Free The Nightmare Had Triplets by Branch Cabell Page B

but with his usual modesty, Smirt (in continuing his anecdote) refrained from all comment.
        “He thought little of it at the time,” Smirt went on, “not having noticed anyone in the hallway. Only two days later, however, after the police had been most reluctantly called in, a sedate and personable young manicurist, with an uncommonly fine head of naturally blonde hair—”
        “Oho!” said Company, winking, “but now I see. And I know that sort of young woman from her boots up as far as one usually goes.”
        “—Was arrested in St. Louis,” Smirt continued: “and after having been questioned rigorously, confessed she had nothing to do with the robbery, but had nevertheless attempted to score off her too amorous employer in this startling fashion.”
        Company laughed over this anecdote with such fervor as to incur grave danger of tumbling off the flash of lightning. He said, as he wiped away his tears with a red handkerchief:
        “That is human nature, all over. I see a great deal of it in my own work. Yes, that is not only a very funny story. It is an instructive story. I must remember to tell the All-Highest that story,—though, between ourselves, Smirt, humor is not His strong point.”
        “You surprise me,” Smirt stated, “upon at least two grounds.”
        “He has many sterling qualities, Smirt. But, no, humor is not one of them, just between ourselves. However, let us say no more about this little defect, Smirt, and—to go back in our conversation—we shall trust by-and-by to have the benefit of your yet further criticism and of your damned urbanity also.”
        “Of my what, Company?” Smirt asked, surprised.
        “Ah, but in my mouth, Smirt, the adjective ‘damned’ is, as you will readily see, a great compliment, since it represents my beau ideal in all matters.”
        “Yes, that is true. I quite understand. And it will be a pleasure, Company, to help you out in any possible way with my experience, my savoir faire, and indeed, if I may so, with my reputation. If people knew that I was interested in your universe, and that I had consented in some sort to supervise it, why, that, you see, well, it would get you a certain following among the very cognoscenti who just now make fun of your universe. It would give you a cachet, a prestige, and in brief an aesthetic je ne sais quoi. ”
        The fiend regarded Smirt reflectively, with a smile of frank pleasure. Company said,—
        “You are kind, Smirt, with an unlooked-for condescension which I can but humbly describe as incredible.”
        “I am always incredible, Company, because I believe in myself. That is virtually a lost art in these days of democracy and of altruism and of other herd-making devices.”
        “In short—you are Smirt.”
        “That is my métier. But, to go back a little—in regard to the planet you offered just now—I must point out, for your own good, my dear fellow, that in the firm’s place, I would have made the planet a perfect sphere. It is an ungrateful task to look a gift planet in the polar regions. Still, that flattening at each polar region, it really is an error in taste. It is not graceful. Form, my dear Company, form is the first consideration in every branch of art. The thing lacks symmetry.”
        The red fiend fetched out his red note-book. He said:
        “Now that you draw my attention, Smirt, I can see what you mean. I shall make a note of it. And I regret that we should have picked out for you a seemingly imperfect piece of workmanship—”
        “Oh, not at all, my dear Company! I accept planets in the spirit in which they are offered. It is a rule with me.”
        “—And besides, the irregularity is very slight.”
        This touched upon heresy. Smirt at once became grave. He remarked gravely:
        “In art there are no trifles. Through continued attention to trifles, in that