drifting thistledown. The Purple Emperor sneered. "You see," he said, "I am right. There is not a trout in Brittany that
will rise to a tailed fly." "They do in America," I replied. "Zut! for America!" observed the Purple Emperor. "And trout take a tailed fly in England," I insisted sharply. "Now do I care what things or people do in England?" demanded the
Purple Emperor. "You don't care for anything except yourself and your wriggling
caterpillars," I said, more annoyed than I had yet been. The Purple Emperor sniffed. His broad, hairless, sunburnt features bore
that obstinate expression which always irritated me. Perhaps the manner
in which he wore his hat intensified the irritation, for the flapping
brim rested on both ears, and the two little velvet ribbons which
hung from the silver buckle in front wiggled and fluttered with every
trivial breeze. His cunning eyes and sharp-pointed nose were out of all
keeping with his fat red face. When he met my eye, he chuckled. "I know more about insects than any man in Morbihan--or Finistère
either, for that matter," he said. "The Red Admiral knows as much as you do," I retorted. "He doesn't," replied the Purple Emperor angrily. "And his collection of butterflies is twice as large as yours," I
added, moving down the stream to a spot directly opposite him. "It is, is it?" sneered the Purple Emperor. "Well, let me tell you,
Monsieur Darrel, in all his collection he hasn't a specimen, a single
specimen, of that magnificent butterfly, Apatura Iris, commonly known
as the 'Purple Emperor.'" "Everybody in Brittany knows that," I said, casting across the
sparkling water; "but just because you happen to be the only man who
ever captured a 'Purple Emperor' in Morbihan, it doesn't follow that
you are an authority on sea-trout flies. Why do you say that a Breton
sea-trout won't touch a tailed fly?" "It's so," he replied. "Why? There are plenty of May-flies about the stream." "Let 'em fly!" snarled the Purple Emperor, "you won't see a trout touch
'em." My arm was aching, but I grasped my split bamboo more firmly, and,
half turning, waded out into the stream and began to whip the ripples
at the head of the pool. A great green dragon-fly came drifting by on
the summer breeze and hung a moment above the pool, glittering like an
emerald. "There's a chance! Where is your butterfly net?" I called across the
stream. "What for? That dragon-fly? I've got dozens--Anax Junius, Drury,
characteristic, anal angle of posterior wings, in male, round; thorax
marked with----"

"That will do," I said fiercely. "Can't I point out an insect in
the air without this burst of erudition? Can you tell me, in simple
everyday French, what this little fly is--this one, flitting over the
eel grass here beside me? See, it has fallen on the water." "Huh!" sneered the Purple Emperor, "that's a Linnobia annulus." "What's that?" I demanded. Before he could answer there came a heavy splash in the pool, and the
fly disappeared. "He! he! he!" tittered the Purple Emperor. "Didn't I tell you the fish
knew their business? That was a sea-trout. I hope you don't get him." He gathered up his butterfly net, collecting box, chloroform bottle,
and cyanide jar.