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NLP Research Group 9

would you recommend, then?" Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I." The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it." The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion. "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better." "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?" "Would that suit Dr. Watson?" "Perfectly." "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from Paddington." We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet. "My missing boot!" he cried. "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch." "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it." "There was certainly no boot in it then." "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching." The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran: Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. The second: Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent." "We have still the cabman who drove the spy." "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question." The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself. "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me." "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again." "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station." Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street." The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone." "My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?" "Yes, he did." "When did he say this?" "When he left me." "Did he say anything more?" "He mentioned his name." Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?" "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?" "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred." "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "This very door," said Holmes. "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along--" "I know," said Holmes. "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name." "I see. And you saw no more of him?" "Not after he went into the station." "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!" "Good-night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." "About what?" "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "What sort of facts?" I asked. "Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor." "Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?" "By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study." "I will do my best." "You have arms, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it as well to take them." "Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions." Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform. "No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "You have always kept together, I presume?" "Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons." "And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind." "It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?" "No, sir, it is gone forever." "Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. "I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it." "I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked. "It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?" "I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor." "Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. "Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?" A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. "What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information." "Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing." "Who is he, then?" "It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer." I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. "Baskerville Hall," said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. "Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the yew alley is on the other side." The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. "It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door." The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me." "Surely you will stay and have some dinner?" "No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service." The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it." I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features. "Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?" "Is it ready?" "In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff." "What new conditions?" "I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?" "Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir." "But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection." I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. "I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you intend to do?" "I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms." A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind. But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning." I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one

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would you recommend, then?" Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I." The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it." The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion. "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better." "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?" "Would that suit Dr. Watson?" "Perfectly." "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from Paddington." We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet. "My missing boot!" he cried. "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch." "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it." "There was certainly no boot in it then." "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching." The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran: Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. The second: Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent." "We have still the cabman who drove the spy." "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question." The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself. "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me." "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again." "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station." Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street." The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone." "My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?" "Yes, he did." "When did he say this?" "When he left me." "Did he say anything more?" "He mentioned his name." Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?" "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?" "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred." "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "This very door," said Holmes. "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along--" "I know," said Holmes. "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name." "I see. And you saw no more of him?" "Not after he went into the station." "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!" "Good-night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." "About what?" "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "What sort of facts?" I asked. "Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor." "Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?" "By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study." "I will do my best." "You have arms, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it as well to take them." "Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions." Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform. "No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "You have always kept together, I presume?" "Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons." "And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind." "It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?" "No, sir, it is gone forever." "Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. "I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it." "I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked. "It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?" "I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor." "Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. "Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?" A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. "What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information." "Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing." "Who is he, then?" "It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer." I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. "Baskerville Hall," said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. "Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the yew alley is on the other side." The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. "It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door." The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me." "Surely you will stay and have some dinner?" "No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service." The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it." I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features. "Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?" "Is it ready?" "In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff." "What new conditions?" "I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?" "Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir." "But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection." I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. "I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you intend to do?" "I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms." A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind. But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning." I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one

before

How many times the word 'before' appears in the text?

would you recommend, then?" Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I." The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it." The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion. "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better." "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?" "Would that suit Dr. Watson?" "Perfectly." "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from Paddington." We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet. "My missing boot!" he cried. "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch." "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it." "There was certainly no boot in it then." "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching." The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran: Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. The second: Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent." "We have still the cabman who drove the spy." "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question." The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself. "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me." "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again." "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station." Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street." The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone." "My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?" "Yes, he did." "When did he say this?" "When he left me." "Did he say anything more?" "He mentioned his name." Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?" "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?" "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred." "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "This very door," said Holmes. "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along--" "I know," said Holmes. "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name." "I see. And you saw no more of him?" "Not after he went into the station." "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!" "Good-night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." "About what?" "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "What sort of facts?" I asked. "Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor." "Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?" "By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study." "I will do my best." "You have arms, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it as well to take them." "Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions." Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform. "No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "You have always kept together, I presume?" "Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons." "And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind." "It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?" "No, sir, it is gone forever." "Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. "I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it." "I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked. "It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?" "I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor." "Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. "Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?" A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. "What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information." "Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing." "Who is he, then?" "It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer." I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. "Baskerville Hall," said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. "Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the yew alley is on the other side." The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. "It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door." The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me." "Surely you will stay and have some dinner?" "No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service." The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it." I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features. "Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?" "Is it ready?" "In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff." "What new conditions?" "I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?" "Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir." "But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection." I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. "I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you intend to do?" "I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms." A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind. But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning." I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one

detective

How many times the word 'detective' appears in the text?

would you recommend, then?" Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I." The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it." The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion. "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better." "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?" "Would that suit Dr. Watson?" "Perfectly." "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from Paddington." We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet. "My missing boot!" he cried. "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch." "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it." "There was certainly no boot in it then." "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching." The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran: Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. The second: Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent." "We have still the cabman who drove the spy." "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question." The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself. "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me." "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again." "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station." Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street." The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone." "My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?" "Yes, he did." "When did he say this?" "When he left me." "Did he say anything more?" "He mentioned his name." Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?" "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?" "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred." "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "This very door," said Holmes. "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along--" "I know," said Holmes. "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name." "I see. And you saw no more of him?" "Not after he went into the station." "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!" "Good-night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." "About what?" "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "What sort of facts?" I asked. "Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor." "Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?" "By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study." "I will do my best." "You have arms, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it as well to take them." "Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions." Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform. "No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "You have always kept together, I presume?" "Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons." "And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind." "It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?" "No, sir, it is gone forever." "Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. "I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it." "I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked. "It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?" "I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor." "Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. "Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?" A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. "What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information." "Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing." "Who is he, then?" "It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer." I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. "Baskerville Hall," said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. "Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the yew alley is on the other side." The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. "It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door." The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me." "Surely you will stay and have some dinner?" "No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service." The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it." I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features. "Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?" "Is it ready?" "In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff." "What new conditions?" "I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?" "Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir." "But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection." I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. "I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you intend to do?" "I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms." A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind. But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning." I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one

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would you recommend, then?" Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I." The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it." The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion. "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better." "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?" "Would that suit Dr. Watson?" "Perfectly." "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from Paddington." We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet. "My missing boot!" he cried. "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch." "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it." "There was certainly no boot in it then." "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching." The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran: Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. The second: Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent." "We have still the cabman who drove the spy." "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question." The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself. "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me." "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again." "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station." Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street." The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone." "My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?" "Yes, he did." "When did he say this?" "When he left me." "Did he say anything more?" "He mentioned his name." Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?" "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?" "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred." "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "This very door," said Holmes. "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along--" "I know," said Holmes. "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name." "I see. And you saw no more of him?" "Not after he went into the station." "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!" "Good-night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." "About what?" "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "What sort of facts?" I asked. "Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor." "Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?" "By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study." "I will do my best." "You have arms, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it as well to take them." "Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions." Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform. "No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "You have always kept together, I presume?" "Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons." "And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind." "It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?" "No, sir, it is gone forever." "Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. "I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it." "I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked. "It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?" "I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor." "Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. "Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?" A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. "What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information." "Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing." "Who is he, then?" "It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer." I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. "Baskerville Hall," said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. "Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the yew alley is on the other side." The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. "It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door." The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me." "Surely you will stay and have some dinner?" "No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service." The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it." I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features. "Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?" "Is it ready?" "In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff." "What new conditions?" "I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?" "Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir." "But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection." I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. "I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you intend to do?" "I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms." A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind. But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning." I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one

address

How many times the word 'address' appears in the text?

would you recommend, then?" Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I." The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it." The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion. "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better." "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?" "Would that suit Dr. Watson?" "Perfectly." "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from Paddington." We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet. "My missing boot!" he cried. "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch." "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it." "There was certainly no boot in it then." "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching." The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran: Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. The second: Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent." "We have still the cabman who drove the spy." "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question." The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself. "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me." "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again." "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station." Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street." The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone." "My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?" "Yes, he did." "When did he say this?" "When he left me." "Did he say anything more?" "He mentioned his name." Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?" "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?" "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred." "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "This very door," said Holmes. "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along--" "I know," said Holmes. "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name." "I see. And you saw no more of him?" "Not after he went into the station." "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!" "Good-night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." "About what?" "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "What sort of facts?" I asked. "Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor." "Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?" "By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study." "I will do my best." "You have arms, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it as well to take them." "Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions." Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform. "No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "You have always kept together, I presume?" "Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons." "And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind." "It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?" "No, sir, it is gone forever." "Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. "I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it." "I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked. "It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?" "I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor." "Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. "Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?" A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. "What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information." "Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing." "Who is he, then?" "It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer." I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. "Baskerville Hall," said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. "Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the yew alley is on the other side." The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. "It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door." The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me." "Surely you will stay and have some dinner?" "No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service." The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it." I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features. "Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?" "Is it ready?" "In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff." "What new conditions?" "I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?" "Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir." "But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection." I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. "I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you intend to do?" "I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms." A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind. But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning." I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one

lou

How many times the word 'lou' appears in the text?

would you recommend, then?" Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I." The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it." The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion. "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better." "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?" "Would that suit Dr. Watson?" "Perfectly." "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from Paddington." We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet. "My missing boot!" he cried. "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch." "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it." "There was certainly no boot in it then." "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching." The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran: Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. The second: Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent." "We have still the cabman who drove the spy." "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question." The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself. "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me." "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again." "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station." Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street." The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone." "My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?" "Yes, he did." "When did he say this?" "When he left me." "Did he say anything more?" "He mentioned his name." Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?" "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?" "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred." "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "This very door," said Holmes. "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along--" "I know," said Holmes. "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name." "I see. And you saw no more of him?" "Not after he went into the station." "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!" "Good-night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." "About what?" "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "What sort of facts?" I asked. "Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor." "Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?" "By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study." "I will do my best." "You have arms, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it as well to take them." "Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions." Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform. "No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "You have always kept together, I presume?" "Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons." "And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind." "It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?" "No, sir, it is gone forever." "Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. "I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it." "I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked. "It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?" "I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor." "Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. "Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?" A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. "What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information." "Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing." "Who is he, then?" "It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer." I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. "Baskerville Hall," said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. "Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the yew alley is on the other side." The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. "It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door." The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me." "Surely you will stay and have some dinner?" "No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service." The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it." I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features. "Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?" "Is it ready?" "In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff." "What new conditions?" "I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?" "Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir." "But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection." I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. "I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you intend to do?" "I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms." A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind. But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning." I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one

clad

How many times the word 'clad' appears in the text?

would you recommend, then?" Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I." The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it." The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion. "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better." "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?" "Would that suit Dr. Watson?" "Perfectly." "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from Paddington." We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet. "My missing boot!" he cried. "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch." "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it." "There was certainly no boot in it then." "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching." The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran: Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. The second: Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent." "We have still the cabman who drove the spy." "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question." The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself. "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me." "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again." "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station." Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street." The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone." "My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?" "Yes, he did." "When did he say this?" "When he left me." "Did he say anything more?" "He mentioned his name." Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?" "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?" "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred." "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "This very door," said Holmes. "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along--" "I know," said Holmes. "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name." "I see. And you saw no more of him?" "Not after he went into the station." "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!" "Good-night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." "About what?" "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "What sort of facts?" I asked. "Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor." "Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?" "By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study." "I will do my best." "You have arms, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it as well to take them." "Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions." Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform. "No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "You have always kept together, I presume?" "Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons." "And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind." "It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?" "No, sir, it is gone forever." "Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. "I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it." "I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked. "It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?" "I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor." "Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. "Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?" A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. "What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information." "Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing." "Who is he, then?" "It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer." I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. "Baskerville Hall," said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. "Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the yew alley is on the other side." The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. "It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door." The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me." "Surely you will stay and have some dinner?" "No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service." The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it." I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features. "Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?" "Is it ready?" "In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff." "What new conditions?" "I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?" "Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir." "But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection." I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. "I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you intend to do?" "I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms." A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind. But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning." I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one

county

How many times the word 'county' appears in the text?

would you recommend, then?" Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I." The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it." The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion. "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better." "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?" "Would that suit Dr. Watson?" "Perfectly." "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from Paddington." We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet. "My missing boot!" he cried. "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch." "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it." "There was certainly no boot in it then." "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching." The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran: Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. The second: Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent." "We have still the cabman who drove the spy." "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question." The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself. "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me." "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again." "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station." Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street." The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone." "My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?" "Yes, he did." "When did he say this?" "When he left me." "Did he say anything more?" "He mentioned his name." Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?" "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?" "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred." "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "This very door," said Holmes. "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along--" "I know," said Holmes. "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name." "I see. And you saw no more of him?" "Not after he went into the station." "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!" "Good-night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." "About what?" "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "What sort of facts?" I asked. "Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor." "Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?" "By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study." "I will do my best." "You have arms, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it as well to take them." "Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions." Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform. "No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "You have always kept together, I presume?" "Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons." "And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind." "It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?" "No, sir, it is gone forever." "Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. "I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it." "I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked. "It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?" "I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor." "Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. "Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?" A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. "What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information." "Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing." "Who is he, then?" "It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer." I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. "Baskerville Hall," said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. "Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the yew alley is on the other side." The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. "It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door." The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me." "Surely you will stay and have some dinner?" "No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service." The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it." I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features. "Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?" "Is it ready?" "In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff." "What new conditions?" "I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?" "Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir." "But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection." I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. "I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you intend to do?" "I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms." A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind. But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning." I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one

near

How many times the word 'near' appears in the text?

would you recommend, then?" Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I." The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it." The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion. "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better." "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?" "Would that suit Dr. Watson?" "Perfectly." "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from Paddington." We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet. "My missing boot!" he cried. "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch." "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it." "There was certainly no boot in it then." "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching." The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran: Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. The second: Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent." "We have still the cabman who drove the spy." "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question." The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself. "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me." "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again." "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station." Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street." The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone." "My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?" "Yes, he did." "When did he say this?" "When he left me." "Did he say anything more?" "He mentioned his name." Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?" "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?" "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred." "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "This very door," said Holmes. "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along--" "I know," said Holmes. "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name." "I see. And you saw no more of him?" "Not after he went into the station." "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!" "Good-night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." "About what?" "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "What sort of facts?" I asked. "Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor." "Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?" "By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study." "I will do my best." "You have arms, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it as well to take them." "Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions." Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform. "No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "You have always kept together, I presume?" "Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons." "And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind." "It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?" "No, sir, it is gone forever." "Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. "I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it." "I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked. "It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?" "I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor." "Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. "Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?" A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. "What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information." "Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing." "Who is he, then?" "It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer." I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. "Baskerville Hall," said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. "Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the yew alley is on the other side." The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. "It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door." The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me." "Surely you will stay and have some dinner?" "No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service." The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it." I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features. "Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?" "Is it ready?" "In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff." "What new conditions?" "I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?" "Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir." "But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection." I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. "I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you intend to do?" "I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms." A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind. But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning." I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one

presume

How many times the word 'presume' appears in the text?

would you recommend, then?" Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I." The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it." The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion. "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better." "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?" "Would that suit Dr. Watson?" "Perfectly." "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from Paddington." We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet. "My missing boot!" he cried. "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch." "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it." "There was certainly no boot in it then." "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching." The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran: Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. The second: Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent." "We have still the cabman who drove the spy." "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question." The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself. "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me." "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again." "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station." Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street." The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone." "My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?" "Yes, he did." "When did he say this?" "When he left me." "Did he say anything more?" "He mentioned his name." Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?" "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?" "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred." "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "This very door," said Holmes. "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along--" "I know," said Holmes. "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name." "I see. And you saw no more of him?" "Not after he went into the station." "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!" "Good-night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." "About what?" "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "What sort of facts?" I asked. "Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor." "Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?" "By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study." "I will do my best." "You have arms, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it as well to take them." "Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions." Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform. "No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "You have always kept together, I presume?" "Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons." "And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind." "It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?" "No, sir, it is gone forever." "Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. "I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it." "I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked. "It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?" "I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor." "Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. "Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?" A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. "What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information." "Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing." "Who is he, then?" "It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer." I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. "Baskerville Hall," said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. "Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the yew alley is on the other side." The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. "It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door." The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me." "Surely you will stay and have some dinner?" "No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service." The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it." I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features. "Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?" "Is it ready?" "In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff." "What new conditions?" "I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?" "Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir." "But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection." I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. "I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you intend to do?" "I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms." A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind. But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning." I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one

feud

How many times the word 'feud' appears in the text?

would you recommend, then?" Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I." The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it." The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion. "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better." "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?" "Would that suit Dr. Watson?" "Perfectly." "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from Paddington." We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet. "My missing boot!" he cried. "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch." "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it." "There was certainly no boot in it then." "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching." The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran: Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. The second: Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent." "We have still the cabman who drove the spy." "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question." The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself. "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me." "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again." "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station." Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street." The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone." "My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?" "Yes, he did." "When did he say this?" "When he left me." "Did he say anything more?" "He mentioned his name." Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?" "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?" "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred." "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "This very door," said Holmes. "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along--" "I know," said Holmes. "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name." "I see. And you saw no more of him?" "Not after he went into the station." "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!" "Good-night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." "About what?" "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "What sort of facts?" I asked. "Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor." "Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?" "By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study." "I will do my best." "You have arms, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it as well to take them." "Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions." Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform. "No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "You have always kept together, I presume?" "Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons." "And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind." "It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?" "No, sir, it is gone forever." "Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. "I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it." "I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked. "It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?" "I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor." "Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. "Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?" A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. "What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information." "Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing." "Who is he, then?" "It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer." I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. "Baskerville Hall," said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. "Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the yew alley is on the other side." The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. "It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door." The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me." "Surely you will stay and have some dinner?" "No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service." The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it." I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features. "Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?" "Is it ready?" "In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff." "What new conditions?" "I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?" "Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir." "But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection." I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. "I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you intend to do?" "I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms." A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind. But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning." I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one

rivers

How many times the word 'rivers' appears in the text?

would you recommend, then?" Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I." The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it." The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion. "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better." "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?" "Would that suit Dr. Watson?" "Perfectly." "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from Paddington." We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet. "My missing boot!" he cried. "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch." "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it." "There was certainly no boot in it then." "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching." The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran: Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. The second: Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent." "We have still the cabman who drove the spy." "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question." The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself. "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me." "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again." "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station." Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street." The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone." "My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?" "Yes, he did." "When did he say this?" "When he left me." "Did he say anything more?" "He mentioned his name." Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?" "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?" "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred." "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "This very door," said Holmes. "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along--" "I know," said Holmes. "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name." "I see. And you saw no more of him?" "Not after he went into the station." "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!" "Good-night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." "About what?" "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "What sort of facts?" I asked. "Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor." "Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?" "By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study." "I will do my best." "You have arms, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it as well to take them." "Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions." Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform. "No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "You have always kept together, I presume?" "Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons." "And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind." "It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?" "No, sir, it is gone forever." "Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. "I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it." "I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked. "It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?" "I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor." "Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. "Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?" A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. "What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information." "Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing." "Who is he, then?" "It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer." I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. "Baskerville Hall," said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. "Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the yew alley is on the other side." The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. "It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door." The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me." "Surely you will stay and have some dinner?" "No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service." The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it." I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features. "Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?" "Is it ready?" "In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff." "What new conditions?" "I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?" "Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir." "But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection." I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. "I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you intend to do?" "I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms." A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind. But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning." I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one

surprised

How many times the word 'surprised' appears in the text?

would you recommend, then?" Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I." The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it." The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion. "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better." "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?" "Would that suit Dr. Watson?" "Perfectly." "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from Paddington." We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet. "My missing boot!" he cried. "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch." "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it." "There was certainly no boot in it then." "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching." The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran: Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. The second: Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent." "We have still the cabman who drove the spy." "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question." The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself. "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me." "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again." "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station." Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street." The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone." "My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?" "Yes, he did." "When did he say this?" "When he left me." "Did he say anything more?" "He mentioned his name." Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?" "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?" "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred." "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "This very door," said Holmes. "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along--" "I know," said Holmes. "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name." "I see. And you saw no more of him?" "Not after he went into the station." "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!" "Good-night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." "About what?" "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "What sort of facts?" I asked. "Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor." "Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?" "By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study." "I will do my best." "You have arms, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it as well to take them." "Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions." Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform. "No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "You have always kept together, I presume?" "Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons." "And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind." "It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?" "No, sir, it is gone forever." "Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. "I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it." "I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked. "It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?" "I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor." "Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. "Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?" A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. "What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information." "Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing." "Who is he, then?" "It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer." I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. "Baskerville Hall," said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. "Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the yew alley is on the other side." The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. "It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door." The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me." "Surely you will stay and have some dinner?" "No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service." The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it." I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features. "Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?" "Is it ready?" "In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff." "What new conditions?" "I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?" "Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir." "But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection." I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. "I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you intend to do?" "I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms." A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind. But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning." I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one

delight

How many times the word 'delight' appears in the text?

would you recommend, then?" Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I." The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it." The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion. "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better." "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?" "Would that suit Dr. Watson?" "Perfectly." "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from Paddington." We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet. "My missing boot!" he cried. "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch." "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it." "There was certainly no boot in it then." "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching." The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran: Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. The second: Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent." "We have still the cabman who drove the spy." "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question." The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself. "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me." "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again." "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station." Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street." The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone." "My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?" "Yes, he did." "When did he say this?" "When he left me." "Did he say anything more?" "He mentioned his name." Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?" "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?" "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred." "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "This very door," said Holmes. "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along--" "I know," said Holmes. "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name." "I see. And you saw no more of him?" "Not after he went into the station." "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!" "Good-night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." "About what?" "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "What sort of facts?" I asked. "Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor." "Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?" "By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study." "I will do my best." "You have arms, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it as well to take them." "Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions." Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform. "No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "You have always kept together, I presume?" "Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons." "And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind." "It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?" "No, sir, it is gone forever." "Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. "I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it." "I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked. "It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?" "I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor." "Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. "Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?" A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. "What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information." "Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing." "Who is he, then?" "It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer." I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. "Baskerville Hall," said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. "Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the yew alley is on the other side." The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. "It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door." The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me." "Surely you will stay and have some dinner?" "No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service." The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it." I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features. "Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?" "Is it ready?" "In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff." "What new conditions?" "I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?" "Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir." "But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection." I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. "I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you intend to do?" "I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms." A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind. But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning." I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one

every

How many times the word 'every' appears in the text?

would you recommend, then?" Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I." The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it." The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion. "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better." "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?" "Would that suit Dr. Watson?" "Perfectly." "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from Paddington." We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet. "My missing boot!" he cried. "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch." "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it." "There was certainly no boot in it then." "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching." The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran: Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. The second: Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent." "We have still the cabman who drove the spy." "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question." The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself. "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me." "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again." "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station." Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street." The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone." "My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?" "Yes, he did." "When did he say this?" "When he left me." "Did he say anything more?" "He mentioned his name." Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?" "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?" "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred." "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "This very door," said Holmes. "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along--" "I know," said Holmes. "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name." "I see. And you saw no more of him?" "Not after he went into the station." "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!" "Good-night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." "About what?" "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "What sort of facts?" I asked. "Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor." "Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?" "By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study." "I will do my best." "You have arms, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it as well to take them." "Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions." Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform. "No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "You have always kept together, I presume?" "Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons." "And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind." "It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?" "No, sir, it is gone forever." "Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. "I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it." "I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked. "It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?" "I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor." "Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. "Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?" A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. "What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information." "Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing." "Who is he, then?" "It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer." I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. "Baskerville Hall," said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. "Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the yew alley is on the other side." The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. "It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door." The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me." "Surely you will stay and have some dinner?" "No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service." The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it." I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features. "Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?" "Is it ready?" "In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff." "What new conditions?" "I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?" "Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir." "But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection." I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. "I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you intend to do?" "I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms." A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind. But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning." I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one

tastes

How many times the word 'tastes' appears in the text?

would you recommend, then?" Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I." The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it." The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion. "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better." "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?" "Would that suit Dr. Watson?" "Perfectly." "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from Paddington." We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet. "My missing boot!" he cried. "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch." "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it." "There was certainly no boot in it then." "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching." The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran: Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. The second: Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent." "We have still the cabman who drove the spy." "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question." The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself. "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me." "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again." "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station." Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street." The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone." "My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?" "Yes, he did." "When did he say this?" "When he left me." "Did he say anything more?" "He mentioned his name." Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?" "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?" "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred." "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "This very door," said Holmes. "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along--" "I know," said Holmes. "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name." "I see. And you saw no more of him?" "Not after he went into the station." "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!" "Good-night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." "About what?" "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "What sort of facts?" I asked. "Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor." "Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?" "By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study." "I will do my best." "You have arms, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it as well to take them." "Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions." Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform. "No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "You have always kept together, I presume?" "Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons." "And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind." "It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?" "No, sir, it is gone forever." "Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. "I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it." "I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked. "It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?" "I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor." "Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. "Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?" A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. "What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information." "Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing." "Who is he, then?" "It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer." I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. "Baskerville Hall," said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. "Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the yew alley is on the other side." The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. "It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door." The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me." "Surely you will stay and have some dinner?" "No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service." The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it." I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features. "Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?" "Is it ready?" "In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff." "What new conditions?" "I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?" "Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir." "But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection." I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. "I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you intend to do?" "I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms." A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind. But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning." I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one

standing

How many times the word 'standing' appears in the text?

would you recommend, then?" Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I." The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it." The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion. "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better." "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?" "Would that suit Dr. Watson?" "Perfectly." "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from Paddington." We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet. "My missing boot!" he cried. "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch." "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it." "There was certainly no boot in it then." "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching." The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran: Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. The second: Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent." "We have still the cabman who drove the spy." "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question." The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself. "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me." "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again." "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station." Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street." The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone." "My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?" "Yes, he did." "When did he say this?" "When he left me." "Did he say anything more?" "He mentioned his name." Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?" "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?" "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred." "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "This very door," said Holmes. "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along--" "I know," said Holmes. "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name." "I see. And you saw no more of him?" "Not after he went into the station." "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!" "Good-night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." "About what?" "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "What sort of facts?" I asked. "Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor." "Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?" "By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study." "I will do my best." "You have arms, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it as well to take them." "Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions." Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform. "No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "You have always kept together, I presume?" "Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons." "And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind." "It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?" "No, sir, it is gone forever." "Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. "I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it." "I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked. "It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?" "I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor." "Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. "Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?" A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. "What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information." "Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing." "Who is he, then?" "It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer." I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. "Baskerville Hall," said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. "Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the yew alley is on the other side." The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. "It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door." The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me." "Surely you will stay and have some dinner?" "No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service." The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it." I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features. "Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?" "Is it ready?" "In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff." "What new conditions?" "I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?" "Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir." "But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection." I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. "I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you intend to do?" "I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms." A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind. But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning." I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one

glow

How many times the word 'glow' appears in the text?

would you recommend, then?" Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I." The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it." The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion. "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better." "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?" "Would that suit Dr. Watson?" "Perfectly." "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from Paddington." We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet. "My missing boot!" he cried. "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch." "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it." "There was certainly no boot in it then." "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching." The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran: Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. The second: Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent." "We have still the cabman who drove the spy." "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question." The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself. "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me." "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again." "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station." Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street." The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone." "My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?" "Yes, he did." "When did he say this?" "When he left me." "Did he say anything more?" "He mentioned his name." Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?" "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?" "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred." "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "This very door," said Holmes. "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along--" "I know," said Holmes. "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name." "I see. And you saw no more of him?" "Not after he went into the station." "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!" "Good-night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." "About what?" "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "What sort of facts?" I asked. "Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor." "Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?" "By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study." "I will do my best." "You have arms, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it as well to take them." "Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions." Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform. "No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "You have always kept together, I presume?" "Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons." "And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind." "It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?" "No, sir, it is gone forever." "Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. "I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it." "I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked. "It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?" "I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor." "Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. "Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?" A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. "What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information." "Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing." "Who is he, then?" "It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer." I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. "Baskerville Hall," said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. "Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the yew alley is on the other side." The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. "It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door." The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me." "Surely you will stay and have some dinner?" "No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service." The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it." I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features. "Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?" "Is it ready?" "In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff." "What new conditions?" "I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?" "Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir." "But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection." I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. "I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you intend to do?" "I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms." A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind. But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning." I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one

sight

How many times the word 'sight' appears in the text?

would you recommend, then?" Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I." The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it." The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion. "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better." "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?" "Would that suit Dr. Watson?" "Perfectly." "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from Paddington." We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet. "My missing boot!" he cried. "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch." "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it." "There was certainly no boot in it then." "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching." The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran: Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. The second: Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent." "We have still the cabman who drove the spy." "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question." The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself. "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me." "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again." "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station." Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street." The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone." "My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?" "Yes, he did." "When did he say this?" "When he left me." "Did he say anything more?" "He mentioned his name." Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?" "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes." Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh. "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?" "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred." "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "This very door," said Holmes. "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along--" "I know," said Holmes. "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name." "I see. And you saw no more of him?" "Not after he went into the station." "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that." "Colour of his eyes?" "No, I can't say that." "Nothing more that you can remember?" "No, sir; nothing." "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!" "Good-night, sir, and thank you!" John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." "About what?" "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "What sort of facts?" I asked. "Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor." "Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?" "By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study." "I will do my best." "You have arms, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it as well to take them." "Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions." Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform. "No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "You have always kept together, I presume?" "Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons." "And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind." "It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?" "No, sir, it is gone forever." "Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. "I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it." "I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked. "It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?" "I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor." "Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. "Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?" A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. "What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information." "Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing." "Who is he, then?" "It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer." I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. "Baskerville Hall," said he. Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. "Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the yew alley is on the other side." The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. "It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door." The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me." "Surely you will stay and have some dinner?" "No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service." The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it." I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features. "Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?" "Is it ready?" "In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff." "What new conditions?" "I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?" "Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir." "But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection." I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. "I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you intend to do?" "I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms." A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind. But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning." I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one

clayton

How many times the word 'clayton' appears in the text?

wracking his body. EXT. VILLAGE DAY As Algren returns with the water, he sees Katsumoto approaching with Ujio and several warriors. KATSUMOTO The Emperor has requested my presence. We leave tomorrow. You will be released in Tokyo. He goes. Algren stands, not sure how to react. INT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE NIGHT Algren writes on parchment by the light of an oil lamp. ALGREN (V.O.) April 13, 1877. Tomorrow we return to civilization. As eager as I am to be among my own kind, I confess to a curious reluctance. EXT. KATDUMOTO'S VILLAGE DAWN Algren stands overlooking the village as the sun rises over the misty peaks. ALGREN (V.O.) These months have marked me, and I don't fully know yet wh y. EXT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE DAY Algren prepares to mount up. Yoritomo says goodbye to his family. ALGREN (V.O.) I do know it is here that I have known my first untroubled sleep in many years. Taka comes to Algren, bows her head. TAKA (subtitles) You are alwa ys welcome in our home. ALGREN Domo Arrigato. He glances at the unfinished house. 62. ALGREN (subtitles) ...You will finish it soon. TAKA (subtitles) If that is my destiny. She bows her head again. Toshiie hands him a scroll: it is a picture of the Family. Algren is included. Japanese characters list all their names. Toshiie bows. Algren bows and tucks the scroll into his coat. Algren and Yoritomo move out with Katsumoto, Ujio, Nakao and his bodyguard of several dozen Samurai. The villagers bow and honor the warrior as they pass. EXT. MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE DAY Algren trots alongside Katsumoto. ALGREN ... The Emperor sends a message for you to return to Tokyo, and you go? KATSUMOTO Yes. ALGREN Even though you're in rebellion against him. KATSUMOTO Against the Emperor? Never. I serve him. As I have alwa ys done. . ALGREN I don't understand. KATSUMOTO Our Emperor is young, and there are things I must sa y to him. ALGREN But ever yone around him wants you dead. KA TSUMOTO And if the Emperor desires, I will take my own life at his command. He spurs his horse and rides on. A1gren watches him. 63. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET They approach a large inn. A boy working in the fields see Katsumoto approaching. He doesn't believe it -- the Great Katsumoto. He drops his hoe and races awa y, calling out. KATSUMOTO We will stop here for the night. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET Samurai guards have been posted around the perimeter. INT. KATSUMOTO'S RQOM NIGHT Algren is escorted in. Katsumoto kneels at a table. Preparing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Sit, Captain. Algren sits. By now he has learned how to sit on the ground. Katsumoto begins the exacting, delicate and precise tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Do you drink tea? ALGREN I've had little else for some time... Katsumoto continues with the tea ceremony. ALGREN How's your poem coming? KATSUMOTO I am having trouble. The truth is I am not a very good poet. (Algren smiles) Do you know wh y you were sent here? To Yoshino. ALGREN To protect the railroad. . KATSUMOTO Why is the railroad here? ALGREN So Tokyo can control the whole country. 64. KATSUMOTO You have seen my province. All mountains. Far from Tokyo. Yet the rail line must come here? Katsumoto tosses a tiny bit of coal on the simmering brazier on the table. Algren watches carefully. ALGREN You have something they want KATSUMOTO What do they want in my mountains? ALGREN Minerals ... Gold. KA TSUMOTO (smiles) There is no gold in Japan. Katsumoto gently blows on the coal brazier. The coal flares a bit. ALGREN Coal? (Katsumoto looks at him) For steamships. KA TSUMOTO And why would steamships be so important? ALGREN ...China. Katsumoto looks up at him. Impressed. KATSUMOTO Japan has nothing. China has ever ything. ALGREN Mine the coal to create a way station for the trip to China ... Freeze the Europeans out and Japan and America have a monopol y on the China trade. KATSUMOTO Add to this the Omura Zaibatsu. You know the Zaibatus? ALGREN The wealthy families. 65. KATSUMOTO As patron of the railroad, Omura owns all land within four hundred feet of ever y new rail line. As my country grows, so will his wealth. (looks at him) This is why you are fighting. Katsumoto completes the tea ceremony. He pours a cup for Algren. Bows his head and offers it to him. ALGREN And you will tell the emperor to stop them? KATSUMOTO I do not tell the emperor what to do. ALGREN Then what do you hope to accomplish? Katsumoto looks at Algren, the slightest gleam in his eye. KATSUMOTO Will you return to America? Algren watches him -- why didn't Katsumoto answer? ALGREN ...I have a job here. KATSUMOTO You should return to your home. ALGREN Why? KATSUMOTO Because I do not wish you to be m y enemy again. Katsumoto returns to his poem, he does not look up. KATSUMOTO Go home Captain ... Anshinritsumai. I wish you peace. Algren waits but Katsumoto just continues to work on his poem. EXT. AROUND THE INN NIGHT The samurai guards are alert, their senses heightened to almost superhuman proportions. But there is another way. Another way of learning combat. A wa y without the beaut y, the philosophy and the moral code. They are almost imperceptible at first... their head-to-toe black clothes a perfect camouflage... their silence and stealth are otherworldly. 66. They were then known as Shinobi, masters of stealth and spying. We know them as Ninjas. They float across the ground ... creeping an inch ever y hour... complete physica1 control. One black-gloved finger moves. Then the next... They crawl and then wait Poised on their fingertips and toes. There is no sound as they strike. The samurai guards are garroted in an instant. Other Ninjas catch the samurai's weapons as they fall. No sound disturbs the peaceful night. EXT. INN -- FRONT DOORWAY NIGHT Silence. Two samurai guards are in position. One of them glances up at the stars. A Ninja throwing star instantly slices into his jugular-- blood sprays -- the other guard turns a series of Ninja slice into him... EXT. INN--WALLS NIGHT Silence. The Ninjas use mew claws to crawl up the walls like spiders. EXT. INN ROOF NIGHT Silence. A samurai guard stands at the edge of the roof. A Ninja silently moves toward him. Stops. Ten feet awa y. He pulls out a shuriken -- a small needle-shaped projectile, dips it into a sack of poison. Places it carefully into the palm of his hand. And with the flick of his wrist-- The needle flies -- stabbing into the samurai -- he crumples. Other Ninjas immediately pour over the edge of the roof -- catching the samurai before he falls... INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. 67. Katsumoto cannot sleep. He stares out the window at a nightingale. INT. INN--UJIO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Ujio sits in his room. He is unblinking. Alert. Swords at the ready. INT. INN ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Algren cannot sleep either. He sits leaning against a wall. Thinking. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Silence. Yoritomo drinks tea with Nakao, the huge martial arts master. INT. OUTSIDE KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT A guard stands sentinel. Above his head, unbeknownst to him, two Ninjas descend on ropes. One of them swings a long chain - to which I barbed-knife is attached. As it lodges in the guard's chest, the second Ninja swings down just in time to catch the dead guard, silently, before his body hits the ground. INT. INN -- KATSUMQTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Katsumoto lies in bed listening to the night bird. It stops singing. Katsumoto smiles sadly. He decides to give up on sleep, leans forward to rise. This act saves his life. For when the Ninjas come, they come all at once-- A Ninja suddenly comes TEARING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE PAPER WALL, his sword slashing down .- just missing Katsumoto. Katsumoto calls out an alarm, diving and rolling across the floor for his sword. He instantly kills one Ninja using his steel-tipped "war fan" to slash his attackers throat. Another smashes in through the window. INT. INN -- MAIN H ALL NIGHT Ninjas EXPLODE into the main hall. Samurai who come out of their rooms are cut down by a variety of weapons -- one takes a throwing star in the face, others are felled by the traditional ninja-to, short swords ideal for fighting in confined spaces, chain-knives, nun-chaka and others. 68. More Ninjas drop from the rafters on ropes. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT A Ninja SMASHES through the paper wall -- Algren grabs the nearest object, a low tea table. and swings it at his head. The Ninja dodges the blow and slices at Algren with short-sword. Algren barely avoids the blow by ducking behind a post as the sword LODGES deep in the wood. Algren flings himself, bodily, at his attacker. INT. INN-- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ninja throwing stars spin across the room, killing a samurai. Yoritomo emerges from his room, readying his bow, but the dead samurai falls back blocking his wa y. From behind the rice wall, Yoritomo lets fly an arrow without even looking. It passes THROUGH the wall, killing the Ninja on the opposite balcony. INT. INN-- FIRST FLOOR NIGHT Ujio screams a war cry and begins to battle his way up the stairs. With breathtaking moves, he slashes hands and limbs, forcing the Ninja back. Nakao fights his wa y up beside him, desperately trying to reach Katsumoto's room. Using only his bare hands he catches a Ninja's wrist and hurls him over the railing. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Algren and the Ninja are in a death struggle, kneeing, gouging, butting. They awkwardly smash through a paper wall into the next room. INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto wields his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. It is the first time we have seen him in action and his movements are both beautiful and deadly. But more Ninjas are pouring in through the window, threatening to overwhelm him. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Rolling on the ground, Algren manages to grab a chopstick and STAB his adversary through the eye. He picks up the fallen short sword and steps out into the hall. ARROWS whiz past, thudding into the wall beside his head. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto, breathing heavily, his kimono shredded and bloody, is fending off the Ninjas' increasingly savage attacks as Algren enters. Algren SCREAMS, distracting them just long enough for Katsumoto to take advantage and kill one. 69. Then, just as a Ninja it about to kill Algren, Katsumoto FLINGS his short sword ... it pin-wheels across the room, hitting Algren's attacker in the chest. Without missing a beat, Algren pulls the short sword from the dying Ninja's chest and uses it to stab another Ninja who, thinking Algren defenseless, has launched an attack. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ujio and Nakao are back to back, a perfect fighting machine as they fight their wa y to Katsumoto's rescue. They battle Ninjas wielding lethal kusarigamas, the Ninjas swing chains, the attached blades slice the air--Nakao catches the chains and flinging the Ninja over the balcony. INT. YORITOMO'S ROOM NIGHT Yoritomo is pinned down. Darts and throwing stars shred the rice paper wall above him. He picks off another Ninja before changing his position. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT The blazing sword battle continues. Algren throws a beautiful painted standing-screen in front of an attacking Ninja, momentarily confusing him. Then he stabs THROUGH THE SCREEN -as a blood- stain SPREADS across the pastoral painting. But another Ninja catches Algren off-guard and slices at him with his short sword. As Algren lifts his sword to parry the blow, HIS LITILE FINGER IS CHOPPED OFF. He drops the sword, momentarily defenseless. Across the hallway Yoritomo has been watching the shadowpla y on the rice-paper walls. Algren's attacker raises his blade to deliver the death blow. In Katsumoto's room Algren flinches involuntarily beneath the raised blade. Suddenly the Ninja JACKKNIFES as if punched by an unseen hand. As he spins, dead, to the ground, we SEE an ARROW lodged bet ween his shoulder blades. Yoritomo has FIRED blindly, through the wall killing Algren's attacker. Nearby, a Ninja hurls a throwing star at Katsumoto. With blind instinct Katsumoto turns and takes the blade in the meat of his arm. Algren, meanwhile, has ripped the sleeve of his kimono into a tourniquet for his maimed hand. He uses the rest of the fabric TO TIE HIS HAND TO HIS SWORD before launching himself back into the fray -- slicing an attacker just as he is about to impale Katsumoto. Together, he and Katsumoto force the last two Ninjas through a paper wall to the next room. They fight all the wa y through that room and BLAST through another paper wall to the next. 70. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT The battle continues unabated on the stairs -- the Ninjas spring for position with incredible grace --perching and fighting on banisters, leaping from one level to the next. It is a mayhem of flashing swords and flailing limbs and flyi ng arrows and spinning Ninja stars. Sprays of blood splatter against the white rice paper walls. Some of the fighting is less than elegant. Men bite and wrestle and gouge to survive in close quarters. All of them arc bloody and sweat y and dirty and tired, heaving for breath, their skin flayed open, their kimonos ripped, their hands and arms and faces blood-stained. But more samurai reinforcements follow Ujio up the stairs: Together with Yoritomo and Nakao, they have begun to gain the upper hand. Ujio flings both his swords through the air -- killing two Ninjas -- and dives to fight others - his martial arts skills are dazzling. Algren and Katsumoto are fighting sidc by side And we cut to -- EXT. INN NIGHT Outside of the inn, we slowl y pull away... The sounds of the battle gradually fade... Soon it is nothing more than a lovel y rustic inn nestled in the mountains. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT Later. The battle is over. Ninja and samurai corpses litter the inn. We slowl y move up the long stairwa y from the bottom... Yoritomo pulls a Ninja star from Nakao's_shou1der. Then one from his own. We move up another level, past more bodies... Ujio moves through the Ninjas. Making sure they are dead. Before sheathing his sword, he angrily FLICKS it at the rice paper wall, spattering it with the bloody spray. Katsumoto wipes his sword on a nearby corpse, replaces it in its sheath. He sits beside Algren on a stair. Both men are exhausted. Bloodied. Alive. A long beat as we watch the two warriors. Slow fade to... 71. EXT. TOKYO -- IMPERIAL PALACE DAY Algren, Katsumoto and the others are nearing the palace. Algren slows to a stop -- his path is toward the city. Katsumoto stops, looks at him, then does something absolutel y extraordinary. He kneels and bows before Algren. Quickly touching his head to the dirt. Then he rises, turns and walks toward the palace. Algren stands, stunned. EXT. PARADE GROUND DAY Algren walks onto the parade ground. The change he sees could not be more remarkable. Thousands of new Japanese troops are drilling with new bolt-action Mausers. They are precise, exact and frighteningly mechanistic, their uniforms new and crisp. New German advisors are barking commands. Colonel Bagley sees him. BAGLEY Algren? My God, you never cease to astonish. Bagley runs over, hand extended, but Algren turns to look at the troops. ALGREN They have new weapons. BAGLEY The Kaiser was only too happy to help. Along with his friends at Mauser and Krupp. Thank God we Americans still have a few teeth in our head. And they come to the "teeth." Howitzer cannons. A row of them. Artillery officers in US Army uniforms arc instructing Japanese offi cers. BAGLEY The ambassador and I have spent eight months kissing Omura's ass so he'll sign the damn trade pact with us. You spent all this time living with those savages? (A1gren looks at him) He's going to want to talk to you... ALGREN I need a bath. BAGLEY And your back pay, I imagine. Algren starts walking away. 72. BAGLEY They got their flag. ...See? And we see it... snapping on I flagpole high above the parade ground. It is immediately familiar. A red circle on a white field. The Rising Sun. The Howitzers fire in sequence. Thundering blasts that shake the heavens. EXT, ROYAL TEMPLE DAY Omura stands above Emperor Meiji respectful but persistent. The Emperor is kneeling, tending to his iris garden. It is one of the wonders of the Palace: a sea of white, pink, blue, and purple blossoms. Retainers and servants stand at a distance. One holds a standard with the Imperial seal: a yellow chrysanthemum. Omura sees Katsumoto making his way toward them. He talks a bit more quickly to the Emperor. Katsumoto begins to prostrate himself before the Emperor, the usual sign of extreme respect -- but the Emperor stops him: EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori-san. We arc "civilized" now. Katsumoto stops prostrating himself. The Emperor offers his hand. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) I cannot touch the Sacred One. EMPEROR (subtitles) You can. It is a difficult moment for Katsumoto. He simply cannot do It. OMURA (subtitles) Did you have a pleasant journey, Minister Katsumoto? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It was uneventful. Omura appreciates Katsumoto's droll response. He assumes that Katsumoto is aware of his part in the assassination attempt. 73. EMPEROR (subtitles) If it is not a great imposition. I desire a moment alone with Minister Katsumoto. Omura-San. OMURA (subtitles) Enlightened One, perhaps I can be of service in a conversation of state. EMPEROR (subtitles) So kind of you, but I fear my old teacher wishes to upbraid me in private for neglecting my studies. Omura bows his head quickly and goes. Silence. The Emperor gazes at Katsumoto. Then: EMPEROR (subtitles) You rise against me, my teacher. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) No, Highness, I rise against your enemies. EMPEROR (subtitles) They are my teacher, my advisers, like you. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) They advise in their own interest. EMPEROR (subtitles) The world is changing, Mori -- you have not seen what goes on beyond our borders, the inventions, the science. I need men who can look outward, or soon we will be left behind, and defenseless. KATSUM OTO (subtitles) I am sworn to defend you even to my last breath. EMPEROR (subtit1es) The samurai live in the past. You cannot defend against a future you don't understand. 74. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) If I am no use, then I will happily end my life, EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori. It is my wish that you rejoin the Council of State. I need your voice. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It is your voice that needs to be heard, Highness. You are a living God, you can do what ever you think is right. The young emperor is silent a moment. EMPEROR (subtitles) I am a living God only as long as I do what they think is right. KATSUMOTO (subtitle) Your Highness, may I beg forgiveness for saying what a teacher must, that such a statement is pathetic drivel not worthy of an ignorant stable boy, let alone a young man I know to have some modest intelligence. The emperor laughs warmly, almost happy to be scolded as he once was. EMPEROR (subtitles) Is it possible a living God can be too afraid to make his voice heard? (Katsumoto's look is not unkind) Tell me what to do, Mori-San? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) You are emperor, my Lord, not me. You must find the wisdom for all of us. EXT. YOKOHAMA WHARF DAY A series of warehouses, beyond which we see warships in the harbor. A1gren walks with Bagley and two other OFFICERS. INT. WAREHOUSE DAY The cavernous warehouse piled high with huge crates. 75. BAGLEY As soon as they sign the agreement, they're obligated to buy the entire weapons package, from Colt revol vers to Ha1liwell twelve-pounders. Plus this particular item you might recognize. A few stevedores tear open one of the crates. Algren hides his astonishment: A Gatling Gun is revealed. BAGLEY They've been calibrated to fire 200 rounds a minute, The new copper cartridges cut down on jamming. Algren closes his eyes, trying to keep his memories at bay. EXT. TOKYO STREETS DAY Algren fights the crowds with Colonel Bagley And Ambassador Swanbeck.. ALGREN (V.O.) May 15, 1877. The city I return to is immeasurabl y changed New construction ever ywhere. Telegraph wires strung next to an ancient temple. A modern European hotel is going up, dwarfing the traditional Japanese buildings. Huge billboards advertising Western goods. A new invention, the rickshaw, has replaced many of the palanquins. ALGREN (V.O.) As though Tokyo were determined to become another New York or Chicago .- all in one headlong rush. Spider's web of telegraph cables spread from a tall new brick building. It is like a New York office building stabbing into the heart of old Japan. The familiar Omura character is emblazoned on the side. .INT. OFFICES OF THE OMURA ZAIBATSU DAY Aside from the occasional bit of Japanese decor, this could be a buzzing Wall Street firm. Telegraph operators click away. Accountants use adding machines. Secretaries use pneumatic tubes to send documents back and forth. Engineers plot out railway lines. All are dressed in Western clothes. Algren, Colonel Bagley, and Ambassador Swanbeck enter. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK (to Algren) If he asks, you can talk about ordnance and tactics. But remember, this has to do with a lot more than just weapons. 76. An anteroom holds waiting delegations from the various European powers. A babel of language. ... French ...Dutch ...Russian ...German. A pretty American secretary looks up from her desk. SECRETARY Ambassador Swanbeck, if you'll follow me. Some of the delegates arc craning forward, watching Algren and the others hungrily as they head into the final office. INT. OMURA'S OFFICE DAY Omura stands like an industrial titan before large picture windows offering a dramatic view of Tokyo. The only decoration in the room is an enormous Caravaggio. OMURA Please, sit down, gentlemen. Omura removes a gold cigarette case and lights up. Cigarettes are the newest Western fad Sweeping Japan. OMURA (re: cigarette case) A gift from Czar Alexander... Captain Algren,. it seems you have endured your captivity with little ill-effect. ALGREN Yes, sir. OMURA He's an extraordinary man, isn't he? ALGREN He is samurai. Omura gazes at him. Slowl y takes I puff from his cigarette. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Mr. Omura, my people have been drawing up the documents we discussed. I have a draft-- OMURA We're not quite ready to announce the treaty, Ambassador. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Excuse me? OMURA The Emperor is...sentimental. Katsumoto was his old mentor-- he is not eager to offend him. It will take I few more days. 77. AMBASSJ\DOR SW ANBECK How many da ys is " a few?" OMURA I assure you the Samurai will not stand in the wa y of our agreement. You are prepared to make deliver y? AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Soon as your emperor signs on the dotted line. OMURA Captain Algren you are the expert. Will this array of ordnance be sufficient? ALGREN Depends on what you're trying to accomplish. OMURA I want my country to take its place as a modern power. ALGREN Then they will set you well on your way. OMURA I am pleased. AMDASSADOR SW ANBECK Mr. Omura, you assured us you had the influence with your emperor to make this deal come to pass. With all due respect perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to. OMURA With all due respect, Ambassador, perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to, for instance the French. Or the English. Or any of the legations waiting in the next room. Ambassador Swan beck stands swallowing his rage. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Yes, we1l, we look forward to hearing from you. OMURA Good afternoon, gentlemen. They start to go. OMURA Captain Algren, perhaps you can stay a moment And tell me of your experiences in our rebellious provinces. Bagley looks at Algren. Do as he asks. He leaves A1gren alone with Omura. 78. OMURA Cigarette? ALGREN Thank you. Omura lights his cigarette. A moment as he takes Algren's measure. OMURA You fought bravely on behalf of our army-- against the rebel Katsumoto. Algren says nothing. . OMURA And yet you helped save his life when attacked by the Ninja. ALGREN My role was much less significant than you may have heard. OMURA Tell me about your role in Katsumoto's plans. ALGREN I have none. OMURA And your sympathies? ALGREN Again, I have none. OMURA I know you have little sympathy for Colonel Bagley. ALGREN He is.... unsympathetic. Omura smiles. OMURA I thought it was we who are inscrutable. Now it is Algren who smiles. OMURA You have gained important knowledge of Katsumoto's province, his army, and his rebellion. This is extremely valuable to me. He watches Algren to see how this lands. 79. OMURA You also possess significant knowledge of m y army, my weaponry, and my plans. This is extremely va1uable to Katsumoto. ALGREN Again, you flatter me. OMURA No. I am a businessman. I recognize what is valuable. And I buy it. (looks at him) In this case, I value your loyalt y. Algren considers the implications of what Omura is saying. ALGREN I didn't know loyalt y was something that could be sold. OMURA Then perhaps you will give it, as a token of future friendship - for which, as a friend, I would be in your debt. ALGREN (stands) Then I will consider it. OMURA And I will be grateful. INT. SHIPPING OFFICE DAY Algren is in a shipping office. A clerk consults his schedule of departure. CLERK All righteee, the ANDREW JACKSON leaves tomorrow if you want a steamship you'll have to wait six weeks. (Algren is silent) Gets ya to Frisco by the 28th. 14 dollars for a private cabin, 8 for a shared or 3 for a lower berth. What can I put you down for? Algren is silent, concentrating on a calendar hanging behind the clerk. It features a beautiful Hiroshigi watercolor of mountains. CLERK Sir..? ALGREN (after a moment) Private cabin. 80. EXT. TOKYO STREET DAY Graham walks with Algren. GRAHAM Leave? Wh y would you leave now? No white man has ever been in your position. Do you have any idea what it will mean to have Omura as your friend? You want land, you want women, you want boys? Algren starts to walk faster, but Graham Stops him. GRAHAM Nathan. I wanted to leave, too. For three years. You must believe me there is a majest y about these people -- can you imagine what your own country would be if it had half the drive and the discipline and the belief and the bravery of these ridiculous little people? Then raised voices from across the street stop them. They see Yoritomo surrounded by four Imperial Army soldiers. The soldiers are rough and imperious, drunk with power. They carry gleaming rifle.. The soldiers bark orders. Yoritomo stands proudly, responding calmly. ALGREN Whit is this? GRAHAM My God, it's the edicts... ALGREN What edicts? Algren arrives as the situation is clearly growing volatile - the soldiers are pointing to Yoritomo's head, screaming Algren steps toward the soldiers-- ALGREN That's enough-- One of the soldiers SCREAMS at him -- raises his rifle -- all the soldiers raise their rifles Yoritomo reaches for his sword -- Algren tries to push through - 81. ALGREN (subtitles) YORITOMO, WAIT! One of the soldiers smacks Algren in the chin with a rifle butt. Algren reels, and by the time he stands straight again, four others are pointing their ba yonets at his face. Graham takes hold of Algren's arm. GRAHAM Don't be stupid. Algren makes eye contact with Yoritomo, who -- in deference to his friend -- puts his sword away. The Japanese soldiers continue to scream at Yoritomo. They force him to his knees. Rifles pressed to his head. Yoritomo bows his bead, speaking quietly, as if praying. Algren witches in horror all one of the soldiers removes his bayonet -- another grab. Yoritomo's hair, jerks his head back and begins hacking off Yoritomo's traditional top-knot of hair. Brutally. Blood. Yoritomo remains kneeling, head down, blood flowing down his face. The soldiers laugh and move off. Algren kneels by Yoritomo. Yoritomo looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes. EXT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Katsumoto's house on the outskirts of Tokyo is spacious and harmonious. Utterly Japanese. Samurai guards in full regalia, stand menacingly outside. INT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Ujio kneels with Yoritomo, dressing the wounds on his head. Graham sits across the room talking quietly to the mammoth Nakao, taking notes in a small notebook. Nakao has been brutally shorn of his top knot as well. His shame is apparent. INT. KATSUMOTO'S CHAMBER DUSK Servants he1p dress Katsumoto in his exacting samurai wardrobe as Algren is ushered in. KATSUMOTO Captain, I had not thought to see you again. 82. ALGREN I'm leaving tomorrow. But before I go I need to tell you what's going on here. KATSUMOTO You mean the Gatling Guns and the howitzers, is that how you sa y it? ALGREN They're about to close a trade agreement that will bring this country more weapons than you can imagine. KATSUMOTO Yes, if the emperor agrees - but Omura knows the Emperor must be convinced there is cause to need those weapons before be will sign. ALGREN (realizing) And you are to be the cause... KATSUMOTO Elegant, isn't it? Omura passes laws

railroad

How many times the word 'railroad' appears in the text?

wracking his body. EXT. VILLAGE DAY As Algren returns with the water, he sees Katsumoto approaching with Ujio and several warriors. KATSUMOTO The Emperor has requested my presence. We leave tomorrow. You will be released in Tokyo. He goes. Algren stands, not sure how to react. INT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE NIGHT Algren writes on parchment by the light of an oil lamp. ALGREN (V.O.) April 13, 1877. Tomorrow we return to civilization. As eager as I am to be among my own kind, I confess to a curious reluctance. EXT. KATDUMOTO'S VILLAGE DAWN Algren stands overlooking the village as the sun rises over the misty peaks. ALGREN (V.O.) These months have marked me, and I don't fully know yet wh y. EXT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE DAY Algren prepares to mount up. Yoritomo says goodbye to his family. ALGREN (V.O.) I do know it is here that I have known my first untroubled sleep in many years. Taka comes to Algren, bows her head. TAKA (subtitles) You are alwa ys welcome in our home. ALGREN Domo Arrigato. He glances at the unfinished house. 62. ALGREN (subtitles) ...You will finish it soon. TAKA (subtitles) If that is my destiny. She bows her head again. Toshiie hands him a scroll: it is a picture of the Family. Algren is included. Japanese characters list all their names. Toshiie bows. Algren bows and tucks the scroll into his coat. Algren and Yoritomo move out with Katsumoto, Ujio, Nakao and his bodyguard of several dozen Samurai. The villagers bow and honor the warrior as they pass. EXT. MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE DAY Algren trots alongside Katsumoto. ALGREN ... The Emperor sends a message for you to return to Tokyo, and you go? KATSUMOTO Yes. ALGREN Even though you're in rebellion against him. KATSUMOTO Against the Emperor? Never. I serve him. As I have alwa ys done. . ALGREN I don't understand. KATSUMOTO Our Emperor is young, and there are things I must sa y to him. ALGREN But ever yone around him wants you dead. KA TSUMOTO And if the Emperor desires, I will take my own life at his command. He spurs his horse and rides on. A1gren watches him. 63. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET They approach a large inn. A boy working in the fields see Katsumoto approaching. He doesn't believe it -- the Great Katsumoto. He drops his hoe and races awa y, calling out. KATSUMOTO We will stop here for the night. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET Samurai guards have been posted around the perimeter. INT. KATSUMOTO'S RQOM NIGHT Algren is escorted in. Katsumoto kneels at a table. Preparing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Sit, Captain. Algren sits. By now he has learned how to sit on the ground. Katsumoto begins the exacting, delicate and precise tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Do you drink tea? ALGREN I've had little else for some time... Katsumoto continues with the tea ceremony. ALGREN How's your poem coming? KATSUMOTO I am having trouble. The truth is I am not a very good poet. (Algren smiles) Do you know wh y you were sent here? To Yoshino. ALGREN To protect the railroad. . KATSUMOTO Why is the railroad here? ALGREN So Tokyo can control the whole country. 64. KATSUMOTO You have seen my province. All mountains. Far from Tokyo. Yet the rail line must come here? Katsumoto tosses a tiny bit of coal on the simmering brazier on the table. Algren watches carefully. ALGREN You have something they want KATSUMOTO What do they want in my mountains? ALGREN Minerals ... Gold. KA TSUMOTO (smiles) There is no gold in Japan. Katsumoto gently blows on the coal brazier. The coal flares a bit. ALGREN Coal? (Katsumoto looks at him) For steamships. KA TSUMOTO And why would steamships be so important? ALGREN ...China. Katsumoto looks up at him. Impressed. KATSUMOTO Japan has nothing. China has ever ything. ALGREN Mine the coal to create a way station for the trip to China ... Freeze the Europeans out and Japan and America have a monopol y on the China trade. KATSUMOTO Add to this the Omura Zaibatsu. You know the Zaibatus? ALGREN The wealthy families. 65. KATSUMOTO As patron of the railroad, Omura owns all land within four hundred feet of ever y new rail line. As my country grows, so will his wealth. (looks at him) This is why you are fighting. Katsumoto completes the tea ceremony. He pours a cup for Algren. Bows his head and offers it to him. ALGREN And you will tell the emperor to stop them? KATSUMOTO I do not tell the emperor what to do. ALGREN Then what do you hope to accomplish? Katsumoto looks at Algren, the slightest gleam in his eye. KATSUMOTO Will you return to America? Algren watches him -- why didn't Katsumoto answer? ALGREN ...I have a job here. KATSUMOTO You should return to your home. ALGREN Why? KATSUMOTO Because I do not wish you to be m y enemy again. Katsumoto returns to his poem, he does not look up. KATSUMOTO Go home Captain ... Anshinritsumai. I wish you peace. Algren waits but Katsumoto just continues to work on his poem. EXT. AROUND THE INN NIGHT The samurai guards are alert, their senses heightened to almost superhuman proportions. But there is another way. Another way of learning combat. A wa y without the beaut y, the philosophy and the moral code. They are almost imperceptible at first... their head-to-toe black clothes a perfect camouflage... their silence and stealth are otherworldly. 66. They were then known as Shinobi, masters of stealth and spying. We know them as Ninjas. They float across the ground ... creeping an inch ever y hour... complete physica1 control. One black-gloved finger moves. Then the next... They crawl and then wait Poised on their fingertips and toes. There is no sound as they strike. The samurai guards are garroted in an instant. Other Ninjas catch the samurai's weapons as they fall. No sound disturbs the peaceful night. EXT. INN -- FRONT DOORWAY NIGHT Silence. Two samurai guards are in position. One of them glances up at the stars. A Ninja throwing star instantly slices into his jugular-- blood sprays -- the other guard turns a series of Ninja slice into him... EXT. INN--WALLS NIGHT Silence. The Ninjas use mew claws to crawl up the walls like spiders. EXT. INN ROOF NIGHT Silence. A samurai guard stands at the edge of the roof. A Ninja silently moves toward him. Stops. Ten feet awa y. He pulls out a shuriken -- a small needle-shaped projectile, dips it into a sack of poison. Places it carefully into the palm of his hand. And with the flick of his wrist-- The needle flies -- stabbing into the samurai -- he crumples. Other Ninjas immediately pour over the edge of the roof -- catching the samurai before he falls... INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. 67. Katsumoto cannot sleep. He stares out the window at a nightingale. INT. INN--UJIO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Ujio sits in his room. He is unblinking. Alert. Swords at the ready. INT. INN ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Algren cannot sleep either. He sits leaning against a wall. Thinking. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Silence. Yoritomo drinks tea with Nakao, the huge martial arts master. INT. OUTSIDE KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT A guard stands sentinel. Above his head, unbeknownst to him, two Ninjas descend on ropes. One of them swings a long chain - to which I barbed-knife is attached. As it lodges in the guard's chest, the second Ninja swings down just in time to catch the dead guard, silently, before his body hits the ground. INT. INN -- KATSUMQTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Katsumoto lies in bed listening to the night bird. It stops singing. Katsumoto smiles sadly. He decides to give up on sleep, leans forward to rise. This act saves his life. For when the Ninjas come, they come all at once-- A Ninja suddenly comes TEARING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE PAPER WALL, his sword slashing down .- just missing Katsumoto. Katsumoto calls out an alarm, diving and rolling across the floor for his sword. He instantly kills one Ninja using his steel-tipped "war fan" to slash his attackers throat. Another smashes in through the window. INT. INN -- MAIN H ALL NIGHT Ninjas EXPLODE into the main hall. Samurai who come out of their rooms are cut down by a variety of weapons -- one takes a throwing star in the face, others are felled by the traditional ninja-to, short swords ideal for fighting in confined spaces, chain-knives, nun-chaka and others. 68. More Ninjas drop from the rafters on ropes. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT A Ninja SMASHES through the paper wall -- Algren grabs the nearest object, a low tea table. and swings it at his head. The Ninja dodges the blow and slices at Algren with short-sword. Algren barely avoids the blow by ducking behind a post as the sword LODGES deep in the wood. Algren flings himself, bodily, at his attacker. INT. INN-- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ninja throwing stars spin across the room, killing a samurai. Yoritomo emerges from his room, readying his bow, but the dead samurai falls back blocking his wa y. From behind the rice wall, Yoritomo lets fly an arrow without even looking. It passes THROUGH the wall, killing the Ninja on the opposite balcony. INT. INN-- FIRST FLOOR NIGHT Ujio screams a war cry and begins to battle his way up the stairs. With breathtaking moves, he slashes hands and limbs, forcing the Ninja back. Nakao fights his wa y up beside him, desperately trying to reach Katsumoto's room. Using only his bare hands he catches a Ninja's wrist and hurls him over the railing. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Algren and the Ninja are in a death struggle, kneeing, gouging, butting. They awkwardly smash through a paper wall into the next room. INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto wields his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. It is the first time we have seen him in action and his movements are both beautiful and deadly. But more Ninjas are pouring in through the window, threatening to overwhelm him. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Rolling on the ground, Algren manages to grab a chopstick and STAB his adversary through the eye. He picks up the fallen short sword and steps out into the hall. ARROWS whiz past, thudding into the wall beside his head. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto, breathing heavily, his kimono shredded and bloody, is fending off the Ninjas' increasingly savage attacks as Algren enters. Algren SCREAMS, distracting them just long enough for Katsumoto to take advantage and kill one. 69. Then, just as a Ninja it about to kill Algren, Katsumoto FLINGS his short sword ... it pin-wheels across the room, hitting Algren's attacker in the chest. Without missing a beat, Algren pulls the short sword from the dying Ninja's chest and uses it to stab another Ninja who, thinking Algren defenseless, has launched an attack. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ujio and Nakao are back to back, a perfect fighting machine as they fight their wa y to Katsumoto's rescue. They battle Ninjas wielding lethal kusarigamas, the Ninjas swing chains, the attached blades slice the air--Nakao catches the chains and flinging the Ninja over the balcony. INT. YORITOMO'S ROOM NIGHT Yoritomo is pinned down. Darts and throwing stars shred the rice paper wall above him. He picks off another Ninja before changing his position. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT The blazing sword battle continues. Algren throws a beautiful painted standing-screen in front of an attacking Ninja, momentarily confusing him. Then he stabs THROUGH THE SCREEN -as a blood- stain SPREADS across the pastoral painting. But another Ninja catches Algren off-guard and slices at him with his short sword. As Algren lifts his sword to parry the blow, HIS LITILE FINGER IS CHOPPED OFF. He drops the sword, momentarily defenseless. Across the hallway Yoritomo has been watching the shadowpla y on the rice-paper walls. Algren's attacker raises his blade to deliver the death blow. In Katsumoto's room Algren flinches involuntarily beneath the raised blade. Suddenly the Ninja JACKKNIFES as if punched by an unseen hand. As he spins, dead, to the ground, we SEE an ARROW lodged bet ween his shoulder blades. Yoritomo has FIRED blindly, through the wall killing Algren's attacker. Nearby, a Ninja hurls a throwing star at Katsumoto. With blind instinct Katsumoto turns and takes the blade in the meat of his arm. Algren, meanwhile, has ripped the sleeve of his kimono into a tourniquet for his maimed hand. He uses the rest of the fabric TO TIE HIS HAND TO HIS SWORD before launching himself back into the fray -- slicing an attacker just as he is about to impale Katsumoto. Together, he and Katsumoto force the last two Ninjas through a paper wall to the next room. They fight all the wa y through that room and BLAST through another paper wall to the next. 70. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT The battle continues unabated on the stairs -- the Ninjas spring for position with incredible grace --perching and fighting on banisters, leaping from one level to the next. It is a mayhem of flashing swords and flailing limbs and flyi ng arrows and spinning Ninja stars. Sprays of blood splatter against the white rice paper walls. Some of the fighting is less than elegant. Men bite and wrestle and gouge to survive in close quarters. All of them arc bloody and sweat y and dirty and tired, heaving for breath, their skin flayed open, their kimonos ripped, their hands and arms and faces blood-stained. But more samurai reinforcements follow Ujio up the stairs: Together with Yoritomo and Nakao, they have begun to gain the upper hand. Ujio flings both his swords through the air -- killing two Ninjas -- and dives to fight others - his martial arts skills are dazzling. Algren and Katsumoto are fighting sidc by side And we cut to -- EXT. INN NIGHT Outside of the inn, we slowl y pull away... The sounds of the battle gradually fade... Soon it is nothing more than a lovel y rustic inn nestled in the mountains. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT Later. The battle is over. Ninja and samurai corpses litter the inn. We slowl y move up the long stairwa y from the bottom... Yoritomo pulls a Ninja star from Nakao's_shou1der. Then one from his own. We move up another level, past more bodies... Ujio moves through the Ninjas. Making sure they are dead. Before sheathing his sword, he angrily FLICKS it at the rice paper wall, spattering it with the bloody spray. Katsumoto wipes his sword on a nearby corpse, replaces it in its sheath. He sits beside Algren on a stair. Both men are exhausted. Bloodied. Alive. A long beat as we watch the two warriors. Slow fade to... 71. EXT. TOKYO -- IMPERIAL PALACE DAY Algren, Katsumoto and the others are nearing the palace. Algren slows to a stop -- his path is toward the city. Katsumoto stops, looks at him, then does something absolutel y extraordinary. He kneels and bows before Algren. Quickly touching his head to the dirt. Then he rises, turns and walks toward the palace. Algren stands, stunned. EXT. PARADE GROUND DAY Algren walks onto the parade ground. The change he sees could not be more remarkable. Thousands of new Japanese troops are drilling with new bolt-action Mausers. They are precise, exact and frighteningly mechanistic, their uniforms new and crisp. New German advisors are barking commands. Colonel Bagley sees him. BAGLEY Algren? My God, you never cease to astonish. Bagley runs over, hand extended, but Algren turns to look at the troops. ALGREN They have new weapons. BAGLEY The Kaiser was only too happy to help. Along with his friends at Mauser and Krupp. Thank God we Americans still have a few teeth in our head. And they come to the "teeth." Howitzer cannons. A row of them. Artillery officers in US Army uniforms arc instructing Japanese offi cers. BAGLEY The ambassador and I have spent eight months kissing Omura's ass so he'll sign the damn trade pact with us. You spent all this time living with those savages? (A1gren looks at him) He's going to want to talk to you... ALGREN I need a bath. BAGLEY And your back pay, I imagine. Algren starts walking away. 72. BAGLEY They got their flag. ...See? And we see it... snapping on I flagpole high above the parade ground. It is immediately familiar. A red circle on a white field. The Rising Sun. The Howitzers fire in sequence. Thundering blasts that shake the heavens. EXT, ROYAL TEMPLE DAY Omura stands above Emperor Meiji respectful but persistent. The Emperor is kneeling, tending to his iris garden. It is one of the wonders of the Palace: a sea of white, pink, blue, and purple blossoms. Retainers and servants stand at a distance. One holds a standard with the Imperial seal: a yellow chrysanthemum. Omura sees Katsumoto making his way toward them. He talks a bit more quickly to the Emperor. Katsumoto begins to prostrate himself before the Emperor, the usual sign of extreme respect -- but the Emperor stops him: EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori-san. We arc "civilized" now. Katsumoto stops prostrating himself. The Emperor offers his hand. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) I cannot touch the Sacred One. EMPEROR (subtitles) You can. It is a difficult moment for Katsumoto. He simply cannot do It. OMURA (subtitles) Did you have a pleasant journey, Minister Katsumoto? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It was uneventful. Omura appreciates Katsumoto's droll response. He assumes that Katsumoto is aware of his part in the assassination attempt. 73. EMPEROR (subtitles) If it is not a great imposition. I desire a moment alone with Minister Katsumoto. Omura-San. OMURA (subtitles) Enlightened One, perhaps I can be of service in a conversation of state. EMPEROR (subtitles) So kind of you, but I fear my old teacher wishes to upbraid me in private for neglecting my studies. Omura bows his head quickly and goes. Silence. The Emperor gazes at Katsumoto. Then: EMPEROR (subtitles) You rise against me, my teacher. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) No, Highness, I rise against your enemies. EMPEROR (subtitles) They are my teacher, my advisers, like you. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) They advise in their own interest. EMPEROR (subtitles) The world is changing, Mori -- you have not seen what goes on beyond our borders, the inventions, the science. I need men who can look outward, or soon we will be left behind, and defenseless. KATSUM OTO (subtitles) I am sworn to defend you even to my last breath. EMPEROR (subtit1es) The samurai live in the past. You cannot defend against a future you don't understand. 74. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) If I am no use, then I will happily end my life, EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori. It is my wish that you rejoin the Council of State. I need your voice. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It is your voice that needs to be heard, Highness. You are a living God, you can do what ever you think is right. The young emperor is silent a moment. EMPEROR (subtitles) I am a living God only as long as I do what they think is right. KATSUMOTO (subtitle) Your Highness, may I beg forgiveness for saying what a teacher must, that such a statement is pathetic drivel not worthy of an ignorant stable boy, let alone a young man I know to have some modest intelligence. The emperor laughs warmly, almost happy to be scolded as he once was. EMPEROR (subtitles) Is it possible a living God can be too afraid to make his voice heard? (Katsumoto's look is not unkind) Tell me what to do, Mori-San? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) You are emperor, my Lord, not me. You must find the wisdom for all of us. EXT. YOKOHAMA WHARF DAY A series of warehouses, beyond which we see warships in the harbor. A1gren walks with Bagley and two other OFFICERS. INT. WAREHOUSE DAY The cavernous warehouse piled high with huge crates. 75. BAGLEY As soon as they sign the agreement, they're obligated to buy the entire weapons package, from Colt revol vers to Ha1liwell twelve-pounders. Plus this particular item you might recognize. A few stevedores tear open one of the crates. Algren hides his astonishment: A Gatling Gun is revealed. BAGLEY They've been calibrated to fire 200 rounds a minute, The new copper cartridges cut down on jamming. Algren closes his eyes, trying to keep his memories at bay. EXT. TOKYO STREETS DAY Algren fights the crowds with Colonel Bagley And Ambassador Swanbeck.. ALGREN (V.O.) May 15, 1877. The city I return to is immeasurabl y changed New construction ever ywhere. Telegraph wires strung next to an ancient temple. A modern European hotel is going up, dwarfing the traditional Japanese buildings. Huge billboards advertising Western goods. A new invention, the rickshaw, has replaced many of the palanquins. ALGREN (V.O.) As though Tokyo were determined to become another New York or Chicago .- all in one headlong rush. Spider's web of telegraph cables spread from a tall new brick building. It is like a New York office building stabbing into the heart of old Japan. The familiar Omura character is emblazoned on the side. .INT. OFFICES OF THE OMURA ZAIBATSU DAY Aside from the occasional bit of Japanese decor, this could be a buzzing Wall Street firm. Telegraph operators click away. Accountants use adding machines. Secretaries use pneumatic tubes to send documents back and forth. Engineers plot out railway lines. All are dressed in Western clothes. Algren, Colonel Bagley, and Ambassador Swanbeck enter. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK (to Algren) If he asks, you can talk about ordnance and tactics. But remember, this has to do with a lot more than just weapons. 76. An anteroom holds waiting delegations from the various European powers. A babel of language. ... French ...Dutch ...Russian ...German. A pretty American secretary looks up from her desk. SECRETARY Ambassador Swanbeck, if you'll follow me. Some of the delegates arc craning forward, watching Algren and the others hungrily as they head into the final office. INT. OMURA'S OFFICE DAY Omura stands like an industrial titan before large picture windows offering a dramatic view of Tokyo. The only decoration in the room is an enormous Caravaggio. OMURA Please, sit down, gentlemen. Omura removes a gold cigarette case and lights up. Cigarettes are the newest Western fad Sweeping Japan. OMURA (re: cigarette case) A gift from Czar Alexander... Captain Algren,. it seems you have endured your captivity with little ill-effect. ALGREN Yes, sir. OMURA He's an extraordinary man, isn't he? ALGREN He is samurai. Omura gazes at him. Slowl y takes I puff from his cigarette. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Mr. Omura, my people have been drawing up the documents we discussed. I have a draft-- OMURA We're not quite ready to announce the treaty, Ambassador. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Excuse me? OMURA The Emperor is...sentimental. Katsumoto was his old mentor-- he is not eager to offend him. It will take I few more days. 77. AMBASSJ\DOR SW ANBECK How many da ys is " a few?" OMURA I assure you the Samurai will not stand in the wa y of our agreement. You are prepared to make deliver y? AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Soon as your emperor signs on the dotted line. OMURA Captain Algren you are the expert. Will this array of ordnance be sufficient? ALGREN Depends on what you're trying to accomplish. OMURA I want my country to take its place as a modern power. ALGREN Then they will set you well on your way. OMURA I am pleased. AMDASSADOR SW ANBECK Mr. Omura, you assured us you had the influence with your emperor to make this deal come to pass. With all due respect perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to. OMURA With all due respect, Ambassador, perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to, for instance the French. Or the English. Or any of the legations waiting in the next room. Ambassador Swan beck stands swallowing his rage. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Yes, we1l, we look forward to hearing from you. OMURA Good afternoon, gentlemen. They start to go. OMURA Captain Algren, perhaps you can stay a moment And tell me of your experiences in our rebellious provinces. Bagley looks at Algren. Do as he asks. He leaves A1gren alone with Omura. 78. OMURA Cigarette? ALGREN Thank you. Omura lights his cigarette. A moment as he takes Algren's measure. OMURA You fought bravely on behalf of our army-- against the rebel Katsumoto. Algren says nothing. . OMURA And yet you helped save his life when attacked by the Ninja. ALGREN My role was much less significant than you may have heard. OMURA Tell me about your role in Katsumoto's plans. ALGREN I have none. OMURA And your sympathies? ALGREN Again, I have none. OMURA I know you have little sympathy for Colonel Bagley. ALGREN He is.... unsympathetic. Omura smiles. OMURA I thought it was we who are inscrutable. Now it is Algren who smiles. OMURA You have gained important knowledge of Katsumoto's province, his army, and his rebellion. This is extremely valuable to me. He watches Algren to see how this lands. 79. OMURA You also possess significant knowledge of m y army, my weaponry, and my plans. This is extremely va1uable to Katsumoto. ALGREN Again, you flatter me. OMURA No. I am a businessman. I recognize what is valuable. And I buy it. (looks at him) In this case, I value your loyalt y. Algren considers the implications of what Omura is saying. ALGREN I didn't know loyalt y was something that could be sold. OMURA Then perhaps you will give it, as a token of future friendship - for which, as a friend, I would be in your debt. ALGREN (stands) Then I will consider it. OMURA And I will be grateful. INT. SHIPPING OFFICE DAY Algren is in a shipping office. A clerk consults his schedule of departure. CLERK All righteee, the ANDREW JACKSON leaves tomorrow if you want a steamship you'll have to wait six weeks. (Algren is silent) Gets ya to Frisco by the 28th. 14 dollars for a private cabin, 8 for a shared or 3 for a lower berth. What can I put you down for? Algren is silent, concentrating on a calendar hanging behind the clerk. It features a beautiful Hiroshigi watercolor of mountains. CLERK Sir..? ALGREN (after a moment) Private cabin. 80. EXT. TOKYO STREET DAY Graham walks with Algren. GRAHAM Leave? Wh y would you leave now? No white man has ever been in your position. Do you have any idea what it will mean to have Omura as your friend? You want land, you want women, you want boys? Algren starts to walk faster, but Graham Stops him. GRAHAM Nathan. I wanted to leave, too. For three years. You must believe me there is a majest y about these people -- can you imagine what your own country would be if it had half the drive and the discipline and the belief and the bravery of these ridiculous little people? Then raised voices from across the street stop them. They see Yoritomo surrounded by four Imperial Army soldiers. The soldiers are rough and imperious, drunk with power. They carry gleaming rifle.. The soldiers bark orders. Yoritomo stands proudly, responding calmly. ALGREN Whit is this? GRAHAM My God, it's the edicts... ALGREN What edicts? Algren arrives as the situation is clearly growing volatile - the soldiers are pointing to Yoritomo's head, screaming Algren steps toward the soldiers-- ALGREN That's enough-- One of the soldiers SCREAMS at him -- raises his rifle -- all the soldiers raise their rifles Yoritomo reaches for his sword -- Algren tries to push through - 81. ALGREN (subtitles) YORITOMO, WAIT! One of the soldiers smacks Algren in the chin with a rifle butt. Algren reels, and by the time he stands straight again, four others are pointing their ba yonets at his face. Graham takes hold of Algren's arm. GRAHAM Don't be stupid. Algren makes eye contact with Yoritomo, who -- in deference to his friend -- puts his sword away. The Japanese soldiers continue to scream at Yoritomo. They force him to his knees. Rifles pressed to his head. Yoritomo bows his bead, speaking quietly, as if praying. Algren witches in horror all one of the soldiers removes his bayonet -- another grab. Yoritomo's hair, jerks his head back and begins hacking off Yoritomo's traditional top-knot of hair. Brutally. Blood. Yoritomo remains kneeling, head down, blood flowing down his face. The soldiers laugh and move off. Algren kneels by Yoritomo. Yoritomo looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes. EXT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Katsumoto's house on the outskirts of Tokyo is spacious and harmonious. Utterly Japanese. Samurai guards in full regalia, stand menacingly outside. INT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Ujio kneels with Yoritomo, dressing the wounds on his head. Graham sits across the room talking quietly to the mammoth Nakao, taking notes in a small notebook. Nakao has been brutally shorn of his top knot as well. His shame is apparent. INT. KATSUMOTO'S CHAMBER DUSK Servants he1p dress Katsumoto in his exacting samurai wardrobe as Algren is ushered in. KATSUMOTO Captain, I had not thought to see you again. 82. ALGREN I'm leaving tomorrow. But before I go I need to tell you what's going on here. KATSUMOTO You mean the Gatling Guns and the howitzers, is that how you sa y it? ALGREN They're about to close a trade agreement that will bring this country more weapons than you can imagine. KATSUMOTO Yes, if the emperor agrees - but Omura knows the Emperor must be convinced there is cause to need those weapons before be will sign. ALGREN (realizing) And you are to be the cause... KATSUMOTO Elegant, isn't it? Omura passes laws

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How many times the word 'picks' appears in the text?

wracking his body. EXT. VILLAGE DAY As Algren returns with the water, he sees Katsumoto approaching with Ujio and several warriors. KATSUMOTO The Emperor has requested my presence. We leave tomorrow. You will be released in Tokyo. He goes. Algren stands, not sure how to react. INT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE NIGHT Algren writes on parchment by the light of an oil lamp. ALGREN (V.O.) April 13, 1877. Tomorrow we return to civilization. As eager as I am to be among my own kind, I confess to a curious reluctance. EXT. KATDUMOTO'S VILLAGE DAWN Algren stands overlooking the village as the sun rises over the misty peaks. ALGREN (V.O.) These months have marked me, and I don't fully know yet wh y. EXT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE DAY Algren prepares to mount up. Yoritomo says goodbye to his family. ALGREN (V.O.) I do know it is here that I have known my first untroubled sleep in many years. Taka comes to Algren, bows her head. TAKA (subtitles) You are alwa ys welcome in our home. ALGREN Domo Arrigato. He glances at the unfinished house. 62. ALGREN (subtitles) ...You will finish it soon. TAKA (subtitles) If that is my destiny. She bows her head again. Toshiie hands him a scroll: it is a picture of the Family. Algren is included. Japanese characters list all their names. Toshiie bows. Algren bows and tucks the scroll into his coat. Algren and Yoritomo move out with Katsumoto, Ujio, Nakao and his bodyguard of several dozen Samurai. The villagers bow and honor the warrior as they pass. EXT. MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE DAY Algren trots alongside Katsumoto. ALGREN ... The Emperor sends a message for you to return to Tokyo, and you go? KATSUMOTO Yes. ALGREN Even though you're in rebellion against him. KATSUMOTO Against the Emperor? Never. I serve him. As I have alwa ys done. . ALGREN I don't understand. KATSUMOTO Our Emperor is young, and there are things I must sa y to him. ALGREN But ever yone around him wants you dead. KA TSUMOTO And if the Emperor desires, I will take my own life at his command. He spurs his horse and rides on. A1gren watches him. 63. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET They approach a large inn. A boy working in the fields see Katsumoto approaching. He doesn't believe it -- the Great Katsumoto. He drops his hoe and races awa y, calling out. KATSUMOTO We will stop here for the night. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET Samurai guards have been posted around the perimeter. INT. KATSUMOTO'S RQOM NIGHT Algren is escorted in. Katsumoto kneels at a table. Preparing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Sit, Captain. Algren sits. By now he has learned how to sit on the ground. Katsumoto begins the exacting, delicate and precise tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Do you drink tea? ALGREN I've had little else for some time... Katsumoto continues with the tea ceremony. ALGREN How's your poem coming? KATSUMOTO I am having trouble. The truth is I am not a very good poet. (Algren smiles) Do you know wh y you were sent here? To Yoshino. ALGREN To protect the railroad. . KATSUMOTO Why is the railroad here? ALGREN So Tokyo can control the whole country. 64. KATSUMOTO You have seen my province. All mountains. Far from Tokyo. Yet the rail line must come here? Katsumoto tosses a tiny bit of coal on the simmering brazier on the table. Algren watches carefully. ALGREN You have something they want KATSUMOTO What do they want in my mountains? ALGREN Minerals ... Gold. KA TSUMOTO (smiles) There is no gold in Japan. Katsumoto gently blows on the coal brazier. The coal flares a bit. ALGREN Coal? (Katsumoto looks at him) For steamships. KA TSUMOTO And why would steamships be so important? ALGREN ...China. Katsumoto looks up at him. Impressed. KATSUMOTO Japan has nothing. China has ever ything. ALGREN Mine the coal to create a way station for the trip to China ... Freeze the Europeans out and Japan and America have a monopol y on the China trade. KATSUMOTO Add to this the Omura Zaibatsu. You know the Zaibatus? ALGREN The wealthy families. 65. KATSUMOTO As patron of the railroad, Omura owns all land within four hundred feet of ever y new rail line. As my country grows, so will his wealth. (looks at him) This is why you are fighting. Katsumoto completes the tea ceremony. He pours a cup for Algren. Bows his head and offers it to him. ALGREN And you will tell the emperor to stop them? KATSUMOTO I do not tell the emperor what to do. ALGREN Then what do you hope to accomplish? Katsumoto looks at Algren, the slightest gleam in his eye. KATSUMOTO Will you return to America? Algren watches him -- why didn't Katsumoto answer? ALGREN ...I have a job here. KATSUMOTO You should return to your home. ALGREN Why? KATSUMOTO Because I do not wish you to be m y enemy again. Katsumoto returns to his poem, he does not look up. KATSUMOTO Go home Captain ... Anshinritsumai. I wish you peace. Algren waits but Katsumoto just continues to work on his poem. EXT. AROUND THE INN NIGHT The samurai guards are alert, their senses heightened to almost superhuman proportions. But there is another way. Another way of learning combat. A wa y without the beaut y, the philosophy and the moral code. They are almost imperceptible at first... their head-to-toe black clothes a perfect camouflage... their silence and stealth are otherworldly. 66. They were then known as Shinobi, masters of stealth and spying. We know them as Ninjas. They float across the ground ... creeping an inch ever y hour... complete physica1 control. One black-gloved finger moves. Then the next... They crawl and then wait Poised on their fingertips and toes. There is no sound as they strike. The samurai guards are garroted in an instant. Other Ninjas catch the samurai's weapons as they fall. No sound disturbs the peaceful night. EXT. INN -- FRONT DOORWAY NIGHT Silence. Two samurai guards are in position. One of them glances up at the stars. A Ninja throwing star instantly slices into his jugular-- blood sprays -- the other guard turns a series of Ninja slice into him... EXT. INN--WALLS NIGHT Silence. The Ninjas use mew claws to crawl up the walls like spiders. EXT. INN ROOF NIGHT Silence. A samurai guard stands at the edge of the roof. A Ninja silently moves toward him. Stops. Ten feet awa y. He pulls out a shuriken -- a small needle-shaped projectile, dips it into a sack of poison. Places it carefully into the palm of his hand. And with the flick of his wrist-- The needle flies -- stabbing into the samurai -- he crumples. Other Ninjas immediately pour over the edge of the roof -- catching the samurai before he falls... INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. 67. Katsumoto cannot sleep. He stares out the window at a nightingale. INT. INN--UJIO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Ujio sits in his room. He is unblinking. Alert. Swords at the ready. INT. INN ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Algren cannot sleep either. He sits leaning against a wall. Thinking. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Silence. Yoritomo drinks tea with Nakao, the huge martial arts master. INT. OUTSIDE KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT A guard stands sentinel. Above his head, unbeknownst to him, two Ninjas descend on ropes. One of them swings a long chain - to which I barbed-knife is attached. As it lodges in the guard's chest, the second Ninja swings down just in time to catch the dead guard, silently, before his body hits the ground. INT. INN -- KATSUMQTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Katsumoto lies in bed listening to the night bird. It stops singing. Katsumoto smiles sadly. He decides to give up on sleep, leans forward to rise. This act saves his life. For when the Ninjas come, they come all at once-- A Ninja suddenly comes TEARING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE PAPER WALL, his sword slashing down .- just missing Katsumoto. Katsumoto calls out an alarm, diving and rolling across the floor for his sword. He instantly kills one Ninja using his steel-tipped "war fan" to slash his attackers throat. Another smashes in through the window. INT. INN -- MAIN H ALL NIGHT Ninjas EXPLODE into the main hall. Samurai who come out of their rooms are cut down by a variety of weapons -- one takes a throwing star in the face, others are felled by the traditional ninja-to, short swords ideal for fighting in confined spaces, chain-knives, nun-chaka and others. 68. More Ninjas drop from the rafters on ropes. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT A Ninja SMASHES through the paper wall -- Algren grabs the nearest object, a low tea table. and swings it at his head. The Ninja dodges the blow and slices at Algren with short-sword. Algren barely avoids the blow by ducking behind a post as the sword LODGES deep in the wood. Algren flings himself, bodily, at his attacker. INT. INN-- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ninja throwing stars spin across the room, killing a samurai. Yoritomo emerges from his room, readying his bow, but the dead samurai falls back blocking his wa y. From behind the rice wall, Yoritomo lets fly an arrow without even looking. It passes THROUGH the wall, killing the Ninja on the opposite balcony. INT. INN-- FIRST FLOOR NIGHT Ujio screams a war cry and begins to battle his way up the stairs. With breathtaking moves, he slashes hands and limbs, forcing the Ninja back. Nakao fights his wa y up beside him, desperately trying to reach Katsumoto's room. Using only his bare hands he catches a Ninja's wrist and hurls him over the railing. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Algren and the Ninja are in a death struggle, kneeing, gouging, butting. They awkwardly smash through a paper wall into the next room. INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto wields his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. It is the first time we have seen him in action and his movements are both beautiful and deadly. But more Ninjas are pouring in through the window, threatening to overwhelm him. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Rolling on the ground, Algren manages to grab a chopstick and STAB his adversary through the eye. He picks up the fallen short sword and steps out into the hall. ARROWS whiz past, thudding into the wall beside his head. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto, breathing heavily, his kimono shredded and bloody, is fending off the Ninjas' increasingly savage attacks as Algren enters. Algren SCREAMS, distracting them just long enough for Katsumoto to take advantage and kill one. 69. Then, just as a Ninja it about to kill Algren, Katsumoto FLINGS his short sword ... it pin-wheels across the room, hitting Algren's attacker in the chest. Without missing a beat, Algren pulls the short sword from the dying Ninja's chest and uses it to stab another Ninja who, thinking Algren defenseless, has launched an attack. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ujio and Nakao are back to back, a perfect fighting machine as they fight their wa y to Katsumoto's rescue. They battle Ninjas wielding lethal kusarigamas, the Ninjas swing chains, the attached blades slice the air--Nakao catches the chains and flinging the Ninja over the balcony. INT. YORITOMO'S ROOM NIGHT Yoritomo is pinned down. Darts and throwing stars shred the rice paper wall above him. He picks off another Ninja before changing his position. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT The blazing sword battle continues. Algren throws a beautiful painted standing-screen in front of an attacking Ninja, momentarily confusing him. Then he stabs THROUGH THE SCREEN -as a blood- stain SPREADS across the pastoral painting. But another Ninja catches Algren off-guard and slices at him with his short sword. As Algren lifts his sword to parry the blow, HIS LITILE FINGER IS CHOPPED OFF. He drops the sword, momentarily defenseless. Across the hallway Yoritomo has been watching the shadowpla y on the rice-paper walls. Algren's attacker raises his blade to deliver the death blow. In Katsumoto's room Algren flinches involuntarily beneath the raised blade. Suddenly the Ninja JACKKNIFES as if punched by an unseen hand. As he spins, dead, to the ground, we SEE an ARROW lodged bet ween his shoulder blades. Yoritomo has FIRED blindly, through the wall killing Algren's attacker. Nearby, a Ninja hurls a throwing star at Katsumoto. With blind instinct Katsumoto turns and takes the blade in the meat of his arm. Algren, meanwhile, has ripped the sleeve of his kimono into a tourniquet for his maimed hand. He uses the rest of the fabric TO TIE HIS HAND TO HIS SWORD before launching himself back into the fray -- slicing an attacker just as he is about to impale Katsumoto. Together, he and Katsumoto force the last two Ninjas through a paper wall to the next room. They fight all the wa y through that room and BLAST through another paper wall to the next. 70. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT The battle continues unabated on the stairs -- the Ninjas spring for position with incredible grace --perching and fighting on banisters, leaping from one level to the next. It is a mayhem of flashing swords and flailing limbs and flyi ng arrows and spinning Ninja stars. Sprays of blood splatter against the white rice paper walls. Some of the fighting is less than elegant. Men bite and wrestle and gouge to survive in close quarters. All of them arc bloody and sweat y and dirty and tired, heaving for breath, their skin flayed open, their kimonos ripped, their hands and arms and faces blood-stained. But more samurai reinforcements follow Ujio up the stairs: Together with Yoritomo and Nakao, they have begun to gain the upper hand. Ujio flings both his swords through the air -- killing two Ninjas -- and dives to fight others - his martial arts skills are dazzling. Algren and Katsumoto are fighting sidc by side And we cut to -- EXT. INN NIGHT Outside of the inn, we slowl y pull away... The sounds of the battle gradually fade... Soon it is nothing more than a lovel y rustic inn nestled in the mountains. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT Later. The battle is over. Ninja and samurai corpses litter the inn. We slowl y move up the long stairwa y from the bottom... Yoritomo pulls a Ninja star from Nakao's_shou1der. Then one from his own. We move up another level, past more bodies... Ujio moves through the Ninjas. Making sure they are dead. Before sheathing his sword, he angrily FLICKS it at the rice paper wall, spattering it with the bloody spray. Katsumoto wipes his sword on a nearby corpse, replaces it in its sheath. He sits beside Algren on a stair. Both men are exhausted. Bloodied. Alive. A long beat as we watch the two warriors. Slow fade to... 71. EXT. TOKYO -- IMPERIAL PALACE DAY Algren, Katsumoto and the others are nearing the palace. Algren slows to a stop -- his path is toward the city. Katsumoto stops, looks at him, then does something absolutel y extraordinary. He kneels and bows before Algren. Quickly touching his head to the dirt. Then he rises, turns and walks toward the palace. Algren stands, stunned. EXT. PARADE GROUND DAY Algren walks onto the parade ground. The change he sees could not be more remarkable. Thousands of new Japanese troops are drilling with new bolt-action Mausers. They are precise, exact and frighteningly mechanistic, their uniforms new and crisp. New German advisors are barking commands. Colonel Bagley sees him. BAGLEY Algren? My God, you never cease to astonish. Bagley runs over, hand extended, but Algren turns to look at the troops. ALGREN They have new weapons. BAGLEY The Kaiser was only too happy to help. Along with his friends at Mauser and Krupp. Thank God we Americans still have a few teeth in our head. And they come to the "teeth." Howitzer cannons. A row of them. Artillery officers in US Army uniforms arc instructing Japanese offi cers. BAGLEY The ambassador and I have spent eight months kissing Omura's ass so he'll sign the damn trade pact with us. You spent all this time living with those savages? (A1gren looks at him) He's going to want to talk to you... ALGREN I need a bath. BAGLEY And your back pay, I imagine. Algren starts walking away. 72. BAGLEY They got their flag. ...See? And we see it... snapping on I flagpole high above the parade ground. It is immediately familiar. A red circle on a white field. The Rising Sun. The Howitzers fire in sequence. Thundering blasts that shake the heavens. EXT, ROYAL TEMPLE DAY Omura stands above Emperor Meiji respectful but persistent. The Emperor is kneeling, tending to his iris garden. It is one of the wonders of the Palace: a sea of white, pink, blue, and purple blossoms. Retainers and servants stand at a distance. One holds a standard with the Imperial seal: a yellow chrysanthemum. Omura sees Katsumoto making his way toward them. He talks a bit more quickly to the Emperor. Katsumoto begins to prostrate himself before the Emperor, the usual sign of extreme respect -- but the Emperor stops him: EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori-san. We arc "civilized" now. Katsumoto stops prostrating himself. The Emperor offers his hand. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) I cannot touch the Sacred One. EMPEROR (subtitles) You can. It is a difficult moment for Katsumoto. He simply cannot do It. OMURA (subtitles) Did you have a pleasant journey, Minister Katsumoto? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It was uneventful. Omura appreciates Katsumoto's droll response. He assumes that Katsumoto is aware of his part in the assassination attempt. 73. EMPEROR (subtitles) If it is not a great imposition. I desire a moment alone with Minister Katsumoto. Omura-San. OMURA (subtitles) Enlightened One, perhaps I can be of service in a conversation of state. EMPEROR (subtitles) So kind of you, but I fear my old teacher wishes to upbraid me in private for neglecting my studies. Omura bows his head quickly and goes. Silence. The Emperor gazes at Katsumoto. Then: EMPEROR (subtitles) You rise against me, my teacher. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) No, Highness, I rise against your enemies. EMPEROR (subtitles) They are my teacher, my advisers, like you. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) They advise in their own interest. EMPEROR (subtitles) The world is changing, Mori -- you have not seen what goes on beyond our borders, the inventions, the science. I need men who can look outward, or soon we will be left behind, and defenseless. KATSUM OTO (subtitles) I am sworn to defend you even to my last breath. EMPEROR (subtit1es) The samurai live in the past. You cannot defend against a future you don't understand. 74. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) If I am no use, then I will happily end my life, EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori. It is my wish that you rejoin the Council of State. I need your voice. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It is your voice that needs to be heard, Highness. You are a living God, you can do what ever you think is right. The young emperor is silent a moment. EMPEROR (subtitles) I am a living God only as long as I do what they think is right. KATSUMOTO (subtitle) Your Highness, may I beg forgiveness for saying what a teacher must, that such a statement is pathetic drivel not worthy of an ignorant stable boy, let alone a young man I know to have some modest intelligence. The emperor laughs warmly, almost happy to be scolded as he once was. EMPEROR (subtitles) Is it possible a living God can be too afraid to make his voice heard? (Katsumoto's look is not unkind) Tell me what to do, Mori-San? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) You are emperor, my Lord, not me. You must find the wisdom for all of us. EXT. YOKOHAMA WHARF DAY A series of warehouses, beyond which we see warships in the harbor. A1gren walks with Bagley and two other OFFICERS. INT. WAREHOUSE DAY The cavernous warehouse piled high with huge crates. 75. BAGLEY As soon as they sign the agreement, they're obligated to buy the entire weapons package, from Colt revol vers to Ha1liwell twelve-pounders. Plus this particular item you might recognize. A few stevedores tear open one of the crates. Algren hides his astonishment: A Gatling Gun is revealed. BAGLEY They've been calibrated to fire 200 rounds a minute, The new copper cartridges cut down on jamming. Algren closes his eyes, trying to keep his memories at bay. EXT. TOKYO STREETS DAY Algren fights the crowds with Colonel Bagley And Ambassador Swanbeck.. ALGREN (V.O.) May 15, 1877. The city I return to is immeasurabl y changed New construction ever ywhere. Telegraph wires strung next to an ancient temple. A modern European hotel is going up, dwarfing the traditional Japanese buildings. Huge billboards advertising Western goods. A new invention, the rickshaw, has replaced many of the palanquins. ALGREN (V.O.) As though Tokyo were determined to become another New York or Chicago .- all in one headlong rush. Spider's web of telegraph cables spread from a tall new brick building. It is like a New York office building stabbing into the heart of old Japan. The familiar Omura character is emblazoned on the side. .INT. OFFICES OF THE OMURA ZAIBATSU DAY Aside from the occasional bit of Japanese decor, this could be a buzzing Wall Street firm. Telegraph operators click away. Accountants use adding machines. Secretaries use pneumatic tubes to send documents back and forth. Engineers plot out railway lines. All are dressed in Western clothes. Algren, Colonel Bagley, and Ambassador Swanbeck enter. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK (to Algren) If he asks, you can talk about ordnance and tactics. But remember, this has to do with a lot more than just weapons. 76. An anteroom holds waiting delegations from the various European powers. A babel of language. ... French ...Dutch ...Russian ...German. A pretty American secretary looks up from her desk. SECRETARY Ambassador Swanbeck, if you'll follow me. Some of the delegates arc craning forward, watching Algren and the others hungrily as they head into the final office. INT. OMURA'S OFFICE DAY Omura stands like an industrial titan before large picture windows offering a dramatic view of Tokyo. The only decoration in the room is an enormous Caravaggio. OMURA Please, sit down, gentlemen. Omura removes a gold cigarette case and lights up. Cigarettes are the newest Western fad Sweeping Japan. OMURA (re: cigarette case) A gift from Czar Alexander... Captain Algren,. it seems you have endured your captivity with little ill-effect. ALGREN Yes, sir. OMURA He's an extraordinary man, isn't he? ALGREN He is samurai. Omura gazes at him. Slowl y takes I puff from his cigarette. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Mr. Omura, my people have been drawing up the documents we discussed. I have a draft-- OMURA We're not quite ready to announce the treaty, Ambassador. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Excuse me? OMURA The Emperor is...sentimental. Katsumoto was his old mentor-- he is not eager to offend him. It will take I few more days. 77. AMBASSJ\DOR SW ANBECK How many da ys is " a few?" OMURA I assure you the Samurai will not stand in the wa y of our agreement. You are prepared to make deliver y? AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Soon as your emperor signs on the dotted line. OMURA Captain Algren you are the expert. Will this array of ordnance be sufficient? ALGREN Depends on what you're trying to accomplish. OMURA I want my country to take its place as a modern power. ALGREN Then they will set you well on your way. OMURA I am pleased. AMDASSADOR SW ANBECK Mr. Omura, you assured us you had the influence with your emperor to make this deal come to pass. With all due respect perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to. OMURA With all due respect, Ambassador, perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to, for instance the French. Or the English. Or any of the legations waiting in the next room. Ambassador Swan beck stands swallowing his rage. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Yes, we1l, we look forward to hearing from you. OMURA Good afternoon, gentlemen. They start to go. OMURA Captain Algren, perhaps you can stay a moment And tell me of your experiences in our rebellious provinces. Bagley looks at Algren. Do as he asks. He leaves A1gren alone with Omura. 78. OMURA Cigarette? ALGREN Thank you. Omura lights his cigarette. A moment as he takes Algren's measure. OMURA You fought bravely on behalf of our army-- against the rebel Katsumoto. Algren says nothing. . OMURA And yet you helped save his life when attacked by the Ninja. ALGREN My role was much less significant than you may have heard. OMURA Tell me about your role in Katsumoto's plans. ALGREN I have none. OMURA And your sympathies? ALGREN Again, I have none. OMURA I know you have little sympathy for Colonel Bagley. ALGREN He is.... unsympathetic. Omura smiles. OMURA I thought it was we who are inscrutable. Now it is Algren who smiles. OMURA You have gained important knowledge of Katsumoto's province, his army, and his rebellion. This is extremely valuable to me. He watches Algren to see how this lands. 79. OMURA You also possess significant knowledge of m y army, my weaponry, and my plans. This is extremely va1uable to Katsumoto. ALGREN Again, you flatter me. OMURA No. I am a businessman. I recognize what is valuable. And I buy it. (looks at him) In this case, I value your loyalt y. Algren considers the implications of what Omura is saying. ALGREN I didn't know loyalt y was something that could be sold. OMURA Then perhaps you will give it, as a token of future friendship - for which, as a friend, I would be in your debt. ALGREN (stands) Then I will consider it. OMURA And I will be grateful. INT. SHIPPING OFFICE DAY Algren is in a shipping office. A clerk consults his schedule of departure. CLERK All righteee, the ANDREW JACKSON leaves tomorrow if you want a steamship you'll have to wait six weeks. (Algren is silent) Gets ya to Frisco by the 28th. 14 dollars for a private cabin, 8 for a shared or 3 for a lower berth. What can I put you down for? Algren is silent, concentrating on a calendar hanging behind the clerk. It features a beautiful Hiroshigi watercolor of mountains. CLERK Sir..? ALGREN (after a moment) Private cabin. 80. EXT. TOKYO STREET DAY Graham walks with Algren. GRAHAM Leave? Wh y would you leave now? No white man has ever been in your position. Do you have any idea what it will mean to have Omura as your friend? You want land, you want women, you want boys? Algren starts to walk faster, but Graham Stops him. GRAHAM Nathan. I wanted to leave, too. For three years. You must believe me there is a majest y about these people -- can you imagine what your own country would be if it had half the drive and the discipline and the belief and the bravery of these ridiculous little people? Then raised voices from across the street stop them. They see Yoritomo surrounded by four Imperial Army soldiers. The soldiers are rough and imperious, drunk with power. They carry gleaming rifle.. The soldiers bark orders. Yoritomo stands proudly, responding calmly. ALGREN Whit is this? GRAHAM My God, it's the edicts... ALGREN What edicts? Algren arrives as the situation is clearly growing volatile - the soldiers are pointing to Yoritomo's head, screaming Algren steps toward the soldiers-- ALGREN That's enough-- One of the soldiers SCREAMS at him -- raises his rifle -- all the soldiers raise their rifles Yoritomo reaches for his sword -- Algren tries to push through - 81. ALGREN (subtitles) YORITOMO, WAIT! One of the soldiers smacks Algren in the chin with a rifle butt. Algren reels, and by the time he stands straight again, four others are pointing their ba yonets at his face. Graham takes hold of Algren's arm. GRAHAM Don't be stupid. Algren makes eye contact with Yoritomo, who -- in deference to his friend -- puts his sword away. The Japanese soldiers continue to scream at Yoritomo. They force him to his knees. Rifles pressed to his head. Yoritomo bows his bead, speaking quietly, as if praying. Algren witches in horror all one of the soldiers removes his bayonet -- another grab. Yoritomo's hair, jerks his head back and begins hacking off Yoritomo's traditional top-knot of hair. Brutally. Blood. Yoritomo remains kneeling, head down, blood flowing down his face. The soldiers laugh and move off. Algren kneels by Yoritomo. Yoritomo looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes. EXT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Katsumoto's house on the outskirts of Tokyo is spacious and harmonious. Utterly Japanese. Samurai guards in full regalia, stand menacingly outside. INT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Ujio kneels with Yoritomo, dressing the wounds on his head. Graham sits across the room talking quietly to the mammoth Nakao, taking notes in a small notebook. Nakao has been brutally shorn of his top knot as well. His shame is apparent. INT. KATSUMOTO'S CHAMBER DUSK Servants he1p dress Katsumoto in his exacting samurai wardrobe as Algren is ushered in. KATSUMOTO Captain, I had not thought to see you again. 82. ALGREN I'm leaving tomorrow. But before I go I need to tell you what's going on here. KATSUMOTO You mean the Gatling Guns and the howitzers, is that how you sa y it? ALGREN They're about to close a trade agreement that will bring this country more weapons than you can imagine. KATSUMOTO Yes, if the emperor agrees - but Omura knows the Emperor must be convinced there is cause to need those weapons before be will sign. ALGREN (realizing) And you are to be the cause... KATSUMOTO Elegant, isn't it? Omura passes laws

listening

How many times the word 'listening' appears in the text?

wracking his body. EXT. VILLAGE DAY As Algren returns with the water, he sees Katsumoto approaching with Ujio and several warriors. KATSUMOTO The Emperor has requested my presence. We leave tomorrow. You will be released in Tokyo. He goes. Algren stands, not sure how to react. INT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE NIGHT Algren writes on parchment by the light of an oil lamp. ALGREN (V.O.) April 13, 1877. Tomorrow we return to civilization. As eager as I am to be among my own kind, I confess to a curious reluctance. EXT. KATDUMOTO'S VILLAGE DAWN Algren stands overlooking the village as the sun rises over the misty peaks. ALGREN (V.O.) These months have marked me, and I don't fully know yet wh y. EXT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE DAY Algren prepares to mount up. Yoritomo says goodbye to his family. ALGREN (V.O.) I do know it is here that I have known my first untroubled sleep in many years. Taka comes to Algren, bows her head. TAKA (subtitles) You are alwa ys welcome in our home. ALGREN Domo Arrigato. He glances at the unfinished house. 62. ALGREN (subtitles) ...You will finish it soon. TAKA (subtitles) If that is my destiny. She bows her head again. Toshiie hands him a scroll: it is a picture of the Family. Algren is included. Japanese characters list all their names. Toshiie bows. Algren bows and tucks the scroll into his coat. Algren and Yoritomo move out with Katsumoto, Ujio, Nakao and his bodyguard of several dozen Samurai. The villagers bow and honor the warrior as they pass. EXT. MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE DAY Algren trots alongside Katsumoto. ALGREN ... The Emperor sends a message for you to return to Tokyo, and you go? KATSUMOTO Yes. ALGREN Even though you're in rebellion against him. KATSUMOTO Against the Emperor? Never. I serve him. As I have alwa ys done. . ALGREN I don't understand. KATSUMOTO Our Emperor is young, and there are things I must sa y to him. ALGREN But ever yone around him wants you dead. KA TSUMOTO And if the Emperor desires, I will take my own life at his command. He spurs his horse and rides on. A1gren watches him. 63. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET They approach a large inn. A boy working in the fields see Katsumoto approaching. He doesn't believe it -- the Great Katsumoto. He drops his hoe and races awa y, calling out. KATSUMOTO We will stop here for the night. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET Samurai guards have been posted around the perimeter. INT. KATSUMOTO'S RQOM NIGHT Algren is escorted in. Katsumoto kneels at a table. Preparing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Sit, Captain. Algren sits. By now he has learned how to sit on the ground. Katsumoto begins the exacting, delicate and precise tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Do you drink tea? ALGREN I've had little else for some time... Katsumoto continues with the tea ceremony. ALGREN How's your poem coming? KATSUMOTO I am having trouble. The truth is I am not a very good poet. (Algren smiles) Do you know wh y you were sent here? To Yoshino. ALGREN To protect the railroad. . KATSUMOTO Why is the railroad here? ALGREN So Tokyo can control the whole country. 64. KATSUMOTO You have seen my province. All mountains. Far from Tokyo. Yet the rail line must come here? Katsumoto tosses a tiny bit of coal on the simmering brazier on the table. Algren watches carefully. ALGREN You have something they want KATSUMOTO What do they want in my mountains? ALGREN Minerals ... Gold. KA TSUMOTO (smiles) There is no gold in Japan. Katsumoto gently blows on the coal brazier. The coal flares a bit. ALGREN Coal? (Katsumoto looks at him) For steamships. KA TSUMOTO And why would steamships be so important? ALGREN ...China. Katsumoto looks up at him. Impressed. KATSUMOTO Japan has nothing. China has ever ything. ALGREN Mine the coal to create a way station for the trip to China ... Freeze the Europeans out and Japan and America have a monopol y on the China trade. KATSUMOTO Add to this the Omura Zaibatsu. You know the Zaibatus? ALGREN The wealthy families. 65. KATSUMOTO As patron of the railroad, Omura owns all land within four hundred feet of ever y new rail line. As my country grows, so will his wealth. (looks at him) This is why you are fighting. Katsumoto completes the tea ceremony. He pours a cup for Algren. Bows his head and offers it to him. ALGREN And you will tell the emperor to stop them? KATSUMOTO I do not tell the emperor what to do. ALGREN Then what do you hope to accomplish? Katsumoto looks at Algren, the slightest gleam in his eye. KATSUMOTO Will you return to America? Algren watches him -- why didn't Katsumoto answer? ALGREN ...I have a job here. KATSUMOTO You should return to your home. ALGREN Why? KATSUMOTO Because I do not wish you to be m y enemy again. Katsumoto returns to his poem, he does not look up. KATSUMOTO Go home Captain ... Anshinritsumai. I wish you peace. Algren waits but Katsumoto just continues to work on his poem. EXT. AROUND THE INN NIGHT The samurai guards are alert, their senses heightened to almost superhuman proportions. But there is another way. Another way of learning combat. A wa y without the beaut y, the philosophy and the moral code. They are almost imperceptible at first... their head-to-toe black clothes a perfect camouflage... their silence and stealth are otherworldly. 66. They were then known as Shinobi, masters of stealth and spying. We know them as Ninjas. They float across the ground ... creeping an inch ever y hour... complete physica1 control. One black-gloved finger moves. Then the next... They crawl and then wait Poised on their fingertips and toes. There is no sound as they strike. The samurai guards are garroted in an instant. Other Ninjas catch the samurai's weapons as they fall. No sound disturbs the peaceful night. EXT. INN -- FRONT DOORWAY NIGHT Silence. Two samurai guards are in position. One of them glances up at the stars. A Ninja throwing star instantly slices into his jugular-- blood sprays -- the other guard turns a series of Ninja slice into him... EXT. INN--WALLS NIGHT Silence. The Ninjas use mew claws to crawl up the walls like spiders. EXT. INN ROOF NIGHT Silence. A samurai guard stands at the edge of the roof. A Ninja silently moves toward him. Stops. Ten feet awa y. He pulls out a shuriken -- a small needle-shaped projectile, dips it into a sack of poison. Places it carefully into the palm of his hand. And with the flick of his wrist-- The needle flies -- stabbing into the samurai -- he crumples. Other Ninjas immediately pour over the edge of the roof -- catching the samurai before he falls... INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. 67. Katsumoto cannot sleep. He stares out the window at a nightingale. INT. INN--UJIO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Ujio sits in his room. He is unblinking. Alert. Swords at the ready. INT. INN ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Algren cannot sleep either. He sits leaning against a wall. Thinking. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Silence. Yoritomo drinks tea with Nakao, the huge martial arts master. INT. OUTSIDE KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT A guard stands sentinel. Above his head, unbeknownst to him, two Ninjas descend on ropes. One of them swings a long chain - to which I barbed-knife is attached. As it lodges in the guard's chest, the second Ninja swings down just in time to catch the dead guard, silently, before his body hits the ground. INT. INN -- KATSUMQTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Katsumoto lies in bed listening to the night bird. It stops singing. Katsumoto smiles sadly. He decides to give up on sleep, leans forward to rise. This act saves his life. For when the Ninjas come, they come all at once-- A Ninja suddenly comes TEARING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE PAPER WALL, his sword slashing down .- just missing Katsumoto. Katsumoto calls out an alarm, diving and rolling across the floor for his sword. He instantly kills one Ninja using his steel-tipped "war fan" to slash his attackers throat. Another smashes in through the window. INT. INN -- MAIN H ALL NIGHT Ninjas EXPLODE into the main hall. Samurai who come out of their rooms are cut down by a variety of weapons -- one takes a throwing star in the face, others are felled by the traditional ninja-to, short swords ideal for fighting in confined spaces, chain-knives, nun-chaka and others. 68. More Ninjas drop from the rafters on ropes. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT A Ninja SMASHES through the paper wall -- Algren grabs the nearest object, a low tea table. and swings it at his head. The Ninja dodges the blow and slices at Algren with short-sword. Algren barely avoids the blow by ducking behind a post as the sword LODGES deep in the wood. Algren flings himself, bodily, at his attacker. INT. INN-- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ninja throwing stars spin across the room, killing a samurai. Yoritomo emerges from his room, readying his bow, but the dead samurai falls back blocking his wa y. From behind the rice wall, Yoritomo lets fly an arrow without even looking. It passes THROUGH the wall, killing the Ninja on the opposite balcony. INT. INN-- FIRST FLOOR NIGHT Ujio screams a war cry and begins to battle his way up the stairs. With breathtaking moves, he slashes hands and limbs, forcing the Ninja back. Nakao fights his wa y up beside him, desperately trying to reach Katsumoto's room. Using only his bare hands he catches a Ninja's wrist and hurls him over the railing. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Algren and the Ninja are in a death struggle, kneeing, gouging, butting. They awkwardly smash through a paper wall into the next room. INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto wields his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. It is the first time we have seen him in action and his movements are both beautiful and deadly. But more Ninjas are pouring in through the window, threatening to overwhelm him. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Rolling on the ground, Algren manages to grab a chopstick and STAB his adversary through the eye. He picks up the fallen short sword and steps out into the hall. ARROWS whiz past, thudding into the wall beside his head. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto, breathing heavily, his kimono shredded and bloody, is fending off the Ninjas' increasingly savage attacks as Algren enters. Algren SCREAMS, distracting them just long enough for Katsumoto to take advantage and kill one. 69. Then, just as a Ninja it about to kill Algren, Katsumoto FLINGS his short sword ... it pin-wheels across the room, hitting Algren's attacker in the chest. Without missing a beat, Algren pulls the short sword from the dying Ninja's chest and uses it to stab another Ninja who, thinking Algren defenseless, has launched an attack. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ujio and Nakao are back to back, a perfect fighting machine as they fight their wa y to Katsumoto's rescue. They battle Ninjas wielding lethal kusarigamas, the Ninjas swing chains, the attached blades slice the air--Nakao catches the chains and flinging the Ninja over the balcony. INT. YORITOMO'S ROOM NIGHT Yoritomo is pinned down. Darts and throwing stars shred the rice paper wall above him. He picks off another Ninja before changing his position. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT The blazing sword battle continues. Algren throws a beautiful painted standing-screen in front of an attacking Ninja, momentarily confusing him. Then he stabs THROUGH THE SCREEN -as a blood- stain SPREADS across the pastoral painting. But another Ninja catches Algren off-guard and slices at him with his short sword. As Algren lifts his sword to parry the blow, HIS LITILE FINGER IS CHOPPED OFF. He drops the sword, momentarily defenseless. Across the hallway Yoritomo has been watching the shadowpla y on the rice-paper walls. Algren's attacker raises his blade to deliver the death blow. In Katsumoto's room Algren flinches involuntarily beneath the raised blade. Suddenly the Ninja JACKKNIFES as if punched by an unseen hand. As he spins, dead, to the ground, we SEE an ARROW lodged bet ween his shoulder blades. Yoritomo has FIRED blindly, through the wall killing Algren's attacker. Nearby, a Ninja hurls a throwing star at Katsumoto. With blind instinct Katsumoto turns and takes the blade in the meat of his arm. Algren, meanwhile, has ripped the sleeve of his kimono into a tourniquet for his maimed hand. He uses the rest of the fabric TO TIE HIS HAND TO HIS SWORD before launching himself back into the fray -- slicing an attacker just as he is about to impale Katsumoto. Together, he and Katsumoto force the last two Ninjas through a paper wall to the next room. They fight all the wa y through that room and BLAST through another paper wall to the next. 70. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT The battle continues unabated on the stairs -- the Ninjas spring for position with incredible grace --perching and fighting on banisters, leaping from one level to the next. It is a mayhem of flashing swords and flailing limbs and flyi ng arrows and spinning Ninja stars. Sprays of blood splatter against the white rice paper walls. Some of the fighting is less than elegant. Men bite and wrestle and gouge to survive in close quarters. All of them arc bloody and sweat y and dirty and tired, heaving for breath, their skin flayed open, their kimonos ripped, their hands and arms and faces blood-stained. But more samurai reinforcements follow Ujio up the stairs: Together with Yoritomo and Nakao, they have begun to gain the upper hand. Ujio flings both his swords through the air -- killing two Ninjas -- and dives to fight others - his martial arts skills are dazzling. Algren and Katsumoto are fighting sidc by side And we cut to -- EXT. INN NIGHT Outside of the inn, we slowl y pull away... The sounds of the battle gradually fade... Soon it is nothing more than a lovel y rustic inn nestled in the mountains. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT Later. The battle is over. Ninja and samurai corpses litter the inn. We slowl y move up the long stairwa y from the bottom... Yoritomo pulls a Ninja star from Nakao's_shou1der. Then one from his own. We move up another level, past more bodies... Ujio moves through the Ninjas. Making sure they are dead. Before sheathing his sword, he angrily FLICKS it at the rice paper wall, spattering it with the bloody spray. Katsumoto wipes his sword on a nearby corpse, replaces it in its sheath. He sits beside Algren on a stair. Both men are exhausted. Bloodied. Alive. A long beat as we watch the two warriors. Slow fade to... 71. EXT. TOKYO -- IMPERIAL PALACE DAY Algren, Katsumoto and the others are nearing the palace. Algren slows to a stop -- his path is toward the city. Katsumoto stops, looks at him, then does something absolutel y extraordinary. He kneels and bows before Algren. Quickly touching his head to the dirt. Then he rises, turns and walks toward the palace. Algren stands, stunned. EXT. PARADE GROUND DAY Algren walks onto the parade ground. The change he sees could not be more remarkable. Thousands of new Japanese troops are drilling with new bolt-action Mausers. They are precise, exact and frighteningly mechanistic, their uniforms new and crisp. New German advisors are barking commands. Colonel Bagley sees him. BAGLEY Algren? My God, you never cease to astonish. Bagley runs over, hand extended, but Algren turns to look at the troops. ALGREN They have new weapons. BAGLEY The Kaiser was only too happy to help. Along with his friends at Mauser and Krupp. Thank God we Americans still have a few teeth in our head. And they come to the "teeth." Howitzer cannons. A row of them. Artillery officers in US Army uniforms arc instructing Japanese offi cers. BAGLEY The ambassador and I have spent eight months kissing Omura's ass so he'll sign the damn trade pact with us. You spent all this time living with those savages? (A1gren looks at him) He's going to want to talk to you... ALGREN I need a bath. BAGLEY And your back pay, I imagine. Algren starts walking away. 72. BAGLEY They got their flag. ...See? And we see it... snapping on I flagpole high above the parade ground. It is immediately familiar. A red circle on a white field. The Rising Sun. The Howitzers fire in sequence. Thundering blasts that shake the heavens. EXT, ROYAL TEMPLE DAY Omura stands above Emperor Meiji respectful but persistent. The Emperor is kneeling, tending to his iris garden. It is one of the wonders of the Palace: a sea of white, pink, blue, and purple blossoms. Retainers and servants stand at a distance. One holds a standard with the Imperial seal: a yellow chrysanthemum. Omura sees Katsumoto making his way toward them. He talks a bit more quickly to the Emperor. Katsumoto begins to prostrate himself before the Emperor, the usual sign of extreme respect -- but the Emperor stops him: EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori-san. We arc "civilized" now. Katsumoto stops prostrating himself. The Emperor offers his hand. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) I cannot touch the Sacred One. EMPEROR (subtitles) You can. It is a difficult moment for Katsumoto. He simply cannot do It. OMURA (subtitles) Did you have a pleasant journey, Minister Katsumoto? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It was uneventful. Omura appreciates Katsumoto's droll response. He assumes that Katsumoto is aware of his part in the assassination attempt. 73. EMPEROR (subtitles) If it is not a great imposition. I desire a moment alone with Minister Katsumoto. Omura-San. OMURA (subtitles) Enlightened One, perhaps I can be of service in a conversation of state. EMPEROR (subtitles) So kind of you, but I fear my old teacher wishes to upbraid me in private for neglecting my studies. Omura bows his head quickly and goes. Silence. The Emperor gazes at Katsumoto. Then: EMPEROR (subtitles) You rise against me, my teacher. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) No, Highness, I rise against your enemies. EMPEROR (subtitles) They are my teacher, my advisers, like you. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) They advise in their own interest. EMPEROR (subtitles) The world is changing, Mori -- you have not seen what goes on beyond our borders, the inventions, the science. I need men who can look outward, or soon we will be left behind, and defenseless. KATSUM OTO (subtitles) I am sworn to defend you even to my last breath. EMPEROR (subtit1es) The samurai live in the past. You cannot defend against a future you don't understand. 74. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) If I am no use, then I will happily end my life, EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori. It is my wish that you rejoin the Council of State. I need your voice. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It is your voice that needs to be heard, Highness. You are a living God, you can do what ever you think is right. The young emperor is silent a moment. EMPEROR (subtitles) I am a living God only as long as I do what they think is right. KATSUMOTO (subtitle) Your Highness, may I beg forgiveness for saying what a teacher must, that such a statement is pathetic drivel not worthy of an ignorant stable boy, let alone a young man I know to have some modest intelligence. The emperor laughs warmly, almost happy to be scolded as he once was. EMPEROR (subtitles) Is it possible a living God can be too afraid to make his voice heard? (Katsumoto's look is not unkind) Tell me what to do, Mori-San? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) You are emperor, my Lord, not me. You must find the wisdom for all of us. EXT. YOKOHAMA WHARF DAY A series of warehouses, beyond which we see warships in the harbor. A1gren walks with Bagley and two other OFFICERS. INT. WAREHOUSE DAY The cavernous warehouse piled high with huge crates. 75. BAGLEY As soon as they sign the agreement, they're obligated to buy the entire weapons package, from Colt revol vers to Ha1liwell twelve-pounders. Plus this particular item you might recognize. A few stevedores tear open one of the crates. Algren hides his astonishment: A Gatling Gun is revealed. BAGLEY They've been calibrated to fire 200 rounds a minute, The new copper cartridges cut down on jamming. Algren closes his eyes, trying to keep his memories at bay. EXT. TOKYO STREETS DAY Algren fights the crowds with Colonel Bagley And Ambassador Swanbeck.. ALGREN (V.O.) May 15, 1877. The city I return to is immeasurabl y changed New construction ever ywhere. Telegraph wires strung next to an ancient temple. A modern European hotel is going up, dwarfing the traditional Japanese buildings. Huge billboards advertising Western goods. A new invention, the rickshaw, has replaced many of the palanquins. ALGREN (V.O.) As though Tokyo were determined to become another New York or Chicago .- all in one headlong rush. Spider's web of telegraph cables spread from a tall new brick building. It is like a New York office building stabbing into the heart of old Japan. The familiar Omura character is emblazoned on the side. .INT. OFFICES OF THE OMURA ZAIBATSU DAY Aside from the occasional bit of Japanese decor, this could be a buzzing Wall Street firm. Telegraph operators click away. Accountants use adding machines. Secretaries use pneumatic tubes to send documents back and forth. Engineers plot out railway lines. All are dressed in Western clothes. Algren, Colonel Bagley, and Ambassador Swanbeck enter. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK (to Algren) If he asks, you can talk about ordnance and tactics. But remember, this has to do with a lot more than just weapons. 76. An anteroom holds waiting delegations from the various European powers. A babel of language. ... French ...Dutch ...Russian ...German. A pretty American secretary looks up from her desk. SECRETARY Ambassador Swanbeck, if you'll follow me. Some of the delegates arc craning forward, watching Algren and the others hungrily as they head into the final office. INT. OMURA'S OFFICE DAY Omura stands like an industrial titan before large picture windows offering a dramatic view of Tokyo. The only decoration in the room is an enormous Caravaggio. OMURA Please, sit down, gentlemen. Omura removes a gold cigarette case and lights up. Cigarettes are the newest Western fad Sweeping Japan. OMURA (re: cigarette case) A gift from Czar Alexander... Captain Algren,. it seems you have endured your captivity with little ill-effect. ALGREN Yes, sir. OMURA He's an extraordinary man, isn't he? ALGREN He is samurai. Omura gazes at him. Slowl y takes I puff from his cigarette. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Mr. Omura, my people have been drawing up the documents we discussed. I have a draft-- OMURA We're not quite ready to announce the treaty, Ambassador. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Excuse me? OMURA The Emperor is...sentimental. Katsumoto was his old mentor-- he is not eager to offend him. It will take I few more days. 77. AMBASSJ\DOR SW ANBECK How many da ys is " a few?" OMURA I assure you the Samurai will not stand in the wa y of our agreement. You are prepared to make deliver y? AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Soon as your emperor signs on the dotted line. OMURA Captain Algren you are the expert. Will this array of ordnance be sufficient? ALGREN Depends on what you're trying to accomplish. OMURA I want my country to take its place as a modern power. ALGREN Then they will set you well on your way. OMURA I am pleased. AMDASSADOR SW ANBECK Mr. Omura, you assured us you had the influence with your emperor to make this deal come to pass. With all due respect perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to. OMURA With all due respect, Ambassador, perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to, for instance the French. Or the English. Or any of the legations waiting in the next room. Ambassador Swan beck stands swallowing his rage. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Yes, we1l, we look forward to hearing from you. OMURA Good afternoon, gentlemen. They start to go. OMURA Captain Algren, perhaps you can stay a moment And tell me of your experiences in our rebellious provinces. Bagley looks at Algren. Do as he asks. He leaves A1gren alone with Omura. 78. OMURA Cigarette? ALGREN Thank you. Omura lights his cigarette. A moment as he takes Algren's measure. OMURA You fought bravely on behalf of our army-- against the rebel Katsumoto. Algren says nothing. . OMURA And yet you helped save his life when attacked by the Ninja. ALGREN My role was much less significant than you may have heard. OMURA Tell me about your role in Katsumoto's plans. ALGREN I have none. OMURA And your sympathies? ALGREN Again, I have none. OMURA I know you have little sympathy for Colonel Bagley. ALGREN He is.... unsympathetic. Omura smiles. OMURA I thought it was we who are inscrutable. Now it is Algren who smiles. OMURA You have gained important knowledge of Katsumoto's province, his army, and his rebellion. This is extremely valuable to me. He watches Algren to see how this lands. 79. OMURA You also possess significant knowledge of m y army, my weaponry, and my plans. This is extremely va1uable to Katsumoto. ALGREN Again, you flatter me. OMURA No. I am a businessman. I recognize what is valuable. And I buy it. (looks at him) In this case, I value your loyalt y. Algren considers the implications of what Omura is saying. ALGREN I didn't know loyalt y was something that could be sold. OMURA Then perhaps you will give it, as a token of future friendship - for which, as a friend, I would be in your debt. ALGREN (stands) Then I will consider it. OMURA And I will be grateful. INT. SHIPPING OFFICE DAY Algren is in a shipping office. A clerk consults his schedule of departure. CLERK All righteee, the ANDREW JACKSON leaves tomorrow if you want a steamship you'll have to wait six weeks. (Algren is silent) Gets ya to Frisco by the 28th. 14 dollars for a private cabin, 8 for a shared or 3 for a lower berth. What can I put you down for? Algren is silent, concentrating on a calendar hanging behind the clerk. It features a beautiful Hiroshigi watercolor of mountains. CLERK Sir..? ALGREN (after a moment) Private cabin. 80. EXT. TOKYO STREET DAY Graham walks with Algren. GRAHAM Leave? Wh y would you leave now? No white man has ever been in your position. Do you have any idea what it will mean to have Omura as your friend? You want land, you want women, you want boys? Algren starts to walk faster, but Graham Stops him. GRAHAM Nathan. I wanted to leave, too. For three years. You must believe me there is a majest y about these people -- can you imagine what your own country would be if it had half the drive and the discipline and the belief and the bravery of these ridiculous little people? Then raised voices from across the street stop them. They see Yoritomo surrounded by four Imperial Army soldiers. The soldiers are rough and imperious, drunk with power. They carry gleaming rifle.. The soldiers bark orders. Yoritomo stands proudly, responding calmly. ALGREN Whit is this? GRAHAM My God, it's the edicts... ALGREN What edicts? Algren arrives as the situation is clearly growing volatile - the soldiers are pointing to Yoritomo's head, screaming Algren steps toward the soldiers-- ALGREN That's enough-- One of the soldiers SCREAMS at him -- raises his rifle -- all the soldiers raise their rifles Yoritomo reaches for his sword -- Algren tries to push through - 81. ALGREN (subtitles) YORITOMO, WAIT! One of the soldiers smacks Algren in the chin with a rifle butt. Algren reels, and by the time he stands straight again, four others are pointing their ba yonets at his face. Graham takes hold of Algren's arm. GRAHAM Don't be stupid. Algren makes eye contact with Yoritomo, who -- in deference to his friend -- puts his sword away. The Japanese soldiers continue to scream at Yoritomo. They force him to his knees. Rifles pressed to his head. Yoritomo bows his bead, speaking quietly, as if praying. Algren witches in horror all one of the soldiers removes his bayonet -- another grab. Yoritomo's hair, jerks his head back and begins hacking off Yoritomo's traditional top-knot of hair. Brutally. Blood. Yoritomo remains kneeling, head down, blood flowing down his face. The soldiers laugh and move off. Algren kneels by Yoritomo. Yoritomo looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes. EXT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Katsumoto's house on the outskirts of Tokyo is spacious and harmonious. Utterly Japanese. Samurai guards in full regalia, stand menacingly outside. INT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Ujio kneels with Yoritomo, dressing the wounds on his head. Graham sits across the room talking quietly to the mammoth Nakao, taking notes in a small notebook. Nakao has been brutally shorn of his top knot as well. His shame is apparent. INT. KATSUMOTO'S CHAMBER DUSK Servants he1p dress Katsumoto in his exacting samurai wardrobe as Algren is ushered in. KATSUMOTO Captain, I had not thought to see you again. 82. ALGREN I'm leaving tomorrow. But before I go I need to tell you what's going on here. KATSUMOTO You mean the Gatling Guns and the howitzers, is that how you sa y it? ALGREN They're about to close a trade agreement that will bring this country more weapons than you can imagine. KATSUMOTO Yes, if the emperor agrees - but Omura knows the Emperor must be convinced there is cause to need those weapons before be will sign. ALGREN (realizing) And you are to be the cause... KATSUMOTO Elegant, isn't it? Omura passes laws

prospects

How many times the word 'prospects' appears in the text?

wracking his body. EXT. VILLAGE DAY As Algren returns with the water, he sees Katsumoto approaching with Ujio and several warriors. KATSUMOTO The Emperor has requested my presence. We leave tomorrow. You will be released in Tokyo. He goes. Algren stands, not sure how to react. INT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE NIGHT Algren writes on parchment by the light of an oil lamp. ALGREN (V.O.) April 13, 1877. Tomorrow we return to civilization. As eager as I am to be among my own kind, I confess to a curious reluctance. EXT. KATDUMOTO'S VILLAGE DAWN Algren stands overlooking the village as the sun rises over the misty peaks. ALGREN (V.O.) These months have marked me, and I don't fully know yet wh y. EXT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE DAY Algren prepares to mount up. Yoritomo says goodbye to his family. ALGREN (V.O.) I do know it is here that I have known my first untroubled sleep in many years. Taka comes to Algren, bows her head. TAKA (subtitles) You are alwa ys welcome in our home. ALGREN Domo Arrigato. He glances at the unfinished house. 62. ALGREN (subtitles) ...You will finish it soon. TAKA (subtitles) If that is my destiny. She bows her head again. Toshiie hands him a scroll: it is a picture of the Family. Algren is included. Japanese characters list all their names. Toshiie bows. Algren bows and tucks the scroll into his coat. Algren and Yoritomo move out with Katsumoto, Ujio, Nakao and his bodyguard of several dozen Samurai. The villagers bow and honor the warrior as they pass. EXT. MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE DAY Algren trots alongside Katsumoto. ALGREN ... The Emperor sends a message for you to return to Tokyo, and you go? KATSUMOTO Yes. ALGREN Even though you're in rebellion against him. KATSUMOTO Against the Emperor? Never. I serve him. As I have alwa ys done. . ALGREN I don't understand. KATSUMOTO Our Emperor is young, and there are things I must sa y to him. ALGREN But ever yone around him wants you dead. KA TSUMOTO And if the Emperor desires, I will take my own life at his command. He spurs his horse and rides on. A1gren watches him. 63. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET They approach a large inn. A boy working in the fields see Katsumoto approaching. He doesn't believe it -- the Great Katsumoto. He drops his hoe and races awa y, calling out. KATSUMOTO We will stop here for the night. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET Samurai guards have been posted around the perimeter. INT. KATSUMOTO'S RQOM NIGHT Algren is escorted in. Katsumoto kneels at a table. Preparing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Sit, Captain. Algren sits. By now he has learned how to sit on the ground. Katsumoto begins the exacting, delicate and precise tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Do you drink tea? ALGREN I've had little else for some time... Katsumoto continues with the tea ceremony. ALGREN How's your poem coming? KATSUMOTO I am having trouble. The truth is I am not a very good poet. (Algren smiles) Do you know wh y you were sent here? To Yoshino. ALGREN To protect the railroad. . KATSUMOTO Why is the railroad here? ALGREN So Tokyo can control the whole country. 64. KATSUMOTO You have seen my province. All mountains. Far from Tokyo. Yet the rail line must come here? Katsumoto tosses a tiny bit of coal on the simmering brazier on the table. Algren watches carefully. ALGREN You have something they want KATSUMOTO What do they want in my mountains? ALGREN Minerals ... Gold. KA TSUMOTO (smiles) There is no gold in Japan. Katsumoto gently blows on the coal brazier. The coal flares a bit. ALGREN Coal? (Katsumoto looks at him) For steamships. KA TSUMOTO And why would steamships be so important? ALGREN ...China. Katsumoto looks up at him. Impressed. KATSUMOTO Japan has nothing. China has ever ything. ALGREN Mine the coal to create a way station for the trip to China ... Freeze the Europeans out and Japan and America have a monopol y on the China trade. KATSUMOTO Add to this the Omura Zaibatsu. You know the Zaibatus? ALGREN The wealthy families. 65. KATSUMOTO As patron of the railroad, Omura owns all land within four hundred feet of ever y new rail line. As my country grows, so will his wealth. (looks at him) This is why you are fighting. Katsumoto completes the tea ceremony. He pours a cup for Algren. Bows his head and offers it to him. ALGREN And you will tell the emperor to stop them? KATSUMOTO I do not tell the emperor what to do. ALGREN Then what do you hope to accomplish? Katsumoto looks at Algren, the slightest gleam in his eye. KATSUMOTO Will you return to America? Algren watches him -- why didn't Katsumoto answer? ALGREN ...I have a job here. KATSUMOTO You should return to your home. ALGREN Why? KATSUMOTO Because I do not wish you to be m y enemy again. Katsumoto returns to his poem, he does not look up. KATSUMOTO Go home Captain ... Anshinritsumai. I wish you peace. Algren waits but Katsumoto just continues to work on his poem. EXT. AROUND THE INN NIGHT The samurai guards are alert, their senses heightened to almost superhuman proportions. But there is another way. Another way of learning combat. A wa y without the beaut y, the philosophy and the moral code. They are almost imperceptible at first... their head-to-toe black clothes a perfect camouflage... their silence and stealth are otherworldly. 66. They were then known as Shinobi, masters of stealth and spying. We know them as Ninjas. They float across the ground ... creeping an inch ever y hour... complete physica1 control. One black-gloved finger moves. Then the next... They crawl and then wait Poised on their fingertips and toes. There is no sound as they strike. The samurai guards are garroted in an instant. Other Ninjas catch the samurai's weapons as they fall. No sound disturbs the peaceful night. EXT. INN -- FRONT DOORWAY NIGHT Silence. Two samurai guards are in position. One of them glances up at the stars. A Ninja throwing star instantly slices into his jugular-- blood sprays -- the other guard turns a series of Ninja slice into him... EXT. INN--WALLS NIGHT Silence. The Ninjas use mew claws to crawl up the walls like spiders. EXT. INN ROOF NIGHT Silence. A samurai guard stands at the edge of the roof. A Ninja silently moves toward him. Stops. Ten feet awa y. He pulls out a shuriken -- a small needle-shaped projectile, dips it into a sack of poison. Places it carefully into the palm of his hand. And with the flick of his wrist-- The needle flies -- stabbing into the samurai -- he crumples. Other Ninjas immediately pour over the edge of the roof -- catching the samurai before he falls... INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. 67. Katsumoto cannot sleep. He stares out the window at a nightingale. INT. INN--UJIO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Ujio sits in his room. He is unblinking. Alert. Swords at the ready. INT. INN ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Algren cannot sleep either. He sits leaning against a wall. Thinking. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Silence. Yoritomo drinks tea with Nakao, the huge martial arts master. INT. OUTSIDE KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT A guard stands sentinel. Above his head, unbeknownst to him, two Ninjas descend on ropes. One of them swings a long chain - to which I barbed-knife is attached. As it lodges in the guard's chest, the second Ninja swings down just in time to catch the dead guard, silently, before his body hits the ground. INT. INN -- KATSUMQTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Katsumoto lies in bed listening to the night bird. It stops singing. Katsumoto smiles sadly. He decides to give up on sleep, leans forward to rise. This act saves his life. For when the Ninjas come, they come all at once-- A Ninja suddenly comes TEARING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE PAPER WALL, his sword slashing down .- just missing Katsumoto. Katsumoto calls out an alarm, diving and rolling across the floor for his sword. He instantly kills one Ninja using his steel-tipped "war fan" to slash his attackers throat. Another smashes in through the window. INT. INN -- MAIN H ALL NIGHT Ninjas EXPLODE into the main hall. Samurai who come out of their rooms are cut down by a variety of weapons -- one takes a throwing star in the face, others are felled by the traditional ninja-to, short swords ideal for fighting in confined spaces, chain-knives, nun-chaka and others. 68. More Ninjas drop from the rafters on ropes. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT A Ninja SMASHES through the paper wall -- Algren grabs the nearest object, a low tea table. and swings it at his head. The Ninja dodges the blow and slices at Algren with short-sword. Algren barely avoids the blow by ducking behind a post as the sword LODGES deep in the wood. Algren flings himself, bodily, at his attacker. INT. INN-- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ninja throwing stars spin across the room, killing a samurai. Yoritomo emerges from his room, readying his bow, but the dead samurai falls back blocking his wa y. From behind the rice wall, Yoritomo lets fly an arrow without even looking. It passes THROUGH the wall, killing the Ninja on the opposite balcony. INT. INN-- FIRST FLOOR NIGHT Ujio screams a war cry and begins to battle his way up the stairs. With breathtaking moves, he slashes hands and limbs, forcing the Ninja back. Nakao fights his wa y up beside him, desperately trying to reach Katsumoto's room. Using only his bare hands he catches a Ninja's wrist and hurls him over the railing. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Algren and the Ninja are in a death struggle, kneeing, gouging, butting. They awkwardly smash through a paper wall into the next room. INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto wields his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. It is the first time we have seen him in action and his movements are both beautiful and deadly. But more Ninjas are pouring in through the window, threatening to overwhelm him. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Rolling on the ground, Algren manages to grab a chopstick and STAB his adversary through the eye. He picks up the fallen short sword and steps out into the hall. ARROWS whiz past, thudding into the wall beside his head. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto, breathing heavily, his kimono shredded and bloody, is fending off the Ninjas' increasingly savage attacks as Algren enters. Algren SCREAMS, distracting them just long enough for Katsumoto to take advantage and kill one. 69. Then, just as a Ninja it about to kill Algren, Katsumoto FLINGS his short sword ... it pin-wheels across the room, hitting Algren's attacker in the chest. Without missing a beat, Algren pulls the short sword from the dying Ninja's chest and uses it to stab another Ninja who, thinking Algren defenseless, has launched an attack. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ujio and Nakao are back to back, a perfect fighting machine as they fight their wa y to Katsumoto's rescue. They battle Ninjas wielding lethal kusarigamas, the Ninjas swing chains, the attached blades slice the air--Nakao catches the chains and flinging the Ninja over the balcony. INT. YORITOMO'S ROOM NIGHT Yoritomo is pinned down. Darts and throwing stars shred the rice paper wall above him. He picks off another Ninja before changing his position. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT The blazing sword battle continues. Algren throws a beautiful painted standing-screen in front of an attacking Ninja, momentarily confusing him. Then he stabs THROUGH THE SCREEN -as a blood- stain SPREADS across the pastoral painting. But another Ninja catches Algren off-guard and slices at him with his short sword. As Algren lifts his sword to parry the blow, HIS LITILE FINGER IS CHOPPED OFF. He drops the sword, momentarily defenseless. Across the hallway Yoritomo has been watching the shadowpla y on the rice-paper walls. Algren's attacker raises his blade to deliver the death blow. In Katsumoto's room Algren flinches involuntarily beneath the raised blade. Suddenly the Ninja JACKKNIFES as if punched by an unseen hand. As he spins, dead, to the ground, we SEE an ARROW lodged bet ween his shoulder blades. Yoritomo has FIRED blindly, through the wall killing Algren's attacker. Nearby, a Ninja hurls a throwing star at Katsumoto. With blind instinct Katsumoto turns and takes the blade in the meat of his arm. Algren, meanwhile, has ripped the sleeve of his kimono into a tourniquet for his maimed hand. He uses the rest of the fabric TO TIE HIS HAND TO HIS SWORD before launching himself back into the fray -- slicing an attacker just as he is about to impale Katsumoto. Together, he and Katsumoto force the last two Ninjas through a paper wall to the next room. They fight all the wa y through that room and BLAST through another paper wall to the next. 70. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT The battle continues unabated on the stairs -- the Ninjas spring for position with incredible grace --perching and fighting on banisters, leaping from one level to the next. It is a mayhem of flashing swords and flailing limbs and flyi ng arrows and spinning Ninja stars. Sprays of blood splatter against the white rice paper walls. Some of the fighting is less than elegant. Men bite and wrestle and gouge to survive in close quarters. All of them arc bloody and sweat y and dirty and tired, heaving for breath, their skin flayed open, their kimonos ripped, their hands and arms and faces blood-stained. But more samurai reinforcements follow Ujio up the stairs: Together with Yoritomo and Nakao, they have begun to gain the upper hand. Ujio flings both his swords through the air -- killing two Ninjas -- and dives to fight others - his martial arts skills are dazzling. Algren and Katsumoto are fighting sidc by side And we cut to -- EXT. INN NIGHT Outside of the inn, we slowl y pull away... The sounds of the battle gradually fade... Soon it is nothing more than a lovel y rustic inn nestled in the mountains. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT Later. The battle is over. Ninja and samurai corpses litter the inn. We slowl y move up the long stairwa y from the bottom... Yoritomo pulls a Ninja star from Nakao's_shou1der. Then one from his own. We move up another level, past more bodies... Ujio moves through the Ninjas. Making sure they are dead. Before sheathing his sword, he angrily FLICKS it at the rice paper wall, spattering it with the bloody spray. Katsumoto wipes his sword on a nearby corpse, replaces it in its sheath. He sits beside Algren on a stair. Both men are exhausted. Bloodied. Alive. A long beat as we watch the two warriors. Slow fade to... 71. EXT. TOKYO -- IMPERIAL PALACE DAY Algren, Katsumoto and the others are nearing the palace. Algren slows to a stop -- his path is toward the city. Katsumoto stops, looks at him, then does something absolutel y extraordinary. He kneels and bows before Algren. Quickly touching his head to the dirt. Then he rises, turns and walks toward the palace. Algren stands, stunned. EXT. PARADE GROUND DAY Algren walks onto the parade ground. The change he sees could not be more remarkable. Thousands of new Japanese troops are drilling with new bolt-action Mausers. They are precise, exact and frighteningly mechanistic, their uniforms new and crisp. New German advisors are barking commands. Colonel Bagley sees him. BAGLEY Algren? My God, you never cease to astonish. Bagley runs over, hand extended, but Algren turns to look at the troops. ALGREN They have new weapons. BAGLEY The Kaiser was only too happy to help. Along with his friends at Mauser and Krupp. Thank God we Americans still have a few teeth in our head. And they come to the "teeth." Howitzer cannons. A row of them. Artillery officers in US Army uniforms arc instructing Japanese offi cers. BAGLEY The ambassador and I have spent eight months kissing Omura's ass so he'll sign the damn trade pact with us. You spent all this time living with those savages? (A1gren looks at him) He's going to want to talk to you... ALGREN I need a bath. BAGLEY And your back pay, I imagine. Algren starts walking away. 72. BAGLEY They got their flag. ...See? And we see it... snapping on I flagpole high above the parade ground. It is immediately familiar. A red circle on a white field. The Rising Sun. The Howitzers fire in sequence. Thundering blasts that shake the heavens. EXT, ROYAL TEMPLE DAY Omura stands above Emperor Meiji respectful but persistent. The Emperor is kneeling, tending to his iris garden. It is one of the wonders of the Palace: a sea of white, pink, blue, and purple blossoms. Retainers and servants stand at a distance. One holds a standard with the Imperial seal: a yellow chrysanthemum. Omura sees Katsumoto making his way toward them. He talks a bit more quickly to the Emperor. Katsumoto begins to prostrate himself before the Emperor, the usual sign of extreme respect -- but the Emperor stops him: EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori-san. We arc "civilized" now. Katsumoto stops prostrating himself. The Emperor offers his hand. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) I cannot touch the Sacred One. EMPEROR (subtitles) You can. It is a difficult moment for Katsumoto. He simply cannot do It. OMURA (subtitles) Did you have a pleasant journey, Minister Katsumoto? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It was uneventful. Omura appreciates Katsumoto's droll response. He assumes that Katsumoto is aware of his part in the assassination attempt. 73. EMPEROR (subtitles) If it is not a great imposition. I desire a moment alone with Minister Katsumoto. Omura-San. OMURA (subtitles) Enlightened One, perhaps I can be of service in a conversation of state. EMPEROR (subtitles) So kind of you, but I fear my old teacher wishes to upbraid me in private for neglecting my studies. Omura bows his head quickly and goes. Silence. The Emperor gazes at Katsumoto. Then: EMPEROR (subtitles) You rise against me, my teacher. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) No, Highness, I rise against your enemies. EMPEROR (subtitles) They are my teacher, my advisers, like you. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) They advise in their own interest. EMPEROR (subtitles) The world is changing, Mori -- you have not seen what goes on beyond our borders, the inventions, the science. I need men who can look outward, or soon we will be left behind, and defenseless. KATSUM OTO (subtitles) I am sworn to defend you even to my last breath. EMPEROR (subtit1es) The samurai live in the past. You cannot defend against a future you don't understand. 74. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) If I am no use, then I will happily end my life, EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori. It is my wish that you rejoin the Council of State. I need your voice. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It is your voice that needs to be heard, Highness. You are a living God, you can do what ever you think is right. The young emperor is silent a moment. EMPEROR (subtitles) I am a living God only as long as I do what they think is right. KATSUMOTO (subtitle) Your Highness, may I beg forgiveness for saying what a teacher must, that such a statement is pathetic drivel not worthy of an ignorant stable boy, let alone a young man I know to have some modest intelligence. The emperor laughs warmly, almost happy to be scolded as he once was. EMPEROR (subtitles) Is it possible a living God can be too afraid to make his voice heard? (Katsumoto's look is not unkind) Tell me what to do, Mori-San? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) You are emperor, my Lord, not me. You must find the wisdom for all of us. EXT. YOKOHAMA WHARF DAY A series of warehouses, beyond which we see warships in the harbor. A1gren walks with Bagley and two other OFFICERS. INT. WAREHOUSE DAY The cavernous warehouse piled high with huge crates. 75. BAGLEY As soon as they sign the agreement, they're obligated to buy the entire weapons package, from Colt revol vers to Ha1liwell twelve-pounders. Plus this particular item you might recognize. A few stevedores tear open one of the crates. Algren hides his astonishment: A Gatling Gun is revealed. BAGLEY They've been calibrated to fire 200 rounds a minute, The new copper cartridges cut down on jamming. Algren closes his eyes, trying to keep his memories at bay. EXT. TOKYO STREETS DAY Algren fights the crowds with Colonel Bagley And Ambassador Swanbeck.. ALGREN (V.O.) May 15, 1877. The city I return to is immeasurabl y changed New construction ever ywhere. Telegraph wires strung next to an ancient temple. A modern European hotel is going up, dwarfing the traditional Japanese buildings. Huge billboards advertising Western goods. A new invention, the rickshaw, has replaced many of the palanquins. ALGREN (V.O.) As though Tokyo were determined to become another New York or Chicago .- all in one headlong rush. Spider's web of telegraph cables spread from a tall new brick building. It is like a New York office building stabbing into the heart of old Japan. The familiar Omura character is emblazoned on the side. .INT. OFFICES OF THE OMURA ZAIBATSU DAY Aside from the occasional bit of Japanese decor, this could be a buzzing Wall Street firm. Telegraph operators click away. Accountants use adding machines. Secretaries use pneumatic tubes to send documents back and forth. Engineers plot out railway lines. All are dressed in Western clothes. Algren, Colonel Bagley, and Ambassador Swanbeck enter. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK (to Algren) If he asks, you can talk about ordnance and tactics. But remember, this has to do with a lot more than just weapons. 76. An anteroom holds waiting delegations from the various European powers. A babel of language. ... French ...Dutch ...Russian ...German. A pretty American secretary looks up from her desk. SECRETARY Ambassador Swanbeck, if you'll follow me. Some of the delegates arc craning forward, watching Algren and the others hungrily as they head into the final office. INT. OMURA'S OFFICE DAY Omura stands like an industrial titan before large picture windows offering a dramatic view of Tokyo. The only decoration in the room is an enormous Caravaggio. OMURA Please, sit down, gentlemen. Omura removes a gold cigarette case and lights up. Cigarettes are the newest Western fad Sweeping Japan. OMURA (re: cigarette case) A gift from Czar Alexander... Captain Algren,. it seems you have endured your captivity with little ill-effect. ALGREN Yes, sir. OMURA He's an extraordinary man, isn't he? ALGREN He is samurai. Omura gazes at him. Slowl y takes I puff from his cigarette. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Mr. Omura, my people have been drawing up the documents we discussed. I have a draft-- OMURA We're not quite ready to announce the treaty, Ambassador. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Excuse me? OMURA The Emperor is...sentimental. Katsumoto was his old mentor-- he is not eager to offend him. It will take I few more days. 77. AMBASSJ\DOR SW ANBECK How many da ys is " a few?" OMURA I assure you the Samurai will not stand in the wa y of our agreement. You are prepared to make deliver y? AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Soon as your emperor signs on the dotted line. OMURA Captain Algren you are the expert. Will this array of ordnance be sufficient? ALGREN Depends on what you're trying to accomplish. OMURA I want my country to take its place as a modern power. ALGREN Then they will set you well on your way. OMURA I am pleased. AMDASSADOR SW ANBECK Mr. Omura, you assured us you had the influence with your emperor to make this deal come to pass. With all due respect perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to. OMURA With all due respect, Ambassador, perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to, for instance the French. Or the English. Or any of the legations waiting in the next room. Ambassador Swan beck stands swallowing his rage. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Yes, we1l, we look forward to hearing from you. OMURA Good afternoon, gentlemen. They start to go. OMURA Captain Algren, perhaps you can stay a moment And tell me of your experiences in our rebellious provinces. Bagley looks at Algren. Do as he asks. He leaves A1gren alone with Omura. 78. OMURA Cigarette? ALGREN Thank you. Omura lights his cigarette. A moment as he takes Algren's measure. OMURA You fought bravely on behalf of our army-- against the rebel Katsumoto. Algren says nothing. . OMURA And yet you helped save his life when attacked by the Ninja. ALGREN My role was much less significant than you may have heard. OMURA Tell me about your role in Katsumoto's plans. ALGREN I have none. OMURA And your sympathies? ALGREN Again, I have none. OMURA I know you have little sympathy for Colonel Bagley. ALGREN He is.... unsympathetic. Omura smiles. OMURA I thought it was we who are inscrutable. Now it is Algren who smiles. OMURA You have gained important knowledge of Katsumoto's province, his army, and his rebellion. This is extremely valuable to me. He watches Algren to see how this lands. 79. OMURA You also possess significant knowledge of m y army, my weaponry, and my plans. This is extremely va1uable to Katsumoto. ALGREN Again, you flatter me. OMURA No. I am a businessman. I recognize what is valuable. And I buy it. (looks at him) In this case, I value your loyalt y. Algren considers the implications of what Omura is saying. ALGREN I didn't know loyalt y was something that could be sold. OMURA Then perhaps you will give it, as a token of future friendship - for which, as a friend, I would be in your debt. ALGREN (stands) Then I will consider it. OMURA And I will be grateful. INT. SHIPPING OFFICE DAY Algren is in a shipping office. A clerk consults his schedule of departure. CLERK All righteee, the ANDREW JACKSON leaves tomorrow if you want a steamship you'll have to wait six weeks. (Algren is silent) Gets ya to Frisco by the 28th. 14 dollars for a private cabin, 8 for a shared or 3 for a lower berth. What can I put you down for? Algren is silent, concentrating on a calendar hanging behind the clerk. It features a beautiful Hiroshigi watercolor of mountains. CLERK Sir..? ALGREN (after a moment) Private cabin. 80. EXT. TOKYO STREET DAY Graham walks with Algren. GRAHAM Leave? Wh y would you leave now? No white man has ever been in your position. Do you have any idea what it will mean to have Omura as your friend? You want land, you want women, you want boys? Algren starts to walk faster, but Graham Stops him. GRAHAM Nathan. I wanted to leave, too. For three years. You must believe me there is a majest y about these people -- can you imagine what your own country would be if it had half the drive and the discipline and the belief and the bravery of these ridiculous little people? Then raised voices from across the street stop them. They see Yoritomo surrounded by four Imperial Army soldiers. The soldiers are rough and imperious, drunk with power. They carry gleaming rifle.. The soldiers bark orders. Yoritomo stands proudly, responding calmly. ALGREN Whit is this? GRAHAM My God, it's the edicts... ALGREN What edicts? Algren arrives as the situation is clearly growing volatile - the soldiers are pointing to Yoritomo's head, screaming Algren steps toward the soldiers-- ALGREN That's enough-- One of the soldiers SCREAMS at him -- raises his rifle -- all the soldiers raise their rifles Yoritomo reaches for his sword -- Algren tries to push through - 81. ALGREN (subtitles) YORITOMO, WAIT! One of the soldiers smacks Algren in the chin with a rifle butt. Algren reels, and by the time he stands straight again, four others are pointing their ba yonets at his face. Graham takes hold of Algren's arm. GRAHAM Don't be stupid. Algren makes eye contact with Yoritomo, who -- in deference to his friend -- puts his sword away. The Japanese soldiers continue to scream at Yoritomo. They force him to his knees. Rifles pressed to his head. Yoritomo bows his bead, speaking quietly, as if praying. Algren witches in horror all one of the soldiers removes his bayonet -- another grab. Yoritomo's hair, jerks his head back and begins hacking off Yoritomo's traditional top-knot of hair. Brutally. Blood. Yoritomo remains kneeling, head down, blood flowing down his face. The soldiers laugh and move off. Algren kneels by Yoritomo. Yoritomo looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes. EXT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Katsumoto's house on the outskirts of Tokyo is spacious and harmonious. Utterly Japanese. Samurai guards in full regalia, stand menacingly outside. INT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Ujio kneels with Yoritomo, dressing the wounds on his head. Graham sits across the room talking quietly to the mammoth Nakao, taking notes in a small notebook. Nakao has been brutally shorn of his top knot as well. His shame is apparent. INT. KATSUMOTO'S CHAMBER DUSK Servants he1p dress Katsumoto in his exacting samurai wardrobe as Algren is ushered in. KATSUMOTO Captain, I had not thought to see you again. 82. ALGREN I'm leaving tomorrow. But before I go I need to tell you what's going on here. KATSUMOTO You mean the Gatling Guns and the howitzers, is that how you sa y it? ALGREN They're about to close a trade agreement that will bring this country more weapons than you can imagine. KATSUMOTO Yes, if the emperor agrees - but Omura knows the Emperor must be convinced there is cause to need those weapons before be will sign. ALGREN (realizing) And you are to be the cause... KATSUMOTO Elegant, isn't it? Omura passes laws

table

How many times the word 'table' appears in the text?

wracking his body. EXT. VILLAGE DAY As Algren returns with the water, he sees Katsumoto approaching with Ujio and several warriors. KATSUMOTO The Emperor has requested my presence. We leave tomorrow. You will be released in Tokyo. He goes. Algren stands, not sure how to react. INT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE NIGHT Algren writes on parchment by the light of an oil lamp. ALGREN (V.O.) April 13, 1877. Tomorrow we return to civilization. As eager as I am to be among my own kind, I confess to a curious reluctance. EXT. KATDUMOTO'S VILLAGE DAWN Algren stands overlooking the village as the sun rises over the misty peaks. ALGREN (V.O.) These months have marked me, and I don't fully know yet wh y. EXT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE DAY Algren prepares to mount up. Yoritomo says goodbye to his family. ALGREN (V.O.) I do know it is here that I have known my first untroubled sleep in many years. Taka comes to Algren, bows her head. TAKA (subtitles) You are alwa ys welcome in our home. ALGREN Domo Arrigato. He glances at the unfinished house. 62. ALGREN (subtitles) ...You will finish it soon. TAKA (subtitles) If that is my destiny. She bows her head again. Toshiie hands him a scroll: it is a picture of the Family. Algren is included. Japanese characters list all their names. Toshiie bows. Algren bows and tucks the scroll into his coat. Algren and Yoritomo move out with Katsumoto, Ujio, Nakao and his bodyguard of several dozen Samurai. The villagers bow and honor the warrior as they pass. EXT. MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE DAY Algren trots alongside Katsumoto. ALGREN ... The Emperor sends a message for you to return to Tokyo, and you go? KATSUMOTO Yes. ALGREN Even though you're in rebellion against him. KATSUMOTO Against the Emperor? Never. I serve him. As I have alwa ys done. . ALGREN I don't understand. KATSUMOTO Our Emperor is young, and there are things I must sa y to him. ALGREN But ever yone around him wants you dead. KA TSUMOTO And if the Emperor desires, I will take my own life at his command. He spurs his horse and rides on. A1gren watches him. 63. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET They approach a large inn. A boy working in the fields see Katsumoto approaching. He doesn't believe it -- the Great Katsumoto. He drops his hoe and races awa y, calling out. KATSUMOTO We will stop here for the night. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET Samurai guards have been posted around the perimeter. INT. KATSUMOTO'S RQOM NIGHT Algren is escorted in. Katsumoto kneels at a table. Preparing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Sit, Captain. Algren sits. By now he has learned how to sit on the ground. Katsumoto begins the exacting, delicate and precise tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Do you drink tea? ALGREN I've had little else for some time... Katsumoto continues with the tea ceremony. ALGREN How's your poem coming? KATSUMOTO I am having trouble. The truth is I am not a very good poet. (Algren smiles) Do you know wh y you were sent here? To Yoshino. ALGREN To protect the railroad. . KATSUMOTO Why is the railroad here? ALGREN So Tokyo can control the whole country. 64. KATSUMOTO You have seen my province. All mountains. Far from Tokyo. Yet the rail line must come here? Katsumoto tosses a tiny bit of coal on the simmering brazier on the table. Algren watches carefully. ALGREN You have something they want KATSUMOTO What do they want in my mountains? ALGREN Minerals ... Gold. KA TSUMOTO (smiles) There is no gold in Japan. Katsumoto gently blows on the coal brazier. The coal flares a bit. ALGREN Coal? (Katsumoto looks at him) For steamships. KA TSUMOTO And why would steamships be so important? ALGREN ...China. Katsumoto looks up at him. Impressed. KATSUMOTO Japan has nothing. China has ever ything. ALGREN Mine the coal to create a way station for the trip to China ... Freeze the Europeans out and Japan and America have a monopol y on the China trade. KATSUMOTO Add to this the Omura Zaibatsu. You know the Zaibatus? ALGREN The wealthy families. 65. KATSUMOTO As patron of the railroad, Omura owns all land within four hundred feet of ever y new rail line. As my country grows, so will his wealth. (looks at him) This is why you are fighting. Katsumoto completes the tea ceremony. He pours a cup for Algren. Bows his head and offers it to him. ALGREN And you will tell the emperor to stop them? KATSUMOTO I do not tell the emperor what to do. ALGREN Then what do you hope to accomplish? Katsumoto looks at Algren, the slightest gleam in his eye. KATSUMOTO Will you return to America? Algren watches him -- why didn't Katsumoto answer? ALGREN ...I have a job here. KATSUMOTO You should return to your home. ALGREN Why? KATSUMOTO Because I do not wish you to be m y enemy again. Katsumoto returns to his poem, he does not look up. KATSUMOTO Go home Captain ... Anshinritsumai. I wish you peace. Algren waits but Katsumoto just continues to work on his poem. EXT. AROUND THE INN NIGHT The samurai guards are alert, their senses heightened to almost superhuman proportions. But there is another way. Another way of learning combat. A wa y without the beaut y, the philosophy and the moral code. They are almost imperceptible at first... their head-to-toe black clothes a perfect camouflage... their silence and stealth are otherworldly. 66. They were then known as Shinobi, masters of stealth and spying. We know them as Ninjas. They float across the ground ... creeping an inch ever y hour... complete physica1 control. One black-gloved finger moves. Then the next... They crawl and then wait Poised on their fingertips and toes. There is no sound as they strike. The samurai guards are garroted in an instant. Other Ninjas catch the samurai's weapons as they fall. No sound disturbs the peaceful night. EXT. INN -- FRONT DOORWAY NIGHT Silence. Two samurai guards are in position. One of them glances up at the stars. A Ninja throwing star instantly slices into his jugular-- blood sprays -- the other guard turns a series of Ninja slice into him... EXT. INN--WALLS NIGHT Silence. The Ninjas use mew claws to crawl up the walls like spiders. EXT. INN ROOF NIGHT Silence. A samurai guard stands at the edge of the roof. A Ninja silently moves toward him. Stops. Ten feet awa y. He pulls out a shuriken -- a small needle-shaped projectile, dips it into a sack of poison. Places it carefully into the palm of his hand. And with the flick of his wrist-- The needle flies -- stabbing into the samurai -- he crumples. Other Ninjas immediately pour over the edge of the roof -- catching the samurai before he falls... INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. 67. Katsumoto cannot sleep. He stares out the window at a nightingale. INT. INN--UJIO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Ujio sits in his room. He is unblinking. Alert. Swords at the ready. INT. INN ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Algren cannot sleep either. He sits leaning against a wall. Thinking. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Silence. Yoritomo drinks tea with Nakao, the huge martial arts master. INT. OUTSIDE KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT A guard stands sentinel. Above his head, unbeknownst to him, two Ninjas descend on ropes. One of them swings a long chain - to which I barbed-knife is attached. As it lodges in the guard's chest, the second Ninja swings down just in time to catch the dead guard, silently, before his body hits the ground. INT. INN -- KATSUMQTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Katsumoto lies in bed listening to the night bird. It stops singing. Katsumoto smiles sadly. He decides to give up on sleep, leans forward to rise. This act saves his life. For when the Ninjas come, they come all at once-- A Ninja suddenly comes TEARING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE PAPER WALL, his sword slashing down .- just missing Katsumoto. Katsumoto calls out an alarm, diving and rolling across the floor for his sword. He instantly kills one Ninja using his steel-tipped "war fan" to slash his attackers throat. Another smashes in through the window. INT. INN -- MAIN H ALL NIGHT Ninjas EXPLODE into the main hall. Samurai who come out of their rooms are cut down by a variety of weapons -- one takes a throwing star in the face, others are felled by the traditional ninja-to, short swords ideal for fighting in confined spaces, chain-knives, nun-chaka and others. 68. More Ninjas drop from the rafters on ropes. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT A Ninja SMASHES through the paper wall -- Algren grabs the nearest object, a low tea table. and swings it at his head. The Ninja dodges the blow and slices at Algren with short-sword. Algren barely avoids the blow by ducking behind a post as the sword LODGES deep in the wood. Algren flings himself, bodily, at his attacker. INT. INN-- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ninja throwing stars spin across the room, killing a samurai. Yoritomo emerges from his room, readying his bow, but the dead samurai falls back blocking his wa y. From behind the rice wall, Yoritomo lets fly an arrow without even looking. It passes THROUGH the wall, killing the Ninja on the opposite balcony. INT. INN-- FIRST FLOOR NIGHT Ujio screams a war cry and begins to battle his way up the stairs. With breathtaking moves, he slashes hands and limbs, forcing the Ninja back. Nakao fights his wa y up beside him, desperately trying to reach Katsumoto's room. Using only his bare hands he catches a Ninja's wrist and hurls him over the railing. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Algren and the Ninja are in a death struggle, kneeing, gouging, butting. They awkwardly smash through a paper wall into the next room. INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto wields his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. It is the first time we have seen him in action and his movements are both beautiful and deadly. But more Ninjas are pouring in through the window, threatening to overwhelm him. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Rolling on the ground, Algren manages to grab a chopstick and STAB his adversary through the eye. He picks up the fallen short sword and steps out into the hall. ARROWS whiz past, thudding into the wall beside his head. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto, breathing heavily, his kimono shredded and bloody, is fending off the Ninjas' increasingly savage attacks as Algren enters. Algren SCREAMS, distracting them just long enough for Katsumoto to take advantage and kill one. 69. Then, just as a Ninja it about to kill Algren, Katsumoto FLINGS his short sword ... it pin-wheels across the room, hitting Algren's attacker in the chest. Without missing a beat, Algren pulls the short sword from the dying Ninja's chest and uses it to stab another Ninja who, thinking Algren defenseless, has launched an attack. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ujio and Nakao are back to back, a perfect fighting machine as they fight their wa y to Katsumoto's rescue. They battle Ninjas wielding lethal kusarigamas, the Ninjas swing chains, the attached blades slice the air--Nakao catches the chains and flinging the Ninja over the balcony. INT. YORITOMO'S ROOM NIGHT Yoritomo is pinned down. Darts and throwing stars shred the rice paper wall above him. He picks off another Ninja before changing his position. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT The blazing sword battle continues. Algren throws a beautiful painted standing-screen in front of an attacking Ninja, momentarily confusing him. Then he stabs THROUGH THE SCREEN -as a blood- stain SPREADS across the pastoral painting. But another Ninja catches Algren off-guard and slices at him with his short sword. As Algren lifts his sword to parry the blow, HIS LITILE FINGER IS CHOPPED OFF. He drops the sword, momentarily defenseless. Across the hallway Yoritomo has been watching the shadowpla y on the rice-paper walls. Algren's attacker raises his blade to deliver the death blow. In Katsumoto's room Algren flinches involuntarily beneath the raised blade. Suddenly the Ninja JACKKNIFES as if punched by an unseen hand. As he spins, dead, to the ground, we SEE an ARROW lodged bet ween his shoulder blades. Yoritomo has FIRED blindly, through the wall killing Algren's attacker. Nearby, a Ninja hurls a throwing star at Katsumoto. With blind instinct Katsumoto turns and takes the blade in the meat of his arm. Algren, meanwhile, has ripped the sleeve of his kimono into a tourniquet for his maimed hand. He uses the rest of the fabric TO TIE HIS HAND TO HIS SWORD before launching himself back into the fray -- slicing an attacker just as he is about to impale Katsumoto. Together, he and Katsumoto force the last two Ninjas through a paper wall to the next room. They fight all the wa y through that room and BLAST through another paper wall to the next. 70. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT The battle continues unabated on the stairs -- the Ninjas spring for position with incredible grace --perching and fighting on banisters, leaping from one level to the next. It is a mayhem of flashing swords and flailing limbs and flyi ng arrows and spinning Ninja stars. Sprays of blood splatter against the white rice paper walls. Some of the fighting is less than elegant. Men bite and wrestle and gouge to survive in close quarters. All of them arc bloody and sweat y and dirty and tired, heaving for breath, their skin flayed open, their kimonos ripped, their hands and arms and faces blood-stained. But more samurai reinforcements follow Ujio up the stairs: Together with Yoritomo and Nakao, they have begun to gain the upper hand. Ujio flings both his swords through the air -- killing two Ninjas -- and dives to fight others - his martial arts skills are dazzling. Algren and Katsumoto are fighting sidc by side And we cut to -- EXT. INN NIGHT Outside of the inn, we slowl y pull away... The sounds of the battle gradually fade... Soon it is nothing more than a lovel y rustic inn nestled in the mountains. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT Later. The battle is over. Ninja and samurai corpses litter the inn. We slowl y move up the long stairwa y from the bottom... Yoritomo pulls a Ninja star from Nakao's_shou1der. Then one from his own. We move up another level, past more bodies... Ujio moves through the Ninjas. Making sure they are dead. Before sheathing his sword, he angrily FLICKS it at the rice paper wall, spattering it with the bloody spray. Katsumoto wipes his sword on a nearby corpse, replaces it in its sheath. He sits beside Algren on a stair. Both men are exhausted. Bloodied. Alive. A long beat as we watch the two warriors. Slow fade to... 71. EXT. TOKYO -- IMPERIAL PALACE DAY Algren, Katsumoto and the others are nearing the palace. Algren slows to a stop -- his path is toward the city. Katsumoto stops, looks at him, then does something absolutel y extraordinary. He kneels and bows before Algren. Quickly touching his head to the dirt. Then he rises, turns and walks toward the palace. Algren stands, stunned. EXT. PARADE GROUND DAY Algren walks onto the parade ground. The change he sees could not be more remarkable. Thousands of new Japanese troops are drilling with new bolt-action Mausers. They are precise, exact and frighteningly mechanistic, their uniforms new and crisp. New German advisors are barking commands. Colonel Bagley sees him. BAGLEY Algren? My God, you never cease to astonish. Bagley runs over, hand extended, but Algren turns to look at the troops. ALGREN They have new weapons. BAGLEY The Kaiser was only too happy to help. Along with his friends at Mauser and Krupp. Thank God we Americans still have a few teeth in our head. And they come to the "teeth." Howitzer cannons. A row of them. Artillery officers in US Army uniforms arc instructing Japanese offi cers. BAGLEY The ambassador and I have spent eight months kissing Omura's ass so he'll sign the damn trade pact with us. You spent all this time living with those savages? (A1gren looks at him) He's going to want to talk to you... ALGREN I need a bath. BAGLEY And your back pay, I imagine. Algren starts walking away. 72. BAGLEY They got their flag. ...See? And we see it... snapping on I flagpole high above the parade ground. It is immediately familiar. A red circle on a white field. The Rising Sun. The Howitzers fire in sequence. Thundering blasts that shake the heavens. EXT, ROYAL TEMPLE DAY Omura stands above Emperor Meiji respectful but persistent. The Emperor is kneeling, tending to his iris garden. It is one of the wonders of the Palace: a sea of white, pink, blue, and purple blossoms. Retainers and servants stand at a distance. One holds a standard with the Imperial seal: a yellow chrysanthemum. Omura sees Katsumoto making his way toward them. He talks a bit more quickly to the Emperor. Katsumoto begins to prostrate himself before the Emperor, the usual sign of extreme respect -- but the Emperor stops him: EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori-san. We arc "civilized" now. Katsumoto stops prostrating himself. The Emperor offers his hand. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) I cannot touch the Sacred One. EMPEROR (subtitles) You can. It is a difficult moment for Katsumoto. He simply cannot do It. OMURA (subtitles) Did you have a pleasant journey, Minister Katsumoto? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It was uneventful. Omura appreciates Katsumoto's droll response. He assumes that Katsumoto is aware of his part in the assassination attempt. 73. EMPEROR (subtitles) If it is not a great imposition. I desire a moment alone with Minister Katsumoto. Omura-San. OMURA (subtitles) Enlightened One, perhaps I can be of service in a conversation of state. EMPEROR (subtitles) So kind of you, but I fear my old teacher wishes to upbraid me in private for neglecting my studies. Omura bows his head quickly and goes. Silence. The Emperor gazes at Katsumoto. Then: EMPEROR (subtitles) You rise against me, my teacher. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) No, Highness, I rise against your enemies. EMPEROR (subtitles) They are my teacher, my advisers, like you. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) They advise in their own interest. EMPEROR (subtitles) The world is changing, Mori -- you have not seen what goes on beyond our borders, the inventions, the science. I need men who can look outward, or soon we will be left behind, and defenseless. KATSUM OTO (subtitles) I am sworn to defend you even to my last breath. EMPEROR (subtit1es) The samurai live in the past. You cannot defend against a future you don't understand. 74. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) If I am no use, then I will happily end my life, EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori. It is my wish that you rejoin the Council of State. I need your voice. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It is your voice that needs to be heard, Highness. You are a living God, you can do what ever you think is right. The young emperor is silent a moment. EMPEROR (subtitles) I am a living God only as long as I do what they think is right. KATSUMOTO (subtitle) Your Highness, may I beg forgiveness for saying what a teacher must, that such a statement is pathetic drivel not worthy of an ignorant stable boy, let alone a young man I know to have some modest intelligence. The emperor laughs warmly, almost happy to be scolded as he once was. EMPEROR (subtitles) Is it possible a living God can be too afraid to make his voice heard? (Katsumoto's look is not unkind) Tell me what to do, Mori-San? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) You are emperor, my Lord, not me. You must find the wisdom for all of us. EXT. YOKOHAMA WHARF DAY A series of warehouses, beyond which we see warships in the harbor. A1gren walks with Bagley and two other OFFICERS. INT. WAREHOUSE DAY The cavernous warehouse piled high with huge crates. 75. BAGLEY As soon as they sign the agreement, they're obligated to buy the entire weapons package, from Colt revol vers to Ha1liwell twelve-pounders. Plus this particular item you might recognize. A few stevedores tear open one of the crates. Algren hides his astonishment: A Gatling Gun is revealed. BAGLEY They've been calibrated to fire 200 rounds a minute, The new copper cartridges cut down on jamming. Algren closes his eyes, trying to keep his memories at bay. EXT. TOKYO STREETS DAY Algren fights the crowds with Colonel Bagley And Ambassador Swanbeck.. ALGREN (V.O.) May 15, 1877. The city I return to is immeasurabl y changed New construction ever ywhere. Telegraph wires strung next to an ancient temple. A modern European hotel is going up, dwarfing the traditional Japanese buildings. Huge billboards advertising Western goods. A new invention, the rickshaw, has replaced many of the palanquins. ALGREN (V.O.) As though Tokyo were determined to become another New York or Chicago .- all in one headlong rush. Spider's web of telegraph cables spread from a tall new brick building. It is like a New York office building stabbing into the heart of old Japan. The familiar Omura character is emblazoned on the side. .INT. OFFICES OF THE OMURA ZAIBATSU DAY Aside from the occasional bit of Japanese decor, this could be a buzzing Wall Street firm. Telegraph operators click away. Accountants use adding machines. Secretaries use pneumatic tubes to send documents back and forth. Engineers plot out railway lines. All are dressed in Western clothes. Algren, Colonel Bagley, and Ambassador Swanbeck enter. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK (to Algren) If he asks, you can talk about ordnance and tactics. But remember, this has to do with a lot more than just weapons. 76. An anteroom holds waiting delegations from the various European powers. A babel of language. ... French ...Dutch ...Russian ...German. A pretty American secretary looks up from her desk. SECRETARY Ambassador Swanbeck, if you'll follow me. Some of the delegates arc craning forward, watching Algren and the others hungrily as they head into the final office. INT. OMURA'S OFFICE DAY Omura stands like an industrial titan before large picture windows offering a dramatic view of Tokyo. The only decoration in the room is an enormous Caravaggio. OMURA Please, sit down, gentlemen. Omura removes a gold cigarette case and lights up. Cigarettes are the newest Western fad Sweeping Japan. OMURA (re: cigarette case) A gift from Czar Alexander... Captain Algren,. it seems you have endured your captivity with little ill-effect. ALGREN Yes, sir. OMURA He's an extraordinary man, isn't he? ALGREN He is samurai. Omura gazes at him. Slowl y takes I puff from his cigarette. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Mr. Omura, my people have been drawing up the documents we discussed. I have a draft-- OMURA We're not quite ready to announce the treaty, Ambassador. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Excuse me? OMURA The Emperor is...sentimental. Katsumoto was his old mentor-- he is not eager to offend him. It will take I few more days. 77. AMBASSJ\DOR SW ANBECK How many da ys is " a few?" OMURA I assure you the Samurai will not stand in the wa y of our agreement. You are prepared to make deliver y? AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Soon as your emperor signs on the dotted line. OMURA Captain Algren you are the expert. Will this array of ordnance be sufficient? ALGREN Depends on what you're trying to accomplish. OMURA I want my country to take its place as a modern power. ALGREN Then they will set you well on your way. OMURA I am pleased. AMDASSADOR SW ANBECK Mr. Omura, you assured us you had the influence with your emperor to make this deal come to pass. With all due respect perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to. OMURA With all due respect, Ambassador, perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to, for instance the French. Or the English. Or any of the legations waiting in the next room. Ambassador Swan beck stands swallowing his rage. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Yes, we1l, we look forward to hearing from you. OMURA Good afternoon, gentlemen. They start to go. OMURA Captain Algren, perhaps you can stay a moment And tell me of your experiences in our rebellious provinces. Bagley looks at Algren. Do as he asks. He leaves A1gren alone with Omura. 78. OMURA Cigarette? ALGREN Thank you. Omura lights his cigarette. A moment as he takes Algren's measure. OMURA You fought bravely on behalf of our army-- against the rebel Katsumoto. Algren says nothing. . OMURA And yet you helped save his life when attacked by the Ninja. ALGREN My role was much less significant than you may have heard. OMURA Tell me about your role in Katsumoto's plans. ALGREN I have none. OMURA And your sympathies? ALGREN Again, I have none. OMURA I know you have little sympathy for Colonel Bagley. ALGREN He is.... unsympathetic. Omura smiles. OMURA I thought it was we who are inscrutable. Now it is Algren who smiles. OMURA You have gained important knowledge of Katsumoto's province, his army, and his rebellion. This is extremely valuable to me. He watches Algren to see how this lands. 79. OMURA You also possess significant knowledge of m y army, my weaponry, and my plans. This is extremely va1uable to Katsumoto. ALGREN Again, you flatter me. OMURA No. I am a businessman. I recognize what is valuable. And I buy it. (looks at him) In this case, I value your loyalt y. Algren considers the implications of what Omura is saying. ALGREN I didn't know loyalt y was something that could be sold. OMURA Then perhaps you will give it, as a token of future friendship - for which, as a friend, I would be in your debt. ALGREN (stands) Then I will consider it. OMURA And I will be grateful. INT. SHIPPING OFFICE DAY Algren is in a shipping office. A clerk consults his schedule of departure. CLERK All righteee, the ANDREW JACKSON leaves tomorrow if you want a steamship you'll have to wait six weeks. (Algren is silent) Gets ya to Frisco by the 28th. 14 dollars for a private cabin, 8 for a shared or 3 for a lower berth. What can I put you down for? Algren is silent, concentrating on a calendar hanging behind the clerk. It features a beautiful Hiroshigi watercolor of mountains. CLERK Sir..? ALGREN (after a moment) Private cabin. 80. EXT. TOKYO STREET DAY Graham walks with Algren. GRAHAM Leave? Wh y would you leave now? No white man has ever been in your position. Do you have any idea what it will mean to have Omura as your friend? You want land, you want women, you want boys? Algren starts to walk faster, but Graham Stops him. GRAHAM Nathan. I wanted to leave, too. For three years. You must believe me there is a majest y about these people -- can you imagine what your own country would be if it had half the drive and the discipline and the belief and the bravery of these ridiculous little people? Then raised voices from across the street stop them. They see Yoritomo surrounded by four Imperial Army soldiers. The soldiers are rough and imperious, drunk with power. They carry gleaming rifle.. The soldiers bark orders. Yoritomo stands proudly, responding calmly. ALGREN Whit is this? GRAHAM My God, it's the edicts... ALGREN What edicts? Algren arrives as the situation is clearly growing volatile - the soldiers are pointing to Yoritomo's head, screaming Algren steps toward the soldiers-- ALGREN That's enough-- One of the soldiers SCREAMS at him -- raises his rifle -- all the soldiers raise their rifles Yoritomo reaches for his sword -- Algren tries to push through - 81. ALGREN (subtitles) YORITOMO, WAIT! One of the soldiers smacks Algren in the chin with a rifle butt. Algren reels, and by the time he stands straight again, four others are pointing their ba yonets at his face. Graham takes hold of Algren's arm. GRAHAM Don't be stupid. Algren makes eye contact with Yoritomo, who -- in deference to his friend -- puts his sword away. The Japanese soldiers continue to scream at Yoritomo. They force him to his knees. Rifles pressed to his head. Yoritomo bows his bead, speaking quietly, as if praying. Algren witches in horror all one of the soldiers removes his bayonet -- another grab. Yoritomo's hair, jerks his head back and begins hacking off Yoritomo's traditional top-knot of hair. Brutally. Blood. Yoritomo remains kneeling, head down, blood flowing down his face. The soldiers laugh and move off. Algren kneels by Yoritomo. Yoritomo looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes. EXT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Katsumoto's house on the outskirts of Tokyo is spacious and harmonious. Utterly Japanese. Samurai guards in full regalia, stand menacingly outside. INT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Ujio kneels with Yoritomo, dressing the wounds on his head. Graham sits across the room talking quietly to the mammoth Nakao, taking notes in a small notebook. Nakao has been brutally shorn of his top knot as well. His shame is apparent. INT. KATSUMOTO'S CHAMBER DUSK Servants he1p dress Katsumoto in his exacting samurai wardrobe as Algren is ushered in. KATSUMOTO Captain, I had not thought to see you again. 82. ALGREN I'm leaving tomorrow. But before I go I need to tell you what's going on here. KATSUMOTO You mean the Gatling Guns and the howitzers, is that how you sa y it? ALGREN They're about to close a trade agreement that will bring this country more weapons than you can imagine. KATSUMOTO Yes, if the emperor agrees - but Omura knows the Emperor must be convinced there is cause to need those weapons before be will sign. ALGREN (realizing) And you are to be the cause... KATSUMOTO Elegant, isn't it? Omura passes laws

poet

How many times the word 'poet' appears in the text?

wracking his body. EXT. VILLAGE DAY As Algren returns with the water, he sees Katsumoto approaching with Ujio and several warriors. KATSUMOTO The Emperor has requested my presence. We leave tomorrow. You will be released in Tokyo. He goes. Algren stands, not sure how to react. INT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE NIGHT Algren writes on parchment by the light of an oil lamp. ALGREN (V.O.) April 13, 1877. Tomorrow we return to civilization. As eager as I am to be among my own kind, I confess to a curious reluctance. EXT. KATDUMOTO'S VILLAGE DAWN Algren stands overlooking the village as the sun rises over the misty peaks. ALGREN (V.O.) These months have marked me, and I don't fully know yet wh y. EXT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE DAY Algren prepares to mount up. Yoritomo says goodbye to his family. ALGREN (V.O.) I do know it is here that I have known my first untroubled sleep in many years. Taka comes to Algren, bows her head. TAKA (subtitles) You are alwa ys welcome in our home. ALGREN Domo Arrigato. He glances at the unfinished house. 62. ALGREN (subtitles) ...You will finish it soon. TAKA (subtitles) If that is my destiny. She bows her head again. Toshiie hands him a scroll: it is a picture of the Family. Algren is included. Japanese characters list all their names. Toshiie bows. Algren bows and tucks the scroll into his coat. Algren and Yoritomo move out with Katsumoto, Ujio, Nakao and his bodyguard of several dozen Samurai. The villagers bow and honor the warrior as they pass. EXT. MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE DAY Algren trots alongside Katsumoto. ALGREN ... The Emperor sends a message for you to return to Tokyo, and you go? KATSUMOTO Yes. ALGREN Even though you're in rebellion against him. KATSUMOTO Against the Emperor? Never. I serve him. As I have alwa ys done. . ALGREN I don't understand. KATSUMOTO Our Emperor is young, and there are things I must sa y to him. ALGREN But ever yone around him wants you dead. KA TSUMOTO And if the Emperor desires, I will take my own life at his command. He spurs his horse and rides on. A1gren watches him. 63. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET They approach a large inn. A boy working in the fields see Katsumoto approaching. He doesn't believe it -- the Great Katsumoto. He drops his hoe and races awa y, calling out. KATSUMOTO We will stop here for the night. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET Samurai guards have been posted around the perimeter. INT. KATSUMOTO'S RQOM NIGHT Algren is escorted in. Katsumoto kneels at a table. Preparing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Sit, Captain. Algren sits. By now he has learned how to sit on the ground. Katsumoto begins the exacting, delicate and precise tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Do you drink tea? ALGREN I've had little else for some time... Katsumoto continues with the tea ceremony. ALGREN How's your poem coming? KATSUMOTO I am having trouble. The truth is I am not a very good poet. (Algren smiles) Do you know wh y you were sent here? To Yoshino. ALGREN To protect the railroad. . KATSUMOTO Why is the railroad here? ALGREN So Tokyo can control the whole country. 64. KATSUMOTO You have seen my province. All mountains. Far from Tokyo. Yet the rail line must come here? Katsumoto tosses a tiny bit of coal on the simmering brazier on the table. Algren watches carefully. ALGREN You have something they want KATSUMOTO What do they want in my mountains? ALGREN Minerals ... Gold. KA TSUMOTO (smiles) There is no gold in Japan. Katsumoto gently blows on the coal brazier. The coal flares a bit. ALGREN Coal? (Katsumoto looks at him) For steamships. KA TSUMOTO And why would steamships be so important? ALGREN ...China. Katsumoto looks up at him. Impressed. KATSUMOTO Japan has nothing. China has ever ything. ALGREN Mine the coal to create a way station for the trip to China ... Freeze the Europeans out and Japan and America have a monopol y on the China trade. KATSUMOTO Add to this the Omura Zaibatsu. You know the Zaibatus? ALGREN The wealthy families. 65. KATSUMOTO As patron of the railroad, Omura owns all land within four hundred feet of ever y new rail line. As my country grows, so will his wealth. (looks at him) This is why you are fighting. Katsumoto completes the tea ceremony. He pours a cup for Algren. Bows his head and offers it to him. ALGREN And you will tell the emperor to stop them? KATSUMOTO I do not tell the emperor what to do. ALGREN Then what do you hope to accomplish? Katsumoto looks at Algren, the slightest gleam in his eye. KATSUMOTO Will you return to America? Algren watches him -- why didn't Katsumoto answer? ALGREN ...I have a job here. KATSUMOTO You should return to your home. ALGREN Why? KATSUMOTO Because I do not wish you to be m y enemy again. Katsumoto returns to his poem, he does not look up. KATSUMOTO Go home Captain ... Anshinritsumai. I wish you peace. Algren waits but Katsumoto just continues to work on his poem. EXT. AROUND THE INN NIGHT The samurai guards are alert, their senses heightened to almost superhuman proportions. But there is another way. Another way of learning combat. A wa y without the beaut y, the philosophy and the moral code. They are almost imperceptible at first... their head-to-toe black clothes a perfect camouflage... their silence and stealth are otherworldly. 66. They were then known as Shinobi, masters of stealth and spying. We know them as Ninjas. They float across the ground ... creeping an inch ever y hour... complete physica1 control. One black-gloved finger moves. Then the next... They crawl and then wait Poised on their fingertips and toes. There is no sound as they strike. The samurai guards are garroted in an instant. Other Ninjas catch the samurai's weapons as they fall. No sound disturbs the peaceful night. EXT. INN -- FRONT DOORWAY NIGHT Silence. Two samurai guards are in position. One of them glances up at the stars. A Ninja throwing star instantly slices into his jugular-- blood sprays -- the other guard turns a series of Ninja slice into him... EXT. INN--WALLS NIGHT Silence. The Ninjas use mew claws to crawl up the walls like spiders. EXT. INN ROOF NIGHT Silence. A samurai guard stands at the edge of the roof. A Ninja silently moves toward him. Stops. Ten feet awa y. He pulls out a shuriken -- a small needle-shaped projectile, dips it into a sack of poison. Places it carefully into the palm of his hand. And with the flick of his wrist-- The needle flies -- stabbing into the samurai -- he crumples. Other Ninjas immediately pour over the edge of the roof -- catching the samurai before he falls... INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. 67. Katsumoto cannot sleep. He stares out the window at a nightingale. INT. INN--UJIO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Ujio sits in his room. He is unblinking. Alert. Swords at the ready. INT. INN ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Algren cannot sleep either. He sits leaning against a wall. Thinking. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Silence. Yoritomo drinks tea with Nakao, the huge martial arts master. INT. OUTSIDE KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT A guard stands sentinel. Above his head, unbeknownst to him, two Ninjas descend on ropes. One of them swings a long chain - to which I barbed-knife is attached. As it lodges in the guard's chest, the second Ninja swings down just in time to catch the dead guard, silently, before his body hits the ground. INT. INN -- KATSUMQTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Katsumoto lies in bed listening to the night bird. It stops singing. Katsumoto smiles sadly. He decides to give up on sleep, leans forward to rise. This act saves his life. For when the Ninjas come, they come all at once-- A Ninja suddenly comes TEARING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE PAPER WALL, his sword slashing down .- just missing Katsumoto. Katsumoto calls out an alarm, diving and rolling across the floor for his sword. He instantly kills one Ninja using his steel-tipped "war fan" to slash his attackers throat. Another smashes in through the window. INT. INN -- MAIN H ALL NIGHT Ninjas EXPLODE into the main hall. Samurai who come out of their rooms are cut down by a variety of weapons -- one takes a throwing star in the face, others are felled by the traditional ninja-to, short swords ideal for fighting in confined spaces, chain-knives, nun-chaka and others. 68. More Ninjas drop from the rafters on ropes. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT A Ninja SMASHES through the paper wall -- Algren grabs the nearest object, a low tea table. and swings it at his head. The Ninja dodges the blow and slices at Algren with short-sword. Algren barely avoids the blow by ducking behind a post as the sword LODGES deep in the wood. Algren flings himself, bodily, at his attacker. INT. INN-- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ninja throwing stars spin across the room, killing a samurai. Yoritomo emerges from his room, readying his bow, but the dead samurai falls back blocking his wa y. From behind the rice wall, Yoritomo lets fly an arrow without even looking. It passes THROUGH the wall, killing the Ninja on the opposite balcony. INT. INN-- FIRST FLOOR NIGHT Ujio screams a war cry and begins to battle his way up the stairs. With breathtaking moves, he slashes hands and limbs, forcing the Ninja back. Nakao fights his wa y up beside him, desperately trying to reach Katsumoto's room. Using only his bare hands he catches a Ninja's wrist and hurls him over the railing. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Algren and the Ninja are in a death struggle, kneeing, gouging, butting. They awkwardly smash through a paper wall into the next room. INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto wields his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. It is the first time we have seen him in action and his movements are both beautiful and deadly. But more Ninjas are pouring in through the window, threatening to overwhelm him. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Rolling on the ground, Algren manages to grab a chopstick and STAB his adversary through the eye. He picks up the fallen short sword and steps out into the hall. ARROWS whiz past, thudding into the wall beside his head. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto, breathing heavily, his kimono shredded and bloody, is fending off the Ninjas' increasingly savage attacks as Algren enters. Algren SCREAMS, distracting them just long enough for Katsumoto to take advantage and kill one. 69. Then, just as a Ninja it about to kill Algren, Katsumoto FLINGS his short sword ... it pin-wheels across the room, hitting Algren's attacker in the chest. Without missing a beat, Algren pulls the short sword from the dying Ninja's chest and uses it to stab another Ninja who, thinking Algren defenseless, has launched an attack. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ujio and Nakao are back to back, a perfect fighting machine as they fight their wa y to Katsumoto's rescue. They battle Ninjas wielding lethal kusarigamas, the Ninjas swing chains, the attached blades slice the air--Nakao catches the chains and flinging the Ninja over the balcony. INT. YORITOMO'S ROOM NIGHT Yoritomo is pinned down. Darts and throwing stars shred the rice paper wall above him. He picks off another Ninja before changing his position. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT The blazing sword battle continues. Algren throws a beautiful painted standing-screen in front of an attacking Ninja, momentarily confusing him. Then he stabs THROUGH THE SCREEN -as a blood- stain SPREADS across the pastoral painting. But another Ninja catches Algren off-guard and slices at him with his short sword. As Algren lifts his sword to parry the blow, HIS LITILE FINGER IS CHOPPED OFF. He drops the sword, momentarily defenseless. Across the hallway Yoritomo has been watching the shadowpla y on the rice-paper walls. Algren's attacker raises his blade to deliver the death blow. In Katsumoto's room Algren flinches involuntarily beneath the raised blade. Suddenly the Ninja JACKKNIFES as if punched by an unseen hand. As he spins, dead, to the ground, we SEE an ARROW lodged bet ween his shoulder blades. Yoritomo has FIRED blindly, through the wall killing Algren's attacker. Nearby, a Ninja hurls a throwing star at Katsumoto. With blind instinct Katsumoto turns and takes the blade in the meat of his arm. Algren, meanwhile, has ripped the sleeve of his kimono into a tourniquet for his maimed hand. He uses the rest of the fabric TO TIE HIS HAND TO HIS SWORD before launching himself back into the fray -- slicing an attacker just as he is about to impale Katsumoto. Together, he and Katsumoto force the last two Ninjas through a paper wall to the next room. They fight all the wa y through that room and BLAST through another paper wall to the next. 70. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT The battle continues unabated on the stairs -- the Ninjas spring for position with incredible grace --perching and fighting on banisters, leaping from one level to the next. It is a mayhem of flashing swords and flailing limbs and flyi ng arrows and spinning Ninja stars. Sprays of blood splatter against the white rice paper walls. Some of the fighting is less than elegant. Men bite and wrestle and gouge to survive in close quarters. All of them arc bloody and sweat y and dirty and tired, heaving for breath, their skin flayed open, their kimonos ripped, their hands and arms and faces blood-stained. But more samurai reinforcements follow Ujio up the stairs: Together with Yoritomo and Nakao, they have begun to gain the upper hand. Ujio flings both his swords through the air -- killing two Ninjas -- and dives to fight others - his martial arts skills are dazzling. Algren and Katsumoto are fighting sidc by side And we cut to -- EXT. INN NIGHT Outside of the inn, we slowl y pull away... The sounds of the battle gradually fade... Soon it is nothing more than a lovel y rustic inn nestled in the mountains. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT Later. The battle is over. Ninja and samurai corpses litter the inn. We slowl y move up the long stairwa y from the bottom... Yoritomo pulls a Ninja star from Nakao's_shou1der. Then one from his own. We move up another level, past more bodies... Ujio moves through the Ninjas. Making sure they are dead. Before sheathing his sword, he angrily FLICKS it at the rice paper wall, spattering it with the bloody spray. Katsumoto wipes his sword on a nearby corpse, replaces it in its sheath. He sits beside Algren on a stair. Both men are exhausted. Bloodied. Alive. A long beat as we watch the two warriors. Slow fade to... 71. EXT. TOKYO -- IMPERIAL PALACE DAY Algren, Katsumoto and the others are nearing the palace. Algren slows to a stop -- his path is toward the city. Katsumoto stops, looks at him, then does something absolutel y extraordinary. He kneels and bows before Algren. Quickly touching his head to the dirt. Then he rises, turns and walks toward the palace. Algren stands, stunned. EXT. PARADE GROUND DAY Algren walks onto the parade ground. The change he sees could not be more remarkable. Thousands of new Japanese troops are drilling with new bolt-action Mausers. They are precise, exact and frighteningly mechanistic, their uniforms new and crisp. New German advisors are barking commands. Colonel Bagley sees him. BAGLEY Algren? My God, you never cease to astonish. Bagley runs over, hand extended, but Algren turns to look at the troops. ALGREN They have new weapons. BAGLEY The Kaiser was only too happy to help. Along with his friends at Mauser and Krupp. Thank God we Americans still have a few teeth in our head. And they come to the "teeth." Howitzer cannons. A row of them. Artillery officers in US Army uniforms arc instructing Japanese offi cers. BAGLEY The ambassador and I have spent eight months kissing Omura's ass so he'll sign the damn trade pact with us. You spent all this time living with those savages? (A1gren looks at him) He's going to want to talk to you... ALGREN I need a bath. BAGLEY And your back pay, I imagine. Algren starts walking away. 72. BAGLEY They got their flag. ...See? And we see it... snapping on I flagpole high above the parade ground. It is immediately familiar. A red circle on a white field. The Rising Sun. The Howitzers fire in sequence. Thundering blasts that shake the heavens. EXT, ROYAL TEMPLE DAY Omura stands above Emperor Meiji respectful but persistent. The Emperor is kneeling, tending to his iris garden. It is one of the wonders of the Palace: a sea of white, pink, blue, and purple blossoms. Retainers and servants stand at a distance. One holds a standard with the Imperial seal: a yellow chrysanthemum. Omura sees Katsumoto making his way toward them. He talks a bit more quickly to the Emperor. Katsumoto begins to prostrate himself before the Emperor, the usual sign of extreme respect -- but the Emperor stops him: EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori-san. We arc "civilized" now. Katsumoto stops prostrating himself. The Emperor offers his hand. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) I cannot touch the Sacred One. EMPEROR (subtitles) You can. It is a difficult moment for Katsumoto. He simply cannot do It. OMURA (subtitles) Did you have a pleasant journey, Minister Katsumoto? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It was uneventful. Omura appreciates Katsumoto's droll response. He assumes that Katsumoto is aware of his part in the assassination attempt. 73. EMPEROR (subtitles) If it is not a great imposition. I desire a moment alone with Minister Katsumoto. Omura-San. OMURA (subtitles) Enlightened One, perhaps I can be of service in a conversation of state. EMPEROR (subtitles) So kind of you, but I fear my old teacher wishes to upbraid me in private for neglecting my studies. Omura bows his head quickly and goes. Silence. The Emperor gazes at Katsumoto. Then: EMPEROR (subtitles) You rise against me, my teacher. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) No, Highness, I rise against your enemies. EMPEROR (subtitles) They are my teacher, my advisers, like you. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) They advise in their own interest. EMPEROR (subtitles) The world is changing, Mori -- you have not seen what goes on beyond our borders, the inventions, the science. I need men who can look outward, or soon we will be left behind, and defenseless. KATSUM OTO (subtitles) I am sworn to defend you even to my last breath. EMPEROR (subtit1es) The samurai live in the past. You cannot defend against a future you don't understand. 74. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) If I am no use, then I will happily end my life, EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori. It is my wish that you rejoin the Council of State. I need your voice. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It is your voice that needs to be heard, Highness. You are a living God, you can do what ever you think is right. The young emperor is silent a moment. EMPEROR (subtitles) I am a living God only as long as I do what they think is right. KATSUMOTO (subtitle) Your Highness, may I beg forgiveness for saying what a teacher must, that such a statement is pathetic drivel not worthy of an ignorant stable boy, let alone a young man I know to have some modest intelligence. The emperor laughs warmly, almost happy to be scolded as he once was. EMPEROR (subtitles) Is it possible a living God can be too afraid to make his voice heard? (Katsumoto's look is not unkind) Tell me what to do, Mori-San? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) You are emperor, my Lord, not me. You must find the wisdom for all of us. EXT. YOKOHAMA WHARF DAY A series of warehouses, beyond which we see warships in the harbor. A1gren walks with Bagley and two other OFFICERS. INT. WAREHOUSE DAY The cavernous warehouse piled high with huge crates. 75. BAGLEY As soon as they sign the agreement, they're obligated to buy the entire weapons package, from Colt revol vers to Ha1liwell twelve-pounders. Plus this particular item you might recognize. A few stevedores tear open one of the crates. Algren hides his astonishment: A Gatling Gun is revealed. BAGLEY They've been calibrated to fire 200 rounds a minute, The new copper cartridges cut down on jamming. Algren closes his eyes, trying to keep his memories at bay. EXT. TOKYO STREETS DAY Algren fights the crowds with Colonel Bagley And Ambassador Swanbeck.. ALGREN (V.O.) May 15, 1877. The city I return to is immeasurabl y changed New construction ever ywhere. Telegraph wires strung next to an ancient temple. A modern European hotel is going up, dwarfing the traditional Japanese buildings. Huge billboards advertising Western goods. A new invention, the rickshaw, has replaced many of the palanquins. ALGREN (V.O.) As though Tokyo were determined to become another New York or Chicago .- all in one headlong rush. Spider's web of telegraph cables spread from a tall new brick building. It is like a New York office building stabbing into the heart of old Japan. The familiar Omura character is emblazoned on the side. .INT. OFFICES OF THE OMURA ZAIBATSU DAY Aside from the occasional bit of Japanese decor, this could be a buzzing Wall Street firm. Telegraph operators click away. Accountants use adding machines. Secretaries use pneumatic tubes to send documents back and forth. Engineers plot out railway lines. All are dressed in Western clothes. Algren, Colonel Bagley, and Ambassador Swanbeck enter. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK (to Algren) If he asks, you can talk about ordnance and tactics. But remember, this has to do with a lot more than just weapons. 76. An anteroom holds waiting delegations from the various European powers. A babel of language. ... French ...Dutch ...Russian ...German. A pretty American secretary looks up from her desk. SECRETARY Ambassador Swanbeck, if you'll follow me. Some of the delegates arc craning forward, watching Algren and the others hungrily as they head into the final office. INT. OMURA'S OFFICE DAY Omura stands like an industrial titan before large picture windows offering a dramatic view of Tokyo. The only decoration in the room is an enormous Caravaggio. OMURA Please, sit down, gentlemen. Omura removes a gold cigarette case and lights up. Cigarettes are the newest Western fad Sweeping Japan. OMURA (re: cigarette case) A gift from Czar Alexander... Captain Algren,. it seems you have endured your captivity with little ill-effect. ALGREN Yes, sir. OMURA He's an extraordinary man, isn't he? ALGREN He is samurai. Omura gazes at him. Slowl y takes I puff from his cigarette. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Mr. Omura, my people have been drawing up the documents we discussed. I have a draft-- OMURA We're not quite ready to announce the treaty, Ambassador. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Excuse me? OMURA The Emperor is...sentimental. Katsumoto was his old mentor-- he is not eager to offend him. It will take I few more days. 77. AMBASSJ\DOR SW ANBECK How many da ys is " a few?" OMURA I assure you the Samurai will not stand in the wa y of our agreement. You are prepared to make deliver y? AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Soon as your emperor signs on the dotted line. OMURA Captain Algren you are the expert. Will this array of ordnance be sufficient? ALGREN Depends on what you're trying to accomplish. OMURA I want my country to take its place as a modern power. ALGREN Then they will set you well on your way. OMURA I am pleased. AMDASSADOR SW ANBECK Mr. Omura, you assured us you had the influence with your emperor to make this deal come to pass. With all due respect perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to. OMURA With all due respect, Ambassador, perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to, for instance the French. Or the English. Or any of the legations waiting in the next room. Ambassador Swan beck stands swallowing his rage. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Yes, we1l, we look forward to hearing from you. OMURA Good afternoon, gentlemen. They start to go. OMURA Captain Algren, perhaps you can stay a moment And tell me of your experiences in our rebellious provinces. Bagley looks at Algren. Do as he asks. He leaves A1gren alone with Omura. 78. OMURA Cigarette? ALGREN Thank you. Omura lights his cigarette. A moment as he takes Algren's measure. OMURA You fought bravely on behalf of our army-- against the rebel Katsumoto. Algren says nothing. . OMURA And yet you helped save his life when attacked by the Ninja. ALGREN My role was much less significant than you may have heard. OMURA Tell me about your role in Katsumoto's plans. ALGREN I have none. OMURA And your sympathies? ALGREN Again, I have none. OMURA I know you have little sympathy for Colonel Bagley. ALGREN He is.... unsympathetic. Omura smiles. OMURA I thought it was we who are inscrutable. Now it is Algren who smiles. OMURA You have gained important knowledge of Katsumoto's province, his army, and his rebellion. This is extremely valuable to me. He watches Algren to see how this lands. 79. OMURA You also possess significant knowledge of m y army, my weaponry, and my plans. This is extremely va1uable to Katsumoto. ALGREN Again, you flatter me. OMURA No. I am a businessman. I recognize what is valuable. And I buy it. (looks at him) In this case, I value your loyalt y. Algren considers the implications of what Omura is saying. ALGREN I didn't know loyalt y was something that could be sold. OMURA Then perhaps you will give it, as a token of future friendship - for which, as a friend, I would be in your debt. ALGREN (stands) Then I will consider it. OMURA And I will be grateful. INT. SHIPPING OFFICE DAY Algren is in a shipping office. A clerk consults his schedule of departure. CLERK All righteee, the ANDREW JACKSON leaves tomorrow if you want a steamship you'll have to wait six weeks. (Algren is silent) Gets ya to Frisco by the 28th. 14 dollars for a private cabin, 8 for a shared or 3 for a lower berth. What can I put you down for? Algren is silent, concentrating on a calendar hanging behind the clerk. It features a beautiful Hiroshigi watercolor of mountains. CLERK Sir..? ALGREN (after a moment) Private cabin. 80. EXT. TOKYO STREET DAY Graham walks with Algren. GRAHAM Leave? Wh y would you leave now? No white man has ever been in your position. Do you have any idea what it will mean to have Omura as your friend? You want land, you want women, you want boys? Algren starts to walk faster, but Graham Stops him. GRAHAM Nathan. I wanted to leave, too. For three years. You must believe me there is a majest y about these people -- can you imagine what your own country would be if it had half the drive and the discipline and the belief and the bravery of these ridiculous little people? Then raised voices from across the street stop them. They see Yoritomo surrounded by four Imperial Army soldiers. The soldiers are rough and imperious, drunk with power. They carry gleaming rifle.. The soldiers bark orders. Yoritomo stands proudly, responding calmly. ALGREN Whit is this? GRAHAM My God, it's the edicts... ALGREN What edicts? Algren arrives as the situation is clearly growing volatile - the soldiers are pointing to Yoritomo's head, screaming Algren steps toward the soldiers-- ALGREN That's enough-- One of the soldiers SCREAMS at him -- raises his rifle -- all the soldiers raise their rifles Yoritomo reaches for his sword -- Algren tries to push through - 81. ALGREN (subtitles) YORITOMO, WAIT! One of the soldiers smacks Algren in the chin with a rifle butt. Algren reels, and by the time he stands straight again, four others are pointing their ba yonets at his face. Graham takes hold of Algren's arm. GRAHAM Don't be stupid. Algren makes eye contact with Yoritomo, who -- in deference to his friend -- puts his sword away. The Japanese soldiers continue to scream at Yoritomo. They force him to his knees. Rifles pressed to his head. Yoritomo bows his bead, speaking quietly, as if praying. Algren witches in horror all one of the soldiers removes his bayonet -- another grab. Yoritomo's hair, jerks his head back and begins hacking off Yoritomo's traditional top-knot of hair. Brutally. Blood. Yoritomo remains kneeling, head down, blood flowing down his face. The soldiers laugh and move off. Algren kneels by Yoritomo. Yoritomo looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes. EXT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Katsumoto's house on the outskirts of Tokyo is spacious and harmonious. Utterly Japanese. Samurai guards in full regalia, stand menacingly outside. INT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Ujio kneels with Yoritomo, dressing the wounds on his head. Graham sits across the room talking quietly to the mammoth Nakao, taking notes in a small notebook. Nakao has been brutally shorn of his top knot as well. His shame is apparent. INT. KATSUMOTO'S CHAMBER DUSK Servants he1p dress Katsumoto in his exacting samurai wardrobe as Algren is ushered in. KATSUMOTO Captain, I had not thought to see you again. 82. ALGREN I'm leaving tomorrow. But before I go I need to tell you what's going on here. KATSUMOTO You mean the Gatling Guns and the howitzers, is that how you sa y it? ALGREN They're about to close a trade agreement that will bring this country more weapons than you can imagine. KATSUMOTO Yes, if the emperor agrees - but Omura knows the Emperor must be convinced there is cause to need those weapons before be will sign. ALGREN (realizing) And you are to be the cause... KATSUMOTO Elegant, isn't it? Omura passes laws

singing

How many times the word 'singing' appears in the text?

wracking his body. EXT. VILLAGE DAY As Algren returns with the water, he sees Katsumoto approaching with Ujio and several warriors. KATSUMOTO The Emperor has requested my presence. We leave tomorrow. You will be released in Tokyo. He goes. Algren stands, not sure how to react. INT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE NIGHT Algren writes on parchment by the light of an oil lamp. ALGREN (V.O.) April 13, 1877. Tomorrow we return to civilization. As eager as I am to be among my own kind, I confess to a curious reluctance. EXT. KATDUMOTO'S VILLAGE DAWN Algren stands overlooking the village as the sun rises over the misty peaks. ALGREN (V.O.) These months have marked me, and I don't fully know yet wh y. EXT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE DAY Algren prepares to mount up. Yoritomo says goodbye to his family. ALGREN (V.O.) I do know it is here that I have known my first untroubled sleep in many years. Taka comes to Algren, bows her head. TAKA (subtitles) You are alwa ys welcome in our home. ALGREN Domo Arrigato. He glances at the unfinished house. 62. ALGREN (subtitles) ...You will finish it soon. TAKA (subtitles) If that is my destiny. She bows her head again. Toshiie hands him a scroll: it is a picture of the Family. Algren is included. Japanese characters list all their names. Toshiie bows. Algren bows and tucks the scroll into his coat. Algren and Yoritomo move out with Katsumoto, Ujio, Nakao and his bodyguard of several dozen Samurai. The villagers bow and honor the warrior as they pass. EXT. MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE DAY Algren trots alongside Katsumoto. ALGREN ... The Emperor sends a message for you to return to Tokyo, and you go? KATSUMOTO Yes. ALGREN Even though you're in rebellion against him. KATSUMOTO Against the Emperor? Never. I serve him. As I have alwa ys done. . ALGREN I don't understand. KATSUMOTO Our Emperor is young, and there are things I must sa y to him. ALGREN But ever yone around him wants you dead. KA TSUMOTO And if the Emperor desires, I will take my own life at his command. He spurs his horse and rides on. A1gren watches him. 63. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET They approach a large inn. A boy working in the fields see Katsumoto approaching. He doesn't believe it -- the Great Katsumoto. He drops his hoe and races awa y, calling out. KATSUMOTO We will stop here for the night. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET Samurai guards have been posted around the perimeter. INT. KATSUMOTO'S RQOM NIGHT Algren is escorted in. Katsumoto kneels at a table. Preparing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Sit, Captain. Algren sits. By now he has learned how to sit on the ground. Katsumoto begins the exacting, delicate and precise tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Do you drink tea? ALGREN I've had little else for some time... Katsumoto continues with the tea ceremony. ALGREN How's your poem coming? KATSUMOTO I am having trouble. The truth is I am not a very good poet. (Algren smiles) Do you know wh y you were sent here? To Yoshino. ALGREN To protect the railroad. . KATSUMOTO Why is the railroad here? ALGREN So Tokyo can control the whole country. 64. KATSUMOTO You have seen my province. All mountains. Far from Tokyo. Yet the rail line must come here? Katsumoto tosses a tiny bit of coal on the simmering brazier on the table. Algren watches carefully. ALGREN You have something they want KATSUMOTO What do they want in my mountains? ALGREN Minerals ... Gold. KA TSUMOTO (smiles) There is no gold in Japan. Katsumoto gently blows on the coal brazier. The coal flares a bit. ALGREN Coal? (Katsumoto looks at him) For steamships. KA TSUMOTO And why would steamships be so important? ALGREN ...China. Katsumoto looks up at him. Impressed. KATSUMOTO Japan has nothing. China has ever ything. ALGREN Mine the coal to create a way station for the trip to China ... Freeze the Europeans out and Japan and America have a monopol y on the China trade. KATSUMOTO Add to this the Omura Zaibatsu. You know the Zaibatus? ALGREN The wealthy families. 65. KATSUMOTO As patron of the railroad, Omura owns all land within four hundred feet of ever y new rail line. As my country grows, so will his wealth. (looks at him) This is why you are fighting. Katsumoto completes the tea ceremony. He pours a cup for Algren. Bows his head and offers it to him. ALGREN And you will tell the emperor to stop them? KATSUMOTO I do not tell the emperor what to do. ALGREN Then what do you hope to accomplish? Katsumoto looks at Algren, the slightest gleam in his eye. KATSUMOTO Will you return to America? Algren watches him -- why didn't Katsumoto answer? ALGREN ...I have a job here. KATSUMOTO You should return to your home. ALGREN Why? KATSUMOTO Because I do not wish you to be m y enemy again. Katsumoto returns to his poem, he does not look up. KATSUMOTO Go home Captain ... Anshinritsumai. I wish you peace. Algren waits but Katsumoto just continues to work on his poem. EXT. AROUND THE INN NIGHT The samurai guards are alert, their senses heightened to almost superhuman proportions. But there is another way. Another way of learning combat. A wa y without the beaut y, the philosophy and the moral code. They are almost imperceptible at first... their head-to-toe black clothes a perfect camouflage... their silence and stealth are otherworldly. 66. They were then known as Shinobi, masters of stealth and spying. We know them as Ninjas. They float across the ground ... creeping an inch ever y hour... complete physica1 control. One black-gloved finger moves. Then the next... They crawl and then wait Poised on their fingertips and toes. There is no sound as they strike. The samurai guards are garroted in an instant. Other Ninjas catch the samurai's weapons as they fall. No sound disturbs the peaceful night. EXT. INN -- FRONT DOORWAY NIGHT Silence. Two samurai guards are in position. One of them glances up at the stars. A Ninja throwing star instantly slices into his jugular-- blood sprays -- the other guard turns a series of Ninja slice into him... EXT. INN--WALLS NIGHT Silence. The Ninjas use mew claws to crawl up the walls like spiders. EXT. INN ROOF NIGHT Silence. A samurai guard stands at the edge of the roof. A Ninja silently moves toward him. Stops. Ten feet awa y. He pulls out a shuriken -- a small needle-shaped projectile, dips it into a sack of poison. Places it carefully into the palm of his hand. And with the flick of his wrist-- The needle flies -- stabbing into the samurai -- he crumples. Other Ninjas immediately pour over the edge of the roof -- catching the samurai before he falls... INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. 67. Katsumoto cannot sleep. He stares out the window at a nightingale. INT. INN--UJIO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Ujio sits in his room. He is unblinking. Alert. Swords at the ready. INT. INN ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Algren cannot sleep either. He sits leaning against a wall. Thinking. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Silence. Yoritomo drinks tea with Nakao, the huge martial arts master. INT. OUTSIDE KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT A guard stands sentinel. Above his head, unbeknownst to him, two Ninjas descend on ropes. One of them swings a long chain - to which I barbed-knife is attached. As it lodges in the guard's chest, the second Ninja swings down just in time to catch the dead guard, silently, before his body hits the ground. INT. INN -- KATSUMQTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Katsumoto lies in bed listening to the night bird. It stops singing. Katsumoto smiles sadly. He decides to give up on sleep, leans forward to rise. This act saves his life. For when the Ninjas come, they come all at once-- A Ninja suddenly comes TEARING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE PAPER WALL, his sword slashing down .- just missing Katsumoto. Katsumoto calls out an alarm, diving and rolling across the floor for his sword. He instantly kills one Ninja using his steel-tipped "war fan" to slash his attackers throat. Another smashes in through the window. INT. INN -- MAIN H ALL NIGHT Ninjas EXPLODE into the main hall. Samurai who come out of their rooms are cut down by a variety of weapons -- one takes a throwing star in the face, others are felled by the traditional ninja-to, short swords ideal for fighting in confined spaces, chain-knives, nun-chaka and others. 68. More Ninjas drop from the rafters on ropes. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT A Ninja SMASHES through the paper wall -- Algren grabs the nearest object, a low tea table. and swings it at his head. The Ninja dodges the blow and slices at Algren with short-sword. Algren barely avoids the blow by ducking behind a post as the sword LODGES deep in the wood. Algren flings himself, bodily, at his attacker. INT. INN-- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ninja throwing stars spin across the room, killing a samurai. Yoritomo emerges from his room, readying his bow, but the dead samurai falls back blocking his wa y. From behind the rice wall, Yoritomo lets fly an arrow without even looking. It passes THROUGH the wall, killing the Ninja on the opposite balcony. INT. INN-- FIRST FLOOR NIGHT Ujio screams a war cry and begins to battle his way up the stairs. With breathtaking moves, he slashes hands and limbs, forcing the Ninja back. Nakao fights his wa y up beside him, desperately trying to reach Katsumoto's room. Using only his bare hands he catches a Ninja's wrist and hurls him over the railing. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Algren and the Ninja are in a death struggle, kneeing, gouging, butting. They awkwardly smash through a paper wall into the next room. INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto wields his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. It is the first time we have seen him in action and his movements are both beautiful and deadly. But more Ninjas are pouring in through the window, threatening to overwhelm him. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Rolling on the ground, Algren manages to grab a chopstick and STAB his adversary through the eye. He picks up the fallen short sword and steps out into the hall. ARROWS whiz past, thudding into the wall beside his head. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto, breathing heavily, his kimono shredded and bloody, is fending off the Ninjas' increasingly savage attacks as Algren enters. Algren SCREAMS, distracting them just long enough for Katsumoto to take advantage and kill one. 69. Then, just as a Ninja it about to kill Algren, Katsumoto FLINGS his short sword ... it pin-wheels across the room, hitting Algren's attacker in the chest. Without missing a beat, Algren pulls the short sword from the dying Ninja's chest and uses it to stab another Ninja who, thinking Algren defenseless, has launched an attack. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ujio and Nakao are back to back, a perfect fighting machine as they fight their wa y to Katsumoto's rescue. They battle Ninjas wielding lethal kusarigamas, the Ninjas swing chains, the attached blades slice the air--Nakao catches the chains and flinging the Ninja over the balcony. INT. YORITOMO'S ROOM NIGHT Yoritomo is pinned down. Darts and throwing stars shred the rice paper wall above him. He picks off another Ninja before changing his position. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT The blazing sword battle continues. Algren throws a beautiful painted standing-screen in front of an attacking Ninja, momentarily confusing him. Then he stabs THROUGH THE SCREEN -as a blood- stain SPREADS across the pastoral painting. But another Ninja catches Algren off-guard and slices at him with his short sword. As Algren lifts his sword to parry the blow, HIS LITILE FINGER IS CHOPPED OFF. He drops the sword, momentarily defenseless. Across the hallway Yoritomo has been watching the shadowpla y on the rice-paper walls. Algren's attacker raises his blade to deliver the death blow. In Katsumoto's room Algren flinches involuntarily beneath the raised blade. Suddenly the Ninja JACKKNIFES as if punched by an unseen hand. As he spins, dead, to the ground, we SEE an ARROW lodged bet ween his shoulder blades. Yoritomo has FIRED blindly, through the wall killing Algren's attacker. Nearby, a Ninja hurls a throwing star at Katsumoto. With blind instinct Katsumoto turns and takes the blade in the meat of his arm. Algren, meanwhile, has ripped the sleeve of his kimono into a tourniquet for his maimed hand. He uses the rest of the fabric TO TIE HIS HAND TO HIS SWORD before launching himself back into the fray -- slicing an attacker just as he is about to impale Katsumoto. Together, he and Katsumoto force the last two Ninjas through a paper wall to the next room. They fight all the wa y through that room and BLAST through another paper wall to the next. 70. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT The battle continues unabated on the stairs -- the Ninjas spring for position with incredible grace --perching and fighting on banisters, leaping from one level to the next. It is a mayhem of flashing swords and flailing limbs and flyi ng arrows and spinning Ninja stars. Sprays of blood splatter against the white rice paper walls. Some of the fighting is less than elegant. Men bite and wrestle and gouge to survive in close quarters. All of them arc bloody and sweat y and dirty and tired, heaving for breath, their skin flayed open, their kimonos ripped, their hands and arms and faces blood-stained. But more samurai reinforcements follow Ujio up the stairs: Together with Yoritomo and Nakao, they have begun to gain the upper hand. Ujio flings both his swords through the air -- killing two Ninjas -- and dives to fight others - his martial arts skills are dazzling. Algren and Katsumoto are fighting sidc by side And we cut to -- EXT. INN NIGHT Outside of the inn, we slowl y pull away... The sounds of the battle gradually fade... Soon it is nothing more than a lovel y rustic inn nestled in the mountains. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT Later. The battle is over. Ninja and samurai corpses litter the inn. We slowl y move up the long stairwa y from the bottom... Yoritomo pulls a Ninja star from Nakao's_shou1der. Then one from his own. We move up another level, past more bodies... Ujio moves through the Ninjas. Making sure they are dead. Before sheathing his sword, he angrily FLICKS it at the rice paper wall, spattering it with the bloody spray. Katsumoto wipes his sword on a nearby corpse, replaces it in its sheath. He sits beside Algren on a stair. Both men are exhausted. Bloodied. Alive. A long beat as we watch the two warriors. Slow fade to... 71. EXT. TOKYO -- IMPERIAL PALACE DAY Algren, Katsumoto and the others are nearing the palace. Algren slows to a stop -- his path is toward the city. Katsumoto stops, looks at him, then does something absolutel y extraordinary. He kneels and bows before Algren. Quickly touching his head to the dirt. Then he rises, turns and walks toward the palace. Algren stands, stunned. EXT. PARADE GROUND DAY Algren walks onto the parade ground. The change he sees could not be more remarkable. Thousands of new Japanese troops are drilling with new bolt-action Mausers. They are precise, exact and frighteningly mechanistic, their uniforms new and crisp. New German advisors are barking commands. Colonel Bagley sees him. BAGLEY Algren? My God, you never cease to astonish. Bagley runs over, hand extended, but Algren turns to look at the troops. ALGREN They have new weapons. BAGLEY The Kaiser was only too happy to help. Along with his friends at Mauser and Krupp. Thank God we Americans still have a few teeth in our head. And they come to the "teeth." Howitzer cannons. A row of them. Artillery officers in US Army uniforms arc instructing Japanese offi cers. BAGLEY The ambassador and I have spent eight months kissing Omura's ass so he'll sign the damn trade pact with us. You spent all this time living with those savages? (A1gren looks at him) He's going to want to talk to you... ALGREN I need a bath. BAGLEY And your back pay, I imagine. Algren starts walking away. 72. BAGLEY They got their flag. ...See? And we see it... snapping on I flagpole high above the parade ground. It is immediately familiar. A red circle on a white field. The Rising Sun. The Howitzers fire in sequence. Thundering blasts that shake the heavens. EXT, ROYAL TEMPLE DAY Omura stands above Emperor Meiji respectful but persistent. The Emperor is kneeling, tending to his iris garden. It is one of the wonders of the Palace: a sea of white, pink, blue, and purple blossoms. Retainers and servants stand at a distance. One holds a standard with the Imperial seal: a yellow chrysanthemum. Omura sees Katsumoto making his way toward them. He talks a bit more quickly to the Emperor. Katsumoto begins to prostrate himself before the Emperor, the usual sign of extreme respect -- but the Emperor stops him: EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori-san. We arc "civilized" now. Katsumoto stops prostrating himself. The Emperor offers his hand. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) I cannot touch the Sacred One. EMPEROR (subtitles) You can. It is a difficult moment for Katsumoto. He simply cannot do It. OMURA (subtitles) Did you have a pleasant journey, Minister Katsumoto? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It was uneventful. Omura appreciates Katsumoto's droll response. He assumes that Katsumoto is aware of his part in the assassination attempt. 73. EMPEROR (subtitles) If it is not a great imposition. I desire a moment alone with Minister Katsumoto. Omura-San. OMURA (subtitles) Enlightened One, perhaps I can be of service in a conversation of state. EMPEROR (subtitles) So kind of you, but I fear my old teacher wishes to upbraid me in private for neglecting my studies. Omura bows his head quickly and goes. Silence. The Emperor gazes at Katsumoto. Then: EMPEROR (subtitles) You rise against me, my teacher. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) No, Highness, I rise against your enemies. EMPEROR (subtitles) They are my teacher, my advisers, like you. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) They advise in their own interest. EMPEROR (subtitles) The world is changing, Mori -- you have not seen what goes on beyond our borders, the inventions, the science. I need men who can look outward, or soon we will be left behind, and defenseless. KATSUM OTO (subtitles) I am sworn to defend you even to my last breath. EMPEROR (subtit1es) The samurai live in the past. You cannot defend against a future you don't understand. 74. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) If I am no use, then I will happily end my life, EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori. It is my wish that you rejoin the Council of State. I need your voice. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It is your voice that needs to be heard, Highness. You are a living God, you can do what ever you think is right. The young emperor is silent a moment. EMPEROR (subtitles) I am a living God only as long as I do what they think is right. KATSUMOTO (subtitle) Your Highness, may I beg forgiveness for saying what a teacher must, that such a statement is pathetic drivel not worthy of an ignorant stable boy, let alone a young man I know to have some modest intelligence. The emperor laughs warmly, almost happy to be scolded as he once was. EMPEROR (subtitles) Is it possible a living God can be too afraid to make his voice heard? (Katsumoto's look is not unkind) Tell me what to do, Mori-San? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) You are emperor, my Lord, not me. You must find the wisdom for all of us. EXT. YOKOHAMA WHARF DAY A series of warehouses, beyond which we see warships in the harbor. A1gren walks with Bagley and two other OFFICERS. INT. WAREHOUSE DAY The cavernous warehouse piled high with huge crates. 75. BAGLEY As soon as they sign the agreement, they're obligated to buy the entire weapons package, from Colt revol vers to Ha1liwell twelve-pounders. Plus this particular item you might recognize. A few stevedores tear open one of the crates. Algren hides his astonishment: A Gatling Gun is revealed. BAGLEY They've been calibrated to fire 200 rounds a minute, The new copper cartridges cut down on jamming. Algren closes his eyes, trying to keep his memories at bay. EXT. TOKYO STREETS DAY Algren fights the crowds with Colonel Bagley And Ambassador Swanbeck.. ALGREN (V.O.) May 15, 1877. The city I return to is immeasurabl y changed New construction ever ywhere. Telegraph wires strung next to an ancient temple. A modern European hotel is going up, dwarfing the traditional Japanese buildings. Huge billboards advertising Western goods. A new invention, the rickshaw, has replaced many of the palanquins. ALGREN (V.O.) As though Tokyo were determined to become another New York or Chicago .- all in one headlong rush. Spider's web of telegraph cables spread from a tall new brick building. It is like a New York office building stabbing into the heart of old Japan. The familiar Omura character is emblazoned on the side. .INT. OFFICES OF THE OMURA ZAIBATSU DAY Aside from the occasional bit of Japanese decor, this could be a buzzing Wall Street firm. Telegraph operators click away. Accountants use adding machines. Secretaries use pneumatic tubes to send documents back and forth. Engineers plot out railway lines. All are dressed in Western clothes. Algren, Colonel Bagley, and Ambassador Swanbeck enter. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK (to Algren) If he asks, you can talk about ordnance and tactics. But remember, this has to do with a lot more than just weapons. 76. An anteroom holds waiting delegations from the various European powers. A babel of language. ... French ...Dutch ...Russian ...German. A pretty American secretary looks up from her desk. SECRETARY Ambassador Swanbeck, if you'll follow me. Some of the delegates arc craning forward, watching Algren and the others hungrily as they head into the final office. INT. OMURA'S OFFICE DAY Omura stands like an industrial titan before large picture windows offering a dramatic view of Tokyo. The only decoration in the room is an enormous Caravaggio. OMURA Please, sit down, gentlemen. Omura removes a gold cigarette case and lights up. Cigarettes are the newest Western fad Sweeping Japan. OMURA (re: cigarette case) A gift from Czar Alexander... Captain Algren,. it seems you have endured your captivity with little ill-effect. ALGREN Yes, sir. OMURA He's an extraordinary man, isn't he? ALGREN He is samurai. Omura gazes at him. Slowl y takes I puff from his cigarette. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Mr. Omura, my people have been drawing up the documents we discussed. I have a draft-- OMURA We're not quite ready to announce the treaty, Ambassador. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Excuse me? OMURA The Emperor is...sentimental. Katsumoto was his old mentor-- he is not eager to offend him. It will take I few more days. 77. AMBASSJ\DOR SW ANBECK How many da ys is " a few?" OMURA I assure you the Samurai will not stand in the wa y of our agreement. You are prepared to make deliver y? AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Soon as your emperor signs on the dotted line. OMURA Captain Algren you are the expert. Will this array of ordnance be sufficient? ALGREN Depends on what you're trying to accomplish. OMURA I want my country to take its place as a modern power. ALGREN Then they will set you well on your way. OMURA I am pleased. AMDASSADOR SW ANBECK Mr. Omura, you assured us you had the influence with your emperor to make this deal come to pass. With all due respect perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to. OMURA With all due respect, Ambassador, perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to, for instance the French. Or the English. Or any of the legations waiting in the next room. Ambassador Swan beck stands swallowing his rage. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Yes, we1l, we look forward to hearing from you. OMURA Good afternoon, gentlemen. They start to go. OMURA Captain Algren, perhaps you can stay a moment And tell me of your experiences in our rebellious provinces. Bagley looks at Algren. Do as he asks. He leaves A1gren alone with Omura. 78. OMURA Cigarette? ALGREN Thank you. Omura lights his cigarette. A moment as he takes Algren's measure. OMURA You fought bravely on behalf of our army-- against the rebel Katsumoto. Algren says nothing. . OMURA And yet you helped save his life when attacked by the Ninja. ALGREN My role was much less significant than you may have heard. OMURA Tell me about your role in Katsumoto's plans. ALGREN I have none. OMURA And your sympathies? ALGREN Again, I have none. OMURA I know you have little sympathy for Colonel Bagley. ALGREN He is.... unsympathetic. Omura smiles. OMURA I thought it was we who are inscrutable. Now it is Algren who smiles. OMURA You have gained important knowledge of Katsumoto's province, his army, and his rebellion. This is extremely valuable to me. He watches Algren to see how this lands. 79. OMURA You also possess significant knowledge of m y army, my weaponry, and my plans. This is extremely va1uable to Katsumoto. ALGREN Again, you flatter me. OMURA No. I am a businessman. I recognize what is valuable. And I buy it. (looks at him) In this case, I value your loyalt y. Algren considers the implications of what Omura is saying. ALGREN I didn't know loyalt y was something that could be sold. OMURA Then perhaps you will give it, as a token of future friendship - for which, as a friend, I would be in your debt. ALGREN (stands) Then I will consider it. OMURA And I will be grateful. INT. SHIPPING OFFICE DAY Algren is in a shipping office. A clerk consults his schedule of departure. CLERK All righteee, the ANDREW JACKSON leaves tomorrow if you want a steamship you'll have to wait six weeks. (Algren is silent) Gets ya to Frisco by the 28th. 14 dollars for a private cabin, 8 for a shared or 3 for a lower berth. What can I put you down for? Algren is silent, concentrating on a calendar hanging behind the clerk. It features a beautiful Hiroshigi watercolor of mountains. CLERK Sir..? ALGREN (after a moment) Private cabin. 80. EXT. TOKYO STREET DAY Graham walks with Algren. GRAHAM Leave? Wh y would you leave now? No white man has ever been in your position. Do you have any idea what it will mean to have Omura as your friend? You want land, you want women, you want boys? Algren starts to walk faster, but Graham Stops him. GRAHAM Nathan. I wanted to leave, too. For three years. You must believe me there is a majest y about these people -- can you imagine what your own country would be if it had half the drive and the discipline and the belief and the bravery of these ridiculous little people? Then raised voices from across the street stop them. They see Yoritomo surrounded by four Imperial Army soldiers. The soldiers are rough and imperious, drunk with power. They carry gleaming rifle.. The soldiers bark orders. Yoritomo stands proudly, responding calmly. ALGREN Whit is this? GRAHAM My God, it's the edicts... ALGREN What edicts? Algren arrives as the situation is clearly growing volatile - the soldiers are pointing to Yoritomo's head, screaming Algren steps toward the soldiers-- ALGREN That's enough-- One of the soldiers SCREAMS at him -- raises his rifle -- all the soldiers raise their rifles Yoritomo reaches for his sword -- Algren tries to push through - 81. ALGREN (subtitles) YORITOMO, WAIT! One of the soldiers smacks Algren in the chin with a rifle butt. Algren reels, and by the time he stands straight again, four others are pointing their ba yonets at his face. Graham takes hold of Algren's arm. GRAHAM Don't be stupid. Algren makes eye contact with Yoritomo, who -- in deference to his friend -- puts his sword away. The Japanese soldiers continue to scream at Yoritomo. They force him to his knees. Rifles pressed to his head. Yoritomo bows his bead, speaking quietly, as if praying. Algren witches in horror all one of the soldiers removes his bayonet -- another grab. Yoritomo's hair, jerks his head back and begins hacking off Yoritomo's traditional top-knot of hair. Brutally. Blood. Yoritomo remains kneeling, head down, blood flowing down his face. The soldiers laugh and move off. Algren kneels by Yoritomo. Yoritomo looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes. EXT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Katsumoto's house on the outskirts of Tokyo is spacious and harmonious. Utterly Japanese. Samurai guards in full regalia, stand menacingly outside. INT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Ujio kneels with Yoritomo, dressing the wounds on his head. Graham sits across the room talking quietly to the mammoth Nakao, taking notes in a small notebook. Nakao has been brutally shorn of his top knot as well. His shame is apparent. INT. KATSUMOTO'S CHAMBER DUSK Servants he1p dress Katsumoto in his exacting samurai wardrobe as Algren is ushered in. KATSUMOTO Captain, I had not thought to see you again. 82. ALGREN I'm leaving tomorrow. But before I go I need to tell you what's going on here. KATSUMOTO You mean the Gatling Guns and the howitzers, is that how you sa y it? ALGREN They're about to close a trade agreement that will bring this country more weapons than you can imagine. KATSUMOTO Yes, if the emperor agrees - but Omura knows the Emperor must be convinced there is cause to need those weapons before be will sign. ALGREN (realizing) And you are to be the cause... KATSUMOTO Elegant, isn't it? Omura passes laws

unblinking

How many times the word 'unblinking' appears in the text?

wracking his body. EXT. VILLAGE DAY As Algren returns with the water, he sees Katsumoto approaching with Ujio and several warriors. KATSUMOTO The Emperor has requested my presence. We leave tomorrow. You will be released in Tokyo. He goes. Algren stands, not sure how to react. INT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE NIGHT Algren writes on parchment by the light of an oil lamp. ALGREN (V.O.) April 13, 1877. Tomorrow we return to civilization. As eager as I am to be among my own kind, I confess to a curious reluctance. EXT. KATDUMOTO'S VILLAGE DAWN Algren stands overlooking the village as the sun rises over the misty peaks. ALGREN (V.O.) These months have marked me, and I don't fully know yet wh y. EXT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE DAY Algren prepares to mount up. Yoritomo says goodbye to his family. ALGREN (V.O.) I do know it is here that I have known my first untroubled sleep in many years. Taka comes to Algren, bows her head. TAKA (subtitles) You are alwa ys welcome in our home. ALGREN Domo Arrigato. He glances at the unfinished house. 62. ALGREN (subtitles) ...You will finish it soon. TAKA (subtitles) If that is my destiny. She bows her head again. Toshiie hands him a scroll: it is a picture of the Family. Algren is included. Japanese characters list all their names. Toshiie bows. Algren bows and tucks the scroll into his coat. Algren and Yoritomo move out with Katsumoto, Ujio, Nakao and his bodyguard of several dozen Samurai. The villagers bow and honor the warrior as they pass. EXT. MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE DAY Algren trots alongside Katsumoto. ALGREN ... The Emperor sends a message for you to return to Tokyo, and you go? KATSUMOTO Yes. ALGREN Even though you're in rebellion against him. KATSUMOTO Against the Emperor? Never. I serve him. As I have alwa ys done. . ALGREN I don't understand. KATSUMOTO Our Emperor is young, and there are things I must sa y to him. ALGREN But ever yone around him wants you dead. KA TSUMOTO And if the Emperor desires, I will take my own life at his command. He spurs his horse and rides on. A1gren watches him. 63. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET They approach a large inn. A boy working in the fields see Katsumoto approaching. He doesn't believe it -- the Great Katsumoto. He drops his hoe and races awa y, calling out. KATSUMOTO We will stop here for the night. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET Samurai guards have been posted around the perimeter. INT. KATSUMOTO'S RQOM NIGHT Algren is escorted in. Katsumoto kneels at a table. Preparing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Sit, Captain. Algren sits. By now he has learned how to sit on the ground. Katsumoto begins the exacting, delicate and precise tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Do you drink tea? ALGREN I've had little else for some time... Katsumoto continues with the tea ceremony. ALGREN How's your poem coming? KATSUMOTO I am having trouble. The truth is I am not a very good poet. (Algren smiles) Do you know wh y you were sent here? To Yoshino. ALGREN To protect the railroad. . KATSUMOTO Why is the railroad here? ALGREN So Tokyo can control the whole country. 64. KATSUMOTO You have seen my province. All mountains. Far from Tokyo. Yet the rail line must come here? Katsumoto tosses a tiny bit of coal on the simmering brazier on the table. Algren watches carefully. ALGREN You have something they want KATSUMOTO What do they want in my mountains? ALGREN Minerals ... Gold. KA TSUMOTO (smiles) There is no gold in Japan. Katsumoto gently blows on the coal brazier. The coal flares a bit. ALGREN Coal? (Katsumoto looks at him) For steamships. KA TSUMOTO And why would steamships be so important? ALGREN ...China. Katsumoto looks up at him. Impressed. KATSUMOTO Japan has nothing. China has ever ything. ALGREN Mine the coal to create a way station for the trip to China ... Freeze the Europeans out and Japan and America have a monopol y on the China trade. KATSUMOTO Add to this the Omura Zaibatsu. You know the Zaibatus? ALGREN The wealthy families. 65. KATSUMOTO As patron of the railroad, Omura owns all land within four hundred feet of ever y new rail line. As my country grows, so will his wealth. (looks at him) This is why you are fighting. Katsumoto completes the tea ceremony. He pours a cup for Algren. Bows his head and offers it to him. ALGREN And you will tell the emperor to stop them? KATSUMOTO I do not tell the emperor what to do. ALGREN Then what do you hope to accomplish? Katsumoto looks at Algren, the slightest gleam in his eye. KATSUMOTO Will you return to America? Algren watches him -- why didn't Katsumoto answer? ALGREN ...I have a job here. KATSUMOTO You should return to your home. ALGREN Why? KATSUMOTO Because I do not wish you to be m y enemy again. Katsumoto returns to his poem, he does not look up. KATSUMOTO Go home Captain ... Anshinritsumai. I wish you peace. Algren waits but Katsumoto just continues to work on his poem. EXT. AROUND THE INN NIGHT The samurai guards are alert, their senses heightened to almost superhuman proportions. But there is another way. Another way of learning combat. A wa y without the beaut y, the philosophy and the moral code. They are almost imperceptible at first... their head-to-toe black clothes a perfect camouflage... their silence and stealth are otherworldly. 66. They were then known as Shinobi, masters of stealth and spying. We know them as Ninjas. They float across the ground ... creeping an inch ever y hour... complete physica1 control. One black-gloved finger moves. Then the next... They crawl and then wait Poised on their fingertips and toes. There is no sound as they strike. The samurai guards are garroted in an instant. Other Ninjas catch the samurai's weapons as they fall. No sound disturbs the peaceful night. EXT. INN -- FRONT DOORWAY NIGHT Silence. Two samurai guards are in position. One of them glances up at the stars. A Ninja throwing star instantly slices into his jugular-- blood sprays -- the other guard turns a series of Ninja slice into him... EXT. INN--WALLS NIGHT Silence. The Ninjas use mew claws to crawl up the walls like spiders. EXT. INN ROOF NIGHT Silence. A samurai guard stands at the edge of the roof. A Ninja silently moves toward him. Stops. Ten feet awa y. He pulls out a shuriken -- a small needle-shaped projectile, dips it into a sack of poison. Places it carefully into the palm of his hand. And with the flick of his wrist-- The needle flies -- stabbing into the samurai -- he crumples. Other Ninjas immediately pour over the edge of the roof -- catching the samurai before he falls... INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. 67. Katsumoto cannot sleep. He stares out the window at a nightingale. INT. INN--UJIO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Ujio sits in his room. He is unblinking. Alert. Swords at the ready. INT. INN ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Algren cannot sleep either. He sits leaning against a wall. Thinking. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Silence. Yoritomo drinks tea with Nakao, the huge martial arts master. INT. OUTSIDE KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT A guard stands sentinel. Above his head, unbeknownst to him, two Ninjas descend on ropes. One of them swings a long chain - to which I barbed-knife is attached. As it lodges in the guard's chest, the second Ninja swings down just in time to catch the dead guard, silently, before his body hits the ground. INT. INN -- KATSUMQTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Katsumoto lies in bed listening to the night bird. It stops singing. Katsumoto smiles sadly. He decides to give up on sleep, leans forward to rise. This act saves his life. For when the Ninjas come, they come all at once-- A Ninja suddenly comes TEARING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE PAPER WALL, his sword slashing down .- just missing Katsumoto. Katsumoto calls out an alarm, diving and rolling across the floor for his sword. He instantly kills one Ninja using his steel-tipped "war fan" to slash his attackers throat. Another smashes in through the window. INT. INN -- MAIN H ALL NIGHT Ninjas EXPLODE into the main hall. Samurai who come out of their rooms are cut down by a variety of weapons -- one takes a throwing star in the face, others are felled by the traditional ninja-to, short swords ideal for fighting in confined spaces, chain-knives, nun-chaka and others. 68. More Ninjas drop from the rafters on ropes. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT A Ninja SMASHES through the paper wall -- Algren grabs the nearest object, a low tea table. and swings it at his head. The Ninja dodges the blow and slices at Algren with short-sword. Algren barely avoids the blow by ducking behind a post as the sword LODGES deep in the wood. Algren flings himself, bodily, at his attacker. INT. INN-- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ninja throwing stars spin across the room, killing a samurai. Yoritomo emerges from his room, readying his bow, but the dead samurai falls back blocking his wa y. From behind the rice wall, Yoritomo lets fly an arrow without even looking. It passes THROUGH the wall, killing the Ninja on the opposite balcony. INT. INN-- FIRST FLOOR NIGHT Ujio screams a war cry and begins to battle his way up the stairs. With breathtaking moves, he slashes hands and limbs, forcing the Ninja back. Nakao fights his wa y up beside him, desperately trying to reach Katsumoto's room. Using only his bare hands he catches a Ninja's wrist and hurls him over the railing. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Algren and the Ninja are in a death struggle, kneeing, gouging, butting. They awkwardly smash through a paper wall into the next room. INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto wields his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. It is the first time we have seen him in action and his movements are both beautiful and deadly. But more Ninjas are pouring in through the window, threatening to overwhelm him. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Rolling on the ground, Algren manages to grab a chopstick and STAB his adversary through the eye. He picks up the fallen short sword and steps out into the hall. ARROWS whiz past, thudding into the wall beside his head. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto, breathing heavily, his kimono shredded and bloody, is fending off the Ninjas' increasingly savage attacks as Algren enters. Algren SCREAMS, distracting them just long enough for Katsumoto to take advantage and kill one. 69. Then, just as a Ninja it about to kill Algren, Katsumoto FLINGS his short sword ... it pin-wheels across the room, hitting Algren's attacker in the chest. Without missing a beat, Algren pulls the short sword from the dying Ninja's chest and uses it to stab another Ninja who, thinking Algren defenseless, has launched an attack. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ujio and Nakao are back to back, a perfect fighting machine as they fight their wa y to Katsumoto's rescue. They battle Ninjas wielding lethal kusarigamas, the Ninjas swing chains, the attached blades slice the air--Nakao catches the chains and flinging the Ninja over the balcony. INT. YORITOMO'S ROOM NIGHT Yoritomo is pinned down. Darts and throwing stars shred the rice paper wall above him. He picks off another Ninja before changing his position. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT The blazing sword battle continues. Algren throws a beautiful painted standing-screen in front of an attacking Ninja, momentarily confusing him. Then he stabs THROUGH THE SCREEN -as a blood- stain SPREADS across the pastoral painting. But another Ninja catches Algren off-guard and slices at him with his short sword. As Algren lifts his sword to parry the blow, HIS LITILE FINGER IS CHOPPED OFF. He drops the sword, momentarily defenseless. Across the hallway Yoritomo has been watching the shadowpla y on the rice-paper walls. Algren's attacker raises his blade to deliver the death blow. In Katsumoto's room Algren flinches involuntarily beneath the raised blade. Suddenly the Ninja JACKKNIFES as if punched by an unseen hand. As he spins, dead, to the ground, we SEE an ARROW lodged bet ween his shoulder blades. Yoritomo has FIRED blindly, through the wall killing Algren's attacker. Nearby, a Ninja hurls a throwing star at Katsumoto. With blind instinct Katsumoto turns and takes the blade in the meat of his arm. Algren, meanwhile, has ripped the sleeve of his kimono into a tourniquet for his maimed hand. He uses the rest of the fabric TO TIE HIS HAND TO HIS SWORD before launching himself back into the fray -- slicing an attacker just as he is about to impale Katsumoto. Together, he and Katsumoto force the last two Ninjas through a paper wall to the next room. They fight all the wa y through that room and BLAST through another paper wall to the next. 70. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT The battle continues unabated on the stairs -- the Ninjas spring for position with incredible grace --perching and fighting on banisters, leaping from one level to the next. It is a mayhem of flashing swords and flailing limbs and flyi ng arrows and spinning Ninja stars. Sprays of blood splatter against the white rice paper walls. Some of the fighting is less than elegant. Men bite and wrestle and gouge to survive in close quarters. All of them arc bloody and sweat y and dirty and tired, heaving for breath, their skin flayed open, their kimonos ripped, their hands and arms and faces blood-stained. But more samurai reinforcements follow Ujio up the stairs: Together with Yoritomo and Nakao, they have begun to gain the upper hand. Ujio flings both his swords through the air -- killing two Ninjas -- and dives to fight others - his martial arts skills are dazzling. Algren and Katsumoto are fighting sidc by side And we cut to -- EXT. INN NIGHT Outside of the inn, we slowl y pull away... The sounds of the battle gradually fade... Soon it is nothing more than a lovel y rustic inn nestled in the mountains. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT Later. The battle is over. Ninja and samurai corpses litter the inn. We slowl y move up the long stairwa y from the bottom... Yoritomo pulls a Ninja star from Nakao's_shou1der. Then one from his own. We move up another level, past more bodies... Ujio moves through the Ninjas. Making sure they are dead. Before sheathing his sword, he angrily FLICKS it at the rice paper wall, spattering it with the bloody spray. Katsumoto wipes his sword on a nearby corpse, replaces it in its sheath. He sits beside Algren on a stair. Both men are exhausted. Bloodied. Alive. A long beat as we watch the two warriors. Slow fade to... 71. EXT. TOKYO -- IMPERIAL PALACE DAY Algren, Katsumoto and the others are nearing the palace. Algren slows to a stop -- his path is toward the city. Katsumoto stops, looks at him, then does something absolutel y extraordinary. He kneels and bows before Algren. Quickly touching his head to the dirt. Then he rises, turns and walks toward the palace. Algren stands, stunned. EXT. PARADE GROUND DAY Algren walks onto the parade ground. The change he sees could not be more remarkable. Thousands of new Japanese troops are drilling with new bolt-action Mausers. They are precise, exact and frighteningly mechanistic, their uniforms new and crisp. New German advisors are barking commands. Colonel Bagley sees him. BAGLEY Algren? My God, you never cease to astonish. Bagley runs over, hand extended, but Algren turns to look at the troops. ALGREN They have new weapons. BAGLEY The Kaiser was only too happy to help. Along with his friends at Mauser and Krupp. Thank God we Americans still have a few teeth in our head. And they come to the "teeth." Howitzer cannons. A row of them. Artillery officers in US Army uniforms arc instructing Japanese offi cers. BAGLEY The ambassador and I have spent eight months kissing Omura's ass so he'll sign the damn trade pact with us. You spent all this time living with those savages? (A1gren looks at him) He's going to want to talk to you... ALGREN I need a bath. BAGLEY And your back pay, I imagine. Algren starts walking away. 72. BAGLEY They got their flag. ...See? And we see it... snapping on I flagpole high above the parade ground. It is immediately familiar. A red circle on a white field. The Rising Sun. The Howitzers fire in sequence. Thundering blasts that shake the heavens. EXT, ROYAL TEMPLE DAY Omura stands above Emperor Meiji respectful but persistent. The Emperor is kneeling, tending to his iris garden. It is one of the wonders of the Palace: a sea of white, pink, blue, and purple blossoms. Retainers and servants stand at a distance. One holds a standard with the Imperial seal: a yellow chrysanthemum. Omura sees Katsumoto making his way toward them. He talks a bit more quickly to the Emperor. Katsumoto begins to prostrate himself before the Emperor, the usual sign of extreme respect -- but the Emperor stops him: EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori-san. We arc "civilized" now. Katsumoto stops prostrating himself. The Emperor offers his hand. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) I cannot touch the Sacred One. EMPEROR (subtitles) You can. It is a difficult moment for Katsumoto. He simply cannot do It. OMURA (subtitles) Did you have a pleasant journey, Minister Katsumoto? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It was uneventful. Omura appreciates Katsumoto's droll response. He assumes that Katsumoto is aware of his part in the assassination attempt. 73. EMPEROR (subtitles) If it is not a great imposition. I desire a moment alone with Minister Katsumoto. Omura-San. OMURA (subtitles) Enlightened One, perhaps I can be of service in a conversation of state. EMPEROR (subtitles) So kind of you, but I fear my old teacher wishes to upbraid me in private for neglecting my studies. Omura bows his head quickly and goes. Silence. The Emperor gazes at Katsumoto. Then: EMPEROR (subtitles) You rise against me, my teacher. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) No, Highness, I rise against your enemies. EMPEROR (subtitles) They are my teacher, my advisers, like you. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) They advise in their own interest. EMPEROR (subtitles) The world is changing, Mori -- you have not seen what goes on beyond our borders, the inventions, the science. I need men who can look outward, or soon we will be left behind, and defenseless. KATSUM OTO (subtitles) I am sworn to defend you even to my last breath. EMPEROR (subtit1es) The samurai live in the past. You cannot defend against a future you don't understand. 74. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) If I am no use, then I will happily end my life, EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori. It is my wish that you rejoin the Council of State. I need your voice. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It is your voice that needs to be heard, Highness. You are a living God, you can do what ever you think is right. The young emperor is silent a moment. EMPEROR (subtitles) I am a living God only as long as I do what they think is right. KATSUMOTO (subtitle) Your Highness, may I beg forgiveness for saying what a teacher must, that such a statement is pathetic drivel not worthy of an ignorant stable boy, let alone a young man I know to have some modest intelligence. The emperor laughs warmly, almost happy to be scolded as he once was. EMPEROR (subtitles) Is it possible a living God can be too afraid to make his voice heard? (Katsumoto's look is not unkind) Tell me what to do, Mori-San? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) You are emperor, my Lord, not me. You must find the wisdom for all of us. EXT. YOKOHAMA WHARF DAY A series of warehouses, beyond which we see warships in the harbor. A1gren walks with Bagley and two other OFFICERS. INT. WAREHOUSE DAY The cavernous warehouse piled high with huge crates. 75. BAGLEY As soon as they sign the agreement, they're obligated to buy the entire weapons package, from Colt revol vers to Ha1liwell twelve-pounders. Plus this particular item you might recognize. A few stevedores tear open one of the crates. Algren hides his astonishment: A Gatling Gun is revealed. BAGLEY They've been calibrated to fire 200 rounds a minute, The new copper cartridges cut down on jamming. Algren closes his eyes, trying to keep his memories at bay. EXT. TOKYO STREETS DAY Algren fights the crowds with Colonel Bagley And Ambassador Swanbeck.. ALGREN (V.O.) May 15, 1877. The city I return to is immeasurabl y changed New construction ever ywhere. Telegraph wires strung next to an ancient temple. A modern European hotel is going up, dwarfing the traditional Japanese buildings. Huge billboards advertising Western goods. A new invention, the rickshaw, has replaced many of the palanquins. ALGREN (V.O.) As though Tokyo were determined to become another New York or Chicago .- all in one headlong rush. Spider's web of telegraph cables spread from a tall new brick building. It is like a New York office building stabbing into the heart of old Japan. The familiar Omura character is emblazoned on the side. .INT. OFFICES OF THE OMURA ZAIBATSU DAY Aside from the occasional bit of Japanese decor, this could be a buzzing Wall Street firm. Telegraph operators click away. Accountants use adding machines. Secretaries use pneumatic tubes to send documents back and forth. Engineers plot out railway lines. All are dressed in Western clothes. Algren, Colonel Bagley, and Ambassador Swanbeck enter. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK (to Algren) If he asks, you can talk about ordnance and tactics. But remember, this has to do with a lot more than just weapons. 76. An anteroom holds waiting delegations from the various European powers. A babel of language. ... French ...Dutch ...Russian ...German. A pretty American secretary looks up from her desk. SECRETARY Ambassador Swanbeck, if you'll follow me. Some of the delegates arc craning forward, watching Algren and the others hungrily as they head into the final office. INT. OMURA'S OFFICE DAY Omura stands like an industrial titan before large picture windows offering a dramatic view of Tokyo. The only decoration in the room is an enormous Caravaggio. OMURA Please, sit down, gentlemen. Omura removes a gold cigarette case and lights up. Cigarettes are the newest Western fad Sweeping Japan. OMURA (re: cigarette case) A gift from Czar Alexander... Captain Algren,. it seems you have endured your captivity with little ill-effect. ALGREN Yes, sir. OMURA He's an extraordinary man, isn't he? ALGREN He is samurai. Omura gazes at him. Slowl y takes I puff from his cigarette. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Mr. Omura, my people have been drawing up the documents we discussed. I have a draft-- OMURA We're not quite ready to announce the treaty, Ambassador. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Excuse me? OMURA The Emperor is...sentimental. Katsumoto was his old mentor-- he is not eager to offend him. It will take I few more days. 77. AMBASSJ\DOR SW ANBECK How many da ys is " a few?" OMURA I assure you the Samurai will not stand in the wa y of our agreement. You are prepared to make deliver y? AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Soon as your emperor signs on the dotted line. OMURA Captain Algren you are the expert. Will this array of ordnance be sufficient? ALGREN Depends on what you're trying to accomplish. OMURA I want my country to take its place as a modern power. ALGREN Then they will set you well on your way. OMURA I am pleased. AMDASSADOR SW ANBECK Mr. Omura, you assured us you had the influence with your emperor to make this deal come to pass. With all due respect perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to. OMURA With all due respect, Ambassador, perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to, for instance the French. Or the English. Or any of the legations waiting in the next room. Ambassador Swan beck stands swallowing his rage. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Yes, we1l, we look forward to hearing from you. OMURA Good afternoon, gentlemen. They start to go. OMURA Captain Algren, perhaps you can stay a moment And tell me of your experiences in our rebellious provinces. Bagley looks at Algren. Do as he asks. He leaves A1gren alone with Omura. 78. OMURA Cigarette? ALGREN Thank you. Omura lights his cigarette. A moment as he takes Algren's measure. OMURA You fought bravely on behalf of our army-- against the rebel Katsumoto. Algren says nothing. . OMURA And yet you helped save his life when attacked by the Ninja. ALGREN My role was much less significant than you may have heard. OMURA Tell me about your role in Katsumoto's plans. ALGREN I have none. OMURA And your sympathies? ALGREN Again, I have none. OMURA I know you have little sympathy for Colonel Bagley. ALGREN He is.... unsympathetic. Omura smiles. OMURA I thought it was we who are inscrutable. Now it is Algren who smiles. OMURA You have gained important knowledge of Katsumoto's province, his army, and his rebellion. This is extremely valuable to me. He watches Algren to see how this lands. 79. OMURA You also possess significant knowledge of m y army, my weaponry, and my plans. This is extremely va1uable to Katsumoto. ALGREN Again, you flatter me. OMURA No. I am a businessman. I recognize what is valuable. And I buy it. (looks at him) In this case, I value your loyalt y. Algren considers the implications of what Omura is saying. ALGREN I didn't know loyalt y was something that could be sold. OMURA Then perhaps you will give it, as a token of future friendship - for which, as a friend, I would be in your debt. ALGREN (stands) Then I will consider it. OMURA And I will be grateful. INT. SHIPPING OFFICE DAY Algren is in a shipping office. A clerk consults his schedule of departure. CLERK All righteee, the ANDREW JACKSON leaves tomorrow if you want a steamship you'll have to wait six weeks. (Algren is silent) Gets ya to Frisco by the 28th. 14 dollars for a private cabin, 8 for a shared or 3 for a lower berth. What can I put you down for? Algren is silent, concentrating on a calendar hanging behind the clerk. It features a beautiful Hiroshigi watercolor of mountains. CLERK Sir..? ALGREN (after a moment) Private cabin. 80. EXT. TOKYO STREET DAY Graham walks with Algren. GRAHAM Leave? Wh y would you leave now? No white man has ever been in your position. Do you have any idea what it will mean to have Omura as your friend? You want land, you want women, you want boys? Algren starts to walk faster, but Graham Stops him. GRAHAM Nathan. I wanted to leave, too. For three years. You must believe me there is a majest y about these people -- can you imagine what your own country would be if it had half the drive and the discipline and the belief and the bravery of these ridiculous little people? Then raised voices from across the street stop them. They see Yoritomo surrounded by four Imperial Army soldiers. The soldiers are rough and imperious, drunk with power. They carry gleaming rifle.. The soldiers bark orders. Yoritomo stands proudly, responding calmly. ALGREN Whit is this? GRAHAM My God, it's the edicts... ALGREN What edicts? Algren arrives as the situation is clearly growing volatile - the soldiers are pointing to Yoritomo's head, screaming Algren steps toward the soldiers-- ALGREN That's enough-- One of the soldiers SCREAMS at him -- raises his rifle -- all the soldiers raise their rifles Yoritomo reaches for his sword -- Algren tries to push through - 81. ALGREN (subtitles) YORITOMO, WAIT! One of the soldiers smacks Algren in the chin with a rifle butt. Algren reels, and by the time he stands straight again, four others are pointing their ba yonets at his face. Graham takes hold of Algren's arm. GRAHAM Don't be stupid. Algren makes eye contact with Yoritomo, who -- in deference to his friend -- puts his sword away. The Japanese soldiers continue to scream at Yoritomo. They force him to his knees. Rifles pressed to his head. Yoritomo bows his bead, speaking quietly, as if praying. Algren witches in horror all one of the soldiers removes his bayonet -- another grab. Yoritomo's hair, jerks his head back and begins hacking off Yoritomo's traditional top-knot of hair. Brutally. Blood. Yoritomo remains kneeling, head down, blood flowing down his face. The soldiers laugh and move off. Algren kneels by Yoritomo. Yoritomo looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes. EXT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Katsumoto's house on the outskirts of Tokyo is spacious and harmonious. Utterly Japanese. Samurai guards in full regalia, stand menacingly outside. INT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Ujio kneels with Yoritomo, dressing the wounds on his head. Graham sits across the room talking quietly to the mammoth Nakao, taking notes in a small notebook. Nakao has been brutally shorn of his top knot as well. His shame is apparent. INT. KATSUMOTO'S CHAMBER DUSK Servants he1p dress Katsumoto in his exacting samurai wardrobe as Algren is ushered in. KATSUMOTO Captain, I had not thought to see you again. 82. ALGREN I'm leaving tomorrow. But before I go I need to tell you what's going on here. KATSUMOTO You mean the Gatling Guns and the howitzers, is that how you sa y it? ALGREN They're about to close a trade agreement that will bring this country more weapons than you can imagine. KATSUMOTO Yes, if the emperor agrees - but Omura knows the Emperor must be convinced there is cause to need those weapons before be will sign. ALGREN (realizing) And you are to be the cause... KATSUMOTO Elegant, isn't it? Omura passes laws

both

How many times the word 'both' appears in the text?

wracking his body. EXT. VILLAGE DAY As Algren returns with the water, he sees Katsumoto approaching with Ujio and several warriors. KATSUMOTO The Emperor has requested my presence. We leave tomorrow. You will be released in Tokyo. He goes. Algren stands, not sure how to react. INT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE NIGHT Algren writes on parchment by the light of an oil lamp. ALGREN (V.O.) April 13, 1877. Tomorrow we return to civilization. As eager as I am to be among my own kind, I confess to a curious reluctance. EXT. KATDUMOTO'S VILLAGE DAWN Algren stands overlooking the village as the sun rises over the misty peaks. ALGREN (V.O.) These months have marked me, and I don't fully know yet wh y. EXT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE DAY Algren prepares to mount up. Yoritomo says goodbye to his family. ALGREN (V.O.) I do know it is here that I have known my first untroubled sleep in many years. Taka comes to Algren, bows her head. TAKA (subtitles) You are alwa ys welcome in our home. ALGREN Domo Arrigato. He glances at the unfinished house. 62. ALGREN (subtitles) ...You will finish it soon. TAKA (subtitles) If that is my destiny. She bows her head again. Toshiie hands him a scroll: it is a picture of the Family. Algren is included. Japanese characters list all their names. Toshiie bows. Algren bows and tucks the scroll into his coat. Algren and Yoritomo move out with Katsumoto, Ujio, Nakao and his bodyguard of several dozen Samurai. The villagers bow and honor the warrior as they pass. EXT. MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE DAY Algren trots alongside Katsumoto. ALGREN ... The Emperor sends a message for you to return to Tokyo, and you go? KATSUMOTO Yes. ALGREN Even though you're in rebellion against him. KATSUMOTO Against the Emperor? Never. I serve him. As I have alwa ys done. . ALGREN I don't understand. KATSUMOTO Our Emperor is young, and there are things I must sa y to him. ALGREN But ever yone around him wants you dead. KA TSUMOTO And if the Emperor desires, I will take my own life at his command. He spurs his horse and rides on. A1gren watches him. 63. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET They approach a large inn. A boy working in the fields see Katsumoto approaching. He doesn't believe it -- the Great Katsumoto. He drops his hoe and races awa y, calling out. KATSUMOTO We will stop here for the night. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET Samurai guards have been posted around the perimeter. INT. KATSUMOTO'S RQOM NIGHT Algren is escorted in. Katsumoto kneels at a table. Preparing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Sit, Captain. Algren sits. By now he has learned how to sit on the ground. Katsumoto begins the exacting, delicate and precise tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Do you drink tea? ALGREN I've had little else for some time... Katsumoto continues with the tea ceremony. ALGREN How's your poem coming? KATSUMOTO I am having trouble. The truth is I am not a very good poet. (Algren smiles) Do you know wh y you were sent here? To Yoshino. ALGREN To protect the railroad. . KATSUMOTO Why is the railroad here? ALGREN So Tokyo can control the whole country. 64. KATSUMOTO You have seen my province. All mountains. Far from Tokyo. Yet the rail line must come here? Katsumoto tosses a tiny bit of coal on the simmering brazier on the table. Algren watches carefully. ALGREN You have something they want KATSUMOTO What do they want in my mountains? ALGREN Minerals ... Gold. KA TSUMOTO (smiles) There is no gold in Japan. Katsumoto gently blows on the coal brazier. The coal flares a bit. ALGREN Coal? (Katsumoto looks at him) For steamships. KA TSUMOTO And why would steamships be so important? ALGREN ...China. Katsumoto looks up at him. Impressed. KATSUMOTO Japan has nothing. China has ever ything. ALGREN Mine the coal to create a way station for the trip to China ... Freeze the Europeans out and Japan and America have a monopol y on the China trade. KATSUMOTO Add to this the Omura Zaibatsu. You know the Zaibatus? ALGREN The wealthy families. 65. KATSUMOTO As patron of the railroad, Omura owns all land within four hundred feet of ever y new rail line. As my country grows, so will his wealth. (looks at him) This is why you are fighting. Katsumoto completes the tea ceremony. He pours a cup for Algren. Bows his head and offers it to him. ALGREN And you will tell the emperor to stop them? KATSUMOTO I do not tell the emperor what to do. ALGREN Then what do you hope to accomplish? Katsumoto looks at Algren, the slightest gleam in his eye. KATSUMOTO Will you return to America? Algren watches him -- why didn't Katsumoto answer? ALGREN ...I have a job here. KATSUMOTO You should return to your home. ALGREN Why? KATSUMOTO Because I do not wish you to be m y enemy again. Katsumoto returns to his poem, he does not look up. KATSUMOTO Go home Captain ... Anshinritsumai. I wish you peace. Algren waits but Katsumoto just continues to work on his poem. EXT. AROUND THE INN NIGHT The samurai guards are alert, their senses heightened to almost superhuman proportions. But there is another way. Another way of learning combat. A wa y without the beaut y, the philosophy and the moral code. They are almost imperceptible at first... their head-to-toe black clothes a perfect camouflage... their silence and stealth are otherworldly. 66. They were then known as Shinobi, masters of stealth and spying. We know them as Ninjas. They float across the ground ... creeping an inch ever y hour... complete physica1 control. One black-gloved finger moves. Then the next... They crawl and then wait Poised on their fingertips and toes. There is no sound as they strike. The samurai guards are garroted in an instant. Other Ninjas catch the samurai's weapons as they fall. No sound disturbs the peaceful night. EXT. INN -- FRONT DOORWAY NIGHT Silence. Two samurai guards are in position. One of them glances up at the stars. A Ninja throwing star instantly slices into his jugular-- blood sprays -- the other guard turns a series of Ninja slice into him... EXT. INN--WALLS NIGHT Silence. The Ninjas use mew claws to crawl up the walls like spiders. EXT. INN ROOF NIGHT Silence. A samurai guard stands at the edge of the roof. A Ninja silently moves toward him. Stops. Ten feet awa y. He pulls out a shuriken -- a small needle-shaped projectile, dips it into a sack of poison. Places it carefully into the palm of his hand. And with the flick of his wrist-- The needle flies -- stabbing into the samurai -- he crumples. Other Ninjas immediately pour over the edge of the roof -- catching the samurai before he falls... INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. 67. Katsumoto cannot sleep. He stares out the window at a nightingale. INT. INN--UJIO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Ujio sits in his room. He is unblinking. Alert. Swords at the ready. INT. INN ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Algren cannot sleep either. He sits leaning against a wall. Thinking. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Silence. Yoritomo drinks tea with Nakao, the huge martial arts master. INT. OUTSIDE KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT A guard stands sentinel. Above his head, unbeknownst to him, two Ninjas descend on ropes. One of them swings a long chain - to which I barbed-knife is attached. As it lodges in the guard's chest, the second Ninja swings down just in time to catch the dead guard, silently, before his body hits the ground. INT. INN -- KATSUMQTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Katsumoto lies in bed listening to the night bird. It stops singing. Katsumoto smiles sadly. He decides to give up on sleep, leans forward to rise. This act saves his life. For when the Ninjas come, they come all at once-- A Ninja suddenly comes TEARING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE PAPER WALL, his sword slashing down .- just missing Katsumoto. Katsumoto calls out an alarm, diving and rolling across the floor for his sword. He instantly kills one Ninja using his steel-tipped "war fan" to slash his attackers throat. Another smashes in through the window. INT. INN -- MAIN H ALL NIGHT Ninjas EXPLODE into the main hall. Samurai who come out of their rooms are cut down by a variety of weapons -- one takes a throwing star in the face, others are felled by the traditional ninja-to, short swords ideal for fighting in confined spaces, chain-knives, nun-chaka and others. 68. More Ninjas drop from the rafters on ropes. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT A Ninja SMASHES through the paper wall -- Algren grabs the nearest object, a low tea table. and swings it at his head. The Ninja dodges the blow and slices at Algren with short-sword. Algren barely avoids the blow by ducking behind a post as the sword LODGES deep in the wood. Algren flings himself, bodily, at his attacker. INT. INN-- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ninja throwing stars spin across the room, killing a samurai. Yoritomo emerges from his room, readying his bow, but the dead samurai falls back blocking his wa y. From behind the rice wall, Yoritomo lets fly an arrow without even looking. It passes THROUGH the wall, killing the Ninja on the opposite balcony. INT. INN-- FIRST FLOOR NIGHT Ujio screams a war cry and begins to battle his way up the stairs. With breathtaking moves, he slashes hands and limbs, forcing the Ninja back. Nakao fights his wa y up beside him, desperately trying to reach Katsumoto's room. Using only his bare hands he catches a Ninja's wrist and hurls him over the railing. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Algren and the Ninja are in a death struggle, kneeing, gouging, butting. They awkwardly smash through a paper wall into the next room. INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto wields his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. It is the first time we have seen him in action and his movements are both beautiful and deadly. But more Ninjas are pouring in through the window, threatening to overwhelm him. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Rolling on the ground, Algren manages to grab a chopstick and STAB his adversary through the eye. He picks up the fallen short sword and steps out into the hall. ARROWS whiz past, thudding into the wall beside his head. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto, breathing heavily, his kimono shredded and bloody, is fending off the Ninjas' increasingly savage attacks as Algren enters. Algren SCREAMS, distracting them just long enough for Katsumoto to take advantage and kill one. 69. Then, just as a Ninja it about to kill Algren, Katsumoto FLINGS his short sword ... it pin-wheels across the room, hitting Algren's attacker in the chest. Without missing a beat, Algren pulls the short sword from the dying Ninja's chest and uses it to stab another Ninja who, thinking Algren defenseless, has launched an attack. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ujio and Nakao are back to back, a perfect fighting machine as they fight their wa y to Katsumoto's rescue. They battle Ninjas wielding lethal kusarigamas, the Ninjas swing chains, the attached blades slice the air--Nakao catches the chains and flinging the Ninja over the balcony. INT. YORITOMO'S ROOM NIGHT Yoritomo is pinned down. Darts and throwing stars shred the rice paper wall above him. He picks off another Ninja before changing his position. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT The blazing sword battle continues. Algren throws a beautiful painted standing-screen in front of an attacking Ninja, momentarily confusing him. Then he stabs THROUGH THE SCREEN -as a blood- stain SPREADS across the pastoral painting. But another Ninja catches Algren off-guard and slices at him with his short sword. As Algren lifts his sword to parry the blow, HIS LITILE FINGER IS CHOPPED OFF. He drops the sword, momentarily defenseless. Across the hallway Yoritomo has been watching the shadowpla y on the rice-paper walls. Algren's attacker raises his blade to deliver the death blow. In Katsumoto's room Algren flinches involuntarily beneath the raised blade. Suddenly the Ninja JACKKNIFES as if punched by an unseen hand. As he spins, dead, to the ground, we SEE an ARROW lodged bet ween his shoulder blades. Yoritomo has FIRED blindly, through the wall killing Algren's attacker. Nearby, a Ninja hurls a throwing star at Katsumoto. With blind instinct Katsumoto turns and takes the blade in the meat of his arm. Algren, meanwhile, has ripped the sleeve of his kimono into a tourniquet for his maimed hand. He uses the rest of the fabric TO TIE HIS HAND TO HIS SWORD before launching himself back into the fray -- slicing an attacker just as he is about to impale Katsumoto. Together, he and Katsumoto force the last two Ninjas through a paper wall to the next room. They fight all the wa y through that room and BLAST through another paper wall to the next. 70. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT The battle continues unabated on the stairs -- the Ninjas spring for position with incredible grace --perching and fighting on banisters, leaping from one level to the next. It is a mayhem of flashing swords and flailing limbs and flyi ng arrows and spinning Ninja stars. Sprays of blood splatter against the white rice paper walls. Some of the fighting is less than elegant. Men bite and wrestle and gouge to survive in close quarters. All of them arc bloody and sweat y and dirty and tired, heaving for breath, their skin flayed open, their kimonos ripped, their hands and arms and faces blood-stained. But more samurai reinforcements follow Ujio up the stairs: Together with Yoritomo and Nakao, they have begun to gain the upper hand. Ujio flings both his swords through the air -- killing two Ninjas -- and dives to fight others - his martial arts skills are dazzling. Algren and Katsumoto are fighting sidc by side And we cut to -- EXT. INN NIGHT Outside of the inn, we slowl y pull away... The sounds of the battle gradually fade... Soon it is nothing more than a lovel y rustic inn nestled in the mountains. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT Later. The battle is over. Ninja and samurai corpses litter the inn. We slowl y move up the long stairwa y from the bottom... Yoritomo pulls a Ninja star from Nakao's_shou1der. Then one from his own. We move up another level, past more bodies... Ujio moves through the Ninjas. Making sure they are dead. Before sheathing his sword, he angrily FLICKS it at the rice paper wall, spattering it with the bloody spray. Katsumoto wipes his sword on a nearby corpse, replaces it in its sheath. He sits beside Algren on a stair. Both men are exhausted. Bloodied. Alive. A long beat as we watch the two warriors. Slow fade to... 71. EXT. TOKYO -- IMPERIAL PALACE DAY Algren, Katsumoto and the others are nearing the palace. Algren slows to a stop -- his path is toward the city. Katsumoto stops, looks at him, then does something absolutel y extraordinary. He kneels and bows before Algren. Quickly touching his head to the dirt. Then he rises, turns and walks toward the palace. Algren stands, stunned. EXT. PARADE GROUND DAY Algren walks onto the parade ground. The change he sees could not be more remarkable. Thousands of new Japanese troops are drilling with new bolt-action Mausers. They are precise, exact and frighteningly mechanistic, their uniforms new and crisp. New German advisors are barking commands. Colonel Bagley sees him. BAGLEY Algren? My God, you never cease to astonish. Bagley runs over, hand extended, but Algren turns to look at the troops. ALGREN They have new weapons. BAGLEY The Kaiser was only too happy to help. Along with his friends at Mauser and Krupp. Thank God we Americans still have a few teeth in our head. And they come to the "teeth." Howitzer cannons. A row of them. Artillery officers in US Army uniforms arc instructing Japanese offi cers. BAGLEY The ambassador and I have spent eight months kissing Omura's ass so he'll sign the damn trade pact with us. You spent all this time living with those savages? (A1gren looks at him) He's going to want to talk to you... ALGREN I need a bath. BAGLEY And your back pay, I imagine. Algren starts walking away. 72. BAGLEY They got their flag. ...See? And we see it... snapping on I flagpole high above the parade ground. It is immediately familiar. A red circle on a white field. The Rising Sun. The Howitzers fire in sequence. Thundering blasts that shake the heavens. EXT, ROYAL TEMPLE DAY Omura stands above Emperor Meiji respectful but persistent. The Emperor is kneeling, tending to his iris garden. It is one of the wonders of the Palace: a sea of white, pink, blue, and purple blossoms. Retainers and servants stand at a distance. One holds a standard with the Imperial seal: a yellow chrysanthemum. Omura sees Katsumoto making his way toward them. He talks a bit more quickly to the Emperor. Katsumoto begins to prostrate himself before the Emperor, the usual sign of extreme respect -- but the Emperor stops him: EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori-san. We arc "civilized" now. Katsumoto stops prostrating himself. The Emperor offers his hand. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) I cannot touch the Sacred One. EMPEROR (subtitles) You can. It is a difficult moment for Katsumoto. He simply cannot do It. OMURA (subtitles) Did you have a pleasant journey, Minister Katsumoto? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It was uneventful. Omura appreciates Katsumoto's droll response. He assumes that Katsumoto is aware of his part in the assassination attempt. 73. EMPEROR (subtitles) If it is not a great imposition. I desire a moment alone with Minister Katsumoto. Omura-San. OMURA (subtitles) Enlightened One, perhaps I can be of service in a conversation of state. EMPEROR (subtitles) So kind of you, but I fear my old teacher wishes to upbraid me in private for neglecting my studies. Omura bows his head quickly and goes. Silence. The Emperor gazes at Katsumoto. Then: EMPEROR (subtitles) You rise against me, my teacher. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) No, Highness, I rise against your enemies. EMPEROR (subtitles) They are my teacher, my advisers, like you. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) They advise in their own interest. EMPEROR (subtitles) The world is changing, Mori -- you have not seen what goes on beyond our borders, the inventions, the science. I need men who can look outward, or soon we will be left behind, and defenseless. KATSUM OTO (subtitles) I am sworn to defend you even to my last breath. EMPEROR (subtit1es) The samurai live in the past. You cannot defend against a future you don't understand. 74. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) If I am no use, then I will happily end my life, EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori. It is my wish that you rejoin the Council of State. I need your voice. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It is your voice that needs to be heard, Highness. You are a living God, you can do what ever you think is right. The young emperor is silent a moment. EMPEROR (subtitles) I am a living God only as long as I do what they think is right. KATSUMOTO (subtitle) Your Highness, may I beg forgiveness for saying what a teacher must, that such a statement is pathetic drivel not worthy of an ignorant stable boy, let alone a young man I know to have some modest intelligence. The emperor laughs warmly, almost happy to be scolded as he once was. EMPEROR (subtitles) Is it possible a living God can be too afraid to make his voice heard? (Katsumoto's look is not unkind) Tell me what to do, Mori-San? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) You are emperor, my Lord, not me. You must find the wisdom for all of us. EXT. YOKOHAMA WHARF DAY A series of warehouses, beyond which we see warships in the harbor. A1gren walks with Bagley and two other OFFICERS. INT. WAREHOUSE DAY The cavernous warehouse piled high with huge crates. 75. BAGLEY As soon as they sign the agreement, they're obligated to buy the entire weapons package, from Colt revol vers to Ha1liwell twelve-pounders. Plus this particular item you might recognize. A few stevedores tear open one of the crates. Algren hides his astonishment: A Gatling Gun is revealed. BAGLEY They've been calibrated to fire 200 rounds a minute, The new copper cartridges cut down on jamming. Algren closes his eyes, trying to keep his memories at bay. EXT. TOKYO STREETS DAY Algren fights the crowds with Colonel Bagley And Ambassador Swanbeck.. ALGREN (V.O.) May 15, 1877. The city I return to is immeasurabl y changed New construction ever ywhere. Telegraph wires strung next to an ancient temple. A modern European hotel is going up, dwarfing the traditional Japanese buildings. Huge billboards advertising Western goods. A new invention, the rickshaw, has replaced many of the palanquins. ALGREN (V.O.) As though Tokyo were determined to become another New York or Chicago .- all in one headlong rush. Spider's web of telegraph cables spread from a tall new brick building. It is like a New York office building stabbing into the heart of old Japan. The familiar Omura character is emblazoned on the side. .INT. OFFICES OF THE OMURA ZAIBATSU DAY Aside from the occasional bit of Japanese decor, this could be a buzzing Wall Street firm. Telegraph operators click away. Accountants use adding machines. Secretaries use pneumatic tubes to send documents back and forth. Engineers plot out railway lines. All are dressed in Western clothes. Algren, Colonel Bagley, and Ambassador Swanbeck enter. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK (to Algren) If he asks, you can talk about ordnance and tactics. But remember, this has to do with a lot more than just weapons. 76. An anteroom holds waiting delegations from the various European powers. A babel of language. ... French ...Dutch ...Russian ...German. A pretty American secretary looks up from her desk. SECRETARY Ambassador Swanbeck, if you'll follow me. Some of the delegates arc craning forward, watching Algren and the others hungrily as they head into the final office. INT. OMURA'S OFFICE DAY Omura stands like an industrial titan before large picture windows offering a dramatic view of Tokyo. The only decoration in the room is an enormous Caravaggio. OMURA Please, sit down, gentlemen. Omura removes a gold cigarette case and lights up. Cigarettes are the newest Western fad Sweeping Japan. OMURA (re: cigarette case) A gift from Czar Alexander... Captain Algren,. it seems you have endured your captivity with little ill-effect. ALGREN Yes, sir. OMURA He's an extraordinary man, isn't he? ALGREN He is samurai. Omura gazes at him. Slowl y takes I puff from his cigarette. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Mr. Omura, my people have been drawing up the documents we discussed. I have a draft-- OMURA We're not quite ready to announce the treaty, Ambassador. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Excuse me? OMURA The Emperor is...sentimental. Katsumoto was his old mentor-- he is not eager to offend him. It will take I few more days. 77. AMBASSJ\DOR SW ANBECK How many da ys is " a few?" OMURA I assure you the Samurai will not stand in the wa y of our agreement. You are prepared to make deliver y? AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Soon as your emperor signs on the dotted line. OMURA Captain Algren you are the expert. Will this array of ordnance be sufficient? ALGREN Depends on what you're trying to accomplish. OMURA I want my country to take its place as a modern power. ALGREN Then they will set you well on your way. OMURA I am pleased. AMDASSADOR SW ANBECK Mr. Omura, you assured us you had the influence with your emperor to make this deal come to pass. With all due respect perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to. OMURA With all due respect, Ambassador, perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to, for instance the French. Or the English. Or any of the legations waiting in the next room. Ambassador Swan beck stands swallowing his rage. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Yes, we1l, we look forward to hearing from you. OMURA Good afternoon, gentlemen. They start to go. OMURA Captain Algren, perhaps you can stay a moment And tell me of your experiences in our rebellious provinces. Bagley looks at Algren. Do as he asks. He leaves A1gren alone with Omura. 78. OMURA Cigarette? ALGREN Thank you. Omura lights his cigarette. A moment as he takes Algren's measure. OMURA You fought bravely on behalf of our army-- against the rebel Katsumoto. Algren says nothing. . OMURA And yet you helped save his life when attacked by the Ninja. ALGREN My role was much less significant than you may have heard. OMURA Tell me about your role in Katsumoto's plans. ALGREN I have none. OMURA And your sympathies? ALGREN Again, I have none. OMURA I know you have little sympathy for Colonel Bagley. ALGREN He is.... unsympathetic. Omura smiles. OMURA I thought it was we who are inscrutable. Now it is Algren who smiles. OMURA You have gained important knowledge of Katsumoto's province, his army, and his rebellion. This is extremely valuable to me. He watches Algren to see how this lands. 79. OMURA You also possess significant knowledge of m y army, my weaponry, and my plans. This is extremely va1uable to Katsumoto. ALGREN Again, you flatter me. OMURA No. I am a businessman. I recognize what is valuable. And I buy it. (looks at him) In this case, I value your loyalt y. Algren considers the implications of what Omura is saying. ALGREN I didn't know loyalt y was something that could be sold. OMURA Then perhaps you will give it, as a token of future friendship - for which, as a friend, I would be in your debt. ALGREN (stands) Then I will consider it. OMURA And I will be grateful. INT. SHIPPING OFFICE DAY Algren is in a shipping office. A clerk consults his schedule of departure. CLERK All righteee, the ANDREW JACKSON leaves tomorrow if you want a steamship you'll have to wait six weeks. (Algren is silent) Gets ya to Frisco by the 28th. 14 dollars for a private cabin, 8 for a shared or 3 for a lower berth. What can I put you down for? Algren is silent, concentrating on a calendar hanging behind the clerk. It features a beautiful Hiroshigi watercolor of mountains. CLERK Sir..? ALGREN (after a moment) Private cabin. 80. EXT. TOKYO STREET DAY Graham walks with Algren. GRAHAM Leave? Wh y would you leave now? No white man has ever been in your position. Do you have any idea what it will mean to have Omura as your friend? You want land, you want women, you want boys? Algren starts to walk faster, but Graham Stops him. GRAHAM Nathan. I wanted to leave, too. For three years. You must believe me there is a majest y about these people -- can you imagine what your own country would be if it had half the drive and the discipline and the belief and the bravery of these ridiculous little people? Then raised voices from across the street stop them. They see Yoritomo surrounded by four Imperial Army soldiers. The soldiers are rough and imperious, drunk with power. They carry gleaming rifle.. The soldiers bark orders. Yoritomo stands proudly, responding calmly. ALGREN Whit is this? GRAHAM My God, it's the edicts... ALGREN What edicts? Algren arrives as the situation is clearly growing volatile - the soldiers are pointing to Yoritomo's head, screaming Algren steps toward the soldiers-- ALGREN That's enough-- One of the soldiers SCREAMS at him -- raises his rifle -- all the soldiers raise their rifles Yoritomo reaches for his sword -- Algren tries to push through - 81. ALGREN (subtitles) YORITOMO, WAIT! One of the soldiers smacks Algren in the chin with a rifle butt. Algren reels, and by the time he stands straight again, four others are pointing their ba yonets at his face. Graham takes hold of Algren's arm. GRAHAM Don't be stupid. Algren makes eye contact with Yoritomo, who -- in deference to his friend -- puts his sword away. The Japanese soldiers continue to scream at Yoritomo. They force him to his knees. Rifles pressed to his head. Yoritomo bows his bead, speaking quietly, as if praying. Algren witches in horror all one of the soldiers removes his bayonet -- another grab. Yoritomo's hair, jerks his head back and begins hacking off Yoritomo's traditional top-knot of hair. Brutally. Blood. Yoritomo remains kneeling, head down, blood flowing down his face. The soldiers laugh and move off. Algren kneels by Yoritomo. Yoritomo looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes. EXT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Katsumoto's house on the outskirts of Tokyo is spacious and harmonious. Utterly Japanese. Samurai guards in full regalia, stand menacingly outside. INT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Ujio kneels with Yoritomo, dressing the wounds on his head. Graham sits across the room talking quietly to the mammoth Nakao, taking notes in a small notebook. Nakao has been brutally shorn of his top knot as well. His shame is apparent. INT. KATSUMOTO'S CHAMBER DUSK Servants he1p dress Katsumoto in his exacting samurai wardrobe as Algren is ushered in. KATSUMOTO Captain, I had not thought to see you again. 82. ALGREN I'm leaving tomorrow. But before I go I need to tell you what's going on here. KATSUMOTO You mean the Gatling Guns and the howitzers, is that how you sa y it? ALGREN They're about to close a trade agreement that will bring this country more weapons than you can imagine. KATSUMOTO Yes, if the emperor agrees - but Omura knows the Emperor must be convinced there is cause to need those weapons before be will sign. ALGREN (realizing) And you are to be the cause... KATSUMOTO Elegant, isn't it? Omura passes laws

sits

How many times the word 'sits' appears in the text?

wracking his body. EXT. VILLAGE DAY As Algren returns with the water, he sees Katsumoto approaching with Ujio and several warriors. KATSUMOTO The Emperor has requested my presence. We leave tomorrow. You will be released in Tokyo. He goes. Algren stands, not sure how to react. INT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE NIGHT Algren writes on parchment by the light of an oil lamp. ALGREN (V.O.) April 13, 1877. Tomorrow we return to civilization. As eager as I am to be among my own kind, I confess to a curious reluctance. EXT. KATDUMOTO'S VILLAGE DAWN Algren stands overlooking the village as the sun rises over the misty peaks. ALGREN (V.O.) These months have marked me, and I don't fully know yet wh y. EXT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE DAY Algren prepares to mount up. Yoritomo says goodbye to his family. ALGREN (V.O.) I do know it is here that I have known my first untroubled sleep in many years. Taka comes to Algren, bows her head. TAKA (subtitles) You are alwa ys welcome in our home. ALGREN Domo Arrigato. He glances at the unfinished house. 62. ALGREN (subtitles) ...You will finish it soon. TAKA (subtitles) If that is my destiny. She bows her head again. Toshiie hands him a scroll: it is a picture of the Family. Algren is included. Japanese characters list all their names. Toshiie bows. Algren bows and tucks the scroll into his coat. Algren and Yoritomo move out with Katsumoto, Ujio, Nakao and his bodyguard of several dozen Samurai. The villagers bow and honor the warrior as they pass. EXT. MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE DAY Algren trots alongside Katsumoto. ALGREN ... The Emperor sends a message for you to return to Tokyo, and you go? KATSUMOTO Yes. ALGREN Even though you're in rebellion against him. KATSUMOTO Against the Emperor? Never. I serve him. As I have alwa ys done. . ALGREN I don't understand. KATSUMOTO Our Emperor is young, and there are things I must sa y to him. ALGREN But ever yone around him wants you dead. KA TSUMOTO And if the Emperor desires, I will take my own life at his command. He spurs his horse and rides on. A1gren watches him. 63. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET They approach a large inn. A boy working in the fields see Katsumoto approaching. He doesn't believe it -- the Great Katsumoto. He drops his hoe and races awa y, calling out. KATSUMOTO We will stop here for the night. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET Samurai guards have been posted around the perimeter. INT. KATSUMOTO'S RQOM NIGHT Algren is escorted in. Katsumoto kneels at a table. Preparing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Sit, Captain. Algren sits. By now he has learned how to sit on the ground. Katsumoto begins the exacting, delicate and precise tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Do you drink tea? ALGREN I've had little else for some time... Katsumoto continues with the tea ceremony. ALGREN How's your poem coming? KATSUMOTO I am having trouble. The truth is I am not a very good poet. (Algren smiles) Do you know wh y you were sent here? To Yoshino. ALGREN To protect the railroad. . KATSUMOTO Why is the railroad here? ALGREN So Tokyo can control the whole country. 64. KATSUMOTO You have seen my province. All mountains. Far from Tokyo. Yet the rail line must come here? Katsumoto tosses a tiny bit of coal on the simmering brazier on the table. Algren watches carefully. ALGREN You have something they want KATSUMOTO What do they want in my mountains? ALGREN Minerals ... Gold. KA TSUMOTO (smiles) There is no gold in Japan. Katsumoto gently blows on the coal brazier. The coal flares a bit. ALGREN Coal? (Katsumoto looks at him) For steamships. KA TSUMOTO And why would steamships be so important? ALGREN ...China. Katsumoto looks up at him. Impressed. KATSUMOTO Japan has nothing. China has ever ything. ALGREN Mine the coal to create a way station for the trip to China ... Freeze the Europeans out and Japan and America have a monopol y on the China trade. KATSUMOTO Add to this the Omura Zaibatsu. You know the Zaibatus? ALGREN The wealthy families. 65. KATSUMOTO As patron of the railroad, Omura owns all land within four hundred feet of ever y new rail line. As my country grows, so will his wealth. (looks at him) This is why you are fighting. Katsumoto completes the tea ceremony. He pours a cup for Algren. Bows his head and offers it to him. ALGREN And you will tell the emperor to stop them? KATSUMOTO I do not tell the emperor what to do. ALGREN Then what do you hope to accomplish? Katsumoto looks at Algren, the slightest gleam in his eye. KATSUMOTO Will you return to America? Algren watches him -- why didn't Katsumoto answer? ALGREN ...I have a job here. KATSUMOTO You should return to your home. ALGREN Why? KATSUMOTO Because I do not wish you to be m y enemy again. Katsumoto returns to his poem, he does not look up. KATSUMOTO Go home Captain ... Anshinritsumai. I wish you peace. Algren waits but Katsumoto just continues to work on his poem. EXT. AROUND THE INN NIGHT The samurai guards are alert, their senses heightened to almost superhuman proportions. But there is another way. Another way of learning combat. A wa y without the beaut y, the philosophy and the moral code. They are almost imperceptible at first... their head-to-toe black clothes a perfect camouflage... their silence and stealth are otherworldly. 66. They were then known as Shinobi, masters of stealth and spying. We know them as Ninjas. They float across the ground ... creeping an inch ever y hour... complete physica1 control. One black-gloved finger moves. Then the next... They crawl and then wait Poised on their fingertips and toes. There is no sound as they strike. The samurai guards are garroted in an instant. Other Ninjas catch the samurai's weapons as they fall. No sound disturbs the peaceful night. EXT. INN -- FRONT DOORWAY NIGHT Silence. Two samurai guards are in position. One of them glances up at the stars. A Ninja throwing star instantly slices into his jugular-- blood sprays -- the other guard turns a series of Ninja slice into him... EXT. INN--WALLS NIGHT Silence. The Ninjas use mew claws to crawl up the walls like spiders. EXT. INN ROOF NIGHT Silence. A samurai guard stands at the edge of the roof. A Ninja silently moves toward him. Stops. Ten feet awa y. He pulls out a shuriken -- a small needle-shaped projectile, dips it into a sack of poison. Places it carefully into the palm of his hand. And with the flick of his wrist-- The needle flies -- stabbing into the samurai -- he crumples. Other Ninjas immediately pour over the edge of the roof -- catching the samurai before he falls... INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. 67. Katsumoto cannot sleep. He stares out the window at a nightingale. INT. INN--UJIO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Ujio sits in his room. He is unblinking. Alert. Swords at the ready. INT. INN ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Algren cannot sleep either. He sits leaning against a wall. Thinking. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Silence. Yoritomo drinks tea with Nakao, the huge martial arts master. INT. OUTSIDE KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT A guard stands sentinel. Above his head, unbeknownst to him, two Ninjas descend on ropes. One of them swings a long chain - to which I barbed-knife is attached. As it lodges in the guard's chest, the second Ninja swings down just in time to catch the dead guard, silently, before his body hits the ground. INT. INN -- KATSUMQTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Katsumoto lies in bed listening to the night bird. It stops singing. Katsumoto smiles sadly. He decides to give up on sleep, leans forward to rise. This act saves his life. For when the Ninjas come, they come all at once-- A Ninja suddenly comes TEARING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE PAPER WALL, his sword slashing down .- just missing Katsumoto. Katsumoto calls out an alarm, diving and rolling across the floor for his sword. He instantly kills one Ninja using his steel-tipped "war fan" to slash his attackers throat. Another smashes in through the window. INT. INN -- MAIN H ALL NIGHT Ninjas EXPLODE into the main hall. Samurai who come out of their rooms are cut down by a variety of weapons -- one takes a throwing star in the face, others are felled by the traditional ninja-to, short swords ideal for fighting in confined spaces, chain-knives, nun-chaka and others. 68. More Ninjas drop from the rafters on ropes. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT A Ninja SMASHES through the paper wall -- Algren grabs the nearest object, a low tea table. and swings it at his head. The Ninja dodges the blow and slices at Algren with short-sword. Algren barely avoids the blow by ducking behind a post as the sword LODGES deep in the wood. Algren flings himself, bodily, at his attacker. INT. INN-- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ninja throwing stars spin across the room, killing a samurai. Yoritomo emerges from his room, readying his bow, but the dead samurai falls back blocking his wa y. From behind the rice wall, Yoritomo lets fly an arrow without even looking. It passes THROUGH the wall, killing the Ninja on the opposite balcony. INT. INN-- FIRST FLOOR NIGHT Ujio screams a war cry and begins to battle his way up the stairs. With breathtaking moves, he slashes hands and limbs, forcing the Ninja back. Nakao fights his wa y up beside him, desperately trying to reach Katsumoto's room. Using only his bare hands he catches a Ninja's wrist and hurls him over the railing. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Algren and the Ninja are in a death struggle, kneeing, gouging, butting. They awkwardly smash through a paper wall into the next room. INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto wields his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. It is the first time we have seen him in action and his movements are both beautiful and deadly. But more Ninjas are pouring in through the window, threatening to overwhelm him. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Rolling on the ground, Algren manages to grab a chopstick and STAB his adversary through the eye. He picks up the fallen short sword and steps out into the hall. ARROWS whiz past, thudding into the wall beside his head. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto, breathing heavily, his kimono shredded and bloody, is fending off the Ninjas' increasingly savage attacks as Algren enters. Algren SCREAMS, distracting them just long enough for Katsumoto to take advantage and kill one. 69. Then, just as a Ninja it about to kill Algren, Katsumoto FLINGS his short sword ... it pin-wheels across the room, hitting Algren's attacker in the chest. Without missing a beat, Algren pulls the short sword from the dying Ninja's chest and uses it to stab another Ninja who, thinking Algren defenseless, has launched an attack. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ujio and Nakao are back to back, a perfect fighting machine as they fight their wa y to Katsumoto's rescue. They battle Ninjas wielding lethal kusarigamas, the Ninjas swing chains, the attached blades slice the air--Nakao catches the chains and flinging the Ninja over the balcony. INT. YORITOMO'S ROOM NIGHT Yoritomo is pinned down. Darts and throwing stars shred the rice paper wall above him. He picks off another Ninja before changing his position. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT The blazing sword battle continues. Algren throws a beautiful painted standing-screen in front of an attacking Ninja, momentarily confusing him. Then he stabs THROUGH THE SCREEN -as a blood- stain SPREADS across the pastoral painting. But another Ninja catches Algren off-guard and slices at him with his short sword. As Algren lifts his sword to parry the blow, HIS LITILE FINGER IS CHOPPED OFF. He drops the sword, momentarily defenseless. Across the hallway Yoritomo has been watching the shadowpla y on the rice-paper walls. Algren's attacker raises his blade to deliver the death blow. In Katsumoto's room Algren flinches involuntarily beneath the raised blade. Suddenly the Ninja JACKKNIFES as if punched by an unseen hand. As he spins, dead, to the ground, we SEE an ARROW lodged bet ween his shoulder blades. Yoritomo has FIRED blindly, through the wall killing Algren's attacker. Nearby, a Ninja hurls a throwing star at Katsumoto. With blind instinct Katsumoto turns and takes the blade in the meat of his arm. Algren, meanwhile, has ripped the sleeve of his kimono into a tourniquet for his maimed hand. He uses the rest of the fabric TO TIE HIS HAND TO HIS SWORD before launching himself back into the fray -- slicing an attacker just as he is about to impale Katsumoto. Together, he and Katsumoto force the last two Ninjas through a paper wall to the next room. They fight all the wa y through that room and BLAST through another paper wall to the next. 70. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT The battle continues unabated on the stairs -- the Ninjas spring for position with incredible grace --perching and fighting on banisters, leaping from one level to the next. It is a mayhem of flashing swords and flailing limbs and flyi ng arrows and spinning Ninja stars. Sprays of blood splatter against the white rice paper walls. Some of the fighting is less than elegant. Men bite and wrestle and gouge to survive in close quarters. All of them arc bloody and sweat y and dirty and tired, heaving for breath, their skin flayed open, their kimonos ripped, their hands and arms and faces blood-stained. But more samurai reinforcements follow Ujio up the stairs: Together with Yoritomo and Nakao, they have begun to gain the upper hand. Ujio flings both his swords through the air -- killing two Ninjas -- and dives to fight others - his martial arts skills are dazzling. Algren and Katsumoto are fighting sidc by side And we cut to -- EXT. INN NIGHT Outside of the inn, we slowl y pull away... The sounds of the battle gradually fade... Soon it is nothing more than a lovel y rustic inn nestled in the mountains. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT Later. The battle is over. Ninja and samurai corpses litter the inn. We slowl y move up the long stairwa y from the bottom... Yoritomo pulls a Ninja star from Nakao's_shou1der. Then one from his own. We move up another level, past more bodies... Ujio moves through the Ninjas. Making sure they are dead. Before sheathing his sword, he angrily FLICKS it at the rice paper wall, spattering it with the bloody spray. Katsumoto wipes his sword on a nearby corpse, replaces it in its sheath. He sits beside Algren on a stair. Both men are exhausted. Bloodied. Alive. A long beat as we watch the two warriors. Slow fade to... 71. EXT. TOKYO -- IMPERIAL PALACE DAY Algren, Katsumoto and the others are nearing the palace. Algren slows to a stop -- his path is toward the city. Katsumoto stops, looks at him, then does something absolutel y extraordinary. He kneels and bows before Algren. Quickly touching his head to the dirt. Then he rises, turns and walks toward the palace. Algren stands, stunned. EXT. PARADE GROUND DAY Algren walks onto the parade ground. The change he sees could not be more remarkable. Thousands of new Japanese troops are drilling with new bolt-action Mausers. They are precise, exact and frighteningly mechanistic, their uniforms new and crisp. New German advisors are barking commands. Colonel Bagley sees him. BAGLEY Algren? My God, you never cease to astonish. Bagley runs over, hand extended, but Algren turns to look at the troops. ALGREN They have new weapons. BAGLEY The Kaiser was only too happy to help. Along with his friends at Mauser and Krupp. Thank God we Americans still have a few teeth in our head. And they come to the "teeth." Howitzer cannons. A row of them. Artillery officers in US Army uniforms arc instructing Japanese offi cers. BAGLEY The ambassador and I have spent eight months kissing Omura's ass so he'll sign the damn trade pact with us. You spent all this time living with those savages? (A1gren looks at him) He's going to want to talk to you... ALGREN I need a bath. BAGLEY And your back pay, I imagine. Algren starts walking away. 72. BAGLEY They got their flag. ...See? And we see it... snapping on I flagpole high above the parade ground. It is immediately familiar. A red circle on a white field. The Rising Sun. The Howitzers fire in sequence. Thundering blasts that shake the heavens. EXT, ROYAL TEMPLE DAY Omura stands above Emperor Meiji respectful but persistent. The Emperor is kneeling, tending to his iris garden. It is one of the wonders of the Palace: a sea of white, pink, blue, and purple blossoms. Retainers and servants stand at a distance. One holds a standard with the Imperial seal: a yellow chrysanthemum. Omura sees Katsumoto making his way toward them. He talks a bit more quickly to the Emperor. Katsumoto begins to prostrate himself before the Emperor, the usual sign of extreme respect -- but the Emperor stops him: EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori-san. We arc "civilized" now. Katsumoto stops prostrating himself. The Emperor offers his hand. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) I cannot touch the Sacred One. EMPEROR (subtitles) You can. It is a difficult moment for Katsumoto. He simply cannot do It. OMURA (subtitles) Did you have a pleasant journey, Minister Katsumoto? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It was uneventful. Omura appreciates Katsumoto's droll response. He assumes that Katsumoto is aware of his part in the assassination attempt. 73. EMPEROR (subtitles) If it is not a great imposition. I desire a moment alone with Minister Katsumoto. Omura-San. OMURA (subtitles) Enlightened One, perhaps I can be of service in a conversation of state. EMPEROR (subtitles) So kind of you, but I fear my old teacher wishes to upbraid me in private for neglecting my studies. Omura bows his head quickly and goes. Silence. The Emperor gazes at Katsumoto. Then: EMPEROR (subtitles) You rise against me, my teacher. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) No, Highness, I rise against your enemies. EMPEROR (subtitles) They are my teacher, my advisers, like you. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) They advise in their own interest. EMPEROR (subtitles) The world is changing, Mori -- you have not seen what goes on beyond our borders, the inventions, the science. I need men who can look outward, or soon we will be left behind, and defenseless. KATSUM OTO (subtitles) I am sworn to defend you even to my last breath. EMPEROR (subtit1es) The samurai live in the past. You cannot defend against a future you don't understand. 74. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) If I am no use, then I will happily end my life, EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori. It is my wish that you rejoin the Council of State. I need your voice. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It is your voice that needs to be heard, Highness. You are a living God, you can do what ever you think is right. The young emperor is silent a moment. EMPEROR (subtitles) I am a living God only as long as I do what they think is right. KATSUMOTO (subtitle) Your Highness, may I beg forgiveness for saying what a teacher must, that such a statement is pathetic drivel not worthy of an ignorant stable boy, let alone a young man I know to have some modest intelligence. The emperor laughs warmly, almost happy to be scolded as he once was. EMPEROR (subtitles) Is it possible a living God can be too afraid to make his voice heard? (Katsumoto's look is not unkind) Tell me what to do, Mori-San? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) You are emperor, my Lord, not me. You must find the wisdom for all of us. EXT. YOKOHAMA WHARF DAY A series of warehouses, beyond which we see warships in the harbor. A1gren walks with Bagley and two other OFFICERS. INT. WAREHOUSE DAY The cavernous warehouse piled high with huge crates. 75. BAGLEY As soon as they sign the agreement, they're obligated to buy the entire weapons package, from Colt revol vers to Ha1liwell twelve-pounders. Plus this particular item you might recognize. A few stevedores tear open one of the crates. Algren hides his astonishment: A Gatling Gun is revealed. BAGLEY They've been calibrated to fire 200 rounds a minute, The new copper cartridges cut down on jamming. Algren closes his eyes, trying to keep his memories at bay. EXT. TOKYO STREETS DAY Algren fights the crowds with Colonel Bagley And Ambassador Swanbeck.. ALGREN (V.O.) May 15, 1877. The city I return to is immeasurabl y changed New construction ever ywhere. Telegraph wires strung next to an ancient temple. A modern European hotel is going up, dwarfing the traditional Japanese buildings. Huge billboards advertising Western goods. A new invention, the rickshaw, has replaced many of the palanquins. ALGREN (V.O.) As though Tokyo were determined to become another New York or Chicago .- all in one headlong rush. Spider's web of telegraph cables spread from a tall new brick building. It is like a New York office building stabbing into the heart of old Japan. The familiar Omura character is emblazoned on the side. .INT. OFFICES OF THE OMURA ZAIBATSU DAY Aside from the occasional bit of Japanese decor, this could be a buzzing Wall Street firm. Telegraph operators click away. Accountants use adding machines. Secretaries use pneumatic tubes to send documents back and forth. Engineers plot out railway lines. All are dressed in Western clothes. Algren, Colonel Bagley, and Ambassador Swanbeck enter. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK (to Algren) If he asks, you can talk about ordnance and tactics. But remember, this has to do with a lot more than just weapons. 76. An anteroom holds waiting delegations from the various European powers. A babel of language. ... French ...Dutch ...Russian ...German. A pretty American secretary looks up from her desk. SECRETARY Ambassador Swanbeck, if you'll follow me. Some of the delegates arc craning forward, watching Algren and the others hungrily as they head into the final office. INT. OMURA'S OFFICE DAY Omura stands like an industrial titan before large picture windows offering a dramatic view of Tokyo. The only decoration in the room is an enormous Caravaggio. OMURA Please, sit down, gentlemen. Omura removes a gold cigarette case and lights up. Cigarettes are the newest Western fad Sweeping Japan. OMURA (re: cigarette case) A gift from Czar Alexander... Captain Algren,. it seems you have endured your captivity with little ill-effect. ALGREN Yes, sir. OMURA He's an extraordinary man, isn't he? ALGREN He is samurai. Omura gazes at him. Slowl y takes I puff from his cigarette. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Mr. Omura, my people have been drawing up the documents we discussed. I have a draft-- OMURA We're not quite ready to announce the treaty, Ambassador. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Excuse me? OMURA The Emperor is...sentimental. Katsumoto was his old mentor-- he is not eager to offend him. It will take I few more days. 77. AMBASSJ\DOR SW ANBECK How many da ys is " a few?" OMURA I assure you the Samurai will not stand in the wa y of our agreement. You are prepared to make deliver y? AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Soon as your emperor signs on the dotted line. OMURA Captain Algren you are the expert. Will this array of ordnance be sufficient? ALGREN Depends on what you're trying to accomplish. OMURA I want my country to take its place as a modern power. ALGREN Then they will set you well on your way. OMURA I am pleased. AMDASSADOR SW ANBECK Mr. Omura, you assured us you had the influence with your emperor to make this deal come to pass. With all due respect perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to. OMURA With all due respect, Ambassador, perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to, for instance the French. Or the English. Or any of the legations waiting in the next room. Ambassador Swan beck stands swallowing his rage. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Yes, we1l, we look forward to hearing from you. OMURA Good afternoon, gentlemen. They start to go. OMURA Captain Algren, perhaps you can stay a moment And tell me of your experiences in our rebellious provinces. Bagley looks at Algren. Do as he asks. He leaves A1gren alone with Omura. 78. OMURA Cigarette? ALGREN Thank you. Omura lights his cigarette. A moment as he takes Algren's measure. OMURA You fought bravely on behalf of our army-- against the rebel Katsumoto. Algren says nothing. . OMURA And yet you helped save his life when attacked by the Ninja. ALGREN My role was much less significant than you may have heard. OMURA Tell me about your role in Katsumoto's plans. ALGREN I have none. OMURA And your sympathies? ALGREN Again, I have none. OMURA I know you have little sympathy for Colonel Bagley. ALGREN He is.... unsympathetic. Omura smiles. OMURA I thought it was we who are inscrutable. Now it is Algren who smiles. OMURA You have gained important knowledge of Katsumoto's province, his army, and his rebellion. This is extremely valuable to me. He watches Algren to see how this lands. 79. OMURA You also possess significant knowledge of m y army, my weaponry, and my plans. This is extremely va1uable to Katsumoto. ALGREN Again, you flatter me. OMURA No. I am a businessman. I recognize what is valuable. And I buy it. (looks at him) In this case, I value your loyalt y. Algren considers the implications of what Omura is saying. ALGREN I didn't know loyalt y was something that could be sold. OMURA Then perhaps you will give it, as a token of future friendship - for which, as a friend, I would be in your debt. ALGREN (stands) Then I will consider it. OMURA And I will be grateful. INT. SHIPPING OFFICE DAY Algren is in a shipping office. A clerk consults his schedule of departure. CLERK All righteee, the ANDREW JACKSON leaves tomorrow if you want a steamship you'll have to wait six weeks. (Algren is silent) Gets ya to Frisco by the 28th. 14 dollars for a private cabin, 8 for a shared or 3 for a lower berth. What can I put you down for? Algren is silent, concentrating on a calendar hanging behind the clerk. It features a beautiful Hiroshigi watercolor of mountains. CLERK Sir..? ALGREN (after a moment) Private cabin. 80. EXT. TOKYO STREET DAY Graham walks with Algren. GRAHAM Leave? Wh y would you leave now? No white man has ever been in your position. Do you have any idea what it will mean to have Omura as your friend? You want land, you want women, you want boys? Algren starts to walk faster, but Graham Stops him. GRAHAM Nathan. I wanted to leave, too. For three years. You must believe me there is a majest y about these people -- can you imagine what your own country would be if it had half the drive and the discipline and the belief and the bravery of these ridiculous little people? Then raised voices from across the street stop them. They see Yoritomo surrounded by four Imperial Army soldiers. The soldiers are rough and imperious, drunk with power. They carry gleaming rifle.. The soldiers bark orders. Yoritomo stands proudly, responding calmly. ALGREN Whit is this? GRAHAM My God, it's the edicts... ALGREN What edicts? Algren arrives as the situation is clearly growing volatile - the soldiers are pointing to Yoritomo's head, screaming Algren steps toward the soldiers-- ALGREN That's enough-- One of the soldiers SCREAMS at him -- raises his rifle -- all the soldiers raise their rifles Yoritomo reaches for his sword -- Algren tries to push through - 81. ALGREN (subtitles) YORITOMO, WAIT! One of the soldiers smacks Algren in the chin with a rifle butt. Algren reels, and by the time he stands straight again, four others are pointing their ba yonets at his face. Graham takes hold of Algren's arm. GRAHAM Don't be stupid. Algren makes eye contact with Yoritomo, who -- in deference to his friend -- puts his sword away. The Japanese soldiers continue to scream at Yoritomo. They force him to his knees. Rifles pressed to his head. Yoritomo bows his bead, speaking quietly, as if praying. Algren witches in horror all one of the soldiers removes his bayonet -- another grab. Yoritomo's hair, jerks his head back and begins hacking off Yoritomo's traditional top-knot of hair. Brutally. Blood. Yoritomo remains kneeling, head down, blood flowing down his face. The soldiers laugh and move off. Algren kneels by Yoritomo. Yoritomo looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes. EXT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Katsumoto's house on the outskirts of Tokyo is spacious and harmonious. Utterly Japanese. Samurai guards in full regalia, stand menacingly outside. INT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Ujio kneels with Yoritomo, dressing the wounds on his head. Graham sits across the room talking quietly to the mammoth Nakao, taking notes in a small notebook. Nakao has been brutally shorn of his top knot as well. His shame is apparent. INT. KATSUMOTO'S CHAMBER DUSK Servants he1p dress Katsumoto in his exacting samurai wardrobe as Algren is ushered in. KATSUMOTO Captain, I had not thought to see you again. 82. ALGREN I'm leaving tomorrow. But before I go I need to tell you what's going on here. KATSUMOTO You mean the Gatling Guns and the howitzers, is that how you sa y it? ALGREN They're about to close a trade agreement that will bring this country more weapons than you can imagine. KATSUMOTO Yes, if the emperor agrees - but Omura knows the Emperor must be convinced there is cause to need those weapons before be will sign. ALGREN (realizing) And you are to be the cause... KATSUMOTO Elegant, isn't it? Omura passes laws

nearing

How many times the word 'nearing' appears in the text?

wracking his body. EXT. VILLAGE DAY As Algren returns with the water, he sees Katsumoto approaching with Ujio and several warriors. KATSUMOTO The Emperor has requested my presence. We leave tomorrow. You will be released in Tokyo. He goes. Algren stands, not sure how to react. INT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE NIGHT Algren writes on parchment by the light of an oil lamp. ALGREN (V.O.) April 13, 1877. Tomorrow we return to civilization. As eager as I am to be among my own kind, I confess to a curious reluctance. EXT. KATDUMOTO'S VILLAGE DAWN Algren stands overlooking the village as the sun rises over the misty peaks. ALGREN (V.O.) These months have marked me, and I don't fully know yet wh y. EXT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE DAY Algren prepares to mount up. Yoritomo says goodbye to his family. ALGREN (V.O.) I do know it is here that I have known my first untroubled sleep in many years. Taka comes to Algren, bows her head. TAKA (subtitles) You are alwa ys welcome in our home. ALGREN Domo Arrigato. He glances at the unfinished house. 62. ALGREN (subtitles) ...You will finish it soon. TAKA (subtitles) If that is my destiny. She bows her head again. Toshiie hands him a scroll: it is a picture of the Family. Algren is included. Japanese characters list all their names. Toshiie bows. Algren bows and tucks the scroll into his coat. Algren and Yoritomo move out with Katsumoto, Ujio, Nakao and his bodyguard of several dozen Samurai. The villagers bow and honor the warrior as they pass. EXT. MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE DAY Algren trots alongside Katsumoto. ALGREN ... The Emperor sends a message for you to return to Tokyo, and you go? KATSUMOTO Yes. ALGREN Even though you're in rebellion against him. KATSUMOTO Against the Emperor? Never. I serve him. As I have alwa ys done. . ALGREN I don't understand. KATSUMOTO Our Emperor is young, and there are things I must sa y to him. ALGREN But ever yone around him wants you dead. KA TSUMOTO And if the Emperor desires, I will take my own life at his command. He spurs his horse and rides on. A1gren watches him. 63. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET They approach a large inn. A boy working in the fields see Katsumoto approaching. He doesn't believe it -- the Great Katsumoto. He drops his hoe and races awa y, calling out. KATSUMOTO We will stop here for the night. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET Samurai guards have been posted around the perimeter. INT. KATSUMOTO'S RQOM NIGHT Algren is escorted in. Katsumoto kneels at a table. Preparing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Sit, Captain. Algren sits. By now he has learned how to sit on the ground. Katsumoto begins the exacting, delicate and precise tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Do you drink tea? ALGREN I've had little else for some time... Katsumoto continues with the tea ceremony. ALGREN How's your poem coming? KATSUMOTO I am having trouble. The truth is I am not a very good poet. (Algren smiles) Do you know wh y you were sent here? To Yoshino. ALGREN To protect the railroad. . KATSUMOTO Why is the railroad here? ALGREN So Tokyo can control the whole country. 64. KATSUMOTO You have seen my province. All mountains. Far from Tokyo. Yet the rail line must come here? Katsumoto tosses a tiny bit of coal on the simmering brazier on the table. Algren watches carefully. ALGREN You have something they want KATSUMOTO What do they want in my mountains? ALGREN Minerals ... Gold. KA TSUMOTO (smiles) There is no gold in Japan. Katsumoto gently blows on the coal brazier. The coal flares a bit. ALGREN Coal? (Katsumoto looks at him) For steamships. KA TSUMOTO And why would steamships be so important? ALGREN ...China. Katsumoto looks up at him. Impressed. KATSUMOTO Japan has nothing. China has ever ything. ALGREN Mine the coal to create a way station for the trip to China ... Freeze the Europeans out and Japan and America have a monopol y on the China trade. KATSUMOTO Add to this the Omura Zaibatsu. You know the Zaibatus? ALGREN The wealthy families. 65. KATSUMOTO As patron of the railroad, Omura owns all land within four hundred feet of ever y new rail line. As my country grows, so will his wealth. (looks at him) This is why you are fighting. Katsumoto completes the tea ceremony. He pours a cup for Algren. Bows his head and offers it to him. ALGREN And you will tell the emperor to stop them? KATSUMOTO I do not tell the emperor what to do. ALGREN Then what do you hope to accomplish? Katsumoto looks at Algren, the slightest gleam in his eye. KATSUMOTO Will you return to America? Algren watches him -- why didn't Katsumoto answer? ALGREN ...I have a job here. KATSUMOTO You should return to your home. ALGREN Why? KATSUMOTO Because I do not wish you to be m y enemy again. Katsumoto returns to his poem, he does not look up. KATSUMOTO Go home Captain ... Anshinritsumai. I wish you peace. Algren waits but Katsumoto just continues to work on his poem. EXT. AROUND THE INN NIGHT The samurai guards are alert, their senses heightened to almost superhuman proportions. But there is another way. Another way of learning combat. A wa y without the beaut y, the philosophy and the moral code. They are almost imperceptible at first... their head-to-toe black clothes a perfect camouflage... their silence and stealth are otherworldly. 66. They were then known as Shinobi, masters of stealth and spying. We know them as Ninjas. They float across the ground ... creeping an inch ever y hour... complete physica1 control. One black-gloved finger moves. Then the next... They crawl and then wait Poised on their fingertips and toes. There is no sound as they strike. The samurai guards are garroted in an instant. Other Ninjas catch the samurai's weapons as they fall. No sound disturbs the peaceful night. EXT. INN -- FRONT DOORWAY NIGHT Silence. Two samurai guards are in position. One of them glances up at the stars. A Ninja throwing star instantly slices into his jugular-- blood sprays -- the other guard turns a series of Ninja slice into him... EXT. INN--WALLS NIGHT Silence. The Ninjas use mew claws to crawl up the walls like spiders. EXT. INN ROOF NIGHT Silence. A samurai guard stands at the edge of the roof. A Ninja silently moves toward him. Stops. Ten feet awa y. He pulls out a shuriken -- a small needle-shaped projectile, dips it into a sack of poison. Places it carefully into the palm of his hand. And with the flick of his wrist-- The needle flies -- stabbing into the samurai -- he crumples. Other Ninjas immediately pour over the edge of the roof -- catching the samurai before he falls... INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. 67. Katsumoto cannot sleep. He stares out the window at a nightingale. INT. INN--UJIO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Ujio sits in his room. He is unblinking. Alert. Swords at the ready. INT. INN ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Algren cannot sleep either. He sits leaning against a wall. Thinking. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Silence. Yoritomo drinks tea with Nakao, the huge martial arts master. INT. OUTSIDE KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT A guard stands sentinel. Above his head, unbeknownst to him, two Ninjas descend on ropes. One of them swings a long chain - to which I barbed-knife is attached. As it lodges in the guard's chest, the second Ninja swings down just in time to catch the dead guard, silently, before his body hits the ground. INT. INN -- KATSUMQTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Katsumoto lies in bed listening to the night bird. It stops singing. Katsumoto smiles sadly. He decides to give up on sleep, leans forward to rise. This act saves his life. For when the Ninjas come, they come all at once-- A Ninja suddenly comes TEARING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE PAPER WALL, his sword slashing down .- just missing Katsumoto. Katsumoto calls out an alarm, diving and rolling across the floor for his sword. He instantly kills one Ninja using his steel-tipped "war fan" to slash his attackers throat. Another smashes in through the window. INT. INN -- MAIN H ALL NIGHT Ninjas EXPLODE into the main hall. Samurai who come out of their rooms are cut down by a variety of weapons -- one takes a throwing star in the face, others are felled by the traditional ninja-to, short swords ideal for fighting in confined spaces, chain-knives, nun-chaka and others. 68. More Ninjas drop from the rafters on ropes. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT A Ninja SMASHES through the paper wall -- Algren grabs the nearest object, a low tea table. and swings it at his head. The Ninja dodges the blow and slices at Algren with short-sword. Algren barely avoids the blow by ducking behind a post as the sword LODGES deep in the wood. Algren flings himself, bodily, at his attacker. INT. INN-- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ninja throwing stars spin across the room, killing a samurai. Yoritomo emerges from his room, readying his bow, but the dead samurai falls back blocking his wa y. From behind the rice wall, Yoritomo lets fly an arrow without even looking. It passes THROUGH the wall, killing the Ninja on the opposite balcony. INT. INN-- FIRST FLOOR NIGHT Ujio screams a war cry and begins to battle his way up the stairs. With breathtaking moves, he slashes hands and limbs, forcing the Ninja back. Nakao fights his wa y up beside him, desperately trying to reach Katsumoto's room. Using only his bare hands he catches a Ninja's wrist and hurls him over the railing. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Algren and the Ninja are in a death struggle, kneeing, gouging, butting. They awkwardly smash through a paper wall into the next room. INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto wields his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. It is the first time we have seen him in action and his movements are both beautiful and deadly. But more Ninjas are pouring in through the window, threatening to overwhelm him. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Rolling on the ground, Algren manages to grab a chopstick and STAB his adversary through the eye. He picks up the fallen short sword and steps out into the hall. ARROWS whiz past, thudding into the wall beside his head. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto, breathing heavily, his kimono shredded and bloody, is fending off the Ninjas' increasingly savage attacks as Algren enters. Algren SCREAMS, distracting them just long enough for Katsumoto to take advantage and kill one. 69. Then, just as a Ninja it about to kill Algren, Katsumoto FLINGS his short sword ... it pin-wheels across the room, hitting Algren's attacker in the chest. Without missing a beat, Algren pulls the short sword from the dying Ninja's chest and uses it to stab another Ninja who, thinking Algren defenseless, has launched an attack. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ujio and Nakao are back to back, a perfect fighting machine as they fight their wa y to Katsumoto's rescue. They battle Ninjas wielding lethal kusarigamas, the Ninjas swing chains, the attached blades slice the air--Nakao catches the chains and flinging the Ninja over the balcony. INT. YORITOMO'S ROOM NIGHT Yoritomo is pinned down. Darts and throwing stars shred the rice paper wall above him. He picks off another Ninja before changing his position. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT The blazing sword battle continues. Algren throws a beautiful painted standing-screen in front of an attacking Ninja, momentarily confusing him. Then he stabs THROUGH THE SCREEN -as a blood- stain SPREADS across the pastoral painting. But another Ninja catches Algren off-guard and slices at him with his short sword. As Algren lifts his sword to parry the blow, HIS LITILE FINGER IS CHOPPED OFF. He drops the sword, momentarily defenseless. Across the hallway Yoritomo has been watching the shadowpla y on the rice-paper walls. Algren's attacker raises his blade to deliver the death blow. In Katsumoto's room Algren flinches involuntarily beneath the raised blade. Suddenly the Ninja JACKKNIFES as if punched by an unseen hand. As he spins, dead, to the ground, we SEE an ARROW lodged bet ween his shoulder blades. Yoritomo has FIRED blindly, through the wall killing Algren's attacker. Nearby, a Ninja hurls a throwing star at Katsumoto. With blind instinct Katsumoto turns and takes the blade in the meat of his arm. Algren, meanwhile, has ripped the sleeve of his kimono into a tourniquet for his maimed hand. He uses the rest of the fabric TO TIE HIS HAND TO HIS SWORD before launching himself back into the fray -- slicing an attacker just as he is about to impale Katsumoto. Together, he and Katsumoto force the last two Ninjas through a paper wall to the next room. They fight all the wa y through that room and BLAST through another paper wall to the next. 70. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT The battle continues unabated on the stairs -- the Ninjas spring for position with incredible grace --perching and fighting on banisters, leaping from one level to the next. It is a mayhem of flashing swords and flailing limbs and flyi ng arrows and spinning Ninja stars. Sprays of blood splatter against the white rice paper walls. Some of the fighting is less than elegant. Men bite and wrestle and gouge to survive in close quarters. All of them arc bloody and sweat y and dirty and tired, heaving for breath, their skin flayed open, their kimonos ripped, their hands and arms and faces blood-stained. But more samurai reinforcements follow Ujio up the stairs: Together with Yoritomo and Nakao, they have begun to gain the upper hand. Ujio flings both his swords through the air -- killing two Ninjas -- and dives to fight others - his martial arts skills are dazzling. Algren and Katsumoto are fighting sidc by side And we cut to -- EXT. INN NIGHT Outside of the inn, we slowl y pull away... The sounds of the battle gradually fade... Soon it is nothing more than a lovel y rustic inn nestled in the mountains. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT Later. The battle is over. Ninja and samurai corpses litter the inn. We slowl y move up the long stairwa y from the bottom... Yoritomo pulls a Ninja star from Nakao's_shou1der. Then one from his own. We move up another level, past more bodies... Ujio moves through the Ninjas. Making sure they are dead. Before sheathing his sword, he angrily FLICKS it at the rice paper wall, spattering it with the bloody spray. Katsumoto wipes his sword on a nearby corpse, replaces it in its sheath. He sits beside Algren on a stair. Both men are exhausted. Bloodied. Alive. A long beat as we watch the two warriors. Slow fade to... 71. EXT. TOKYO -- IMPERIAL PALACE DAY Algren, Katsumoto and the others are nearing the palace. Algren slows to a stop -- his path is toward the city. Katsumoto stops, looks at him, then does something absolutel y extraordinary. He kneels and bows before Algren. Quickly touching his head to the dirt. Then he rises, turns and walks toward the palace. Algren stands, stunned. EXT. PARADE GROUND DAY Algren walks onto the parade ground. The change he sees could not be more remarkable. Thousands of new Japanese troops are drilling with new bolt-action Mausers. They are precise, exact and frighteningly mechanistic, their uniforms new and crisp. New German advisors are barking commands. Colonel Bagley sees him. BAGLEY Algren? My God, you never cease to astonish. Bagley runs over, hand extended, but Algren turns to look at the troops. ALGREN They have new weapons. BAGLEY The Kaiser was only too happy to help. Along with his friends at Mauser and Krupp. Thank God we Americans still have a few teeth in our head. And they come to the "teeth." Howitzer cannons. A row of them. Artillery officers in US Army uniforms arc instructing Japanese offi cers. BAGLEY The ambassador and I have spent eight months kissing Omura's ass so he'll sign the damn trade pact with us. You spent all this time living with those savages? (A1gren looks at him) He's going to want to talk to you... ALGREN I need a bath. BAGLEY And your back pay, I imagine. Algren starts walking away. 72. BAGLEY They got their flag. ...See? And we see it... snapping on I flagpole high above the parade ground. It is immediately familiar. A red circle on a white field. The Rising Sun. The Howitzers fire in sequence. Thundering blasts that shake the heavens. EXT, ROYAL TEMPLE DAY Omura stands above Emperor Meiji respectful but persistent. The Emperor is kneeling, tending to his iris garden. It is one of the wonders of the Palace: a sea of white, pink, blue, and purple blossoms. Retainers and servants stand at a distance. One holds a standard with the Imperial seal: a yellow chrysanthemum. Omura sees Katsumoto making his way toward them. He talks a bit more quickly to the Emperor. Katsumoto begins to prostrate himself before the Emperor, the usual sign of extreme respect -- but the Emperor stops him: EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori-san. We arc "civilized" now. Katsumoto stops prostrating himself. The Emperor offers his hand. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) I cannot touch the Sacred One. EMPEROR (subtitles) You can. It is a difficult moment for Katsumoto. He simply cannot do It. OMURA (subtitles) Did you have a pleasant journey, Minister Katsumoto? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It was uneventful. Omura appreciates Katsumoto's droll response. He assumes that Katsumoto is aware of his part in the assassination attempt. 73. EMPEROR (subtitles) If it is not a great imposition. I desire a moment alone with Minister Katsumoto. Omura-San. OMURA (subtitles) Enlightened One, perhaps I can be of service in a conversation of state. EMPEROR (subtitles) So kind of you, but I fear my old teacher wishes to upbraid me in private for neglecting my studies. Omura bows his head quickly and goes. Silence. The Emperor gazes at Katsumoto. Then: EMPEROR (subtitles) You rise against me, my teacher. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) No, Highness, I rise against your enemies. EMPEROR (subtitles) They are my teacher, my advisers, like you. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) They advise in their own interest. EMPEROR (subtitles) The world is changing, Mori -- you have not seen what goes on beyond our borders, the inventions, the science. I need men who can look outward, or soon we will be left behind, and defenseless. KATSUM OTO (subtitles) I am sworn to defend you even to my last breath. EMPEROR (subtit1es) The samurai live in the past. You cannot defend against a future you don't understand. 74. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) If I am no use, then I will happily end my life, EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori. It is my wish that you rejoin the Council of State. I need your voice. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It is your voice that needs to be heard, Highness. You are a living God, you can do what ever you think is right. The young emperor is silent a moment. EMPEROR (subtitles) I am a living God only as long as I do what they think is right. KATSUMOTO (subtitle) Your Highness, may I beg forgiveness for saying what a teacher must, that such a statement is pathetic drivel not worthy of an ignorant stable boy, let alone a young man I know to have some modest intelligence. The emperor laughs warmly, almost happy to be scolded as he once was. EMPEROR (subtitles) Is it possible a living God can be too afraid to make his voice heard? (Katsumoto's look is not unkind) Tell me what to do, Mori-San? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) You are emperor, my Lord, not me. You must find the wisdom for all of us. EXT. YOKOHAMA WHARF DAY A series of warehouses, beyond which we see warships in the harbor. A1gren walks with Bagley and two other OFFICERS. INT. WAREHOUSE DAY The cavernous warehouse piled high with huge crates. 75. BAGLEY As soon as they sign the agreement, they're obligated to buy the entire weapons package, from Colt revol vers to Ha1liwell twelve-pounders. Plus this particular item you might recognize. A few stevedores tear open one of the crates. Algren hides his astonishment: A Gatling Gun is revealed. BAGLEY They've been calibrated to fire 200 rounds a minute, The new copper cartridges cut down on jamming. Algren closes his eyes, trying to keep his memories at bay. EXT. TOKYO STREETS DAY Algren fights the crowds with Colonel Bagley And Ambassador Swanbeck.. ALGREN (V.O.) May 15, 1877. The city I return to is immeasurabl y changed New construction ever ywhere. Telegraph wires strung next to an ancient temple. A modern European hotel is going up, dwarfing the traditional Japanese buildings. Huge billboards advertising Western goods. A new invention, the rickshaw, has replaced many of the palanquins. ALGREN (V.O.) As though Tokyo were determined to become another New York or Chicago .- all in one headlong rush. Spider's web of telegraph cables spread from a tall new brick building. It is like a New York office building stabbing into the heart of old Japan. The familiar Omura character is emblazoned on the side. .INT. OFFICES OF THE OMURA ZAIBATSU DAY Aside from the occasional bit of Japanese decor, this could be a buzzing Wall Street firm. Telegraph operators click away. Accountants use adding machines. Secretaries use pneumatic tubes to send documents back and forth. Engineers plot out railway lines. All are dressed in Western clothes. Algren, Colonel Bagley, and Ambassador Swanbeck enter. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK (to Algren) If he asks, you can talk about ordnance and tactics. But remember, this has to do with a lot more than just weapons. 76. An anteroom holds waiting delegations from the various European powers. A babel of language. ... French ...Dutch ...Russian ...German. A pretty American secretary looks up from her desk. SECRETARY Ambassador Swanbeck, if you'll follow me. Some of the delegates arc craning forward, watching Algren and the others hungrily as they head into the final office. INT. OMURA'S OFFICE DAY Omura stands like an industrial titan before large picture windows offering a dramatic view of Tokyo. The only decoration in the room is an enormous Caravaggio. OMURA Please, sit down, gentlemen. Omura removes a gold cigarette case and lights up. Cigarettes are the newest Western fad Sweeping Japan. OMURA (re: cigarette case) A gift from Czar Alexander... Captain Algren,. it seems you have endured your captivity with little ill-effect. ALGREN Yes, sir. OMURA He's an extraordinary man, isn't he? ALGREN He is samurai. Omura gazes at him. Slowl y takes I puff from his cigarette. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Mr. Omura, my people have been drawing up the documents we discussed. I have a draft-- OMURA We're not quite ready to announce the treaty, Ambassador. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Excuse me? OMURA The Emperor is...sentimental. Katsumoto was his old mentor-- he is not eager to offend him. It will take I few more days. 77. AMBASSJ\DOR SW ANBECK How many da ys is " a few?" OMURA I assure you the Samurai will not stand in the wa y of our agreement. You are prepared to make deliver y? AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Soon as your emperor signs on the dotted line. OMURA Captain Algren you are the expert. Will this array of ordnance be sufficient? ALGREN Depends on what you're trying to accomplish. OMURA I want my country to take its place as a modern power. ALGREN Then they will set you well on your way. OMURA I am pleased. AMDASSADOR SW ANBECK Mr. Omura, you assured us you had the influence with your emperor to make this deal come to pass. With all due respect perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to. OMURA With all due respect, Ambassador, perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to, for instance the French. Or the English. Or any of the legations waiting in the next room. Ambassador Swan beck stands swallowing his rage. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Yes, we1l, we look forward to hearing from you. OMURA Good afternoon, gentlemen. They start to go. OMURA Captain Algren, perhaps you can stay a moment And tell me of your experiences in our rebellious provinces. Bagley looks at Algren. Do as he asks. He leaves A1gren alone with Omura. 78. OMURA Cigarette? ALGREN Thank you. Omura lights his cigarette. A moment as he takes Algren's measure. OMURA You fought bravely on behalf of our army-- against the rebel Katsumoto. Algren says nothing. . OMURA And yet you helped save his life when attacked by the Ninja. ALGREN My role was much less significant than you may have heard. OMURA Tell me about your role in Katsumoto's plans. ALGREN I have none. OMURA And your sympathies? ALGREN Again, I have none. OMURA I know you have little sympathy for Colonel Bagley. ALGREN He is.... unsympathetic. Omura smiles. OMURA I thought it was we who are inscrutable. Now it is Algren who smiles. OMURA You have gained important knowledge of Katsumoto's province, his army, and his rebellion. This is extremely valuable to me. He watches Algren to see how this lands. 79. OMURA You also possess significant knowledge of m y army, my weaponry, and my plans. This is extremely va1uable to Katsumoto. ALGREN Again, you flatter me. OMURA No. I am a businessman. I recognize what is valuable. And I buy it. (looks at him) In this case, I value your loyalt y. Algren considers the implications of what Omura is saying. ALGREN I didn't know loyalt y was something that could be sold. OMURA Then perhaps you will give it, as a token of future friendship - for which, as a friend, I would be in your debt. ALGREN (stands) Then I will consider it. OMURA And I will be grateful. INT. SHIPPING OFFICE DAY Algren is in a shipping office. A clerk consults his schedule of departure. CLERK All righteee, the ANDREW JACKSON leaves tomorrow if you want a steamship you'll have to wait six weeks. (Algren is silent) Gets ya to Frisco by the 28th. 14 dollars for a private cabin, 8 for a shared or 3 for a lower berth. What can I put you down for? Algren is silent, concentrating on a calendar hanging behind the clerk. It features a beautiful Hiroshigi watercolor of mountains. CLERK Sir..? ALGREN (after a moment) Private cabin. 80. EXT. TOKYO STREET DAY Graham walks with Algren. GRAHAM Leave? Wh y would you leave now? No white man has ever been in your position. Do you have any idea what it will mean to have Omura as your friend? You want land, you want women, you want boys? Algren starts to walk faster, but Graham Stops him. GRAHAM Nathan. I wanted to leave, too. For three years. You must believe me there is a majest y about these people -- can you imagine what your own country would be if it had half the drive and the discipline and the belief and the bravery of these ridiculous little people? Then raised voices from across the street stop them. They see Yoritomo surrounded by four Imperial Army soldiers. The soldiers are rough and imperious, drunk with power. They carry gleaming rifle.. The soldiers bark orders. Yoritomo stands proudly, responding calmly. ALGREN Whit is this? GRAHAM My God, it's the edicts... ALGREN What edicts? Algren arrives as the situation is clearly growing volatile - the soldiers are pointing to Yoritomo's head, screaming Algren steps toward the soldiers-- ALGREN That's enough-- One of the soldiers SCREAMS at him -- raises his rifle -- all the soldiers raise their rifles Yoritomo reaches for his sword -- Algren tries to push through - 81. ALGREN (subtitles) YORITOMO, WAIT! One of the soldiers smacks Algren in the chin with a rifle butt. Algren reels, and by the time he stands straight again, four others are pointing their ba yonets at his face. Graham takes hold of Algren's arm. GRAHAM Don't be stupid. Algren makes eye contact with Yoritomo, who -- in deference to his friend -- puts his sword away. The Japanese soldiers continue to scream at Yoritomo. They force him to his knees. Rifles pressed to his head. Yoritomo bows his bead, speaking quietly, as if praying. Algren witches in horror all one of the soldiers removes his bayonet -- another grab. Yoritomo's hair, jerks his head back and begins hacking off Yoritomo's traditional top-knot of hair. Brutally. Blood. Yoritomo remains kneeling, head down, blood flowing down his face. The soldiers laugh and move off. Algren kneels by Yoritomo. Yoritomo looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes. EXT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Katsumoto's house on the outskirts of Tokyo is spacious and harmonious. Utterly Japanese. Samurai guards in full regalia, stand menacingly outside. INT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Ujio kneels with Yoritomo, dressing the wounds on his head. Graham sits across the room talking quietly to the mammoth Nakao, taking notes in a small notebook. Nakao has been brutally shorn of his top knot as well. His shame is apparent. INT. KATSUMOTO'S CHAMBER DUSK Servants he1p dress Katsumoto in his exacting samurai wardrobe as Algren is ushered in. KATSUMOTO Captain, I had not thought to see you again. 82. ALGREN I'm leaving tomorrow. But before I go I need to tell you what's going on here. KATSUMOTO You mean the Gatling Guns and the howitzers, is that how you sa y it? ALGREN They're about to close a trade agreement that will bring this country more weapons than you can imagine. KATSUMOTO Yes, if the emperor agrees - but Omura knows the Emperor must be convinced there is cause to need those weapons before be will sign. ALGREN (realizing) And you are to be the cause... KATSUMOTO Elegant, isn't it? Omura passes laws

ardent

How many times the word 'ardent' appears in the text?

wracking his body. EXT. VILLAGE DAY As Algren returns with the water, he sees Katsumoto approaching with Ujio and several warriors. KATSUMOTO The Emperor has requested my presence. We leave tomorrow. You will be released in Tokyo. He goes. Algren stands, not sure how to react. INT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE NIGHT Algren writes on parchment by the light of an oil lamp. ALGREN (V.O.) April 13, 1877. Tomorrow we return to civilization. As eager as I am to be among my own kind, I confess to a curious reluctance. EXT. KATDUMOTO'S VILLAGE DAWN Algren stands overlooking the village as the sun rises over the misty peaks. ALGREN (V.O.) These months have marked me, and I don't fully know yet wh y. EXT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE DAY Algren prepares to mount up. Yoritomo says goodbye to his family. ALGREN (V.O.) I do know it is here that I have known my first untroubled sleep in many years. Taka comes to Algren, bows her head. TAKA (subtitles) You are alwa ys welcome in our home. ALGREN Domo Arrigato. He glances at the unfinished house. 62. ALGREN (subtitles) ...You will finish it soon. TAKA (subtitles) If that is my destiny. She bows her head again. Toshiie hands him a scroll: it is a picture of the Family. Algren is included. Japanese characters list all their names. Toshiie bows. Algren bows and tucks the scroll into his coat. Algren and Yoritomo move out with Katsumoto, Ujio, Nakao and his bodyguard of several dozen Samurai. The villagers bow and honor the warrior as they pass. EXT. MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE DAY Algren trots alongside Katsumoto. ALGREN ... The Emperor sends a message for you to return to Tokyo, and you go? KATSUMOTO Yes. ALGREN Even though you're in rebellion against him. KATSUMOTO Against the Emperor? Never. I serve him. As I have alwa ys done. . ALGREN I don't understand. KATSUMOTO Our Emperor is young, and there are things I must sa y to him. ALGREN But ever yone around him wants you dead. KA TSUMOTO And if the Emperor desires, I will take my own life at his command. He spurs his horse and rides on. A1gren watches him. 63. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET They approach a large inn. A boy working in the fields see Katsumoto approaching. He doesn't believe it -- the Great Katsumoto. He drops his hoe and races awa y, calling out. KATSUMOTO We will stop here for the night. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET Samurai guards have been posted around the perimeter. INT. KATSUMOTO'S RQOM NIGHT Algren is escorted in. Katsumoto kneels at a table. Preparing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Sit, Captain. Algren sits. By now he has learned how to sit on the ground. Katsumoto begins the exacting, delicate and precise tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Do you drink tea? ALGREN I've had little else for some time... Katsumoto continues with the tea ceremony. ALGREN How's your poem coming? KATSUMOTO I am having trouble. The truth is I am not a very good poet. (Algren smiles) Do you know wh y you were sent here? To Yoshino. ALGREN To protect the railroad. . KATSUMOTO Why is the railroad here? ALGREN So Tokyo can control the whole country. 64. KATSUMOTO You have seen my province. All mountains. Far from Tokyo. Yet the rail line must come here? Katsumoto tosses a tiny bit of coal on the simmering brazier on the table. Algren watches carefully. ALGREN You have something they want KATSUMOTO What do they want in my mountains? ALGREN Minerals ... Gold. KA TSUMOTO (smiles) There is no gold in Japan. Katsumoto gently blows on the coal brazier. The coal flares a bit. ALGREN Coal? (Katsumoto looks at him) For steamships. KA TSUMOTO And why would steamships be so important? ALGREN ...China. Katsumoto looks up at him. Impressed. KATSUMOTO Japan has nothing. China has ever ything. ALGREN Mine the coal to create a way station for the trip to China ... Freeze the Europeans out and Japan and America have a monopol y on the China trade. KATSUMOTO Add to this the Omura Zaibatsu. You know the Zaibatus? ALGREN The wealthy families. 65. KATSUMOTO As patron of the railroad, Omura owns all land within four hundred feet of ever y new rail line. As my country grows, so will his wealth. (looks at him) This is why you are fighting. Katsumoto completes the tea ceremony. He pours a cup for Algren. Bows his head and offers it to him. ALGREN And you will tell the emperor to stop them? KATSUMOTO I do not tell the emperor what to do. ALGREN Then what do you hope to accomplish? Katsumoto looks at Algren, the slightest gleam in his eye. KATSUMOTO Will you return to America? Algren watches him -- why didn't Katsumoto answer? ALGREN ...I have a job here. KATSUMOTO You should return to your home. ALGREN Why? KATSUMOTO Because I do not wish you to be m y enemy again. Katsumoto returns to his poem, he does not look up. KATSUMOTO Go home Captain ... Anshinritsumai. I wish you peace. Algren waits but Katsumoto just continues to work on his poem. EXT. AROUND THE INN NIGHT The samurai guards are alert, their senses heightened to almost superhuman proportions. But there is another way. Another way of learning combat. A wa y without the beaut y, the philosophy and the moral code. They are almost imperceptible at first... their head-to-toe black clothes a perfect camouflage... their silence and stealth are otherworldly. 66. They were then known as Shinobi, masters of stealth and spying. We know them as Ninjas. They float across the ground ... creeping an inch ever y hour... complete physica1 control. One black-gloved finger moves. Then the next... They crawl and then wait Poised on their fingertips and toes. There is no sound as they strike. The samurai guards are garroted in an instant. Other Ninjas catch the samurai's weapons as they fall. No sound disturbs the peaceful night. EXT. INN -- FRONT DOORWAY NIGHT Silence. Two samurai guards are in position. One of them glances up at the stars. A Ninja throwing star instantly slices into his jugular-- blood sprays -- the other guard turns a series of Ninja slice into him... EXT. INN--WALLS NIGHT Silence. The Ninjas use mew claws to crawl up the walls like spiders. EXT. INN ROOF NIGHT Silence. A samurai guard stands at the edge of the roof. A Ninja silently moves toward him. Stops. Ten feet awa y. He pulls out a shuriken -- a small needle-shaped projectile, dips it into a sack of poison. Places it carefully into the palm of his hand. And with the flick of his wrist-- The needle flies -- stabbing into the samurai -- he crumples. Other Ninjas immediately pour over the edge of the roof -- catching the samurai before he falls... INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. 67. Katsumoto cannot sleep. He stares out the window at a nightingale. INT. INN--UJIO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Ujio sits in his room. He is unblinking. Alert. Swords at the ready. INT. INN ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Algren cannot sleep either. He sits leaning against a wall. Thinking. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Silence. Yoritomo drinks tea with Nakao, the huge martial arts master. INT. OUTSIDE KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT A guard stands sentinel. Above his head, unbeknownst to him, two Ninjas descend on ropes. One of them swings a long chain - to which I barbed-knife is attached. As it lodges in the guard's chest, the second Ninja swings down just in time to catch the dead guard, silently, before his body hits the ground. INT. INN -- KATSUMQTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Katsumoto lies in bed listening to the night bird. It stops singing. Katsumoto smiles sadly. He decides to give up on sleep, leans forward to rise. This act saves his life. For when the Ninjas come, they come all at once-- A Ninja suddenly comes TEARING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE PAPER WALL, his sword slashing down .- just missing Katsumoto. Katsumoto calls out an alarm, diving and rolling across the floor for his sword. He instantly kills one Ninja using his steel-tipped "war fan" to slash his attackers throat. Another smashes in through the window. INT. INN -- MAIN H ALL NIGHT Ninjas EXPLODE into the main hall. Samurai who come out of their rooms are cut down by a variety of weapons -- one takes a throwing star in the face, others are felled by the traditional ninja-to, short swords ideal for fighting in confined spaces, chain-knives, nun-chaka and others. 68. More Ninjas drop from the rafters on ropes. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT A Ninja SMASHES through the paper wall -- Algren grabs the nearest object, a low tea table. and swings it at his head. The Ninja dodges the blow and slices at Algren with short-sword. Algren barely avoids the blow by ducking behind a post as the sword LODGES deep in the wood. Algren flings himself, bodily, at his attacker. INT. INN-- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ninja throwing stars spin across the room, killing a samurai. Yoritomo emerges from his room, readying his bow, but the dead samurai falls back blocking his wa y. From behind the rice wall, Yoritomo lets fly an arrow without even looking. It passes THROUGH the wall, killing the Ninja on the opposite balcony. INT. INN-- FIRST FLOOR NIGHT Ujio screams a war cry and begins to battle his way up the stairs. With breathtaking moves, he slashes hands and limbs, forcing the Ninja back. Nakao fights his wa y up beside him, desperately trying to reach Katsumoto's room. Using only his bare hands he catches a Ninja's wrist and hurls him over the railing. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Algren and the Ninja are in a death struggle, kneeing, gouging, butting. They awkwardly smash through a paper wall into the next room. INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto wields his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. It is the first time we have seen him in action and his movements are both beautiful and deadly. But more Ninjas are pouring in through the window, threatening to overwhelm him. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Rolling on the ground, Algren manages to grab a chopstick and STAB his adversary through the eye. He picks up the fallen short sword and steps out into the hall. ARROWS whiz past, thudding into the wall beside his head. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto, breathing heavily, his kimono shredded and bloody, is fending off the Ninjas' increasingly savage attacks as Algren enters. Algren SCREAMS, distracting them just long enough for Katsumoto to take advantage and kill one. 69. Then, just as a Ninja it about to kill Algren, Katsumoto FLINGS his short sword ... it pin-wheels across the room, hitting Algren's attacker in the chest. Without missing a beat, Algren pulls the short sword from the dying Ninja's chest and uses it to stab another Ninja who, thinking Algren defenseless, has launched an attack. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ujio and Nakao are back to back, a perfect fighting machine as they fight their wa y to Katsumoto's rescue. They battle Ninjas wielding lethal kusarigamas, the Ninjas swing chains, the attached blades slice the air--Nakao catches the chains and flinging the Ninja over the balcony. INT. YORITOMO'S ROOM NIGHT Yoritomo is pinned down. Darts and throwing stars shred the rice paper wall above him. He picks off another Ninja before changing his position. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT The blazing sword battle continues. Algren throws a beautiful painted standing-screen in front of an attacking Ninja, momentarily confusing him. Then he stabs THROUGH THE SCREEN -as a blood- stain SPREADS across the pastoral painting. But another Ninja catches Algren off-guard and slices at him with his short sword. As Algren lifts his sword to parry the blow, HIS LITILE FINGER IS CHOPPED OFF. He drops the sword, momentarily defenseless. Across the hallway Yoritomo has been watching the shadowpla y on the rice-paper walls. Algren's attacker raises his blade to deliver the death blow. In Katsumoto's room Algren flinches involuntarily beneath the raised blade. Suddenly the Ninja JACKKNIFES as if punched by an unseen hand. As he spins, dead, to the ground, we SEE an ARROW lodged bet ween his shoulder blades. Yoritomo has FIRED blindly, through the wall killing Algren's attacker. Nearby, a Ninja hurls a throwing star at Katsumoto. With blind instinct Katsumoto turns and takes the blade in the meat of his arm. Algren, meanwhile, has ripped the sleeve of his kimono into a tourniquet for his maimed hand. He uses the rest of the fabric TO TIE HIS HAND TO HIS SWORD before launching himself back into the fray -- slicing an attacker just as he is about to impale Katsumoto. Together, he and Katsumoto force the last two Ninjas through a paper wall to the next room. They fight all the wa y through that room and BLAST through another paper wall to the next. 70. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT The battle continues unabated on the stairs -- the Ninjas spring for position with incredible grace --perching and fighting on banisters, leaping from one level to the next. It is a mayhem of flashing swords and flailing limbs and flyi ng arrows and spinning Ninja stars. Sprays of blood splatter against the white rice paper walls. Some of the fighting is less than elegant. Men bite and wrestle and gouge to survive in close quarters. All of them arc bloody and sweat y and dirty and tired, heaving for breath, their skin flayed open, their kimonos ripped, their hands and arms and faces blood-stained. But more samurai reinforcements follow Ujio up the stairs: Together with Yoritomo and Nakao, they have begun to gain the upper hand. Ujio flings both his swords through the air -- killing two Ninjas -- and dives to fight others - his martial arts skills are dazzling. Algren and Katsumoto are fighting sidc by side And we cut to -- EXT. INN NIGHT Outside of the inn, we slowl y pull away... The sounds of the battle gradually fade... Soon it is nothing more than a lovel y rustic inn nestled in the mountains. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT Later. The battle is over. Ninja and samurai corpses litter the inn. We slowl y move up the long stairwa y from the bottom... Yoritomo pulls a Ninja star from Nakao's_shou1der. Then one from his own. We move up another level, past more bodies... Ujio moves through the Ninjas. Making sure they are dead. Before sheathing his sword, he angrily FLICKS it at the rice paper wall, spattering it with the bloody spray. Katsumoto wipes his sword on a nearby corpse, replaces it in its sheath. He sits beside Algren on a stair. Both men are exhausted. Bloodied. Alive. A long beat as we watch the two warriors. Slow fade to... 71. EXT. TOKYO -- IMPERIAL PALACE DAY Algren, Katsumoto and the others are nearing the palace. Algren slows to a stop -- his path is toward the city. Katsumoto stops, looks at him, then does something absolutel y extraordinary. He kneels and bows before Algren. Quickly touching his head to the dirt. Then he rises, turns and walks toward the palace. Algren stands, stunned. EXT. PARADE GROUND DAY Algren walks onto the parade ground. The change he sees could not be more remarkable. Thousands of new Japanese troops are drilling with new bolt-action Mausers. They are precise, exact and frighteningly mechanistic, their uniforms new and crisp. New German advisors are barking commands. Colonel Bagley sees him. BAGLEY Algren? My God, you never cease to astonish. Bagley runs over, hand extended, but Algren turns to look at the troops. ALGREN They have new weapons. BAGLEY The Kaiser was only too happy to help. Along with his friends at Mauser and Krupp. Thank God we Americans still have a few teeth in our head. And they come to the "teeth." Howitzer cannons. A row of them. Artillery officers in US Army uniforms arc instructing Japanese offi cers. BAGLEY The ambassador and I have spent eight months kissing Omura's ass so he'll sign the damn trade pact with us. You spent all this time living with those savages? (A1gren looks at him) He's going to want to talk to you... ALGREN I need a bath. BAGLEY And your back pay, I imagine. Algren starts walking away. 72. BAGLEY They got their flag. ...See? And we see it... snapping on I flagpole high above the parade ground. It is immediately familiar. A red circle on a white field. The Rising Sun. The Howitzers fire in sequence. Thundering blasts that shake the heavens. EXT, ROYAL TEMPLE DAY Omura stands above Emperor Meiji respectful but persistent. The Emperor is kneeling, tending to his iris garden. It is one of the wonders of the Palace: a sea of white, pink, blue, and purple blossoms. Retainers and servants stand at a distance. One holds a standard with the Imperial seal: a yellow chrysanthemum. Omura sees Katsumoto making his way toward them. He talks a bit more quickly to the Emperor. Katsumoto begins to prostrate himself before the Emperor, the usual sign of extreme respect -- but the Emperor stops him: EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori-san. We arc "civilized" now. Katsumoto stops prostrating himself. The Emperor offers his hand. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) I cannot touch the Sacred One. EMPEROR (subtitles) You can. It is a difficult moment for Katsumoto. He simply cannot do It. OMURA (subtitles) Did you have a pleasant journey, Minister Katsumoto? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It was uneventful. Omura appreciates Katsumoto's droll response. He assumes that Katsumoto is aware of his part in the assassination attempt. 73. EMPEROR (subtitles) If it is not a great imposition. I desire a moment alone with Minister Katsumoto. Omura-San. OMURA (subtitles) Enlightened One, perhaps I can be of service in a conversation of state. EMPEROR (subtitles) So kind of you, but I fear my old teacher wishes to upbraid me in private for neglecting my studies. Omura bows his head quickly and goes. Silence. The Emperor gazes at Katsumoto. Then: EMPEROR (subtitles) You rise against me, my teacher. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) No, Highness, I rise against your enemies. EMPEROR (subtitles) They are my teacher, my advisers, like you. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) They advise in their own interest. EMPEROR (subtitles) The world is changing, Mori -- you have not seen what goes on beyond our borders, the inventions, the science. I need men who can look outward, or soon we will be left behind, and defenseless. KATSUM OTO (subtitles) I am sworn to defend you even to my last breath. EMPEROR (subtit1es) The samurai live in the past. You cannot defend against a future you don't understand. 74. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) If I am no use, then I will happily end my life, EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori. It is my wish that you rejoin the Council of State. I need your voice. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It is your voice that needs to be heard, Highness. You are a living God, you can do what ever you think is right. The young emperor is silent a moment. EMPEROR (subtitles) I am a living God only as long as I do what they think is right. KATSUMOTO (subtitle) Your Highness, may I beg forgiveness for saying what a teacher must, that such a statement is pathetic drivel not worthy of an ignorant stable boy, let alone a young man I know to have some modest intelligence. The emperor laughs warmly, almost happy to be scolded as he once was. EMPEROR (subtitles) Is it possible a living God can be too afraid to make his voice heard? (Katsumoto's look is not unkind) Tell me what to do, Mori-San? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) You are emperor, my Lord, not me. You must find the wisdom for all of us. EXT. YOKOHAMA WHARF DAY A series of warehouses, beyond which we see warships in the harbor. A1gren walks with Bagley and two other OFFICERS. INT. WAREHOUSE DAY The cavernous warehouse piled high with huge crates. 75. BAGLEY As soon as they sign the agreement, they're obligated to buy the entire weapons package, from Colt revol vers to Ha1liwell twelve-pounders. Plus this particular item you might recognize. A few stevedores tear open one of the crates. Algren hides his astonishment: A Gatling Gun is revealed. BAGLEY They've been calibrated to fire 200 rounds a minute, The new copper cartridges cut down on jamming. Algren closes his eyes, trying to keep his memories at bay. EXT. TOKYO STREETS DAY Algren fights the crowds with Colonel Bagley And Ambassador Swanbeck.. ALGREN (V.O.) May 15, 1877. The city I return to is immeasurabl y changed New construction ever ywhere. Telegraph wires strung next to an ancient temple. A modern European hotel is going up, dwarfing the traditional Japanese buildings. Huge billboards advertising Western goods. A new invention, the rickshaw, has replaced many of the palanquins. ALGREN (V.O.) As though Tokyo were determined to become another New York or Chicago .- all in one headlong rush. Spider's web of telegraph cables spread from a tall new brick building. It is like a New York office building stabbing into the heart of old Japan. The familiar Omura character is emblazoned on the side. .INT. OFFICES OF THE OMURA ZAIBATSU DAY Aside from the occasional bit of Japanese decor, this could be a buzzing Wall Street firm. Telegraph operators click away. Accountants use adding machines. Secretaries use pneumatic tubes to send documents back and forth. Engineers plot out railway lines. All are dressed in Western clothes. Algren, Colonel Bagley, and Ambassador Swanbeck enter. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK (to Algren) If he asks, you can talk about ordnance and tactics. But remember, this has to do with a lot more than just weapons. 76. An anteroom holds waiting delegations from the various European powers. A babel of language. ... French ...Dutch ...Russian ...German. A pretty American secretary looks up from her desk. SECRETARY Ambassador Swanbeck, if you'll follow me. Some of the delegates arc craning forward, watching Algren and the others hungrily as they head into the final office. INT. OMURA'S OFFICE DAY Omura stands like an industrial titan before large picture windows offering a dramatic view of Tokyo. The only decoration in the room is an enormous Caravaggio. OMURA Please, sit down, gentlemen. Omura removes a gold cigarette case and lights up. Cigarettes are the newest Western fad Sweeping Japan. OMURA (re: cigarette case) A gift from Czar Alexander... Captain Algren,. it seems you have endured your captivity with little ill-effect. ALGREN Yes, sir. OMURA He's an extraordinary man, isn't he? ALGREN He is samurai. Omura gazes at him. Slowl y takes I puff from his cigarette. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Mr. Omura, my people have been drawing up the documents we discussed. I have a draft-- OMURA We're not quite ready to announce the treaty, Ambassador. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Excuse me? OMURA The Emperor is...sentimental. Katsumoto was his old mentor-- he is not eager to offend him. It will take I few more days. 77. AMBASSJ\DOR SW ANBECK How many da ys is " a few?" OMURA I assure you the Samurai will not stand in the wa y of our agreement. You are prepared to make deliver y? AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Soon as your emperor signs on the dotted line. OMURA Captain Algren you are the expert. Will this array of ordnance be sufficient? ALGREN Depends on what you're trying to accomplish. OMURA I want my country to take its place as a modern power. ALGREN Then they will set you well on your way. OMURA I am pleased. AMDASSADOR SW ANBECK Mr. Omura, you assured us you had the influence with your emperor to make this deal come to pass. With all due respect perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to. OMURA With all due respect, Ambassador, perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to, for instance the French. Or the English. Or any of the legations waiting in the next room. Ambassador Swan beck stands swallowing his rage. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Yes, we1l, we look forward to hearing from you. OMURA Good afternoon, gentlemen. They start to go. OMURA Captain Algren, perhaps you can stay a moment And tell me of your experiences in our rebellious provinces. Bagley looks at Algren. Do as he asks. He leaves A1gren alone with Omura. 78. OMURA Cigarette? ALGREN Thank you. Omura lights his cigarette. A moment as he takes Algren's measure. OMURA You fought bravely on behalf of our army-- against the rebel Katsumoto. Algren says nothing. . OMURA And yet you helped save his life when attacked by the Ninja. ALGREN My role was much less significant than you may have heard. OMURA Tell me about your role in Katsumoto's plans. ALGREN I have none. OMURA And your sympathies? ALGREN Again, I have none. OMURA I know you have little sympathy for Colonel Bagley. ALGREN He is.... unsympathetic. Omura smiles. OMURA I thought it was we who are inscrutable. Now it is Algren who smiles. OMURA You have gained important knowledge of Katsumoto's province, his army, and his rebellion. This is extremely valuable to me. He watches Algren to see how this lands. 79. OMURA You also possess significant knowledge of m y army, my weaponry, and my plans. This is extremely va1uable to Katsumoto. ALGREN Again, you flatter me. OMURA No. I am a businessman. I recognize what is valuable. And I buy it. (looks at him) In this case, I value your loyalt y. Algren considers the implications of what Omura is saying. ALGREN I didn't know loyalt y was something that could be sold. OMURA Then perhaps you will give it, as a token of future friendship - for which, as a friend, I would be in your debt. ALGREN (stands) Then I will consider it. OMURA And I will be grateful. INT. SHIPPING OFFICE DAY Algren is in a shipping office. A clerk consults his schedule of departure. CLERK All righteee, the ANDREW JACKSON leaves tomorrow if you want a steamship you'll have to wait six weeks. (Algren is silent) Gets ya to Frisco by the 28th. 14 dollars for a private cabin, 8 for a shared or 3 for a lower berth. What can I put you down for? Algren is silent, concentrating on a calendar hanging behind the clerk. It features a beautiful Hiroshigi watercolor of mountains. CLERK Sir..? ALGREN (after a moment) Private cabin. 80. EXT. TOKYO STREET DAY Graham walks with Algren. GRAHAM Leave? Wh y would you leave now? No white man has ever been in your position. Do you have any idea what it will mean to have Omura as your friend? You want land, you want women, you want boys? Algren starts to walk faster, but Graham Stops him. GRAHAM Nathan. I wanted to leave, too. For three years. You must believe me there is a majest y about these people -- can you imagine what your own country would be if it had half the drive and the discipline and the belief and the bravery of these ridiculous little people? Then raised voices from across the street stop them. They see Yoritomo surrounded by four Imperial Army soldiers. The soldiers are rough and imperious, drunk with power. They carry gleaming rifle.. The soldiers bark orders. Yoritomo stands proudly, responding calmly. ALGREN Whit is this? GRAHAM My God, it's the edicts... ALGREN What edicts? Algren arrives as the situation is clearly growing volatile - the soldiers are pointing to Yoritomo's head, screaming Algren steps toward the soldiers-- ALGREN That's enough-- One of the soldiers SCREAMS at him -- raises his rifle -- all the soldiers raise their rifles Yoritomo reaches for his sword -- Algren tries to push through - 81. ALGREN (subtitles) YORITOMO, WAIT! One of the soldiers smacks Algren in the chin with a rifle butt. Algren reels, and by the time he stands straight again, four others are pointing their ba yonets at his face. Graham takes hold of Algren's arm. GRAHAM Don't be stupid. Algren makes eye contact with Yoritomo, who -- in deference to his friend -- puts his sword away. The Japanese soldiers continue to scream at Yoritomo. They force him to his knees. Rifles pressed to his head. Yoritomo bows his bead, speaking quietly, as if praying. Algren witches in horror all one of the soldiers removes his bayonet -- another grab. Yoritomo's hair, jerks his head back and begins hacking off Yoritomo's traditional top-knot of hair. Brutally. Blood. Yoritomo remains kneeling, head down, blood flowing down his face. The soldiers laugh and move off. Algren kneels by Yoritomo. Yoritomo looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes. EXT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Katsumoto's house on the outskirts of Tokyo is spacious and harmonious. Utterly Japanese. Samurai guards in full regalia, stand menacingly outside. INT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Ujio kneels with Yoritomo, dressing the wounds on his head. Graham sits across the room talking quietly to the mammoth Nakao, taking notes in a small notebook. Nakao has been brutally shorn of his top knot as well. His shame is apparent. INT. KATSUMOTO'S CHAMBER DUSK Servants he1p dress Katsumoto in his exacting samurai wardrobe as Algren is ushered in. KATSUMOTO Captain, I had not thought to see you again. 82. ALGREN I'm leaving tomorrow. But before I go I need to tell you what's going on here. KATSUMOTO You mean the Gatling Guns and the howitzers, is that how you sa y it? ALGREN They're about to close a trade agreement that will bring this country more weapons than you can imagine. KATSUMOTO Yes, if the emperor agrees - but Omura knows the Emperor must be convinced there is cause to need those weapons before be will sign. ALGREN (realizing) And you are to be the cause... KATSUMOTO Elegant, isn't it? Omura passes laws

patron

How many times the word 'patron' appears in the text?

wracking his body. EXT. VILLAGE DAY As Algren returns with the water, he sees Katsumoto approaching with Ujio and several warriors. KATSUMOTO The Emperor has requested my presence. We leave tomorrow. You will be released in Tokyo. He goes. Algren stands, not sure how to react. INT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE NIGHT Algren writes on parchment by the light of an oil lamp. ALGREN (V.O.) April 13, 1877. Tomorrow we return to civilization. As eager as I am to be among my own kind, I confess to a curious reluctance. EXT. KATDUMOTO'S VILLAGE DAWN Algren stands overlooking the village as the sun rises over the misty peaks. ALGREN (V.O.) These months have marked me, and I don't fully know yet wh y. EXT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE DAY Algren prepares to mount up. Yoritomo says goodbye to his family. ALGREN (V.O.) I do know it is here that I have known my first untroubled sleep in many years. Taka comes to Algren, bows her head. TAKA (subtitles) You are alwa ys welcome in our home. ALGREN Domo Arrigato. He glances at the unfinished house. 62. ALGREN (subtitles) ...You will finish it soon. TAKA (subtitles) If that is my destiny. She bows her head again. Toshiie hands him a scroll: it is a picture of the Family. Algren is included. Japanese characters list all their names. Toshiie bows. Algren bows and tucks the scroll into his coat. Algren and Yoritomo move out with Katsumoto, Ujio, Nakao and his bodyguard of several dozen Samurai. The villagers bow and honor the warrior as they pass. EXT. MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE DAY Algren trots alongside Katsumoto. ALGREN ... The Emperor sends a message for you to return to Tokyo, and you go? KATSUMOTO Yes. ALGREN Even though you're in rebellion against him. KATSUMOTO Against the Emperor? Never. I serve him. As I have alwa ys done. . ALGREN I don't understand. KATSUMOTO Our Emperor is young, and there are things I must sa y to him. ALGREN But ever yone around him wants you dead. KA TSUMOTO And if the Emperor desires, I will take my own life at his command. He spurs his horse and rides on. A1gren watches him. 63. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET They approach a large inn. A boy working in the fields see Katsumoto approaching. He doesn't believe it -- the Great Katsumoto. He drops his hoe and races awa y, calling out. KATSUMOTO We will stop here for the night. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET Samurai guards have been posted around the perimeter. INT. KATSUMOTO'S RQOM NIGHT Algren is escorted in. Katsumoto kneels at a table. Preparing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Sit, Captain. Algren sits. By now he has learned how to sit on the ground. Katsumoto begins the exacting, delicate and precise tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Do you drink tea? ALGREN I've had little else for some time... Katsumoto continues with the tea ceremony. ALGREN How's your poem coming? KATSUMOTO I am having trouble. The truth is I am not a very good poet. (Algren smiles) Do you know wh y you were sent here? To Yoshino. ALGREN To protect the railroad. . KATSUMOTO Why is the railroad here? ALGREN So Tokyo can control the whole country. 64. KATSUMOTO You have seen my province. All mountains. Far from Tokyo. Yet the rail line must come here? Katsumoto tosses a tiny bit of coal on the simmering brazier on the table. Algren watches carefully. ALGREN You have something they want KATSUMOTO What do they want in my mountains? ALGREN Minerals ... Gold. KA TSUMOTO (smiles) There is no gold in Japan. Katsumoto gently blows on the coal brazier. The coal flares a bit. ALGREN Coal? (Katsumoto looks at him) For steamships. KA TSUMOTO And why would steamships be so important? ALGREN ...China. Katsumoto looks up at him. Impressed. KATSUMOTO Japan has nothing. China has ever ything. ALGREN Mine the coal to create a way station for the trip to China ... Freeze the Europeans out and Japan and America have a monopol y on the China trade. KATSUMOTO Add to this the Omura Zaibatsu. You know the Zaibatus? ALGREN The wealthy families. 65. KATSUMOTO As patron of the railroad, Omura owns all land within four hundred feet of ever y new rail line. As my country grows, so will his wealth. (looks at him) This is why you are fighting. Katsumoto completes the tea ceremony. He pours a cup for Algren. Bows his head and offers it to him. ALGREN And you will tell the emperor to stop them? KATSUMOTO I do not tell the emperor what to do. ALGREN Then what do you hope to accomplish? Katsumoto looks at Algren, the slightest gleam in his eye. KATSUMOTO Will you return to America? Algren watches him -- why didn't Katsumoto answer? ALGREN ...I have a job here. KATSUMOTO You should return to your home. ALGREN Why? KATSUMOTO Because I do not wish you to be m y enemy again. Katsumoto returns to his poem, he does not look up. KATSUMOTO Go home Captain ... Anshinritsumai. I wish you peace. Algren waits but Katsumoto just continues to work on his poem. EXT. AROUND THE INN NIGHT The samurai guards are alert, their senses heightened to almost superhuman proportions. But there is another way. Another way of learning combat. A wa y without the beaut y, the philosophy and the moral code. They are almost imperceptible at first... their head-to-toe black clothes a perfect camouflage... their silence and stealth are otherworldly. 66. They were then known as Shinobi, masters of stealth and spying. We know them as Ninjas. They float across the ground ... creeping an inch ever y hour... complete physica1 control. One black-gloved finger moves. Then the next... They crawl and then wait Poised on their fingertips and toes. There is no sound as they strike. The samurai guards are garroted in an instant. Other Ninjas catch the samurai's weapons as they fall. No sound disturbs the peaceful night. EXT. INN -- FRONT DOORWAY NIGHT Silence. Two samurai guards are in position. One of them glances up at the stars. A Ninja throwing star instantly slices into his jugular-- blood sprays -- the other guard turns a series of Ninja slice into him... EXT. INN--WALLS NIGHT Silence. The Ninjas use mew claws to crawl up the walls like spiders. EXT. INN ROOF NIGHT Silence. A samurai guard stands at the edge of the roof. A Ninja silently moves toward him. Stops. Ten feet awa y. He pulls out a shuriken -- a small needle-shaped projectile, dips it into a sack of poison. Places it carefully into the palm of his hand. And with the flick of his wrist-- The needle flies -- stabbing into the samurai -- he crumples. Other Ninjas immediately pour over the edge of the roof -- catching the samurai before he falls... INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. 67. Katsumoto cannot sleep. He stares out the window at a nightingale. INT. INN--UJIO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Ujio sits in his room. He is unblinking. Alert. Swords at the ready. INT. INN ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Algren cannot sleep either. He sits leaning against a wall. Thinking. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Silence. Yoritomo drinks tea with Nakao, the huge martial arts master. INT. OUTSIDE KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT A guard stands sentinel. Above his head, unbeknownst to him, two Ninjas descend on ropes. One of them swings a long chain - to which I barbed-knife is attached. As it lodges in the guard's chest, the second Ninja swings down just in time to catch the dead guard, silently, before his body hits the ground. INT. INN -- KATSUMQTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Katsumoto lies in bed listening to the night bird. It stops singing. Katsumoto smiles sadly. He decides to give up on sleep, leans forward to rise. This act saves his life. For when the Ninjas come, they come all at once-- A Ninja suddenly comes TEARING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE PAPER WALL, his sword slashing down .- just missing Katsumoto. Katsumoto calls out an alarm, diving and rolling across the floor for his sword. He instantly kills one Ninja using his steel-tipped "war fan" to slash his attackers throat. Another smashes in through the window. INT. INN -- MAIN H ALL NIGHT Ninjas EXPLODE into the main hall. Samurai who come out of their rooms are cut down by a variety of weapons -- one takes a throwing star in the face, others are felled by the traditional ninja-to, short swords ideal for fighting in confined spaces, chain-knives, nun-chaka and others. 68. More Ninjas drop from the rafters on ropes. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT A Ninja SMASHES through the paper wall -- Algren grabs the nearest object, a low tea table. and swings it at his head. The Ninja dodges the blow and slices at Algren with short-sword. Algren barely avoids the blow by ducking behind a post as the sword LODGES deep in the wood. Algren flings himself, bodily, at his attacker. INT. INN-- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ninja throwing stars spin across the room, killing a samurai. Yoritomo emerges from his room, readying his bow, but the dead samurai falls back blocking his wa y. From behind the rice wall, Yoritomo lets fly an arrow without even looking. It passes THROUGH the wall, killing the Ninja on the opposite balcony. INT. INN-- FIRST FLOOR NIGHT Ujio screams a war cry and begins to battle his way up the stairs. With breathtaking moves, he slashes hands and limbs, forcing the Ninja back. Nakao fights his wa y up beside him, desperately trying to reach Katsumoto's room. Using only his bare hands he catches a Ninja's wrist and hurls him over the railing. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Algren and the Ninja are in a death struggle, kneeing, gouging, butting. They awkwardly smash through a paper wall into the next room. INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto wields his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. It is the first time we have seen him in action and his movements are both beautiful and deadly. But more Ninjas are pouring in through the window, threatening to overwhelm him. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Rolling on the ground, Algren manages to grab a chopstick and STAB his adversary through the eye. He picks up the fallen short sword and steps out into the hall. ARROWS whiz past, thudding into the wall beside his head. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto, breathing heavily, his kimono shredded and bloody, is fending off the Ninjas' increasingly savage attacks as Algren enters. Algren SCREAMS, distracting them just long enough for Katsumoto to take advantage and kill one. 69. Then, just as a Ninja it about to kill Algren, Katsumoto FLINGS his short sword ... it pin-wheels across the room, hitting Algren's attacker in the chest. Without missing a beat, Algren pulls the short sword from the dying Ninja's chest and uses it to stab another Ninja who, thinking Algren defenseless, has launched an attack. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ujio and Nakao are back to back, a perfect fighting machine as they fight their wa y to Katsumoto's rescue. They battle Ninjas wielding lethal kusarigamas, the Ninjas swing chains, the attached blades slice the air--Nakao catches the chains and flinging the Ninja over the balcony. INT. YORITOMO'S ROOM NIGHT Yoritomo is pinned down. Darts and throwing stars shred the rice paper wall above him. He picks off another Ninja before changing his position. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT The blazing sword battle continues. Algren throws a beautiful painted standing-screen in front of an attacking Ninja, momentarily confusing him. Then he stabs THROUGH THE SCREEN -as a blood- stain SPREADS across the pastoral painting. But another Ninja catches Algren off-guard and slices at him with his short sword. As Algren lifts his sword to parry the blow, HIS LITILE FINGER IS CHOPPED OFF. He drops the sword, momentarily defenseless. Across the hallway Yoritomo has been watching the shadowpla y on the rice-paper walls. Algren's attacker raises his blade to deliver the death blow. In Katsumoto's room Algren flinches involuntarily beneath the raised blade. Suddenly the Ninja JACKKNIFES as if punched by an unseen hand. As he spins, dead, to the ground, we SEE an ARROW lodged bet ween his shoulder blades. Yoritomo has FIRED blindly, through the wall killing Algren's attacker. Nearby, a Ninja hurls a throwing star at Katsumoto. With blind instinct Katsumoto turns and takes the blade in the meat of his arm. Algren, meanwhile, has ripped the sleeve of his kimono into a tourniquet for his maimed hand. He uses the rest of the fabric TO TIE HIS HAND TO HIS SWORD before launching himself back into the fray -- slicing an attacker just as he is about to impale Katsumoto. Together, he and Katsumoto force the last two Ninjas through a paper wall to the next room. They fight all the wa y through that room and BLAST through another paper wall to the next. 70. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT The battle continues unabated on the stairs -- the Ninjas spring for position with incredible grace --perching and fighting on banisters, leaping from one level to the next. It is a mayhem of flashing swords and flailing limbs and flyi ng arrows and spinning Ninja stars. Sprays of blood splatter against the white rice paper walls. Some of the fighting is less than elegant. Men bite and wrestle and gouge to survive in close quarters. All of them arc bloody and sweat y and dirty and tired, heaving for breath, their skin flayed open, their kimonos ripped, their hands and arms and faces blood-stained. But more samurai reinforcements follow Ujio up the stairs: Together with Yoritomo and Nakao, they have begun to gain the upper hand. Ujio flings both his swords through the air -- killing two Ninjas -- and dives to fight others - his martial arts skills are dazzling. Algren and Katsumoto are fighting sidc by side And we cut to -- EXT. INN NIGHT Outside of the inn, we slowl y pull away... The sounds of the battle gradually fade... Soon it is nothing more than a lovel y rustic inn nestled in the mountains. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT Later. The battle is over. Ninja and samurai corpses litter the inn. We slowl y move up the long stairwa y from the bottom... Yoritomo pulls a Ninja star from Nakao's_shou1der. Then one from his own. We move up another level, past more bodies... Ujio moves through the Ninjas. Making sure they are dead. Before sheathing his sword, he angrily FLICKS it at the rice paper wall, spattering it with the bloody spray. Katsumoto wipes his sword on a nearby corpse, replaces it in its sheath. He sits beside Algren on a stair. Both men are exhausted. Bloodied. Alive. A long beat as we watch the two warriors. Slow fade to... 71. EXT. TOKYO -- IMPERIAL PALACE DAY Algren, Katsumoto and the others are nearing the palace. Algren slows to a stop -- his path is toward the city. Katsumoto stops, looks at him, then does something absolutel y extraordinary. He kneels and bows before Algren. Quickly touching his head to the dirt. Then he rises, turns and walks toward the palace. Algren stands, stunned. EXT. PARADE GROUND DAY Algren walks onto the parade ground. The change he sees could not be more remarkable. Thousands of new Japanese troops are drilling with new bolt-action Mausers. They are precise, exact and frighteningly mechanistic, their uniforms new and crisp. New German advisors are barking commands. Colonel Bagley sees him. BAGLEY Algren? My God, you never cease to astonish. Bagley runs over, hand extended, but Algren turns to look at the troops. ALGREN They have new weapons. BAGLEY The Kaiser was only too happy to help. Along with his friends at Mauser and Krupp. Thank God we Americans still have a few teeth in our head. And they come to the "teeth." Howitzer cannons. A row of them. Artillery officers in US Army uniforms arc instructing Japanese offi cers. BAGLEY The ambassador and I have spent eight months kissing Omura's ass so he'll sign the damn trade pact with us. You spent all this time living with those savages? (A1gren looks at him) He's going to want to talk to you... ALGREN I need a bath. BAGLEY And your back pay, I imagine. Algren starts walking away. 72. BAGLEY They got their flag. ...See? And we see it... snapping on I flagpole high above the parade ground. It is immediately familiar. A red circle on a white field. The Rising Sun. The Howitzers fire in sequence. Thundering blasts that shake the heavens. EXT, ROYAL TEMPLE DAY Omura stands above Emperor Meiji respectful but persistent. The Emperor is kneeling, tending to his iris garden. It is one of the wonders of the Palace: a sea of white, pink, blue, and purple blossoms. Retainers and servants stand at a distance. One holds a standard with the Imperial seal: a yellow chrysanthemum. Omura sees Katsumoto making his way toward them. He talks a bit more quickly to the Emperor. Katsumoto begins to prostrate himself before the Emperor, the usual sign of extreme respect -- but the Emperor stops him: EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori-san. We arc "civilized" now. Katsumoto stops prostrating himself. The Emperor offers his hand. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) I cannot touch the Sacred One. EMPEROR (subtitles) You can. It is a difficult moment for Katsumoto. He simply cannot do It. OMURA (subtitles) Did you have a pleasant journey, Minister Katsumoto? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It was uneventful. Omura appreciates Katsumoto's droll response. He assumes that Katsumoto is aware of his part in the assassination attempt. 73. EMPEROR (subtitles) If it is not a great imposition. I desire a moment alone with Minister Katsumoto. Omura-San. OMURA (subtitles) Enlightened One, perhaps I can be of service in a conversation of state. EMPEROR (subtitles) So kind of you, but I fear my old teacher wishes to upbraid me in private for neglecting my studies. Omura bows his head quickly and goes. Silence. The Emperor gazes at Katsumoto. Then: EMPEROR (subtitles) You rise against me, my teacher. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) No, Highness, I rise against your enemies. EMPEROR (subtitles) They are my teacher, my advisers, like you. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) They advise in their own interest. EMPEROR (subtitles) The world is changing, Mori -- you have not seen what goes on beyond our borders, the inventions, the science. I need men who can look outward, or soon we will be left behind, and defenseless. KATSUM OTO (subtitles) I am sworn to defend you even to my last breath. EMPEROR (subtit1es) The samurai live in the past. You cannot defend against a future you don't understand. 74. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) If I am no use, then I will happily end my life, EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori. It is my wish that you rejoin the Council of State. I need your voice. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It is your voice that needs to be heard, Highness. You are a living God, you can do what ever you think is right. The young emperor is silent a moment. EMPEROR (subtitles) I am a living God only as long as I do what they think is right. KATSUMOTO (subtitle) Your Highness, may I beg forgiveness for saying what a teacher must, that such a statement is pathetic drivel not worthy of an ignorant stable boy, let alone a young man I know to have some modest intelligence. The emperor laughs warmly, almost happy to be scolded as he once was. EMPEROR (subtitles) Is it possible a living God can be too afraid to make his voice heard? (Katsumoto's look is not unkind) Tell me what to do, Mori-San? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) You are emperor, my Lord, not me. You must find the wisdom for all of us. EXT. YOKOHAMA WHARF DAY A series of warehouses, beyond which we see warships in the harbor. A1gren walks with Bagley and two other OFFICERS. INT. WAREHOUSE DAY The cavernous warehouse piled high with huge crates. 75. BAGLEY As soon as they sign the agreement, they're obligated to buy the entire weapons package, from Colt revol vers to Ha1liwell twelve-pounders. Plus this particular item you might recognize. A few stevedores tear open one of the crates. Algren hides his astonishment: A Gatling Gun is revealed. BAGLEY They've been calibrated to fire 200 rounds a minute, The new copper cartridges cut down on jamming. Algren closes his eyes, trying to keep his memories at bay. EXT. TOKYO STREETS DAY Algren fights the crowds with Colonel Bagley And Ambassador Swanbeck.. ALGREN (V.O.) May 15, 1877. The city I return to is immeasurabl y changed New construction ever ywhere. Telegraph wires strung next to an ancient temple. A modern European hotel is going up, dwarfing the traditional Japanese buildings. Huge billboards advertising Western goods. A new invention, the rickshaw, has replaced many of the palanquins. ALGREN (V.O.) As though Tokyo were determined to become another New York or Chicago .- all in one headlong rush. Spider's web of telegraph cables spread from a tall new brick building. It is like a New York office building stabbing into the heart of old Japan. The familiar Omura character is emblazoned on the side. .INT. OFFICES OF THE OMURA ZAIBATSU DAY Aside from the occasional bit of Japanese decor, this could be a buzzing Wall Street firm. Telegraph operators click away. Accountants use adding machines. Secretaries use pneumatic tubes to send documents back and forth. Engineers plot out railway lines. All are dressed in Western clothes. Algren, Colonel Bagley, and Ambassador Swanbeck enter. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK (to Algren) If he asks, you can talk about ordnance and tactics. But remember, this has to do with a lot more than just weapons. 76. An anteroom holds waiting delegations from the various European powers. A babel of language. ... French ...Dutch ...Russian ...German. A pretty American secretary looks up from her desk. SECRETARY Ambassador Swanbeck, if you'll follow me. Some of the delegates arc craning forward, watching Algren and the others hungrily as they head into the final office. INT. OMURA'S OFFICE DAY Omura stands like an industrial titan before large picture windows offering a dramatic view of Tokyo. The only decoration in the room is an enormous Caravaggio. OMURA Please, sit down, gentlemen. Omura removes a gold cigarette case and lights up. Cigarettes are the newest Western fad Sweeping Japan. OMURA (re: cigarette case) A gift from Czar Alexander... Captain Algren,. it seems you have endured your captivity with little ill-effect. ALGREN Yes, sir. OMURA He's an extraordinary man, isn't he? ALGREN He is samurai. Omura gazes at him. Slowl y takes I puff from his cigarette. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Mr. Omura, my people have been drawing up the documents we discussed. I have a draft-- OMURA We're not quite ready to announce the treaty, Ambassador. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Excuse me? OMURA The Emperor is...sentimental. Katsumoto was his old mentor-- he is not eager to offend him. It will take I few more days. 77. AMBASSJ\DOR SW ANBECK How many da ys is " a few?" OMURA I assure you the Samurai will not stand in the wa y of our agreement. You are prepared to make deliver y? AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Soon as your emperor signs on the dotted line. OMURA Captain Algren you are the expert. Will this array of ordnance be sufficient? ALGREN Depends on what you're trying to accomplish. OMURA I want my country to take its place as a modern power. ALGREN Then they will set you well on your way. OMURA I am pleased. AMDASSADOR SW ANBECK Mr. Omura, you assured us you had the influence with your emperor to make this deal come to pass. With all due respect perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to. OMURA With all due respect, Ambassador, perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to, for instance the French. Or the English. Or any of the legations waiting in the next room. Ambassador Swan beck stands swallowing his rage. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Yes, we1l, we look forward to hearing from you. OMURA Good afternoon, gentlemen. They start to go. OMURA Captain Algren, perhaps you can stay a moment And tell me of your experiences in our rebellious provinces. Bagley looks at Algren. Do as he asks. He leaves A1gren alone with Omura. 78. OMURA Cigarette? ALGREN Thank you. Omura lights his cigarette. A moment as he takes Algren's measure. OMURA You fought bravely on behalf of our army-- against the rebel Katsumoto. Algren says nothing. . OMURA And yet you helped save his life when attacked by the Ninja. ALGREN My role was much less significant than you may have heard. OMURA Tell me about your role in Katsumoto's plans. ALGREN I have none. OMURA And your sympathies? ALGREN Again, I have none. OMURA I know you have little sympathy for Colonel Bagley. ALGREN He is.... unsympathetic. Omura smiles. OMURA I thought it was we who are inscrutable. Now it is Algren who smiles. OMURA You have gained important knowledge of Katsumoto's province, his army, and his rebellion. This is extremely valuable to me. He watches Algren to see how this lands. 79. OMURA You also possess significant knowledge of m y army, my weaponry, and my plans. This is extremely va1uable to Katsumoto. ALGREN Again, you flatter me. OMURA No. I am a businessman. I recognize what is valuable. And I buy it. (looks at him) In this case, I value your loyalt y. Algren considers the implications of what Omura is saying. ALGREN I didn't know loyalt y was something that could be sold. OMURA Then perhaps you will give it, as a token of future friendship - for which, as a friend, I would be in your debt. ALGREN (stands) Then I will consider it. OMURA And I will be grateful. INT. SHIPPING OFFICE DAY Algren is in a shipping office. A clerk consults his schedule of departure. CLERK All righteee, the ANDREW JACKSON leaves tomorrow if you want a steamship you'll have to wait six weeks. (Algren is silent) Gets ya to Frisco by the 28th. 14 dollars for a private cabin, 8 for a shared or 3 for a lower berth. What can I put you down for? Algren is silent, concentrating on a calendar hanging behind the clerk. It features a beautiful Hiroshigi watercolor of mountains. CLERK Sir..? ALGREN (after a moment) Private cabin. 80. EXT. TOKYO STREET DAY Graham walks with Algren. GRAHAM Leave? Wh y would you leave now? No white man has ever been in your position. Do you have any idea what it will mean to have Omura as your friend? You want land, you want women, you want boys? Algren starts to walk faster, but Graham Stops him. GRAHAM Nathan. I wanted to leave, too. For three years. You must believe me there is a majest y about these people -- can you imagine what your own country would be if it had half the drive and the discipline and the belief and the bravery of these ridiculous little people? Then raised voices from across the street stop them. They see Yoritomo surrounded by four Imperial Army soldiers. The soldiers are rough and imperious, drunk with power. They carry gleaming rifle.. The soldiers bark orders. Yoritomo stands proudly, responding calmly. ALGREN Whit is this? GRAHAM My God, it's the edicts... ALGREN What edicts? Algren arrives as the situation is clearly growing volatile - the soldiers are pointing to Yoritomo's head, screaming Algren steps toward the soldiers-- ALGREN That's enough-- One of the soldiers SCREAMS at him -- raises his rifle -- all the soldiers raise their rifles Yoritomo reaches for his sword -- Algren tries to push through - 81. ALGREN (subtitles) YORITOMO, WAIT! One of the soldiers smacks Algren in the chin with a rifle butt. Algren reels, and by the time he stands straight again, four others are pointing their ba yonets at his face. Graham takes hold of Algren's arm. GRAHAM Don't be stupid. Algren makes eye contact with Yoritomo, who -- in deference to his friend -- puts his sword away. The Japanese soldiers continue to scream at Yoritomo. They force him to his knees. Rifles pressed to his head. Yoritomo bows his bead, speaking quietly, as if praying. Algren witches in horror all one of the soldiers removes his bayonet -- another grab. Yoritomo's hair, jerks his head back and begins hacking off Yoritomo's traditional top-knot of hair. Brutally. Blood. Yoritomo remains kneeling, head down, blood flowing down his face. The soldiers laugh and move off. Algren kneels by Yoritomo. Yoritomo looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes. EXT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Katsumoto's house on the outskirts of Tokyo is spacious and harmonious. Utterly Japanese. Samurai guards in full regalia, stand menacingly outside. INT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Ujio kneels with Yoritomo, dressing the wounds on his head. Graham sits across the room talking quietly to the mammoth Nakao, taking notes in a small notebook. Nakao has been brutally shorn of his top knot as well. His shame is apparent. INT. KATSUMOTO'S CHAMBER DUSK Servants he1p dress Katsumoto in his exacting samurai wardrobe as Algren is ushered in. KATSUMOTO Captain, I had not thought to see you again. 82. ALGREN I'm leaving tomorrow. But before I go I need to tell you what's going on here. KATSUMOTO You mean the Gatling Guns and the howitzers, is that how you sa y it? ALGREN They're about to close a trade agreement that will bring this country more weapons than you can imagine. KATSUMOTO Yes, if the emperor agrees - but Omura knows the Emperor must be convinced there is cause to need those weapons before be will sign. ALGREN (realizing) And you are to be the cause... KATSUMOTO Elegant, isn't it? Omura passes laws

edge

How many times the word 'edge' appears in the text?

wracking his body. EXT. VILLAGE DAY As Algren returns with the water, he sees Katsumoto approaching with Ujio and several warriors. KATSUMOTO The Emperor has requested my presence. We leave tomorrow. You will be released in Tokyo. He goes. Algren stands, not sure how to react. INT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE NIGHT Algren writes on parchment by the light of an oil lamp. ALGREN (V.O.) April 13, 1877. Tomorrow we return to civilization. As eager as I am to be among my own kind, I confess to a curious reluctance. EXT. KATDUMOTO'S VILLAGE DAWN Algren stands overlooking the village as the sun rises over the misty peaks. ALGREN (V.O.) These months have marked me, and I don't fully know yet wh y. EXT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE DAY Algren prepares to mount up. Yoritomo says goodbye to his family. ALGREN (V.O.) I do know it is here that I have known my first untroubled sleep in many years. Taka comes to Algren, bows her head. TAKA (subtitles) You are alwa ys welcome in our home. ALGREN Domo Arrigato. He glances at the unfinished house. 62. ALGREN (subtitles) ...You will finish it soon. TAKA (subtitles) If that is my destiny. She bows her head again. Toshiie hands him a scroll: it is a picture of the Family. Algren is included. Japanese characters list all their names. Toshiie bows. Algren bows and tucks the scroll into his coat. Algren and Yoritomo move out with Katsumoto, Ujio, Nakao and his bodyguard of several dozen Samurai. The villagers bow and honor the warrior as they pass. EXT. MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE DAY Algren trots alongside Katsumoto. ALGREN ... The Emperor sends a message for you to return to Tokyo, and you go? KATSUMOTO Yes. ALGREN Even though you're in rebellion against him. KATSUMOTO Against the Emperor? Never. I serve him. As I have alwa ys done. . ALGREN I don't understand. KATSUMOTO Our Emperor is young, and there are things I must sa y to him. ALGREN But ever yone around him wants you dead. KA TSUMOTO And if the Emperor desires, I will take my own life at his command. He spurs his horse and rides on. A1gren watches him. 63. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET They approach a large inn. A boy working in the fields see Katsumoto approaching. He doesn't believe it -- the Great Katsumoto. He drops his hoe and races awa y, calling out. KATSUMOTO We will stop here for the night. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET Samurai guards have been posted around the perimeter. INT. KATSUMOTO'S RQOM NIGHT Algren is escorted in. Katsumoto kneels at a table. Preparing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Sit, Captain. Algren sits. By now he has learned how to sit on the ground. Katsumoto begins the exacting, delicate and precise tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Do you drink tea? ALGREN I've had little else for some time... Katsumoto continues with the tea ceremony. ALGREN How's your poem coming? KATSUMOTO I am having trouble. The truth is I am not a very good poet. (Algren smiles) Do you know wh y you were sent here? To Yoshino. ALGREN To protect the railroad. . KATSUMOTO Why is the railroad here? ALGREN So Tokyo can control the whole country. 64. KATSUMOTO You have seen my province. All mountains. Far from Tokyo. Yet the rail line must come here? Katsumoto tosses a tiny bit of coal on the simmering brazier on the table. Algren watches carefully. ALGREN You have something they want KATSUMOTO What do they want in my mountains? ALGREN Minerals ... Gold. KA TSUMOTO (smiles) There is no gold in Japan. Katsumoto gently blows on the coal brazier. The coal flares a bit. ALGREN Coal? (Katsumoto looks at him) For steamships. KA TSUMOTO And why would steamships be so important? ALGREN ...China. Katsumoto looks up at him. Impressed. KATSUMOTO Japan has nothing. China has ever ything. ALGREN Mine the coal to create a way station for the trip to China ... Freeze the Europeans out and Japan and America have a monopol y on the China trade. KATSUMOTO Add to this the Omura Zaibatsu. You know the Zaibatus? ALGREN The wealthy families. 65. KATSUMOTO As patron of the railroad, Omura owns all land within four hundred feet of ever y new rail line. As my country grows, so will his wealth. (looks at him) This is why you are fighting. Katsumoto completes the tea ceremony. He pours a cup for Algren. Bows his head and offers it to him. ALGREN And you will tell the emperor to stop them? KATSUMOTO I do not tell the emperor what to do. ALGREN Then what do you hope to accomplish? Katsumoto looks at Algren, the slightest gleam in his eye. KATSUMOTO Will you return to America? Algren watches him -- why didn't Katsumoto answer? ALGREN ...I have a job here. KATSUMOTO You should return to your home. ALGREN Why? KATSUMOTO Because I do not wish you to be m y enemy again. Katsumoto returns to his poem, he does not look up. KATSUMOTO Go home Captain ... Anshinritsumai. I wish you peace. Algren waits but Katsumoto just continues to work on his poem. EXT. AROUND THE INN NIGHT The samurai guards are alert, their senses heightened to almost superhuman proportions. But there is another way. Another way of learning combat. A wa y without the beaut y, the philosophy and the moral code. They are almost imperceptible at first... their head-to-toe black clothes a perfect camouflage... their silence and stealth are otherworldly. 66. They were then known as Shinobi, masters of stealth and spying. We know them as Ninjas. They float across the ground ... creeping an inch ever y hour... complete physica1 control. One black-gloved finger moves. Then the next... They crawl and then wait Poised on their fingertips and toes. There is no sound as they strike. The samurai guards are garroted in an instant. Other Ninjas catch the samurai's weapons as they fall. No sound disturbs the peaceful night. EXT. INN -- FRONT DOORWAY NIGHT Silence. Two samurai guards are in position. One of them glances up at the stars. A Ninja throwing star instantly slices into his jugular-- blood sprays -- the other guard turns a series of Ninja slice into him... EXT. INN--WALLS NIGHT Silence. The Ninjas use mew claws to crawl up the walls like spiders. EXT. INN ROOF NIGHT Silence. A samurai guard stands at the edge of the roof. A Ninja silently moves toward him. Stops. Ten feet awa y. He pulls out a shuriken -- a small needle-shaped projectile, dips it into a sack of poison. Places it carefully into the palm of his hand. And with the flick of his wrist-- The needle flies -- stabbing into the samurai -- he crumples. Other Ninjas immediately pour over the edge of the roof -- catching the samurai before he falls... INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. 67. Katsumoto cannot sleep. He stares out the window at a nightingale. INT. INN--UJIO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Ujio sits in his room. He is unblinking. Alert. Swords at the ready. INT. INN ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Algren cannot sleep either. He sits leaning against a wall. Thinking. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Silence. Yoritomo drinks tea with Nakao, the huge martial arts master. INT. OUTSIDE KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT A guard stands sentinel. Above his head, unbeknownst to him, two Ninjas descend on ropes. One of them swings a long chain - to which I barbed-knife is attached. As it lodges in the guard's chest, the second Ninja swings down just in time to catch the dead guard, silently, before his body hits the ground. INT. INN -- KATSUMQTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Katsumoto lies in bed listening to the night bird. It stops singing. Katsumoto smiles sadly. He decides to give up on sleep, leans forward to rise. This act saves his life. For when the Ninjas come, they come all at once-- A Ninja suddenly comes TEARING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE PAPER WALL, his sword slashing down .- just missing Katsumoto. Katsumoto calls out an alarm, diving and rolling across the floor for his sword. He instantly kills one Ninja using his steel-tipped "war fan" to slash his attackers throat. Another smashes in through the window. INT. INN -- MAIN H ALL NIGHT Ninjas EXPLODE into the main hall. Samurai who come out of their rooms are cut down by a variety of weapons -- one takes a throwing star in the face, others are felled by the traditional ninja-to, short swords ideal for fighting in confined spaces, chain-knives, nun-chaka and others. 68. More Ninjas drop from the rafters on ropes. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT A Ninja SMASHES through the paper wall -- Algren grabs the nearest object, a low tea table. and swings it at his head. The Ninja dodges the blow and slices at Algren with short-sword. Algren barely avoids the blow by ducking behind a post as the sword LODGES deep in the wood. Algren flings himself, bodily, at his attacker. INT. INN-- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ninja throwing stars spin across the room, killing a samurai. Yoritomo emerges from his room, readying his bow, but the dead samurai falls back blocking his wa y. From behind the rice wall, Yoritomo lets fly an arrow without even looking. It passes THROUGH the wall, killing the Ninja on the opposite balcony. INT. INN-- FIRST FLOOR NIGHT Ujio screams a war cry and begins to battle his way up the stairs. With breathtaking moves, he slashes hands and limbs, forcing the Ninja back. Nakao fights his wa y up beside him, desperately trying to reach Katsumoto's room. Using only his bare hands he catches a Ninja's wrist and hurls him over the railing. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Algren and the Ninja are in a death struggle, kneeing, gouging, butting. They awkwardly smash through a paper wall into the next room. INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto wields his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. It is the first time we have seen him in action and his movements are both beautiful and deadly. But more Ninjas are pouring in through the window, threatening to overwhelm him. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Rolling on the ground, Algren manages to grab a chopstick and STAB his adversary through the eye. He picks up the fallen short sword and steps out into the hall. ARROWS whiz past, thudding into the wall beside his head. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto, breathing heavily, his kimono shredded and bloody, is fending off the Ninjas' increasingly savage attacks as Algren enters. Algren SCREAMS, distracting them just long enough for Katsumoto to take advantage and kill one. 69. Then, just as a Ninja it about to kill Algren, Katsumoto FLINGS his short sword ... it pin-wheels across the room, hitting Algren's attacker in the chest. Without missing a beat, Algren pulls the short sword from the dying Ninja's chest and uses it to stab another Ninja who, thinking Algren defenseless, has launched an attack. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ujio and Nakao are back to back, a perfect fighting machine as they fight their wa y to Katsumoto's rescue. They battle Ninjas wielding lethal kusarigamas, the Ninjas swing chains, the attached blades slice the air--Nakao catches the chains and flinging the Ninja over the balcony. INT. YORITOMO'S ROOM NIGHT Yoritomo is pinned down. Darts and throwing stars shred the rice paper wall above him. He picks off another Ninja before changing his position. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT The blazing sword battle continues. Algren throws a beautiful painted standing-screen in front of an attacking Ninja, momentarily confusing him. Then he stabs THROUGH THE SCREEN -as a blood- stain SPREADS across the pastoral painting. But another Ninja catches Algren off-guard and slices at him with his short sword. As Algren lifts his sword to parry the blow, HIS LITILE FINGER IS CHOPPED OFF. He drops the sword, momentarily defenseless. Across the hallway Yoritomo has been watching the shadowpla y on the rice-paper walls. Algren's attacker raises his blade to deliver the death blow. In Katsumoto's room Algren flinches involuntarily beneath the raised blade. Suddenly the Ninja JACKKNIFES as if punched by an unseen hand. As he spins, dead, to the ground, we SEE an ARROW lodged bet ween his shoulder blades. Yoritomo has FIRED blindly, through the wall killing Algren's attacker. Nearby, a Ninja hurls a throwing star at Katsumoto. With blind instinct Katsumoto turns and takes the blade in the meat of his arm. Algren, meanwhile, has ripped the sleeve of his kimono into a tourniquet for his maimed hand. He uses the rest of the fabric TO TIE HIS HAND TO HIS SWORD before launching himself back into the fray -- slicing an attacker just as he is about to impale Katsumoto. Together, he and Katsumoto force the last two Ninjas through a paper wall to the next room. They fight all the wa y through that room and BLAST through another paper wall to the next. 70. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT The battle continues unabated on the stairs -- the Ninjas spring for position with incredible grace --perching and fighting on banisters, leaping from one level to the next. It is a mayhem of flashing swords and flailing limbs and flyi ng arrows and spinning Ninja stars. Sprays of blood splatter against the white rice paper walls. Some of the fighting is less than elegant. Men bite and wrestle and gouge to survive in close quarters. All of them arc bloody and sweat y and dirty and tired, heaving for breath, their skin flayed open, their kimonos ripped, their hands and arms and faces blood-stained. But more samurai reinforcements follow Ujio up the stairs: Together with Yoritomo and Nakao, they have begun to gain the upper hand. Ujio flings both his swords through the air -- killing two Ninjas -- and dives to fight others - his martial arts skills are dazzling. Algren and Katsumoto are fighting sidc by side And we cut to -- EXT. INN NIGHT Outside of the inn, we slowl y pull away... The sounds of the battle gradually fade... Soon it is nothing more than a lovel y rustic inn nestled in the mountains. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT Later. The battle is over. Ninja and samurai corpses litter the inn. We slowl y move up the long stairwa y from the bottom... Yoritomo pulls a Ninja star from Nakao's_shou1der. Then one from his own. We move up another level, past more bodies... Ujio moves through the Ninjas. Making sure they are dead. Before sheathing his sword, he angrily FLICKS it at the rice paper wall, spattering it with the bloody spray. Katsumoto wipes his sword on a nearby corpse, replaces it in its sheath. He sits beside Algren on a stair. Both men are exhausted. Bloodied. Alive. A long beat as we watch the two warriors. Slow fade to... 71. EXT. TOKYO -- IMPERIAL PALACE DAY Algren, Katsumoto and the others are nearing the palace. Algren slows to a stop -- his path is toward the city. Katsumoto stops, looks at him, then does something absolutel y extraordinary. He kneels and bows before Algren. Quickly touching his head to the dirt. Then he rises, turns and walks toward the palace. Algren stands, stunned. EXT. PARADE GROUND DAY Algren walks onto the parade ground. The change he sees could not be more remarkable. Thousands of new Japanese troops are drilling with new bolt-action Mausers. They are precise, exact and frighteningly mechanistic, their uniforms new and crisp. New German advisors are barking commands. Colonel Bagley sees him. BAGLEY Algren? My God, you never cease to astonish. Bagley runs over, hand extended, but Algren turns to look at the troops. ALGREN They have new weapons. BAGLEY The Kaiser was only too happy to help. Along with his friends at Mauser and Krupp. Thank God we Americans still have a few teeth in our head. And they come to the "teeth." Howitzer cannons. A row of them. Artillery officers in US Army uniforms arc instructing Japanese offi cers. BAGLEY The ambassador and I have spent eight months kissing Omura's ass so he'll sign the damn trade pact with us. You spent all this time living with those savages? (A1gren looks at him) He's going to want to talk to you... ALGREN I need a bath. BAGLEY And your back pay, I imagine. Algren starts walking away. 72. BAGLEY They got their flag. ...See? And we see it... snapping on I flagpole high above the parade ground. It is immediately familiar. A red circle on a white field. The Rising Sun. The Howitzers fire in sequence. Thundering blasts that shake the heavens. EXT, ROYAL TEMPLE DAY Omura stands above Emperor Meiji respectful but persistent. The Emperor is kneeling, tending to his iris garden. It is one of the wonders of the Palace: a sea of white, pink, blue, and purple blossoms. Retainers and servants stand at a distance. One holds a standard with the Imperial seal: a yellow chrysanthemum. Omura sees Katsumoto making his way toward them. He talks a bit more quickly to the Emperor. Katsumoto begins to prostrate himself before the Emperor, the usual sign of extreme respect -- but the Emperor stops him: EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori-san. We arc "civilized" now. Katsumoto stops prostrating himself. The Emperor offers his hand. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) I cannot touch the Sacred One. EMPEROR (subtitles) You can. It is a difficult moment for Katsumoto. He simply cannot do It. OMURA (subtitles) Did you have a pleasant journey, Minister Katsumoto? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It was uneventful. Omura appreciates Katsumoto's droll response. He assumes that Katsumoto is aware of his part in the assassination attempt. 73. EMPEROR (subtitles) If it is not a great imposition. I desire a moment alone with Minister Katsumoto. Omura-San. OMURA (subtitles) Enlightened One, perhaps I can be of service in a conversation of state. EMPEROR (subtitles) So kind of you, but I fear my old teacher wishes to upbraid me in private for neglecting my studies. Omura bows his head quickly and goes. Silence. The Emperor gazes at Katsumoto. Then: EMPEROR (subtitles) You rise against me, my teacher. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) No, Highness, I rise against your enemies. EMPEROR (subtitles) They are my teacher, my advisers, like you. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) They advise in their own interest. EMPEROR (subtitles) The world is changing, Mori -- you have not seen what goes on beyond our borders, the inventions, the science. I need men who can look outward, or soon we will be left behind, and defenseless. KATSUM OTO (subtitles) I am sworn to defend you even to my last breath. EMPEROR (subtit1es) The samurai live in the past. You cannot defend against a future you don't understand. 74. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) If I am no use, then I will happily end my life, EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori. It is my wish that you rejoin the Council of State. I need your voice. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It is your voice that needs to be heard, Highness. You are a living God, you can do what ever you think is right. The young emperor is silent a moment. EMPEROR (subtitles) I am a living God only as long as I do what they think is right. KATSUMOTO (subtitle) Your Highness, may I beg forgiveness for saying what a teacher must, that such a statement is pathetic drivel not worthy of an ignorant stable boy, let alone a young man I know to have some modest intelligence. The emperor laughs warmly, almost happy to be scolded as he once was. EMPEROR (subtitles) Is it possible a living God can be too afraid to make his voice heard? (Katsumoto's look is not unkind) Tell me what to do, Mori-San? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) You are emperor, my Lord, not me. You must find the wisdom for all of us. EXT. YOKOHAMA WHARF DAY A series of warehouses, beyond which we see warships in the harbor. A1gren walks with Bagley and two other OFFICERS. INT. WAREHOUSE DAY The cavernous warehouse piled high with huge crates. 75. BAGLEY As soon as they sign the agreement, they're obligated to buy the entire weapons package, from Colt revol vers to Ha1liwell twelve-pounders. Plus this particular item you might recognize. A few stevedores tear open one of the crates. Algren hides his astonishment: A Gatling Gun is revealed. BAGLEY They've been calibrated to fire 200 rounds a minute, The new copper cartridges cut down on jamming. Algren closes his eyes, trying to keep his memories at bay. EXT. TOKYO STREETS DAY Algren fights the crowds with Colonel Bagley And Ambassador Swanbeck.. ALGREN (V.O.) May 15, 1877. The city I return to is immeasurabl y changed New construction ever ywhere. Telegraph wires strung next to an ancient temple. A modern European hotel is going up, dwarfing the traditional Japanese buildings. Huge billboards advertising Western goods. A new invention, the rickshaw, has replaced many of the palanquins. ALGREN (V.O.) As though Tokyo were determined to become another New York or Chicago .- all in one headlong rush. Spider's web of telegraph cables spread from a tall new brick building. It is like a New York office building stabbing into the heart of old Japan. The familiar Omura character is emblazoned on the side. .INT. OFFICES OF THE OMURA ZAIBATSU DAY Aside from the occasional bit of Japanese decor, this could be a buzzing Wall Street firm. Telegraph operators click away. Accountants use adding machines. Secretaries use pneumatic tubes to send documents back and forth. Engineers plot out railway lines. All are dressed in Western clothes. Algren, Colonel Bagley, and Ambassador Swanbeck enter. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK (to Algren) If he asks, you can talk about ordnance and tactics. But remember, this has to do with a lot more than just weapons. 76. An anteroom holds waiting delegations from the various European powers. A babel of language. ... French ...Dutch ...Russian ...German. A pretty American secretary looks up from her desk. SECRETARY Ambassador Swanbeck, if you'll follow me. Some of the delegates arc craning forward, watching Algren and the others hungrily as they head into the final office. INT. OMURA'S OFFICE DAY Omura stands like an industrial titan before large picture windows offering a dramatic view of Tokyo. The only decoration in the room is an enormous Caravaggio. OMURA Please, sit down, gentlemen. Omura removes a gold cigarette case and lights up. Cigarettes are the newest Western fad Sweeping Japan. OMURA (re: cigarette case) A gift from Czar Alexander... Captain Algren,. it seems you have endured your captivity with little ill-effect. ALGREN Yes, sir. OMURA He's an extraordinary man, isn't he? ALGREN He is samurai. Omura gazes at him. Slowl y takes I puff from his cigarette. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Mr. Omura, my people have been drawing up the documents we discussed. I have a draft-- OMURA We're not quite ready to announce the treaty, Ambassador. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Excuse me? OMURA The Emperor is...sentimental. Katsumoto was his old mentor-- he is not eager to offend him. It will take I few more days. 77. AMBASSJ\DOR SW ANBECK How many da ys is " a few?" OMURA I assure you the Samurai will not stand in the wa y of our agreement. You are prepared to make deliver y? AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Soon as your emperor signs on the dotted line. OMURA Captain Algren you are the expert. Will this array of ordnance be sufficient? ALGREN Depends on what you're trying to accomplish. OMURA I want my country to take its place as a modern power. ALGREN Then they will set you well on your way. OMURA I am pleased. AMDASSADOR SW ANBECK Mr. Omura, you assured us you had the influence with your emperor to make this deal come to pass. With all due respect perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to. OMURA With all due respect, Ambassador, perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to, for instance the French. Or the English. Or any of the legations waiting in the next room. Ambassador Swan beck stands swallowing his rage. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Yes, we1l, we look forward to hearing from you. OMURA Good afternoon, gentlemen. They start to go. OMURA Captain Algren, perhaps you can stay a moment And tell me of your experiences in our rebellious provinces. Bagley looks at Algren. Do as he asks. He leaves A1gren alone with Omura. 78. OMURA Cigarette? ALGREN Thank you. Omura lights his cigarette. A moment as he takes Algren's measure. OMURA You fought bravely on behalf of our army-- against the rebel Katsumoto. Algren says nothing. . OMURA And yet you helped save his life when attacked by the Ninja. ALGREN My role was much less significant than you may have heard. OMURA Tell me about your role in Katsumoto's plans. ALGREN I have none. OMURA And your sympathies? ALGREN Again, I have none. OMURA I know you have little sympathy for Colonel Bagley. ALGREN He is.... unsympathetic. Omura smiles. OMURA I thought it was we who are inscrutable. Now it is Algren who smiles. OMURA You have gained important knowledge of Katsumoto's province, his army, and his rebellion. This is extremely valuable to me. He watches Algren to see how this lands. 79. OMURA You also possess significant knowledge of m y army, my weaponry, and my plans. This is extremely va1uable to Katsumoto. ALGREN Again, you flatter me. OMURA No. I am a businessman. I recognize what is valuable. And I buy it. (looks at him) In this case, I value your loyalt y. Algren considers the implications of what Omura is saying. ALGREN I didn't know loyalt y was something that could be sold. OMURA Then perhaps you will give it, as a token of future friendship - for which, as a friend, I would be in your debt. ALGREN (stands) Then I will consider it. OMURA And I will be grateful. INT. SHIPPING OFFICE DAY Algren is in a shipping office. A clerk consults his schedule of departure. CLERK All righteee, the ANDREW JACKSON leaves tomorrow if you want a steamship you'll have to wait six weeks. (Algren is silent) Gets ya to Frisco by the 28th. 14 dollars for a private cabin, 8 for a shared or 3 for a lower berth. What can I put you down for? Algren is silent, concentrating on a calendar hanging behind the clerk. It features a beautiful Hiroshigi watercolor of mountains. CLERK Sir..? ALGREN (after a moment) Private cabin. 80. EXT. TOKYO STREET DAY Graham walks with Algren. GRAHAM Leave? Wh y would you leave now? No white man has ever been in your position. Do you have any idea what it will mean to have Omura as your friend? You want land, you want women, you want boys? Algren starts to walk faster, but Graham Stops him. GRAHAM Nathan. I wanted to leave, too. For three years. You must believe me there is a majest y about these people -- can you imagine what your own country would be if it had half the drive and the discipline and the belief and the bravery of these ridiculous little people? Then raised voices from across the street stop them. They see Yoritomo surrounded by four Imperial Army soldiers. The soldiers are rough and imperious, drunk with power. They carry gleaming rifle.. The soldiers bark orders. Yoritomo stands proudly, responding calmly. ALGREN Whit is this? GRAHAM My God, it's the edicts... ALGREN What edicts? Algren arrives as the situation is clearly growing volatile - the soldiers are pointing to Yoritomo's head, screaming Algren steps toward the soldiers-- ALGREN That's enough-- One of the soldiers SCREAMS at him -- raises his rifle -- all the soldiers raise their rifles Yoritomo reaches for his sword -- Algren tries to push through - 81. ALGREN (subtitles) YORITOMO, WAIT! One of the soldiers smacks Algren in the chin with a rifle butt. Algren reels, and by the time he stands straight again, four others are pointing their ba yonets at his face. Graham takes hold of Algren's arm. GRAHAM Don't be stupid. Algren makes eye contact with Yoritomo, who -- in deference to his friend -- puts his sword away. The Japanese soldiers continue to scream at Yoritomo. They force him to his knees. Rifles pressed to his head. Yoritomo bows his bead, speaking quietly, as if praying. Algren witches in horror all one of the soldiers removes his bayonet -- another grab. Yoritomo's hair, jerks his head back and begins hacking off Yoritomo's traditional top-knot of hair. Brutally. Blood. Yoritomo remains kneeling, head down, blood flowing down his face. The soldiers laugh and move off. Algren kneels by Yoritomo. Yoritomo looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes. EXT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Katsumoto's house on the outskirts of Tokyo is spacious and harmonious. Utterly Japanese. Samurai guards in full regalia, stand menacingly outside. INT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Ujio kneels with Yoritomo, dressing the wounds on his head. Graham sits across the room talking quietly to the mammoth Nakao, taking notes in a small notebook. Nakao has been brutally shorn of his top knot as well. His shame is apparent. INT. KATSUMOTO'S CHAMBER DUSK Servants he1p dress Katsumoto in his exacting samurai wardrobe as Algren is ushered in. KATSUMOTO Captain, I had not thought to see you again. 82. ALGREN I'm leaving tomorrow. But before I go I need to tell you what's going on here. KATSUMOTO You mean the Gatling Guns and the howitzers, is that how you sa y it? ALGREN They're about to close a trade agreement that will bring this country more weapons than you can imagine. KATSUMOTO Yes, if the emperor agrees - but Omura knows the Emperor must be convinced there is cause to need those weapons before be will sign. ALGREN (realizing) And you are to be the cause... KATSUMOTO Elegant, isn't it? Omura passes laws

forgives

How many times the word 'forgives' appears in the text?

wracking his body. EXT. VILLAGE DAY As Algren returns with the water, he sees Katsumoto approaching with Ujio and several warriors. KATSUMOTO The Emperor has requested my presence. We leave tomorrow. You will be released in Tokyo. He goes. Algren stands, not sure how to react. INT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE NIGHT Algren writes on parchment by the light of an oil lamp. ALGREN (V.O.) April 13, 1877. Tomorrow we return to civilization. As eager as I am to be among my own kind, I confess to a curious reluctance. EXT. KATDUMOTO'S VILLAGE DAWN Algren stands overlooking the village as the sun rises over the misty peaks. ALGREN (V.O.) These months have marked me, and I don't fully know yet wh y. EXT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE DAY Algren prepares to mount up. Yoritomo says goodbye to his family. ALGREN (V.O.) I do know it is here that I have known my first untroubled sleep in many years. Taka comes to Algren, bows her head. TAKA (subtitles) You are alwa ys welcome in our home. ALGREN Domo Arrigato. He glances at the unfinished house. 62. ALGREN (subtitles) ...You will finish it soon. TAKA (subtitles) If that is my destiny. She bows her head again. Toshiie hands him a scroll: it is a picture of the Family. Algren is included. Japanese characters list all their names. Toshiie bows. Algren bows and tucks the scroll into his coat. Algren and Yoritomo move out with Katsumoto, Ujio, Nakao and his bodyguard of several dozen Samurai. The villagers bow and honor the warrior as they pass. EXT. MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE DAY Algren trots alongside Katsumoto. ALGREN ... The Emperor sends a message for you to return to Tokyo, and you go? KATSUMOTO Yes. ALGREN Even though you're in rebellion against him. KATSUMOTO Against the Emperor? Never. I serve him. As I have alwa ys done. . ALGREN I don't understand. KATSUMOTO Our Emperor is young, and there are things I must sa y to him. ALGREN But ever yone around him wants you dead. KA TSUMOTO And if the Emperor desires, I will take my own life at his command. He spurs his horse and rides on. A1gren watches him. 63. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET They approach a large inn. A boy working in the fields see Katsumoto approaching. He doesn't believe it -- the Great Katsumoto. He drops his hoe and races awa y, calling out. KATSUMOTO We will stop here for the night. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET Samurai guards have been posted around the perimeter. INT. KATSUMOTO'S RQOM NIGHT Algren is escorted in. Katsumoto kneels at a table. Preparing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Sit, Captain. Algren sits. By now he has learned how to sit on the ground. Katsumoto begins the exacting, delicate and precise tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Do you drink tea? ALGREN I've had little else for some time... Katsumoto continues with the tea ceremony. ALGREN How's your poem coming? KATSUMOTO I am having trouble. The truth is I am not a very good poet. (Algren smiles) Do you know wh y you were sent here? To Yoshino. ALGREN To protect the railroad. . KATSUMOTO Why is the railroad here? ALGREN So Tokyo can control the whole country. 64. KATSUMOTO You have seen my province. All mountains. Far from Tokyo. Yet the rail line must come here? Katsumoto tosses a tiny bit of coal on the simmering brazier on the table. Algren watches carefully. ALGREN You have something they want KATSUMOTO What do they want in my mountains? ALGREN Minerals ... Gold. KA TSUMOTO (smiles) There is no gold in Japan. Katsumoto gently blows on the coal brazier. The coal flares a bit. ALGREN Coal? (Katsumoto looks at him) For steamships. KA TSUMOTO And why would steamships be so important? ALGREN ...China. Katsumoto looks up at him. Impressed. KATSUMOTO Japan has nothing. China has ever ything. ALGREN Mine the coal to create a way station for the trip to China ... Freeze the Europeans out and Japan and America have a monopol y on the China trade. KATSUMOTO Add to this the Omura Zaibatsu. You know the Zaibatus? ALGREN The wealthy families. 65. KATSUMOTO As patron of the railroad, Omura owns all land within four hundred feet of ever y new rail line. As my country grows, so will his wealth. (looks at him) This is why you are fighting. Katsumoto completes the tea ceremony. He pours a cup for Algren. Bows his head and offers it to him. ALGREN And you will tell the emperor to stop them? KATSUMOTO I do not tell the emperor what to do. ALGREN Then what do you hope to accomplish? Katsumoto looks at Algren, the slightest gleam in his eye. KATSUMOTO Will you return to America? Algren watches him -- why didn't Katsumoto answer? ALGREN ...I have a job here. KATSUMOTO You should return to your home. ALGREN Why? KATSUMOTO Because I do not wish you to be m y enemy again. Katsumoto returns to his poem, he does not look up. KATSUMOTO Go home Captain ... Anshinritsumai. I wish you peace. Algren waits but Katsumoto just continues to work on his poem. EXT. AROUND THE INN NIGHT The samurai guards are alert, their senses heightened to almost superhuman proportions. But there is another way. Another way of learning combat. A wa y without the beaut y, the philosophy and the moral code. They are almost imperceptible at first... their head-to-toe black clothes a perfect camouflage... their silence and stealth are otherworldly. 66. They were then known as Shinobi, masters of stealth and spying. We know them as Ninjas. They float across the ground ... creeping an inch ever y hour... complete physica1 control. One black-gloved finger moves. Then the next... They crawl and then wait Poised on their fingertips and toes. There is no sound as they strike. The samurai guards are garroted in an instant. Other Ninjas catch the samurai's weapons as they fall. No sound disturbs the peaceful night. EXT. INN -- FRONT DOORWAY NIGHT Silence. Two samurai guards are in position. One of them glances up at the stars. A Ninja throwing star instantly slices into his jugular-- blood sprays -- the other guard turns a series of Ninja slice into him... EXT. INN--WALLS NIGHT Silence. The Ninjas use mew claws to crawl up the walls like spiders. EXT. INN ROOF NIGHT Silence. A samurai guard stands at the edge of the roof. A Ninja silently moves toward him. Stops. Ten feet awa y. He pulls out a shuriken -- a small needle-shaped projectile, dips it into a sack of poison. Places it carefully into the palm of his hand. And with the flick of his wrist-- The needle flies -- stabbing into the samurai -- he crumples. Other Ninjas immediately pour over the edge of the roof -- catching the samurai before he falls... INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. 67. Katsumoto cannot sleep. He stares out the window at a nightingale. INT. INN--UJIO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Ujio sits in his room. He is unblinking. Alert. Swords at the ready. INT. INN ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Algren cannot sleep either. He sits leaning against a wall. Thinking. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Silence. Yoritomo drinks tea with Nakao, the huge martial arts master. INT. OUTSIDE KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT A guard stands sentinel. Above his head, unbeknownst to him, two Ninjas descend on ropes. One of them swings a long chain - to which I barbed-knife is attached. As it lodges in the guard's chest, the second Ninja swings down just in time to catch the dead guard, silently, before his body hits the ground. INT. INN -- KATSUMQTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Katsumoto lies in bed listening to the night bird. It stops singing. Katsumoto smiles sadly. He decides to give up on sleep, leans forward to rise. This act saves his life. For when the Ninjas come, they come all at once-- A Ninja suddenly comes TEARING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE PAPER WALL, his sword slashing down .- just missing Katsumoto. Katsumoto calls out an alarm, diving and rolling across the floor for his sword. He instantly kills one Ninja using his steel-tipped "war fan" to slash his attackers throat. Another smashes in through the window. INT. INN -- MAIN H ALL NIGHT Ninjas EXPLODE into the main hall. Samurai who come out of their rooms are cut down by a variety of weapons -- one takes a throwing star in the face, others are felled by the traditional ninja-to, short swords ideal for fighting in confined spaces, chain-knives, nun-chaka and others. 68. More Ninjas drop from the rafters on ropes. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT A Ninja SMASHES through the paper wall -- Algren grabs the nearest object, a low tea table. and swings it at his head. The Ninja dodges the blow and slices at Algren with short-sword. Algren barely avoids the blow by ducking behind a post as the sword LODGES deep in the wood. Algren flings himself, bodily, at his attacker. INT. INN-- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ninja throwing stars spin across the room, killing a samurai. Yoritomo emerges from his room, readying his bow, but the dead samurai falls back blocking his wa y. From behind the rice wall, Yoritomo lets fly an arrow without even looking. It passes THROUGH the wall, killing the Ninja on the opposite balcony. INT. INN-- FIRST FLOOR NIGHT Ujio screams a war cry and begins to battle his way up the stairs. With breathtaking moves, he slashes hands and limbs, forcing the Ninja back. Nakao fights his wa y up beside him, desperately trying to reach Katsumoto's room. Using only his bare hands he catches a Ninja's wrist and hurls him over the railing. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Algren and the Ninja are in a death struggle, kneeing, gouging, butting. They awkwardly smash through a paper wall into the next room. INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto wields his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. It is the first time we have seen him in action and his movements are both beautiful and deadly. But more Ninjas are pouring in through the window, threatening to overwhelm him. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Rolling on the ground, Algren manages to grab a chopstick and STAB his adversary through the eye. He picks up the fallen short sword and steps out into the hall. ARROWS whiz past, thudding into the wall beside his head. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto, breathing heavily, his kimono shredded and bloody, is fending off the Ninjas' increasingly savage attacks as Algren enters. Algren SCREAMS, distracting them just long enough for Katsumoto to take advantage and kill one. 69. Then, just as a Ninja it about to kill Algren, Katsumoto FLINGS his short sword ... it pin-wheels across the room, hitting Algren's attacker in the chest. Without missing a beat, Algren pulls the short sword from the dying Ninja's chest and uses it to stab another Ninja who, thinking Algren defenseless, has launched an attack. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ujio and Nakao are back to back, a perfect fighting machine as they fight their wa y to Katsumoto's rescue. They battle Ninjas wielding lethal kusarigamas, the Ninjas swing chains, the attached blades slice the air--Nakao catches the chains and flinging the Ninja over the balcony. INT. YORITOMO'S ROOM NIGHT Yoritomo is pinned down. Darts and throwing stars shred the rice paper wall above him. He picks off another Ninja before changing his position. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT The blazing sword battle continues. Algren throws a beautiful painted standing-screen in front of an attacking Ninja, momentarily confusing him. Then he stabs THROUGH THE SCREEN -as a blood- stain SPREADS across the pastoral painting. But another Ninja catches Algren off-guard and slices at him with his short sword. As Algren lifts his sword to parry the blow, HIS LITILE FINGER IS CHOPPED OFF. He drops the sword, momentarily defenseless. Across the hallway Yoritomo has been watching the shadowpla y on the rice-paper walls. Algren's attacker raises his blade to deliver the death blow. In Katsumoto's room Algren flinches involuntarily beneath the raised blade. Suddenly the Ninja JACKKNIFES as if punched by an unseen hand. As he spins, dead, to the ground, we SEE an ARROW lodged bet ween his shoulder blades. Yoritomo has FIRED blindly, through the wall killing Algren's attacker. Nearby, a Ninja hurls a throwing star at Katsumoto. With blind instinct Katsumoto turns and takes the blade in the meat of his arm. Algren, meanwhile, has ripped the sleeve of his kimono into a tourniquet for his maimed hand. He uses the rest of the fabric TO TIE HIS HAND TO HIS SWORD before launching himself back into the fray -- slicing an attacker just as he is about to impale Katsumoto. Together, he and Katsumoto force the last two Ninjas through a paper wall to the next room. They fight all the wa y through that room and BLAST through another paper wall to the next. 70. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT The battle continues unabated on the stairs -- the Ninjas spring for position with incredible grace --perching and fighting on banisters, leaping from one level to the next. It is a mayhem of flashing swords and flailing limbs and flyi ng arrows and spinning Ninja stars. Sprays of blood splatter against the white rice paper walls. Some of the fighting is less than elegant. Men bite and wrestle and gouge to survive in close quarters. All of them arc bloody and sweat y and dirty and tired, heaving for breath, their skin flayed open, their kimonos ripped, their hands and arms and faces blood-stained. But more samurai reinforcements follow Ujio up the stairs: Together with Yoritomo and Nakao, they have begun to gain the upper hand. Ujio flings both his swords through the air -- killing two Ninjas -- and dives to fight others - his martial arts skills are dazzling. Algren and Katsumoto are fighting sidc by side And we cut to -- EXT. INN NIGHT Outside of the inn, we slowl y pull away... The sounds of the battle gradually fade... Soon it is nothing more than a lovel y rustic inn nestled in the mountains. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT Later. The battle is over. Ninja and samurai corpses litter the inn. We slowl y move up the long stairwa y from the bottom... Yoritomo pulls a Ninja star from Nakao's_shou1der. Then one from his own. We move up another level, past more bodies... Ujio moves through the Ninjas. Making sure they are dead. Before sheathing his sword, he angrily FLICKS it at the rice paper wall, spattering it with the bloody spray. Katsumoto wipes his sword on a nearby corpse, replaces it in its sheath. He sits beside Algren on a stair. Both men are exhausted. Bloodied. Alive. A long beat as we watch the two warriors. Slow fade to... 71. EXT. TOKYO -- IMPERIAL PALACE DAY Algren, Katsumoto and the others are nearing the palace. Algren slows to a stop -- his path is toward the city. Katsumoto stops, looks at him, then does something absolutel y extraordinary. He kneels and bows before Algren. Quickly touching his head to the dirt. Then he rises, turns and walks toward the palace. Algren stands, stunned. EXT. PARADE GROUND DAY Algren walks onto the parade ground. The change he sees could not be more remarkable. Thousands of new Japanese troops are drilling with new bolt-action Mausers. They are precise, exact and frighteningly mechanistic, their uniforms new and crisp. New German advisors are barking commands. Colonel Bagley sees him. BAGLEY Algren? My God, you never cease to astonish. Bagley runs over, hand extended, but Algren turns to look at the troops. ALGREN They have new weapons. BAGLEY The Kaiser was only too happy to help. Along with his friends at Mauser and Krupp. Thank God we Americans still have a few teeth in our head. And they come to the "teeth." Howitzer cannons. A row of them. Artillery officers in US Army uniforms arc instructing Japanese offi cers. BAGLEY The ambassador and I have spent eight months kissing Omura's ass so he'll sign the damn trade pact with us. You spent all this time living with those savages? (A1gren looks at him) He's going to want to talk to you... ALGREN I need a bath. BAGLEY And your back pay, I imagine. Algren starts walking away. 72. BAGLEY They got their flag. ...See? And we see it... snapping on I flagpole high above the parade ground. It is immediately familiar. A red circle on a white field. The Rising Sun. The Howitzers fire in sequence. Thundering blasts that shake the heavens. EXT, ROYAL TEMPLE DAY Omura stands above Emperor Meiji respectful but persistent. The Emperor is kneeling, tending to his iris garden. It is one of the wonders of the Palace: a sea of white, pink, blue, and purple blossoms. Retainers and servants stand at a distance. One holds a standard with the Imperial seal: a yellow chrysanthemum. Omura sees Katsumoto making his way toward them. He talks a bit more quickly to the Emperor. Katsumoto begins to prostrate himself before the Emperor, the usual sign of extreme respect -- but the Emperor stops him: EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori-san. We arc "civilized" now. Katsumoto stops prostrating himself. The Emperor offers his hand. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) I cannot touch the Sacred One. EMPEROR (subtitles) You can. It is a difficult moment for Katsumoto. He simply cannot do It. OMURA (subtitles) Did you have a pleasant journey, Minister Katsumoto? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It was uneventful. Omura appreciates Katsumoto's droll response. He assumes that Katsumoto is aware of his part in the assassination attempt. 73. EMPEROR (subtitles) If it is not a great imposition. I desire a moment alone with Minister Katsumoto. Omura-San. OMURA (subtitles) Enlightened One, perhaps I can be of service in a conversation of state. EMPEROR (subtitles) So kind of you, but I fear my old teacher wishes to upbraid me in private for neglecting my studies. Omura bows his head quickly and goes. Silence. The Emperor gazes at Katsumoto. Then: EMPEROR (subtitles) You rise against me, my teacher. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) No, Highness, I rise against your enemies. EMPEROR (subtitles) They are my teacher, my advisers, like you. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) They advise in their own interest. EMPEROR (subtitles) The world is changing, Mori -- you have not seen what goes on beyond our borders, the inventions, the science. I need men who can look outward, or soon we will be left behind, and defenseless. KATSUM OTO (subtitles) I am sworn to defend you even to my last breath. EMPEROR (subtit1es) The samurai live in the past. You cannot defend against a future you don't understand. 74. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) If I am no use, then I will happily end my life, EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori. It is my wish that you rejoin the Council of State. I need your voice. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It is your voice that needs to be heard, Highness. You are a living God, you can do what ever you think is right. The young emperor is silent a moment. EMPEROR (subtitles) I am a living God only as long as I do what they think is right. KATSUMOTO (subtitle) Your Highness, may I beg forgiveness for saying what a teacher must, that such a statement is pathetic drivel not worthy of an ignorant stable boy, let alone a young man I know to have some modest intelligence. The emperor laughs warmly, almost happy to be scolded as he once was. EMPEROR (subtitles) Is it possible a living God can be too afraid to make his voice heard? (Katsumoto's look is not unkind) Tell me what to do, Mori-San? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) You are emperor, my Lord, not me. You must find the wisdom for all of us. EXT. YOKOHAMA WHARF DAY A series of warehouses, beyond which we see warships in the harbor. A1gren walks with Bagley and two other OFFICERS. INT. WAREHOUSE DAY The cavernous warehouse piled high with huge crates. 75. BAGLEY As soon as they sign the agreement, they're obligated to buy the entire weapons package, from Colt revol vers to Ha1liwell twelve-pounders. Plus this particular item you might recognize. A few stevedores tear open one of the crates. Algren hides his astonishment: A Gatling Gun is revealed. BAGLEY They've been calibrated to fire 200 rounds a minute, The new copper cartridges cut down on jamming. Algren closes his eyes, trying to keep his memories at bay. EXT. TOKYO STREETS DAY Algren fights the crowds with Colonel Bagley And Ambassador Swanbeck.. ALGREN (V.O.) May 15, 1877. The city I return to is immeasurabl y changed New construction ever ywhere. Telegraph wires strung next to an ancient temple. A modern European hotel is going up, dwarfing the traditional Japanese buildings. Huge billboards advertising Western goods. A new invention, the rickshaw, has replaced many of the palanquins. ALGREN (V.O.) As though Tokyo were determined to become another New York or Chicago .- all in one headlong rush. Spider's web of telegraph cables spread from a tall new brick building. It is like a New York office building stabbing into the heart of old Japan. The familiar Omura character is emblazoned on the side. .INT. OFFICES OF THE OMURA ZAIBATSU DAY Aside from the occasional bit of Japanese decor, this could be a buzzing Wall Street firm. Telegraph operators click away. Accountants use adding machines. Secretaries use pneumatic tubes to send documents back and forth. Engineers plot out railway lines. All are dressed in Western clothes. Algren, Colonel Bagley, and Ambassador Swanbeck enter. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK (to Algren) If he asks, you can talk about ordnance and tactics. But remember, this has to do with a lot more than just weapons. 76. An anteroom holds waiting delegations from the various European powers. A babel of language. ... French ...Dutch ...Russian ...German. A pretty American secretary looks up from her desk. SECRETARY Ambassador Swanbeck, if you'll follow me. Some of the delegates arc craning forward, watching Algren and the others hungrily as they head into the final office. INT. OMURA'S OFFICE DAY Omura stands like an industrial titan before large picture windows offering a dramatic view of Tokyo. The only decoration in the room is an enormous Caravaggio. OMURA Please, sit down, gentlemen. Omura removes a gold cigarette case and lights up. Cigarettes are the newest Western fad Sweeping Japan. OMURA (re: cigarette case) A gift from Czar Alexander... Captain Algren,. it seems you have endured your captivity with little ill-effect. ALGREN Yes, sir. OMURA He's an extraordinary man, isn't he? ALGREN He is samurai. Omura gazes at him. Slowl y takes I puff from his cigarette. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Mr. Omura, my people have been drawing up the documents we discussed. I have a draft-- OMURA We're not quite ready to announce the treaty, Ambassador. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Excuse me? OMURA The Emperor is...sentimental. Katsumoto was his old mentor-- he is not eager to offend him. It will take I few more days. 77. AMBASSJ\DOR SW ANBECK How many da ys is " a few?" OMURA I assure you the Samurai will not stand in the wa y of our agreement. You are prepared to make deliver y? AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Soon as your emperor signs on the dotted line. OMURA Captain Algren you are the expert. Will this array of ordnance be sufficient? ALGREN Depends on what you're trying to accomplish. OMURA I want my country to take its place as a modern power. ALGREN Then they will set you well on your way. OMURA I am pleased. AMDASSADOR SW ANBECK Mr. Omura, you assured us you had the influence with your emperor to make this deal come to pass. With all due respect perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to. OMURA With all due respect, Ambassador, perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to, for instance the French. Or the English. Or any of the legations waiting in the next room. Ambassador Swan beck stands swallowing his rage. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Yes, we1l, we look forward to hearing from you. OMURA Good afternoon, gentlemen. They start to go. OMURA Captain Algren, perhaps you can stay a moment And tell me of your experiences in our rebellious provinces. Bagley looks at Algren. Do as he asks. He leaves A1gren alone with Omura. 78. OMURA Cigarette? ALGREN Thank you. Omura lights his cigarette. A moment as he takes Algren's measure. OMURA You fought bravely on behalf of our army-- against the rebel Katsumoto. Algren says nothing. . OMURA And yet you helped save his life when attacked by the Ninja. ALGREN My role was much less significant than you may have heard. OMURA Tell me about your role in Katsumoto's plans. ALGREN I have none. OMURA And your sympathies? ALGREN Again, I have none. OMURA I know you have little sympathy for Colonel Bagley. ALGREN He is.... unsympathetic. Omura smiles. OMURA I thought it was we who are inscrutable. Now it is Algren who smiles. OMURA You have gained important knowledge of Katsumoto's province, his army, and his rebellion. This is extremely valuable to me. He watches Algren to see how this lands. 79. OMURA You also possess significant knowledge of m y army, my weaponry, and my plans. This is extremely va1uable to Katsumoto. ALGREN Again, you flatter me. OMURA No. I am a businessman. I recognize what is valuable. And I buy it. (looks at him) In this case, I value your loyalt y. Algren considers the implications of what Omura is saying. ALGREN I didn't know loyalt y was something that could be sold. OMURA Then perhaps you will give it, as a token of future friendship - for which, as a friend, I would be in your debt. ALGREN (stands) Then I will consider it. OMURA And I will be grateful. INT. SHIPPING OFFICE DAY Algren is in a shipping office. A clerk consults his schedule of departure. CLERK All righteee, the ANDREW JACKSON leaves tomorrow if you want a steamship you'll have to wait six weeks. (Algren is silent) Gets ya to Frisco by the 28th. 14 dollars for a private cabin, 8 for a shared or 3 for a lower berth. What can I put you down for? Algren is silent, concentrating on a calendar hanging behind the clerk. It features a beautiful Hiroshigi watercolor of mountains. CLERK Sir..? ALGREN (after a moment) Private cabin. 80. EXT. TOKYO STREET DAY Graham walks with Algren. GRAHAM Leave? Wh y would you leave now? No white man has ever been in your position. Do you have any idea what it will mean to have Omura as your friend? You want land, you want women, you want boys? Algren starts to walk faster, but Graham Stops him. GRAHAM Nathan. I wanted to leave, too. For three years. You must believe me there is a majest y about these people -- can you imagine what your own country would be if it had half the drive and the discipline and the belief and the bravery of these ridiculous little people? Then raised voices from across the street stop them. They see Yoritomo surrounded by four Imperial Army soldiers. The soldiers are rough and imperious, drunk with power. They carry gleaming rifle.. The soldiers bark orders. Yoritomo stands proudly, responding calmly. ALGREN Whit is this? GRAHAM My God, it's the edicts... ALGREN What edicts? Algren arrives as the situation is clearly growing volatile - the soldiers are pointing to Yoritomo's head, screaming Algren steps toward the soldiers-- ALGREN That's enough-- One of the soldiers SCREAMS at him -- raises his rifle -- all the soldiers raise their rifles Yoritomo reaches for his sword -- Algren tries to push through - 81. ALGREN (subtitles) YORITOMO, WAIT! One of the soldiers smacks Algren in the chin with a rifle butt. Algren reels, and by the time he stands straight again, four others are pointing their ba yonets at his face. Graham takes hold of Algren's arm. GRAHAM Don't be stupid. Algren makes eye contact with Yoritomo, who -- in deference to his friend -- puts his sword away. The Japanese soldiers continue to scream at Yoritomo. They force him to his knees. Rifles pressed to his head. Yoritomo bows his bead, speaking quietly, as if praying. Algren witches in horror all one of the soldiers removes his bayonet -- another grab. Yoritomo's hair, jerks his head back and begins hacking off Yoritomo's traditional top-knot of hair. Brutally. Blood. Yoritomo remains kneeling, head down, blood flowing down his face. The soldiers laugh and move off. Algren kneels by Yoritomo. Yoritomo looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes. EXT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Katsumoto's house on the outskirts of Tokyo is spacious and harmonious. Utterly Japanese. Samurai guards in full regalia, stand menacingly outside. INT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Ujio kneels with Yoritomo, dressing the wounds on his head. Graham sits across the room talking quietly to the mammoth Nakao, taking notes in a small notebook. Nakao has been brutally shorn of his top knot as well. His shame is apparent. INT. KATSUMOTO'S CHAMBER DUSK Servants he1p dress Katsumoto in his exacting samurai wardrobe as Algren is ushered in. KATSUMOTO Captain, I had not thought to see you again. 82. ALGREN I'm leaving tomorrow. But before I go I need to tell you what's going on here. KATSUMOTO You mean the Gatling Guns and the howitzers, is that how you sa y it? ALGREN They're about to close a trade agreement that will bring this country more weapons than you can imagine. KATSUMOTO Yes, if the emperor agrees - but Omura knows the Emperor must be convinced there is cause to need those weapons before be will sign. ALGREN (realizing) And you are to be the cause... KATSUMOTO Elegant, isn't it? Omura passes laws

overlooking

How many times the word 'overlooking' appears in the text?

wracking his body. EXT. VILLAGE DAY As Algren returns with the water, he sees Katsumoto approaching with Ujio and several warriors. KATSUMOTO The Emperor has requested my presence. We leave tomorrow. You will be released in Tokyo. He goes. Algren stands, not sure how to react. INT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE NIGHT Algren writes on parchment by the light of an oil lamp. ALGREN (V.O.) April 13, 1877. Tomorrow we return to civilization. As eager as I am to be among my own kind, I confess to a curious reluctance. EXT. KATDUMOTO'S VILLAGE DAWN Algren stands overlooking the village as the sun rises over the misty peaks. ALGREN (V.O.) These months have marked me, and I don't fully know yet wh y. EXT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE DAY Algren prepares to mount up. Yoritomo says goodbye to his family. ALGREN (V.O.) I do know it is here that I have known my first untroubled sleep in many years. Taka comes to Algren, bows her head. TAKA (subtitles) You are alwa ys welcome in our home. ALGREN Domo Arrigato. He glances at the unfinished house. 62. ALGREN (subtitles) ...You will finish it soon. TAKA (subtitles) If that is my destiny. She bows her head again. Toshiie hands him a scroll: it is a picture of the Family. Algren is included. Japanese characters list all their names. Toshiie bows. Algren bows and tucks the scroll into his coat. Algren and Yoritomo move out with Katsumoto, Ujio, Nakao and his bodyguard of several dozen Samurai. The villagers bow and honor the warrior as they pass. EXT. MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE DAY Algren trots alongside Katsumoto. ALGREN ... The Emperor sends a message for you to return to Tokyo, and you go? KATSUMOTO Yes. ALGREN Even though you're in rebellion against him. KATSUMOTO Against the Emperor? Never. I serve him. As I have alwa ys done. . ALGREN I don't understand. KATSUMOTO Our Emperor is young, and there are things I must sa y to him. ALGREN But ever yone around him wants you dead. KA TSUMOTO And if the Emperor desires, I will take my own life at his command. He spurs his horse and rides on. A1gren watches him. 63. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET They approach a large inn. A boy working in the fields see Katsumoto approaching. He doesn't believe it -- the Great Katsumoto. He drops his hoe and races awa y, calling out. KATSUMOTO We will stop here for the night. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET Samurai guards have been posted around the perimeter. INT. KATSUMOTO'S RQOM NIGHT Algren is escorted in. Katsumoto kneels at a table. Preparing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Sit, Captain. Algren sits. By now he has learned how to sit on the ground. Katsumoto begins the exacting, delicate and precise tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Do you drink tea? ALGREN I've had little else for some time... Katsumoto continues with the tea ceremony. ALGREN How's your poem coming? KATSUMOTO I am having trouble. The truth is I am not a very good poet. (Algren smiles) Do you know wh y you were sent here? To Yoshino. ALGREN To protect the railroad. . KATSUMOTO Why is the railroad here? ALGREN So Tokyo can control the whole country. 64. KATSUMOTO You have seen my province. All mountains. Far from Tokyo. Yet the rail line must come here? Katsumoto tosses a tiny bit of coal on the simmering brazier on the table. Algren watches carefully. ALGREN You have something they want KATSUMOTO What do they want in my mountains? ALGREN Minerals ... Gold. KA TSUMOTO (smiles) There is no gold in Japan. Katsumoto gently blows on the coal brazier. The coal flares a bit. ALGREN Coal? (Katsumoto looks at him) For steamships. KA TSUMOTO And why would steamships be so important? ALGREN ...China. Katsumoto looks up at him. Impressed. KATSUMOTO Japan has nothing. China has ever ything. ALGREN Mine the coal to create a way station for the trip to China ... Freeze the Europeans out and Japan and America have a monopol y on the China trade. KATSUMOTO Add to this the Omura Zaibatsu. You know the Zaibatus? ALGREN The wealthy families. 65. KATSUMOTO As patron of the railroad, Omura owns all land within four hundred feet of ever y new rail line. As my country grows, so will his wealth. (looks at him) This is why you are fighting. Katsumoto completes the tea ceremony. He pours a cup for Algren. Bows his head and offers it to him. ALGREN And you will tell the emperor to stop them? KATSUMOTO I do not tell the emperor what to do. ALGREN Then what do you hope to accomplish? Katsumoto looks at Algren, the slightest gleam in his eye. KATSUMOTO Will you return to America? Algren watches him -- why didn't Katsumoto answer? ALGREN ...I have a job here. KATSUMOTO You should return to your home. ALGREN Why? KATSUMOTO Because I do not wish you to be m y enemy again. Katsumoto returns to his poem, he does not look up. KATSUMOTO Go home Captain ... Anshinritsumai. I wish you peace. Algren waits but Katsumoto just continues to work on his poem. EXT. AROUND THE INN NIGHT The samurai guards are alert, their senses heightened to almost superhuman proportions. But there is another way. Another way of learning combat. A wa y without the beaut y, the philosophy and the moral code. They are almost imperceptible at first... their head-to-toe black clothes a perfect camouflage... their silence and stealth are otherworldly. 66. They were then known as Shinobi, masters of stealth and spying. We know them as Ninjas. They float across the ground ... creeping an inch ever y hour... complete physica1 control. One black-gloved finger moves. Then the next... They crawl and then wait Poised on their fingertips and toes. There is no sound as they strike. The samurai guards are garroted in an instant. Other Ninjas catch the samurai's weapons as they fall. No sound disturbs the peaceful night. EXT. INN -- FRONT DOORWAY NIGHT Silence. Two samurai guards are in position. One of them glances up at the stars. A Ninja throwing star instantly slices into his jugular-- blood sprays -- the other guard turns a series of Ninja slice into him... EXT. INN--WALLS NIGHT Silence. The Ninjas use mew claws to crawl up the walls like spiders. EXT. INN ROOF NIGHT Silence. A samurai guard stands at the edge of the roof. A Ninja silently moves toward him. Stops. Ten feet awa y. He pulls out a shuriken -- a small needle-shaped projectile, dips it into a sack of poison. Places it carefully into the palm of his hand. And with the flick of his wrist-- The needle flies -- stabbing into the samurai -- he crumples. Other Ninjas immediately pour over the edge of the roof -- catching the samurai before he falls... INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. 67. Katsumoto cannot sleep. He stares out the window at a nightingale. INT. INN--UJIO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Ujio sits in his room. He is unblinking. Alert. Swords at the ready. INT. INN ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Algren cannot sleep either. He sits leaning against a wall. Thinking. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Silence. Yoritomo drinks tea with Nakao, the huge martial arts master. INT. OUTSIDE KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT A guard stands sentinel. Above his head, unbeknownst to him, two Ninjas descend on ropes. One of them swings a long chain - to which I barbed-knife is attached. As it lodges in the guard's chest, the second Ninja swings down just in time to catch the dead guard, silently, before his body hits the ground. INT. INN -- KATSUMQTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Katsumoto lies in bed listening to the night bird. It stops singing. Katsumoto smiles sadly. He decides to give up on sleep, leans forward to rise. This act saves his life. For when the Ninjas come, they come all at once-- A Ninja suddenly comes TEARING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE PAPER WALL, his sword slashing down .- just missing Katsumoto. Katsumoto calls out an alarm, diving and rolling across the floor for his sword. He instantly kills one Ninja using his steel-tipped "war fan" to slash his attackers throat. Another smashes in through the window. INT. INN -- MAIN H ALL NIGHT Ninjas EXPLODE into the main hall. Samurai who come out of their rooms are cut down by a variety of weapons -- one takes a throwing star in the face, others are felled by the traditional ninja-to, short swords ideal for fighting in confined spaces, chain-knives, nun-chaka and others. 68. More Ninjas drop from the rafters on ropes. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT A Ninja SMASHES through the paper wall -- Algren grabs the nearest object, a low tea table. and swings it at his head. The Ninja dodges the blow and slices at Algren with short-sword. Algren barely avoids the blow by ducking behind a post as the sword LODGES deep in the wood. Algren flings himself, bodily, at his attacker. INT. INN-- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ninja throwing stars spin across the room, killing a samurai. Yoritomo emerges from his room, readying his bow, but the dead samurai falls back blocking his wa y. From behind the rice wall, Yoritomo lets fly an arrow without even looking. It passes THROUGH the wall, killing the Ninja on the opposite balcony. INT. INN-- FIRST FLOOR NIGHT Ujio screams a war cry and begins to battle his way up the stairs. With breathtaking moves, he slashes hands and limbs, forcing the Ninja back. Nakao fights his wa y up beside him, desperately trying to reach Katsumoto's room. Using only his bare hands he catches a Ninja's wrist and hurls him over the railing. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Algren and the Ninja are in a death struggle, kneeing, gouging, butting. They awkwardly smash through a paper wall into the next room. INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto wields his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. It is the first time we have seen him in action and his movements are both beautiful and deadly. But more Ninjas are pouring in through the window, threatening to overwhelm him. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Rolling on the ground, Algren manages to grab a chopstick and STAB his adversary through the eye. He picks up the fallen short sword and steps out into the hall. ARROWS whiz past, thudding into the wall beside his head. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto, breathing heavily, his kimono shredded and bloody, is fending off the Ninjas' increasingly savage attacks as Algren enters. Algren SCREAMS, distracting them just long enough for Katsumoto to take advantage and kill one. 69. Then, just as a Ninja it about to kill Algren, Katsumoto FLINGS his short sword ... it pin-wheels across the room, hitting Algren's attacker in the chest. Without missing a beat, Algren pulls the short sword from the dying Ninja's chest and uses it to stab another Ninja who, thinking Algren defenseless, has launched an attack. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ujio and Nakao are back to back, a perfect fighting machine as they fight their wa y to Katsumoto's rescue. They battle Ninjas wielding lethal kusarigamas, the Ninjas swing chains, the attached blades slice the air--Nakao catches the chains and flinging the Ninja over the balcony. INT. YORITOMO'S ROOM NIGHT Yoritomo is pinned down. Darts and throwing stars shred the rice paper wall above him. He picks off another Ninja before changing his position. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT The blazing sword battle continues. Algren throws a beautiful painted standing-screen in front of an attacking Ninja, momentarily confusing him. Then he stabs THROUGH THE SCREEN -as a blood- stain SPREADS across the pastoral painting. But another Ninja catches Algren off-guard and slices at him with his short sword. As Algren lifts his sword to parry the blow, HIS LITILE FINGER IS CHOPPED OFF. He drops the sword, momentarily defenseless. Across the hallway Yoritomo has been watching the shadowpla y on the rice-paper walls. Algren's attacker raises his blade to deliver the death blow. In Katsumoto's room Algren flinches involuntarily beneath the raised blade. Suddenly the Ninja JACKKNIFES as if punched by an unseen hand. As he spins, dead, to the ground, we SEE an ARROW lodged bet ween his shoulder blades. Yoritomo has FIRED blindly, through the wall killing Algren's attacker. Nearby, a Ninja hurls a throwing star at Katsumoto. With blind instinct Katsumoto turns and takes the blade in the meat of his arm. Algren, meanwhile, has ripped the sleeve of his kimono into a tourniquet for his maimed hand. He uses the rest of the fabric TO TIE HIS HAND TO HIS SWORD before launching himself back into the fray -- slicing an attacker just as he is about to impale Katsumoto. Together, he and Katsumoto force the last two Ninjas through a paper wall to the next room. They fight all the wa y through that room and BLAST through another paper wall to the next. 70. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT The battle continues unabated on the stairs -- the Ninjas spring for position with incredible grace --perching and fighting on banisters, leaping from one level to the next. It is a mayhem of flashing swords and flailing limbs and flyi ng arrows and spinning Ninja stars. Sprays of blood splatter against the white rice paper walls. Some of the fighting is less than elegant. Men bite and wrestle and gouge to survive in close quarters. All of them arc bloody and sweat y and dirty and tired, heaving for breath, their skin flayed open, their kimonos ripped, their hands and arms and faces blood-stained. But more samurai reinforcements follow Ujio up the stairs: Together with Yoritomo and Nakao, they have begun to gain the upper hand. Ujio flings both his swords through the air -- killing two Ninjas -- and dives to fight others - his martial arts skills are dazzling. Algren and Katsumoto are fighting sidc by side And we cut to -- EXT. INN NIGHT Outside of the inn, we slowl y pull away... The sounds of the battle gradually fade... Soon it is nothing more than a lovel y rustic inn nestled in the mountains. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT Later. The battle is over. Ninja and samurai corpses litter the inn. We slowl y move up the long stairwa y from the bottom... Yoritomo pulls a Ninja star from Nakao's_shou1der. Then one from his own. We move up another level, past more bodies... Ujio moves through the Ninjas. Making sure they are dead. Before sheathing his sword, he angrily FLICKS it at the rice paper wall, spattering it with the bloody spray. Katsumoto wipes his sword on a nearby corpse, replaces it in its sheath. He sits beside Algren on a stair. Both men are exhausted. Bloodied. Alive. A long beat as we watch the two warriors. Slow fade to... 71. EXT. TOKYO -- IMPERIAL PALACE DAY Algren, Katsumoto and the others are nearing the palace. Algren slows to a stop -- his path is toward the city. Katsumoto stops, looks at him, then does something absolutel y extraordinary. He kneels and bows before Algren. Quickly touching his head to the dirt. Then he rises, turns and walks toward the palace. Algren stands, stunned. EXT. PARADE GROUND DAY Algren walks onto the parade ground. The change he sees could not be more remarkable. Thousands of new Japanese troops are drilling with new bolt-action Mausers. They are precise, exact and frighteningly mechanistic, their uniforms new and crisp. New German advisors are barking commands. Colonel Bagley sees him. BAGLEY Algren? My God, you never cease to astonish. Bagley runs over, hand extended, but Algren turns to look at the troops. ALGREN They have new weapons. BAGLEY The Kaiser was only too happy to help. Along with his friends at Mauser and Krupp. Thank God we Americans still have a few teeth in our head. And they come to the "teeth." Howitzer cannons. A row of them. Artillery officers in US Army uniforms arc instructing Japanese offi cers. BAGLEY The ambassador and I have spent eight months kissing Omura's ass so he'll sign the damn trade pact with us. You spent all this time living with those savages? (A1gren looks at him) He's going to want to talk to you... ALGREN I need a bath. BAGLEY And your back pay, I imagine. Algren starts walking away. 72. BAGLEY They got their flag. ...See? And we see it... snapping on I flagpole high above the parade ground. It is immediately familiar. A red circle on a white field. The Rising Sun. The Howitzers fire in sequence. Thundering blasts that shake the heavens. EXT, ROYAL TEMPLE DAY Omura stands above Emperor Meiji respectful but persistent. The Emperor is kneeling, tending to his iris garden. It is one of the wonders of the Palace: a sea of white, pink, blue, and purple blossoms. Retainers and servants stand at a distance. One holds a standard with the Imperial seal: a yellow chrysanthemum. Omura sees Katsumoto making his way toward them. He talks a bit more quickly to the Emperor. Katsumoto begins to prostrate himself before the Emperor, the usual sign of extreme respect -- but the Emperor stops him: EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori-san. We arc "civilized" now. Katsumoto stops prostrating himself. The Emperor offers his hand. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) I cannot touch the Sacred One. EMPEROR (subtitles) You can. It is a difficult moment for Katsumoto. He simply cannot do It. OMURA (subtitles) Did you have a pleasant journey, Minister Katsumoto? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It was uneventful. Omura appreciates Katsumoto's droll response. He assumes that Katsumoto is aware of his part in the assassination attempt. 73. EMPEROR (subtitles) If it is not a great imposition. I desire a moment alone with Minister Katsumoto. Omura-San. OMURA (subtitles) Enlightened One, perhaps I can be of service in a conversation of state. EMPEROR (subtitles) So kind of you, but I fear my old teacher wishes to upbraid me in private for neglecting my studies. Omura bows his head quickly and goes. Silence. The Emperor gazes at Katsumoto. Then: EMPEROR (subtitles) You rise against me, my teacher. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) No, Highness, I rise against your enemies. EMPEROR (subtitles) They are my teacher, my advisers, like you. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) They advise in their own interest. EMPEROR (subtitles) The world is changing, Mori -- you have not seen what goes on beyond our borders, the inventions, the science. I need men who can look outward, or soon we will be left behind, and defenseless. KATSUM OTO (subtitles) I am sworn to defend you even to my last breath. EMPEROR (subtit1es) The samurai live in the past. You cannot defend against a future you don't understand. 74. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) If I am no use, then I will happily end my life, EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori. It is my wish that you rejoin the Council of State. I need your voice. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It is your voice that needs to be heard, Highness. You are a living God, you can do what ever you think is right. The young emperor is silent a moment. EMPEROR (subtitles) I am a living God only as long as I do what they think is right. KATSUMOTO (subtitle) Your Highness, may I beg forgiveness for saying what a teacher must, that such a statement is pathetic drivel not worthy of an ignorant stable boy, let alone a young man I know to have some modest intelligence. The emperor laughs warmly, almost happy to be scolded as he once was. EMPEROR (subtitles) Is it possible a living God can be too afraid to make his voice heard? (Katsumoto's look is not unkind) Tell me what to do, Mori-San? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) You are emperor, my Lord, not me. You must find the wisdom for all of us. EXT. YOKOHAMA WHARF DAY A series of warehouses, beyond which we see warships in the harbor. A1gren walks with Bagley and two other OFFICERS. INT. WAREHOUSE DAY The cavernous warehouse piled high with huge crates. 75. BAGLEY As soon as they sign the agreement, they're obligated to buy the entire weapons package, from Colt revol vers to Ha1liwell twelve-pounders. Plus this particular item you might recognize. A few stevedores tear open one of the crates. Algren hides his astonishment: A Gatling Gun is revealed. BAGLEY They've been calibrated to fire 200 rounds a minute, The new copper cartridges cut down on jamming. Algren closes his eyes, trying to keep his memories at bay. EXT. TOKYO STREETS DAY Algren fights the crowds with Colonel Bagley And Ambassador Swanbeck.. ALGREN (V.O.) May 15, 1877. The city I return to is immeasurabl y changed New construction ever ywhere. Telegraph wires strung next to an ancient temple. A modern European hotel is going up, dwarfing the traditional Japanese buildings. Huge billboards advertising Western goods. A new invention, the rickshaw, has replaced many of the palanquins. ALGREN (V.O.) As though Tokyo were determined to become another New York or Chicago .- all in one headlong rush. Spider's web of telegraph cables spread from a tall new brick building. It is like a New York office building stabbing into the heart of old Japan. The familiar Omura character is emblazoned on the side. .INT. OFFICES OF THE OMURA ZAIBATSU DAY Aside from the occasional bit of Japanese decor, this could be a buzzing Wall Street firm. Telegraph operators click away. Accountants use adding machines. Secretaries use pneumatic tubes to send documents back and forth. Engineers plot out railway lines. All are dressed in Western clothes. Algren, Colonel Bagley, and Ambassador Swanbeck enter. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK (to Algren) If he asks, you can talk about ordnance and tactics. But remember, this has to do with a lot more than just weapons. 76. An anteroom holds waiting delegations from the various European powers. A babel of language. ... French ...Dutch ...Russian ...German. A pretty American secretary looks up from her desk. SECRETARY Ambassador Swanbeck, if you'll follow me. Some of the delegates arc craning forward, watching Algren and the others hungrily as they head into the final office. INT. OMURA'S OFFICE DAY Omura stands like an industrial titan before large picture windows offering a dramatic view of Tokyo. The only decoration in the room is an enormous Caravaggio. OMURA Please, sit down, gentlemen. Omura removes a gold cigarette case and lights up. Cigarettes are the newest Western fad Sweeping Japan. OMURA (re: cigarette case) A gift from Czar Alexander... Captain Algren,. it seems you have endured your captivity with little ill-effect. ALGREN Yes, sir. OMURA He's an extraordinary man, isn't he? ALGREN He is samurai. Omura gazes at him. Slowl y takes I puff from his cigarette. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Mr. Omura, my people have been drawing up the documents we discussed. I have a draft-- OMURA We're not quite ready to announce the treaty, Ambassador. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Excuse me? OMURA The Emperor is...sentimental. Katsumoto was his old mentor-- he is not eager to offend him. It will take I few more days. 77. AMBASSJ\DOR SW ANBECK How many da ys is " a few?" OMURA I assure you the Samurai will not stand in the wa y of our agreement. You are prepared to make deliver y? AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Soon as your emperor signs on the dotted line. OMURA Captain Algren you are the expert. Will this array of ordnance be sufficient? ALGREN Depends on what you're trying to accomplish. OMURA I want my country to take its place as a modern power. ALGREN Then they will set you well on your way. OMURA I am pleased. AMDASSADOR SW ANBECK Mr. Omura, you assured us you had the influence with your emperor to make this deal come to pass. With all due respect perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to. OMURA With all due respect, Ambassador, perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to, for instance the French. Or the English. Or any of the legations waiting in the next room. Ambassador Swan beck stands swallowing his rage. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Yes, we1l, we look forward to hearing from you. OMURA Good afternoon, gentlemen. They start to go. OMURA Captain Algren, perhaps you can stay a moment And tell me of your experiences in our rebellious provinces. Bagley looks at Algren. Do as he asks. He leaves A1gren alone with Omura. 78. OMURA Cigarette? ALGREN Thank you. Omura lights his cigarette. A moment as he takes Algren's measure. OMURA You fought bravely on behalf of our army-- against the rebel Katsumoto. Algren says nothing. . OMURA And yet you helped save his life when attacked by the Ninja. ALGREN My role was much less significant than you may have heard. OMURA Tell me about your role in Katsumoto's plans. ALGREN I have none. OMURA And your sympathies? ALGREN Again, I have none. OMURA I know you have little sympathy for Colonel Bagley. ALGREN He is.... unsympathetic. Omura smiles. OMURA I thought it was we who are inscrutable. Now it is Algren who smiles. OMURA You have gained important knowledge of Katsumoto's province, his army, and his rebellion. This is extremely valuable to me. He watches Algren to see how this lands. 79. OMURA You also possess significant knowledge of m y army, my weaponry, and my plans. This is extremely va1uable to Katsumoto. ALGREN Again, you flatter me. OMURA No. I am a businessman. I recognize what is valuable. And I buy it. (looks at him) In this case, I value your loyalt y. Algren considers the implications of what Omura is saying. ALGREN I didn't know loyalt y was something that could be sold. OMURA Then perhaps you will give it, as a token of future friendship - for which, as a friend, I would be in your debt. ALGREN (stands) Then I will consider it. OMURA And I will be grateful. INT. SHIPPING OFFICE DAY Algren is in a shipping office. A clerk consults his schedule of departure. CLERK All righteee, the ANDREW JACKSON leaves tomorrow if you want a steamship you'll have to wait six weeks. (Algren is silent) Gets ya to Frisco by the 28th. 14 dollars for a private cabin, 8 for a shared or 3 for a lower berth. What can I put you down for? Algren is silent, concentrating on a calendar hanging behind the clerk. It features a beautiful Hiroshigi watercolor of mountains. CLERK Sir..? ALGREN (after a moment) Private cabin. 80. EXT. TOKYO STREET DAY Graham walks with Algren. GRAHAM Leave? Wh y would you leave now? No white man has ever been in your position. Do you have any idea what it will mean to have Omura as your friend? You want land, you want women, you want boys? Algren starts to walk faster, but Graham Stops him. GRAHAM Nathan. I wanted to leave, too. For three years. You must believe me there is a majest y about these people -- can you imagine what your own country would be if it had half the drive and the discipline and the belief and the bravery of these ridiculous little people? Then raised voices from across the street stop them. They see Yoritomo surrounded by four Imperial Army soldiers. The soldiers are rough and imperious, drunk with power. They carry gleaming rifle.. The soldiers bark orders. Yoritomo stands proudly, responding calmly. ALGREN Whit is this? GRAHAM My God, it's the edicts... ALGREN What edicts? Algren arrives as the situation is clearly growing volatile - the soldiers are pointing to Yoritomo's head, screaming Algren steps toward the soldiers-- ALGREN That's enough-- One of the soldiers SCREAMS at him -- raises his rifle -- all the soldiers raise their rifles Yoritomo reaches for his sword -- Algren tries to push through - 81. ALGREN (subtitles) YORITOMO, WAIT! One of the soldiers smacks Algren in the chin with a rifle butt. Algren reels, and by the time he stands straight again, four others are pointing their ba yonets at his face. Graham takes hold of Algren's arm. GRAHAM Don't be stupid. Algren makes eye contact with Yoritomo, who -- in deference to his friend -- puts his sword away. The Japanese soldiers continue to scream at Yoritomo. They force him to his knees. Rifles pressed to his head. Yoritomo bows his bead, speaking quietly, as if praying. Algren witches in horror all one of the soldiers removes his bayonet -- another grab. Yoritomo's hair, jerks his head back and begins hacking off Yoritomo's traditional top-knot of hair. Brutally. Blood. Yoritomo remains kneeling, head down, blood flowing down his face. The soldiers laugh and move off. Algren kneels by Yoritomo. Yoritomo looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes. EXT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Katsumoto's house on the outskirts of Tokyo is spacious and harmonious. Utterly Japanese. Samurai guards in full regalia, stand menacingly outside. INT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Ujio kneels with Yoritomo, dressing the wounds on his head. Graham sits across the room talking quietly to the mammoth Nakao, taking notes in a small notebook. Nakao has been brutally shorn of his top knot as well. His shame is apparent. INT. KATSUMOTO'S CHAMBER DUSK Servants he1p dress Katsumoto in his exacting samurai wardrobe as Algren is ushered in. KATSUMOTO Captain, I had not thought to see you again. 82. ALGREN I'm leaving tomorrow. But before I go I need to tell you what's going on here. KATSUMOTO You mean the Gatling Guns and the howitzers, is that how you sa y it? ALGREN They're about to close a trade agreement that will bring this country more weapons than you can imagine. KATSUMOTO Yes, if the emperor agrees - but Omura knows the Emperor must be convinced there is cause to need those weapons before be will sign. ALGREN (realizing) And you are to be the cause... KATSUMOTO Elegant, isn't it? Omura passes laws

home

How many times the word 'home' appears in the text?

wracking his body. EXT. VILLAGE DAY As Algren returns with the water, he sees Katsumoto approaching with Ujio and several warriors. KATSUMOTO The Emperor has requested my presence. We leave tomorrow. You will be released in Tokyo. He goes. Algren stands, not sure how to react. INT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE NIGHT Algren writes on parchment by the light of an oil lamp. ALGREN (V.O.) April 13, 1877. Tomorrow we return to civilization. As eager as I am to be among my own kind, I confess to a curious reluctance. EXT. KATDUMOTO'S VILLAGE DAWN Algren stands overlooking the village as the sun rises over the misty peaks. ALGREN (V.O.) These months have marked me, and I don't fully know yet wh y. EXT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE DAY Algren prepares to mount up. Yoritomo says goodbye to his family. ALGREN (V.O.) I do know it is here that I have known my first untroubled sleep in many years. Taka comes to Algren, bows her head. TAKA (subtitles) You are alwa ys welcome in our home. ALGREN Domo Arrigato. He glances at the unfinished house. 62. ALGREN (subtitles) ...You will finish it soon. TAKA (subtitles) If that is my destiny. She bows her head again. Toshiie hands him a scroll: it is a picture of the Family. Algren is included. Japanese characters list all their names. Toshiie bows. Algren bows and tucks the scroll into his coat. Algren and Yoritomo move out with Katsumoto, Ujio, Nakao and his bodyguard of several dozen Samurai. The villagers bow and honor the warrior as they pass. EXT. MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE DAY Algren trots alongside Katsumoto. ALGREN ... The Emperor sends a message for you to return to Tokyo, and you go? KATSUMOTO Yes. ALGREN Even though you're in rebellion against him. KATSUMOTO Against the Emperor? Never. I serve him. As I have alwa ys done. . ALGREN I don't understand. KATSUMOTO Our Emperor is young, and there are things I must sa y to him. ALGREN But ever yone around him wants you dead. KA TSUMOTO And if the Emperor desires, I will take my own life at his command. He spurs his horse and rides on. A1gren watches him. 63. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET They approach a large inn. A boy working in the fields see Katsumoto approaching. He doesn't believe it -- the Great Katsumoto. He drops his hoe and races awa y, calling out. KATSUMOTO We will stop here for the night. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET Samurai guards have been posted around the perimeter. INT. KATSUMOTO'S RQOM NIGHT Algren is escorted in. Katsumoto kneels at a table. Preparing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Sit, Captain. Algren sits. By now he has learned how to sit on the ground. Katsumoto begins the exacting, delicate and precise tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Do you drink tea? ALGREN I've had little else for some time... Katsumoto continues with the tea ceremony. ALGREN How's your poem coming? KATSUMOTO I am having trouble. The truth is I am not a very good poet. (Algren smiles) Do you know wh y you were sent here? To Yoshino. ALGREN To protect the railroad. . KATSUMOTO Why is the railroad here? ALGREN So Tokyo can control the whole country. 64. KATSUMOTO You have seen my province. All mountains. Far from Tokyo. Yet the rail line must come here? Katsumoto tosses a tiny bit of coal on the simmering brazier on the table. Algren watches carefully. ALGREN You have something they want KATSUMOTO What do they want in my mountains? ALGREN Minerals ... Gold. KA TSUMOTO (smiles) There is no gold in Japan. Katsumoto gently blows on the coal brazier. The coal flares a bit. ALGREN Coal? (Katsumoto looks at him) For steamships. KA TSUMOTO And why would steamships be so important? ALGREN ...China. Katsumoto looks up at him. Impressed. KATSUMOTO Japan has nothing. China has ever ything. ALGREN Mine the coal to create a way station for the trip to China ... Freeze the Europeans out and Japan and America have a monopol y on the China trade. KATSUMOTO Add to this the Omura Zaibatsu. You know the Zaibatus? ALGREN The wealthy families. 65. KATSUMOTO As patron of the railroad, Omura owns all land within four hundred feet of ever y new rail line. As my country grows, so will his wealth. (looks at him) This is why you are fighting. Katsumoto completes the tea ceremony. He pours a cup for Algren. Bows his head and offers it to him. ALGREN And you will tell the emperor to stop them? KATSUMOTO I do not tell the emperor what to do. ALGREN Then what do you hope to accomplish? Katsumoto looks at Algren, the slightest gleam in his eye. KATSUMOTO Will you return to America? Algren watches him -- why didn't Katsumoto answer? ALGREN ...I have a job here. KATSUMOTO You should return to your home. ALGREN Why? KATSUMOTO Because I do not wish you to be m y enemy again. Katsumoto returns to his poem, he does not look up. KATSUMOTO Go home Captain ... Anshinritsumai. I wish you peace. Algren waits but Katsumoto just continues to work on his poem. EXT. AROUND THE INN NIGHT The samurai guards are alert, their senses heightened to almost superhuman proportions. But there is another way. Another way of learning combat. A wa y without the beaut y, the philosophy and the moral code. They are almost imperceptible at first... their head-to-toe black clothes a perfect camouflage... their silence and stealth are otherworldly. 66. They were then known as Shinobi, masters of stealth and spying. We know them as Ninjas. They float across the ground ... creeping an inch ever y hour... complete physica1 control. One black-gloved finger moves. Then the next... They crawl and then wait Poised on their fingertips and toes. There is no sound as they strike. The samurai guards are garroted in an instant. Other Ninjas catch the samurai's weapons as they fall. No sound disturbs the peaceful night. EXT. INN -- FRONT DOORWAY NIGHT Silence. Two samurai guards are in position. One of them glances up at the stars. A Ninja throwing star instantly slices into his jugular-- blood sprays -- the other guard turns a series of Ninja slice into him... EXT. INN--WALLS NIGHT Silence. The Ninjas use mew claws to crawl up the walls like spiders. EXT. INN ROOF NIGHT Silence. A samurai guard stands at the edge of the roof. A Ninja silently moves toward him. Stops. Ten feet awa y. He pulls out a shuriken -- a small needle-shaped projectile, dips it into a sack of poison. Places it carefully into the palm of his hand. And with the flick of his wrist-- The needle flies -- stabbing into the samurai -- he crumples. Other Ninjas immediately pour over the edge of the roof -- catching the samurai before he falls... INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. 67. Katsumoto cannot sleep. He stares out the window at a nightingale. INT. INN--UJIO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Ujio sits in his room. He is unblinking. Alert. Swords at the ready. INT. INN ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Algren cannot sleep either. He sits leaning against a wall. Thinking. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Silence. Yoritomo drinks tea with Nakao, the huge martial arts master. INT. OUTSIDE KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT A guard stands sentinel. Above his head, unbeknownst to him, two Ninjas descend on ropes. One of them swings a long chain - to which I barbed-knife is attached. As it lodges in the guard's chest, the second Ninja swings down just in time to catch the dead guard, silently, before his body hits the ground. INT. INN -- KATSUMQTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Katsumoto lies in bed listening to the night bird. It stops singing. Katsumoto smiles sadly. He decides to give up on sleep, leans forward to rise. This act saves his life. For when the Ninjas come, they come all at once-- A Ninja suddenly comes TEARING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE PAPER WALL, his sword slashing down .- just missing Katsumoto. Katsumoto calls out an alarm, diving and rolling across the floor for his sword. He instantly kills one Ninja using his steel-tipped "war fan" to slash his attackers throat. Another smashes in through the window. INT. INN -- MAIN H ALL NIGHT Ninjas EXPLODE into the main hall. Samurai who come out of their rooms are cut down by a variety of weapons -- one takes a throwing star in the face, others are felled by the traditional ninja-to, short swords ideal for fighting in confined spaces, chain-knives, nun-chaka and others. 68. More Ninjas drop from the rafters on ropes. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT A Ninja SMASHES through the paper wall -- Algren grabs the nearest object, a low tea table. and swings it at his head. The Ninja dodges the blow and slices at Algren with short-sword. Algren barely avoids the blow by ducking behind a post as the sword LODGES deep in the wood. Algren flings himself, bodily, at his attacker. INT. INN-- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ninja throwing stars spin across the room, killing a samurai. Yoritomo emerges from his room, readying his bow, but the dead samurai falls back blocking his wa y. From behind the rice wall, Yoritomo lets fly an arrow without even looking. It passes THROUGH the wall, killing the Ninja on the opposite balcony. INT. INN-- FIRST FLOOR NIGHT Ujio screams a war cry and begins to battle his way up the stairs. With breathtaking moves, he slashes hands and limbs, forcing the Ninja back. Nakao fights his wa y up beside him, desperately trying to reach Katsumoto's room. Using only his bare hands he catches a Ninja's wrist and hurls him over the railing. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Algren and the Ninja are in a death struggle, kneeing, gouging, butting. They awkwardly smash through a paper wall into the next room. INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto wields his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. It is the first time we have seen him in action and his movements are both beautiful and deadly. But more Ninjas are pouring in through the window, threatening to overwhelm him. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Rolling on the ground, Algren manages to grab a chopstick and STAB his adversary through the eye. He picks up the fallen short sword and steps out into the hall. ARROWS whiz past, thudding into the wall beside his head. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto, breathing heavily, his kimono shredded and bloody, is fending off the Ninjas' increasingly savage attacks as Algren enters. Algren SCREAMS, distracting them just long enough for Katsumoto to take advantage and kill one. 69. Then, just as a Ninja it about to kill Algren, Katsumoto FLINGS his short sword ... it pin-wheels across the room, hitting Algren's attacker in the chest. Without missing a beat, Algren pulls the short sword from the dying Ninja's chest and uses it to stab another Ninja who, thinking Algren defenseless, has launched an attack. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ujio and Nakao are back to back, a perfect fighting machine as they fight their wa y to Katsumoto's rescue. They battle Ninjas wielding lethal kusarigamas, the Ninjas swing chains, the attached blades slice the air--Nakao catches the chains and flinging the Ninja over the balcony. INT. YORITOMO'S ROOM NIGHT Yoritomo is pinned down. Darts and throwing stars shred the rice paper wall above him. He picks off another Ninja before changing his position. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT The blazing sword battle continues. Algren throws a beautiful painted standing-screen in front of an attacking Ninja, momentarily confusing him. Then he stabs THROUGH THE SCREEN -as a blood- stain SPREADS across the pastoral painting. But another Ninja catches Algren off-guard and slices at him with his short sword. As Algren lifts his sword to parry the blow, HIS LITILE FINGER IS CHOPPED OFF. He drops the sword, momentarily defenseless. Across the hallway Yoritomo has been watching the shadowpla y on the rice-paper walls. Algren's attacker raises his blade to deliver the death blow. In Katsumoto's room Algren flinches involuntarily beneath the raised blade. Suddenly the Ninja JACKKNIFES as if punched by an unseen hand. As he spins, dead, to the ground, we SEE an ARROW lodged bet ween his shoulder blades. Yoritomo has FIRED blindly, through the wall killing Algren's attacker. Nearby, a Ninja hurls a throwing star at Katsumoto. With blind instinct Katsumoto turns and takes the blade in the meat of his arm. Algren, meanwhile, has ripped the sleeve of his kimono into a tourniquet for his maimed hand. He uses the rest of the fabric TO TIE HIS HAND TO HIS SWORD before launching himself back into the fray -- slicing an attacker just as he is about to impale Katsumoto. Together, he and Katsumoto force the last two Ninjas through a paper wall to the next room. They fight all the wa y through that room and BLAST through another paper wall to the next. 70. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT The battle continues unabated on the stairs -- the Ninjas spring for position with incredible grace --perching and fighting on banisters, leaping from one level to the next. It is a mayhem of flashing swords and flailing limbs and flyi ng arrows and spinning Ninja stars. Sprays of blood splatter against the white rice paper walls. Some of the fighting is less than elegant. Men bite and wrestle and gouge to survive in close quarters. All of them arc bloody and sweat y and dirty and tired, heaving for breath, their skin flayed open, their kimonos ripped, their hands and arms and faces blood-stained. But more samurai reinforcements follow Ujio up the stairs: Together with Yoritomo and Nakao, they have begun to gain the upper hand. Ujio flings both his swords through the air -- killing two Ninjas -- and dives to fight others - his martial arts skills are dazzling. Algren and Katsumoto are fighting sidc by side And we cut to -- EXT. INN NIGHT Outside of the inn, we slowl y pull away... The sounds of the battle gradually fade... Soon it is nothing more than a lovel y rustic inn nestled in the mountains. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT Later. The battle is over. Ninja and samurai corpses litter the inn. We slowl y move up the long stairwa y from the bottom... Yoritomo pulls a Ninja star from Nakao's_shou1der. Then one from his own. We move up another level, past more bodies... Ujio moves through the Ninjas. Making sure they are dead. Before sheathing his sword, he angrily FLICKS it at the rice paper wall, spattering it with the bloody spray. Katsumoto wipes his sword on a nearby corpse, replaces it in its sheath. He sits beside Algren on a stair. Both men are exhausted. Bloodied. Alive. A long beat as we watch the two warriors. Slow fade to... 71. EXT. TOKYO -- IMPERIAL PALACE DAY Algren, Katsumoto and the others are nearing the palace. Algren slows to a stop -- his path is toward the city. Katsumoto stops, looks at him, then does something absolutel y extraordinary. He kneels and bows before Algren. Quickly touching his head to the dirt. Then he rises, turns and walks toward the palace. Algren stands, stunned. EXT. PARADE GROUND DAY Algren walks onto the parade ground. The change he sees could not be more remarkable. Thousands of new Japanese troops are drilling with new bolt-action Mausers. They are precise, exact and frighteningly mechanistic, their uniforms new and crisp. New German advisors are barking commands. Colonel Bagley sees him. BAGLEY Algren? My God, you never cease to astonish. Bagley runs over, hand extended, but Algren turns to look at the troops. ALGREN They have new weapons. BAGLEY The Kaiser was only too happy to help. Along with his friends at Mauser and Krupp. Thank God we Americans still have a few teeth in our head. And they come to the "teeth." Howitzer cannons. A row of them. Artillery officers in US Army uniforms arc instructing Japanese offi cers. BAGLEY The ambassador and I have spent eight months kissing Omura's ass so he'll sign the damn trade pact with us. You spent all this time living with those savages? (A1gren looks at him) He's going to want to talk to you... ALGREN I need a bath. BAGLEY And your back pay, I imagine. Algren starts walking away. 72. BAGLEY They got their flag. ...See? And we see it... snapping on I flagpole high above the parade ground. It is immediately familiar. A red circle on a white field. The Rising Sun. The Howitzers fire in sequence. Thundering blasts that shake the heavens. EXT, ROYAL TEMPLE DAY Omura stands above Emperor Meiji respectful but persistent. The Emperor is kneeling, tending to his iris garden. It is one of the wonders of the Palace: a sea of white, pink, blue, and purple blossoms. Retainers and servants stand at a distance. One holds a standard with the Imperial seal: a yellow chrysanthemum. Omura sees Katsumoto making his way toward them. He talks a bit more quickly to the Emperor. Katsumoto begins to prostrate himself before the Emperor, the usual sign of extreme respect -- but the Emperor stops him: EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori-san. We arc "civilized" now. Katsumoto stops prostrating himself. The Emperor offers his hand. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) I cannot touch the Sacred One. EMPEROR (subtitles) You can. It is a difficult moment for Katsumoto. He simply cannot do It. OMURA (subtitles) Did you have a pleasant journey, Minister Katsumoto? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It was uneventful. Omura appreciates Katsumoto's droll response. He assumes that Katsumoto is aware of his part in the assassination attempt. 73. EMPEROR (subtitles) If it is not a great imposition. I desire a moment alone with Minister Katsumoto. Omura-San. OMURA (subtitles) Enlightened One, perhaps I can be of service in a conversation of state. EMPEROR (subtitles) So kind of you, but I fear my old teacher wishes to upbraid me in private for neglecting my studies. Omura bows his head quickly and goes. Silence. The Emperor gazes at Katsumoto. Then: EMPEROR (subtitles) You rise against me, my teacher. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) No, Highness, I rise against your enemies. EMPEROR (subtitles) They are my teacher, my advisers, like you. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) They advise in their own interest. EMPEROR (subtitles) The world is changing, Mori -- you have not seen what goes on beyond our borders, the inventions, the science. I need men who can look outward, or soon we will be left behind, and defenseless. KATSUM OTO (subtitles) I am sworn to defend you even to my last breath. EMPEROR (subtit1es) The samurai live in the past. You cannot defend against a future you don't understand. 74. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) If I am no use, then I will happily end my life, EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori. It is my wish that you rejoin the Council of State. I need your voice. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It is your voice that needs to be heard, Highness. You are a living God, you can do what ever you think is right. The young emperor is silent a moment. EMPEROR (subtitles) I am a living God only as long as I do what they think is right. KATSUMOTO (subtitle) Your Highness, may I beg forgiveness for saying what a teacher must, that such a statement is pathetic drivel not worthy of an ignorant stable boy, let alone a young man I know to have some modest intelligence. The emperor laughs warmly, almost happy to be scolded as he once was. EMPEROR (subtitles) Is it possible a living God can be too afraid to make his voice heard? (Katsumoto's look is not unkind) Tell me what to do, Mori-San? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) You are emperor, my Lord, not me. You must find the wisdom for all of us. EXT. YOKOHAMA WHARF DAY A series of warehouses, beyond which we see warships in the harbor. A1gren walks with Bagley and two other OFFICERS. INT. WAREHOUSE DAY The cavernous warehouse piled high with huge crates. 75. BAGLEY As soon as they sign the agreement, they're obligated to buy the entire weapons package, from Colt revol vers to Ha1liwell twelve-pounders. Plus this particular item you might recognize. A few stevedores tear open one of the crates. Algren hides his astonishment: A Gatling Gun is revealed. BAGLEY They've been calibrated to fire 200 rounds a minute, The new copper cartridges cut down on jamming. Algren closes his eyes, trying to keep his memories at bay. EXT. TOKYO STREETS DAY Algren fights the crowds with Colonel Bagley And Ambassador Swanbeck.. ALGREN (V.O.) May 15, 1877. The city I return to is immeasurabl y changed New construction ever ywhere. Telegraph wires strung next to an ancient temple. A modern European hotel is going up, dwarfing the traditional Japanese buildings. Huge billboards advertising Western goods. A new invention, the rickshaw, has replaced many of the palanquins. ALGREN (V.O.) As though Tokyo were determined to become another New York or Chicago .- all in one headlong rush. Spider's web of telegraph cables spread from a tall new brick building. It is like a New York office building stabbing into the heart of old Japan. The familiar Omura character is emblazoned on the side. .INT. OFFICES OF THE OMURA ZAIBATSU DAY Aside from the occasional bit of Japanese decor, this could be a buzzing Wall Street firm. Telegraph operators click away. Accountants use adding machines. Secretaries use pneumatic tubes to send documents back and forth. Engineers plot out railway lines. All are dressed in Western clothes. Algren, Colonel Bagley, and Ambassador Swanbeck enter. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK (to Algren) If he asks, you can talk about ordnance and tactics. But remember, this has to do with a lot more than just weapons. 76. An anteroom holds waiting delegations from the various European powers. A babel of language. ... French ...Dutch ...Russian ...German. A pretty American secretary looks up from her desk. SECRETARY Ambassador Swanbeck, if you'll follow me. Some of the delegates arc craning forward, watching Algren and the others hungrily as they head into the final office. INT. OMURA'S OFFICE DAY Omura stands like an industrial titan before large picture windows offering a dramatic view of Tokyo. The only decoration in the room is an enormous Caravaggio. OMURA Please, sit down, gentlemen. Omura removes a gold cigarette case and lights up. Cigarettes are the newest Western fad Sweeping Japan. OMURA (re: cigarette case) A gift from Czar Alexander... Captain Algren,. it seems you have endured your captivity with little ill-effect. ALGREN Yes, sir. OMURA He's an extraordinary man, isn't he? ALGREN He is samurai. Omura gazes at him. Slowl y takes I puff from his cigarette. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Mr. Omura, my people have been drawing up the documents we discussed. I have a draft-- OMURA We're not quite ready to announce the treaty, Ambassador. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Excuse me? OMURA The Emperor is...sentimental. Katsumoto was his old mentor-- he is not eager to offend him. It will take I few more days. 77. AMBASSJ\DOR SW ANBECK How many da ys is " a few?" OMURA I assure you the Samurai will not stand in the wa y of our agreement. You are prepared to make deliver y? AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Soon as your emperor signs on the dotted line. OMURA Captain Algren you are the expert. Will this array of ordnance be sufficient? ALGREN Depends on what you're trying to accomplish. OMURA I want my country to take its place as a modern power. ALGREN Then they will set you well on your way. OMURA I am pleased. AMDASSADOR SW ANBECK Mr. Omura, you assured us you had the influence with your emperor to make this deal come to pass. With all due respect perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to. OMURA With all due respect, Ambassador, perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to, for instance the French. Or the English. Or any of the legations waiting in the next room. Ambassador Swan beck stands swallowing his rage. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Yes, we1l, we look forward to hearing from you. OMURA Good afternoon, gentlemen. They start to go. OMURA Captain Algren, perhaps you can stay a moment And tell me of your experiences in our rebellious provinces. Bagley looks at Algren. Do as he asks. He leaves A1gren alone with Omura. 78. OMURA Cigarette? ALGREN Thank you. Omura lights his cigarette. A moment as he takes Algren's measure. OMURA You fought bravely on behalf of our army-- against the rebel Katsumoto. Algren says nothing. . OMURA And yet you helped save his life when attacked by the Ninja. ALGREN My role was much less significant than you may have heard. OMURA Tell me about your role in Katsumoto's plans. ALGREN I have none. OMURA And your sympathies? ALGREN Again, I have none. OMURA I know you have little sympathy for Colonel Bagley. ALGREN He is.... unsympathetic. Omura smiles. OMURA I thought it was we who are inscrutable. Now it is Algren who smiles. OMURA You have gained important knowledge of Katsumoto's province, his army, and his rebellion. This is extremely valuable to me. He watches Algren to see how this lands. 79. OMURA You also possess significant knowledge of m y army, my weaponry, and my plans. This is extremely va1uable to Katsumoto. ALGREN Again, you flatter me. OMURA No. I am a businessman. I recognize what is valuable. And I buy it. (looks at him) In this case, I value your loyalt y. Algren considers the implications of what Omura is saying. ALGREN I didn't know loyalt y was something that could be sold. OMURA Then perhaps you will give it, as a token of future friendship - for which, as a friend, I would be in your debt. ALGREN (stands) Then I will consider it. OMURA And I will be grateful. INT. SHIPPING OFFICE DAY Algren is in a shipping office. A clerk consults his schedule of departure. CLERK All righteee, the ANDREW JACKSON leaves tomorrow if you want a steamship you'll have to wait six weeks. (Algren is silent) Gets ya to Frisco by the 28th. 14 dollars for a private cabin, 8 for a shared or 3 for a lower berth. What can I put you down for? Algren is silent, concentrating on a calendar hanging behind the clerk. It features a beautiful Hiroshigi watercolor of mountains. CLERK Sir..? ALGREN (after a moment) Private cabin. 80. EXT. TOKYO STREET DAY Graham walks with Algren. GRAHAM Leave? Wh y would you leave now? No white man has ever been in your position. Do you have any idea what it will mean to have Omura as your friend? You want land, you want women, you want boys? Algren starts to walk faster, but Graham Stops him. GRAHAM Nathan. I wanted to leave, too. For three years. You must believe me there is a majest y about these people -- can you imagine what your own country would be if it had half the drive and the discipline and the belief and the bravery of these ridiculous little people? Then raised voices from across the street stop them. They see Yoritomo surrounded by four Imperial Army soldiers. The soldiers are rough and imperious, drunk with power. They carry gleaming rifle.. The soldiers bark orders. Yoritomo stands proudly, responding calmly. ALGREN Whit is this? GRAHAM My God, it's the edicts... ALGREN What edicts? Algren arrives as the situation is clearly growing volatile - the soldiers are pointing to Yoritomo's head, screaming Algren steps toward the soldiers-- ALGREN That's enough-- One of the soldiers SCREAMS at him -- raises his rifle -- all the soldiers raise their rifles Yoritomo reaches for his sword -- Algren tries to push through - 81. ALGREN (subtitles) YORITOMO, WAIT! One of the soldiers smacks Algren in the chin with a rifle butt. Algren reels, and by the time he stands straight again, four others are pointing their ba yonets at his face. Graham takes hold of Algren's arm. GRAHAM Don't be stupid. Algren makes eye contact with Yoritomo, who -- in deference to his friend -- puts his sword away. The Japanese soldiers continue to scream at Yoritomo. They force him to his knees. Rifles pressed to his head. Yoritomo bows his bead, speaking quietly, as if praying. Algren witches in horror all one of the soldiers removes his bayonet -- another grab. Yoritomo's hair, jerks his head back and begins hacking off Yoritomo's traditional top-knot of hair. Brutally. Blood. Yoritomo remains kneeling, head down, blood flowing down his face. The soldiers laugh and move off. Algren kneels by Yoritomo. Yoritomo looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes. EXT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Katsumoto's house on the outskirts of Tokyo is spacious and harmonious. Utterly Japanese. Samurai guards in full regalia, stand menacingly outside. INT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Ujio kneels with Yoritomo, dressing the wounds on his head. Graham sits across the room talking quietly to the mammoth Nakao, taking notes in a small notebook. Nakao has been brutally shorn of his top knot as well. His shame is apparent. INT. KATSUMOTO'S CHAMBER DUSK Servants he1p dress Katsumoto in his exacting samurai wardrobe as Algren is ushered in. KATSUMOTO Captain, I had not thought to see you again. 82. ALGREN I'm leaving tomorrow. But before I go I need to tell you what's going on here. KATSUMOTO You mean the Gatling Guns and the howitzers, is that how you sa y it? ALGREN They're about to close a trade agreement that will bring this country more weapons than you can imagine. KATSUMOTO Yes, if the emperor agrees - but Omura knows the Emperor must be convinced there is cause to need those weapons before be will sign. ALGREN (realizing) And you are to be the cause... KATSUMOTO Elegant, isn't it? Omura passes laws

blindly

How many times the word 'blindly' appears in the text?

wracking his body. EXT. VILLAGE DAY As Algren returns with the water, he sees Katsumoto approaching with Ujio and several warriors. KATSUMOTO The Emperor has requested my presence. We leave tomorrow. You will be released in Tokyo. He goes. Algren stands, not sure how to react. INT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE NIGHT Algren writes on parchment by the light of an oil lamp. ALGREN (V.O.) April 13, 1877. Tomorrow we return to civilization. As eager as I am to be among my own kind, I confess to a curious reluctance. EXT. KATDUMOTO'S VILLAGE DAWN Algren stands overlooking the village as the sun rises over the misty peaks. ALGREN (V.O.) These months have marked me, and I don't fully know yet wh y. EXT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE DAY Algren prepares to mount up. Yoritomo says goodbye to his family. ALGREN (V.O.) I do know it is here that I have known my first untroubled sleep in many years. Taka comes to Algren, bows her head. TAKA (subtitles) You are alwa ys welcome in our home. ALGREN Domo Arrigato. He glances at the unfinished house. 62. ALGREN (subtitles) ...You will finish it soon. TAKA (subtitles) If that is my destiny. She bows her head again. Toshiie hands him a scroll: it is a picture of the Family. Algren is included. Japanese characters list all their names. Toshiie bows. Algren bows and tucks the scroll into his coat. Algren and Yoritomo move out with Katsumoto, Ujio, Nakao and his bodyguard of several dozen Samurai. The villagers bow and honor the warrior as they pass. EXT. MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE DAY Algren trots alongside Katsumoto. ALGREN ... The Emperor sends a message for you to return to Tokyo, and you go? KATSUMOTO Yes. ALGREN Even though you're in rebellion against him. KATSUMOTO Against the Emperor? Never. I serve him. As I have alwa ys done. . ALGREN I don't understand. KATSUMOTO Our Emperor is young, and there are things I must sa y to him. ALGREN But ever yone around him wants you dead. KA TSUMOTO And if the Emperor desires, I will take my own life at his command. He spurs his horse and rides on. A1gren watches him. 63. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET They approach a large inn. A boy working in the fields see Katsumoto approaching. He doesn't believe it -- the Great Katsumoto. He drops his hoe and races awa y, calling out. KATSUMOTO We will stop here for the night. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET Samurai guards have been posted around the perimeter. INT. KATSUMOTO'S RQOM NIGHT Algren is escorted in. Katsumoto kneels at a table. Preparing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Sit, Captain. Algren sits. By now he has learned how to sit on the ground. Katsumoto begins the exacting, delicate and precise tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Do you drink tea? ALGREN I've had little else for some time... Katsumoto continues with the tea ceremony. ALGREN How's your poem coming? KATSUMOTO I am having trouble. The truth is I am not a very good poet. (Algren smiles) Do you know wh y you were sent here? To Yoshino. ALGREN To protect the railroad. . KATSUMOTO Why is the railroad here? ALGREN So Tokyo can control the whole country. 64. KATSUMOTO You have seen my province. All mountains. Far from Tokyo. Yet the rail line must come here? Katsumoto tosses a tiny bit of coal on the simmering brazier on the table. Algren watches carefully. ALGREN You have something they want KATSUMOTO What do they want in my mountains? ALGREN Minerals ... Gold. KA TSUMOTO (smiles) There is no gold in Japan. Katsumoto gently blows on the coal brazier. The coal flares a bit. ALGREN Coal? (Katsumoto looks at him) For steamships. KA TSUMOTO And why would steamships be so important? ALGREN ...China. Katsumoto looks up at him. Impressed. KATSUMOTO Japan has nothing. China has ever ything. ALGREN Mine the coal to create a way station for the trip to China ... Freeze the Europeans out and Japan and America have a monopol y on the China trade. KATSUMOTO Add to this the Omura Zaibatsu. You know the Zaibatus? ALGREN The wealthy families. 65. KATSUMOTO As patron of the railroad, Omura owns all land within four hundred feet of ever y new rail line. As my country grows, so will his wealth. (looks at him) This is why you are fighting. Katsumoto completes the tea ceremony. He pours a cup for Algren. Bows his head and offers it to him. ALGREN And you will tell the emperor to stop them? KATSUMOTO I do not tell the emperor what to do. ALGREN Then what do you hope to accomplish? Katsumoto looks at Algren, the slightest gleam in his eye. KATSUMOTO Will you return to America? Algren watches him -- why didn't Katsumoto answer? ALGREN ...I have a job here. KATSUMOTO You should return to your home. ALGREN Why? KATSUMOTO Because I do not wish you to be m y enemy again. Katsumoto returns to his poem, he does not look up. KATSUMOTO Go home Captain ... Anshinritsumai. I wish you peace. Algren waits but Katsumoto just continues to work on his poem. EXT. AROUND THE INN NIGHT The samurai guards are alert, their senses heightened to almost superhuman proportions. But there is another way. Another way of learning combat. A wa y without the beaut y, the philosophy and the moral code. They are almost imperceptible at first... their head-to-toe black clothes a perfect camouflage... their silence and stealth are otherworldly. 66. They were then known as Shinobi, masters of stealth and spying. We know them as Ninjas. They float across the ground ... creeping an inch ever y hour... complete physica1 control. One black-gloved finger moves. Then the next... They crawl and then wait Poised on their fingertips and toes. There is no sound as they strike. The samurai guards are garroted in an instant. Other Ninjas catch the samurai's weapons as they fall. No sound disturbs the peaceful night. EXT. INN -- FRONT DOORWAY NIGHT Silence. Two samurai guards are in position. One of them glances up at the stars. A Ninja throwing star instantly slices into his jugular-- blood sprays -- the other guard turns a series of Ninja slice into him... EXT. INN--WALLS NIGHT Silence. The Ninjas use mew claws to crawl up the walls like spiders. EXT. INN ROOF NIGHT Silence. A samurai guard stands at the edge of the roof. A Ninja silently moves toward him. Stops. Ten feet awa y. He pulls out a shuriken -- a small needle-shaped projectile, dips it into a sack of poison. Places it carefully into the palm of his hand. And with the flick of his wrist-- The needle flies -- stabbing into the samurai -- he crumples. Other Ninjas immediately pour over the edge of the roof -- catching the samurai before he falls... INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. 67. Katsumoto cannot sleep. He stares out the window at a nightingale. INT. INN--UJIO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Ujio sits in his room. He is unblinking. Alert. Swords at the ready. INT. INN ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Algren cannot sleep either. He sits leaning against a wall. Thinking. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Silence. Yoritomo drinks tea with Nakao, the huge martial arts master. INT. OUTSIDE KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT A guard stands sentinel. Above his head, unbeknownst to him, two Ninjas descend on ropes. One of them swings a long chain - to which I barbed-knife is attached. As it lodges in the guard's chest, the second Ninja swings down just in time to catch the dead guard, silently, before his body hits the ground. INT. INN -- KATSUMQTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Katsumoto lies in bed listening to the night bird. It stops singing. Katsumoto smiles sadly. He decides to give up on sleep, leans forward to rise. This act saves his life. For when the Ninjas come, they come all at once-- A Ninja suddenly comes TEARING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE PAPER WALL, his sword slashing down .- just missing Katsumoto. Katsumoto calls out an alarm, diving and rolling across the floor for his sword. He instantly kills one Ninja using his steel-tipped "war fan" to slash his attackers throat. Another smashes in through the window. INT. INN -- MAIN H ALL NIGHT Ninjas EXPLODE into the main hall. Samurai who come out of their rooms are cut down by a variety of weapons -- one takes a throwing star in the face, others are felled by the traditional ninja-to, short swords ideal for fighting in confined spaces, chain-knives, nun-chaka and others. 68. More Ninjas drop from the rafters on ropes. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT A Ninja SMASHES through the paper wall -- Algren grabs the nearest object, a low tea table. and swings it at his head. The Ninja dodges the blow and slices at Algren with short-sword. Algren barely avoids the blow by ducking behind a post as the sword LODGES deep in the wood. Algren flings himself, bodily, at his attacker. INT. INN-- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ninja throwing stars spin across the room, killing a samurai. Yoritomo emerges from his room, readying his bow, but the dead samurai falls back blocking his wa y. From behind the rice wall, Yoritomo lets fly an arrow without even looking. It passes THROUGH the wall, killing the Ninja on the opposite balcony. INT. INN-- FIRST FLOOR NIGHT Ujio screams a war cry and begins to battle his way up the stairs. With breathtaking moves, he slashes hands and limbs, forcing the Ninja back. Nakao fights his wa y up beside him, desperately trying to reach Katsumoto's room. Using only his bare hands he catches a Ninja's wrist and hurls him over the railing. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Algren and the Ninja are in a death struggle, kneeing, gouging, butting. They awkwardly smash through a paper wall into the next room. INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto wields his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. It is the first time we have seen him in action and his movements are both beautiful and deadly. But more Ninjas are pouring in through the window, threatening to overwhelm him. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Rolling on the ground, Algren manages to grab a chopstick and STAB his adversary through the eye. He picks up the fallen short sword and steps out into the hall. ARROWS whiz past, thudding into the wall beside his head. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto, breathing heavily, his kimono shredded and bloody, is fending off the Ninjas' increasingly savage attacks as Algren enters. Algren SCREAMS, distracting them just long enough for Katsumoto to take advantage and kill one. 69. Then, just as a Ninja it about to kill Algren, Katsumoto FLINGS his short sword ... it pin-wheels across the room, hitting Algren's attacker in the chest. Without missing a beat, Algren pulls the short sword from the dying Ninja's chest and uses it to stab another Ninja who, thinking Algren defenseless, has launched an attack. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ujio and Nakao are back to back, a perfect fighting machine as they fight their wa y to Katsumoto's rescue. They battle Ninjas wielding lethal kusarigamas, the Ninjas swing chains, the attached blades slice the air--Nakao catches the chains and flinging the Ninja over the balcony. INT. YORITOMO'S ROOM NIGHT Yoritomo is pinned down. Darts and throwing stars shred the rice paper wall above him. He picks off another Ninja before changing his position. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT The blazing sword battle continues. Algren throws a beautiful painted standing-screen in front of an attacking Ninja, momentarily confusing him. Then he stabs THROUGH THE SCREEN -as a blood- stain SPREADS across the pastoral painting. But another Ninja catches Algren off-guard and slices at him with his short sword. As Algren lifts his sword to parry the blow, HIS LITILE FINGER IS CHOPPED OFF. He drops the sword, momentarily defenseless. Across the hallway Yoritomo has been watching the shadowpla y on the rice-paper walls. Algren's attacker raises his blade to deliver the death blow. In Katsumoto's room Algren flinches involuntarily beneath the raised blade. Suddenly the Ninja JACKKNIFES as if punched by an unseen hand. As he spins, dead, to the ground, we SEE an ARROW lodged bet ween his shoulder blades. Yoritomo has FIRED blindly, through the wall killing Algren's attacker. Nearby, a Ninja hurls a throwing star at Katsumoto. With blind instinct Katsumoto turns and takes the blade in the meat of his arm. Algren, meanwhile, has ripped the sleeve of his kimono into a tourniquet for his maimed hand. He uses the rest of the fabric TO TIE HIS HAND TO HIS SWORD before launching himself back into the fray -- slicing an attacker just as he is about to impale Katsumoto. Together, he and Katsumoto force the last two Ninjas through a paper wall to the next room. They fight all the wa y through that room and BLAST through another paper wall to the next. 70. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT The battle continues unabated on the stairs -- the Ninjas spring for position with incredible grace --perching and fighting on banisters, leaping from one level to the next. It is a mayhem of flashing swords and flailing limbs and flyi ng arrows and spinning Ninja stars. Sprays of blood splatter against the white rice paper walls. Some of the fighting is less than elegant. Men bite and wrestle and gouge to survive in close quarters. All of them arc bloody and sweat y and dirty and tired, heaving for breath, their skin flayed open, their kimonos ripped, their hands and arms and faces blood-stained. But more samurai reinforcements follow Ujio up the stairs: Together with Yoritomo and Nakao, they have begun to gain the upper hand. Ujio flings both his swords through the air -- killing two Ninjas -- and dives to fight others - his martial arts skills are dazzling. Algren and Katsumoto are fighting sidc by side And we cut to -- EXT. INN NIGHT Outside of the inn, we slowl y pull away... The sounds of the battle gradually fade... Soon it is nothing more than a lovel y rustic inn nestled in the mountains. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT Later. The battle is over. Ninja and samurai corpses litter the inn. We slowl y move up the long stairwa y from the bottom... Yoritomo pulls a Ninja star from Nakao's_shou1der. Then one from his own. We move up another level, past more bodies... Ujio moves through the Ninjas. Making sure they are dead. Before sheathing his sword, he angrily FLICKS it at the rice paper wall, spattering it with the bloody spray. Katsumoto wipes his sword on a nearby corpse, replaces it in its sheath. He sits beside Algren on a stair. Both men are exhausted. Bloodied. Alive. A long beat as we watch the two warriors. Slow fade to... 71. EXT. TOKYO -- IMPERIAL PALACE DAY Algren, Katsumoto and the others are nearing the palace. Algren slows to a stop -- his path is toward the city. Katsumoto stops, looks at him, then does something absolutel y extraordinary. He kneels and bows before Algren. Quickly touching his head to the dirt. Then he rises, turns and walks toward the palace. Algren stands, stunned. EXT. PARADE GROUND DAY Algren walks onto the parade ground. The change he sees could not be more remarkable. Thousands of new Japanese troops are drilling with new bolt-action Mausers. They are precise, exact and frighteningly mechanistic, their uniforms new and crisp. New German advisors are barking commands. Colonel Bagley sees him. BAGLEY Algren? My God, you never cease to astonish. Bagley runs over, hand extended, but Algren turns to look at the troops. ALGREN They have new weapons. BAGLEY The Kaiser was only too happy to help. Along with his friends at Mauser and Krupp. Thank God we Americans still have a few teeth in our head. And they come to the "teeth." Howitzer cannons. A row of them. Artillery officers in US Army uniforms arc instructing Japanese offi cers. BAGLEY The ambassador and I have spent eight months kissing Omura's ass so he'll sign the damn trade pact with us. You spent all this time living with those savages? (A1gren looks at him) He's going to want to talk to you... ALGREN I need a bath. BAGLEY And your back pay, I imagine. Algren starts walking away. 72. BAGLEY They got their flag. ...See? And we see it... snapping on I flagpole high above the parade ground. It is immediately familiar. A red circle on a white field. The Rising Sun. The Howitzers fire in sequence. Thundering blasts that shake the heavens. EXT, ROYAL TEMPLE DAY Omura stands above Emperor Meiji respectful but persistent. The Emperor is kneeling, tending to his iris garden. It is one of the wonders of the Palace: a sea of white, pink, blue, and purple blossoms. Retainers and servants stand at a distance. One holds a standard with the Imperial seal: a yellow chrysanthemum. Omura sees Katsumoto making his way toward them. He talks a bit more quickly to the Emperor. Katsumoto begins to prostrate himself before the Emperor, the usual sign of extreme respect -- but the Emperor stops him: EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori-san. We arc "civilized" now. Katsumoto stops prostrating himself. The Emperor offers his hand. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) I cannot touch the Sacred One. EMPEROR (subtitles) You can. It is a difficult moment for Katsumoto. He simply cannot do It. OMURA (subtitles) Did you have a pleasant journey, Minister Katsumoto? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It was uneventful. Omura appreciates Katsumoto's droll response. He assumes that Katsumoto is aware of his part in the assassination attempt. 73. EMPEROR (subtitles) If it is not a great imposition. I desire a moment alone with Minister Katsumoto. Omura-San. OMURA (subtitles) Enlightened One, perhaps I can be of service in a conversation of state. EMPEROR (subtitles) So kind of you, but I fear my old teacher wishes to upbraid me in private for neglecting my studies. Omura bows his head quickly and goes. Silence. The Emperor gazes at Katsumoto. Then: EMPEROR (subtitles) You rise against me, my teacher. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) No, Highness, I rise against your enemies. EMPEROR (subtitles) They are my teacher, my advisers, like you. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) They advise in their own interest. EMPEROR (subtitles) The world is changing, Mori -- you have not seen what goes on beyond our borders, the inventions, the science. I need men who can look outward, or soon we will be left behind, and defenseless. KATSUM OTO (subtitles) I am sworn to defend you even to my last breath. EMPEROR (subtit1es) The samurai live in the past. You cannot defend against a future you don't understand. 74. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) If I am no use, then I will happily end my life, EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori. It is my wish that you rejoin the Council of State. I need your voice. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It is your voice that needs to be heard, Highness. You are a living God, you can do what ever you think is right. The young emperor is silent a moment. EMPEROR (subtitles) I am a living God only as long as I do what they think is right. KATSUMOTO (subtitle) Your Highness, may I beg forgiveness for saying what a teacher must, that such a statement is pathetic drivel not worthy of an ignorant stable boy, let alone a young man I know to have some modest intelligence. The emperor laughs warmly, almost happy to be scolded as he once was. EMPEROR (subtitles) Is it possible a living God can be too afraid to make his voice heard? (Katsumoto's look is not unkind) Tell me what to do, Mori-San? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) You are emperor, my Lord, not me. You must find the wisdom for all of us. EXT. YOKOHAMA WHARF DAY A series of warehouses, beyond which we see warships in the harbor. A1gren walks with Bagley and two other OFFICERS. INT. WAREHOUSE DAY The cavernous warehouse piled high with huge crates. 75. BAGLEY As soon as they sign the agreement, they're obligated to buy the entire weapons package, from Colt revol vers to Ha1liwell twelve-pounders. Plus this particular item you might recognize. A few stevedores tear open one of the crates. Algren hides his astonishment: A Gatling Gun is revealed. BAGLEY They've been calibrated to fire 200 rounds a minute, The new copper cartridges cut down on jamming. Algren closes his eyes, trying to keep his memories at bay. EXT. TOKYO STREETS DAY Algren fights the crowds with Colonel Bagley And Ambassador Swanbeck.. ALGREN (V.O.) May 15, 1877. The city I return to is immeasurabl y changed New construction ever ywhere. Telegraph wires strung next to an ancient temple. A modern European hotel is going up, dwarfing the traditional Japanese buildings. Huge billboards advertising Western goods. A new invention, the rickshaw, has replaced many of the palanquins. ALGREN (V.O.) As though Tokyo were determined to become another New York or Chicago .- all in one headlong rush. Spider's web of telegraph cables spread from a tall new brick building. It is like a New York office building stabbing into the heart of old Japan. The familiar Omura character is emblazoned on the side. .INT. OFFICES OF THE OMURA ZAIBATSU DAY Aside from the occasional bit of Japanese decor, this could be a buzzing Wall Street firm. Telegraph operators click away. Accountants use adding machines. Secretaries use pneumatic tubes to send documents back and forth. Engineers plot out railway lines. All are dressed in Western clothes. Algren, Colonel Bagley, and Ambassador Swanbeck enter. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK (to Algren) If he asks, you can talk about ordnance and tactics. But remember, this has to do with a lot more than just weapons. 76. An anteroom holds waiting delegations from the various European powers. A babel of language. ... French ...Dutch ...Russian ...German. A pretty American secretary looks up from her desk. SECRETARY Ambassador Swanbeck, if you'll follow me. Some of the delegates arc craning forward, watching Algren and the others hungrily as they head into the final office. INT. OMURA'S OFFICE DAY Omura stands like an industrial titan before large picture windows offering a dramatic view of Tokyo. The only decoration in the room is an enormous Caravaggio. OMURA Please, sit down, gentlemen. Omura removes a gold cigarette case and lights up. Cigarettes are the newest Western fad Sweeping Japan. OMURA (re: cigarette case) A gift from Czar Alexander... Captain Algren,. it seems you have endured your captivity with little ill-effect. ALGREN Yes, sir. OMURA He's an extraordinary man, isn't he? ALGREN He is samurai. Omura gazes at him. Slowl y takes I puff from his cigarette. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Mr. Omura, my people have been drawing up the documents we discussed. I have a draft-- OMURA We're not quite ready to announce the treaty, Ambassador. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Excuse me? OMURA The Emperor is...sentimental. Katsumoto was his old mentor-- he is not eager to offend him. It will take I few more days. 77. AMBASSJ\DOR SW ANBECK How many da ys is " a few?" OMURA I assure you the Samurai will not stand in the wa y of our agreement. You are prepared to make deliver y? AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Soon as your emperor signs on the dotted line. OMURA Captain Algren you are the expert. Will this array of ordnance be sufficient? ALGREN Depends on what you're trying to accomplish. OMURA I want my country to take its place as a modern power. ALGREN Then they will set you well on your way. OMURA I am pleased. AMDASSADOR SW ANBECK Mr. Omura, you assured us you had the influence with your emperor to make this deal come to pass. With all due respect perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to. OMURA With all due respect, Ambassador, perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to, for instance the French. Or the English. Or any of the legations waiting in the next room. Ambassador Swan beck stands swallowing his rage. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Yes, we1l, we look forward to hearing from you. OMURA Good afternoon, gentlemen. They start to go. OMURA Captain Algren, perhaps you can stay a moment And tell me of your experiences in our rebellious provinces. Bagley looks at Algren. Do as he asks. He leaves A1gren alone with Omura. 78. OMURA Cigarette? ALGREN Thank you. Omura lights his cigarette. A moment as he takes Algren's measure. OMURA You fought bravely on behalf of our army-- against the rebel Katsumoto. Algren says nothing. . OMURA And yet you helped save his life when attacked by the Ninja. ALGREN My role was much less significant than you may have heard. OMURA Tell me about your role in Katsumoto's plans. ALGREN I have none. OMURA And your sympathies? ALGREN Again, I have none. OMURA I know you have little sympathy for Colonel Bagley. ALGREN He is.... unsympathetic. Omura smiles. OMURA I thought it was we who are inscrutable. Now it is Algren who smiles. OMURA You have gained important knowledge of Katsumoto's province, his army, and his rebellion. This is extremely valuable to me. He watches Algren to see how this lands. 79. OMURA You also possess significant knowledge of m y army, my weaponry, and my plans. This is extremely va1uable to Katsumoto. ALGREN Again, you flatter me. OMURA No. I am a businessman. I recognize what is valuable. And I buy it. (looks at him) In this case, I value your loyalt y. Algren considers the implications of what Omura is saying. ALGREN I didn't know loyalt y was something that could be sold. OMURA Then perhaps you will give it, as a token of future friendship - for which, as a friend, I would be in your debt. ALGREN (stands) Then I will consider it. OMURA And I will be grateful. INT. SHIPPING OFFICE DAY Algren is in a shipping office. A clerk consults his schedule of departure. CLERK All righteee, the ANDREW JACKSON leaves tomorrow if you want a steamship you'll have to wait six weeks. (Algren is silent) Gets ya to Frisco by the 28th. 14 dollars for a private cabin, 8 for a shared or 3 for a lower berth. What can I put you down for? Algren is silent, concentrating on a calendar hanging behind the clerk. It features a beautiful Hiroshigi watercolor of mountains. CLERK Sir..? ALGREN (after a moment) Private cabin. 80. EXT. TOKYO STREET DAY Graham walks with Algren. GRAHAM Leave? Wh y would you leave now? No white man has ever been in your position. Do you have any idea what it will mean to have Omura as your friend? You want land, you want women, you want boys? Algren starts to walk faster, but Graham Stops him. GRAHAM Nathan. I wanted to leave, too. For three years. You must believe me there is a majest y about these people -- can you imagine what your own country would be if it had half the drive and the discipline and the belief and the bravery of these ridiculous little people? Then raised voices from across the street stop them. They see Yoritomo surrounded by four Imperial Army soldiers. The soldiers are rough and imperious, drunk with power. They carry gleaming rifle.. The soldiers bark orders. Yoritomo stands proudly, responding calmly. ALGREN Whit is this? GRAHAM My God, it's the edicts... ALGREN What edicts? Algren arrives as the situation is clearly growing volatile - the soldiers are pointing to Yoritomo's head, screaming Algren steps toward the soldiers-- ALGREN That's enough-- One of the soldiers SCREAMS at him -- raises his rifle -- all the soldiers raise their rifles Yoritomo reaches for his sword -- Algren tries to push through - 81. ALGREN (subtitles) YORITOMO, WAIT! One of the soldiers smacks Algren in the chin with a rifle butt. Algren reels, and by the time he stands straight again, four others are pointing their ba yonets at his face. Graham takes hold of Algren's arm. GRAHAM Don't be stupid. Algren makes eye contact with Yoritomo, who -- in deference to his friend -- puts his sword away. The Japanese soldiers continue to scream at Yoritomo. They force him to his knees. Rifles pressed to his head. Yoritomo bows his bead, speaking quietly, as if praying. Algren witches in horror all one of the soldiers removes his bayonet -- another grab. Yoritomo's hair, jerks his head back and begins hacking off Yoritomo's traditional top-knot of hair. Brutally. Blood. Yoritomo remains kneeling, head down, blood flowing down his face. The soldiers laugh and move off. Algren kneels by Yoritomo. Yoritomo looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes. EXT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Katsumoto's house on the outskirts of Tokyo is spacious and harmonious. Utterly Japanese. Samurai guards in full regalia, stand menacingly outside. INT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Ujio kneels with Yoritomo, dressing the wounds on his head. Graham sits across the room talking quietly to the mammoth Nakao, taking notes in a small notebook. Nakao has been brutally shorn of his top knot as well. His shame is apparent. INT. KATSUMOTO'S CHAMBER DUSK Servants he1p dress Katsumoto in his exacting samurai wardrobe as Algren is ushered in. KATSUMOTO Captain, I had not thought to see you again. 82. ALGREN I'm leaving tomorrow. But before I go I need to tell you what's going on here. KATSUMOTO You mean the Gatling Guns and the howitzers, is that how you sa y it? ALGREN They're about to close a trade agreement that will bring this country more weapons than you can imagine. KATSUMOTO Yes, if the emperor agrees - but Omura knows the Emperor must be convinced there is cause to need those weapons before be will sign. ALGREN (realizing) And you are to be the cause... KATSUMOTO Elegant, isn't it? Omura passes laws

felled

How many times the word 'felled' appears in the text?

wracking his body. EXT. VILLAGE DAY As Algren returns with the water, he sees Katsumoto approaching with Ujio and several warriors. KATSUMOTO The Emperor has requested my presence. We leave tomorrow. You will be released in Tokyo. He goes. Algren stands, not sure how to react. INT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE NIGHT Algren writes on parchment by the light of an oil lamp. ALGREN (V.O.) April 13, 1877. Tomorrow we return to civilization. As eager as I am to be among my own kind, I confess to a curious reluctance. EXT. KATDUMOTO'S VILLAGE DAWN Algren stands overlooking the village as the sun rises over the misty peaks. ALGREN (V.O.) These months have marked me, and I don't fully know yet wh y. EXT. YORITOMO'S HOUSE DAY Algren prepares to mount up. Yoritomo says goodbye to his family. ALGREN (V.O.) I do know it is here that I have known my first untroubled sleep in many years. Taka comes to Algren, bows her head. TAKA (subtitles) You are alwa ys welcome in our home. ALGREN Domo Arrigato. He glances at the unfinished house. 62. ALGREN (subtitles) ...You will finish it soon. TAKA (subtitles) If that is my destiny. She bows her head again. Toshiie hands him a scroll: it is a picture of the Family. Algren is included. Japanese characters list all their names. Toshiie bows. Algren bows and tucks the scroll into his coat. Algren and Yoritomo move out with Katsumoto, Ujio, Nakao and his bodyguard of several dozen Samurai. The villagers bow and honor the warrior as they pass. EXT. MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE DAY Algren trots alongside Katsumoto. ALGREN ... The Emperor sends a message for you to return to Tokyo, and you go? KATSUMOTO Yes. ALGREN Even though you're in rebellion against him. KATSUMOTO Against the Emperor? Never. I serve him. As I have alwa ys done. . ALGREN I don't understand. KATSUMOTO Our Emperor is young, and there are things I must sa y to him. ALGREN But ever yone around him wants you dead. KA TSUMOTO And if the Emperor desires, I will take my own life at his command. He spurs his horse and rides on. A1gren watches him. 63. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET They approach a large inn. A boy working in the fields see Katsumoto approaching. He doesn't believe it -- the Great Katsumoto. He drops his hoe and races awa y, calling out. KATSUMOTO We will stop here for the night. EXT. MOUNTAIN VALLEY SUNSET Samurai guards have been posted around the perimeter. INT. KATSUMOTO'S RQOM NIGHT Algren is escorted in. Katsumoto kneels at a table. Preparing the traditional Japanese tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Sit, Captain. Algren sits. By now he has learned how to sit on the ground. Katsumoto begins the exacting, delicate and precise tea ceremony. KATSUMOTO Do you drink tea? ALGREN I've had little else for some time... Katsumoto continues with the tea ceremony. ALGREN How's your poem coming? KATSUMOTO I am having trouble. The truth is I am not a very good poet. (Algren smiles) Do you know wh y you were sent here? To Yoshino. ALGREN To protect the railroad. . KATSUMOTO Why is the railroad here? ALGREN So Tokyo can control the whole country. 64. KATSUMOTO You have seen my province. All mountains. Far from Tokyo. Yet the rail line must come here? Katsumoto tosses a tiny bit of coal on the simmering brazier on the table. Algren watches carefully. ALGREN You have something they want KATSUMOTO What do they want in my mountains? ALGREN Minerals ... Gold. KA TSUMOTO (smiles) There is no gold in Japan. Katsumoto gently blows on the coal brazier. The coal flares a bit. ALGREN Coal? (Katsumoto looks at him) For steamships. KA TSUMOTO And why would steamships be so important? ALGREN ...China. Katsumoto looks up at him. Impressed. KATSUMOTO Japan has nothing. China has ever ything. ALGREN Mine the coal to create a way station for the trip to China ... Freeze the Europeans out and Japan and America have a monopol y on the China trade. KATSUMOTO Add to this the Omura Zaibatsu. You know the Zaibatus? ALGREN The wealthy families. 65. KATSUMOTO As patron of the railroad, Omura owns all land within four hundred feet of ever y new rail line. As my country grows, so will his wealth. (looks at him) This is why you are fighting. Katsumoto completes the tea ceremony. He pours a cup for Algren. Bows his head and offers it to him. ALGREN And you will tell the emperor to stop them? KATSUMOTO I do not tell the emperor what to do. ALGREN Then what do you hope to accomplish? Katsumoto looks at Algren, the slightest gleam in his eye. KATSUMOTO Will you return to America? Algren watches him -- why didn't Katsumoto answer? ALGREN ...I have a job here. KATSUMOTO You should return to your home. ALGREN Why? KATSUMOTO Because I do not wish you to be m y enemy again. Katsumoto returns to his poem, he does not look up. KATSUMOTO Go home Captain ... Anshinritsumai. I wish you peace. Algren waits but Katsumoto just continues to work on his poem. EXT. AROUND THE INN NIGHT The samurai guards are alert, their senses heightened to almost superhuman proportions. But there is another way. Another way of learning combat. A wa y without the beaut y, the philosophy and the moral code. They are almost imperceptible at first... their head-to-toe black clothes a perfect camouflage... their silence and stealth are otherworldly. 66. They were then known as Shinobi, masters of stealth and spying. We know them as Ninjas. They float across the ground ... creeping an inch ever y hour... complete physica1 control. One black-gloved finger moves. Then the next... They crawl and then wait Poised on their fingertips and toes. There is no sound as they strike. The samurai guards are garroted in an instant. Other Ninjas catch the samurai's weapons as they fall. No sound disturbs the peaceful night. EXT. INN -- FRONT DOORWAY NIGHT Silence. Two samurai guards are in position. One of them glances up at the stars. A Ninja throwing star instantly slices into his jugular-- blood sprays -- the other guard turns a series of Ninja slice into him... EXT. INN--WALLS NIGHT Silence. The Ninjas use mew claws to crawl up the walls like spiders. EXT. INN ROOF NIGHT Silence. A samurai guard stands at the edge of the roof. A Ninja silently moves toward him. Stops. Ten feet awa y. He pulls out a shuriken -- a small needle-shaped projectile, dips it into a sack of poison. Places it carefully into the palm of his hand. And with the flick of his wrist-- The needle flies -- stabbing into the samurai -- he crumples. Other Ninjas immediately pour over the edge of the roof -- catching the samurai before he falls... INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. 67. Katsumoto cannot sleep. He stares out the window at a nightingale. INT. INN--UJIO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Ujio sits in his room. He is unblinking. Alert. Swords at the ready. INT. INN ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Algren cannot sleep either. He sits leaning against a wall. Thinking. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Silence. Yoritomo drinks tea with Nakao, the huge martial arts master. INT. OUTSIDE KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT A guard stands sentinel. Above his head, unbeknownst to him, two Ninjas descend on ropes. One of them swings a long chain - to which I barbed-knife is attached. As it lodges in the guard's chest, the second Ninja swings down just in time to catch the dead guard, silently, before his body hits the ground. INT. INN -- KATSUMQTO'S ROOM NIGHT Silence. Katsumoto lies in bed listening to the night bird. It stops singing. Katsumoto smiles sadly. He decides to give up on sleep, leans forward to rise. This act saves his life. For when the Ninjas come, they come all at once-- A Ninja suddenly comes TEARING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE PAPER WALL, his sword slashing down .- just missing Katsumoto. Katsumoto calls out an alarm, diving and rolling across the floor for his sword. He instantly kills one Ninja using his steel-tipped "war fan" to slash his attackers throat. Another smashes in through the window. INT. INN -- MAIN H ALL NIGHT Ninjas EXPLODE into the main hall. Samurai who come out of their rooms are cut down by a variety of weapons -- one takes a throwing star in the face, others are felled by the traditional ninja-to, short swords ideal for fighting in confined spaces, chain-knives, nun-chaka and others. 68. More Ninjas drop from the rafters on ropes. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT A Ninja SMASHES through the paper wall -- Algren grabs the nearest object, a low tea table. and swings it at his head. The Ninja dodges the blow and slices at Algren with short-sword. Algren barely avoids the blow by ducking behind a post as the sword LODGES deep in the wood. Algren flings himself, bodily, at his attacker. INT. INN-- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ninja throwing stars spin across the room, killing a samurai. Yoritomo emerges from his room, readying his bow, but the dead samurai falls back blocking his wa y. From behind the rice wall, Yoritomo lets fly an arrow without even looking. It passes THROUGH the wall, killing the Ninja on the opposite balcony. INT. INN-- FIRST FLOOR NIGHT Ujio screams a war cry and begins to battle his way up the stairs. With breathtaking moves, he slashes hands and limbs, forcing the Ninja back. Nakao fights his wa y up beside him, desperately trying to reach Katsumoto's room. Using only his bare hands he catches a Ninja's wrist and hurls him over the railing. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Algren and the Ninja are in a death struggle, kneeing, gouging, butting. They awkwardly smash through a paper wall into the next room. INT. INN -- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto wields his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. It is the first time we have seen him in action and his movements are both beautiful and deadly. But more Ninjas are pouring in through the window, threatening to overwhelm him. INT. INN -- ALGREN'S ROOM NIGHT Rolling on the ground, Algren manages to grab a chopstick and STAB his adversary through the eye. He picks up the fallen short sword and steps out into the hall. ARROWS whiz past, thudding into the wall beside his head. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT Katsumoto, breathing heavily, his kimono shredded and bloody, is fending off the Ninjas' increasingly savage attacks as Algren enters. Algren SCREAMS, distracting them just long enough for Katsumoto to take advantage and kill one. 69. Then, just as a Ninja it about to kill Algren, Katsumoto FLINGS his short sword ... it pin-wheels across the room, hitting Algren's attacker in the chest. Without missing a beat, Algren pulls the short sword from the dying Ninja's chest and uses it to stab another Ninja who, thinking Algren defenseless, has launched an attack. INT. INN -- MAIN HALL NIGHT Ujio and Nakao are back to back, a perfect fighting machine as they fight their wa y to Katsumoto's rescue. They battle Ninjas wielding lethal kusarigamas, the Ninjas swing chains, the attached blades slice the air--Nakao catches the chains and flinging the Ninja over the balcony. INT. YORITOMO'S ROOM NIGHT Yoritomo is pinned down. Darts and throwing stars shred the rice paper wall above him. He picks off another Ninja before changing his position. INT. INN-- KATSUMOTO'S ROOM NIGHT The blazing sword battle continues. Algren throws a beautiful painted standing-screen in front of an attacking Ninja, momentarily confusing him. Then he stabs THROUGH THE SCREEN -as a blood- stain SPREADS across the pastoral painting. But another Ninja catches Algren off-guard and slices at him with his short sword. As Algren lifts his sword to parry the blow, HIS LITILE FINGER IS CHOPPED OFF. He drops the sword, momentarily defenseless. Across the hallway Yoritomo has been watching the shadowpla y on the rice-paper walls. Algren's attacker raises his blade to deliver the death blow. In Katsumoto's room Algren flinches involuntarily beneath the raised blade. Suddenly the Ninja JACKKNIFES as if punched by an unseen hand. As he spins, dead, to the ground, we SEE an ARROW lodged bet ween his shoulder blades. Yoritomo has FIRED blindly, through the wall killing Algren's attacker. Nearby, a Ninja hurls a throwing star at Katsumoto. With blind instinct Katsumoto turns and takes the blade in the meat of his arm. Algren, meanwhile, has ripped the sleeve of his kimono into a tourniquet for his maimed hand. He uses the rest of the fabric TO TIE HIS HAND TO HIS SWORD before launching himself back into the fray -- slicing an attacker just as he is about to impale Katsumoto. Together, he and Katsumoto force the last two Ninjas through a paper wall to the next room. They fight all the wa y through that room and BLAST through another paper wall to the next. 70. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT The battle continues unabated on the stairs -- the Ninjas spring for position with incredible grace --perching and fighting on banisters, leaping from one level to the next. It is a mayhem of flashing swords and flailing limbs and flyi ng arrows and spinning Ninja stars. Sprays of blood splatter against the white rice paper walls. Some of the fighting is less than elegant. Men bite and wrestle and gouge to survive in close quarters. All of them arc bloody and sweat y and dirty and tired, heaving for breath, their skin flayed open, their kimonos ripped, their hands and arms and faces blood-stained. But more samurai reinforcements follow Ujio up the stairs: Together with Yoritomo and Nakao, they have begun to gain the upper hand. Ujio flings both his swords through the air -- killing two Ninjas -- and dives to fight others - his martial arts skills are dazzling. Algren and Katsumoto are fighting sidc by side And we cut to -- EXT. INN NIGHT Outside of the inn, we slowl y pull away... The sounds of the battle gradually fade... Soon it is nothing more than a lovel y rustic inn nestled in the mountains. INT. INN STAIRWAY NIGHT Later. The battle is over. Ninja and samurai corpses litter the inn. We slowl y move up the long stairwa y from the bottom... Yoritomo pulls a Ninja star from Nakao's_shou1der. Then one from his own. We move up another level, past more bodies... Ujio moves through the Ninjas. Making sure they are dead. Before sheathing his sword, he angrily FLICKS it at the rice paper wall, spattering it with the bloody spray. Katsumoto wipes his sword on a nearby corpse, replaces it in its sheath. He sits beside Algren on a stair. Both men are exhausted. Bloodied. Alive. A long beat as we watch the two warriors. Slow fade to... 71. EXT. TOKYO -- IMPERIAL PALACE DAY Algren, Katsumoto and the others are nearing the palace. Algren slows to a stop -- his path is toward the city. Katsumoto stops, looks at him, then does something absolutel y extraordinary. He kneels and bows before Algren. Quickly touching his head to the dirt. Then he rises, turns and walks toward the palace. Algren stands, stunned. EXT. PARADE GROUND DAY Algren walks onto the parade ground. The change he sees could not be more remarkable. Thousands of new Japanese troops are drilling with new bolt-action Mausers. They are precise, exact and frighteningly mechanistic, their uniforms new and crisp. New German advisors are barking commands. Colonel Bagley sees him. BAGLEY Algren? My God, you never cease to astonish. Bagley runs over, hand extended, but Algren turns to look at the troops. ALGREN They have new weapons. BAGLEY The Kaiser was only too happy to help. Along with his friends at Mauser and Krupp. Thank God we Americans still have a few teeth in our head. And they come to the "teeth." Howitzer cannons. A row of them. Artillery officers in US Army uniforms arc instructing Japanese offi cers. BAGLEY The ambassador and I have spent eight months kissing Omura's ass so he'll sign the damn trade pact with us. You spent all this time living with those savages? (A1gren looks at him) He's going to want to talk to you... ALGREN I need a bath. BAGLEY And your back pay, I imagine. Algren starts walking away. 72. BAGLEY They got their flag. ...See? And we see it... snapping on I flagpole high above the parade ground. It is immediately familiar. A red circle on a white field. The Rising Sun. The Howitzers fire in sequence. Thundering blasts that shake the heavens. EXT, ROYAL TEMPLE DAY Omura stands above Emperor Meiji respectful but persistent. The Emperor is kneeling, tending to his iris garden. It is one of the wonders of the Palace: a sea of white, pink, blue, and purple blossoms. Retainers and servants stand at a distance. One holds a standard with the Imperial seal: a yellow chrysanthemum. Omura sees Katsumoto making his way toward them. He talks a bit more quickly to the Emperor. Katsumoto begins to prostrate himself before the Emperor, the usual sign of extreme respect -- but the Emperor stops him: EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori-san. We arc "civilized" now. Katsumoto stops prostrating himself. The Emperor offers his hand. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) I cannot touch the Sacred One. EMPEROR (subtitles) You can. It is a difficult moment for Katsumoto. He simply cannot do It. OMURA (subtitles) Did you have a pleasant journey, Minister Katsumoto? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It was uneventful. Omura appreciates Katsumoto's droll response. He assumes that Katsumoto is aware of his part in the assassination attempt. 73. EMPEROR (subtitles) If it is not a great imposition. I desire a moment alone with Minister Katsumoto. Omura-San. OMURA (subtitles) Enlightened One, perhaps I can be of service in a conversation of state. EMPEROR (subtitles) So kind of you, but I fear my old teacher wishes to upbraid me in private for neglecting my studies. Omura bows his head quickly and goes. Silence. The Emperor gazes at Katsumoto. Then: EMPEROR (subtitles) You rise against me, my teacher. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) No, Highness, I rise against your enemies. EMPEROR (subtitles) They are my teacher, my advisers, like you. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) They advise in their own interest. EMPEROR (subtitles) The world is changing, Mori -- you have not seen what goes on beyond our borders, the inventions, the science. I need men who can look outward, or soon we will be left behind, and defenseless. KATSUM OTO (subtitles) I am sworn to defend you even to my last breath. EMPEROR (subtit1es) The samurai live in the past. You cannot defend against a future you don't understand. 74. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) If I am no use, then I will happily end my life, EMPEROR (subtitles) No, Mori. It is my wish that you rejoin the Council of State. I need your voice. KATSUMOTO (subtitles) It is your voice that needs to be heard, Highness. You are a living God, you can do what ever you think is right. The young emperor is silent a moment. EMPEROR (subtitles) I am a living God only as long as I do what they think is right. KATSUMOTO (subtitle) Your Highness, may I beg forgiveness for saying what a teacher must, that such a statement is pathetic drivel not worthy of an ignorant stable boy, let alone a young man I know to have some modest intelligence. The emperor laughs warmly, almost happy to be scolded as he once was. EMPEROR (subtitles) Is it possible a living God can be too afraid to make his voice heard? (Katsumoto's look is not unkind) Tell me what to do, Mori-San? KATSUMOTO (subtitles) You are emperor, my Lord, not me. You must find the wisdom for all of us. EXT. YOKOHAMA WHARF DAY A series of warehouses, beyond which we see warships in the harbor. A1gren walks with Bagley and two other OFFICERS. INT. WAREHOUSE DAY The cavernous warehouse piled high with huge crates. 75. BAGLEY As soon as they sign the agreement, they're obligated to buy the entire weapons package, from Colt revol vers to Ha1liwell twelve-pounders. Plus this particular item you might recognize. A few stevedores tear open one of the crates. Algren hides his astonishment: A Gatling Gun is revealed. BAGLEY They've been calibrated to fire 200 rounds a minute, The new copper cartridges cut down on jamming. Algren closes his eyes, trying to keep his memories at bay. EXT. TOKYO STREETS DAY Algren fights the crowds with Colonel Bagley And Ambassador Swanbeck.. ALGREN (V.O.) May 15, 1877. The city I return to is immeasurabl y changed New construction ever ywhere. Telegraph wires strung next to an ancient temple. A modern European hotel is going up, dwarfing the traditional Japanese buildings. Huge billboards advertising Western goods. A new invention, the rickshaw, has replaced many of the palanquins. ALGREN (V.O.) As though Tokyo were determined to become another New York or Chicago .- all in one headlong rush. Spider's web of telegraph cables spread from a tall new brick building. It is like a New York office building stabbing into the heart of old Japan. The familiar Omura character is emblazoned on the side. .INT. OFFICES OF THE OMURA ZAIBATSU DAY Aside from the occasional bit of Japanese decor, this could be a buzzing Wall Street firm. Telegraph operators click away. Accountants use adding machines. Secretaries use pneumatic tubes to send documents back and forth. Engineers plot out railway lines. All are dressed in Western clothes. Algren, Colonel Bagley, and Ambassador Swanbeck enter. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK (to Algren) If he asks, you can talk about ordnance and tactics. But remember, this has to do with a lot more than just weapons. 76. An anteroom holds waiting delegations from the various European powers. A babel of language. ... French ...Dutch ...Russian ...German. A pretty American secretary looks up from her desk. SECRETARY Ambassador Swanbeck, if you'll follow me. Some of the delegates arc craning forward, watching Algren and the others hungrily as they head into the final office. INT. OMURA'S OFFICE DAY Omura stands like an industrial titan before large picture windows offering a dramatic view of Tokyo. The only decoration in the room is an enormous Caravaggio. OMURA Please, sit down, gentlemen. Omura removes a gold cigarette case and lights up. Cigarettes are the newest Western fad Sweeping Japan. OMURA (re: cigarette case) A gift from Czar Alexander... Captain Algren,. it seems you have endured your captivity with little ill-effect. ALGREN Yes, sir. OMURA He's an extraordinary man, isn't he? ALGREN He is samurai. Omura gazes at him. Slowl y takes I puff from his cigarette. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Mr. Omura, my people have been drawing up the documents we discussed. I have a draft-- OMURA We're not quite ready to announce the treaty, Ambassador. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Excuse me? OMURA The Emperor is...sentimental. Katsumoto was his old mentor-- he is not eager to offend him. It will take I few more days. 77. AMBASSJ\DOR SW ANBECK How many da ys is " a few?" OMURA I assure you the Samurai will not stand in the wa y of our agreement. You are prepared to make deliver y? AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Soon as your emperor signs on the dotted line. OMURA Captain Algren you are the expert. Will this array of ordnance be sufficient? ALGREN Depends on what you're trying to accomplish. OMURA I want my country to take its place as a modern power. ALGREN Then they will set you well on your way. OMURA I am pleased. AMDASSADOR SW ANBECK Mr. Omura, you assured us you had the influence with your emperor to make this deal come to pass. With all due respect perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to. OMURA With all due respect, Ambassador, perhaps there is someone else we should be speaking to, for instance the French. Or the English. Or any of the legations waiting in the next room. Ambassador Swan beck stands swallowing his rage. AMBASSADOR SWANBECK Yes, we1l, we look forward to hearing from you. OMURA Good afternoon, gentlemen. They start to go. OMURA Captain Algren, perhaps you can stay a moment And tell me of your experiences in our rebellious provinces. Bagley looks at Algren. Do as he asks. He leaves A1gren alone with Omura. 78. OMURA Cigarette? ALGREN Thank you. Omura lights his cigarette. A moment as he takes Algren's measure. OMURA You fought bravely on behalf of our army-- against the rebel Katsumoto. Algren says nothing. . OMURA And yet you helped save his life when attacked by the Ninja. ALGREN My role was much less significant than you may have heard. OMURA Tell me about your role in Katsumoto's plans. ALGREN I have none. OMURA And your sympathies? ALGREN Again, I have none. OMURA I know you have little sympathy for Colonel Bagley. ALGREN He is.... unsympathetic. Omura smiles. OMURA I thought it was we who are inscrutable. Now it is Algren who smiles. OMURA You have gained important knowledge of Katsumoto's province, his army, and his rebellion. This is extremely valuable to me. He watches Algren to see how this lands. 79. OMURA You also possess significant knowledge of m y army, my weaponry, and my plans. This is extremely va1uable to Katsumoto. ALGREN Again, you flatter me. OMURA No. I am a businessman. I recognize what is valuable. And I buy it. (looks at him) In this case, I value your loyalt y. Algren considers the implications of what Omura is saying. ALGREN I didn't know loyalt y was something that could be sold. OMURA Then perhaps you will give it, as a token of future friendship - for which, as a friend, I would be in your debt. ALGREN (stands) Then I will consider it. OMURA And I will be grateful. INT. SHIPPING OFFICE DAY Algren is in a shipping office. A clerk consults his schedule of departure. CLERK All righteee, the ANDREW JACKSON leaves tomorrow if you want a steamship you'll have to wait six weeks. (Algren is silent) Gets ya to Frisco by the 28th. 14 dollars for a private cabin, 8 for a shared or 3 for a lower berth. What can I put you down for? Algren is silent, concentrating on a calendar hanging behind the clerk. It features a beautiful Hiroshigi watercolor of mountains. CLERK Sir..? ALGREN (after a moment) Private cabin. 80. EXT. TOKYO STREET DAY Graham walks with Algren. GRAHAM Leave? Wh y would you leave now? No white man has ever been in your position. Do you have any idea what it will mean to have Omura as your friend? You want land, you want women, you want boys? Algren starts to walk faster, but Graham Stops him. GRAHAM Nathan. I wanted to leave, too. For three years. You must believe me there is a majest y about these people -- can you imagine what your own country would be if it had half the drive and the discipline and the belief and the bravery of these ridiculous little people? Then raised voices from across the street stop them. They see Yoritomo surrounded by four Imperial Army soldiers. The soldiers are rough and imperious, drunk with power. They carry gleaming rifle.. The soldiers bark orders. Yoritomo stands proudly, responding calmly. ALGREN Whit is this? GRAHAM My God, it's the edicts... ALGREN What edicts? Algren arrives as the situation is clearly growing volatile - the soldiers are pointing to Yoritomo's head, screaming Algren steps toward the soldiers-- ALGREN That's enough-- One of the soldiers SCREAMS at him -- raises his rifle -- all the soldiers raise their rifles Yoritomo reaches for his sword -- Algren tries to push through - 81. ALGREN (subtitles) YORITOMO, WAIT! One of the soldiers smacks Algren in the chin with a rifle butt. Algren reels, and by the time he stands straight again, four others are pointing their ba yonets at his face. Graham takes hold of Algren's arm. GRAHAM Don't be stupid. Algren makes eye contact with Yoritomo, who -- in deference to his friend -- puts his sword away. The Japanese soldiers continue to scream at Yoritomo. They force him to his knees. Rifles pressed to his head. Yoritomo bows his bead, speaking quietly, as if praying. Algren witches in horror all one of the soldiers removes his bayonet -- another grab. Yoritomo's hair, jerks his head back and begins hacking off Yoritomo's traditional top-knot of hair. Brutally. Blood. Yoritomo remains kneeling, head down, blood flowing down his face. The soldiers laugh and move off. Algren kneels by Yoritomo. Yoritomo looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes. EXT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Katsumoto's house on the outskirts of Tokyo is spacious and harmonious. Utterly Japanese. Samurai guards in full regalia, stand menacingly outside. INT. KATSUMOTO'S HOUSE DUSK Ujio kneels with Yoritomo, dressing the wounds on his head. Graham sits across the room talking quietly to the mammoth Nakao, taking notes in a small notebook. Nakao has been brutally shorn of his top knot as well. His shame is apparent. INT. KATSUMOTO'S CHAMBER DUSK Servants he1p dress Katsumoto in his exacting samurai wardrobe as Algren is ushered in. KATSUMOTO Captain, I had not thought to see you again. 82. ALGREN I'm leaving tomorrow. But before I go I need to tell you what's going on here. KATSUMOTO You mean the Gatling Guns and the howitzers, is that how you sa y it? ALGREN They're about to close a trade agreement that will bring this country more weapons than you can imagine. KATSUMOTO Yes, if the emperor agrees - but Omura knows the Emperor must be convinced there is cause to need those weapons before be will sign. ALGREN (realizing) And you are to be the cause... KATSUMOTO Elegant, isn't it? Omura passes laws

garroted

How many times the word 'garroted' appears in the text?

years younger than her father's family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty; but if she can be young in spirit at forty, let her show that she is so. I think that Mrs. Dale was wrong. She would have joined that party on the croquet ground, instead of remaining among the pea-sticks in her sun-bonnet, had she done as I would have counselled her. Not a word was spoken among the four that she did not hear. Those pea-sticks were only removed from the lawn by a low wall and a few shrubs. She listened, not as one suspecting, but simply as one loving. The voices of her girls were very dear to her, and the silver ringing tones of Lily's tongue were as sweet to her ears as the music of the gods. She heard all that about Lady Hartletop, and shuddered at Lily's bold sarcasm. And she heard Lily say that mamma would stay at home and eat the peas, and said to herself sadly that that was now her lot in life. "Dear darling girl,--and so it should be!" It was thus her thoughts ran. And then, when her ear had traced them, as they passed across the little bridge into the other grounds, she returned across the lawn to the house with her burden on her arm, and sat herself down on the step of the drawing-room window, looking out on the sweet summer flowers and the smooth surface of the grass before her. Had not God done well for her to place her where she was? Had not her lines been set for her in pleasant places? Was she not happy in her girls,--her sweet, loving, trusting, trusty children? As it was to be that her lord, that best half of herself, was to be taken from her in early life, and that the springs of all the lighter pleasures were to be thus stopped for her, had it not been well that in her bereavement so much had been done to soften her lot in life and give it grace and beauty? 'Twas so, she argued with herself, and yet she acknowledged to herself that she was not happy. She had resolved, as she herself had said often, to put away childish things, and now she pined for those things which she so put from her. As she sat she could still hear Lily's voice as they went through the shrubbery,--hear it when none but a mother's ears would have distinguished the sound. Now that those young men were at the Great House it was natural that her girls should be there too. The squire would not have had young men to stay with him had there been no ladies to grace his table. But for her,--she knew that no one would want her there. Now and again she must go, as otherwise her very existence, without going, would be a thing disagreeably noticeable. But there was no other reason why she should join the party; nor in joining it would she either give or receive pleasure. Let her daughters eat from her brother's table and drink of his cup. They were made welcome to do so from the heart. For her there was no such welcome as that at the Great House,--nor at any other house, or any other table! "Mamma will stay at home to eat the peas." And then she repeated to herself the words which Lily had spoken, sitting there, leaning with her elbow on her knee, and her head upon her hand. "Please, ma'am, cook says, can we have the peas to shell?" and then her reverie was broken. [ILLUSTRATION: "Please, ma'am, can we have the peas to shell?"] Whereupon Mrs. Dale got up and gave over her basket. "Cook knows that the young ladies are going to dine at the Great House?" "Yes, ma'am." "She needn't mind getting dinner for me. I will have tea early." And so, after all, Mrs. Dale did not perform that special duty appointed for her. But she soon set herself to work upon another duty. When a family of three persons has to live upon an income of three hundred a year, and, nevertheless, makes some pretence of going into society, it has to be very mindful of small details, even though that family may consist only of ladies. Of this Mrs. Dale was well aware, and as it pleased her that her daughters should be nice and fresh, and pretty in their attire, many a long hour was given up to that care. The squire would send them shawls in winter, and had given them riding habits, and had sent them down brown silk for dresses from London,--so limited in quantity that the due manufacture of two dresses out of the material had been found to be beyond the art of woman, and the brown silk garments had been a difficulty from that day to this,--the squire having a good memory in such matters, and being anxious to see the fruits of his liberality. All this was doubtless of assistance, but had the squire given the amount which he so expended in money to his nieces, the benefit would have been greater. As it was, the girls were always nice and fresh and pretty, they themselves not being idle in that matter; but their tire-woman in chief was their mother. And now she went up to their room and got out their muslin frocks, and--but, perhaps, I should not tell such tales!--She, however, felt no shame in her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be. Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour. "Oh! mamma, how good you are," said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner. "Mamma is always good," said Lily. "I wish, mamma, I could do the same for you oftener," and then she kissed her mother. But the squire was exact about dinner, so they dressed themselves in haste, and went off again through the garden, their mother accompanying them to the little bridge. "Your uncle did not seem vexed at my not coming?" said Mrs. Dale. "We have not seen him, mamma," said Lily. "We have been ever so far down the fields, and forgot altogether what o'clock it was." "I don't think uncle Christopher was about the place, or we should have met him," said Bell. "But I am vexed with you, mamma. Are not you, Bell? It is very bad of you to stay here all alone, and not come." "I suppose mamma likes being at home better than up at the Great House," said Bell, very gently; and as she spoke she was holding her mother's hand. "Well; good-by, dears. I shall expect you between ten and eleven. But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone. The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run. And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps. She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls. But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them. She stood there, however, without advancing a step. She would not have Hopkins telling how she watched her daughters as they went from her own home to that of her brother-in-law. It was not within the capacity of Hopkins to understand why she watched them. "Well, girls, you're not much too soon. I think your mother might have come with you," said uncle Christopher. And this was the manner of the man. Had he known his own wishes he must have acknowledged to himself that he was better pleased that Mrs. Dale should stay away. He felt himself more absolutely master and more comfortably at home at his own table without her company than with it. And yet he frequently made a grievance of her not coming, and himself believed in that grievance. "I think mamma was tired," said Bell. "Hem. It's not so very far across from one house to the other. If I were to shut myself up whenever I'm tired-- But never mind. Let's go to dinner. Mr. Crosbie, will you take my niece Lilian." And then, offering his own arm to Bell, he walked off to the dining-room. "If he scolds mamma any more, I'll go away," said Lily to her companion; by which it may be seen that they had all become very intimate during the long day that they had passed together. Mrs. Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however, imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs. Dale was not above novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together. It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard, but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs. Dale was not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship; but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since; and during those years Mrs. Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him as he had been to her. But all this was very hard to bear. That her daughters should love their uncle was not only reasonable, but in every way desirable. He was not cold to them. To them he was generous and affectionate. If she were only out of the way, he would have taken them to his house as his own, and they would in all respects have stood before the world as his adopted children. Would it not be better if she were out of the way? It was only in her most dismal moods that this question would get itself asked within her mind, and then she would recover herself, and answer it stoutly with an indignant protest against her own morbid weakness. It would not be well that she should be away from her girls,--not though their uncle should have been twice a better uncle; not though, by her absence, they might become heiresses of all Allington. Was it not above everything to them that they should have a mother near them? And as she asked of herself that morbid question,--wickedly asked it, as she declared to herself,--did she not know that they loved her better than all the world beside, and would prefer her caresses and her care to the guardianship of any uncle, let his house be ever so great? As yet they loved her better than all the world beside. Of other love, should it come, she would not be jealous. And if it should come, and should be happy, might there not yet be a bright evening of life for herself? If they should marry, and if their lords would accept her love, her friendship, and her homage, she might yet escape from the deathlike coldness of that Great House, and be happy in some tiny cottage, from which she might go forth at times among those who would really welcome her. A certain doctor there was, living not very far from Allington, at Guestwick, as to whom she had once thought that he might fill that place of son-in-law,--to be well-beloved. Her quiet, beautiful Bell had seemed to like the man; and he had certainly done more than seem to like her. But now, for some weeks past, this hope, or rather this idea, had faded away. Mrs. Dale had never questioned her daughter on the matter; she was not a woman prone to put such questions. But during the month or two last past, she had seen with regret that Bell looked almost coldly on the man whom her mother favoured. In thinking of all this the long evening passed away, and at eleven o'clock she heard the coming steps across the garden. The young men had, of course, accompanied the girls home; and as she stepped out from the still open window of her own drawing-room, she saw them all on the centre of the lawn before her. "There's mamma," said Lily. "Mamma, Mr. Crosbie wants to play croquet by moonlight." "I don't think there is light enough for that," said Mrs. Dale. "There is light enough for him," said Lily, "for he plays quite independently of the hoops; don't you, Mr. Crosbie?" "There's very pretty croquet light, I should say," said Mr. Crosbie, looking up at the bright moon; "and then it is so stupid going to bed." "Yes, it is stupid going to bed," said Lily; "but people in the country are stupid, you know. Billiards, that you can play all night by gas, is much better, isn't it?" "Your arrows fall terribly astray there, Miss Dale, for I never touch a cue; you should talk to your cousin about billiards." "Is Bernard a great billiard player?" asked Bell. "Well, I do play now and again; about as well as Crosbie does croquet. Come, Crosbie, we'll go home and smoke a cigar." "Yes," said Lily; "and then, you know, we stupid people can go to bed. Mamma, I wish you had a little smoking-room here for us. I don't like being considered stupid." And then they parted,--the ladies going into the house, and the two men returning across the lawn. "Lily, my love," said Mrs. Dale, when they were all together in her bedroom, "it seems to me that you are very hard upon Mr. Crosbie." "She has been going on like that all the evening," said Bell. "I'm sure we are very good friends," said Lily. "Oh, very!" said Bell. "Now, Bell, you're jealous; you know you are." And then, seeing that her sister was in some slight degree vexed, she went up to her and kissed her. "She shan't be called jealous; shall she, mamma?" "I don't think she deserves it," said Mrs. Dale. "Now, you don't mean to say that you think I meant anything," said Lily. "As if I cared a buttercup about Mr. Crosbie." "Or I either, Lily." "Of course you don't. But I do care for him very much, mamma. He is such a duck of an Apollo. I shall always call him Apollo; Phoebus Apollo! And when I draw his picture he shall have a mallet in his hand instead of a bow. Upon my word I am very much obliged to Bernard for bringing him down here; and I do wish he was not going away the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow!" said Mrs. Dale. "It was hardly worth coming for two days." "No, it wasn't,--disturbing us all in our quiet little ways just for such a spell as that,--not giving one time even to count his rays." "But he says he shall perhaps come again," said Bell. "There is that hope for us," said Lily. "Uncle Christopher asked him to come down when he gets his long leave of absence. This is only a short sort of leave. He is better off than poor Johnny Eames. Johnny Eames only has a month, but Mr. Crosbie has two months just whenever he likes it; and seems to be pretty much his own master all the year round besides." "And uncle Christopher asked him to come down for the shooting in September," said Bell. "And though he didn't say he'd come I think he meant it," said Lily. "There is that hope for us, mamma." "Then you'll have to draw Apollo with a gun instead of a mallet." "That is the worst of it, mamma. We shan't see much of him or of Bernard either. They wouldn't let us go out into the woods as beaters, would they?" "You'd make too much noise to be of any use." "Should I? I thought the beaters had to shout at the birds. I should get very tired of shouting at birds, so I think I'll stay at home and look after my clothes." "I hope he will come, because uncle Christopher seems to like him so much," said Bell. "I wonder whether a certain gentleman at Guestwick will like his coming," said Lily. And then, as soon as she had spoken the words, she looked at her sister, and saw that she had grieved her. "Lily, you let your tongue run too fast," said Mrs. Dale. "I didn't mean anything, Bell," said Lily. "I beg your pardon." "It doesn't signify," said Bell. "Only Lily says things without thinking." And then that conversation came to an end, and nothing more was said among them beyond what appertained to their toilet, and a few last words at parting. But the two girls occupied the same room, and when their own door was closed upon them, Bell did allude to what had passed with some spirit. "Lily, you promised me," she said, "that you would not say anything more to me about Dr. Crofts." "I know I did, and I was very wrong. I beg your pardon, Bell; and I won't do it again,--not if I can help it." "Not help it, Lily!" "But I'm sure I don't know why I shouldn't speak of him,--only not in the way of laughing at you. Of all the men I ever saw in my life I like him best. And only that I love you better than I love myself I could find it in my heart to grudge you his--" "Lily, what did you promise just now?" "Well; after to-night. And I don't know why you should turn against him." "I have never turned against him or for him." "There's no turning about him. He'd give his left hand if you'd only smile on him. Or his right either,--and that's what I should like to see; so now you've heard it." "You know you are talking nonsense." "So I should like to see it. And so would mamma too, I'm sure; though I never heard her say a word about him. In my mind he's the finest fellow I ever saw. What's Mr. Apollo Crosbie to him? And now, as it makes you unhappy, I'll never say another word about him." As Bell wished her sister good-night with perhaps more than her usual affection, it was evident that Lily's words and eager tone had in some way pleased her, in spite of their opposition to the request which she had made. And Lily was aware that it was so. CHAPTER IV. MRS. ROPER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. [ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)] I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends. There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. They go much about alone, and blush when women speak to them. In truth, they are not as yet men, whatever the number may be of their years; and, as they are no longer boys, the world has found for them the ungraceful name of hobbledehoy. Such observations, however, as I have been enabled to make on this matter have led me to believe that the hobbledehoy is by no means the least valuable species of the human race. When I compare the hobbledehoy of one or two and twenty to some finished Apollo of the same age, I regard the former as unripe fruit, and the latter as fruit that is ripe. Then comes the question as to the two fruits. Which is the better fruit, that which ripens early--which is, perhaps, favoured with some little forcing apparatus, or which, at least, is backed by the warmth of a southern wall; or that fruit of slower growth, as to which nature works without assistance, on which the sun operates in its own time,--or perhaps never operates if some ungenial shade has been allowed to interpose itself? The world, no doubt, is in favour of the forcing apparatus or of the southern wall. The fruit comes certainly, and at an assured period. It is spotless, speckless, and of a certain quality by no means despicable. The owner has it when he wants it, and it serves its turn. But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit,--is given in the sun's own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself. I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour. But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ball-room, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of beings, and especially eloquent among beautiful women. He enjoys all the triumphs of a Don Juan, without any of Don Juan's heartlessness, and is able to conquer in all encounters, through the force of his wit and the sweetness of his voice. But this eloquence is heard only by his own inner ears, and these triumphs are the triumphs of his imagination. The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys--a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large. He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement. Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy. And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself. Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London. We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him. But yet he was not without friends--friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare. And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoya herself. Mrs. Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire. He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty. He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story. With no other man had Mr. Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr. Eames died Mr. Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children. He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held. And Mrs. Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs. Dale. The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs. Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age. But Mrs. Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House. Mrs. Eames was a poor forlorn woman--forlorn even during the time of her husband's life, but very wobegone now in her widowhood. In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son. But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs. Eames held him in great awe. Mrs. Dale held her brother-in-law in no awe, and sometimes gave to the widow from Guestwick advice quite at variance to that given by the squire. In this way there had grown up an intimacy between Bell and Lily and the young Eames, and either of the girls was prepared to declare that Johnny Eames was her own and well-loved friend. Nevertheless, they spoke of him occasionally with some little dash of merriment--as is not unusual with pretty girls who have hobbledehoys among their intimate friends, and who are not themselves unaccustomed to the grace of an Apollo. I may as well announce at once that John Eames, when he went up to London, was absolutely and irretrievably in love with Lily Dale. He had declared his passion in the most moving language a hundred times; but he had declared it only to himself. He had written much poetry about Lily, but he kept his lines safe under double lock and key. When he gave the reins to his imagination, he flattered himself that he might win not only her but the world at large also by his verses; but he would have perished rather than exhibit them to human eye. During the last ten weeks of his life at Guestwick, while he was preparing for his career in London, he hung about Allington, walking over frequently and then walking back again; but all in vain. During these visits he would sit in Mrs. Dale's drawing-room, speaking but little, and addressing himself usually to the mother; but on each occasion, as he started on his long, hot walk, he resolved that he would say something by which Lily might know of his love. When he left for London that something had not been said. He had not dreamed of asking her to be his wife. John Eames was about to begin the world with eighty pounds a year, and an allowance of twenty more from his mother's purse. He was well aware that with such an income he could not establish himself as a married man in London, and he also felt that the man who might be fortunate enough to win Lily for his wife should be prepared to give her every soft luxury that the world could afford. He knew well that he ought not to expect any assurance of Lily's love; but, nevertheless, he thought it possible that he might give her an assurance of his love. It would probably be in vain. He had no real hope, unless when he was in one of those poetic moods. He had acknowledged to himself, in some indistinct way, that he was no more than a hobbledehoy, awkward, silent, ungainly, with a face unfinished, as it were, or unripe. All this he knew, and knew also that there were Apollos in the world

soften

How many times the word 'soften' appears in the text?

years younger than her father's family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty; but if she can be young in spirit at forty, let her show that she is so. I think that Mrs. Dale was wrong. She would have joined that party on the croquet ground, instead of remaining among the pea-sticks in her sun-bonnet, had she done as I would have counselled her. Not a word was spoken among the four that she did not hear. Those pea-sticks were only removed from the lawn by a low wall and a few shrubs. She listened, not as one suspecting, but simply as one loving. The voices of her girls were very dear to her, and the silver ringing tones of Lily's tongue were as sweet to her ears as the music of the gods. She heard all that about Lady Hartletop, and shuddered at Lily's bold sarcasm. And she heard Lily say that mamma would stay at home and eat the peas, and said to herself sadly that that was now her lot in life. "Dear darling girl,--and so it should be!" It was thus her thoughts ran. And then, when her ear had traced them, as they passed across the little bridge into the other grounds, she returned across the lawn to the house with her burden on her arm, and sat herself down on the step of the drawing-room window, looking out on the sweet summer flowers and the smooth surface of the grass before her. Had not God done well for her to place her where she was? Had not her lines been set for her in pleasant places? Was she not happy in her girls,--her sweet, loving, trusting, trusty children? As it was to be that her lord, that best half of herself, was to be taken from her in early life, and that the springs of all the lighter pleasures were to be thus stopped for her, had it not been well that in her bereavement so much had been done to soften her lot in life and give it grace and beauty? 'Twas so, she argued with herself, and yet she acknowledged to herself that she was not happy. She had resolved, as she herself had said often, to put away childish things, and now she pined for those things which she so put from her. As she sat she could still hear Lily's voice as they went through the shrubbery,--hear it when none but a mother's ears would have distinguished the sound. Now that those young men were at the Great House it was natural that her girls should be there too. The squire would not have had young men to stay with him had there been no ladies to grace his table. But for her,--she knew that no one would want her there. Now and again she must go, as otherwise her very existence, without going, would be a thing disagreeably noticeable. But there was no other reason why she should join the party; nor in joining it would she either give or receive pleasure. Let her daughters eat from her brother's table and drink of his cup. They were made welcome to do so from the heart. For her there was no such welcome as that at the Great House,--nor at any other house, or any other table! "Mamma will stay at home to eat the peas." And then she repeated to herself the words which Lily had spoken, sitting there, leaning with her elbow on her knee, and her head upon her hand. "Please, ma'am, cook says, can we have the peas to shell?" and then her reverie was broken. [ILLUSTRATION: "Please, ma'am, can we have the peas to shell?"] Whereupon Mrs. Dale got up and gave over her basket. "Cook knows that the young ladies are going to dine at the Great House?" "Yes, ma'am." "She needn't mind getting dinner for me. I will have tea early." And so, after all, Mrs. Dale did not perform that special duty appointed for her. But she soon set herself to work upon another duty. When a family of three persons has to live upon an income of three hundred a year, and, nevertheless, makes some pretence of going into society, it has to be very mindful of small details, even though that family may consist only of ladies. Of this Mrs. Dale was well aware, and as it pleased her that her daughters should be nice and fresh, and pretty in their attire, many a long hour was given up to that care. The squire would send them shawls in winter, and had given them riding habits, and had sent them down brown silk for dresses from London,--so limited in quantity that the due manufacture of two dresses out of the material had been found to be beyond the art of woman, and the brown silk garments had been a difficulty from that day to this,--the squire having a good memory in such matters, and being anxious to see the fruits of his liberality. All this was doubtless of assistance, but had the squire given the amount which he so expended in money to his nieces, the benefit would have been greater. As it was, the girls were always nice and fresh and pretty, they themselves not being idle in that matter; but their tire-woman in chief was their mother. And now she went up to their room and got out their muslin frocks, and--but, perhaps, I should not tell such tales!--She, however, felt no shame in her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be. Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour. "Oh! mamma, how good you are," said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner. "Mamma is always good," said Lily. "I wish, mamma, I could do the same for you oftener," and then she kissed her mother. But the squire was exact about dinner, so they dressed themselves in haste, and went off again through the garden, their mother accompanying them to the little bridge. "Your uncle did not seem vexed at my not coming?" said Mrs. Dale. "We have not seen him, mamma," said Lily. "We have been ever so far down the fields, and forgot altogether what o'clock it was." "I don't think uncle Christopher was about the place, or we should have met him," said Bell. "But I am vexed with you, mamma. Are not you, Bell? It is very bad of you to stay here all alone, and not come." "I suppose mamma likes being at home better than up at the Great House," said Bell, very gently; and as she spoke she was holding her mother's hand. "Well; good-by, dears. I shall expect you between ten and eleven. But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone. The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run. And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps. She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls. But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them. She stood there, however, without advancing a step. She would not have Hopkins telling how she watched her daughters as they went from her own home to that of her brother-in-law. It was not within the capacity of Hopkins to understand why she watched them. "Well, girls, you're not much too soon. I think your mother might have come with you," said uncle Christopher. And this was the manner of the man. Had he known his own wishes he must have acknowledged to himself that he was better pleased that Mrs. Dale should stay away. He felt himself more absolutely master and more comfortably at home at his own table without her company than with it. And yet he frequently made a grievance of her not coming, and himself believed in that grievance. "I think mamma was tired," said Bell. "Hem. It's not so very far across from one house to the other. If I were to shut myself up whenever I'm tired-- But never mind. Let's go to dinner. Mr. Crosbie, will you take my niece Lilian." And then, offering his own arm to Bell, he walked off to the dining-room. "If he scolds mamma any more, I'll go away," said Lily to her companion; by which it may be seen that they had all become very intimate during the long day that they had passed together. Mrs. Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however, imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs. Dale was not above novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together. It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard, but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs. Dale was not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship; but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since; and during those years Mrs. Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him as he had been to her. But all this was very hard to bear. That her daughters should love their uncle was not only reasonable, but in every way desirable. He was not cold to them. To them he was generous and affectionate. If she were only out of the way, he would have taken them to his house as his own, and they would in all respects have stood before the world as his adopted children. Would it not be better if she were out of the way? It was only in her most dismal moods that this question would get itself asked within her mind, and then she would recover herself, and answer it stoutly with an indignant protest against her own morbid weakness. It would not be well that she should be away from her girls,--not though their uncle should have been twice a better uncle; not though, by her absence, they might become heiresses of all Allington. Was it not above everything to them that they should have a mother near them? And as she asked of herself that morbid question,--wickedly asked it, as she declared to herself,--did she not know that they loved her better than all the world beside, and would prefer her caresses and her care to the guardianship of any uncle, let his house be ever so great? As yet they loved her better than all the world beside. Of other love, should it come, she would not be jealous. And if it should come, and should be happy, might there not yet be a bright evening of life for herself? If they should marry, and if their lords would accept her love, her friendship, and her homage, she might yet escape from the deathlike coldness of that Great House, and be happy in some tiny cottage, from which she might go forth at times among those who would really welcome her. A certain doctor there was, living not very far from Allington, at Guestwick, as to whom she had once thought that he might fill that place of son-in-law,--to be well-beloved. Her quiet, beautiful Bell had seemed to like the man; and he had certainly done more than seem to like her. But now, for some weeks past, this hope, or rather this idea, had faded away. Mrs. Dale had never questioned her daughter on the matter; she was not a woman prone to put such questions. But during the month or two last past, she had seen with regret that Bell looked almost coldly on the man whom her mother favoured. In thinking of all this the long evening passed away, and at eleven o'clock she heard the coming steps across the garden. The young men had, of course, accompanied the girls home; and as she stepped out from the still open window of her own drawing-room, she saw them all on the centre of the lawn before her. "There's mamma," said Lily. "Mamma, Mr. Crosbie wants to play croquet by moonlight." "I don't think there is light enough for that," said Mrs. Dale. "There is light enough for him," said Lily, "for he plays quite independently of the hoops; don't you, Mr. Crosbie?" "There's very pretty croquet light, I should say," said Mr. Crosbie, looking up at the bright moon; "and then it is so stupid going to bed." "Yes, it is stupid going to bed," said Lily; "but people in the country are stupid, you know. Billiards, that you can play all night by gas, is much better, isn't it?" "Your arrows fall terribly astray there, Miss Dale, for I never touch a cue; you should talk to your cousin about billiards." "Is Bernard a great billiard player?" asked Bell. "Well, I do play now and again; about as well as Crosbie does croquet. Come, Crosbie, we'll go home and smoke a cigar." "Yes," said Lily; "and then, you know, we stupid people can go to bed. Mamma, I wish you had a little smoking-room here for us. I don't like being considered stupid." And then they parted,--the ladies going into the house, and the two men returning across the lawn. "Lily, my love," said Mrs. Dale, when they were all together in her bedroom, "it seems to me that you are very hard upon Mr. Crosbie." "She has been going on like that all the evening," said Bell. "I'm sure we are very good friends," said Lily. "Oh, very!" said Bell. "Now, Bell, you're jealous; you know you are." And then, seeing that her sister was in some slight degree vexed, she went up to her and kissed her. "She shan't be called jealous; shall she, mamma?" "I don't think she deserves it," said Mrs. Dale. "Now, you don't mean to say that you think I meant anything," said Lily. "As if I cared a buttercup about Mr. Crosbie." "Or I either, Lily." "Of course you don't. But I do care for him very much, mamma. He is such a duck of an Apollo. I shall always call him Apollo; Phoebus Apollo! And when I draw his picture he shall have a mallet in his hand instead of a bow. Upon my word I am very much obliged to Bernard for bringing him down here; and I do wish he was not going away the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow!" said Mrs. Dale. "It was hardly worth coming for two days." "No, it wasn't,--disturbing us all in our quiet little ways just for such a spell as that,--not giving one time even to count his rays." "But he says he shall perhaps come again," said Bell. "There is that hope for us," said Lily. "Uncle Christopher asked him to come down when he gets his long leave of absence. This is only a short sort of leave. He is better off than poor Johnny Eames. Johnny Eames only has a month, but Mr. Crosbie has two months just whenever he likes it; and seems to be pretty much his own master all the year round besides." "And uncle Christopher asked him to come down for the shooting in September," said Bell. "And though he didn't say he'd come I think he meant it," said Lily. "There is that hope for us, mamma." "Then you'll have to draw Apollo with a gun instead of a mallet." "That is the worst of it, mamma. We shan't see much of him or of Bernard either. They wouldn't let us go out into the woods as beaters, would they?" "You'd make too much noise to be of any use." "Should I? I thought the beaters had to shout at the birds. I should get very tired of shouting at birds, so I think I'll stay at home and look after my clothes." "I hope he will come, because uncle Christopher seems to like him so much," said Bell. "I wonder whether a certain gentleman at Guestwick will like his coming," said Lily. And then, as soon as she had spoken the words, she looked at her sister, and saw that she had grieved her. "Lily, you let your tongue run too fast," said Mrs. Dale. "I didn't mean anything, Bell," said Lily. "I beg your pardon." "It doesn't signify," said Bell. "Only Lily says things without thinking." And then that conversation came to an end, and nothing more was said among them beyond what appertained to their toilet, and a few last words at parting. But the two girls occupied the same room, and when their own door was closed upon them, Bell did allude to what had passed with some spirit. "Lily, you promised me," she said, "that you would not say anything more to me about Dr. Crofts." "I know I did, and I was very wrong. I beg your pardon, Bell; and I won't do it again,--not if I can help it." "Not help it, Lily!" "But I'm sure I don't know why I shouldn't speak of him,--only not in the way of laughing at you. Of all the men I ever saw in my life I like him best. And only that I love you better than I love myself I could find it in my heart to grudge you his--" "Lily, what did you promise just now?" "Well; after to-night. And I don't know why you should turn against him." "I have never turned against him or for him." "There's no turning about him. He'd give his left hand if you'd only smile on him. Or his right either,--and that's what I should like to see; so now you've heard it." "You know you are talking nonsense." "So I should like to see it. And so would mamma too, I'm sure; though I never heard her say a word about him. In my mind he's the finest fellow I ever saw. What's Mr. Apollo Crosbie to him? And now, as it makes you unhappy, I'll never say another word about him." As Bell wished her sister good-night with perhaps more than her usual affection, it was evident that Lily's words and eager tone had in some way pleased her, in spite of their opposition to the request which she had made. And Lily was aware that it was so. CHAPTER IV. MRS. ROPER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. [ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)] I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends. There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. They go much about alone, and blush when women speak to them. In truth, they are not as yet men, whatever the number may be of their years; and, as they are no longer boys, the world has found for them the ungraceful name of hobbledehoy. Such observations, however, as I have been enabled to make on this matter have led me to believe that the hobbledehoy is by no means the least valuable species of the human race. When I compare the hobbledehoy of one or two and twenty to some finished Apollo of the same age, I regard the former as unripe fruit, and the latter as fruit that is ripe. Then comes the question as to the two fruits. Which is the better fruit, that which ripens early--which is, perhaps, favoured with some little forcing apparatus, or which, at least, is backed by the warmth of a southern wall; or that fruit of slower growth, as to which nature works without assistance, on which the sun operates in its own time,--or perhaps never operates if some ungenial shade has been allowed to interpose itself? The world, no doubt, is in favour of the forcing apparatus or of the southern wall. The fruit comes certainly, and at an assured period. It is spotless, speckless, and of a certain quality by no means despicable. The owner has it when he wants it, and it serves its turn. But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit,--is given in the sun's own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself. I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour. But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ball-room, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of beings, and especially eloquent among beautiful women. He enjoys all the triumphs of a Don Juan, without any of Don Juan's heartlessness, and is able to conquer in all encounters, through the force of his wit and the sweetness of his voice. But this eloquence is heard only by his own inner ears, and these triumphs are the triumphs of his imagination. The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys--a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large. He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement. Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy. And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself. Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London. We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him. But yet he was not without friends--friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare. And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoya herself. Mrs. Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire. He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty. He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story. With no other man had Mr. Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr. Eames died Mr. Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children. He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held. And Mrs. Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs. Dale. The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs. Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age. But Mrs. Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House. Mrs. Eames was a poor forlorn woman--forlorn even during the time of her husband's life, but very wobegone now in her widowhood. In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son. But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs. Eames held him in great awe. Mrs. Dale held her brother-in-law in no awe, and sometimes gave to the widow from Guestwick advice quite at variance to that given by the squire. In this way there had grown up an intimacy between Bell and Lily and the young Eames, and either of the girls was prepared to declare that Johnny Eames was her own and well-loved friend. Nevertheless, they spoke of him occasionally with some little dash of merriment--as is not unusual with pretty girls who have hobbledehoys among their intimate friends, and who are not themselves unaccustomed to the grace of an Apollo. I may as well announce at once that John Eames, when he went up to London, was absolutely and irretrievably in love with Lily Dale. He had declared his passion in the most moving language a hundred times; but he had declared it only to himself. He had written much poetry about Lily, but he kept his lines safe under double lock and key. When he gave the reins to his imagination, he flattered himself that he might win not only her but the world at large also by his verses; but he would have perished rather than exhibit them to human eye. During the last ten weeks of his life at Guestwick, while he was preparing for his career in London, he hung about Allington, walking over frequently and then walking back again; but all in vain. During these visits he would sit in Mrs. Dale's drawing-room, speaking but little, and addressing himself usually to the mother; but on each occasion, as he started on his long, hot walk, he resolved that he would say something by which Lily might know of his love. When he left for London that something had not been said. He had not dreamed of asking her to be his wife. John Eames was about to begin the world with eighty pounds a year, and an allowance of twenty more from his mother's purse. He was well aware that with such an income he could not establish himself as a married man in London, and he also felt that the man who might be fortunate enough to win Lily for his wife should be prepared to give her every soft luxury that the world could afford. He knew well that he ought not to expect any assurance of Lily's love; but, nevertheless, he thought it possible that he might give her an assurance of his love. It would probably be in vain. He had no real hope, unless when he was in one of those poetic moods. He had acknowledged to himself, in some indistinct way, that he was no more than a hobbledehoy, awkward, silent, ungainly, with a face unfinished, as it were, or unripe. All this he knew, and knew also that there were Apollos in the world

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years younger than her father's family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty; but if she can be young in spirit at forty, let her show that she is so. I think that Mrs. Dale was wrong. She would have joined that party on the croquet ground, instead of remaining among the pea-sticks in her sun-bonnet, had she done as I would have counselled her. Not a word was spoken among the four that she did not hear. Those pea-sticks were only removed from the lawn by a low wall and a few shrubs. She listened, not as one suspecting, but simply as one loving. The voices of her girls were very dear to her, and the silver ringing tones of Lily's tongue were as sweet to her ears as the music of the gods. She heard all that about Lady Hartletop, and shuddered at Lily's bold sarcasm. And she heard Lily say that mamma would stay at home and eat the peas, and said to herself sadly that that was now her lot in life. "Dear darling girl,--and so it should be!" It was thus her thoughts ran. And then, when her ear had traced them, as they passed across the little bridge into the other grounds, she returned across the lawn to the house with her burden on her arm, and sat herself down on the step of the drawing-room window, looking out on the sweet summer flowers and the smooth surface of the grass before her. Had not God done well for her to place her where she was? Had not her lines been set for her in pleasant places? Was she not happy in her girls,--her sweet, loving, trusting, trusty children? As it was to be that her lord, that best half of herself, was to be taken from her in early life, and that the springs of all the lighter pleasures were to be thus stopped for her, had it not been well that in her bereavement so much had been done to soften her lot in life and give it grace and beauty? 'Twas so, she argued with herself, and yet she acknowledged to herself that she was not happy. She had resolved, as she herself had said often, to put away childish things, and now she pined for those things which she so put from her. As she sat she could still hear Lily's voice as they went through the shrubbery,--hear it when none but a mother's ears would have distinguished the sound. Now that those young men were at the Great House it was natural that her girls should be there too. The squire would not have had young men to stay with him had there been no ladies to grace his table. But for her,--she knew that no one would want her there. Now and again she must go, as otherwise her very existence, without going, would be a thing disagreeably noticeable. But there was no other reason why she should join the party; nor in joining it would she either give or receive pleasure. Let her daughters eat from her brother's table and drink of his cup. They were made welcome to do so from the heart. For her there was no such welcome as that at the Great House,--nor at any other house, or any other table! "Mamma will stay at home to eat the peas." And then she repeated to herself the words which Lily had spoken, sitting there, leaning with her elbow on her knee, and her head upon her hand. "Please, ma'am, cook says, can we have the peas to shell?" and then her reverie was broken. [ILLUSTRATION: "Please, ma'am, can we have the peas to shell?"] Whereupon Mrs. Dale got up and gave over her basket. "Cook knows that the young ladies are going to dine at the Great House?" "Yes, ma'am." "She needn't mind getting dinner for me. I will have tea early." And so, after all, Mrs. Dale did not perform that special duty appointed for her. But she soon set herself to work upon another duty. When a family of three persons has to live upon an income of three hundred a year, and, nevertheless, makes some pretence of going into society, it has to be very mindful of small details, even though that family may consist only of ladies. Of this Mrs. Dale was well aware, and as it pleased her that her daughters should be nice and fresh, and pretty in their attire, many a long hour was given up to that care. The squire would send them shawls in winter, and had given them riding habits, and had sent them down brown silk for dresses from London,--so limited in quantity that the due manufacture of two dresses out of the material had been found to be beyond the art of woman, and the brown silk garments had been a difficulty from that day to this,--the squire having a good memory in such matters, and being anxious to see the fruits of his liberality. All this was doubtless of assistance, but had the squire given the amount which he so expended in money to his nieces, the benefit would have been greater. As it was, the girls were always nice and fresh and pretty, they themselves not being idle in that matter; but their tire-woman in chief was their mother. And now she went up to their room and got out their muslin frocks, and--but, perhaps, I should not tell such tales!--She, however, felt no shame in her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be. Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour. "Oh! mamma, how good you are," said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner. "Mamma is always good," said Lily. "I wish, mamma, I could do the same for you oftener," and then she kissed her mother. But the squire was exact about dinner, so they dressed themselves in haste, and went off again through the garden, their mother accompanying them to the little bridge. "Your uncle did not seem vexed at my not coming?" said Mrs. Dale. "We have not seen him, mamma," said Lily. "We have been ever so far down the fields, and forgot altogether what o'clock it was." "I don't think uncle Christopher was about the place, or we should have met him," said Bell. "But I am vexed with you, mamma. Are not you, Bell? It is very bad of you to stay here all alone, and not come." "I suppose mamma likes being at home better than up at the Great House," said Bell, very gently; and as she spoke she was holding her mother's hand. "Well; good-by, dears. I shall expect you between ten and eleven. But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone. The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run. And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps. She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls. But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them. She stood there, however, without advancing a step. She would not have Hopkins telling how she watched her daughters as they went from her own home to that of her brother-in-law. It was not within the capacity of Hopkins to understand why she watched them. "Well, girls, you're not much too soon. I think your mother might have come with you," said uncle Christopher. And this was the manner of the man. Had he known his own wishes he must have acknowledged to himself that he was better pleased that Mrs. Dale should stay away. He felt himself more absolutely master and more comfortably at home at his own table without her company than with it. And yet he frequently made a grievance of her not coming, and himself believed in that grievance. "I think mamma was tired," said Bell. "Hem. It's not so very far across from one house to the other. If I were to shut myself up whenever I'm tired-- But never mind. Let's go to dinner. Mr. Crosbie, will you take my niece Lilian." And then, offering his own arm to Bell, he walked off to the dining-room. "If he scolds mamma any more, I'll go away," said Lily to her companion; by which it may be seen that they had all become very intimate during the long day that they had passed together. Mrs. Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however, imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs. Dale was not above novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together. It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard, but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs. Dale was not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship; but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since; and during those years Mrs. Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him as he had been to her. But all this was very hard to bear. That her daughters should love their uncle was not only reasonable, but in every way desirable. He was not cold to them. To them he was generous and affectionate. If she were only out of the way, he would have taken them to his house as his own, and they would in all respects have stood before the world as his adopted children. Would it not be better if she were out of the way? It was only in her most dismal moods that this question would get itself asked within her mind, and then she would recover herself, and answer it stoutly with an indignant protest against her own morbid weakness. It would not be well that she should be away from her girls,--not though their uncle should have been twice a better uncle; not though, by her absence, they might become heiresses of all Allington. Was it not above everything to them that they should have a mother near them? And as she asked of herself that morbid question,--wickedly asked it, as she declared to herself,--did she not know that they loved her better than all the world beside, and would prefer her caresses and her care to the guardianship of any uncle, let his house be ever so great? As yet they loved her better than all the world beside. Of other love, should it come, she would not be jealous. And if it should come, and should be happy, might there not yet be a bright evening of life for herself? If they should marry, and if their lords would accept her love, her friendship, and her homage, she might yet escape from the deathlike coldness of that Great House, and be happy in some tiny cottage, from which she might go forth at times among those who would really welcome her. A certain doctor there was, living not very far from Allington, at Guestwick, as to whom she had once thought that he might fill that place of son-in-law,--to be well-beloved. Her quiet, beautiful Bell had seemed to like the man; and he had certainly done more than seem to like her. But now, for some weeks past, this hope, or rather this idea, had faded away. Mrs. Dale had never questioned her daughter on the matter; she was not a woman prone to put such questions. But during the month or two last past, she had seen with regret that Bell looked almost coldly on the man whom her mother favoured. In thinking of all this the long evening passed away, and at eleven o'clock she heard the coming steps across the garden. The young men had, of course, accompanied the girls home; and as she stepped out from the still open window of her own drawing-room, she saw them all on the centre of the lawn before her. "There's mamma," said Lily. "Mamma, Mr. Crosbie wants to play croquet by moonlight." "I don't think there is light enough for that," said Mrs. Dale. "There is light enough for him," said Lily, "for he plays quite independently of the hoops; don't you, Mr. Crosbie?" "There's very pretty croquet light, I should say," said Mr. Crosbie, looking up at the bright moon; "and then it is so stupid going to bed." "Yes, it is stupid going to bed," said Lily; "but people in the country are stupid, you know. Billiards, that you can play all night by gas, is much better, isn't it?" "Your arrows fall terribly astray there, Miss Dale, for I never touch a cue; you should talk to your cousin about billiards." "Is Bernard a great billiard player?" asked Bell. "Well, I do play now and again; about as well as Crosbie does croquet. Come, Crosbie, we'll go home and smoke a cigar." "Yes," said Lily; "and then, you know, we stupid people can go to bed. Mamma, I wish you had a little smoking-room here for us. I don't like being considered stupid." And then they parted,--the ladies going into the house, and the two men returning across the lawn. "Lily, my love," said Mrs. Dale, when they were all together in her bedroom, "it seems to me that you are very hard upon Mr. Crosbie." "She has been going on like that all the evening," said Bell. "I'm sure we are very good friends," said Lily. "Oh, very!" said Bell. "Now, Bell, you're jealous; you know you are." And then, seeing that her sister was in some slight degree vexed, she went up to her and kissed her. "She shan't be called jealous; shall she, mamma?" "I don't think she deserves it," said Mrs. Dale. "Now, you don't mean to say that you think I meant anything," said Lily. "As if I cared a buttercup about Mr. Crosbie." "Or I either, Lily." "Of course you don't. But I do care for him very much, mamma. He is such a duck of an Apollo. I shall always call him Apollo; Phoebus Apollo! And when I draw his picture he shall have a mallet in his hand instead of a bow. Upon my word I am very much obliged to Bernard for bringing him down here; and I do wish he was not going away the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow!" said Mrs. Dale. "It was hardly worth coming for two days." "No, it wasn't,--disturbing us all in our quiet little ways just for such a spell as that,--not giving one time even to count his rays." "But he says he shall perhaps come again," said Bell. "There is that hope for us," said Lily. "Uncle Christopher asked him to come down when he gets his long leave of absence. This is only a short sort of leave. He is better off than poor Johnny Eames. Johnny Eames only has a month, but Mr. Crosbie has two months just whenever he likes it; and seems to be pretty much his own master all the year round besides." "And uncle Christopher asked him to come down for the shooting in September," said Bell. "And though he didn't say he'd come I think he meant it," said Lily. "There is that hope for us, mamma." "Then you'll have to draw Apollo with a gun instead of a mallet." "That is the worst of it, mamma. We shan't see much of him or of Bernard either. They wouldn't let us go out into the woods as beaters, would they?" "You'd make too much noise to be of any use." "Should I? I thought the beaters had to shout at the birds. I should get very tired of shouting at birds, so I think I'll stay at home and look after my clothes." "I hope he will come, because uncle Christopher seems to like him so much," said Bell. "I wonder whether a certain gentleman at Guestwick will like his coming," said Lily. And then, as soon as she had spoken the words, she looked at her sister, and saw that she had grieved her. "Lily, you let your tongue run too fast," said Mrs. Dale. "I didn't mean anything, Bell," said Lily. "I beg your pardon." "It doesn't signify," said Bell. "Only Lily says things without thinking." And then that conversation came to an end, and nothing more was said among them beyond what appertained to their toilet, and a few last words at parting. But the two girls occupied the same room, and when their own door was closed upon them, Bell did allude to what had passed with some spirit. "Lily, you promised me," she said, "that you would not say anything more to me about Dr. Crofts." "I know I did, and I was very wrong. I beg your pardon, Bell; and I won't do it again,--not if I can help it." "Not help it, Lily!" "But I'm sure I don't know why I shouldn't speak of him,--only not in the way of laughing at you. Of all the men I ever saw in my life I like him best. And only that I love you better than I love myself I could find it in my heart to grudge you his--" "Lily, what did you promise just now?" "Well; after to-night. And I don't know why you should turn against him." "I have never turned against him or for him." "There's no turning about him. He'd give his left hand if you'd only smile on him. Or his right either,--and that's what I should like to see; so now you've heard it." "You know you are talking nonsense." "So I should like to see it. And so would mamma too, I'm sure; though I never heard her say a word about him. In my mind he's the finest fellow I ever saw. What's Mr. Apollo Crosbie to him? And now, as it makes you unhappy, I'll never say another word about him." As Bell wished her sister good-night with perhaps more than her usual affection, it was evident that Lily's words and eager tone had in some way pleased her, in spite of their opposition to the request which she had made. And Lily was aware that it was so. CHAPTER IV. MRS. ROPER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. [ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)] I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends. There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. They go much about alone, and blush when women speak to them. In truth, they are not as yet men, whatever the number may be of their years; and, as they are no longer boys, the world has found for them the ungraceful name of hobbledehoy. Such observations, however, as I have been enabled to make on this matter have led me to believe that the hobbledehoy is by no means the least valuable species of the human race. When I compare the hobbledehoy of one or two and twenty to some finished Apollo of the same age, I regard the former as unripe fruit, and the latter as fruit that is ripe. Then comes the question as to the two fruits. Which is the better fruit, that which ripens early--which is, perhaps, favoured with some little forcing apparatus, or which, at least, is backed by the warmth of a southern wall; or that fruit of slower growth, as to which nature works without assistance, on which the sun operates in its own time,--or perhaps never operates if some ungenial shade has been allowed to interpose itself? The world, no doubt, is in favour of the forcing apparatus or of the southern wall. The fruit comes certainly, and at an assured period. It is spotless, speckless, and of a certain quality by no means despicable. The owner has it when he wants it, and it serves its turn. But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit,--is given in the sun's own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself. I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour. But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ball-room, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of beings, and especially eloquent among beautiful women. He enjoys all the triumphs of a Don Juan, without any of Don Juan's heartlessness, and is able to conquer in all encounters, through the force of his wit and the sweetness of his voice. But this eloquence is heard only by his own inner ears, and these triumphs are the triumphs of his imagination. The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys--a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large. He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement. Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy. And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself. Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London. We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him. But yet he was not without friends--friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare. And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoya herself. Mrs. Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire. He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty. He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story. With no other man had Mr. Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr. Eames died Mr. Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children. He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held. And Mrs. Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs. Dale. The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs. Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age. But Mrs. Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House. Mrs. Eames was a poor forlorn woman--forlorn even during the time of her husband's life, but very wobegone now in her widowhood. In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son. But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs. Eames held him in great awe. Mrs. Dale held her brother-in-law in no awe, and sometimes gave to the widow from Guestwick advice quite at variance to that given by the squire. In this way there had grown up an intimacy between Bell and Lily and the young Eames, and either of the girls was prepared to declare that Johnny Eames was her own and well-loved friend. Nevertheless, they spoke of him occasionally with some little dash of merriment--as is not unusual with pretty girls who have hobbledehoys among their intimate friends, and who are not themselves unaccustomed to the grace of an Apollo. I may as well announce at once that John Eames, when he went up to London, was absolutely and irretrievably in love with Lily Dale. He had declared his passion in the most moving language a hundred times; but he had declared it only to himself. He had written much poetry about Lily, but he kept his lines safe under double lock and key. When he gave the reins to his imagination, he flattered himself that he might win not only her but the world at large also by his verses; but he would have perished rather than exhibit them to human eye. During the last ten weeks of his life at Guestwick, while he was preparing for his career in London, he hung about Allington, walking over frequently and then walking back again; but all in vain. During these visits he would sit in Mrs. Dale's drawing-room, speaking but little, and addressing himself usually to the mother; but on each occasion, as he started on his long, hot walk, he resolved that he would say something by which Lily might know of his love. When he left for London that something had not been said. He had not dreamed of asking her to be his wife. John Eames was about to begin the world with eighty pounds a year, and an allowance of twenty more from his mother's purse. He was well aware that with such an income he could not establish himself as a married man in London, and he also felt that the man who might be fortunate enough to win Lily for his wife should be prepared to give her every soft luxury that the world could afford. He knew well that he ought not to expect any assurance of Lily's love; but, nevertheless, he thought it possible that he might give her an assurance of his love. It would probably be in vain. He had no real hope, unless when he was in one of those poetic moods. He had acknowledged to himself, in some indistinct way, that he was no more than a hobbledehoy, awkward, silent, ungainly, with a face unfinished, as it were, or unripe. All this he knew, and knew also that there were Apollos in the world

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years younger than her father's family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty; but if she can be young in spirit at forty, let her show that she is so. I think that Mrs. Dale was wrong. She would have joined that party on the croquet ground, instead of remaining among the pea-sticks in her sun-bonnet, had she done as I would have counselled her. Not a word was spoken among the four that she did not hear. Those pea-sticks were only removed from the lawn by a low wall and a few shrubs. She listened, not as one suspecting, but simply as one loving. The voices of her girls were very dear to her, and the silver ringing tones of Lily's tongue were as sweet to her ears as the music of the gods. She heard all that about Lady Hartletop, and shuddered at Lily's bold sarcasm. And she heard Lily say that mamma would stay at home and eat the peas, and said to herself sadly that that was now her lot in life. "Dear darling girl,--and so it should be!" It was thus her thoughts ran. And then, when her ear had traced them, as they passed across the little bridge into the other grounds, she returned across the lawn to the house with her burden on her arm, and sat herself down on the step of the drawing-room window, looking out on the sweet summer flowers and the smooth surface of the grass before her. Had not God done well for her to place her where she was? Had not her lines been set for her in pleasant places? Was she not happy in her girls,--her sweet, loving, trusting, trusty children? As it was to be that her lord, that best half of herself, was to be taken from her in early life, and that the springs of all the lighter pleasures were to be thus stopped for her, had it not been well that in her bereavement so much had been done to soften her lot in life and give it grace and beauty? 'Twas so, she argued with herself, and yet she acknowledged to herself that she was not happy. She had resolved, as she herself had said often, to put away childish things, and now she pined for those things which she so put from her. As she sat she could still hear Lily's voice as they went through the shrubbery,--hear it when none but a mother's ears would have distinguished the sound. Now that those young men were at the Great House it was natural that her girls should be there too. The squire would not have had young men to stay with him had there been no ladies to grace his table. But for her,--she knew that no one would want her there. Now and again she must go, as otherwise her very existence, without going, would be a thing disagreeably noticeable. But there was no other reason why she should join the party; nor in joining it would she either give or receive pleasure. Let her daughters eat from her brother's table and drink of his cup. They were made welcome to do so from the heart. For her there was no such welcome as that at the Great House,--nor at any other house, or any other table! "Mamma will stay at home to eat the peas." And then she repeated to herself the words which Lily had spoken, sitting there, leaning with her elbow on her knee, and her head upon her hand. "Please, ma'am, cook says, can we have the peas to shell?" and then her reverie was broken. [ILLUSTRATION: "Please, ma'am, can we have the peas to shell?"] Whereupon Mrs. Dale got up and gave over her basket. "Cook knows that the young ladies are going to dine at the Great House?" "Yes, ma'am." "She needn't mind getting dinner for me. I will have tea early." And so, after all, Mrs. Dale did not perform that special duty appointed for her. But she soon set herself to work upon another duty. When a family of three persons has to live upon an income of three hundred a year, and, nevertheless, makes some pretence of going into society, it has to be very mindful of small details, even though that family may consist only of ladies. Of this Mrs. Dale was well aware, and as it pleased her that her daughters should be nice and fresh, and pretty in their attire, many a long hour was given up to that care. The squire would send them shawls in winter, and had given them riding habits, and had sent them down brown silk for dresses from London,--so limited in quantity that the due manufacture of two dresses out of the material had been found to be beyond the art of woman, and the brown silk garments had been a difficulty from that day to this,--the squire having a good memory in such matters, and being anxious to see the fruits of his liberality. All this was doubtless of assistance, but had the squire given the amount which he so expended in money to his nieces, the benefit would have been greater. As it was, the girls were always nice and fresh and pretty, they themselves not being idle in that matter; but their tire-woman in chief was their mother. And now she went up to their room and got out their muslin frocks, and--but, perhaps, I should not tell such tales!--She, however, felt no shame in her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be. Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour. "Oh! mamma, how good you are," said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner. "Mamma is always good," said Lily. "I wish, mamma, I could do the same for you oftener," and then she kissed her mother. But the squire was exact about dinner, so they dressed themselves in haste, and went off again through the garden, their mother accompanying them to the little bridge. "Your uncle did not seem vexed at my not coming?" said Mrs. Dale. "We have not seen him, mamma," said Lily. "We have been ever so far down the fields, and forgot altogether what o'clock it was." "I don't think uncle Christopher was about the place, or we should have met him," said Bell. "But I am vexed with you, mamma. Are not you, Bell? It is very bad of you to stay here all alone, and not come." "I suppose mamma likes being at home better than up at the Great House," said Bell, very gently; and as she spoke she was holding her mother's hand. "Well; good-by, dears. I shall expect you between ten and eleven. But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone. The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run. And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps. She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls. But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them. She stood there, however, without advancing a step. She would not have Hopkins telling how she watched her daughters as they went from her own home to that of her brother-in-law. It was not within the capacity of Hopkins to understand why she watched them. "Well, girls, you're not much too soon. I think your mother might have come with you," said uncle Christopher. And this was the manner of the man. Had he known his own wishes he must have acknowledged to himself that he was better pleased that Mrs. Dale should stay away. He felt himself more absolutely master and more comfortably at home at his own table without her company than with it. And yet he frequently made a grievance of her not coming, and himself believed in that grievance. "I think mamma was tired," said Bell. "Hem. It's not so very far across from one house to the other. If I were to shut myself up whenever I'm tired-- But never mind. Let's go to dinner. Mr. Crosbie, will you take my niece Lilian." And then, offering his own arm to Bell, he walked off to the dining-room. "If he scolds mamma any more, I'll go away," said Lily to her companion; by which it may be seen that they had all become very intimate during the long day that they had passed together. Mrs. Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however, imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs. Dale was not above novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together. It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard, but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs. Dale was not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship; but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since; and during those years Mrs. Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him as he had been to her. But all this was very hard to bear. That her daughters should love their uncle was not only reasonable, but in every way desirable. He was not cold to them. To them he was generous and affectionate. If she were only out of the way, he would have taken them to his house as his own, and they would in all respects have stood before the world as his adopted children. Would it not be better if she were out of the way? It was only in her most dismal moods that this question would get itself asked within her mind, and then she would recover herself, and answer it stoutly with an indignant protest against her own morbid weakness. It would not be well that she should be away from her girls,--not though their uncle should have been twice a better uncle; not though, by her absence, they might become heiresses of all Allington. Was it not above everything to them that they should have a mother near them? And as she asked of herself that morbid question,--wickedly asked it, as she declared to herself,--did she not know that they loved her better than all the world beside, and would prefer her caresses and her care to the guardianship of any uncle, let his house be ever so great? As yet they loved her better than all the world beside. Of other love, should it come, she would not be jealous. And if it should come, and should be happy, might there not yet be a bright evening of life for herself? If they should marry, and if their lords would accept her love, her friendship, and her homage, she might yet escape from the deathlike coldness of that Great House, and be happy in some tiny cottage, from which she might go forth at times among those who would really welcome her. A certain doctor there was, living not very far from Allington, at Guestwick, as to whom she had once thought that he might fill that place of son-in-law,--to be well-beloved. Her quiet, beautiful Bell had seemed to like the man; and he had certainly done more than seem to like her. But now, for some weeks past, this hope, or rather this idea, had faded away. Mrs. Dale had never questioned her daughter on the matter; she was not a woman prone to put such questions. But during the month or two last past, she had seen with regret that Bell looked almost coldly on the man whom her mother favoured. In thinking of all this the long evening passed away, and at eleven o'clock she heard the coming steps across the garden. The young men had, of course, accompanied the girls home; and as she stepped out from the still open window of her own drawing-room, she saw them all on the centre of the lawn before her. "There's mamma," said Lily. "Mamma, Mr. Crosbie wants to play croquet by moonlight." "I don't think there is light enough for that," said Mrs. Dale. "There is light enough for him," said Lily, "for he plays quite independently of the hoops; don't you, Mr. Crosbie?" "There's very pretty croquet light, I should say," said Mr. Crosbie, looking up at the bright moon; "and then it is so stupid going to bed." "Yes, it is stupid going to bed," said Lily; "but people in the country are stupid, you know. Billiards, that you can play all night by gas, is much better, isn't it?" "Your arrows fall terribly astray there, Miss Dale, for I never touch a cue; you should talk to your cousin about billiards." "Is Bernard a great billiard player?" asked Bell. "Well, I do play now and again; about as well as Crosbie does croquet. Come, Crosbie, we'll go home and smoke a cigar." "Yes," said Lily; "and then, you know, we stupid people can go to bed. Mamma, I wish you had a little smoking-room here for us. I don't like being considered stupid." And then they parted,--the ladies going into the house, and the two men returning across the lawn. "Lily, my love," said Mrs. Dale, when they were all together in her bedroom, "it seems to me that you are very hard upon Mr. Crosbie." "She has been going on like that all the evening," said Bell. "I'm sure we are very good friends," said Lily. "Oh, very!" said Bell. "Now, Bell, you're jealous; you know you are." And then, seeing that her sister was in some slight degree vexed, she went up to her and kissed her. "She shan't be called jealous; shall she, mamma?" "I don't think she deserves it," said Mrs. Dale. "Now, you don't mean to say that you think I meant anything," said Lily. "As if I cared a buttercup about Mr. Crosbie." "Or I either, Lily." "Of course you don't. But I do care for him very much, mamma. He is such a duck of an Apollo. I shall always call him Apollo; Phoebus Apollo! And when I draw his picture he shall have a mallet in his hand instead of a bow. Upon my word I am very much obliged to Bernard for bringing him down here; and I do wish he was not going away the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow!" said Mrs. Dale. "It was hardly worth coming for two days." "No, it wasn't,--disturbing us all in our quiet little ways just for such a spell as that,--not giving one time even to count his rays." "But he says he shall perhaps come again," said Bell. "There is that hope for us," said Lily. "Uncle Christopher asked him to come down when he gets his long leave of absence. This is only a short sort of leave. He is better off than poor Johnny Eames. Johnny Eames only has a month, but Mr. Crosbie has two months just whenever he likes it; and seems to be pretty much his own master all the year round besides." "And uncle Christopher asked him to come down for the shooting in September," said Bell. "And though he didn't say he'd come I think he meant it," said Lily. "There is that hope for us, mamma." "Then you'll have to draw Apollo with a gun instead of a mallet." "That is the worst of it, mamma. We shan't see much of him or of Bernard either. They wouldn't let us go out into the woods as beaters, would they?" "You'd make too much noise to be of any use." "Should I? I thought the beaters had to shout at the birds. I should get very tired of shouting at birds, so I think I'll stay at home and look after my clothes." "I hope he will come, because uncle Christopher seems to like him so much," said Bell. "I wonder whether a certain gentleman at Guestwick will like his coming," said Lily. And then, as soon as she had spoken the words, she looked at her sister, and saw that she had grieved her. "Lily, you let your tongue run too fast," said Mrs. Dale. "I didn't mean anything, Bell," said Lily. "I beg your pardon." "It doesn't signify," said Bell. "Only Lily says things without thinking." And then that conversation came to an end, and nothing more was said among them beyond what appertained to their toilet, and a few last words at parting. But the two girls occupied the same room, and when their own door was closed upon them, Bell did allude to what had passed with some spirit. "Lily, you promised me," she said, "that you would not say anything more to me about Dr. Crofts." "I know I did, and I was very wrong. I beg your pardon, Bell; and I won't do it again,--not if I can help it." "Not help it, Lily!" "But I'm sure I don't know why I shouldn't speak of him,--only not in the way of laughing at you. Of all the men I ever saw in my life I like him best. And only that I love you better than I love myself I could find it in my heart to grudge you his--" "Lily, what did you promise just now?" "Well; after to-night. And I don't know why you should turn against him." "I have never turned against him or for him." "There's no turning about him. He'd give his left hand if you'd only smile on him. Or his right either,--and that's what I should like to see; so now you've heard it." "You know you are talking nonsense." "So I should like to see it. And so would mamma too, I'm sure; though I never heard her say a word about him. In my mind he's the finest fellow I ever saw. What's Mr. Apollo Crosbie to him? And now, as it makes you unhappy, I'll never say another word about him." As Bell wished her sister good-night with perhaps more than her usual affection, it was evident that Lily's words and eager tone had in some way pleased her, in spite of their opposition to the request which she had made. And Lily was aware that it was so. CHAPTER IV. MRS. ROPER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. [ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)] I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends. There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. They go much about alone, and blush when women speak to them. In truth, they are not as yet men, whatever the number may be of their years; and, as they are no longer boys, the world has found for them the ungraceful name of hobbledehoy. Such observations, however, as I have been enabled to make on this matter have led me to believe that the hobbledehoy is by no means the least valuable species of the human race. When I compare the hobbledehoy of one or two and twenty to some finished Apollo of the same age, I regard the former as unripe fruit, and the latter as fruit that is ripe. Then comes the question as to the two fruits. Which is the better fruit, that which ripens early--which is, perhaps, favoured with some little forcing apparatus, or which, at least, is backed by the warmth of a southern wall; or that fruit of slower growth, as to which nature works without assistance, on which the sun operates in its own time,--or perhaps never operates if some ungenial shade has been allowed to interpose itself? The world, no doubt, is in favour of the forcing apparatus or of the southern wall. The fruit comes certainly, and at an assured period. It is spotless, speckless, and of a certain quality by no means despicable. The owner has it when he wants it, and it serves its turn. But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit,--is given in the sun's own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself. I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour. But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ball-room, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of beings, and especially eloquent among beautiful women. He enjoys all the triumphs of a Don Juan, without any of Don Juan's heartlessness, and is able to conquer in all encounters, through the force of his wit and the sweetness of his voice. But this eloquence is heard only by his own inner ears, and these triumphs are the triumphs of his imagination. The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys--a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large. He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement. Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy. And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself. Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London. We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him. But yet he was not without friends--friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare. And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoya herself. Mrs. Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire. He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty. He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story. With no other man had Mr. Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr. Eames died Mr. Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children. He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held. And Mrs. Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs. Dale. The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs. Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age. But Mrs. Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House. Mrs. Eames was a poor forlorn woman--forlorn even during the time of her husband's life, but very wobegone now in her widowhood. In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son. But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs. Eames held him in great awe. Mrs. Dale held her brother-in-law in no awe, and sometimes gave to the widow from Guestwick advice quite at variance to that given by the squire. In this way there had grown up an intimacy between Bell and Lily and the young Eames, and either of the girls was prepared to declare that Johnny Eames was her own and well-loved friend. Nevertheless, they spoke of him occasionally with some little dash of merriment--as is not unusual with pretty girls who have hobbledehoys among their intimate friends, and who are not themselves unaccustomed to the grace of an Apollo. I may as well announce at once that John Eames, when he went up to London, was absolutely and irretrievably in love with Lily Dale. He had declared his passion in the most moving language a hundred times; but he had declared it only to himself. He had written much poetry about Lily, but he kept his lines safe under double lock and key. When he gave the reins to his imagination, he flattered himself that he might win not only her but the world at large also by his verses; but he would have perished rather than exhibit them to human eye. During the last ten weeks of his life at Guestwick, while he was preparing for his career in London, he hung about Allington, walking over frequently and then walking back again; but all in vain. During these visits he would sit in Mrs. Dale's drawing-room, speaking but little, and addressing himself usually to the mother; but on each occasion, as he started on his long, hot walk, he resolved that he would say something by which Lily might know of his love. When he left for London that something had not been said. He had not dreamed of asking her to be his wife. John Eames was about to begin the world with eighty pounds a year, and an allowance of twenty more from his mother's purse. He was well aware that with such an income he could not establish himself as a married man in London, and he also felt that the man who might be fortunate enough to win Lily for his wife should be prepared to give her every soft luxury that the world could afford. He knew well that he ought not to expect any assurance of Lily's love; but, nevertheless, he thought it possible that he might give her an assurance of his love. It would probably be in vain. He had no real hope, unless when he was in one of those poetic moods. He had acknowledged to himself, in some indistinct way, that he was no more than a hobbledehoy, awkward, silent, ungainly, with a face unfinished, as it were, or unripe. All this he knew, and knew also that there were Apollos in the world

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years younger than her father's family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty; but if she can be young in spirit at forty, let her show that she is so. I think that Mrs. Dale was wrong. She would have joined that party on the croquet ground, instead of remaining among the pea-sticks in her sun-bonnet, had she done as I would have counselled her. Not a word was spoken among the four that she did not hear. Those pea-sticks were only removed from the lawn by a low wall and a few shrubs. She listened, not as one suspecting, but simply as one loving. The voices of her girls were very dear to her, and the silver ringing tones of Lily's tongue were as sweet to her ears as the music of the gods. She heard all that about Lady Hartletop, and shuddered at Lily's bold sarcasm. And she heard Lily say that mamma would stay at home and eat the peas, and said to herself sadly that that was now her lot in life. "Dear darling girl,--and so it should be!" It was thus her thoughts ran. And then, when her ear had traced them, as they passed across the little bridge into the other grounds, she returned across the lawn to the house with her burden on her arm, and sat herself down on the step of the drawing-room window, looking out on the sweet summer flowers and the smooth surface of the grass before her. Had not God done well for her to place her where she was? Had not her lines been set for her in pleasant places? Was she not happy in her girls,--her sweet, loving, trusting, trusty children? As it was to be that her lord, that best half of herself, was to be taken from her in early life, and that the springs of all the lighter pleasures were to be thus stopped for her, had it not been well that in her bereavement so much had been done to soften her lot in life and give it grace and beauty? 'Twas so, she argued with herself, and yet she acknowledged to herself that she was not happy. She had resolved, as she herself had said often, to put away childish things, and now she pined for those things which she so put from her. As she sat she could still hear Lily's voice as they went through the shrubbery,--hear it when none but a mother's ears would have distinguished the sound. Now that those young men were at the Great House it was natural that her girls should be there too. The squire would not have had young men to stay with him had there been no ladies to grace his table. But for her,--she knew that no one would want her there. Now and again she must go, as otherwise her very existence, without going, would be a thing disagreeably noticeable. But there was no other reason why she should join the party; nor in joining it would she either give or receive pleasure. Let her daughters eat from her brother's table and drink of his cup. They were made welcome to do so from the heart. For her there was no such welcome as that at the Great House,--nor at any other house, or any other table! "Mamma will stay at home to eat the peas." And then she repeated to herself the words which Lily had spoken, sitting there, leaning with her elbow on her knee, and her head upon her hand. "Please, ma'am, cook says, can we have the peas to shell?" and then her reverie was broken. [ILLUSTRATION: "Please, ma'am, can we have the peas to shell?"] Whereupon Mrs. Dale got up and gave over her basket. "Cook knows that the young ladies are going to dine at the Great House?" "Yes, ma'am." "She needn't mind getting dinner for me. I will have tea early." And so, after all, Mrs. Dale did not perform that special duty appointed for her. But she soon set herself to work upon another duty. When a family of three persons has to live upon an income of three hundred a year, and, nevertheless, makes some pretence of going into society, it has to be very mindful of small details, even though that family may consist only of ladies. Of this Mrs. Dale was well aware, and as it pleased her that her daughters should be nice and fresh, and pretty in their attire, many a long hour was given up to that care. The squire would send them shawls in winter, and had given them riding habits, and had sent them down brown silk for dresses from London,--so limited in quantity that the due manufacture of two dresses out of the material had been found to be beyond the art of woman, and the brown silk garments had been a difficulty from that day to this,--the squire having a good memory in such matters, and being anxious to see the fruits of his liberality. All this was doubtless of assistance, but had the squire given the amount which he so expended in money to his nieces, the benefit would have been greater. As it was, the girls were always nice and fresh and pretty, they themselves not being idle in that matter; but their tire-woman in chief was their mother. And now she went up to their room and got out their muslin frocks, and--but, perhaps, I should not tell such tales!--She, however, felt no shame in her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be. Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour. "Oh! mamma, how good you are," said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner. "Mamma is always good," said Lily. "I wish, mamma, I could do the same for you oftener," and then she kissed her mother. But the squire was exact about dinner, so they dressed themselves in haste, and went off again through the garden, their mother accompanying them to the little bridge. "Your uncle did not seem vexed at my not coming?" said Mrs. Dale. "We have not seen him, mamma," said Lily. "We have been ever so far down the fields, and forgot altogether what o'clock it was." "I don't think uncle Christopher was about the place, or we should have met him," said Bell. "But I am vexed with you, mamma. Are not you, Bell? It is very bad of you to stay here all alone, and not come." "I suppose mamma likes being at home better than up at the Great House," said Bell, very gently; and as she spoke she was holding her mother's hand. "Well; good-by, dears. I shall expect you between ten and eleven. But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone. The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run. And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps. She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls. But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them. She stood there, however, without advancing a step. She would not have Hopkins telling how she watched her daughters as they went from her own home to that of her brother-in-law. It was not within the capacity of Hopkins to understand why she watched them. "Well, girls, you're not much too soon. I think your mother might have come with you," said uncle Christopher. And this was the manner of the man. Had he known his own wishes he must have acknowledged to himself that he was better pleased that Mrs. Dale should stay away. He felt himself more absolutely master and more comfortably at home at his own table without her company than with it. And yet he frequently made a grievance of her not coming, and himself believed in that grievance. "I think mamma was tired," said Bell. "Hem. It's not so very far across from one house to the other. If I were to shut myself up whenever I'm tired-- But never mind. Let's go to dinner. Mr. Crosbie, will you take my niece Lilian." And then, offering his own arm to Bell, he walked off to the dining-room. "If he scolds mamma any more, I'll go away," said Lily to her companion; by which it may be seen that they had all become very intimate during the long day that they had passed together. Mrs. Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however, imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs. Dale was not above novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together. It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard, but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs. Dale was not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship; but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since; and during those years Mrs. Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him as he had been to her. But all this was very hard to bear. That her daughters should love their uncle was not only reasonable, but in every way desirable. He was not cold to them. To them he was generous and affectionate. If she were only out of the way, he would have taken them to his house as his own, and they would in all respects have stood before the world as his adopted children. Would it not be better if she were out of the way? It was only in her most dismal moods that this question would get itself asked within her mind, and then she would recover herself, and answer it stoutly with an indignant protest against her own morbid weakness. It would not be well that she should be away from her girls,--not though their uncle should have been twice a better uncle; not though, by her absence, they might become heiresses of all Allington. Was it not above everything to them that they should have a mother near them? And as she asked of herself that morbid question,--wickedly asked it, as she declared to herself,--did she not know that they loved her better than all the world beside, and would prefer her caresses and her care to the guardianship of any uncle, let his house be ever so great? As yet they loved her better than all the world beside. Of other love, should it come, she would not be jealous. And if it should come, and should be happy, might there not yet be a bright evening of life for herself? If they should marry, and if their lords would accept her love, her friendship, and her homage, she might yet escape from the deathlike coldness of that Great House, and be happy in some tiny cottage, from which she might go forth at times among those who would really welcome her. A certain doctor there was, living not very far from Allington, at Guestwick, as to whom she had once thought that he might fill that place of son-in-law,--to be well-beloved. Her quiet, beautiful Bell had seemed to like the man; and he had certainly done more than seem to like her. But now, for some weeks past, this hope, or rather this idea, had faded away. Mrs. Dale had never questioned her daughter on the matter; she was not a woman prone to put such questions. But during the month or two last past, she had seen with regret that Bell looked almost coldly on the man whom her mother favoured. In thinking of all this the long evening passed away, and at eleven o'clock she heard the coming steps across the garden. The young men had, of course, accompanied the girls home; and as she stepped out from the still open window of her own drawing-room, she saw them all on the centre of the lawn before her. "There's mamma," said Lily. "Mamma, Mr. Crosbie wants to play croquet by moonlight." "I don't think there is light enough for that," said Mrs. Dale. "There is light enough for him," said Lily, "for he plays quite independently of the hoops; don't you, Mr. Crosbie?" "There's very pretty croquet light, I should say," said Mr. Crosbie, looking up at the bright moon; "and then it is so stupid going to bed." "Yes, it is stupid going to bed," said Lily; "but people in the country are stupid, you know. Billiards, that you can play all night by gas, is much better, isn't it?" "Your arrows fall terribly astray there, Miss Dale, for I never touch a cue; you should talk to your cousin about billiards." "Is Bernard a great billiard player?" asked Bell. "Well, I do play now and again; about as well as Crosbie does croquet. Come, Crosbie, we'll go home and smoke a cigar." "Yes," said Lily; "and then, you know, we stupid people can go to bed. Mamma, I wish you had a little smoking-room here for us. I don't like being considered stupid." And then they parted,--the ladies going into the house, and the two men returning across the lawn. "Lily, my love," said Mrs. Dale, when they were all together in her bedroom, "it seems to me that you are very hard upon Mr. Crosbie." "She has been going on like that all the evening," said Bell. "I'm sure we are very good friends," said Lily. "Oh, very!" said Bell. "Now, Bell, you're jealous; you know you are." And then, seeing that her sister was in some slight degree vexed, she went up to her and kissed her. "She shan't be called jealous; shall she, mamma?" "I don't think she deserves it," said Mrs. Dale. "Now, you don't mean to say that you think I meant anything," said Lily. "As if I cared a buttercup about Mr. Crosbie." "Or I either, Lily." "Of course you don't. But I do care for him very much, mamma. He is such a duck of an Apollo. I shall always call him Apollo; Phoebus Apollo! And when I draw his picture he shall have a mallet in his hand instead of a bow. Upon my word I am very much obliged to Bernard for bringing him down here; and I do wish he was not going away the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow!" said Mrs. Dale. "It was hardly worth coming for two days." "No, it wasn't,--disturbing us all in our quiet little ways just for such a spell as that,--not giving one time even to count his rays." "But he says he shall perhaps come again," said Bell. "There is that hope for us," said Lily. "Uncle Christopher asked him to come down when he gets his long leave of absence. This is only a short sort of leave. He is better off than poor Johnny Eames. Johnny Eames only has a month, but Mr. Crosbie has two months just whenever he likes it; and seems to be pretty much his own master all the year round besides." "And uncle Christopher asked him to come down for the shooting in September," said Bell. "And though he didn't say he'd come I think he meant it," said Lily. "There is that hope for us, mamma." "Then you'll have to draw Apollo with a gun instead of a mallet." "That is the worst of it, mamma. We shan't see much of him or of Bernard either. They wouldn't let us go out into the woods as beaters, would they?" "You'd make too much noise to be of any use." "Should I? I thought the beaters had to shout at the birds. I should get very tired of shouting at birds, so I think I'll stay at home and look after my clothes." "I hope he will come, because uncle Christopher seems to like him so much," said Bell. "I wonder whether a certain gentleman at Guestwick will like his coming," said Lily. And then, as soon as she had spoken the words, she looked at her sister, and saw that she had grieved her. "Lily, you let your tongue run too fast," said Mrs. Dale. "I didn't mean anything, Bell," said Lily. "I beg your pardon." "It doesn't signify," said Bell. "Only Lily says things without thinking." And then that conversation came to an end, and nothing more was said among them beyond what appertained to their toilet, and a few last words at parting. But the two girls occupied the same room, and when their own door was closed upon them, Bell did allude to what had passed with some spirit. "Lily, you promised me," she said, "that you would not say anything more to me about Dr. Crofts." "I know I did, and I was very wrong. I beg your pardon, Bell; and I won't do it again,--not if I can help it." "Not help it, Lily!" "But I'm sure I don't know why I shouldn't speak of him,--only not in the way of laughing at you. Of all the men I ever saw in my life I like him best. And only that I love you better than I love myself I could find it in my heart to grudge you his--" "Lily, what did you promise just now?" "Well; after to-night. And I don't know why you should turn against him." "I have never turned against him or for him." "There's no turning about him. He'd give his left hand if you'd only smile on him. Or his right either,--and that's what I should like to see; so now you've heard it." "You know you are talking nonsense." "So I should like to see it. And so would mamma too, I'm sure; though I never heard her say a word about him. In my mind he's the finest fellow I ever saw. What's Mr. Apollo Crosbie to him? And now, as it makes you unhappy, I'll never say another word about him." As Bell wished her sister good-night with perhaps more than her usual affection, it was evident that Lily's words and eager tone had in some way pleased her, in spite of their opposition to the request which she had made. And Lily was aware that it was so. CHAPTER IV. MRS. ROPER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. [ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)] I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends. There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. They go much about alone, and blush when women speak to them. In truth, they are not as yet men, whatever the number may be of their years; and, as they are no longer boys, the world has found for them the ungraceful name of hobbledehoy. Such observations, however, as I have been enabled to make on this matter have led me to believe that the hobbledehoy is by no means the least valuable species of the human race. When I compare the hobbledehoy of one or two and twenty to some finished Apollo of the same age, I regard the former as unripe fruit, and the latter as fruit that is ripe. Then comes the question as to the two fruits. Which is the better fruit, that which ripens early--which is, perhaps, favoured with some little forcing apparatus, or which, at least, is backed by the warmth of a southern wall; or that fruit of slower growth, as to which nature works without assistance, on which the sun operates in its own time,--or perhaps never operates if some ungenial shade has been allowed to interpose itself? The world, no doubt, is in favour of the forcing apparatus or of the southern wall. The fruit comes certainly, and at an assured period. It is spotless, speckless, and of a certain quality by no means despicable. The owner has it when he wants it, and it serves its turn. But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit,--is given in the sun's own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself. I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour. But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ball-room, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of beings, and especially eloquent among beautiful women. He enjoys all the triumphs of a Don Juan, without any of Don Juan's heartlessness, and is able to conquer in all encounters, through the force of his wit and the sweetness of his voice. But this eloquence is heard only by his own inner ears, and these triumphs are the triumphs of his imagination. The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys--a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large. He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement. Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy. And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself. Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London. We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him. But yet he was not without friends--friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare. And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoya herself. Mrs. Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire. He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty. He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story. With no other man had Mr. Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr. Eames died Mr. Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children. He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held. And Mrs. Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs. Dale. The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs. Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age. But Mrs. Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House. Mrs. Eames was a poor forlorn woman--forlorn even during the time of her husband's life, but very wobegone now in her widowhood. In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son. But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs. Eames held him in great awe. Mrs. Dale held her brother-in-law in no awe, and sometimes gave to the widow from Guestwick advice quite at variance to that given by the squire. In this way there had grown up an intimacy between Bell and Lily and the young Eames, and either of the girls was prepared to declare that Johnny Eames was her own and well-loved friend. Nevertheless, they spoke of him occasionally with some little dash of merriment--as is not unusual with pretty girls who have hobbledehoys among their intimate friends, and who are not themselves unaccustomed to the grace of an Apollo. I may as well announce at once that John Eames, when he went up to London, was absolutely and irretrievably in love with Lily Dale. He had declared his passion in the most moving language a hundred times; but he had declared it only to himself. He had written much poetry about Lily, but he kept his lines safe under double lock and key. When he gave the reins to his imagination, he flattered himself that he might win not only her but the world at large also by his verses; but he would have perished rather than exhibit them to human eye. During the last ten weeks of his life at Guestwick, while he was preparing for his career in London, he hung about Allington, walking over frequently and then walking back again; but all in vain. During these visits he would sit in Mrs. Dale's drawing-room, speaking but little, and addressing himself usually to the mother; but on each occasion, as he started on his long, hot walk, he resolved that he would say something by which Lily might know of his love. When he left for London that something had not been said. He had not dreamed of asking her to be his wife. John Eames was about to begin the world with eighty pounds a year, and an allowance of twenty more from his mother's purse. He was well aware that with such an income he could not establish himself as a married man in London, and he also felt that the man who might be fortunate enough to win Lily for his wife should be prepared to give her every soft luxury that the world could afford. He knew well that he ought not to expect any assurance of Lily's love; but, nevertheless, he thought it possible that he might give her an assurance of his love. It would probably be in vain. He had no real hope, unless when he was in one of those poetic moods. He had acknowledged to himself, in some indistinct way, that he was no more than a hobbledehoy, awkward, silent, ungainly, with a face unfinished, as it were, or unripe. All this he knew, and knew also that there were Apollos in the world

heiresses

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years younger than her father's family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty; but if she can be young in spirit at forty, let her show that she is so. I think that Mrs. Dale was wrong. She would have joined that party on the croquet ground, instead of remaining among the pea-sticks in her sun-bonnet, had she done as I would have counselled her. Not a word was spoken among the four that she did not hear. Those pea-sticks were only removed from the lawn by a low wall and a few shrubs. She listened, not as one suspecting, but simply as one loving. The voices of her girls were very dear to her, and the silver ringing tones of Lily's tongue were as sweet to her ears as the music of the gods. She heard all that about Lady Hartletop, and shuddered at Lily's bold sarcasm. And she heard Lily say that mamma would stay at home and eat the peas, and said to herself sadly that that was now her lot in life. "Dear darling girl,--and so it should be!" It was thus her thoughts ran. And then, when her ear had traced them, as they passed across the little bridge into the other grounds, she returned across the lawn to the house with her burden on her arm, and sat herself down on the step of the drawing-room window, looking out on the sweet summer flowers and the smooth surface of the grass before her. Had not God done well for her to place her where she was? Had not her lines been set for her in pleasant places? Was she not happy in her girls,--her sweet, loving, trusting, trusty children? As it was to be that her lord, that best half of herself, was to be taken from her in early life, and that the springs of all the lighter pleasures were to be thus stopped for her, had it not been well that in her bereavement so much had been done to soften her lot in life and give it grace and beauty? 'Twas so, she argued with herself, and yet she acknowledged to herself that she was not happy. She had resolved, as she herself had said often, to put away childish things, and now she pined for those things which she so put from her. As she sat she could still hear Lily's voice as they went through the shrubbery,--hear it when none but a mother's ears would have distinguished the sound. Now that those young men were at the Great House it was natural that her girls should be there too. The squire would not have had young men to stay with him had there been no ladies to grace his table. But for her,--she knew that no one would want her there. Now and again she must go, as otherwise her very existence, without going, would be a thing disagreeably noticeable. But there was no other reason why she should join the party; nor in joining it would she either give or receive pleasure. Let her daughters eat from her brother's table and drink of his cup. They were made welcome to do so from the heart. For her there was no such welcome as that at the Great House,--nor at any other house, or any other table! "Mamma will stay at home to eat the peas." And then she repeated to herself the words which Lily had spoken, sitting there, leaning with her elbow on her knee, and her head upon her hand. "Please, ma'am, cook says, can we have the peas to shell?" and then her reverie was broken. [ILLUSTRATION: "Please, ma'am, can we have the peas to shell?"] Whereupon Mrs. Dale got up and gave over her basket. "Cook knows that the young ladies are going to dine at the Great House?" "Yes, ma'am." "She needn't mind getting dinner for me. I will have tea early." And so, after all, Mrs. Dale did not perform that special duty appointed for her. But she soon set herself to work upon another duty. When a family of three persons has to live upon an income of three hundred a year, and, nevertheless, makes some pretence of going into society, it has to be very mindful of small details, even though that family may consist only of ladies. Of this Mrs. Dale was well aware, and as it pleased her that her daughters should be nice and fresh, and pretty in their attire, many a long hour was given up to that care. The squire would send them shawls in winter, and had given them riding habits, and had sent them down brown silk for dresses from London,--so limited in quantity that the due manufacture of two dresses out of the material had been found to be beyond the art of woman, and the brown silk garments had been a difficulty from that day to this,--the squire having a good memory in such matters, and being anxious to see the fruits of his liberality. All this was doubtless of assistance, but had the squire given the amount which he so expended in money to his nieces, the benefit would have been greater. As it was, the girls were always nice and fresh and pretty, they themselves not being idle in that matter; but their tire-woman in chief was their mother. And now she went up to their room and got out their muslin frocks, and--but, perhaps, I should not tell such tales!--She, however, felt no shame in her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be. Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour. "Oh! mamma, how good you are," said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner. "Mamma is always good," said Lily. "I wish, mamma, I could do the same for you oftener," and then she kissed her mother. But the squire was exact about dinner, so they dressed themselves in haste, and went off again through the garden, their mother accompanying them to the little bridge. "Your uncle did not seem vexed at my not coming?" said Mrs. Dale. "We have not seen him, mamma," said Lily. "We have been ever so far down the fields, and forgot altogether what o'clock it was." "I don't think uncle Christopher was about the place, or we should have met him," said Bell. "But I am vexed with you, mamma. Are not you, Bell? It is very bad of you to stay here all alone, and not come." "I suppose mamma likes being at home better than up at the Great House," said Bell, very gently; and as she spoke she was holding her mother's hand. "Well; good-by, dears. I shall expect you between ten and eleven. But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone. The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run. And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps. She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls. But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them. She stood there, however, without advancing a step. She would not have Hopkins telling how she watched her daughters as they went from her own home to that of her brother-in-law. It was not within the capacity of Hopkins to understand why she watched them. "Well, girls, you're not much too soon. I think your mother might have come with you," said uncle Christopher. And this was the manner of the man. Had he known his own wishes he must have acknowledged to himself that he was better pleased that Mrs. Dale should stay away. He felt himself more absolutely master and more comfortably at home at his own table without her company than with it. And yet he frequently made a grievance of her not coming, and himself believed in that grievance. "I think mamma was tired," said Bell. "Hem. It's not so very far across from one house to the other. If I were to shut myself up whenever I'm tired-- But never mind. Let's go to dinner. Mr. Crosbie, will you take my niece Lilian." And then, offering his own arm to Bell, he walked off to the dining-room. "If he scolds mamma any more, I'll go away," said Lily to her companion; by which it may be seen that they had all become very intimate during the long day that they had passed together. Mrs. Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however, imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs. Dale was not above novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together. It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard, but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs. Dale was not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship; but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since; and during those years Mrs. Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him as he had been to her. But all this was very hard to bear. That her daughters should love their uncle was not only reasonable, but in every way desirable. He was not cold to them. To them he was generous and affectionate. If she were only out of the way, he would have taken them to his house as his own, and they would in all respects have stood before the world as his adopted children. Would it not be better if she were out of the way? It was only in her most dismal moods that this question would get itself asked within her mind, and then she would recover herself, and answer it stoutly with an indignant protest against her own morbid weakness. It would not be well that she should be away from her girls,--not though their uncle should have been twice a better uncle; not though, by her absence, they might become heiresses of all Allington. Was it not above everything to them that they should have a mother near them? And as she asked of herself that morbid question,--wickedly asked it, as she declared to herself,--did she not know that they loved her better than all the world beside, and would prefer her caresses and her care to the guardianship of any uncle, let his house be ever so great? As yet they loved her better than all the world beside. Of other love, should it come, she would not be jealous. And if it should come, and should be happy, might there not yet be a bright evening of life for herself? If they should marry, and if their lords would accept her love, her friendship, and her homage, she might yet escape from the deathlike coldness of that Great House, and be happy in some tiny cottage, from which she might go forth at times among those who would really welcome her. A certain doctor there was, living not very far from Allington, at Guestwick, as to whom she had once thought that he might fill that place of son-in-law,--to be well-beloved. Her quiet, beautiful Bell had seemed to like the man; and he had certainly done more than seem to like her. But now, for some weeks past, this hope, or rather this idea, had faded away. Mrs. Dale had never questioned her daughter on the matter; she was not a woman prone to put such questions. But during the month or two last past, she had seen with regret that Bell looked almost coldly on the man whom her mother favoured. In thinking of all this the long evening passed away, and at eleven o'clock she heard the coming steps across the garden. The young men had, of course, accompanied the girls home; and as she stepped out from the still open window of her own drawing-room, she saw them all on the centre of the lawn before her. "There's mamma," said Lily. "Mamma, Mr. Crosbie wants to play croquet by moonlight." "I don't think there is light enough for that," said Mrs. Dale. "There is light enough for him," said Lily, "for he plays quite independently of the hoops; don't you, Mr. Crosbie?" "There's very pretty croquet light, I should say," said Mr. Crosbie, looking up at the bright moon; "and then it is so stupid going to bed." "Yes, it is stupid going to bed," said Lily; "but people in the country are stupid, you know. Billiards, that you can play all night by gas, is much better, isn't it?" "Your arrows fall terribly astray there, Miss Dale, for I never touch a cue; you should talk to your cousin about billiards." "Is Bernard a great billiard player?" asked Bell. "Well, I do play now and again; about as well as Crosbie does croquet. Come, Crosbie, we'll go home and smoke a cigar." "Yes," said Lily; "and then, you know, we stupid people can go to bed. Mamma, I wish you had a little smoking-room here for us. I don't like being considered stupid." And then they parted,--the ladies going into the house, and the two men returning across the lawn. "Lily, my love," said Mrs. Dale, when they were all together in her bedroom, "it seems to me that you are very hard upon Mr. Crosbie." "She has been going on like that all the evening," said Bell. "I'm sure we are very good friends," said Lily. "Oh, very!" said Bell. "Now, Bell, you're jealous; you know you are." And then, seeing that her sister was in some slight degree vexed, she went up to her and kissed her. "She shan't be called jealous; shall she, mamma?" "I don't think she deserves it," said Mrs. Dale. "Now, you don't mean to say that you think I meant anything," said Lily. "As if I cared a buttercup about Mr. Crosbie." "Or I either, Lily." "Of course you don't. But I do care for him very much, mamma. He is such a duck of an Apollo. I shall always call him Apollo; Phoebus Apollo! And when I draw his picture he shall have a mallet in his hand instead of a bow. Upon my word I am very much obliged to Bernard for bringing him down here; and I do wish he was not going away the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow!" said Mrs. Dale. "It was hardly worth coming for two days." "No, it wasn't,--disturbing us all in our quiet little ways just for such a spell as that,--not giving one time even to count his rays." "But he says he shall perhaps come again," said Bell. "There is that hope for us," said Lily. "Uncle Christopher asked him to come down when he gets his long leave of absence. This is only a short sort of leave. He is better off than poor Johnny Eames. Johnny Eames only has a month, but Mr. Crosbie has two months just whenever he likes it; and seems to be pretty much his own master all the year round besides." "And uncle Christopher asked him to come down for the shooting in September," said Bell. "And though he didn't say he'd come I think he meant it," said Lily. "There is that hope for us, mamma." "Then you'll have to draw Apollo with a gun instead of a mallet." "That is the worst of it, mamma. We shan't see much of him or of Bernard either. They wouldn't let us go out into the woods as beaters, would they?" "You'd make too much noise to be of any use." "Should I? I thought the beaters had to shout at the birds. I should get very tired of shouting at birds, so I think I'll stay at home and look after my clothes." "I hope he will come, because uncle Christopher seems to like him so much," said Bell. "I wonder whether a certain gentleman at Guestwick will like his coming," said Lily. And then, as soon as she had spoken the words, she looked at her sister, and saw that she had grieved her. "Lily, you let your tongue run too fast," said Mrs. Dale. "I didn't mean anything, Bell," said Lily. "I beg your pardon." "It doesn't signify," said Bell. "Only Lily says things without thinking." And then that conversation came to an end, and nothing more was said among them beyond what appertained to their toilet, and a few last words at parting. But the two girls occupied the same room, and when their own door was closed upon them, Bell did allude to what had passed with some spirit. "Lily, you promised me," she said, "that you would not say anything more to me about Dr. Crofts." "I know I did, and I was very wrong. I beg your pardon, Bell; and I won't do it again,--not if I can help it." "Not help it, Lily!" "But I'm sure I don't know why I shouldn't speak of him,--only not in the way of laughing at you. Of all the men I ever saw in my life I like him best. And only that I love you better than I love myself I could find it in my heart to grudge you his--" "Lily, what did you promise just now?" "Well; after to-night. And I don't know why you should turn against him." "I have never turned against him or for him." "There's no turning about him. He'd give his left hand if you'd only smile on him. Or his right either,--and that's what I should like to see; so now you've heard it." "You know you are talking nonsense." "So I should like to see it. And so would mamma too, I'm sure; though I never heard her say a word about him. In my mind he's the finest fellow I ever saw. What's Mr. Apollo Crosbie to him? And now, as it makes you unhappy, I'll never say another word about him." As Bell wished her sister good-night with perhaps more than her usual affection, it was evident that Lily's words and eager tone had in some way pleased her, in spite of their opposition to the request which she had made. And Lily was aware that it was so. CHAPTER IV. MRS. ROPER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. [ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)] I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends. There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. They go much about alone, and blush when women speak to them. In truth, they are not as yet men, whatever the number may be of their years; and, as they are no longer boys, the world has found for them the ungraceful name of hobbledehoy. Such observations, however, as I have been enabled to make on this matter have led me to believe that the hobbledehoy is by no means the least valuable species of the human race. When I compare the hobbledehoy of one or two and twenty to some finished Apollo of the same age, I regard the former as unripe fruit, and the latter as fruit that is ripe. Then comes the question as to the two fruits. Which is the better fruit, that which ripens early--which is, perhaps, favoured with some little forcing apparatus, or which, at least, is backed by the warmth of a southern wall; or that fruit of slower growth, as to which nature works without assistance, on which the sun operates in its own time,--or perhaps never operates if some ungenial shade has been allowed to interpose itself? The world, no doubt, is in favour of the forcing apparatus or of the southern wall. The fruit comes certainly, and at an assured period. It is spotless, speckless, and of a certain quality by no means despicable. The owner has it when he wants it, and it serves its turn. But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit,--is given in the sun's own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself. I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour. But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ball-room, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of beings, and especially eloquent among beautiful women. He enjoys all the triumphs of a Don Juan, without any of Don Juan's heartlessness, and is able to conquer in all encounters, through the force of his wit and the sweetness of his voice. But this eloquence is heard only by his own inner ears, and these triumphs are the triumphs of his imagination. The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys--a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large. He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement. Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy. And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself. Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London. We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him. But yet he was not without friends--friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare. And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoya herself. Mrs. Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire. He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty. He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story. With no other man had Mr. Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr. Eames died Mr. Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children. He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held. And Mrs. Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs. Dale. The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs. Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age. But Mrs. Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House. Mrs. Eames was a poor forlorn woman--forlorn even during the time of her husband's life, but very wobegone now in her widowhood. In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son. But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs. Eames held him in great awe. Mrs. Dale held her brother-in-law in no awe, and sometimes gave to the widow from Guestwick advice quite at variance to that given by the squire. In this way there had grown up an intimacy between Bell and Lily and the young Eames, and either of the girls was prepared to declare that Johnny Eames was her own and well-loved friend. Nevertheless, they spoke of him occasionally with some little dash of merriment--as is not unusual with pretty girls who have hobbledehoys among their intimate friends, and who are not themselves unaccustomed to the grace of an Apollo. I may as well announce at once that John Eames, when he went up to London, was absolutely and irretrievably in love with Lily Dale. He had declared his passion in the most moving language a hundred times; but he had declared it only to himself. He had written much poetry about Lily, but he kept his lines safe under double lock and key. When he gave the reins to his imagination, he flattered himself that he might win not only her but the world at large also by his verses; but he would have perished rather than exhibit them to human eye. During the last ten weeks of his life at Guestwick, while he was preparing for his career in London, he hung about Allington, walking over frequently and then walking back again; but all in vain. During these visits he would sit in Mrs. Dale's drawing-room, speaking but little, and addressing himself usually to the mother; but on each occasion, as he started on his long, hot walk, he resolved that he would say something by which Lily might know of his love. When he left for London that something had not been said. He had not dreamed of asking her to be his wife. John Eames was about to begin the world with eighty pounds a year, and an allowance of twenty more from his mother's purse. He was well aware that with such an income he could not establish himself as a married man in London, and he also felt that the man who might be fortunate enough to win Lily for his wife should be prepared to give her every soft luxury that the world could afford. He knew well that he ought not to expect any assurance of Lily's love; but, nevertheless, he thought it possible that he might give her an assurance of his love. It would probably be in vain. He had no real hope, unless when he was in one of those poetic moods. He had acknowledged to himself, in some indistinct way, that he was no more than a hobbledehoy, awkward, silent, ungainly, with a face unfinished, as it were, or unripe. All this he knew, and knew also that there were Apollos in the world

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years younger than her father's family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty; but if she can be young in spirit at forty, let her show that she is so. I think that Mrs. Dale was wrong. She would have joined that party on the croquet ground, instead of remaining among the pea-sticks in her sun-bonnet, had she done as I would have counselled her. Not a word was spoken among the four that she did not hear. Those pea-sticks were only removed from the lawn by a low wall and a few shrubs. She listened, not as one suspecting, but simply as one loving. The voices of her girls were very dear to her, and the silver ringing tones of Lily's tongue were as sweet to her ears as the music of the gods. She heard all that about Lady Hartletop, and shuddered at Lily's bold sarcasm. And she heard Lily say that mamma would stay at home and eat the peas, and said to herself sadly that that was now her lot in life. "Dear darling girl,--and so it should be!" It was thus her thoughts ran. And then, when her ear had traced them, as they passed across the little bridge into the other grounds, she returned across the lawn to the house with her burden on her arm, and sat herself down on the step of the drawing-room window, looking out on the sweet summer flowers and the smooth surface of the grass before her. Had not God done well for her to place her where she was? Had not her lines been set for her in pleasant places? Was she not happy in her girls,--her sweet, loving, trusting, trusty children? As it was to be that her lord, that best half of herself, was to be taken from her in early life, and that the springs of all the lighter pleasures were to be thus stopped for her, had it not been well that in her bereavement so much had been done to soften her lot in life and give it grace and beauty? 'Twas so, she argued with herself, and yet she acknowledged to herself that she was not happy. She had resolved, as she herself had said often, to put away childish things, and now she pined for those things which she so put from her. As she sat she could still hear Lily's voice as they went through the shrubbery,--hear it when none but a mother's ears would have distinguished the sound. Now that those young men were at the Great House it was natural that her girls should be there too. The squire would not have had young men to stay with him had there been no ladies to grace his table. But for her,--she knew that no one would want her there. Now and again she must go, as otherwise her very existence, without going, would be a thing disagreeably noticeable. But there was no other reason why she should join the party; nor in joining it would she either give or receive pleasure. Let her daughters eat from her brother's table and drink of his cup. They were made welcome to do so from the heart. For her there was no such welcome as that at the Great House,--nor at any other house, or any other table! "Mamma will stay at home to eat the peas." And then she repeated to herself the words which Lily had spoken, sitting there, leaning with her elbow on her knee, and her head upon her hand. "Please, ma'am, cook says, can we have the peas to shell?" and then her reverie was broken. [ILLUSTRATION: "Please, ma'am, can we have the peas to shell?"] Whereupon Mrs. Dale got up and gave over her basket. "Cook knows that the young ladies are going to dine at the Great House?" "Yes, ma'am." "She needn't mind getting dinner for me. I will have tea early." And so, after all, Mrs. Dale did not perform that special duty appointed for her. But she soon set herself to work upon another duty. When a family of three persons has to live upon an income of three hundred a year, and, nevertheless, makes some pretence of going into society, it has to be very mindful of small details, even though that family may consist only of ladies. Of this Mrs. Dale was well aware, and as it pleased her that her daughters should be nice and fresh, and pretty in their attire, many a long hour was given up to that care. The squire would send them shawls in winter, and had given them riding habits, and had sent them down brown silk for dresses from London,--so limited in quantity that the due manufacture of two dresses out of the material had been found to be beyond the art of woman, and the brown silk garments had been a difficulty from that day to this,--the squire having a good memory in such matters, and being anxious to see the fruits of his liberality. All this was doubtless of assistance, but had the squire given the amount which he so expended in money to his nieces, the benefit would have been greater. As it was, the girls were always nice and fresh and pretty, they themselves not being idle in that matter; but their tire-woman in chief was their mother. And now she went up to their room and got out their muslin frocks, and--but, perhaps, I should not tell such tales!--She, however, felt no shame in her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be. Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour. "Oh! mamma, how good you are," said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner. "Mamma is always good," said Lily. "I wish, mamma, I could do the same for you oftener," and then she kissed her mother. But the squire was exact about dinner, so they dressed themselves in haste, and went off again through the garden, their mother accompanying them to the little bridge. "Your uncle did not seem vexed at my not coming?" said Mrs. Dale. "We have not seen him, mamma," said Lily. "We have been ever so far down the fields, and forgot altogether what o'clock it was." "I don't think uncle Christopher was about the place, or we should have met him," said Bell. "But I am vexed with you, mamma. Are not you, Bell? It is very bad of you to stay here all alone, and not come." "I suppose mamma likes being at home better than up at the Great House," said Bell, very gently; and as she spoke she was holding her mother's hand. "Well; good-by, dears. I shall expect you between ten and eleven. But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone. The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run. And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps. She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls. But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them. She stood there, however, without advancing a step. She would not have Hopkins telling how she watched her daughters as they went from her own home to that of her brother-in-law. It was not within the capacity of Hopkins to understand why she watched them. "Well, girls, you're not much too soon. I think your mother might have come with you," said uncle Christopher. And this was the manner of the man. Had he known his own wishes he must have acknowledged to himself that he was better pleased that Mrs. Dale should stay away. He felt himself more absolutely master and more comfortably at home at his own table without her company than with it. And yet he frequently made a grievance of her not coming, and himself believed in that grievance. "I think mamma was tired," said Bell. "Hem. It's not so very far across from one house to the other. If I were to shut myself up whenever I'm tired-- But never mind. Let's go to dinner. Mr. Crosbie, will you take my niece Lilian." And then, offering his own arm to Bell, he walked off to the dining-room. "If he scolds mamma any more, I'll go away," said Lily to her companion; by which it may be seen that they had all become very intimate during the long day that they had passed together. Mrs. Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however, imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs. Dale was not above novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together. It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard, but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs. Dale was not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship; but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since; and during those years Mrs. Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him as he had been to her. But all this was very hard to bear. That her daughters should love their uncle was not only reasonable, but in every way desirable. He was not cold to them. To them he was generous and affectionate. If she were only out of the way, he would have taken them to his house as his own, and they would in all respects have stood before the world as his adopted children. Would it not be better if she were out of the way? It was only in her most dismal moods that this question would get itself asked within her mind, and then she would recover herself, and answer it stoutly with an indignant protest against her own morbid weakness. It would not be well that she should be away from her girls,--not though their uncle should have been twice a better uncle; not though, by her absence, they might become heiresses of all Allington. Was it not above everything to them that they should have a mother near them? And as she asked of herself that morbid question,--wickedly asked it, as she declared to herself,--did she not know that they loved her better than all the world beside, and would prefer her caresses and her care to the guardianship of any uncle, let his house be ever so great? As yet they loved her better than all the world beside. Of other love, should it come, she would not be jealous. And if it should come, and should be happy, might there not yet be a bright evening of life for herself? If they should marry, and if their lords would accept her love, her friendship, and her homage, she might yet escape from the deathlike coldness of that Great House, and be happy in some tiny cottage, from which she might go forth at times among those who would really welcome her. A certain doctor there was, living not very far from Allington, at Guestwick, as to whom she had once thought that he might fill that place of son-in-law,--to be well-beloved. Her quiet, beautiful Bell had seemed to like the man; and he had certainly done more than seem to like her. But now, for some weeks past, this hope, or rather this idea, had faded away. Mrs. Dale had never questioned her daughter on the matter; she was not a woman prone to put such questions. But during the month or two last past, she had seen with regret that Bell looked almost coldly on the man whom her mother favoured. In thinking of all this the long evening passed away, and at eleven o'clock she heard the coming steps across the garden. The young men had, of course, accompanied the girls home; and as she stepped out from the still open window of her own drawing-room, she saw them all on the centre of the lawn before her. "There's mamma," said Lily. "Mamma, Mr. Crosbie wants to play croquet by moonlight." "I don't think there is light enough for that," said Mrs. Dale. "There is light enough for him," said Lily, "for he plays quite independently of the hoops; don't you, Mr. Crosbie?" "There's very pretty croquet light, I should say," said Mr. Crosbie, looking up at the bright moon; "and then it is so stupid going to bed." "Yes, it is stupid going to bed," said Lily; "but people in the country are stupid, you know. Billiards, that you can play all night by gas, is much better, isn't it?" "Your arrows fall terribly astray there, Miss Dale, for I never touch a cue; you should talk to your cousin about billiards." "Is Bernard a great billiard player?" asked Bell. "Well, I do play now and again; about as well as Crosbie does croquet. Come, Crosbie, we'll go home and smoke a cigar." "Yes," said Lily; "and then, you know, we stupid people can go to bed. Mamma, I wish you had a little smoking-room here for us. I don't like being considered stupid." And then they parted,--the ladies going into the house, and the two men returning across the lawn. "Lily, my love," said Mrs. Dale, when they were all together in her bedroom, "it seems to me that you are very hard upon Mr. Crosbie." "She has been going on like that all the evening," said Bell. "I'm sure we are very good friends," said Lily. "Oh, very!" said Bell. "Now, Bell, you're jealous; you know you are." And then, seeing that her sister was in some slight degree vexed, she went up to her and kissed her. "She shan't be called jealous; shall she, mamma?" "I don't think she deserves it," said Mrs. Dale. "Now, you don't mean to say that you think I meant anything," said Lily. "As if I cared a buttercup about Mr. Crosbie." "Or I either, Lily." "Of course you don't. But I do care for him very much, mamma. He is such a duck of an Apollo. I shall always call him Apollo; Phoebus Apollo! And when I draw his picture he shall have a mallet in his hand instead of a bow. Upon my word I am very much obliged to Bernard for bringing him down here; and I do wish he was not going away the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow!" said Mrs. Dale. "It was hardly worth coming for two days." "No, it wasn't,--disturbing us all in our quiet little ways just for such a spell as that,--not giving one time even to count his rays." "But he says he shall perhaps come again," said Bell. "There is that hope for us," said Lily. "Uncle Christopher asked him to come down when he gets his long leave of absence. This is only a short sort of leave. He is better off than poor Johnny Eames. Johnny Eames only has a month, but Mr. Crosbie has two months just whenever he likes it; and seems to be pretty much his own master all the year round besides." "And uncle Christopher asked him to come down for the shooting in September," said Bell. "And though he didn't say he'd come I think he meant it," said Lily. "There is that hope for us, mamma." "Then you'll have to draw Apollo with a gun instead of a mallet." "That is the worst of it, mamma. We shan't see much of him or of Bernard either. They wouldn't let us go out into the woods as beaters, would they?" "You'd make too much noise to be of any use." "Should I? I thought the beaters had to shout at the birds. I should get very tired of shouting at birds, so I think I'll stay at home and look after my clothes." "I hope he will come, because uncle Christopher seems to like him so much," said Bell. "I wonder whether a certain gentleman at Guestwick will like his coming," said Lily. And then, as soon as she had spoken the words, she looked at her sister, and saw that she had grieved her. "Lily, you let your tongue run too fast," said Mrs. Dale. "I didn't mean anything, Bell," said Lily. "I beg your pardon." "It doesn't signify," said Bell. "Only Lily says things without thinking." And then that conversation came to an end, and nothing more was said among them beyond what appertained to their toilet, and a few last words at parting. But the two girls occupied the same room, and when their own door was closed upon them, Bell did allude to what had passed with some spirit. "Lily, you promised me," she said, "that you would not say anything more to me about Dr. Crofts." "I know I did, and I was very wrong. I beg your pardon, Bell; and I won't do it again,--not if I can help it." "Not help it, Lily!" "But I'm sure I don't know why I shouldn't speak of him,--only not in the way of laughing at you. Of all the men I ever saw in my life I like him best. And only that I love you better than I love myself I could find it in my heart to grudge you his--" "Lily, what did you promise just now?" "Well; after to-night. And I don't know why you should turn against him." "I have never turned against him or for him." "There's no turning about him. He'd give his left hand if you'd only smile on him. Or his right either,--and that's what I should like to see; so now you've heard it." "You know you are talking nonsense." "So I should like to see it. And so would mamma too, I'm sure; though I never heard her say a word about him. In my mind he's the finest fellow I ever saw. What's Mr. Apollo Crosbie to him? And now, as it makes you unhappy, I'll never say another word about him." As Bell wished her sister good-night with perhaps more than her usual affection, it was evident that Lily's words and eager tone had in some way pleased her, in spite of their opposition to the request which she had made. And Lily was aware that it was so. CHAPTER IV. MRS. ROPER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. [ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)] I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends. There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. They go much about alone, and blush when women speak to them. In truth, they are not as yet men, whatever the number may be of their years; and, as they are no longer boys, the world has found for them the ungraceful name of hobbledehoy. Such observations, however, as I have been enabled to make on this matter have led me to believe that the hobbledehoy is by no means the least valuable species of the human race. When I compare the hobbledehoy of one or two and twenty to some finished Apollo of the same age, I regard the former as unripe fruit, and the latter as fruit that is ripe. Then comes the question as to the two fruits. Which is the better fruit, that which ripens early--which is, perhaps, favoured with some little forcing apparatus, or which, at least, is backed by the warmth of a southern wall; or that fruit of slower growth, as to which nature works without assistance, on which the sun operates in its own time,--or perhaps never operates if some ungenial shade has been allowed to interpose itself? The world, no doubt, is in favour of the forcing apparatus or of the southern wall. The fruit comes certainly, and at an assured period. It is spotless, speckless, and of a certain quality by no means despicable. The owner has it when he wants it, and it serves its turn. But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit,--is given in the sun's own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself. I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour. But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ball-room, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of beings, and especially eloquent among beautiful women. He enjoys all the triumphs of a Don Juan, without any of Don Juan's heartlessness, and is able to conquer in all encounters, through the force of his wit and the sweetness of his voice. But this eloquence is heard only by his own inner ears, and these triumphs are the triumphs of his imagination. The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys--a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large. He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement. Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy. And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself. Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London. We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him. But yet he was not without friends--friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare. And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoya herself. Mrs. Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire. He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty. He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story. With no other man had Mr. Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr. Eames died Mr. Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children. He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held. And Mrs. Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs. Dale. The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs. Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age. But Mrs. Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House. Mrs. Eames was a poor forlorn woman--forlorn even during the time of her husband's life, but very wobegone now in her widowhood. In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son. But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs. Eames held him in great awe. Mrs. Dale held her brother-in-law in no awe, and sometimes gave to the widow from Guestwick advice quite at variance to that given by the squire. In this way there had grown up an intimacy between Bell and Lily and the young Eames, and either of the girls was prepared to declare that Johnny Eames was her own and well-loved friend. Nevertheless, they spoke of him occasionally with some little dash of merriment--as is not unusual with pretty girls who have hobbledehoys among their intimate friends, and who are not themselves unaccustomed to the grace of an Apollo. I may as well announce at once that John Eames, when he went up to London, was absolutely and irretrievably in love with Lily Dale. He had declared his passion in the most moving language a hundred times; but he had declared it only to himself. He had written much poetry about Lily, but he kept his lines safe under double lock and key. When he gave the reins to his imagination, he flattered himself that he might win not only her but the world at large also by his verses; but he would have perished rather than exhibit them to human eye. During the last ten weeks of his life at Guestwick, while he was preparing for his career in London, he hung about Allington, walking over frequently and then walking back again; but all in vain. During these visits he would sit in Mrs. Dale's drawing-room, speaking but little, and addressing himself usually to the mother; but on each occasion, as he started on his long, hot walk, he resolved that he would say something by which Lily might know of his love. When he left for London that something had not been said. He had not dreamed of asking her to be his wife. John Eames was about to begin the world with eighty pounds a year, and an allowance of twenty more from his mother's purse. He was well aware that with such an income he could not establish himself as a married man in London, and he also felt that the man who might be fortunate enough to win Lily for his wife should be prepared to give her every soft luxury that the world could afford. He knew well that he ought not to expect any assurance of Lily's love; but, nevertheless, he thought it possible that he might give her an assurance of his love. It would probably be in vain. He had no real hope, unless when he was in one of those poetic moods. He had acknowledged to himself, in some indistinct way, that he was no more than a hobbledehoy, awkward, silent, ungainly, with a face unfinished, as it were, or unripe. All this he knew, and knew also that there were Apollos in the world

smoke

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years younger than her father's family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty; but if she can be young in spirit at forty, let her show that she is so. I think that Mrs. Dale was wrong. She would have joined that party on the croquet ground, instead of remaining among the pea-sticks in her sun-bonnet, had she done as I would have counselled her. Not a word was spoken among the four that she did not hear. Those pea-sticks were only removed from the lawn by a low wall and a few shrubs. She listened, not as one suspecting, but simply as one loving. The voices of her girls were very dear to her, and the silver ringing tones of Lily's tongue were as sweet to her ears as the music of the gods. She heard all that about Lady Hartletop, and shuddered at Lily's bold sarcasm. And she heard Lily say that mamma would stay at home and eat the peas, and said to herself sadly that that was now her lot in life. "Dear darling girl,--and so it should be!" It was thus her thoughts ran. And then, when her ear had traced them, as they passed across the little bridge into the other grounds, she returned across the lawn to the house with her burden on her arm, and sat herself down on the step of the drawing-room window, looking out on the sweet summer flowers and the smooth surface of the grass before her. Had not God done well for her to place her where she was? Had not her lines been set for her in pleasant places? Was she not happy in her girls,--her sweet, loving, trusting, trusty children? As it was to be that her lord, that best half of herself, was to be taken from her in early life, and that the springs of all the lighter pleasures were to be thus stopped for her, had it not been well that in her bereavement so much had been done to soften her lot in life and give it grace and beauty? 'Twas so, she argued with herself, and yet she acknowledged to herself that she was not happy. She had resolved, as she herself had said often, to put away childish things, and now she pined for those things which she so put from her. As she sat she could still hear Lily's voice as they went through the shrubbery,--hear it when none but a mother's ears would have distinguished the sound. Now that those young men were at the Great House it was natural that her girls should be there too. The squire would not have had young men to stay with him had there been no ladies to grace his table. But for her,--she knew that no one would want her there. Now and again she must go, as otherwise her very existence, without going, would be a thing disagreeably noticeable. But there was no other reason why she should join the party; nor in joining it would she either give or receive pleasure. Let her daughters eat from her brother's table and drink of his cup. They were made welcome to do so from the heart. For her there was no such welcome as that at the Great House,--nor at any other house, or any other table! "Mamma will stay at home to eat the peas." And then she repeated to herself the words which Lily had spoken, sitting there, leaning with her elbow on her knee, and her head upon her hand. "Please, ma'am, cook says, can we have the peas to shell?" and then her reverie was broken. [ILLUSTRATION: "Please, ma'am, can we have the peas to shell?"] Whereupon Mrs. Dale got up and gave over her basket. "Cook knows that the young ladies are going to dine at the Great House?" "Yes, ma'am." "She needn't mind getting dinner for me. I will have tea early." And so, after all, Mrs. Dale did not perform that special duty appointed for her. But she soon set herself to work upon another duty. When a family of three persons has to live upon an income of three hundred a year, and, nevertheless, makes some pretence of going into society, it has to be very mindful of small details, even though that family may consist only of ladies. Of this Mrs. Dale was well aware, and as it pleased her that her daughters should be nice and fresh, and pretty in their attire, many a long hour was given up to that care. The squire would send them shawls in winter, and had given them riding habits, and had sent them down brown silk for dresses from London,--so limited in quantity that the due manufacture of two dresses out of the material had been found to be beyond the art of woman, and the brown silk garments had been a difficulty from that day to this,--the squire having a good memory in such matters, and being anxious to see the fruits of his liberality. All this was doubtless of assistance, but had the squire given the amount which he so expended in money to his nieces, the benefit would have been greater. As it was, the girls were always nice and fresh and pretty, they themselves not being idle in that matter; but their tire-woman in chief was their mother. And now she went up to their room and got out their muslin frocks, and--but, perhaps, I should not tell such tales!--She, however, felt no shame in her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be. Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour. "Oh! mamma, how good you are," said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner. "Mamma is always good," said Lily. "I wish, mamma, I could do the same for you oftener," and then she kissed her mother. But the squire was exact about dinner, so they dressed themselves in haste, and went off again through the garden, their mother accompanying them to the little bridge. "Your uncle did not seem vexed at my not coming?" said Mrs. Dale. "We have not seen him, mamma," said Lily. "We have been ever so far down the fields, and forgot altogether what o'clock it was." "I don't think uncle Christopher was about the place, or we should have met him," said Bell. "But I am vexed with you, mamma. Are not you, Bell? It is very bad of you to stay here all alone, and not come." "I suppose mamma likes being at home better than up at the Great House," said Bell, very gently; and as she spoke she was holding her mother's hand. "Well; good-by, dears. I shall expect you between ten and eleven. But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone. The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run. And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps. She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls. But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them. She stood there, however, without advancing a step. She would not have Hopkins telling how she watched her daughters as they went from her own home to that of her brother-in-law. It was not within the capacity of Hopkins to understand why she watched them. "Well, girls, you're not much too soon. I think your mother might have come with you," said uncle Christopher. And this was the manner of the man. Had he known his own wishes he must have acknowledged to himself that he was better pleased that Mrs. Dale should stay away. He felt himself more absolutely master and more comfortably at home at his own table without her company than with it. And yet he frequently made a grievance of her not coming, and himself believed in that grievance. "I think mamma was tired," said Bell. "Hem. It's not so very far across from one house to the other. If I were to shut myself up whenever I'm tired-- But never mind. Let's go to dinner. Mr. Crosbie, will you take my niece Lilian." And then, offering his own arm to Bell, he walked off to the dining-room. "If he scolds mamma any more, I'll go away," said Lily to her companion; by which it may be seen that they had all become very intimate during the long day that they had passed together. Mrs. Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however, imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs. Dale was not above novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together. It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard, but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs. Dale was not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship; but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since; and during those years Mrs. Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him as he had been to her. But all this was very hard to bear. That her daughters should love their uncle was not only reasonable, but in every way desirable. He was not cold to them. To them he was generous and affectionate. If she were only out of the way, he would have taken them to his house as his own, and they would in all respects have stood before the world as his adopted children. Would it not be better if she were out of the way? It was only in her most dismal moods that this question would get itself asked within her mind, and then she would recover herself, and answer it stoutly with an indignant protest against her own morbid weakness. It would not be well that she should be away from her girls,--not though their uncle should have been twice a better uncle; not though, by her absence, they might become heiresses of all Allington. Was it not above everything to them that they should have a mother near them? And as she asked of herself that morbid question,--wickedly asked it, as she declared to herself,--did she not know that they loved her better than all the world beside, and would prefer her caresses and her care to the guardianship of any uncle, let his house be ever so great? As yet they loved her better than all the world beside. Of other love, should it come, she would not be jealous. And if it should come, and should be happy, might there not yet be a bright evening of life for herself? If they should marry, and if their lords would accept her love, her friendship, and her homage, she might yet escape from the deathlike coldness of that Great House, and be happy in some tiny cottage, from which she might go forth at times among those who would really welcome her. A certain doctor there was, living not very far from Allington, at Guestwick, as to whom she had once thought that he might fill that place of son-in-law,--to be well-beloved. Her quiet, beautiful Bell had seemed to like the man; and he had certainly done more than seem to like her. But now, for some weeks past, this hope, or rather this idea, had faded away. Mrs. Dale had never questioned her daughter on the matter; she was not a woman prone to put such questions. But during the month or two last past, she had seen with regret that Bell looked almost coldly on the man whom her mother favoured. In thinking of all this the long evening passed away, and at eleven o'clock she heard the coming steps across the garden. The young men had, of course, accompanied the girls home; and as she stepped out from the still open window of her own drawing-room, she saw them all on the centre of the lawn before her. "There's mamma," said Lily. "Mamma, Mr. Crosbie wants to play croquet by moonlight." "I don't think there is light enough for that," said Mrs. Dale. "There is light enough for him," said Lily, "for he plays quite independently of the hoops; don't you, Mr. Crosbie?" "There's very pretty croquet light, I should say," said Mr. Crosbie, looking up at the bright moon; "and then it is so stupid going to bed." "Yes, it is stupid going to bed," said Lily; "but people in the country are stupid, you know. Billiards, that you can play all night by gas, is much better, isn't it?" "Your arrows fall terribly astray there, Miss Dale, for I never touch a cue; you should talk to your cousin about billiards." "Is Bernard a great billiard player?" asked Bell. "Well, I do play now and again; about as well as Crosbie does croquet. Come, Crosbie, we'll go home and smoke a cigar." "Yes," said Lily; "and then, you know, we stupid people can go to bed. Mamma, I wish you had a little smoking-room here for us. I don't like being considered stupid." And then they parted,--the ladies going into the house, and the two men returning across the lawn. "Lily, my love," said Mrs. Dale, when they were all together in her bedroom, "it seems to me that you are very hard upon Mr. Crosbie." "She has been going on like that all the evening," said Bell. "I'm sure we are very good friends," said Lily. "Oh, very!" said Bell. "Now, Bell, you're jealous; you know you are." And then, seeing that her sister was in some slight degree vexed, she went up to her and kissed her. "She shan't be called jealous; shall she, mamma?" "I don't think she deserves it," said Mrs. Dale. "Now, you don't mean to say that you think I meant anything," said Lily. "As if I cared a buttercup about Mr. Crosbie." "Or I either, Lily." "Of course you don't. But I do care for him very much, mamma. He is such a duck of an Apollo. I shall always call him Apollo; Phoebus Apollo! And when I draw his picture he shall have a mallet in his hand instead of a bow. Upon my word I am very much obliged to Bernard for bringing him down here; and I do wish he was not going away the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow!" said Mrs. Dale. "It was hardly worth coming for two days." "No, it wasn't,--disturbing us all in our quiet little ways just for such a spell as that,--not giving one time even to count his rays." "But he says he shall perhaps come again," said Bell. "There is that hope for us," said Lily. "Uncle Christopher asked him to come down when he gets his long leave of absence. This is only a short sort of leave. He is better off than poor Johnny Eames. Johnny Eames only has a month, but Mr. Crosbie has two months just whenever he likes it; and seems to be pretty much his own master all the year round besides." "And uncle Christopher asked him to come down for the shooting in September," said Bell. "And though he didn't say he'd come I think he meant it," said Lily. "There is that hope for us, mamma." "Then you'll have to draw Apollo with a gun instead of a mallet." "That is the worst of it, mamma. We shan't see much of him or of Bernard either. They wouldn't let us go out into the woods as beaters, would they?" "You'd make too much noise to be of any use." "Should I? I thought the beaters had to shout at the birds. I should get very tired of shouting at birds, so I think I'll stay at home and look after my clothes." "I hope he will come, because uncle Christopher seems to like him so much," said Bell. "I wonder whether a certain gentleman at Guestwick will like his coming," said Lily. And then, as soon as she had spoken the words, she looked at her sister, and saw that she had grieved her. "Lily, you let your tongue run too fast," said Mrs. Dale. "I didn't mean anything, Bell," said Lily. "I beg your pardon." "It doesn't signify," said Bell. "Only Lily says things without thinking." And then that conversation came to an end, and nothing more was said among them beyond what appertained to their toilet, and a few last words at parting. But the two girls occupied the same room, and when their own door was closed upon them, Bell did allude to what had passed with some spirit. "Lily, you promised me," she said, "that you would not say anything more to me about Dr. Crofts." "I know I did, and I was very wrong. I beg your pardon, Bell; and I won't do it again,--not if I can help it." "Not help it, Lily!" "But I'm sure I don't know why I shouldn't speak of him,--only not in the way of laughing at you. Of all the men I ever saw in my life I like him best. And only that I love you better than I love myself I could find it in my heart to grudge you his--" "Lily, what did you promise just now?" "Well; after to-night. And I don't know why you should turn against him." "I have never turned against him or for him." "There's no turning about him. He'd give his left hand if you'd only smile on him. Or his right either,--and that's what I should like to see; so now you've heard it." "You know you are talking nonsense." "So I should like to see it. And so would mamma too, I'm sure; though I never heard her say a word about him. In my mind he's the finest fellow I ever saw. What's Mr. Apollo Crosbie to him? And now, as it makes you unhappy, I'll never say another word about him." As Bell wished her sister good-night with perhaps more than her usual affection, it was evident that Lily's words and eager tone had in some way pleased her, in spite of their opposition to the request which she had made. And Lily was aware that it was so. CHAPTER IV. MRS. ROPER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. [ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)] I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends. There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. They go much about alone, and blush when women speak to them. In truth, they are not as yet men, whatever the number may be of their years; and, as they are no longer boys, the world has found for them the ungraceful name of hobbledehoy. Such observations, however, as I have been enabled to make on this matter have led me to believe that the hobbledehoy is by no means the least valuable species of the human race. When I compare the hobbledehoy of one or two and twenty to some finished Apollo of the same age, I regard the former as unripe fruit, and the latter as fruit that is ripe. Then comes the question as to the two fruits. Which is the better fruit, that which ripens early--which is, perhaps, favoured with some little forcing apparatus, or which, at least, is backed by the warmth of a southern wall; or that fruit of slower growth, as to which nature works without assistance, on which the sun operates in its own time,--or perhaps never operates if some ungenial shade has been allowed to interpose itself? The world, no doubt, is in favour of the forcing apparatus or of the southern wall. The fruit comes certainly, and at an assured period. It is spotless, speckless, and of a certain quality by no means despicable. The owner has it when he wants it, and it serves its turn. But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit,--is given in the sun's own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself. I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour. But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ball-room, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of beings, and especially eloquent among beautiful women. He enjoys all the triumphs of a Don Juan, without any of Don Juan's heartlessness, and is able to conquer in all encounters, through the force of his wit and the sweetness of his voice. But this eloquence is heard only by his own inner ears, and these triumphs are the triumphs of his imagination. The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys--a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large. He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement. Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy. And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself. Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London. We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him. But yet he was not without friends--friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare. And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoya herself. Mrs. Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire. He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty. He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story. With no other man had Mr. Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr. Eames died Mr. Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children. He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held. And Mrs. Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs. Dale. The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs. Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age. But Mrs. Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House. Mrs. Eames was a poor forlorn woman--forlorn even during the time of her husband's life, but very wobegone now in her widowhood. In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son. But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs. Eames held him in great awe. Mrs. Dale held her brother-in-law in no awe, and sometimes gave to the widow from Guestwick advice quite at variance to that given by the squire. In this way there had grown up an intimacy between Bell and Lily and the young Eames, and either of the girls was prepared to declare that Johnny Eames was her own and well-loved friend. Nevertheless, they spoke of him occasionally with some little dash of merriment--as is not unusual with pretty girls who have hobbledehoys among their intimate friends, and who are not themselves unaccustomed to the grace of an Apollo. I may as well announce at once that John Eames, when he went up to London, was absolutely and irretrievably in love with Lily Dale. He had declared his passion in the most moving language a hundred times; but he had declared it only to himself. He had written much poetry about Lily, but he kept his lines safe under double lock and key. When he gave the reins to his imagination, he flattered himself that he might win not only her but the world at large also by his verses; but he would have perished rather than exhibit them to human eye. During the last ten weeks of his life at Guestwick, while he was preparing for his career in London, he hung about Allington, walking over frequently and then walking back again; but all in vain. During these visits he would sit in Mrs. Dale's drawing-room, speaking but little, and addressing himself usually to the mother; but on each occasion, as he started on his long, hot walk, he resolved that he would say something by which Lily might know of his love. When he left for London that something had not been said. He had not dreamed of asking her to be his wife. John Eames was about to begin the world with eighty pounds a year, and an allowance of twenty more from his mother's purse. He was well aware that with such an income he could not establish himself as a married man in London, and he also felt that the man who might be fortunate enough to win Lily for his wife should be prepared to give her every soft luxury that the world could afford. He knew well that he ought not to expect any assurance of Lily's love; but, nevertheless, he thought it possible that he might give her an assurance of his love. It would probably be in vain. He had no real hope, unless when he was in one of those poetic moods. He had acknowledged to himself, in some indistinct way, that he was no more than a hobbledehoy, awkward, silent, ungainly, with a face unfinished, as it were, or unripe. All this he knew, and knew also that there were Apollos in the world

sat

How many times the word 'sat' appears in the text?

years younger than her father's family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty; but if she can be young in spirit at forty, let her show that she is so. I think that Mrs. Dale was wrong. She would have joined that party on the croquet ground, instead of remaining among the pea-sticks in her sun-bonnet, had she done as I would have counselled her. Not a word was spoken among the four that she did not hear. Those pea-sticks were only removed from the lawn by a low wall and a few shrubs. She listened, not as one suspecting, but simply as one loving. The voices of her girls were very dear to her, and the silver ringing tones of Lily's tongue were as sweet to her ears as the music of the gods. She heard all that about Lady Hartletop, and shuddered at Lily's bold sarcasm. And she heard Lily say that mamma would stay at home and eat the peas, and said to herself sadly that that was now her lot in life. "Dear darling girl,--and so it should be!" It was thus her thoughts ran. And then, when her ear had traced them, as they passed across the little bridge into the other grounds, she returned across the lawn to the house with her burden on her arm, and sat herself down on the step of the drawing-room window, looking out on the sweet summer flowers and the smooth surface of the grass before her. Had not God done well for her to place her where she was? Had not her lines been set for her in pleasant places? Was she not happy in her girls,--her sweet, loving, trusting, trusty children? As it was to be that her lord, that best half of herself, was to be taken from her in early life, and that the springs of all the lighter pleasures were to be thus stopped for her, had it not been well that in her bereavement so much had been done to soften her lot in life and give it grace and beauty? 'Twas so, she argued with herself, and yet she acknowledged to herself that she was not happy. She had resolved, as she herself had said often, to put away childish things, and now she pined for those things which she so put from her. As she sat she could still hear Lily's voice as they went through the shrubbery,--hear it when none but a mother's ears would have distinguished the sound. Now that those young men were at the Great House it was natural that her girls should be there too. The squire would not have had young men to stay with him had there been no ladies to grace his table. But for her,--she knew that no one would want her there. Now and again she must go, as otherwise her very existence, without going, would be a thing disagreeably noticeable. But there was no other reason why she should join the party; nor in joining it would she either give or receive pleasure. Let her daughters eat from her brother's table and drink of his cup. They were made welcome to do so from the heart. For her there was no such welcome as that at the Great House,--nor at any other house, or any other table! "Mamma will stay at home to eat the peas." And then she repeated to herself the words which Lily had spoken, sitting there, leaning with her elbow on her knee, and her head upon her hand. "Please, ma'am, cook says, can we have the peas to shell?" and then her reverie was broken. [ILLUSTRATION: "Please, ma'am, can we have the peas to shell?"] Whereupon Mrs. Dale got up and gave over her basket. "Cook knows that the young ladies are going to dine at the Great House?" "Yes, ma'am." "She needn't mind getting dinner for me. I will have tea early." And so, after all, Mrs. Dale did not perform that special duty appointed for her. But she soon set herself to work upon another duty. When a family of three persons has to live upon an income of three hundred a year, and, nevertheless, makes some pretence of going into society, it has to be very mindful of small details, even though that family may consist only of ladies. Of this Mrs. Dale was well aware, and as it pleased her that her daughters should be nice and fresh, and pretty in their attire, many a long hour was given up to that care. The squire would send them shawls in winter, and had given them riding habits, and had sent them down brown silk for dresses from London,--so limited in quantity that the due manufacture of two dresses out of the material had been found to be beyond the art of woman, and the brown silk garments had been a difficulty from that day to this,--the squire having a good memory in such matters, and being anxious to see the fruits of his liberality. All this was doubtless of assistance, but had the squire given the amount which he so expended in money to his nieces, the benefit would have been greater. As it was, the girls were always nice and fresh and pretty, they themselves not being idle in that matter; but their tire-woman in chief was their mother. And now she went up to their room and got out their muslin frocks, and--but, perhaps, I should not tell such tales!--She, however, felt no shame in her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be. Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour. "Oh! mamma, how good you are," said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner. "Mamma is always good," said Lily. "I wish, mamma, I could do the same for you oftener," and then she kissed her mother. But the squire was exact about dinner, so they dressed themselves in haste, and went off again through the garden, their mother accompanying them to the little bridge. "Your uncle did not seem vexed at my not coming?" said Mrs. Dale. "We have not seen him, mamma," said Lily. "We have been ever so far down the fields, and forgot altogether what o'clock it was." "I don't think uncle Christopher was about the place, or we should have met him," said Bell. "But I am vexed with you, mamma. Are not you, Bell? It is very bad of you to stay here all alone, and not come." "I suppose mamma likes being at home better than up at the Great House," said Bell, very gently; and as she spoke she was holding her mother's hand. "Well; good-by, dears. I shall expect you between ten and eleven. But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone. The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run. And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps. She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls. But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them. She stood there, however, without advancing a step. She would not have Hopkins telling how she watched her daughters as they went from her own home to that of her brother-in-law. It was not within the capacity of Hopkins to understand why she watched them. "Well, girls, you're not much too soon. I think your mother might have come with you," said uncle Christopher. And this was the manner of the man. Had he known his own wishes he must have acknowledged to himself that he was better pleased that Mrs. Dale should stay away. He felt himself more absolutely master and more comfortably at home at his own table without her company than with it. And yet he frequently made a grievance of her not coming, and himself believed in that grievance. "I think mamma was tired," said Bell. "Hem. It's not so very far across from one house to the other. If I were to shut myself up whenever I'm tired-- But never mind. Let's go to dinner. Mr. Crosbie, will you take my niece Lilian." And then, offering his own arm to Bell, he walked off to the dining-room. "If he scolds mamma any more, I'll go away," said Lily to her companion; by which it may be seen that they had all become very intimate during the long day that they had passed together. Mrs. Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however, imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs. Dale was not above novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together. It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard, but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs. Dale was not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship; but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since; and during those years Mrs. Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him as he had been to her. But all this was very hard to bear. That her daughters should love their uncle was not only reasonable, but in every way desirable. He was not cold to them. To them he was generous and affectionate. If she were only out of the way, he would have taken them to his house as his own, and they would in all respects have stood before the world as his adopted children. Would it not be better if she were out of the way? It was only in her most dismal moods that this question would get itself asked within her mind, and then she would recover herself, and answer it stoutly with an indignant protest against her own morbid weakness. It would not be well that she should be away from her girls,--not though their uncle should have been twice a better uncle; not though, by her absence, they might become heiresses of all Allington. Was it not above everything to them that they should have a mother near them? And as she asked of herself that morbid question,--wickedly asked it, as she declared to herself,--did she not know that they loved her better than all the world beside, and would prefer her caresses and her care to the guardianship of any uncle, let his house be ever so great? As yet they loved her better than all the world beside. Of other love, should it come, she would not be jealous. And if it should come, and should be happy, might there not yet be a bright evening of life for herself? If they should marry, and if their lords would accept her love, her friendship, and her homage, she might yet escape from the deathlike coldness of that Great House, and be happy in some tiny cottage, from which she might go forth at times among those who would really welcome her. A certain doctor there was, living not very far from Allington, at Guestwick, as to whom she had once thought that he might fill that place of son-in-law,--to be well-beloved. Her quiet, beautiful Bell had seemed to like the man; and he had certainly done more than seem to like her. But now, for some weeks past, this hope, or rather this idea, had faded away. Mrs. Dale had never questioned her daughter on the matter; she was not a woman prone to put such questions. But during the month or two last past, she had seen with regret that Bell looked almost coldly on the man whom her mother favoured. In thinking of all this the long evening passed away, and at eleven o'clock she heard the coming steps across the garden. The young men had, of course, accompanied the girls home; and as she stepped out from the still open window of her own drawing-room, she saw them all on the centre of the lawn before her. "There's mamma," said Lily. "Mamma, Mr. Crosbie wants to play croquet by moonlight." "I don't think there is light enough for that," said Mrs. Dale. "There is light enough for him," said Lily, "for he plays quite independently of the hoops; don't you, Mr. Crosbie?" "There's very pretty croquet light, I should say," said Mr. Crosbie, looking up at the bright moon; "and then it is so stupid going to bed." "Yes, it is stupid going to bed," said Lily; "but people in the country are stupid, you know. Billiards, that you can play all night by gas, is much better, isn't it?" "Your arrows fall terribly astray there, Miss Dale, for I never touch a cue; you should talk to your cousin about billiards." "Is Bernard a great billiard player?" asked Bell. "Well, I do play now and again; about as well as Crosbie does croquet. Come, Crosbie, we'll go home and smoke a cigar." "Yes," said Lily; "and then, you know, we stupid people can go to bed. Mamma, I wish you had a little smoking-room here for us. I don't like being considered stupid." And then they parted,--the ladies going into the house, and the two men returning across the lawn. "Lily, my love," said Mrs. Dale, when they were all together in her bedroom, "it seems to me that you are very hard upon Mr. Crosbie." "She has been going on like that all the evening," said Bell. "I'm sure we are very good friends," said Lily. "Oh, very!" said Bell. "Now, Bell, you're jealous; you know you are." And then, seeing that her sister was in some slight degree vexed, she went up to her and kissed her. "She shan't be called jealous; shall she, mamma?" "I don't think she deserves it," said Mrs. Dale. "Now, you don't mean to say that you think I meant anything," said Lily. "As if I cared a buttercup about Mr. Crosbie." "Or I either, Lily." "Of course you don't. But I do care for him very much, mamma. He is such a duck of an Apollo. I shall always call him Apollo; Phoebus Apollo! And when I draw his picture he shall have a mallet in his hand instead of a bow. Upon my word I am very much obliged to Bernard for bringing him down here; and I do wish he was not going away the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow!" said Mrs. Dale. "It was hardly worth coming for two days." "No, it wasn't,--disturbing us all in our quiet little ways just for such a spell as that,--not giving one time even to count his rays." "But he says he shall perhaps come again," said Bell. "There is that hope for us," said Lily. "Uncle Christopher asked him to come down when he gets his long leave of absence. This is only a short sort of leave. He is better off than poor Johnny Eames. Johnny Eames only has a month, but Mr. Crosbie has two months just whenever he likes it; and seems to be pretty much his own master all the year round besides." "And uncle Christopher asked him to come down for the shooting in September," said Bell. "And though he didn't say he'd come I think he meant it," said Lily. "There is that hope for us, mamma." "Then you'll have to draw Apollo with a gun instead of a mallet." "That is the worst of it, mamma. We shan't see much of him or of Bernard either. They wouldn't let us go out into the woods as beaters, would they?" "You'd make too much noise to be of any use." "Should I? I thought the beaters had to shout at the birds. I should get very tired of shouting at birds, so I think I'll stay at home and look after my clothes." "I hope he will come, because uncle Christopher seems to like him so much," said Bell. "I wonder whether a certain gentleman at Guestwick will like his coming," said Lily. And then, as soon as she had spoken the words, she looked at her sister, and saw that she had grieved her. "Lily, you let your tongue run too fast," said Mrs. Dale. "I didn't mean anything, Bell," said Lily. "I beg your pardon." "It doesn't signify," said Bell. "Only Lily says things without thinking." And then that conversation came to an end, and nothing more was said among them beyond what appertained to their toilet, and a few last words at parting. But the two girls occupied the same room, and when their own door was closed upon them, Bell did allude to what had passed with some spirit. "Lily, you promised me," she said, "that you would not say anything more to me about Dr. Crofts." "I know I did, and I was very wrong. I beg your pardon, Bell; and I won't do it again,--not if I can help it." "Not help it, Lily!" "But I'm sure I don't know why I shouldn't speak of him,--only not in the way of laughing at you. Of all the men I ever saw in my life I like him best. And only that I love you better than I love myself I could find it in my heart to grudge you his--" "Lily, what did you promise just now?" "Well; after to-night. And I don't know why you should turn against him." "I have never turned against him or for him." "There's no turning about him. He'd give his left hand if you'd only smile on him. Or his right either,--and that's what I should like to see; so now you've heard it." "You know you are talking nonsense." "So I should like to see it. And so would mamma too, I'm sure; though I never heard her say a word about him. In my mind he's the finest fellow I ever saw. What's Mr. Apollo Crosbie to him? And now, as it makes you unhappy, I'll never say another word about him." As Bell wished her sister good-night with perhaps more than her usual affection, it was evident that Lily's words and eager tone had in some way pleased her, in spite of their opposition to the request which she had made. And Lily was aware that it was so. CHAPTER IV. MRS. ROPER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. [ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)] I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends. There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. They go much about alone, and blush when women speak to them. In truth, they are not as yet men, whatever the number may be of their years; and, as they are no longer boys, the world has found for them the ungraceful name of hobbledehoy. Such observations, however, as I have been enabled to make on this matter have led me to believe that the hobbledehoy is by no means the least valuable species of the human race. When I compare the hobbledehoy of one or two and twenty to some finished Apollo of the same age, I regard the former as unripe fruit, and the latter as fruit that is ripe. Then comes the question as to the two fruits. Which is the better fruit, that which ripens early--which is, perhaps, favoured with some little forcing apparatus, or which, at least, is backed by the warmth of a southern wall; or that fruit of slower growth, as to which nature works without assistance, on which the sun operates in its own time,--or perhaps never operates if some ungenial shade has been allowed to interpose itself? The world, no doubt, is in favour of the forcing apparatus or of the southern wall. The fruit comes certainly, and at an assured period. It is spotless, speckless, and of a certain quality by no means despicable. The owner has it when he wants it, and it serves its turn. But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit,--is given in the sun's own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself. I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour. But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ball-room, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of beings, and especially eloquent among beautiful women. He enjoys all the triumphs of a Don Juan, without any of Don Juan's heartlessness, and is able to conquer in all encounters, through the force of his wit and the sweetness of his voice. But this eloquence is heard only by his own inner ears, and these triumphs are the triumphs of his imagination. The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys--a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large. He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement. Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy. And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself. Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London. We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him. But yet he was not without friends--friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare. And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoya herself. Mrs. Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire. He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty. He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story. With no other man had Mr. Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr. Eames died Mr. Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children. He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held. And Mrs. Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs. Dale. The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs. Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age. But Mrs. Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House. Mrs. Eames was a poor forlorn woman--forlorn even during the time of her husband's life, but very wobegone now in her widowhood. In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son. But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs. Eames held him in great awe. Mrs. Dale held her brother-in-law in no awe, and sometimes gave to the widow from Guestwick advice quite at variance to that given by the squire. In this way there had grown up an intimacy between Bell and Lily and the young Eames, and either of the girls was prepared to declare that Johnny Eames was her own and well-loved friend. Nevertheless, they spoke of him occasionally with some little dash of merriment--as is not unusual with pretty girls who have hobbledehoys among their intimate friends, and who are not themselves unaccustomed to the grace of an Apollo. I may as well announce at once that John Eames, when he went up to London, was absolutely and irretrievably in love with Lily Dale. He had declared his passion in the most moving language a hundred times; but he had declared it only to himself. He had written much poetry about Lily, but he kept his lines safe under double lock and key. When he gave the reins to his imagination, he flattered himself that he might win not only her but the world at large also by his verses; but he would have perished rather than exhibit them to human eye. During the last ten weeks of his life at Guestwick, while he was preparing for his career in London, he hung about Allington, walking over frequently and then walking back again; but all in vain. During these visits he would sit in Mrs. Dale's drawing-room, speaking but little, and addressing himself usually to the mother; but on each occasion, as he started on his long, hot walk, he resolved that he would say something by which Lily might know of his love. When he left for London that something had not been said. He had not dreamed of asking her to be his wife. John Eames was about to begin the world with eighty pounds a year, and an allowance of twenty more from his mother's purse. He was well aware that with such an income he could not establish himself as a married man in London, and he also felt that the man who might be fortunate enough to win Lily for his wife should be prepared to give her every soft luxury that the world could afford. He knew well that he ought not to expect any assurance of Lily's love; but, nevertheless, he thought it possible that he might give her an assurance of his love. It would probably be in vain. He had no real hope, unless when he was in one of those poetic moods. He had acknowledged to himself, in some indistinct way, that he was no more than a hobbledehoy, awkward, silent, ungainly, with a face unfinished, as it were, or unripe. All this he knew, and knew also that there were Apollos in the world

september

How many times the word 'september' appears in the text?

years younger than her father's family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty; but if she can be young in spirit at forty, let her show that she is so. I think that Mrs. Dale was wrong. She would have joined that party on the croquet ground, instead of remaining among the pea-sticks in her sun-bonnet, had she done as I would have counselled her. Not a word was spoken among the four that she did not hear. Those pea-sticks were only removed from the lawn by a low wall and a few shrubs. She listened, not as one suspecting, but simply as one loving. The voices of her girls were very dear to her, and the silver ringing tones of Lily's tongue were as sweet to her ears as the music of the gods. She heard all that about Lady Hartletop, and shuddered at Lily's bold sarcasm. And she heard Lily say that mamma would stay at home and eat the peas, and said to herself sadly that that was now her lot in life. "Dear darling girl,--and so it should be!" It was thus her thoughts ran. And then, when her ear had traced them, as they passed across the little bridge into the other grounds, she returned across the lawn to the house with her burden on her arm, and sat herself down on the step of the drawing-room window, looking out on the sweet summer flowers and the smooth surface of the grass before her. Had not God done well for her to place her where she was? Had not her lines been set for her in pleasant places? Was she not happy in her girls,--her sweet, loving, trusting, trusty children? As it was to be that her lord, that best half of herself, was to be taken from her in early life, and that the springs of all the lighter pleasures were to be thus stopped for her, had it not been well that in her bereavement so much had been done to soften her lot in life and give it grace and beauty? 'Twas so, she argued with herself, and yet she acknowledged to herself that she was not happy. She had resolved, as she herself had said often, to put away childish things, and now she pined for those things which she so put from her. As she sat she could still hear Lily's voice as they went through the shrubbery,--hear it when none but a mother's ears would have distinguished the sound. Now that those young men were at the Great House it was natural that her girls should be there too. The squire would not have had young men to stay with him had there been no ladies to grace his table. But for her,--she knew that no one would want her there. Now and again she must go, as otherwise her very existence, without going, would be a thing disagreeably noticeable. But there was no other reason why she should join the party; nor in joining it would she either give or receive pleasure. Let her daughters eat from her brother's table and drink of his cup. They were made welcome to do so from the heart. For her there was no such welcome as that at the Great House,--nor at any other house, or any other table! "Mamma will stay at home to eat the peas." And then she repeated to herself the words which Lily had spoken, sitting there, leaning with her elbow on her knee, and her head upon her hand. "Please, ma'am, cook says, can we have the peas to shell?" and then her reverie was broken. [ILLUSTRATION: "Please, ma'am, can we have the peas to shell?"] Whereupon Mrs. Dale got up and gave over her basket. "Cook knows that the young ladies are going to dine at the Great House?" "Yes, ma'am." "She needn't mind getting dinner for me. I will have tea early." And so, after all, Mrs. Dale did not perform that special duty appointed for her. But she soon set herself to work upon another duty. When a family of three persons has to live upon an income of three hundred a year, and, nevertheless, makes some pretence of going into society, it has to be very mindful of small details, even though that family may consist only of ladies. Of this Mrs. Dale was well aware, and as it pleased her that her daughters should be nice and fresh, and pretty in their attire, many a long hour was given up to that care. The squire would send them shawls in winter, and had given them riding habits, and had sent them down brown silk for dresses from London,--so limited in quantity that the due manufacture of two dresses out of the material had been found to be beyond the art of woman, and the brown silk garments had been a difficulty from that day to this,--the squire having a good memory in such matters, and being anxious to see the fruits of his liberality. All this was doubtless of assistance, but had the squire given the amount which he so expended in money to his nieces, the benefit would have been greater. As it was, the girls were always nice and fresh and pretty, they themselves not being idle in that matter; but their tire-woman in chief was their mother. And now she went up to their room and got out their muslin frocks, and--but, perhaps, I should not tell such tales!--She, however, felt no shame in her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be. Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour. "Oh! mamma, how good you are," said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner. "Mamma is always good," said Lily. "I wish, mamma, I could do the same for you oftener," and then she kissed her mother. But the squire was exact about dinner, so they dressed themselves in haste, and went off again through the garden, their mother accompanying them to the little bridge. "Your uncle did not seem vexed at my not coming?" said Mrs. Dale. "We have not seen him, mamma," said Lily. "We have been ever so far down the fields, and forgot altogether what o'clock it was." "I don't think uncle Christopher was about the place, or we should have met him," said Bell. "But I am vexed with you, mamma. Are not you, Bell? It is very bad of you to stay here all alone, and not come." "I suppose mamma likes being at home better than up at the Great House," said Bell, very gently; and as she spoke she was holding her mother's hand. "Well; good-by, dears. I shall expect you between ten and eleven. But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone. The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run. And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps. She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls. But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them. She stood there, however, without advancing a step. She would not have Hopkins telling how she watched her daughters as they went from her own home to that of her brother-in-law. It was not within the capacity of Hopkins to understand why she watched them. "Well, girls, you're not much too soon. I think your mother might have come with you," said uncle Christopher. And this was the manner of the man. Had he known his own wishes he must have acknowledged to himself that he was better pleased that Mrs. Dale should stay away. He felt himself more absolutely master and more comfortably at home at his own table without her company than with it. And yet he frequently made a grievance of her not coming, and himself believed in that grievance. "I think mamma was tired," said Bell. "Hem. It's not so very far across from one house to the other. If I were to shut myself up whenever I'm tired-- But never mind. Let's go to dinner. Mr. Crosbie, will you take my niece Lilian." And then, offering his own arm to Bell, he walked off to the dining-room. "If he scolds mamma any more, I'll go away," said Lily to her companion; by which it may be seen that they had all become very intimate during the long day that they had passed together. Mrs. Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however, imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs. Dale was not above novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together. It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard, but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs. Dale was not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship; but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since; and during those years Mrs. Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him as he had been to her. But all this was very hard to bear. That her daughters should love their uncle was not only reasonable, but in every way desirable. He was not cold to them. To them he was generous and affectionate. If she were only out of the way, he would have taken them to his house as his own, and they would in all respects have stood before the world as his adopted children. Would it not be better if she were out of the way? It was only in her most dismal moods that this question would get itself asked within her mind, and then she would recover herself, and answer it stoutly with an indignant protest against her own morbid weakness. It would not be well that she should be away from her girls,--not though their uncle should have been twice a better uncle; not though, by her absence, they might become heiresses of all Allington. Was it not above everything to them that they should have a mother near them? And as she asked of herself that morbid question,--wickedly asked it, as she declared to herself,--did she not know that they loved her better than all the world beside, and would prefer her caresses and her care to the guardianship of any uncle, let his house be ever so great? As yet they loved her better than all the world beside. Of other love, should it come, she would not be jealous. And if it should come, and should be happy, might there not yet be a bright evening of life for herself? If they should marry, and if their lords would accept her love, her friendship, and her homage, she might yet escape from the deathlike coldness of that Great House, and be happy in some tiny cottage, from which she might go forth at times among those who would really welcome her. A certain doctor there was, living not very far from Allington, at Guestwick, as to whom she had once thought that he might fill that place of son-in-law,--to be well-beloved. Her quiet, beautiful Bell had seemed to like the man; and he had certainly done more than seem to like her. But now, for some weeks past, this hope, or rather this idea, had faded away. Mrs. Dale had never questioned her daughter on the matter; she was not a woman prone to put such questions. But during the month or two last past, she had seen with regret that Bell looked almost coldly on the man whom her mother favoured. In thinking of all this the long evening passed away, and at eleven o'clock she heard the coming steps across the garden. The young men had, of course, accompanied the girls home; and as she stepped out from the still open window of her own drawing-room, she saw them all on the centre of the lawn before her. "There's mamma," said Lily. "Mamma, Mr. Crosbie wants to play croquet by moonlight." "I don't think there is light enough for that," said Mrs. Dale. "There is light enough for him," said Lily, "for he plays quite independently of the hoops; don't you, Mr. Crosbie?" "There's very pretty croquet light, I should say," said Mr. Crosbie, looking up at the bright moon; "and then it is so stupid going to bed." "Yes, it is stupid going to bed," said Lily; "but people in the country are stupid, you know. Billiards, that you can play all night by gas, is much better, isn't it?" "Your arrows fall terribly astray there, Miss Dale, for I never touch a cue; you should talk to your cousin about billiards." "Is Bernard a great billiard player?" asked Bell. "Well, I do play now and again; about as well as Crosbie does croquet. Come, Crosbie, we'll go home and smoke a cigar." "Yes," said Lily; "and then, you know, we stupid people can go to bed. Mamma, I wish you had a little smoking-room here for us. I don't like being considered stupid." And then they parted,--the ladies going into the house, and the two men returning across the lawn. "Lily, my love," said Mrs. Dale, when they were all together in her bedroom, "it seems to me that you are very hard upon Mr. Crosbie." "She has been going on like that all the evening," said Bell. "I'm sure we are very good friends," said Lily. "Oh, very!" said Bell. "Now, Bell, you're jealous; you know you are." And then, seeing that her sister was in some slight degree vexed, she went up to her and kissed her. "She shan't be called jealous; shall she, mamma?" "I don't think she deserves it," said Mrs. Dale. "Now, you don't mean to say that you think I meant anything," said Lily. "As if I cared a buttercup about Mr. Crosbie." "Or I either, Lily." "Of course you don't. But I do care for him very much, mamma. He is such a duck of an Apollo. I shall always call him Apollo; Phoebus Apollo! And when I draw his picture he shall have a mallet in his hand instead of a bow. Upon my word I am very much obliged to Bernard for bringing him down here; and I do wish he was not going away the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow!" said Mrs. Dale. "It was hardly worth coming for two days." "No, it wasn't,--disturbing us all in our quiet little ways just for such a spell as that,--not giving one time even to count his rays." "But he says he shall perhaps come again," said Bell. "There is that hope for us," said Lily. "Uncle Christopher asked him to come down when he gets his long leave of absence. This is only a short sort of leave. He is better off than poor Johnny Eames. Johnny Eames only has a month, but Mr. Crosbie has two months just whenever he likes it; and seems to be pretty much his own master all the year round besides." "And uncle Christopher asked him to come down for the shooting in September," said Bell. "And though he didn't say he'd come I think he meant it," said Lily. "There is that hope for us, mamma." "Then you'll have to draw Apollo with a gun instead of a mallet." "That is the worst of it, mamma. We shan't see much of him or of Bernard either. They wouldn't let us go out into the woods as beaters, would they?" "You'd make too much noise to be of any use." "Should I? I thought the beaters had to shout at the birds. I should get very tired of shouting at birds, so I think I'll stay at home and look after my clothes." "I hope he will come, because uncle Christopher seems to like him so much," said Bell. "I wonder whether a certain gentleman at Guestwick will like his coming," said Lily. And then, as soon as she had spoken the words, she looked at her sister, and saw that she had grieved her. "Lily, you let your tongue run too fast," said Mrs. Dale. "I didn't mean anything, Bell," said Lily. "I beg your pardon." "It doesn't signify," said Bell. "Only Lily says things without thinking." And then that conversation came to an end, and nothing more was said among them beyond what appertained to their toilet, and a few last words at parting. But the two girls occupied the same room, and when their own door was closed upon them, Bell did allude to what had passed with some spirit. "Lily, you promised me," she said, "that you would not say anything more to me about Dr. Crofts." "I know I did, and I was very wrong. I beg your pardon, Bell; and I won't do it again,--not if I can help it." "Not help it, Lily!" "But I'm sure I don't know why I shouldn't speak of him,--only not in the way of laughing at you. Of all the men I ever saw in my life I like him best. And only that I love you better than I love myself I could find it in my heart to grudge you his--" "Lily, what did you promise just now?" "Well; after to-night. And I don't know why you should turn against him." "I have never turned against him or for him." "There's no turning about him. He'd give his left hand if you'd only smile on him. Or his right either,--and that's what I should like to see; so now you've heard it." "You know you are talking nonsense." "So I should like to see it. And so would mamma too, I'm sure; though I never heard her say a word about him. In my mind he's the finest fellow I ever saw. What's Mr. Apollo Crosbie to him? And now, as it makes you unhappy, I'll never say another word about him." As Bell wished her sister good-night with perhaps more than her usual affection, it was evident that Lily's words and eager tone had in some way pleased her, in spite of their opposition to the request which she had made. And Lily was aware that it was so. CHAPTER IV. MRS. ROPER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. [ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)] I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends. There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. They go much about alone, and blush when women speak to them. In truth, they are not as yet men, whatever the number may be of their years; and, as they are no longer boys, the world has found for them the ungraceful name of hobbledehoy. Such observations, however, as I have been enabled to make on this matter have led me to believe that the hobbledehoy is by no means the least valuable species of the human race. When I compare the hobbledehoy of one or two and twenty to some finished Apollo of the same age, I regard the former as unripe fruit, and the latter as fruit that is ripe. Then comes the question as to the two fruits. Which is the better fruit, that which ripens early--which is, perhaps, favoured with some little forcing apparatus, or which, at least, is backed by the warmth of a southern wall; or that fruit of slower growth, as to which nature works without assistance, on which the sun operates in its own time,--or perhaps never operates if some ungenial shade has been allowed to interpose itself? The world, no doubt, is in favour of the forcing apparatus or of the southern wall. The fruit comes certainly, and at an assured period. It is spotless, speckless, and of a certain quality by no means despicable. The owner has it when he wants it, and it serves its turn. But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit,--is given in the sun's own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself. I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour. But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ball-room, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of beings, and especially eloquent among beautiful women. He enjoys all the triumphs of a Don Juan, without any of Don Juan's heartlessness, and is able to conquer in all encounters, through the force of his wit and the sweetness of his voice. But this eloquence is heard only by his own inner ears, and these triumphs are the triumphs of his imagination. The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys--a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large. He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement. Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy. And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself. Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London. We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him. But yet he was not without friends--friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare. And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoya herself. Mrs. Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire. He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty. He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story. With no other man had Mr. Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr. Eames died Mr. Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children. He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held. And Mrs. Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs. Dale. The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs. Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age. But Mrs. Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House. Mrs. Eames was a poor forlorn woman--forlorn even during the time of her husband's life, but very wobegone now in her widowhood. In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son. But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs. Eames held him in great awe. Mrs. Dale held her brother-in-law in no awe, and sometimes gave to the widow from Guestwick advice quite at variance to that given by the squire. In this way there had grown up an intimacy between Bell and Lily and the young Eames, and either of the girls was prepared to declare that Johnny Eames was her own and well-loved friend. Nevertheless, they spoke of him occasionally with some little dash of merriment--as is not unusual with pretty girls who have hobbledehoys among their intimate friends, and who are not themselves unaccustomed to the grace of an Apollo. I may as well announce at once that John Eames, when he went up to London, was absolutely and irretrievably in love with Lily Dale. He had declared his passion in the most moving language a hundred times; but he had declared it only to himself. He had written much poetry about Lily, but he kept his lines safe under double lock and key. When he gave the reins to his imagination, he flattered himself that he might win not only her but the world at large also by his verses; but he would have perished rather than exhibit them to human eye. During the last ten weeks of his life at Guestwick, while he was preparing for his career in London, he hung about Allington, walking over frequently and then walking back again; but all in vain. During these visits he would sit in Mrs. Dale's drawing-room, speaking but little, and addressing himself usually to the mother; but on each occasion, as he started on his long, hot walk, he resolved that he would say something by which Lily might know of his love. When he left for London that something had not been said. He had not dreamed of asking her to be his wife. John Eames was about to begin the world with eighty pounds a year, and an allowance of twenty more from his mother's purse. He was well aware that with such an income he could not establish himself as a married man in London, and he also felt that the man who might be fortunate enough to win Lily for his wife should be prepared to give her every soft luxury that the world could afford. He knew well that he ought not to expect any assurance of Lily's love; but, nevertheless, he thought it possible that he might give her an assurance of his love. It would probably be in vain. He had no real hope, unless when he was in one of those poetic moods. He had acknowledged to himself, in some indistinct way, that he was no more than a hobbledehoy, awkward, silent, ungainly, with a face unfinished, as it were, or unripe. All this he knew, and knew also that there were Apollos in the world

beyond

How many times the word 'beyond' appears in the text?

years younger than her father's family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty; but if she can be young in spirit at forty, let her show that she is so. I think that Mrs. Dale was wrong. She would have joined that party on the croquet ground, instead of remaining among the pea-sticks in her sun-bonnet, had she done as I would have counselled her. Not a word was spoken among the four that she did not hear. Those pea-sticks were only removed from the lawn by a low wall and a few shrubs. She listened, not as one suspecting, but simply as one loving. The voices of her girls were very dear to her, and the silver ringing tones of Lily's tongue were as sweet to her ears as the music of the gods. She heard all that about Lady Hartletop, and shuddered at Lily's bold sarcasm. And she heard Lily say that mamma would stay at home and eat the peas, and said to herself sadly that that was now her lot in life. "Dear darling girl,--and so it should be!" It was thus her thoughts ran. And then, when her ear had traced them, as they passed across the little bridge into the other grounds, she returned across the lawn to the house with her burden on her arm, and sat herself down on the step of the drawing-room window, looking out on the sweet summer flowers and the smooth surface of the grass before her. Had not God done well for her to place her where she was? Had not her lines been set for her in pleasant places? Was she not happy in her girls,--her sweet, loving, trusting, trusty children? As it was to be that her lord, that best half of herself, was to be taken from her in early life, and that the springs of all the lighter pleasures were to be thus stopped for her, had it not been well that in her bereavement so much had been done to soften her lot in life and give it grace and beauty? 'Twas so, she argued with herself, and yet she acknowledged to herself that she was not happy. She had resolved, as she herself had said often, to put away childish things, and now she pined for those things which she so put from her. As she sat she could still hear Lily's voice as they went through the shrubbery,--hear it when none but a mother's ears would have distinguished the sound. Now that those young men were at the Great House it was natural that her girls should be there too. The squire would not have had young men to stay with him had there been no ladies to grace his table. But for her,--she knew that no one would want her there. Now and again she must go, as otherwise her very existence, without going, would be a thing disagreeably noticeable. But there was no other reason why she should join the party; nor in joining it would she either give or receive pleasure. Let her daughters eat from her brother's table and drink of his cup. They were made welcome to do so from the heart. For her there was no such welcome as that at the Great House,--nor at any other house, or any other table! "Mamma will stay at home to eat the peas." And then she repeated to herself the words which Lily had spoken, sitting there, leaning with her elbow on her knee, and her head upon her hand. "Please, ma'am, cook says, can we have the peas to shell?" and then her reverie was broken. [ILLUSTRATION: "Please, ma'am, can we have the peas to shell?"] Whereupon Mrs. Dale got up and gave over her basket. "Cook knows that the young ladies are going to dine at the Great House?" "Yes, ma'am." "She needn't mind getting dinner for me. I will have tea early." And so, after all, Mrs. Dale did not perform that special duty appointed for her. But she soon set herself to work upon another duty. When a family of three persons has to live upon an income of three hundred a year, and, nevertheless, makes some pretence of going into society, it has to be very mindful of small details, even though that family may consist only of ladies. Of this Mrs. Dale was well aware, and as it pleased her that her daughters should be nice and fresh, and pretty in their attire, many a long hour was given up to that care. The squire would send them shawls in winter, and had given them riding habits, and had sent them down brown silk for dresses from London,--so limited in quantity that the due manufacture of two dresses out of the material had been found to be beyond the art of woman, and the brown silk garments had been a difficulty from that day to this,--the squire having a good memory in such matters, and being anxious to see the fruits of his liberality. All this was doubtless of assistance, but had the squire given the amount which he so expended in money to his nieces, the benefit would have been greater. As it was, the girls were always nice and fresh and pretty, they themselves not being idle in that matter; but their tire-woman in chief was their mother. And now she went up to their room and got out their muslin frocks, and--but, perhaps, I should not tell such tales!--She, however, felt no shame in her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be. Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour. "Oh! mamma, how good you are," said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner. "Mamma is always good," said Lily. "I wish, mamma, I could do the same for you oftener," and then she kissed her mother. But the squire was exact about dinner, so they dressed themselves in haste, and went off again through the garden, their mother accompanying them to the little bridge. "Your uncle did not seem vexed at my not coming?" said Mrs. Dale. "We have not seen him, mamma," said Lily. "We have been ever so far down the fields, and forgot altogether what o'clock it was." "I don't think uncle Christopher was about the place, or we should have met him," said Bell. "But I am vexed with you, mamma. Are not you, Bell? It is very bad of you to stay here all alone, and not come." "I suppose mamma likes being at home better than up at the Great House," said Bell, very gently; and as she spoke she was holding her mother's hand. "Well; good-by, dears. I shall expect you between ten and eleven. But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone. The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run. And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps. She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls. But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them. She stood there, however, without advancing a step. She would not have Hopkins telling how she watched her daughters as they went from her own home to that of her brother-in-law. It was not within the capacity of Hopkins to understand why she watched them. "Well, girls, you're not much too soon. I think your mother might have come with you," said uncle Christopher. And this was the manner of the man. Had he known his own wishes he must have acknowledged to himself that he was better pleased that Mrs. Dale should stay away. He felt himself more absolutely master and more comfortably at home at his own table without her company than with it. And yet he frequently made a grievance of her not coming, and himself believed in that grievance. "I think mamma was tired," said Bell. "Hem. It's not so very far across from one house to the other. If I were to shut myself up whenever I'm tired-- But never mind. Let's go to dinner. Mr. Crosbie, will you take my niece Lilian." And then, offering his own arm to Bell, he walked off to the dining-room. "If he scolds mamma any more, I'll go away," said Lily to her companion; by which it may be seen that they had all become very intimate during the long day that they had passed together. Mrs. Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however, imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs. Dale was not above novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together. It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard, but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs. Dale was not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship; but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since; and during those years Mrs. Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him as he had been to her. But all this was very hard to bear. That her daughters should love their uncle was not only reasonable, but in every way desirable. He was not cold to them. To them he was generous and affectionate. If she were only out of the way, he would have taken them to his house as his own, and they would in all respects have stood before the world as his adopted children. Would it not be better if she were out of the way? It was only in her most dismal moods that this question would get itself asked within her mind, and then she would recover herself, and answer it stoutly with an indignant protest against her own morbid weakness. It would not be well that she should be away from her girls,--not though their uncle should have been twice a better uncle; not though, by her absence, they might become heiresses of all Allington. Was it not above everything to them that they should have a mother near them? And as she asked of herself that morbid question,--wickedly asked it, as she declared to herself,--did she not know that they loved her better than all the world beside, and would prefer her caresses and her care to the guardianship of any uncle, let his house be ever so great? As yet they loved her better than all the world beside. Of other love, should it come, she would not be jealous. And if it should come, and should be happy, might there not yet be a bright evening of life for herself? If they should marry, and if their lords would accept her love, her friendship, and her homage, she might yet escape from the deathlike coldness of that Great House, and be happy in some tiny cottage, from which she might go forth at times among those who would really welcome her. A certain doctor there was, living not very far from Allington, at Guestwick, as to whom she had once thought that he might fill that place of son-in-law,--to be well-beloved. Her quiet, beautiful Bell had seemed to like the man; and he had certainly done more than seem to like her. But now, for some weeks past, this hope, or rather this idea, had faded away. Mrs. Dale had never questioned her daughter on the matter; she was not a woman prone to put such questions. But during the month or two last past, she had seen with regret that Bell looked almost coldly on the man whom her mother favoured. In thinking of all this the long evening passed away, and at eleven o'clock she heard the coming steps across the garden. The young men had, of course, accompanied the girls home; and as she stepped out from the still open window of her own drawing-room, she saw them all on the centre of the lawn before her. "There's mamma," said Lily. "Mamma, Mr. Crosbie wants to play croquet by moonlight." "I don't think there is light enough for that," said Mrs. Dale. "There is light enough for him," said Lily, "for he plays quite independently of the hoops; don't you, Mr. Crosbie?" "There's very pretty croquet light, I should say," said Mr. Crosbie, looking up at the bright moon; "and then it is so stupid going to bed." "Yes, it is stupid going to bed," said Lily; "but people in the country are stupid, you know. Billiards, that you can play all night by gas, is much better, isn't it?" "Your arrows fall terribly astray there, Miss Dale, for I never touch a cue; you should talk to your cousin about billiards." "Is Bernard a great billiard player?" asked Bell. "Well, I do play now and again; about as well as Crosbie does croquet. Come, Crosbie, we'll go home and smoke a cigar." "Yes," said Lily; "and then, you know, we stupid people can go to bed. Mamma, I wish you had a little smoking-room here for us. I don't like being considered stupid." And then they parted,--the ladies going into the house, and the two men returning across the lawn. "Lily, my love," said Mrs. Dale, when they were all together in her bedroom, "it seems to me that you are very hard upon Mr. Crosbie." "She has been going on like that all the evening," said Bell. "I'm sure we are very good friends," said Lily. "Oh, very!" said Bell. "Now, Bell, you're jealous; you know you are." And then, seeing that her sister was in some slight degree vexed, she went up to her and kissed her. "She shan't be called jealous; shall she, mamma?" "I don't think she deserves it," said Mrs. Dale. "Now, you don't mean to say that you think I meant anything," said Lily. "As if I cared a buttercup about Mr. Crosbie." "Or I either, Lily." "Of course you don't. But I do care for him very much, mamma. He is such a duck of an Apollo. I shall always call him Apollo; Phoebus Apollo! And when I draw his picture he shall have a mallet in his hand instead of a bow. Upon my word I am very much obliged to Bernard for bringing him down here; and I do wish he was not going away the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow!" said Mrs. Dale. "It was hardly worth coming for two days." "No, it wasn't,--disturbing us all in our quiet little ways just for such a spell as that,--not giving one time even to count his rays." "But he says he shall perhaps come again," said Bell. "There is that hope for us," said Lily. "Uncle Christopher asked him to come down when he gets his long leave of absence. This is only a short sort of leave. He is better off than poor Johnny Eames. Johnny Eames only has a month, but Mr. Crosbie has two months just whenever he likes it; and seems to be pretty much his own master all the year round besides." "And uncle Christopher asked him to come down for the shooting in September," said Bell. "And though he didn't say he'd come I think he meant it," said Lily. "There is that hope for us, mamma." "Then you'll have to draw Apollo with a gun instead of a mallet." "That is the worst of it, mamma. We shan't see much of him or of Bernard either. They wouldn't let us go out into the woods as beaters, would they?" "You'd make too much noise to be of any use." "Should I? I thought the beaters had to shout at the birds. I should get very tired of shouting at birds, so I think I'll stay at home and look after my clothes." "I hope he will come, because uncle Christopher seems to like him so much," said Bell. "I wonder whether a certain gentleman at Guestwick will like his coming," said Lily. And then, as soon as she had spoken the words, she looked at her sister, and saw that she had grieved her. "Lily, you let your tongue run too fast," said Mrs. Dale. "I didn't mean anything, Bell," said Lily. "I beg your pardon." "It doesn't signify," said Bell. "Only Lily says things without thinking." And then that conversation came to an end, and nothing more was said among them beyond what appertained to their toilet, and a few last words at parting. But the two girls occupied the same room, and when their own door was closed upon them, Bell did allude to what had passed with some spirit. "Lily, you promised me," she said, "that you would not say anything more to me about Dr. Crofts." "I know I did, and I was very wrong. I beg your pardon, Bell; and I won't do it again,--not if I can help it." "Not help it, Lily!" "But I'm sure I don't know why I shouldn't speak of him,--only not in the way of laughing at you. Of all the men I ever saw in my life I like him best. And only that I love you better than I love myself I could find it in my heart to grudge you his--" "Lily, what did you promise just now?" "Well; after to-night. And I don't know why you should turn against him." "I have never turned against him or for him." "There's no turning about him. He'd give his left hand if you'd only smile on him. Or his right either,--and that's what I should like to see; so now you've heard it." "You know you are talking nonsense." "So I should like to see it. And so would mamma too, I'm sure; though I never heard her say a word about him. In my mind he's the finest fellow I ever saw. What's Mr. Apollo Crosbie to him? And now, as it makes you unhappy, I'll never say another word about him." As Bell wished her sister good-night with perhaps more than her usual affection, it was evident that Lily's words and eager tone had in some way pleased her, in spite of their opposition to the request which she had made. And Lily was aware that it was so. CHAPTER IV. MRS. ROPER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. [ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)] I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends. There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. They go much about alone, and blush when women speak to them. In truth, they are not as yet men, whatever the number may be of their years; and, as they are no longer boys, the world has found for them the ungraceful name of hobbledehoy. Such observations, however, as I have been enabled to make on this matter have led me to believe that the hobbledehoy is by no means the least valuable species of the human race. When I compare the hobbledehoy of one or two and twenty to some finished Apollo of the same age, I regard the former as unripe fruit, and the latter as fruit that is ripe. Then comes the question as to the two fruits. Which is the better fruit, that which ripens early--which is, perhaps, favoured with some little forcing apparatus, or which, at least, is backed by the warmth of a southern wall; or that fruit of slower growth, as to which nature works without assistance, on which the sun operates in its own time,--or perhaps never operates if some ungenial shade has been allowed to interpose itself? The world, no doubt, is in favour of the forcing apparatus or of the southern wall. The fruit comes certainly, and at an assured period. It is spotless, speckless, and of a certain quality by no means despicable. The owner has it when he wants it, and it serves its turn. But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit,--is given in the sun's own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself. I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour. But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ball-room, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of beings, and especially eloquent among beautiful women. He enjoys all the triumphs of a Don Juan, without any of Don Juan's heartlessness, and is able to conquer in all encounters, through the force of his wit and the sweetness of his voice. But this eloquence is heard only by his own inner ears, and these triumphs are the triumphs of his imagination. The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys--a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large. He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement. Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy. And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself. Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London. We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him. But yet he was not without friends--friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare. And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoya herself. Mrs. Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire. He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty. He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story. With no other man had Mr. Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr. Eames died Mr. Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children. He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held. And Mrs. Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs. Dale. The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs. Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age. But Mrs. Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House. Mrs. Eames was a poor forlorn woman--forlorn even during the time of her husband's life, but very wobegone now in her widowhood. In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son. But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs. Eames held him in great awe. Mrs. Dale held her brother-in-law in no awe, and sometimes gave to the widow from Guestwick advice quite at variance to that given by the squire. In this way there had grown up an intimacy between Bell and Lily and the young Eames, and either of the girls was prepared to declare that Johnny Eames was her own and well-loved friend. Nevertheless, they spoke of him occasionally with some little dash of merriment--as is not unusual with pretty girls who have hobbledehoys among their intimate friends, and who are not themselves unaccustomed to the grace of an Apollo. I may as well announce at once that John Eames, when he went up to London, was absolutely and irretrievably in love with Lily Dale. He had declared his passion in the most moving language a hundred times; but he had declared it only to himself. He had written much poetry about Lily, but he kept his lines safe under double lock and key. When he gave the reins to his imagination, he flattered himself that he might win not only her but the world at large also by his verses; but he would have perished rather than exhibit them to human eye. During the last ten weeks of his life at Guestwick, while he was preparing for his career in London, he hung about Allington, walking over frequently and then walking back again; but all in vain. During these visits he would sit in Mrs. Dale's drawing-room, speaking but little, and addressing himself usually to the mother; but on each occasion, as he started on his long, hot walk, he resolved that he would say something by which Lily might know of his love. When he left for London that something had not been said. He had not dreamed of asking her to be his wife. John Eames was about to begin the world with eighty pounds a year, and an allowance of twenty more from his mother's purse. He was well aware that with such an income he could not establish himself as a married man in London, and he also felt that the man who might be fortunate enough to win Lily for his wife should be prepared to give her every soft luxury that the world could afford. He knew well that he ought not to expect any assurance of Lily's love; but, nevertheless, he thought it possible that he might give her an assurance of his love. It would probably be in vain. He had no real hope, unless when he was in one of those poetic moods. He had acknowledged to himself, in some indistinct way, that he was no more than a hobbledehoy, awkward, silent, ungainly, with a face unfinished, as it were, or unripe. All this he knew, and knew also that there were Apollos in the world

beholding

How many times the word 'beholding' appears in the text?

years younger than her father's family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty; but if she can be young in spirit at forty, let her show that she is so. I think that Mrs. Dale was wrong. She would have joined that party on the croquet ground, instead of remaining among the pea-sticks in her sun-bonnet, had she done as I would have counselled her. Not a word was spoken among the four that she did not hear. Those pea-sticks were only removed from the lawn by a low wall and a few shrubs. She listened, not as one suspecting, but simply as one loving. The voices of her girls were very dear to her, and the silver ringing tones of Lily's tongue were as sweet to her ears as the music of the gods. She heard all that about Lady Hartletop, and shuddered at Lily's bold sarcasm. And she heard Lily say that mamma would stay at home and eat the peas, and said to herself sadly that that was now her lot in life. "Dear darling girl,--and so it should be!" It was thus her thoughts ran. And then, when her ear had traced them, as they passed across the little bridge into the other grounds, she returned across the lawn to the house with her burden on her arm, and sat herself down on the step of the drawing-room window, looking out on the sweet summer flowers and the smooth surface of the grass before her. Had not God done well for her to place her where she was? Had not her lines been set for her in pleasant places? Was she not happy in her girls,--her sweet, loving, trusting, trusty children? As it was to be that her lord, that best half of herself, was to be taken from her in early life, and that the springs of all the lighter pleasures were to be thus stopped for her, had it not been well that in her bereavement so much had been done to soften her lot in life and give it grace and beauty? 'Twas so, she argued with herself, and yet she acknowledged to herself that she was not happy. She had resolved, as she herself had said often, to put away childish things, and now she pined for those things which she so put from her. As she sat she could still hear Lily's voice as they went through the shrubbery,--hear it when none but a mother's ears would have distinguished the sound. Now that those young men were at the Great House it was natural that her girls should be there too. The squire would not have had young men to stay with him had there been no ladies to grace his table. But for her,--she knew that no one would want her there. Now and again she must go, as otherwise her very existence, without going, would be a thing disagreeably noticeable. But there was no other reason why she should join the party; nor in joining it would she either give or receive pleasure. Let her daughters eat from her brother's table and drink of his cup. They were made welcome to do so from the heart. For her there was no such welcome as that at the Great House,--nor at any other house, or any other table! "Mamma will stay at home to eat the peas." And then she repeated to herself the words which Lily had spoken, sitting there, leaning with her elbow on her knee, and her head upon her hand. "Please, ma'am, cook says, can we have the peas to shell?" and then her reverie was broken. [ILLUSTRATION: "Please, ma'am, can we have the peas to shell?"] Whereupon Mrs. Dale got up and gave over her basket. "Cook knows that the young ladies are going to dine at the Great House?" "Yes, ma'am." "She needn't mind getting dinner for me. I will have tea early." And so, after all, Mrs. Dale did not perform that special duty appointed for her. But she soon set herself to work upon another duty. When a family of three persons has to live upon an income of three hundred a year, and, nevertheless, makes some pretence of going into society, it has to be very mindful of small details, even though that family may consist only of ladies. Of this Mrs. Dale was well aware, and as it pleased her that her daughters should be nice and fresh, and pretty in their attire, many a long hour was given up to that care. The squire would send them shawls in winter, and had given them riding habits, and had sent them down brown silk for dresses from London,--so limited in quantity that the due manufacture of two dresses out of the material had been found to be beyond the art of woman, and the brown silk garments had been a difficulty from that day to this,--the squire having a good memory in such matters, and being anxious to see the fruits of his liberality. All this was doubtless of assistance, but had the squire given the amount which he so expended in money to his nieces, the benefit would have been greater. As it was, the girls were always nice and fresh and pretty, they themselves not being idle in that matter; but their tire-woman in chief was their mother. And now she went up to their room and got out their muslin frocks, and--but, perhaps, I should not tell such tales!--She, however, felt no shame in her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be. Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour. "Oh! mamma, how good you are," said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner. "Mamma is always good," said Lily. "I wish, mamma, I could do the same for you oftener," and then she kissed her mother. But the squire was exact about dinner, so they dressed themselves in haste, and went off again through the garden, their mother accompanying them to the little bridge. "Your uncle did not seem vexed at my not coming?" said Mrs. Dale. "We have not seen him, mamma," said Lily. "We have been ever so far down the fields, and forgot altogether what o'clock it was." "I don't think uncle Christopher was about the place, or we should have met him," said Bell. "But I am vexed with you, mamma. Are not you, Bell? It is very bad of you to stay here all alone, and not come." "I suppose mamma likes being at home better than up at the Great House," said Bell, very gently; and as she spoke she was holding her mother's hand. "Well; good-by, dears. I shall expect you between ten and eleven. But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone. The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run. And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps. She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls. But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them. She stood there, however, without advancing a step. She would not have Hopkins telling how she watched her daughters as they went from her own home to that of her brother-in-law. It was not within the capacity of Hopkins to understand why she watched them. "Well, girls, you're not much too soon. I think your mother might have come with you," said uncle Christopher. And this was the manner of the man. Had he known his own wishes he must have acknowledged to himself that he was better pleased that Mrs. Dale should stay away. He felt himself more absolutely master and more comfortably at home at his own table without her company than with it. And yet he frequently made a grievance of her not coming, and himself believed in that grievance. "I think mamma was tired," said Bell. "Hem. It's not so very far across from one house to the other. If I were to shut myself up whenever I'm tired-- But never mind. Let's go to dinner. Mr. Crosbie, will you take my niece Lilian." And then, offering his own arm to Bell, he walked off to the dining-room. "If he scolds mamma any more, I'll go away," said Lily to her companion; by which it may be seen that they had all become very intimate during the long day that they had passed together. Mrs. Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however, imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs. Dale was not above novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together. It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard, but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs. Dale was not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship; but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since; and during those years Mrs. Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him as he had been to her. But all this was very hard to bear. That her daughters should love their uncle was not only reasonable, but in every way desirable. He was not cold to them. To them he was generous and affectionate. If she were only out of the way, he would have taken them to his house as his own, and they would in all respects have stood before the world as his adopted children. Would it not be better if she were out of the way? It was only in her most dismal moods that this question would get itself asked within her mind, and then she would recover herself, and answer it stoutly with an indignant protest against her own morbid weakness. It would not be well that she should be away from her girls,--not though their uncle should have been twice a better uncle; not though, by her absence, they might become heiresses of all Allington. Was it not above everything to them that they should have a mother near them? And as she asked of herself that morbid question,--wickedly asked it, as she declared to herself,--did she not know that they loved her better than all the world beside, and would prefer her caresses and her care to the guardianship of any uncle, let his house be ever so great? As yet they loved her better than all the world beside. Of other love, should it come, she would not be jealous. And if it should come, and should be happy, might there not yet be a bright evening of life for herself? If they should marry, and if their lords would accept her love, her friendship, and her homage, she might yet escape from the deathlike coldness of that Great House, and be happy in some tiny cottage, from which she might go forth at times among those who would really welcome her. A certain doctor there was, living not very far from Allington, at Guestwick, as to whom she had once thought that he might fill that place of son-in-law,--to be well-beloved. Her quiet, beautiful Bell had seemed to like the man; and he had certainly done more than seem to like her. But now, for some weeks past, this hope, or rather this idea, had faded away. Mrs. Dale had never questioned her daughter on the matter; she was not a woman prone to put such questions. But during the month or two last past, she had seen with regret that Bell looked almost coldly on the man whom her mother favoured. In thinking of all this the long evening passed away, and at eleven o'clock she heard the coming steps across the garden. The young men had, of course, accompanied the girls home; and as she stepped out from the still open window of her own drawing-room, she saw them all on the centre of the lawn before her. "There's mamma," said Lily. "Mamma, Mr. Crosbie wants to play croquet by moonlight." "I don't think there is light enough for that," said Mrs. Dale. "There is light enough for him," said Lily, "for he plays quite independently of the hoops; don't you, Mr. Crosbie?" "There's very pretty croquet light, I should say," said Mr. Crosbie, looking up at the bright moon; "and then it is so stupid going to bed." "Yes, it is stupid going to bed," said Lily; "but people in the country are stupid, you know. Billiards, that you can play all night by gas, is much better, isn't it?" "Your arrows fall terribly astray there, Miss Dale, for I never touch a cue; you should talk to your cousin about billiards." "Is Bernard a great billiard player?" asked Bell. "Well, I do play now and again; about as well as Crosbie does croquet. Come, Crosbie, we'll go home and smoke a cigar." "Yes," said Lily; "and then, you know, we stupid people can go to bed. Mamma, I wish you had a little smoking-room here for us. I don't like being considered stupid." And then they parted,--the ladies going into the house, and the two men returning across the lawn. "Lily, my love," said Mrs. Dale, when they were all together in her bedroom, "it seems to me that you are very hard upon Mr. Crosbie." "She has been going on like that all the evening," said Bell. "I'm sure we are very good friends," said Lily. "Oh, very!" said Bell. "Now, Bell, you're jealous; you know you are." And then, seeing that her sister was in some slight degree vexed, she went up to her and kissed her. "She shan't be called jealous; shall she, mamma?" "I don't think she deserves it," said Mrs. Dale. "Now, you don't mean to say that you think I meant anything," said Lily. "As if I cared a buttercup about Mr. Crosbie." "Or I either, Lily." "Of course you don't. But I do care for him very much, mamma. He is such a duck of an Apollo. I shall always call him Apollo; Phoebus Apollo! And when I draw his picture he shall have a mallet in his hand instead of a bow. Upon my word I am very much obliged to Bernard for bringing him down here; and I do wish he was not going away the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow!" said Mrs. Dale. "It was hardly worth coming for two days." "No, it wasn't,--disturbing us all in our quiet little ways just for such a spell as that,--not giving one time even to count his rays." "But he says he shall perhaps come again," said Bell. "There is that hope for us," said Lily. "Uncle Christopher asked him to come down when he gets his long leave of absence. This is only a short sort of leave. He is better off than poor Johnny Eames. Johnny Eames only has a month, but Mr. Crosbie has two months just whenever he likes it; and seems to be pretty much his own master all the year round besides." "And uncle Christopher asked him to come down for the shooting in September," said Bell. "And though he didn't say he'd come I think he meant it," said Lily. "There is that hope for us, mamma." "Then you'll have to draw Apollo with a gun instead of a mallet." "That is the worst of it, mamma. We shan't see much of him or of Bernard either. They wouldn't let us go out into the woods as beaters, would they?" "You'd make too much noise to be of any use." "Should I? I thought the beaters had to shout at the birds. I should get very tired of shouting at birds, so I think I'll stay at home and look after my clothes." "I hope he will come, because uncle Christopher seems to like him so much," said Bell. "I wonder whether a certain gentleman at Guestwick will like his coming," said Lily. And then, as soon as she had spoken the words, she looked at her sister, and saw that she had grieved her. "Lily, you let your tongue run too fast," said Mrs. Dale. "I didn't mean anything, Bell," said Lily. "I beg your pardon." "It doesn't signify," said Bell. "Only Lily says things without thinking." And then that conversation came to an end, and nothing more was said among them beyond what appertained to their toilet, and a few last words at parting. But the two girls occupied the same room, and when their own door was closed upon them, Bell did allude to what had passed with some spirit. "Lily, you promised me," she said, "that you would not say anything more to me about Dr. Crofts." "I know I did, and I was very wrong. I beg your pardon, Bell; and I won't do it again,--not if I can help it." "Not help it, Lily!" "But I'm sure I don't know why I shouldn't speak of him,--only not in the way of laughing at you. Of all the men I ever saw in my life I like him best. And only that I love you better than I love myself I could find it in my heart to grudge you his--" "Lily, what did you promise just now?" "Well; after to-night. And I don't know why you should turn against him." "I have never turned against him or for him." "There's no turning about him. He'd give his left hand if you'd only smile on him. Or his right either,--and that's what I should like to see; so now you've heard it." "You know you are talking nonsense." "So I should like to see it. And so would mamma too, I'm sure; though I never heard her say a word about him. In my mind he's the finest fellow I ever saw. What's Mr. Apollo Crosbie to him? And now, as it makes you unhappy, I'll never say another word about him." As Bell wished her sister good-night with perhaps more than her usual affection, it was evident that Lily's words and eager tone had in some way pleased her, in spite of their opposition to the request which she had made. And Lily was aware that it was so. CHAPTER IV. MRS. ROPER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. [ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)] I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends. There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. They go much about alone, and blush when women speak to them. In truth, they are not as yet men, whatever the number may be of their years; and, as they are no longer boys, the world has found for them the ungraceful name of hobbledehoy. Such observations, however, as I have been enabled to make on this matter have led me to believe that the hobbledehoy is by no means the least valuable species of the human race. When I compare the hobbledehoy of one or two and twenty to some finished Apollo of the same age, I regard the former as unripe fruit, and the latter as fruit that is ripe. Then comes the question as to the two fruits. Which is the better fruit, that which ripens early--which is, perhaps, favoured with some little forcing apparatus, or which, at least, is backed by the warmth of a southern wall; or that fruit of slower growth, as to which nature works without assistance, on which the sun operates in its own time,--or perhaps never operates if some ungenial shade has been allowed to interpose itself? The world, no doubt, is in favour of the forcing apparatus or of the southern wall. The fruit comes certainly, and at an assured period. It is spotless, speckless, and of a certain quality by no means despicable. The owner has it when he wants it, and it serves its turn. But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit,--is given in the sun's own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself. I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour. But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ball-room, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of beings, and especially eloquent among beautiful women. He enjoys all the triumphs of a Don Juan, without any of Don Juan's heartlessness, and is able to conquer in all encounters, through the force of his wit and the sweetness of his voice. But this eloquence is heard only by his own inner ears, and these triumphs are the triumphs of his imagination. The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys--a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large. He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement. Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy. And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself. Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London. We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him. But yet he was not without friends--friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare. And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoya herself. Mrs. Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire. He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty. He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story. With no other man had Mr. Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr. Eames died Mr. Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children. He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held. And Mrs. Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs. Dale. The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs. Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age. But Mrs. Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House. Mrs. Eames was a poor forlorn woman--forlorn even during the time of her husband's life, but very wobegone now in her widowhood. In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son. But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs. Eames held him in great awe. Mrs. Dale held her brother-in-law in no awe, and sometimes gave to the widow from Guestwick advice quite at variance to that given by the squire. In this way there had grown up an intimacy between Bell and Lily and the young Eames, and either of the girls was prepared to declare that Johnny Eames was her own and well-loved friend. Nevertheless, they spoke of him occasionally with some little dash of merriment--as is not unusual with pretty girls who have hobbledehoys among their intimate friends, and who are not themselves unaccustomed to the grace of an Apollo. I may as well announce at once that John Eames, when he went up to London, was absolutely and irretrievably in love with Lily Dale. He had declared his passion in the most moving language a hundred times; but he had declared it only to himself. He had written much poetry about Lily, but he kept his lines safe under double lock and key. When he gave the reins to his imagination, he flattered himself that he might win not only her but the world at large also by his verses; but he would have perished rather than exhibit them to human eye. During the last ten weeks of his life at Guestwick, while he was preparing for his career in London, he hung about Allington, walking over frequently and then walking back again; but all in vain. During these visits he would sit in Mrs. Dale's drawing-room, speaking but little, and addressing himself usually to the mother; but on each occasion, as he started on his long, hot walk, he resolved that he would say something by which Lily might know of his love. When he left for London that something had not been said. He had not dreamed of asking her to be his wife. John Eames was about to begin the world with eighty pounds a year, and an allowance of twenty more from his mother's purse. He was well aware that with such an income he could not establish himself as a married man in London, and he also felt that the man who might be fortunate enough to win Lily for his wife should be prepared to give her every soft luxury that the world could afford. He knew well that he ought not to expect any assurance of Lily's love; but, nevertheless, he thought it possible that he might give her an assurance of his love. It would probably be in vain. He had no real hope, unless when he was in one of those poetic moods. He had acknowledged to himself, in some indistinct way, that he was no more than a hobbledehoy, awkward, silent, ungainly, with a face unfinished, as it were, or unripe. All this he knew, and knew also that there were Apollos in the world

shawls

How many times the word 'shawls' appears in the text?

years younger than her father's family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty; but if she can be young in spirit at forty, let her show that she is so. I think that Mrs. Dale was wrong. She would have joined that party on the croquet ground, instead of remaining among the pea-sticks in her sun-bonnet, had she done as I would have counselled her. Not a word was spoken among the four that she did not hear. Those pea-sticks were only removed from the lawn by a low wall and a few shrubs. She listened, not as one suspecting, but simply as one loving. The voices of her girls were very dear to her, and the silver ringing tones of Lily's tongue were as sweet to her ears as the music of the gods. She heard all that about Lady Hartletop, and shuddered at Lily's bold sarcasm. And she heard Lily say that mamma would stay at home and eat the peas, and said to herself sadly that that was now her lot in life. "Dear darling girl,--and so it should be!" It was thus her thoughts ran. And then, when her ear had traced them, as they passed across the little bridge into the other grounds, she returned across the lawn to the house with her burden on her arm, and sat herself down on the step of the drawing-room window, looking out on the sweet summer flowers and the smooth surface of the grass before her. Had not God done well for her to place her where she was? Had not her lines been set for her in pleasant places? Was she not happy in her girls,--her sweet, loving, trusting, trusty children? As it was to be that her lord, that best half of herself, was to be taken from her in early life, and that the springs of all the lighter pleasures were to be thus stopped for her, had it not been well that in her bereavement so much had been done to soften her lot in life and give it grace and beauty? 'Twas so, she argued with herself, and yet she acknowledged to herself that she was not happy. She had resolved, as she herself had said often, to put away childish things, and now she pined for those things which she so put from her. As she sat she could still hear Lily's voice as they went through the shrubbery,--hear it when none but a mother's ears would have distinguished the sound. Now that those young men were at the Great House it was natural that her girls should be there too. The squire would not have had young men to stay with him had there been no ladies to grace his table. But for her,--she knew that no one would want her there. Now and again she must go, as otherwise her very existence, without going, would be a thing disagreeably noticeable. But there was no other reason why she should join the party; nor in joining it would she either give or receive pleasure. Let her daughters eat from her brother's table and drink of his cup. They were made welcome to do so from the heart. For her there was no such welcome as that at the Great House,--nor at any other house, or any other table! "Mamma will stay at home to eat the peas." And then she repeated to herself the words which Lily had spoken, sitting there, leaning with her elbow on her knee, and her head upon her hand. "Please, ma'am, cook says, can we have the peas to shell?" and then her reverie was broken. [ILLUSTRATION: "Please, ma'am, can we have the peas to shell?"] Whereupon Mrs. Dale got up and gave over her basket. "Cook knows that the young ladies are going to dine at the Great House?" "Yes, ma'am." "She needn't mind getting dinner for me. I will have tea early." And so, after all, Mrs. Dale did not perform that special duty appointed for her. But she soon set herself to work upon another duty. When a family of three persons has to live upon an income of three hundred a year, and, nevertheless, makes some pretence of going into society, it has to be very mindful of small details, even though that family may consist only of ladies. Of this Mrs. Dale was well aware, and as it pleased her that her daughters should be nice and fresh, and pretty in their attire, many a long hour was given up to that care. The squire would send them shawls in winter, and had given them riding habits, and had sent them down brown silk for dresses from London,--so limited in quantity that the due manufacture of two dresses out of the material had been found to be beyond the art of woman, and the brown silk garments had been a difficulty from that day to this,--the squire having a good memory in such matters, and being anxious to see the fruits of his liberality. All this was doubtless of assistance, but had the squire given the amount which he so expended in money to his nieces, the benefit would have been greater. As it was, the girls were always nice and fresh and pretty, they themselves not being idle in that matter; but their tire-woman in chief was their mother. And now she went up to their room and got out their muslin frocks, and--but, perhaps, I should not tell such tales!--She, however, felt no shame in her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be. Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour. "Oh! mamma, how good you are," said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner. "Mamma is always good," said Lily. "I wish, mamma, I could do the same for you oftener," and then she kissed her mother. But the squire was exact about dinner, so they dressed themselves in haste, and went off again through the garden, their mother accompanying them to the little bridge. "Your uncle did not seem vexed at my not coming?" said Mrs. Dale. "We have not seen him, mamma," said Lily. "We have been ever so far down the fields, and forgot altogether what o'clock it was." "I don't think uncle Christopher was about the place, or we should have met him," said Bell. "But I am vexed with you, mamma. Are not you, Bell? It is very bad of you to stay here all alone, and not come." "I suppose mamma likes being at home better than up at the Great House," said Bell, very gently; and as she spoke she was holding her mother's hand. "Well; good-by, dears. I shall expect you between ten and eleven. But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone. The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run. And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps. She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls. But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them. She stood there, however, without advancing a step. She would not have Hopkins telling how she watched her daughters as they went from her own home to that of her brother-in-law. It was not within the capacity of Hopkins to understand why she watched them. "Well, girls, you're not much too soon. I think your mother might have come with you," said uncle Christopher. And this was the manner of the man. Had he known his own wishes he must have acknowledged to himself that he was better pleased that Mrs. Dale should stay away. He felt himself more absolutely master and more comfortably at home at his own table without her company than with it. And yet he frequently made a grievance of her not coming, and himself believed in that grievance. "I think mamma was tired," said Bell. "Hem. It's not so very far across from one house to the other. If I were to shut myself up whenever I'm tired-- But never mind. Let's go to dinner. Mr. Crosbie, will you take my niece Lilian." And then, offering his own arm to Bell, he walked off to the dining-room. "If he scolds mamma any more, I'll go away," said Lily to her companion; by which it may be seen that they had all become very intimate during the long day that they had passed together. Mrs. Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however, imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs. Dale was not above novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together. It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard, but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs. Dale was not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship; but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since; and during those years Mrs. Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him as he had been to her. But all this was very hard to bear. That her daughters should love their uncle was not only reasonable, but in every way desirable. He was not cold to them. To them he was generous and affectionate. If she were only out of the way, he would have taken them to his house as his own, and they would in all respects have stood before the world as his adopted children. Would it not be better if she were out of the way? It was only in her most dismal moods that this question would get itself asked within her mind, and then she would recover herself, and answer it stoutly with an indignant protest against her own morbid weakness. It would not be well that she should be away from her girls,--not though their uncle should have been twice a better uncle; not though, by her absence, they might become heiresses of all Allington. Was it not above everything to them that they should have a mother near them? And as she asked of herself that morbid question,--wickedly asked it, as she declared to herself,--did she not know that they loved her better than all the world beside, and would prefer her caresses and her care to the guardianship of any uncle, let his house be ever so great? As yet they loved her better than all the world beside. Of other love, should it come, she would not be jealous. And if it should come, and should be happy, might there not yet be a bright evening of life for herself? If they should marry, and if their lords would accept her love, her friendship, and her homage, she might yet escape from the deathlike coldness of that Great House, and be happy in some tiny cottage, from which she might go forth at times among those who would really welcome her. A certain doctor there was, living not very far from Allington, at Guestwick, as to whom she had once thought that he might fill that place of son-in-law,--to be well-beloved. Her quiet, beautiful Bell had seemed to like the man; and he had certainly done more than seem to like her. But now, for some weeks past, this hope, or rather this idea, had faded away. Mrs. Dale had never questioned her daughter on the matter; she was not a woman prone to put such questions. But during the month or two last past, she had seen with regret that Bell looked almost coldly on the man whom her mother favoured. In thinking of all this the long evening passed away, and at eleven o'clock she heard the coming steps across the garden. The young men had, of course, accompanied the girls home; and as she stepped out from the still open window of her own drawing-room, she saw them all on the centre of the lawn before her. "There's mamma," said Lily. "Mamma, Mr. Crosbie wants to play croquet by moonlight." "I don't think there is light enough for that," said Mrs. Dale. "There is light enough for him," said Lily, "for he plays quite independently of the hoops; don't you, Mr. Crosbie?" "There's very pretty croquet light, I should say," said Mr. Crosbie, looking up at the bright moon; "and then it is so stupid going to bed." "Yes, it is stupid going to bed," said Lily; "but people in the country are stupid, you know. Billiards, that you can play all night by gas, is much better, isn't it?" "Your arrows fall terribly astray there, Miss Dale, for I never touch a cue; you should talk to your cousin about billiards." "Is Bernard a great billiard player?" asked Bell. "Well, I do play now and again; about as well as Crosbie does croquet. Come, Crosbie, we'll go home and smoke a cigar." "Yes," said Lily; "and then, you know, we stupid people can go to bed. Mamma, I wish you had a little smoking-room here for us. I don't like being considered stupid." And then they parted,--the ladies going into the house, and the two men returning across the lawn. "Lily, my love," said Mrs. Dale, when they were all together in her bedroom, "it seems to me that you are very hard upon Mr. Crosbie." "She has been going on like that all the evening," said Bell. "I'm sure we are very good friends," said Lily. "Oh, very!" said Bell. "Now, Bell, you're jealous; you know you are." And then, seeing that her sister was in some slight degree vexed, she went up to her and kissed her. "She shan't be called jealous; shall she, mamma?" "I don't think she deserves it," said Mrs. Dale. "Now, you don't mean to say that you think I meant anything," said Lily. "As if I cared a buttercup about Mr. Crosbie." "Or I either, Lily." "Of course you don't. But I do care for him very much, mamma. He is such a duck of an Apollo. I shall always call him Apollo; Phoebus Apollo! And when I draw his picture he shall have a mallet in his hand instead of a bow. Upon my word I am very much obliged to Bernard for bringing him down here; and I do wish he was not going away the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow!" said Mrs. Dale. "It was hardly worth coming for two days." "No, it wasn't,--disturbing us all in our quiet little ways just for such a spell as that,--not giving one time even to count his rays." "But he says he shall perhaps come again," said Bell. "There is that hope for us," said Lily. "Uncle Christopher asked him to come down when he gets his long leave of absence. This is only a short sort of leave. He is better off than poor Johnny Eames. Johnny Eames only has a month, but Mr. Crosbie has two months just whenever he likes it; and seems to be pretty much his own master all the year round besides." "And uncle Christopher asked him to come down for the shooting in September," said Bell. "And though he didn't say he'd come I think he meant it," said Lily. "There is that hope for us, mamma." "Then you'll have to draw Apollo with a gun instead of a mallet." "That is the worst of it, mamma. We shan't see much of him or of Bernard either. They wouldn't let us go out into the woods as beaters, would they?" "You'd make too much noise to be of any use." "Should I? I thought the beaters had to shout at the birds. I should get very tired of shouting at birds, so I think I'll stay at home and look after my clothes." "I hope he will come, because uncle Christopher seems to like him so much," said Bell. "I wonder whether a certain gentleman at Guestwick will like his coming," said Lily. And then, as soon as she had spoken the words, she looked at her sister, and saw that she had grieved her. "Lily, you let your tongue run too fast," said Mrs. Dale. "I didn't mean anything, Bell," said Lily. "I beg your pardon." "It doesn't signify," said Bell. "Only Lily says things without thinking." And then that conversation came to an end, and nothing more was said among them beyond what appertained to their toilet, and a few last words at parting. But the two girls occupied the same room, and when their own door was closed upon them, Bell did allude to what had passed with some spirit. "Lily, you promised me," she said, "that you would not say anything more to me about Dr. Crofts." "I know I did, and I was very wrong. I beg your pardon, Bell; and I won't do it again,--not if I can help it." "Not help it, Lily!" "But I'm sure I don't know why I shouldn't speak of him,--only not in the way of laughing at you. Of all the men I ever saw in my life I like him best. And only that I love you better than I love myself I could find it in my heart to grudge you his--" "Lily, what did you promise just now?" "Well; after to-night. And I don't know why you should turn against him." "I have never turned against him or for him." "There's no turning about him. He'd give his left hand if you'd only smile on him. Or his right either,--and that's what I should like to see; so now you've heard it." "You know you are talking nonsense." "So I should like to see it. And so would mamma too, I'm sure; though I never heard her say a word about him. In my mind he's the finest fellow I ever saw. What's Mr. Apollo Crosbie to him? And now, as it makes you unhappy, I'll never say another word about him." As Bell wished her sister good-night with perhaps more than her usual affection, it was evident that Lily's words and eager tone had in some way pleased her, in spite of their opposition to the request which she had made. And Lily was aware that it was so. CHAPTER IV. MRS. ROPER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. [ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)] I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends. There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. They go much about alone, and blush when women speak to them. In truth, they are not as yet men, whatever the number may be of their years; and, as they are no longer boys, the world has found for them the ungraceful name of hobbledehoy. Such observations, however, as I have been enabled to make on this matter have led me to believe that the hobbledehoy is by no means the least valuable species of the human race. When I compare the hobbledehoy of one or two and twenty to some finished Apollo of the same age, I regard the former as unripe fruit, and the latter as fruit that is ripe. Then comes the question as to the two fruits. Which is the better fruit, that which ripens early--which is, perhaps, favoured with some little forcing apparatus, or which, at least, is backed by the warmth of a southern wall; or that fruit of slower growth, as to which nature works without assistance, on which the sun operates in its own time,--or perhaps never operates if some ungenial shade has been allowed to interpose itself? The world, no doubt, is in favour of the forcing apparatus or of the southern wall. The fruit comes certainly, and at an assured period. It is spotless, speckless, and of a certain quality by no means despicable. The owner has it when he wants it, and it serves its turn. But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit,--is given in the sun's own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself. I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour. But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ball-room, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of beings, and especially eloquent among beautiful women. He enjoys all the triumphs of a Don Juan, without any of Don Juan's heartlessness, and is able to conquer in all encounters, through the force of his wit and the sweetness of his voice. But this eloquence is heard only by his own inner ears, and these triumphs are the triumphs of his imagination. The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys--a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large. He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement. Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy. And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself. Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London. We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him. But yet he was not without friends--friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare. And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoya herself. Mrs. Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire. He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty. He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story. With no other man had Mr. Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr. Eames died Mr. Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children. He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held. And Mrs. Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs. Dale. The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs. Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age. But Mrs. Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House. Mrs. Eames was a poor forlorn woman--forlorn even during the time of her husband's life, but very wobegone now in her widowhood. In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son. But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs. Eames held him in great awe. Mrs. Dale held her brother-in-law in no awe, and sometimes gave to the widow from Guestwick advice quite at variance to that given by the squire. In this way there had grown up an intimacy between Bell and Lily and the young Eames, and either of the girls was prepared to declare that Johnny Eames was her own and well-loved friend. Nevertheless, they spoke of him occasionally with some little dash of merriment--as is not unusual with pretty girls who have hobbledehoys among their intimate friends, and who are not themselves unaccustomed to the grace of an Apollo. I may as well announce at once that John Eames, when he went up to London, was absolutely and irretrievably in love with Lily Dale. He had declared his passion in the most moving language a hundred times; but he had declared it only to himself. He had written much poetry about Lily, but he kept his lines safe under double lock and key. When he gave the reins to his imagination, he flattered himself that he might win not only her but the world at large also by his verses; but he would have perished rather than exhibit them to human eye. During the last ten weeks of his life at Guestwick, while he was preparing for his career in London, he hung about Allington, walking over frequently and then walking back again; but all in vain. During these visits he would sit in Mrs. Dale's drawing-room, speaking but little, and addressing himself usually to the mother; but on each occasion, as he started on his long, hot walk, he resolved that he would say something by which Lily might know of his love. When he left for London that something had not been said. He had not dreamed of asking her to be his wife. John Eames was about to begin the world with eighty pounds a year, and an allowance of twenty more from his mother's purse. He was well aware that with such an income he could not establish himself as a married man in London, and he also felt that the man who might be fortunate enough to win Lily for his wife should be prepared to give her every soft luxury that the world could afford. He knew well that he ought not to expect any assurance of Lily's love; but, nevertheless, he thought it possible that he might give her an assurance of his love. It would probably be in vain. He had no real hope, unless when he was in one of those poetic moods. He had acknowledged to himself, in some indistinct way, that he was no more than a hobbledehoy, awkward, silent, ungainly, with a face unfinished, as it were, or unripe. All this he knew, and knew also that there were Apollos in the world

mind

How many times the word 'mind' appears in the text?

years younger than her father's family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty; but if she can be young in spirit at forty, let her show that she is so. I think that Mrs. Dale was wrong. She would have joined that party on the croquet ground, instead of remaining among the pea-sticks in her sun-bonnet, had she done as I would have counselled her. Not a word was spoken among the four that she did not hear. Those pea-sticks were only removed from the lawn by a low wall and a few shrubs. She listened, not as one suspecting, but simply as one loving. The voices of her girls were very dear to her, and the silver ringing tones of Lily's tongue were as sweet to her ears as the music of the gods. She heard all that about Lady Hartletop, and shuddered at Lily's bold sarcasm. And she heard Lily say that mamma would stay at home and eat the peas, and said to herself sadly that that was now her lot in life. "Dear darling girl,--and so it should be!" It was thus her thoughts ran. And then, when her ear had traced them, as they passed across the little bridge into the other grounds, she returned across the lawn to the house with her burden on her arm, and sat herself down on the step of the drawing-room window, looking out on the sweet summer flowers and the smooth surface of the grass before her. Had not God done well for her to place her where she was? Had not her lines been set for her in pleasant places? Was she not happy in her girls,--her sweet, loving, trusting, trusty children? As it was to be that her lord, that best half of herself, was to be taken from her in early life, and that the springs of all the lighter pleasures were to be thus stopped for her, had it not been well that in her bereavement so much had been done to soften her lot in life and give it grace and beauty? 'Twas so, she argued with herself, and yet she acknowledged to herself that she was not happy. She had resolved, as she herself had said often, to put away childish things, and now she pined for those things which she so put from her. As she sat she could still hear Lily's voice as they went through the shrubbery,--hear it when none but a mother's ears would have distinguished the sound. Now that those young men were at the Great House it was natural that her girls should be there too. The squire would not have had young men to stay with him had there been no ladies to grace his table. But for her,--she knew that no one would want her there. Now and again she must go, as otherwise her very existence, without going, would be a thing disagreeably noticeable. But there was no other reason why she should join the party; nor in joining it would she either give or receive pleasure. Let her daughters eat from her brother's table and drink of his cup. They were made welcome to do so from the heart. For her there was no such welcome as that at the Great House,--nor at any other house, or any other table! "Mamma will stay at home to eat the peas." And then she repeated to herself the words which Lily had spoken, sitting there, leaning with her elbow on her knee, and her head upon her hand. "Please, ma'am, cook says, can we have the peas to shell?" and then her reverie was broken. [ILLUSTRATION: "Please, ma'am, can we have the peas to shell?"] Whereupon Mrs. Dale got up and gave over her basket. "Cook knows that the young ladies are going to dine at the Great House?" "Yes, ma'am." "She needn't mind getting dinner for me. I will have tea early." And so, after all, Mrs. Dale did not perform that special duty appointed for her. But she soon set herself to work upon another duty. When a family of three persons has to live upon an income of three hundred a year, and, nevertheless, makes some pretence of going into society, it has to be very mindful of small details, even though that family may consist only of ladies. Of this Mrs. Dale was well aware, and as it pleased her that her daughters should be nice and fresh, and pretty in their attire, many a long hour was given up to that care. The squire would send them shawls in winter, and had given them riding habits, and had sent them down brown silk for dresses from London,--so limited in quantity that the due manufacture of two dresses out of the material had been found to be beyond the art of woman, and the brown silk garments had been a difficulty from that day to this,--the squire having a good memory in such matters, and being anxious to see the fruits of his liberality. All this was doubtless of assistance, but had the squire given the amount which he so expended in money to his nieces, the benefit would have been greater. As it was, the girls were always nice and fresh and pretty, they themselves not being idle in that matter; but their tire-woman in chief was their mother. And now she went up to their room and got out their muslin frocks, and--but, perhaps, I should not tell such tales!--She, however, felt no shame in her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be. Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour. "Oh! mamma, how good you are," said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner. "Mamma is always good," said Lily. "I wish, mamma, I could do the same for you oftener," and then she kissed her mother. But the squire was exact about dinner, so they dressed themselves in haste, and went off again through the garden, their mother accompanying them to the little bridge. "Your uncle did not seem vexed at my not coming?" said Mrs. Dale. "We have not seen him, mamma," said Lily. "We have been ever so far down the fields, and forgot altogether what o'clock it was." "I don't think uncle Christopher was about the place, or we should have met him," said Bell. "But I am vexed with you, mamma. Are not you, Bell? It is very bad of you to stay here all alone, and not come." "I suppose mamma likes being at home better than up at the Great House," said Bell, very gently; and as she spoke she was holding her mother's hand. "Well; good-by, dears. I shall expect you between ten and eleven. But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone. The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run. And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps. She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls. But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them. She stood there, however, without advancing a step. She would not have Hopkins telling how she watched her daughters as they went from her own home to that of her brother-in-law. It was not within the capacity of Hopkins to understand why she watched them. "Well, girls, you're not much too soon. I think your mother might have come with you," said uncle Christopher. And this was the manner of the man. Had he known his own wishes he must have acknowledged to himself that he was better pleased that Mrs. Dale should stay away. He felt himself more absolutely master and more comfortably at home at his own table without her company than with it. And yet he frequently made a grievance of her not coming, and himself believed in that grievance. "I think mamma was tired," said Bell. "Hem. It's not so very far across from one house to the other. If I were to shut myself up whenever I'm tired-- But never mind. Let's go to dinner. Mr. Crosbie, will you take my niece Lilian." And then, offering his own arm to Bell, he walked off to the dining-room. "If he scolds mamma any more, I'll go away," said Lily to her companion; by which it may be seen that they had all become very intimate during the long day that they had passed together. Mrs. Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however, imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs. Dale was not above novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together. It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard, but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs. Dale was not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship; but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since; and during those years Mrs. Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him as he had been to her. But all this was very hard to bear. That her daughters should love their uncle was not only reasonable, but in every way desirable. He was not cold to them. To them he was generous and affectionate. If she were only out of the way, he would have taken them to his house as his own, and they would in all respects have stood before the world as his adopted children. Would it not be better if she were out of the way? It was only in her most dismal moods that this question would get itself asked within her mind, and then she would recover herself, and answer it stoutly with an indignant protest against her own morbid weakness. It would not be well that she should be away from her girls,--not though their uncle should have been twice a better uncle; not though, by her absence, they might become heiresses of all Allington. Was it not above everything to them that they should have a mother near them? And as she asked of herself that morbid question,--wickedly asked it, as she declared to herself,--did she not know that they loved her better than all the world beside, and would prefer her caresses and her care to the guardianship of any uncle, let his house be ever so great? As yet they loved her better than all the world beside. Of other love, should it come, she would not be jealous. And if it should come, and should be happy, might there not yet be a bright evening of life for herself? If they should marry, and if their lords would accept her love, her friendship, and her homage, she might yet escape from the deathlike coldness of that Great House, and be happy in some tiny cottage, from which she might go forth at times among those who would really welcome her. A certain doctor there was, living not very far from Allington, at Guestwick, as to whom she had once thought that he might fill that place of son-in-law,--to be well-beloved. Her quiet, beautiful Bell had seemed to like the man; and he had certainly done more than seem to like her. But now, for some weeks past, this hope, or rather this idea, had faded away. Mrs. Dale had never questioned her daughter on the matter; she was not a woman prone to put such questions. But during the month or two last past, she had seen with regret that Bell looked almost coldly on the man whom her mother favoured. In thinking of all this the long evening passed away, and at eleven o'clock she heard the coming steps across the garden. The young men had, of course, accompanied the girls home; and as she stepped out from the still open window of her own drawing-room, she saw them all on the centre of the lawn before her. "There's mamma," said Lily. "Mamma, Mr. Crosbie wants to play croquet by moonlight." "I don't think there is light enough for that," said Mrs. Dale. "There is light enough for him," said Lily, "for he plays quite independently of the hoops; don't you, Mr. Crosbie?" "There's very pretty croquet light, I should say," said Mr. Crosbie, looking up at the bright moon; "and then it is so stupid going to bed." "Yes, it is stupid going to bed," said Lily; "but people in the country are stupid, you know. Billiards, that you can play all night by gas, is much better, isn't it?" "Your arrows fall terribly astray there, Miss Dale, for I never touch a cue; you should talk to your cousin about billiards." "Is Bernard a great billiard player?" asked Bell. "Well, I do play now and again; about as well as Crosbie does croquet. Come, Crosbie, we'll go home and smoke a cigar." "Yes," said Lily; "and then, you know, we stupid people can go to bed. Mamma, I wish you had a little smoking-room here for us. I don't like being considered stupid." And then they parted,--the ladies going into the house, and the two men returning across the lawn. "Lily, my love," said Mrs. Dale, when they were all together in her bedroom, "it seems to me that you are very hard upon Mr. Crosbie." "She has been going on like that all the evening," said Bell. "I'm sure we are very good friends," said Lily. "Oh, very!" said Bell. "Now, Bell, you're jealous; you know you are." And then, seeing that her sister was in some slight degree vexed, she went up to her and kissed her. "She shan't be called jealous; shall she, mamma?" "I don't think she deserves it," said Mrs. Dale. "Now, you don't mean to say that you think I meant anything," said Lily. "As if I cared a buttercup about Mr. Crosbie." "Or I either, Lily." "Of course you don't. But I do care for him very much, mamma. He is such a duck of an Apollo. I shall always call him Apollo; Phoebus Apollo! And when I draw his picture he shall have a mallet in his hand instead of a bow. Upon my word I am very much obliged to Bernard for bringing him down here; and I do wish he was not going away the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow!" said Mrs. Dale. "It was hardly worth coming for two days." "No, it wasn't,--disturbing us all in our quiet little ways just for such a spell as that,--not giving one time even to count his rays." "But he says he shall perhaps come again," said Bell. "There is that hope for us," said Lily. "Uncle Christopher asked him to come down when he gets his long leave of absence. This is only a short sort of leave. He is better off than poor Johnny Eames. Johnny Eames only has a month, but Mr. Crosbie has two months just whenever he likes it; and seems to be pretty much his own master all the year round besides." "And uncle Christopher asked him to come down for the shooting in September," said Bell. "And though he didn't say he'd come I think he meant it," said Lily. "There is that hope for us, mamma." "Then you'll have to draw Apollo with a gun instead of a mallet." "That is the worst of it, mamma. We shan't see much of him or of Bernard either. They wouldn't let us go out into the woods as beaters, would they?" "You'd make too much noise to be of any use." "Should I? I thought the beaters had to shout at the birds. I should get very tired of shouting at birds, so I think I'll stay at home and look after my clothes." "I hope he will come, because uncle Christopher seems to like him so much," said Bell. "I wonder whether a certain gentleman at Guestwick will like his coming," said Lily. And then, as soon as she had spoken the words, she looked at her sister, and saw that she had grieved her. "Lily, you let your tongue run too fast," said Mrs. Dale. "I didn't mean anything, Bell," said Lily. "I beg your pardon." "It doesn't signify," said Bell. "Only Lily says things without thinking." And then that conversation came to an end, and nothing more was said among them beyond what appertained to their toilet, and a few last words at parting. But the two girls occupied the same room, and when their own door was closed upon them, Bell did allude to what had passed with some spirit. "Lily, you promised me," she said, "that you would not say anything more to me about Dr. Crofts." "I know I did, and I was very wrong. I beg your pardon, Bell; and I won't do it again,--not if I can help it." "Not help it, Lily!" "But I'm sure I don't know why I shouldn't speak of him,--only not in the way of laughing at you. Of all the men I ever saw in my life I like him best. And only that I love you better than I love myself I could find it in my heart to grudge you his--" "Lily, what did you promise just now?" "Well; after to-night. And I don't know why you should turn against him." "I have never turned against him or for him." "There's no turning about him. He'd give his left hand if you'd only smile on him. Or his right either,--and that's what I should like to see; so now you've heard it." "You know you are talking nonsense." "So I should like to see it. And so would mamma too, I'm sure; though I never heard her say a word about him. In my mind he's the finest fellow I ever saw. What's Mr. Apollo Crosbie to him? And now, as it makes you unhappy, I'll never say another word about him." As Bell wished her sister good-night with perhaps more than her usual affection, it was evident that Lily's words and eager tone had in some way pleased her, in spite of their opposition to the request which she had made. And Lily was aware that it was so. CHAPTER IV. MRS. ROPER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. [ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)] I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends. There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. They go much about alone, and blush when women speak to them. In truth, they are not as yet men, whatever the number may be of their years; and, as they are no longer boys, the world has found for them the ungraceful name of hobbledehoy. Such observations, however, as I have been enabled to make on this matter have led me to believe that the hobbledehoy is by no means the least valuable species of the human race. When I compare the hobbledehoy of one or two and twenty to some finished Apollo of the same age, I regard the former as unripe fruit, and the latter as fruit that is ripe. Then comes the question as to the two fruits. Which is the better fruit, that which ripens early--which is, perhaps, favoured with some little forcing apparatus, or which, at least, is backed by the warmth of a southern wall; or that fruit of slower growth, as to which nature works without assistance, on which the sun operates in its own time,--or perhaps never operates if some ungenial shade has been allowed to interpose itself? The world, no doubt, is in favour of the forcing apparatus or of the southern wall. The fruit comes certainly, and at an assured period. It is spotless, speckless, and of a certain quality by no means despicable. The owner has it when he wants it, and it serves its turn. But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit,--is given in the sun's own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself. I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour. But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ball-room, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of beings, and especially eloquent among beautiful women. He enjoys all the triumphs of a Don Juan, without any of Don Juan's heartlessness, and is able to conquer in all encounters, through the force of his wit and the sweetness of his voice. But this eloquence is heard only by his own inner ears, and these triumphs are the triumphs of his imagination. The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys--a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large. He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement. Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy. And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself. Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London. We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him. But yet he was not without friends--friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare. And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoya herself. Mrs. Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire. He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty. He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story. With no other man had Mr. Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr. Eames died Mr. Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children. He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held. And Mrs. Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs. Dale. The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs. Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age. But Mrs. Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House. Mrs. Eames was a poor forlorn woman--forlorn even during the time of her husband's life, but very wobegone now in her widowhood. In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son. But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs. Eames held him in great awe. Mrs. Dale held her brother-in-law in no awe, and sometimes gave to the widow from Guestwick advice quite at variance to that given by the squire. In this way there had grown up an intimacy between Bell and Lily and the young Eames, and either of the girls was prepared to declare that Johnny Eames was her own and well-loved friend. Nevertheless, they spoke of him occasionally with some little dash of merriment--as is not unusual with pretty girls who have hobbledehoys among their intimate friends, and who are not themselves unaccustomed to the grace of an Apollo. I may as well announce at once that John Eames, when he went up to London, was absolutely and irretrievably in love with Lily Dale. He had declared his passion in the most moving language a hundred times; but he had declared it only to himself. He had written much poetry about Lily, but he kept his lines safe under double lock and key. When he gave the reins to his imagination, he flattered himself that he might win not only her but the world at large also by his verses; but he would have perished rather than exhibit them to human eye. During the last ten weeks of his life at Guestwick, while he was preparing for his career in London, he hung about Allington, walking over frequently and then walking back again; but all in vain. During these visits he would sit in Mrs. Dale's drawing-room, speaking but little, and addressing himself usually to the mother; but on each occasion, as he started on his long, hot walk, he resolved that he would say something by which Lily might know of his love. When he left for London that something had not been said. He had not dreamed of asking her to be his wife. John Eames was about to begin the world with eighty pounds a year, and an allowance of twenty more from his mother's purse. He was well aware that with such an income he could not establish himself as a married man in London, and he also felt that the man who might be fortunate enough to win Lily for his wife should be prepared to give her every soft luxury that the world could afford. He knew well that he ought not to expect any assurance of Lily's love; but, nevertheless, he thought it possible that he might give her an assurance of his love. It would probably be in vain. He had no real hope, unless when he was in one of those poetic moods. He had acknowledged to himself, in some indistinct way, that he was no more than a hobbledehoy, awkward, silent, ungainly, with a face unfinished, as it were, or unripe. All this he knew, and knew also that there were Apollos in the world

runs

How many times the word 'runs' appears in the text?

years younger than her father's family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty; but if she can be young in spirit at forty, let her show that she is so. I think that Mrs. Dale was wrong. She would have joined that party on the croquet ground, instead of remaining among the pea-sticks in her sun-bonnet, had she done as I would have counselled her. Not a word was spoken among the four that she did not hear. Those pea-sticks were only removed from the lawn by a low wall and a few shrubs. She listened, not as one suspecting, but simply as one loving. The voices of her girls were very dear to her, and the silver ringing tones of Lily's tongue were as sweet to her ears as the music of the gods. She heard all that about Lady Hartletop, and shuddered at Lily's bold sarcasm. And she heard Lily say that mamma would stay at home and eat the peas, and said to herself sadly that that was now her lot in life. "Dear darling girl,--and so it should be!" It was thus her thoughts ran. And then, when her ear had traced them, as they passed across the little bridge into the other grounds, she returned across the lawn to the house with her burden on her arm, and sat herself down on the step of the drawing-room window, looking out on the sweet summer flowers and the smooth surface of the grass before her. Had not God done well for her to place her where she was? Had not her lines been set for her in pleasant places? Was she not happy in her girls,--her sweet, loving, trusting, trusty children? As it was to be that her lord, that best half of herself, was to be taken from her in early life, and that the springs of all the lighter pleasures were to be thus stopped for her, had it not been well that in her bereavement so much had been done to soften her lot in life and give it grace and beauty? 'Twas so, she argued with herself, and yet she acknowledged to herself that she was not happy. She had resolved, as she herself had said often, to put away childish things, and now she pined for those things which she so put from her. As she sat she could still hear Lily's voice as they went through the shrubbery,--hear it when none but a mother's ears would have distinguished the sound. Now that those young men were at the Great House it was natural that her girls should be there too. The squire would not have had young men to stay with him had there been no ladies to grace his table. But for her,--she knew that no one would want her there. Now and again she must go, as otherwise her very existence, without going, would be a thing disagreeably noticeable. But there was no other reason why she should join the party; nor in joining it would she either give or receive pleasure. Let her daughters eat from her brother's table and drink of his cup. They were made welcome to do so from the heart. For her there was no such welcome as that at the Great House,--nor at any other house, or any other table! "Mamma will stay at home to eat the peas." And then she repeated to herself the words which Lily had spoken, sitting there, leaning with her elbow on her knee, and her head upon her hand. "Please, ma'am, cook says, can we have the peas to shell?" and then her reverie was broken. [ILLUSTRATION: "Please, ma'am, can we have the peas to shell?"] Whereupon Mrs. Dale got up and gave over her basket. "Cook knows that the young ladies are going to dine at the Great House?" "Yes, ma'am." "She needn't mind getting dinner for me. I will have tea early." And so, after all, Mrs. Dale did not perform that special duty appointed for her. But she soon set herself to work upon another duty. When a family of three persons has to live upon an income of three hundred a year, and, nevertheless, makes some pretence of going into society, it has to be very mindful of small details, even though that family may consist only of ladies. Of this Mrs. Dale was well aware, and as it pleased her that her daughters should be nice and fresh, and pretty in their attire, many a long hour was given up to that care. The squire would send them shawls in winter, and had given them riding habits, and had sent them down brown silk for dresses from London,--so limited in quantity that the due manufacture of two dresses out of the material had been found to be beyond the art of woman, and the brown silk garments had been a difficulty from that day to this,--the squire having a good memory in such matters, and being anxious to see the fruits of his liberality. All this was doubtless of assistance, but had the squire given the amount which he so expended in money to his nieces, the benefit would have been greater. As it was, the girls were always nice and fresh and pretty, they themselves not being idle in that matter; but their tire-woman in chief was their mother. And now she went up to their room and got out their muslin frocks, and--but, perhaps, I should not tell such tales!--She, however, felt no shame in her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be. Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour. "Oh! mamma, how good you are," said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner. "Mamma is always good," said Lily. "I wish, mamma, I could do the same for you oftener," and then she kissed her mother. But the squire was exact about dinner, so they dressed themselves in haste, and went off again through the garden, their mother accompanying them to the little bridge. "Your uncle did not seem vexed at my not coming?" said Mrs. Dale. "We have not seen him, mamma," said Lily. "We have been ever so far down the fields, and forgot altogether what o'clock it was." "I don't think uncle Christopher was about the place, or we should have met him," said Bell. "But I am vexed with you, mamma. Are not you, Bell? It is very bad of you to stay here all alone, and not come." "I suppose mamma likes being at home better than up at the Great House," said Bell, very gently; and as she spoke she was holding her mother's hand. "Well; good-by, dears. I shall expect you between ten and eleven. But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone. The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run. And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps. She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls. But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them. She stood there, however, without advancing a step. She would not have Hopkins telling how she watched her daughters as they went from her own home to that of her brother-in-law. It was not within the capacity of Hopkins to understand why she watched them. "Well, girls, you're not much too soon. I think your mother might have come with you," said uncle Christopher. And this was the manner of the man. Had he known his own wishes he must have acknowledged to himself that he was better pleased that Mrs. Dale should stay away. He felt himself more absolutely master and more comfortably at home at his own table without her company than with it. And yet he frequently made a grievance of her not coming, and himself believed in that grievance. "I think mamma was tired," said Bell. "Hem. It's not so very far across from one house to the other. If I were to shut myself up whenever I'm tired-- But never mind. Let's go to dinner. Mr. Crosbie, will you take my niece Lilian." And then, offering his own arm to Bell, he walked off to the dining-room. "If he scolds mamma any more, I'll go away," said Lily to her companion; by which it may be seen that they had all become very intimate during the long day that they had passed together. Mrs. Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however, imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs. Dale was not above novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together. It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard, but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs. Dale was not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship; but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since; and during those years Mrs. Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him as he had been to her. But all this was very hard to bear. That her daughters should love their uncle was not only reasonable, but in every way desirable. He was not cold to them. To them he was generous and affectionate. If she were only out of the way, he would have taken them to his house as his own, and they would in all respects have stood before the world as his adopted children. Would it not be better if she were out of the way? It was only in her most dismal moods that this question would get itself asked within her mind, and then she would recover herself, and answer it stoutly with an indignant protest against her own morbid weakness. It would not be well that she should be away from her girls,--not though their uncle should have been twice a better uncle; not though, by her absence, they might become heiresses of all Allington. Was it not above everything to them that they should have a mother near them? And as she asked of herself that morbid question,--wickedly asked it, as she declared to herself,--did she not know that they loved her better than all the world beside, and would prefer her caresses and her care to the guardianship of any uncle, let his house be ever so great? As yet they loved her better than all the world beside. Of other love, should it come, she would not be jealous. And if it should come, and should be happy, might there not yet be a bright evening of life for herself? If they should marry, and if their lords would accept her love, her friendship, and her homage, she might yet escape from the deathlike coldness of that Great House, and be happy in some tiny cottage, from which she might go forth at times among those who would really welcome her. A certain doctor there was, living not very far from Allington, at Guestwick, as to whom she had once thought that he might fill that place of son-in-law,--to be well-beloved. Her quiet, beautiful Bell had seemed to like the man; and he had certainly done more than seem to like her. But now, for some weeks past, this hope, or rather this idea, had faded away. Mrs. Dale had never questioned her daughter on the matter; she was not a woman prone to put such questions. But during the month or two last past, she had seen with regret that Bell looked almost coldly on the man whom her mother favoured. In thinking of all this the long evening passed away, and at eleven o'clock she heard the coming steps across the garden. The young men had, of course, accompanied the girls home; and as she stepped out from the still open window of her own drawing-room, she saw them all on the centre of the lawn before her. "There's mamma," said Lily. "Mamma, Mr. Crosbie wants to play croquet by moonlight." "I don't think there is light enough for that," said Mrs. Dale. "There is light enough for him," said Lily, "for he plays quite independently of the hoops; don't you, Mr. Crosbie?" "There's very pretty croquet light, I should say," said Mr. Crosbie, looking up at the bright moon; "and then it is so stupid going to bed." "Yes, it is stupid going to bed," said Lily; "but people in the country are stupid, you know. Billiards, that you can play all night by gas, is much better, isn't it?" "Your arrows fall terribly astray there, Miss Dale, for I never touch a cue; you should talk to your cousin about billiards." "Is Bernard a great billiard player?" asked Bell. "Well, I do play now and again; about as well as Crosbie does croquet. Come, Crosbie, we'll go home and smoke a cigar." "Yes," said Lily; "and then, you know, we stupid people can go to bed. Mamma, I wish you had a little smoking-room here for us. I don't like being considered stupid." And then they parted,--the ladies going into the house, and the two men returning across the lawn. "Lily, my love," said Mrs. Dale, when they were all together in her bedroom, "it seems to me that you are very hard upon Mr. Crosbie." "She has been going on like that all the evening," said Bell. "I'm sure we are very good friends," said Lily. "Oh, very!" said Bell. "Now, Bell, you're jealous; you know you are." And then, seeing that her sister was in some slight degree vexed, she went up to her and kissed her. "She shan't be called jealous; shall she, mamma?" "I don't think she deserves it," said Mrs. Dale. "Now, you don't mean to say that you think I meant anything," said Lily. "As if I cared a buttercup about Mr. Crosbie." "Or I either, Lily." "Of course you don't. But I do care for him very much, mamma. He is such a duck of an Apollo. I shall always call him Apollo; Phoebus Apollo! And when I draw his picture he shall have a mallet in his hand instead of a bow. Upon my word I am very much obliged to Bernard for bringing him down here; and I do wish he was not going away the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow!" said Mrs. Dale. "It was hardly worth coming for two days." "No, it wasn't,--disturbing us all in our quiet little ways just for such a spell as that,--not giving one time even to count his rays." "But he says he shall perhaps come again," said Bell. "There is that hope for us," said Lily. "Uncle Christopher asked him to come down when he gets his long leave of absence. This is only a short sort of leave. He is better off than poor Johnny Eames. Johnny Eames only has a month, but Mr. Crosbie has two months just whenever he likes it; and seems to be pretty much his own master all the year round besides." "And uncle Christopher asked him to come down for the shooting in September," said Bell. "And though he didn't say he'd come I think he meant it," said Lily. "There is that hope for us, mamma." "Then you'll have to draw Apollo with a gun instead of a mallet." "That is the worst of it, mamma. We shan't see much of him or of Bernard either. They wouldn't let us go out into the woods as beaters, would they?" "You'd make too much noise to be of any use." "Should I? I thought the beaters had to shout at the birds. I should get very tired of shouting at birds, so I think I'll stay at home and look after my clothes." "I hope he will come, because uncle Christopher seems to like him so much," said Bell. "I wonder whether a certain gentleman at Guestwick will like his coming," said Lily. And then, as soon as she had spoken the words, she looked at her sister, and saw that she had grieved her. "Lily, you let your tongue run too fast," said Mrs. Dale. "I didn't mean anything, Bell," said Lily. "I beg your pardon." "It doesn't signify," said Bell. "Only Lily says things without thinking." And then that conversation came to an end, and nothing more was said among them beyond what appertained to their toilet, and a few last words at parting. But the two girls occupied the same room, and when their own door was closed upon them, Bell did allude to what had passed with some spirit. "Lily, you promised me," she said, "that you would not say anything more to me about Dr. Crofts." "I know I did, and I was very wrong. I beg your pardon, Bell; and I won't do it again,--not if I can help it." "Not help it, Lily!" "But I'm sure I don't know why I shouldn't speak of him,--only not in the way of laughing at you. Of all the men I ever saw in my life I like him best. And only that I love you better than I love myself I could find it in my heart to grudge you his--" "Lily, what did you promise just now?" "Well; after to-night. And I don't know why you should turn against him." "I have never turned against him or for him." "There's no turning about him. He'd give his left hand if you'd only smile on him. Or his right either,--and that's what I should like to see; so now you've heard it." "You know you are talking nonsense." "So I should like to see it. And so would mamma too, I'm sure; though I never heard her say a word about him. In my mind he's the finest fellow I ever saw. What's Mr. Apollo Crosbie to him? And now, as it makes you unhappy, I'll never say another word about him." As Bell wished her sister good-night with perhaps more than her usual affection, it was evident that Lily's words and eager tone had in some way pleased her, in spite of their opposition to the request which she had made. And Lily was aware that it was so. CHAPTER IV. MRS. ROPER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. [ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)] I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends. There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. They go much about alone, and blush when women speak to them. In truth, they are not as yet men, whatever the number may be of their years; and, as they are no longer boys, the world has found for them the ungraceful name of hobbledehoy. Such observations, however, as I have been enabled to make on this matter have led me to believe that the hobbledehoy is by no means the least valuable species of the human race. When I compare the hobbledehoy of one or two and twenty to some finished Apollo of the same age, I regard the former as unripe fruit, and the latter as fruit that is ripe. Then comes the question as to the two fruits. Which is the better fruit, that which ripens early--which is, perhaps, favoured with some little forcing apparatus, or which, at least, is backed by the warmth of a southern wall; or that fruit of slower growth, as to which nature works without assistance, on which the sun operates in its own time,--or perhaps never operates if some ungenial shade has been allowed to interpose itself? The world, no doubt, is in favour of the forcing apparatus or of the southern wall. The fruit comes certainly, and at an assured period. It is spotless, speckless, and of a certain quality by no means despicable. The owner has it when he wants it, and it serves its turn. But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit,--is given in the sun's own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself. I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour. But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ball-room, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of beings, and especially eloquent among beautiful women. He enjoys all the triumphs of a Don Juan, without any of Don Juan's heartlessness, and is able to conquer in all encounters, through the force of his wit and the sweetness of his voice. But this eloquence is heard only by his own inner ears, and these triumphs are the triumphs of his imagination. The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys--a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large. He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement. Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy. And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself. Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London. We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him. But yet he was not without friends--friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare. And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoya herself. Mrs. Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire. He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty. He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story. With no other man had Mr. Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr. Eames died Mr. Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children. He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held. And Mrs. Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs. Dale. The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs. Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age. But Mrs. Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House. Mrs. Eames was a poor forlorn woman--forlorn even during the time of her husband's life, but very wobegone now in her widowhood. In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son. But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs. Eames held him in great awe. Mrs. Dale held her brother-in-law in no awe, and sometimes gave to the widow from Guestwick advice quite at variance to that given by the squire. In this way there had grown up an intimacy between Bell and Lily and the young Eames, and either of the girls was prepared to declare that Johnny Eames was her own and well-loved friend. Nevertheless, they spoke of him occasionally with some little dash of merriment--as is not unusual with pretty girls who have hobbledehoys among their intimate friends, and who are not themselves unaccustomed to the grace of an Apollo. I may as well announce at once that John Eames, when he went up to London, was absolutely and irretrievably in love with Lily Dale. He had declared his passion in the most moving language a hundred times; but he had declared it only to himself. He had written much poetry about Lily, but he kept his lines safe under double lock and key. When he gave the reins to his imagination, he flattered himself that he might win not only her but the world at large also by his verses; but he would have perished rather than exhibit them to human eye. During the last ten weeks of his life at Guestwick, while he was preparing for his career in London, he hung about Allington, walking over frequently and then walking back again; but all in vain. During these visits he would sit in Mrs. Dale's drawing-room, speaking but little, and addressing himself usually to the mother; but on each occasion, as he started on his long, hot walk, he resolved that he would say something by which Lily might know of his love. When he left for London that something had not been said. He had not dreamed of asking her to be his wife. John Eames was about to begin the world with eighty pounds a year, and an allowance of twenty more from his mother's purse. He was well aware that with such an income he could not establish himself as a married man in London, and he also felt that the man who might be fortunate enough to win Lily for his wife should be prepared to give her every soft luxury that the world could afford. He knew well that he ought not to expect any assurance of Lily's love; but, nevertheless, he thought it possible that he might give her an assurance of his love. It would probably be in vain. He had no real hope, unless when he was in one of those poetic moods. He had acknowledged to himself, in some indistinct way, that he was no more than a hobbledehoy, awkward, silent, ungainly, with a face unfinished, as it were, or unripe. All this he knew, and knew also that there were Apollos in the world

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years younger than her father's family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty; but if she can be young in spirit at forty, let her show that she is so. I think that Mrs. Dale was wrong. She would have joined that party on the croquet ground, instead of remaining among the pea-sticks in her sun-bonnet, had she done as I would have counselled her. Not a word was spoken among the four that she did not hear. Those pea-sticks were only removed from the lawn by a low wall and a few shrubs. She listened, not as one suspecting, but simply as one loving. The voices of her girls were very dear to her, and the silver ringing tones of Lily's tongue were as sweet to her ears as the music of the gods. She heard all that about Lady Hartletop, and shuddered at Lily's bold sarcasm. And she heard Lily say that mamma would stay at home and eat the peas, and said to herself sadly that that was now her lot in life. "Dear darling girl,--and so it should be!" It was thus her thoughts ran. And then, when her ear had traced them, as they passed across the little bridge into the other grounds, she returned across the lawn to the house with her burden on her arm, and sat herself down on the step of the drawing-room window, looking out on the sweet summer flowers and the smooth surface of the grass before her. Had not God done well for her to place her where she was? Had not her lines been set for her in pleasant places? Was she not happy in her girls,--her sweet, loving, trusting, trusty children? As it was to be that her lord, that best half of herself, was to be taken from her in early life, and that the springs of all the lighter pleasures were to be thus stopped for her, had it not been well that in her bereavement so much had been done to soften her lot in life and give it grace and beauty? 'Twas so, she argued with herself, and yet she acknowledged to herself that she was not happy. She had resolved, as she herself had said often, to put away childish things, and now she pined for those things which she so put from her. As she sat she could still hear Lily's voice as they went through the shrubbery,--hear it when none but a mother's ears would have distinguished the sound. Now that those young men were at the Great House it was natural that her girls should be there too. The squire would not have had young men to stay with him had there been no ladies to grace his table. But for her,--she knew that no one would want her there. Now and again she must go, as otherwise her very existence, without going, would be a thing disagreeably noticeable. But there was no other reason why she should join the party; nor in joining it would she either give or receive pleasure. Let her daughters eat from her brother's table and drink of his cup. They were made welcome to do so from the heart. For her there was no such welcome as that at the Great House,--nor at any other house, or any other table! "Mamma will stay at home to eat the peas." And then she repeated to herself the words which Lily had spoken, sitting there, leaning with her elbow on her knee, and her head upon her hand. "Please, ma'am, cook says, can we have the peas to shell?" and then her reverie was broken. [ILLUSTRATION: "Please, ma'am, can we have the peas to shell?"] Whereupon Mrs. Dale got up and gave over her basket. "Cook knows that the young ladies are going to dine at the Great House?" "Yes, ma'am." "She needn't mind getting dinner for me. I will have tea early." And so, after all, Mrs. Dale did not perform that special duty appointed for her. But she soon set herself to work upon another duty. When a family of three persons has to live upon an income of three hundred a year, and, nevertheless, makes some pretence of going into society, it has to be very mindful of small details, even though that family may consist only of ladies. Of this Mrs. Dale was well aware, and as it pleased her that her daughters should be nice and fresh, and pretty in their attire, many a long hour was given up to that care. The squire would send them shawls in winter, and had given them riding habits, and had sent them down brown silk for dresses from London,--so limited in quantity that the due manufacture of two dresses out of the material had been found to be beyond the art of woman, and the brown silk garments had been a difficulty from that day to this,--the squire having a good memory in such matters, and being anxious to see the fruits of his liberality. All this was doubtless of assistance, but had the squire given the amount which he so expended in money to his nieces, the benefit would have been greater. As it was, the girls were always nice and fresh and pretty, they themselves not being idle in that matter; but their tire-woman in chief was their mother. And now she went up to their room and got out their muslin frocks, and--but, perhaps, I should not tell such tales!--She, however, felt no shame in her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be. Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour. "Oh! mamma, how good you are," said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner. "Mamma is always good," said Lily. "I wish, mamma, I could do the same for you oftener," and then she kissed her mother. But the squire was exact about dinner, so they dressed themselves in haste, and went off again through the garden, their mother accompanying them to the little bridge. "Your uncle did not seem vexed at my not coming?" said Mrs. Dale. "We have not seen him, mamma," said Lily. "We have been ever so far down the fields, and forgot altogether what o'clock it was." "I don't think uncle Christopher was about the place, or we should have met him," said Bell. "But I am vexed with you, mamma. Are not you, Bell? It is very bad of you to stay here all alone, and not come." "I suppose mamma likes being at home better than up at the Great House," said Bell, very gently; and as she spoke she was holding her mother's hand. "Well; good-by, dears. I shall expect you between ten and eleven. But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone. The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run. And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps. She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls. But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them. She stood there, however, without advancing a step. She would not have Hopkins telling how she watched her daughters as they went from her own home to that of her brother-in-law. It was not within the capacity of Hopkins to understand why she watched them. "Well, girls, you're not much too soon. I think your mother might have come with you," said uncle Christopher. And this was the manner of the man. Had he known his own wishes he must have acknowledged to himself that he was better pleased that Mrs. Dale should stay away. He felt himself more absolutely master and more comfortably at home at his own table without her company than with it. And yet he frequently made a grievance of her not coming, and himself believed in that grievance. "I think mamma was tired," said Bell. "Hem. It's not so very far across from one house to the other. If I were to shut myself up whenever I'm tired-- But never mind. Let's go to dinner. Mr. Crosbie, will you take my niece Lilian." And then, offering his own arm to Bell, he walked off to the dining-room. "If he scolds mamma any more, I'll go away," said Lily to her companion; by which it may be seen that they had all become very intimate during the long day that they had passed together. Mrs. Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however, imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs. Dale was not above novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together. It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard, but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs. Dale was not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship; but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since; and during those years Mrs. Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him as he had been to her. But all this was very hard to bear. That her daughters should love their uncle was not only reasonable, but in every way desirable. He was not cold to them. To them he was generous and affectionate. If she were only out of the way, he would have taken them to his house as his own, and they would in all respects have stood before the world as his adopted children. Would it not be better if she were out of the way? It was only in her most dismal moods that this question would get itself asked within her mind, and then she would recover herself, and answer it stoutly with an indignant protest against her own morbid weakness. It would not be well that she should be away from her girls,--not though their uncle should have been twice a better uncle; not though, by her absence, they might become heiresses of all Allington. Was it not above everything to them that they should have a mother near them? And as she asked of herself that morbid question,--wickedly asked it, as she declared to herself,--did she not know that they loved her better than all the world beside, and would prefer her caresses and her care to the guardianship of any uncle, let his house be ever so great? As yet they loved her better than all the world beside. Of other love, should it come, she would not be jealous. And if it should come, and should be happy, might there not yet be a bright evening of life for herself? If they should marry, and if their lords would accept her love, her friendship, and her homage, she might yet escape from the deathlike coldness of that Great House, and be happy in some tiny cottage, from which she might go forth at times among those who would really welcome her. A certain doctor there was, living not very far from Allington, at Guestwick, as to whom she had once thought that he might fill that place of son-in-law,--to be well-beloved. Her quiet, beautiful Bell had seemed to like the man; and he had certainly done more than seem to like her. But now, for some weeks past, this hope, or rather this idea, had faded away. Mrs. Dale had never questioned her daughter on the matter; she was not a woman prone to put such questions. But during the month or two last past, she had seen with regret that Bell looked almost coldly on the man whom her mother favoured. In thinking of all this the long evening passed away, and at eleven o'clock she heard the coming steps across the garden. The young men had, of course, accompanied the girls home; and as she stepped out from the still open window of her own drawing-room, she saw them all on the centre of the lawn before her. "There's mamma," said Lily. "Mamma, Mr. Crosbie wants to play croquet by moonlight." "I don't think there is light enough for that," said Mrs. Dale. "There is light enough for him," said Lily, "for he plays quite independently of the hoops; don't you, Mr. Crosbie?" "There's very pretty croquet light, I should say," said Mr. Crosbie, looking up at the bright moon; "and then it is so stupid going to bed." "Yes, it is stupid going to bed," said Lily; "but people in the country are stupid, you know. Billiards, that you can play all night by gas, is much better, isn't it?" "Your arrows fall terribly astray there, Miss Dale, for I never touch a cue; you should talk to your cousin about billiards." "Is Bernard a great billiard player?" asked Bell. "Well, I do play now and again; about as well as Crosbie does croquet. Come, Crosbie, we'll go home and smoke a cigar." "Yes," said Lily; "and then, you know, we stupid people can go to bed. Mamma, I wish you had a little smoking-room here for us. I don't like being considered stupid." And then they parted,--the ladies going into the house, and the two men returning across the lawn. "Lily, my love," said Mrs. Dale, when they were all together in her bedroom, "it seems to me that you are very hard upon Mr. Crosbie." "She has been going on like that all the evening," said Bell. "I'm sure we are very good friends," said Lily. "Oh, very!" said Bell. "Now, Bell, you're jealous; you know you are." And then, seeing that her sister was in some slight degree vexed, she went up to her and kissed her. "She shan't be called jealous; shall she, mamma?" "I don't think she deserves it," said Mrs. Dale. "Now, you don't mean to say that you think I meant anything," said Lily. "As if I cared a buttercup about Mr. Crosbie." "Or I either, Lily." "Of course you don't. But I do care for him very much, mamma. He is such a duck of an Apollo. I shall always call him Apollo; Phoebus Apollo! And when I draw his picture he shall have a mallet in his hand instead of a bow. Upon my word I am very much obliged to Bernard for bringing him down here; and I do wish he was not going away the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow!" said Mrs. Dale. "It was hardly worth coming for two days." "No, it wasn't,--disturbing us all in our quiet little ways just for such a spell as that,--not giving one time even to count his rays." "But he says he shall perhaps come again," said Bell. "There is that hope for us," said Lily. "Uncle Christopher asked him to come down when he gets his long leave of absence. This is only a short sort of leave. He is better off than poor Johnny Eames. Johnny Eames only has a month, but Mr. Crosbie has two months just whenever he likes it; and seems to be pretty much his own master all the year round besides." "And uncle Christopher asked him to come down for the shooting in September," said Bell. "And though he didn't say he'd come I think he meant it," said Lily. "There is that hope for us, mamma." "Then you'll have to draw Apollo with a gun instead of a mallet." "That is the worst of it, mamma. We shan't see much of him or of Bernard either. They wouldn't let us go out into the woods as beaters, would they?" "You'd make too much noise to be of any use." "Should I? I thought the beaters had to shout at the birds. I should get very tired of shouting at birds, so I think I'll stay at home and look after my clothes." "I hope he will come, because uncle Christopher seems to like him so much," said Bell. "I wonder whether a certain gentleman at Guestwick will like his coming," said Lily. And then, as soon as she had spoken the words, she looked at her sister, and saw that she had grieved her. "Lily, you let your tongue run too fast," said Mrs. Dale. "I didn't mean anything, Bell," said Lily. "I beg your pardon." "It doesn't signify," said Bell. "Only Lily says things without thinking." And then that conversation came to an end, and nothing more was said among them beyond what appertained to their toilet, and a few last words at parting. But the two girls occupied the same room, and when their own door was closed upon them, Bell did allude to what had passed with some spirit. "Lily, you promised me," she said, "that you would not say anything more to me about Dr. Crofts." "I know I did, and I was very wrong. I beg your pardon, Bell; and I won't do it again,--not if I can help it." "Not help it, Lily!" "But I'm sure I don't know why I shouldn't speak of him,--only not in the way of laughing at you. Of all the men I ever saw in my life I like him best. And only that I love you better than I love myself I could find it in my heart to grudge you his--" "Lily, what did you promise just now?" "Well; after to-night. And I don't know why you should turn against him." "I have never turned against him or for him." "There's no turning about him. He'd give his left hand if you'd only smile on him. Or his right either,--and that's what I should like to see; so now you've heard it." "You know you are talking nonsense." "So I should like to see it. And so would mamma too, I'm sure; though I never heard her say a word about him. In my mind he's the finest fellow I ever saw. What's Mr. Apollo Crosbie to him? And now, as it makes you unhappy, I'll never say another word about him." As Bell wished her sister good-night with perhaps more than her usual affection, it was evident that Lily's words and eager tone had in some way pleased her, in spite of their opposition to the request which she had made. And Lily was aware that it was so. CHAPTER IV. MRS. ROPER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. [ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)] I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends. There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. They go much about alone, and blush when women speak to them. In truth, they are not as yet men, whatever the number may be of their years; and, as they are no longer boys, the world has found for them the ungraceful name of hobbledehoy. Such observations, however, as I have been enabled to make on this matter have led me to believe that the hobbledehoy is by no means the least valuable species of the human race. When I compare the hobbledehoy of one or two and twenty to some finished Apollo of the same age, I regard the former as unripe fruit, and the latter as fruit that is ripe. Then comes the question as to the two fruits. Which is the better fruit, that which ripens early--which is, perhaps, favoured with some little forcing apparatus, or which, at least, is backed by the warmth of a southern wall; or that fruit of slower growth, as to which nature works without assistance, on which the sun operates in its own time,--or perhaps never operates if some ungenial shade has been allowed to interpose itself? The world, no doubt, is in favour of the forcing apparatus or of the southern wall. The fruit comes certainly, and at an assured period. It is spotless, speckless, and of a certain quality by no means despicable. The owner has it when he wants it, and it serves its turn. But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit,--is given in the sun's own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself. I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour. But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ball-room, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of beings, and especially eloquent among beautiful women. He enjoys all the triumphs of a Don Juan, without any of Don Juan's heartlessness, and is able to conquer in all encounters, through the force of his wit and the sweetness of his voice. But this eloquence is heard only by his own inner ears, and these triumphs are the triumphs of his imagination. The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys--a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large. He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement. Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy. And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself. Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London. We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him. But yet he was not without friends--friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare. And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoya herself. Mrs. Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire. He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty. He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story. With no other man had Mr. Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr. Eames died Mr. Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children. He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held. And Mrs. Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs. Dale. The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs. Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age. But Mrs. Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House. Mrs. Eames was a poor forlorn woman--forlorn even during the time of her husband's life, but very wobegone now in her widowhood. In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son. But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs. Eames held him in great awe. Mrs. Dale held her brother-in-law in no awe, and sometimes gave to the widow from Guestwick advice quite at variance to that given by the squire. In this way there had grown up an intimacy between Bell and Lily and the young Eames, and either of the girls was prepared to declare that Johnny Eames was her own and well-loved friend. Nevertheless, they spoke of him occasionally with some little dash of merriment--as is not unusual with pretty girls who have hobbledehoys among their intimate friends, and who are not themselves unaccustomed to the grace of an Apollo. I may as well announce at once that John Eames, when he went up to London, was absolutely and irretrievably in love with Lily Dale. He had declared his passion in the most moving language a hundred times; but he had declared it only to himself. He had written much poetry about Lily, but he kept his lines safe under double lock and key. When he gave the reins to his imagination, he flattered himself that he might win not only her but the world at large also by his verses; but he would have perished rather than exhibit them to human eye. During the last ten weeks of his life at Guestwick, while he was preparing for his career in London, he hung about Allington, walking over frequently and then walking back again; but all in vain. During these visits he would sit in Mrs. Dale's drawing-room, speaking but little, and addressing himself usually to the mother; but on each occasion, as he started on his long, hot walk, he resolved that he would say something by which Lily might know of his love. When he left for London that something had not been said. He had not dreamed of asking her to be his wife. John Eames was about to begin the world with eighty pounds a year, and an allowance of twenty more from his mother's purse. He was well aware that with such an income he could not establish himself as a married man in London, and he also felt that the man who might be fortunate enough to win Lily for his wife should be prepared to give her every soft luxury that the world could afford. He knew well that he ought not to expect any assurance of Lily's love; but, nevertheless, he thought it possible that he might give her an assurance of his love. It would probably be in vain. He had no real hope, unless when he was in one of those poetic moods. He had acknowledged to himself, in some indistinct way, that he was no more than a hobbledehoy, awkward, silent, ungainly, with a face unfinished, as it were, or unripe. All this he knew, and knew also that there were Apollos in the world

might

How many times the word 'might' appears in the text?

years younger than her father's family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty; but if she can be young in spirit at forty, let her show that she is so. I think that Mrs. Dale was wrong. She would have joined that party on the croquet ground, instead of remaining among the pea-sticks in her sun-bonnet, had she done as I would have counselled her. Not a word was spoken among the four that she did not hear. Those pea-sticks were only removed from the lawn by a low wall and a few shrubs. She listened, not as one suspecting, but simply as one loving. The voices of her girls were very dear to her, and the silver ringing tones of Lily's tongue were as sweet to her ears as the music of the gods. She heard all that about Lady Hartletop, and shuddered at Lily's bold sarcasm. And she heard Lily say that mamma would stay at home and eat the peas, and said to herself sadly that that was now her lot in life. "Dear darling girl,--and so it should be!" It was thus her thoughts ran. And then, when her ear had traced them, as they passed across the little bridge into the other grounds, she returned across the lawn to the house with her burden on her arm, and sat herself down on the step of the drawing-room window, looking out on the sweet summer flowers and the smooth surface of the grass before her. Had not God done well for her to place her where she was? Had not her lines been set for her in pleasant places? Was she not happy in her girls,--her sweet, loving, trusting, trusty children? As it was to be that her lord, that best half of herself, was to be taken from her in early life, and that the springs of all the lighter pleasures were to be thus stopped for her, had it not been well that in her bereavement so much had been done to soften her lot in life and give it grace and beauty? 'Twas so, she argued with herself, and yet she acknowledged to herself that she was not happy. She had resolved, as she herself had said often, to put away childish things, and now she pined for those things which she so put from her. As she sat she could still hear Lily's voice as they went through the shrubbery,--hear it when none but a mother's ears would have distinguished the sound. Now that those young men were at the Great House it was natural that her girls should be there too. The squire would not have had young men to stay with him had there been no ladies to grace his table. But for her,--she knew that no one would want her there. Now and again she must go, as otherwise her very existence, without going, would be a thing disagreeably noticeable. But there was no other reason why she should join the party; nor in joining it would she either give or receive pleasure. Let her daughters eat from her brother's table and drink of his cup. They were made welcome to do so from the heart. For her there was no such welcome as that at the Great House,--nor at any other house, or any other table! "Mamma will stay at home to eat the peas." And then she repeated to herself the words which Lily had spoken, sitting there, leaning with her elbow on her knee, and her head upon her hand. "Please, ma'am, cook says, can we have the peas to shell?" and then her reverie was broken. [ILLUSTRATION: "Please, ma'am, can we have the peas to shell?"] Whereupon Mrs. Dale got up and gave over her basket. "Cook knows that the young ladies are going to dine at the Great House?" "Yes, ma'am." "She needn't mind getting dinner for me. I will have tea early." And so, after all, Mrs. Dale did not perform that special duty appointed for her. But she soon set herself to work upon another duty. When a family of three persons has to live upon an income of three hundred a year, and, nevertheless, makes some pretence of going into society, it has to be very mindful of small details, even though that family may consist only of ladies. Of this Mrs. Dale was well aware, and as it pleased her that her daughters should be nice and fresh, and pretty in their attire, many a long hour was given up to that care. The squire would send them shawls in winter, and had given them riding habits, and had sent them down brown silk for dresses from London,--so limited in quantity that the due manufacture of two dresses out of the material had been found to be beyond the art of woman, and the brown silk garments had been a difficulty from that day to this,--the squire having a good memory in such matters, and being anxious to see the fruits of his liberality. All this was doubtless of assistance, but had the squire given the amount which he so expended in money to his nieces, the benefit would have been greater. As it was, the girls were always nice and fresh and pretty, they themselves not being idle in that matter; but their tire-woman in chief was their mother. And now she went up to their room and got out their muslin frocks, and--but, perhaps, I should not tell such tales!--She, however, felt no shame in her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be. Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour. "Oh! mamma, how good you are," said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner. "Mamma is always good," said Lily. "I wish, mamma, I could do the same for you oftener," and then she kissed her mother. But the squire was exact about dinner, so they dressed themselves in haste, and went off again through the garden, their mother accompanying them to the little bridge. "Your uncle did not seem vexed at my not coming?" said Mrs. Dale. "We have not seen him, mamma," said Lily. "We have been ever so far down the fields, and forgot altogether what o'clock it was." "I don't think uncle Christopher was about the place, or we should have met him," said Bell. "But I am vexed with you, mamma. Are not you, Bell? It is very bad of you to stay here all alone, and not come." "I suppose mamma likes being at home better than up at the Great House," said Bell, very gently; and as she spoke she was holding her mother's hand. "Well; good-by, dears. I shall expect you between ten and eleven. But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone. The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run. And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps. She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls. But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them. She stood there, however, without advancing a step. She would not have Hopkins telling how she watched her daughters as they went from her own home to that of her brother-in-law. It was not within the capacity of Hopkins to understand why she watched them. "Well, girls, you're not much too soon. I think your mother might have come with you," said uncle Christopher. And this was the manner of the man. Had he known his own wishes he must have acknowledged to himself that he was better pleased that Mrs. Dale should stay away. He felt himself more absolutely master and more comfortably at home at his own table without her company than with it. And yet he frequently made a grievance of her not coming, and himself believed in that grievance. "I think mamma was tired," said Bell. "Hem. It's not so very far across from one house to the other. If I were to shut myself up whenever I'm tired-- But never mind. Let's go to dinner. Mr. Crosbie, will you take my niece Lilian." And then, offering his own arm to Bell, he walked off to the dining-room. "If he scolds mamma any more, I'll go away," said Lily to her companion; by which it may be seen that they had all become very intimate during the long day that they had passed together. Mrs. Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however, imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs. Dale was not above novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together. It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard, but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs. Dale was not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship; but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since; and during those years Mrs. Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him as he had been to her. But all this was very hard to bear. That her daughters should love their uncle was not only reasonable, but in every way desirable. He was not cold to them. To them he was generous and affectionate. If she were only out of the way, he would have taken them to his house as his own, and they would in all respects have stood before the world as his adopted children. Would it not be better if she were out of the way? It was only in her most dismal moods that this question would get itself asked within her mind, and then she would recover herself, and answer it stoutly with an indignant protest against her own morbid weakness. It would not be well that she should be away from her girls,--not though their uncle should have been twice a better uncle; not though, by her absence, they might become heiresses of all Allington. Was it not above everything to them that they should have a mother near them? And as she asked of herself that morbid question,--wickedly asked it, as she declared to herself,--did she not know that they loved her better than all the world beside, and would prefer her caresses and her care to the guardianship of any uncle, let his house be ever so great? As yet they loved her better than all the world beside. Of other love, should it come, she would not be jealous. And if it should come, and should be happy, might there not yet be a bright evening of life for herself? If they should marry, and if their lords would accept her love, her friendship, and her homage, she might yet escape from the deathlike coldness of that Great House, and be happy in some tiny cottage, from which she might go forth at times among those who would really welcome her. A certain doctor there was, living not very far from Allington, at Guestwick, as to whom she had once thought that he might fill that place of son-in-law,--to be well-beloved. Her quiet, beautiful Bell had seemed to like the man; and he had certainly done more than seem to like her. But now, for some weeks past, this hope, or rather this idea, had faded away. Mrs. Dale had never questioned her daughter on the matter; she was not a woman prone to put such questions. But during the month or two last past, she had seen with regret that Bell looked almost coldly on the man whom her mother favoured. In thinking of all this the long evening passed away, and at eleven o'clock she heard the coming steps across the garden. The young men had, of course, accompanied the girls home; and as she stepped out from the still open window of her own drawing-room, she saw them all on the centre of the lawn before her. "There's mamma," said Lily. "Mamma, Mr. Crosbie wants to play croquet by moonlight." "I don't think there is light enough for that," said Mrs. Dale. "There is light enough for him," said Lily, "for he plays quite independently of the hoops; don't you, Mr. Crosbie?" "There's very pretty croquet light, I should say," said Mr. Crosbie, looking up at the bright moon; "and then it is so stupid going to bed." "Yes, it is stupid going to bed," said Lily; "but people in the country are stupid, you know. Billiards, that you can play all night by gas, is much better, isn't it?" "Your arrows fall terribly astray there, Miss Dale, for I never touch a cue; you should talk to your cousin about billiards." "Is Bernard a great billiard player?" asked Bell. "Well, I do play now and again; about as well as Crosbie does croquet. Come, Crosbie, we'll go home and smoke a cigar." "Yes," said Lily; "and then, you know, we stupid people can go to bed. Mamma, I wish you had a little smoking-room here for us. I don't like being considered stupid." And then they parted,--the ladies going into the house, and the two men returning across the lawn. "Lily, my love," said Mrs. Dale, when they were all together in her bedroom, "it seems to me that you are very hard upon Mr. Crosbie." "She has been going on like that all the evening," said Bell. "I'm sure we are very good friends," said Lily. "Oh, very!" said Bell. "Now, Bell, you're jealous; you know you are." And then, seeing that her sister was in some slight degree vexed, she went up to her and kissed her. "She shan't be called jealous; shall she, mamma?" "I don't think she deserves it," said Mrs. Dale. "Now, you don't mean to say that you think I meant anything," said Lily. "As if I cared a buttercup about Mr. Crosbie." "Or I either, Lily." "Of course you don't. But I do care for him very much, mamma. He is such a duck of an Apollo. I shall always call him Apollo; Phoebus Apollo! And when I draw his picture he shall have a mallet in his hand instead of a bow. Upon my word I am very much obliged to Bernard for bringing him down here; and I do wish he was not going away the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow!" said Mrs. Dale. "It was hardly worth coming for two days." "No, it wasn't,--disturbing us all in our quiet little ways just for such a spell as that,--not giving one time even to count his rays." "But he says he shall perhaps come again," said Bell. "There is that hope for us," said Lily. "Uncle Christopher asked him to come down when he gets his long leave of absence. This is only a short sort of leave. He is better off than poor Johnny Eames. Johnny Eames only has a month, but Mr. Crosbie has two months just whenever he likes it; and seems to be pretty much his own master all the year round besides." "And uncle Christopher asked him to come down for the shooting in September," said Bell. "And though he didn't say he'd come I think he meant it," said Lily. "There is that hope for us, mamma." "Then you'll have to draw Apollo with a gun instead of a mallet." "That is the worst of it, mamma. We shan't see much of him or of Bernard either. They wouldn't let us go out into the woods as beaters, would they?" "You'd make too much noise to be of any use." "Should I? I thought the beaters had to shout at the birds. I should get very tired of shouting at birds, so I think I'll stay at home and look after my clothes." "I hope he will come, because uncle Christopher seems to like him so much," said Bell. "I wonder whether a certain gentleman at Guestwick will like his coming," said Lily. And then, as soon as she had spoken the words, she looked at her sister, and saw that she had grieved her. "Lily, you let your tongue run too fast," said Mrs. Dale. "I didn't mean anything, Bell," said Lily. "I beg your pardon." "It doesn't signify," said Bell. "Only Lily says things without thinking." And then that conversation came to an end, and nothing more was said among them beyond what appertained to their toilet, and a few last words at parting. But the two girls occupied the same room, and when their own door was closed upon them, Bell did allude to what had passed with some spirit. "Lily, you promised me," she said, "that you would not say anything more to me about Dr. Crofts." "I know I did, and I was very wrong. I beg your pardon, Bell; and I won't do it again,--not if I can help it." "Not help it, Lily!" "But I'm sure I don't know why I shouldn't speak of him,--only not in the way of laughing at you. Of all the men I ever saw in my life I like him best. And only that I love you better than I love myself I could find it in my heart to grudge you his--" "Lily, what did you promise just now?" "Well; after to-night. And I don't know why you should turn against him." "I have never turned against him or for him." "There's no turning about him. He'd give his left hand if you'd only smile on him. Or his right either,--and that's what I should like to see; so now you've heard it." "You know you are talking nonsense." "So I should like to see it. And so would mamma too, I'm sure; though I never heard her say a word about him. In my mind he's the finest fellow I ever saw. What's Mr. Apollo Crosbie to him? And now, as it makes you unhappy, I'll never say another word about him." As Bell wished her sister good-night with perhaps more than her usual affection, it was evident that Lily's words and eager tone had in some way pleased her, in spite of their opposition to the request which she had made. And Lily was aware that it was so. CHAPTER IV. MRS. ROPER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. [ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)] I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends. There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. They go much about alone, and blush when women speak to them. In truth, they are not as yet men, whatever the number may be of their years; and, as they are no longer boys, the world has found for them the ungraceful name of hobbledehoy. Such observations, however, as I have been enabled to make on this matter have led me to believe that the hobbledehoy is by no means the least valuable species of the human race. When I compare the hobbledehoy of one or two and twenty to some finished Apollo of the same age, I regard the former as unripe fruit, and the latter as fruit that is ripe. Then comes the question as to the two fruits. Which is the better fruit, that which ripens early--which is, perhaps, favoured with some little forcing apparatus, or which, at least, is backed by the warmth of a southern wall; or that fruit of slower growth, as to which nature works without assistance, on which the sun operates in its own time,--or perhaps never operates if some ungenial shade has been allowed to interpose itself? The world, no doubt, is in favour of the forcing apparatus or of the southern wall. The fruit comes certainly, and at an assured period. It is spotless, speckless, and of a certain quality by no means despicable. The owner has it when he wants it, and it serves its turn. But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit,--is given in the sun's own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself. I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour. But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ball-room, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of beings, and especially eloquent among beautiful women. He enjoys all the triumphs of a Don Juan, without any of Don Juan's heartlessness, and is able to conquer in all encounters, through the force of his wit and the sweetness of his voice. But this eloquence is heard only by his own inner ears, and these triumphs are the triumphs of his imagination. The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys--a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large. He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement. Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy. And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself. Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London. We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him. But yet he was not without friends--friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare. And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoya herself. Mrs. Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire. He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty. He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story. With no other man had Mr. Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr. Eames died Mr. Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children. He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held. And Mrs. Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs. Dale. The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs. Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age. But Mrs. Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House. Mrs. Eames was a poor forlorn woman--forlorn even during the time of her husband's life, but very wobegone now in her widowhood. In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son. But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs. Eames held him in great awe. Mrs. Dale held her brother-in-law in no awe, and sometimes gave to the widow from Guestwick advice quite at variance to that given by the squire. In this way there had grown up an intimacy between Bell and Lily and the young Eames, and either of the girls was prepared to declare that Johnny Eames was her own and well-loved friend. Nevertheless, they spoke of him occasionally with some little dash of merriment--as is not unusual with pretty girls who have hobbledehoys among their intimate friends, and who are not themselves unaccustomed to the grace of an Apollo. I may as well announce at once that John Eames, when he went up to London, was absolutely and irretrievably in love with Lily Dale. He had declared his passion in the most moving language a hundred times; but he had declared it only to himself. He had written much poetry about Lily, but he kept his lines safe under double lock and key. When he gave the reins to his imagination, he flattered himself that he might win not only her but the world at large also by his verses; but he would have perished rather than exhibit them to human eye. During the last ten weeks of his life at Guestwick, while he was preparing for his career in London, he hung about Allington, walking over frequently and then walking back again; but all in vain. During these visits he would sit in Mrs. Dale's drawing-room, speaking but little, and addressing himself usually to the mother; but on each occasion, as he started on his long, hot walk, he resolved that he would say something by which Lily might know of his love. When he left for London that something had not been said. He had not dreamed of asking her to be his wife. John Eames was about to begin the world with eighty pounds a year, and an allowance of twenty more from his mother's purse. He was well aware that with such an income he could not establish himself as a married man in London, and he also felt that the man who might be fortunate enough to win Lily for his wife should be prepared to give her every soft luxury that the world could afford. He knew well that he ought not to expect any assurance of Lily's love; but, nevertheless, he thought it possible that he might give her an assurance of his love. It would probably be in vain. He had no real hope, unless when he was in one of those poetic moods. He had acknowledged to himself, in some indistinct way, that he was no more than a hobbledehoy, awkward, silent, ungainly, with a face unfinished, as it were, or unripe. All this he knew, and knew also that there were Apollos in the world

kissed

How many times the word 'kissed' appears in the text?

years younger than her father's family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty; but if she can be young in spirit at forty, let her show that she is so. I think that Mrs. Dale was wrong. She would have joined that party on the croquet ground, instead of remaining among the pea-sticks in her sun-bonnet, had she done as I would have counselled her. Not a word was spoken among the four that she did not hear. Those pea-sticks were only removed from the lawn by a low wall and a few shrubs. She listened, not as one suspecting, but simply as one loving. The voices of her girls were very dear to her, and the silver ringing tones of Lily's tongue were as sweet to her ears as the music of the gods. She heard all that about Lady Hartletop, and shuddered at Lily's bold sarcasm. And she heard Lily say that mamma would stay at home and eat the peas, and said to herself sadly that that was now her lot in life. "Dear darling girl,--and so it should be!" It was thus her thoughts ran. And then, when her ear had traced them, as they passed across the little bridge into the other grounds, she returned across the lawn to the house with her burden on her arm, and sat herself down on the step of the drawing-room window, looking out on the sweet summer flowers and the smooth surface of the grass before her. Had not God done well for her to place her where she was? Had not her lines been set for her in pleasant places? Was she not happy in her girls,--her sweet, loving, trusting, trusty children? As it was to be that her lord, that best half of herself, was to be taken from her in early life, and that the springs of all the lighter pleasures were to be thus stopped for her, had it not been well that in her bereavement so much had been done to soften her lot in life and give it grace and beauty? 'Twas so, she argued with herself, and yet she acknowledged to herself that she was not happy. She had resolved, as she herself had said often, to put away childish things, and now she pined for those things which she so put from her. As she sat she could still hear Lily's voice as they went through the shrubbery,--hear it when none but a mother's ears would have distinguished the sound. Now that those young men were at the Great House it was natural that her girls should be there too. The squire would not have had young men to stay with him had there been no ladies to grace his table. But for her,--she knew that no one would want her there. Now and again she must go, as otherwise her very existence, without going, would be a thing disagreeably noticeable. But there was no other reason why she should join the party; nor in joining it would she either give or receive pleasure. Let her daughters eat from her brother's table and drink of his cup. They were made welcome to do so from the heart. For her there was no such welcome as that at the Great House,--nor at any other house, or any other table! "Mamma will stay at home to eat the peas." And then she repeated to herself the words which Lily had spoken, sitting there, leaning with her elbow on her knee, and her head upon her hand. "Please, ma'am, cook says, can we have the peas to shell?" and then her reverie was broken. [ILLUSTRATION: "Please, ma'am, can we have the peas to shell?"] Whereupon Mrs. Dale got up and gave over her basket. "Cook knows that the young ladies are going to dine at the Great House?" "Yes, ma'am." "She needn't mind getting dinner for me. I will have tea early." And so, after all, Mrs. Dale did not perform that special duty appointed for her. But she soon set herself to work upon another duty. When a family of three persons has to live upon an income of three hundred a year, and, nevertheless, makes some pretence of going into society, it has to be very mindful of small details, even though that family may consist only of ladies. Of this Mrs. Dale was well aware, and as it pleased her that her daughters should be nice and fresh, and pretty in their attire, many a long hour was given up to that care. The squire would send them shawls in winter, and had given them riding habits, and had sent them down brown silk for dresses from London,--so limited in quantity that the due manufacture of two dresses out of the material had been found to be beyond the art of woman, and the brown silk garments had been a difficulty from that day to this,--the squire having a good memory in such matters, and being anxious to see the fruits of his liberality. All this was doubtless of assistance, but had the squire given the amount which he so expended in money to his nieces, the benefit would have been greater. As it was, the girls were always nice and fresh and pretty, they themselves not being idle in that matter; but their tire-woman in chief was their mother. And now she went up to their room and got out their muslin frocks, and--but, perhaps, I should not tell such tales!--She, however, felt no shame in her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be. Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour. "Oh! mamma, how good you are," said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner. "Mamma is always good," said Lily. "I wish, mamma, I could do the same for you oftener," and then she kissed her mother. But the squire was exact about dinner, so they dressed themselves in haste, and went off again through the garden, their mother accompanying them to the little bridge. "Your uncle did not seem vexed at my not coming?" said Mrs. Dale. "We have not seen him, mamma," said Lily. "We have been ever so far down the fields, and forgot altogether what o'clock it was." "I don't think uncle Christopher was about the place, or we should have met him," said Bell. "But I am vexed with you, mamma. Are not you, Bell? It is very bad of you to stay here all alone, and not come." "I suppose mamma likes being at home better than up at the Great House," said Bell, very gently; and as she spoke she was holding her mother's hand. "Well; good-by, dears. I shall expect you between ten and eleven. But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone. The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run. And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps. She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls. But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them. She stood there, however, without advancing a step. She would not have Hopkins telling how she watched her daughters as they went from her own home to that of her brother-in-law. It was not within the capacity of Hopkins to understand why she watched them. "Well, girls, you're not much too soon. I think your mother might have come with you," said uncle Christopher. And this was the manner of the man. Had he known his own wishes he must have acknowledged to himself that he was better pleased that Mrs. Dale should stay away. He felt himself more absolutely master and more comfortably at home at his own table without her company than with it. And yet he frequently made a grievance of her not coming, and himself believed in that grievance. "I think mamma was tired," said Bell. "Hem. It's not so very far across from one house to the other. If I were to shut myself up whenever I'm tired-- But never mind. Let's go to dinner. Mr. Crosbie, will you take my niece Lilian." And then, offering his own arm to Bell, he walked off to the dining-room. "If he scolds mamma any more, I'll go away," said Lily to her companion; by which it may be seen that they had all become very intimate during the long day that they had passed together. Mrs. Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however, imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs. Dale was not above novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together. It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard, but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs. Dale was not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship; but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since; and during those years Mrs. Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him as he had been to her. But all this was very hard to bear. That her daughters should love their uncle was not only reasonable, but in every way desirable. He was not cold to them. To them he was generous and affectionate. If she were only out of the way, he would have taken them to his house as his own, and they would in all respects have stood before the world as his adopted children. Would it not be better if she were out of the way? It was only in her most dismal moods that this question would get itself asked within her mind, and then she would recover herself, and answer it stoutly with an indignant protest against her own morbid weakness. It would not be well that she should be away from her girls,--not though their uncle should have been twice a better uncle; not though, by her absence, they might become heiresses of all Allington. Was it not above everything to them that they should have a mother near them? And as she asked of herself that morbid question,--wickedly asked it, as she declared to herself,--did she not know that they loved her better than all the world beside, and would prefer her caresses and her care to the guardianship of any uncle, let his house be ever so great? As yet they loved her better than all the world beside. Of other love, should it come, she would not be jealous. And if it should come, and should be happy, might there not yet be a bright evening of life for herself? If they should marry, and if their lords would accept her love, her friendship, and her homage, she might yet escape from the deathlike coldness of that Great House, and be happy in some tiny cottage, from which she might go forth at times among those who would really welcome her. A certain doctor there was, living not very far from Allington, at Guestwick, as to whom she had once thought that he might fill that place of son-in-law,--to be well-beloved. Her quiet, beautiful Bell had seemed to like the man; and he had certainly done more than seem to like her. But now, for some weeks past, this hope, or rather this idea, had faded away. Mrs. Dale had never questioned her daughter on the matter; she was not a woman prone to put such questions. But during the month or two last past, she had seen with regret that Bell looked almost coldly on the man whom her mother favoured. In thinking of all this the long evening passed away, and at eleven o'clock she heard the coming steps across the garden. The young men had, of course, accompanied the girls home; and as she stepped out from the still open window of her own drawing-room, she saw them all on the centre of the lawn before her. "There's mamma," said Lily. "Mamma, Mr. Crosbie wants to play croquet by moonlight." "I don't think there is light enough for that," said Mrs. Dale. "There is light enough for him," said Lily, "for he plays quite independently of the hoops; don't you, Mr. Crosbie?" "There's very pretty croquet light, I should say," said Mr. Crosbie, looking up at the bright moon; "and then it is so stupid going to bed." "Yes, it is stupid going to bed," said Lily; "but people in the country are stupid, you know. Billiards, that you can play all night by gas, is much better, isn't it?" "Your arrows fall terribly astray there, Miss Dale, for I never touch a cue; you should talk to your cousin about billiards." "Is Bernard a great billiard player?" asked Bell. "Well, I do play now and again; about as well as Crosbie does croquet. Come, Crosbie, we'll go home and smoke a cigar." "Yes," said Lily; "and then, you know, we stupid people can go to bed. Mamma, I wish you had a little smoking-room here for us. I don't like being considered stupid." And then they parted,--the ladies going into the house, and the two men returning across the lawn. "Lily, my love," said Mrs. Dale, when they were all together in her bedroom, "it seems to me that you are very hard upon Mr. Crosbie." "She has been going on like that all the evening," said Bell. "I'm sure we are very good friends," said Lily. "Oh, very!" said Bell. "Now, Bell, you're jealous; you know you are." And then, seeing that her sister was in some slight degree vexed, she went up to her and kissed her. "She shan't be called jealous; shall she, mamma?" "I don't think she deserves it," said Mrs. Dale. "Now, you don't mean to say that you think I meant anything," said Lily. "As if I cared a buttercup about Mr. Crosbie." "Or I either, Lily." "Of course you don't. But I do care for him very much, mamma. He is such a duck of an Apollo. I shall always call him Apollo; Phoebus Apollo! And when I draw his picture he shall have a mallet in his hand instead of a bow. Upon my word I am very much obliged to Bernard for bringing him down here; and I do wish he was not going away the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow!" said Mrs. Dale. "It was hardly worth coming for two days." "No, it wasn't,--disturbing us all in our quiet little ways just for such a spell as that,--not giving one time even to count his rays." "But he says he shall perhaps come again," said Bell. "There is that hope for us," said Lily. "Uncle Christopher asked him to come down when he gets his long leave of absence. This is only a short sort of leave. He is better off than poor Johnny Eames. Johnny Eames only has a month, but Mr. Crosbie has two months just whenever he likes it; and seems to be pretty much his own master all the year round besides." "And uncle Christopher asked him to come down for the shooting in September," said Bell. "And though he didn't say he'd come I think he meant it," said Lily. "There is that hope for us, mamma." "Then you'll have to draw Apollo with a gun instead of a mallet." "That is the worst of it, mamma. We shan't see much of him or of Bernard either. They wouldn't let us go out into the woods as beaters, would they?" "You'd make too much noise to be of any use." "Should I? I thought the beaters had to shout at the birds. I should get very tired of shouting at birds, so I think I'll stay at home and look after my clothes." "I hope he will come, because uncle Christopher seems to like him so much," said Bell. "I wonder whether a certain gentleman at Guestwick will like his coming," said Lily. And then, as soon as she had spoken the words, she looked at her sister, and saw that she had grieved her. "Lily, you let your tongue run too fast," said Mrs. Dale. "I didn't mean anything, Bell," said Lily. "I beg your pardon." "It doesn't signify," said Bell. "Only Lily says things without thinking." And then that conversation came to an end, and nothing more was said among them beyond what appertained to their toilet, and a few last words at parting. But the two girls occupied the same room, and when their own door was closed upon them, Bell did allude to what had passed with some spirit. "Lily, you promised me," she said, "that you would not say anything more to me about Dr. Crofts." "I know I did, and I was very wrong. I beg your pardon, Bell; and I won't do it again,--not if I can help it." "Not help it, Lily!" "But I'm sure I don't know why I shouldn't speak of him,--only not in the way of laughing at you. Of all the men I ever saw in my life I like him best. And only that I love you better than I love myself I could find it in my heart to grudge you his--" "Lily, what did you promise just now?" "Well; after to-night. And I don't know why you should turn against him." "I have never turned against him or for him." "There's no turning about him. He'd give his left hand if you'd only smile on him. Or his right either,--and that's what I should like to see; so now you've heard it." "You know you are talking nonsense." "So I should like to see it. And so would mamma too, I'm sure; though I never heard her say a word about him. In my mind he's the finest fellow I ever saw. What's Mr. Apollo Crosbie to him? And now, as it makes you unhappy, I'll never say another word about him." As Bell wished her sister good-night with perhaps more than her usual affection, it was evident that Lily's words and eager tone had in some way pleased her, in spite of their opposition to the request which she had made. And Lily was aware that it was so. CHAPTER IV. MRS. ROPER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. [ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)] I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends. There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. They go much about alone, and blush when women speak to them. In truth, they are not as yet men, whatever the number may be of their years; and, as they are no longer boys, the world has found for them the ungraceful name of hobbledehoy. Such observations, however, as I have been enabled to make on this matter have led me to believe that the hobbledehoy is by no means the least valuable species of the human race. When I compare the hobbledehoy of one or two and twenty to some finished Apollo of the same age, I regard the former as unripe fruit, and the latter as fruit that is ripe. Then comes the question as to the two fruits. Which is the better fruit, that which ripens early--which is, perhaps, favoured with some little forcing apparatus, or which, at least, is backed by the warmth of a southern wall; or that fruit of slower growth, as to which nature works without assistance, on which the sun operates in its own time,--or perhaps never operates if some ungenial shade has been allowed to interpose itself? The world, no doubt, is in favour of the forcing apparatus or of the southern wall. The fruit comes certainly, and at an assured period. It is spotless, speckless, and of a certain quality by no means despicable. The owner has it when he wants it, and it serves its turn. But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit,--is given in the sun's own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself. I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour. But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ball-room, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of beings, and especially eloquent among beautiful women. He enjoys all the triumphs of a Don Juan, without any of Don Juan's heartlessness, and is able to conquer in all encounters, through the force of his wit and the sweetness of his voice. But this eloquence is heard only by his own inner ears, and these triumphs are the triumphs of his imagination. The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys--a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large. He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement. Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy. And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself. Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London. We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him. But yet he was not without friends--friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare. And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoya herself. Mrs. Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire. He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty. He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story. With no other man had Mr. Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr. Eames died Mr. Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children. He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held. And Mrs. Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs. Dale. The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs. Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age. But Mrs. Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House. Mrs. Eames was a poor forlorn woman--forlorn even during the time of her husband's life, but very wobegone now in her widowhood. In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son. But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs. Eames held him in great awe. Mrs. Dale held her brother-in-law in no awe, and sometimes gave to the widow from Guestwick advice quite at variance to that given by the squire. In this way there had grown up an intimacy between Bell and Lily and the young Eames, and either of the girls was prepared to declare that Johnny Eames was her own and well-loved friend. Nevertheless, they spoke of him occasionally with some little dash of merriment--as is not unusual with pretty girls who have hobbledehoys among their intimate friends, and who are not themselves unaccustomed to the grace of an Apollo. I may as well announce at once that John Eames, when he went up to London, was absolutely and irretrievably in love with Lily Dale. He had declared his passion in the most moving language a hundred times; but he had declared it only to himself. He had written much poetry about Lily, but he kept his lines safe under double lock and key. When he gave the reins to his imagination, he flattered himself that he might win not only her but the world at large also by his verses; but he would have perished rather than exhibit them to human eye. During the last ten weeks of his life at Guestwick, while he was preparing for his career in London, he hung about Allington, walking over frequently and then walking back again; but all in vain. During these visits he would sit in Mrs. Dale's drawing-room, speaking but little, and addressing himself usually to the mother; but on each occasion, as he started on his long, hot walk, he resolved that he would say something by which Lily might know of his love. When he left for London that something had not been said. He had not dreamed of asking her to be his wife. John Eames was about to begin the world with eighty pounds a year, and an allowance of twenty more from his mother's purse. He was well aware that with such an income he could not establish himself as a married man in London, and he also felt that the man who might be fortunate enough to win Lily for his wife should be prepared to give her every soft luxury that the world could afford. He knew well that he ought not to expect any assurance of Lily's love; but, nevertheless, he thought it possible that he might give her an assurance of his love. It would probably be in vain. He had no real hope, unless when he was in one of those poetic moods. He had acknowledged to himself, in some indistinct way, that he was no more than a hobbledehoy, awkward, silent, ungainly, with a face unfinished, as it were, or unripe. All this he knew, and knew also that there were Apollos in the world

battle

How many times the word 'battle' appears in the text?

years younger than her father's family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty; but if she can be young in spirit at forty, let her show that she is so. I think that Mrs. Dale was wrong. She would have joined that party on the croquet ground, instead of remaining among the pea-sticks in her sun-bonnet, had she done as I would have counselled her. Not a word was spoken among the four that she did not hear. Those pea-sticks were only removed from the lawn by a low wall and a few shrubs. She listened, not as one suspecting, but simply as one loving. The voices of her girls were very dear to her, and the silver ringing tones of Lily's tongue were as sweet to her ears as the music of the gods. She heard all that about Lady Hartletop, and shuddered at Lily's bold sarcasm. And she heard Lily say that mamma would stay at home and eat the peas, and said to herself sadly that that was now her lot in life. "Dear darling girl,--and so it should be!" It was thus her thoughts ran. And then, when her ear had traced them, as they passed across the little bridge into the other grounds, she returned across the lawn to the house with her burden on her arm, and sat herself down on the step of the drawing-room window, looking out on the sweet summer flowers and the smooth surface of the grass before her. Had not God done well for her to place her where she was? Had not her lines been set for her in pleasant places? Was she not happy in her girls,--her sweet, loving, trusting, trusty children? As it was to be that her lord, that best half of herself, was to be taken from her in early life, and that the springs of all the lighter pleasures were to be thus stopped for her, had it not been well that in her bereavement so much had been done to soften her lot in life and give it grace and beauty? 'Twas so, she argued with herself, and yet she acknowledged to herself that she was not happy. She had resolved, as she herself had said often, to put away childish things, and now she pined for those things which she so put from her. As she sat she could still hear Lily's voice as they went through the shrubbery,--hear it when none but a mother's ears would have distinguished the sound. Now that those young men were at the Great House it was natural that her girls should be there too. The squire would not have had young men to stay with him had there been no ladies to grace his table. But for her,--she knew that no one would want her there. Now and again she must go, as otherwise her very existence, without going, would be a thing disagreeably noticeable. But there was no other reason why she should join the party; nor in joining it would she either give or receive pleasure. Let her daughters eat from her brother's table and drink of his cup. They were made welcome to do so from the heart. For her there was no such welcome as that at the Great House,--nor at any other house, or any other table! "Mamma will stay at home to eat the peas." And then she repeated to herself the words which Lily had spoken, sitting there, leaning with her elbow on her knee, and her head upon her hand. "Please, ma'am, cook says, can we have the peas to shell?" and then her reverie was broken. [ILLUSTRATION: "Please, ma'am, can we have the peas to shell?"] Whereupon Mrs. Dale got up and gave over her basket. "Cook knows that the young ladies are going to dine at the Great House?" "Yes, ma'am." "She needn't mind getting dinner for me. I will have tea early." And so, after all, Mrs. Dale did not perform that special duty appointed for her. But she soon set herself to work upon another duty. When a family of three persons has to live upon an income of three hundred a year, and, nevertheless, makes some pretence of going into society, it has to be very mindful of small details, even though that family may consist only of ladies. Of this Mrs. Dale was well aware, and as it pleased her that her daughters should be nice and fresh, and pretty in their attire, many a long hour was given up to that care. The squire would send them shawls in winter, and had given them riding habits, and had sent them down brown silk for dresses from London,--so limited in quantity that the due manufacture of two dresses out of the material had been found to be beyond the art of woman, and the brown silk garments had been a difficulty from that day to this,--the squire having a good memory in such matters, and being anxious to see the fruits of his liberality. All this was doubtless of assistance, but had the squire given the amount which he so expended in money to his nieces, the benefit would have been greater. As it was, the girls were always nice and fresh and pretty, they themselves not being idle in that matter; but their tire-woman in chief was their mother. And now she went up to their room and got out their muslin frocks, and--but, perhaps, I should not tell such tales!--She, however, felt no shame in her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be. Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour. "Oh! mamma, how good you are," said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner. "Mamma is always good," said Lily. "I wish, mamma, I could do the same for you oftener," and then she kissed her mother. But the squire was exact about dinner, so they dressed themselves in haste, and went off again through the garden, their mother accompanying them to the little bridge. "Your uncle did not seem vexed at my not coming?" said Mrs. Dale. "We have not seen him, mamma," said Lily. "We have been ever so far down the fields, and forgot altogether what o'clock it was." "I don't think uncle Christopher was about the place, or we should have met him," said Bell. "But I am vexed with you, mamma. Are not you, Bell? It is very bad of you to stay here all alone, and not come." "I suppose mamma likes being at home better than up at the Great House," said Bell, very gently; and as she spoke she was holding her mother's hand. "Well; good-by, dears. I shall expect you between ten and eleven. But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone. The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run. And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps. She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls. But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them. She stood there, however, without advancing a step. She would not have Hopkins telling how she watched her daughters as they went from her own home to that of her brother-in-law. It was not within the capacity of Hopkins to understand why she watched them. "Well, girls, you're not much too soon. I think your mother might have come with you," said uncle Christopher. And this was the manner of the man. Had he known his own wishes he must have acknowledged to himself that he was better pleased that Mrs. Dale should stay away. He felt himself more absolutely master and more comfortably at home at his own table without her company than with it. And yet he frequently made a grievance of her not coming, and himself believed in that grievance. "I think mamma was tired," said Bell. "Hem. It's not so very far across from one house to the other. If I were to shut myself up whenever I'm tired-- But never mind. Let's go to dinner. Mr. Crosbie, will you take my niece Lilian." And then, offering his own arm to Bell, he walked off to the dining-room. "If he scolds mamma any more, I'll go away," said Lily to her companion; by which it may be seen that they had all become very intimate during the long day that they had passed together. Mrs. Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however, imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs. Dale was not above novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together. It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard, but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs. Dale was not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship; but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since; and during those years Mrs. Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him as he had been to her. But all this was very hard to bear. That her daughters should love their uncle was not only reasonable, but in every way desirable. He was not cold to them. To them he was generous and affectionate. If she were only out of the way, he would have taken them to his house as his own, and they would in all respects have stood before the world as his adopted children. Would it not be better if she were out of the way? It was only in her most dismal moods that this question would get itself asked within her mind, and then she would recover herself, and answer it stoutly with an indignant protest against her own morbid weakness. It would not be well that she should be away from her girls,--not though their uncle should have been twice a better uncle; not though, by her absence, they might become heiresses of all Allington. Was it not above everything to them that they should have a mother near them? And as she asked of herself that morbid question,--wickedly asked it, as she declared to herself,--did she not know that they loved her better than all the world beside, and would prefer her caresses and her care to the guardianship of any uncle, let his house be ever so great? As yet they loved her better than all the world beside. Of other love, should it come, she would not be jealous. And if it should come, and should be happy, might there not yet be a bright evening of life for herself? If they should marry, and if their lords would accept her love, her friendship, and her homage, she might yet escape from the deathlike coldness of that Great House, and be happy in some tiny cottage, from which she might go forth at times among those who would really welcome her. A certain doctor there was, living not very far from Allington, at Guestwick, as to whom she had once thought that he might fill that place of son-in-law,--to be well-beloved. Her quiet, beautiful Bell had seemed to like the man; and he had certainly done more than seem to like her. But now, for some weeks past, this hope, or rather this idea, had faded away. Mrs. Dale had never questioned her daughter on the matter; she was not a woman prone to put such questions. But during the month or two last past, she had seen with regret that Bell looked almost coldly on the man whom her mother favoured. In thinking of all this the long evening passed away, and at eleven o'clock she heard the coming steps across the garden. The young men had, of course, accompanied the girls home; and as she stepped out from the still open window of her own drawing-room, she saw them all on the centre of the lawn before her. "There's mamma," said Lily. "Mamma, Mr. Crosbie wants to play croquet by moonlight." "I don't think there is light enough for that," said Mrs. Dale. "There is light enough for him," said Lily, "for he plays quite independently of the hoops; don't you, Mr. Crosbie?" "There's very pretty croquet light, I should say," said Mr. Crosbie, looking up at the bright moon; "and then it is so stupid going to bed." "Yes, it is stupid going to bed," said Lily; "but people in the country are stupid, you know. Billiards, that you can play all night by gas, is much better, isn't it?" "Your arrows fall terribly astray there, Miss Dale, for I never touch a cue; you should talk to your cousin about billiards." "Is Bernard a great billiard player?" asked Bell. "Well, I do play now and again; about as well as Crosbie does croquet. Come, Crosbie, we'll go home and smoke a cigar." "Yes," said Lily; "and then, you know, we stupid people can go to bed. Mamma, I wish you had a little smoking-room here for us. I don't like being considered stupid." And then they parted,--the ladies going into the house, and the two men returning across the lawn. "Lily, my love," said Mrs. Dale, when they were all together in her bedroom, "it seems to me that you are very hard upon Mr. Crosbie." "She has been going on like that all the evening," said Bell. "I'm sure we are very good friends," said Lily. "Oh, very!" said Bell. "Now, Bell, you're jealous; you know you are." And then, seeing that her sister was in some slight degree vexed, she went up to her and kissed her. "She shan't be called jealous; shall she, mamma?" "I don't think she deserves it," said Mrs. Dale. "Now, you don't mean to say that you think I meant anything," said Lily. "As if I cared a buttercup about Mr. Crosbie." "Or I either, Lily." "Of course you don't. But I do care for him very much, mamma. He is such a duck of an Apollo. I shall always call him Apollo; Phoebus Apollo! And when I draw his picture he shall have a mallet in his hand instead of a bow. Upon my word I am very much obliged to Bernard for bringing him down here; and I do wish he was not going away the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow!" said Mrs. Dale. "It was hardly worth coming for two days." "No, it wasn't,--disturbing us all in our quiet little ways just for such a spell as that,--not giving one time even to count his rays." "But he says he shall perhaps come again," said Bell. "There is that hope for us," said Lily. "Uncle Christopher asked him to come down when he gets his long leave of absence. This is only a short sort of leave. He is better off than poor Johnny Eames. Johnny Eames only has a month, but Mr. Crosbie has two months just whenever he likes it; and seems to be pretty much his own master all the year round besides." "And uncle Christopher asked him to come down for the shooting in September," said Bell. "And though he didn't say he'd come I think he meant it," said Lily. "There is that hope for us, mamma." "Then you'll have to draw Apollo with a gun instead of a mallet." "That is the worst of it, mamma. We shan't see much of him or of Bernard either. They wouldn't let us go out into the woods as beaters, would they?" "You'd make too much noise to be of any use." "Should I? I thought the beaters had to shout at the birds. I should get very tired of shouting at birds, so I think I'll stay at home and look after my clothes." "I hope he will come, because uncle Christopher seems to like him so much," said Bell. "I wonder whether a certain gentleman at Guestwick will like his coming," said Lily. And then, as soon as she had spoken the words, she looked at her sister, and saw that she had grieved her. "Lily, you let your tongue run too fast," said Mrs. Dale. "I didn't mean anything, Bell," said Lily. "I beg your pardon." "It doesn't signify," said Bell. "Only Lily says things without thinking." And then that conversation came to an end, and nothing more was said among them beyond what appertained to their toilet, and a few last words at parting. But the two girls occupied the same room, and when their own door was closed upon them, Bell did allude to what had passed with some spirit. "Lily, you promised me," she said, "that you would not say anything more to me about Dr. Crofts." "I know I did, and I was very wrong. I beg your pardon, Bell; and I won't do it again,--not if I can help it." "Not help it, Lily!" "But I'm sure I don't know why I shouldn't speak of him,--only not in the way of laughing at you. Of all the men I ever saw in my life I like him best. And only that I love you better than I love myself I could find it in my heart to grudge you his--" "Lily, what did you promise just now?" "Well; after to-night. And I don't know why you should turn against him." "I have never turned against him or for him." "There's no turning about him. He'd give his left hand if you'd only smile on him. Or his right either,--and that's what I should like to see; so now you've heard it." "You know you are talking nonsense." "So I should like to see it. And so would mamma too, I'm sure; though I never heard her say a word about him. In my mind he's the finest fellow I ever saw. What's Mr. Apollo Crosbie to him? And now, as it makes you unhappy, I'll never say another word about him." As Bell wished her sister good-night with perhaps more than her usual affection, it was evident that Lily's words and eager tone had in some way pleased her, in spite of their opposition to the request which she had made. And Lily was aware that it was so. CHAPTER IV. MRS. ROPER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. [ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)] I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends. There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. They go much about alone, and blush when women speak to them. In truth, they are not as yet men, whatever the number may be of their years; and, as they are no longer boys, the world has found for them the ungraceful name of hobbledehoy. Such observations, however, as I have been enabled to make on this matter have led me to believe that the hobbledehoy is by no means the least valuable species of the human race. When I compare the hobbledehoy of one or two and twenty to some finished Apollo of the same age, I regard the former as unripe fruit, and the latter as fruit that is ripe. Then comes the question as to the two fruits. Which is the better fruit, that which ripens early--which is, perhaps, favoured with some little forcing apparatus, or which, at least, is backed by the warmth of a southern wall; or that fruit of slower growth, as to which nature works without assistance, on which the sun operates in its own time,--or perhaps never operates if some ungenial shade has been allowed to interpose itself? The world, no doubt, is in favour of the forcing apparatus or of the southern wall. The fruit comes certainly, and at an assured period. It is spotless, speckless, and of a certain quality by no means despicable. The owner has it when he wants it, and it serves its turn. But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit,--is given in the sun's own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself. I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour. But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ball-room, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of beings, and especially eloquent among beautiful women. He enjoys all the triumphs of a Don Juan, without any of Don Juan's heartlessness, and is able to conquer in all encounters, through the force of his wit and the sweetness of his voice. But this eloquence is heard only by his own inner ears, and these triumphs are the triumphs of his imagination. The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys--a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large. He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement. Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy. And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself. Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London. We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him. But yet he was not without friends--friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare. And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoya herself. Mrs. Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire. He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty. He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story. With no other man had Mr. Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr. Eames died Mr. Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children. He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held. And Mrs. Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs. Dale. The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs. Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age. But Mrs. Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House. Mrs. Eames was a poor forlorn woman--forlorn even during the time of her husband's life, but very wobegone now in her widowhood. In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son. But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs. Eames held him in great awe. Mrs. Dale held her brother-in-law in no awe, and sometimes gave to the widow from Guestwick advice quite at variance to that given by the squire. In this way there had grown up an intimacy between Bell and Lily and the young Eames, and either of the girls was prepared to declare that Johnny Eames was her own and well-loved friend. Nevertheless, they spoke of him occasionally with some little dash of merriment--as is not unusual with pretty girls who have hobbledehoys among their intimate friends, and who are not themselves unaccustomed to the grace of an Apollo. I may as well announce at once that John Eames, when he went up to London, was absolutely and irretrievably in love with Lily Dale. He had declared his passion in the most moving language a hundred times; but he had declared it only to himself. He had written much poetry about Lily, but he kept his lines safe under double lock and key. When he gave the reins to his imagination, he flattered himself that he might win not only her but the world at large also by his verses; but he would have perished rather than exhibit them to human eye. During the last ten weeks of his life at Guestwick, while he was preparing for his career in London, he hung about Allington, walking over frequently and then walking back again; but all in vain. During these visits he would sit in Mrs. Dale's drawing-room, speaking but little, and addressing himself usually to the mother; but on each occasion, as he started on his long, hot walk, he resolved that he would say something by which Lily might know of his love. When he left for London that something had not been said. He had not dreamed of asking her to be his wife. John Eames was about to begin the world with eighty pounds a year, and an allowance of twenty more from his mother's purse. He was well aware that with such an income he could not establish himself as a married man in London, and he also felt that the man who might be fortunate enough to win Lily for his wife should be prepared to give her every soft luxury that the world could afford. He knew well that he ought not to expect any assurance of Lily's love; but, nevertheless, he thought it possible that he might give her an assurance of his love. It would probably be in vain. He had no real hope, unless when he was in one of those poetic moods. He had acknowledged to himself, in some indistinct way, that he was no more than a hobbledehoy, awkward, silent, ungainly, with a face unfinished, as it were, or unripe. All this he knew, and knew also that there were Apollos in the world

courage

How many times the word 'courage' appears in the text?

years younger than her father's family Bible will have her to be. Let her who is forty call herself forty; but if she can be young in spirit at forty, let her show that she is so. I think that Mrs. Dale was wrong. She would have joined that party on the croquet ground, instead of remaining among the pea-sticks in her sun-bonnet, had she done as I would have counselled her. Not a word was spoken among the four that she did not hear. Those pea-sticks were only removed from the lawn by a low wall and a few shrubs. She listened, not as one suspecting, but simply as one loving. The voices of her girls were very dear to her, and the silver ringing tones of Lily's tongue were as sweet to her ears as the music of the gods. She heard all that about Lady Hartletop, and shuddered at Lily's bold sarcasm. And she heard Lily say that mamma would stay at home and eat the peas, and said to herself sadly that that was now her lot in life. "Dear darling girl,--and so it should be!" It was thus her thoughts ran. And then, when her ear had traced them, as they passed across the little bridge into the other grounds, she returned across the lawn to the house with her burden on her arm, and sat herself down on the step of the drawing-room window, looking out on the sweet summer flowers and the smooth surface of the grass before her. Had not God done well for her to place her where she was? Had not her lines been set for her in pleasant places? Was she not happy in her girls,--her sweet, loving, trusting, trusty children? As it was to be that her lord, that best half of herself, was to be taken from her in early life, and that the springs of all the lighter pleasures were to be thus stopped for her, had it not been well that in her bereavement so much had been done to soften her lot in life and give it grace and beauty? 'Twas so, she argued with herself, and yet she acknowledged to herself that she was not happy. She had resolved, as she herself had said often, to put away childish things, and now she pined for those things which she so put from her. As she sat she could still hear Lily's voice as they went through the shrubbery,--hear it when none but a mother's ears would have distinguished the sound. Now that those young men were at the Great House it was natural that her girls should be there too. The squire would not have had young men to stay with him had there been no ladies to grace his table. But for her,--she knew that no one would want her there. Now and again she must go, as otherwise her very existence, without going, would be a thing disagreeably noticeable. But there was no other reason why she should join the party; nor in joining it would she either give or receive pleasure. Let her daughters eat from her brother's table and drink of his cup. They were made welcome to do so from the heart. For her there was no such welcome as that at the Great House,--nor at any other house, or any other table! "Mamma will stay at home to eat the peas." And then she repeated to herself the words which Lily had spoken, sitting there, leaning with her elbow on her knee, and her head upon her hand. "Please, ma'am, cook says, can we have the peas to shell?" and then her reverie was broken. [ILLUSTRATION: "Please, ma'am, can we have the peas to shell?"] Whereupon Mrs. Dale got up and gave over her basket. "Cook knows that the young ladies are going to dine at the Great House?" "Yes, ma'am." "She needn't mind getting dinner for me. I will have tea early." And so, after all, Mrs. Dale did not perform that special duty appointed for her. But she soon set herself to work upon another duty. When a family of three persons has to live upon an income of three hundred a year, and, nevertheless, makes some pretence of going into society, it has to be very mindful of small details, even though that family may consist only of ladies. Of this Mrs. Dale was well aware, and as it pleased her that her daughters should be nice and fresh, and pretty in their attire, many a long hour was given up to that care. The squire would send them shawls in winter, and had given them riding habits, and had sent them down brown silk for dresses from London,--so limited in quantity that the due manufacture of two dresses out of the material had been found to be beyond the art of woman, and the brown silk garments had been a difficulty from that day to this,--the squire having a good memory in such matters, and being anxious to see the fruits of his liberality. All this was doubtless of assistance, but had the squire given the amount which he so expended in money to his nieces, the benefit would have been greater. As it was, the girls were always nice and fresh and pretty, they themselves not being idle in that matter; but their tire-woman in chief was their mother. And now she went up to their room and got out their muslin frocks, and--but, perhaps, I should not tell such tales!--She, however, felt no shame in her work, as she sent for a hot iron, and with her own hands smoothed out the creases, and gave the proper set to the crimp flounces, and fixed a new ribbon where it was wanted, and saw that all was as it should be. Men think but little how much of this kind is endured that their eyes may be pleased, even though it be but for an hour. "Oh! mamma, how good you are," said Bell, as the two girls came in, only just in time to make themselves ready for returning to dinner. "Mamma is always good," said Lily. "I wish, mamma, I could do the same for you oftener," and then she kissed her mother. But the squire was exact about dinner, so they dressed themselves in haste, and went off again through the garden, their mother accompanying them to the little bridge. "Your uncle did not seem vexed at my not coming?" said Mrs. Dale. "We have not seen him, mamma," said Lily. "We have been ever so far down the fields, and forgot altogether what o'clock it was." "I don't think uncle Christopher was about the place, or we should have met him," said Bell. "But I am vexed with you, mamma. Are not you, Bell? It is very bad of you to stay here all alone, and not come." "I suppose mamma likes being at home better than up at the Great House," said Bell, very gently; and as she spoke she was holding her mother's hand. "Well; good-by, dears. I shall expect you between ten and eleven. But don't hurry yourselves if anything is going on." And so they went, and the widow was again alone. The path from the bridge ran straight up towards the back of the Great House, so that for a moment or two she could see them as they tripped on almost in a run. And then she saw their dresses flutter as they turned sharp round, up the terrace steps. She would not go beyond the nook among the laurels by which she was surrounded, lest any one should see her as she looked after her girls. But when the last flutter of the pink muslin had been whisked away from her sight, she felt it hard that she might not follow them. She stood there, however, without advancing a step. She would not have Hopkins telling how she watched her daughters as they went from her own home to that of her brother-in-law. It was not within the capacity of Hopkins to understand why she watched them. "Well, girls, you're not much too soon. I think your mother might have come with you," said uncle Christopher. And this was the manner of the man. Had he known his own wishes he must have acknowledged to himself that he was better pleased that Mrs. Dale should stay away. He felt himself more absolutely master and more comfortably at home at his own table without her company than with it. And yet he frequently made a grievance of her not coming, and himself believed in that grievance. "I think mamma was tired," said Bell. "Hem. It's not so very far across from one house to the other. If I were to shut myself up whenever I'm tired-- But never mind. Let's go to dinner. Mr. Crosbie, will you take my niece Lilian." And then, offering his own arm to Bell, he walked off to the dining-room. "If he scolds mamma any more, I'll go away," said Lily to her companion; by which it may be seen that they had all become very intimate during the long day that they had passed together. Mrs. Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however, imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs. Dale was not above novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved her truly during the few years that they had been together. It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard, but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs. Dale was not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship; but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since; and during those years Mrs. Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him as he had been to her. But all this was very hard to bear. That her daughters should love their uncle was not only reasonable, but in every way desirable. He was not cold to them. To them he was generous and affectionate. If she were only out of the way, he would have taken them to his house as his own, and they would in all respects have stood before the world as his adopted children. Would it not be better if she were out of the way? It was only in her most dismal moods that this question would get itself asked within her mind, and then she would recover herself, and answer it stoutly with an indignant protest against her own morbid weakness. It would not be well that she should be away from her girls,--not though their uncle should have been twice a better uncle; not though, by her absence, they might become heiresses of all Allington. Was it not above everything to them that they should have a mother near them? And as she asked of herself that morbid question,--wickedly asked it, as she declared to herself,--did she not know that they loved her better than all the world beside, and would prefer her caresses and her care to the guardianship of any uncle, let his house be ever so great? As yet they loved her better than all the world beside. Of other love, should it come, she would not be jealous. And if it should come, and should be happy, might there not yet be a bright evening of life for herself? If they should marry, and if their lords would accept her love, her friendship, and her homage, she might yet escape from the deathlike coldness of that Great House, and be happy in some tiny cottage, from which she might go forth at times among those who would really welcome her. A certain doctor there was, living not very far from Allington, at Guestwick, as to whom she had once thought that he might fill that place of son-in-law,--to be well-beloved. Her quiet, beautiful Bell had seemed to like the man; and he had certainly done more than seem to like her. But now, for some weeks past, this hope, or rather this idea, had faded away. Mrs. Dale had never questioned her daughter on the matter; she was not a woman prone to put such questions. But during the month or two last past, she had seen with regret that Bell looked almost coldly on the man whom her mother favoured. In thinking of all this the long evening passed away, and at eleven o'clock she heard the coming steps across the garden. The young men had, of course, accompanied the girls home; and as she stepped out from the still open window of her own drawing-room, she saw them all on the centre of the lawn before her. "There's mamma," said Lily. "Mamma, Mr. Crosbie wants to play croquet by moonlight." "I don't think there is light enough for that," said Mrs. Dale. "There is light enough for him," said Lily, "for he plays quite independently of the hoops; don't you, Mr. Crosbie?" "There's very pretty croquet light, I should say," said Mr. Crosbie, looking up at the bright moon; "and then it is so stupid going to bed." "Yes, it is stupid going to bed," said Lily; "but people in the country are stupid, you know. Billiards, that you can play all night by gas, is much better, isn't it?" "Your arrows fall terribly astray there, Miss Dale, for I never touch a cue; you should talk to your cousin about billiards." "Is Bernard a great billiard player?" asked Bell. "Well, I do play now and again; about as well as Crosbie does croquet. Come, Crosbie, we'll go home and smoke a cigar." "Yes," said Lily; "and then, you know, we stupid people can go to bed. Mamma, I wish you had a little smoking-room here for us. I don't like being considered stupid." And then they parted,--the ladies going into the house, and the two men returning across the lawn. "Lily, my love," said Mrs. Dale, when they were all together in her bedroom, "it seems to me that you are very hard upon Mr. Crosbie." "She has been going on like that all the evening," said Bell. "I'm sure we are very good friends," said Lily. "Oh, very!" said Bell. "Now, Bell, you're jealous; you know you are." And then, seeing that her sister was in some slight degree vexed, she went up to her and kissed her. "She shan't be called jealous; shall she, mamma?" "I don't think she deserves it," said Mrs. Dale. "Now, you don't mean to say that you think I meant anything," said Lily. "As if I cared a buttercup about Mr. Crosbie." "Or I either, Lily." "Of course you don't. But I do care for him very much, mamma. He is such a duck of an Apollo. I shall always call him Apollo; Phoebus Apollo! And when I draw his picture he shall have a mallet in his hand instead of a bow. Upon my word I am very much obliged to Bernard for bringing him down here; and I do wish he was not going away the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow!" said Mrs. Dale. "It was hardly worth coming for two days." "No, it wasn't,--disturbing us all in our quiet little ways just for such a spell as that,--not giving one time even to count his rays." "But he says he shall perhaps come again," said Bell. "There is that hope for us," said Lily. "Uncle Christopher asked him to come down when he gets his long leave of absence. This is only a short sort of leave. He is better off than poor Johnny Eames. Johnny Eames only has a month, but Mr. Crosbie has two months just whenever he likes it; and seems to be pretty much his own master all the year round besides." "And uncle Christopher asked him to come down for the shooting in September," said Bell. "And though he didn't say he'd come I think he meant it," said Lily. "There is that hope for us, mamma." "Then you'll have to draw Apollo with a gun instead of a mallet." "That is the worst of it, mamma. We shan't see much of him or of Bernard either. They wouldn't let us go out into the woods as beaters, would they?" "You'd make too much noise to be of any use." "Should I? I thought the beaters had to shout at the birds. I should get very tired of shouting at birds, so I think I'll stay at home and look after my clothes." "I hope he will come, because uncle Christopher seems to like him so much," said Bell. "I wonder whether a certain gentleman at Guestwick will like his coming," said Lily. And then, as soon as she had spoken the words, she looked at her sister, and saw that she had grieved her. "Lily, you let your tongue run too fast," said Mrs. Dale. "I didn't mean anything, Bell," said Lily. "I beg your pardon." "It doesn't signify," said Bell. "Only Lily says things without thinking." And then that conversation came to an end, and nothing more was said among them beyond what appertained to their toilet, and a few last words at parting. But the two girls occupied the same room, and when their own door was closed upon them, Bell did allude to what had passed with some spirit. "Lily, you promised me," she said, "that you would not say anything more to me about Dr. Crofts." "I know I did, and I was very wrong. I beg your pardon, Bell; and I won't do it again,--not if I can help it." "Not help it, Lily!" "But I'm sure I don't know why I shouldn't speak of him,--only not in the way of laughing at you. Of all the men I ever saw in my life I like him best. And only that I love you better than I love myself I could find it in my heart to grudge you his--" "Lily, what did you promise just now?" "Well; after to-night. And I don't know why you should turn against him." "I have never turned against him or for him." "There's no turning about him. He'd give his left hand if you'd only smile on him. Or his right either,--and that's what I should like to see; so now you've heard it." "You know you are talking nonsense." "So I should like to see it. And so would mamma too, I'm sure; though I never heard her say a word about him. In my mind he's the finest fellow I ever saw. What's Mr. Apollo Crosbie to him? And now, as it makes you unhappy, I'll never say another word about him." As Bell wished her sister good-night with perhaps more than her usual affection, it was evident that Lily's words and eager tone had in some way pleased her, in spite of their opposition to the request which she had made. And Lily was aware that it was so. CHAPTER IV. MRS. ROPER'S BOARDING-HOUSE. [ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)] I have said that John Eames had been petted by none but his mother, but I would not have it supposed, on this account, that John Eames had no friends. There is a class of young men who never get petted, though they may not be the less esteemed, or perhaps loved. They do not come forth to the world as Apollos, nor shine at all, keeping what light they may have for inward purposes. Such young men are often awkward, ungainly, and not yet formed in their gait; they straggle with their limbs, and are shy; words do not come to them with ease, when words are required, among any but their accustomed associates. Social meetings are periods of penance to them, and any appearance in public will unnerve them. They go much about alone, and blush when women speak to them. In truth, they are not as yet men, whatever the number may be of their years; and, as they are no longer boys, the world has found for them the ungraceful name of hobbledehoy. Such observations, however, as I have been enabled to make on this matter have led me to believe that the hobbledehoy is by no means the least valuable species of the human race. When I compare the hobbledehoy of one or two and twenty to some finished Apollo of the same age, I regard the former as unripe fruit, and the latter as fruit that is ripe. Then comes the question as to the two fruits. Which is the better fruit, that which ripens early--which is, perhaps, favoured with some little forcing apparatus, or which, at least, is backed by the warmth of a southern wall; or that fruit of slower growth, as to which nature works without assistance, on which the sun operates in its own time,--or perhaps never operates if some ungenial shade has been allowed to interpose itself? The world, no doubt, is in favour of the forcing apparatus or of the southern wall. The fruit comes certainly, and at an assured period. It is spotless, speckless, and of a certain quality by no means despicable. The owner has it when he wants it, and it serves its turn. But, nevertheless, according to my thinking, the fullest flavour of the sun is given to that other fruit,--is given in the sun's own good time, if so be that no ungenial shade has interposed itself. I like the smack of the natural growth, and like it, perhaps, the better because that which has been obtained has been obtained without favour. But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs in a ball-room, and is hardly master of his tongue at any time, is the most eloquent of beings, and especially eloquent among beautiful women. He enjoys all the triumphs of a Don Juan, without any of Don Juan's heartlessness, and is able to conquer in all encounters, through the force of his wit and the sweetness of his voice. But this eloquence is heard only by his own inner ears, and these triumphs are the triumphs of his imagination. The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys--a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large. He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement. Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy. And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself. Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London. We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him. But yet he was not without friends--friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare. And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoya herself. Mrs. Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire. He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty. He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story. With no other man had Mr. Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr. Eames died Mr. Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children. He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held. And Mrs. Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs. Dale. The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs. Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age. But Mrs. Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House. Mrs. Eames was a poor forlorn woman--forlorn even during the time of her husband's life, but very wobegone now in her widowhood. In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son. But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs. Eames held him in great awe. Mrs. Dale held her brother-in-law in no awe, and sometimes gave to the widow from Guestwick advice quite at variance to that given by the squire. In this way there had grown up an intimacy between Bell and Lily and the young Eames, and either of the girls was prepared to declare that Johnny Eames was her own and well-loved friend. Nevertheless, they spoke of him occasionally with some little dash of merriment--as is not unusual with pretty girls who have hobbledehoys among their intimate friends, and who are not themselves unaccustomed to the grace of an Apollo. I may as well announce at once that John Eames, when he went up to London, was absolutely and irretrievably in love with Lily Dale. He had declared his passion in the most moving language a hundred times; but he had declared it only to himself. He had written much poetry about Lily, but he kept his lines safe under double lock and key. When he gave the reins to his imagination, he flattered himself that he might win not only her but the world at large also by his verses; but he would have perished rather than exhibit them to human eye. During the last ten weeks of his life at Guestwick, while he was preparing for his career in London, he hung about Allington, walking over frequently and then walking back again; but all in vain. During these visits he would sit in Mrs. Dale's drawing-room, speaking but little, and addressing himself usually to the mother; but on each occasion, as he started on his long, hot walk, he resolved that he would say something by which Lily might know of his love. When he left for London that something had not been said. He had not dreamed of asking her to be his wife. John Eames was about to begin the world with eighty pounds a year, and an allowance of twenty more from his mother's purse. He was well aware that with such an income he could not establish himself as a married man in London, and he also felt that the man who might be fortunate enough to win Lily for his wife should be prepared to give her every soft luxury that the world could afford. He knew well that he ought not to expect any assurance of Lily's love; but, nevertheless, he thought it possible that he might give her an assurance of his love. It would probably be in vain. He had no real hope, unless when he was in one of those poetic moods. He had acknowledged to himself, in some indistinct way, that he was no more than a hobbledehoy, awkward, silent, ungainly, with a face unfinished, as it were, or unripe. All this he knew, and knew also that there were Apollos in the world

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you I was on my way, but the line was busy, you're always on the phone. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE IN BEL AIR - DAY George pulls into the circular driveway. COVERED by a few bars of The Mama's and The Papa's "California Dreamin." There's only one car. George gets off the bike and goes to the door. Nobody answers. He hears the SOUND of a BALL BANGING. He looks toward the tennis court. ON THE COURT - LORNA is banging away on the backboard. There's a basket of balls nearby. She hits with considerable skill and power until she misses the backboard and the ball lodges in the steel mesh surrounding the court. George is standing there. Lorna looks at him. LORNA You here to see my mother? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA She's out, but you're supposed to wait. LORNA WALKING TO GEORGE LORNA (CONT'D) Hungry? GEORGE A little. AT THE KITCHEN TABLE They're eating silently. Lorna has hauled all kinds of food out of the refrigerators. She watches George as he eats with some relish. She gets up and goes to the steel-doored refrigerators. LORNA (indicating refrigerators) This is the one thing I like about this house... want some lox? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA You're my mother's hairdresser? GEORGE (warily) I do her hair, yeah. LORNA Chopped liver? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Are you gay?... baked apple?... they're cold but they're good. GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Did you hear me? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA Well, are you? Are you queer? GEORGE ... yeah. LORNA (laughing) C'mon, are you or aren't you? GEORGE (trying to avoid it) Gee, this is great. He slices a piece of cheesecake. Lorna sits down, in the chair nearest him now. LORNA C'mon, tell me. Don't be afraid. GEORGE Why do you wanna know so bad? LORNA See if you've been making it with my mother. GEORGE (looking at her for a minute, he changes his tone) What would my being a faggot have to do with that? Lorna shrugs. LORNA Nothing, I guess... have you ever made it with a guy? GEORGE Have you ever made it with a girl? LORNA I asked you first. GEORGE Yeah... I've made it with a girl... Lorna smiles. A pause. LORNA Well, are you? GEORGE Am I what? LORNA Making it with my mother? George wants to avoid this at all costs. He stares at Lorna intently. GEORGE I'd like to do your hair sometime. LORNA Why? GEORGE ... just, you could look very heavy... LORNA Don't make conversation with me. GEORGE What? LORNA You don't have to make conversation with me, I'm not my mother... do you have a thing about older women... that's sort of faggoty isn't it? George is weary and getting annoyed. GEORGE Yeah, it is. LORNA I never get my hair done. GEORGE No kidding. LORNA In fact, I don't think I've ever been to a beauty parlor in my whole life. GEORGE No shit. LORNA You think that's funny, don't you? GEORGE (laughing a little) Yeah. LORNA You live a phony cheap cop-out existence. GEORGE (determined to be light) Yeah... LORNA Beverly Hills hairdresser... what kind of a thing is that to do... you might as well be a faggot... think that's funny too? GEORGE No. LORNA Then what do you think? GEORGE That you're just like your mother. LORNA I am not like my mother! GEORGE You are. LORNA I am not! GEORGE You are. Lorna is furious. LORNA I am not! GEORGE (he starts to placate her) Look... (then defiantly) Do you wanna fuck me? LORNA (defiantly) Yeah. George stops eating. He's not prepared for this. GEORGE (uneasily) Right now? LORNA (a little more tentative now that the moment has arrived) Yeah. EXT. SOURCE RESTAURANT - JOHNNY POPE AND JILL - DAY A scraggly bearded WAITER with long stringy hair sets down two huge green salads before Jill and Johnny Pope. In so doing the Waiter drops a wooden menu he's been carrying. As he bends down to pick it up, he kneels beside Pope. Pope taps him on the shoulder. POPE (tapping him) Oh, scraves... WAITER Yes? The Waiter looks up, and moves. POPE Thank you. WAITER What for? POPE Taking your hair out of my salad. WAITER Oh, I'm sorry. Pope nods, Jill giggles. The Waiter goes off. Pope tosses out a few pieces of lettuce from the top of his salad. JILL Why don't you ask for another one? POPE Are you kidding? His hair's probably the most nutritious thing in here. See, you've reduced me to eating weeds. JILL ... my friend doesn't like it here either. POPE All right, forget this filth. Continue about your friend. JILL Well he's not exactly a friend. POPE Is he an enemy? JILL (laughing) Of course not... he's sort of a boyfriend. POPE -- sort of a boyfriend? JILL Sort of. POPE I see. You mean he just sort of fucks you. JILL Johnny! POPE My God, did I say that? I don't believe it. He looks under his chair to see if it was somebody else. POPE (CONT'D) I'm terribly sorry. JILL (amused) -- never mind. POPE What does he do? Is he an actor? JILL -- no. POPE Good for you. JILL He's a hairdresser. Pope drops his fork in the salad bowl. POPE -- oh, sure. A hairdresser. How... how do you a... meet a hairdresser? JILL Getting your hair done... (looks at him, abruptly) Would you like to go to a party? POPE Not with your hairdresser. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE - FELICIA - DAY pulls into the driveway. She gets out of her car, spots George's bike. INT. THE KITCHEN She sees the food spread out. FELICIA moving through the house. She stops by Lorna's room. Lorna has a sliding door, which is closed. Felicia opens it. FELICIA Lorna? LORNA'S BEDROOM Lorna is sitting on her bed, in her tennis dress but with her tennis shoes off. She's straightening a string in her racket. She looks to her mother, expressionless. FELICIA (CONT'D) Have you seen George? LORNA He's in the bathroom. FELICIA Your bathroom? LORNA Yes. The toilet flushes. The sink runs, and George emerges. He's looking a little haggard. GEORGE Hi. FELICIA (coolly) Hello, George. They walk out to the lanai together and George picks up his case. There is considerable tension from Felicia as they walk into her bedroom. Felicia slides the bedroom door shut, an action which George unhappily notices. She turns to George. She looks very hostile. She's trembling. FELICIA (CONT'D) I've missed you. George is taken aback. He gropes for a moment. GEORGE I've... missed you too. Felicia comes to him. She comes to him and touches his arm. George suddenly flings his case across the room and pounds his fist into a high-backed chair, turning away from Felicia. She clearly misunderstands the action. FELICIA (touched) It's okay, honey... it's okay now. She moves to the door and quietly locks it. George winces. She comes back to him and kisses him gently. She kisses him again with more passion. George tries to respond. FELICIA (CONT'D) Comb my hair out later, honey. GEORGE No, that's okay, I'll do It now. FELICIA No, baby... I'm glad you're coming tonight. She gently tugs at him, leading him toward the bed. George is miserable. GEORGE (looking toward the door) But aren't you... FELICIA Right now, I just don't care. As they sink to the bed, Felicia switches on the HI-FI. The Tijuana Brass begin to play. GEORGE ON HIS BIKE - LATE AFTERNOON COVERED BY a few bars of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". Riding home. He turns down his street and pulls into his driveway. He gets off his bike and only as he starts up his walk does he see Jill. She's been quietly waiting on his front porch, hidden in the shadows of the overhang. She doesn't look happy. George stops cold. GEORGE (?) Jill says nothing. GEORGE (CONT'D) Where's your car? JILL A friend dropped me off. GEORGE Who? JILL Never mind. Where've you been? GEORGE A business meeting, I told you that. They go inside. The living room is messy. George looks around in disgust. JILL What business meeting? GEORGE Look at the way I live. JILL I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. You weren't in the shop. What is this thing tonight? GEORGE What do you mean, what is it? It's some political bullshit. JILL I have to have Jackie ask me? Don't you think you could call me and let me know? Look at my hair. GEORGE Wait a minute, God-damn-it. Do you think I want to go to some God damned party? I'm trying to get that God damned shop open. I'm trying to get a little bread together. That's all I'm doing. George's outburst has shocked Jill. George maniacally begins straightening the mess. GEORGE (CONT'D) I just wanna live like everybody else, that's all. I want clothes in the closet, and food in the refrigerator, and I don't want shit all over the house and running my ass all over town... I want my own house... I want an appointment book... I want to get up in the morning and go to bed at night... I want a normal life like everybody else, that's all. He collapses into a chair. She comes over to him and knee beside him. JILL I know, honey. GEORGE Maybe I should get a dog... no, it would just shit all over the house and I'd never clean it up. JILL (laughing a little, touching him) Oh, honey. If we had one place, we could have a nicer place and I could take care of it. We're almost never here. REAR VIEW MIRROR - NIGHT A signal red Porsche cabriolet pulls up into mirror. The top is down. Under the brightly lit streetlights Jill's blonde hair and features are VISIBLE. WITH GEORGE AND JACKIE in her Mercedes. George still looking through the rear view mirror. Jackie's a knockout. JACKIE (looking at George looking in mirror) -- you'll be the prettiest thing in the room -- light's green... GEORGE (he takes off) -- oh yeah... what do you know about this guy? JACKIE -- what guy? GEORGE (gesturing toward rear window) -- this guy with Jill. JACKIE He's a director. OUTSIDE OF BISTRO - GEORGE AND JOHNNY POPE - NIGHT pull up, Pope right behind George. Parking ATTENDANTS leap for the doors. A few photographers of the movie freak variety ask each other who these arrivals are. One assures several others that they're nobody. GEORGE (to Attendant) Do I need a ticket for this? ATTENDANT We'll remember you. POPE as they move to take his Porsche. POPE (CONT'D) (shaking his head) I'll park it. Pope drives his own car onto the lot. WITH JILL, GEORGE AND JACKIE waiting for Pope who is now ambling toward them. GEORGE (to Jill) What does he direct besides traffic? JILL Ha, ha. GEORGE Television or movies? JILL Commercials. JACKIE (quietly, to George) Feel better? Let's go. Pope has joined them. INT. BISTRO FOYER They clear it to see the long elegant bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. George looks and sees someone. A fortyish WOMAN, attractive. GEORGE (to Jackie) Jesus Christ, there's Norma Stern. Look at her hair. JACKIE What about it? GEORGE Looks like somebody took a dump in it, that's the worst color job I've -- Norma comes over, hugs George. NORMA George -- GEORGE (pointing to her hair) Baby, you've been chippying on me -- NORMA Yes, isn't it awful -- GEORGE (smiling) -- yes. Jackie tugs him by the arm. JACKIE We're upstairs, George. Now come on. Behave yourself, and for Christ's sake, do me a favor. Don't let me drink too much. GEORGE (going upstairs) You don't do that anymore, do you? BISTRO STAIRS Jackie doesn't answer. They've reached the top of the stairs. They're hit by the full force of the upstairs gathering -- black tie, posters of Nixon, Agnew, Reagan, and Murphy, vaguely familiar faces crossing back and forth, clustering, watching early returns on television sets that are blaring from various points around the room. An ORCHESTRA PLAYS Meyer Davis Society Jazz. Jackie and George hesitate. Pope and Jill are behind them. Pope jostles George as he stops, abruptly. George looks around. Pope smiles. He's holding Jill's hand. George notices. Jill disengages her hand casually, as though it were necessary only for the walk up the stairs. Jackie nudges George, forcing him to move into the room with her as Lester comes toward them. He's stopped on his way over. WAITER Can I get you folks something? JILL A stinger, please. POPE A tomato juice. GEORGE I'll take a -- some white wine. WAITER And you, madam? JACKIE (searching the room) Oh I'll uhh -- just a coke. The Waiter moves on and they wait for their drinks. Lester finally makes to them. LESTER George, glad you could make it, son. Hi, doll. JACKIE Lester, this is my friend Jill and this is Johnny Pope. LESTER Glad to meet you, Jill, Mr. Pope. INT. BISTRO UPSTAIRS George turns to get his drink from the Waiter as do Jill and Pope. Lester takes Jackie's arm. LESTER Who are they? JACKIE (quickly) Jill Haynes, Jill Haynes, I've told you about Jill a hundred times, Lester, you never remember anything I say. LESTER Does she know about us? JACKIE Jesus, she's my best friend. LESTER Who's the guy, George's boyfriend? JACKIE I don't know. Why don't you ask him? LESTER C'mon, Jackie, I'm only trying -- George -- He draws George aside. LESTER (CONT'D) -- do me a favor, kind of keep your eye on Jackie, she's a little high strung tonight -- GEORGE -- yeah? LESTER See she doesn't drink too much. Jackie has heard this last. Lester turns to her. LESTER (CONT'D) See you later, doll. Jackie puts down her coke, picks up a glass of white wine from a passing tray and downs it in one gulp, putting it on another tray and picking up another glass of white wine. FELICIA with cleavage carefully prominent in a strapless gown, spots George. She excuses herself from the couple she has been talking with and goes straight to the powder room. INT. POWDER ROOM - FELICIA checks herself out in the mirror, glossing her lips with a pale tint of something or other. She gives a final anxious look, then hurries out, nearly bumping into a lady coming In. OUTSIDE she moves through the crowd up behind George, turning him around. FELICIA George, darling. She kisses him full on the lips, lingering on it. GEORGE (without batting an eye) Hey, baby, what's happening. Oh this is Jackie. Jackie, say hello to Felicia. It is only now that Felicia sees one of George's arms has been holding onto Jackie. JACKIE (also without batting an eye) Hello, Felicia. FELICIA (instantly suspicious of George) ... hello. Felicia looks from George to Jackie and back again. FELICIA (CONT'D) I'm so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you. LESTER pours his drink on the cuff of a distinguished MAN sitting beneath him at a table as he sees George and Felicia and Jackie clustered together. WITH LESTER AND MAN MAN Lester, what the fuck do you think you're doing? LESTER Jesus, Nate, I'm sorry. Lester fumbles, tries to clean Nate off with a napkin. NATE Never mind, I'll do it myself. He dips the napkin into a glass of ice water and proceeds to clean off his cuff. Nate goes back to the TV monitor where Agnew is making some remarks or commentators are repeating his comment about being a household word. LESTER So far so good. NATE Aw there's nothing to worry about. LESTER You never know. FELICIA WITH GEORGE FELICIA Why didn't you come alone? Lester invited you. Did you have to bring her? GEORGE (looking toward Lester) Well she... FELICIA She what? GEORGE She's a friend of Jill's. FELICIA And who's Jill? She spots Jill. GEORGE Well, she's a friend of Johnny Pope's -- you know, the director. She looks at Pope who is saying something to Jill which is making her laugh. FELICIA Oh. GEORGE is threading his way through a crowd, holding two drinks, one of them a coca-cola. It's a little more raucous now, with election returns from the television sets creating a more festive mood. Now and then someone jumps up from a set and hugs someone so carrying drinks is a little dodgy. JACKIE, F.G. - LESTER, B.G., TALKING Jackie sits alone by the bar, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. A man offers her a match. She stares at the burning match as if it's obscene. She blows it out. JACKIE No thanks. The man looks a little shocked, moves on. GEORGE has his arm held. It's KENNETH, a red-haired decorator. KENNETH Excuse me, I know I know you, but I can't think where. GEORGE Look, I'd like to help but -- Felicia grabs George's other arm pulling him away from Kenneth. Kenneth looks a little shocked at the ferocity of Felicia's move. FELICIA There you are. She tugs him with her. GEORGE Wait a minute -- She takes him right into the ladies room, George still juggling the drinks. JOHNNY POPE watches Felicia and George disappear into the ladies room, looking over Jill's shoulder. Jill has not seen it. POPE This other couple that we're here with, do you know them very well? JILL Well... sure... POPE Then maybe you can tell me why George would be going into the ladies room. Jill looks around and stares at the door. JILL George? Was he alone? POPE I don't think so. JILL Well did he go in there with Jackie? Pope points over to Jackie sitting at the bar drinking now. JILL (CONT'D) That bastard. POPE George is a hairdresser, isn't he? Jill doesn't answer. INT. BATHROOM - FELICIA AND GEORGE GEORGE (desperate) Baby, you gotta let me out of here. Felicia kisses him. FELICIA Sweetheart, it's a bore out there... let's lock the door. GEORGE Holy Christ. You want to get us killed? FELICIA Don't be silly. I'll just tell Lester we were smoking a couple of joints. See? She pulls two joints out of her beaded bag. LESTER only a few seats from Jackie, Jackie staring daggers at him, Lester aware of it. He's talking to a pair of lacquered eminence grises. LESTER -- fellas, fellas, just listen, you both have tidelands, you both want Uncle Sam to come through with offshore drilling permits -- so do it together -- JACKIE has taken an olive from an olive tray and hit Lester on the back of the head. He's finished this little dissertation. He sees the source of the missile. He grows pale, frozen. Sixty-four year old bejeweled WOMAN in b.g. WOMAN So, little red riding hood says 'my what big teeth you have and the wolf says all the better to eat you with, my dear, and she says -- eat, eat, eat, doesn't anybody ever fuck any more?' Jackie has now picked up a carrot from a relish tray. George appears. GEORGE Don't do it. JACKIE That son of a bitch, everything he says is a phony piece of shit, what does he think, I'm some cigar butt he's got between his teeth -- GEORGE (almost picking her up) C'mon, cunt, you're going for a walk. He takes her into the next room and Lester watches the move with a mixture of relief and concern. INT. OTHER BAR Jackie is now near tears. JACKIE He just completely ignores me. He could have at least said something, introduced me or something. INT. SMALL BAR GEORGE Sweetheart, you're drunk. She leans on George. JACKIE Oh God, what do I want, George? Lester comes hurrying in, sweating, now. LESTER Hi, doll, what's wrong? JACKIE You know what's wrong. Felicia trips coming into the small bar. FELICIA Lester -- Lester straightens up like he's been shot. LESTER Oh, Felicia, there you are, you know George and uh -- uh -- He's genuinely forgotten her name. JACKIE Jackie Shawn. LESTER Yes, Jackie Shawn, my wi -- Felicia. FELICIA We've met. JACKIE Yes. GEORGE Well anyway... LESTER (to Felicia) Your hair looks -- well fabulous. FELICIA That's George. INT. SMALL BAR LESTER It's just -- fabulous. (to George, an attempt at levity) Think you could do anything for me? GEORGE (he takes it seriously) Well -- I could try. Do you wash your hair every day? LESTER Isn't that bad for it? GEORGE No it keeps the skin peeling. You've got to keep the follicles open. You lose hair and the skin grows over the follicle and that's how you lose it. George actually touches Lester's hair, professional interest growing. GEORGE (CONT'D) This really ought to be layered... LESTER Layered? GEORGE Well yeah, otherwise it just sort, you know, lies there -- layer so it kind of fluffs out -- He starts to fluff Lester's hair a little when Johnny Pope walks in with Jill to this. Pope stares at them. POPE I think they're waiting for somebody to start dinner. LESTER Have they sat down? POPE Everybody but us. FELICIA They're waiting for you, Lester. INT. BISTRO DINNER TABLE Dinner is pretty much finished, waiters have begun picking up plates. IZZY SOKOLOFF (to Jill) I guess it's almost impossible to get work in the business these days. Pope watches Sokoloff make his move. JILL Well, commercials. I read for a soap the other day. IZZY A soap? JILL A daytime soap opera. IZZY And? JILL I was too old. IZZY What was it, somebody's daughter? JILL Somebody's mother. JACKIE'S PLATE is untouched. She holds up her wine glass. JACKIE Waiter! George looks at her. JACKIE (CONT'D) One word out of you and I'll gargle with it. The waiter pours the wine. George looks to Jill, shrugs. Jill mouthes, 'try and stop her.' George mouthes back, 'are you kidding?' INT. BISTRO SID ROTH has been eyeing Jackie. SID ROTH Aren't you hungry, Miss Shawn? Jackie looks at Roth. Roth shoots his cuffs and smiles. JACKIE Not for rubber chicken, no. Sid Roth smiles. Jackie smiles back. SID ROTH (intime) Well maybe I can get you something. JACKIE That's very sweet of you, Mr. Roth. SID ROTH Sid. JACKIE Sid. You must be a very important executive. SID ROTH (almost a whisper) Well, whatever I am, I think I can get you whatever you'd like. JACKIE You do? SID ROTH Yes. JACKIE (same tone as Sid's) -- well, more than anything else -- (indicating George) -- I'd like to suck his cock. She points to George. George chokes on the last of a piece of chicken. Sid Roth is stunned. He doesn't know what to do. George is coughing badly. Jackie slaps his back. HEAD TABLE - FELICIA AND LESTER Felicia is listening to Lester. The Agnew and Nixon posters are directly behind them. LESTER (to East) -- Senator, you should've seen those little kids! About forty of 'em, all blind. We put out these mattresses on the front lawn and they came running out of the house, tripping and falling all over the place, having a hell of a good time. I mean they were blind of course. But it really gave you a feeling of accomplishment. I tell you I never had such a good time. Felicia during the above has looked up to see Jackie fawning over George. She can't believe her eyes. FELICIA Lester -- SENATOR -- let me understand this was exclusively a home for blind children -- FELICIA Lester -- LESTER -- yes, Senator -- just a minute, dear -- FELICIA Lester, don't you think that uhh -- Now Lester spots it. He's very confused. FELICIA (CONT'D) That girl's making an awful spectacle of herself. LESTER (angry himself) What do you expect me to do about it? FELICIA I just thought you'd like to know -- LESTER Why would I like to know if there's nothing I can do about it, goddammit -- OTHER VOICE Quiet! Cranston's on. They quiet down. JACKIE AND GEORGE Jackie's now moving around kissing George on the mouth. Jill is watching. Johnny Pope is fascinated. JILL -- Jackie really shouldn't drink -- POPE -- oh I don't know -- JACKIE (arm around George's shoulders tonguing his ear) -- Just get me out of here, baby. I can't stand it. It's killing me. GEORGE (indicating head table) -- we can't now. JACKIE -- why not? C'mon, take me out of here, somewhere I don't have to lie to anybody and I'll fuck your brains out, you little fiend, I adore you -- FELICIA is watching Jackie and George with ever greater intensity, her mouth growing more and more agape. JACKIE AND GEORGE JACKIE (CONT'D) (plaintive) -- don't you want to -- GEORGE Jackie, can we -- JACKIE (a little louder) Who's the greatest cocksucker in the world? C'mon -- George looks around sweating now. GEORGE (very quietly) -- you are. JACKIE Fuckin' A -- With that she slips right under the table. It's a surprisingly fluid move. FELICIA almost simultaneously rises, knocking her chair back. LESTER sees both moves and interrupts the Senator. LESTER (CONT'D) Senator, excuse me a moment -- He turns to Felicia and then looks over toward Jackie's empty chair and literally doesn't know which way to go first. He's a little like the bear in the penny arcade that is shot and keeps turning one way, then another. Finally he heads toward Jackie's vacant chair and George. GEORGE his chin to the tablecloth is fishing under it for Jackie. GEORGE (CONT'D) Now, Jackie -- JILL (trying for aplomb) -- she's a very compulsive girl. POPE I can see that. Lester rushes up. LESTER (a desperate smile) Hello, George. Your friend feeling a little under the weather? Jackie surfaces through the tablecloth. JACKIE (to Lester) -- you phony asshole -- LESTER (as if he didn't hear it) Oh, dear that's too bad. (with quiet desperation, to George) -- get her out of here, get her out of here. A cheer goes up as some late returns come in. Dirksen is talking about a new mandate for law and order and peace with honor. LESTER (CONT'D) (to Sid) What was that? SID ROTH Illinois. LESTER (doesn't know what he's saying) -- oh, good. INT. BISTRO Lester glances back toward Felicia who is watching him. GEORGE Jackie, c'mon -- George moves to Jill. GEORGE (CONT'D) I've got to get her out of here. JILL -- go ahead. GEORGE -- well aren't you -- JILL -- what? (indicating Pope) -- I'll see you later... GEORGE (not liking it too much) -- okay -- (pointed) -- I'll see you later. Your house. He moves away with Jackie. Lester turns back toward the main table. INT. 230SL - JACKIE AND GEORGE - NIGHT driving down Sunset Boulevard. There is a long moment of silence. The RADIO'S PLAYING the Eve of Destruction. George gives Jackie a couple of sidelong glances. JACKIE (finally) -- gee... GEORGE -- what? JACKIE (she sits up, lights a cigarette) I don't know what gets into me. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE No, I blew it, I blew it with Lester. GEORGE No you didn't. JACKIE You don't think so? I do. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE You always say that... I really care for Lester, don't I? George laughs. GEORGE That sounds like me. JACKIE I am you, you little bastard. She starts to scrunch over and kiss him, then stops. JACKIE(CONT'D) Where do you want to go? GEORGE Sammy's? JACKIE He still having parties? GEORGE He never stopped. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA IS SITTING WITH LESTER fuming. A woman, ROSALIND, is painstakingly and painfully introducing the Senator. ROSALIND ... and so... to have this man... here... among us... who has helped... as has everyone here to bring so many people together... of all races, creeds, and colors... FELICIA AND LESTER Rosalind droning on, b.g. She finally introduces Senator East. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA AND LESTER FELICIA Lester. LESTER Yes, sweetheart, shh. He pats her hand. She gives him a look that could kill. FELICIA -- I hope you like Miss Shawn -- LESTER -- what, who? Oh she's very nice, yes -- I mean normally --- FELICIA -- cause she's going to be very, very expensive. LESTER Can't we go into this later, sweetheart? ROSALIND'S VOICE Ladies and gentlemen, to Senator Joe East. Glasses are raised, a little dissonant hurrah. FELICIA We cannot go into this later. LESTER That's okay too. FELICIA You make me sick. Just be straight for once in your life. There are now O.S. calls for East to do his Indian chant. QUICK CUT TO: EAST SENATOR -- this tells of the ancient grandmother who, upon seeing the garden gate of her childhood, stops a moment and says, hello garden gate, hello garden gate, garden gate, hello. INT. BISTRO - LESTER AND FELICIA LESTER (finally exasperated) -- look, Felicia, this party involves more than you and me, you know. These people are concerned about more than each other, you know. FELICIA -- is that right? LESTER -- yes, we're all trying to do something to make this a better country to live in, believe it or not. THE SENATOR has begun his weird chant, beating out accompaniment on a cigar box and a pewter vase. FELICIA (glancing up) -- is that what this is all about? LESTER Yes and you don't have to be sarcastic about it, that's a beautiful thing he's doing -- some people do more than go to the beauty parlor and shop at Saks -- FELICIA Lester, you're a miserable man. You're not helping anybody. You're just twisting arms to raise money for a lot of silly son of a bitches that are out for themselves -- this

her

How many times the word 'her' appears in the text?

you I was on my way, but the line was busy, you're always on the phone. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE IN BEL AIR - DAY George pulls into the circular driveway. COVERED by a few bars of The Mama's and The Papa's "California Dreamin." There's only one car. George gets off the bike and goes to the door. Nobody answers. He hears the SOUND of a BALL BANGING. He looks toward the tennis court. ON THE COURT - LORNA is banging away on the backboard. There's a basket of balls nearby. She hits with considerable skill and power until she misses the backboard and the ball lodges in the steel mesh surrounding the court. George is standing there. Lorna looks at him. LORNA You here to see my mother? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA She's out, but you're supposed to wait. LORNA WALKING TO GEORGE LORNA (CONT'D) Hungry? GEORGE A little. AT THE KITCHEN TABLE They're eating silently. Lorna has hauled all kinds of food out of the refrigerators. She watches George as he eats with some relish. She gets up and goes to the steel-doored refrigerators. LORNA (indicating refrigerators) This is the one thing I like about this house... want some lox? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA You're my mother's hairdresser? GEORGE (warily) I do her hair, yeah. LORNA Chopped liver? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Are you gay?... baked apple?... they're cold but they're good. GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Did you hear me? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA Well, are you? Are you queer? GEORGE ... yeah. LORNA (laughing) C'mon, are you or aren't you? GEORGE (trying to avoid it) Gee, this is great. He slices a piece of cheesecake. Lorna sits down, in the chair nearest him now. LORNA C'mon, tell me. Don't be afraid. GEORGE Why do you wanna know so bad? LORNA See if you've been making it with my mother. GEORGE (looking at her for a minute, he changes his tone) What would my being a faggot have to do with that? Lorna shrugs. LORNA Nothing, I guess... have you ever made it with a guy? GEORGE Have you ever made it with a girl? LORNA I asked you first. GEORGE Yeah... I've made it with a girl... Lorna smiles. A pause. LORNA Well, are you? GEORGE Am I what? LORNA Making it with my mother? George wants to avoid this at all costs. He stares at Lorna intently. GEORGE I'd like to do your hair sometime. LORNA Why? GEORGE ... just, you could look very heavy... LORNA Don't make conversation with me. GEORGE What? LORNA You don't have to make conversation with me, I'm not my mother... do you have a thing about older women... that's sort of faggoty isn't it? George is weary and getting annoyed. GEORGE Yeah, it is. LORNA I never get my hair done. GEORGE No kidding. LORNA In fact, I don't think I've ever been to a beauty parlor in my whole life. GEORGE No shit. LORNA You think that's funny, don't you? GEORGE (laughing a little) Yeah. LORNA You live a phony cheap cop-out existence. GEORGE (determined to be light) Yeah... LORNA Beverly Hills hairdresser... what kind of a thing is that to do... you might as well be a faggot... think that's funny too? GEORGE No. LORNA Then what do you think? GEORGE That you're just like your mother. LORNA I am not like my mother! GEORGE You are. LORNA I am not! GEORGE You are. Lorna is furious. LORNA I am not! GEORGE (he starts to placate her) Look... (then defiantly) Do you wanna fuck me? LORNA (defiantly) Yeah. George stops eating. He's not prepared for this. GEORGE (uneasily) Right now? LORNA (a little more tentative now that the moment has arrived) Yeah. EXT. SOURCE RESTAURANT - JOHNNY POPE AND JILL - DAY A scraggly bearded WAITER with long stringy hair sets down two huge green salads before Jill and Johnny Pope. In so doing the Waiter drops a wooden menu he's been carrying. As he bends down to pick it up, he kneels beside Pope. Pope taps him on the shoulder. POPE (tapping him) Oh, scraves... WAITER Yes? The Waiter looks up, and moves. POPE Thank you. WAITER What for? POPE Taking your hair out of my salad. WAITER Oh, I'm sorry. Pope nods, Jill giggles. The Waiter goes off. Pope tosses out a few pieces of lettuce from the top of his salad. JILL Why don't you ask for another one? POPE Are you kidding? His hair's probably the most nutritious thing in here. See, you've reduced me to eating weeds. JILL ... my friend doesn't like it here either. POPE All right, forget this filth. Continue about your friend. JILL Well he's not exactly a friend. POPE Is he an enemy? JILL (laughing) Of course not... he's sort of a boyfriend. POPE -- sort of a boyfriend? JILL Sort of. POPE I see. You mean he just sort of fucks you. JILL Johnny! POPE My God, did I say that? I don't believe it. He looks under his chair to see if it was somebody else. POPE (CONT'D) I'm terribly sorry. JILL (amused) -- never mind. POPE What does he do? Is he an actor? JILL -- no. POPE Good for you. JILL He's a hairdresser. Pope drops his fork in the salad bowl. POPE -- oh, sure. A hairdresser. How... how do you a... meet a hairdresser? JILL Getting your hair done... (looks at him, abruptly) Would you like to go to a party? POPE Not with your hairdresser. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE - FELICIA - DAY pulls into the driveway. She gets out of her car, spots George's bike. INT. THE KITCHEN She sees the food spread out. FELICIA moving through the house. She stops by Lorna's room. Lorna has a sliding door, which is closed. Felicia opens it. FELICIA Lorna? LORNA'S BEDROOM Lorna is sitting on her bed, in her tennis dress but with her tennis shoes off. She's straightening a string in her racket. She looks to her mother, expressionless. FELICIA (CONT'D) Have you seen George? LORNA He's in the bathroom. FELICIA Your bathroom? LORNA Yes. The toilet flushes. The sink runs, and George emerges. He's looking a little haggard. GEORGE Hi. FELICIA (coolly) Hello, George. They walk out to the lanai together and George picks up his case. There is considerable tension from Felicia as they walk into her bedroom. Felicia slides the bedroom door shut, an action which George unhappily notices. She turns to George. She looks very hostile. She's trembling. FELICIA (CONT'D) I've missed you. George is taken aback. He gropes for a moment. GEORGE I've... missed you too. Felicia comes to him. She comes to him and touches his arm. George suddenly flings his case across the room and pounds his fist into a high-backed chair, turning away from Felicia. She clearly misunderstands the action. FELICIA (touched) It's okay, honey... it's okay now. She moves to the door and quietly locks it. George winces. She comes back to him and kisses him gently. She kisses him again with more passion. George tries to respond. FELICIA (CONT'D) Comb my hair out later, honey. GEORGE No, that's okay, I'll do It now. FELICIA No, baby... I'm glad you're coming tonight. She gently tugs at him, leading him toward the bed. George is miserable. GEORGE (looking toward the door) But aren't you... FELICIA Right now, I just don't care. As they sink to the bed, Felicia switches on the HI-FI. The Tijuana Brass begin to play. GEORGE ON HIS BIKE - LATE AFTERNOON COVERED BY a few bars of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". Riding home. He turns down his street and pulls into his driveway. He gets off his bike and only as he starts up his walk does he see Jill. She's been quietly waiting on his front porch, hidden in the shadows of the overhang. She doesn't look happy. George stops cold. GEORGE (?) Jill says nothing. GEORGE (CONT'D) Where's your car? JILL A friend dropped me off. GEORGE Who? JILL Never mind. Where've you been? GEORGE A business meeting, I told you that. They go inside. The living room is messy. George looks around in disgust. JILL What business meeting? GEORGE Look at the way I live. JILL I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. You weren't in the shop. What is this thing tonight? GEORGE What do you mean, what is it? It's some political bullshit. JILL I have to have Jackie ask me? Don't you think you could call me and let me know? Look at my hair. GEORGE Wait a minute, God-damn-it. Do you think I want to go to some God damned party? I'm trying to get that God damned shop open. I'm trying to get a little bread together. That's all I'm doing. George's outburst has shocked Jill. George maniacally begins straightening the mess. GEORGE (CONT'D) I just wanna live like everybody else, that's all. I want clothes in the closet, and food in the refrigerator, and I don't want shit all over the house and running my ass all over town... I want my own house... I want an appointment book... I want to get up in the morning and go to bed at night... I want a normal life like everybody else, that's all. He collapses into a chair. She comes over to him and knee beside him. JILL I know, honey. GEORGE Maybe I should get a dog... no, it would just shit all over the house and I'd never clean it up. JILL (laughing a little, touching him) Oh, honey. If we had one place, we could have a nicer place and I could take care of it. We're almost never here. REAR VIEW MIRROR - NIGHT A signal red Porsche cabriolet pulls up into mirror. The top is down. Under the brightly lit streetlights Jill's blonde hair and features are VISIBLE. WITH GEORGE AND JACKIE in her Mercedes. George still looking through the rear view mirror. Jackie's a knockout. JACKIE (looking at George looking in mirror) -- you'll be the prettiest thing in the room -- light's green... GEORGE (he takes off) -- oh yeah... what do you know about this guy? JACKIE -- what guy? GEORGE (gesturing toward rear window) -- this guy with Jill. JACKIE He's a director. OUTSIDE OF BISTRO - GEORGE AND JOHNNY POPE - NIGHT pull up, Pope right behind George. Parking ATTENDANTS leap for the doors. A few photographers of the movie freak variety ask each other who these arrivals are. One assures several others that they're nobody. GEORGE (to Attendant) Do I need a ticket for this? ATTENDANT We'll remember you. POPE as they move to take his Porsche. POPE (CONT'D) (shaking his head) I'll park it. Pope drives his own car onto the lot. WITH JILL, GEORGE AND JACKIE waiting for Pope who is now ambling toward them. GEORGE (to Jill) What does he direct besides traffic? JILL Ha, ha. GEORGE Television or movies? JILL Commercials. JACKIE (quietly, to George) Feel better? Let's go. Pope has joined them. INT. BISTRO FOYER They clear it to see the long elegant bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. George looks and sees someone. A fortyish WOMAN, attractive. GEORGE (to Jackie) Jesus Christ, there's Norma Stern. Look at her hair. JACKIE What about it? GEORGE Looks like somebody took a dump in it, that's the worst color job I've -- Norma comes over, hugs George. NORMA George -- GEORGE (pointing to her hair) Baby, you've been chippying on me -- NORMA Yes, isn't it awful -- GEORGE (smiling) -- yes. Jackie tugs him by the arm. JACKIE We're upstairs, George. Now come on. Behave yourself, and for Christ's sake, do me a favor. Don't let me drink too much. GEORGE (going upstairs) You don't do that anymore, do you? BISTRO STAIRS Jackie doesn't answer. They've reached the top of the stairs. They're hit by the full force of the upstairs gathering -- black tie, posters of Nixon, Agnew, Reagan, and Murphy, vaguely familiar faces crossing back and forth, clustering, watching early returns on television sets that are blaring from various points around the room. An ORCHESTRA PLAYS Meyer Davis Society Jazz. Jackie and George hesitate. Pope and Jill are behind them. Pope jostles George as he stops, abruptly. George looks around. Pope smiles. He's holding Jill's hand. George notices. Jill disengages her hand casually, as though it were necessary only for the walk up the stairs. Jackie nudges George, forcing him to move into the room with her as Lester comes toward them. He's stopped on his way over. WAITER Can I get you folks something? JILL A stinger, please. POPE A tomato juice. GEORGE I'll take a -- some white wine. WAITER And you, madam? JACKIE (searching the room) Oh I'll uhh -- just a coke. The Waiter moves on and they wait for their drinks. Lester finally makes to them. LESTER George, glad you could make it, son. Hi, doll. JACKIE Lester, this is my friend Jill and this is Johnny Pope. LESTER Glad to meet you, Jill, Mr. Pope. INT. BISTRO UPSTAIRS George turns to get his drink from the Waiter as do Jill and Pope. Lester takes Jackie's arm. LESTER Who are they? JACKIE (quickly) Jill Haynes, Jill Haynes, I've told you about Jill a hundred times, Lester, you never remember anything I say. LESTER Does she know about us? JACKIE Jesus, she's my best friend. LESTER Who's the guy, George's boyfriend? JACKIE I don't know. Why don't you ask him? LESTER C'mon, Jackie, I'm only trying -- George -- He draws George aside. LESTER (CONT'D) -- do me a favor, kind of keep your eye on Jackie, she's a little high strung tonight -- GEORGE -- yeah? LESTER See she doesn't drink too much. Jackie has heard this last. Lester turns to her. LESTER (CONT'D) See you later, doll. Jackie puts down her coke, picks up a glass of white wine from a passing tray and downs it in one gulp, putting it on another tray and picking up another glass of white wine. FELICIA with cleavage carefully prominent in a strapless gown, spots George. She excuses herself from the couple she has been talking with and goes straight to the powder room. INT. POWDER ROOM - FELICIA checks herself out in the mirror, glossing her lips with a pale tint of something or other. She gives a final anxious look, then hurries out, nearly bumping into a lady coming In. OUTSIDE she moves through the crowd up behind George, turning him around. FELICIA George, darling. She kisses him full on the lips, lingering on it. GEORGE (without batting an eye) Hey, baby, what's happening. Oh this is Jackie. Jackie, say hello to Felicia. It is only now that Felicia sees one of George's arms has been holding onto Jackie. JACKIE (also without batting an eye) Hello, Felicia. FELICIA (instantly suspicious of George) ... hello. Felicia looks from George to Jackie and back again. FELICIA (CONT'D) I'm so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you. LESTER pours his drink on the cuff of a distinguished MAN sitting beneath him at a table as he sees George and Felicia and Jackie clustered together. WITH LESTER AND MAN MAN Lester, what the fuck do you think you're doing? LESTER Jesus, Nate, I'm sorry. Lester fumbles, tries to clean Nate off with a napkin. NATE Never mind, I'll do it myself. He dips the napkin into a glass of ice water and proceeds to clean off his cuff. Nate goes back to the TV monitor where Agnew is making some remarks or commentators are repeating his comment about being a household word. LESTER So far so good. NATE Aw there's nothing to worry about. LESTER You never know. FELICIA WITH GEORGE FELICIA Why didn't you come alone? Lester invited you. Did you have to bring her? GEORGE (looking toward Lester) Well she... FELICIA She what? GEORGE She's a friend of Jill's. FELICIA And who's Jill? She spots Jill. GEORGE Well, she's a friend of Johnny Pope's -- you know, the director. She looks at Pope who is saying something to Jill which is making her laugh. FELICIA Oh. GEORGE is threading his way through a crowd, holding two drinks, one of them a coca-cola. It's a little more raucous now, with election returns from the television sets creating a more festive mood. Now and then someone jumps up from a set and hugs someone so carrying drinks is a little dodgy. JACKIE, F.G. - LESTER, B.G., TALKING Jackie sits alone by the bar, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. A man offers her a match. She stares at the burning match as if it's obscene. She blows it out. JACKIE No thanks. The man looks a little shocked, moves on. GEORGE has his arm held. It's KENNETH, a red-haired decorator. KENNETH Excuse me, I know I know you, but I can't think where. GEORGE Look, I'd like to help but -- Felicia grabs George's other arm pulling him away from Kenneth. Kenneth looks a little shocked at the ferocity of Felicia's move. FELICIA There you are. She tugs him with her. GEORGE Wait a minute -- She takes him right into the ladies room, George still juggling the drinks. JOHNNY POPE watches Felicia and George disappear into the ladies room, looking over Jill's shoulder. Jill has not seen it. POPE This other couple that we're here with, do you know them very well? JILL Well... sure... POPE Then maybe you can tell me why George would be going into the ladies room. Jill looks around and stares at the door. JILL George? Was he alone? POPE I don't think so. JILL Well did he go in there with Jackie? Pope points over to Jackie sitting at the bar drinking now. JILL (CONT'D) That bastard. POPE George is a hairdresser, isn't he? Jill doesn't answer. INT. BATHROOM - FELICIA AND GEORGE GEORGE (desperate) Baby, you gotta let me out of here. Felicia kisses him. FELICIA Sweetheart, it's a bore out there... let's lock the door. GEORGE Holy Christ. You want to get us killed? FELICIA Don't be silly. I'll just tell Lester we were smoking a couple of joints. See? She pulls two joints out of her beaded bag. LESTER only a few seats from Jackie, Jackie staring daggers at him, Lester aware of it. He's talking to a pair of lacquered eminence grises. LESTER -- fellas, fellas, just listen, you both have tidelands, you both want Uncle Sam to come through with offshore drilling permits -- so do it together -- JACKIE has taken an olive from an olive tray and hit Lester on the back of the head. He's finished this little dissertation. He sees the source of the missile. He grows pale, frozen. Sixty-four year old bejeweled WOMAN in b.g. WOMAN So, little red riding hood says 'my what big teeth you have and the wolf says all the better to eat you with, my dear, and she says -- eat, eat, eat, doesn't anybody ever fuck any more?' Jackie has now picked up a carrot from a relish tray. George appears. GEORGE Don't do it. JACKIE That son of a bitch, everything he says is a phony piece of shit, what does he think, I'm some cigar butt he's got between his teeth -- GEORGE (almost picking her up) C'mon, cunt, you're going for a walk. He takes her into the next room and Lester watches the move with a mixture of relief and concern. INT. OTHER BAR Jackie is now near tears. JACKIE He just completely ignores me. He could have at least said something, introduced me or something. INT. SMALL BAR GEORGE Sweetheart, you're drunk. She leans on George. JACKIE Oh God, what do I want, George? Lester comes hurrying in, sweating, now. LESTER Hi, doll, what's wrong? JACKIE You know what's wrong. Felicia trips coming into the small bar. FELICIA Lester -- Lester straightens up like he's been shot. LESTER Oh, Felicia, there you are, you know George and uh -- uh -- He's genuinely forgotten her name. JACKIE Jackie Shawn. LESTER Yes, Jackie Shawn, my wi -- Felicia. FELICIA We've met. JACKIE Yes. GEORGE Well anyway... LESTER (to Felicia) Your hair looks -- well fabulous. FELICIA That's George. INT. SMALL BAR LESTER It's just -- fabulous. (to George, an attempt at levity) Think you could do anything for me? GEORGE (he takes it seriously) Well -- I could try. Do you wash your hair every day? LESTER Isn't that bad for it? GEORGE No it keeps the skin peeling. You've got to keep the follicles open. You lose hair and the skin grows over the follicle and that's how you lose it. George actually touches Lester's hair, professional interest growing. GEORGE (CONT'D) This really ought to be layered... LESTER Layered? GEORGE Well yeah, otherwise it just sort, you know, lies there -- layer so it kind of fluffs out -- He starts to fluff Lester's hair a little when Johnny Pope walks in with Jill to this. Pope stares at them. POPE I think they're waiting for somebody to start dinner. LESTER Have they sat down? POPE Everybody but us. FELICIA They're waiting for you, Lester. INT. BISTRO DINNER TABLE Dinner is pretty much finished, waiters have begun picking up plates. IZZY SOKOLOFF (to Jill) I guess it's almost impossible to get work in the business these days. Pope watches Sokoloff make his move. JILL Well, commercials. I read for a soap the other day. IZZY A soap? JILL A daytime soap opera. IZZY And? JILL I was too old. IZZY What was it, somebody's daughter? JILL Somebody's mother. JACKIE'S PLATE is untouched. She holds up her wine glass. JACKIE Waiter! George looks at her. JACKIE (CONT'D) One word out of you and I'll gargle with it. The waiter pours the wine. George looks to Jill, shrugs. Jill mouthes, 'try and stop her.' George mouthes back, 'are you kidding?' INT. BISTRO SID ROTH has been eyeing Jackie. SID ROTH Aren't you hungry, Miss Shawn? Jackie looks at Roth. Roth shoots his cuffs and smiles. JACKIE Not for rubber chicken, no. Sid Roth smiles. Jackie smiles back. SID ROTH (intime) Well maybe I can get you something. JACKIE That's very sweet of you, Mr. Roth. SID ROTH Sid. JACKIE Sid. You must be a very important executive. SID ROTH (almost a whisper) Well, whatever I am, I think I can get you whatever you'd like. JACKIE You do? SID ROTH Yes. JACKIE (same tone as Sid's) -- well, more than anything else -- (indicating George) -- I'd like to suck his cock. She points to George. George chokes on the last of a piece of chicken. Sid Roth is stunned. He doesn't know what to do. George is coughing badly. Jackie slaps his back. HEAD TABLE - FELICIA AND LESTER Felicia is listening to Lester. The Agnew and Nixon posters are directly behind them. LESTER (to East) -- Senator, you should've seen those little kids! About forty of 'em, all blind. We put out these mattresses on the front lawn and they came running out of the house, tripping and falling all over the place, having a hell of a good time. I mean they were blind of course. But it really gave you a feeling of accomplishment. I tell you I never had such a good time. Felicia during the above has looked up to see Jackie fawning over George. She can't believe her eyes. FELICIA Lester -- SENATOR -- let me understand this was exclusively a home for blind children -- FELICIA Lester -- LESTER -- yes, Senator -- just a minute, dear -- FELICIA Lester, don't you think that uhh -- Now Lester spots it. He's very confused. FELICIA (CONT'D) That girl's making an awful spectacle of herself. LESTER (angry himself) What do you expect me to do about it? FELICIA I just thought you'd like to know -- LESTER Why would I like to know if there's nothing I can do about it, goddammit -- OTHER VOICE Quiet! Cranston's on. They quiet down. JACKIE AND GEORGE Jackie's now moving around kissing George on the mouth. Jill is watching. Johnny Pope is fascinated. JILL -- Jackie really shouldn't drink -- POPE -- oh I don't know -- JACKIE (arm around George's shoulders tonguing his ear) -- Just get me out of here, baby. I can't stand it. It's killing me. GEORGE (indicating head table) -- we can't now. JACKIE -- why not? C'mon, take me out of here, somewhere I don't have to lie to anybody and I'll fuck your brains out, you little fiend, I adore you -- FELICIA is watching Jackie and George with ever greater intensity, her mouth growing more and more agape. JACKIE AND GEORGE JACKIE (CONT'D) (plaintive) -- don't you want to -- GEORGE Jackie, can we -- JACKIE (a little louder) Who's the greatest cocksucker in the world? C'mon -- George looks around sweating now. GEORGE (very quietly) -- you are. JACKIE Fuckin' A -- With that she slips right under the table. It's a surprisingly fluid move. FELICIA almost simultaneously rises, knocking her chair back. LESTER sees both moves and interrupts the Senator. LESTER (CONT'D) Senator, excuse me a moment -- He turns to Felicia and then looks over toward Jackie's empty chair and literally doesn't know which way to go first. He's a little like the bear in the penny arcade that is shot and keeps turning one way, then another. Finally he heads toward Jackie's vacant chair and George. GEORGE his chin to the tablecloth is fishing under it for Jackie. GEORGE (CONT'D) Now, Jackie -- JILL (trying for aplomb) -- she's a very compulsive girl. POPE I can see that. Lester rushes up. LESTER (a desperate smile) Hello, George. Your friend feeling a little under the weather? Jackie surfaces through the tablecloth. JACKIE (to Lester) -- you phony asshole -- LESTER (as if he didn't hear it) Oh, dear that's too bad. (with quiet desperation, to George) -- get her out of here, get her out of here. A cheer goes up as some late returns come in. Dirksen is talking about a new mandate for law and order and peace with honor. LESTER (CONT'D) (to Sid) What was that? SID ROTH Illinois. LESTER (doesn't know what he's saying) -- oh, good. INT. BISTRO Lester glances back toward Felicia who is watching him. GEORGE Jackie, c'mon -- George moves to Jill. GEORGE (CONT'D) I've got to get her out of here. JILL -- go ahead. GEORGE -- well aren't you -- JILL -- what? (indicating Pope) -- I'll see you later... GEORGE (not liking it too much) -- okay -- (pointed) -- I'll see you later. Your house. He moves away with Jackie. Lester turns back toward the main table. INT. 230SL - JACKIE AND GEORGE - NIGHT driving down Sunset Boulevard. There is a long moment of silence. The RADIO'S PLAYING the Eve of Destruction. George gives Jackie a couple of sidelong glances. JACKIE (finally) -- gee... GEORGE -- what? JACKIE (she sits up, lights a cigarette) I don't know what gets into me. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE No, I blew it, I blew it with Lester. GEORGE No you didn't. JACKIE You don't think so? I do. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE You always say that... I really care for Lester, don't I? George laughs. GEORGE That sounds like me. JACKIE I am you, you little bastard. She starts to scrunch over and kiss him, then stops. JACKIE(CONT'D) Where do you want to go? GEORGE Sammy's? JACKIE He still having parties? GEORGE He never stopped. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA IS SITTING WITH LESTER fuming. A woman, ROSALIND, is painstakingly and painfully introducing the Senator. ROSALIND ... and so... to have this man... here... among us... who has helped... as has everyone here to bring so many people together... of all races, creeds, and colors... FELICIA AND LESTER Rosalind droning on, b.g. She finally introduces Senator East. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA AND LESTER FELICIA Lester. LESTER Yes, sweetheart, shh. He pats her hand. She gives him a look that could kill. FELICIA -- I hope you like Miss Shawn -- LESTER -- what, who? Oh she's very nice, yes -- I mean normally --- FELICIA -- cause she's going to be very, very expensive. LESTER Can't we go into this later, sweetheart? ROSALIND'S VOICE Ladies and gentlemen, to Senator Joe East. Glasses are raised, a little dissonant hurrah. FELICIA We cannot go into this later. LESTER That's okay too. FELICIA You make me sick. Just be straight for once in your life. There are now O.S. calls for East to do his Indian chant. QUICK CUT TO: EAST SENATOR -- this tells of the ancient grandmother who, upon seeing the garden gate of her childhood, stops a moment and says, hello garden gate, hello garden gate, garden gate, hello. INT. BISTRO - LESTER AND FELICIA LESTER (finally exasperated) -- look, Felicia, this party involves more than you and me, you know. These people are concerned about more than each other, you know. FELICIA -- is that right? LESTER -- yes, we're all trying to do something to make this a better country to live in, believe it or not. THE SENATOR has begun his weird chant, beating out accompaniment on a cigar box and a pewter vase. FELICIA (glancing up) -- is that what this is all about? LESTER Yes and you don't have to be sarcastic about it, that's a beautiful thing he's doing -- some people do more than go to the beauty parlor and shop at Saks -- FELICIA Lester, you're a miserable man. You're not helping anybody. You're just twisting arms to raise money for a lot of silly son of a bitches that are out for themselves -- this

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How many times the word 'rank' appears in the text?

you I was on my way, but the line was busy, you're always on the phone. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE IN BEL AIR - DAY George pulls into the circular driveway. COVERED by a few bars of The Mama's and The Papa's "California Dreamin." There's only one car. George gets off the bike and goes to the door. Nobody answers. He hears the SOUND of a BALL BANGING. He looks toward the tennis court. ON THE COURT - LORNA is banging away on the backboard. There's a basket of balls nearby. She hits with considerable skill and power until she misses the backboard and the ball lodges in the steel mesh surrounding the court. George is standing there. Lorna looks at him. LORNA You here to see my mother? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA She's out, but you're supposed to wait. LORNA WALKING TO GEORGE LORNA (CONT'D) Hungry? GEORGE A little. AT THE KITCHEN TABLE They're eating silently. Lorna has hauled all kinds of food out of the refrigerators. She watches George as he eats with some relish. She gets up and goes to the steel-doored refrigerators. LORNA (indicating refrigerators) This is the one thing I like about this house... want some lox? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA You're my mother's hairdresser? GEORGE (warily) I do her hair, yeah. LORNA Chopped liver? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Are you gay?... baked apple?... they're cold but they're good. GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Did you hear me? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA Well, are you? Are you queer? GEORGE ... yeah. LORNA (laughing) C'mon, are you or aren't you? GEORGE (trying to avoid it) Gee, this is great. He slices a piece of cheesecake. Lorna sits down, in the chair nearest him now. LORNA C'mon, tell me. Don't be afraid. GEORGE Why do you wanna know so bad? LORNA See if you've been making it with my mother. GEORGE (looking at her for a minute, he changes his tone) What would my being a faggot have to do with that? Lorna shrugs. LORNA Nothing, I guess... have you ever made it with a guy? GEORGE Have you ever made it with a girl? LORNA I asked you first. GEORGE Yeah... I've made it with a girl... Lorna smiles. A pause. LORNA Well, are you? GEORGE Am I what? LORNA Making it with my mother? George wants to avoid this at all costs. He stares at Lorna intently. GEORGE I'd like to do your hair sometime. LORNA Why? GEORGE ... just, you could look very heavy... LORNA Don't make conversation with me. GEORGE What? LORNA You don't have to make conversation with me, I'm not my mother... do you have a thing about older women... that's sort of faggoty isn't it? George is weary and getting annoyed. GEORGE Yeah, it is. LORNA I never get my hair done. GEORGE No kidding. LORNA In fact, I don't think I've ever been to a beauty parlor in my whole life. GEORGE No shit. LORNA You think that's funny, don't you? GEORGE (laughing a little) Yeah. LORNA You live a phony cheap cop-out existence. GEORGE (determined to be light) Yeah... LORNA Beverly Hills hairdresser... what kind of a thing is that to do... you might as well be a faggot... think that's funny too? GEORGE No. LORNA Then what do you think? GEORGE That you're just like your mother. LORNA I am not like my mother! GEORGE You are. LORNA I am not! GEORGE You are. Lorna is furious. LORNA I am not! GEORGE (he starts to placate her) Look... (then defiantly) Do you wanna fuck me? LORNA (defiantly) Yeah. George stops eating. He's not prepared for this. GEORGE (uneasily) Right now? LORNA (a little more tentative now that the moment has arrived) Yeah. EXT. SOURCE RESTAURANT - JOHNNY POPE AND JILL - DAY A scraggly bearded WAITER with long stringy hair sets down two huge green salads before Jill and Johnny Pope. In so doing the Waiter drops a wooden menu he's been carrying. As he bends down to pick it up, he kneels beside Pope. Pope taps him on the shoulder. POPE (tapping him) Oh, scraves... WAITER Yes? The Waiter looks up, and moves. POPE Thank you. WAITER What for? POPE Taking your hair out of my salad. WAITER Oh, I'm sorry. Pope nods, Jill giggles. The Waiter goes off. Pope tosses out a few pieces of lettuce from the top of his salad. JILL Why don't you ask for another one? POPE Are you kidding? His hair's probably the most nutritious thing in here. See, you've reduced me to eating weeds. JILL ... my friend doesn't like it here either. POPE All right, forget this filth. Continue about your friend. JILL Well he's not exactly a friend. POPE Is he an enemy? JILL (laughing) Of course not... he's sort of a boyfriend. POPE -- sort of a boyfriend? JILL Sort of. POPE I see. You mean he just sort of fucks you. JILL Johnny! POPE My God, did I say that? I don't believe it. He looks under his chair to see if it was somebody else. POPE (CONT'D) I'm terribly sorry. JILL (amused) -- never mind. POPE What does he do? Is he an actor? JILL -- no. POPE Good for you. JILL He's a hairdresser. Pope drops his fork in the salad bowl. POPE -- oh, sure. A hairdresser. How... how do you a... meet a hairdresser? JILL Getting your hair done... (looks at him, abruptly) Would you like to go to a party? POPE Not with your hairdresser. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE - FELICIA - DAY pulls into the driveway. She gets out of her car, spots George's bike. INT. THE KITCHEN She sees the food spread out. FELICIA moving through the house. She stops by Lorna's room. Lorna has a sliding door, which is closed. Felicia opens it. FELICIA Lorna? LORNA'S BEDROOM Lorna is sitting on her bed, in her tennis dress but with her tennis shoes off. She's straightening a string in her racket. She looks to her mother, expressionless. FELICIA (CONT'D) Have you seen George? LORNA He's in the bathroom. FELICIA Your bathroom? LORNA Yes. The toilet flushes. The sink runs, and George emerges. He's looking a little haggard. GEORGE Hi. FELICIA (coolly) Hello, George. They walk out to the lanai together and George picks up his case. There is considerable tension from Felicia as they walk into her bedroom. Felicia slides the bedroom door shut, an action which George unhappily notices. She turns to George. She looks very hostile. She's trembling. FELICIA (CONT'D) I've missed you. George is taken aback. He gropes for a moment. GEORGE I've... missed you too. Felicia comes to him. She comes to him and touches his arm. George suddenly flings his case across the room and pounds his fist into a high-backed chair, turning away from Felicia. She clearly misunderstands the action. FELICIA (touched) It's okay, honey... it's okay now. She moves to the door and quietly locks it. George winces. She comes back to him and kisses him gently. She kisses him again with more passion. George tries to respond. FELICIA (CONT'D) Comb my hair out later, honey. GEORGE No, that's okay, I'll do It now. FELICIA No, baby... I'm glad you're coming tonight. She gently tugs at him, leading him toward the bed. George is miserable. GEORGE (looking toward the door) But aren't you... FELICIA Right now, I just don't care. As they sink to the bed, Felicia switches on the HI-FI. The Tijuana Brass begin to play. GEORGE ON HIS BIKE - LATE AFTERNOON COVERED BY a few bars of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". Riding home. He turns down his street and pulls into his driveway. He gets off his bike and only as he starts up his walk does he see Jill. She's been quietly waiting on his front porch, hidden in the shadows of the overhang. She doesn't look happy. George stops cold. GEORGE (?) Jill says nothing. GEORGE (CONT'D) Where's your car? JILL A friend dropped me off. GEORGE Who? JILL Never mind. Where've you been? GEORGE A business meeting, I told you that. They go inside. The living room is messy. George looks around in disgust. JILL What business meeting? GEORGE Look at the way I live. JILL I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. You weren't in the shop. What is this thing tonight? GEORGE What do you mean, what is it? It's some political bullshit. JILL I have to have Jackie ask me? Don't you think you could call me and let me know? Look at my hair. GEORGE Wait a minute, God-damn-it. Do you think I want to go to some God damned party? I'm trying to get that God damned shop open. I'm trying to get a little bread together. That's all I'm doing. George's outburst has shocked Jill. George maniacally begins straightening the mess. GEORGE (CONT'D) I just wanna live like everybody else, that's all. I want clothes in the closet, and food in the refrigerator, and I don't want shit all over the house and running my ass all over town... I want my own house... I want an appointment book... I want to get up in the morning and go to bed at night... I want a normal life like everybody else, that's all. He collapses into a chair. She comes over to him and knee beside him. JILL I know, honey. GEORGE Maybe I should get a dog... no, it would just shit all over the house and I'd never clean it up. JILL (laughing a little, touching him) Oh, honey. If we had one place, we could have a nicer place and I could take care of it. We're almost never here. REAR VIEW MIRROR - NIGHT A signal red Porsche cabriolet pulls up into mirror. The top is down. Under the brightly lit streetlights Jill's blonde hair and features are VISIBLE. WITH GEORGE AND JACKIE in her Mercedes. George still looking through the rear view mirror. Jackie's a knockout. JACKIE (looking at George looking in mirror) -- you'll be the prettiest thing in the room -- light's green... GEORGE (he takes off) -- oh yeah... what do you know about this guy? JACKIE -- what guy? GEORGE (gesturing toward rear window) -- this guy with Jill. JACKIE He's a director. OUTSIDE OF BISTRO - GEORGE AND JOHNNY POPE - NIGHT pull up, Pope right behind George. Parking ATTENDANTS leap for the doors. A few photographers of the movie freak variety ask each other who these arrivals are. One assures several others that they're nobody. GEORGE (to Attendant) Do I need a ticket for this? ATTENDANT We'll remember you. POPE as they move to take his Porsche. POPE (CONT'D) (shaking his head) I'll park it. Pope drives his own car onto the lot. WITH JILL, GEORGE AND JACKIE waiting for Pope who is now ambling toward them. GEORGE (to Jill) What does he direct besides traffic? JILL Ha, ha. GEORGE Television or movies? JILL Commercials. JACKIE (quietly, to George) Feel better? Let's go. Pope has joined them. INT. BISTRO FOYER They clear it to see the long elegant bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. George looks and sees someone. A fortyish WOMAN, attractive. GEORGE (to Jackie) Jesus Christ, there's Norma Stern. Look at her hair. JACKIE What about it? GEORGE Looks like somebody took a dump in it, that's the worst color job I've -- Norma comes over, hugs George. NORMA George -- GEORGE (pointing to her hair) Baby, you've been chippying on me -- NORMA Yes, isn't it awful -- GEORGE (smiling) -- yes. Jackie tugs him by the arm. JACKIE We're upstairs, George. Now come on. Behave yourself, and for Christ's sake, do me a favor. Don't let me drink too much. GEORGE (going upstairs) You don't do that anymore, do you? BISTRO STAIRS Jackie doesn't answer. They've reached the top of the stairs. They're hit by the full force of the upstairs gathering -- black tie, posters of Nixon, Agnew, Reagan, and Murphy, vaguely familiar faces crossing back and forth, clustering, watching early returns on television sets that are blaring from various points around the room. An ORCHESTRA PLAYS Meyer Davis Society Jazz. Jackie and George hesitate. Pope and Jill are behind them. Pope jostles George as he stops, abruptly. George looks around. Pope smiles. He's holding Jill's hand. George notices. Jill disengages her hand casually, as though it were necessary only for the walk up the stairs. Jackie nudges George, forcing him to move into the room with her as Lester comes toward them. He's stopped on his way over. WAITER Can I get you folks something? JILL A stinger, please. POPE A tomato juice. GEORGE I'll take a -- some white wine. WAITER And you, madam? JACKIE (searching the room) Oh I'll uhh -- just a coke. The Waiter moves on and they wait for their drinks. Lester finally makes to them. LESTER George, glad you could make it, son. Hi, doll. JACKIE Lester, this is my friend Jill and this is Johnny Pope. LESTER Glad to meet you, Jill, Mr. Pope. INT. BISTRO UPSTAIRS George turns to get his drink from the Waiter as do Jill and Pope. Lester takes Jackie's arm. LESTER Who are they? JACKIE (quickly) Jill Haynes, Jill Haynes, I've told you about Jill a hundred times, Lester, you never remember anything I say. LESTER Does she know about us? JACKIE Jesus, she's my best friend. LESTER Who's the guy, George's boyfriend? JACKIE I don't know. Why don't you ask him? LESTER C'mon, Jackie, I'm only trying -- George -- He draws George aside. LESTER (CONT'D) -- do me a favor, kind of keep your eye on Jackie, she's a little high strung tonight -- GEORGE -- yeah? LESTER See she doesn't drink too much. Jackie has heard this last. Lester turns to her. LESTER (CONT'D) See you later, doll. Jackie puts down her coke, picks up a glass of white wine from a passing tray and downs it in one gulp, putting it on another tray and picking up another glass of white wine. FELICIA with cleavage carefully prominent in a strapless gown, spots George. She excuses herself from the couple she has been talking with and goes straight to the powder room. INT. POWDER ROOM - FELICIA checks herself out in the mirror, glossing her lips with a pale tint of something or other. She gives a final anxious look, then hurries out, nearly bumping into a lady coming In. OUTSIDE she moves through the crowd up behind George, turning him around. FELICIA George, darling. She kisses him full on the lips, lingering on it. GEORGE (without batting an eye) Hey, baby, what's happening. Oh this is Jackie. Jackie, say hello to Felicia. It is only now that Felicia sees one of George's arms has been holding onto Jackie. JACKIE (also without batting an eye) Hello, Felicia. FELICIA (instantly suspicious of George) ... hello. Felicia looks from George to Jackie and back again. FELICIA (CONT'D) I'm so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you. LESTER pours his drink on the cuff of a distinguished MAN sitting beneath him at a table as he sees George and Felicia and Jackie clustered together. WITH LESTER AND MAN MAN Lester, what the fuck do you think you're doing? LESTER Jesus, Nate, I'm sorry. Lester fumbles, tries to clean Nate off with a napkin. NATE Never mind, I'll do it myself. He dips the napkin into a glass of ice water and proceeds to clean off his cuff. Nate goes back to the TV monitor where Agnew is making some remarks or commentators are repeating his comment about being a household word. LESTER So far so good. NATE Aw there's nothing to worry about. LESTER You never know. FELICIA WITH GEORGE FELICIA Why didn't you come alone? Lester invited you. Did you have to bring her? GEORGE (looking toward Lester) Well she... FELICIA She what? GEORGE She's a friend of Jill's. FELICIA And who's Jill? She spots Jill. GEORGE Well, she's a friend of Johnny Pope's -- you know, the director. She looks at Pope who is saying something to Jill which is making her laugh. FELICIA Oh. GEORGE is threading his way through a crowd, holding two drinks, one of them a coca-cola. It's a little more raucous now, with election returns from the television sets creating a more festive mood. Now and then someone jumps up from a set and hugs someone so carrying drinks is a little dodgy. JACKIE, F.G. - LESTER, B.G., TALKING Jackie sits alone by the bar, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. A man offers her a match. She stares at the burning match as if it's obscene. She blows it out. JACKIE No thanks. The man looks a little shocked, moves on. GEORGE has his arm held. It's KENNETH, a red-haired decorator. KENNETH Excuse me, I know I know you, but I can't think where. GEORGE Look, I'd like to help but -- Felicia grabs George's other arm pulling him away from Kenneth. Kenneth looks a little shocked at the ferocity of Felicia's move. FELICIA There you are. She tugs him with her. GEORGE Wait a minute -- She takes him right into the ladies room, George still juggling the drinks. JOHNNY POPE watches Felicia and George disappear into the ladies room, looking over Jill's shoulder. Jill has not seen it. POPE This other couple that we're here with, do you know them very well? JILL Well... sure... POPE Then maybe you can tell me why George would be going into the ladies room. Jill looks around and stares at the door. JILL George? Was he alone? POPE I don't think so. JILL Well did he go in there with Jackie? Pope points over to Jackie sitting at the bar drinking now. JILL (CONT'D) That bastard. POPE George is a hairdresser, isn't he? Jill doesn't answer. INT. BATHROOM - FELICIA AND GEORGE GEORGE (desperate) Baby, you gotta let me out of here. Felicia kisses him. FELICIA Sweetheart, it's a bore out there... let's lock the door. GEORGE Holy Christ. You want to get us killed? FELICIA Don't be silly. I'll just tell Lester we were smoking a couple of joints. See? She pulls two joints out of her beaded bag. LESTER only a few seats from Jackie, Jackie staring daggers at him, Lester aware of it. He's talking to a pair of lacquered eminence grises. LESTER -- fellas, fellas, just listen, you both have tidelands, you both want Uncle Sam to come through with offshore drilling permits -- so do it together -- JACKIE has taken an olive from an olive tray and hit Lester on the back of the head. He's finished this little dissertation. He sees the source of the missile. He grows pale, frozen. Sixty-four year old bejeweled WOMAN in b.g. WOMAN So, little red riding hood says 'my what big teeth you have and the wolf says all the better to eat you with, my dear, and she says -- eat, eat, eat, doesn't anybody ever fuck any more?' Jackie has now picked up a carrot from a relish tray. George appears. GEORGE Don't do it. JACKIE That son of a bitch, everything he says is a phony piece of shit, what does he think, I'm some cigar butt he's got between his teeth -- GEORGE (almost picking her up) C'mon, cunt, you're going for a walk. He takes her into the next room and Lester watches the move with a mixture of relief and concern. INT. OTHER BAR Jackie is now near tears. JACKIE He just completely ignores me. He could have at least said something, introduced me or something. INT. SMALL BAR GEORGE Sweetheart, you're drunk. She leans on George. JACKIE Oh God, what do I want, George? Lester comes hurrying in, sweating, now. LESTER Hi, doll, what's wrong? JACKIE You know what's wrong. Felicia trips coming into the small bar. FELICIA Lester -- Lester straightens up like he's been shot. LESTER Oh, Felicia, there you are, you know George and uh -- uh -- He's genuinely forgotten her name. JACKIE Jackie Shawn. LESTER Yes, Jackie Shawn, my wi -- Felicia. FELICIA We've met. JACKIE Yes. GEORGE Well anyway... LESTER (to Felicia) Your hair looks -- well fabulous. FELICIA That's George. INT. SMALL BAR LESTER It's just -- fabulous. (to George, an attempt at levity) Think you could do anything for me? GEORGE (he takes it seriously) Well -- I could try. Do you wash your hair every day? LESTER Isn't that bad for it? GEORGE No it keeps the skin peeling. You've got to keep the follicles open. You lose hair and the skin grows over the follicle and that's how you lose it. George actually touches Lester's hair, professional interest growing. GEORGE (CONT'D) This really ought to be layered... LESTER Layered? GEORGE Well yeah, otherwise it just sort, you know, lies there -- layer so it kind of fluffs out -- He starts to fluff Lester's hair a little when Johnny Pope walks in with Jill to this. Pope stares at them. POPE I think they're waiting for somebody to start dinner. LESTER Have they sat down? POPE Everybody but us. FELICIA They're waiting for you, Lester. INT. BISTRO DINNER TABLE Dinner is pretty much finished, waiters have begun picking up plates. IZZY SOKOLOFF (to Jill) I guess it's almost impossible to get work in the business these days. Pope watches Sokoloff make his move. JILL Well, commercials. I read for a soap the other day. IZZY A soap? JILL A daytime soap opera. IZZY And? JILL I was too old. IZZY What was it, somebody's daughter? JILL Somebody's mother. JACKIE'S PLATE is untouched. She holds up her wine glass. JACKIE Waiter! George looks at her. JACKIE (CONT'D) One word out of you and I'll gargle with it. The waiter pours the wine. George looks to Jill, shrugs. Jill mouthes, 'try and stop her.' George mouthes back, 'are you kidding?' INT. BISTRO SID ROTH has been eyeing Jackie. SID ROTH Aren't you hungry, Miss Shawn? Jackie looks at Roth. Roth shoots his cuffs and smiles. JACKIE Not for rubber chicken, no. Sid Roth smiles. Jackie smiles back. SID ROTH (intime) Well maybe I can get you something. JACKIE That's very sweet of you, Mr. Roth. SID ROTH Sid. JACKIE Sid. You must be a very important executive. SID ROTH (almost a whisper) Well, whatever I am, I think I can get you whatever you'd like. JACKIE You do? SID ROTH Yes. JACKIE (same tone as Sid's) -- well, more than anything else -- (indicating George) -- I'd like to suck his cock. She points to George. George chokes on the last of a piece of chicken. Sid Roth is stunned. He doesn't know what to do. George is coughing badly. Jackie slaps his back. HEAD TABLE - FELICIA AND LESTER Felicia is listening to Lester. The Agnew and Nixon posters are directly behind them. LESTER (to East) -- Senator, you should've seen those little kids! About forty of 'em, all blind. We put out these mattresses on the front lawn and they came running out of the house, tripping and falling all over the place, having a hell of a good time. I mean they were blind of course. But it really gave you a feeling of accomplishment. I tell you I never had such a good time. Felicia during the above has looked up to see Jackie fawning over George. She can't believe her eyes. FELICIA Lester -- SENATOR -- let me understand this was exclusively a home for blind children -- FELICIA Lester -- LESTER -- yes, Senator -- just a minute, dear -- FELICIA Lester, don't you think that uhh -- Now Lester spots it. He's very confused. FELICIA (CONT'D) That girl's making an awful spectacle of herself. LESTER (angry himself) What do you expect me to do about it? FELICIA I just thought you'd like to know -- LESTER Why would I like to know if there's nothing I can do about it, goddammit -- OTHER VOICE Quiet! Cranston's on. They quiet down. JACKIE AND GEORGE Jackie's now moving around kissing George on the mouth. Jill is watching. Johnny Pope is fascinated. JILL -- Jackie really shouldn't drink -- POPE -- oh I don't know -- JACKIE (arm around George's shoulders tonguing his ear) -- Just get me out of here, baby. I can't stand it. It's killing me. GEORGE (indicating head table) -- we can't now. JACKIE -- why not? C'mon, take me out of here, somewhere I don't have to lie to anybody and I'll fuck your brains out, you little fiend, I adore you -- FELICIA is watching Jackie and George with ever greater intensity, her mouth growing more and more agape. JACKIE AND GEORGE JACKIE (CONT'D) (plaintive) -- don't you want to -- GEORGE Jackie, can we -- JACKIE (a little louder) Who's the greatest cocksucker in the world? C'mon -- George looks around sweating now. GEORGE (very quietly) -- you are. JACKIE Fuckin' A -- With that she slips right under the table. It's a surprisingly fluid move. FELICIA almost simultaneously rises, knocking her chair back. LESTER sees both moves and interrupts the Senator. LESTER (CONT'D) Senator, excuse me a moment -- He turns to Felicia and then looks over toward Jackie's empty chair and literally doesn't know which way to go first. He's a little like the bear in the penny arcade that is shot and keeps turning one way, then another. Finally he heads toward Jackie's vacant chair and George. GEORGE his chin to the tablecloth is fishing under it for Jackie. GEORGE (CONT'D) Now, Jackie -- JILL (trying for aplomb) -- she's a very compulsive girl. POPE I can see that. Lester rushes up. LESTER (a desperate smile) Hello, George. Your friend feeling a little under the weather? Jackie surfaces through the tablecloth. JACKIE (to Lester) -- you phony asshole -- LESTER (as if he didn't hear it) Oh, dear that's too bad. (with quiet desperation, to George) -- get her out of here, get her out of here. A cheer goes up as some late returns come in. Dirksen is talking about a new mandate for law and order and peace with honor. LESTER (CONT'D) (to Sid) What was that? SID ROTH Illinois. LESTER (doesn't know what he's saying) -- oh, good. INT. BISTRO Lester glances back toward Felicia who is watching him. GEORGE Jackie, c'mon -- George moves to Jill. GEORGE (CONT'D) I've got to get her out of here. JILL -- go ahead. GEORGE -- well aren't you -- JILL -- what? (indicating Pope) -- I'll see you later... GEORGE (not liking it too much) -- okay -- (pointed) -- I'll see you later. Your house. He moves away with Jackie. Lester turns back toward the main table. INT. 230SL - JACKIE AND GEORGE - NIGHT driving down Sunset Boulevard. There is a long moment of silence. The RADIO'S PLAYING the Eve of Destruction. George gives Jackie a couple of sidelong glances. JACKIE (finally) -- gee... GEORGE -- what? JACKIE (she sits up, lights a cigarette) I don't know what gets into me. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE No, I blew it, I blew it with Lester. GEORGE No you didn't. JACKIE You don't think so? I do. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE You always say that... I really care for Lester, don't I? George laughs. GEORGE That sounds like me. JACKIE I am you, you little bastard. She starts to scrunch over and kiss him, then stops. JACKIE(CONT'D) Where do you want to go? GEORGE Sammy's? JACKIE He still having parties? GEORGE He never stopped. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA IS SITTING WITH LESTER fuming. A woman, ROSALIND, is painstakingly and painfully introducing the Senator. ROSALIND ... and so... to have this man... here... among us... who has helped... as has everyone here to bring so many people together... of all races, creeds, and colors... FELICIA AND LESTER Rosalind droning on, b.g. She finally introduces Senator East. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA AND LESTER FELICIA Lester. LESTER Yes, sweetheart, shh. He pats her hand. She gives him a look that could kill. FELICIA -- I hope you like Miss Shawn -- LESTER -- what, who? Oh she's very nice, yes -- I mean normally --- FELICIA -- cause she's going to be very, very expensive. LESTER Can't we go into this later, sweetheart? ROSALIND'S VOICE Ladies and gentlemen, to Senator Joe East. Glasses are raised, a little dissonant hurrah. FELICIA We cannot go into this later. LESTER That's okay too. FELICIA You make me sick. Just be straight for once in your life. There are now O.S. calls for East to do his Indian chant. QUICK CUT TO: EAST SENATOR -- this tells of the ancient grandmother who, upon seeing the garden gate of her childhood, stops a moment and says, hello garden gate, hello garden gate, garden gate, hello. INT. BISTRO - LESTER AND FELICIA LESTER (finally exasperated) -- look, Felicia, this party involves more than you and me, you know. These people are concerned about more than each other, you know. FELICIA -- is that right? LESTER -- yes, we're all trying to do something to make this a better country to live in, believe it or not. THE SENATOR has begun his weird chant, beating out accompaniment on a cigar box and a pewter vase. FELICIA (glancing up) -- is that what this is all about? LESTER Yes and you don't have to be sarcastic about it, that's a beautiful thing he's doing -- some people do more than go to the beauty parlor and shop at Saks -- FELICIA Lester, you're a miserable man. You're not helping anybody. You're just twisting arms to raise money for a lot of silly son of a bitches that are out for themselves -- this

your

How many times the word 'your' appears in the text?

you I was on my way, but the line was busy, you're always on the phone. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE IN BEL AIR - DAY George pulls into the circular driveway. COVERED by a few bars of The Mama's and The Papa's "California Dreamin." There's only one car. George gets off the bike and goes to the door. Nobody answers. He hears the SOUND of a BALL BANGING. He looks toward the tennis court. ON THE COURT - LORNA is banging away on the backboard. There's a basket of balls nearby. She hits with considerable skill and power until she misses the backboard and the ball lodges in the steel mesh surrounding the court. George is standing there. Lorna looks at him. LORNA You here to see my mother? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA She's out, but you're supposed to wait. LORNA WALKING TO GEORGE LORNA (CONT'D) Hungry? GEORGE A little. AT THE KITCHEN TABLE They're eating silently. Lorna has hauled all kinds of food out of the refrigerators. She watches George as he eats with some relish. She gets up and goes to the steel-doored refrigerators. LORNA (indicating refrigerators) This is the one thing I like about this house... want some lox? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA You're my mother's hairdresser? GEORGE (warily) I do her hair, yeah. LORNA Chopped liver? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Are you gay?... baked apple?... they're cold but they're good. GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Did you hear me? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA Well, are you? Are you queer? GEORGE ... yeah. LORNA (laughing) C'mon, are you or aren't you? GEORGE (trying to avoid it) Gee, this is great. He slices a piece of cheesecake. Lorna sits down, in the chair nearest him now. LORNA C'mon, tell me. Don't be afraid. GEORGE Why do you wanna know so bad? LORNA See if you've been making it with my mother. GEORGE (looking at her for a minute, he changes his tone) What would my being a faggot have to do with that? Lorna shrugs. LORNA Nothing, I guess... have you ever made it with a guy? GEORGE Have you ever made it with a girl? LORNA I asked you first. GEORGE Yeah... I've made it with a girl... Lorna smiles. A pause. LORNA Well, are you? GEORGE Am I what? LORNA Making it with my mother? George wants to avoid this at all costs. He stares at Lorna intently. GEORGE I'd like to do your hair sometime. LORNA Why? GEORGE ... just, you could look very heavy... LORNA Don't make conversation with me. GEORGE What? LORNA You don't have to make conversation with me, I'm not my mother... do you have a thing about older women... that's sort of faggoty isn't it? George is weary and getting annoyed. GEORGE Yeah, it is. LORNA I never get my hair done. GEORGE No kidding. LORNA In fact, I don't think I've ever been to a beauty parlor in my whole life. GEORGE No shit. LORNA You think that's funny, don't you? GEORGE (laughing a little) Yeah. LORNA You live a phony cheap cop-out existence. GEORGE (determined to be light) Yeah... LORNA Beverly Hills hairdresser... what kind of a thing is that to do... you might as well be a faggot... think that's funny too? GEORGE No. LORNA Then what do you think? GEORGE That you're just like your mother. LORNA I am not like my mother! GEORGE You are. LORNA I am not! GEORGE You are. Lorna is furious. LORNA I am not! GEORGE (he starts to placate her) Look... (then defiantly) Do you wanna fuck me? LORNA (defiantly) Yeah. George stops eating. He's not prepared for this. GEORGE (uneasily) Right now? LORNA (a little more tentative now that the moment has arrived) Yeah. EXT. SOURCE RESTAURANT - JOHNNY POPE AND JILL - DAY A scraggly bearded WAITER with long stringy hair sets down two huge green salads before Jill and Johnny Pope. In so doing the Waiter drops a wooden menu he's been carrying. As he bends down to pick it up, he kneels beside Pope. Pope taps him on the shoulder. POPE (tapping him) Oh, scraves... WAITER Yes? The Waiter looks up, and moves. POPE Thank you. WAITER What for? POPE Taking your hair out of my salad. WAITER Oh, I'm sorry. Pope nods, Jill giggles. The Waiter goes off. Pope tosses out a few pieces of lettuce from the top of his salad. JILL Why don't you ask for another one? POPE Are you kidding? His hair's probably the most nutritious thing in here. See, you've reduced me to eating weeds. JILL ... my friend doesn't like it here either. POPE All right, forget this filth. Continue about your friend. JILL Well he's not exactly a friend. POPE Is he an enemy? JILL (laughing) Of course not... he's sort of a boyfriend. POPE -- sort of a boyfriend? JILL Sort of. POPE I see. You mean he just sort of fucks you. JILL Johnny! POPE My God, did I say that? I don't believe it. He looks under his chair to see if it was somebody else. POPE (CONT'D) I'm terribly sorry. JILL (amused) -- never mind. POPE What does he do? Is he an actor? JILL -- no. POPE Good for you. JILL He's a hairdresser. Pope drops his fork in the salad bowl. POPE -- oh, sure. A hairdresser. How... how do you a... meet a hairdresser? JILL Getting your hair done... (looks at him, abruptly) Would you like to go to a party? POPE Not with your hairdresser. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE - FELICIA - DAY pulls into the driveway. She gets out of her car, spots George's bike. INT. THE KITCHEN She sees the food spread out. FELICIA moving through the house. She stops by Lorna's room. Lorna has a sliding door, which is closed. Felicia opens it. FELICIA Lorna? LORNA'S BEDROOM Lorna is sitting on her bed, in her tennis dress but with her tennis shoes off. She's straightening a string in her racket. She looks to her mother, expressionless. FELICIA (CONT'D) Have you seen George? LORNA He's in the bathroom. FELICIA Your bathroom? LORNA Yes. The toilet flushes. The sink runs, and George emerges. He's looking a little haggard. GEORGE Hi. FELICIA (coolly) Hello, George. They walk out to the lanai together and George picks up his case. There is considerable tension from Felicia as they walk into her bedroom. Felicia slides the bedroom door shut, an action which George unhappily notices. She turns to George. She looks very hostile. She's trembling. FELICIA (CONT'D) I've missed you. George is taken aback. He gropes for a moment. GEORGE I've... missed you too. Felicia comes to him. She comes to him and touches his arm. George suddenly flings his case across the room and pounds his fist into a high-backed chair, turning away from Felicia. She clearly misunderstands the action. FELICIA (touched) It's okay, honey... it's okay now. She moves to the door and quietly locks it. George winces. She comes back to him and kisses him gently. She kisses him again with more passion. George tries to respond. FELICIA (CONT'D) Comb my hair out later, honey. GEORGE No, that's okay, I'll do It now. FELICIA No, baby... I'm glad you're coming tonight. She gently tugs at him, leading him toward the bed. George is miserable. GEORGE (looking toward the door) But aren't you... FELICIA Right now, I just don't care. As they sink to the bed, Felicia switches on the HI-FI. The Tijuana Brass begin to play. GEORGE ON HIS BIKE - LATE AFTERNOON COVERED BY a few bars of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". Riding home. He turns down his street and pulls into his driveway. He gets off his bike and only as he starts up his walk does he see Jill. She's been quietly waiting on his front porch, hidden in the shadows of the overhang. She doesn't look happy. George stops cold. GEORGE (?) Jill says nothing. GEORGE (CONT'D) Where's your car? JILL A friend dropped me off. GEORGE Who? JILL Never mind. Where've you been? GEORGE A business meeting, I told you that. They go inside. The living room is messy. George looks around in disgust. JILL What business meeting? GEORGE Look at the way I live. JILL I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. You weren't in the shop. What is this thing tonight? GEORGE What do you mean, what is it? It's some political bullshit. JILL I have to have Jackie ask me? Don't you think you could call me and let me know? Look at my hair. GEORGE Wait a minute, God-damn-it. Do you think I want to go to some God damned party? I'm trying to get that God damned shop open. I'm trying to get a little bread together. That's all I'm doing. George's outburst has shocked Jill. George maniacally begins straightening the mess. GEORGE (CONT'D) I just wanna live like everybody else, that's all. I want clothes in the closet, and food in the refrigerator, and I don't want shit all over the house and running my ass all over town... I want my own house... I want an appointment book... I want to get up in the morning and go to bed at night... I want a normal life like everybody else, that's all. He collapses into a chair. She comes over to him and knee beside him. JILL I know, honey. GEORGE Maybe I should get a dog... no, it would just shit all over the house and I'd never clean it up. JILL (laughing a little, touching him) Oh, honey. If we had one place, we could have a nicer place and I could take care of it. We're almost never here. REAR VIEW MIRROR - NIGHT A signal red Porsche cabriolet pulls up into mirror. The top is down. Under the brightly lit streetlights Jill's blonde hair and features are VISIBLE. WITH GEORGE AND JACKIE in her Mercedes. George still looking through the rear view mirror. Jackie's a knockout. JACKIE (looking at George looking in mirror) -- you'll be the prettiest thing in the room -- light's green... GEORGE (he takes off) -- oh yeah... what do you know about this guy? JACKIE -- what guy? GEORGE (gesturing toward rear window) -- this guy with Jill. JACKIE He's a director. OUTSIDE OF BISTRO - GEORGE AND JOHNNY POPE - NIGHT pull up, Pope right behind George. Parking ATTENDANTS leap for the doors. A few photographers of the movie freak variety ask each other who these arrivals are. One assures several others that they're nobody. GEORGE (to Attendant) Do I need a ticket for this? ATTENDANT We'll remember you. POPE as they move to take his Porsche. POPE (CONT'D) (shaking his head) I'll park it. Pope drives his own car onto the lot. WITH JILL, GEORGE AND JACKIE waiting for Pope who is now ambling toward them. GEORGE (to Jill) What does he direct besides traffic? JILL Ha, ha. GEORGE Television or movies? JILL Commercials. JACKIE (quietly, to George) Feel better? Let's go. Pope has joined them. INT. BISTRO FOYER They clear it to see the long elegant bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. George looks and sees someone. A fortyish WOMAN, attractive. GEORGE (to Jackie) Jesus Christ, there's Norma Stern. Look at her hair. JACKIE What about it? GEORGE Looks like somebody took a dump in it, that's the worst color job I've -- Norma comes over, hugs George. NORMA George -- GEORGE (pointing to her hair) Baby, you've been chippying on me -- NORMA Yes, isn't it awful -- GEORGE (smiling) -- yes. Jackie tugs him by the arm. JACKIE We're upstairs, George. Now come on. Behave yourself, and for Christ's sake, do me a favor. Don't let me drink too much. GEORGE (going upstairs) You don't do that anymore, do you? BISTRO STAIRS Jackie doesn't answer. They've reached the top of the stairs. They're hit by the full force of the upstairs gathering -- black tie, posters of Nixon, Agnew, Reagan, and Murphy, vaguely familiar faces crossing back and forth, clustering, watching early returns on television sets that are blaring from various points around the room. An ORCHESTRA PLAYS Meyer Davis Society Jazz. Jackie and George hesitate. Pope and Jill are behind them. Pope jostles George as he stops, abruptly. George looks around. Pope smiles. He's holding Jill's hand. George notices. Jill disengages her hand casually, as though it were necessary only for the walk up the stairs. Jackie nudges George, forcing him to move into the room with her as Lester comes toward them. He's stopped on his way over. WAITER Can I get you folks something? JILL A stinger, please. POPE A tomato juice. GEORGE I'll take a -- some white wine. WAITER And you, madam? JACKIE (searching the room) Oh I'll uhh -- just a coke. The Waiter moves on and they wait for their drinks. Lester finally makes to them. LESTER George, glad you could make it, son. Hi, doll. JACKIE Lester, this is my friend Jill and this is Johnny Pope. LESTER Glad to meet you, Jill, Mr. Pope. INT. BISTRO UPSTAIRS George turns to get his drink from the Waiter as do Jill and Pope. Lester takes Jackie's arm. LESTER Who are they? JACKIE (quickly) Jill Haynes, Jill Haynes, I've told you about Jill a hundred times, Lester, you never remember anything I say. LESTER Does she know about us? JACKIE Jesus, she's my best friend. LESTER Who's the guy, George's boyfriend? JACKIE I don't know. Why don't you ask him? LESTER C'mon, Jackie, I'm only trying -- George -- He draws George aside. LESTER (CONT'D) -- do me a favor, kind of keep your eye on Jackie, she's a little high strung tonight -- GEORGE -- yeah? LESTER See she doesn't drink too much. Jackie has heard this last. Lester turns to her. LESTER (CONT'D) See you later, doll. Jackie puts down her coke, picks up a glass of white wine from a passing tray and downs it in one gulp, putting it on another tray and picking up another glass of white wine. FELICIA with cleavage carefully prominent in a strapless gown, spots George. She excuses herself from the couple she has been talking with and goes straight to the powder room. INT. POWDER ROOM - FELICIA checks herself out in the mirror, glossing her lips with a pale tint of something or other. She gives a final anxious look, then hurries out, nearly bumping into a lady coming In. OUTSIDE she moves through the crowd up behind George, turning him around. FELICIA George, darling. She kisses him full on the lips, lingering on it. GEORGE (without batting an eye) Hey, baby, what's happening. Oh this is Jackie. Jackie, say hello to Felicia. It is only now that Felicia sees one of George's arms has been holding onto Jackie. JACKIE (also without batting an eye) Hello, Felicia. FELICIA (instantly suspicious of George) ... hello. Felicia looks from George to Jackie and back again. FELICIA (CONT'D) I'm so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you. LESTER pours his drink on the cuff of a distinguished MAN sitting beneath him at a table as he sees George and Felicia and Jackie clustered together. WITH LESTER AND MAN MAN Lester, what the fuck do you think you're doing? LESTER Jesus, Nate, I'm sorry. Lester fumbles, tries to clean Nate off with a napkin. NATE Never mind, I'll do it myself. He dips the napkin into a glass of ice water and proceeds to clean off his cuff. Nate goes back to the TV monitor where Agnew is making some remarks or commentators are repeating his comment about being a household word. LESTER So far so good. NATE Aw there's nothing to worry about. LESTER You never know. FELICIA WITH GEORGE FELICIA Why didn't you come alone? Lester invited you. Did you have to bring her? GEORGE (looking toward Lester) Well she... FELICIA She what? GEORGE She's a friend of Jill's. FELICIA And who's Jill? She spots Jill. GEORGE Well, she's a friend of Johnny Pope's -- you know, the director. She looks at Pope who is saying something to Jill which is making her laugh. FELICIA Oh. GEORGE is threading his way through a crowd, holding two drinks, one of them a coca-cola. It's a little more raucous now, with election returns from the television sets creating a more festive mood. Now and then someone jumps up from a set and hugs someone so carrying drinks is a little dodgy. JACKIE, F.G. - LESTER, B.G., TALKING Jackie sits alone by the bar, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. A man offers her a match. She stares at the burning match as if it's obscene. She blows it out. JACKIE No thanks. The man looks a little shocked, moves on. GEORGE has his arm held. It's KENNETH, a red-haired decorator. KENNETH Excuse me, I know I know you, but I can't think where. GEORGE Look, I'd like to help but -- Felicia grabs George's other arm pulling him away from Kenneth. Kenneth looks a little shocked at the ferocity of Felicia's move. FELICIA There you are. She tugs him with her. GEORGE Wait a minute -- She takes him right into the ladies room, George still juggling the drinks. JOHNNY POPE watches Felicia and George disappear into the ladies room, looking over Jill's shoulder. Jill has not seen it. POPE This other couple that we're here with, do you know them very well? JILL Well... sure... POPE Then maybe you can tell me why George would be going into the ladies room. Jill looks around and stares at the door. JILL George? Was he alone? POPE I don't think so. JILL Well did he go in there with Jackie? Pope points over to Jackie sitting at the bar drinking now. JILL (CONT'D) That bastard. POPE George is a hairdresser, isn't he? Jill doesn't answer. INT. BATHROOM - FELICIA AND GEORGE GEORGE (desperate) Baby, you gotta let me out of here. Felicia kisses him. FELICIA Sweetheart, it's a bore out there... let's lock the door. GEORGE Holy Christ. You want to get us killed? FELICIA Don't be silly. I'll just tell Lester we were smoking a couple of joints. See? She pulls two joints out of her beaded bag. LESTER only a few seats from Jackie, Jackie staring daggers at him, Lester aware of it. He's talking to a pair of lacquered eminence grises. LESTER -- fellas, fellas, just listen, you both have tidelands, you both want Uncle Sam to come through with offshore drilling permits -- so do it together -- JACKIE has taken an olive from an olive tray and hit Lester on the back of the head. He's finished this little dissertation. He sees the source of the missile. He grows pale, frozen. Sixty-four year old bejeweled WOMAN in b.g. WOMAN So, little red riding hood says 'my what big teeth you have and the wolf says all the better to eat you with, my dear, and she says -- eat, eat, eat, doesn't anybody ever fuck any more?' Jackie has now picked up a carrot from a relish tray. George appears. GEORGE Don't do it. JACKIE That son of a bitch, everything he says is a phony piece of shit, what does he think, I'm some cigar butt he's got between his teeth -- GEORGE (almost picking her up) C'mon, cunt, you're going for a walk. He takes her into the next room and Lester watches the move with a mixture of relief and concern. INT. OTHER BAR Jackie is now near tears. JACKIE He just completely ignores me. He could have at least said something, introduced me or something. INT. SMALL BAR GEORGE Sweetheart, you're drunk. She leans on George. JACKIE Oh God, what do I want, George? Lester comes hurrying in, sweating, now. LESTER Hi, doll, what's wrong? JACKIE You know what's wrong. Felicia trips coming into the small bar. FELICIA Lester -- Lester straightens up like he's been shot. LESTER Oh, Felicia, there you are, you know George and uh -- uh -- He's genuinely forgotten her name. JACKIE Jackie Shawn. LESTER Yes, Jackie Shawn, my wi -- Felicia. FELICIA We've met. JACKIE Yes. GEORGE Well anyway... LESTER (to Felicia) Your hair looks -- well fabulous. FELICIA That's George. INT. SMALL BAR LESTER It's just -- fabulous. (to George, an attempt at levity) Think you could do anything for me? GEORGE (he takes it seriously) Well -- I could try. Do you wash your hair every day? LESTER Isn't that bad for it? GEORGE No it keeps the skin peeling. You've got to keep the follicles open. You lose hair and the skin grows over the follicle and that's how you lose it. George actually touches Lester's hair, professional interest growing. GEORGE (CONT'D) This really ought to be layered... LESTER Layered? GEORGE Well yeah, otherwise it just sort, you know, lies there -- layer so it kind of fluffs out -- He starts to fluff Lester's hair a little when Johnny Pope walks in with Jill to this. Pope stares at them. POPE I think they're waiting for somebody to start dinner. LESTER Have they sat down? POPE Everybody but us. FELICIA They're waiting for you, Lester. INT. BISTRO DINNER TABLE Dinner is pretty much finished, waiters have begun picking up plates. IZZY SOKOLOFF (to Jill) I guess it's almost impossible to get work in the business these days. Pope watches Sokoloff make his move. JILL Well, commercials. I read for a soap the other day. IZZY A soap? JILL A daytime soap opera. IZZY And? JILL I was too old. IZZY What was it, somebody's daughter? JILL Somebody's mother. JACKIE'S PLATE is untouched. She holds up her wine glass. JACKIE Waiter! George looks at her. JACKIE (CONT'D) One word out of you and I'll gargle with it. The waiter pours the wine. George looks to Jill, shrugs. Jill mouthes, 'try and stop her.' George mouthes back, 'are you kidding?' INT. BISTRO SID ROTH has been eyeing Jackie. SID ROTH Aren't you hungry, Miss Shawn? Jackie looks at Roth. Roth shoots his cuffs and smiles. JACKIE Not for rubber chicken, no. Sid Roth smiles. Jackie smiles back. SID ROTH (intime) Well maybe I can get you something. JACKIE That's very sweet of you, Mr. Roth. SID ROTH Sid. JACKIE Sid. You must be a very important executive. SID ROTH (almost a whisper) Well, whatever I am, I think I can get you whatever you'd like. JACKIE You do? SID ROTH Yes. JACKIE (same tone as Sid's) -- well, more than anything else -- (indicating George) -- I'd like to suck his cock. She points to George. George chokes on the last of a piece of chicken. Sid Roth is stunned. He doesn't know what to do. George is coughing badly. Jackie slaps his back. HEAD TABLE - FELICIA AND LESTER Felicia is listening to Lester. The Agnew and Nixon posters are directly behind them. LESTER (to East) -- Senator, you should've seen those little kids! About forty of 'em, all blind. We put out these mattresses on the front lawn and they came running out of the house, tripping and falling all over the place, having a hell of a good time. I mean they were blind of course. But it really gave you a feeling of accomplishment. I tell you I never had such a good time. Felicia during the above has looked up to see Jackie fawning over George. She can't believe her eyes. FELICIA Lester -- SENATOR -- let me understand this was exclusively a home for blind children -- FELICIA Lester -- LESTER -- yes, Senator -- just a minute, dear -- FELICIA Lester, don't you think that uhh -- Now Lester spots it. He's very confused. FELICIA (CONT'D) That girl's making an awful spectacle of herself. LESTER (angry himself) What do you expect me to do about it? FELICIA I just thought you'd like to know -- LESTER Why would I like to know if there's nothing I can do about it, goddammit -- OTHER VOICE Quiet! Cranston's on. They quiet down. JACKIE AND GEORGE Jackie's now moving around kissing George on the mouth. Jill is watching. Johnny Pope is fascinated. JILL -- Jackie really shouldn't drink -- POPE -- oh I don't know -- JACKIE (arm around George's shoulders tonguing his ear) -- Just get me out of here, baby. I can't stand it. It's killing me. GEORGE (indicating head table) -- we can't now. JACKIE -- why not? C'mon, take me out of here, somewhere I don't have to lie to anybody and I'll fuck your brains out, you little fiend, I adore you -- FELICIA is watching Jackie and George with ever greater intensity, her mouth growing more and more agape. JACKIE AND GEORGE JACKIE (CONT'D) (plaintive) -- don't you want to -- GEORGE Jackie, can we -- JACKIE (a little louder) Who's the greatest cocksucker in the world? C'mon -- George looks around sweating now. GEORGE (very quietly) -- you are. JACKIE Fuckin' A -- With that she slips right under the table. It's a surprisingly fluid move. FELICIA almost simultaneously rises, knocking her chair back. LESTER sees both moves and interrupts the Senator. LESTER (CONT'D) Senator, excuse me a moment -- He turns to Felicia and then looks over toward Jackie's empty chair and literally doesn't know which way to go first. He's a little like the bear in the penny arcade that is shot and keeps turning one way, then another. Finally he heads toward Jackie's vacant chair and George. GEORGE his chin to the tablecloth is fishing under it for Jackie. GEORGE (CONT'D) Now, Jackie -- JILL (trying for aplomb) -- she's a very compulsive girl. POPE I can see that. Lester rushes up. LESTER (a desperate smile) Hello, George. Your friend feeling a little under the weather? Jackie surfaces through the tablecloth. JACKIE (to Lester) -- you phony asshole -- LESTER (as if he didn't hear it) Oh, dear that's too bad. (with quiet desperation, to George) -- get her out of here, get her out of here. A cheer goes up as some late returns come in. Dirksen is talking about a new mandate for law and order and peace with honor. LESTER (CONT'D) (to Sid) What was that? SID ROTH Illinois. LESTER (doesn't know what he's saying) -- oh, good. INT. BISTRO Lester glances back toward Felicia who is watching him. GEORGE Jackie, c'mon -- George moves to Jill. GEORGE (CONT'D) I've got to get her out of here. JILL -- go ahead. GEORGE -- well aren't you -- JILL -- what? (indicating Pope) -- I'll see you later... GEORGE (not liking it too much) -- okay -- (pointed) -- I'll see you later. Your house. He moves away with Jackie. Lester turns back toward the main table. INT. 230SL - JACKIE AND GEORGE - NIGHT driving down Sunset Boulevard. There is a long moment of silence. The RADIO'S PLAYING the Eve of Destruction. George gives Jackie a couple of sidelong glances. JACKIE (finally) -- gee... GEORGE -- what? JACKIE (she sits up, lights a cigarette) I don't know what gets into me. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE No, I blew it, I blew it with Lester. GEORGE No you didn't. JACKIE You don't think so? I do. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE You always say that... I really care for Lester, don't I? George laughs. GEORGE That sounds like me. JACKIE I am you, you little bastard. She starts to scrunch over and kiss him, then stops. JACKIE(CONT'D) Where do you want to go? GEORGE Sammy's? JACKIE He still having parties? GEORGE He never stopped. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA IS SITTING WITH LESTER fuming. A woman, ROSALIND, is painstakingly and painfully introducing the Senator. ROSALIND ... and so... to have this man... here... among us... who has helped... as has everyone here to bring so many people together... of all races, creeds, and colors... FELICIA AND LESTER Rosalind droning on, b.g. She finally introduces Senator East. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA AND LESTER FELICIA Lester. LESTER Yes, sweetheart, shh. He pats her hand. She gives him a look that could kill. FELICIA -- I hope you like Miss Shawn -- LESTER -- what, who? Oh she's very nice, yes -- I mean normally --- FELICIA -- cause she's going to be very, very expensive. LESTER Can't we go into this later, sweetheart? ROSALIND'S VOICE Ladies and gentlemen, to Senator Joe East. Glasses are raised, a little dissonant hurrah. FELICIA We cannot go into this later. LESTER That's okay too. FELICIA You make me sick. Just be straight for once in your life. There are now O.S. calls for East to do his Indian chant. QUICK CUT TO: EAST SENATOR -- this tells of the ancient grandmother who, upon seeing the garden gate of her childhood, stops a moment and says, hello garden gate, hello garden gate, garden gate, hello. INT. BISTRO - LESTER AND FELICIA LESTER (finally exasperated) -- look, Felicia, this party involves more than you and me, you know. These people are concerned about more than each other, you know. FELICIA -- is that right? LESTER -- yes, we're all trying to do something to make this a better country to live in, believe it or not. THE SENATOR has begun his weird chant, beating out accompaniment on a cigar box and a pewter vase. FELICIA (glancing up) -- is that what this is all about? LESTER Yes and you don't have to be sarcastic about it, that's a beautiful thing he's doing -- some people do more than go to the beauty parlor and shop at Saks -- FELICIA Lester, you're a miserable man. You're not helping anybody. You're just twisting arms to raise money for a lot of silly son of a bitches that are out for themselves -- this

manners

How many times the word 'manners' appears in the text?

you I was on my way, but the line was busy, you're always on the phone. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE IN BEL AIR - DAY George pulls into the circular driveway. COVERED by a few bars of The Mama's and The Papa's "California Dreamin." There's only one car. George gets off the bike and goes to the door. Nobody answers. He hears the SOUND of a BALL BANGING. He looks toward the tennis court. ON THE COURT - LORNA is banging away on the backboard. There's a basket of balls nearby. She hits with considerable skill and power until she misses the backboard and the ball lodges in the steel mesh surrounding the court. George is standing there. Lorna looks at him. LORNA You here to see my mother? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA She's out, but you're supposed to wait. LORNA WALKING TO GEORGE LORNA (CONT'D) Hungry? GEORGE A little. AT THE KITCHEN TABLE They're eating silently. Lorna has hauled all kinds of food out of the refrigerators. She watches George as he eats with some relish. She gets up and goes to the steel-doored refrigerators. LORNA (indicating refrigerators) This is the one thing I like about this house... want some lox? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA You're my mother's hairdresser? GEORGE (warily) I do her hair, yeah. LORNA Chopped liver? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Are you gay?... baked apple?... they're cold but they're good. GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Did you hear me? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA Well, are you? Are you queer? GEORGE ... yeah. LORNA (laughing) C'mon, are you or aren't you? GEORGE (trying to avoid it) Gee, this is great. He slices a piece of cheesecake. Lorna sits down, in the chair nearest him now. LORNA C'mon, tell me. Don't be afraid. GEORGE Why do you wanna know so bad? LORNA See if you've been making it with my mother. GEORGE (looking at her for a minute, he changes his tone) What would my being a faggot have to do with that? Lorna shrugs. LORNA Nothing, I guess... have you ever made it with a guy? GEORGE Have you ever made it with a girl? LORNA I asked you first. GEORGE Yeah... I've made it with a girl... Lorna smiles. A pause. LORNA Well, are you? GEORGE Am I what? LORNA Making it with my mother? George wants to avoid this at all costs. He stares at Lorna intently. GEORGE I'd like to do your hair sometime. LORNA Why? GEORGE ... just, you could look very heavy... LORNA Don't make conversation with me. GEORGE What? LORNA You don't have to make conversation with me, I'm not my mother... do you have a thing about older women... that's sort of faggoty isn't it? George is weary and getting annoyed. GEORGE Yeah, it is. LORNA I never get my hair done. GEORGE No kidding. LORNA In fact, I don't think I've ever been to a beauty parlor in my whole life. GEORGE No shit. LORNA You think that's funny, don't you? GEORGE (laughing a little) Yeah. LORNA You live a phony cheap cop-out existence. GEORGE (determined to be light) Yeah... LORNA Beverly Hills hairdresser... what kind of a thing is that to do... you might as well be a faggot... think that's funny too? GEORGE No. LORNA Then what do you think? GEORGE That you're just like your mother. LORNA I am not like my mother! GEORGE You are. LORNA I am not! GEORGE You are. Lorna is furious. LORNA I am not! GEORGE (he starts to placate her) Look... (then defiantly) Do you wanna fuck me? LORNA (defiantly) Yeah. George stops eating. He's not prepared for this. GEORGE (uneasily) Right now? LORNA (a little more tentative now that the moment has arrived) Yeah. EXT. SOURCE RESTAURANT - JOHNNY POPE AND JILL - DAY A scraggly bearded WAITER with long stringy hair sets down two huge green salads before Jill and Johnny Pope. In so doing the Waiter drops a wooden menu he's been carrying. As he bends down to pick it up, he kneels beside Pope. Pope taps him on the shoulder. POPE (tapping him) Oh, scraves... WAITER Yes? The Waiter looks up, and moves. POPE Thank you. WAITER What for? POPE Taking your hair out of my salad. WAITER Oh, I'm sorry. Pope nods, Jill giggles. The Waiter goes off. Pope tosses out a few pieces of lettuce from the top of his salad. JILL Why don't you ask for another one? POPE Are you kidding? His hair's probably the most nutritious thing in here. See, you've reduced me to eating weeds. JILL ... my friend doesn't like it here either. POPE All right, forget this filth. Continue about your friend. JILL Well he's not exactly a friend. POPE Is he an enemy? JILL (laughing) Of course not... he's sort of a boyfriend. POPE -- sort of a boyfriend? JILL Sort of. POPE I see. You mean he just sort of fucks you. JILL Johnny! POPE My God, did I say that? I don't believe it. He looks under his chair to see if it was somebody else. POPE (CONT'D) I'm terribly sorry. JILL (amused) -- never mind. POPE What does he do? Is he an actor? JILL -- no. POPE Good for you. JILL He's a hairdresser. Pope drops his fork in the salad bowl. POPE -- oh, sure. A hairdresser. How... how do you a... meet a hairdresser? JILL Getting your hair done... (looks at him, abruptly) Would you like to go to a party? POPE Not with your hairdresser. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE - FELICIA - DAY pulls into the driveway. She gets out of her car, spots George's bike. INT. THE KITCHEN She sees the food spread out. FELICIA moving through the house. She stops by Lorna's room. Lorna has a sliding door, which is closed. Felicia opens it. FELICIA Lorna? LORNA'S BEDROOM Lorna is sitting on her bed, in her tennis dress but with her tennis shoes off. She's straightening a string in her racket. She looks to her mother, expressionless. FELICIA (CONT'D) Have you seen George? LORNA He's in the bathroom. FELICIA Your bathroom? LORNA Yes. The toilet flushes. The sink runs, and George emerges. He's looking a little haggard. GEORGE Hi. FELICIA (coolly) Hello, George. They walk out to the lanai together and George picks up his case. There is considerable tension from Felicia as they walk into her bedroom. Felicia slides the bedroom door shut, an action which George unhappily notices. She turns to George. She looks very hostile. She's trembling. FELICIA (CONT'D) I've missed you. George is taken aback. He gropes for a moment. GEORGE I've... missed you too. Felicia comes to him. She comes to him and touches his arm. George suddenly flings his case across the room and pounds his fist into a high-backed chair, turning away from Felicia. She clearly misunderstands the action. FELICIA (touched) It's okay, honey... it's okay now. She moves to the door and quietly locks it. George winces. She comes back to him and kisses him gently. She kisses him again with more passion. George tries to respond. FELICIA (CONT'D) Comb my hair out later, honey. GEORGE No, that's okay, I'll do It now. FELICIA No, baby... I'm glad you're coming tonight. She gently tugs at him, leading him toward the bed. George is miserable. GEORGE (looking toward the door) But aren't you... FELICIA Right now, I just don't care. As they sink to the bed, Felicia switches on the HI-FI. The Tijuana Brass begin to play. GEORGE ON HIS BIKE - LATE AFTERNOON COVERED BY a few bars of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". Riding home. He turns down his street and pulls into his driveway. He gets off his bike and only as he starts up his walk does he see Jill. She's been quietly waiting on his front porch, hidden in the shadows of the overhang. She doesn't look happy. George stops cold. GEORGE (?) Jill says nothing. GEORGE (CONT'D) Where's your car? JILL A friend dropped me off. GEORGE Who? JILL Never mind. Where've you been? GEORGE A business meeting, I told you that. They go inside. The living room is messy. George looks around in disgust. JILL What business meeting? GEORGE Look at the way I live. JILL I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. You weren't in the shop. What is this thing tonight? GEORGE What do you mean, what is it? It's some political bullshit. JILL I have to have Jackie ask me? Don't you think you could call me and let me know? Look at my hair. GEORGE Wait a minute, God-damn-it. Do you think I want to go to some God damned party? I'm trying to get that God damned shop open. I'm trying to get a little bread together. That's all I'm doing. George's outburst has shocked Jill. George maniacally begins straightening the mess. GEORGE (CONT'D) I just wanna live like everybody else, that's all. I want clothes in the closet, and food in the refrigerator, and I don't want shit all over the house and running my ass all over town... I want my own house... I want an appointment book... I want to get up in the morning and go to bed at night... I want a normal life like everybody else, that's all. He collapses into a chair. She comes over to him and knee beside him. JILL I know, honey. GEORGE Maybe I should get a dog... no, it would just shit all over the house and I'd never clean it up. JILL (laughing a little, touching him) Oh, honey. If we had one place, we could have a nicer place and I could take care of it. We're almost never here. REAR VIEW MIRROR - NIGHT A signal red Porsche cabriolet pulls up into mirror. The top is down. Under the brightly lit streetlights Jill's blonde hair and features are VISIBLE. WITH GEORGE AND JACKIE in her Mercedes. George still looking through the rear view mirror. Jackie's a knockout. JACKIE (looking at George looking in mirror) -- you'll be the prettiest thing in the room -- light's green... GEORGE (he takes off) -- oh yeah... what do you know about this guy? JACKIE -- what guy? GEORGE (gesturing toward rear window) -- this guy with Jill. JACKIE He's a director. OUTSIDE OF BISTRO - GEORGE AND JOHNNY POPE - NIGHT pull up, Pope right behind George. Parking ATTENDANTS leap for the doors. A few photographers of the movie freak variety ask each other who these arrivals are. One assures several others that they're nobody. GEORGE (to Attendant) Do I need a ticket for this? ATTENDANT We'll remember you. POPE as they move to take his Porsche. POPE (CONT'D) (shaking his head) I'll park it. Pope drives his own car onto the lot. WITH JILL, GEORGE AND JACKIE waiting for Pope who is now ambling toward them. GEORGE (to Jill) What does he direct besides traffic? JILL Ha, ha. GEORGE Television or movies? JILL Commercials. JACKIE (quietly, to George) Feel better? Let's go. Pope has joined them. INT. BISTRO FOYER They clear it to see the long elegant bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. George looks and sees someone. A fortyish WOMAN, attractive. GEORGE (to Jackie) Jesus Christ, there's Norma Stern. Look at her hair. JACKIE What about it? GEORGE Looks like somebody took a dump in it, that's the worst color job I've -- Norma comes over, hugs George. NORMA George -- GEORGE (pointing to her hair) Baby, you've been chippying on me -- NORMA Yes, isn't it awful -- GEORGE (smiling) -- yes. Jackie tugs him by the arm. JACKIE We're upstairs, George. Now come on. Behave yourself, and for Christ's sake, do me a favor. Don't let me drink too much. GEORGE (going upstairs) You don't do that anymore, do you? BISTRO STAIRS Jackie doesn't answer. They've reached the top of the stairs. They're hit by the full force of the upstairs gathering -- black tie, posters of Nixon, Agnew, Reagan, and Murphy, vaguely familiar faces crossing back and forth, clustering, watching early returns on television sets that are blaring from various points around the room. An ORCHESTRA PLAYS Meyer Davis Society Jazz. Jackie and George hesitate. Pope and Jill are behind them. Pope jostles George as he stops, abruptly. George looks around. Pope smiles. He's holding Jill's hand. George notices. Jill disengages her hand casually, as though it were necessary only for the walk up the stairs. Jackie nudges George, forcing him to move into the room with her as Lester comes toward them. He's stopped on his way over. WAITER Can I get you folks something? JILL A stinger, please. POPE A tomato juice. GEORGE I'll take a -- some white wine. WAITER And you, madam? JACKIE (searching the room) Oh I'll uhh -- just a coke. The Waiter moves on and they wait for their drinks. Lester finally makes to them. LESTER George, glad you could make it, son. Hi, doll. JACKIE Lester, this is my friend Jill and this is Johnny Pope. LESTER Glad to meet you, Jill, Mr. Pope. INT. BISTRO UPSTAIRS George turns to get his drink from the Waiter as do Jill and Pope. Lester takes Jackie's arm. LESTER Who are they? JACKIE (quickly) Jill Haynes, Jill Haynes, I've told you about Jill a hundred times, Lester, you never remember anything I say. LESTER Does she know about us? JACKIE Jesus, she's my best friend. LESTER Who's the guy, George's boyfriend? JACKIE I don't know. Why don't you ask him? LESTER C'mon, Jackie, I'm only trying -- George -- He draws George aside. LESTER (CONT'D) -- do me a favor, kind of keep your eye on Jackie, she's a little high strung tonight -- GEORGE -- yeah? LESTER See she doesn't drink too much. Jackie has heard this last. Lester turns to her. LESTER (CONT'D) See you later, doll. Jackie puts down her coke, picks up a glass of white wine from a passing tray and downs it in one gulp, putting it on another tray and picking up another glass of white wine. FELICIA with cleavage carefully prominent in a strapless gown, spots George. She excuses herself from the couple she has been talking with and goes straight to the powder room. INT. POWDER ROOM - FELICIA checks herself out in the mirror, glossing her lips with a pale tint of something or other. She gives a final anxious look, then hurries out, nearly bumping into a lady coming In. OUTSIDE she moves through the crowd up behind George, turning him around. FELICIA George, darling. She kisses him full on the lips, lingering on it. GEORGE (without batting an eye) Hey, baby, what's happening. Oh this is Jackie. Jackie, say hello to Felicia. It is only now that Felicia sees one of George's arms has been holding onto Jackie. JACKIE (also without batting an eye) Hello, Felicia. FELICIA (instantly suspicious of George) ... hello. Felicia looks from George to Jackie and back again. FELICIA (CONT'D) I'm so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you. LESTER pours his drink on the cuff of a distinguished MAN sitting beneath him at a table as he sees George and Felicia and Jackie clustered together. WITH LESTER AND MAN MAN Lester, what the fuck do you think you're doing? LESTER Jesus, Nate, I'm sorry. Lester fumbles, tries to clean Nate off with a napkin. NATE Never mind, I'll do it myself. He dips the napkin into a glass of ice water and proceeds to clean off his cuff. Nate goes back to the TV monitor where Agnew is making some remarks or commentators are repeating his comment about being a household word. LESTER So far so good. NATE Aw there's nothing to worry about. LESTER You never know. FELICIA WITH GEORGE FELICIA Why didn't you come alone? Lester invited you. Did you have to bring her? GEORGE (looking toward Lester) Well she... FELICIA She what? GEORGE She's a friend of Jill's. FELICIA And who's Jill? She spots Jill. GEORGE Well, she's a friend of Johnny Pope's -- you know, the director. She looks at Pope who is saying something to Jill which is making her laugh. FELICIA Oh. GEORGE is threading his way through a crowd, holding two drinks, one of them a coca-cola. It's a little more raucous now, with election returns from the television sets creating a more festive mood. Now and then someone jumps up from a set and hugs someone so carrying drinks is a little dodgy. JACKIE, F.G. - LESTER, B.G., TALKING Jackie sits alone by the bar, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. A man offers her a match. She stares at the burning match as if it's obscene. She blows it out. JACKIE No thanks. The man looks a little shocked, moves on. GEORGE has his arm held. It's KENNETH, a red-haired decorator. KENNETH Excuse me, I know I know you, but I can't think where. GEORGE Look, I'd like to help but -- Felicia grabs George's other arm pulling him away from Kenneth. Kenneth looks a little shocked at the ferocity of Felicia's move. FELICIA There you are. She tugs him with her. GEORGE Wait a minute -- She takes him right into the ladies room, George still juggling the drinks. JOHNNY POPE watches Felicia and George disappear into the ladies room, looking over Jill's shoulder. Jill has not seen it. POPE This other couple that we're here with, do you know them very well? JILL Well... sure... POPE Then maybe you can tell me why George would be going into the ladies room. Jill looks around and stares at the door. JILL George? Was he alone? POPE I don't think so. JILL Well did he go in there with Jackie? Pope points over to Jackie sitting at the bar drinking now. JILL (CONT'D) That bastard. POPE George is a hairdresser, isn't he? Jill doesn't answer. INT. BATHROOM - FELICIA AND GEORGE GEORGE (desperate) Baby, you gotta let me out of here. Felicia kisses him. FELICIA Sweetheart, it's a bore out there... let's lock the door. GEORGE Holy Christ. You want to get us killed? FELICIA Don't be silly. I'll just tell Lester we were smoking a couple of joints. See? She pulls two joints out of her beaded bag. LESTER only a few seats from Jackie, Jackie staring daggers at him, Lester aware of it. He's talking to a pair of lacquered eminence grises. LESTER -- fellas, fellas, just listen, you both have tidelands, you both want Uncle Sam to come through with offshore drilling permits -- so do it together -- JACKIE has taken an olive from an olive tray and hit Lester on the back of the head. He's finished this little dissertation. He sees the source of the missile. He grows pale, frozen. Sixty-four year old bejeweled WOMAN in b.g. WOMAN So, little red riding hood says 'my what big teeth you have and the wolf says all the better to eat you with, my dear, and she says -- eat, eat, eat, doesn't anybody ever fuck any more?' Jackie has now picked up a carrot from a relish tray. George appears. GEORGE Don't do it. JACKIE That son of a bitch, everything he says is a phony piece of shit, what does he think, I'm some cigar butt he's got between his teeth -- GEORGE (almost picking her up) C'mon, cunt, you're going for a walk. He takes her into the next room and Lester watches the move with a mixture of relief and concern. INT. OTHER BAR Jackie is now near tears. JACKIE He just completely ignores me. He could have at least said something, introduced me or something. INT. SMALL BAR GEORGE Sweetheart, you're drunk. She leans on George. JACKIE Oh God, what do I want, George? Lester comes hurrying in, sweating, now. LESTER Hi, doll, what's wrong? JACKIE You know what's wrong. Felicia trips coming into the small bar. FELICIA Lester -- Lester straightens up like he's been shot. LESTER Oh, Felicia, there you are, you know George and uh -- uh -- He's genuinely forgotten her name. JACKIE Jackie Shawn. LESTER Yes, Jackie Shawn, my wi -- Felicia. FELICIA We've met. JACKIE Yes. GEORGE Well anyway... LESTER (to Felicia) Your hair looks -- well fabulous. FELICIA That's George. INT. SMALL BAR LESTER It's just -- fabulous. (to George, an attempt at levity) Think you could do anything for me? GEORGE (he takes it seriously) Well -- I could try. Do you wash your hair every day? LESTER Isn't that bad for it? GEORGE No it keeps the skin peeling. You've got to keep the follicles open. You lose hair and the skin grows over the follicle and that's how you lose it. George actually touches Lester's hair, professional interest growing. GEORGE (CONT'D) This really ought to be layered... LESTER Layered? GEORGE Well yeah, otherwise it just sort, you know, lies there -- layer so it kind of fluffs out -- He starts to fluff Lester's hair a little when Johnny Pope walks in with Jill to this. Pope stares at them. POPE I think they're waiting for somebody to start dinner. LESTER Have they sat down? POPE Everybody but us. FELICIA They're waiting for you, Lester. INT. BISTRO DINNER TABLE Dinner is pretty much finished, waiters have begun picking up plates. IZZY SOKOLOFF (to Jill) I guess it's almost impossible to get work in the business these days. Pope watches Sokoloff make his move. JILL Well, commercials. I read for a soap the other day. IZZY A soap? JILL A daytime soap opera. IZZY And? JILL I was too old. IZZY What was it, somebody's daughter? JILL Somebody's mother. JACKIE'S PLATE is untouched. She holds up her wine glass. JACKIE Waiter! George looks at her. JACKIE (CONT'D) One word out of you and I'll gargle with it. The waiter pours the wine. George looks to Jill, shrugs. Jill mouthes, 'try and stop her.' George mouthes back, 'are you kidding?' INT. BISTRO SID ROTH has been eyeing Jackie. SID ROTH Aren't you hungry, Miss Shawn? Jackie looks at Roth. Roth shoots his cuffs and smiles. JACKIE Not for rubber chicken, no. Sid Roth smiles. Jackie smiles back. SID ROTH (intime) Well maybe I can get you something. JACKIE That's very sweet of you, Mr. Roth. SID ROTH Sid. JACKIE Sid. You must be a very important executive. SID ROTH (almost a whisper) Well, whatever I am, I think I can get you whatever you'd like. JACKIE You do? SID ROTH Yes. JACKIE (same tone as Sid's) -- well, more than anything else -- (indicating George) -- I'd like to suck his cock. She points to George. George chokes on the last of a piece of chicken. Sid Roth is stunned. He doesn't know what to do. George is coughing badly. Jackie slaps his back. HEAD TABLE - FELICIA AND LESTER Felicia is listening to Lester. The Agnew and Nixon posters are directly behind them. LESTER (to East) -- Senator, you should've seen those little kids! About forty of 'em, all blind. We put out these mattresses on the front lawn and they came running out of the house, tripping and falling all over the place, having a hell of a good time. I mean they were blind of course. But it really gave you a feeling of accomplishment. I tell you I never had such a good time. Felicia during the above has looked up to see Jackie fawning over George. She can't believe her eyes. FELICIA Lester -- SENATOR -- let me understand this was exclusively a home for blind children -- FELICIA Lester -- LESTER -- yes, Senator -- just a minute, dear -- FELICIA Lester, don't you think that uhh -- Now Lester spots it. He's very confused. FELICIA (CONT'D) That girl's making an awful spectacle of herself. LESTER (angry himself) What do you expect me to do about it? FELICIA I just thought you'd like to know -- LESTER Why would I like to know if there's nothing I can do about it, goddammit -- OTHER VOICE Quiet! Cranston's on. They quiet down. JACKIE AND GEORGE Jackie's now moving around kissing George on the mouth. Jill is watching. Johnny Pope is fascinated. JILL -- Jackie really shouldn't drink -- POPE -- oh I don't know -- JACKIE (arm around George's shoulders tonguing his ear) -- Just get me out of here, baby. I can't stand it. It's killing me. GEORGE (indicating head table) -- we can't now. JACKIE -- why not? C'mon, take me out of here, somewhere I don't have to lie to anybody and I'll fuck your brains out, you little fiend, I adore you -- FELICIA is watching Jackie and George with ever greater intensity, her mouth growing more and more agape. JACKIE AND GEORGE JACKIE (CONT'D) (plaintive) -- don't you want to -- GEORGE Jackie, can we -- JACKIE (a little louder) Who's the greatest cocksucker in the world? C'mon -- George looks around sweating now. GEORGE (very quietly) -- you are. JACKIE Fuckin' A -- With that she slips right under the table. It's a surprisingly fluid move. FELICIA almost simultaneously rises, knocking her chair back. LESTER sees both moves and interrupts the Senator. LESTER (CONT'D) Senator, excuse me a moment -- He turns to Felicia and then looks over toward Jackie's empty chair and literally doesn't know which way to go first. He's a little like the bear in the penny arcade that is shot and keeps turning one way, then another. Finally he heads toward Jackie's vacant chair and George. GEORGE his chin to the tablecloth is fishing under it for Jackie. GEORGE (CONT'D) Now, Jackie -- JILL (trying for aplomb) -- she's a very compulsive girl. POPE I can see that. Lester rushes up. LESTER (a desperate smile) Hello, George. Your friend feeling a little under the weather? Jackie surfaces through the tablecloth. JACKIE (to Lester) -- you phony asshole -- LESTER (as if he didn't hear it) Oh, dear that's too bad. (with quiet desperation, to George) -- get her out of here, get her out of here. A cheer goes up as some late returns come in. Dirksen is talking about a new mandate for law and order and peace with honor. LESTER (CONT'D) (to Sid) What was that? SID ROTH Illinois. LESTER (doesn't know what he's saying) -- oh, good. INT. BISTRO Lester glances back toward Felicia who is watching him. GEORGE Jackie, c'mon -- George moves to Jill. GEORGE (CONT'D) I've got to get her out of here. JILL -- go ahead. GEORGE -- well aren't you -- JILL -- what? (indicating Pope) -- I'll see you later... GEORGE (not liking it too much) -- okay -- (pointed) -- I'll see you later. Your house. He moves away with Jackie. Lester turns back toward the main table. INT. 230SL - JACKIE AND GEORGE - NIGHT driving down Sunset Boulevard. There is a long moment of silence. The RADIO'S PLAYING the Eve of Destruction. George gives Jackie a couple of sidelong glances. JACKIE (finally) -- gee... GEORGE -- what? JACKIE (she sits up, lights a cigarette) I don't know what gets into me. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE No, I blew it, I blew it with Lester. GEORGE No you didn't. JACKIE You don't think so? I do. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE You always say that... I really care for Lester, don't I? George laughs. GEORGE That sounds like me. JACKIE I am you, you little bastard. She starts to scrunch over and kiss him, then stops. JACKIE(CONT'D) Where do you want to go? GEORGE Sammy's? JACKIE He still having parties? GEORGE He never stopped. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA IS SITTING WITH LESTER fuming. A woman, ROSALIND, is painstakingly and painfully introducing the Senator. ROSALIND ... and so... to have this man... here... among us... who has helped... as has everyone here to bring so many people together... of all races, creeds, and colors... FELICIA AND LESTER Rosalind droning on, b.g. She finally introduces Senator East. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA AND LESTER FELICIA Lester. LESTER Yes, sweetheart, shh. He pats her hand. She gives him a look that could kill. FELICIA -- I hope you like Miss Shawn -- LESTER -- what, who? Oh she's very nice, yes -- I mean normally --- FELICIA -- cause she's going to be very, very expensive. LESTER Can't we go into this later, sweetheart? ROSALIND'S VOICE Ladies and gentlemen, to Senator Joe East. Glasses are raised, a little dissonant hurrah. FELICIA We cannot go into this later. LESTER That's okay too. FELICIA You make me sick. Just be straight for once in your life. There are now O.S. calls for East to do his Indian chant. QUICK CUT TO: EAST SENATOR -- this tells of the ancient grandmother who, upon seeing the garden gate of her childhood, stops a moment and says, hello garden gate, hello garden gate, garden gate, hello. INT. BISTRO - LESTER AND FELICIA LESTER (finally exasperated) -- look, Felicia, this party involves more than you and me, you know. These people are concerned about more than each other, you know. FELICIA -- is that right? LESTER -- yes, we're all trying to do something to make this a better country to live in, believe it or not. THE SENATOR has begun his weird chant, beating out accompaniment on a cigar box and a pewter vase. FELICIA (glancing up) -- is that what this is all about? LESTER Yes and you don't have to be sarcastic about it, that's a beautiful thing he's doing -- some people do more than go to the beauty parlor and shop at Saks -- FELICIA Lester, you're a miserable man. You're not helping anybody. You're just twisting arms to raise money for a lot of silly son of a bitches that are out for themselves -- this

bedroom

How many times the word 'bedroom' appears in the text?

you I was on my way, but the line was busy, you're always on the phone. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE IN BEL AIR - DAY George pulls into the circular driveway. COVERED by a few bars of The Mama's and The Papa's "California Dreamin." There's only one car. George gets off the bike and goes to the door. Nobody answers. He hears the SOUND of a BALL BANGING. He looks toward the tennis court. ON THE COURT - LORNA is banging away on the backboard. There's a basket of balls nearby. She hits with considerable skill and power until she misses the backboard and the ball lodges in the steel mesh surrounding the court. George is standing there. Lorna looks at him. LORNA You here to see my mother? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA She's out, but you're supposed to wait. LORNA WALKING TO GEORGE LORNA (CONT'D) Hungry? GEORGE A little. AT THE KITCHEN TABLE They're eating silently. Lorna has hauled all kinds of food out of the refrigerators. She watches George as he eats with some relish. She gets up and goes to the steel-doored refrigerators. LORNA (indicating refrigerators) This is the one thing I like about this house... want some lox? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA You're my mother's hairdresser? GEORGE (warily) I do her hair, yeah. LORNA Chopped liver? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Are you gay?... baked apple?... they're cold but they're good. GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Did you hear me? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA Well, are you? Are you queer? GEORGE ... yeah. LORNA (laughing) C'mon, are you or aren't you? GEORGE (trying to avoid it) Gee, this is great. He slices a piece of cheesecake. Lorna sits down, in the chair nearest him now. LORNA C'mon, tell me. Don't be afraid. GEORGE Why do you wanna know so bad? LORNA See if you've been making it with my mother. GEORGE (looking at her for a minute, he changes his tone) What would my being a faggot have to do with that? Lorna shrugs. LORNA Nothing, I guess... have you ever made it with a guy? GEORGE Have you ever made it with a girl? LORNA I asked you first. GEORGE Yeah... I've made it with a girl... Lorna smiles. A pause. LORNA Well, are you? GEORGE Am I what? LORNA Making it with my mother? George wants to avoid this at all costs. He stares at Lorna intently. GEORGE I'd like to do your hair sometime. LORNA Why? GEORGE ... just, you could look very heavy... LORNA Don't make conversation with me. GEORGE What? LORNA You don't have to make conversation with me, I'm not my mother... do you have a thing about older women... that's sort of faggoty isn't it? George is weary and getting annoyed. GEORGE Yeah, it is. LORNA I never get my hair done. GEORGE No kidding. LORNA In fact, I don't think I've ever been to a beauty parlor in my whole life. GEORGE No shit. LORNA You think that's funny, don't you? GEORGE (laughing a little) Yeah. LORNA You live a phony cheap cop-out existence. GEORGE (determined to be light) Yeah... LORNA Beverly Hills hairdresser... what kind of a thing is that to do... you might as well be a faggot... think that's funny too? GEORGE No. LORNA Then what do you think? GEORGE That you're just like your mother. LORNA I am not like my mother! GEORGE You are. LORNA I am not! GEORGE You are. Lorna is furious. LORNA I am not! GEORGE (he starts to placate her) Look... (then defiantly) Do you wanna fuck me? LORNA (defiantly) Yeah. George stops eating. He's not prepared for this. GEORGE (uneasily) Right now? LORNA (a little more tentative now that the moment has arrived) Yeah. EXT. SOURCE RESTAURANT - JOHNNY POPE AND JILL - DAY A scraggly bearded WAITER with long stringy hair sets down two huge green salads before Jill and Johnny Pope. In so doing the Waiter drops a wooden menu he's been carrying. As he bends down to pick it up, he kneels beside Pope. Pope taps him on the shoulder. POPE (tapping him) Oh, scraves... WAITER Yes? The Waiter looks up, and moves. POPE Thank you. WAITER What for? POPE Taking your hair out of my salad. WAITER Oh, I'm sorry. Pope nods, Jill giggles. The Waiter goes off. Pope tosses out a few pieces of lettuce from the top of his salad. JILL Why don't you ask for another one? POPE Are you kidding? His hair's probably the most nutritious thing in here. See, you've reduced me to eating weeds. JILL ... my friend doesn't like it here either. POPE All right, forget this filth. Continue about your friend. JILL Well he's not exactly a friend. POPE Is he an enemy? JILL (laughing) Of course not... he's sort of a boyfriend. POPE -- sort of a boyfriend? JILL Sort of. POPE I see. You mean he just sort of fucks you. JILL Johnny! POPE My God, did I say that? I don't believe it. He looks under his chair to see if it was somebody else. POPE (CONT'D) I'm terribly sorry. JILL (amused) -- never mind. POPE What does he do? Is he an actor? JILL -- no. POPE Good for you. JILL He's a hairdresser. Pope drops his fork in the salad bowl. POPE -- oh, sure. A hairdresser. How... how do you a... meet a hairdresser? JILL Getting your hair done... (looks at him, abruptly) Would you like to go to a party? POPE Not with your hairdresser. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE - FELICIA - DAY pulls into the driveway. She gets out of her car, spots George's bike. INT. THE KITCHEN She sees the food spread out. FELICIA moving through the house. She stops by Lorna's room. Lorna has a sliding door, which is closed. Felicia opens it. FELICIA Lorna? LORNA'S BEDROOM Lorna is sitting on her bed, in her tennis dress but with her tennis shoes off. She's straightening a string in her racket. She looks to her mother, expressionless. FELICIA (CONT'D) Have you seen George? LORNA He's in the bathroom. FELICIA Your bathroom? LORNA Yes. The toilet flushes. The sink runs, and George emerges. He's looking a little haggard. GEORGE Hi. FELICIA (coolly) Hello, George. They walk out to the lanai together and George picks up his case. There is considerable tension from Felicia as they walk into her bedroom. Felicia slides the bedroom door shut, an action which George unhappily notices. She turns to George. She looks very hostile. She's trembling. FELICIA (CONT'D) I've missed you. George is taken aback. He gropes for a moment. GEORGE I've... missed you too. Felicia comes to him. She comes to him and touches his arm. George suddenly flings his case across the room and pounds his fist into a high-backed chair, turning away from Felicia. She clearly misunderstands the action. FELICIA (touched) It's okay, honey... it's okay now. She moves to the door and quietly locks it. George winces. She comes back to him and kisses him gently. She kisses him again with more passion. George tries to respond. FELICIA (CONT'D) Comb my hair out later, honey. GEORGE No, that's okay, I'll do It now. FELICIA No, baby... I'm glad you're coming tonight. She gently tugs at him, leading him toward the bed. George is miserable. GEORGE (looking toward the door) But aren't you... FELICIA Right now, I just don't care. As they sink to the bed, Felicia switches on the HI-FI. The Tijuana Brass begin to play. GEORGE ON HIS BIKE - LATE AFTERNOON COVERED BY a few bars of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". Riding home. He turns down his street and pulls into his driveway. He gets off his bike and only as he starts up his walk does he see Jill. She's been quietly waiting on his front porch, hidden in the shadows of the overhang. She doesn't look happy. George stops cold. GEORGE (?) Jill says nothing. GEORGE (CONT'D) Where's your car? JILL A friend dropped me off. GEORGE Who? JILL Never mind. Where've you been? GEORGE A business meeting, I told you that. They go inside. The living room is messy. George looks around in disgust. JILL What business meeting? GEORGE Look at the way I live. JILL I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. You weren't in the shop. What is this thing tonight? GEORGE What do you mean, what is it? It's some political bullshit. JILL I have to have Jackie ask me? Don't you think you could call me and let me know? Look at my hair. GEORGE Wait a minute, God-damn-it. Do you think I want to go to some God damned party? I'm trying to get that God damned shop open. I'm trying to get a little bread together. That's all I'm doing. George's outburst has shocked Jill. George maniacally begins straightening the mess. GEORGE (CONT'D) I just wanna live like everybody else, that's all. I want clothes in the closet, and food in the refrigerator, and I don't want shit all over the house and running my ass all over town... I want my own house... I want an appointment book... I want to get up in the morning and go to bed at night... I want a normal life like everybody else, that's all. He collapses into a chair. She comes over to him and knee beside him. JILL I know, honey. GEORGE Maybe I should get a dog... no, it would just shit all over the house and I'd never clean it up. JILL (laughing a little, touching him) Oh, honey. If we had one place, we could have a nicer place and I could take care of it. We're almost never here. REAR VIEW MIRROR - NIGHT A signal red Porsche cabriolet pulls up into mirror. The top is down. Under the brightly lit streetlights Jill's blonde hair and features are VISIBLE. WITH GEORGE AND JACKIE in her Mercedes. George still looking through the rear view mirror. Jackie's a knockout. JACKIE (looking at George looking in mirror) -- you'll be the prettiest thing in the room -- light's green... GEORGE (he takes off) -- oh yeah... what do you know about this guy? JACKIE -- what guy? GEORGE (gesturing toward rear window) -- this guy with Jill. JACKIE He's a director. OUTSIDE OF BISTRO - GEORGE AND JOHNNY POPE - NIGHT pull up, Pope right behind George. Parking ATTENDANTS leap for the doors. A few photographers of the movie freak variety ask each other who these arrivals are. One assures several others that they're nobody. GEORGE (to Attendant) Do I need a ticket for this? ATTENDANT We'll remember you. POPE as they move to take his Porsche. POPE (CONT'D) (shaking his head) I'll park it. Pope drives his own car onto the lot. WITH JILL, GEORGE AND JACKIE waiting for Pope who is now ambling toward them. GEORGE (to Jill) What does he direct besides traffic? JILL Ha, ha. GEORGE Television or movies? JILL Commercials. JACKIE (quietly, to George) Feel better? Let's go. Pope has joined them. INT. BISTRO FOYER They clear it to see the long elegant bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. George looks and sees someone. A fortyish WOMAN, attractive. GEORGE (to Jackie) Jesus Christ, there's Norma Stern. Look at her hair. JACKIE What about it? GEORGE Looks like somebody took a dump in it, that's the worst color job I've -- Norma comes over, hugs George. NORMA George -- GEORGE (pointing to her hair) Baby, you've been chippying on me -- NORMA Yes, isn't it awful -- GEORGE (smiling) -- yes. Jackie tugs him by the arm. JACKIE We're upstairs, George. Now come on. Behave yourself, and for Christ's sake, do me a favor. Don't let me drink too much. GEORGE (going upstairs) You don't do that anymore, do you? BISTRO STAIRS Jackie doesn't answer. They've reached the top of the stairs. They're hit by the full force of the upstairs gathering -- black tie, posters of Nixon, Agnew, Reagan, and Murphy, vaguely familiar faces crossing back and forth, clustering, watching early returns on television sets that are blaring from various points around the room. An ORCHESTRA PLAYS Meyer Davis Society Jazz. Jackie and George hesitate. Pope and Jill are behind them. Pope jostles George as he stops, abruptly. George looks around. Pope smiles. He's holding Jill's hand. George notices. Jill disengages her hand casually, as though it were necessary only for the walk up the stairs. Jackie nudges George, forcing him to move into the room with her as Lester comes toward them. He's stopped on his way over. WAITER Can I get you folks something? JILL A stinger, please. POPE A tomato juice. GEORGE I'll take a -- some white wine. WAITER And you, madam? JACKIE (searching the room) Oh I'll uhh -- just a coke. The Waiter moves on and they wait for their drinks. Lester finally makes to them. LESTER George, glad you could make it, son. Hi, doll. JACKIE Lester, this is my friend Jill and this is Johnny Pope. LESTER Glad to meet you, Jill, Mr. Pope. INT. BISTRO UPSTAIRS George turns to get his drink from the Waiter as do Jill and Pope. Lester takes Jackie's arm. LESTER Who are they? JACKIE (quickly) Jill Haynes, Jill Haynes, I've told you about Jill a hundred times, Lester, you never remember anything I say. LESTER Does she know about us? JACKIE Jesus, she's my best friend. LESTER Who's the guy, George's boyfriend? JACKIE I don't know. Why don't you ask him? LESTER C'mon, Jackie, I'm only trying -- George -- He draws George aside. LESTER (CONT'D) -- do me a favor, kind of keep your eye on Jackie, she's a little high strung tonight -- GEORGE -- yeah? LESTER See she doesn't drink too much. Jackie has heard this last. Lester turns to her. LESTER (CONT'D) See you later, doll. Jackie puts down her coke, picks up a glass of white wine from a passing tray and downs it in one gulp, putting it on another tray and picking up another glass of white wine. FELICIA with cleavage carefully prominent in a strapless gown, spots George. She excuses herself from the couple she has been talking with and goes straight to the powder room. INT. POWDER ROOM - FELICIA checks herself out in the mirror, glossing her lips with a pale tint of something or other. She gives a final anxious look, then hurries out, nearly bumping into a lady coming In. OUTSIDE she moves through the crowd up behind George, turning him around. FELICIA George, darling. She kisses him full on the lips, lingering on it. GEORGE (without batting an eye) Hey, baby, what's happening. Oh this is Jackie. Jackie, say hello to Felicia. It is only now that Felicia sees one of George's arms has been holding onto Jackie. JACKIE (also without batting an eye) Hello, Felicia. FELICIA (instantly suspicious of George) ... hello. Felicia looks from George to Jackie and back again. FELICIA (CONT'D) I'm so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you. LESTER pours his drink on the cuff of a distinguished MAN sitting beneath him at a table as he sees George and Felicia and Jackie clustered together. WITH LESTER AND MAN MAN Lester, what the fuck do you think you're doing? LESTER Jesus, Nate, I'm sorry. Lester fumbles, tries to clean Nate off with a napkin. NATE Never mind, I'll do it myself. He dips the napkin into a glass of ice water and proceeds to clean off his cuff. Nate goes back to the TV monitor where Agnew is making some remarks or commentators are repeating his comment about being a household word. LESTER So far so good. NATE Aw there's nothing to worry about. LESTER You never know. FELICIA WITH GEORGE FELICIA Why didn't you come alone? Lester invited you. Did you have to bring her? GEORGE (looking toward Lester) Well she... FELICIA She what? GEORGE She's a friend of Jill's. FELICIA And who's Jill? She spots Jill. GEORGE Well, she's a friend of Johnny Pope's -- you know, the director. She looks at Pope who is saying something to Jill which is making her laugh. FELICIA Oh. GEORGE is threading his way through a crowd, holding two drinks, one of them a coca-cola. It's a little more raucous now, with election returns from the television sets creating a more festive mood. Now and then someone jumps up from a set and hugs someone so carrying drinks is a little dodgy. JACKIE, F.G. - LESTER, B.G., TALKING Jackie sits alone by the bar, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. A man offers her a match. She stares at the burning match as if it's obscene. She blows it out. JACKIE No thanks. The man looks a little shocked, moves on. GEORGE has his arm held. It's KENNETH, a red-haired decorator. KENNETH Excuse me, I know I know you, but I can't think where. GEORGE Look, I'd like to help but -- Felicia grabs George's other arm pulling him away from Kenneth. Kenneth looks a little shocked at the ferocity of Felicia's move. FELICIA There you are. She tugs him with her. GEORGE Wait a minute -- She takes him right into the ladies room, George still juggling the drinks. JOHNNY POPE watches Felicia and George disappear into the ladies room, looking over Jill's shoulder. Jill has not seen it. POPE This other couple that we're here with, do you know them very well? JILL Well... sure... POPE Then maybe you can tell me why George would be going into the ladies room. Jill looks around and stares at the door. JILL George? Was he alone? POPE I don't think so. JILL Well did he go in there with Jackie? Pope points over to Jackie sitting at the bar drinking now. JILL (CONT'D) That bastard. POPE George is a hairdresser, isn't he? Jill doesn't answer. INT. BATHROOM - FELICIA AND GEORGE GEORGE (desperate) Baby, you gotta let me out of here. Felicia kisses him. FELICIA Sweetheart, it's a bore out there... let's lock the door. GEORGE Holy Christ. You want to get us killed? FELICIA Don't be silly. I'll just tell Lester we were smoking a couple of joints. See? She pulls two joints out of her beaded bag. LESTER only a few seats from Jackie, Jackie staring daggers at him, Lester aware of it. He's talking to a pair of lacquered eminence grises. LESTER -- fellas, fellas, just listen, you both have tidelands, you both want Uncle Sam to come through with offshore drilling permits -- so do it together -- JACKIE has taken an olive from an olive tray and hit Lester on the back of the head. He's finished this little dissertation. He sees the source of the missile. He grows pale, frozen. Sixty-four year old bejeweled WOMAN in b.g. WOMAN So, little red riding hood says 'my what big teeth you have and the wolf says all the better to eat you with, my dear, and she says -- eat, eat, eat, doesn't anybody ever fuck any more?' Jackie has now picked up a carrot from a relish tray. George appears. GEORGE Don't do it. JACKIE That son of a bitch, everything he says is a phony piece of shit, what does he think, I'm some cigar butt he's got between his teeth -- GEORGE (almost picking her up) C'mon, cunt, you're going for a walk. He takes her into the next room and Lester watches the move with a mixture of relief and concern. INT. OTHER BAR Jackie is now near tears. JACKIE He just completely ignores me. He could have at least said something, introduced me or something. INT. SMALL BAR GEORGE Sweetheart, you're drunk. She leans on George. JACKIE Oh God, what do I want, George? Lester comes hurrying in, sweating, now. LESTER Hi, doll, what's wrong? JACKIE You know what's wrong. Felicia trips coming into the small bar. FELICIA Lester -- Lester straightens up like he's been shot. LESTER Oh, Felicia, there you are, you know George and uh -- uh -- He's genuinely forgotten her name. JACKIE Jackie Shawn. LESTER Yes, Jackie Shawn, my wi -- Felicia. FELICIA We've met. JACKIE Yes. GEORGE Well anyway... LESTER (to Felicia) Your hair looks -- well fabulous. FELICIA That's George. INT. SMALL BAR LESTER It's just -- fabulous. (to George, an attempt at levity) Think you could do anything for me? GEORGE (he takes it seriously) Well -- I could try. Do you wash your hair every day? LESTER Isn't that bad for it? GEORGE No it keeps the skin peeling. You've got to keep the follicles open. You lose hair and the skin grows over the follicle and that's how you lose it. George actually touches Lester's hair, professional interest growing. GEORGE (CONT'D) This really ought to be layered... LESTER Layered? GEORGE Well yeah, otherwise it just sort, you know, lies there -- layer so it kind of fluffs out -- He starts to fluff Lester's hair a little when Johnny Pope walks in with Jill to this. Pope stares at them. POPE I think they're waiting for somebody to start dinner. LESTER Have they sat down? POPE Everybody but us. FELICIA They're waiting for you, Lester. INT. BISTRO DINNER TABLE Dinner is pretty much finished, waiters have begun picking up plates. IZZY SOKOLOFF (to Jill) I guess it's almost impossible to get work in the business these days. Pope watches Sokoloff make his move. JILL Well, commercials. I read for a soap the other day. IZZY A soap? JILL A daytime soap opera. IZZY And? JILL I was too old. IZZY What was it, somebody's daughter? JILL Somebody's mother. JACKIE'S PLATE is untouched. She holds up her wine glass. JACKIE Waiter! George looks at her. JACKIE (CONT'D) One word out of you and I'll gargle with it. The waiter pours the wine. George looks to Jill, shrugs. Jill mouthes, 'try and stop her.' George mouthes back, 'are you kidding?' INT. BISTRO SID ROTH has been eyeing Jackie. SID ROTH Aren't you hungry, Miss Shawn? Jackie looks at Roth. Roth shoots his cuffs and smiles. JACKIE Not for rubber chicken, no. Sid Roth smiles. Jackie smiles back. SID ROTH (intime) Well maybe I can get you something. JACKIE That's very sweet of you, Mr. Roth. SID ROTH Sid. JACKIE Sid. You must be a very important executive. SID ROTH (almost a whisper) Well, whatever I am, I think I can get you whatever you'd like. JACKIE You do? SID ROTH Yes. JACKIE (same tone as Sid's) -- well, more than anything else -- (indicating George) -- I'd like to suck his cock. She points to George. George chokes on the last of a piece of chicken. Sid Roth is stunned. He doesn't know what to do. George is coughing badly. Jackie slaps his back. HEAD TABLE - FELICIA AND LESTER Felicia is listening to Lester. The Agnew and Nixon posters are directly behind them. LESTER (to East) -- Senator, you should've seen those little kids! About forty of 'em, all blind. We put out these mattresses on the front lawn and they came running out of the house, tripping and falling all over the place, having a hell of a good time. I mean they were blind of course. But it really gave you a feeling of accomplishment. I tell you I never had such a good time. Felicia during the above has looked up to see Jackie fawning over George. She can't believe her eyes. FELICIA Lester -- SENATOR -- let me understand this was exclusively a home for blind children -- FELICIA Lester -- LESTER -- yes, Senator -- just a minute, dear -- FELICIA Lester, don't you think that uhh -- Now Lester spots it. He's very confused. FELICIA (CONT'D) That girl's making an awful spectacle of herself. LESTER (angry himself) What do you expect me to do about it? FELICIA I just thought you'd like to know -- LESTER Why would I like to know if there's nothing I can do about it, goddammit -- OTHER VOICE Quiet! Cranston's on. They quiet down. JACKIE AND GEORGE Jackie's now moving around kissing George on the mouth. Jill is watching. Johnny Pope is fascinated. JILL -- Jackie really shouldn't drink -- POPE -- oh I don't know -- JACKIE (arm around George's shoulders tonguing his ear) -- Just get me out of here, baby. I can't stand it. It's killing me. GEORGE (indicating head table) -- we can't now. JACKIE -- why not? C'mon, take me out of here, somewhere I don't have to lie to anybody and I'll fuck your brains out, you little fiend, I adore you -- FELICIA is watching Jackie and George with ever greater intensity, her mouth growing more and more agape. JACKIE AND GEORGE JACKIE (CONT'D) (plaintive) -- don't you want to -- GEORGE Jackie, can we -- JACKIE (a little louder) Who's the greatest cocksucker in the world? C'mon -- George looks around sweating now. GEORGE (very quietly) -- you are. JACKIE Fuckin' A -- With that she slips right under the table. It's a surprisingly fluid move. FELICIA almost simultaneously rises, knocking her chair back. LESTER sees both moves and interrupts the Senator. LESTER (CONT'D) Senator, excuse me a moment -- He turns to Felicia and then looks over toward Jackie's empty chair and literally doesn't know which way to go first. He's a little like the bear in the penny arcade that is shot and keeps turning one way, then another. Finally he heads toward Jackie's vacant chair and George. GEORGE his chin to the tablecloth is fishing under it for Jackie. GEORGE (CONT'D) Now, Jackie -- JILL (trying for aplomb) -- she's a very compulsive girl. POPE I can see that. Lester rushes up. LESTER (a desperate smile) Hello, George. Your friend feeling a little under the weather? Jackie surfaces through the tablecloth. JACKIE (to Lester) -- you phony asshole -- LESTER (as if he didn't hear it) Oh, dear that's too bad. (with quiet desperation, to George) -- get her out of here, get her out of here. A cheer goes up as some late returns come in. Dirksen is talking about a new mandate for law and order and peace with honor. LESTER (CONT'D) (to Sid) What was that? SID ROTH Illinois. LESTER (doesn't know what he's saying) -- oh, good. INT. BISTRO Lester glances back toward Felicia who is watching him. GEORGE Jackie, c'mon -- George moves to Jill. GEORGE (CONT'D) I've got to get her out of here. JILL -- go ahead. GEORGE -- well aren't you -- JILL -- what? (indicating Pope) -- I'll see you later... GEORGE (not liking it too much) -- okay -- (pointed) -- I'll see you later. Your house. He moves away with Jackie. Lester turns back toward the main table. INT. 230SL - JACKIE AND GEORGE - NIGHT driving down Sunset Boulevard. There is a long moment of silence. The RADIO'S PLAYING the Eve of Destruction. George gives Jackie a couple of sidelong glances. JACKIE (finally) -- gee... GEORGE -- what? JACKIE (she sits up, lights a cigarette) I don't know what gets into me. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE No, I blew it, I blew it with Lester. GEORGE No you didn't. JACKIE You don't think so? I do. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE You always say that... I really care for Lester, don't I? George laughs. GEORGE That sounds like me. JACKIE I am you, you little bastard. She starts to scrunch over and kiss him, then stops. JACKIE(CONT'D) Where do you want to go? GEORGE Sammy's? JACKIE He still having parties? GEORGE He never stopped. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA IS SITTING WITH LESTER fuming. A woman, ROSALIND, is painstakingly and painfully introducing the Senator. ROSALIND ... and so... to have this man... here... among us... who has helped... as has everyone here to bring so many people together... of all races, creeds, and colors... FELICIA AND LESTER Rosalind droning on, b.g. She finally introduces Senator East. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA AND LESTER FELICIA Lester. LESTER Yes, sweetheart, shh. He pats her hand. She gives him a look that could kill. FELICIA -- I hope you like Miss Shawn -- LESTER -- what, who? Oh she's very nice, yes -- I mean normally --- FELICIA -- cause she's going to be very, very expensive. LESTER Can't we go into this later, sweetheart? ROSALIND'S VOICE Ladies and gentlemen, to Senator Joe East. Glasses are raised, a little dissonant hurrah. FELICIA We cannot go into this later. LESTER That's okay too. FELICIA You make me sick. Just be straight for once in your life. There are now O.S. calls for East to do his Indian chant. QUICK CUT TO: EAST SENATOR -- this tells of the ancient grandmother who, upon seeing the garden gate of her childhood, stops a moment and says, hello garden gate, hello garden gate, garden gate, hello. INT. BISTRO - LESTER AND FELICIA LESTER (finally exasperated) -- look, Felicia, this party involves more than you and me, you know. These people are concerned about more than each other, you know. FELICIA -- is that right? LESTER -- yes, we're all trying to do something to make this a better country to live in, believe it or not. THE SENATOR has begun his weird chant, beating out accompaniment on a cigar box and a pewter vase. FELICIA (glancing up) -- is that what this is all about? LESTER Yes and you don't have to be sarcastic about it, that's a beautiful thing he's doing -- some people do more than go to the beauty parlor and shop at Saks -- FELICIA Lester, you're a miserable man. You're not helping anybody. You're just twisting arms to raise money for a lot of silly son of a bitches that are out for themselves -- this

made

How many times the word 'made' appears in the text?

you I was on my way, but the line was busy, you're always on the phone. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE IN BEL AIR - DAY George pulls into the circular driveway. COVERED by a few bars of The Mama's and The Papa's "California Dreamin." There's only one car. George gets off the bike and goes to the door. Nobody answers. He hears the SOUND of a BALL BANGING. He looks toward the tennis court. ON THE COURT - LORNA is banging away on the backboard. There's a basket of balls nearby. She hits with considerable skill and power until she misses the backboard and the ball lodges in the steel mesh surrounding the court. George is standing there. Lorna looks at him. LORNA You here to see my mother? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA She's out, but you're supposed to wait. LORNA WALKING TO GEORGE LORNA (CONT'D) Hungry? GEORGE A little. AT THE KITCHEN TABLE They're eating silently. Lorna has hauled all kinds of food out of the refrigerators. She watches George as he eats with some relish. She gets up and goes to the steel-doored refrigerators. LORNA (indicating refrigerators) This is the one thing I like about this house... want some lox? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA You're my mother's hairdresser? GEORGE (warily) I do her hair, yeah. LORNA Chopped liver? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Are you gay?... baked apple?... they're cold but they're good. GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Did you hear me? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA Well, are you? Are you queer? GEORGE ... yeah. LORNA (laughing) C'mon, are you or aren't you? GEORGE (trying to avoid it) Gee, this is great. He slices a piece of cheesecake. Lorna sits down, in the chair nearest him now. LORNA C'mon, tell me. Don't be afraid. GEORGE Why do you wanna know so bad? LORNA See if you've been making it with my mother. GEORGE (looking at her for a minute, he changes his tone) What would my being a faggot have to do with that? Lorna shrugs. LORNA Nothing, I guess... have you ever made it with a guy? GEORGE Have you ever made it with a girl? LORNA I asked you first. GEORGE Yeah... I've made it with a girl... Lorna smiles. A pause. LORNA Well, are you? GEORGE Am I what? LORNA Making it with my mother? George wants to avoid this at all costs. He stares at Lorna intently. GEORGE I'd like to do your hair sometime. LORNA Why? GEORGE ... just, you could look very heavy... LORNA Don't make conversation with me. GEORGE What? LORNA You don't have to make conversation with me, I'm not my mother... do you have a thing about older women... that's sort of faggoty isn't it? George is weary and getting annoyed. GEORGE Yeah, it is. LORNA I never get my hair done. GEORGE No kidding. LORNA In fact, I don't think I've ever been to a beauty parlor in my whole life. GEORGE No shit. LORNA You think that's funny, don't you? GEORGE (laughing a little) Yeah. LORNA You live a phony cheap cop-out existence. GEORGE (determined to be light) Yeah... LORNA Beverly Hills hairdresser... what kind of a thing is that to do... you might as well be a faggot... think that's funny too? GEORGE No. LORNA Then what do you think? GEORGE That you're just like your mother. LORNA I am not like my mother! GEORGE You are. LORNA I am not! GEORGE You are. Lorna is furious. LORNA I am not! GEORGE (he starts to placate her) Look... (then defiantly) Do you wanna fuck me? LORNA (defiantly) Yeah. George stops eating. He's not prepared for this. GEORGE (uneasily) Right now? LORNA (a little more tentative now that the moment has arrived) Yeah. EXT. SOURCE RESTAURANT - JOHNNY POPE AND JILL - DAY A scraggly bearded WAITER with long stringy hair sets down two huge green salads before Jill and Johnny Pope. In so doing the Waiter drops a wooden menu he's been carrying. As he bends down to pick it up, he kneels beside Pope. Pope taps him on the shoulder. POPE (tapping him) Oh, scraves... WAITER Yes? The Waiter looks up, and moves. POPE Thank you. WAITER What for? POPE Taking your hair out of my salad. WAITER Oh, I'm sorry. Pope nods, Jill giggles. The Waiter goes off. Pope tosses out a few pieces of lettuce from the top of his salad. JILL Why don't you ask for another one? POPE Are you kidding? His hair's probably the most nutritious thing in here. See, you've reduced me to eating weeds. JILL ... my friend doesn't like it here either. POPE All right, forget this filth. Continue about your friend. JILL Well he's not exactly a friend. POPE Is he an enemy? JILL (laughing) Of course not... he's sort of a boyfriend. POPE -- sort of a boyfriend? JILL Sort of. POPE I see. You mean he just sort of fucks you. JILL Johnny! POPE My God, did I say that? I don't believe it. He looks under his chair to see if it was somebody else. POPE (CONT'D) I'm terribly sorry. JILL (amused) -- never mind. POPE What does he do? Is he an actor? JILL -- no. POPE Good for you. JILL He's a hairdresser. Pope drops his fork in the salad bowl. POPE -- oh, sure. A hairdresser. How... how do you a... meet a hairdresser? JILL Getting your hair done... (looks at him, abruptly) Would you like to go to a party? POPE Not with your hairdresser. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE - FELICIA - DAY pulls into the driveway. She gets out of her car, spots George's bike. INT. THE KITCHEN She sees the food spread out. FELICIA moving through the house. She stops by Lorna's room. Lorna has a sliding door, which is closed. Felicia opens it. FELICIA Lorna? LORNA'S BEDROOM Lorna is sitting on her bed, in her tennis dress but with her tennis shoes off. She's straightening a string in her racket. She looks to her mother, expressionless. FELICIA (CONT'D) Have you seen George? LORNA He's in the bathroom. FELICIA Your bathroom? LORNA Yes. The toilet flushes. The sink runs, and George emerges. He's looking a little haggard. GEORGE Hi. FELICIA (coolly) Hello, George. They walk out to the lanai together and George picks up his case. There is considerable tension from Felicia as they walk into her bedroom. Felicia slides the bedroom door shut, an action which George unhappily notices. She turns to George. She looks very hostile. She's trembling. FELICIA (CONT'D) I've missed you. George is taken aback. He gropes for a moment. GEORGE I've... missed you too. Felicia comes to him. She comes to him and touches his arm. George suddenly flings his case across the room and pounds his fist into a high-backed chair, turning away from Felicia. She clearly misunderstands the action. FELICIA (touched) It's okay, honey... it's okay now. She moves to the door and quietly locks it. George winces. She comes back to him and kisses him gently. She kisses him again with more passion. George tries to respond. FELICIA (CONT'D) Comb my hair out later, honey. GEORGE No, that's okay, I'll do It now. FELICIA No, baby... I'm glad you're coming tonight. She gently tugs at him, leading him toward the bed. George is miserable. GEORGE (looking toward the door) But aren't you... FELICIA Right now, I just don't care. As they sink to the bed, Felicia switches on the HI-FI. The Tijuana Brass begin to play. GEORGE ON HIS BIKE - LATE AFTERNOON COVERED BY a few bars of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". Riding home. He turns down his street and pulls into his driveway. He gets off his bike and only as he starts up his walk does he see Jill. She's been quietly waiting on his front porch, hidden in the shadows of the overhang. She doesn't look happy. George stops cold. GEORGE (?) Jill says nothing. GEORGE (CONT'D) Where's your car? JILL A friend dropped me off. GEORGE Who? JILL Never mind. Where've you been? GEORGE A business meeting, I told you that. They go inside. The living room is messy. George looks around in disgust. JILL What business meeting? GEORGE Look at the way I live. JILL I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. You weren't in the shop. What is this thing tonight? GEORGE What do you mean, what is it? It's some political bullshit. JILL I have to have Jackie ask me? Don't you think you could call me and let me know? Look at my hair. GEORGE Wait a minute, God-damn-it. Do you think I want to go to some God damned party? I'm trying to get that God damned shop open. I'm trying to get a little bread together. That's all I'm doing. George's outburst has shocked Jill. George maniacally begins straightening the mess. GEORGE (CONT'D) I just wanna live like everybody else, that's all. I want clothes in the closet, and food in the refrigerator, and I don't want shit all over the house and running my ass all over town... I want my own house... I want an appointment book... I want to get up in the morning and go to bed at night... I want a normal life like everybody else, that's all. He collapses into a chair. She comes over to him and knee beside him. JILL I know, honey. GEORGE Maybe I should get a dog... no, it would just shit all over the house and I'd never clean it up. JILL (laughing a little, touching him) Oh, honey. If we had one place, we could have a nicer place and I could take care of it. We're almost never here. REAR VIEW MIRROR - NIGHT A signal red Porsche cabriolet pulls up into mirror. The top is down. Under the brightly lit streetlights Jill's blonde hair and features are VISIBLE. WITH GEORGE AND JACKIE in her Mercedes. George still looking through the rear view mirror. Jackie's a knockout. JACKIE (looking at George looking in mirror) -- you'll be the prettiest thing in the room -- light's green... GEORGE (he takes off) -- oh yeah... what do you know about this guy? JACKIE -- what guy? GEORGE (gesturing toward rear window) -- this guy with Jill. JACKIE He's a director. OUTSIDE OF BISTRO - GEORGE AND JOHNNY POPE - NIGHT pull up, Pope right behind George. Parking ATTENDANTS leap for the doors. A few photographers of the movie freak variety ask each other who these arrivals are. One assures several others that they're nobody. GEORGE (to Attendant) Do I need a ticket for this? ATTENDANT We'll remember you. POPE as they move to take his Porsche. POPE (CONT'D) (shaking his head) I'll park it. Pope drives his own car onto the lot. WITH JILL, GEORGE AND JACKIE waiting for Pope who is now ambling toward them. GEORGE (to Jill) What does he direct besides traffic? JILL Ha, ha. GEORGE Television or movies? JILL Commercials. JACKIE (quietly, to George) Feel better? Let's go. Pope has joined them. INT. BISTRO FOYER They clear it to see the long elegant bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. George looks and sees someone. A fortyish WOMAN, attractive. GEORGE (to Jackie) Jesus Christ, there's Norma Stern. Look at her hair. JACKIE What about it? GEORGE Looks like somebody took a dump in it, that's the worst color job I've -- Norma comes over, hugs George. NORMA George -- GEORGE (pointing to her hair) Baby, you've been chippying on me -- NORMA Yes, isn't it awful -- GEORGE (smiling) -- yes. Jackie tugs him by the arm. JACKIE We're upstairs, George. Now come on. Behave yourself, and for Christ's sake, do me a favor. Don't let me drink too much. GEORGE (going upstairs) You don't do that anymore, do you? BISTRO STAIRS Jackie doesn't answer. They've reached the top of the stairs. They're hit by the full force of the upstairs gathering -- black tie, posters of Nixon, Agnew, Reagan, and Murphy, vaguely familiar faces crossing back and forth, clustering, watching early returns on television sets that are blaring from various points around the room. An ORCHESTRA PLAYS Meyer Davis Society Jazz. Jackie and George hesitate. Pope and Jill are behind them. Pope jostles George as he stops, abruptly. George looks around. Pope smiles. He's holding Jill's hand. George notices. Jill disengages her hand casually, as though it were necessary only for the walk up the stairs. Jackie nudges George, forcing him to move into the room with her as Lester comes toward them. He's stopped on his way over. WAITER Can I get you folks something? JILL A stinger, please. POPE A tomato juice. GEORGE I'll take a -- some white wine. WAITER And you, madam? JACKIE (searching the room) Oh I'll uhh -- just a coke. The Waiter moves on and they wait for their drinks. Lester finally makes to them. LESTER George, glad you could make it, son. Hi, doll. JACKIE Lester, this is my friend Jill and this is Johnny Pope. LESTER Glad to meet you, Jill, Mr. Pope. INT. BISTRO UPSTAIRS George turns to get his drink from the Waiter as do Jill and Pope. Lester takes Jackie's arm. LESTER Who are they? JACKIE (quickly) Jill Haynes, Jill Haynes, I've told you about Jill a hundred times, Lester, you never remember anything I say. LESTER Does she know about us? JACKIE Jesus, she's my best friend. LESTER Who's the guy, George's boyfriend? JACKIE I don't know. Why don't you ask him? LESTER C'mon, Jackie, I'm only trying -- George -- He draws George aside. LESTER (CONT'D) -- do me a favor, kind of keep your eye on Jackie, she's a little high strung tonight -- GEORGE -- yeah? LESTER See she doesn't drink too much. Jackie has heard this last. Lester turns to her. LESTER (CONT'D) See you later, doll. Jackie puts down her coke, picks up a glass of white wine from a passing tray and downs it in one gulp, putting it on another tray and picking up another glass of white wine. FELICIA with cleavage carefully prominent in a strapless gown, spots George. She excuses herself from the couple she has been talking with and goes straight to the powder room. INT. POWDER ROOM - FELICIA checks herself out in the mirror, glossing her lips with a pale tint of something or other. She gives a final anxious look, then hurries out, nearly bumping into a lady coming In. OUTSIDE she moves through the crowd up behind George, turning him around. FELICIA George, darling. She kisses him full on the lips, lingering on it. GEORGE (without batting an eye) Hey, baby, what's happening. Oh this is Jackie. Jackie, say hello to Felicia. It is only now that Felicia sees one of George's arms has been holding onto Jackie. JACKIE (also without batting an eye) Hello, Felicia. FELICIA (instantly suspicious of George) ... hello. Felicia looks from George to Jackie and back again. FELICIA (CONT'D) I'm so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you. LESTER pours his drink on the cuff of a distinguished MAN sitting beneath him at a table as he sees George and Felicia and Jackie clustered together. WITH LESTER AND MAN MAN Lester, what the fuck do you think you're doing? LESTER Jesus, Nate, I'm sorry. Lester fumbles, tries to clean Nate off with a napkin. NATE Never mind, I'll do it myself. He dips the napkin into a glass of ice water and proceeds to clean off his cuff. Nate goes back to the TV monitor where Agnew is making some remarks or commentators are repeating his comment about being a household word. LESTER So far so good. NATE Aw there's nothing to worry about. LESTER You never know. FELICIA WITH GEORGE FELICIA Why didn't you come alone? Lester invited you. Did you have to bring her? GEORGE (looking toward Lester) Well she... FELICIA She what? GEORGE She's a friend of Jill's. FELICIA And who's Jill? She spots Jill. GEORGE Well, she's a friend of Johnny Pope's -- you know, the director. She looks at Pope who is saying something to Jill which is making her laugh. FELICIA Oh. GEORGE is threading his way through a crowd, holding two drinks, one of them a coca-cola. It's a little more raucous now, with election returns from the television sets creating a more festive mood. Now and then someone jumps up from a set and hugs someone so carrying drinks is a little dodgy. JACKIE, F.G. - LESTER, B.G., TALKING Jackie sits alone by the bar, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. A man offers her a match. She stares at the burning match as if it's obscene. She blows it out. JACKIE No thanks. The man looks a little shocked, moves on. GEORGE has his arm held. It's KENNETH, a red-haired decorator. KENNETH Excuse me, I know I know you, but I can't think where. GEORGE Look, I'd like to help but -- Felicia grabs George's other arm pulling him away from Kenneth. Kenneth looks a little shocked at the ferocity of Felicia's move. FELICIA There you are. She tugs him with her. GEORGE Wait a minute -- She takes him right into the ladies room, George still juggling the drinks. JOHNNY POPE watches Felicia and George disappear into the ladies room, looking over Jill's shoulder. Jill has not seen it. POPE This other couple that we're here with, do you know them very well? JILL Well... sure... POPE Then maybe you can tell me why George would be going into the ladies room. Jill looks around and stares at the door. JILL George? Was he alone? POPE I don't think so. JILL Well did he go in there with Jackie? Pope points over to Jackie sitting at the bar drinking now. JILL (CONT'D) That bastard. POPE George is a hairdresser, isn't he? Jill doesn't answer. INT. BATHROOM - FELICIA AND GEORGE GEORGE (desperate) Baby, you gotta let me out of here. Felicia kisses him. FELICIA Sweetheart, it's a bore out there... let's lock the door. GEORGE Holy Christ. You want to get us killed? FELICIA Don't be silly. I'll just tell Lester we were smoking a couple of joints. See? She pulls two joints out of her beaded bag. LESTER only a few seats from Jackie, Jackie staring daggers at him, Lester aware of it. He's talking to a pair of lacquered eminence grises. LESTER -- fellas, fellas, just listen, you both have tidelands, you both want Uncle Sam to come through with offshore drilling permits -- so do it together -- JACKIE has taken an olive from an olive tray and hit Lester on the back of the head. He's finished this little dissertation. He sees the source of the missile. He grows pale, frozen. Sixty-four year old bejeweled WOMAN in b.g. WOMAN So, little red riding hood says 'my what big teeth you have and the wolf says all the better to eat you with, my dear, and she says -- eat, eat, eat, doesn't anybody ever fuck any more?' Jackie has now picked up a carrot from a relish tray. George appears. GEORGE Don't do it. JACKIE That son of a bitch, everything he says is a phony piece of shit, what does he think, I'm some cigar butt he's got between his teeth -- GEORGE (almost picking her up) C'mon, cunt, you're going for a walk. He takes her into the next room and Lester watches the move with a mixture of relief and concern. INT. OTHER BAR Jackie is now near tears. JACKIE He just completely ignores me. He could have at least said something, introduced me or something. INT. SMALL BAR GEORGE Sweetheart, you're drunk. She leans on George. JACKIE Oh God, what do I want, George? Lester comes hurrying in, sweating, now. LESTER Hi, doll, what's wrong? JACKIE You know what's wrong. Felicia trips coming into the small bar. FELICIA Lester -- Lester straightens up like he's been shot. LESTER Oh, Felicia, there you are, you know George and uh -- uh -- He's genuinely forgotten her name. JACKIE Jackie Shawn. LESTER Yes, Jackie Shawn, my wi -- Felicia. FELICIA We've met. JACKIE Yes. GEORGE Well anyway... LESTER (to Felicia) Your hair looks -- well fabulous. FELICIA That's George. INT. SMALL BAR LESTER It's just -- fabulous. (to George, an attempt at levity) Think you could do anything for me? GEORGE (he takes it seriously) Well -- I could try. Do you wash your hair every day? LESTER Isn't that bad for it? GEORGE No it keeps the skin peeling. You've got to keep the follicles open. You lose hair and the skin grows over the follicle and that's how you lose it. George actually touches Lester's hair, professional interest growing. GEORGE (CONT'D) This really ought to be layered... LESTER Layered? GEORGE Well yeah, otherwise it just sort, you know, lies there -- layer so it kind of fluffs out -- He starts to fluff Lester's hair a little when Johnny Pope walks in with Jill to this. Pope stares at them. POPE I think they're waiting for somebody to start dinner. LESTER Have they sat down? POPE Everybody but us. FELICIA They're waiting for you, Lester. INT. BISTRO DINNER TABLE Dinner is pretty much finished, waiters have begun picking up plates. IZZY SOKOLOFF (to Jill) I guess it's almost impossible to get work in the business these days. Pope watches Sokoloff make his move. JILL Well, commercials. I read for a soap the other day. IZZY A soap? JILL A daytime soap opera. IZZY And? JILL I was too old. IZZY What was it, somebody's daughter? JILL Somebody's mother. JACKIE'S PLATE is untouched. She holds up her wine glass. JACKIE Waiter! George looks at her. JACKIE (CONT'D) One word out of you and I'll gargle with it. The waiter pours the wine. George looks to Jill, shrugs. Jill mouthes, 'try and stop her.' George mouthes back, 'are you kidding?' INT. BISTRO SID ROTH has been eyeing Jackie. SID ROTH Aren't you hungry, Miss Shawn? Jackie looks at Roth. Roth shoots his cuffs and smiles. JACKIE Not for rubber chicken, no. Sid Roth smiles. Jackie smiles back. SID ROTH (intime) Well maybe I can get you something. JACKIE That's very sweet of you, Mr. Roth. SID ROTH Sid. JACKIE Sid. You must be a very important executive. SID ROTH (almost a whisper) Well, whatever I am, I think I can get you whatever you'd like. JACKIE You do? SID ROTH Yes. JACKIE (same tone as Sid's) -- well, more than anything else -- (indicating George) -- I'd like to suck his cock. She points to George. George chokes on the last of a piece of chicken. Sid Roth is stunned. He doesn't know what to do. George is coughing badly. Jackie slaps his back. HEAD TABLE - FELICIA AND LESTER Felicia is listening to Lester. The Agnew and Nixon posters are directly behind them. LESTER (to East) -- Senator, you should've seen those little kids! About forty of 'em, all blind. We put out these mattresses on the front lawn and they came running out of the house, tripping and falling all over the place, having a hell of a good time. I mean they were blind of course. But it really gave you a feeling of accomplishment. I tell you I never had such a good time. Felicia during the above has looked up to see Jackie fawning over George. She can't believe her eyes. FELICIA Lester -- SENATOR -- let me understand this was exclusively a home for blind children -- FELICIA Lester -- LESTER -- yes, Senator -- just a minute, dear -- FELICIA Lester, don't you think that uhh -- Now Lester spots it. He's very confused. FELICIA (CONT'D) That girl's making an awful spectacle of herself. LESTER (angry himself) What do you expect me to do about it? FELICIA I just thought you'd like to know -- LESTER Why would I like to know if there's nothing I can do about it, goddammit -- OTHER VOICE Quiet! Cranston's on. They quiet down. JACKIE AND GEORGE Jackie's now moving around kissing George on the mouth. Jill is watching. Johnny Pope is fascinated. JILL -- Jackie really shouldn't drink -- POPE -- oh I don't know -- JACKIE (arm around George's shoulders tonguing his ear) -- Just get me out of here, baby. I can't stand it. It's killing me. GEORGE (indicating head table) -- we can't now. JACKIE -- why not? C'mon, take me out of here, somewhere I don't have to lie to anybody and I'll fuck your brains out, you little fiend, I adore you -- FELICIA is watching Jackie and George with ever greater intensity, her mouth growing more and more agape. JACKIE AND GEORGE JACKIE (CONT'D) (plaintive) -- don't you want to -- GEORGE Jackie, can we -- JACKIE (a little louder) Who's the greatest cocksucker in the world? C'mon -- George looks around sweating now. GEORGE (very quietly) -- you are. JACKIE Fuckin' A -- With that she slips right under the table. It's a surprisingly fluid move. FELICIA almost simultaneously rises, knocking her chair back. LESTER sees both moves and interrupts the Senator. LESTER (CONT'D) Senator, excuse me a moment -- He turns to Felicia and then looks over toward Jackie's empty chair and literally doesn't know which way to go first. He's a little like the bear in the penny arcade that is shot and keeps turning one way, then another. Finally he heads toward Jackie's vacant chair and George. GEORGE his chin to the tablecloth is fishing under it for Jackie. GEORGE (CONT'D) Now, Jackie -- JILL (trying for aplomb) -- she's a very compulsive girl. POPE I can see that. Lester rushes up. LESTER (a desperate smile) Hello, George. Your friend feeling a little under the weather? Jackie surfaces through the tablecloth. JACKIE (to Lester) -- you phony asshole -- LESTER (as if he didn't hear it) Oh, dear that's too bad. (with quiet desperation, to George) -- get her out of here, get her out of here. A cheer goes up as some late returns come in. Dirksen is talking about a new mandate for law and order and peace with honor. LESTER (CONT'D) (to Sid) What was that? SID ROTH Illinois. LESTER (doesn't know what he's saying) -- oh, good. INT. BISTRO Lester glances back toward Felicia who is watching him. GEORGE Jackie, c'mon -- George moves to Jill. GEORGE (CONT'D) I've got to get her out of here. JILL -- go ahead. GEORGE -- well aren't you -- JILL -- what? (indicating Pope) -- I'll see you later... GEORGE (not liking it too much) -- okay -- (pointed) -- I'll see you later. Your house. He moves away with Jackie. Lester turns back toward the main table. INT. 230SL - JACKIE AND GEORGE - NIGHT driving down Sunset Boulevard. There is a long moment of silence. The RADIO'S PLAYING the Eve of Destruction. George gives Jackie a couple of sidelong glances. JACKIE (finally) -- gee... GEORGE -- what? JACKIE (she sits up, lights a cigarette) I don't know what gets into me. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE No, I blew it, I blew it with Lester. GEORGE No you didn't. JACKIE You don't think so? I do. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE You always say that... I really care for Lester, don't I? George laughs. GEORGE That sounds like me. JACKIE I am you, you little bastard. She starts to scrunch over and kiss him, then stops. JACKIE(CONT'D) Where do you want to go? GEORGE Sammy's? JACKIE He still having parties? GEORGE He never stopped. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA IS SITTING WITH LESTER fuming. A woman, ROSALIND, is painstakingly and painfully introducing the Senator. ROSALIND ... and so... to have this man... here... among us... who has helped... as has everyone here to bring so many people together... of all races, creeds, and colors... FELICIA AND LESTER Rosalind droning on, b.g. She finally introduces Senator East. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA AND LESTER FELICIA Lester. LESTER Yes, sweetheart, shh. He pats her hand. She gives him a look that could kill. FELICIA -- I hope you like Miss Shawn -- LESTER -- what, who? Oh she's very nice, yes -- I mean normally --- FELICIA -- cause she's going to be very, very expensive. LESTER Can't we go into this later, sweetheart? ROSALIND'S VOICE Ladies and gentlemen, to Senator Joe East. Glasses are raised, a little dissonant hurrah. FELICIA We cannot go into this later. LESTER That's okay too. FELICIA You make me sick. Just be straight for once in your life. There are now O.S. calls for East to do his Indian chant. QUICK CUT TO: EAST SENATOR -- this tells of the ancient grandmother who, upon seeing the garden gate of her childhood, stops a moment and says, hello garden gate, hello garden gate, garden gate, hello. INT. BISTRO - LESTER AND FELICIA LESTER (finally exasperated) -- look, Felicia, this party involves more than you and me, you know. These people are concerned about more than each other, you know. FELICIA -- is that right? LESTER -- yes, we're all trying to do something to make this a better country to live in, believe it or not. THE SENATOR has begun his weird chant, beating out accompaniment on a cigar box and a pewter vase. FELICIA (glancing up) -- is that what this is all about? LESTER Yes and you don't have to be sarcastic about it, that's a beautiful thing he's doing -- some people do more than go to the beauty parlor and shop at Saks -- FELICIA Lester, you're a miserable man. You're not helping anybody. You're just twisting arms to raise money for a lot of silly son of a bitches that are out for themselves -- this

comb

How many times the word 'comb' appears in the text?

you I was on my way, but the line was busy, you're always on the phone. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE IN BEL AIR - DAY George pulls into the circular driveway. COVERED by a few bars of The Mama's and The Papa's "California Dreamin." There's only one car. George gets off the bike and goes to the door. Nobody answers. He hears the SOUND of a BALL BANGING. He looks toward the tennis court. ON THE COURT - LORNA is banging away on the backboard. There's a basket of balls nearby. She hits with considerable skill and power until she misses the backboard and the ball lodges in the steel mesh surrounding the court. George is standing there. Lorna looks at him. LORNA You here to see my mother? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA She's out, but you're supposed to wait. LORNA WALKING TO GEORGE LORNA (CONT'D) Hungry? GEORGE A little. AT THE KITCHEN TABLE They're eating silently. Lorna has hauled all kinds of food out of the refrigerators. She watches George as he eats with some relish. She gets up and goes to the steel-doored refrigerators. LORNA (indicating refrigerators) This is the one thing I like about this house... want some lox? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA You're my mother's hairdresser? GEORGE (warily) I do her hair, yeah. LORNA Chopped liver? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Are you gay?... baked apple?... they're cold but they're good. GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Did you hear me? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA Well, are you? Are you queer? GEORGE ... yeah. LORNA (laughing) C'mon, are you or aren't you? GEORGE (trying to avoid it) Gee, this is great. He slices a piece of cheesecake. Lorna sits down, in the chair nearest him now. LORNA C'mon, tell me. Don't be afraid. GEORGE Why do you wanna know so bad? LORNA See if you've been making it with my mother. GEORGE (looking at her for a minute, he changes his tone) What would my being a faggot have to do with that? Lorna shrugs. LORNA Nothing, I guess... have you ever made it with a guy? GEORGE Have you ever made it with a girl? LORNA I asked you first. GEORGE Yeah... I've made it with a girl... Lorna smiles. A pause. LORNA Well, are you? GEORGE Am I what? LORNA Making it with my mother? George wants to avoid this at all costs. He stares at Lorna intently. GEORGE I'd like to do your hair sometime. LORNA Why? GEORGE ... just, you could look very heavy... LORNA Don't make conversation with me. GEORGE What? LORNA You don't have to make conversation with me, I'm not my mother... do you have a thing about older women... that's sort of faggoty isn't it? George is weary and getting annoyed. GEORGE Yeah, it is. LORNA I never get my hair done. GEORGE No kidding. LORNA In fact, I don't think I've ever been to a beauty parlor in my whole life. GEORGE No shit. LORNA You think that's funny, don't you? GEORGE (laughing a little) Yeah. LORNA You live a phony cheap cop-out existence. GEORGE (determined to be light) Yeah... LORNA Beverly Hills hairdresser... what kind of a thing is that to do... you might as well be a faggot... think that's funny too? GEORGE No. LORNA Then what do you think? GEORGE That you're just like your mother. LORNA I am not like my mother! GEORGE You are. LORNA I am not! GEORGE You are. Lorna is furious. LORNA I am not! GEORGE (he starts to placate her) Look... (then defiantly) Do you wanna fuck me? LORNA (defiantly) Yeah. George stops eating. He's not prepared for this. GEORGE (uneasily) Right now? LORNA (a little more tentative now that the moment has arrived) Yeah. EXT. SOURCE RESTAURANT - JOHNNY POPE AND JILL - DAY A scraggly bearded WAITER with long stringy hair sets down two huge green salads before Jill and Johnny Pope. In so doing the Waiter drops a wooden menu he's been carrying. As he bends down to pick it up, he kneels beside Pope. Pope taps him on the shoulder. POPE (tapping him) Oh, scraves... WAITER Yes? The Waiter looks up, and moves. POPE Thank you. WAITER What for? POPE Taking your hair out of my salad. WAITER Oh, I'm sorry. Pope nods, Jill giggles. The Waiter goes off. Pope tosses out a few pieces of lettuce from the top of his salad. JILL Why don't you ask for another one? POPE Are you kidding? His hair's probably the most nutritious thing in here. See, you've reduced me to eating weeds. JILL ... my friend doesn't like it here either. POPE All right, forget this filth. Continue about your friend. JILL Well he's not exactly a friend. POPE Is he an enemy? JILL (laughing) Of course not... he's sort of a boyfriend. POPE -- sort of a boyfriend? JILL Sort of. POPE I see. You mean he just sort of fucks you. JILL Johnny! POPE My God, did I say that? I don't believe it. He looks under his chair to see if it was somebody else. POPE (CONT'D) I'm terribly sorry. JILL (amused) -- never mind. POPE What does he do? Is he an actor? JILL -- no. POPE Good for you. JILL He's a hairdresser. Pope drops his fork in the salad bowl. POPE -- oh, sure. A hairdresser. How... how do you a... meet a hairdresser? JILL Getting your hair done... (looks at him, abruptly) Would you like to go to a party? POPE Not with your hairdresser. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE - FELICIA - DAY pulls into the driveway. She gets out of her car, spots George's bike. INT. THE KITCHEN She sees the food spread out. FELICIA moving through the house. She stops by Lorna's room. Lorna has a sliding door, which is closed. Felicia opens it. FELICIA Lorna? LORNA'S BEDROOM Lorna is sitting on her bed, in her tennis dress but with her tennis shoes off. She's straightening a string in her racket. She looks to her mother, expressionless. FELICIA (CONT'D) Have you seen George? LORNA He's in the bathroom. FELICIA Your bathroom? LORNA Yes. The toilet flushes. The sink runs, and George emerges. He's looking a little haggard. GEORGE Hi. FELICIA (coolly) Hello, George. They walk out to the lanai together and George picks up his case. There is considerable tension from Felicia as they walk into her bedroom. Felicia slides the bedroom door shut, an action which George unhappily notices. She turns to George. She looks very hostile. She's trembling. FELICIA (CONT'D) I've missed you. George is taken aback. He gropes for a moment. GEORGE I've... missed you too. Felicia comes to him. She comes to him and touches his arm. George suddenly flings his case across the room and pounds his fist into a high-backed chair, turning away from Felicia. She clearly misunderstands the action. FELICIA (touched) It's okay, honey... it's okay now. She moves to the door and quietly locks it. George winces. She comes back to him and kisses him gently. She kisses him again with more passion. George tries to respond. FELICIA (CONT'D) Comb my hair out later, honey. GEORGE No, that's okay, I'll do It now. FELICIA No, baby... I'm glad you're coming tonight. She gently tugs at him, leading him toward the bed. George is miserable. GEORGE (looking toward the door) But aren't you... FELICIA Right now, I just don't care. As they sink to the bed, Felicia switches on the HI-FI. The Tijuana Brass begin to play. GEORGE ON HIS BIKE - LATE AFTERNOON COVERED BY a few bars of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". Riding home. He turns down his street and pulls into his driveway. He gets off his bike and only as he starts up his walk does he see Jill. She's been quietly waiting on his front porch, hidden in the shadows of the overhang. She doesn't look happy. George stops cold. GEORGE (?) Jill says nothing. GEORGE (CONT'D) Where's your car? JILL A friend dropped me off. GEORGE Who? JILL Never mind. Where've you been? GEORGE A business meeting, I told you that. They go inside. The living room is messy. George looks around in disgust. JILL What business meeting? GEORGE Look at the way I live. JILL I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. You weren't in the shop. What is this thing tonight? GEORGE What do you mean, what is it? It's some political bullshit. JILL I have to have Jackie ask me? Don't you think you could call me and let me know? Look at my hair. GEORGE Wait a minute, God-damn-it. Do you think I want to go to some God damned party? I'm trying to get that God damned shop open. I'm trying to get a little bread together. That's all I'm doing. George's outburst has shocked Jill. George maniacally begins straightening the mess. GEORGE (CONT'D) I just wanna live like everybody else, that's all. I want clothes in the closet, and food in the refrigerator, and I don't want shit all over the house and running my ass all over town... I want my own house... I want an appointment book... I want to get up in the morning and go to bed at night... I want a normal life like everybody else, that's all. He collapses into a chair. She comes over to him and knee beside him. JILL I know, honey. GEORGE Maybe I should get a dog... no, it would just shit all over the house and I'd never clean it up. JILL (laughing a little, touching him) Oh, honey. If we had one place, we could have a nicer place and I could take care of it. We're almost never here. REAR VIEW MIRROR - NIGHT A signal red Porsche cabriolet pulls up into mirror. The top is down. Under the brightly lit streetlights Jill's blonde hair and features are VISIBLE. WITH GEORGE AND JACKIE in her Mercedes. George still looking through the rear view mirror. Jackie's a knockout. JACKIE (looking at George looking in mirror) -- you'll be the prettiest thing in the room -- light's green... GEORGE (he takes off) -- oh yeah... what do you know about this guy? JACKIE -- what guy? GEORGE (gesturing toward rear window) -- this guy with Jill. JACKIE He's a director. OUTSIDE OF BISTRO - GEORGE AND JOHNNY POPE - NIGHT pull up, Pope right behind George. Parking ATTENDANTS leap for the doors. A few photographers of the movie freak variety ask each other who these arrivals are. One assures several others that they're nobody. GEORGE (to Attendant) Do I need a ticket for this? ATTENDANT We'll remember you. POPE as they move to take his Porsche. POPE (CONT'D) (shaking his head) I'll park it. Pope drives his own car onto the lot. WITH JILL, GEORGE AND JACKIE waiting for Pope who is now ambling toward them. GEORGE (to Jill) What does he direct besides traffic? JILL Ha, ha. GEORGE Television or movies? JILL Commercials. JACKIE (quietly, to George) Feel better? Let's go. Pope has joined them. INT. BISTRO FOYER They clear it to see the long elegant bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. George looks and sees someone. A fortyish WOMAN, attractive. GEORGE (to Jackie) Jesus Christ, there's Norma Stern. Look at her hair. JACKIE What about it? GEORGE Looks like somebody took a dump in it, that's the worst color job I've -- Norma comes over, hugs George. NORMA George -- GEORGE (pointing to her hair) Baby, you've been chippying on me -- NORMA Yes, isn't it awful -- GEORGE (smiling) -- yes. Jackie tugs him by the arm. JACKIE We're upstairs, George. Now come on. Behave yourself, and for Christ's sake, do me a favor. Don't let me drink too much. GEORGE (going upstairs) You don't do that anymore, do you? BISTRO STAIRS Jackie doesn't answer. They've reached the top of the stairs. They're hit by the full force of the upstairs gathering -- black tie, posters of Nixon, Agnew, Reagan, and Murphy, vaguely familiar faces crossing back and forth, clustering, watching early returns on television sets that are blaring from various points around the room. An ORCHESTRA PLAYS Meyer Davis Society Jazz. Jackie and George hesitate. Pope and Jill are behind them. Pope jostles George as he stops, abruptly. George looks around. Pope smiles. He's holding Jill's hand. George notices. Jill disengages her hand casually, as though it were necessary only for the walk up the stairs. Jackie nudges George, forcing him to move into the room with her as Lester comes toward them. He's stopped on his way over. WAITER Can I get you folks something? JILL A stinger, please. POPE A tomato juice. GEORGE I'll take a -- some white wine. WAITER And you, madam? JACKIE (searching the room) Oh I'll uhh -- just a coke. The Waiter moves on and they wait for their drinks. Lester finally makes to them. LESTER George, glad you could make it, son. Hi, doll. JACKIE Lester, this is my friend Jill and this is Johnny Pope. LESTER Glad to meet you, Jill, Mr. Pope. INT. BISTRO UPSTAIRS George turns to get his drink from the Waiter as do Jill and Pope. Lester takes Jackie's arm. LESTER Who are they? JACKIE (quickly) Jill Haynes, Jill Haynes, I've told you about Jill a hundred times, Lester, you never remember anything I say. LESTER Does she know about us? JACKIE Jesus, she's my best friend. LESTER Who's the guy, George's boyfriend? JACKIE I don't know. Why don't you ask him? LESTER C'mon, Jackie, I'm only trying -- George -- He draws George aside. LESTER (CONT'D) -- do me a favor, kind of keep your eye on Jackie, she's a little high strung tonight -- GEORGE -- yeah? LESTER See she doesn't drink too much. Jackie has heard this last. Lester turns to her. LESTER (CONT'D) See you later, doll. Jackie puts down her coke, picks up a glass of white wine from a passing tray and downs it in one gulp, putting it on another tray and picking up another glass of white wine. FELICIA with cleavage carefully prominent in a strapless gown, spots George. She excuses herself from the couple she has been talking with and goes straight to the powder room. INT. POWDER ROOM - FELICIA checks herself out in the mirror, glossing her lips with a pale tint of something or other. She gives a final anxious look, then hurries out, nearly bumping into a lady coming In. OUTSIDE she moves through the crowd up behind George, turning him around. FELICIA George, darling. She kisses him full on the lips, lingering on it. GEORGE (without batting an eye) Hey, baby, what's happening. Oh this is Jackie. Jackie, say hello to Felicia. It is only now that Felicia sees one of George's arms has been holding onto Jackie. JACKIE (also without batting an eye) Hello, Felicia. FELICIA (instantly suspicious of George) ... hello. Felicia looks from George to Jackie and back again. FELICIA (CONT'D) I'm so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you. LESTER pours his drink on the cuff of a distinguished MAN sitting beneath him at a table as he sees George and Felicia and Jackie clustered together. WITH LESTER AND MAN MAN Lester, what the fuck do you think you're doing? LESTER Jesus, Nate, I'm sorry. Lester fumbles, tries to clean Nate off with a napkin. NATE Never mind, I'll do it myself. He dips the napkin into a glass of ice water and proceeds to clean off his cuff. Nate goes back to the TV monitor where Agnew is making some remarks or commentators are repeating his comment about being a household word. LESTER So far so good. NATE Aw there's nothing to worry about. LESTER You never know. FELICIA WITH GEORGE FELICIA Why didn't you come alone? Lester invited you. Did you have to bring her? GEORGE (looking toward Lester) Well she... FELICIA She what? GEORGE She's a friend of Jill's. FELICIA And who's Jill? She spots Jill. GEORGE Well, she's a friend of Johnny Pope's -- you know, the director. She looks at Pope who is saying something to Jill which is making her laugh. FELICIA Oh. GEORGE is threading his way through a crowd, holding two drinks, one of them a coca-cola. It's a little more raucous now, with election returns from the television sets creating a more festive mood. Now and then someone jumps up from a set and hugs someone so carrying drinks is a little dodgy. JACKIE, F.G. - LESTER, B.G., TALKING Jackie sits alone by the bar, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. A man offers her a match. She stares at the burning match as if it's obscene. She blows it out. JACKIE No thanks. The man looks a little shocked, moves on. GEORGE has his arm held. It's KENNETH, a red-haired decorator. KENNETH Excuse me, I know I know you, but I can't think where. GEORGE Look, I'd like to help but -- Felicia grabs George's other arm pulling him away from Kenneth. Kenneth looks a little shocked at the ferocity of Felicia's move. FELICIA There you are. She tugs him with her. GEORGE Wait a minute -- She takes him right into the ladies room, George still juggling the drinks. JOHNNY POPE watches Felicia and George disappear into the ladies room, looking over Jill's shoulder. Jill has not seen it. POPE This other couple that we're here with, do you know them very well? JILL Well... sure... POPE Then maybe you can tell me why George would be going into the ladies room. Jill looks around and stares at the door. JILL George? Was he alone? POPE I don't think so. JILL Well did he go in there with Jackie? Pope points over to Jackie sitting at the bar drinking now. JILL (CONT'D) That bastard. POPE George is a hairdresser, isn't he? Jill doesn't answer. INT. BATHROOM - FELICIA AND GEORGE GEORGE (desperate) Baby, you gotta let me out of here. Felicia kisses him. FELICIA Sweetheart, it's a bore out there... let's lock the door. GEORGE Holy Christ. You want to get us killed? FELICIA Don't be silly. I'll just tell Lester we were smoking a couple of joints. See? She pulls two joints out of her beaded bag. LESTER only a few seats from Jackie, Jackie staring daggers at him, Lester aware of it. He's talking to a pair of lacquered eminence grises. LESTER -- fellas, fellas, just listen, you both have tidelands, you both want Uncle Sam to come through with offshore drilling permits -- so do it together -- JACKIE has taken an olive from an olive tray and hit Lester on the back of the head. He's finished this little dissertation. He sees the source of the missile. He grows pale, frozen. Sixty-four year old bejeweled WOMAN in b.g. WOMAN So, little red riding hood says 'my what big teeth you have and the wolf says all the better to eat you with, my dear, and she says -- eat, eat, eat, doesn't anybody ever fuck any more?' Jackie has now picked up a carrot from a relish tray. George appears. GEORGE Don't do it. JACKIE That son of a bitch, everything he says is a phony piece of shit, what does he think, I'm some cigar butt he's got between his teeth -- GEORGE (almost picking her up) C'mon, cunt, you're going for a walk. He takes her into the next room and Lester watches the move with a mixture of relief and concern. INT. OTHER BAR Jackie is now near tears. JACKIE He just completely ignores me. He could have at least said something, introduced me or something. INT. SMALL BAR GEORGE Sweetheart, you're drunk. She leans on George. JACKIE Oh God, what do I want, George? Lester comes hurrying in, sweating, now. LESTER Hi, doll, what's wrong? JACKIE You know what's wrong. Felicia trips coming into the small bar. FELICIA Lester -- Lester straightens up like he's been shot. LESTER Oh, Felicia, there you are, you know George and uh -- uh -- He's genuinely forgotten her name. JACKIE Jackie Shawn. LESTER Yes, Jackie Shawn, my wi -- Felicia. FELICIA We've met. JACKIE Yes. GEORGE Well anyway... LESTER (to Felicia) Your hair looks -- well fabulous. FELICIA That's George. INT. SMALL BAR LESTER It's just -- fabulous. (to George, an attempt at levity) Think you could do anything for me? GEORGE (he takes it seriously) Well -- I could try. Do you wash your hair every day? LESTER Isn't that bad for it? GEORGE No it keeps the skin peeling. You've got to keep the follicles open. You lose hair and the skin grows over the follicle and that's how you lose it. George actually touches Lester's hair, professional interest growing. GEORGE (CONT'D) This really ought to be layered... LESTER Layered? GEORGE Well yeah, otherwise it just sort, you know, lies there -- layer so it kind of fluffs out -- He starts to fluff Lester's hair a little when Johnny Pope walks in with Jill to this. Pope stares at them. POPE I think they're waiting for somebody to start dinner. LESTER Have they sat down? POPE Everybody but us. FELICIA They're waiting for you, Lester. INT. BISTRO DINNER TABLE Dinner is pretty much finished, waiters have begun picking up plates. IZZY SOKOLOFF (to Jill) I guess it's almost impossible to get work in the business these days. Pope watches Sokoloff make his move. JILL Well, commercials. I read for a soap the other day. IZZY A soap? JILL A daytime soap opera. IZZY And? JILL I was too old. IZZY What was it, somebody's daughter? JILL Somebody's mother. JACKIE'S PLATE is untouched. She holds up her wine glass. JACKIE Waiter! George looks at her. JACKIE (CONT'D) One word out of you and I'll gargle with it. The waiter pours the wine. George looks to Jill, shrugs. Jill mouthes, 'try and stop her.' George mouthes back, 'are you kidding?' INT. BISTRO SID ROTH has been eyeing Jackie. SID ROTH Aren't you hungry, Miss Shawn? Jackie looks at Roth. Roth shoots his cuffs and smiles. JACKIE Not for rubber chicken, no. Sid Roth smiles. Jackie smiles back. SID ROTH (intime) Well maybe I can get you something. JACKIE That's very sweet of you, Mr. Roth. SID ROTH Sid. JACKIE Sid. You must be a very important executive. SID ROTH (almost a whisper) Well, whatever I am, I think I can get you whatever you'd like. JACKIE You do? SID ROTH Yes. JACKIE (same tone as Sid's) -- well, more than anything else -- (indicating George) -- I'd like to suck his cock. She points to George. George chokes on the last of a piece of chicken. Sid Roth is stunned. He doesn't know what to do. George is coughing badly. Jackie slaps his back. HEAD TABLE - FELICIA AND LESTER Felicia is listening to Lester. The Agnew and Nixon posters are directly behind them. LESTER (to East) -- Senator, you should've seen those little kids! About forty of 'em, all blind. We put out these mattresses on the front lawn and they came running out of the house, tripping and falling all over the place, having a hell of a good time. I mean they were blind of course. But it really gave you a feeling of accomplishment. I tell you I never had such a good time. Felicia during the above has looked up to see Jackie fawning over George. She can't believe her eyes. FELICIA Lester -- SENATOR -- let me understand this was exclusively a home for blind children -- FELICIA Lester -- LESTER -- yes, Senator -- just a minute, dear -- FELICIA Lester, don't you think that uhh -- Now Lester spots it. He's very confused. FELICIA (CONT'D) That girl's making an awful spectacle of herself. LESTER (angry himself) What do you expect me to do about it? FELICIA I just thought you'd like to know -- LESTER Why would I like to know if there's nothing I can do about it, goddammit -- OTHER VOICE Quiet! Cranston's on. They quiet down. JACKIE AND GEORGE Jackie's now moving around kissing George on the mouth. Jill is watching. Johnny Pope is fascinated. JILL -- Jackie really shouldn't drink -- POPE -- oh I don't know -- JACKIE (arm around George's shoulders tonguing his ear) -- Just get me out of here, baby. I can't stand it. It's killing me. GEORGE (indicating head table) -- we can't now. JACKIE -- why not? C'mon, take me out of here, somewhere I don't have to lie to anybody and I'll fuck your brains out, you little fiend, I adore you -- FELICIA is watching Jackie and George with ever greater intensity, her mouth growing more and more agape. JACKIE AND GEORGE JACKIE (CONT'D) (plaintive) -- don't you want to -- GEORGE Jackie, can we -- JACKIE (a little louder) Who's the greatest cocksucker in the world? C'mon -- George looks around sweating now. GEORGE (very quietly) -- you are. JACKIE Fuckin' A -- With that she slips right under the table. It's a surprisingly fluid move. FELICIA almost simultaneously rises, knocking her chair back. LESTER sees both moves and interrupts the Senator. LESTER (CONT'D) Senator, excuse me a moment -- He turns to Felicia and then looks over toward Jackie's empty chair and literally doesn't know which way to go first. He's a little like the bear in the penny arcade that is shot and keeps turning one way, then another. Finally he heads toward Jackie's vacant chair and George. GEORGE his chin to the tablecloth is fishing under it for Jackie. GEORGE (CONT'D) Now, Jackie -- JILL (trying for aplomb) -- she's a very compulsive girl. POPE I can see that. Lester rushes up. LESTER (a desperate smile) Hello, George. Your friend feeling a little under the weather? Jackie surfaces through the tablecloth. JACKIE (to Lester) -- you phony asshole -- LESTER (as if he didn't hear it) Oh, dear that's too bad. (with quiet desperation, to George) -- get her out of here, get her out of here. A cheer goes up as some late returns come in. Dirksen is talking about a new mandate for law and order and peace with honor. LESTER (CONT'D) (to Sid) What was that? SID ROTH Illinois. LESTER (doesn't know what he's saying) -- oh, good. INT. BISTRO Lester glances back toward Felicia who is watching him. GEORGE Jackie, c'mon -- George moves to Jill. GEORGE (CONT'D) I've got to get her out of here. JILL -- go ahead. GEORGE -- well aren't you -- JILL -- what? (indicating Pope) -- I'll see you later... GEORGE (not liking it too much) -- okay -- (pointed) -- I'll see you later. Your house. He moves away with Jackie. Lester turns back toward the main table. INT. 230SL - JACKIE AND GEORGE - NIGHT driving down Sunset Boulevard. There is a long moment of silence. The RADIO'S PLAYING the Eve of Destruction. George gives Jackie a couple of sidelong glances. JACKIE (finally) -- gee... GEORGE -- what? JACKIE (she sits up, lights a cigarette) I don't know what gets into me. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE No, I blew it, I blew it with Lester. GEORGE No you didn't. JACKIE You don't think so? I do. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE You always say that... I really care for Lester, don't I? George laughs. GEORGE That sounds like me. JACKIE I am you, you little bastard. She starts to scrunch over and kiss him, then stops. JACKIE(CONT'D) Where do you want to go? GEORGE Sammy's? JACKIE He still having parties? GEORGE He never stopped. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA IS SITTING WITH LESTER fuming. A woman, ROSALIND, is painstakingly and painfully introducing the Senator. ROSALIND ... and so... to have this man... here... among us... who has helped... as has everyone here to bring so many people together... of all races, creeds, and colors... FELICIA AND LESTER Rosalind droning on, b.g. She finally introduces Senator East. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA AND LESTER FELICIA Lester. LESTER Yes, sweetheart, shh. He pats her hand. She gives him a look that could kill. FELICIA -- I hope you like Miss Shawn -- LESTER -- what, who? Oh she's very nice, yes -- I mean normally --- FELICIA -- cause she's going to be very, very expensive. LESTER Can't we go into this later, sweetheart? ROSALIND'S VOICE Ladies and gentlemen, to Senator Joe East. Glasses are raised, a little dissonant hurrah. FELICIA We cannot go into this later. LESTER That's okay too. FELICIA You make me sick. Just be straight for once in your life. There are now O.S. calls for East to do his Indian chant. QUICK CUT TO: EAST SENATOR -- this tells of the ancient grandmother who, upon seeing the garden gate of her childhood, stops a moment and says, hello garden gate, hello garden gate, garden gate, hello. INT. BISTRO - LESTER AND FELICIA LESTER (finally exasperated) -- look, Felicia, this party involves more than you and me, you know. These people are concerned about more than each other, you know. FELICIA -- is that right? LESTER -- yes, we're all trying to do something to make this a better country to live in, believe it or not. THE SENATOR has begun his weird chant, beating out accompaniment on a cigar box and a pewter vase. FELICIA (glancing up) -- is that what this is all about? LESTER Yes and you don't have to be sarcastic about it, that's a beautiful thing he's doing -- some people do more than go to the beauty parlor and shop at Saks -- FELICIA Lester, you're a miserable man. You're not helping anybody. You're just twisting arms to raise money for a lot of silly son of a bitches that are out for themselves -- this

please

How many times the word 'please' appears in the text?

you I was on my way, but the line was busy, you're always on the phone. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE IN BEL AIR - DAY George pulls into the circular driveway. COVERED by a few bars of The Mama's and The Papa's "California Dreamin." There's only one car. George gets off the bike and goes to the door. Nobody answers. He hears the SOUND of a BALL BANGING. He looks toward the tennis court. ON THE COURT - LORNA is banging away on the backboard. There's a basket of balls nearby. She hits with considerable skill and power until she misses the backboard and the ball lodges in the steel mesh surrounding the court. George is standing there. Lorna looks at him. LORNA You here to see my mother? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA She's out, but you're supposed to wait. LORNA WALKING TO GEORGE LORNA (CONT'D) Hungry? GEORGE A little. AT THE KITCHEN TABLE They're eating silently. Lorna has hauled all kinds of food out of the refrigerators. She watches George as he eats with some relish. She gets up and goes to the steel-doored refrigerators. LORNA (indicating refrigerators) This is the one thing I like about this house... want some lox? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA You're my mother's hairdresser? GEORGE (warily) I do her hair, yeah. LORNA Chopped liver? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Are you gay?... baked apple?... they're cold but they're good. GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Did you hear me? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA Well, are you? Are you queer? GEORGE ... yeah. LORNA (laughing) C'mon, are you or aren't you? GEORGE (trying to avoid it) Gee, this is great. He slices a piece of cheesecake. Lorna sits down, in the chair nearest him now. LORNA C'mon, tell me. Don't be afraid. GEORGE Why do you wanna know so bad? LORNA See if you've been making it with my mother. GEORGE (looking at her for a minute, he changes his tone) What would my being a faggot have to do with that? Lorna shrugs. LORNA Nothing, I guess... have you ever made it with a guy? GEORGE Have you ever made it with a girl? LORNA I asked you first. GEORGE Yeah... I've made it with a girl... Lorna smiles. A pause. LORNA Well, are you? GEORGE Am I what? LORNA Making it with my mother? George wants to avoid this at all costs. He stares at Lorna intently. GEORGE I'd like to do your hair sometime. LORNA Why? GEORGE ... just, you could look very heavy... LORNA Don't make conversation with me. GEORGE What? LORNA You don't have to make conversation with me, I'm not my mother... do you have a thing about older women... that's sort of faggoty isn't it? George is weary and getting annoyed. GEORGE Yeah, it is. LORNA I never get my hair done. GEORGE No kidding. LORNA In fact, I don't think I've ever been to a beauty parlor in my whole life. GEORGE No shit. LORNA You think that's funny, don't you? GEORGE (laughing a little) Yeah. LORNA You live a phony cheap cop-out existence. GEORGE (determined to be light) Yeah... LORNA Beverly Hills hairdresser... what kind of a thing is that to do... you might as well be a faggot... think that's funny too? GEORGE No. LORNA Then what do you think? GEORGE That you're just like your mother. LORNA I am not like my mother! GEORGE You are. LORNA I am not! GEORGE You are. Lorna is furious. LORNA I am not! GEORGE (he starts to placate her) Look... (then defiantly) Do you wanna fuck me? LORNA (defiantly) Yeah. George stops eating. He's not prepared for this. GEORGE (uneasily) Right now? LORNA (a little more tentative now that the moment has arrived) Yeah. EXT. SOURCE RESTAURANT - JOHNNY POPE AND JILL - DAY A scraggly bearded WAITER with long stringy hair sets down two huge green salads before Jill and Johnny Pope. In so doing the Waiter drops a wooden menu he's been carrying. As he bends down to pick it up, he kneels beside Pope. Pope taps him on the shoulder. POPE (tapping him) Oh, scraves... WAITER Yes? The Waiter looks up, and moves. POPE Thank you. WAITER What for? POPE Taking your hair out of my salad. WAITER Oh, I'm sorry. Pope nods, Jill giggles. The Waiter goes off. Pope tosses out a few pieces of lettuce from the top of his salad. JILL Why don't you ask for another one? POPE Are you kidding? His hair's probably the most nutritious thing in here. See, you've reduced me to eating weeds. JILL ... my friend doesn't like it here either. POPE All right, forget this filth. Continue about your friend. JILL Well he's not exactly a friend. POPE Is he an enemy? JILL (laughing) Of course not... he's sort of a boyfriend. POPE -- sort of a boyfriend? JILL Sort of. POPE I see. You mean he just sort of fucks you. JILL Johnny! POPE My God, did I say that? I don't believe it. He looks under his chair to see if it was somebody else. POPE (CONT'D) I'm terribly sorry. JILL (amused) -- never mind. POPE What does he do? Is he an actor? JILL -- no. POPE Good for you. JILL He's a hairdresser. Pope drops his fork in the salad bowl. POPE -- oh, sure. A hairdresser. How... how do you a... meet a hairdresser? JILL Getting your hair done... (looks at him, abruptly) Would you like to go to a party? POPE Not with your hairdresser. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE - FELICIA - DAY pulls into the driveway. She gets out of her car, spots George's bike. INT. THE KITCHEN She sees the food spread out. FELICIA moving through the house. She stops by Lorna's room. Lorna has a sliding door, which is closed. Felicia opens it. FELICIA Lorna? LORNA'S BEDROOM Lorna is sitting on her bed, in her tennis dress but with her tennis shoes off. She's straightening a string in her racket. She looks to her mother, expressionless. FELICIA (CONT'D) Have you seen George? LORNA He's in the bathroom. FELICIA Your bathroom? LORNA Yes. The toilet flushes. The sink runs, and George emerges. He's looking a little haggard. GEORGE Hi. FELICIA (coolly) Hello, George. They walk out to the lanai together and George picks up his case. There is considerable tension from Felicia as they walk into her bedroom. Felicia slides the bedroom door shut, an action which George unhappily notices. She turns to George. She looks very hostile. She's trembling. FELICIA (CONT'D) I've missed you. George is taken aback. He gropes for a moment. GEORGE I've... missed you too. Felicia comes to him. She comes to him and touches his arm. George suddenly flings his case across the room and pounds his fist into a high-backed chair, turning away from Felicia. She clearly misunderstands the action. FELICIA (touched) It's okay, honey... it's okay now. She moves to the door and quietly locks it. George winces. She comes back to him and kisses him gently. She kisses him again with more passion. George tries to respond. FELICIA (CONT'D) Comb my hair out later, honey. GEORGE No, that's okay, I'll do It now. FELICIA No, baby... I'm glad you're coming tonight. She gently tugs at him, leading him toward the bed. George is miserable. GEORGE (looking toward the door) But aren't you... FELICIA Right now, I just don't care. As they sink to the bed, Felicia switches on the HI-FI. The Tijuana Brass begin to play. GEORGE ON HIS BIKE - LATE AFTERNOON COVERED BY a few bars of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". Riding home. He turns down his street and pulls into his driveway. He gets off his bike and only as he starts up his walk does he see Jill. She's been quietly waiting on his front porch, hidden in the shadows of the overhang. She doesn't look happy. George stops cold. GEORGE (?) Jill says nothing. GEORGE (CONT'D) Where's your car? JILL A friend dropped me off. GEORGE Who? JILL Never mind. Where've you been? GEORGE A business meeting, I told you that. They go inside. The living room is messy. George looks around in disgust. JILL What business meeting? GEORGE Look at the way I live. JILL I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. You weren't in the shop. What is this thing tonight? GEORGE What do you mean, what is it? It's some political bullshit. JILL I have to have Jackie ask me? Don't you think you could call me and let me know? Look at my hair. GEORGE Wait a minute, God-damn-it. Do you think I want to go to some God damned party? I'm trying to get that God damned shop open. I'm trying to get a little bread together. That's all I'm doing. George's outburst has shocked Jill. George maniacally begins straightening the mess. GEORGE (CONT'D) I just wanna live like everybody else, that's all. I want clothes in the closet, and food in the refrigerator, and I don't want shit all over the house and running my ass all over town... I want my own house... I want an appointment book... I want to get up in the morning and go to bed at night... I want a normal life like everybody else, that's all. He collapses into a chair. She comes over to him and knee beside him. JILL I know, honey. GEORGE Maybe I should get a dog... no, it would just shit all over the house and I'd never clean it up. JILL (laughing a little, touching him) Oh, honey. If we had one place, we could have a nicer place and I could take care of it. We're almost never here. REAR VIEW MIRROR - NIGHT A signal red Porsche cabriolet pulls up into mirror. The top is down. Under the brightly lit streetlights Jill's blonde hair and features are VISIBLE. WITH GEORGE AND JACKIE in her Mercedes. George still looking through the rear view mirror. Jackie's a knockout. JACKIE (looking at George looking in mirror) -- you'll be the prettiest thing in the room -- light's green... GEORGE (he takes off) -- oh yeah... what do you know about this guy? JACKIE -- what guy? GEORGE (gesturing toward rear window) -- this guy with Jill. JACKIE He's a director. OUTSIDE OF BISTRO - GEORGE AND JOHNNY POPE - NIGHT pull up, Pope right behind George. Parking ATTENDANTS leap for the doors. A few photographers of the movie freak variety ask each other who these arrivals are. One assures several others that they're nobody. GEORGE (to Attendant) Do I need a ticket for this? ATTENDANT We'll remember you. POPE as they move to take his Porsche. POPE (CONT'D) (shaking his head) I'll park it. Pope drives his own car onto the lot. WITH JILL, GEORGE AND JACKIE waiting for Pope who is now ambling toward them. GEORGE (to Jill) What does he direct besides traffic? JILL Ha, ha. GEORGE Television or movies? JILL Commercials. JACKIE (quietly, to George) Feel better? Let's go. Pope has joined them. INT. BISTRO FOYER They clear it to see the long elegant bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. George looks and sees someone. A fortyish WOMAN, attractive. GEORGE (to Jackie) Jesus Christ, there's Norma Stern. Look at her hair. JACKIE What about it? GEORGE Looks like somebody took a dump in it, that's the worst color job I've -- Norma comes over, hugs George. NORMA George -- GEORGE (pointing to her hair) Baby, you've been chippying on me -- NORMA Yes, isn't it awful -- GEORGE (smiling) -- yes. Jackie tugs him by the arm. JACKIE We're upstairs, George. Now come on. Behave yourself, and for Christ's sake, do me a favor. Don't let me drink too much. GEORGE (going upstairs) You don't do that anymore, do you? BISTRO STAIRS Jackie doesn't answer. They've reached the top of the stairs. They're hit by the full force of the upstairs gathering -- black tie, posters of Nixon, Agnew, Reagan, and Murphy, vaguely familiar faces crossing back and forth, clustering, watching early returns on television sets that are blaring from various points around the room. An ORCHESTRA PLAYS Meyer Davis Society Jazz. Jackie and George hesitate. Pope and Jill are behind them. Pope jostles George as he stops, abruptly. George looks around. Pope smiles. He's holding Jill's hand. George notices. Jill disengages her hand casually, as though it were necessary only for the walk up the stairs. Jackie nudges George, forcing him to move into the room with her as Lester comes toward them. He's stopped on his way over. WAITER Can I get you folks something? JILL A stinger, please. POPE A tomato juice. GEORGE I'll take a -- some white wine. WAITER And you, madam? JACKIE (searching the room) Oh I'll uhh -- just a coke. The Waiter moves on and they wait for their drinks. Lester finally makes to them. LESTER George, glad you could make it, son. Hi, doll. JACKIE Lester, this is my friend Jill and this is Johnny Pope. LESTER Glad to meet you, Jill, Mr. Pope. INT. BISTRO UPSTAIRS George turns to get his drink from the Waiter as do Jill and Pope. Lester takes Jackie's arm. LESTER Who are they? JACKIE (quickly) Jill Haynes, Jill Haynes, I've told you about Jill a hundred times, Lester, you never remember anything I say. LESTER Does she know about us? JACKIE Jesus, she's my best friend. LESTER Who's the guy, George's boyfriend? JACKIE I don't know. Why don't you ask him? LESTER C'mon, Jackie, I'm only trying -- George -- He draws George aside. LESTER (CONT'D) -- do me a favor, kind of keep your eye on Jackie, she's a little high strung tonight -- GEORGE -- yeah? LESTER See she doesn't drink too much. Jackie has heard this last. Lester turns to her. LESTER (CONT'D) See you later, doll. Jackie puts down her coke, picks up a glass of white wine from a passing tray and downs it in one gulp, putting it on another tray and picking up another glass of white wine. FELICIA with cleavage carefully prominent in a strapless gown, spots George. She excuses herself from the couple she has been talking with and goes straight to the powder room. INT. POWDER ROOM - FELICIA checks herself out in the mirror, glossing her lips with a pale tint of something or other. She gives a final anxious look, then hurries out, nearly bumping into a lady coming In. OUTSIDE she moves through the crowd up behind George, turning him around. FELICIA George, darling. She kisses him full on the lips, lingering on it. GEORGE (without batting an eye) Hey, baby, what's happening. Oh this is Jackie. Jackie, say hello to Felicia. It is only now that Felicia sees one of George's arms has been holding onto Jackie. JACKIE (also without batting an eye) Hello, Felicia. FELICIA (instantly suspicious of George) ... hello. Felicia looks from George to Jackie and back again. FELICIA (CONT'D) I'm so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you. LESTER pours his drink on the cuff of a distinguished MAN sitting beneath him at a table as he sees George and Felicia and Jackie clustered together. WITH LESTER AND MAN MAN Lester, what the fuck do you think you're doing? LESTER Jesus, Nate, I'm sorry. Lester fumbles, tries to clean Nate off with a napkin. NATE Never mind, I'll do it myself. He dips the napkin into a glass of ice water and proceeds to clean off his cuff. Nate goes back to the TV monitor where Agnew is making some remarks or commentators are repeating his comment about being a household word. LESTER So far so good. NATE Aw there's nothing to worry about. LESTER You never know. FELICIA WITH GEORGE FELICIA Why didn't you come alone? Lester invited you. Did you have to bring her? GEORGE (looking toward Lester) Well she... FELICIA She what? GEORGE She's a friend of Jill's. FELICIA And who's Jill? She spots Jill. GEORGE Well, she's a friend of Johnny Pope's -- you know, the director. She looks at Pope who is saying something to Jill which is making her laugh. FELICIA Oh. GEORGE is threading his way through a crowd, holding two drinks, one of them a coca-cola. It's a little more raucous now, with election returns from the television sets creating a more festive mood. Now and then someone jumps up from a set and hugs someone so carrying drinks is a little dodgy. JACKIE, F.G. - LESTER, B.G., TALKING Jackie sits alone by the bar, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. A man offers her a match. She stares at the burning match as if it's obscene. She blows it out. JACKIE No thanks. The man looks a little shocked, moves on. GEORGE has his arm held. It's KENNETH, a red-haired decorator. KENNETH Excuse me, I know I know you, but I can't think where. GEORGE Look, I'd like to help but -- Felicia grabs George's other arm pulling him away from Kenneth. Kenneth looks a little shocked at the ferocity of Felicia's move. FELICIA There you are. She tugs him with her. GEORGE Wait a minute -- She takes him right into the ladies room, George still juggling the drinks. JOHNNY POPE watches Felicia and George disappear into the ladies room, looking over Jill's shoulder. Jill has not seen it. POPE This other couple that we're here with, do you know them very well? JILL Well... sure... POPE Then maybe you can tell me why George would be going into the ladies room. Jill looks around and stares at the door. JILL George? Was he alone? POPE I don't think so. JILL Well did he go in there with Jackie? Pope points over to Jackie sitting at the bar drinking now. JILL (CONT'D) That bastard. POPE George is a hairdresser, isn't he? Jill doesn't answer. INT. BATHROOM - FELICIA AND GEORGE GEORGE (desperate) Baby, you gotta let me out of here. Felicia kisses him. FELICIA Sweetheart, it's a bore out there... let's lock the door. GEORGE Holy Christ. You want to get us killed? FELICIA Don't be silly. I'll just tell Lester we were smoking a couple of joints. See? She pulls two joints out of her beaded bag. LESTER only a few seats from Jackie, Jackie staring daggers at him, Lester aware of it. He's talking to a pair of lacquered eminence grises. LESTER -- fellas, fellas, just listen, you both have tidelands, you both want Uncle Sam to come through with offshore drilling permits -- so do it together -- JACKIE has taken an olive from an olive tray and hit Lester on the back of the head. He's finished this little dissertation. He sees the source of the missile. He grows pale, frozen. Sixty-four year old bejeweled WOMAN in b.g. WOMAN So, little red riding hood says 'my what big teeth you have and the wolf says all the better to eat you with, my dear, and she says -- eat, eat, eat, doesn't anybody ever fuck any more?' Jackie has now picked up a carrot from a relish tray. George appears. GEORGE Don't do it. JACKIE That son of a bitch, everything he says is a phony piece of shit, what does he think, I'm some cigar butt he's got between his teeth -- GEORGE (almost picking her up) C'mon, cunt, you're going for a walk. He takes her into the next room and Lester watches the move with a mixture of relief and concern. INT. OTHER BAR Jackie is now near tears. JACKIE He just completely ignores me. He could have at least said something, introduced me or something. INT. SMALL BAR GEORGE Sweetheart, you're drunk. She leans on George. JACKIE Oh God, what do I want, George? Lester comes hurrying in, sweating, now. LESTER Hi, doll, what's wrong? JACKIE You know what's wrong. Felicia trips coming into the small bar. FELICIA Lester -- Lester straightens up like he's been shot. LESTER Oh, Felicia, there you are, you know George and uh -- uh -- He's genuinely forgotten her name. JACKIE Jackie Shawn. LESTER Yes, Jackie Shawn, my wi -- Felicia. FELICIA We've met. JACKIE Yes. GEORGE Well anyway... LESTER (to Felicia) Your hair looks -- well fabulous. FELICIA That's George. INT. SMALL BAR LESTER It's just -- fabulous. (to George, an attempt at levity) Think you could do anything for me? GEORGE (he takes it seriously) Well -- I could try. Do you wash your hair every day? LESTER Isn't that bad for it? GEORGE No it keeps the skin peeling. You've got to keep the follicles open. You lose hair and the skin grows over the follicle and that's how you lose it. George actually touches Lester's hair, professional interest growing. GEORGE (CONT'D) This really ought to be layered... LESTER Layered? GEORGE Well yeah, otherwise it just sort, you know, lies there -- layer so it kind of fluffs out -- He starts to fluff Lester's hair a little when Johnny Pope walks in with Jill to this. Pope stares at them. POPE I think they're waiting for somebody to start dinner. LESTER Have they sat down? POPE Everybody but us. FELICIA They're waiting for you, Lester. INT. BISTRO DINNER TABLE Dinner is pretty much finished, waiters have begun picking up plates. IZZY SOKOLOFF (to Jill) I guess it's almost impossible to get work in the business these days. Pope watches Sokoloff make his move. JILL Well, commercials. I read for a soap the other day. IZZY A soap? JILL A daytime soap opera. IZZY And? JILL I was too old. IZZY What was it, somebody's daughter? JILL Somebody's mother. JACKIE'S PLATE is untouched. She holds up her wine glass. JACKIE Waiter! George looks at her. JACKIE (CONT'D) One word out of you and I'll gargle with it. The waiter pours the wine. George looks to Jill, shrugs. Jill mouthes, 'try and stop her.' George mouthes back, 'are you kidding?' INT. BISTRO SID ROTH has been eyeing Jackie. SID ROTH Aren't you hungry, Miss Shawn? Jackie looks at Roth. Roth shoots his cuffs and smiles. JACKIE Not for rubber chicken, no. Sid Roth smiles. Jackie smiles back. SID ROTH (intime) Well maybe I can get you something. JACKIE That's very sweet of you, Mr. Roth. SID ROTH Sid. JACKIE Sid. You must be a very important executive. SID ROTH (almost a whisper) Well, whatever I am, I think I can get you whatever you'd like. JACKIE You do? SID ROTH Yes. JACKIE (same tone as Sid's) -- well, more than anything else -- (indicating George) -- I'd like to suck his cock. She points to George. George chokes on the last of a piece of chicken. Sid Roth is stunned. He doesn't know what to do. George is coughing badly. Jackie slaps his back. HEAD TABLE - FELICIA AND LESTER Felicia is listening to Lester. The Agnew and Nixon posters are directly behind them. LESTER (to East) -- Senator, you should've seen those little kids! About forty of 'em, all blind. We put out these mattresses on the front lawn and they came running out of the house, tripping and falling all over the place, having a hell of a good time. I mean they were blind of course. But it really gave you a feeling of accomplishment. I tell you I never had such a good time. Felicia during the above has looked up to see Jackie fawning over George. She can't believe her eyes. FELICIA Lester -- SENATOR -- let me understand this was exclusively a home for blind children -- FELICIA Lester -- LESTER -- yes, Senator -- just a minute, dear -- FELICIA Lester, don't you think that uhh -- Now Lester spots it. He's very confused. FELICIA (CONT'D) That girl's making an awful spectacle of herself. LESTER (angry himself) What do you expect me to do about it? FELICIA I just thought you'd like to know -- LESTER Why would I like to know if there's nothing I can do about it, goddammit -- OTHER VOICE Quiet! Cranston's on. They quiet down. JACKIE AND GEORGE Jackie's now moving around kissing George on the mouth. Jill is watching. Johnny Pope is fascinated. JILL -- Jackie really shouldn't drink -- POPE -- oh I don't know -- JACKIE (arm around George's shoulders tonguing his ear) -- Just get me out of here, baby. I can't stand it. It's killing me. GEORGE (indicating head table) -- we can't now. JACKIE -- why not? C'mon, take me out of here, somewhere I don't have to lie to anybody and I'll fuck your brains out, you little fiend, I adore you -- FELICIA is watching Jackie and George with ever greater intensity, her mouth growing more and more agape. JACKIE AND GEORGE JACKIE (CONT'D) (plaintive) -- don't you want to -- GEORGE Jackie, can we -- JACKIE (a little louder) Who's the greatest cocksucker in the world? C'mon -- George looks around sweating now. GEORGE (very quietly) -- you are. JACKIE Fuckin' A -- With that she slips right under the table. It's a surprisingly fluid move. FELICIA almost simultaneously rises, knocking her chair back. LESTER sees both moves and interrupts the Senator. LESTER (CONT'D) Senator, excuse me a moment -- He turns to Felicia and then looks over toward Jackie's empty chair and literally doesn't know which way to go first. He's a little like the bear in the penny arcade that is shot and keeps turning one way, then another. Finally he heads toward Jackie's vacant chair and George. GEORGE his chin to the tablecloth is fishing under it for Jackie. GEORGE (CONT'D) Now, Jackie -- JILL (trying for aplomb) -- she's a very compulsive girl. POPE I can see that. Lester rushes up. LESTER (a desperate smile) Hello, George. Your friend feeling a little under the weather? Jackie surfaces through the tablecloth. JACKIE (to Lester) -- you phony asshole -- LESTER (as if he didn't hear it) Oh, dear that's too bad. (with quiet desperation, to George) -- get her out of here, get her out of here. A cheer goes up as some late returns come in. Dirksen is talking about a new mandate for law and order and peace with honor. LESTER (CONT'D) (to Sid) What was that? SID ROTH Illinois. LESTER (doesn't know what he's saying) -- oh, good. INT. BISTRO Lester glances back toward Felicia who is watching him. GEORGE Jackie, c'mon -- George moves to Jill. GEORGE (CONT'D) I've got to get her out of here. JILL -- go ahead. GEORGE -- well aren't you -- JILL -- what? (indicating Pope) -- I'll see you later... GEORGE (not liking it too much) -- okay -- (pointed) -- I'll see you later. Your house. He moves away with Jackie. Lester turns back toward the main table. INT. 230SL - JACKIE AND GEORGE - NIGHT driving down Sunset Boulevard. There is a long moment of silence. The RADIO'S PLAYING the Eve of Destruction. George gives Jackie a couple of sidelong glances. JACKIE (finally) -- gee... GEORGE -- what? JACKIE (she sits up, lights a cigarette) I don't know what gets into me. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE No, I blew it, I blew it with Lester. GEORGE No you didn't. JACKIE You don't think so? I do. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE You always say that... I really care for Lester, don't I? George laughs. GEORGE That sounds like me. JACKIE I am you, you little bastard. She starts to scrunch over and kiss him, then stops. JACKIE(CONT'D) Where do you want to go? GEORGE Sammy's? JACKIE He still having parties? GEORGE He never stopped. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA IS SITTING WITH LESTER fuming. A woman, ROSALIND, is painstakingly and painfully introducing the Senator. ROSALIND ... and so... to have this man... here... among us... who has helped... as has everyone here to bring so many people together... of all races, creeds, and colors... FELICIA AND LESTER Rosalind droning on, b.g. She finally introduces Senator East. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA AND LESTER FELICIA Lester. LESTER Yes, sweetheart, shh. He pats her hand. She gives him a look that could kill. FELICIA -- I hope you like Miss Shawn -- LESTER -- what, who? Oh she's very nice, yes -- I mean normally --- FELICIA -- cause she's going to be very, very expensive. LESTER Can't we go into this later, sweetheart? ROSALIND'S VOICE Ladies and gentlemen, to Senator Joe East. Glasses are raised, a little dissonant hurrah. FELICIA We cannot go into this later. LESTER That's okay too. FELICIA You make me sick. Just be straight for once in your life. There are now O.S. calls for East to do his Indian chant. QUICK CUT TO: EAST SENATOR -- this tells of the ancient grandmother who, upon seeing the garden gate of her childhood, stops a moment and says, hello garden gate, hello garden gate, garden gate, hello. INT. BISTRO - LESTER AND FELICIA LESTER (finally exasperated) -- look, Felicia, this party involves more than you and me, you know. These people are concerned about more than each other, you know. FELICIA -- is that right? LESTER -- yes, we're all trying to do something to make this a better country to live in, believe it or not. THE SENATOR has begun his weird chant, beating out accompaniment on a cigar box and a pewter vase. FELICIA (glancing up) -- is that what this is all about? LESTER Yes and you don't have to be sarcastic about it, that's a beautiful thing he's doing -- some people do more than go to the beauty parlor and shop at Saks -- FELICIA Lester, you're a miserable man. You're not helping anybody. You're just twisting arms to raise money for a lot of silly son of a bitches that are out for themselves -- this

into

How many times the word 'into' appears in the text?

you I was on my way, but the line was busy, you're always on the phone. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE IN BEL AIR - DAY George pulls into the circular driveway. COVERED by a few bars of The Mama's and The Papa's "California Dreamin." There's only one car. George gets off the bike and goes to the door. Nobody answers. He hears the SOUND of a BALL BANGING. He looks toward the tennis court. ON THE COURT - LORNA is banging away on the backboard. There's a basket of balls nearby. She hits with considerable skill and power until she misses the backboard and the ball lodges in the steel mesh surrounding the court. George is standing there. Lorna looks at him. LORNA You here to see my mother? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA She's out, but you're supposed to wait. LORNA WALKING TO GEORGE LORNA (CONT'D) Hungry? GEORGE A little. AT THE KITCHEN TABLE They're eating silently. Lorna has hauled all kinds of food out of the refrigerators. She watches George as he eats with some relish. She gets up and goes to the steel-doored refrigerators. LORNA (indicating refrigerators) This is the one thing I like about this house... want some lox? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA You're my mother's hairdresser? GEORGE (warily) I do her hair, yeah. LORNA Chopped liver? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Are you gay?... baked apple?... they're cold but they're good. GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Did you hear me? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA Well, are you? Are you queer? GEORGE ... yeah. LORNA (laughing) C'mon, are you or aren't you? GEORGE (trying to avoid it) Gee, this is great. He slices a piece of cheesecake. Lorna sits down, in the chair nearest him now. LORNA C'mon, tell me. Don't be afraid. GEORGE Why do you wanna know so bad? LORNA See if you've been making it with my mother. GEORGE (looking at her for a minute, he changes his tone) What would my being a faggot have to do with that? Lorna shrugs. LORNA Nothing, I guess... have you ever made it with a guy? GEORGE Have you ever made it with a girl? LORNA I asked you first. GEORGE Yeah... I've made it with a girl... Lorna smiles. A pause. LORNA Well, are you? GEORGE Am I what? LORNA Making it with my mother? George wants to avoid this at all costs. He stares at Lorna intently. GEORGE I'd like to do your hair sometime. LORNA Why? GEORGE ... just, you could look very heavy... LORNA Don't make conversation with me. GEORGE What? LORNA You don't have to make conversation with me, I'm not my mother... do you have a thing about older women... that's sort of faggoty isn't it? George is weary and getting annoyed. GEORGE Yeah, it is. LORNA I never get my hair done. GEORGE No kidding. LORNA In fact, I don't think I've ever been to a beauty parlor in my whole life. GEORGE No shit. LORNA You think that's funny, don't you? GEORGE (laughing a little) Yeah. LORNA You live a phony cheap cop-out existence. GEORGE (determined to be light) Yeah... LORNA Beverly Hills hairdresser... what kind of a thing is that to do... you might as well be a faggot... think that's funny too? GEORGE No. LORNA Then what do you think? GEORGE That you're just like your mother. LORNA I am not like my mother! GEORGE You are. LORNA I am not! GEORGE You are. Lorna is furious. LORNA I am not! GEORGE (he starts to placate her) Look... (then defiantly) Do you wanna fuck me? LORNA (defiantly) Yeah. George stops eating. He's not prepared for this. GEORGE (uneasily) Right now? LORNA (a little more tentative now that the moment has arrived) Yeah. EXT. SOURCE RESTAURANT - JOHNNY POPE AND JILL - DAY A scraggly bearded WAITER with long stringy hair sets down two huge green salads before Jill and Johnny Pope. In so doing the Waiter drops a wooden menu he's been carrying. As he bends down to pick it up, he kneels beside Pope. Pope taps him on the shoulder. POPE (tapping him) Oh, scraves... WAITER Yes? The Waiter looks up, and moves. POPE Thank you. WAITER What for? POPE Taking your hair out of my salad. WAITER Oh, I'm sorry. Pope nods, Jill giggles. The Waiter goes off. Pope tosses out a few pieces of lettuce from the top of his salad. JILL Why don't you ask for another one? POPE Are you kidding? His hair's probably the most nutritious thing in here. See, you've reduced me to eating weeds. JILL ... my friend doesn't like it here either. POPE All right, forget this filth. Continue about your friend. JILL Well he's not exactly a friend. POPE Is he an enemy? JILL (laughing) Of course not... he's sort of a boyfriend. POPE -- sort of a boyfriend? JILL Sort of. POPE I see. You mean he just sort of fucks you. JILL Johnny! POPE My God, did I say that? I don't believe it. He looks under his chair to see if it was somebody else. POPE (CONT'D) I'm terribly sorry. JILL (amused) -- never mind. POPE What does he do? Is he an actor? JILL -- no. POPE Good for you. JILL He's a hairdresser. Pope drops his fork in the salad bowl. POPE -- oh, sure. A hairdresser. How... how do you a... meet a hairdresser? JILL Getting your hair done... (looks at him, abruptly) Would you like to go to a party? POPE Not with your hairdresser. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE - FELICIA - DAY pulls into the driveway. She gets out of her car, spots George's bike. INT. THE KITCHEN She sees the food spread out. FELICIA moving through the house. She stops by Lorna's room. Lorna has a sliding door, which is closed. Felicia opens it. FELICIA Lorna? LORNA'S BEDROOM Lorna is sitting on her bed, in her tennis dress but with her tennis shoes off. She's straightening a string in her racket. She looks to her mother, expressionless. FELICIA (CONT'D) Have you seen George? LORNA He's in the bathroom. FELICIA Your bathroom? LORNA Yes. The toilet flushes. The sink runs, and George emerges. He's looking a little haggard. GEORGE Hi. FELICIA (coolly) Hello, George. They walk out to the lanai together and George picks up his case. There is considerable tension from Felicia as they walk into her bedroom. Felicia slides the bedroom door shut, an action which George unhappily notices. She turns to George. She looks very hostile. She's trembling. FELICIA (CONT'D) I've missed you. George is taken aback. He gropes for a moment. GEORGE I've... missed you too. Felicia comes to him. She comes to him and touches his arm. George suddenly flings his case across the room and pounds his fist into a high-backed chair, turning away from Felicia. She clearly misunderstands the action. FELICIA (touched) It's okay, honey... it's okay now. She moves to the door and quietly locks it. George winces. She comes back to him and kisses him gently. She kisses him again with more passion. George tries to respond. FELICIA (CONT'D) Comb my hair out later, honey. GEORGE No, that's okay, I'll do It now. FELICIA No, baby... I'm glad you're coming tonight. She gently tugs at him, leading him toward the bed. George is miserable. GEORGE (looking toward the door) But aren't you... FELICIA Right now, I just don't care. As they sink to the bed, Felicia switches on the HI-FI. The Tijuana Brass begin to play. GEORGE ON HIS BIKE - LATE AFTERNOON COVERED BY a few bars of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". Riding home. He turns down his street and pulls into his driveway. He gets off his bike and only as he starts up his walk does he see Jill. She's been quietly waiting on his front porch, hidden in the shadows of the overhang. She doesn't look happy. George stops cold. GEORGE (?) Jill says nothing. GEORGE (CONT'D) Where's your car? JILL A friend dropped me off. GEORGE Who? JILL Never mind. Where've you been? GEORGE A business meeting, I told you that. They go inside. The living room is messy. George looks around in disgust. JILL What business meeting? GEORGE Look at the way I live. JILL I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. You weren't in the shop. What is this thing tonight? GEORGE What do you mean, what is it? It's some political bullshit. JILL I have to have Jackie ask me? Don't you think you could call me and let me know? Look at my hair. GEORGE Wait a minute, God-damn-it. Do you think I want to go to some God damned party? I'm trying to get that God damned shop open. I'm trying to get a little bread together. That's all I'm doing. George's outburst has shocked Jill. George maniacally begins straightening the mess. GEORGE (CONT'D) I just wanna live like everybody else, that's all. I want clothes in the closet, and food in the refrigerator, and I don't want shit all over the house and running my ass all over town... I want my own house... I want an appointment book... I want to get up in the morning and go to bed at night... I want a normal life like everybody else, that's all. He collapses into a chair. She comes over to him and knee beside him. JILL I know, honey. GEORGE Maybe I should get a dog... no, it would just shit all over the house and I'd never clean it up. JILL (laughing a little, touching him) Oh, honey. If we had one place, we could have a nicer place and I could take care of it. We're almost never here. REAR VIEW MIRROR - NIGHT A signal red Porsche cabriolet pulls up into mirror. The top is down. Under the brightly lit streetlights Jill's blonde hair and features are VISIBLE. WITH GEORGE AND JACKIE in her Mercedes. George still looking through the rear view mirror. Jackie's a knockout. JACKIE (looking at George looking in mirror) -- you'll be the prettiest thing in the room -- light's green... GEORGE (he takes off) -- oh yeah... what do you know about this guy? JACKIE -- what guy? GEORGE (gesturing toward rear window) -- this guy with Jill. JACKIE He's a director. OUTSIDE OF BISTRO - GEORGE AND JOHNNY POPE - NIGHT pull up, Pope right behind George. Parking ATTENDANTS leap for the doors. A few photographers of the movie freak variety ask each other who these arrivals are. One assures several others that they're nobody. GEORGE (to Attendant) Do I need a ticket for this? ATTENDANT We'll remember you. POPE as they move to take his Porsche. POPE (CONT'D) (shaking his head) I'll park it. Pope drives his own car onto the lot. WITH JILL, GEORGE AND JACKIE waiting for Pope who is now ambling toward them. GEORGE (to Jill) What does he direct besides traffic? JILL Ha, ha. GEORGE Television or movies? JILL Commercials. JACKIE (quietly, to George) Feel better? Let's go. Pope has joined them. INT. BISTRO FOYER They clear it to see the long elegant bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. George looks and sees someone. A fortyish WOMAN, attractive. GEORGE (to Jackie) Jesus Christ, there's Norma Stern. Look at her hair. JACKIE What about it? GEORGE Looks like somebody took a dump in it, that's the worst color job I've -- Norma comes over, hugs George. NORMA George -- GEORGE (pointing to her hair) Baby, you've been chippying on me -- NORMA Yes, isn't it awful -- GEORGE (smiling) -- yes. Jackie tugs him by the arm. JACKIE We're upstairs, George. Now come on. Behave yourself, and for Christ's sake, do me a favor. Don't let me drink too much. GEORGE (going upstairs) You don't do that anymore, do you? BISTRO STAIRS Jackie doesn't answer. They've reached the top of the stairs. They're hit by the full force of the upstairs gathering -- black tie, posters of Nixon, Agnew, Reagan, and Murphy, vaguely familiar faces crossing back and forth, clustering, watching early returns on television sets that are blaring from various points around the room. An ORCHESTRA PLAYS Meyer Davis Society Jazz. Jackie and George hesitate. Pope and Jill are behind them. Pope jostles George as he stops, abruptly. George looks around. Pope smiles. He's holding Jill's hand. George notices. Jill disengages her hand casually, as though it were necessary only for the walk up the stairs. Jackie nudges George, forcing him to move into the room with her as Lester comes toward them. He's stopped on his way over. WAITER Can I get you folks something? JILL A stinger, please. POPE A tomato juice. GEORGE I'll take a -- some white wine. WAITER And you, madam? JACKIE (searching the room) Oh I'll uhh -- just a coke. The Waiter moves on and they wait for their drinks. Lester finally makes to them. LESTER George, glad you could make it, son. Hi, doll. JACKIE Lester, this is my friend Jill and this is Johnny Pope. LESTER Glad to meet you, Jill, Mr. Pope. INT. BISTRO UPSTAIRS George turns to get his drink from the Waiter as do Jill and Pope. Lester takes Jackie's arm. LESTER Who are they? JACKIE (quickly) Jill Haynes, Jill Haynes, I've told you about Jill a hundred times, Lester, you never remember anything I say. LESTER Does she know about us? JACKIE Jesus, she's my best friend. LESTER Who's the guy, George's boyfriend? JACKIE I don't know. Why don't you ask him? LESTER C'mon, Jackie, I'm only trying -- George -- He draws George aside. LESTER (CONT'D) -- do me a favor, kind of keep your eye on Jackie, she's a little high strung tonight -- GEORGE -- yeah? LESTER See she doesn't drink too much. Jackie has heard this last. Lester turns to her. LESTER (CONT'D) See you later, doll. Jackie puts down her coke, picks up a glass of white wine from a passing tray and downs it in one gulp, putting it on another tray and picking up another glass of white wine. FELICIA with cleavage carefully prominent in a strapless gown, spots George. She excuses herself from the couple she has been talking with and goes straight to the powder room. INT. POWDER ROOM - FELICIA checks herself out in the mirror, glossing her lips with a pale tint of something or other. She gives a final anxious look, then hurries out, nearly bumping into a lady coming In. OUTSIDE she moves through the crowd up behind George, turning him around. FELICIA George, darling. She kisses him full on the lips, lingering on it. GEORGE (without batting an eye) Hey, baby, what's happening. Oh this is Jackie. Jackie, say hello to Felicia. It is only now that Felicia sees one of George's arms has been holding onto Jackie. JACKIE (also without batting an eye) Hello, Felicia. FELICIA (instantly suspicious of George) ... hello. Felicia looks from George to Jackie and back again. FELICIA (CONT'D) I'm so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you. LESTER pours his drink on the cuff of a distinguished MAN sitting beneath him at a table as he sees George and Felicia and Jackie clustered together. WITH LESTER AND MAN MAN Lester, what the fuck do you think you're doing? LESTER Jesus, Nate, I'm sorry. Lester fumbles, tries to clean Nate off with a napkin. NATE Never mind, I'll do it myself. He dips the napkin into a glass of ice water and proceeds to clean off his cuff. Nate goes back to the TV monitor where Agnew is making some remarks or commentators are repeating his comment about being a household word. LESTER So far so good. NATE Aw there's nothing to worry about. LESTER You never know. FELICIA WITH GEORGE FELICIA Why didn't you come alone? Lester invited you. Did you have to bring her? GEORGE (looking toward Lester) Well she... FELICIA She what? GEORGE She's a friend of Jill's. FELICIA And who's Jill? She spots Jill. GEORGE Well, she's a friend of Johnny Pope's -- you know, the director. She looks at Pope who is saying something to Jill which is making her laugh. FELICIA Oh. GEORGE is threading his way through a crowd, holding two drinks, one of them a coca-cola. It's a little more raucous now, with election returns from the television sets creating a more festive mood. Now and then someone jumps up from a set and hugs someone so carrying drinks is a little dodgy. JACKIE, F.G. - LESTER, B.G., TALKING Jackie sits alone by the bar, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. A man offers her a match. She stares at the burning match as if it's obscene. She blows it out. JACKIE No thanks. The man looks a little shocked, moves on. GEORGE has his arm held. It's KENNETH, a red-haired decorator. KENNETH Excuse me, I know I know you, but I can't think where. GEORGE Look, I'd like to help but -- Felicia grabs George's other arm pulling him away from Kenneth. Kenneth looks a little shocked at the ferocity of Felicia's move. FELICIA There you are. She tugs him with her. GEORGE Wait a minute -- She takes him right into the ladies room, George still juggling the drinks. JOHNNY POPE watches Felicia and George disappear into the ladies room, looking over Jill's shoulder. Jill has not seen it. POPE This other couple that we're here with, do you know them very well? JILL Well... sure... POPE Then maybe you can tell me why George would be going into the ladies room. Jill looks around and stares at the door. JILL George? Was he alone? POPE I don't think so. JILL Well did he go in there with Jackie? Pope points over to Jackie sitting at the bar drinking now. JILL (CONT'D) That bastard. POPE George is a hairdresser, isn't he? Jill doesn't answer. INT. BATHROOM - FELICIA AND GEORGE GEORGE (desperate) Baby, you gotta let me out of here. Felicia kisses him. FELICIA Sweetheart, it's a bore out there... let's lock the door. GEORGE Holy Christ. You want to get us killed? FELICIA Don't be silly. I'll just tell Lester we were smoking a couple of joints. See? She pulls two joints out of her beaded bag. LESTER only a few seats from Jackie, Jackie staring daggers at him, Lester aware of it. He's talking to a pair of lacquered eminence grises. LESTER -- fellas, fellas, just listen, you both have tidelands, you both want Uncle Sam to come through with offshore drilling permits -- so do it together -- JACKIE has taken an olive from an olive tray and hit Lester on the back of the head. He's finished this little dissertation. He sees the source of the missile. He grows pale, frozen. Sixty-four year old bejeweled WOMAN in b.g. WOMAN So, little red riding hood says 'my what big teeth you have and the wolf says all the better to eat you with, my dear, and she says -- eat, eat, eat, doesn't anybody ever fuck any more?' Jackie has now picked up a carrot from a relish tray. George appears. GEORGE Don't do it. JACKIE That son of a bitch, everything he says is a phony piece of shit, what does he think, I'm some cigar butt he's got between his teeth -- GEORGE (almost picking her up) C'mon, cunt, you're going for a walk. He takes her into the next room and Lester watches the move with a mixture of relief and concern. INT. OTHER BAR Jackie is now near tears. JACKIE He just completely ignores me. He could have at least said something, introduced me or something. INT. SMALL BAR GEORGE Sweetheart, you're drunk. She leans on George. JACKIE Oh God, what do I want, George? Lester comes hurrying in, sweating, now. LESTER Hi, doll, what's wrong? JACKIE You know what's wrong. Felicia trips coming into the small bar. FELICIA Lester -- Lester straightens up like he's been shot. LESTER Oh, Felicia, there you are, you know George and uh -- uh -- He's genuinely forgotten her name. JACKIE Jackie Shawn. LESTER Yes, Jackie Shawn, my wi -- Felicia. FELICIA We've met. JACKIE Yes. GEORGE Well anyway... LESTER (to Felicia) Your hair looks -- well fabulous. FELICIA That's George. INT. SMALL BAR LESTER It's just -- fabulous. (to George, an attempt at levity) Think you could do anything for me? GEORGE (he takes it seriously) Well -- I could try. Do you wash your hair every day? LESTER Isn't that bad for it? GEORGE No it keeps the skin peeling. You've got to keep the follicles open. You lose hair and the skin grows over the follicle and that's how you lose it. George actually touches Lester's hair, professional interest growing. GEORGE (CONT'D) This really ought to be layered... LESTER Layered? GEORGE Well yeah, otherwise it just sort, you know, lies there -- layer so it kind of fluffs out -- He starts to fluff Lester's hair a little when Johnny Pope walks in with Jill to this. Pope stares at them. POPE I think they're waiting for somebody to start dinner. LESTER Have they sat down? POPE Everybody but us. FELICIA They're waiting for you, Lester. INT. BISTRO DINNER TABLE Dinner is pretty much finished, waiters have begun picking up plates. IZZY SOKOLOFF (to Jill) I guess it's almost impossible to get work in the business these days. Pope watches Sokoloff make his move. JILL Well, commercials. I read for a soap the other day. IZZY A soap? JILL A daytime soap opera. IZZY And? JILL I was too old. IZZY What was it, somebody's daughter? JILL Somebody's mother. JACKIE'S PLATE is untouched. She holds up her wine glass. JACKIE Waiter! George looks at her. JACKIE (CONT'D) One word out of you and I'll gargle with it. The waiter pours the wine. George looks to Jill, shrugs. Jill mouthes, 'try and stop her.' George mouthes back, 'are you kidding?' INT. BISTRO SID ROTH has been eyeing Jackie. SID ROTH Aren't you hungry, Miss Shawn? Jackie looks at Roth. Roth shoots his cuffs and smiles. JACKIE Not for rubber chicken, no. Sid Roth smiles. Jackie smiles back. SID ROTH (intime) Well maybe I can get you something. JACKIE That's very sweet of you, Mr. Roth. SID ROTH Sid. JACKIE Sid. You must be a very important executive. SID ROTH (almost a whisper) Well, whatever I am, I think I can get you whatever you'd like. JACKIE You do? SID ROTH Yes. JACKIE (same tone as Sid's) -- well, more than anything else -- (indicating George) -- I'd like to suck his cock. She points to George. George chokes on the last of a piece of chicken. Sid Roth is stunned. He doesn't know what to do. George is coughing badly. Jackie slaps his back. HEAD TABLE - FELICIA AND LESTER Felicia is listening to Lester. The Agnew and Nixon posters are directly behind them. LESTER (to East) -- Senator, you should've seen those little kids! About forty of 'em, all blind. We put out these mattresses on the front lawn and they came running out of the house, tripping and falling all over the place, having a hell of a good time. I mean they were blind of course. But it really gave you a feeling of accomplishment. I tell you I never had such a good time. Felicia during the above has looked up to see Jackie fawning over George. She can't believe her eyes. FELICIA Lester -- SENATOR -- let me understand this was exclusively a home for blind children -- FELICIA Lester -- LESTER -- yes, Senator -- just a minute, dear -- FELICIA Lester, don't you think that uhh -- Now Lester spots it. He's very confused. FELICIA (CONT'D) That girl's making an awful spectacle of herself. LESTER (angry himself) What do you expect me to do about it? FELICIA I just thought you'd like to know -- LESTER Why would I like to know if there's nothing I can do about it, goddammit -- OTHER VOICE Quiet! Cranston's on. They quiet down. JACKIE AND GEORGE Jackie's now moving around kissing George on the mouth. Jill is watching. Johnny Pope is fascinated. JILL -- Jackie really shouldn't drink -- POPE -- oh I don't know -- JACKIE (arm around George's shoulders tonguing his ear) -- Just get me out of here, baby. I can't stand it. It's killing me. GEORGE (indicating head table) -- we can't now. JACKIE -- why not? C'mon, take me out of here, somewhere I don't have to lie to anybody and I'll fuck your brains out, you little fiend, I adore you -- FELICIA is watching Jackie and George with ever greater intensity, her mouth growing more and more agape. JACKIE AND GEORGE JACKIE (CONT'D) (plaintive) -- don't you want to -- GEORGE Jackie, can we -- JACKIE (a little louder) Who's the greatest cocksucker in the world? C'mon -- George looks around sweating now. GEORGE (very quietly) -- you are. JACKIE Fuckin' A -- With that she slips right under the table. It's a surprisingly fluid move. FELICIA almost simultaneously rises, knocking her chair back. LESTER sees both moves and interrupts the Senator. LESTER (CONT'D) Senator, excuse me a moment -- He turns to Felicia and then looks over toward Jackie's empty chair and literally doesn't know which way to go first. He's a little like the bear in the penny arcade that is shot and keeps turning one way, then another. Finally he heads toward Jackie's vacant chair and George. GEORGE his chin to the tablecloth is fishing under it for Jackie. GEORGE (CONT'D) Now, Jackie -- JILL (trying for aplomb) -- she's a very compulsive girl. POPE I can see that. Lester rushes up. LESTER (a desperate smile) Hello, George. Your friend feeling a little under the weather? Jackie surfaces through the tablecloth. JACKIE (to Lester) -- you phony asshole -- LESTER (as if he didn't hear it) Oh, dear that's too bad. (with quiet desperation, to George) -- get her out of here, get her out of here. A cheer goes up as some late returns come in. Dirksen is talking about a new mandate for law and order and peace with honor. LESTER (CONT'D) (to Sid) What was that? SID ROTH Illinois. LESTER (doesn't know what he's saying) -- oh, good. INT. BISTRO Lester glances back toward Felicia who is watching him. GEORGE Jackie, c'mon -- George moves to Jill. GEORGE (CONT'D) I've got to get her out of here. JILL -- go ahead. GEORGE -- well aren't you -- JILL -- what? (indicating Pope) -- I'll see you later... GEORGE (not liking it too much) -- okay -- (pointed) -- I'll see you later. Your house. He moves away with Jackie. Lester turns back toward the main table. INT. 230SL - JACKIE AND GEORGE - NIGHT driving down Sunset Boulevard. There is a long moment of silence. The RADIO'S PLAYING the Eve of Destruction. George gives Jackie a couple of sidelong glances. JACKIE (finally) -- gee... GEORGE -- what? JACKIE (she sits up, lights a cigarette) I don't know what gets into me. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE No, I blew it, I blew it with Lester. GEORGE No you didn't. JACKIE You don't think so? I do. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE You always say that... I really care for Lester, don't I? George laughs. GEORGE That sounds like me. JACKIE I am you, you little bastard. She starts to scrunch over and kiss him, then stops. JACKIE(CONT'D) Where do you want to go? GEORGE Sammy's? JACKIE He still having parties? GEORGE He never stopped. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA IS SITTING WITH LESTER fuming. A woman, ROSALIND, is painstakingly and painfully introducing the Senator. ROSALIND ... and so... to have this man... here... among us... who has helped... as has everyone here to bring so many people together... of all races, creeds, and colors... FELICIA AND LESTER Rosalind droning on, b.g. She finally introduces Senator East. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA AND LESTER FELICIA Lester. LESTER Yes, sweetheart, shh. He pats her hand. She gives him a look that could kill. FELICIA -- I hope you like Miss Shawn -- LESTER -- what, who? Oh she's very nice, yes -- I mean normally --- FELICIA -- cause she's going to be very, very expensive. LESTER Can't we go into this later, sweetheart? ROSALIND'S VOICE Ladies and gentlemen, to Senator Joe East. Glasses are raised, a little dissonant hurrah. FELICIA We cannot go into this later. LESTER That's okay too. FELICIA You make me sick. Just be straight for once in your life. There are now O.S. calls for East to do his Indian chant. QUICK CUT TO: EAST SENATOR -- this tells of the ancient grandmother who, upon seeing the garden gate of her childhood, stops a moment and says, hello garden gate, hello garden gate, garden gate, hello. INT. BISTRO - LESTER AND FELICIA LESTER (finally exasperated) -- look, Felicia, this party involves more than you and me, you know. These people are concerned about more than each other, you know. FELICIA -- is that right? LESTER -- yes, we're all trying to do something to make this a better country to live in, believe it or not. THE SENATOR has begun his weird chant, beating out accompaniment on a cigar box and a pewter vase. FELICIA (glancing up) -- is that what this is all about? LESTER Yes and you don't have to be sarcastic about it, that's a beautiful thing he's doing -- some people do more than go to the beauty parlor and shop at Saks -- FELICIA Lester, you're a miserable man. You're not helping anybody. You're just twisting arms to raise money for a lot of silly son of a bitches that are out for themselves -- this

doing

How many times the word 'doing' appears in the text?

you I was on my way, but the line was busy, you're always on the phone. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE IN BEL AIR - DAY George pulls into the circular driveway. COVERED by a few bars of The Mama's and The Papa's "California Dreamin." There's only one car. George gets off the bike and goes to the door. Nobody answers. He hears the SOUND of a BALL BANGING. He looks toward the tennis court. ON THE COURT - LORNA is banging away on the backboard. There's a basket of balls nearby. She hits with considerable skill and power until she misses the backboard and the ball lodges in the steel mesh surrounding the court. George is standing there. Lorna looks at him. LORNA You here to see my mother? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA She's out, but you're supposed to wait. LORNA WALKING TO GEORGE LORNA (CONT'D) Hungry? GEORGE A little. AT THE KITCHEN TABLE They're eating silently. Lorna has hauled all kinds of food out of the refrigerators. She watches George as he eats with some relish. She gets up and goes to the steel-doored refrigerators. LORNA (indicating refrigerators) This is the one thing I like about this house... want some lox? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA You're my mother's hairdresser? GEORGE (warily) I do her hair, yeah. LORNA Chopped liver? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Are you gay?... baked apple?... they're cold but they're good. GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Did you hear me? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA Well, are you? Are you queer? GEORGE ... yeah. LORNA (laughing) C'mon, are you or aren't you? GEORGE (trying to avoid it) Gee, this is great. He slices a piece of cheesecake. Lorna sits down, in the chair nearest him now. LORNA C'mon, tell me. Don't be afraid. GEORGE Why do you wanna know so bad? LORNA See if you've been making it with my mother. GEORGE (looking at her for a minute, he changes his tone) What would my being a faggot have to do with that? Lorna shrugs. LORNA Nothing, I guess... have you ever made it with a guy? GEORGE Have you ever made it with a girl? LORNA I asked you first. GEORGE Yeah... I've made it with a girl... Lorna smiles. A pause. LORNA Well, are you? GEORGE Am I what? LORNA Making it with my mother? George wants to avoid this at all costs. He stares at Lorna intently. GEORGE I'd like to do your hair sometime. LORNA Why? GEORGE ... just, you could look very heavy... LORNA Don't make conversation with me. GEORGE What? LORNA You don't have to make conversation with me, I'm not my mother... do you have a thing about older women... that's sort of faggoty isn't it? George is weary and getting annoyed. GEORGE Yeah, it is. LORNA I never get my hair done. GEORGE No kidding. LORNA In fact, I don't think I've ever been to a beauty parlor in my whole life. GEORGE No shit. LORNA You think that's funny, don't you? GEORGE (laughing a little) Yeah. LORNA You live a phony cheap cop-out existence. GEORGE (determined to be light) Yeah... LORNA Beverly Hills hairdresser... what kind of a thing is that to do... you might as well be a faggot... think that's funny too? GEORGE No. LORNA Then what do you think? GEORGE That you're just like your mother. LORNA I am not like my mother! GEORGE You are. LORNA I am not! GEORGE You are. Lorna is furious. LORNA I am not! GEORGE (he starts to placate her) Look... (then defiantly) Do you wanna fuck me? LORNA (defiantly) Yeah. George stops eating. He's not prepared for this. GEORGE (uneasily) Right now? LORNA (a little more tentative now that the moment has arrived) Yeah. EXT. SOURCE RESTAURANT - JOHNNY POPE AND JILL - DAY A scraggly bearded WAITER with long stringy hair sets down two huge green salads before Jill and Johnny Pope. In so doing the Waiter drops a wooden menu he's been carrying. As he bends down to pick it up, he kneels beside Pope. Pope taps him on the shoulder. POPE (tapping him) Oh, scraves... WAITER Yes? The Waiter looks up, and moves. POPE Thank you. WAITER What for? POPE Taking your hair out of my salad. WAITER Oh, I'm sorry. Pope nods, Jill giggles. The Waiter goes off. Pope tosses out a few pieces of lettuce from the top of his salad. JILL Why don't you ask for another one? POPE Are you kidding? His hair's probably the most nutritious thing in here. See, you've reduced me to eating weeds. JILL ... my friend doesn't like it here either. POPE All right, forget this filth. Continue about your friend. JILL Well he's not exactly a friend. POPE Is he an enemy? JILL (laughing) Of course not... he's sort of a boyfriend. POPE -- sort of a boyfriend? JILL Sort of. POPE I see. You mean he just sort of fucks you. JILL Johnny! POPE My God, did I say that? I don't believe it. He looks under his chair to see if it was somebody else. POPE (CONT'D) I'm terribly sorry. JILL (amused) -- never mind. POPE What does he do? Is he an actor? JILL -- no. POPE Good for you. JILL He's a hairdresser. Pope drops his fork in the salad bowl. POPE -- oh, sure. A hairdresser. How... how do you a... meet a hairdresser? JILL Getting your hair done... (looks at him, abruptly) Would you like to go to a party? POPE Not with your hairdresser. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE - FELICIA - DAY pulls into the driveway. She gets out of her car, spots George's bike. INT. THE KITCHEN She sees the food spread out. FELICIA moving through the house. She stops by Lorna's room. Lorna has a sliding door, which is closed. Felicia opens it. FELICIA Lorna? LORNA'S BEDROOM Lorna is sitting on her bed, in her tennis dress but with her tennis shoes off. She's straightening a string in her racket. She looks to her mother, expressionless. FELICIA (CONT'D) Have you seen George? LORNA He's in the bathroom. FELICIA Your bathroom? LORNA Yes. The toilet flushes. The sink runs, and George emerges. He's looking a little haggard. GEORGE Hi. FELICIA (coolly) Hello, George. They walk out to the lanai together and George picks up his case. There is considerable tension from Felicia as they walk into her bedroom. Felicia slides the bedroom door shut, an action which George unhappily notices. She turns to George. She looks very hostile. She's trembling. FELICIA (CONT'D) I've missed you. George is taken aback. He gropes for a moment. GEORGE I've... missed you too. Felicia comes to him. She comes to him and touches his arm. George suddenly flings his case across the room and pounds his fist into a high-backed chair, turning away from Felicia. She clearly misunderstands the action. FELICIA (touched) It's okay, honey... it's okay now. She moves to the door and quietly locks it. George winces. She comes back to him and kisses him gently. She kisses him again with more passion. George tries to respond. FELICIA (CONT'D) Comb my hair out later, honey. GEORGE No, that's okay, I'll do It now. FELICIA No, baby... I'm glad you're coming tonight. She gently tugs at him, leading him toward the bed. George is miserable. GEORGE (looking toward the door) But aren't you... FELICIA Right now, I just don't care. As they sink to the bed, Felicia switches on the HI-FI. The Tijuana Brass begin to play. GEORGE ON HIS BIKE - LATE AFTERNOON COVERED BY a few bars of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". Riding home. He turns down his street and pulls into his driveway. He gets off his bike and only as he starts up his walk does he see Jill. She's been quietly waiting on his front porch, hidden in the shadows of the overhang. She doesn't look happy. George stops cold. GEORGE (?) Jill says nothing. GEORGE (CONT'D) Where's your car? JILL A friend dropped me off. GEORGE Who? JILL Never mind. Where've you been? GEORGE A business meeting, I told you that. They go inside. The living room is messy. George looks around in disgust. JILL What business meeting? GEORGE Look at the way I live. JILL I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. You weren't in the shop. What is this thing tonight? GEORGE What do you mean, what is it? It's some political bullshit. JILL I have to have Jackie ask me? Don't you think you could call me and let me know? Look at my hair. GEORGE Wait a minute, God-damn-it. Do you think I want to go to some God damned party? I'm trying to get that God damned shop open. I'm trying to get a little bread together. That's all I'm doing. George's outburst has shocked Jill. George maniacally begins straightening the mess. GEORGE (CONT'D) I just wanna live like everybody else, that's all. I want clothes in the closet, and food in the refrigerator, and I don't want shit all over the house and running my ass all over town... I want my own house... I want an appointment book... I want to get up in the morning and go to bed at night... I want a normal life like everybody else, that's all. He collapses into a chair. She comes over to him and knee beside him. JILL I know, honey. GEORGE Maybe I should get a dog... no, it would just shit all over the house and I'd never clean it up. JILL (laughing a little, touching him) Oh, honey. If we had one place, we could have a nicer place and I could take care of it. We're almost never here. REAR VIEW MIRROR - NIGHT A signal red Porsche cabriolet pulls up into mirror. The top is down. Under the brightly lit streetlights Jill's blonde hair and features are VISIBLE. WITH GEORGE AND JACKIE in her Mercedes. George still looking through the rear view mirror. Jackie's a knockout. JACKIE (looking at George looking in mirror) -- you'll be the prettiest thing in the room -- light's green... GEORGE (he takes off) -- oh yeah... what do you know about this guy? JACKIE -- what guy? GEORGE (gesturing toward rear window) -- this guy with Jill. JACKIE He's a director. OUTSIDE OF BISTRO - GEORGE AND JOHNNY POPE - NIGHT pull up, Pope right behind George. Parking ATTENDANTS leap for the doors. A few photographers of the movie freak variety ask each other who these arrivals are. One assures several others that they're nobody. GEORGE (to Attendant) Do I need a ticket for this? ATTENDANT We'll remember you. POPE as they move to take his Porsche. POPE (CONT'D) (shaking his head) I'll park it. Pope drives his own car onto the lot. WITH JILL, GEORGE AND JACKIE waiting for Pope who is now ambling toward them. GEORGE (to Jill) What does he direct besides traffic? JILL Ha, ha. GEORGE Television or movies? JILL Commercials. JACKIE (quietly, to George) Feel better? Let's go. Pope has joined them. INT. BISTRO FOYER They clear it to see the long elegant bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. George looks and sees someone. A fortyish WOMAN, attractive. GEORGE (to Jackie) Jesus Christ, there's Norma Stern. Look at her hair. JACKIE What about it? GEORGE Looks like somebody took a dump in it, that's the worst color job I've -- Norma comes over, hugs George. NORMA George -- GEORGE (pointing to her hair) Baby, you've been chippying on me -- NORMA Yes, isn't it awful -- GEORGE (smiling) -- yes. Jackie tugs him by the arm. JACKIE We're upstairs, George. Now come on. Behave yourself, and for Christ's sake, do me a favor. Don't let me drink too much. GEORGE (going upstairs) You don't do that anymore, do you? BISTRO STAIRS Jackie doesn't answer. They've reached the top of the stairs. They're hit by the full force of the upstairs gathering -- black tie, posters of Nixon, Agnew, Reagan, and Murphy, vaguely familiar faces crossing back and forth, clustering, watching early returns on television sets that are blaring from various points around the room. An ORCHESTRA PLAYS Meyer Davis Society Jazz. Jackie and George hesitate. Pope and Jill are behind them. Pope jostles George as he stops, abruptly. George looks around. Pope smiles. He's holding Jill's hand. George notices. Jill disengages her hand casually, as though it were necessary only for the walk up the stairs. Jackie nudges George, forcing him to move into the room with her as Lester comes toward them. He's stopped on his way over. WAITER Can I get you folks something? JILL A stinger, please. POPE A tomato juice. GEORGE I'll take a -- some white wine. WAITER And you, madam? JACKIE (searching the room) Oh I'll uhh -- just a coke. The Waiter moves on and they wait for their drinks. Lester finally makes to them. LESTER George, glad you could make it, son. Hi, doll. JACKIE Lester, this is my friend Jill and this is Johnny Pope. LESTER Glad to meet you, Jill, Mr. Pope. INT. BISTRO UPSTAIRS George turns to get his drink from the Waiter as do Jill and Pope. Lester takes Jackie's arm. LESTER Who are they? JACKIE (quickly) Jill Haynes, Jill Haynes, I've told you about Jill a hundred times, Lester, you never remember anything I say. LESTER Does she know about us? JACKIE Jesus, she's my best friend. LESTER Who's the guy, George's boyfriend? JACKIE I don't know. Why don't you ask him? LESTER C'mon, Jackie, I'm only trying -- George -- He draws George aside. LESTER (CONT'D) -- do me a favor, kind of keep your eye on Jackie, she's a little high strung tonight -- GEORGE -- yeah? LESTER See she doesn't drink too much. Jackie has heard this last. Lester turns to her. LESTER (CONT'D) See you later, doll. Jackie puts down her coke, picks up a glass of white wine from a passing tray and downs it in one gulp, putting it on another tray and picking up another glass of white wine. FELICIA with cleavage carefully prominent in a strapless gown, spots George. She excuses herself from the couple she has been talking with and goes straight to the powder room. INT. POWDER ROOM - FELICIA checks herself out in the mirror, glossing her lips with a pale tint of something or other. She gives a final anxious look, then hurries out, nearly bumping into a lady coming In. OUTSIDE she moves through the crowd up behind George, turning him around. FELICIA George, darling. She kisses him full on the lips, lingering on it. GEORGE (without batting an eye) Hey, baby, what's happening. Oh this is Jackie. Jackie, say hello to Felicia. It is only now that Felicia sees one of George's arms has been holding onto Jackie. JACKIE (also without batting an eye) Hello, Felicia. FELICIA (instantly suspicious of George) ... hello. Felicia looks from George to Jackie and back again. FELICIA (CONT'D) I'm so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you. LESTER pours his drink on the cuff of a distinguished MAN sitting beneath him at a table as he sees George and Felicia and Jackie clustered together. WITH LESTER AND MAN MAN Lester, what the fuck do you think you're doing? LESTER Jesus, Nate, I'm sorry. Lester fumbles, tries to clean Nate off with a napkin. NATE Never mind, I'll do it myself. He dips the napkin into a glass of ice water and proceeds to clean off his cuff. Nate goes back to the TV monitor where Agnew is making some remarks or commentators are repeating his comment about being a household word. LESTER So far so good. NATE Aw there's nothing to worry about. LESTER You never know. FELICIA WITH GEORGE FELICIA Why didn't you come alone? Lester invited you. Did you have to bring her? GEORGE (looking toward Lester) Well she... FELICIA She what? GEORGE She's a friend of Jill's. FELICIA And who's Jill? She spots Jill. GEORGE Well, she's a friend of Johnny Pope's -- you know, the director. She looks at Pope who is saying something to Jill which is making her laugh. FELICIA Oh. GEORGE is threading his way through a crowd, holding two drinks, one of them a coca-cola. It's a little more raucous now, with election returns from the television sets creating a more festive mood. Now and then someone jumps up from a set and hugs someone so carrying drinks is a little dodgy. JACKIE, F.G. - LESTER, B.G., TALKING Jackie sits alone by the bar, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. A man offers her a match. She stares at the burning match as if it's obscene. She blows it out. JACKIE No thanks. The man looks a little shocked, moves on. GEORGE has his arm held. It's KENNETH, a red-haired decorator. KENNETH Excuse me, I know I know you, but I can't think where. GEORGE Look, I'd like to help but -- Felicia grabs George's other arm pulling him away from Kenneth. Kenneth looks a little shocked at the ferocity of Felicia's move. FELICIA There you are. She tugs him with her. GEORGE Wait a minute -- She takes him right into the ladies room, George still juggling the drinks. JOHNNY POPE watches Felicia and George disappear into the ladies room, looking over Jill's shoulder. Jill has not seen it. POPE This other couple that we're here with, do you know them very well? JILL Well... sure... POPE Then maybe you can tell me why George would be going into the ladies room. Jill looks around and stares at the door. JILL George? Was he alone? POPE I don't think so. JILL Well did he go in there with Jackie? Pope points over to Jackie sitting at the bar drinking now. JILL (CONT'D) That bastard. POPE George is a hairdresser, isn't he? Jill doesn't answer. INT. BATHROOM - FELICIA AND GEORGE GEORGE (desperate) Baby, you gotta let me out of here. Felicia kisses him. FELICIA Sweetheart, it's a bore out there... let's lock the door. GEORGE Holy Christ. You want to get us killed? FELICIA Don't be silly. I'll just tell Lester we were smoking a couple of joints. See? She pulls two joints out of her beaded bag. LESTER only a few seats from Jackie, Jackie staring daggers at him, Lester aware of it. He's talking to a pair of lacquered eminence grises. LESTER -- fellas, fellas, just listen, you both have tidelands, you both want Uncle Sam to come through with offshore drilling permits -- so do it together -- JACKIE has taken an olive from an olive tray and hit Lester on the back of the head. He's finished this little dissertation. He sees the source of the missile. He grows pale, frozen. Sixty-four year old bejeweled WOMAN in b.g. WOMAN So, little red riding hood says 'my what big teeth you have and the wolf says all the better to eat you with, my dear, and she says -- eat, eat, eat, doesn't anybody ever fuck any more?' Jackie has now picked up a carrot from a relish tray. George appears. GEORGE Don't do it. JACKIE That son of a bitch, everything he says is a phony piece of shit, what does he think, I'm some cigar butt he's got between his teeth -- GEORGE (almost picking her up) C'mon, cunt, you're going for a walk. He takes her into the next room and Lester watches the move with a mixture of relief and concern. INT. OTHER BAR Jackie is now near tears. JACKIE He just completely ignores me. He could have at least said something, introduced me or something. INT. SMALL BAR GEORGE Sweetheart, you're drunk. She leans on George. JACKIE Oh God, what do I want, George? Lester comes hurrying in, sweating, now. LESTER Hi, doll, what's wrong? JACKIE You know what's wrong. Felicia trips coming into the small bar. FELICIA Lester -- Lester straightens up like he's been shot. LESTER Oh, Felicia, there you are, you know George and uh -- uh -- He's genuinely forgotten her name. JACKIE Jackie Shawn. LESTER Yes, Jackie Shawn, my wi -- Felicia. FELICIA We've met. JACKIE Yes. GEORGE Well anyway... LESTER (to Felicia) Your hair looks -- well fabulous. FELICIA That's George. INT. SMALL BAR LESTER It's just -- fabulous. (to George, an attempt at levity) Think you could do anything for me? GEORGE (he takes it seriously) Well -- I could try. Do you wash your hair every day? LESTER Isn't that bad for it? GEORGE No it keeps the skin peeling. You've got to keep the follicles open. You lose hair and the skin grows over the follicle and that's how you lose it. George actually touches Lester's hair, professional interest growing. GEORGE (CONT'D) This really ought to be layered... LESTER Layered? GEORGE Well yeah, otherwise it just sort, you know, lies there -- layer so it kind of fluffs out -- He starts to fluff Lester's hair a little when Johnny Pope walks in with Jill to this. Pope stares at them. POPE I think they're waiting for somebody to start dinner. LESTER Have they sat down? POPE Everybody but us. FELICIA They're waiting for you, Lester. INT. BISTRO DINNER TABLE Dinner is pretty much finished, waiters have begun picking up plates. IZZY SOKOLOFF (to Jill) I guess it's almost impossible to get work in the business these days. Pope watches Sokoloff make his move. JILL Well, commercials. I read for a soap the other day. IZZY A soap? JILL A daytime soap opera. IZZY And? JILL I was too old. IZZY What was it, somebody's daughter? JILL Somebody's mother. JACKIE'S PLATE is untouched. She holds up her wine glass. JACKIE Waiter! George looks at her. JACKIE (CONT'D) One word out of you and I'll gargle with it. The waiter pours the wine. George looks to Jill, shrugs. Jill mouthes, 'try and stop her.' George mouthes back, 'are you kidding?' INT. BISTRO SID ROTH has been eyeing Jackie. SID ROTH Aren't you hungry, Miss Shawn? Jackie looks at Roth. Roth shoots his cuffs and smiles. JACKIE Not for rubber chicken, no. Sid Roth smiles. Jackie smiles back. SID ROTH (intime) Well maybe I can get you something. JACKIE That's very sweet of you, Mr. Roth. SID ROTH Sid. JACKIE Sid. You must be a very important executive. SID ROTH (almost a whisper) Well, whatever I am, I think I can get you whatever you'd like. JACKIE You do? SID ROTH Yes. JACKIE (same tone as Sid's) -- well, more than anything else -- (indicating George) -- I'd like to suck his cock. She points to George. George chokes on the last of a piece of chicken. Sid Roth is stunned. He doesn't know what to do. George is coughing badly. Jackie slaps his back. HEAD TABLE - FELICIA AND LESTER Felicia is listening to Lester. The Agnew and Nixon posters are directly behind them. LESTER (to East) -- Senator, you should've seen those little kids! About forty of 'em, all blind. We put out these mattresses on the front lawn and they came running out of the house, tripping and falling all over the place, having a hell of a good time. I mean they were blind of course. But it really gave you a feeling of accomplishment. I tell you I never had such a good time. Felicia during the above has looked up to see Jackie fawning over George. She can't believe her eyes. FELICIA Lester -- SENATOR -- let me understand this was exclusively a home for blind children -- FELICIA Lester -- LESTER -- yes, Senator -- just a minute, dear -- FELICIA Lester, don't you think that uhh -- Now Lester spots it. He's very confused. FELICIA (CONT'D) That girl's making an awful spectacle of herself. LESTER (angry himself) What do you expect me to do about it? FELICIA I just thought you'd like to know -- LESTER Why would I like to know if there's nothing I can do about it, goddammit -- OTHER VOICE Quiet! Cranston's on. They quiet down. JACKIE AND GEORGE Jackie's now moving around kissing George on the mouth. Jill is watching. Johnny Pope is fascinated. JILL -- Jackie really shouldn't drink -- POPE -- oh I don't know -- JACKIE (arm around George's shoulders tonguing his ear) -- Just get me out of here, baby. I can't stand it. It's killing me. GEORGE (indicating head table) -- we can't now. JACKIE -- why not? C'mon, take me out of here, somewhere I don't have to lie to anybody and I'll fuck your brains out, you little fiend, I adore you -- FELICIA is watching Jackie and George with ever greater intensity, her mouth growing more and more agape. JACKIE AND GEORGE JACKIE (CONT'D) (plaintive) -- don't you want to -- GEORGE Jackie, can we -- JACKIE (a little louder) Who's the greatest cocksucker in the world? C'mon -- George looks around sweating now. GEORGE (very quietly) -- you are. JACKIE Fuckin' A -- With that she slips right under the table. It's a surprisingly fluid move. FELICIA almost simultaneously rises, knocking her chair back. LESTER sees both moves and interrupts the Senator. LESTER (CONT'D) Senator, excuse me a moment -- He turns to Felicia and then looks over toward Jackie's empty chair and literally doesn't know which way to go first. He's a little like the bear in the penny arcade that is shot and keeps turning one way, then another. Finally he heads toward Jackie's vacant chair and George. GEORGE his chin to the tablecloth is fishing under it for Jackie. GEORGE (CONT'D) Now, Jackie -- JILL (trying for aplomb) -- she's a very compulsive girl. POPE I can see that. Lester rushes up. LESTER (a desperate smile) Hello, George. Your friend feeling a little under the weather? Jackie surfaces through the tablecloth. JACKIE (to Lester) -- you phony asshole -- LESTER (as if he didn't hear it) Oh, dear that's too bad. (with quiet desperation, to George) -- get her out of here, get her out of here. A cheer goes up as some late returns come in. Dirksen is talking about a new mandate for law and order and peace with honor. LESTER (CONT'D) (to Sid) What was that? SID ROTH Illinois. LESTER (doesn't know what he's saying) -- oh, good. INT. BISTRO Lester glances back toward Felicia who is watching him. GEORGE Jackie, c'mon -- George moves to Jill. GEORGE (CONT'D) I've got to get her out of here. JILL -- go ahead. GEORGE -- well aren't you -- JILL -- what? (indicating Pope) -- I'll see you later... GEORGE (not liking it too much) -- okay -- (pointed) -- I'll see you later. Your house. He moves away with Jackie. Lester turns back toward the main table. INT. 230SL - JACKIE AND GEORGE - NIGHT driving down Sunset Boulevard. There is a long moment of silence. The RADIO'S PLAYING the Eve of Destruction. George gives Jackie a couple of sidelong glances. JACKIE (finally) -- gee... GEORGE -- what? JACKIE (she sits up, lights a cigarette) I don't know what gets into me. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE No, I blew it, I blew it with Lester. GEORGE No you didn't. JACKIE You don't think so? I do. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE You always say that... I really care for Lester, don't I? George laughs. GEORGE That sounds like me. JACKIE I am you, you little bastard. She starts to scrunch over and kiss him, then stops. JACKIE(CONT'D) Where do you want to go? GEORGE Sammy's? JACKIE He still having parties? GEORGE He never stopped. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA IS SITTING WITH LESTER fuming. A woman, ROSALIND, is painstakingly and painfully introducing the Senator. ROSALIND ... and so... to have this man... here... among us... who has helped... as has everyone here to bring so many people together... of all races, creeds, and colors... FELICIA AND LESTER Rosalind droning on, b.g. She finally introduces Senator East. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA AND LESTER FELICIA Lester. LESTER Yes, sweetheart, shh. He pats her hand. She gives him a look that could kill. FELICIA -- I hope you like Miss Shawn -- LESTER -- what, who? Oh she's very nice, yes -- I mean normally --- FELICIA -- cause she's going to be very, very expensive. LESTER Can't we go into this later, sweetheart? ROSALIND'S VOICE Ladies and gentlemen, to Senator Joe East. Glasses are raised, a little dissonant hurrah. FELICIA We cannot go into this later. LESTER That's okay too. FELICIA You make me sick. Just be straight for once in your life. There are now O.S. calls for East to do his Indian chant. QUICK CUT TO: EAST SENATOR -- this tells of the ancient grandmother who, upon seeing the garden gate of her childhood, stops a moment and says, hello garden gate, hello garden gate, garden gate, hello. INT. BISTRO - LESTER AND FELICIA LESTER (finally exasperated) -- look, Felicia, this party involves more than you and me, you know. These people are concerned about more than each other, you know. FELICIA -- is that right? LESTER -- yes, we're all trying to do something to make this a better country to live in, believe it or not. THE SENATOR has begun his weird chant, beating out accompaniment on a cigar box and a pewter vase. FELICIA (glancing up) -- is that what this is all about? LESTER Yes and you don't have to be sarcastic about it, that's a beautiful thing he's doing -- some people do more than go to the beauty parlor and shop at Saks -- FELICIA Lester, you're a miserable man. You're not helping anybody. You're just twisting arms to raise money for a lot of silly son of a bitches that are out for themselves -- this

afternoon

How many times the word 'afternoon' appears in the text?

you I was on my way, but the line was busy, you're always on the phone. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE IN BEL AIR - DAY George pulls into the circular driveway. COVERED by a few bars of The Mama's and The Papa's "California Dreamin." There's only one car. George gets off the bike and goes to the door. Nobody answers. He hears the SOUND of a BALL BANGING. He looks toward the tennis court. ON THE COURT - LORNA is banging away on the backboard. There's a basket of balls nearby. She hits with considerable skill and power until she misses the backboard and the ball lodges in the steel mesh surrounding the court. George is standing there. Lorna looks at him. LORNA You here to see my mother? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA She's out, but you're supposed to wait. LORNA WALKING TO GEORGE LORNA (CONT'D) Hungry? GEORGE A little. AT THE KITCHEN TABLE They're eating silently. Lorna has hauled all kinds of food out of the refrigerators. She watches George as he eats with some relish. She gets up and goes to the steel-doored refrigerators. LORNA (indicating refrigerators) This is the one thing I like about this house... want some lox? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA You're my mother's hairdresser? GEORGE (warily) I do her hair, yeah. LORNA Chopped liver? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Are you gay?... baked apple?... they're cold but they're good. GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Did you hear me? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA Well, are you? Are you queer? GEORGE ... yeah. LORNA (laughing) C'mon, are you or aren't you? GEORGE (trying to avoid it) Gee, this is great. He slices a piece of cheesecake. Lorna sits down, in the chair nearest him now. LORNA C'mon, tell me. Don't be afraid. GEORGE Why do you wanna know so bad? LORNA See if you've been making it with my mother. GEORGE (looking at her for a minute, he changes his tone) What would my being a faggot have to do with that? Lorna shrugs. LORNA Nothing, I guess... have you ever made it with a guy? GEORGE Have you ever made it with a girl? LORNA I asked you first. GEORGE Yeah... I've made it with a girl... Lorna smiles. A pause. LORNA Well, are you? GEORGE Am I what? LORNA Making it with my mother? George wants to avoid this at all costs. He stares at Lorna intently. GEORGE I'd like to do your hair sometime. LORNA Why? GEORGE ... just, you could look very heavy... LORNA Don't make conversation with me. GEORGE What? LORNA You don't have to make conversation with me, I'm not my mother... do you have a thing about older women... that's sort of faggoty isn't it? George is weary and getting annoyed. GEORGE Yeah, it is. LORNA I never get my hair done. GEORGE No kidding. LORNA In fact, I don't think I've ever been to a beauty parlor in my whole life. GEORGE No shit. LORNA You think that's funny, don't you? GEORGE (laughing a little) Yeah. LORNA You live a phony cheap cop-out existence. GEORGE (determined to be light) Yeah... LORNA Beverly Hills hairdresser... what kind of a thing is that to do... you might as well be a faggot... think that's funny too? GEORGE No. LORNA Then what do you think? GEORGE That you're just like your mother. LORNA I am not like my mother! GEORGE You are. LORNA I am not! GEORGE You are. Lorna is furious. LORNA I am not! GEORGE (he starts to placate her) Look... (then defiantly) Do you wanna fuck me? LORNA (defiantly) Yeah. George stops eating. He's not prepared for this. GEORGE (uneasily) Right now? LORNA (a little more tentative now that the moment has arrived) Yeah. EXT. SOURCE RESTAURANT - JOHNNY POPE AND JILL - DAY A scraggly bearded WAITER with long stringy hair sets down two huge green salads before Jill and Johnny Pope. In so doing the Waiter drops a wooden menu he's been carrying. As he bends down to pick it up, he kneels beside Pope. Pope taps him on the shoulder. POPE (tapping him) Oh, scraves... WAITER Yes? The Waiter looks up, and moves. POPE Thank you. WAITER What for? POPE Taking your hair out of my salad. WAITER Oh, I'm sorry. Pope nods, Jill giggles. The Waiter goes off. Pope tosses out a few pieces of lettuce from the top of his salad. JILL Why don't you ask for another one? POPE Are you kidding? His hair's probably the most nutritious thing in here. See, you've reduced me to eating weeds. JILL ... my friend doesn't like it here either. POPE All right, forget this filth. Continue about your friend. JILL Well he's not exactly a friend. POPE Is he an enemy? JILL (laughing) Of course not... he's sort of a boyfriend. POPE -- sort of a boyfriend? JILL Sort of. POPE I see. You mean he just sort of fucks you. JILL Johnny! POPE My God, did I say that? I don't believe it. He looks under his chair to see if it was somebody else. POPE (CONT'D) I'm terribly sorry. JILL (amused) -- never mind. POPE What does he do? Is he an actor? JILL -- no. POPE Good for you. JILL He's a hairdresser. Pope drops his fork in the salad bowl. POPE -- oh, sure. A hairdresser. How... how do you a... meet a hairdresser? JILL Getting your hair done... (looks at him, abruptly) Would you like to go to a party? POPE Not with your hairdresser. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE - FELICIA - DAY pulls into the driveway. She gets out of her car, spots George's bike. INT. THE KITCHEN She sees the food spread out. FELICIA moving through the house. She stops by Lorna's room. Lorna has a sliding door, which is closed. Felicia opens it. FELICIA Lorna? LORNA'S BEDROOM Lorna is sitting on her bed, in her tennis dress but with her tennis shoes off. She's straightening a string in her racket. She looks to her mother, expressionless. FELICIA (CONT'D) Have you seen George? LORNA He's in the bathroom. FELICIA Your bathroom? LORNA Yes. The toilet flushes. The sink runs, and George emerges. He's looking a little haggard. GEORGE Hi. FELICIA (coolly) Hello, George. They walk out to the lanai together and George picks up his case. There is considerable tension from Felicia as they walk into her bedroom. Felicia slides the bedroom door shut, an action which George unhappily notices. She turns to George. She looks very hostile. She's trembling. FELICIA (CONT'D) I've missed you. George is taken aback. He gropes for a moment. GEORGE I've... missed you too. Felicia comes to him. She comes to him and touches his arm. George suddenly flings his case across the room and pounds his fist into a high-backed chair, turning away from Felicia. She clearly misunderstands the action. FELICIA (touched) It's okay, honey... it's okay now. She moves to the door and quietly locks it. George winces. She comes back to him and kisses him gently. She kisses him again with more passion. George tries to respond. FELICIA (CONT'D) Comb my hair out later, honey. GEORGE No, that's okay, I'll do It now. FELICIA No, baby... I'm glad you're coming tonight. She gently tugs at him, leading him toward the bed. George is miserable. GEORGE (looking toward the door) But aren't you... FELICIA Right now, I just don't care. As they sink to the bed, Felicia switches on the HI-FI. The Tijuana Brass begin to play. GEORGE ON HIS BIKE - LATE AFTERNOON COVERED BY a few bars of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". Riding home. He turns down his street and pulls into his driveway. He gets off his bike and only as he starts up his walk does he see Jill. She's been quietly waiting on his front porch, hidden in the shadows of the overhang. She doesn't look happy. George stops cold. GEORGE (?) Jill says nothing. GEORGE (CONT'D) Where's your car? JILL A friend dropped me off. GEORGE Who? JILL Never mind. Where've you been? GEORGE A business meeting, I told you that. They go inside. The living room is messy. George looks around in disgust. JILL What business meeting? GEORGE Look at the way I live. JILL I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. You weren't in the shop. What is this thing tonight? GEORGE What do you mean, what is it? It's some political bullshit. JILL I have to have Jackie ask me? Don't you think you could call me and let me know? Look at my hair. GEORGE Wait a minute, God-damn-it. Do you think I want to go to some God damned party? I'm trying to get that God damned shop open. I'm trying to get a little bread together. That's all I'm doing. George's outburst has shocked Jill. George maniacally begins straightening the mess. GEORGE (CONT'D) I just wanna live like everybody else, that's all. I want clothes in the closet, and food in the refrigerator, and I don't want shit all over the house and running my ass all over town... I want my own house... I want an appointment book... I want to get up in the morning and go to bed at night... I want a normal life like everybody else, that's all. He collapses into a chair. She comes over to him and knee beside him. JILL I know, honey. GEORGE Maybe I should get a dog... no, it would just shit all over the house and I'd never clean it up. JILL (laughing a little, touching him) Oh, honey. If we had one place, we could have a nicer place and I could take care of it. We're almost never here. REAR VIEW MIRROR - NIGHT A signal red Porsche cabriolet pulls up into mirror. The top is down. Under the brightly lit streetlights Jill's blonde hair and features are VISIBLE. WITH GEORGE AND JACKIE in her Mercedes. George still looking through the rear view mirror. Jackie's a knockout. JACKIE (looking at George looking in mirror) -- you'll be the prettiest thing in the room -- light's green... GEORGE (he takes off) -- oh yeah... what do you know about this guy? JACKIE -- what guy? GEORGE (gesturing toward rear window) -- this guy with Jill. JACKIE He's a director. OUTSIDE OF BISTRO - GEORGE AND JOHNNY POPE - NIGHT pull up, Pope right behind George. Parking ATTENDANTS leap for the doors. A few photographers of the movie freak variety ask each other who these arrivals are. One assures several others that they're nobody. GEORGE (to Attendant) Do I need a ticket for this? ATTENDANT We'll remember you. POPE as they move to take his Porsche. POPE (CONT'D) (shaking his head) I'll park it. Pope drives his own car onto the lot. WITH JILL, GEORGE AND JACKIE waiting for Pope who is now ambling toward them. GEORGE (to Jill) What does he direct besides traffic? JILL Ha, ha. GEORGE Television or movies? JILL Commercials. JACKIE (quietly, to George) Feel better? Let's go. Pope has joined them. INT. BISTRO FOYER They clear it to see the long elegant bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. George looks and sees someone. A fortyish WOMAN, attractive. GEORGE (to Jackie) Jesus Christ, there's Norma Stern. Look at her hair. JACKIE What about it? GEORGE Looks like somebody took a dump in it, that's the worst color job I've -- Norma comes over, hugs George. NORMA George -- GEORGE (pointing to her hair) Baby, you've been chippying on me -- NORMA Yes, isn't it awful -- GEORGE (smiling) -- yes. Jackie tugs him by the arm. JACKIE We're upstairs, George. Now come on. Behave yourself, and for Christ's sake, do me a favor. Don't let me drink too much. GEORGE (going upstairs) You don't do that anymore, do you? BISTRO STAIRS Jackie doesn't answer. They've reached the top of the stairs. They're hit by the full force of the upstairs gathering -- black tie, posters of Nixon, Agnew, Reagan, and Murphy, vaguely familiar faces crossing back and forth, clustering, watching early returns on television sets that are blaring from various points around the room. An ORCHESTRA PLAYS Meyer Davis Society Jazz. Jackie and George hesitate. Pope and Jill are behind them. Pope jostles George as he stops, abruptly. George looks around. Pope smiles. He's holding Jill's hand. George notices. Jill disengages her hand casually, as though it were necessary only for the walk up the stairs. Jackie nudges George, forcing him to move into the room with her as Lester comes toward them. He's stopped on his way over. WAITER Can I get you folks something? JILL A stinger, please. POPE A tomato juice. GEORGE I'll take a -- some white wine. WAITER And you, madam? JACKIE (searching the room) Oh I'll uhh -- just a coke. The Waiter moves on and they wait for their drinks. Lester finally makes to them. LESTER George, glad you could make it, son. Hi, doll. JACKIE Lester, this is my friend Jill and this is Johnny Pope. LESTER Glad to meet you, Jill, Mr. Pope. INT. BISTRO UPSTAIRS George turns to get his drink from the Waiter as do Jill and Pope. Lester takes Jackie's arm. LESTER Who are they? JACKIE (quickly) Jill Haynes, Jill Haynes, I've told you about Jill a hundred times, Lester, you never remember anything I say. LESTER Does she know about us? JACKIE Jesus, she's my best friend. LESTER Who's the guy, George's boyfriend? JACKIE I don't know. Why don't you ask him? LESTER C'mon, Jackie, I'm only trying -- George -- He draws George aside. LESTER (CONT'D) -- do me a favor, kind of keep your eye on Jackie, she's a little high strung tonight -- GEORGE -- yeah? LESTER See she doesn't drink too much. Jackie has heard this last. Lester turns to her. LESTER (CONT'D) See you later, doll. Jackie puts down her coke, picks up a glass of white wine from a passing tray and downs it in one gulp, putting it on another tray and picking up another glass of white wine. FELICIA with cleavage carefully prominent in a strapless gown, spots George. She excuses herself from the couple she has been talking with and goes straight to the powder room. INT. POWDER ROOM - FELICIA checks herself out in the mirror, glossing her lips with a pale tint of something or other. She gives a final anxious look, then hurries out, nearly bumping into a lady coming In. OUTSIDE she moves through the crowd up behind George, turning him around. FELICIA George, darling. She kisses him full on the lips, lingering on it. GEORGE (without batting an eye) Hey, baby, what's happening. Oh this is Jackie. Jackie, say hello to Felicia. It is only now that Felicia sees one of George's arms has been holding onto Jackie. JACKIE (also without batting an eye) Hello, Felicia. FELICIA (instantly suspicious of George) ... hello. Felicia looks from George to Jackie and back again. FELICIA (CONT'D) I'm so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you. LESTER pours his drink on the cuff of a distinguished MAN sitting beneath him at a table as he sees George and Felicia and Jackie clustered together. WITH LESTER AND MAN MAN Lester, what the fuck do you think you're doing? LESTER Jesus, Nate, I'm sorry. Lester fumbles, tries to clean Nate off with a napkin. NATE Never mind, I'll do it myself. He dips the napkin into a glass of ice water and proceeds to clean off his cuff. Nate goes back to the TV monitor where Agnew is making some remarks or commentators are repeating his comment about being a household word. LESTER So far so good. NATE Aw there's nothing to worry about. LESTER You never know. FELICIA WITH GEORGE FELICIA Why didn't you come alone? Lester invited you. Did you have to bring her? GEORGE (looking toward Lester) Well she... FELICIA She what? GEORGE She's a friend of Jill's. FELICIA And who's Jill? She spots Jill. GEORGE Well, she's a friend of Johnny Pope's -- you know, the director. She looks at Pope who is saying something to Jill which is making her laugh. FELICIA Oh. GEORGE is threading his way through a crowd, holding two drinks, one of them a coca-cola. It's a little more raucous now, with election returns from the television sets creating a more festive mood. Now and then someone jumps up from a set and hugs someone so carrying drinks is a little dodgy. JACKIE, F.G. - LESTER, B.G., TALKING Jackie sits alone by the bar, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. A man offers her a match. She stares at the burning match as if it's obscene. She blows it out. JACKIE No thanks. The man looks a little shocked, moves on. GEORGE has his arm held. It's KENNETH, a red-haired decorator. KENNETH Excuse me, I know I know you, but I can't think where. GEORGE Look, I'd like to help but -- Felicia grabs George's other arm pulling him away from Kenneth. Kenneth looks a little shocked at the ferocity of Felicia's move. FELICIA There you are. She tugs him with her. GEORGE Wait a minute -- She takes him right into the ladies room, George still juggling the drinks. JOHNNY POPE watches Felicia and George disappear into the ladies room, looking over Jill's shoulder. Jill has not seen it. POPE This other couple that we're here with, do you know them very well? JILL Well... sure... POPE Then maybe you can tell me why George would be going into the ladies room. Jill looks around and stares at the door. JILL George? Was he alone? POPE I don't think so. JILL Well did he go in there with Jackie? Pope points over to Jackie sitting at the bar drinking now. JILL (CONT'D) That bastard. POPE George is a hairdresser, isn't he? Jill doesn't answer. INT. BATHROOM - FELICIA AND GEORGE GEORGE (desperate) Baby, you gotta let me out of here. Felicia kisses him. FELICIA Sweetheart, it's a bore out there... let's lock the door. GEORGE Holy Christ. You want to get us killed? FELICIA Don't be silly. I'll just tell Lester we were smoking a couple of joints. See? She pulls two joints out of her beaded bag. LESTER only a few seats from Jackie, Jackie staring daggers at him, Lester aware of it. He's talking to a pair of lacquered eminence grises. LESTER -- fellas, fellas, just listen, you both have tidelands, you both want Uncle Sam to come through with offshore drilling permits -- so do it together -- JACKIE has taken an olive from an olive tray and hit Lester on the back of the head. He's finished this little dissertation. He sees the source of the missile. He grows pale, frozen. Sixty-four year old bejeweled WOMAN in b.g. WOMAN So, little red riding hood says 'my what big teeth you have and the wolf says all the better to eat you with, my dear, and she says -- eat, eat, eat, doesn't anybody ever fuck any more?' Jackie has now picked up a carrot from a relish tray. George appears. GEORGE Don't do it. JACKIE That son of a bitch, everything he says is a phony piece of shit, what does he think, I'm some cigar butt he's got between his teeth -- GEORGE (almost picking her up) C'mon, cunt, you're going for a walk. He takes her into the next room and Lester watches the move with a mixture of relief and concern. INT. OTHER BAR Jackie is now near tears. JACKIE He just completely ignores me. He could have at least said something, introduced me or something. INT. SMALL BAR GEORGE Sweetheart, you're drunk. She leans on George. JACKIE Oh God, what do I want, George? Lester comes hurrying in, sweating, now. LESTER Hi, doll, what's wrong? JACKIE You know what's wrong. Felicia trips coming into the small bar. FELICIA Lester -- Lester straightens up like he's been shot. LESTER Oh, Felicia, there you are, you know George and uh -- uh -- He's genuinely forgotten her name. JACKIE Jackie Shawn. LESTER Yes, Jackie Shawn, my wi -- Felicia. FELICIA We've met. JACKIE Yes. GEORGE Well anyway... LESTER (to Felicia) Your hair looks -- well fabulous. FELICIA That's George. INT. SMALL BAR LESTER It's just -- fabulous. (to George, an attempt at levity) Think you could do anything for me? GEORGE (he takes it seriously) Well -- I could try. Do you wash your hair every day? LESTER Isn't that bad for it? GEORGE No it keeps the skin peeling. You've got to keep the follicles open. You lose hair and the skin grows over the follicle and that's how you lose it. George actually touches Lester's hair, professional interest growing. GEORGE (CONT'D) This really ought to be layered... LESTER Layered? GEORGE Well yeah, otherwise it just sort, you know, lies there -- layer so it kind of fluffs out -- He starts to fluff Lester's hair a little when Johnny Pope walks in with Jill to this. Pope stares at them. POPE I think they're waiting for somebody to start dinner. LESTER Have they sat down? POPE Everybody but us. FELICIA They're waiting for you, Lester. INT. BISTRO DINNER TABLE Dinner is pretty much finished, waiters have begun picking up plates. IZZY SOKOLOFF (to Jill) I guess it's almost impossible to get work in the business these days. Pope watches Sokoloff make his move. JILL Well, commercials. I read for a soap the other day. IZZY A soap? JILL A daytime soap opera. IZZY And? JILL I was too old. IZZY What was it, somebody's daughter? JILL Somebody's mother. JACKIE'S PLATE is untouched. She holds up her wine glass. JACKIE Waiter! George looks at her. JACKIE (CONT'D) One word out of you and I'll gargle with it. The waiter pours the wine. George looks to Jill, shrugs. Jill mouthes, 'try and stop her.' George mouthes back, 'are you kidding?' INT. BISTRO SID ROTH has been eyeing Jackie. SID ROTH Aren't you hungry, Miss Shawn? Jackie looks at Roth. Roth shoots his cuffs and smiles. JACKIE Not for rubber chicken, no. Sid Roth smiles. Jackie smiles back. SID ROTH (intime) Well maybe I can get you something. JACKIE That's very sweet of you, Mr. Roth. SID ROTH Sid. JACKIE Sid. You must be a very important executive. SID ROTH (almost a whisper) Well, whatever I am, I think I can get you whatever you'd like. JACKIE You do? SID ROTH Yes. JACKIE (same tone as Sid's) -- well, more than anything else -- (indicating George) -- I'd like to suck his cock. She points to George. George chokes on the last of a piece of chicken. Sid Roth is stunned. He doesn't know what to do. George is coughing badly. Jackie slaps his back. HEAD TABLE - FELICIA AND LESTER Felicia is listening to Lester. The Agnew and Nixon posters are directly behind them. LESTER (to East) -- Senator, you should've seen those little kids! About forty of 'em, all blind. We put out these mattresses on the front lawn and they came running out of the house, tripping and falling all over the place, having a hell of a good time. I mean they were blind of course. But it really gave you a feeling of accomplishment. I tell you I never had such a good time. Felicia during the above has looked up to see Jackie fawning over George. She can't believe her eyes. FELICIA Lester -- SENATOR -- let me understand this was exclusively a home for blind children -- FELICIA Lester -- LESTER -- yes, Senator -- just a minute, dear -- FELICIA Lester, don't you think that uhh -- Now Lester spots it. He's very confused. FELICIA (CONT'D) That girl's making an awful spectacle of herself. LESTER (angry himself) What do you expect me to do about it? FELICIA I just thought you'd like to know -- LESTER Why would I like to know if there's nothing I can do about it, goddammit -- OTHER VOICE Quiet! Cranston's on. They quiet down. JACKIE AND GEORGE Jackie's now moving around kissing George on the mouth. Jill is watching. Johnny Pope is fascinated. JILL -- Jackie really shouldn't drink -- POPE -- oh I don't know -- JACKIE (arm around George's shoulders tonguing his ear) -- Just get me out of here, baby. I can't stand it. It's killing me. GEORGE (indicating head table) -- we can't now. JACKIE -- why not? C'mon, take me out of here, somewhere I don't have to lie to anybody and I'll fuck your brains out, you little fiend, I adore you -- FELICIA is watching Jackie and George with ever greater intensity, her mouth growing more and more agape. JACKIE AND GEORGE JACKIE (CONT'D) (plaintive) -- don't you want to -- GEORGE Jackie, can we -- JACKIE (a little louder) Who's the greatest cocksucker in the world? C'mon -- George looks around sweating now. GEORGE (very quietly) -- you are. JACKIE Fuckin' A -- With that she slips right under the table. It's a surprisingly fluid move. FELICIA almost simultaneously rises, knocking her chair back. LESTER sees both moves and interrupts the Senator. LESTER (CONT'D) Senator, excuse me a moment -- He turns to Felicia and then looks over toward Jackie's empty chair and literally doesn't know which way to go first. He's a little like the bear in the penny arcade that is shot and keeps turning one way, then another. Finally he heads toward Jackie's vacant chair and George. GEORGE his chin to the tablecloth is fishing under it for Jackie. GEORGE (CONT'D) Now, Jackie -- JILL (trying for aplomb) -- she's a very compulsive girl. POPE I can see that. Lester rushes up. LESTER (a desperate smile) Hello, George. Your friend feeling a little under the weather? Jackie surfaces through the tablecloth. JACKIE (to Lester) -- you phony asshole -- LESTER (as if he didn't hear it) Oh, dear that's too bad. (with quiet desperation, to George) -- get her out of here, get her out of here. A cheer goes up as some late returns come in. Dirksen is talking about a new mandate for law and order and peace with honor. LESTER (CONT'D) (to Sid) What was that? SID ROTH Illinois. LESTER (doesn't know what he's saying) -- oh, good. INT. BISTRO Lester glances back toward Felicia who is watching him. GEORGE Jackie, c'mon -- George moves to Jill. GEORGE (CONT'D) I've got to get her out of here. JILL -- go ahead. GEORGE -- well aren't you -- JILL -- what? (indicating Pope) -- I'll see you later... GEORGE (not liking it too much) -- okay -- (pointed) -- I'll see you later. Your house. He moves away with Jackie. Lester turns back toward the main table. INT. 230SL - JACKIE AND GEORGE - NIGHT driving down Sunset Boulevard. There is a long moment of silence. The RADIO'S PLAYING the Eve of Destruction. George gives Jackie a couple of sidelong glances. JACKIE (finally) -- gee... GEORGE -- what? JACKIE (she sits up, lights a cigarette) I don't know what gets into me. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE No, I blew it, I blew it with Lester. GEORGE No you didn't. JACKIE You don't think so? I do. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE You always say that... I really care for Lester, don't I? George laughs. GEORGE That sounds like me. JACKIE I am you, you little bastard. She starts to scrunch over and kiss him, then stops. JACKIE(CONT'D) Where do you want to go? GEORGE Sammy's? JACKIE He still having parties? GEORGE He never stopped. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA IS SITTING WITH LESTER fuming. A woman, ROSALIND, is painstakingly and painfully introducing the Senator. ROSALIND ... and so... to have this man... here... among us... who has helped... as has everyone here to bring so many people together... of all races, creeds, and colors... FELICIA AND LESTER Rosalind droning on, b.g. She finally introduces Senator East. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA AND LESTER FELICIA Lester. LESTER Yes, sweetheart, shh. He pats her hand. She gives him a look that could kill. FELICIA -- I hope you like Miss Shawn -- LESTER -- what, who? Oh she's very nice, yes -- I mean normally --- FELICIA -- cause she's going to be very, very expensive. LESTER Can't we go into this later, sweetheart? ROSALIND'S VOICE Ladies and gentlemen, to Senator Joe East. Glasses are raised, a little dissonant hurrah. FELICIA We cannot go into this later. LESTER That's okay too. FELICIA You make me sick. Just be straight for once in your life. There are now O.S. calls for East to do his Indian chant. QUICK CUT TO: EAST SENATOR -- this tells of the ancient grandmother who, upon seeing the garden gate of her childhood, stops a moment and says, hello garden gate, hello garden gate, garden gate, hello. INT. BISTRO - LESTER AND FELICIA LESTER (finally exasperated) -- look, Felicia, this party involves more than you and me, you know. These people are concerned about more than each other, you know. FELICIA -- is that right? LESTER -- yes, we're all trying to do something to make this a better country to live in, believe it or not. THE SENATOR has begun his weird chant, beating out accompaniment on a cigar box and a pewter vase. FELICIA (glancing up) -- is that what this is all about? LESTER Yes and you don't have to be sarcastic about it, that's a beautiful thing he's doing -- some people do more than go to the beauty parlor and shop at Saks -- FELICIA Lester, you're a miserable man. You're not helping anybody. You're just twisting arms to raise money for a lot of silly son of a bitches that are out for themselves -- this

trying

How many times the word 'trying' appears in the text?

you I was on my way, but the line was busy, you're always on the phone. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE IN BEL AIR - DAY George pulls into the circular driveway. COVERED by a few bars of The Mama's and The Papa's "California Dreamin." There's only one car. George gets off the bike and goes to the door. Nobody answers. He hears the SOUND of a BALL BANGING. He looks toward the tennis court. ON THE COURT - LORNA is banging away on the backboard. There's a basket of balls nearby. She hits with considerable skill and power until she misses the backboard and the ball lodges in the steel mesh surrounding the court. George is standing there. Lorna looks at him. LORNA You here to see my mother? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA She's out, but you're supposed to wait. LORNA WALKING TO GEORGE LORNA (CONT'D) Hungry? GEORGE A little. AT THE KITCHEN TABLE They're eating silently. Lorna has hauled all kinds of food out of the refrigerators. She watches George as he eats with some relish. She gets up and goes to the steel-doored refrigerators. LORNA (indicating refrigerators) This is the one thing I like about this house... want some lox? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA You're my mother's hairdresser? GEORGE (warily) I do her hair, yeah. LORNA Chopped liver? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Are you gay?... baked apple?... they're cold but they're good. GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Did you hear me? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA Well, are you? Are you queer? GEORGE ... yeah. LORNA (laughing) C'mon, are you or aren't you? GEORGE (trying to avoid it) Gee, this is great. He slices a piece of cheesecake. Lorna sits down, in the chair nearest him now. LORNA C'mon, tell me. Don't be afraid. GEORGE Why do you wanna know so bad? LORNA See if you've been making it with my mother. GEORGE (looking at her for a minute, he changes his tone) What would my being a faggot have to do with that? Lorna shrugs. LORNA Nothing, I guess... have you ever made it with a guy? GEORGE Have you ever made it with a girl? LORNA I asked you first. GEORGE Yeah... I've made it with a girl... Lorna smiles. A pause. LORNA Well, are you? GEORGE Am I what? LORNA Making it with my mother? George wants to avoid this at all costs. He stares at Lorna intently. GEORGE I'd like to do your hair sometime. LORNA Why? GEORGE ... just, you could look very heavy... LORNA Don't make conversation with me. GEORGE What? LORNA You don't have to make conversation with me, I'm not my mother... do you have a thing about older women... that's sort of faggoty isn't it? George is weary and getting annoyed. GEORGE Yeah, it is. LORNA I never get my hair done. GEORGE No kidding. LORNA In fact, I don't think I've ever been to a beauty parlor in my whole life. GEORGE No shit. LORNA You think that's funny, don't you? GEORGE (laughing a little) Yeah. LORNA You live a phony cheap cop-out existence. GEORGE (determined to be light) Yeah... LORNA Beverly Hills hairdresser... what kind of a thing is that to do... you might as well be a faggot... think that's funny too? GEORGE No. LORNA Then what do you think? GEORGE That you're just like your mother. LORNA I am not like my mother! GEORGE You are. LORNA I am not! GEORGE You are. Lorna is furious. LORNA I am not! GEORGE (he starts to placate her) Look... (then defiantly) Do you wanna fuck me? LORNA (defiantly) Yeah. George stops eating. He's not prepared for this. GEORGE (uneasily) Right now? LORNA (a little more tentative now that the moment has arrived) Yeah. EXT. SOURCE RESTAURANT - JOHNNY POPE AND JILL - DAY A scraggly bearded WAITER with long stringy hair sets down two huge green salads before Jill and Johnny Pope. In so doing the Waiter drops a wooden menu he's been carrying. As he bends down to pick it up, he kneels beside Pope. Pope taps him on the shoulder. POPE (tapping him) Oh, scraves... WAITER Yes? The Waiter looks up, and moves. POPE Thank you. WAITER What for? POPE Taking your hair out of my salad. WAITER Oh, I'm sorry. Pope nods, Jill giggles. The Waiter goes off. Pope tosses out a few pieces of lettuce from the top of his salad. JILL Why don't you ask for another one? POPE Are you kidding? His hair's probably the most nutritious thing in here. See, you've reduced me to eating weeds. JILL ... my friend doesn't like it here either. POPE All right, forget this filth. Continue about your friend. JILL Well he's not exactly a friend. POPE Is he an enemy? JILL (laughing) Of course not... he's sort of a boyfriend. POPE -- sort of a boyfriend? JILL Sort of. POPE I see. You mean he just sort of fucks you. JILL Johnny! POPE My God, did I say that? I don't believe it. He looks under his chair to see if it was somebody else. POPE (CONT'D) I'm terribly sorry. JILL (amused) -- never mind. POPE What does he do? Is he an actor? JILL -- no. POPE Good for you. JILL He's a hairdresser. Pope drops his fork in the salad bowl. POPE -- oh, sure. A hairdresser. How... how do you a... meet a hairdresser? JILL Getting your hair done... (looks at him, abruptly) Would you like to go to a party? POPE Not with your hairdresser. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE - FELICIA - DAY pulls into the driveway. She gets out of her car, spots George's bike. INT. THE KITCHEN She sees the food spread out. FELICIA moving through the house. She stops by Lorna's room. Lorna has a sliding door, which is closed. Felicia opens it. FELICIA Lorna? LORNA'S BEDROOM Lorna is sitting on her bed, in her tennis dress but with her tennis shoes off. She's straightening a string in her racket. She looks to her mother, expressionless. FELICIA (CONT'D) Have you seen George? LORNA He's in the bathroom. FELICIA Your bathroom? LORNA Yes. The toilet flushes. The sink runs, and George emerges. He's looking a little haggard. GEORGE Hi. FELICIA (coolly) Hello, George. They walk out to the lanai together and George picks up his case. There is considerable tension from Felicia as they walk into her bedroom. Felicia slides the bedroom door shut, an action which George unhappily notices. She turns to George. She looks very hostile. She's trembling. FELICIA (CONT'D) I've missed you. George is taken aback. He gropes for a moment. GEORGE I've... missed you too. Felicia comes to him. She comes to him and touches his arm. George suddenly flings his case across the room and pounds his fist into a high-backed chair, turning away from Felicia. She clearly misunderstands the action. FELICIA (touched) It's okay, honey... it's okay now. She moves to the door and quietly locks it. George winces. She comes back to him and kisses him gently. She kisses him again with more passion. George tries to respond. FELICIA (CONT'D) Comb my hair out later, honey. GEORGE No, that's okay, I'll do It now. FELICIA No, baby... I'm glad you're coming tonight. She gently tugs at him, leading him toward the bed. George is miserable. GEORGE (looking toward the door) But aren't you... FELICIA Right now, I just don't care. As they sink to the bed, Felicia switches on the HI-FI. The Tijuana Brass begin to play. GEORGE ON HIS BIKE - LATE AFTERNOON COVERED BY a few bars of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". Riding home. He turns down his street and pulls into his driveway. He gets off his bike and only as he starts up his walk does he see Jill. She's been quietly waiting on his front porch, hidden in the shadows of the overhang. She doesn't look happy. George stops cold. GEORGE (?) Jill says nothing. GEORGE (CONT'D) Where's your car? JILL A friend dropped me off. GEORGE Who? JILL Never mind. Where've you been? GEORGE A business meeting, I told you that. They go inside. The living room is messy. George looks around in disgust. JILL What business meeting? GEORGE Look at the way I live. JILL I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. You weren't in the shop. What is this thing tonight? GEORGE What do you mean, what is it? It's some political bullshit. JILL I have to have Jackie ask me? Don't you think you could call me and let me know? Look at my hair. GEORGE Wait a minute, God-damn-it. Do you think I want to go to some God damned party? I'm trying to get that God damned shop open. I'm trying to get a little bread together. That's all I'm doing. George's outburst has shocked Jill. George maniacally begins straightening the mess. GEORGE (CONT'D) I just wanna live like everybody else, that's all. I want clothes in the closet, and food in the refrigerator, and I don't want shit all over the house and running my ass all over town... I want my own house... I want an appointment book... I want to get up in the morning and go to bed at night... I want a normal life like everybody else, that's all. He collapses into a chair. She comes over to him and knee beside him. JILL I know, honey. GEORGE Maybe I should get a dog... no, it would just shit all over the house and I'd never clean it up. JILL (laughing a little, touching him) Oh, honey. If we had one place, we could have a nicer place and I could take care of it. We're almost never here. REAR VIEW MIRROR - NIGHT A signal red Porsche cabriolet pulls up into mirror. The top is down. Under the brightly lit streetlights Jill's blonde hair and features are VISIBLE. WITH GEORGE AND JACKIE in her Mercedes. George still looking through the rear view mirror. Jackie's a knockout. JACKIE (looking at George looking in mirror) -- you'll be the prettiest thing in the room -- light's green... GEORGE (he takes off) -- oh yeah... what do you know about this guy? JACKIE -- what guy? GEORGE (gesturing toward rear window) -- this guy with Jill. JACKIE He's a director. OUTSIDE OF BISTRO - GEORGE AND JOHNNY POPE - NIGHT pull up, Pope right behind George. Parking ATTENDANTS leap for the doors. A few photographers of the movie freak variety ask each other who these arrivals are. One assures several others that they're nobody. GEORGE (to Attendant) Do I need a ticket for this? ATTENDANT We'll remember you. POPE as they move to take his Porsche. POPE (CONT'D) (shaking his head) I'll park it. Pope drives his own car onto the lot. WITH JILL, GEORGE AND JACKIE waiting for Pope who is now ambling toward them. GEORGE (to Jill) What does he direct besides traffic? JILL Ha, ha. GEORGE Television or movies? JILL Commercials. JACKIE (quietly, to George) Feel better? Let's go. Pope has joined them. INT. BISTRO FOYER They clear it to see the long elegant bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. George looks and sees someone. A fortyish WOMAN, attractive. GEORGE (to Jackie) Jesus Christ, there's Norma Stern. Look at her hair. JACKIE What about it? GEORGE Looks like somebody took a dump in it, that's the worst color job I've -- Norma comes over, hugs George. NORMA George -- GEORGE (pointing to her hair) Baby, you've been chippying on me -- NORMA Yes, isn't it awful -- GEORGE (smiling) -- yes. Jackie tugs him by the arm. JACKIE We're upstairs, George. Now come on. Behave yourself, and for Christ's sake, do me a favor. Don't let me drink too much. GEORGE (going upstairs) You don't do that anymore, do you? BISTRO STAIRS Jackie doesn't answer. They've reached the top of the stairs. They're hit by the full force of the upstairs gathering -- black tie, posters of Nixon, Agnew, Reagan, and Murphy, vaguely familiar faces crossing back and forth, clustering, watching early returns on television sets that are blaring from various points around the room. An ORCHESTRA PLAYS Meyer Davis Society Jazz. Jackie and George hesitate. Pope and Jill are behind them. Pope jostles George as he stops, abruptly. George looks around. Pope smiles. He's holding Jill's hand. George notices. Jill disengages her hand casually, as though it were necessary only for the walk up the stairs. Jackie nudges George, forcing him to move into the room with her as Lester comes toward them. He's stopped on his way over. WAITER Can I get you folks something? JILL A stinger, please. POPE A tomato juice. GEORGE I'll take a -- some white wine. WAITER And you, madam? JACKIE (searching the room) Oh I'll uhh -- just a coke. The Waiter moves on and they wait for their drinks. Lester finally makes to them. LESTER George, glad you could make it, son. Hi, doll. JACKIE Lester, this is my friend Jill and this is Johnny Pope. LESTER Glad to meet you, Jill, Mr. Pope. INT. BISTRO UPSTAIRS George turns to get his drink from the Waiter as do Jill and Pope. Lester takes Jackie's arm. LESTER Who are they? JACKIE (quickly) Jill Haynes, Jill Haynes, I've told you about Jill a hundred times, Lester, you never remember anything I say. LESTER Does she know about us? JACKIE Jesus, she's my best friend. LESTER Who's the guy, George's boyfriend? JACKIE I don't know. Why don't you ask him? LESTER C'mon, Jackie, I'm only trying -- George -- He draws George aside. LESTER (CONT'D) -- do me a favor, kind of keep your eye on Jackie, she's a little high strung tonight -- GEORGE -- yeah? LESTER See she doesn't drink too much. Jackie has heard this last. Lester turns to her. LESTER (CONT'D) See you later, doll. Jackie puts down her coke, picks up a glass of white wine from a passing tray and downs it in one gulp, putting it on another tray and picking up another glass of white wine. FELICIA with cleavage carefully prominent in a strapless gown, spots George. She excuses herself from the couple she has been talking with and goes straight to the powder room. INT. POWDER ROOM - FELICIA checks herself out in the mirror, glossing her lips with a pale tint of something or other. She gives a final anxious look, then hurries out, nearly bumping into a lady coming In. OUTSIDE she moves through the crowd up behind George, turning him around. FELICIA George, darling. She kisses him full on the lips, lingering on it. GEORGE (without batting an eye) Hey, baby, what's happening. Oh this is Jackie. Jackie, say hello to Felicia. It is only now that Felicia sees one of George's arms has been holding onto Jackie. JACKIE (also without batting an eye) Hello, Felicia. FELICIA (instantly suspicious of George) ... hello. Felicia looks from George to Jackie and back again. FELICIA (CONT'D) I'm so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you. LESTER pours his drink on the cuff of a distinguished MAN sitting beneath him at a table as he sees George and Felicia and Jackie clustered together. WITH LESTER AND MAN MAN Lester, what the fuck do you think you're doing? LESTER Jesus, Nate, I'm sorry. Lester fumbles, tries to clean Nate off with a napkin. NATE Never mind, I'll do it myself. He dips the napkin into a glass of ice water and proceeds to clean off his cuff. Nate goes back to the TV monitor where Agnew is making some remarks or commentators are repeating his comment about being a household word. LESTER So far so good. NATE Aw there's nothing to worry about. LESTER You never know. FELICIA WITH GEORGE FELICIA Why didn't you come alone? Lester invited you. Did you have to bring her? GEORGE (looking toward Lester) Well she... FELICIA She what? GEORGE She's a friend of Jill's. FELICIA And who's Jill? She spots Jill. GEORGE Well, she's a friend of Johnny Pope's -- you know, the director. She looks at Pope who is saying something to Jill which is making her laugh. FELICIA Oh. GEORGE is threading his way through a crowd, holding two drinks, one of them a coca-cola. It's a little more raucous now, with election returns from the television sets creating a more festive mood. Now and then someone jumps up from a set and hugs someone so carrying drinks is a little dodgy. JACKIE, F.G. - LESTER, B.G., TALKING Jackie sits alone by the bar, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. A man offers her a match. She stares at the burning match as if it's obscene. She blows it out. JACKIE No thanks. The man looks a little shocked, moves on. GEORGE has his arm held. It's KENNETH, a red-haired decorator. KENNETH Excuse me, I know I know you, but I can't think where. GEORGE Look, I'd like to help but -- Felicia grabs George's other arm pulling him away from Kenneth. Kenneth looks a little shocked at the ferocity of Felicia's move. FELICIA There you are. She tugs him with her. GEORGE Wait a minute -- She takes him right into the ladies room, George still juggling the drinks. JOHNNY POPE watches Felicia and George disappear into the ladies room, looking over Jill's shoulder. Jill has not seen it. POPE This other couple that we're here with, do you know them very well? JILL Well... sure... POPE Then maybe you can tell me why George would be going into the ladies room. Jill looks around and stares at the door. JILL George? Was he alone? POPE I don't think so. JILL Well did he go in there with Jackie? Pope points over to Jackie sitting at the bar drinking now. JILL (CONT'D) That bastard. POPE George is a hairdresser, isn't he? Jill doesn't answer. INT. BATHROOM - FELICIA AND GEORGE GEORGE (desperate) Baby, you gotta let me out of here. Felicia kisses him. FELICIA Sweetheart, it's a bore out there... let's lock the door. GEORGE Holy Christ. You want to get us killed? FELICIA Don't be silly. I'll just tell Lester we were smoking a couple of joints. See? She pulls two joints out of her beaded bag. LESTER only a few seats from Jackie, Jackie staring daggers at him, Lester aware of it. He's talking to a pair of lacquered eminence grises. LESTER -- fellas, fellas, just listen, you both have tidelands, you both want Uncle Sam to come through with offshore drilling permits -- so do it together -- JACKIE has taken an olive from an olive tray and hit Lester on the back of the head. He's finished this little dissertation. He sees the source of the missile. He grows pale, frozen. Sixty-four year old bejeweled WOMAN in b.g. WOMAN So, little red riding hood says 'my what big teeth you have and the wolf says all the better to eat you with, my dear, and she says -- eat, eat, eat, doesn't anybody ever fuck any more?' Jackie has now picked up a carrot from a relish tray. George appears. GEORGE Don't do it. JACKIE That son of a bitch, everything he says is a phony piece of shit, what does he think, I'm some cigar butt he's got between his teeth -- GEORGE (almost picking her up) C'mon, cunt, you're going for a walk. He takes her into the next room and Lester watches the move with a mixture of relief and concern. INT. OTHER BAR Jackie is now near tears. JACKIE He just completely ignores me. He could have at least said something, introduced me or something. INT. SMALL BAR GEORGE Sweetheart, you're drunk. She leans on George. JACKIE Oh God, what do I want, George? Lester comes hurrying in, sweating, now. LESTER Hi, doll, what's wrong? JACKIE You know what's wrong. Felicia trips coming into the small bar. FELICIA Lester -- Lester straightens up like he's been shot. LESTER Oh, Felicia, there you are, you know George and uh -- uh -- He's genuinely forgotten her name. JACKIE Jackie Shawn. LESTER Yes, Jackie Shawn, my wi -- Felicia. FELICIA We've met. JACKIE Yes. GEORGE Well anyway... LESTER (to Felicia) Your hair looks -- well fabulous. FELICIA That's George. INT. SMALL BAR LESTER It's just -- fabulous. (to George, an attempt at levity) Think you could do anything for me? GEORGE (he takes it seriously) Well -- I could try. Do you wash your hair every day? LESTER Isn't that bad for it? GEORGE No it keeps the skin peeling. You've got to keep the follicles open. You lose hair and the skin grows over the follicle and that's how you lose it. George actually touches Lester's hair, professional interest growing. GEORGE (CONT'D) This really ought to be layered... LESTER Layered? GEORGE Well yeah, otherwise it just sort, you know, lies there -- layer so it kind of fluffs out -- He starts to fluff Lester's hair a little when Johnny Pope walks in with Jill to this. Pope stares at them. POPE I think they're waiting for somebody to start dinner. LESTER Have they sat down? POPE Everybody but us. FELICIA They're waiting for you, Lester. INT. BISTRO DINNER TABLE Dinner is pretty much finished, waiters have begun picking up plates. IZZY SOKOLOFF (to Jill) I guess it's almost impossible to get work in the business these days. Pope watches Sokoloff make his move. JILL Well, commercials. I read for a soap the other day. IZZY A soap? JILL A daytime soap opera. IZZY And? JILL I was too old. IZZY What was it, somebody's daughter? JILL Somebody's mother. JACKIE'S PLATE is untouched. She holds up her wine glass. JACKIE Waiter! George looks at her. JACKIE (CONT'D) One word out of you and I'll gargle with it. The waiter pours the wine. George looks to Jill, shrugs. Jill mouthes, 'try and stop her.' George mouthes back, 'are you kidding?' INT. BISTRO SID ROTH has been eyeing Jackie. SID ROTH Aren't you hungry, Miss Shawn? Jackie looks at Roth. Roth shoots his cuffs and smiles. JACKIE Not for rubber chicken, no. Sid Roth smiles. Jackie smiles back. SID ROTH (intime) Well maybe I can get you something. JACKIE That's very sweet of you, Mr. Roth. SID ROTH Sid. JACKIE Sid. You must be a very important executive. SID ROTH (almost a whisper) Well, whatever I am, I think I can get you whatever you'd like. JACKIE You do? SID ROTH Yes. JACKIE (same tone as Sid's) -- well, more than anything else -- (indicating George) -- I'd like to suck his cock. She points to George. George chokes on the last of a piece of chicken. Sid Roth is stunned. He doesn't know what to do. George is coughing badly. Jackie slaps his back. HEAD TABLE - FELICIA AND LESTER Felicia is listening to Lester. The Agnew and Nixon posters are directly behind them. LESTER (to East) -- Senator, you should've seen those little kids! About forty of 'em, all blind. We put out these mattresses on the front lawn and they came running out of the house, tripping and falling all over the place, having a hell of a good time. I mean they were blind of course. But it really gave you a feeling of accomplishment. I tell you I never had such a good time. Felicia during the above has looked up to see Jackie fawning over George. She can't believe her eyes. FELICIA Lester -- SENATOR -- let me understand this was exclusively a home for blind children -- FELICIA Lester -- LESTER -- yes, Senator -- just a minute, dear -- FELICIA Lester, don't you think that uhh -- Now Lester spots it. He's very confused. FELICIA (CONT'D) That girl's making an awful spectacle of herself. LESTER (angry himself) What do you expect me to do about it? FELICIA I just thought you'd like to know -- LESTER Why would I like to know if there's nothing I can do about it, goddammit -- OTHER VOICE Quiet! Cranston's on. They quiet down. JACKIE AND GEORGE Jackie's now moving around kissing George on the mouth. Jill is watching. Johnny Pope is fascinated. JILL -- Jackie really shouldn't drink -- POPE -- oh I don't know -- JACKIE (arm around George's shoulders tonguing his ear) -- Just get me out of here, baby. I can't stand it. It's killing me. GEORGE (indicating head table) -- we can't now. JACKIE -- why not? C'mon, take me out of here, somewhere I don't have to lie to anybody and I'll fuck your brains out, you little fiend, I adore you -- FELICIA is watching Jackie and George with ever greater intensity, her mouth growing more and more agape. JACKIE AND GEORGE JACKIE (CONT'D) (plaintive) -- don't you want to -- GEORGE Jackie, can we -- JACKIE (a little louder) Who's the greatest cocksucker in the world? C'mon -- George looks around sweating now. GEORGE (very quietly) -- you are. JACKIE Fuckin' A -- With that she slips right under the table. It's a surprisingly fluid move. FELICIA almost simultaneously rises, knocking her chair back. LESTER sees both moves and interrupts the Senator. LESTER (CONT'D) Senator, excuse me a moment -- He turns to Felicia and then looks over toward Jackie's empty chair and literally doesn't know which way to go first. He's a little like the bear in the penny arcade that is shot and keeps turning one way, then another. Finally he heads toward Jackie's vacant chair and George. GEORGE his chin to the tablecloth is fishing under it for Jackie. GEORGE (CONT'D) Now, Jackie -- JILL (trying for aplomb) -- she's a very compulsive girl. POPE I can see that. Lester rushes up. LESTER (a desperate smile) Hello, George. Your friend feeling a little under the weather? Jackie surfaces through the tablecloth. JACKIE (to Lester) -- you phony asshole -- LESTER (as if he didn't hear it) Oh, dear that's too bad. (with quiet desperation, to George) -- get her out of here, get her out of here. A cheer goes up as some late returns come in. Dirksen is talking about a new mandate for law and order and peace with honor. LESTER (CONT'D) (to Sid) What was that? SID ROTH Illinois. LESTER (doesn't know what he's saying) -- oh, good. INT. BISTRO Lester glances back toward Felicia who is watching him. GEORGE Jackie, c'mon -- George moves to Jill. GEORGE (CONT'D) I've got to get her out of here. JILL -- go ahead. GEORGE -- well aren't you -- JILL -- what? (indicating Pope) -- I'll see you later... GEORGE (not liking it too much) -- okay -- (pointed) -- I'll see you later. Your house. He moves away with Jackie. Lester turns back toward the main table. INT. 230SL - JACKIE AND GEORGE - NIGHT driving down Sunset Boulevard. There is a long moment of silence. The RADIO'S PLAYING the Eve of Destruction. George gives Jackie a couple of sidelong glances. JACKIE (finally) -- gee... GEORGE -- what? JACKIE (she sits up, lights a cigarette) I don't know what gets into me. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE No, I blew it, I blew it with Lester. GEORGE No you didn't. JACKIE You don't think so? I do. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE You always say that... I really care for Lester, don't I? George laughs. GEORGE That sounds like me. JACKIE I am you, you little bastard. She starts to scrunch over and kiss him, then stops. JACKIE(CONT'D) Where do you want to go? GEORGE Sammy's? JACKIE He still having parties? GEORGE He never stopped. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA IS SITTING WITH LESTER fuming. A woman, ROSALIND, is painstakingly and painfully introducing the Senator. ROSALIND ... and so... to have this man... here... among us... who has helped... as has everyone here to bring so many people together... of all races, creeds, and colors... FELICIA AND LESTER Rosalind droning on, b.g. She finally introduces Senator East. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA AND LESTER FELICIA Lester. LESTER Yes, sweetheart, shh. He pats her hand. She gives him a look that could kill. FELICIA -- I hope you like Miss Shawn -- LESTER -- what, who? Oh she's very nice, yes -- I mean normally --- FELICIA -- cause she's going to be very, very expensive. LESTER Can't we go into this later, sweetheart? ROSALIND'S VOICE Ladies and gentlemen, to Senator Joe East. Glasses are raised, a little dissonant hurrah. FELICIA We cannot go into this later. LESTER That's okay too. FELICIA You make me sick. Just be straight for once in your life. There are now O.S. calls for East to do his Indian chant. QUICK CUT TO: EAST SENATOR -- this tells of the ancient grandmother who, upon seeing the garden gate of her childhood, stops a moment and says, hello garden gate, hello garden gate, garden gate, hello. INT. BISTRO - LESTER AND FELICIA LESTER (finally exasperated) -- look, Felicia, this party involves more than you and me, you know. These people are concerned about more than each other, you know. FELICIA -- is that right? LESTER -- yes, we're all trying to do something to make this a better country to live in, believe it or not. THE SENATOR has begun his weird chant, beating out accompaniment on a cigar box and a pewter vase. FELICIA (glancing up) -- is that what this is all about? LESTER Yes and you don't have to be sarcastic about it, that's a beautiful thing he's doing -- some people do more than go to the beauty parlor and shop at Saks -- FELICIA Lester, you're a miserable man. You're not helping anybody. You're just twisting arms to raise money for a lot of silly son of a bitches that are out for themselves -- this

determined

How many times the word 'determined' appears in the text?

you I was on my way, but the line was busy, you're always on the phone. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE IN BEL AIR - DAY George pulls into the circular driveway. COVERED by a few bars of The Mama's and The Papa's "California Dreamin." There's only one car. George gets off the bike and goes to the door. Nobody answers. He hears the SOUND of a BALL BANGING. He looks toward the tennis court. ON THE COURT - LORNA is banging away on the backboard. There's a basket of balls nearby. She hits with considerable skill and power until she misses the backboard and the ball lodges in the steel mesh surrounding the court. George is standing there. Lorna looks at him. LORNA You here to see my mother? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA She's out, but you're supposed to wait. LORNA WALKING TO GEORGE LORNA (CONT'D) Hungry? GEORGE A little. AT THE KITCHEN TABLE They're eating silently. Lorna has hauled all kinds of food out of the refrigerators. She watches George as he eats with some relish. She gets up and goes to the steel-doored refrigerators. LORNA (indicating refrigerators) This is the one thing I like about this house... want some lox? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA You're my mother's hairdresser? GEORGE (warily) I do her hair, yeah. LORNA Chopped liver? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Are you gay?... baked apple?... they're cold but they're good. GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Did you hear me? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA Well, are you? Are you queer? GEORGE ... yeah. LORNA (laughing) C'mon, are you or aren't you? GEORGE (trying to avoid it) Gee, this is great. He slices a piece of cheesecake. Lorna sits down, in the chair nearest him now. LORNA C'mon, tell me. Don't be afraid. GEORGE Why do you wanna know so bad? LORNA See if you've been making it with my mother. GEORGE (looking at her for a minute, he changes his tone) What would my being a faggot have to do with that? Lorna shrugs. LORNA Nothing, I guess... have you ever made it with a guy? GEORGE Have you ever made it with a girl? LORNA I asked you first. GEORGE Yeah... I've made it with a girl... Lorna smiles. A pause. LORNA Well, are you? GEORGE Am I what? LORNA Making it with my mother? George wants to avoid this at all costs. He stares at Lorna intently. GEORGE I'd like to do your hair sometime. LORNA Why? GEORGE ... just, you could look very heavy... LORNA Don't make conversation with me. GEORGE What? LORNA You don't have to make conversation with me, I'm not my mother... do you have a thing about older women... that's sort of faggoty isn't it? George is weary and getting annoyed. GEORGE Yeah, it is. LORNA I never get my hair done. GEORGE No kidding. LORNA In fact, I don't think I've ever been to a beauty parlor in my whole life. GEORGE No shit. LORNA You think that's funny, don't you? GEORGE (laughing a little) Yeah. LORNA You live a phony cheap cop-out existence. GEORGE (determined to be light) Yeah... LORNA Beverly Hills hairdresser... what kind of a thing is that to do... you might as well be a faggot... think that's funny too? GEORGE No. LORNA Then what do you think? GEORGE That you're just like your mother. LORNA I am not like my mother! GEORGE You are. LORNA I am not! GEORGE You are. Lorna is furious. LORNA I am not! GEORGE (he starts to placate her) Look... (then defiantly) Do you wanna fuck me? LORNA (defiantly) Yeah. George stops eating. He's not prepared for this. GEORGE (uneasily) Right now? LORNA (a little more tentative now that the moment has arrived) Yeah. EXT. SOURCE RESTAURANT - JOHNNY POPE AND JILL - DAY A scraggly bearded WAITER with long stringy hair sets down two huge green salads before Jill and Johnny Pope. In so doing the Waiter drops a wooden menu he's been carrying. As he bends down to pick it up, he kneels beside Pope. Pope taps him on the shoulder. POPE (tapping him) Oh, scraves... WAITER Yes? The Waiter looks up, and moves. POPE Thank you. WAITER What for? POPE Taking your hair out of my salad. WAITER Oh, I'm sorry. Pope nods, Jill giggles. The Waiter goes off. Pope tosses out a few pieces of lettuce from the top of his salad. JILL Why don't you ask for another one? POPE Are you kidding? His hair's probably the most nutritious thing in here. See, you've reduced me to eating weeds. JILL ... my friend doesn't like it here either. POPE All right, forget this filth. Continue about your friend. JILL Well he's not exactly a friend. POPE Is he an enemy? JILL (laughing) Of course not... he's sort of a boyfriend. POPE -- sort of a boyfriend? JILL Sort of. POPE I see. You mean he just sort of fucks you. JILL Johnny! POPE My God, did I say that? I don't believe it. He looks under his chair to see if it was somebody else. POPE (CONT'D) I'm terribly sorry. JILL (amused) -- never mind. POPE What does he do? Is he an actor? JILL -- no. POPE Good for you. JILL He's a hairdresser. Pope drops his fork in the salad bowl. POPE -- oh, sure. A hairdresser. How... how do you a... meet a hairdresser? JILL Getting your hair done... (looks at him, abruptly) Would you like to go to a party? POPE Not with your hairdresser. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE - FELICIA - DAY pulls into the driveway. She gets out of her car, spots George's bike. INT. THE KITCHEN She sees the food spread out. FELICIA moving through the house. She stops by Lorna's room. Lorna has a sliding door, which is closed. Felicia opens it. FELICIA Lorna? LORNA'S BEDROOM Lorna is sitting on her bed, in her tennis dress but with her tennis shoes off. She's straightening a string in her racket. She looks to her mother, expressionless. FELICIA (CONT'D) Have you seen George? LORNA He's in the bathroom. FELICIA Your bathroom? LORNA Yes. The toilet flushes. The sink runs, and George emerges. He's looking a little haggard. GEORGE Hi. FELICIA (coolly) Hello, George. They walk out to the lanai together and George picks up his case. There is considerable tension from Felicia as they walk into her bedroom. Felicia slides the bedroom door shut, an action which George unhappily notices. She turns to George. She looks very hostile. She's trembling. FELICIA (CONT'D) I've missed you. George is taken aback. He gropes for a moment. GEORGE I've... missed you too. Felicia comes to him. She comes to him and touches his arm. George suddenly flings his case across the room and pounds his fist into a high-backed chair, turning away from Felicia. She clearly misunderstands the action. FELICIA (touched) It's okay, honey... it's okay now. She moves to the door and quietly locks it. George winces. She comes back to him and kisses him gently. She kisses him again with more passion. George tries to respond. FELICIA (CONT'D) Comb my hair out later, honey. GEORGE No, that's okay, I'll do It now. FELICIA No, baby... I'm glad you're coming tonight. She gently tugs at him, leading him toward the bed. George is miserable. GEORGE (looking toward the door) But aren't you... FELICIA Right now, I just don't care. As they sink to the bed, Felicia switches on the HI-FI. The Tijuana Brass begin to play. GEORGE ON HIS BIKE - LATE AFTERNOON COVERED BY a few bars of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". Riding home. He turns down his street and pulls into his driveway. He gets off his bike and only as he starts up his walk does he see Jill. She's been quietly waiting on his front porch, hidden in the shadows of the overhang. She doesn't look happy. George stops cold. GEORGE (?) Jill says nothing. GEORGE (CONT'D) Where's your car? JILL A friend dropped me off. GEORGE Who? JILL Never mind. Where've you been? GEORGE A business meeting, I told you that. They go inside. The living room is messy. George looks around in disgust. JILL What business meeting? GEORGE Look at the way I live. JILL I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. You weren't in the shop. What is this thing tonight? GEORGE What do you mean, what is it? It's some political bullshit. JILL I have to have Jackie ask me? Don't you think you could call me and let me know? Look at my hair. GEORGE Wait a minute, God-damn-it. Do you think I want to go to some God damned party? I'm trying to get that God damned shop open. I'm trying to get a little bread together. That's all I'm doing. George's outburst has shocked Jill. George maniacally begins straightening the mess. GEORGE (CONT'D) I just wanna live like everybody else, that's all. I want clothes in the closet, and food in the refrigerator, and I don't want shit all over the house and running my ass all over town... I want my own house... I want an appointment book... I want to get up in the morning and go to bed at night... I want a normal life like everybody else, that's all. He collapses into a chair. She comes over to him and knee beside him. JILL I know, honey. GEORGE Maybe I should get a dog... no, it would just shit all over the house and I'd never clean it up. JILL (laughing a little, touching him) Oh, honey. If we had one place, we could have a nicer place and I could take care of it. We're almost never here. REAR VIEW MIRROR - NIGHT A signal red Porsche cabriolet pulls up into mirror. The top is down. Under the brightly lit streetlights Jill's blonde hair and features are VISIBLE. WITH GEORGE AND JACKIE in her Mercedes. George still looking through the rear view mirror. Jackie's a knockout. JACKIE (looking at George looking in mirror) -- you'll be the prettiest thing in the room -- light's green... GEORGE (he takes off) -- oh yeah... what do you know about this guy? JACKIE -- what guy? GEORGE (gesturing toward rear window) -- this guy with Jill. JACKIE He's a director. OUTSIDE OF BISTRO - GEORGE AND JOHNNY POPE - NIGHT pull up, Pope right behind George. Parking ATTENDANTS leap for the doors. A few photographers of the movie freak variety ask each other who these arrivals are. One assures several others that they're nobody. GEORGE (to Attendant) Do I need a ticket for this? ATTENDANT We'll remember you. POPE as they move to take his Porsche. POPE (CONT'D) (shaking his head) I'll park it. Pope drives his own car onto the lot. WITH JILL, GEORGE AND JACKIE waiting for Pope who is now ambling toward them. GEORGE (to Jill) What does he direct besides traffic? JILL Ha, ha. GEORGE Television or movies? JILL Commercials. JACKIE (quietly, to George) Feel better? Let's go. Pope has joined them. INT. BISTRO FOYER They clear it to see the long elegant bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. George looks and sees someone. A fortyish WOMAN, attractive. GEORGE (to Jackie) Jesus Christ, there's Norma Stern. Look at her hair. JACKIE What about it? GEORGE Looks like somebody took a dump in it, that's the worst color job I've -- Norma comes over, hugs George. NORMA George -- GEORGE (pointing to her hair) Baby, you've been chippying on me -- NORMA Yes, isn't it awful -- GEORGE (smiling) -- yes. Jackie tugs him by the arm. JACKIE We're upstairs, George. Now come on. Behave yourself, and for Christ's sake, do me a favor. Don't let me drink too much. GEORGE (going upstairs) You don't do that anymore, do you? BISTRO STAIRS Jackie doesn't answer. They've reached the top of the stairs. They're hit by the full force of the upstairs gathering -- black tie, posters of Nixon, Agnew, Reagan, and Murphy, vaguely familiar faces crossing back and forth, clustering, watching early returns on television sets that are blaring from various points around the room. An ORCHESTRA PLAYS Meyer Davis Society Jazz. Jackie and George hesitate. Pope and Jill are behind them. Pope jostles George as he stops, abruptly. George looks around. Pope smiles. He's holding Jill's hand. George notices. Jill disengages her hand casually, as though it were necessary only for the walk up the stairs. Jackie nudges George, forcing him to move into the room with her as Lester comes toward them. He's stopped on his way over. WAITER Can I get you folks something? JILL A stinger, please. POPE A tomato juice. GEORGE I'll take a -- some white wine. WAITER And you, madam? JACKIE (searching the room) Oh I'll uhh -- just a coke. The Waiter moves on and they wait for their drinks. Lester finally makes to them. LESTER George, glad you could make it, son. Hi, doll. JACKIE Lester, this is my friend Jill and this is Johnny Pope. LESTER Glad to meet you, Jill, Mr. Pope. INT. BISTRO UPSTAIRS George turns to get his drink from the Waiter as do Jill and Pope. Lester takes Jackie's arm. LESTER Who are they? JACKIE (quickly) Jill Haynes, Jill Haynes, I've told you about Jill a hundred times, Lester, you never remember anything I say. LESTER Does she know about us? JACKIE Jesus, she's my best friend. LESTER Who's the guy, George's boyfriend? JACKIE I don't know. Why don't you ask him? LESTER C'mon, Jackie, I'm only trying -- George -- He draws George aside. LESTER (CONT'D) -- do me a favor, kind of keep your eye on Jackie, she's a little high strung tonight -- GEORGE -- yeah? LESTER See she doesn't drink too much. Jackie has heard this last. Lester turns to her. LESTER (CONT'D) See you later, doll. Jackie puts down her coke, picks up a glass of white wine from a passing tray and downs it in one gulp, putting it on another tray and picking up another glass of white wine. FELICIA with cleavage carefully prominent in a strapless gown, spots George. She excuses herself from the couple she has been talking with and goes straight to the powder room. INT. POWDER ROOM - FELICIA checks herself out in the mirror, glossing her lips with a pale tint of something or other. She gives a final anxious look, then hurries out, nearly bumping into a lady coming In. OUTSIDE she moves through the crowd up behind George, turning him around. FELICIA George, darling. She kisses him full on the lips, lingering on it. GEORGE (without batting an eye) Hey, baby, what's happening. Oh this is Jackie. Jackie, say hello to Felicia. It is only now that Felicia sees one of George's arms has been holding onto Jackie. JACKIE (also without batting an eye) Hello, Felicia. FELICIA (instantly suspicious of George) ... hello. Felicia looks from George to Jackie and back again. FELICIA (CONT'D) I'm so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you. LESTER pours his drink on the cuff of a distinguished MAN sitting beneath him at a table as he sees George and Felicia and Jackie clustered together. WITH LESTER AND MAN MAN Lester, what the fuck do you think you're doing? LESTER Jesus, Nate, I'm sorry. Lester fumbles, tries to clean Nate off with a napkin. NATE Never mind, I'll do it myself. He dips the napkin into a glass of ice water and proceeds to clean off his cuff. Nate goes back to the TV monitor where Agnew is making some remarks or commentators are repeating his comment about being a household word. LESTER So far so good. NATE Aw there's nothing to worry about. LESTER You never know. FELICIA WITH GEORGE FELICIA Why didn't you come alone? Lester invited you. Did you have to bring her? GEORGE (looking toward Lester) Well she... FELICIA She what? GEORGE She's a friend of Jill's. FELICIA And who's Jill? She spots Jill. GEORGE Well, she's a friend of Johnny Pope's -- you know, the director. She looks at Pope who is saying something to Jill which is making her laugh. FELICIA Oh. GEORGE is threading his way through a crowd, holding two drinks, one of them a coca-cola. It's a little more raucous now, with election returns from the television sets creating a more festive mood. Now and then someone jumps up from a set and hugs someone so carrying drinks is a little dodgy. JACKIE, F.G. - LESTER, B.G., TALKING Jackie sits alone by the bar, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. A man offers her a match. She stares at the burning match as if it's obscene. She blows it out. JACKIE No thanks. The man looks a little shocked, moves on. GEORGE has his arm held. It's KENNETH, a red-haired decorator. KENNETH Excuse me, I know I know you, but I can't think where. GEORGE Look, I'd like to help but -- Felicia grabs George's other arm pulling him away from Kenneth. Kenneth looks a little shocked at the ferocity of Felicia's move. FELICIA There you are. She tugs him with her. GEORGE Wait a minute -- She takes him right into the ladies room, George still juggling the drinks. JOHNNY POPE watches Felicia and George disappear into the ladies room, looking over Jill's shoulder. Jill has not seen it. POPE This other couple that we're here with, do you know them very well? JILL Well... sure... POPE Then maybe you can tell me why George would be going into the ladies room. Jill looks around and stares at the door. JILL George? Was he alone? POPE I don't think so. JILL Well did he go in there with Jackie? Pope points over to Jackie sitting at the bar drinking now. JILL (CONT'D) That bastard. POPE George is a hairdresser, isn't he? Jill doesn't answer. INT. BATHROOM - FELICIA AND GEORGE GEORGE (desperate) Baby, you gotta let me out of here. Felicia kisses him. FELICIA Sweetheart, it's a bore out there... let's lock the door. GEORGE Holy Christ. You want to get us killed? FELICIA Don't be silly. I'll just tell Lester we were smoking a couple of joints. See? She pulls two joints out of her beaded bag. LESTER only a few seats from Jackie, Jackie staring daggers at him, Lester aware of it. He's talking to a pair of lacquered eminence grises. LESTER -- fellas, fellas, just listen, you both have tidelands, you both want Uncle Sam to come through with offshore drilling permits -- so do it together -- JACKIE has taken an olive from an olive tray and hit Lester on the back of the head. He's finished this little dissertation. He sees the source of the missile. He grows pale, frozen. Sixty-four year old bejeweled WOMAN in b.g. WOMAN So, little red riding hood says 'my what big teeth you have and the wolf says all the better to eat you with, my dear, and she says -- eat, eat, eat, doesn't anybody ever fuck any more?' Jackie has now picked up a carrot from a relish tray. George appears. GEORGE Don't do it. JACKIE That son of a bitch, everything he says is a phony piece of shit, what does he think, I'm some cigar butt he's got between his teeth -- GEORGE (almost picking her up) C'mon, cunt, you're going for a walk. He takes her into the next room and Lester watches the move with a mixture of relief and concern. INT. OTHER BAR Jackie is now near tears. JACKIE He just completely ignores me. He could have at least said something, introduced me or something. INT. SMALL BAR GEORGE Sweetheart, you're drunk. She leans on George. JACKIE Oh God, what do I want, George? Lester comes hurrying in, sweating, now. LESTER Hi, doll, what's wrong? JACKIE You know what's wrong. Felicia trips coming into the small bar. FELICIA Lester -- Lester straightens up like he's been shot. LESTER Oh, Felicia, there you are, you know George and uh -- uh -- He's genuinely forgotten her name. JACKIE Jackie Shawn. LESTER Yes, Jackie Shawn, my wi -- Felicia. FELICIA We've met. JACKIE Yes. GEORGE Well anyway... LESTER (to Felicia) Your hair looks -- well fabulous. FELICIA That's George. INT. SMALL BAR LESTER It's just -- fabulous. (to George, an attempt at levity) Think you could do anything for me? GEORGE (he takes it seriously) Well -- I could try. Do you wash your hair every day? LESTER Isn't that bad for it? GEORGE No it keeps the skin peeling. You've got to keep the follicles open. You lose hair and the skin grows over the follicle and that's how you lose it. George actually touches Lester's hair, professional interest growing. GEORGE (CONT'D) This really ought to be layered... LESTER Layered? GEORGE Well yeah, otherwise it just sort, you know, lies there -- layer so it kind of fluffs out -- He starts to fluff Lester's hair a little when Johnny Pope walks in with Jill to this. Pope stares at them. POPE I think they're waiting for somebody to start dinner. LESTER Have they sat down? POPE Everybody but us. FELICIA They're waiting for you, Lester. INT. BISTRO DINNER TABLE Dinner is pretty much finished, waiters have begun picking up plates. IZZY SOKOLOFF (to Jill) I guess it's almost impossible to get work in the business these days. Pope watches Sokoloff make his move. JILL Well, commercials. I read for a soap the other day. IZZY A soap? JILL A daytime soap opera. IZZY And? JILL I was too old. IZZY What was it, somebody's daughter? JILL Somebody's mother. JACKIE'S PLATE is untouched. She holds up her wine glass. JACKIE Waiter! George looks at her. JACKIE (CONT'D) One word out of you and I'll gargle with it. The waiter pours the wine. George looks to Jill, shrugs. Jill mouthes, 'try and stop her.' George mouthes back, 'are you kidding?' INT. BISTRO SID ROTH has been eyeing Jackie. SID ROTH Aren't you hungry, Miss Shawn? Jackie looks at Roth. Roth shoots his cuffs and smiles. JACKIE Not for rubber chicken, no. Sid Roth smiles. Jackie smiles back. SID ROTH (intime) Well maybe I can get you something. JACKIE That's very sweet of you, Mr. Roth. SID ROTH Sid. JACKIE Sid. You must be a very important executive. SID ROTH (almost a whisper) Well, whatever I am, I think I can get you whatever you'd like. JACKIE You do? SID ROTH Yes. JACKIE (same tone as Sid's) -- well, more than anything else -- (indicating George) -- I'd like to suck his cock. She points to George. George chokes on the last of a piece of chicken. Sid Roth is stunned. He doesn't know what to do. George is coughing badly. Jackie slaps his back. HEAD TABLE - FELICIA AND LESTER Felicia is listening to Lester. The Agnew and Nixon posters are directly behind them. LESTER (to East) -- Senator, you should've seen those little kids! About forty of 'em, all blind. We put out these mattresses on the front lawn and they came running out of the house, tripping and falling all over the place, having a hell of a good time. I mean they were blind of course. But it really gave you a feeling of accomplishment. I tell you I never had such a good time. Felicia during the above has looked up to see Jackie fawning over George. She can't believe her eyes. FELICIA Lester -- SENATOR -- let me understand this was exclusively a home for blind children -- FELICIA Lester -- LESTER -- yes, Senator -- just a minute, dear -- FELICIA Lester, don't you think that uhh -- Now Lester spots it. He's very confused. FELICIA (CONT'D) That girl's making an awful spectacle of herself. LESTER (angry himself) What do you expect me to do about it? FELICIA I just thought you'd like to know -- LESTER Why would I like to know if there's nothing I can do about it, goddammit -- OTHER VOICE Quiet! Cranston's on. They quiet down. JACKIE AND GEORGE Jackie's now moving around kissing George on the mouth. Jill is watching. Johnny Pope is fascinated. JILL -- Jackie really shouldn't drink -- POPE -- oh I don't know -- JACKIE (arm around George's shoulders tonguing his ear) -- Just get me out of here, baby. I can't stand it. It's killing me. GEORGE (indicating head table) -- we can't now. JACKIE -- why not? C'mon, take me out of here, somewhere I don't have to lie to anybody and I'll fuck your brains out, you little fiend, I adore you -- FELICIA is watching Jackie and George with ever greater intensity, her mouth growing more and more agape. JACKIE AND GEORGE JACKIE (CONT'D) (plaintive) -- don't you want to -- GEORGE Jackie, can we -- JACKIE (a little louder) Who's the greatest cocksucker in the world? C'mon -- George looks around sweating now. GEORGE (very quietly) -- you are. JACKIE Fuckin' A -- With that she slips right under the table. It's a surprisingly fluid move. FELICIA almost simultaneously rises, knocking her chair back. LESTER sees both moves and interrupts the Senator. LESTER (CONT'D) Senator, excuse me a moment -- He turns to Felicia and then looks over toward Jackie's empty chair and literally doesn't know which way to go first. He's a little like the bear in the penny arcade that is shot and keeps turning one way, then another. Finally he heads toward Jackie's vacant chair and George. GEORGE his chin to the tablecloth is fishing under it for Jackie. GEORGE (CONT'D) Now, Jackie -- JILL (trying for aplomb) -- she's a very compulsive girl. POPE I can see that. Lester rushes up. LESTER (a desperate smile) Hello, George. Your friend feeling a little under the weather? Jackie surfaces through the tablecloth. JACKIE (to Lester) -- you phony asshole -- LESTER (as if he didn't hear it) Oh, dear that's too bad. (with quiet desperation, to George) -- get her out of here, get her out of here. A cheer goes up as some late returns come in. Dirksen is talking about a new mandate for law and order and peace with honor. LESTER (CONT'D) (to Sid) What was that? SID ROTH Illinois. LESTER (doesn't know what he's saying) -- oh, good. INT. BISTRO Lester glances back toward Felicia who is watching him. GEORGE Jackie, c'mon -- George moves to Jill. GEORGE (CONT'D) I've got to get her out of here. JILL -- go ahead. GEORGE -- well aren't you -- JILL -- what? (indicating Pope) -- I'll see you later... GEORGE (not liking it too much) -- okay -- (pointed) -- I'll see you later. Your house. He moves away with Jackie. Lester turns back toward the main table. INT. 230SL - JACKIE AND GEORGE - NIGHT driving down Sunset Boulevard. There is a long moment of silence. The RADIO'S PLAYING the Eve of Destruction. George gives Jackie a couple of sidelong glances. JACKIE (finally) -- gee... GEORGE -- what? JACKIE (she sits up, lights a cigarette) I don't know what gets into me. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE No, I blew it, I blew it with Lester. GEORGE No you didn't. JACKIE You don't think so? I do. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE You always say that... I really care for Lester, don't I? George laughs. GEORGE That sounds like me. JACKIE I am you, you little bastard. She starts to scrunch over and kiss him, then stops. JACKIE(CONT'D) Where do you want to go? GEORGE Sammy's? JACKIE He still having parties? GEORGE He never stopped. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA IS SITTING WITH LESTER fuming. A woman, ROSALIND, is painstakingly and painfully introducing the Senator. ROSALIND ... and so... to have this man... here... among us... who has helped... as has everyone here to bring so many people together... of all races, creeds, and colors... FELICIA AND LESTER Rosalind droning on, b.g. She finally introduces Senator East. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA AND LESTER FELICIA Lester. LESTER Yes, sweetheart, shh. He pats her hand. She gives him a look that could kill. FELICIA -- I hope you like Miss Shawn -- LESTER -- what, who? Oh she's very nice, yes -- I mean normally --- FELICIA -- cause she's going to be very, very expensive. LESTER Can't we go into this later, sweetheart? ROSALIND'S VOICE Ladies and gentlemen, to Senator Joe East. Glasses are raised, a little dissonant hurrah. FELICIA We cannot go into this later. LESTER That's okay too. FELICIA You make me sick. Just be straight for once in your life. There are now O.S. calls for East to do his Indian chant. QUICK CUT TO: EAST SENATOR -- this tells of the ancient grandmother who, upon seeing the garden gate of her childhood, stops a moment and says, hello garden gate, hello garden gate, garden gate, hello. INT. BISTRO - LESTER AND FELICIA LESTER (finally exasperated) -- look, Felicia, this party involves more than you and me, you know. These people are concerned about more than each other, you know. FELICIA -- is that right? LESTER -- yes, we're all trying to do something to make this a better country to live in, believe it or not. THE SENATOR has begun his weird chant, beating out accompaniment on a cigar box and a pewter vase. FELICIA (glancing up) -- is that what this is all about? LESTER Yes and you don't have to be sarcastic about it, that's a beautiful thing he's doing -- some people do more than go to the beauty parlor and shop at Saks -- FELICIA Lester, you're a miserable man. You're not helping anybody. You're just twisting arms to raise money for a lot of silly son of a bitches that are out for themselves -- this

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you I was on my way, but the line was busy, you're always on the phone. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE IN BEL AIR - DAY George pulls into the circular driveway. COVERED by a few bars of The Mama's and The Papa's "California Dreamin." There's only one car. George gets off the bike and goes to the door. Nobody answers. He hears the SOUND of a BALL BANGING. He looks toward the tennis court. ON THE COURT - LORNA is banging away on the backboard. There's a basket of balls nearby. She hits with considerable skill and power until she misses the backboard and the ball lodges in the steel mesh surrounding the court. George is standing there. Lorna looks at him. LORNA You here to see my mother? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA She's out, but you're supposed to wait. LORNA WALKING TO GEORGE LORNA (CONT'D) Hungry? GEORGE A little. AT THE KITCHEN TABLE They're eating silently. Lorna has hauled all kinds of food out of the refrigerators. She watches George as he eats with some relish. She gets up and goes to the steel-doored refrigerators. LORNA (indicating refrigerators) This is the one thing I like about this house... want some lox? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA You're my mother's hairdresser? GEORGE (warily) I do her hair, yeah. LORNA Chopped liver? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Are you gay?... baked apple?... they're cold but they're good. GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Did you hear me? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA Well, are you? Are you queer? GEORGE ... yeah. LORNA (laughing) C'mon, are you or aren't you? GEORGE (trying to avoid it) Gee, this is great. He slices a piece of cheesecake. Lorna sits down, in the chair nearest him now. LORNA C'mon, tell me. Don't be afraid. GEORGE Why do you wanna know so bad? LORNA See if you've been making it with my mother. GEORGE (looking at her for a minute, he changes his tone) What would my being a faggot have to do with that? Lorna shrugs. LORNA Nothing, I guess... have you ever made it with a guy? GEORGE Have you ever made it with a girl? LORNA I asked you first. GEORGE Yeah... I've made it with a girl... Lorna smiles. A pause. LORNA Well, are you? GEORGE Am I what? LORNA Making it with my mother? George wants to avoid this at all costs. He stares at Lorna intently. GEORGE I'd like to do your hair sometime. LORNA Why? GEORGE ... just, you could look very heavy... LORNA Don't make conversation with me. GEORGE What? LORNA You don't have to make conversation with me, I'm not my mother... do you have a thing about older women... that's sort of faggoty isn't it? George is weary and getting annoyed. GEORGE Yeah, it is. LORNA I never get my hair done. GEORGE No kidding. LORNA In fact, I don't think I've ever been to a beauty parlor in my whole life. GEORGE No shit. LORNA You think that's funny, don't you? GEORGE (laughing a little) Yeah. LORNA You live a phony cheap cop-out existence. GEORGE (determined to be light) Yeah... LORNA Beverly Hills hairdresser... what kind of a thing is that to do... you might as well be a faggot... think that's funny too? GEORGE No. LORNA Then what do you think? GEORGE That you're just like your mother. LORNA I am not like my mother! GEORGE You are. LORNA I am not! GEORGE You are. Lorna is furious. LORNA I am not! GEORGE (he starts to placate her) Look... (then defiantly) Do you wanna fuck me? LORNA (defiantly) Yeah. George stops eating. He's not prepared for this. GEORGE (uneasily) Right now? LORNA (a little more tentative now that the moment has arrived) Yeah. EXT. SOURCE RESTAURANT - JOHNNY POPE AND JILL - DAY A scraggly bearded WAITER with long stringy hair sets down two huge green salads before Jill and Johnny Pope. In so doing the Waiter drops a wooden menu he's been carrying. As he bends down to pick it up, he kneels beside Pope. Pope taps him on the shoulder. POPE (tapping him) Oh, scraves... WAITER Yes? The Waiter looks up, and moves. POPE Thank you. WAITER What for? POPE Taking your hair out of my salad. WAITER Oh, I'm sorry. Pope nods, Jill giggles. The Waiter goes off. Pope tosses out a few pieces of lettuce from the top of his salad. JILL Why don't you ask for another one? POPE Are you kidding? His hair's probably the most nutritious thing in here. See, you've reduced me to eating weeds. JILL ... my friend doesn't like it here either. POPE All right, forget this filth. Continue about your friend. JILL Well he's not exactly a friend. POPE Is he an enemy? JILL (laughing) Of course not... he's sort of a boyfriend. POPE -- sort of a boyfriend? JILL Sort of. POPE I see. You mean he just sort of fucks you. JILL Johnny! POPE My God, did I say that? I don't believe it. He looks under his chair to see if it was somebody else. POPE (CONT'D) I'm terribly sorry. JILL (amused) -- never mind. POPE What does he do? Is he an actor? JILL -- no. POPE Good for you. JILL He's a hairdresser. Pope drops his fork in the salad bowl. POPE -- oh, sure. A hairdresser. How... how do you a... meet a hairdresser? JILL Getting your hair done... (looks at him, abruptly) Would you like to go to a party? POPE Not with your hairdresser. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE - FELICIA - DAY pulls into the driveway. She gets out of her car, spots George's bike. INT. THE KITCHEN She sees the food spread out. FELICIA moving through the house. She stops by Lorna's room. Lorna has a sliding door, which is closed. Felicia opens it. FELICIA Lorna? LORNA'S BEDROOM Lorna is sitting on her bed, in her tennis dress but with her tennis shoes off. She's straightening a string in her racket. She looks to her mother, expressionless. FELICIA (CONT'D) Have you seen George? LORNA He's in the bathroom. FELICIA Your bathroom? LORNA Yes. The toilet flushes. The sink runs, and George emerges. He's looking a little haggard. GEORGE Hi. FELICIA (coolly) Hello, George. They walk out to the lanai together and George picks up his case. There is considerable tension from Felicia as they walk into her bedroom. Felicia slides the bedroom door shut, an action which George unhappily notices. She turns to George. She looks very hostile. She's trembling. FELICIA (CONT'D) I've missed you. George is taken aback. He gropes for a moment. GEORGE I've... missed you too. Felicia comes to him. She comes to him and touches his arm. George suddenly flings his case across the room and pounds his fist into a high-backed chair, turning away from Felicia. She clearly misunderstands the action. FELICIA (touched) It's okay, honey... it's okay now. She moves to the door and quietly locks it. George winces. She comes back to him and kisses him gently. She kisses him again with more passion. George tries to respond. FELICIA (CONT'D) Comb my hair out later, honey. GEORGE No, that's okay, I'll do It now. FELICIA No, baby... I'm glad you're coming tonight. She gently tugs at him, leading him toward the bed. George is miserable. GEORGE (looking toward the door) But aren't you... FELICIA Right now, I just don't care. As they sink to the bed, Felicia switches on the HI-FI. The Tijuana Brass begin to play. GEORGE ON HIS BIKE - LATE AFTERNOON COVERED BY a few bars of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". Riding home. He turns down his street and pulls into his driveway. He gets off his bike and only as he starts up his walk does he see Jill. She's been quietly waiting on his front porch, hidden in the shadows of the overhang. She doesn't look happy. George stops cold. GEORGE (?) Jill says nothing. GEORGE (CONT'D) Where's your car? JILL A friend dropped me off. GEORGE Who? JILL Never mind. Where've you been? GEORGE A business meeting, I told you that. They go inside. The living room is messy. George looks around in disgust. JILL What business meeting? GEORGE Look at the way I live. JILL I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. You weren't in the shop. What is this thing tonight? GEORGE What do you mean, what is it? It's some political bullshit. JILL I have to have Jackie ask me? Don't you think you could call me and let me know? Look at my hair. GEORGE Wait a minute, God-damn-it. Do you think I want to go to some God damned party? I'm trying to get that God damned shop open. I'm trying to get a little bread together. That's all I'm doing. George's outburst has shocked Jill. George maniacally begins straightening the mess. GEORGE (CONT'D) I just wanna live like everybody else, that's all. I want clothes in the closet, and food in the refrigerator, and I don't want shit all over the house and running my ass all over town... I want my own house... I want an appointment book... I want to get up in the morning and go to bed at night... I want a normal life like everybody else, that's all. He collapses into a chair. She comes over to him and knee beside him. JILL I know, honey. GEORGE Maybe I should get a dog... no, it would just shit all over the house and I'd never clean it up. JILL (laughing a little, touching him) Oh, honey. If we had one place, we could have a nicer place and I could take care of it. We're almost never here. REAR VIEW MIRROR - NIGHT A signal red Porsche cabriolet pulls up into mirror. The top is down. Under the brightly lit streetlights Jill's blonde hair and features are VISIBLE. WITH GEORGE AND JACKIE in her Mercedes. George still looking through the rear view mirror. Jackie's a knockout. JACKIE (looking at George looking in mirror) -- you'll be the prettiest thing in the room -- light's green... GEORGE (he takes off) -- oh yeah... what do you know about this guy? JACKIE -- what guy? GEORGE (gesturing toward rear window) -- this guy with Jill. JACKIE He's a director. OUTSIDE OF BISTRO - GEORGE AND JOHNNY POPE - NIGHT pull up, Pope right behind George. Parking ATTENDANTS leap for the doors. A few photographers of the movie freak variety ask each other who these arrivals are. One assures several others that they're nobody. GEORGE (to Attendant) Do I need a ticket for this? ATTENDANT We'll remember you. POPE as they move to take his Porsche. POPE (CONT'D) (shaking his head) I'll park it. Pope drives his own car onto the lot. WITH JILL, GEORGE AND JACKIE waiting for Pope who is now ambling toward them. GEORGE (to Jill) What does he direct besides traffic? JILL Ha, ha. GEORGE Television or movies? JILL Commercials. JACKIE (quietly, to George) Feel better? Let's go. Pope has joined them. INT. BISTRO FOYER They clear it to see the long elegant bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. George looks and sees someone. A fortyish WOMAN, attractive. GEORGE (to Jackie) Jesus Christ, there's Norma Stern. Look at her hair. JACKIE What about it? GEORGE Looks like somebody took a dump in it, that's the worst color job I've -- Norma comes over, hugs George. NORMA George -- GEORGE (pointing to her hair) Baby, you've been chippying on me -- NORMA Yes, isn't it awful -- GEORGE (smiling) -- yes. Jackie tugs him by the arm. JACKIE We're upstairs, George. Now come on. Behave yourself, and for Christ's sake, do me a favor. Don't let me drink too much. GEORGE (going upstairs) You don't do that anymore, do you? BISTRO STAIRS Jackie doesn't answer. They've reached the top of the stairs. They're hit by the full force of the upstairs gathering -- black tie, posters of Nixon, Agnew, Reagan, and Murphy, vaguely familiar faces crossing back and forth, clustering, watching early returns on television sets that are blaring from various points around the room. An ORCHESTRA PLAYS Meyer Davis Society Jazz. Jackie and George hesitate. Pope and Jill are behind them. Pope jostles George as he stops, abruptly. George looks around. Pope smiles. He's holding Jill's hand. George notices. Jill disengages her hand casually, as though it were necessary only for the walk up the stairs. Jackie nudges George, forcing him to move into the room with her as Lester comes toward them. He's stopped on his way over. WAITER Can I get you folks something? JILL A stinger, please. POPE A tomato juice. GEORGE I'll take a -- some white wine. WAITER And you, madam? JACKIE (searching the room) Oh I'll uhh -- just a coke. The Waiter moves on and they wait for their drinks. Lester finally makes to them. LESTER George, glad you could make it, son. Hi, doll. JACKIE Lester, this is my friend Jill and this is Johnny Pope. LESTER Glad to meet you, Jill, Mr. Pope. INT. BISTRO UPSTAIRS George turns to get his drink from the Waiter as do Jill and Pope. Lester takes Jackie's arm. LESTER Who are they? JACKIE (quickly) Jill Haynes, Jill Haynes, I've told you about Jill a hundred times, Lester, you never remember anything I say. LESTER Does she know about us? JACKIE Jesus, she's my best friend. LESTER Who's the guy, George's boyfriend? JACKIE I don't know. Why don't you ask him? LESTER C'mon, Jackie, I'm only trying -- George -- He draws George aside. LESTER (CONT'D) -- do me a favor, kind of keep your eye on Jackie, she's a little high strung tonight -- GEORGE -- yeah? LESTER See she doesn't drink too much. Jackie has heard this last. Lester turns to her. LESTER (CONT'D) See you later, doll. Jackie puts down her coke, picks up a glass of white wine from a passing tray and downs it in one gulp, putting it on another tray and picking up another glass of white wine. FELICIA with cleavage carefully prominent in a strapless gown, spots George. She excuses herself from the couple she has been talking with and goes straight to the powder room. INT. POWDER ROOM - FELICIA checks herself out in the mirror, glossing her lips with a pale tint of something or other. She gives a final anxious look, then hurries out, nearly bumping into a lady coming In. OUTSIDE she moves through the crowd up behind George, turning him around. FELICIA George, darling. She kisses him full on the lips, lingering on it. GEORGE (without batting an eye) Hey, baby, what's happening. Oh this is Jackie. Jackie, say hello to Felicia. It is only now that Felicia sees one of George's arms has been holding onto Jackie. JACKIE (also without batting an eye) Hello, Felicia. FELICIA (instantly suspicious of George) ... hello. Felicia looks from George to Jackie and back again. FELICIA (CONT'D) I'm so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you. LESTER pours his drink on the cuff of a distinguished MAN sitting beneath him at a table as he sees George and Felicia and Jackie clustered together. WITH LESTER AND MAN MAN Lester, what the fuck do you think you're doing? LESTER Jesus, Nate, I'm sorry. Lester fumbles, tries to clean Nate off with a napkin. NATE Never mind, I'll do it myself. He dips the napkin into a glass of ice water and proceeds to clean off his cuff. Nate goes back to the TV monitor where Agnew is making some remarks or commentators are repeating his comment about being a household word. LESTER So far so good. NATE Aw there's nothing to worry about. LESTER You never know. FELICIA WITH GEORGE FELICIA Why didn't you come alone? Lester invited you. Did you have to bring her? GEORGE (looking toward Lester) Well she... FELICIA She what? GEORGE She's a friend of Jill's. FELICIA And who's Jill? She spots Jill. GEORGE Well, she's a friend of Johnny Pope's -- you know, the director. She looks at Pope who is saying something to Jill which is making her laugh. FELICIA Oh. GEORGE is threading his way through a crowd, holding two drinks, one of them a coca-cola. It's a little more raucous now, with election returns from the television sets creating a more festive mood. Now and then someone jumps up from a set and hugs someone so carrying drinks is a little dodgy. JACKIE, F.G. - LESTER, B.G., TALKING Jackie sits alone by the bar, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. A man offers her a match. She stares at the burning match as if it's obscene. She blows it out. JACKIE No thanks. The man looks a little shocked, moves on. GEORGE has his arm held. It's KENNETH, a red-haired decorator. KENNETH Excuse me, I know I know you, but I can't think where. GEORGE Look, I'd like to help but -- Felicia grabs George's other arm pulling him away from Kenneth. Kenneth looks a little shocked at the ferocity of Felicia's move. FELICIA There you are. She tugs him with her. GEORGE Wait a minute -- She takes him right into the ladies room, George still juggling the drinks. JOHNNY POPE watches Felicia and George disappear into the ladies room, looking over Jill's shoulder. Jill has not seen it. POPE This other couple that we're here with, do you know them very well? JILL Well... sure... POPE Then maybe you can tell me why George would be going into the ladies room. Jill looks around and stares at the door. JILL George? Was he alone? POPE I don't think so. JILL Well did he go in there with Jackie? Pope points over to Jackie sitting at the bar drinking now. JILL (CONT'D) That bastard. POPE George is a hairdresser, isn't he? Jill doesn't answer. INT. BATHROOM - FELICIA AND GEORGE GEORGE (desperate) Baby, you gotta let me out of here. Felicia kisses him. FELICIA Sweetheart, it's a bore out there... let's lock the door. GEORGE Holy Christ. You want to get us killed? FELICIA Don't be silly. I'll just tell Lester we were smoking a couple of joints. See? She pulls two joints out of her beaded bag. LESTER only a few seats from Jackie, Jackie staring daggers at him, Lester aware of it. He's talking to a pair of lacquered eminence grises. LESTER -- fellas, fellas, just listen, you both have tidelands, you both want Uncle Sam to come through with offshore drilling permits -- so do it together -- JACKIE has taken an olive from an olive tray and hit Lester on the back of the head. He's finished this little dissertation. He sees the source of the missile. He grows pale, frozen. Sixty-four year old bejeweled WOMAN in b.g. WOMAN So, little red riding hood says 'my what big teeth you have and the wolf says all the better to eat you with, my dear, and she says -- eat, eat, eat, doesn't anybody ever fuck any more?' Jackie has now picked up a carrot from a relish tray. George appears. GEORGE Don't do it. JACKIE That son of a bitch, everything he says is a phony piece of shit, what does he think, I'm some cigar butt he's got between his teeth -- GEORGE (almost picking her up) C'mon, cunt, you're going for a walk. He takes her into the next room and Lester watches the move with a mixture of relief and concern. INT. OTHER BAR Jackie is now near tears. JACKIE He just completely ignores me. He could have at least said something, introduced me or something. INT. SMALL BAR GEORGE Sweetheart, you're drunk. She leans on George. JACKIE Oh God, what do I want, George? Lester comes hurrying in, sweating, now. LESTER Hi, doll, what's wrong? JACKIE You know what's wrong. Felicia trips coming into the small bar. FELICIA Lester -- Lester straightens up like he's been shot. LESTER Oh, Felicia, there you are, you know George and uh -- uh -- He's genuinely forgotten her name. JACKIE Jackie Shawn. LESTER Yes, Jackie Shawn, my wi -- Felicia. FELICIA We've met. JACKIE Yes. GEORGE Well anyway... LESTER (to Felicia) Your hair looks -- well fabulous. FELICIA That's George. INT. SMALL BAR LESTER It's just -- fabulous. (to George, an attempt at levity) Think you could do anything for me? GEORGE (he takes it seriously) Well -- I could try. Do you wash your hair every day? LESTER Isn't that bad for it? GEORGE No it keeps the skin peeling. You've got to keep the follicles open. You lose hair and the skin grows over the follicle and that's how you lose it. George actually touches Lester's hair, professional interest growing. GEORGE (CONT'D) This really ought to be layered... LESTER Layered? GEORGE Well yeah, otherwise it just sort, you know, lies there -- layer so it kind of fluffs out -- He starts to fluff Lester's hair a little when Johnny Pope walks in with Jill to this. Pope stares at them. POPE I think they're waiting for somebody to start dinner. LESTER Have they sat down? POPE Everybody but us. FELICIA They're waiting for you, Lester. INT. BISTRO DINNER TABLE Dinner is pretty much finished, waiters have begun picking up plates. IZZY SOKOLOFF (to Jill) I guess it's almost impossible to get work in the business these days. Pope watches Sokoloff make his move. JILL Well, commercials. I read for a soap the other day. IZZY A soap? JILL A daytime soap opera. IZZY And? JILL I was too old. IZZY What was it, somebody's daughter? JILL Somebody's mother. JACKIE'S PLATE is untouched. She holds up her wine glass. JACKIE Waiter! George looks at her. JACKIE (CONT'D) One word out of you and I'll gargle with it. The waiter pours the wine. George looks to Jill, shrugs. Jill mouthes, 'try and stop her.' George mouthes back, 'are you kidding?' INT. BISTRO SID ROTH has been eyeing Jackie. SID ROTH Aren't you hungry, Miss Shawn? Jackie looks at Roth. Roth shoots his cuffs and smiles. JACKIE Not for rubber chicken, no. Sid Roth smiles. Jackie smiles back. SID ROTH (intime) Well maybe I can get you something. JACKIE That's very sweet of you, Mr. Roth. SID ROTH Sid. JACKIE Sid. You must be a very important executive. SID ROTH (almost a whisper) Well, whatever I am, I think I can get you whatever you'd like. JACKIE You do? SID ROTH Yes. JACKIE (same tone as Sid's) -- well, more than anything else -- (indicating George) -- I'd like to suck his cock. She points to George. George chokes on the last of a piece of chicken. Sid Roth is stunned. He doesn't know what to do. George is coughing badly. Jackie slaps his back. HEAD TABLE - FELICIA AND LESTER Felicia is listening to Lester. The Agnew and Nixon posters are directly behind them. LESTER (to East) -- Senator, you should've seen those little kids! About forty of 'em, all blind. We put out these mattresses on the front lawn and they came running out of the house, tripping and falling all over the place, having a hell of a good time. I mean they were blind of course. But it really gave you a feeling of accomplishment. I tell you I never had such a good time. Felicia during the above has looked up to see Jackie fawning over George. She can't believe her eyes. FELICIA Lester -- SENATOR -- let me understand this was exclusively a home for blind children -- FELICIA Lester -- LESTER -- yes, Senator -- just a minute, dear -- FELICIA Lester, don't you think that uhh -- Now Lester spots it. He's very confused. FELICIA (CONT'D) That girl's making an awful spectacle of herself. LESTER (angry himself) What do you expect me to do about it? FELICIA I just thought you'd like to know -- LESTER Why would I like to know if there's nothing I can do about it, goddammit -- OTHER VOICE Quiet! Cranston's on. They quiet down. JACKIE AND GEORGE Jackie's now moving around kissing George on the mouth. Jill is watching. Johnny Pope is fascinated. JILL -- Jackie really shouldn't drink -- POPE -- oh I don't know -- JACKIE (arm around George's shoulders tonguing his ear) -- Just get me out of here, baby. I can't stand it. It's killing me. GEORGE (indicating head table) -- we can't now. JACKIE -- why not? C'mon, take me out of here, somewhere I don't have to lie to anybody and I'll fuck your brains out, you little fiend, I adore you -- FELICIA is watching Jackie and George with ever greater intensity, her mouth growing more and more agape. JACKIE AND GEORGE JACKIE (CONT'D) (plaintive) -- don't you want to -- GEORGE Jackie, can we -- JACKIE (a little louder) Who's the greatest cocksucker in the world? C'mon -- George looks around sweating now. GEORGE (very quietly) -- you are. JACKIE Fuckin' A -- With that she slips right under the table. It's a surprisingly fluid move. FELICIA almost simultaneously rises, knocking her chair back. LESTER sees both moves and interrupts the Senator. LESTER (CONT'D) Senator, excuse me a moment -- He turns to Felicia and then looks over toward Jackie's empty chair and literally doesn't know which way to go first. He's a little like the bear in the penny arcade that is shot and keeps turning one way, then another. Finally he heads toward Jackie's vacant chair and George. GEORGE his chin to the tablecloth is fishing under it for Jackie. GEORGE (CONT'D) Now, Jackie -- JILL (trying for aplomb) -- she's a very compulsive girl. POPE I can see that. Lester rushes up. LESTER (a desperate smile) Hello, George. Your friend feeling a little under the weather? Jackie surfaces through the tablecloth. JACKIE (to Lester) -- you phony asshole -- LESTER (as if he didn't hear it) Oh, dear that's too bad. (with quiet desperation, to George) -- get her out of here, get her out of here. A cheer goes up as some late returns come in. Dirksen is talking about a new mandate for law and order and peace with honor. LESTER (CONT'D) (to Sid) What was that? SID ROTH Illinois. LESTER (doesn't know what he's saying) -- oh, good. INT. BISTRO Lester glances back toward Felicia who is watching him. GEORGE Jackie, c'mon -- George moves to Jill. GEORGE (CONT'D) I've got to get her out of here. JILL -- go ahead. GEORGE -- well aren't you -- JILL -- what? (indicating Pope) -- I'll see you later... GEORGE (not liking it too much) -- okay -- (pointed) -- I'll see you later. Your house. He moves away with Jackie. Lester turns back toward the main table. INT. 230SL - JACKIE AND GEORGE - NIGHT driving down Sunset Boulevard. There is a long moment of silence. The RADIO'S PLAYING the Eve of Destruction. George gives Jackie a couple of sidelong glances. JACKIE (finally) -- gee... GEORGE -- what? JACKIE (she sits up, lights a cigarette) I don't know what gets into me. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE No, I blew it, I blew it with Lester. GEORGE No you didn't. JACKIE You don't think so? I do. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE You always say that... I really care for Lester, don't I? George laughs. GEORGE That sounds like me. JACKIE I am you, you little bastard. She starts to scrunch over and kiss him, then stops. JACKIE(CONT'D) Where do you want to go? GEORGE Sammy's? JACKIE He still having parties? GEORGE He never stopped. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA IS SITTING WITH LESTER fuming. A woman, ROSALIND, is painstakingly and painfully introducing the Senator. ROSALIND ... and so... to have this man... here... among us... who has helped... as has everyone here to bring so many people together... of all races, creeds, and colors... FELICIA AND LESTER Rosalind droning on, b.g. She finally introduces Senator East. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA AND LESTER FELICIA Lester. LESTER Yes, sweetheart, shh. He pats her hand. She gives him a look that could kill. FELICIA -- I hope you like Miss Shawn -- LESTER -- what, who? Oh she's very nice, yes -- I mean normally --- FELICIA -- cause she's going to be very, very expensive. LESTER Can't we go into this later, sweetheart? ROSALIND'S VOICE Ladies and gentlemen, to Senator Joe East. Glasses are raised, a little dissonant hurrah. FELICIA We cannot go into this later. LESTER That's okay too. FELICIA You make me sick. Just be straight for once in your life. There are now O.S. calls for East to do his Indian chant. QUICK CUT TO: EAST SENATOR -- this tells of the ancient grandmother who, upon seeing the garden gate of her childhood, stops a moment and says, hello garden gate, hello garden gate, garden gate, hello. INT. BISTRO - LESTER AND FELICIA LESTER (finally exasperated) -- look, Felicia, this party involves more than you and me, you know. These people are concerned about more than each other, you know. FELICIA -- is that right? LESTER -- yes, we're all trying to do something to make this a better country to live in, believe it or not. THE SENATOR has begun his weird chant, beating out accompaniment on a cigar box and a pewter vase. FELICIA (glancing up) -- is that what this is all about? LESTER Yes and you don't have to be sarcastic about it, that's a beautiful thing he's doing -- some people do more than go to the beauty parlor and shop at Saks -- FELICIA Lester, you're a miserable man. You're not helping anybody. You're just twisting arms to raise money for a lot of silly son of a bitches that are out for themselves -- this

turns

How many times the word 'turns' appears in the text?

you I was on my way, but the line was busy, you're always on the phone. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE IN BEL AIR - DAY George pulls into the circular driveway. COVERED by a few bars of The Mama's and The Papa's "California Dreamin." There's only one car. George gets off the bike and goes to the door. Nobody answers. He hears the SOUND of a BALL BANGING. He looks toward the tennis court. ON THE COURT - LORNA is banging away on the backboard. There's a basket of balls nearby. She hits with considerable skill and power until she misses the backboard and the ball lodges in the steel mesh surrounding the court. George is standing there. Lorna looks at him. LORNA You here to see my mother? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA She's out, but you're supposed to wait. LORNA WALKING TO GEORGE LORNA (CONT'D) Hungry? GEORGE A little. AT THE KITCHEN TABLE They're eating silently. Lorna has hauled all kinds of food out of the refrigerators. She watches George as he eats with some relish. She gets up and goes to the steel-doored refrigerators. LORNA (indicating refrigerators) This is the one thing I like about this house... want some lox? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA You're my mother's hairdresser? GEORGE (warily) I do her hair, yeah. LORNA Chopped liver? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Are you gay?... baked apple?... they're cold but they're good. GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Did you hear me? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA Well, are you? Are you queer? GEORGE ... yeah. LORNA (laughing) C'mon, are you or aren't you? GEORGE (trying to avoid it) Gee, this is great. He slices a piece of cheesecake. Lorna sits down, in the chair nearest him now. LORNA C'mon, tell me. Don't be afraid. GEORGE Why do you wanna know so bad? LORNA See if you've been making it with my mother. GEORGE (looking at her for a minute, he changes his tone) What would my being a faggot have to do with that? Lorna shrugs. LORNA Nothing, I guess... have you ever made it with a guy? GEORGE Have you ever made it with a girl? LORNA I asked you first. GEORGE Yeah... I've made it with a girl... Lorna smiles. A pause. LORNA Well, are you? GEORGE Am I what? LORNA Making it with my mother? George wants to avoid this at all costs. He stares at Lorna intently. GEORGE I'd like to do your hair sometime. LORNA Why? GEORGE ... just, you could look very heavy... LORNA Don't make conversation with me. GEORGE What? LORNA You don't have to make conversation with me, I'm not my mother... do you have a thing about older women... that's sort of faggoty isn't it? George is weary and getting annoyed. GEORGE Yeah, it is. LORNA I never get my hair done. GEORGE No kidding. LORNA In fact, I don't think I've ever been to a beauty parlor in my whole life. GEORGE No shit. LORNA You think that's funny, don't you? GEORGE (laughing a little) Yeah. LORNA You live a phony cheap cop-out existence. GEORGE (determined to be light) Yeah... LORNA Beverly Hills hairdresser... what kind of a thing is that to do... you might as well be a faggot... think that's funny too? GEORGE No. LORNA Then what do you think? GEORGE That you're just like your mother. LORNA I am not like my mother! GEORGE You are. LORNA I am not! GEORGE You are. Lorna is furious. LORNA I am not! GEORGE (he starts to placate her) Look... (then defiantly) Do you wanna fuck me? LORNA (defiantly) Yeah. George stops eating. He's not prepared for this. GEORGE (uneasily) Right now? LORNA (a little more tentative now that the moment has arrived) Yeah. EXT. SOURCE RESTAURANT - JOHNNY POPE AND JILL - DAY A scraggly bearded WAITER with long stringy hair sets down two huge green salads before Jill and Johnny Pope. In so doing the Waiter drops a wooden menu he's been carrying. As he bends down to pick it up, he kneels beside Pope. Pope taps him on the shoulder. POPE (tapping him) Oh, scraves... WAITER Yes? The Waiter looks up, and moves. POPE Thank you. WAITER What for? POPE Taking your hair out of my salad. WAITER Oh, I'm sorry. Pope nods, Jill giggles. The Waiter goes off. Pope tosses out a few pieces of lettuce from the top of his salad. JILL Why don't you ask for another one? POPE Are you kidding? His hair's probably the most nutritious thing in here. See, you've reduced me to eating weeds. JILL ... my friend doesn't like it here either. POPE All right, forget this filth. Continue about your friend. JILL Well he's not exactly a friend. POPE Is he an enemy? JILL (laughing) Of course not... he's sort of a boyfriend. POPE -- sort of a boyfriend? JILL Sort of. POPE I see. You mean he just sort of fucks you. JILL Johnny! POPE My God, did I say that? I don't believe it. He looks under his chair to see if it was somebody else. POPE (CONT'D) I'm terribly sorry. JILL (amused) -- never mind. POPE What does he do? Is he an actor? JILL -- no. POPE Good for you. JILL He's a hairdresser. Pope drops his fork in the salad bowl. POPE -- oh, sure. A hairdresser. How... how do you a... meet a hairdresser? JILL Getting your hair done... (looks at him, abruptly) Would you like to go to a party? POPE Not with your hairdresser. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE - FELICIA - DAY pulls into the driveway. She gets out of her car, spots George's bike. INT. THE KITCHEN She sees the food spread out. FELICIA moving through the house. She stops by Lorna's room. Lorna has a sliding door, which is closed. Felicia opens it. FELICIA Lorna? LORNA'S BEDROOM Lorna is sitting on her bed, in her tennis dress but with her tennis shoes off. She's straightening a string in her racket. She looks to her mother, expressionless. FELICIA (CONT'D) Have you seen George? LORNA He's in the bathroom. FELICIA Your bathroom? LORNA Yes. The toilet flushes. The sink runs, and George emerges. He's looking a little haggard. GEORGE Hi. FELICIA (coolly) Hello, George. They walk out to the lanai together and George picks up his case. There is considerable tension from Felicia as they walk into her bedroom. Felicia slides the bedroom door shut, an action which George unhappily notices. She turns to George. She looks very hostile. She's trembling. FELICIA (CONT'D) I've missed you. George is taken aback. He gropes for a moment. GEORGE I've... missed you too. Felicia comes to him. She comes to him and touches his arm. George suddenly flings his case across the room and pounds his fist into a high-backed chair, turning away from Felicia. She clearly misunderstands the action. FELICIA (touched) It's okay, honey... it's okay now. She moves to the door and quietly locks it. George winces. She comes back to him and kisses him gently. She kisses him again with more passion. George tries to respond. FELICIA (CONT'D) Comb my hair out later, honey. GEORGE No, that's okay, I'll do It now. FELICIA No, baby... I'm glad you're coming tonight. She gently tugs at him, leading him toward the bed. George is miserable. GEORGE (looking toward the door) But aren't you... FELICIA Right now, I just don't care. As they sink to the bed, Felicia switches on the HI-FI. The Tijuana Brass begin to play. GEORGE ON HIS BIKE - LATE AFTERNOON COVERED BY a few bars of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". Riding home. He turns down his street and pulls into his driveway. He gets off his bike and only as he starts up his walk does he see Jill. She's been quietly waiting on his front porch, hidden in the shadows of the overhang. She doesn't look happy. George stops cold. GEORGE (?) Jill says nothing. GEORGE (CONT'D) Where's your car? JILL A friend dropped me off. GEORGE Who? JILL Never mind. Where've you been? GEORGE A business meeting, I told you that. They go inside. The living room is messy. George looks around in disgust. JILL What business meeting? GEORGE Look at the way I live. JILL I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. You weren't in the shop. What is this thing tonight? GEORGE What do you mean, what is it? It's some political bullshit. JILL I have to have Jackie ask me? Don't you think you could call me and let me know? Look at my hair. GEORGE Wait a minute, God-damn-it. Do you think I want to go to some God damned party? I'm trying to get that God damned shop open. I'm trying to get a little bread together. That's all I'm doing. George's outburst has shocked Jill. George maniacally begins straightening the mess. GEORGE (CONT'D) I just wanna live like everybody else, that's all. I want clothes in the closet, and food in the refrigerator, and I don't want shit all over the house and running my ass all over town... I want my own house... I want an appointment book... I want to get up in the morning and go to bed at night... I want a normal life like everybody else, that's all. He collapses into a chair. She comes over to him and knee beside him. JILL I know, honey. GEORGE Maybe I should get a dog... no, it would just shit all over the house and I'd never clean it up. JILL (laughing a little, touching him) Oh, honey. If we had one place, we could have a nicer place and I could take care of it. We're almost never here. REAR VIEW MIRROR - NIGHT A signal red Porsche cabriolet pulls up into mirror. The top is down. Under the brightly lit streetlights Jill's blonde hair and features are VISIBLE. WITH GEORGE AND JACKIE in her Mercedes. George still looking through the rear view mirror. Jackie's a knockout. JACKIE (looking at George looking in mirror) -- you'll be the prettiest thing in the room -- light's green... GEORGE (he takes off) -- oh yeah... what do you know about this guy? JACKIE -- what guy? GEORGE (gesturing toward rear window) -- this guy with Jill. JACKIE He's a director. OUTSIDE OF BISTRO - GEORGE AND JOHNNY POPE - NIGHT pull up, Pope right behind George. Parking ATTENDANTS leap for the doors. A few photographers of the movie freak variety ask each other who these arrivals are. One assures several others that they're nobody. GEORGE (to Attendant) Do I need a ticket for this? ATTENDANT We'll remember you. POPE as they move to take his Porsche. POPE (CONT'D) (shaking his head) I'll park it. Pope drives his own car onto the lot. WITH JILL, GEORGE AND JACKIE waiting for Pope who is now ambling toward them. GEORGE (to Jill) What does he direct besides traffic? JILL Ha, ha. GEORGE Television or movies? JILL Commercials. JACKIE (quietly, to George) Feel better? Let's go. Pope has joined them. INT. BISTRO FOYER They clear it to see the long elegant bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. George looks and sees someone. A fortyish WOMAN, attractive. GEORGE (to Jackie) Jesus Christ, there's Norma Stern. Look at her hair. JACKIE What about it? GEORGE Looks like somebody took a dump in it, that's the worst color job I've -- Norma comes over, hugs George. NORMA George -- GEORGE (pointing to her hair) Baby, you've been chippying on me -- NORMA Yes, isn't it awful -- GEORGE (smiling) -- yes. Jackie tugs him by the arm. JACKIE We're upstairs, George. Now come on. Behave yourself, and for Christ's sake, do me a favor. Don't let me drink too much. GEORGE (going upstairs) You don't do that anymore, do you? BISTRO STAIRS Jackie doesn't answer. They've reached the top of the stairs. They're hit by the full force of the upstairs gathering -- black tie, posters of Nixon, Agnew, Reagan, and Murphy, vaguely familiar faces crossing back and forth, clustering, watching early returns on television sets that are blaring from various points around the room. An ORCHESTRA PLAYS Meyer Davis Society Jazz. Jackie and George hesitate. Pope and Jill are behind them. Pope jostles George as he stops, abruptly. George looks around. Pope smiles. He's holding Jill's hand. George notices. Jill disengages her hand casually, as though it were necessary only for the walk up the stairs. Jackie nudges George, forcing him to move into the room with her as Lester comes toward them. He's stopped on his way over. WAITER Can I get you folks something? JILL A stinger, please. POPE A tomato juice. GEORGE I'll take a -- some white wine. WAITER And you, madam? JACKIE (searching the room) Oh I'll uhh -- just a coke. The Waiter moves on and they wait for their drinks. Lester finally makes to them. LESTER George, glad you could make it, son. Hi, doll. JACKIE Lester, this is my friend Jill and this is Johnny Pope. LESTER Glad to meet you, Jill, Mr. Pope. INT. BISTRO UPSTAIRS George turns to get his drink from the Waiter as do Jill and Pope. Lester takes Jackie's arm. LESTER Who are they? JACKIE (quickly) Jill Haynes, Jill Haynes, I've told you about Jill a hundred times, Lester, you never remember anything I say. LESTER Does she know about us? JACKIE Jesus, she's my best friend. LESTER Who's the guy, George's boyfriend? JACKIE I don't know. Why don't you ask him? LESTER C'mon, Jackie, I'm only trying -- George -- He draws George aside. LESTER (CONT'D) -- do me a favor, kind of keep your eye on Jackie, she's a little high strung tonight -- GEORGE -- yeah? LESTER See she doesn't drink too much. Jackie has heard this last. Lester turns to her. LESTER (CONT'D) See you later, doll. Jackie puts down her coke, picks up a glass of white wine from a passing tray and downs it in one gulp, putting it on another tray and picking up another glass of white wine. FELICIA with cleavage carefully prominent in a strapless gown, spots George. She excuses herself from the couple she has been talking with and goes straight to the powder room. INT. POWDER ROOM - FELICIA checks herself out in the mirror, glossing her lips with a pale tint of something or other. She gives a final anxious look, then hurries out, nearly bumping into a lady coming In. OUTSIDE she moves through the crowd up behind George, turning him around. FELICIA George, darling. She kisses him full on the lips, lingering on it. GEORGE (without batting an eye) Hey, baby, what's happening. Oh this is Jackie. Jackie, say hello to Felicia. It is only now that Felicia sees one of George's arms has been holding onto Jackie. JACKIE (also without batting an eye) Hello, Felicia. FELICIA (instantly suspicious of George) ... hello. Felicia looks from George to Jackie and back again. FELICIA (CONT'D) I'm so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you. LESTER pours his drink on the cuff of a distinguished MAN sitting beneath him at a table as he sees George and Felicia and Jackie clustered together. WITH LESTER AND MAN MAN Lester, what the fuck do you think you're doing? LESTER Jesus, Nate, I'm sorry. Lester fumbles, tries to clean Nate off with a napkin. NATE Never mind, I'll do it myself. He dips the napkin into a glass of ice water and proceeds to clean off his cuff. Nate goes back to the TV monitor where Agnew is making some remarks or commentators are repeating his comment about being a household word. LESTER So far so good. NATE Aw there's nothing to worry about. LESTER You never know. FELICIA WITH GEORGE FELICIA Why didn't you come alone? Lester invited you. Did you have to bring her? GEORGE (looking toward Lester) Well she... FELICIA She what? GEORGE She's a friend of Jill's. FELICIA And who's Jill? She spots Jill. GEORGE Well, she's a friend of Johnny Pope's -- you know, the director. She looks at Pope who is saying something to Jill which is making her laugh. FELICIA Oh. GEORGE is threading his way through a crowd, holding two drinks, one of them a coca-cola. It's a little more raucous now, with election returns from the television sets creating a more festive mood. Now and then someone jumps up from a set and hugs someone so carrying drinks is a little dodgy. JACKIE, F.G. - LESTER, B.G., TALKING Jackie sits alone by the bar, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. A man offers her a match. She stares at the burning match as if it's obscene. She blows it out. JACKIE No thanks. The man looks a little shocked, moves on. GEORGE has his arm held. It's KENNETH, a red-haired decorator. KENNETH Excuse me, I know I know you, but I can't think where. GEORGE Look, I'd like to help but -- Felicia grabs George's other arm pulling him away from Kenneth. Kenneth looks a little shocked at the ferocity of Felicia's move. FELICIA There you are. She tugs him with her. GEORGE Wait a minute -- She takes him right into the ladies room, George still juggling the drinks. JOHNNY POPE watches Felicia and George disappear into the ladies room, looking over Jill's shoulder. Jill has not seen it. POPE This other couple that we're here with, do you know them very well? JILL Well... sure... POPE Then maybe you can tell me why George would be going into the ladies room. Jill looks around and stares at the door. JILL George? Was he alone? POPE I don't think so. JILL Well did he go in there with Jackie? Pope points over to Jackie sitting at the bar drinking now. JILL (CONT'D) That bastard. POPE George is a hairdresser, isn't he? Jill doesn't answer. INT. BATHROOM - FELICIA AND GEORGE GEORGE (desperate) Baby, you gotta let me out of here. Felicia kisses him. FELICIA Sweetheart, it's a bore out there... let's lock the door. GEORGE Holy Christ. You want to get us killed? FELICIA Don't be silly. I'll just tell Lester we were smoking a couple of joints. See? She pulls two joints out of her beaded bag. LESTER only a few seats from Jackie, Jackie staring daggers at him, Lester aware of it. He's talking to a pair of lacquered eminence grises. LESTER -- fellas, fellas, just listen, you both have tidelands, you both want Uncle Sam to come through with offshore drilling permits -- so do it together -- JACKIE has taken an olive from an olive tray and hit Lester on the back of the head. He's finished this little dissertation. He sees the source of the missile. He grows pale, frozen. Sixty-four year old bejeweled WOMAN in b.g. WOMAN So, little red riding hood says 'my what big teeth you have and the wolf says all the better to eat you with, my dear, and she says -- eat, eat, eat, doesn't anybody ever fuck any more?' Jackie has now picked up a carrot from a relish tray. George appears. GEORGE Don't do it. JACKIE That son of a bitch, everything he says is a phony piece of shit, what does he think, I'm some cigar butt he's got between his teeth -- GEORGE (almost picking her up) C'mon, cunt, you're going for a walk. He takes her into the next room and Lester watches the move with a mixture of relief and concern. INT. OTHER BAR Jackie is now near tears. JACKIE He just completely ignores me. He could have at least said something, introduced me or something. INT. SMALL BAR GEORGE Sweetheart, you're drunk. She leans on George. JACKIE Oh God, what do I want, George? Lester comes hurrying in, sweating, now. LESTER Hi, doll, what's wrong? JACKIE You know what's wrong. Felicia trips coming into the small bar. FELICIA Lester -- Lester straightens up like he's been shot. LESTER Oh, Felicia, there you are, you know George and uh -- uh -- He's genuinely forgotten her name. JACKIE Jackie Shawn. LESTER Yes, Jackie Shawn, my wi -- Felicia. FELICIA We've met. JACKIE Yes. GEORGE Well anyway... LESTER (to Felicia) Your hair looks -- well fabulous. FELICIA That's George. INT. SMALL BAR LESTER It's just -- fabulous. (to George, an attempt at levity) Think you could do anything for me? GEORGE (he takes it seriously) Well -- I could try. Do you wash your hair every day? LESTER Isn't that bad for it? GEORGE No it keeps the skin peeling. You've got to keep the follicles open. You lose hair and the skin grows over the follicle and that's how you lose it. George actually touches Lester's hair, professional interest growing. GEORGE (CONT'D) This really ought to be layered... LESTER Layered? GEORGE Well yeah, otherwise it just sort, you know, lies there -- layer so it kind of fluffs out -- He starts to fluff Lester's hair a little when Johnny Pope walks in with Jill to this. Pope stares at them. POPE I think they're waiting for somebody to start dinner. LESTER Have they sat down? POPE Everybody but us. FELICIA They're waiting for you, Lester. INT. BISTRO DINNER TABLE Dinner is pretty much finished, waiters have begun picking up plates. IZZY SOKOLOFF (to Jill) I guess it's almost impossible to get work in the business these days. Pope watches Sokoloff make his move. JILL Well, commercials. I read for a soap the other day. IZZY A soap? JILL A daytime soap opera. IZZY And? JILL I was too old. IZZY What was it, somebody's daughter? JILL Somebody's mother. JACKIE'S PLATE is untouched. She holds up her wine glass. JACKIE Waiter! George looks at her. JACKIE (CONT'D) One word out of you and I'll gargle with it. The waiter pours the wine. George looks to Jill, shrugs. Jill mouthes, 'try and stop her.' George mouthes back, 'are you kidding?' INT. BISTRO SID ROTH has been eyeing Jackie. SID ROTH Aren't you hungry, Miss Shawn? Jackie looks at Roth. Roth shoots his cuffs and smiles. JACKIE Not for rubber chicken, no. Sid Roth smiles. Jackie smiles back. SID ROTH (intime) Well maybe I can get you something. JACKIE That's very sweet of you, Mr. Roth. SID ROTH Sid. JACKIE Sid. You must be a very important executive. SID ROTH (almost a whisper) Well, whatever I am, I think I can get you whatever you'd like. JACKIE You do? SID ROTH Yes. JACKIE (same tone as Sid's) -- well, more than anything else -- (indicating George) -- I'd like to suck his cock. She points to George. George chokes on the last of a piece of chicken. Sid Roth is stunned. He doesn't know what to do. George is coughing badly. Jackie slaps his back. HEAD TABLE - FELICIA AND LESTER Felicia is listening to Lester. The Agnew and Nixon posters are directly behind them. LESTER (to East) -- Senator, you should've seen those little kids! About forty of 'em, all blind. We put out these mattresses on the front lawn and they came running out of the house, tripping and falling all over the place, having a hell of a good time. I mean they were blind of course. But it really gave you a feeling of accomplishment. I tell you I never had such a good time. Felicia during the above has looked up to see Jackie fawning over George. She can't believe her eyes. FELICIA Lester -- SENATOR -- let me understand this was exclusively a home for blind children -- FELICIA Lester -- LESTER -- yes, Senator -- just a minute, dear -- FELICIA Lester, don't you think that uhh -- Now Lester spots it. He's very confused. FELICIA (CONT'D) That girl's making an awful spectacle of herself. LESTER (angry himself) What do you expect me to do about it? FELICIA I just thought you'd like to know -- LESTER Why would I like to know if there's nothing I can do about it, goddammit -- OTHER VOICE Quiet! Cranston's on. They quiet down. JACKIE AND GEORGE Jackie's now moving around kissing George on the mouth. Jill is watching. Johnny Pope is fascinated. JILL -- Jackie really shouldn't drink -- POPE -- oh I don't know -- JACKIE (arm around George's shoulders tonguing his ear) -- Just get me out of here, baby. I can't stand it. It's killing me. GEORGE (indicating head table) -- we can't now. JACKIE -- why not? C'mon, take me out of here, somewhere I don't have to lie to anybody and I'll fuck your brains out, you little fiend, I adore you -- FELICIA is watching Jackie and George with ever greater intensity, her mouth growing more and more agape. JACKIE AND GEORGE JACKIE (CONT'D) (plaintive) -- don't you want to -- GEORGE Jackie, can we -- JACKIE (a little louder) Who's the greatest cocksucker in the world? C'mon -- George looks around sweating now. GEORGE (very quietly) -- you are. JACKIE Fuckin' A -- With that she slips right under the table. It's a surprisingly fluid move. FELICIA almost simultaneously rises, knocking her chair back. LESTER sees both moves and interrupts the Senator. LESTER (CONT'D) Senator, excuse me a moment -- He turns to Felicia and then looks over toward Jackie's empty chair and literally doesn't know which way to go first. He's a little like the bear in the penny arcade that is shot and keeps turning one way, then another. Finally he heads toward Jackie's vacant chair and George. GEORGE his chin to the tablecloth is fishing under it for Jackie. GEORGE (CONT'D) Now, Jackie -- JILL (trying for aplomb) -- she's a very compulsive girl. POPE I can see that. Lester rushes up. LESTER (a desperate smile) Hello, George. Your friend feeling a little under the weather? Jackie surfaces through the tablecloth. JACKIE (to Lester) -- you phony asshole -- LESTER (as if he didn't hear it) Oh, dear that's too bad. (with quiet desperation, to George) -- get her out of here, get her out of here. A cheer goes up as some late returns come in. Dirksen is talking about a new mandate for law and order and peace with honor. LESTER (CONT'D) (to Sid) What was that? SID ROTH Illinois. LESTER (doesn't know what he's saying) -- oh, good. INT. BISTRO Lester glances back toward Felicia who is watching him. GEORGE Jackie, c'mon -- George moves to Jill. GEORGE (CONT'D) I've got to get her out of here. JILL -- go ahead. GEORGE -- well aren't you -- JILL -- what? (indicating Pope) -- I'll see you later... GEORGE (not liking it too much) -- okay -- (pointed) -- I'll see you later. Your house. He moves away with Jackie. Lester turns back toward the main table. INT. 230SL - JACKIE AND GEORGE - NIGHT driving down Sunset Boulevard. There is a long moment of silence. The RADIO'S PLAYING the Eve of Destruction. George gives Jackie a couple of sidelong glances. JACKIE (finally) -- gee... GEORGE -- what? JACKIE (she sits up, lights a cigarette) I don't know what gets into me. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE No, I blew it, I blew it with Lester. GEORGE No you didn't. JACKIE You don't think so? I do. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE You always say that... I really care for Lester, don't I? George laughs. GEORGE That sounds like me. JACKIE I am you, you little bastard. She starts to scrunch over and kiss him, then stops. JACKIE(CONT'D) Where do you want to go? GEORGE Sammy's? JACKIE He still having parties? GEORGE He never stopped. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA IS SITTING WITH LESTER fuming. A woman, ROSALIND, is painstakingly and painfully introducing the Senator. ROSALIND ... and so... to have this man... here... among us... who has helped... as has everyone here to bring so many people together... of all races, creeds, and colors... FELICIA AND LESTER Rosalind droning on, b.g. She finally introduces Senator East. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA AND LESTER FELICIA Lester. LESTER Yes, sweetheart, shh. He pats her hand. She gives him a look that could kill. FELICIA -- I hope you like Miss Shawn -- LESTER -- what, who? Oh she's very nice, yes -- I mean normally --- FELICIA -- cause she's going to be very, very expensive. LESTER Can't we go into this later, sweetheart? ROSALIND'S VOICE Ladies and gentlemen, to Senator Joe East. Glasses are raised, a little dissonant hurrah. FELICIA We cannot go into this later. LESTER That's okay too. FELICIA You make me sick. Just be straight for once in your life. There are now O.S. calls for East to do his Indian chant. QUICK CUT TO: EAST SENATOR -- this tells of the ancient grandmother who, upon seeing the garden gate of her childhood, stops a moment and says, hello garden gate, hello garden gate, garden gate, hello. INT. BISTRO - LESTER AND FELICIA LESTER (finally exasperated) -- look, Felicia, this party involves more than you and me, you know. These people are concerned about more than each other, you know. FELICIA -- is that right? LESTER -- yes, we're all trying to do something to make this a better country to live in, believe it or not. THE SENATOR has begun his weird chant, beating out accompaniment on a cigar box and a pewter vase. FELICIA (glancing up) -- is that what this is all about? LESTER Yes and you don't have to be sarcastic about it, that's a beautiful thing he's doing -- some people do more than go to the beauty parlor and shop at Saks -- FELICIA Lester, you're a miserable man. You're not helping anybody. You're just twisting arms to raise money for a lot of silly son of a bitches that are out for themselves -- this

some

How many times the word 'some' appears in the text?

you I was on my way, but the line was busy, you're always on the phone. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE IN BEL AIR - DAY George pulls into the circular driveway. COVERED by a few bars of The Mama's and The Papa's "California Dreamin." There's only one car. George gets off the bike and goes to the door. Nobody answers. He hears the SOUND of a BALL BANGING. He looks toward the tennis court. ON THE COURT - LORNA is banging away on the backboard. There's a basket of balls nearby. She hits with considerable skill and power until she misses the backboard and the ball lodges in the steel mesh surrounding the court. George is standing there. Lorna looks at him. LORNA You here to see my mother? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA She's out, but you're supposed to wait. LORNA WALKING TO GEORGE LORNA (CONT'D) Hungry? GEORGE A little. AT THE KITCHEN TABLE They're eating silently. Lorna has hauled all kinds of food out of the refrigerators. She watches George as he eats with some relish. She gets up and goes to the steel-doored refrigerators. LORNA (indicating refrigerators) This is the one thing I like about this house... want some lox? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA You're my mother's hairdresser? GEORGE (warily) I do her hair, yeah. LORNA Chopped liver? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Are you gay?... baked apple?... they're cold but they're good. GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Did you hear me? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA Well, are you? Are you queer? GEORGE ... yeah. LORNA (laughing) C'mon, are you or aren't you? GEORGE (trying to avoid it) Gee, this is great. He slices a piece of cheesecake. Lorna sits down, in the chair nearest him now. LORNA C'mon, tell me. Don't be afraid. GEORGE Why do you wanna know so bad? LORNA See if you've been making it with my mother. GEORGE (looking at her for a minute, he changes his tone) What would my being a faggot have to do with that? Lorna shrugs. LORNA Nothing, I guess... have you ever made it with a guy? GEORGE Have you ever made it with a girl? LORNA I asked you first. GEORGE Yeah... I've made it with a girl... Lorna smiles. A pause. LORNA Well, are you? GEORGE Am I what? LORNA Making it with my mother? George wants to avoid this at all costs. He stares at Lorna intently. GEORGE I'd like to do your hair sometime. LORNA Why? GEORGE ... just, you could look very heavy... LORNA Don't make conversation with me. GEORGE What? LORNA You don't have to make conversation with me, I'm not my mother... do you have a thing about older women... that's sort of faggoty isn't it? George is weary and getting annoyed. GEORGE Yeah, it is. LORNA I never get my hair done. GEORGE No kidding. LORNA In fact, I don't think I've ever been to a beauty parlor in my whole life. GEORGE No shit. LORNA You think that's funny, don't you? GEORGE (laughing a little) Yeah. LORNA You live a phony cheap cop-out existence. GEORGE (determined to be light) Yeah... LORNA Beverly Hills hairdresser... what kind of a thing is that to do... you might as well be a faggot... think that's funny too? GEORGE No. LORNA Then what do you think? GEORGE That you're just like your mother. LORNA I am not like my mother! GEORGE You are. LORNA I am not! GEORGE You are. Lorna is furious. LORNA I am not! GEORGE (he starts to placate her) Look... (then defiantly) Do you wanna fuck me? LORNA (defiantly) Yeah. George stops eating. He's not prepared for this. GEORGE (uneasily) Right now? LORNA (a little more tentative now that the moment has arrived) Yeah. EXT. SOURCE RESTAURANT - JOHNNY POPE AND JILL - DAY A scraggly bearded WAITER with long stringy hair sets down two huge green salads before Jill and Johnny Pope. In so doing the Waiter drops a wooden menu he's been carrying. As he bends down to pick it up, he kneels beside Pope. Pope taps him on the shoulder. POPE (tapping him) Oh, scraves... WAITER Yes? The Waiter looks up, and moves. POPE Thank you. WAITER What for? POPE Taking your hair out of my salad. WAITER Oh, I'm sorry. Pope nods, Jill giggles. The Waiter goes off. Pope tosses out a few pieces of lettuce from the top of his salad. JILL Why don't you ask for another one? POPE Are you kidding? His hair's probably the most nutritious thing in here. See, you've reduced me to eating weeds. JILL ... my friend doesn't like it here either. POPE All right, forget this filth. Continue about your friend. JILL Well he's not exactly a friend. POPE Is he an enemy? JILL (laughing) Of course not... he's sort of a boyfriend. POPE -- sort of a boyfriend? JILL Sort of. POPE I see. You mean he just sort of fucks you. JILL Johnny! POPE My God, did I say that? I don't believe it. He looks under his chair to see if it was somebody else. POPE (CONT'D) I'm terribly sorry. JILL (amused) -- never mind. POPE What does he do? Is he an actor? JILL -- no. POPE Good for you. JILL He's a hairdresser. Pope drops his fork in the salad bowl. POPE -- oh, sure. A hairdresser. How... how do you a... meet a hairdresser? JILL Getting your hair done... (looks at him, abruptly) Would you like to go to a party? POPE Not with your hairdresser. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE - FELICIA - DAY pulls into the driveway. She gets out of her car, spots George's bike. INT. THE KITCHEN She sees the food spread out. FELICIA moving through the house. She stops by Lorna's room. Lorna has a sliding door, which is closed. Felicia opens it. FELICIA Lorna? LORNA'S BEDROOM Lorna is sitting on her bed, in her tennis dress but with her tennis shoes off. She's straightening a string in her racket. She looks to her mother, expressionless. FELICIA (CONT'D) Have you seen George? LORNA He's in the bathroom. FELICIA Your bathroom? LORNA Yes. The toilet flushes. The sink runs, and George emerges. He's looking a little haggard. GEORGE Hi. FELICIA (coolly) Hello, George. They walk out to the lanai together and George picks up his case. There is considerable tension from Felicia as they walk into her bedroom. Felicia slides the bedroom door shut, an action which George unhappily notices. She turns to George. She looks very hostile. She's trembling. FELICIA (CONT'D) I've missed you. George is taken aback. He gropes for a moment. GEORGE I've... missed you too. Felicia comes to him. She comes to him and touches his arm. George suddenly flings his case across the room and pounds his fist into a high-backed chair, turning away from Felicia. She clearly misunderstands the action. FELICIA (touched) It's okay, honey... it's okay now. She moves to the door and quietly locks it. George winces. She comes back to him and kisses him gently. She kisses him again with more passion. George tries to respond. FELICIA (CONT'D) Comb my hair out later, honey. GEORGE No, that's okay, I'll do It now. FELICIA No, baby... I'm glad you're coming tonight. She gently tugs at him, leading him toward the bed. George is miserable. GEORGE (looking toward the door) But aren't you... FELICIA Right now, I just don't care. As they sink to the bed, Felicia switches on the HI-FI. The Tijuana Brass begin to play. GEORGE ON HIS BIKE - LATE AFTERNOON COVERED BY a few bars of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". Riding home. He turns down his street and pulls into his driveway. He gets off his bike and only as he starts up his walk does he see Jill. She's been quietly waiting on his front porch, hidden in the shadows of the overhang. She doesn't look happy. George stops cold. GEORGE (?) Jill says nothing. GEORGE (CONT'D) Where's your car? JILL A friend dropped me off. GEORGE Who? JILL Never mind. Where've you been? GEORGE A business meeting, I told you that. They go inside. The living room is messy. George looks around in disgust. JILL What business meeting? GEORGE Look at the way I live. JILL I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. You weren't in the shop. What is this thing tonight? GEORGE What do you mean, what is it? It's some political bullshit. JILL I have to have Jackie ask me? Don't you think you could call me and let me know? Look at my hair. GEORGE Wait a minute, God-damn-it. Do you think I want to go to some God damned party? I'm trying to get that God damned shop open. I'm trying to get a little bread together. That's all I'm doing. George's outburst has shocked Jill. George maniacally begins straightening the mess. GEORGE (CONT'D) I just wanna live like everybody else, that's all. I want clothes in the closet, and food in the refrigerator, and I don't want shit all over the house and running my ass all over town... I want my own house... I want an appointment book... I want to get up in the morning and go to bed at night... I want a normal life like everybody else, that's all. He collapses into a chair. She comes over to him and knee beside him. JILL I know, honey. GEORGE Maybe I should get a dog... no, it would just shit all over the house and I'd never clean it up. JILL (laughing a little, touching him) Oh, honey. If we had one place, we could have a nicer place and I could take care of it. We're almost never here. REAR VIEW MIRROR - NIGHT A signal red Porsche cabriolet pulls up into mirror. The top is down. Under the brightly lit streetlights Jill's blonde hair and features are VISIBLE. WITH GEORGE AND JACKIE in her Mercedes. George still looking through the rear view mirror. Jackie's a knockout. JACKIE (looking at George looking in mirror) -- you'll be the prettiest thing in the room -- light's green... GEORGE (he takes off) -- oh yeah... what do you know about this guy? JACKIE -- what guy? GEORGE (gesturing toward rear window) -- this guy with Jill. JACKIE He's a director. OUTSIDE OF BISTRO - GEORGE AND JOHNNY POPE - NIGHT pull up, Pope right behind George. Parking ATTENDANTS leap for the doors. A few photographers of the movie freak variety ask each other who these arrivals are. One assures several others that they're nobody. GEORGE (to Attendant) Do I need a ticket for this? ATTENDANT We'll remember you. POPE as they move to take his Porsche. POPE (CONT'D) (shaking his head) I'll park it. Pope drives his own car onto the lot. WITH JILL, GEORGE AND JACKIE waiting for Pope who is now ambling toward them. GEORGE (to Jill) What does he direct besides traffic? JILL Ha, ha. GEORGE Television or movies? JILL Commercials. JACKIE (quietly, to George) Feel better? Let's go. Pope has joined them. INT. BISTRO FOYER They clear it to see the long elegant bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. George looks and sees someone. A fortyish WOMAN, attractive. GEORGE (to Jackie) Jesus Christ, there's Norma Stern. Look at her hair. JACKIE What about it? GEORGE Looks like somebody took a dump in it, that's the worst color job I've -- Norma comes over, hugs George. NORMA George -- GEORGE (pointing to her hair) Baby, you've been chippying on me -- NORMA Yes, isn't it awful -- GEORGE (smiling) -- yes. Jackie tugs him by the arm. JACKIE We're upstairs, George. Now come on. Behave yourself, and for Christ's sake, do me a favor. Don't let me drink too much. GEORGE (going upstairs) You don't do that anymore, do you? BISTRO STAIRS Jackie doesn't answer. They've reached the top of the stairs. They're hit by the full force of the upstairs gathering -- black tie, posters of Nixon, Agnew, Reagan, and Murphy, vaguely familiar faces crossing back and forth, clustering, watching early returns on television sets that are blaring from various points around the room. An ORCHESTRA PLAYS Meyer Davis Society Jazz. Jackie and George hesitate. Pope and Jill are behind them. Pope jostles George as he stops, abruptly. George looks around. Pope smiles. He's holding Jill's hand. George notices. Jill disengages her hand casually, as though it were necessary only for the walk up the stairs. Jackie nudges George, forcing him to move into the room with her as Lester comes toward them. He's stopped on his way over. WAITER Can I get you folks something? JILL A stinger, please. POPE A tomato juice. GEORGE I'll take a -- some white wine. WAITER And you, madam? JACKIE (searching the room) Oh I'll uhh -- just a coke. The Waiter moves on and they wait for their drinks. Lester finally makes to them. LESTER George, glad you could make it, son. Hi, doll. JACKIE Lester, this is my friend Jill and this is Johnny Pope. LESTER Glad to meet you, Jill, Mr. Pope. INT. BISTRO UPSTAIRS George turns to get his drink from the Waiter as do Jill and Pope. Lester takes Jackie's arm. LESTER Who are they? JACKIE (quickly) Jill Haynes, Jill Haynes, I've told you about Jill a hundred times, Lester, you never remember anything I say. LESTER Does she know about us? JACKIE Jesus, she's my best friend. LESTER Who's the guy, George's boyfriend? JACKIE I don't know. Why don't you ask him? LESTER C'mon, Jackie, I'm only trying -- George -- He draws George aside. LESTER (CONT'D) -- do me a favor, kind of keep your eye on Jackie, she's a little high strung tonight -- GEORGE -- yeah? LESTER See she doesn't drink too much. Jackie has heard this last. Lester turns to her. LESTER (CONT'D) See you later, doll. Jackie puts down her coke, picks up a glass of white wine from a passing tray and downs it in one gulp, putting it on another tray and picking up another glass of white wine. FELICIA with cleavage carefully prominent in a strapless gown, spots George. She excuses herself from the couple she has been talking with and goes straight to the powder room. INT. POWDER ROOM - FELICIA checks herself out in the mirror, glossing her lips with a pale tint of something or other. She gives a final anxious look, then hurries out, nearly bumping into a lady coming In. OUTSIDE she moves through the crowd up behind George, turning him around. FELICIA George, darling. She kisses him full on the lips, lingering on it. GEORGE (without batting an eye) Hey, baby, what's happening. Oh this is Jackie. Jackie, say hello to Felicia. It is only now that Felicia sees one of George's arms has been holding onto Jackie. JACKIE (also without batting an eye) Hello, Felicia. FELICIA (instantly suspicious of George) ... hello. Felicia looks from George to Jackie and back again. FELICIA (CONT'D) I'm so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you. LESTER pours his drink on the cuff of a distinguished MAN sitting beneath him at a table as he sees George and Felicia and Jackie clustered together. WITH LESTER AND MAN MAN Lester, what the fuck do you think you're doing? LESTER Jesus, Nate, I'm sorry. Lester fumbles, tries to clean Nate off with a napkin. NATE Never mind, I'll do it myself. He dips the napkin into a glass of ice water and proceeds to clean off his cuff. Nate goes back to the TV monitor where Agnew is making some remarks or commentators are repeating his comment about being a household word. LESTER So far so good. NATE Aw there's nothing to worry about. LESTER You never know. FELICIA WITH GEORGE FELICIA Why didn't you come alone? Lester invited you. Did you have to bring her? GEORGE (looking toward Lester) Well she... FELICIA She what? GEORGE She's a friend of Jill's. FELICIA And who's Jill? She spots Jill. GEORGE Well, she's a friend of Johnny Pope's -- you know, the director. She looks at Pope who is saying something to Jill which is making her laugh. FELICIA Oh. GEORGE is threading his way through a crowd, holding two drinks, one of them a coca-cola. It's a little more raucous now, with election returns from the television sets creating a more festive mood. Now and then someone jumps up from a set and hugs someone so carrying drinks is a little dodgy. JACKIE, F.G. - LESTER, B.G., TALKING Jackie sits alone by the bar, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. A man offers her a match. She stares at the burning match as if it's obscene. She blows it out. JACKIE No thanks. The man looks a little shocked, moves on. GEORGE has his arm held. It's KENNETH, a red-haired decorator. KENNETH Excuse me, I know I know you, but I can't think where. GEORGE Look, I'd like to help but -- Felicia grabs George's other arm pulling him away from Kenneth. Kenneth looks a little shocked at the ferocity of Felicia's move. FELICIA There you are. She tugs him with her. GEORGE Wait a minute -- She takes him right into the ladies room, George still juggling the drinks. JOHNNY POPE watches Felicia and George disappear into the ladies room, looking over Jill's shoulder. Jill has not seen it. POPE This other couple that we're here with, do you know them very well? JILL Well... sure... POPE Then maybe you can tell me why George would be going into the ladies room. Jill looks around and stares at the door. JILL George? Was he alone? POPE I don't think so. JILL Well did he go in there with Jackie? Pope points over to Jackie sitting at the bar drinking now. JILL (CONT'D) That bastard. POPE George is a hairdresser, isn't he? Jill doesn't answer. INT. BATHROOM - FELICIA AND GEORGE GEORGE (desperate) Baby, you gotta let me out of here. Felicia kisses him. FELICIA Sweetheart, it's a bore out there... let's lock the door. GEORGE Holy Christ. You want to get us killed? FELICIA Don't be silly. I'll just tell Lester we were smoking a couple of joints. See? She pulls two joints out of her beaded bag. LESTER only a few seats from Jackie, Jackie staring daggers at him, Lester aware of it. He's talking to a pair of lacquered eminence grises. LESTER -- fellas, fellas, just listen, you both have tidelands, you both want Uncle Sam to come through with offshore drilling permits -- so do it together -- JACKIE has taken an olive from an olive tray and hit Lester on the back of the head. He's finished this little dissertation. He sees the source of the missile. He grows pale, frozen. Sixty-four year old bejeweled WOMAN in b.g. WOMAN So, little red riding hood says 'my what big teeth you have and the wolf says all the better to eat you with, my dear, and she says -- eat, eat, eat, doesn't anybody ever fuck any more?' Jackie has now picked up a carrot from a relish tray. George appears. GEORGE Don't do it. JACKIE That son of a bitch, everything he says is a phony piece of shit, what does he think, I'm some cigar butt he's got between his teeth -- GEORGE (almost picking her up) C'mon, cunt, you're going for a walk. He takes her into the next room and Lester watches the move with a mixture of relief and concern. INT. OTHER BAR Jackie is now near tears. JACKIE He just completely ignores me. He could have at least said something, introduced me or something. INT. SMALL BAR GEORGE Sweetheart, you're drunk. She leans on George. JACKIE Oh God, what do I want, George? Lester comes hurrying in, sweating, now. LESTER Hi, doll, what's wrong? JACKIE You know what's wrong. Felicia trips coming into the small bar. FELICIA Lester -- Lester straightens up like he's been shot. LESTER Oh, Felicia, there you are, you know George and uh -- uh -- He's genuinely forgotten her name. JACKIE Jackie Shawn. LESTER Yes, Jackie Shawn, my wi -- Felicia. FELICIA We've met. JACKIE Yes. GEORGE Well anyway... LESTER (to Felicia) Your hair looks -- well fabulous. FELICIA That's George. INT. SMALL BAR LESTER It's just -- fabulous. (to George, an attempt at levity) Think you could do anything for me? GEORGE (he takes it seriously) Well -- I could try. Do you wash your hair every day? LESTER Isn't that bad for it? GEORGE No it keeps the skin peeling. You've got to keep the follicles open. You lose hair and the skin grows over the follicle and that's how you lose it. George actually touches Lester's hair, professional interest growing. GEORGE (CONT'D) This really ought to be layered... LESTER Layered? GEORGE Well yeah, otherwise it just sort, you know, lies there -- layer so it kind of fluffs out -- He starts to fluff Lester's hair a little when Johnny Pope walks in with Jill to this. Pope stares at them. POPE I think they're waiting for somebody to start dinner. LESTER Have they sat down? POPE Everybody but us. FELICIA They're waiting for you, Lester. INT. BISTRO DINNER TABLE Dinner is pretty much finished, waiters have begun picking up plates. IZZY SOKOLOFF (to Jill) I guess it's almost impossible to get work in the business these days. Pope watches Sokoloff make his move. JILL Well, commercials. I read for a soap the other day. IZZY A soap? JILL A daytime soap opera. IZZY And? JILL I was too old. IZZY What was it, somebody's daughter? JILL Somebody's mother. JACKIE'S PLATE is untouched. She holds up her wine glass. JACKIE Waiter! George looks at her. JACKIE (CONT'D) One word out of you and I'll gargle with it. The waiter pours the wine. George looks to Jill, shrugs. Jill mouthes, 'try and stop her.' George mouthes back, 'are you kidding?' INT. BISTRO SID ROTH has been eyeing Jackie. SID ROTH Aren't you hungry, Miss Shawn? Jackie looks at Roth. Roth shoots his cuffs and smiles. JACKIE Not for rubber chicken, no. Sid Roth smiles. Jackie smiles back. SID ROTH (intime) Well maybe I can get you something. JACKIE That's very sweet of you, Mr. Roth. SID ROTH Sid. JACKIE Sid. You must be a very important executive. SID ROTH (almost a whisper) Well, whatever I am, I think I can get you whatever you'd like. JACKIE You do? SID ROTH Yes. JACKIE (same tone as Sid's) -- well, more than anything else -- (indicating George) -- I'd like to suck his cock. She points to George. George chokes on the last of a piece of chicken. Sid Roth is stunned. He doesn't know what to do. George is coughing badly. Jackie slaps his back. HEAD TABLE - FELICIA AND LESTER Felicia is listening to Lester. The Agnew and Nixon posters are directly behind them. LESTER (to East) -- Senator, you should've seen those little kids! About forty of 'em, all blind. We put out these mattresses on the front lawn and they came running out of the house, tripping and falling all over the place, having a hell of a good time. I mean they were blind of course. But it really gave you a feeling of accomplishment. I tell you I never had such a good time. Felicia during the above has looked up to see Jackie fawning over George. She can't believe her eyes. FELICIA Lester -- SENATOR -- let me understand this was exclusively a home for blind children -- FELICIA Lester -- LESTER -- yes, Senator -- just a minute, dear -- FELICIA Lester, don't you think that uhh -- Now Lester spots it. He's very confused. FELICIA (CONT'D) That girl's making an awful spectacle of herself. LESTER (angry himself) What do you expect me to do about it? FELICIA I just thought you'd like to know -- LESTER Why would I like to know if there's nothing I can do about it, goddammit -- OTHER VOICE Quiet! Cranston's on. They quiet down. JACKIE AND GEORGE Jackie's now moving around kissing George on the mouth. Jill is watching. Johnny Pope is fascinated. JILL -- Jackie really shouldn't drink -- POPE -- oh I don't know -- JACKIE (arm around George's shoulders tonguing his ear) -- Just get me out of here, baby. I can't stand it. It's killing me. GEORGE (indicating head table) -- we can't now. JACKIE -- why not? C'mon, take me out of here, somewhere I don't have to lie to anybody and I'll fuck your brains out, you little fiend, I adore you -- FELICIA is watching Jackie and George with ever greater intensity, her mouth growing more and more agape. JACKIE AND GEORGE JACKIE (CONT'D) (plaintive) -- don't you want to -- GEORGE Jackie, can we -- JACKIE (a little louder) Who's the greatest cocksucker in the world? C'mon -- George looks around sweating now. GEORGE (very quietly) -- you are. JACKIE Fuckin' A -- With that she slips right under the table. It's a surprisingly fluid move. FELICIA almost simultaneously rises, knocking her chair back. LESTER sees both moves and interrupts the Senator. LESTER (CONT'D) Senator, excuse me a moment -- He turns to Felicia and then looks over toward Jackie's empty chair and literally doesn't know which way to go first. He's a little like the bear in the penny arcade that is shot and keeps turning one way, then another. Finally he heads toward Jackie's vacant chair and George. GEORGE his chin to the tablecloth is fishing under it for Jackie. GEORGE (CONT'D) Now, Jackie -- JILL (trying for aplomb) -- she's a very compulsive girl. POPE I can see that. Lester rushes up. LESTER (a desperate smile) Hello, George. Your friend feeling a little under the weather? Jackie surfaces through the tablecloth. JACKIE (to Lester) -- you phony asshole -- LESTER (as if he didn't hear it) Oh, dear that's too bad. (with quiet desperation, to George) -- get her out of here, get her out of here. A cheer goes up as some late returns come in. Dirksen is talking about a new mandate for law and order and peace with honor. LESTER (CONT'D) (to Sid) What was that? SID ROTH Illinois. LESTER (doesn't know what he's saying) -- oh, good. INT. BISTRO Lester glances back toward Felicia who is watching him. GEORGE Jackie, c'mon -- George moves to Jill. GEORGE (CONT'D) I've got to get her out of here. JILL -- go ahead. GEORGE -- well aren't you -- JILL -- what? (indicating Pope) -- I'll see you later... GEORGE (not liking it too much) -- okay -- (pointed) -- I'll see you later. Your house. He moves away with Jackie. Lester turns back toward the main table. INT. 230SL - JACKIE AND GEORGE - NIGHT driving down Sunset Boulevard. There is a long moment of silence. The RADIO'S PLAYING the Eve of Destruction. George gives Jackie a couple of sidelong glances. JACKIE (finally) -- gee... GEORGE -- what? JACKIE (she sits up, lights a cigarette) I don't know what gets into me. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE No, I blew it, I blew it with Lester. GEORGE No you didn't. JACKIE You don't think so? I do. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE You always say that... I really care for Lester, don't I? George laughs. GEORGE That sounds like me. JACKIE I am you, you little bastard. She starts to scrunch over and kiss him, then stops. JACKIE(CONT'D) Where do you want to go? GEORGE Sammy's? JACKIE He still having parties? GEORGE He never stopped. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA IS SITTING WITH LESTER fuming. A woman, ROSALIND, is painstakingly and painfully introducing the Senator. ROSALIND ... and so... to have this man... here... among us... who has helped... as has everyone here to bring so many people together... of all races, creeds, and colors... FELICIA AND LESTER Rosalind droning on, b.g. She finally introduces Senator East. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA AND LESTER FELICIA Lester. LESTER Yes, sweetheart, shh. He pats her hand. She gives him a look that could kill. FELICIA -- I hope you like Miss Shawn -- LESTER -- what, who? Oh she's very nice, yes -- I mean normally --- FELICIA -- cause she's going to be very, very expensive. LESTER Can't we go into this later, sweetheart? ROSALIND'S VOICE Ladies and gentlemen, to Senator Joe East. Glasses are raised, a little dissonant hurrah. FELICIA We cannot go into this later. LESTER That's okay too. FELICIA You make me sick. Just be straight for once in your life. There are now O.S. calls for East to do his Indian chant. QUICK CUT TO: EAST SENATOR -- this tells of the ancient grandmother who, upon seeing the garden gate of her childhood, stops a moment and says, hello garden gate, hello garden gate, garden gate, hello. INT. BISTRO - LESTER AND FELICIA LESTER (finally exasperated) -- look, Felicia, this party involves more than you and me, you know. These people are concerned about more than each other, you know. FELICIA -- is that right? LESTER -- yes, we're all trying to do something to make this a better country to live in, believe it or not. THE SENATOR has begun his weird chant, beating out accompaniment on a cigar box and a pewter vase. FELICIA (glancing up) -- is that what this is all about? LESTER Yes and you don't have to be sarcastic about it, that's a beautiful thing he's doing -- some people do more than go to the beauty parlor and shop at Saks -- FELICIA Lester, you're a miserable man. You're not helping anybody. You're just twisting arms to raise money for a lot of silly son of a bitches that are out for themselves -- this

tries

How many times the word 'tries' appears in the text?

you I was on my way, but the line was busy, you're always on the phone. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE IN BEL AIR - DAY George pulls into the circular driveway. COVERED by a few bars of The Mama's and The Papa's "California Dreamin." There's only one car. George gets off the bike and goes to the door. Nobody answers. He hears the SOUND of a BALL BANGING. He looks toward the tennis court. ON THE COURT - LORNA is banging away on the backboard. There's a basket of balls nearby. She hits with considerable skill and power until she misses the backboard and the ball lodges in the steel mesh surrounding the court. George is standing there. Lorna looks at him. LORNA You here to see my mother? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA She's out, but you're supposed to wait. LORNA WALKING TO GEORGE LORNA (CONT'D) Hungry? GEORGE A little. AT THE KITCHEN TABLE They're eating silently. Lorna has hauled all kinds of food out of the refrigerators. She watches George as he eats with some relish. She gets up and goes to the steel-doored refrigerators. LORNA (indicating refrigerators) This is the one thing I like about this house... want some lox? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA You're my mother's hairdresser? GEORGE (warily) I do her hair, yeah. LORNA Chopped liver? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Are you gay?... baked apple?... they're cold but they're good. GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Did you hear me? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA Well, are you? Are you queer? GEORGE ... yeah. LORNA (laughing) C'mon, are you or aren't you? GEORGE (trying to avoid it) Gee, this is great. He slices a piece of cheesecake. Lorna sits down, in the chair nearest him now. LORNA C'mon, tell me. Don't be afraid. GEORGE Why do you wanna know so bad? LORNA See if you've been making it with my mother. GEORGE (looking at her for a minute, he changes his tone) What would my being a faggot have to do with that? Lorna shrugs. LORNA Nothing, I guess... have you ever made it with a guy? GEORGE Have you ever made it with a girl? LORNA I asked you first. GEORGE Yeah... I've made it with a girl... Lorna smiles. A pause. LORNA Well, are you? GEORGE Am I what? LORNA Making it with my mother? George wants to avoid this at all costs. He stares at Lorna intently. GEORGE I'd like to do your hair sometime. LORNA Why? GEORGE ... just, you could look very heavy... LORNA Don't make conversation with me. GEORGE What? LORNA You don't have to make conversation with me, I'm not my mother... do you have a thing about older women... that's sort of faggoty isn't it? George is weary and getting annoyed. GEORGE Yeah, it is. LORNA I never get my hair done. GEORGE No kidding. LORNA In fact, I don't think I've ever been to a beauty parlor in my whole life. GEORGE No shit. LORNA You think that's funny, don't you? GEORGE (laughing a little) Yeah. LORNA You live a phony cheap cop-out existence. GEORGE (determined to be light) Yeah... LORNA Beverly Hills hairdresser... what kind of a thing is that to do... you might as well be a faggot... think that's funny too? GEORGE No. LORNA Then what do you think? GEORGE That you're just like your mother. LORNA I am not like my mother! GEORGE You are. LORNA I am not! GEORGE You are. Lorna is furious. LORNA I am not! GEORGE (he starts to placate her) Look... (then defiantly) Do you wanna fuck me? LORNA (defiantly) Yeah. George stops eating. He's not prepared for this. GEORGE (uneasily) Right now? LORNA (a little more tentative now that the moment has arrived) Yeah. EXT. SOURCE RESTAURANT - JOHNNY POPE AND JILL - DAY A scraggly bearded WAITER with long stringy hair sets down two huge green salads before Jill and Johnny Pope. In so doing the Waiter drops a wooden menu he's been carrying. As he bends down to pick it up, he kneels beside Pope. Pope taps him on the shoulder. POPE (tapping him) Oh, scraves... WAITER Yes? The Waiter looks up, and moves. POPE Thank you. WAITER What for? POPE Taking your hair out of my salad. WAITER Oh, I'm sorry. Pope nods, Jill giggles. The Waiter goes off. Pope tosses out a few pieces of lettuce from the top of his salad. JILL Why don't you ask for another one? POPE Are you kidding? His hair's probably the most nutritious thing in here. See, you've reduced me to eating weeds. JILL ... my friend doesn't like it here either. POPE All right, forget this filth. Continue about your friend. JILL Well he's not exactly a friend. POPE Is he an enemy? JILL (laughing) Of course not... he's sort of a boyfriend. POPE -- sort of a boyfriend? JILL Sort of. POPE I see. You mean he just sort of fucks you. JILL Johnny! POPE My God, did I say that? I don't believe it. He looks under his chair to see if it was somebody else. POPE (CONT'D) I'm terribly sorry. JILL (amused) -- never mind. POPE What does he do? Is he an actor? JILL -- no. POPE Good for you. JILL He's a hairdresser. Pope drops his fork in the salad bowl. POPE -- oh, sure. A hairdresser. How... how do you a... meet a hairdresser? JILL Getting your hair done... (looks at him, abruptly) Would you like to go to a party? POPE Not with your hairdresser. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE - FELICIA - DAY pulls into the driveway. She gets out of her car, spots George's bike. INT. THE KITCHEN She sees the food spread out. FELICIA moving through the house. She stops by Lorna's room. Lorna has a sliding door, which is closed. Felicia opens it. FELICIA Lorna? LORNA'S BEDROOM Lorna is sitting on her bed, in her tennis dress but with her tennis shoes off. She's straightening a string in her racket. She looks to her mother, expressionless. FELICIA (CONT'D) Have you seen George? LORNA He's in the bathroom. FELICIA Your bathroom? LORNA Yes. The toilet flushes. The sink runs, and George emerges. He's looking a little haggard. GEORGE Hi. FELICIA (coolly) Hello, George. They walk out to the lanai together and George picks up his case. There is considerable tension from Felicia as they walk into her bedroom. Felicia slides the bedroom door shut, an action which George unhappily notices. She turns to George. She looks very hostile. She's trembling. FELICIA (CONT'D) I've missed you. George is taken aback. He gropes for a moment. GEORGE I've... missed you too. Felicia comes to him. She comes to him and touches his arm. George suddenly flings his case across the room and pounds his fist into a high-backed chair, turning away from Felicia. She clearly misunderstands the action. FELICIA (touched) It's okay, honey... it's okay now. She moves to the door and quietly locks it. George winces. She comes back to him and kisses him gently. She kisses him again with more passion. George tries to respond. FELICIA (CONT'D) Comb my hair out later, honey. GEORGE No, that's okay, I'll do It now. FELICIA No, baby... I'm glad you're coming tonight. She gently tugs at him, leading him toward the bed. George is miserable. GEORGE (looking toward the door) But aren't you... FELICIA Right now, I just don't care. As they sink to the bed, Felicia switches on the HI-FI. The Tijuana Brass begin to play. GEORGE ON HIS BIKE - LATE AFTERNOON COVERED BY a few bars of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". Riding home. He turns down his street and pulls into his driveway. He gets off his bike and only as he starts up his walk does he see Jill. She's been quietly waiting on his front porch, hidden in the shadows of the overhang. She doesn't look happy. George stops cold. GEORGE (?) Jill says nothing. GEORGE (CONT'D) Where's your car? JILL A friend dropped me off. GEORGE Who? JILL Never mind. Where've you been? GEORGE A business meeting, I told you that. They go inside. The living room is messy. George looks around in disgust. JILL What business meeting? GEORGE Look at the way I live. JILL I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. You weren't in the shop. What is this thing tonight? GEORGE What do you mean, what is it? It's some political bullshit. JILL I have to have Jackie ask me? Don't you think you could call me and let me know? Look at my hair. GEORGE Wait a minute, God-damn-it. Do you think I want to go to some God damned party? I'm trying to get that God damned shop open. I'm trying to get a little bread together. That's all I'm doing. George's outburst has shocked Jill. George maniacally begins straightening the mess. GEORGE (CONT'D) I just wanna live like everybody else, that's all. I want clothes in the closet, and food in the refrigerator, and I don't want shit all over the house and running my ass all over town... I want my own house... I want an appointment book... I want to get up in the morning and go to bed at night... I want a normal life like everybody else, that's all. He collapses into a chair. She comes over to him and knee beside him. JILL I know, honey. GEORGE Maybe I should get a dog... no, it would just shit all over the house and I'd never clean it up. JILL (laughing a little, touching him) Oh, honey. If we had one place, we could have a nicer place and I could take care of it. We're almost never here. REAR VIEW MIRROR - NIGHT A signal red Porsche cabriolet pulls up into mirror. The top is down. Under the brightly lit streetlights Jill's blonde hair and features are VISIBLE. WITH GEORGE AND JACKIE in her Mercedes. George still looking through the rear view mirror. Jackie's a knockout. JACKIE (looking at George looking in mirror) -- you'll be the prettiest thing in the room -- light's green... GEORGE (he takes off) -- oh yeah... what do you know about this guy? JACKIE -- what guy? GEORGE (gesturing toward rear window) -- this guy with Jill. JACKIE He's a director. OUTSIDE OF BISTRO - GEORGE AND JOHNNY POPE - NIGHT pull up, Pope right behind George. Parking ATTENDANTS leap for the doors. A few photographers of the movie freak variety ask each other who these arrivals are. One assures several others that they're nobody. GEORGE (to Attendant) Do I need a ticket for this? ATTENDANT We'll remember you. POPE as they move to take his Porsche. POPE (CONT'D) (shaking his head) I'll park it. Pope drives his own car onto the lot. WITH JILL, GEORGE AND JACKIE waiting for Pope who is now ambling toward them. GEORGE (to Jill) What does he direct besides traffic? JILL Ha, ha. GEORGE Television or movies? JILL Commercials. JACKIE (quietly, to George) Feel better? Let's go. Pope has joined them. INT. BISTRO FOYER They clear it to see the long elegant bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. George looks and sees someone. A fortyish WOMAN, attractive. GEORGE (to Jackie) Jesus Christ, there's Norma Stern. Look at her hair. JACKIE What about it? GEORGE Looks like somebody took a dump in it, that's the worst color job I've -- Norma comes over, hugs George. NORMA George -- GEORGE (pointing to her hair) Baby, you've been chippying on me -- NORMA Yes, isn't it awful -- GEORGE (smiling) -- yes. Jackie tugs him by the arm. JACKIE We're upstairs, George. Now come on. Behave yourself, and for Christ's sake, do me a favor. Don't let me drink too much. GEORGE (going upstairs) You don't do that anymore, do you? BISTRO STAIRS Jackie doesn't answer. They've reached the top of the stairs. They're hit by the full force of the upstairs gathering -- black tie, posters of Nixon, Agnew, Reagan, and Murphy, vaguely familiar faces crossing back and forth, clustering, watching early returns on television sets that are blaring from various points around the room. An ORCHESTRA PLAYS Meyer Davis Society Jazz. Jackie and George hesitate. Pope and Jill are behind them. Pope jostles George as he stops, abruptly. George looks around. Pope smiles. He's holding Jill's hand. George notices. Jill disengages her hand casually, as though it were necessary only for the walk up the stairs. Jackie nudges George, forcing him to move into the room with her as Lester comes toward them. He's stopped on his way over. WAITER Can I get you folks something? JILL A stinger, please. POPE A tomato juice. GEORGE I'll take a -- some white wine. WAITER And you, madam? JACKIE (searching the room) Oh I'll uhh -- just a coke. The Waiter moves on and they wait for their drinks. Lester finally makes to them. LESTER George, glad you could make it, son. Hi, doll. JACKIE Lester, this is my friend Jill and this is Johnny Pope. LESTER Glad to meet you, Jill, Mr. Pope. INT. BISTRO UPSTAIRS George turns to get his drink from the Waiter as do Jill and Pope. Lester takes Jackie's arm. LESTER Who are they? JACKIE (quickly) Jill Haynes, Jill Haynes, I've told you about Jill a hundred times, Lester, you never remember anything I say. LESTER Does she know about us? JACKIE Jesus, she's my best friend. LESTER Who's the guy, George's boyfriend? JACKIE I don't know. Why don't you ask him? LESTER C'mon, Jackie, I'm only trying -- George -- He draws George aside. LESTER (CONT'D) -- do me a favor, kind of keep your eye on Jackie, she's a little high strung tonight -- GEORGE -- yeah? LESTER See she doesn't drink too much. Jackie has heard this last. Lester turns to her. LESTER (CONT'D) See you later, doll. Jackie puts down her coke, picks up a glass of white wine from a passing tray and downs it in one gulp, putting it on another tray and picking up another glass of white wine. FELICIA with cleavage carefully prominent in a strapless gown, spots George. She excuses herself from the couple she has been talking with and goes straight to the powder room. INT. POWDER ROOM - FELICIA checks herself out in the mirror, glossing her lips with a pale tint of something or other. She gives a final anxious look, then hurries out, nearly bumping into a lady coming In. OUTSIDE she moves through the crowd up behind George, turning him around. FELICIA George, darling. She kisses him full on the lips, lingering on it. GEORGE (without batting an eye) Hey, baby, what's happening. Oh this is Jackie. Jackie, say hello to Felicia. It is only now that Felicia sees one of George's arms has been holding onto Jackie. JACKIE (also without batting an eye) Hello, Felicia. FELICIA (instantly suspicious of George) ... hello. Felicia looks from George to Jackie and back again. FELICIA (CONT'D) I'm so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you. LESTER pours his drink on the cuff of a distinguished MAN sitting beneath him at a table as he sees George and Felicia and Jackie clustered together. WITH LESTER AND MAN MAN Lester, what the fuck do you think you're doing? LESTER Jesus, Nate, I'm sorry. Lester fumbles, tries to clean Nate off with a napkin. NATE Never mind, I'll do it myself. He dips the napkin into a glass of ice water and proceeds to clean off his cuff. Nate goes back to the TV monitor where Agnew is making some remarks or commentators are repeating his comment about being a household word. LESTER So far so good. NATE Aw there's nothing to worry about. LESTER You never know. FELICIA WITH GEORGE FELICIA Why didn't you come alone? Lester invited you. Did you have to bring her? GEORGE (looking toward Lester) Well she... FELICIA She what? GEORGE She's a friend of Jill's. FELICIA And who's Jill? She spots Jill. GEORGE Well, she's a friend of Johnny Pope's -- you know, the director. She looks at Pope who is saying something to Jill which is making her laugh. FELICIA Oh. GEORGE is threading his way through a crowd, holding two drinks, one of them a coca-cola. It's a little more raucous now, with election returns from the television sets creating a more festive mood. Now and then someone jumps up from a set and hugs someone so carrying drinks is a little dodgy. JACKIE, F.G. - LESTER, B.G., TALKING Jackie sits alone by the bar, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. A man offers her a match. She stares at the burning match as if it's obscene. She blows it out. JACKIE No thanks. The man looks a little shocked, moves on. GEORGE has his arm held. It's KENNETH, a red-haired decorator. KENNETH Excuse me, I know I know you, but I can't think where. GEORGE Look, I'd like to help but -- Felicia grabs George's other arm pulling him away from Kenneth. Kenneth looks a little shocked at the ferocity of Felicia's move. FELICIA There you are. She tugs him with her. GEORGE Wait a minute -- She takes him right into the ladies room, George still juggling the drinks. JOHNNY POPE watches Felicia and George disappear into the ladies room, looking over Jill's shoulder. Jill has not seen it. POPE This other couple that we're here with, do you know them very well? JILL Well... sure... POPE Then maybe you can tell me why George would be going into the ladies room. Jill looks around and stares at the door. JILL George? Was he alone? POPE I don't think so. JILL Well did he go in there with Jackie? Pope points over to Jackie sitting at the bar drinking now. JILL (CONT'D) That bastard. POPE George is a hairdresser, isn't he? Jill doesn't answer. INT. BATHROOM - FELICIA AND GEORGE GEORGE (desperate) Baby, you gotta let me out of here. Felicia kisses him. FELICIA Sweetheart, it's a bore out there... let's lock the door. GEORGE Holy Christ. You want to get us killed? FELICIA Don't be silly. I'll just tell Lester we were smoking a couple of joints. See? She pulls two joints out of her beaded bag. LESTER only a few seats from Jackie, Jackie staring daggers at him, Lester aware of it. He's talking to a pair of lacquered eminence grises. LESTER -- fellas, fellas, just listen, you both have tidelands, you both want Uncle Sam to come through with offshore drilling permits -- so do it together -- JACKIE has taken an olive from an olive tray and hit Lester on the back of the head. He's finished this little dissertation. He sees the source of the missile. He grows pale, frozen. Sixty-four year old bejeweled WOMAN in b.g. WOMAN So, little red riding hood says 'my what big teeth you have and the wolf says all the better to eat you with, my dear, and she says -- eat, eat, eat, doesn't anybody ever fuck any more?' Jackie has now picked up a carrot from a relish tray. George appears. GEORGE Don't do it. JACKIE That son of a bitch, everything he says is a phony piece of shit, what does he think, I'm some cigar butt he's got between his teeth -- GEORGE (almost picking her up) C'mon, cunt, you're going for a walk. He takes her into the next room and Lester watches the move with a mixture of relief and concern. INT. OTHER BAR Jackie is now near tears. JACKIE He just completely ignores me. He could have at least said something, introduced me or something. INT. SMALL BAR GEORGE Sweetheart, you're drunk. She leans on George. JACKIE Oh God, what do I want, George? Lester comes hurrying in, sweating, now. LESTER Hi, doll, what's wrong? JACKIE You know what's wrong. Felicia trips coming into the small bar. FELICIA Lester -- Lester straightens up like he's been shot. LESTER Oh, Felicia, there you are, you know George and uh -- uh -- He's genuinely forgotten her name. JACKIE Jackie Shawn. LESTER Yes, Jackie Shawn, my wi -- Felicia. FELICIA We've met. JACKIE Yes. GEORGE Well anyway... LESTER (to Felicia) Your hair looks -- well fabulous. FELICIA That's George. INT. SMALL BAR LESTER It's just -- fabulous. (to George, an attempt at levity) Think you could do anything for me? GEORGE (he takes it seriously) Well -- I could try. Do you wash your hair every day? LESTER Isn't that bad for it? GEORGE No it keeps the skin peeling. You've got to keep the follicles open. You lose hair and the skin grows over the follicle and that's how you lose it. George actually touches Lester's hair, professional interest growing. GEORGE (CONT'D) This really ought to be layered... LESTER Layered? GEORGE Well yeah, otherwise it just sort, you know, lies there -- layer so it kind of fluffs out -- He starts to fluff Lester's hair a little when Johnny Pope walks in with Jill to this. Pope stares at them. POPE I think they're waiting for somebody to start dinner. LESTER Have they sat down? POPE Everybody but us. FELICIA They're waiting for you, Lester. INT. BISTRO DINNER TABLE Dinner is pretty much finished, waiters have begun picking up plates. IZZY SOKOLOFF (to Jill) I guess it's almost impossible to get work in the business these days. Pope watches Sokoloff make his move. JILL Well, commercials. I read for a soap the other day. IZZY A soap? JILL A daytime soap opera. IZZY And? JILL I was too old. IZZY What was it, somebody's daughter? JILL Somebody's mother. JACKIE'S PLATE is untouched. She holds up her wine glass. JACKIE Waiter! George looks at her. JACKIE (CONT'D) One word out of you and I'll gargle with it. The waiter pours the wine. George looks to Jill, shrugs. Jill mouthes, 'try and stop her.' George mouthes back, 'are you kidding?' INT. BISTRO SID ROTH has been eyeing Jackie. SID ROTH Aren't you hungry, Miss Shawn? Jackie looks at Roth. Roth shoots his cuffs and smiles. JACKIE Not for rubber chicken, no. Sid Roth smiles. Jackie smiles back. SID ROTH (intime) Well maybe I can get you something. JACKIE That's very sweet of you, Mr. Roth. SID ROTH Sid. JACKIE Sid. You must be a very important executive. SID ROTH (almost a whisper) Well, whatever I am, I think I can get you whatever you'd like. JACKIE You do? SID ROTH Yes. JACKIE (same tone as Sid's) -- well, more than anything else -- (indicating George) -- I'd like to suck his cock. She points to George. George chokes on the last of a piece of chicken. Sid Roth is stunned. He doesn't know what to do. George is coughing badly. Jackie slaps his back. HEAD TABLE - FELICIA AND LESTER Felicia is listening to Lester. The Agnew and Nixon posters are directly behind them. LESTER (to East) -- Senator, you should've seen those little kids! About forty of 'em, all blind. We put out these mattresses on the front lawn and they came running out of the house, tripping and falling all over the place, having a hell of a good time. I mean they were blind of course. But it really gave you a feeling of accomplishment. I tell you I never had such a good time. Felicia during the above has looked up to see Jackie fawning over George. She can't believe her eyes. FELICIA Lester -- SENATOR -- let me understand this was exclusively a home for blind children -- FELICIA Lester -- LESTER -- yes, Senator -- just a minute, dear -- FELICIA Lester, don't you think that uhh -- Now Lester spots it. He's very confused. FELICIA (CONT'D) That girl's making an awful spectacle of herself. LESTER (angry himself) What do you expect me to do about it? FELICIA I just thought you'd like to know -- LESTER Why would I like to know if there's nothing I can do about it, goddammit -- OTHER VOICE Quiet! Cranston's on. They quiet down. JACKIE AND GEORGE Jackie's now moving around kissing George on the mouth. Jill is watching. Johnny Pope is fascinated. JILL -- Jackie really shouldn't drink -- POPE -- oh I don't know -- JACKIE (arm around George's shoulders tonguing his ear) -- Just get me out of here, baby. I can't stand it. It's killing me. GEORGE (indicating head table) -- we can't now. JACKIE -- why not? C'mon, take me out of here, somewhere I don't have to lie to anybody and I'll fuck your brains out, you little fiend, I adore you -- FELICIA is watching Jackie and George with ever greater intensity, her mouth growing more and more agape. JACKIE AND GEORGE JACKIE (CONT'D) (plaintive) -- don't you want to -- GEORGE Jackie, can we -- JACKIE (a little louder) Who's the greatest cocksucker in the world? C'mon -- George looks around sweating now. GEORGE (very quietly) -- you are. JACKIE Fuckin' A -- With that she slips right under the table. It's a surprisingly fluid move. FELICIA almost simultaneously rises, knocking her chair back. LESTER sees both moves and interrupts the Senator. LESTER (CONT'D) Senator, excuse me a moment -- He turns to Felicia and then looks over toward Jackie's empty chair and literally doesn't know which way to go first. He's a little like the bear in the penny arcade that is shot and keeps turning one way, then another. Finally he heads toward Jackie's vacant chair and George. GEORGE his chin to the tablecloth is fishing under it for Jackie. GEORGE (CONT'D) Now, Jackie -- JILL (trying for aplomb) -- she's a very compulsive girl. POPE I can see that. Lester rushes up. LESTER (a desperate smile) Hello, George. Your friend feeling a little under the weather? Jackie surfaces through the tablecloth. JACKIE (to Lester) -- you phony asshole -- LESTER (as if he didn't hear it) Oh, dear that's too bad. (with quiet desperation, to George) -- get her out of here, get her out of here. A cheer goes up as some late returns come in. Dirksen is talking about a new mandate for law and order and peace with honor. LESTER (CONT'D) (to Sid) What was that? SID ROTH Illinois. LESTER (doesn't know what he's saying) -- oh, good. INT. BISTRO Lester glances back toward Felicia who is watching him. GEORGE Jackie, c'mon -- George moves to Jill. GEORGE (CONT'D) I've got to get her out of here. JILL -- go ahead. GEORGE -- well aren't you -- JILL -- what? (indicating Pope) -- I'll see you later... GEORGE (not liking it too much) -- okay -- (pointed) -- I'll see you later. Your house. He moves away with Jackie. Lester turns back toward the main table. INT. 230SL - JACKIE AND GEORGE - NIGHT driving down Sunset Boulevard. There is a long moment of silence. The RADIO'S PLAYING the Eve of Destruction. George gives Jackie a couple of sidelong glances. JACKIE (finally) -- gee... GEORGE -- what? JACKIE (she sits up, lights a cigarette) I don't know what gets into me. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE No, I blew it, I blew it with Lester. GEORGE No you didn't. JACKIE You don't think so? I do. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE You always say that... I really care for Lester, don't I? George laughs. GEORGE That sounds like me. JACKIE I am you, you little bastard. She starts to scrunch over and kiss him, then stops. JACKIE(CONT'D) Where do you want to go? GEORGE Sammy's? JACKIE He still having parties? GEORGE He never stopped. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA IS SITTING WITH LESTER fuming. A woman, ROSALIND, is painstakingly and painfully introducing the Senator. ROSALIND ... and so... to have this man... here... among us... who has helped... as has everyone here to bring so many people together... of all races, creeds, and colors... FELICIA AND LESTER Rosalind droning on, b.g. She finally introduces Senator East. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA AND LESTER FELICIA Lester. LESTER Yes, sweetheart, shh. He pats her hand. She gives him a look that could kill. FELICIA -- I hope you like Miss Shawn -- LESTER -- what, who? Oh she's very nice, yes -- I mean normally --- FELICIA -- cause she's going to be very, very expensive. LESTER Can't we go into this later, sweetheart? ROSALIND'S VOICE Ladies and gentlemen, to Senator Joe East. Glasses are raised, a little dissonant hurrah. FELICIA We cannot go into this later. LESTER That's okay too. FELICIA You make me sick. Just be straight for once in your life. There are now O.S. calls for East to do his Indian chant. QUICK CUT TO: EAST SENATOR -- this tells of the ancient grandmother who, upon seeing the garden gate of her childhood, stops a moment and says, hello garden gate, hello garden gate, garden gate, hello. INT. BISTRO - LESTER AND FELICIA LESTER (finally exasperated) -- look, Felicia, this party involves more than you and me, you know. These people are concerned about more than each other, you know. FELICIA -- is that right? LESTER -- yes, we're all trying to do something to make this a better country to live in, believe it or not. THE SENATOR has begun his weird chant, beating out accompaniment on a cigar box and a pewter vase. FELICIA (glancing up) -- is that what this is all about? LESTER Yes and you don't have to be sarcastic about it, that's a beautiful thing he's doing -- some people do more than go to the beauty parlor and shop at Saks -- FELICIA Lester, you're a miserable man. You're not helping anybody. You're just twisting arms to raise money for a lot of silly son of a bitches that are out for themselves -- this

foyer

How many times the word 'foyer' appears in the text?

you I was on my way, but the line was busy, you're always on the phone. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE IN BEL AIR - DAY George pulls into the circular driveway. COVERED by a few bars of The Mama's and The Papa's "California Dreamin." There's only one car. George gets off the bike and goes to the door. Nobody answers. He hears the SOUND of a BALL BANGING. He looks toward the tennis court. ON THE COURT - LORNA is banging away on the backboard. There's a basket of balls nearby. She hits with considerable skill and power until she misses the backboard and the ball lodges in the steel mesh surrounding the court. George is standing there. Lorna looks at him. LORNA You here to see my mother? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA She's out, but you're supposed to wait. LORNA WALKING TO GEORGE LORNA (CONT'D) Hungry? GEORGE A little. AT THE KITCHEN TABLE They're eating silently. Lorna has hauled all kinds of food out of the refrigerators. She watches George as he eats with some relish. She gets up and goes to the steel-doored refrigerators. LORNA (indicating refrigerators) This is the one thing I like about this house... want some lox? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA You're my mother's hairdresser? GEORGE (warily) I do her hair, yeah. LORNA Chopped liver? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Are you gay?... baked apple?... they're cold but they're good. GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Did you hear me? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA Well, are you? Are you queer? GEORGE ... yeah. LORNA (laughing) C'mon, are you or aren't you? GEORGE (trying to avoid it) Gee, this is great. He slices a piece of cheesecake. Lorna sits down, in the chair nearest him now. LORNA C'mon, tell me. Don't be afraid. GEORGE Why do you wanna know so bad? LORNA See if you've been making it with my mother. GEORGE (looking at her for a minute, he changes his tone) What would my being a faggot have to do with that? Lorna shrugs. LORNA Nothing, I guess... have you ever made it with a guy? GEORGE Have you ever made it with a girl? LORNA I asked you first. GEORGE Yeah... I've made it with a girl... Lorna smiles. A pause. LORNA Well, are you? GEORGE Am I what? LORNA Making it with my mother? George wants to avoid this at all costs. He stares at Lorna intently. GEORGE I'd like to do your hair sometime. LORNA Why? GEORGE ... just, you could look very heavy... LORNA Don't make conversation with me. GEORGE What? LORNA You don't have to make conversation with me, I'm not my mother... do you have a thing about older women... that's sort of faggoty isn't it? George is weary and getting annoyed. GEORGE Yeah, it is. LORNA I never get my hair done. GEORGE No kidding. LORNA In fact, I don't think I've ever been to a beauty parlor in my whole life. GEORGE No shit. LORNA You think that's funny, don't you? GEORGE (laughing a little) Yeah. LORNA You live a phony cheap cop-out existence. GEORGE (determined to be light) Yeah... LORNA Beverly Hills hairdresser... what kind of a thing is that to do... you might as well be a faggot... think that's funny too? GEORGE No. LORNA Then what do you think? GEORGE That you're just like your mother. LORNA I am not like my mother! GEORGE You are. LORNA I am not! GEORGE You are. Lorna is furious. LORNA I am not! GEORGE (he starts to placate her) Look... (then defiantly) Do you wanna fuck me? LORNA (defiantly) Yeah. George stops eating. He's not prepared for this. GEORGE (uneasily) Right now? LORNA (a little more tentative now that the moment has arrived) Yeah. EXT. SOURCE RESTAURANT - JOHNNY POPE AND JILL - DAY A scraggly bearded WAITER with long stringy hair sets down two huge green salads before Jill and Johnny Pope. In so doing the Waiter drops a wooden menu he's been carrying. As he bends down to pick it up, he kneels beside Pope. Pope taps him on the shoulder. POPE (tapping him) Oh, scraves... WAITER Yes? The Waiter looks up, and moves. POPE Thank you. WAITER What for? POPE Taking your hair out of my salad. WAITER Oh, I'm sorry. Pope nods, Jill giggles. The Waiter goes off. Pope tosses out a few pieces of lettuce from the top of his salad. JILL Why don't you ask for another one? POPE Are you kidding? His hair's probably the most nutritious thing in here. See, you've reduced me to eating weeds. JILL ... my friend doesn't like it here either. POPE All right, forget this filth. Continue about your friend. JILL Well he's not exactly a friend. POPE Is he an enemy? JILL (laughing) Of course not... he's sort of a boyfriend. POPE -- sort of a boyfriend? JILL Sort of. POPE I see. You mean he just sort of fucks you. JILL Johnny! POPE My God, did I say that? I don't believe it. He looks under his chair to see if it was somebody else. POPE (CONT'D) I'm terribly sorry. JILL (amused) -- never mind. POPE What does he do? Is he an actor? JILL -- no. POPE Good for you. JILL He's a hairdresser. Pope drops his fork in the salad bowl. POPE -- oh, sure. A hairdresser. How... how do you a... meet a hairdresser? JILL Getting your hair done... (looks at him, abruptly) Would you like to go to a party? POPE Not with your hairdresser. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE - FELICIA - DAY pulls into the driveway. She gets out of her car, spots George's bike. INT. THE KITCHEN She sees the food spread out. FELICIA moving through the house. She stops by Lorna's room. Lorna has a sliding door, which is closed. Felicia opens it. FELICIA Lorna? LORNA'S BEDROOM Lorna is sitting on her bed, in her tennis dress but with her tennis shoes off. She's straightening a string in her racket. She looks to her mother, expressionless. FELICIA (CONT'D) Have you seen George? LORNA He's in the bathroom. FELICIA Your bathroom? LORNA Yes. The toilet flushes. The sink runs, and George emerges. He's looking a little haggard. GEORGE Hi. FELICIA (coolly) Hello, George. They walk out to the lanai together and George picks up his case. There is considerable tension from Felicia as they walk into her bedroom. Felicia slides the bedroom door shut, an action which George unhappily notices. She turns to George. She looks very hostile. She's trembling. FELICIA (CONT'D) I've missed you. George is taken aback. He gropes for a moment. GEORGE I've... missed you too. Felicia comes to him. She comes to him and touches his arm. George suddenly flings his case across the room and pounds his fist into a high-backed chair, turning away from Felicia. She clearly misunderstands the action. FELICIA (touched) It's okay, honey... it's okay now. She moves to the door and quietly locks it. George winces. She comes back to him and kisses him gently. She kisses him again with more passion. George tries to respond. FELICIA (CONT'D) Comb my hair out later, honey. GEORGE No, that's okay, I'll do It now. FELICIA No, baby... I'm glad you're coming tonight. She gently tugs at him, leading him toward the bed. George is miserable. GEORGE (looking toward the door) But aren't you... FELICIA Right now, I just don't care. As they sink to the bed, Felicia switches on the HI-FI. The Tijuana Brass begin to play. GEORGE ON HIS BIKE - LATE AFTERNOON COVERED BY a few bars of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". Riding home. He turns down his street and pulls into his driveway. He gets off his bike and only as he starts up his walk does he see Jill. She's been quietly waiting on his front porch, hidden in the shadows of the overhang. She doesn't look happy. George stops cold. GEORGE (?) Jill says nothing. GEORGE (CONT'D) Where's your car? JILL A friend dropped me off. GEORGE Who? JILL Never mind. Where've you been? GEORGE A business meeting, I told you that. They go inside. The living room is messy. George looks around in disgust. JILL What business meeting? GEORGE Look at the way I live. JILL I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. You weren't in the shop. What is this thing tonight? GEORGE What do you mean, what is it? It's some political bullshit. JILL I have to have Jackie ask me? Don't you think you could call me and let me know? Look at my hair. GEORGE Wait a minute, God-damn-it. Do you think I want to go to some God damned party? I'm trying to get that God damned shop open. I'm trying to get a little bread together. That's all I'm doing. George's outburst has shocked Jill. George maniacally begins straightening the mess. GEORGE (CONT'D) I just wanna live like everybody else, that's all. I want clothes in the closet, and food in the refrigerator, and I don't want shit all over the house and running my ass all over town... I want my own house... I want an appointment book... I want to get up in the morning and go to bed at night... I want a normal life like everybody else, that's all. He collapses into a chair. She comes over to him and knee beside him. JILL I know, honey. GEORGE Maybe I should get a dog... no, it would just shit all over the house and I'd never clean it up. JILL (laughing a little, touching him) Oh, honey. If we had one place, we could have a nicer place and I could take care of it. We're almost never here. REAR VIEW MIRROR - NIGHT A signal red Porsche cabriolet pulls up into mirror. The top is down. Under the brightly lit streetlights Jill's blonde hair and features are VISIBLE. WITH GEORGE AND JACKIE in her Mercedes. George still looking through the rear view mirror. Jackie's a knockout. JACKIE (looking at George looking in mirror) -- you'll be the prettiest thing in the room -- light's green... GEORGE (he takes off) -- oh yeah... what do you know about this guy? JACKIE -- what guy? GEORGE (gesturing toward rear window) -- this guy with Jill. JACKIE He's a director. OUTSIDE OF BISTRO - GEORGE AND JOHNNY POPE - NIGHT pull up, Pope right behind George. Parking ATTENDANTS leap for the doors. A few photographers of the movie freak variety ask each other who these arrivals are. One assures several others that they're nobody. GEORGE (to Attendant) Do I need a ticket for this? ATTENDANT We'll remember you. POPE as they move to take his Porsche. POPE (CONT'D) (shaking his head) I'll park it. Pope drives his own car onto the lot. WITH JILL, GEORGE AND JACKIE waiting for Pope who is now ambling toward them. GEORGE (to Jill) What does he direct besides traffic? JILL Ha, ha. GEORGE Television or movies? JILL Commercials. JACKIE (quietly, to George) Feel better? Let's go. Pope has joined them. INT. BISTRO FOYER They clear it to see the long elegant bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. George looks and sees someone. A fortyish WOMAN, attractive. GEORGE (to Jackie) Jesus Christ, there's Norma Stern. Look at her hair. JACKIE What about it? GEORGE Looks like somebody took a dump in it, that's the worst color job I've -- Norma comes over, hugs George. NORMA George -- GEORGE (pointing to her hair) Baby, you've been chippying on me -- NORMA Yes, isn't it awful -- GEORGE (smiling) -- yes. Jackie tugs him by the arm. JACKIE We're upstairs, George. Now come on. Behave yourself, and for Christ's sake, do me a favor. Don't let me drink too much. GEORGE (going upstairs) You don't do that anymore, do you? BISTRO STAIRS Jackie doesn't answer. They've reached the top of the stairs. They're hit by the full force of the upstairs gathering -- black tie, posters of Nixon, Agnew, Reagan, and Murphy, vaguely familiar faces crossing back and forth, clustering, watching early returns on television sets that are blaring from various points around the room. An ORCHESTRA PLAYS Meyer Davis Society Jazz. Jackie and George hesitate. Pope and Jill are behind them. Pope jostles George as he stops, abruptly. George looks around. Pope smiles. He's holding Jill's hand. George notices. Jill disengages her hand casually, as though it were necessary only for the walk up the stairs. Jackie nudges George, forcing him to move into the room with her as Lester comes toward them. He's stopped on his way over. WAITER Can I get you folks something? JILL A stinger, please. POPE A tomato juice. GEORGE I'll take a -- some white wine. WAITER And you, madam? JACKIE (searching the room) Oh I'll uhh -- just a coke. The Waiter moves on and they wait for their drinks. Lester finally makes to them. LESTER George, glad you could make it, son. Hi, doll. JACKIE Lester, this is my friend Jill and this is Johnny Pope. LESTER Glad to meet you, Jill, Mr. Pope. INT. BISTRO UPSTAIRS George turns to get his drink from the Waiter as do Jill and Pope. Lester takes Jackie's arm. LESTER Who are they? JACKIE (quickly) Jill Haynes, Jill Haynes, I've told you about Jill a hundred times, Lester, you never remember anything I say. LESTER Does she know about us? JACKIE Jesus, she's my best friend. LESTER Who's the guy, George's boyfriend? JACKIE I don't know. Why don't you ask him? LESTER C'mon, Jackie, I'm only trying -- George -- He draws George aside. LESTER (CONT'D) -- do me a favor, kind of keep your eye on Jackie, she's a little high strung tonight -- GEORGE -- yeah? LESTER See she doesn't drink too much. Jackie has heard this last. Lester turns to her. LESTER (CONT'D) See you later, doll. Jackie puts down her coke, picks up a glass of white wine from a passing tray and downs it in one gulp, putting it on another tray and picking up another glass of white wine. FELICIA with cleavage carefully prominent in a strapless gown, spots George. She excuses herself from the couple she has been talking with and goes straight to the powder room. INT. POWDER ROOM - FELICIA checks herself out in the mirror, glossing her lips with a pale tint of something or other. She gives a final anxious look, then hurries out, nearly bumping into a lady coming In. OUTSIDE she moves through the crowd up behind George, turning him around. FELICIA George, darling. She kisses him full on the lips, lingering on it. GEORGE (without batting an eye) Hey, baby, what's happening. Oh this is Jackie. Jackie, say hello to Felicia. It is only now that Felicia sees one of George's arms has been holding onto Jackie. JACKIE (also without batting an eye) Hello, Felicia. FELICIA (instantly suspicious of George) ... hello. Felicia looks from George to Jackie and back again. FELICIA (CONT'D) I'm so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you. LESTER pours his drink on the cuff of a distinguished MAN sitting beneath him at a table as he sees George and Felicia and Jackie clustered together. WITH LESTER AND MAN MAN Lester, what the fuck do you think you're doing? LESTER Jesus, Nate, I'm sorry. Lester fumbles, tries to clean Nate off with a napkin. NATE Never mind, I'll do it myself. He dips the napkin into a glass of ice water and proceeds to clean off his cuff. Nate goes back to the TV monitor where Agnew is making some remarks or commentators are repeating his comment about being a household word. LESTER So far so good. NATE Aw there's nothing to worry about. LESTER You never know. FELICIA WITH GEORGE FELICIA Why didn't you come alone? Lester invited you. Did you have to bring her? GEORGE (looking toward Lester) Well she... FELICIA She what? GEORGE She's a friend of Jill's. FELICIA And who's Jill? She spots Jill. GEORGE Well, she's a friend of Johnny Pope's -- you know, the director. She looks at Pope who is saying something to Jill which is making her laugh. FELICIA Oh. GEORGE is threading his way through a crowd, holding two drinks, one of them a coca-cola. It's a little more raucous now, with election returns from the television sets creating a more festive mood. Now and then someone jumps up from a set and hugs someone so carrying drinks is a little dodgy. JACKIE, F.G. - LESTER, B.G., TALKING Jackie sits alone by the bar, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. A man offers her a match. She stares at the burning match as if it's obscene. She blows it out. JACKIE No thanks. The man looks a little shocked, moves on. GEORGE has his arm held. It's KENNETH, a red-haired decorator. KENNETH Excuse me, I know I know you, but I can't think where. GEORGE Look, I'd like to help but -- Felicia grabs George's other arm pulling him away from Kenneth. Kenneth looks a little shocked at the ferocity of Felicia's move. FELICIA There you are. She tugs him with her. GEORGE Wait a minute -- She takes him right into the ladies room, George still juggling the drinks. JOHNNY POPE watches Felicia and George disappear into the ladies room, looking over Jill's shoulder. Jill has not seen it. POPE This other couple that we're here with, do you know them very well? JILL Well... sure... POPE Then maybe you can tell me why George would be going into the ladies room. Jill looks around and stares at the door. JILL George? Was he alone? POPE I don't think so. JILL Well did he go in there with Jackie? Pope points over to Jackie sitting at the bar drinking now. JILL (CONT'D) That bastard. POPE George is a hairdresser, isn't he? Jill doesn't answer. INT. BATHROOM - FELICIA AND GEORGE GEORGE (desperate) Baby, you gotta let me out of here. Felicia kisses him. FELICIA Sweetheart, it's a bore out there... let's lock the door. GEORGE Holy Christ. You want to get us killed? FELICIA Don't be silly. I'll just tell Lester we were smoking a couple of joints. See? She pulls two joints out of her beaded bag. LESTER only a few seats from Jackie, Jackie staring daggers at him, Lester aware of it. He's talking to a pair of lacquered eminence grises. LESTER -- fellas, fellas, just listen, you both have tidelands, you both want Uncle Sam to come through with offshore drilling permits -- so do it together -- JACKIE has taken an olive from an olive tray and hit Lester on the back of the head. He's finished this little dissertation. He sees the source of the missile. He grows pale, frozen. Sixty-four year old bejeweled WOMAN in b.g. WOMAN So, little red riding hood says 'my what big teeth you have and the wolf says all the better to eat you with, my dear, and she says -- eat, eat, eat, doesn't anybody ever fuck any more?' Jackie has now picked up a carrot from a relish tray. George appears. GEORGE Don't do it. JACKIE That son of a bitch, everything he says is a phony piece of shit, what does he think, I'm some cigar butt he's got between his teeth -- GEORGE (almost picking her up) C'mon, cunt, you're going for a walk. He takes her into the next room and Lester watches the move with a mixture of relief and concern. INT. OTHER BAR Jackie is now near tears. JACKIE He just completely ignores me. He could have at least said something, introduced me or something. INT. SMALL BAR GEORGE Sweetheart, you're drunk. She leans on George. JACKIE Oh God, what do I want, George? Lester comes hurrying in, sweating, now. LESTER Hi, doll, what's wrong? JACKIE You know what's wrong. Felicia trips coming into the small bar. FELICIA Lester -- Lester straightens up like he's been shot. LESTER Oh, Felicia, there you are, you know George and uh -- uh -- He's genuinely forgotten her name. JACKIE Jackie Shawn. LESTER Yes, Jackie Shawn, my wi -- Felicia. FELICIA We've met. JACKIE Yes. GEORGE Well anyway... LESTER (to Felicia) Your hair looks -- well fabulous. FELICIA That's George. INT. SMALL BAR LESTER It's just -- fabulous. (to George, an attempt at levity) Think you could do anything for me? GEORGE (he takes it seriously) Well -- I could try. Do you wash your hair every day? LESTER Isn't that bad for it? GEORGE No it keeps the skin peeling. You've got to keep the follicles open. You lose hair and the skin grows over the follicle and that's how you lose it. George actually touches Lester's hair, professional interest growing. GEORGE (CONT'D) This really ought to be layered... LESTER Layered? GEORGE Well yeah, otherwise it just sort, you know, lies there -- layer so it kind of fluffs out -- He starts to fluff Lester's hair a little when Johnny Pope walks in with Jill to this. Pope stares at them. POPE I think they're waiting for somebody to start dinner. LESTER Have they sat down? POPE Everybody but us. FELICIA They're waiting for you, Lester. INT. BISTRO DINNER TABLE Dinner is pretty much finished, waiters have begun picking up plates. IZZY SOKOLOFF (to Jill) I guess it's almost impossible to get work in the business these days. Pope watches Sokoloff make his move. JILL Well, commercials. I read for a soap the other day. IZZY A soap? JILL A daytime soap opera. IZZY And? JILL I was too old. IZZY What was it, somebody's daughter? JILL Somebody's mother. JACKIE'S PLATE is untouched. She holds up her wine glass. JACKIE Waiter! George looks at her. JACKIE (CONT'D) One word out of you and I'll gargle with it. The waiter pours the wine. George looks to Jill, shrugs. Jill mouthes, 'try and stop her.' George mouthes back, 'are you kidding?' INT. BISTRO SID ROTH has been eyeing Jackie. SID ROTH Aren't you hungry, Miss Shawn? Jackie looks at Roth. Roth shoots his cuffs and smiles. JACKIE Not for rubber chicken, no. Sid Roth smiles. Jackie smiles back. SID ROTH (intime) Well maybe I can get you something. JACKIE That's very sweet of you, Mr. Roth. SID ROTH Sid. JACKIE Sid. You must be a very important executive. SID ROTH (almost a whisper) Well, whatever I am, I think I can get you whatever you'd like. JACKIE You do? SID ROTH Yes. JACKIE (same tone as Sid's) -- well, more than anything else -- (indicating George) -- I'd like to suck his cock. She points to George. George chokes on the last of a piece of chicken. Sid Roth is stunned. He doesn't know what to do. George is coughing badly. Jackie slaps his back. HEAD TABLE - FELICIA AND LESTER Felicia is listening to Lester. The Agnew and Nixon posters are directly behind them. LESTER (to East) -- Senator, you should've seen those little kids! About forty of 'em, all blind. We put out these mattresses on the front lawn and they came running out of the house, tripping and falling all over the place, having a hell of a good time. I mean they were blind of course. But it really gave you a feeling of accomplishment. I tell you I never had such a good time. Felicia during the above has looked up to see Jackie fawning over George. She can't believe her eyes. FELICIA Lester -- SENATOR -- let me understand this was exclusively a home for blind children -- FELICIA Lester -- LESTER -- yes, Senator -- just a minute, dear -- FELICIA Lester, don't you think that uhh -- Now Lester spots it. He's very confused. FELICIA (CONT'D) That girl's making an awful spectacle of herself. LESTER (angry himself) What do you expect me to do about it? FELICIA I just thought you'd like to know -- LESTER Why would I like to know if there's nothing I can do about it, goddammit -- OTHER VOICE Quiet! Cranston's on. They quiet down. JACKIE AND GEORGE Jackie's now moving around kissing George on the mouth. Jill is watching. Johnny Pope is fascinated. JILL -- Jackie really shouldn't drink -- POPE -- oh I don't know -- JACKIE (arm around George's shoulders tonguing his ear) -- Just get me out of here, baby. I can't stand it. It's killing me. GEORGE (indicating head table) -- we can't now. JACKIE -- why not? C'mon, take me out of here, somewhere I don't have to lie to anybody and I'll fuck your brains out, you little fiend, I adore you -- FELICIA is watching Jackie and George with ever greater intensity, her mouth growing more and more agape. JACKIE AND GEORGE JACKIE (CONT'D) (plaintive) -- don't you want to -- GEORGE Jackie, can we -- JACKIE (a little louder) Who's the greatest cocksucker in the world? C'mon -- George looks around sweating now. GEORGE (very quietly) -- you are. JACKIE Fuckin' A -- With that she slips right under the table. It's a surprisingly fluid move. FELICIA almost simultaneously rises, knocking her chair back. LESTER sees both moves and interrupts the Senator. LESTER (CONT'D) Senator, excuse me a moment -- He turns to Felicia and then looks over toward Jackie's empty chair and literally doesn't know which way to go first. He's a little like the bear in the penny arcade that is shot and keeps turning one way, then another. Finally he heads toward Jackie's vacant chair and George. GEORGE his chin to the tablecloth is fishing under it for Jackie. GEORGE (CONT'D) Now, Jackie -- JILL (trying for aplomb) -- she's a very compulsive girl. POPE I can see that. Lester rushes up. LESTER (a desperate smile) Hello, George. Your friend feeling a little under the weather? Jackie surfaces through the tablecloth. JACKIE (to Lester) -- you phony asshole -- LESTER (as if he didn't hear it) Oh, dear that's too bad. (with quiet desperation, to George) -- get her out of here, get her out of here. A cheer goes up as some late returns come in. Dirksen is talking about a new mandate for law and order and peace with honor. LESTER (CONT'D) (to Sid) What was that? SID ROTH Illinois. LESTER (doesn't know what he's saying) -- oh, good. INT. BISTRO Lester glances back toward Felicia who is watching him. GEORGE Jackie, c'mon -- George moves to Jill. GEORGE (CONT'D) I've got to get her out of here. JILL -- go ahead. GEORGE -- well aren't you -- JILL -- what? (indicating Pope) -- I'll see you later... GEORGE (not liking it too much) -- okay -- (pointed) -- I'll see you later. Your house. He moves away with Jackie. Lester turns back toward the main table. INT. 230SL - JACKIE AND GEORGE - NIGHT driving down Sunset Boulevard. There is a long moment of silence. The RADIO'S PLAYING the Eve of Destruction. George gives Jackie a couple of sidelong glances. JACKIE (finally) -- gee... GEORGE -- what? JACKIE (she sits up, lights a cigarette) I don't know what gets into me. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE No, I blew it, I blew it with Lester. GEORGE No you didn't. JACKIE You don't think so? I do. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE You always say that... I really care for Lester, don't I? George laughs. GEORGE That sounds like me. JACKIE I am you, you little bastard. She starts to scrunch over and kiss him, then stops. JACKIE(CONT'D) Where do you want to go? GEORGE Sammy's? JACKIE He still having parties? GEORGE He never stopped. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA IS SITTING WITH LESTER fuming. A woman, ROSALIND, is painstakingly and painfully introducing the Senator. ROSALIND ... and so... to have this man... here... among us... who has helped... as has everyone here to bring so many people together... of all races, creeds, and colors... FELICIA AND LESTER Rosalind droning on, b.g. She finally introduces Senator East. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA AND LESTER FELICIA Lester. LESTER Yes, sweetheart, shh. He pats her hand. She gives him a look that could kill. FELICIA -- I hope you like Miss Shawn -- LESTER -- what, who? Oh she's very nice, yes -- I mean normally --- FELICIA -- cause she's going to be very, very expensive. LESTER Can't we go into this later, sweetheart? ROSALIND'S VOICE Ladies and gentlemen, to Senator Joe East. Glasses are raised, a little dissonant hurrah. FELICIA We cannot go into this later. LESTER That's okay too. FELICIA You make me sick. Just be straight for once in your life. There are now O.S. calls for East to do his Indian chant. QUICK CUT TO: EAST SENATOR -- this tells of the ancient grandmother who, upon seeing the garden gate of her childhood, stops a moment and says, hello garden gate, hello garden gate, garden gate, hello. INT. BISTRO - LESTER AND FELICIA LESTER (finally exasperated) -- look, Felicia, this party involves more than you and me, you know. These people are concerned about more than each other, you know. FELICIA -- is that right? LESTER -- yes, we're all trying to do something to make this a better country to live in, believe it or not. THE SENATOR has begun his weird chant, beating out accompaniment on a cigar box and a pewter vase. FELICIA (glancing up) -- is that what this is all about? LESTER Yes and you don't have to be sarcastic about it, that's a beautiful thing he's doing -- some people do more than go to the beauty parlor and shop at Saks -- FELICIA Lester, you're a miserable man. You're not helping anybody. You're just twisting arms to raise money for a lot of silly son of a bitches that are out for themselves -- this

chases

How many times the word 'chases' appears in the text?

you I was on my way, but the line was busy, you're always on the phone. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE IN BEL AIR - DAY George pulls into the circular driveway. COVERED by a few bars of The Mama's and The Papa's "California Dreamin." There's only one car. George gets off the bike and goes to the door. Nobody answers. He hears the SOUND of a BALL BANGING. He looks toward the tennis court. ON THE COURT - LORNA is banging away on the backboard. There's a basket of balls nearby. She hits with considerable skill and power until she misses the backboard and the ball lodges in the steel mesh surrounding the court. George is standing there. Lorna looks at him. LORNA You here to see my mother? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA She's out, but you're supposed to wait. LORNA WALKING TO GEORGE LORNA (CONT'D) Hungry? GEORGE A little. AT THE KITCHEN TABLE They're eating silently. Lorna has hauled all kinds of food out of the refrigerators. She watches George as he eats with some relish. She gets up and goes to the steel-doored refrigerators. LORNA (indicating refrigerators) This is the one thing I like about this house... want some lox? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA You're my mother's hairdresser? GEORGE (warily) I do her hair, yeah. LORNA Chopped liver? GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Are you gay?... baked apple?... they're cold but they're good. GEORGE No thanks. LORNA Did you hear me? GEORGE Yeah. LORNA Well, are you? Are you queer? GEORGE ... yeah. LORNA (laughing) C'mon, are you or aren't you? GEORGE (trying to avoid it) Gee, this is great. He slices a piece of cheesecake. Lorna sits down, in the chair nearest him now. LORNA C'mon, tell me. Don't be afraid. GEORGE Why do you wanna know so bad? LORNA See if you've been making it with my mother. GEORGE (looking at her for a minute, he changes his tone) What would my being a faggot have to do with that? Lorna shrugs. LORNA Nothing, I guess... have you ever made it with a guy? GEORGE Have you ever made it with a girl? LORNA I asked you first. GEORGE Yeah... I've made it with a girl... Lorna smiles. A pause. LORNA Well, are you? GEORGE Am I what? LORNA Making it with my mother? George wants to avoid this at all costs. He stares at Lorna intently. GEORGE I'd like to do your hair sometime. LORNA Why? GEORGE ... just, you could look very heavy... LORNA Don't make conversation with me. GEORGE What? LORNA You don't have to make conversation with me, I'm not my mother... do you have a thing about older women... that's sort of faggoty isn't it? George is weary and getting annoyed. GEORGE Yeah, it is. LORNA I never get my hair done. GEORGE No kidding. LORNA In fact, I don't think I've ever been to a beauty parlor in my whole life. GEORGE No shit. LORNA You think that's funny, don't you? GEORGE (laughing a little) Yeah. LORNA You live a phony cheap cop-out existence. GEORGE (determined to be light) Yeah... LORNA Beverly Hills hairdresser... what kind of a thing is that to do... you might as well be a faggot... think that's funny too? GEORGE No. LORNA Then what do you think? GEORGE That you're just like your mother. LORNA I am not like my mother! GEORGE You are. LORNA I am not! GEORGE You are. Lorna is furious. LORNA I am not! GEORGE (he starts to placate her) Look... (then defiantly) Do you wanna fuck me? LORNA (defiantly) Yeah. George stops eating. He's not prepared for this. GEORGE (uneasily) Right now? LORNA (a little more tentative now that the moment has arrived) Yeah. EXT. SOURCE RESTAURANT - JOHNNY POPE AND JILL - DAY A scraggly bearded WAITER with long stringy hair sets down two huge green salads before Jill and Johnny Pope. In so doing the Waiter drops a wooden menu he's been carrying. As he bends down to pick it up, he kneels beside Pope. Pope taps him on the shoulder. POPE (tapping him) Oh, scraves... WAITER Yes? The Waiter looks up, and moves. POPE Thank you. WAITER What for? POPE Taking your hair out of my salad. WAITER Oh, I'm sorry. Pope nods, Jill giggles. The Waiter goes off. Pope tosses out a few pieces of lettuce from the top of his salad. JILL Why don't you ask for another one? POPE Are you kidding? His hair's probably the most nutritious thing in here. See, you've reduced me to eating weeds. JILL ... my friend doesn't like it here either. POPE All right, forget this filth. Continue about your friend. JILL Well he's not exactly a friend. POPE Is he an enemy? JILL (laughing) Of course not... he's sort of a boyfriend. POPE -- sort of a boyfriend? JILL Sort of. POPE I see. You mean he just sort of fucks you. JILL Johnny! POPE My God, did I say that? I don't believe it. He looks under his chair to see if it was somebody else. POPE (CONT'D) I'm terribly sorry. JILL (amused) -- never mind. POPE What does he do? Is he an actor? JILL -- no. POPE Good for you. JILL He's a hairdresser. Pope drops his fork in the salad bowl. POPE -- oh, sure. A hairdresser. How... how do you a... meet a hairdresser? JILL Getting your hair done... (looks at him, abruptly) Would you like to go to a party? POPE Not with your hairdresser. EXT. LESTER'S HOUSE - FELICIA - DAY pulls into the driveway. She gets out of her car, spots George's bike. INT. THE KITCHEN She sees the food spread out. FELICIA moving through the house. She stops by Lorna's room. Lorna has a sliding door, which is closed. Felicia opens it. FELICIA Lorna? LORNA'S BEDROOM Lorna is sitting on her bed, in her tennis dress but with her tennis shoes off. She's straightening a string in her racket. She looks to her mother, expressionless. FELICIA (CONT'D) Have you seen George? LORNA He's in the bathroom. FELICIA Your bathroom? LORNA Yes. The toilet flushes. The sink runs, and George emerges. He's looking a little haggard. GEORGE Hi. FELICIA (coolly) Hello, George. They walk out to the lanai together and George picks up his case. There is considerable tension from Felicia as they walk into her bedroom. Felicia slides the bedroom door shut, an action which George unhappily notices. She turns to George. She looks very hostile. She's trembling. FELICIA (CONT'D) I've missed you. George is taken aback. He gropes for a moment. GEORGE I've... missed you too. Felicia comes to him. She comes to him and touches his arm. George suddenly flings his case across the room and pounds his fist into a high-backed chair, turning away from Felicia. She clearly misunderstands the action. FELICIA (touched) It's okay, honey... it's okay now. She moves to the door and quietly locks it. George winces. She comes back to him and kisses him gently. She kisses him again with more passion. George tries to respond. FELICIA (CONT'D) Comb my hair out later, honey. GEORGE No, that's okay, I'll do It now. FELICIA No, baby... I'm glad you're coming tonight. She gently tugs at him, leading him toward the bed. George is miserable. GEORGE (looking toward the door) But aren't you... FELICIA Right now, I just don't care. As they sink to the bed, Felicia switches on the HI-FI. The Tijuana Brass begin to play. GEORGE ON HIS BIKE - LATE AFTERNOON COVERED BY a few bars of Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone". Riding home. He turns down his street and pulls into his driveway. He gets off his bike and only as he starts up his walk does he see Jill. She's been quietly waiting on his front porch, hidden in the shadows of the overhang. She doesn't look happy. George stops cold. GEORGE (?) Jill says nothing. GEORGE (CONT'D) Where's your car? JILL A friend dropped me off. GEORGE Who? JILL Never mind. Where've you been? GEORGE A business meeting, I told you that. They go inside. The living room is messy. George looks around in disgust. JILL What business meeting? GEORGE Look at the way I live. JILL I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. You weren't in the shop. What is this thing tonight? GEORGE What do you mean, what is it? It's some political bullshit. JILL I have to have Jackie ask me? Don't you think you could call me and let me know? Look at my hair. GEORGE Wait a minute, God-damn-it. Do you think I want to go to some God damned party? I'm trying to get that God damned shop open. I'm trying to get a little bread together. That's all I'm doing. George's outburst has shocked Jill. George maniacally begins straightening the mess. GEORGE (CONT'D) I just wanna live like everybody else, that's all. I want clothes in the closet, and food in the refrigerator, and I don't want shit all over the house and running my ass all over town... I want my own house... I want an appointment book... I want to get up in the morning and go to bed at night... I want a normal life like everybody else, that's all. He collapses into a chair. She comes over to him and knee beside him. JILL I know, honey. GEORGE Maybe I should get a dog... no, it would just shit all over the house and I'd never clean it up. JILL (laughing a little, touching him) Oh, honey. If we had one place, we could have a nicer place and I could take care of it. We're almost never here. REAR VIEW MIRROR - NIGHT A signal red Porsche cabriolet pulls up into mirror. The top is down. Under the brightly lit streetlights Jill's blonde hair and features are VISIBLE. WITH GEORGE AND JACKIE in her Mercedes. George still looking through the rear view mirror. Jackie's a knockout. JACKIE (looking at George looking in mirror) -- you'll be the prettiest thing in the room -- light's green... GEORGE (he takes off) -- oh yeah... what do you know about this guy? JACKIE -- what guy? GEORGE (gesturing toward rear window) -- this guy with Jill. JACKIE He's a director. OUTSIDE OF BISTRO - GEORGE AND JOHNNY POPE - NIGHT pull up, Pope right behind George. Parking ATTENDANTS leap for the doors. A few photographers of the movie freak variety ask each other who these arrivals are. One assures several others that they're nobody. GEORGE (to Attendant) Do I need a ticket for this? ATTENDANT We'll remember you. POPE as they move to take his Porsche. POPE (CONT'D) (shaking his head) I'll park it. Pope drives his own car onto the lot. WITH JILL, GEORGE AND JACKIE waiting for Pope who is now ambling toward them. GEORGE (to Jill) What does he direct besides traffic? JILL Ha, ha. GEORGE Television or movies? JILL Commercials. JACKIE (quietly, to George) Feel better? Let's go. Pope has joined them. INT. BISTRO FOYER They clear it to see the long elegant bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. George looks and sees someone. A fortyish WOMAN, attractive. GEORGE (to Jackie) Jesus Christ, there's Norma Stern. Look at her hair. JACKIE What about it? GEORGE Looks like somebody took a dump in it, that's the worst color job I've -- Norma comes over, hugs George. NORMA George -- GEORGE (pointing to her hair) Baby, you've been chippying on me -- NORMA Yes, isn't it awful -- GEORGE (smiling) -- yes. Jackie tugs him by the arm. JACKIE We're upstairs, George. Now come on. Behave yourself, and for Christ's sake, do me a favor. Don't let me drink too much. GEORGE (going upstairs) You don't do that anymore, do you? BISTRO STAIRS Jackie doesn't answer. They've reached the top of the stairs. They're hit by the full force of the upstairs gathering -- black tie, posters of Nixon, Agnew, Reagan, and Murphy, vaguely familiar faces crossing back and forth, clustering, watching early returns on television sets that are blaring from various points around the room. An ORCHESTRA PLAYS Meyer Davis Society Jazz. Jackie and George hesitate. Pope and Jill are behind them. Pope jostles George as he stops, abruptly. George looks around. Pope smiles. He's holding Jill's hand. George notices. Jill disengages her hand casually, as though it were necessary only for the walk up the stairs. Jackie nudges George, forcing him to move into the room with her as Lester comes toward them. He's stopped on his way over. WAITER Can I get you folks something? JILL A stinger, please. POPE A tomato juice. GEORGE I'll take a -- some white wine. WAITER And you, madam? JACKIE (searching the room) Oh I'll uhh -- just a coke. The Waiter moves on and they wait for their drinks. Lester finally makes to them. LESTER George, glad you could make it, son. Hi, doll. JACKIE Lester, this is my friend Jill and this is Johnny Pope. LESTER Glad to meet you, Jill, Mr. Pope. INT. BISTRO UPSTAIRS George turns to get his drink from the Waiter as do Jill and Pope. Lester takes Jackie's arm. LESTER Who are they? JACKIE (quickly) Jill Haynes, Jill Haynes, I've told you about Jill a hundred times, Lester, you never remember anything I say. LESTER Does she know about us? JACKIE Jesus, she's my best friend. LESTER Who's the guy, George's boyfriend? JACKIE I don't know. Why don't you ask him? LESTER C'mon, Jackie, I'm only trying -- George -- He draws George aside. LESTER (CONT'D) -- do me a favor, kind of keep your eye on Jackie, she's a little high strung tonight -- GEORGE -- yeah? LESTER See she doesn't drink too much. Jackie has heard this last. Lester turns to her. LESTER (CONT'D) See you later, doll. Jackie puts down her coke, picks up a glass of white wine from a passing tray and downs it in one gulp, putting it on another tray and picking up another glass of white wine. FELICIA with cleavage carefully prominent in a strapless gown, spots George. She excuses herself from the couple she has been talking with and goes straight to the powder room. INT. POWDER ROOM - FELICIA checks herself out in the mirror, glossing her lips with a pale tint of something or other. She gives a final anxious look, then hurries out, nearly bumping into a lady coming In. OUTSIDE she moves through the crowd up behind George, turning him around. FELICIA George, darling. She kisses him full on the lips, lingering on it. GEORGE (without batting an eye) Hey, baby, what's happening. Oh this is Jackie. Jackie, say hello to Felicia. It is only now that Felicia sees one of George's arms has been holding onto Jackie. JACKIE (also without batting an eye) Hello, Felicia. FELICIA (instantly suspicious of George) ... hello. Felicia looks from George to Jackie and back again. FELICIA (CONT'D) I'm so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you. LESTER pours his drink on the cuff of a distinguished MAN sitting beneath him at a table as he sees George and Felicia and Jackie clustered together. WITH LESTER AND MAN MAN Lester, what the fuck do you think you're doing? LESTER Jesus, Nate, I'm sorry. Lester fumbles, tries to clean Nate off with a napkin. NATE Never mind, I'll do it myself. He dips the napkin into a glass of ice water and proceeds to clean off his cuff. Nate goes back to the TV monitor where Agnew is making some remarks or commentators are repeating his comment about being a household word. LESTER So far so good. NATE Aw there's nothing to worry about. LESTER You never know. FELICIA WITH GEORGE FELICIA Why didn't you come alone? Lester invited you. Did you have to bring her? GEORGE (looking toward Lester) Well she... FELICIA She what? GEORGE She's a friend of Jill's. FELICIA And who's Jill? She spots Jill. GEORGE Well, she's a friend of Johnny Pope's -- you know, the director. She looks at Pope who is saying something to Jill which is making her laugh. FELICIA Oh. GEORGE is threading his way through a crowd, holding two drinks, one of them a coca-cola. It's a little more raucous now, with election returns from the television sets creating a more festive mood. Now and then someone jumps up from a set and hugs someone so carrying drinks is a little dodgy. JACKIE, F.G. - LESTER, B.G., TALKING Jackie sits alone by the bar, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. A man offers her a match. She stares at the burning match as if it's obscene. She blows it out. JACKIE No thanks. The man looks a little shocked, moves on. GEORGE has his arm held. It's KENNETH, a red-haired decorator. KENNETH Excuse me, I know I know you, but I can't think where. GEORGE Look, I'd like to help but -- Felicia grabs George's other arm pulling him away from Kenneth. Kenneth looks a little shocked at the ferocity of Felicia's move. FELICIA There you are. She tugs him with her. GEORGE Wait a minute -- She takes him right into the ladies room, George still juggling the drinks. JOHNNY POPE watches Felicia and George disappear into the ladies room, looking over Jill's shoulder. Jill has not seen it. POPE This other couple that we're here with, do you know them very well? JILL Well... sure... POPE Then maybe you can tell me why George would be going into the ladies room. Jill looks around and stares at the door. JILL George? Was he alone? POPE I don't think so. JILL Well did he go in there with Jackie? Pope points over to Jackie sitting at the bar drinking now. JILL (CONT'D) That bastard. POPE George is a hairdresser, isn't he? Jill doesn't answer. INT. BATHROOM - FELICIA AND GEORGE GEORGE (desperate) Baby, you gotta let me out of here. Felicia kisses him. FELICIA Sweetheart, it's a bore out there... let's lock the door. GEORGE Holy Christ. You want to get us killed? FELICIA Don't be silly. I'll just tell Lester we were smoking a couple of joints. See? She pulls two joints out of her beaded bag. LESTER only a few seats from Jackie, Jackie staring daggers at him, Lester aware of it. He's talking to a pair of lacquered eminence grises. LESTER -- fellas, fellas, just listen, you both have tidelands, you both want Uncle Sam to come through with offshore drilling permits -- so do it together -- JACKIE has taken an olive from an olive tray and hit Lester on the back of the head. He's finished this little dissertation. He sees the source of the missile. He grows pale, frozen. Sixty-four year old bejeweled WOMAN in b.g. WOMAN So, little red riding hood says 'my what big teeth you have and the wolf says all the better to eat you with, my dear, and she says -- eat, eat, eat, doesn't anybody ever fuck any more?' Jackie has now picked up a carrot from a relish tray. George appears. GEORGE Don't do it. JACKIE That son of a bitch, everything he says is a phony piece of shit, what does he think, I'm some cigar butt he's got between his teeth -- GEORGE (almost picking her up) C'mon, cunt, you're going for a walk. He takes her into the next room and Lester watches the move with a mixture of relief and concern. INT. OTHER BAR Jackie is now near tears. JACKIE He just completely ignores me. He could have at least said something, introduced me or something. INT. SMALL BAR GEORGE Sweetheart, you're drunk. She leans on George. JACKIE Oh God, what do I want, George? Lester comes hurrying in, sweating, now. LESTER Hi, doll, what's wrong? JACKIE You know what's wrong. Felicia trips coming into the small bar. FELICIA Lester -- Lester straightens up like he's been shot. LESTER Oh, Felicia, there you are, you know George and uh -- uh -- He's genuinely forgotten her name. JACKIE Jackie Shawn. LESTER Yes, Jackie Shawn, my wi -- Felicia. FELICIA We've met. JACKIE Yes. GEORGE Well anyway... LESTER (to Felicia) Your hair looks -- well fabulous. FELICIA That's George. INT. SMALL BAR LESTER It's just -- fabulous. (to George, an attempt at levity) Think you could do anything for me? GEORGE (he takes it seriously) Well -- I could try. Do you wash your hair every day? LESTER Isn't that bad for it? GEORGE No it keeps the skin peeling. You've got to keep the follicles open. You lose hair and the skin grows over the follicle and that's how you lose it. George actually touches Lester's hair, professional interest growing. GEORGE (CONT'D) This really ought to be layered... LESTER Layered? GEORGE Well yeah, otherwise it just sort, you know, lies there -- layer so it kind of fluffs out -- He starts to fluff Lester's hair a little when Johnny Pope walks in with Jill to this. Pope stares at them. POPE I think they're waiting for somebody to start dinner. LESTER Have they sat down? POPE Everybody but us. FELICIA They're waiting for you, Lester. INT. BISTRO DINNER TABLE Dinner is pretty much finished, waiters have begun picking up plates. IZZY SOKOLOFF (to Jill) I guess it's almost impossible to get work in the business these days. Pope watches Sokoloff make his move. JILL Well, commercials. I read for a soap the other day. IZZY A soap? JILL A daytime soap opera. IZZY And? JILL I was too old. IZZY What was it, somebody's daughter? JILL Somebody's mother. JACKIE'S PLATE is untouched. She holds up her wine glass. JACKIE Waiter! George looks at her. JACKIE (CONT'D) One word out of you and I'll gargle with it. The waiter pours the wine. George looks to Jill, shrugs. Jill mouthes, 'try and stop her.' George mouthes back, 'are you kidding?' INT. BISTRO SID ROTH has been eyeing Jackie. SID ROTH Aren't you hungry, Miss Shawn? Jackie looks at Roth. Roth shoots his cuffs and smiles. JACKIE Not for rubber chicken, no. Sid Roth smiles. Jackie smiles back. SID ROTH (intime) Well maybe I can get you something. JACKIE That's very sweet of you, Mr. Roth. SID ROTH Sid. JACKIE Sid. You must be a very important executive. SID ROTH (almost a whisper) Well, whatever I am, I think I can get you whatever you'd like. JACKIE You do? SID ROTH Yes. JACKIE (same tone as Sid's) -- well, more than anything else -- (indicating George) -- I'd like to suck his cock. She points to George. George chokes on the last of a piece of chicken. Sid Roth is stunned. He doesn't know what to do. George is coughing badly. Jackie slaps his back. HEAD TABLE - FELICIA AND LESTER Felicia is listening to Lester. The Agnew and Nixon posters are directly behind them. LESTER (to East) -- Senator, you should've seen those little kids! About forty of 'em, all blind. We put out these mattresses on the front lawn and they came running out of the house, tripping and falling all over the place, having a hell of a good time. I mean they were blind of course. But it really gave you a feeling of accomplishment. I tell you I never had such a good time. Felicia during the above has looked up to see Jackie fawning over George. She can't believe her eyes. FELICIA Lester -- SENATOR -- let me understand this was exclusively a home for blind children -- FELICIA Lester -- LESTER -- yes, Senator -- just a minute, dear -- FELICIA Lester, don't you think that uhh -- Now Lester spots it. He's very confused. FELICIA (CONT'D) That girl's making an awful spectacle of herself. LESTER (angry himself) What do you expect me to do about it? FELICIA I just thought you'd like to know -- LESTER Why would I like to know if there's nothing I can do about it, goddammit -- OTHER VOICE Quiet! Cranston's on. They quiet down. JACKIE AND GEORGE Jackie's now moving around kissing George on the mouth. Jill is watching. Johnny Pope is fascinated. JILL -- Jackie really shouldn't drink -- POPE -- oh I don't know -- JACKIE (arm around George's shoulders tonguing his ear) -- Just get me out of here, baby. I can't stand it. It's killing me. GEORGE (indicating head table) -- we can't now. JACKIE -- why not? C'mon, take me out of here, somewhere I don't have to lie to anybody and I'll fuck your brains out, you little fiend, I adore you -- FELICIA is watching Jackie and George with ever greater intensity, her mouth growing more and more agape. JACKIE AND GEORGE JACKIE (CONT'D) (plaintive) -- don't you want to -- GEORGE Jackie, can we -- JACKIE (a little louder) Who's the greatest cocksucker in the world? C'mon -- George looks around sweating now. GEORGE (very quietly) -- you are. JACKIE Fuckin' A -- With that she slips right under the table. It's a surprisingly fluid move. FELICIA almost simultaneously rises, knocking her chair back. LESTER sees both moves and interrupts the Senator. LESTER (CONT'D) Senator, excuse me a moment -- He turns to Felicia and then looks over toward Jackie's empty chair and literally doesn't know which way to go first. He's a little like the bear in the penny arcade that is shot and keeps turning one way, then another. Finally he heads toward Jackie's vacant chair and George. GEORGE his chin to the tablecloth is fishing under it for Jackie. GEORGE (CONT'D) Now, Jackie -- JILL (trying for aplomb) -- she's a very compulsive girl. POPE I can see that. Lester rushes up. LESTER (a desperate smile) Hello, George. Your friend feeling a little under the weather? Jackie surfaces through the tablecloth. JACKIE (to Lester) -- you phony asshole -- LESTER (as if he didn't hear it) Oh, dear that's too bad. (with quiet desperation, to George) -- get her out of here, get her out of here. A cheer goes up as some late returns come in. Dirksen is talking about a new mandate for law and order and peace with honor. LESTER (CONT'D) (to Sid) What was that? SID ROTH Illinois. LESTER (doesn't know what he's saying) -- oh, good. INT. BISTRO Lester glances back toward Felicia who is watching him. GEORGE Jackie, c'mon -- George moves to Jill. GEORGE (CONT'D) I've got to get her out of here. JILL -- go ahead. GEORGE -- well aren't you -- JILL -- what? (indicating Pope) -- I'll see you later... GEORGE (not liking it too much) -- okay -- (pointed) -- I'll see you later. Your house. He moves away with Jackie. Lester turns back toward the main table. INT. 230SL - JACKIE AND GEORGE - NIGHT driving down Sunset Boulevard. There is a long moment of silence. The RADIO'S PLAYING the Eve of Destruction. George gives Jackie a couple of sidelong glances. JACKIE (finally) -- gee... GEORGE -- what? JACKIE (she sits up, lights a cigarette) I don't know what gets into me. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE No, I blew it, I blew it with Lester. GEORGE No you didn't. JACKIE You don't think so? I do. GEORGE You were great. JACKIE You always say that... I really care for Lester, don't I? George laughs. GEORGE That sounds like me. JACKIE I am you, you little bastard. She starts to scrunch over and kiss him, then stops. JACKIE(CONT'D) Where do you want to go? GEORGE Sammy's? JACKIE He still having parties? GEORGE He never stopped. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA IS SITTING WITH LESTER fuming. A woman, ROSALIND, is painstakingly and painfully introducing the Senator. ROSALIND ... and so... to have this man... here... among us... who has helped... as has everyone here to bring so many people together... of all races, creeds, and colors... FELICIA AND LESTER Rosalind droning on, b.g. She finally introduces Senator East. INT. BISTRO - FELICIA AND LESTER FELICIA Lester. LESTER Yes, sweetheart, shh. He pats her hand. She gives him a look that could kill. FELICIA -- I hope you like Miss Shawn -- LESTER -- what, who? Oh she's very nice, yes -- I mean normally --- FELICIA -- cause she's going to be very, very expensive. LESTER Can't we go into this later, sweetheart? ROSALIND'S VOICE Ladies and gentlemen, to Senator Joe East. Glasses are raised, a little dissonant hurrah. FELICIA We cannot go into this later. LESTER That's okay too. FELICIA You make me sick. Just be straight for once in your life. There are now O.S. calls for East to do his Indian chant. QUICK CUT TO: EAST SENATOR -- this tells of the ancient grandmother who, upon seeing the garden gate of her childhood, stops a moment and says, hello garden gate, hello garden gate, garden gate, hello. INT. BISTRO - LESTER AND FELICIA LESTER (finally exasperated) -- look, Felicia, this party involves more than you and me, you know. These people are concerned about more than each other, you know. FELICIA -- is that right? LESTER -- yes, we're all trying to do something to make this a better country to live in, believe it or not. THE SENATOR has begun his weird chant, beating out accompaniment on a cigar box and a pewter vase. FELICIA (glancing up) -- is that what this is all about? LESTER Yes and you don't have to be sarcastic about it, that's a beautiful thing he's doing -- some people do more than go to the beauty parlor and shop at Saks -- FELICIA Lester, you're a miserable man. You're not helping anybody. You're just twisting arms to raise money for a lot of silly son of a bitches that are out for themselves -- this

getting

How many times the word 'getting' appears in the text?

you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart." "No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour." While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your apartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like for yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For your journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of your family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you are in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with a firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast again.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your father early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty." As soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all the treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to be full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these preparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so soon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon her towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in her dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a bed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched at seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate his profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her lover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, "Can you ask me such a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure dooms me to death?" "Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown," replied she, "my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my family respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return immediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah! could I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have pledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep it; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer my departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I am sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not part. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you, and I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve." "I cannot accede to your wishes," replied the Unknown, "unless you determine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me to quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace have no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond the knowledge that you have grieved the Beast." "You do not consider," rejoined Beauty, quickly, "that he assured me he should die if I broke my word to him." "What matters it to you?" retorted the lover; "is it to be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the life of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a loser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be the horror of all nature?" "Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude." The Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the Monster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of them must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? "I love you only," she replied; "but extreme as is my affection for you, it cannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed in so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of such a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why indulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea freezes my blood. Let us change the conversation." She set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could say, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid customs of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She acknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have shrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of long duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in his promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the sound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains precipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a strange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as that in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise hastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally strange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it the four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of herself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the Beast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms round his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters. They stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family embraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her sisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy was not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man desired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the circumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the state of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for herself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had left the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without the least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could best manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and wished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little cabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that he had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting at his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed had run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble of hiding his treasures. "I assure thee," said the old man to his daughter, "that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not possessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure appeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to believe that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee. I feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more durable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to be in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to my grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was soon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed my hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet, precisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I had forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein we had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which afforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant attention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer doubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself for entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous Monster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in my distress, I had mentally lavished upon him. "Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented myself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent them, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards pretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various ways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I have slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had subjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for. Ostentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the envious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very wealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am about to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides me. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought to me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their establishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy presents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it, we two will live together independently of them." Beauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he gave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his offers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact that she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to learn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining years, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of a duty which he acknowledged indispensable. Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step. "Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be happy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but these dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed to chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy repugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions." Beauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to marry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he was gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. "How can I determine," replied she to her father, "to take a husband with whom I can have no sympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms of his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and relieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being sometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions respecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night, Beauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred times a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would rather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow, disgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except the consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and presenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that enough to inspire one with affection?" The father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but observing so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be as stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good taste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to his thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the consideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined to listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance thrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these two admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself was fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between them. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned her not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable. It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the power to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, invited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her father once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire to rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her with the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved Unknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened pulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that pleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her the scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear Unknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she so ardently desired. She awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids fluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet thoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in the arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast, and the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this weariness. Her father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his country house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his daughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained for him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle who visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter had returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and were each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty. The peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take possession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster had combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than she was when her father first parted from her. She was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters, without condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest pretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her charms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible to the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing that could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous objects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she could not escape the jealousy of her sisters. The inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented every day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their court to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games which took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling to refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so flattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to the victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple guerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their turn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets, presents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she would not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her by the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her sisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant. Bestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure of giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well as the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought only to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more precious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped upon them by the others. The amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly inferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained her sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At the same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she tenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in a hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when she slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest language; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers of her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing illusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference between their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of her charming Unknown. Their assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference; but Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were obstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to her the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make them clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she endeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She told him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at the marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister, and that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately. Beauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any charms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing, in short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her object, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had the mortification to find equally infatuated. To complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a rival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and whilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be the cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on fighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to determine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated. Her father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave of her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could extort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as she could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she determined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when night arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and her gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the Beast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full of brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued horrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his assistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the ground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death, and having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She then saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who said to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she hesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her word to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time had expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast; that the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred of her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of the Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified by this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast, awoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she could no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various effects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that they would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair, swore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest ornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her departure, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting to possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her that if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done, they should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with their feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time been on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought only of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she was under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent to her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason. All of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at her father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first conveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back again, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it. Her sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a sentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's departure, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to delay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty called her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the existence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her family, and of all those who were interested in her destiny. She assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her departure, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the next morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would be fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted Palace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She slept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber, striking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to rise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager to serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her return, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence. The day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that Palace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her impatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could to him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by another desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet conversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived of during the two months she had passed with her family, and which she could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the Unknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections. One moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a lover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the next she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had no existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought to prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection of the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was invariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared it was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and destroyed by light of day. Thus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the Beast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment, she went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor. Shutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the Opera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally unable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness, wit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to entertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the parrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient for the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected to hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the appearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she tried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and fear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended into the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had found the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She called him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three hours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon a garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned the place. [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.] She saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving it. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as they had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even to discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for not having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his death (for she feared

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you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart." "No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour." While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your apartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like for yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For your journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of your family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you are in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with a firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast again.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your father early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty." As soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all the treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to be full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these preparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so soon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon her towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in her dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a bed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched at seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate his profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her lover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, "Can you ask me such a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure dooms me to death?" "Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown," replied she, "my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my family respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return immediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah! could I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have pledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep it; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer my departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I am sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not part. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you, and I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve." "I cannot accede to your wishes," replied the Unknown, "unless you determine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me to quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace have no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond the knowledge that you have grieved the Beast." "You do not consider," rejoined Beauty, quickly, "that he assured me he should die if I broke my word to him." "What matters it to you?" retorted the lover; "is it to be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the life of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a loser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be the horror of all nature?" "Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude." The Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the Monster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of them must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? "I love you only," she replied; "but extreme as is my affection for you, it cannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed in so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of such a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why indulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea freezes my blood. Let us change the conversation." She set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could say, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid customs of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She acknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have shrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of long duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in his promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the sound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains precipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a strange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as that in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise hastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally strange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it the four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of herself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the Beast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms round his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters. They stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family embraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her sisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy was not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man desired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the circumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the state of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for herself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had left the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without the least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could best manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and wished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little cabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that he had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting at his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed had run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble of hiding his treasures. "I assure thee," said the old man to his daughter, "that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not possessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure appeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to believe that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee. I feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more durable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to be in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to my grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was soon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed my hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet, precisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I had forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein we had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which afforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant attention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer doubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself for entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous Monster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in my distress, I had mentally lavished upon him. "Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented myself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent them, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards pretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various ways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I have slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had subjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for. Ostentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the envious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very wealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am about to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides me. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought to me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their establishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy presents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it, we two will live together independently of them." Beauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he gave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his offers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact that she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to learn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining years, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of a duty which he acknowledged indispensable. Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step. "Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be happy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but these dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed to chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy repugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions." Beauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to marry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he was gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. "How can I determine," replied she to her father, "to take a husband with whom I can have no sympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms of his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and relieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being sometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions respecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night, Beauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred times a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would rather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow, disgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except the consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and presenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that enough to inspire one with affection?" The father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but observing so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be as stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good taste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to his thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the consideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined to listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance thrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these two admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself was fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between them. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned her not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable. It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the power to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, invited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her father once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire to rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her with the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved Unknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened pulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that pleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her the scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear Unknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she so ardently desired. She awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids fluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet thoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in the arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast, and the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this weariness. Her father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his country house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his daughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained for him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle who visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter had returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and were each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty. The peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take possession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster had combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than she was when her father first parted from her. She was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters, without condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest pretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her charms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible to the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing that could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous objects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she could not escape the jealousy of her sisters. The inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented every day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their court to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games which took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling to refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so flattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to the victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple guerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their turn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets, presents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she would not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her by the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her sisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant. Bestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure of giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well as the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought only to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more precious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped upon them by the others. The amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly inferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained her sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At the same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she tenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in a hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when she slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest language; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers of her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing illusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference between their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of her charming Unknown. Their assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference; but Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were obstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to her the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make them clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she endeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She told him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at the marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister, and that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately. Beauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any charms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing, in short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her object, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had the mortification to find equally infatuated. To complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a rival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and whilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be the cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on fighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to determine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated. Her father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave of her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could extort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as she could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she determined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when night arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and her gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the Beast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full of brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued horrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his assistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the ground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death, and having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She then saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who said to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she hesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her word to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time had expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast; that the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred of her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of the Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified by this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast, awoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she could no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various effects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that they would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair, swore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest ornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her departure, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting to possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her that if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done, they should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with their feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time been on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought only of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she was under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent to her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason. All of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at her father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first conveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back again, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it. Her sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a sentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's departure, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to delay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty called her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the existence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her family, and of all those who were interested in her destiny. She assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her departure, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the next morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would be fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted Palace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She slept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber, striking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to rise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager to serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her return, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence. The day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that Palace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her impatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could to him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by another desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet conversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived of during the two months she had passed with her family, and which she could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the Unknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections. One moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a lover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the next she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had no existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought to prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection of the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was invariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared it was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and destroyed by light of day. Thus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the Beast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment, she went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor. Shutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the Opera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally unable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness, wit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to entertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the parrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient for the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected to hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the appearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she tried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and fear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended into the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had found the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She called him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three hours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon a garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned the place. [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.] She saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving it. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as they had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even to discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for not having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his death (for she feared

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you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart." "No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour." While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your apartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like for yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For your journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of your family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you are in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with a firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast again.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your father early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty." As soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all the treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to be full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these preparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so soon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon her towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in her dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a bed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched at seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate his profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her lover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, "Can you ask me such a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure dooms me to death?" "Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown," replied she, "my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my family respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return immediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah! could I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have pledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep it; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer my departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I am sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not part. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you, and I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve." "I cannot accede to your wishes," replied the Unknown, "unless you determine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me to quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace have no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond the knowledge that you have grieved the Beast." "You do not consider," rejoined Beauty, quickly, "that he assured me he should die if I broke my word to him." "What matters it to you?" retorted the lover; "is it to be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the life of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a loser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be the horror of all nature?" "Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude." The Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the Monster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of them must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? "I love you only," she replied; "but extreme as is my affection for you, it cannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed in so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of such a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why indulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea freezes my blood. Let us change the conversation." She set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could say, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid customs of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She acknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have shrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of long duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in his promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the sound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains precipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a strange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as that in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise hastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally strange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it the four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of herself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the Beast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms round his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters. They stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family embraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her sisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy was not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man desired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the circumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the state of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for herself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had left the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without the least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could best manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and wished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little cabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that he had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting at his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed had run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble of hiding his treasures. "I assure thee," said the old man to his daughter, "that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not possessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure appeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to believe that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee. I feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more durable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to be in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to my grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was soon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed my hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet, precisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I had forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein we had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which afforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant attention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer doubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself for entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous Monster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in my distress, I had mentally lavished upon him. "Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented myself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent them, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards pretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various ways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I have slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had subjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for. Ostentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the envious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very wealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am about to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides me. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought to me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their establishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy presents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it, we two will live together independently of them." Beauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he gave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his offers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact that she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to learn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining years, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of a duty which he acknowledged indispensable. Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step. "Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be happy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but these dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed to chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy repugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions." Beauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to marry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he was gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. "How can I determine," replied she to her father, "to take a husband with whom I can have no sympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms of his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and relieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being sometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions respecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night, Beauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred times a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would rather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow, disgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except the consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and presenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that enough to inspire one with affection?" The father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but observing so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be as stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good taste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to his thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the consideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined to listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance thrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these two admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself was fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between them. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned her not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable. It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the power to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, invited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her father once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire to rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her with the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved Unknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened pulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that pleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her the scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear Unknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she so ardently desired. She awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids fluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet thoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in the arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast, and the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this weariness. Her father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his country house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his daughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained for him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle who visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter had returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and were each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty. The peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take possession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster had combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than she was when her father first parted from her. She was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters, without condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest pretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her charms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible to the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing that could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous objects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she could not escape the jealousy of her sisters. The inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented every day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their court to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games which took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling to refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so flattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to the victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple guerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their turn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets, presents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she would not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her by the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her sisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant. Bestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure of giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well as the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought only to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more precious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped upon them by the others. The amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly inferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained her sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At the same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she tenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in a hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when she slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest language; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers of her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing illusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference between their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of her charming Unknown. Their assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference; but Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were obstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to her the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make them clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she endeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She told him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at the marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister, and that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately. Beauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any charms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing, in short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her object, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had the mortification to find equally infatuated. To complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a rival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and whilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be the cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on fighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to determine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated. Her father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave of her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could extort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as she could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she determined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when night arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and her gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the Beast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full of brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued horrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his assistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the ground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death, and having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She then saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who said to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she hesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her word to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time had expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast; that the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred of her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of the Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified by this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast, awoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she could no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various effects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that they would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair, swore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest ornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her departure, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting to possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her that if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done, they should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with their feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time been on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought only of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she was under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent to her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason. All of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at her father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first conveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back again, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it. Her sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a sentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's departure, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to delay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty called her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the existence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her family, and of all those who were interested in her destiny. She assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her departure, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the next morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would be fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted Palace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She slept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber, striking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to rise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager to serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her return, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence. The day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that Palace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her impatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could to him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by another desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet conversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived of during the two months she had passed with her family, and which she could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the Unknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections. One moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a lover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the next she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had no existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought to prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection of the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was invariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared it was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and destroyed by light of day. Thus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the Beast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment, she went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor. Shutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the Opera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally unable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness, wit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to entertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the parrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient for the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected to hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the appearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she tried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and fear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended into the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had found the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She called him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three hours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon a garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned the place. [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.] She saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving it. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as they had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even to discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for not having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his death (for she feared

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you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart." "No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour." While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your apartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like for yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For your journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of your family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you are in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with a firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast again.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your father early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty." As soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all the treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to be full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these preparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so soon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon her towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in her dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a bed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched at seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate his profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her lover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, "Can you ask me such a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure dooms me to death?" "Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown," replied she, "my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my family respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return immediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah! could I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have pledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep it; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer my departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I am sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not part. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you, and I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve." "I cannot accede to your wishes," replied the Unknown, "unless you determine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me to quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace have no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond the knowledge that you have grieved the Beast." "You do not consider," rejoined Beauty, quickly, "that he assured me he should die if I broke my word to him." "What matters it to you?" retorted the lover; "is it to be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the life of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a loser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be the horror of all nature?" "Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude." The Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the Monster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of them must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? "I love you only," she replied; "but extreme as is my affection for you, it cannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed in so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of such a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why indulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea freezes my blood. Let us change the conversation." She set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could say, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid customs of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She acknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have shrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of long duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in his promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the sound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains precipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a strange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as that in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise hastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally strange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it the four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of herself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the Beast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms round his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters. They stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family embraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her sisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy was not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man desired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the circumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the state of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for herself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had left the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without the least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could best manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and wished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little cabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that he had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting at his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed had run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble of hiding his treasures. "I assure thee," said the old man to his daughter, "that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not possessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure appeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to believe that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee. I feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more durable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to be in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to my grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was soon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed my hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet, precisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I had forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein we had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which afforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant attention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer doubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself for entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous Monster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in my distress, I had mentally lavished upon him. "Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented myself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent them, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards pretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various ways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I have slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had subjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for. Ostentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the envious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very wealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am about to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides me. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought to me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their establishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy presents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it, we two will live together independently of them." Beauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he gave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his offers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact that she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to learn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining years, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of a duty which he acknowledged indispensable. Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step. "Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be happy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but these dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed to chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy repugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions." Beauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to marry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he was gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. "How can I determine," replied she to her father, "to take a husband with whom I can have no sympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms of his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and relieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being sometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions respecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night, Beauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred times a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would rather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow, disgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except the consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and presenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that enough to inspire one with affection?" The father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but observing so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be as stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good taste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to his thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the consideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined to listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance thrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these two admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself was fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between them. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned her not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable. It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the power to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, invited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her father once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire to rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her with the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved Unknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened pulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that pleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her the scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear Unknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she so ardently desired. She awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids fluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet thoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in the arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast, and the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this weariness. Her father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his country house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his daughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained for him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle who visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter had returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and were each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty. The peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take possession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster had combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than she was when her father first parted from her. She was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters, without condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest pretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her charms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible to the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing that could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous objects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she could not escape the jealousy of her sisters. The inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented every day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their court to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games which took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling to refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so flattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to the victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple guerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their turn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets, presents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she would not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her by the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her sisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant. Bestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure of giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well as the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought only to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more precious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped upon them by the others. The amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly inferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained her sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At the same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she tenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in a hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when she slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest language; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers of her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing illusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference between their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of her charming Unknown. Their assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference; but Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were obstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to her the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make them clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she endeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She told him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at the marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister, and that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately. Beauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any charms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing, in short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her object, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had the mortification to find equally infatuated. To complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a rival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and whilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be the cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on fighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to determine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated. Her father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave of her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could extort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as she could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she determined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when night arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and her gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the Beast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full of brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued horrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his assistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the ground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death, and having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She then saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who said to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she hesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her word to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time had expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast; that the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred of her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of the Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified by this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast, awoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she could no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various effects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that they would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair, swore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest ornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her departure, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting to possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her that if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done, they should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with their feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time been on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought only of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she was under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent to her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason. All of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at her father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first conveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back again, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it. Her sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a sentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's departure, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to delay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty called her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the existence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her family, and of all those who were interested in her destiny. She assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her departure, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the next morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would be fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted Palace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She slept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber, striking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to rise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager to serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her return, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence. The day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that Palace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her impatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could to him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by another desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet conversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived of during the two months she had passed with her family, and which she could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the Unknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections. One moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a lover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the next she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had no existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought to prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection of the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was invariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared it was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and destroyed by light of day. Thus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the Beast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment, she went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor. Shutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the Opera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally unable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness, wit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to entertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the parrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient for the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected to hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the appearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she tried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and fear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended into the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had found the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She called him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three hours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon a garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned the place. [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.] She saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving it. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as they had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even to discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for not having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his death (for she feared

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you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart." "No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour." While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your apartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like for yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For your journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of your family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you are in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with a firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast again.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your father early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty." As soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all the treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to be full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these preparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so soon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon her towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in her dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a bed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched at seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate his profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her lover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, "Can you ask me such a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure dooms me to death?" "Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown," replied she, "my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my family respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return immediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah! could I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have pledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep it; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer my departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I am sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not part. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you, and I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve." "I cannot accede to your wishes," replied the Unknown, "unless you determine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me to quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace have no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond the knowledge that you have grieved the Beast." "You do not consider," rejoined Beauty, quickly, "that he assured me he should die if I broke my word to him." "What matters it to you?" retorted the lover; "is it to be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the life of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a loser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be the horror of all nature?" "Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude." The Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the Monster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of them must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? "I love you only," she replied; "but extreme as is my affection for you, it cannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed in so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of such a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why indulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea freezes my blood. Let us change the conversation." She set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could say, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid customs of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She acknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have shrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of long duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in his promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the sound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains precipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a strange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as that in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise hastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally strange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it the four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of herself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the Beast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms round his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters. They stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family embraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her sisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy was not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man desired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the circumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the state of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for herself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had left the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without the least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could best manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and wished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little cabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that he had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting at his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed had run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble of hiding his treasures. "I assure thee," said the old man to his daughter, "that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not possessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure appeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to believe that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee. I feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more durable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to be in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to my grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was soon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed my hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet, precisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I had forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein we had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which afforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant attention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer doubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself for entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous Monster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in my distress, I had mentally lavished upon him. "Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented myself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent them, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards pretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various ways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I have slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had subjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for. Ostentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the envious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very wealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am about to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides me. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought to me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their establishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy presents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it, we two will live together independently of them." Beauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he gave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his offers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact that she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to learn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining years, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of a duty which he acknowledged indispensable. Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step. "Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be happy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but these dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed to chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy repugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions." Beauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to marry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he was gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. "How can I determine," replied she to her father, "to take a husband with whom I can have no sympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms of his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and relieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being sometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions respecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night, Beauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred times a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would rather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow, disgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except the consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and presenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that enough to inspire one with affection?" The father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but observing so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be as stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good taste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to his thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the consideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined to listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance thrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these two admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself was fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between them. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned her not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable. It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the power to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, invited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her father once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire to rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her with the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved Unknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened pulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that pleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her the scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear Unknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she so ardently desired. She awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids fluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet thoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in the arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast, and the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this weariness. Her father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his country house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his daughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained for him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle who visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter had returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and were each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty. The peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take possession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster had combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than she was when her father first parted from her. She was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters, without condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest pretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her charms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible to the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing that could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous objects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she could not escape the jealousy of her sisters. The inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented every day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their court to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games which took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling to refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so flattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to the victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple guerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their turn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets, presents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she would not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her by the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her sisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant. Bestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure of giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well as the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought only to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more precious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped upon them by the others. The amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly inferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained her sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At the same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she tenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in a hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when she slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest language; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers of her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing illusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference between their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of her charming Unknown. Their assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference; but Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were obstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to her the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make them clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she endeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She told him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at the marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister, and that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately. Beauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any charms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing, in short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her object, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had the mortification to find equally infatuated. To complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a rival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and whilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be the cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on fighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to determine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated. Her father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave of her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could extort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as she could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she determined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when night arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and her gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the Beast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full of brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued horrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his assistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the ground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death, and having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She then saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who said to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she hesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her word to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time had expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast; that the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred of her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of the Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified by this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast, awoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she could no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various effects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that they would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair, swore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest ornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her departure, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting to possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her that if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done, they should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with their feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time been on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought only of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she was under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent to her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason. All of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at her father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first conveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back again, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it. Her sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a sentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's departure, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to delay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty called her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the existence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her family, and of all those who were interested in her destiny. She assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her departure, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the next morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would be fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted Palace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She slept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber, striking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to rise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager to serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her return, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence. The day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that Palace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her impatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could to him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by another desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet conversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived of during the two months she had passed with her family, and which she could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the Unknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections. One moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a lover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the next she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had no existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought to prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection of the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was invariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared it was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and destroyed by light of day. Thus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the Beast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment, she went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor. Shutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the Opera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally unable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness, wit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to entertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the parrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient for the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected to hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the appearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she tried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and fear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended into the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had found the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She called him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three hours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon a garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned the place. [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.] She saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving it. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as they had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even to discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for not having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his death (for she feared

ardently

How many times the word 'ardently' appears in the text?

you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart." "No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour." While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your apartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like for yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For your journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of your family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you are in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with a firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast again.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your father early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty." As soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all the treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to be full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these preparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so soon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon her towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in her dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a bed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched at seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate his profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her lover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, "Can you ask me such a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure dooms me to death?" "Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown," replied she, "my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my family respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return immediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah! could I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have pledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep it; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer my departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I am sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not part. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you, and I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve." "I cannot accede to your wishes," replied the Unknown, "unless you determine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me to quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace have no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond the knowledge that you have grieved the Beast." "You do not consider," rejoined Beauty, quickly, "that he assured me he should die if I broke my word to him." "What matters it to you?" retorted the lover; "is it to be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the life of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a loser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be the horror of all nature?" "Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude." The Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the Monster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of them must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? "I love you only," she replied; "but extreme as is my affection for you, it cannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed in so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of such a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why indulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea freezes my blood. Let us change the conversation." She set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could say, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid customs of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She acknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have shrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of long duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in his promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the sound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains precipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a strange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as that in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise hastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally strange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it the four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of herself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the Beast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms round his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters. They stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family embraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her sisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy was not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man desired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the circumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the state of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for herself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had left the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without the least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could best manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and wished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little cabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that he had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting at his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed had run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble of hiding his treasures. "I assure thee," said the old man to his daughter, "that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not possessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure appeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to believe that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee. I feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more durable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to be in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to my grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was soon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed my hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet, precisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I had forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein we had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which afforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant attention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer doubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself for entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous Monster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in my distress, I had mentally lavished upon him. "Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented myself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent them, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards pretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various ways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I have slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had subjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for. Ostentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the envious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very wealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am about to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides me. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought to me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their establishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy presents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it, we two will live together independently of them." Beauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he gave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his offers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact that she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to learn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining years, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of a duty which he acknowledged indispensable. Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step. "Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be happy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but these dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed to chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy repugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions." Beauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to marry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he was gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. "How can I determine," replied she to her father, "to take a husband with whom I can have no sympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms of his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and relieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being sometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions respecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night, Beauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred times a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would rather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow, disgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except the consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and presenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that enough to inspire one with affection?" The father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but observing so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be as stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good taste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to his thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the consideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined to listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance thrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these two admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself was fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between them. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned her not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable. It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the power to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, invited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her father once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire to rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her with the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved Unknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened pulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that pleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her the scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear Unknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she so ardently desired. She awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids fluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet thoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in the arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast, and the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this weariness. Her father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his country house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his daughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained for him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle who visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter had returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and were each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty. The peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take possession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster had combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than she was when her father first parted from her. She was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters, without condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest pretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her charms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible to the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing that could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous objects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she could not escape the jealousy of her sisters. The inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented every day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their court to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games which took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling to refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so flattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to the victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple guerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their turn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets, presents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she would not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her by the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her sisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant. Bestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure of giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well as the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought only to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more precious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped upon them by the others. The amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly inferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained her sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At the same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she tenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in a hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when she slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest language; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers of her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing illusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference between their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of her charming Unknown. Their assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference; but Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were obstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to her the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make them clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she endeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She told him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at the marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister, and that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately. Beauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any charms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing, in short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her object, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had the mortification to find equally infatuated. To complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a rival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and whilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be the cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on fighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to determine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated. Her father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave of her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could extort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as she could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she determined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when night arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and her gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the Beast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full of brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued horrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his assistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the ground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death, and having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She then saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who said to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she hesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her word to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time had expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast; that the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred of her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of the Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified by this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast, awoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she could no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various effects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that they would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair, swore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest ornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her departure, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting to possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her that if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done, they should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with their feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time been on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought only of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she was under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent to her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason. All of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at her father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first conveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back again, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it. Her sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a sentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's departure, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to delay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty called her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the existence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her family, and of all those who were interested in her destiny. She assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her departure, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the next morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would be fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted Palace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She slept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber, striking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to rise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager to serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her return, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence. The day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that Palace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her impatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could to him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by another desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet conversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived of during the two months she had passed with her family, and which she could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the Unknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections. One moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a lover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the next she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had no existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought to prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection of the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was invariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared it was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and destroyed by light of day. Thus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the Beast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment, she went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor. Shutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the Opera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally unable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness, wit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to entertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the parrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient for the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected to hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the appearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she tried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and fear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended into the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had found the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She called him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three hours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon a garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned the place. [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.] She saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving it. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as they had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even to discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for not having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his death (for she feared

muscle

How many times the word 'muscle' appears in the text?

you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart." "No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour." While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your apartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like for yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For your journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of your family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you are in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with a firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast again.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your father early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty." As soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all the treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to be full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these preparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so soon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon her towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in her dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a bed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched at seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate his profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her lover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, "Can you ask me such a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure dooms me to death?" "Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown," replied she, "my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my family respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return immediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah! could I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have pledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep it; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer my departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I am sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not part. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you, and I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve." "I cannot accede to your wishes," replied the Unknown, "unless you determine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me to quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace have no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond the knowledge that you have grieved the Beast." "You do not consider," rejoined Beauty, quickly, "that he assured me he should die if I broke my word to him." "What matters it to you?" retorted the lover; "is it to be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the life of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a loser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be the horror of all nature?" "Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude." The Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the Monster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of them must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? "I love you only," she replied; "but extreme as is my affection for you, it cannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed in so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of such a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why indulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea freezes my blood. Let us change the conversation." She set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could say, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid customs of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She acknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have shrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of long duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in his promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the sound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains precipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a strange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as that in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise hastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally strange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it the four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of herself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the Beast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms round his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters. They stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family embraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her sisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy was not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man desired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the circumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the state of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for herself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had left the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without the least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could best manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and wished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little cabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that he had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting at his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed had run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble of hiding his treasures. "I assure thee," said the old man to his daughter, "that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not possessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure appeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to believe that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee. I feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more durable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to be in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to my grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was soon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed my hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet, precisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I had forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein we had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which afforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant attention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer doubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself for entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous Monster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in my distress, I had mentally lavished upon him. "Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented myself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent them, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards pretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various ways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I have slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had subjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for. Ostentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the envious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very wealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am about to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides me. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought to me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their establishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy presents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it, we two will live together independently of them." Beauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he gave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his offers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact that she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to learn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining years, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of a duty which he acknowledged indispensable. Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step. "Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be happy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but these dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed to chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy repugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions." Beauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to marry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he was gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. "How can I determine," replied she to her father, "to take a husband with whom I can have no sympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms of his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and relieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being sometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions respecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night, Beauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred times a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would rather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow, disgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except the consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and presenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that enough to inspire one with affection?" The father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but observing so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be as stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good taste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to his thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the consideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined to listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance thrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these two admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself was fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between them. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned her not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable. It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the power to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, invited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her father once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire to rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her with the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved Unknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened pulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that pleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her the scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear Unknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she so ardently desired. She awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids fluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet thoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in the arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast, and the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this weariness. Her father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his country house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his daughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained for him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle who visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter had returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and were each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty. The peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take possession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster had combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than she was when her father first parted from her. She was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters, without condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest pretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her charms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible to the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing that could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous objects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she could not escape the jealousy of her sisters. The inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented every day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their court to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games which took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling to refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so flattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to the victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple guerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their turn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets, presents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she would not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her by the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her sisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant. Bestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure of giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well as the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought only to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more precious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped upon them by the others. The amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly inferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained her sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At the same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she tenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in a hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when she slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest language; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers of her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing illusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference between their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of her charming Unknown. Their assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference; but Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were obstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to her the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make them clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she endeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She told him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at the marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister, and that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately. Beauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any charms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing, in short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her object, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had the mortification to find equally infatuated. To complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a rival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and whilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be the cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on fighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to determine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated. Her father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave of her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could extort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as she could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she determined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when night arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and her gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the Beast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full of brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued horrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his assistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the ground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death, and having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She then saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who said to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she hesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her word to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time had expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast; that the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred of her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of the Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified by this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast, awoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she could no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various effects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that they would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair, swore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest ornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her departure, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting to possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her that if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done, they should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with their feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time been on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought only of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she was under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent to her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason. All of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at her father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first conveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back again, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it. Her sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a sentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's departure, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to delay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty called her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the existence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her family, and of all those who were interested in her destiny. She assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her departure, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the next morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would be fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted Palace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She slept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber, striking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to rise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager to serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her return, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence. The day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that Palace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her impatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could to him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by another desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet conversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived of during the two months she had passed with her family, and which she could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the Unknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections. One moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a lover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the next she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had no existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought to prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection of the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was invariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared it was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and destroyed by light of day. Thus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the Beast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment, she went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor. Shutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the Opera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally unable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness, wit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to entertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the parrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient for the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected to hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the appearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she tried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and fear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended into the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had found the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She called him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three hours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon a garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned the place. [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.] She saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving it. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as they had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even to discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for not having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his death (for she feared

legs

How many times the word 'legs' appears in the text?

you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart." "No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour." While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your apartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like for yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For your journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of your family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you are in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with a firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast again.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your father early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty." As soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all the treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to be full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these preparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so soon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon her towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in her dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a bed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched at seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate his profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her lover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, "Can you ask me such a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure dooms me to death?" "Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown," replied she, "my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my family respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return immediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah! could I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have pledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep it; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer my departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I am sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not part. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you, and I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve." "I cannot accede to your wishes," replied the Unknown, "unless you determine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me to quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace have no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond the knowledge that you have grieved the Beast." "You do not consider," rejoined Beauty, quickly, "that he assured me he should die if I broke my word to him." "What matters it to you?" retorted the lover; "is it to be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the life of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a loser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be the horror of all nature?" "Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude." The Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the Monster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of them must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? "I love you only," she replied; "but extreme as is my affection for you, it cannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed in so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of such a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why indulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea freezes my blood. Let us change the conversation." She set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could say, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid customs of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She acknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have shrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of long duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in his promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the sound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains precipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a strange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as that in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise hastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally strange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it the four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of herself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the Beast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms round his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters. They stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family embraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her sisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy was not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man desired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the circumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the state of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for herself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had left the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without the least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could best manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and wished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little cabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that he had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting at his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed had run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble of hiding his treasures. "I assure thee," said the old man to his daughter, "that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not possessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure appeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to believe that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee. I feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more durable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to be in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to my grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was soon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed my hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet, precisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I had forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein we had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which afforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant attention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer doubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself for entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous Monster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in my distress, I had mentally lavished upon him. "Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented myself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent them, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards pretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various ways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I have slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had subjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for. Ostentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the envious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very wealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am about to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides me. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought to me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their establishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy presents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it, we two will live together independently of them." Beauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he gave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his offers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact that she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to learn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining years, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of a duty which he acknowledged indispensable. Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step. "Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be happy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but these dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed to chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy repugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions." Beauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to marry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he was gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. "How can I determine," replied she to her father, "to take a husband with whom I can have no sympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms of his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and relieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being sometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions respecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night, Beauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred times a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would rather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow, disgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except the consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and presenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that enough to inspire one with affection?" The father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but observing so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be as stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good taste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to his thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the consideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined to listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance thrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these two admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself was fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between them. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned her not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable. It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the power to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, invited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her father once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire to rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her with the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved Unknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened pulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that pleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her the scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear Unknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she so ardently desired. She awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids fluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet thoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in the arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast, and the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this weariness. Her father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his country house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his daughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained for him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle who visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter had returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and were each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty. The peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take possession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster had combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than she was when her father first parted from her. She was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters, without condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest pretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her charms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible to the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing that could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous objects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she could not escape the jealousy of her sisters. The inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented every day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their court to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games which took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling to refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so flattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to the victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple guerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their turn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets, presents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she would not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her by the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her sisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant. Bestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure of giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well as the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought only to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more precious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped upon them by the others. The amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly inferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained her sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At the same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she tenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in a hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when she slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest language; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers of her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing illusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference between their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of her charming Unknown. Their assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference; but Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were obstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to her the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make them clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she endeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She told him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at the marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister, and that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately. Beauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any charms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing, in short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her object, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had the mortification to find equally infatuated. To complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a rival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and whilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be the cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on fighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to determine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated. Her father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave of her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could extort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as she could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she determined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when night arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and her gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the Beast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full of brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued horrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his assistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the ground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death, and having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She then saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who said to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she hesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her word to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time had expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast; that the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred of her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of the Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified by this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast, awoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she could no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various effects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that they would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair, swore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest ornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her departure, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting to possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her that if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done, they should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with their feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time been on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought only of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she was under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent to her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason. All of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at her father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first conveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back again, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it. Her sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a sentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's departure, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to delay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty called her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the existence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her family, and of all those who were interested in her destiny. She assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her departure, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the next morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would be fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted Palace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She slept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber, striking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to rise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager to serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her return, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence. The day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that Palace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her impatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could to him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by another desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet conversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived of during the two months she had passed with her family, and which she could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the Unknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections. One moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a lover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the next she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had no existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought to prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection of the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was invariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared it was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and destroyed by light of day. Thus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the Beast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment, she went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor. Shutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the Opera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally unable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness, wit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to entertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the parrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient for the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected to hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the appearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she tried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and fear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended into the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had found the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She called him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three hours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon a garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned the place. [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.] She saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving it. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as they had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even to discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for not having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his death (for she feared

khonso

How many times the word 'khonso' appears in the text?

you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart." "No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour." While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your apartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like for yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For your journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of your family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you are in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with a firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast again.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your father early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty." As soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all the treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to be full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these preparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so soon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon her towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in her dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a bed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched at seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate his profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her lover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, "Can you ask me such a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure dooms me to death?" "Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown," replied she, "my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my family respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return immediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah! could I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have pledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep it; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer my departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I am sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not part. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you, and I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve." "I cannot accede to your wishes," replied the Unknown, "unless you determine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me to quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace have no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond the knowledge that you have grieved the Beast." "You do not consider," rejoined Beauty, quickly, "that he assured me he should die if I broke my word to him." "What matters it to you?" retorted the lover; "is it to be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the life of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a loser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be the horror of all nature?" "Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude." The Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the Monster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of them must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? "I love you only," she replied; "but extreme as is my affection for you, it cannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed in so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of such a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why indulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea freezes my blood. Let us change the conversation." She set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could say, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid customs of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She acknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have shrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of long duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in his promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the sound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains precipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a strange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as that in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise hastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally strange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it the four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of herself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the Beast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms round his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters. They stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family embraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her sisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy was not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man desired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the circumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the state of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for herself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had left the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without the least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could best manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and wished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little cabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that he had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting at his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed had run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble of hiding his treasures. "I assure thee," said the old man to his daughter, "that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not possessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure appeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to believe that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee. I feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more durable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to be in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to my grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was soon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed my hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet, precisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I had forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein we had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which afforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant attention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer doubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself for entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous Monster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in my distress, I had mentally lavished upon him. "Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented myself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent them, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards pretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various ways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I have slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had subjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for. Ostentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the envious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very wealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am about to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides me. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought to me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their establishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy presents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it, we two will live together independently of them." Beauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he gave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his offers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact that she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to learn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining years, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of a duty which he acknowledged indispensable. Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step. "Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be happy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but these dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed to chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy repugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions." Beauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to marry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he was gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. "How can I determine," replied she to her father, "to take a husband with whom I can have no sympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms of his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and relieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being sometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions respecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night, Beauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred times a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would rather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow, disgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except the consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and presenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that enough to inspire one with affection?" The father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but observing so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be as stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good taste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to his thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the consideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined to listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance thrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these two admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself was fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between them. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned her not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable. It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the power to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, invited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her father once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire to rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her with the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved Unknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened pulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that pleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her the scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear Unknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she so ardently desired. She awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids fluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet thoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in the arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast, and the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this weariness. Her father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his country house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his daughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained for him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle who visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter had returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and were each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty. The peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take possession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster had combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than she was when her father first parted from her. She was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters, without condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest pretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her charms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible to the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing that could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous objects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she could not escape the jealousy of her sisters. The inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented every day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their court to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games which took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling to refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so flattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to the victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple guerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their turn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets, presents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she would not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her by the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her sisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant. Bestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure of giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well as the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought only to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more precious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped upon them by the others. The amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly inferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained her sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At the same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she tenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in a hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when she slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest language; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers of her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing illusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference between their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of her charming Unknown. Their assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference; but Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were obstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to her the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make them clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she endeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She told him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at the marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister, and that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately. Beauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any charms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing, in short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her object, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had the mortification to find equally infatuated. To complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a rival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and whilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be the cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on fighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to determine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated. Her father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave of her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could extort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as she could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she determined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when night arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and her gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the Beast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full of brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued horrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his assistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the ground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death, and having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She then saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who said to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she hesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her word to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time had expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast; that the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred of her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of the Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified by this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast, awoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she could no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various effects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that they would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair, swore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest ornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her departure, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting to possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her that if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done, they should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with their feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time been on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought only of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she was under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent to her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason. All of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at her father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first conveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back again, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it. Her sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a sentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's departure, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to delay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty called her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the existence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her family, and of all those who were interested in her destiny. She assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her departure, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the next morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would be fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted Palace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She slept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber, striking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to rise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager to serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her return, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence. The day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that Palace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her impatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could to him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by another desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet conversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived of during the two months she had passed with her family, and which she could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the Unknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections. One moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a lover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the next she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had no existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought to prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection of the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was invariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared it was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and destroyed by light of day. Thus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the Beast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment, she went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor. Shutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the Opera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally unable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness, wit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to entertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the parrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient for the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected to hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the appearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she tried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and fear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended into the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had found the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She called him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three hours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon a garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned the place. [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.] She saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving it. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as they had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even to discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for not having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his death (for she feared

repay

How many times the word 'repay' appears in the text?

you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart." "No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour." While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your apartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like for yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For your journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of your family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you are in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with a firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast again.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your father early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty." As soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all the treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to be full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these preparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so soon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon her towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in her dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a bed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched at seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate his profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her lover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, "Can you ask me such a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure dooms me to death?" "Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown," replied she, "my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my family respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return immediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah! could I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have pledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep it; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer my departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I am sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not part. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you, and I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve." "I cannot accede to your wishes," replied the Unknown, "unless you determine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me to quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace have no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond the knowledge that you have grieved the Beast." "You do not consider," rejoined Beauty, quickly, "that he assured me he should die if I broke my word to him." "What matters it to you?" retorted the lover; "is it to be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the life of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a loser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be the horror of all nature?" "Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude." The Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the Monster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of them must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? "I love you only," she replied; "but extreme as is my affection for you, it cannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed in so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of such a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why indulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea freezes my blood. Let us change the conversation." She set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could say, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid customs of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She acknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have shrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of long duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in his promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the sound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains precipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a strange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as that in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise hastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally strange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it the four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of herself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the Beast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms round his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters. They stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family embraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her sisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy was not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man desired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the circumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the state of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for herself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had left the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without the least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could best manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and wished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little cabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that he had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting at his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed had run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble of hiding his treasures. "I assure thee," said the old man to his daughter, "that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not possessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure appeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to believe that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee. I feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more durable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to be in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to my grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was soon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed my hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet, precisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I had forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein we had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which afforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant attention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer doubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself for entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous Monster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in my distress, I had mentally lavished upon him. "Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented myself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent them, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards pretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various ways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I have slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had subjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for. Ostentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the envious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very wealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am about to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides me. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought to me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their establishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy presents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it, we two will live together independently of them." Beauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he gave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his offers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact that she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to learn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining years, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of a duty which he acknowledged indispensable. Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step. "Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be happy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but these dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed to chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy repugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions." Beauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to marry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he was gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. "How can I determine," replied she to her father, "to take a husband with whom I can have no sympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms of his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and relieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being sometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions respecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night, Beauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred times a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would rather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow, disgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except the consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and presenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that enough to inspire one with affection?" The father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but observing so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be as stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good taste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to his thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the consideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined to listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance thrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these two admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself was fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between them. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned her not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable. It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the power to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, invited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her father once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire to rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her with the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved Unknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened pulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that pleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her the scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear Unknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she so ardently desired. She awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids fluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet thoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in the arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast, and the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this weariness. Her father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his country house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his daughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained for him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle who visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter had returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and were each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty. The peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take possession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster had combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than she was when her father first parted from her. She was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters, without condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest pretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her charms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible to the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing that could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous objects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she could not escape the jealousy of her sisters. The inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented every day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their court to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games which took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling to refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so flattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to the victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple guerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their turn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets, presents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she would not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her by the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her sisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant. Bestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure of giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well as the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought only to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more precious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped upon them by the others. The amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly inferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained her sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At the same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she tenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in a hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when she slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest language; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers of her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing illusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference between their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of her charming Unknown. Their assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference; but Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were obstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to her the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make them clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she endeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She told him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at the marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister, and that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately. Beauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any charms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing, in short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her object, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had the mortification to find equally infatuated. To complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a rival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and whilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be the cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on fighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to determine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated. Her father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave of her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could extort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as she could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she determined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when night arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and her gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the Beast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full of brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued horrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his assistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the ground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death, and having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She then saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who said to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she hesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her word to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time had expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast; that the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred of her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of the Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified by this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast, awoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she could no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various effects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that they would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair, swore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest ornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her departure, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting to possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her that if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done, they should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with their feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time been on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought only of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she was under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent to her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason. All of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at her father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first conveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back again, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it. Her sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a sentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's departure, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to delay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty called her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the existence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her family, and of all those who were interested in her destiny. She assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her departure, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the next morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would be fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted Palace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She slept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber, striking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to rise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager to serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her return, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence. The day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that Palace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her impatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could to him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by another desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet conversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived of during the two months she had passed with her family, and which she could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the Unknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections. One moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a lover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the next she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had no existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought to prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection of the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was invariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared it was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and destroyed by light of day. Thus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the Beast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment, she went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor. Shutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the Opera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally unable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness, wit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to entertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the parrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient for the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected to hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the appearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she tried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and fear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended into the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had found the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She called him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three hours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon a garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned the place. [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.] She saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving it. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as they had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even to discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for not having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his death (for she feared

innocent

How many times the word 'innocent' appears in the text?

you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart." "No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour." While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your apartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like for yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For your journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of your family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you are in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with a firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast again.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your father early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty." As soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all the treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to be full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these preparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so soon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon her towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in her dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a bed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched at seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate his profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her lover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, "Can you ask me such a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure dooms me to death?" "Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown," replied she, "my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my family respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return immediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah! could I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have pledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep it; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer my departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I am sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not part. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you, and I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve." "I cannot accede to your wishes," replied the Unknown, "unless you determine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me to quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace have no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond the knowledge that you have grieved the Beast." "You do not consider," rejoined Beauty, quickly, "that he assured me he should die if I broke my word to him." "What matters it to you?" retorted the lover; "is it to be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the life of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a loser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be the horror of all nature?" "Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude." The Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the Monster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of them must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? "I love you only," she replied; "but extreme as is my affection for you, it cannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed in so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of such a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why indulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea freezes my blood. Let us change the conversation." She set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could say, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid customs of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She acknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have shrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of long duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in his promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the sound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains precipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a strange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as that in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise hastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally strange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it the four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of herself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the Beast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms round his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters. They stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family embraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her sisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy was not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man desired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the circumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the state of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for herself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had left the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without the least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could best manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and wished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little cabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that he had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting at his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed had run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble of hiding his treasures. "I assure thee," said the old man to his daughter, "that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not possessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure appeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to believe that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee. I feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more durable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to be in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to my grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was soon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed my hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet, precisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I had forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein we had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which afforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant attention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer doubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself for entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous Monster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in my distress, I had mentally lavished upon him. "Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented myself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent them, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards pretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various ways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I have slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had subjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for. Ostentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the envious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very wealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am about to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides me. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought to me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their establishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy presents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it, we two will live together independently of them." Beauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he gave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his offers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact that she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to learn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining years, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of a duty which he acknowledged indispensable. Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step. "Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be happy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but these dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed to chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy repugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions." Beauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to marry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he was gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. "How can I determine," replied she to her father, "to take a husband with whom I can have no sympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms of his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and relieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being sometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions respecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night, Beauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred times a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would rather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow, disgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except the consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and presenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that enough to inspire one with affection?" The father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but observing so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be as stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good taste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to his thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the consideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined to listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance thrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these two admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself was fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between them. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned her not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable. It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the power to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, invited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her father once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire to rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her with the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved Unknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened pulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that pleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her the scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear Unknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she so ardently desired. She awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids fluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet thoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in the arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast, and the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this weariness. Her father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his country house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his daughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained for him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle who visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter had returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and were each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty. The peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take possession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster had combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than she was when her father first parted from her. She was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters, without condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest pretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her charms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible to the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing that could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous objects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she could not escape the jealousy of her sisters. The inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented every day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their court to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games which took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling to refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so flattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to the victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple guerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their turn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets, presents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she would not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her by the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her sisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant. Bestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure of giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well as the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought only to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more precious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped upon them by the others. The amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly inferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained her sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At the same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she tenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in a hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when she slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest language; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers of her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing illusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference between their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of her charming Unknown. Their assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference; but Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were obstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to her the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make them clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she endeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She told him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at the marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister, and that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately. Beauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any charms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing, in short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her object, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had the mortification to find equally infatuated. To complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a rival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and whilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be the cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on fighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to determine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated. Her father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave of her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could extort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as she could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she determined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when night arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and her gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the Beast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full of brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued horrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his assistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the ground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death, and having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She then saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who said to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she hesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her word to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time had expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast; that the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred of her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of the Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified by this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast, awoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she could no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various effects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that they would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair, swore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest ornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her departure, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting to possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her that if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done, they should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with their feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time been on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought only of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she was under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent to her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason. All of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at her father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first conveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back again, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it. Her sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a sentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's departure, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to delay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty called her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the existence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her family, and of all those who were interested in her destiny. She assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her departure, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the next morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would be fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted Palace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She slept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber, striking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to rise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager to serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her return, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence. The day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that Palace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her impatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could to him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by another desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet conversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived of during the two months she had passed with her family, and which she could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the Unknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections. One moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a lover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the next she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had no existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought to prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection of the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was invariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared it was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and destroyed by light of day. Thus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the Beast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment, she went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor. Shutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the Opera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally unable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness, wit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to entertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the parrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient for the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected to hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the appearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she tried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and fear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended into the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had found the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She called him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three hours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon a garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned the place. [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.] She saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving it. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as they had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even to discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for not having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his death (for she feared

days

How many times the word 'days' appears in the text?

you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart." "No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour." While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your apartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like for yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For your journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of your family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you are in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with a firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast again.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your father early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty." As soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all the treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to be full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these preparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so soon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon her towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in her dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a bed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched at seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate his profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her lover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, "Can you ask me such a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure dooms me to death?" "Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown," replied she, "my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my family respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return immediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah! could I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have pledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep it; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer my departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I am sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not part. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you, and I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve." "I cannot accede to your wishes," replied the Unknown, "unless you determine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me to quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace have no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond the knowledge that you have grieved the Beast." "You do not consider," rejoined Beauty, quickly, "that he assured me he should die if I broke my word to him." "What matters it to you?" retorted the lover; "is it to be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the life of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a loser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be the horror of all nature?" "Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude." The Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the Monster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of them must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? "I love you only," she replied; "but extreme as is my affection for you, it cannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed in so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of such a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why indulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea freezes my blood. Let us change the conversation." She set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could say, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid customs of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She acknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have shrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of long duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in his promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the sound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains precipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a strange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as that in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise hastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally strange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it the four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of herself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the Beast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms round his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters. They stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family embraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her sisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy was not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man desired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the circumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the state of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for herself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had left the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without the least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could best manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and wished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little cabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that he had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting at his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed had run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble of hiding his treasures. "I assure thee," said the old man to his daughter, "that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not possessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure appeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to believe that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee. I feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more durable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to be in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to my grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was soon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed my hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet, precisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I had forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein we had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which afforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant attention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer doubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself for entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous Monster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in my distress, I had mentally lavished upon him. "Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented myself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent them, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards pretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various ways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I have slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had subjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for. Ostentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the envious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very wealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am about to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides me. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought to me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their establishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy presents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it, we two will live together independently of them." Beauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he gave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his offers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact that she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to learn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining years, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of a duty which he acknowledged indispensable. Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step. "Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be happy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but these dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed to chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy repugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions." Beauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to marry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he was gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. "How can I determine," replied she to her father, "to take a husband with whom I can have no sympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms of his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and relieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being sometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions respecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night, Beauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred times a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would rather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow, disgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except the consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and presenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that enough to inspire one with affection?" The father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but observing so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be as stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good taste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to his thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the consideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined to listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance thrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these two admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself was fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between them. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned her not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable. It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the power to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, invited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her father once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire to rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her with the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved Unknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened pulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that pleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her the scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear Unknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she so ardently desired. She awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids fluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet thoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in the arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast, and the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this weariness. Her father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his country house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his daughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained for him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle who visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter had returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and were each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty. The peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take possession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster had combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than she was when her father first parted from her. She was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters, without condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest pretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her charms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible to the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing that could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous objects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she could not escape the jealousy of her sisters. The inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented every day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their court to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games which took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling to refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so flattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to the victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple guerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their turn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets, presents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she would not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her by the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her sisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant. Bestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure of giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well as the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought only to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more precious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped upon them by the others. The amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly inferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained her sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At the same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she tenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in a hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when she slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest language; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers of her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing illusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference between their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of her charming Unknown. Their assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference; but Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were obstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to her the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make them clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she endeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She told him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at the marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister, and that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately. Beauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any charms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing, in short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her object, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had the mortification to find equally infatuated. To complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a rival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and whilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be the cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on fighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to determine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated. Her father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave of her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could extort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as she could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she determined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when night arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and her gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the Beast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full of brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued horrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his assistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the ground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death, and having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She then saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who said to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she hesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her word to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time had expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast; that the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred of her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of the Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified by this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast, awoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she could no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various effects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that they would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair, swore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest ornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her departure, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting to possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her that if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done, they should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with their feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time been on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought only of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she was under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent to her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason. All of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at her father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first conveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back again, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it. Her sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a sentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's departure, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to delay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty called her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the existence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her family, and of all those who were interested in her destiny. She assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her departure, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the next morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would be fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted Palace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She slept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber, striking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to rise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager to serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her return, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence. The day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that Palace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her impatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could to him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by another desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet conversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived of during the two months she had passed with her family, and which she could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the Unknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections. One moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a lover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the next she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had no existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought to prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection of the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was invariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared it was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and destroyed by light of day. Thus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the Beast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment, she went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor. Shutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the Opera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally unable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness, wit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to entertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the parrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient for the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected to hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the appearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she tried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and fear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended into the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had found the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She called him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three hours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon a garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned the place. [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.] She saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving it. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as they had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even to discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for not having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his death (for she feared

sighing

How many times the word 'sighing' appears in the text?

you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart." "No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour." While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your apartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like for yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For your journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of your family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you are in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with a firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast again.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your father early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty." As soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all the treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to be full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these preparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so soon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon her towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in her dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a bed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched at seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate his profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her lover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, "Can you ask me such a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure dooms me to death?" "Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown," replied she, "my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my family respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return immediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah! could I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have pledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep it; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer my departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I am sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not part. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you, and I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve." "I cannot accede to your wishes," replied the Unknown, "unless you determine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me to quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace have no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond the knowledge that you have grieved the Beast." "You do not consider," rejoined Beauty, quickly, "that he assured me he should die if I broke my word to him." "What matters it to you?" retorted the lover; "is it to be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the life of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a loser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be the horror of all nature?" "Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude." The Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the Monster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of them must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? "I love you only," she replied; "but extreme as is my affection for you, it cannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed in so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of such a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why indulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea freezes my blood. Let us change the conversation." She set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could say, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid customs of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She acknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have shrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of long duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in his promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the sound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains precipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a strange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as that in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise hastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally strange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it the four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of herself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the Beast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms round his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters. They stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family embraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her sisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy was not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man desired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the circumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the state of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for herself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had left the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without the least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could best manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and wished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little cabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that he had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting at his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed had run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble of hiding his treasures. "I assure thee," said the old man to his daughter, "that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not possessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure appeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to believe that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee. I feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more durable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to be in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to my grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was soon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed my hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet, precisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I had forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein we had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which afforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant attention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer doubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself for entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous Monster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in my distress, I had mentally lavished upon him. "Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented myself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent them, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards pretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various ways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I have slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had subjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for. Ostentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the envious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very wealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am about to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides me. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought to me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their establishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy presents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it, we two will live together independently of them." Beauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he gave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his offers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact that she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to learn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining years, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of a duty which he acknowledged indispensable. Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step. "Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be happy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but these dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed to chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy repugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions." Beauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to marry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he was gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. "How can I determine," replied she to her father, "to take a husband with whom I can have no sympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms of his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and relieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being sometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions respecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night, Beauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred times a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would rather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow, disgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except the consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and presenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that enough to inspire one with affection?" The father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but observing so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be as stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good taste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to his thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the consideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined to listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance thrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these two admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself was fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between them. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned her not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable. It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the power to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, invited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her father once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire to rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her with the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved Unknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened pulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that pleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her the scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear Unknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she so ardently desired. She awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids fluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet thoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in the arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast, and the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this weariness. Her father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his country house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his daughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained for him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle who visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter had returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and were each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty. The peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take possession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster had combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than she was when her father first parted from her. She was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters, without condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest pretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her charms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible to the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing that could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous objects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she could not escape the jealousy of her sisters. The inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented every day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their court to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games which took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling to refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so flattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to the victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple guerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their turn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets, presents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she would not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her by the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her sisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant. Bestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure of giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well as the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought only to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more precious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped upon them by the others. The amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly inferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained her sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At the same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she tenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in a hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when she slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest language; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers of her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing illusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference between their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of her charming Unknown. Their assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference; but Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were obstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to her the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make them clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she endeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She told him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at the marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister, and that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately. Beauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any charms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing, in short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her object, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had the mortification to find equally infatuated. To complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a rival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and whilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be the cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on fighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to determine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated. Her father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave of her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could extort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as she could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she determined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when night arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and her gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the Beast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full of brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued horrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his assistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the ground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death, and having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She then saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who said to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she hesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her word to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time had expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast; that the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred of her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of the Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified by this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast, awoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she could no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various effects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that they would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair, swore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest ornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her departure, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting to possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her that if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done, they should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with their feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time been on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought only of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she was under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent to her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason. All of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at her father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first conveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back again, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it. Her sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a sentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's departure, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to delay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty called her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the existence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her family, and of all those who were interested in her destiny. She assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her departure, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the next morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would be fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted Palace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She slept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber, striking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to rise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager to serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her return, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence. The day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that Palace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her impatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could to him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by another desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet conversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived of during the two months she had passed with her family, and which she could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the Unknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections. One moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a lover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the next she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had no existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought to prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection of the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was invariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared it was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and destroyed by light of day. Thus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the Beast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment, she went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor. Shutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the Opera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally unable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness, wit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to entertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the parrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient for the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected to hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the appearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she tried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and fear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended into the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had found the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She called him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three hours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon a garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned the place. [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.] She saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving it. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as they had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even to discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for not having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his death (for she feared

drillbit

How many times the word 'drillbit' appears in the text?

you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart." "No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour." While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your apartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like for yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For your journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of your family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you are in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with a firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast again.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your father early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty." As soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all the treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to be full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these preparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so soon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon her towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in her dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a bed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched at seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate his profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her lover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, "Can you ask me such a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure dooms me to death?" "Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown," replied she, "my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my family respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return immediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah! could I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have pledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep it; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer my departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I am sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not part. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you, and I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve." "I cannot accede to your wishes," replied the Unknown, "unless you determine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me to quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace have no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond the knowledge that you have grieved the Beast." "You do not consider," rejoined Beauty, quickly, "that he assured me he should die if I broke my word to him." "What matters it to you?" retorted the lover; "is it to be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the life of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a loser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be the horror of all nature?" "Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude." The Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the Monster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of them must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? "I love you only," she replied; "but extreme as is my affection for you, it cannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed in so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of such a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why indulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea freezes my blood. Let us change the conversation." She set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could say, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid customs of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She acknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have shrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of long duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in his promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the sound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains precipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a strange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as that in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise hastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally strange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it the four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of herself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the Beast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms round his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters. They stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family embraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her sisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy was not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man desired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the circumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the state of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for herself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had left the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without the least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could best manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and wished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little cabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that he had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting at his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed had run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble of hiding his treasures. "I assure thee," said the old man to his daughter, "that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not possessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure appeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to believe that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee. I feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more durable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to be in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to my grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was soon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed my hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet, precisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I had forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein we had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which afforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant attention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer doubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself for entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous Monster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in my distress, I had mentally lavished upon him. "Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented myself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent them, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards pretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various ways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I have slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had subjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for. Ostentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the envious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very wealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am about to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides me. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought to me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their establishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy presents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it, we two will live together independently of them." Beauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he gave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his offers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact that she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to learn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining years, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of a duty which he acknowledged indispensable. Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step. "Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be happy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but these dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed to chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy repugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions." Beauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to marry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he was gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. "How can I determine," replied she to her father, "to take a husband with whom I can have no sympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms of his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and relieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being sometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions respecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night, Beauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred times a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would rather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow, disgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except the consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and presenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that enough to inspire one with affection?" The father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but observing so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be as stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good taste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to his thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the consideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined to listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance thrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these two admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself was fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between them. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned her not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable. It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the power to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, invited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her father once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire to rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her with the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved Unknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened pulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that pleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her the scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear Unknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she so ardently desired. She awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids fluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet thoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in the arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast, and the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this weariness. Her father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his country house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his daughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained for him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle who visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter had returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and were each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty. The peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take possession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster had combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than she was when her father first parted from her. She was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters, without condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest pretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her charms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible to the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing that could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous objects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she could not escape the jealousy of her sisters. The inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented every day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their court to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games which took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling to refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so flattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to the victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple guerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their turn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets, presents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she would not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her by the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her sisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant. Bestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure of giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well as the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought only to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more precious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped upon them by the others. The amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly inferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained her sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At the same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she tenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in a hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when she slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest language; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers of her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing illusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference between their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of her charming Unknown. Their assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference; but Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were obstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to her the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make them clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she endeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She told him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at the marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister, and that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately. Beauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any charms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing, in short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her object, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had the mortification to find equally infatuated. To complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a rival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and whilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be the cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on fighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to determine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated. Her father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave of her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could extort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as she could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she determined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when night arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and her gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the Beast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full of brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued horrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his assistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the ground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death, and having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She then saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who said to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she hesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her word to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time had expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast; that the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred of her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of the Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified by this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast, awoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she could no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various effects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that they would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair, swore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest ornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her departure, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting to possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her that if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done, they should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with their feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time been on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought only of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she was under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent to her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason. All of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at her father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first conveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back again, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it. Her sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a sentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's departure, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to delay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty called her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the existence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her family, and of all those who were interested in her destiny. She assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her departure, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the next morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would be fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted Palace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She slept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber, striking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to rise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager to serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her return, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence. The day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that Palace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her impatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could to him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by another desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet conversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived of during the two months she had passed with her family, and which she could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the Unknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections. One moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a lover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the next she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had no existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought to prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection of the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was invariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared it was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and destroyed by light of day. Thus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the Beast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment, she went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor. Shutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the Opera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally unable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness, wit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to entertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the parrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient for the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected to hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the appearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she tried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and fear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended into the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had found the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She called him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three hours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon a garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned the place. [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.] She saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving it. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as they had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even to discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for not having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his death (for she feared

aware

How many times the word 'aware' appears in the text?

you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart." "No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour." While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your apartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like for yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For your journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of your family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you are in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with a firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast again.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your father early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty." As soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all the treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to be full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these preparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so soon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon her towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in her dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a bed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched at seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate his profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her lover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, "Can you ask me such a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure dooms me to death?" "Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown," replied she, "my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my family respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return immediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah! could I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have pledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep it; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer my departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I am sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not part. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you, and I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve." "I cannot accede to your wishes," replied the Unknown, "unless you determine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me to quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace have no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond the knowledge that you have grieved the Beast." "You do not consider," rejoined Beauty, quickly, "that he assured me he should die if I broke my word to him." "What matters it to you?" retorted the lover; "is it to be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the life of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a loser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be the horror of all nature?" "Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude." The Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the Monster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of them must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? "I love you only," she replied; "but extreme as is my affection for you, it cannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed in so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of such a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why indulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea freezes my blood. Let us change the conversation." She set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could say, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid customs of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She acknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have shrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of long duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in his promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the sound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains precipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a strange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as that in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise hastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally strange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it the four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of herself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the Beast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms round his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters. They stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family embraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her sisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy was not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man desired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the circumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the state of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for herself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had left the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without the least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could best manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and wished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little cabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that he had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting at his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed had run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble of hiding his treasures. "I assure thee," said the old man to his daughter, "that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not possessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure appeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to believe that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee. I feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more durable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to be in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to my grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was soon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed my hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet, precisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I had forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein we had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which afforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant attention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer doubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself for entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous Monster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in my distress, I had mentally lavished upon him. "Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented myself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent them, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards pretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various ways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I have slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had subjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for. Ostentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the envious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very wealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am about to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides me. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought to me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their establishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy presents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it, we two will live together independently of them." Beauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he gave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his offers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact that she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to learn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining years, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of a duty which he acknowledged indispensable. Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step. "Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be happy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but these dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed to chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy repugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions." Beauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to marry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he was gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. "How can I determine," replied she to her father, "to take a husband with whom I can have no sympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms of his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and relieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being sometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions respecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night, Beauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred times a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would rather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow, disgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except the consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and presenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that enough to inspire one with affection?" The father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but observing so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be as stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good taste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to his thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the consideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined to listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance thrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these two admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself was fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between them. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned her not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable. It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the power to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, invited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her father once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire to rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her with the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved Unknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened pulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that pleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her the scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear Unknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she so ardently desired. She awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids fluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet thoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in the arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast, and the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this weariness. Her father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his country house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his daughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained for him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle who visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter had returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and were each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty. The peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take possession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster had combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than she was when her father first parted from her. She was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters, without condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest pretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her charms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible to the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing that could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous objects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she could not escape the jealousy of her sisters. The inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented every day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their court to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games which took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling to refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so flattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to the victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple guerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their turn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets, presents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she would not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her by the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her sisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant. Bestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure of giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well as the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought only to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more precious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped upon them by the others. The amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly inferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained her sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At the same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she tenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in a hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when she slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest language; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers of her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing illusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference between their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of her charming Unknown. Their assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference; but Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were obstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to her the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make them clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she endeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She told him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at the marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister, and that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately. Beauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any charms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing, in short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her object, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had the mortification to find equally infatuated. To complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a rival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and whilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be the cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on fighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to determine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated. Her father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave of her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could extort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as she could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she determined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when night arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and her gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the Beast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full of brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued horrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his assistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the ground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death, and having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She then saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who said to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she hesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her word to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time had expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast; that the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred of her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of the Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified by this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast, awoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she could no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various effects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that they would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair, swore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest ornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her departure, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting to possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her that if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done, they should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with their feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time been on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought only of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she was under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent to her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason. All of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at her father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first conveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back again, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it. Her sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a sentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's departure, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to delay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty called her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the existence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her family, and of all those who were interested in her destiny. She assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her departure, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the next morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would be fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted Palace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She slept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber, striking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to rise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager to serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her return, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence. The day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that Palace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her impatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could to him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by another desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet conversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived of during the two months she had passed with her family, and which she could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the Unknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections. One moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a lover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the next she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had no existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought to prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection of the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was invariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared it was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and destroyed by light of day. Thus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the Beast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment, she went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor. Shutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the Opera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally unable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness, wit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to entertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the parrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient for the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected to hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the appearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she tried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and fear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended into the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had found the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She called him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three hours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon a garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned the place. [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.] She saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving it. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as they had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even to discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for not having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his death (for she feared

tossing

How many times the word 'tossing' appears in the text?

you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart." "No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour." While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your apartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like for yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For your journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of your family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you are in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with a firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast again.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your father early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty." As soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all the treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to be full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these preparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so soon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon her towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in her dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a bed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched at seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate his profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her lover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, "Can you ask me such a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure dooms me to death?" "Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown," replied she, "my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my family respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return immediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah! could I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have pledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep it; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer my departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I am sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not part. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you, and I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve." "I cannot accede to your wishes," replied the Unknown, "unless you determine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me to quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace have no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond the knowledge that you have grieved the Beast." "You do not consider," rejoined Beauty, quickly, "that he assured me he should die if I broke my word to him." "What matters it to you?" retorted the lover; "is it to be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the life of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a loser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be the horror of all nature?" "Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude." The Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the Monster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of them must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? "I love you only," she replied; "but extreme as is my affection for you, it cannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed in so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of such a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why indulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea freezes my blood. Let us change the conversation." She set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could say, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid customs of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She acknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have shrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of long duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in his promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the sound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains precipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a strange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as that in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise hastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally strange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it the four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of herself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the Beast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms round his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters. They stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family embraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her sisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy was not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man desired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the circumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the state of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for herself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had left the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without the least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could best manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and wished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little cabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that he had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting at his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed had run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble of hiding his treasures. "I assure thee," said the old man to his daughter, "that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not possessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure appeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to believe that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee. I feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more durable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to be in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to my grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was soon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed my hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet, precisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I had forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein we had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which afforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant attention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer doubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself for entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous Monster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in my distress, I had mentally lavished upon him. "Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented myself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent them, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards pretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various ways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I have slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had subjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for. Ostentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the envious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very wealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am about to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides me. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought to me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their establishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy presents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it, we two will live together independently of them." Beauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he gave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his offers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact that she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to learn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining years, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of a duty which he acknowledged indispensable. Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step. "Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be happy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but these dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed to chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy repugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions." Beauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to marry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he was gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. "How can I determine," replied she to her father, "to take a husband with whom I can have no sympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms of his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and relieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being sometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions respecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night, Beauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred times a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would rather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow, disgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except the consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and presenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that enough to inspire one with affection?" The father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but observing so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be as stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good taste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to his thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the consideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined to listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance thrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these two admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself was fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between them. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned her not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable. It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the power to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, invited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her father once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire to rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her with the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved Unknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened pulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that pleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her the scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear Unknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she so ardently desired. She awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids fluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet thoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in the arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast, and the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this weariness. Her father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his country house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his daughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained for him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle who visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter had returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and were each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty. The peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take possession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster had combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than she was when her father first parted from her. She was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters, without condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest pretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her charms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible to the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing that could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous objects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she could not escape the jealousy of her sisters. The inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented every day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their court to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games which took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling to refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so flattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to the victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple guerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their turn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets, presents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she would not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her by the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her sisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant. Bestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure of giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well as the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought only to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more precious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped upon them by the others. The amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly inferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained her sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At the same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she tenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in a hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when she slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest language; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers of her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing illusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference between their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of her charming Unknown. Their assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference; but Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were obstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to her the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make them clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she endeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She told him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at the marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister, and that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately. Beauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any charms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing, in short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her object, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had the mortification to find equally infatuated. To complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a rival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and whilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be the cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on fighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to determine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated. Her father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave of her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could extort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as she could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she determined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when night arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and her gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the Beast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full of brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued horrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his assistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the ground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death, and having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She then saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who said to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she hesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her word to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time had expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast; that the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred of her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of the Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified by this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast, awoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she could no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various effects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that they would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair, swore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest ornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her departure, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting to possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her that if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done, they should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with their feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time been on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought only of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she was under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent to her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason. All of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at her father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first conveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back again, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it. Her sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a sentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's departure, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to delay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty called her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the existence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her family, and of all those who were interested in her destiny. She assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her departure, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the next morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would be fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted Palace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She slept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber, striking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to rise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager to serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her return, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence. The day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that Palace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her impatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could to him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by another desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet conversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived of during the two months she had passed with her family, and which she could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the Unknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections. One moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a lover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the next she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had no existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought to prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection of the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was invariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared it was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and destroyed by light of day. Thus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the Beast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment, she went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor. Shutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the Opera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally unable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness, wit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to entertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the parrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient for the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected to hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the appearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she tried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and fear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended into the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had found the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She called him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three hours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon a garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned the place. [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.] She saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving it. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as they had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even to discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for not having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his death (for she feared

enough

How many times the word 'enough' appears in the text?

you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart." "No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour." While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your apartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like for yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For your journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of your family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you are in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with a firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast again.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your father early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty." As soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all the treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to be full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these preparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so soon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon her towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in her dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a bed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched at seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate his profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her lover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, "Can you ask me such a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure dooms me to death?" "Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown," replied she, "my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my family respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return immediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah! could I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have pledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep it; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer my departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I am sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not part. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you, and I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve." "I cannot accede to your wishes," replied the Unknown, "unless you determine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me to quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace have no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond the knowledge that you have grieved the Beast." "You do not consider," rejoined Beauty, quickly, "that he assured me he should die if I broke my word to him." "What matters it to you?" retorted the lover; "is it to be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the life of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a loser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be the horror of all nature?" "Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude." The Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the Monster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of them must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? "I love you only," she replied; "but extreme as is my affection for you, it cannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed in so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of such a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why indulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea freezes my blood. Let us change the conversation." She set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could say, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid customs of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She acknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have shrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of long duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in his promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the sound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains precipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a strange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as that in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise hastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally strange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it the four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of herself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the Beast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms round his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters. They stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family embraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her sisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy was not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man desired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the circumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the state of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for herself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had left the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without the least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could best manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and wished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little cabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that he had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting at his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed had run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble of hiding his treasures. "I assure thee," said the old man to his daughter, "that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not possessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure appeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to believe that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee. I feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more durable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to be in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to my grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was soon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed my hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet, precisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I had forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein we had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which afforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant attention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer doubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself for entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous Monster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in my distress, I had mentally lavished upon him. "Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented myself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent them, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards pretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various ways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I have slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had subjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for. Ostentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the envious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very wealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am about to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides me. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought to me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their establishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy presents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it, we two will live together independently of them." Beauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he gave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his offers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact that she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to learn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining years, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of a duty which he acknowledged indispensable. Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step. "Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be happy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but these dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed to chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy repugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions." Beauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to marry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he was gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. "How can I determine," replied she to her father, "to take a husband with whom I can have no sympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms of his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and relieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being sometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions respecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night, Beauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred times a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would rather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow, disgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except the consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and presenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that enough to inspire one with affection?" The father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but observing so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be as stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good taste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to his thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the consideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined to listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance thrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these two admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself was fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between them. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned her not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable. It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the power to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, invited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her father once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire to rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her with the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved Unknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened pulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that pleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her the scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear Unknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she so ardently desired. She awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids fluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet thoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in the arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast, and the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this weariness. Her father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his country house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his daughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained for him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle who visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter had returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and were each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty. The peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take possession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster had combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than she was when her father first parted from her. She was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters, without condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest pretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her charms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible to the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing that could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous objects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she could not escape the jealousy of her sisters. The inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented every day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their court to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games which took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling to refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so flattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to the victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple guerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their turn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets, presents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she would not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her by the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her sisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant. Bestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure of giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well as the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought only to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more precious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped upon them by the others. The amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly inferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained her sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At the same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she tenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in a hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when she slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest language; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers of her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing illusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference between their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of her charming Unknown. Their assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference; but Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were obstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to her the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make them clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she endeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She told him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at the marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister, and that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately. Beauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any charms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing, in short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her object, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had the mortification to find equally infatuated. To complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a rival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and whilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be the cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on fighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to determine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated. Her father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave of her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could extort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as she could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she determined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when night arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and her gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the Beast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full of brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued horrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his assistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the ground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death, and having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She then saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who said to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she hesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her word to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time had expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast; that the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred of her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of the Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified by this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast, awoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she could no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various effects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that they would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair, swore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest ornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her departure, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting to possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her that if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done, they should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with their feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time been on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought only of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she was under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent to her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason. All of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at her father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first conveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back again, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it. Her sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a sentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's departure, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to delay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty called her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the existence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her family, and of all those who were interested in her destiny. She assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her departure, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the next morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would be fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted Palace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She slept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber, striking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to rise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager to serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her return, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence. The day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that Palace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her impatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could to him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by another desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet conversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived of during the two months she had passed with her family, and which she could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the Unknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections. One moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a lover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the next she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had no existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought to prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection of the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was invariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared it was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and destroyed by light of day. Thus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the Beast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment, she went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor. Shutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the Opera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally unable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness, wit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to entertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the parrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient for the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected to hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the appearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she tried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and fear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended into the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had found the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She called him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three hours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon a garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned the place. [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.] She saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving it. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as they had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even to discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for not having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his death (for she feared

curtains

How many times the word 'curtains' appears in the text?

you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart." "No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour." While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your apartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like for yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For your journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of your family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you are in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with a firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast again.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your father early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty." As soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all the treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to be full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these preparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so soon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon her towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in her dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a bed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched at seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate his profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her lover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, "Can you ask me such a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure dooms me to death?" "Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown," replied she, "my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my family respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return immediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah! could I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have pledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep it; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer my departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I am sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not part. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you, and I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve." "I cannot accede to your wishes," replied the Unknown, "unless you determine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me to quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace have no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond the knowledge that you have grieved the Beast." "You do not consider," rejoined Beauty, quickly, "that he assured me he should die if I broke my word to him." "What matters it to you?" retorted the lover; "is it to be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the life of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a loser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be the horror of all nature?" "Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude." The Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the Monster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of them must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? "I love you only," she replied; "but extreme as is my affection for you, it cannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed in so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of such a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why indulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea freezes my blood. Let us change the conversation." She set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could say, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid customs of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She acknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have shrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of long duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in his promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the sound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains precipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a strange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as that in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise hastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally strange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it the four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of herself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the Beast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms round his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters. They stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family embraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her sisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy was not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man desired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the circumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the state of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for herself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had left the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without the least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could best manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and wished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little cabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that he had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting at his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed had run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble of hiding his treasures. "I assure thee," said the old man to his daughter, "that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not possessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure appeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to believe that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee. I feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more durable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to be in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to my grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was soon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed my hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet, precisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I had forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein we had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which afforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant attention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer doubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself for entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous Monster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in my distress, I had mentally lavished upon him. "Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented myself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent them, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards pretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various ways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I have slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had subjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for. Ostentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the envious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very wealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am about to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides me. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought to me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their establishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy presents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it, we two will live together independently of them." Beauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he gave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his offers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact that she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to learn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining years, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of a duty which he acknowledged indispensable. Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step. "Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be happy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but these dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed to chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy repugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions." Beauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to marry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he was gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. "How can I determine," replied she to her father, "to take a husband with whom I can have no sympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms of his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and relieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being sometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions respecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night, Beauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred times a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would rather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow, disgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except the consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and presenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that enough to inspire one with affection?" The father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but observing so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be as stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good taste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to his thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the consideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined to listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance thrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these two admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself was fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between them. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned her not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable. It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the power to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, invited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her father once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire to rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her with the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved Unknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened pulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that pleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her the scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear Unknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she so ardently desired. She awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids fluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet thoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in the arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast, and the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this weariness. Her father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his country house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his daughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained for him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle who visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter had returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and were each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty. The peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take possession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster had combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than she was when her father first parted from her. She was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters, without condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest pretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her charms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible to the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing that could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous objects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she could not escape the jealousy of her sisters. The inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented every day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their court to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games which took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling to refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so flattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to the victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple guerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their turn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets, presents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she would not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her by the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her sisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant. Bestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure of giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well as the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought only to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more precious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped upon them by the others. The amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly inferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained her sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At the same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she tenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in a hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when she slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest language; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers of her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing illusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference between their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of her charming Unknown. Their assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference; but Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were obstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to her the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make them clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she endeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She told him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at the marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister, and that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately. Beauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any charms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing, in short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her object, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had the mortification to find equally infatuated. To complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a rival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and whilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be the cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on fighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to determine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated. Her father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave of her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could extort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as she could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she determined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when night arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and her gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the Beast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full of brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued horrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his assistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the ground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death, and having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She then saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who said to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she hesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her word to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time had expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast; that the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred of her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of the Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified by this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast, awoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she could no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various effects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that they would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair, swore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest ornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her departure, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting to possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her that if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done, they should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with their feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time been on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought only of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she was under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent to her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason. All of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at her father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first conveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back again, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it. Her sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a sentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's departure, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to delay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty called her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the existence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her family, and of all those who were interested in her destiny. She assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her departure, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the next morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would be fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted Palace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She slept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber, striking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to rise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager to serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her return, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence. The day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that Palace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her impatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could to him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by another desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet conversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived of during the two months she had passed with her family, and which she could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the Unknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections. One moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a lover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the next she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had no existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought to prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection of the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was invariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared it was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and destroyed by light of day. Thus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the Beast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment, she went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor. Shutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the Opera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally unable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness, wit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to entertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the parrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient for the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected to hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the appearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she tried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and fear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended into the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had found the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She called him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three hours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon a garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned the place. [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.] She saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving it. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as they had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even to discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for not having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his death (for she feared

than

How many times the word 'than' appears in the text?

you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart." "No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour." While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your apartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like for yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For your journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of your family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you are in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with a firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast again.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your father early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty." As soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all the treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to be full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these preparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so soon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon her towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in her dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a bed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched at seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate his profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her lover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, "Can you ask me such a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure dooms me to death?" "Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown," replied she, "my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my family respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return immediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah! could I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have pledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep it; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer my departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I am sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not part. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you, and I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve." "I cannot accede to your wishes," replied the Unknown, "unless you determine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me to quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace have no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond the knowledge that you have grieved the Beast." "You do not consider," rejoined Beauty, quickly, "that he assured me he should die if I broke my word to him." "What matters it to you?" retorted the lover; "is it to be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the life of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a loser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be the horror of all nature?" "Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude." The Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the Monster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of them must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? "I love you only," she replied; "but extreme as is my affection for you, it cannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed in so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of such a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why indulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea freezes my blood. Let us change the conversation." She set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could say, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid customs of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She acknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have shrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of long duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in his promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the sound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains precipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a strange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as that in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise hastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally strange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it the four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of herself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the Beast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms round his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters. They stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family embraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her sisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy was not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man desired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the circumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the state of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for herself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had left the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without the least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could best manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and wished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little cabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that he had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting at his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed had run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble of hiding his treasures. "I assure thee," said the old man to his daughter, "that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not possessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure appeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to believe that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee. I feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more durable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to be in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to my grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was soon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed my hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet, precisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I had forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein we had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which afforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant attention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer doubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself for entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous Monster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in my distress, I had mentally lavished upon him. "Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented myself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent them, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards pretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various ways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I have slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had subjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for. Ostentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the envious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very wealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am about to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides me. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought to me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their establishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy presents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it, we two will live together independently of them." Beauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he gave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his offers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact that she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to learn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining years, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of a duty which he acknowledged indispensable. Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step. "Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be happy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but these dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed to chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy repugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions." Beauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to marry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he was gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. "How can I determine," replied she to her father, "to take a husband with whom I can have no sympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms of his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and relieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being sometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions respecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night, Beauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred times a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would rather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow, disgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except the consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and presenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that enough to inspire one with affection?" The father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but observing so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be as stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good taste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to his thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the consideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined to listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance thrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these two admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself was fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between them. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned her not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable. It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the power to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, invited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her father once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire to rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her with the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved Unknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened pulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that pleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her the scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear Unknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she so ardently desired. She awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids fluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet thoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in the arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast, and the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this weariness. Her father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his country house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his daughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained for him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle who visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter had returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and were each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty. The peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take possession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster had combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than she was when her father first parted from her. She was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters, without condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest pretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her charms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible to the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing that could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous objects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she could not escape the jealousy of her sisters. The inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented every day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their court to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games which took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling to refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so flattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to the victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple guerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their turn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets, presents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she would not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her by the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her sisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant. Bestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure of giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well as the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought only to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more precious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped upon them by the others. The amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly inferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained her sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At the same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she tenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in a hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when she slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest language; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers of her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing illusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference between their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of her charming Unknown. Their assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference; but Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were obstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to her the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make them clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she endeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She told him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at the marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister, and that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately. Beauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any charms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing, in short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her object, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had the mortification to find equally infatuated. To complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a rival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and whilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be the cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on fighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to determine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated. Her father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave of her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could extort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as she could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she determined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when night arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and her gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the Beast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full of brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued horrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his assistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the ground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death, and having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She then saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who said to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she hesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her word to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time had expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast; that the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred of her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of the Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified by this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast, awoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she could no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various effects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that they would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair, swore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest ornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her departure, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting to possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her that if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done, they should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with their feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time been on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought only of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she was under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent to her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason. All of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at her father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first conveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back again, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it. Her sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a sentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's departure, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to delay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty called her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the existence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her family, and of all those who were interested in her destiny. She assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her departure, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the next morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would be fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted Palace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She slept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber, striking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to rise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager to serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her return, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence. The day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that Palace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her impatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could to him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by another desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet conversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived of during the two months she had passed with her family, and which she could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the Unknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections. One moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a lover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the next she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had no existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought to prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection of the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was invariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared it was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and destroyed by light of day. Thus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the Beast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment, she went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor. Shutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the Opera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally unable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness, wit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to entertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the parrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient for the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected to hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the appearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she tried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and fear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended into the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had found the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She called him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three hours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon a garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned the place. [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.] She saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving it. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as they had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even to discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for not having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his death (for she feared

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you are, you prefer the house of your father and the jealousy of your sisters to my palace and my affections. You would rather tend the flocks with them than enjoy with me all the pleasures of existence. It is not love for your family, but antipathy to me, that makes you anxious to depart." "No, Beast," replied Beauty, timidly and soothingly; "I do not hate you, and should regret to lose the hope of seeing you again; but I cannot overcome the desire I feel to embrace my relations. Permit me to go away for two months, and I promise you that I will return with pleasure to pass the rest of my days with you, and never ask you another favour." While she spoke the Beast stretched on the ground, his head thrown back, only evinced that he still breathed by his sorrowful sighs. He answered her in these words: "I can refuse you nothing; but it will perhaps cost me my life. No matter. In the cabinet nearest to your apartment you will find four chests. Fill them with anything you like for yourself or for your family. If you break your word you will repent it, and regret the death of your poor Beast when it will be too late. Return at the end of two months, and you will still see me alive. For your journey back to me you will need no equipage. Merely take leave of your family the previous night before you retire to rest, and when you are in bed turn your ring, the stone inside your hand, and say, with a firm voice, 'I desire to return to my palace, and behold my Beast again.' Good-night; fear nothing; sleep in peace. You will see your father early to-morrow morning. Adieu, Beauty." As soon as she was alone she hastened to fill the chests with all the treasures and beautiful things imaginable. They only appeared to be full when she was tired of putting things into them. After these preparations, she went to bed. The thoughts of seeing her family so soon kept her awake great part of the night, and sleep only stole upon her towards the hour when she should have been stirring. She saw in her dreams her amiable Unknown, but not as formerly. Stretched upon a bed of turf, he appeared a prey to the keenest sorrow. Beauty, touched at seeing him in such a state, flattered herself she could alleviate his profound affliction by requesting to know the cause of it; but her lover, casting on her a look full of despair, said, "Can you ask me such a question, inhuman girl? Are you not aware that your departure dooms me to death?" "Abandon not yourself to sorrow, dear Unknown," replied she, "my absence will be brief. I wish but to undeceive my family respecting the cruel fate they imagine has befallen me. I return immediately afterwards to this palace. I shall leave you no more. Ah! could I abandon a residence in which I so delight! Besides, I have pledged my word to the Beast, that I will return. I cannot fail to keep it; and why must this journey separate us? Be my escort. I will defer my departure another day, in order to obtain the Beast's permission. I am sure he will not refuse me. Agree to my proposal, and we shall not part. We will return together; my family will be delighted to see you, and I will answer for their showing you all the attention you deserve." "I cannot accede to your wishes," replied the Unknown, "unless you determine never to return hither. It is the only means of enabling me to quit this spot. How will you decide? The inhabitants of this palace have no power to compel you to return. Nothing can happen to you beyond the knowledge that you have grieved the Beast." "You do not consider," rejoined Beauty, quickly, "that he assured me he should die if I broke my word to him." "What matters it to you?" retorted the lover; "is it to be counted a misfortune that your happiness should cost only the life of a monster? Of what use is he to the world? Will any one be a loser by the destruction of a being who appears upon earth only to be the horror of all nature?" "Ha!" exclaimed Beauty, almost angrily, "know that I would lay down my life to save his, and that this Monster, who is only one in form, has a heart so humane, that he should not be persecuted for a deformity which he refrains from rendering more hideous by his actions. I will not repay his kindness with such black ingratitude." The Unknown, interrupting her, inquired what she would do if the Monster endeavoured to kill him; and, if it were decreed that one of them must slay the other, to which would she afford assistance? "I love you only," she replied; "but extreme as is my affection for you, it cannot weaken my gratitude to the Beast, and if I found myself placed in so fatal a position, I would escape the misery which the result of such a combat would inflict on me, by dying by my own hand. But why indulge in such dreadful suppositions? However chimerical, the idea freezes my blood. Let us change the conversation." She set him the example, by saying all that an affectionate girl could say, most flattering to her lover. She was not restrained by the rigid customs of society, and slumber left her free to act naturally. She acknowledged to him her love with a frankness which she would have shrunk from when in full possession of her reason. Her sleep was of long duration, and when she awoke she feared the Beast had failed in his promise to her. She was in this uncertainty when she heard the sound of a human voice which she recognised. Undrawing her curtains precipitately, what was her surprise when she found herself in a strange apartment, the furniture of which was not near so superb as that in the Palace of the Beast. This prodigy induced her to rise hastily, and open the door of her chamber. The next room was equally strange to her; but what astonished her still more, was to find in it the four chests she had filled the previous evening. The transport of herself and her treasures was a proof of the power and bounty of the Beast; but where was she? She could not imagine; when at length she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out, she flung her arms round his neck. Her appearance astounded her brothers and sisters. They stared at her as at one come from the other world. All her family embraced her with the greatest demonstrations of delight; but her sisters, in their hearts, were vexed at beholding her. Their jealousy was not extinguished. After many caresses on both sides, the good man desired to speak with her privately, to learn from her own lips all the circumstances of so extraordinary a journey, and to inform her of the state of his own fortune, of which he had set apart a large share for herself. He told her that on the evening of the same day that he had left the Palace of the Beast, he had reached his own house without the least fatigue. That on the road he had cogitated how he could best manage to conceal his trunks from the sight of his children, and wished that they could be carried without their knowledge into a little cabinet adjoining his bed-chamber, of which he alone had the key: that he had looked upon this as an impossibility; but that, on dismounting at his door, he found the horse on which his trunks had been placed had run away, and therefore saw himself suddenly spared the trouble of hiding his treasures. "I assure thee," said the old man to his daughter, "that the loss of these riches did not distress me. I had not possessed them long enough to regret them greatly; but the adventure appeared to me a gloomy prognostic of my fate. I did not hesitate to believe that the perfidious Beast would act in the same manner by thee. I feared that the favours he conferred upon thee would not be more durable. This idea caused me great anxiety. To conceal it, I feigned to be in need of rest,--it was only to abandon myself without restraint to my grief. I looked upon thy destruction as certain, but my sorrow was soon dissipated. The sight of the trunks I thought I had lost renewed my hopes of thy happiness. I found them placed in my little cabinet, precisely where I had wished them to be. The keys of them, which I had forgotten and left behind me on the table in the saloon wherein we had passed the night, were in the locks. This circumstance, which afforded me a new proof of the kindness of the Beast, and his constant attention, overwhelmed me with joy. It was then that, no longer doubting the advantageous result of thy adventure, I reproached myself for entertaining such unjust suspicions of the honour of that generous Monster, and craved his pardon a hundred times for the abuse which, in my distress, I had mentally lavished upon him. "Without informing my children of the extent of my wealth, I contented myself with distributing amongst them the presents thou hadst sent them, and showing them some jewels of moderate value. I afterwards pretended to have sold them, and have employed the money in various ways for the improvement of our income. I have bought this house; I have slaves, who relieve us from the labours to which necessity had subjected us. My children lead an easy life,--that is all I care for. Ostentation and luxury drew upon me, in other days, the hatred of the envious; I should incur it again did I live in the style of a very wealthy man. Many offers have been made to thy sisters, Beauty; I am about to marry them off immediately, and thy fortunate arrival decides me. Having given to them such portions of the wealth thou hast brought to me, as thou shalt think fit, and relieved of all care for their establishment, we will live, my daughter, with thy brothers, whom thy presents were not able to console for thy loss; or, if thou prefer it, we two will live together independently of them." Beauty, affected by the kindness of her father, and the assurance he gave her of the love of her brothers, thanked him tenderly for all his offers, and thought it would be wrong to conceal from him the fact that she had not come to stay with him. The good man, distressed to learn that he should not have the support of his child in his declining years, did not, however, attempt to dissuade her from the fulfilment of a duty which he acknowledged indispensable. Beauty, in her turn, related to him all that had happened to her since they parted. She described to him the pleasant life she led. The good man, enraptured at the charming account of his daughter's adventures, heaped blessings on the head of the Beast. His delight was much greater still when Beauty, opening the chests, displayed to him the immense treasures they contained, and satisfied him that he was at liberty to dispose of those which he had brought himself, in favour of his daughters, as he would possess, in these last proofs of the Beast's generosity, ample means to live merrily with his sons. Discovering in this Monster too noble a mind to be lodged in so hideous a body, he deemed it his duty to advise his daughter to marry him, notwithstanding his ugliness. He employed even the strongest arguments to induce her to take that step. "Thou shouldst not take counsel from thine eyes alone," said he to her. "Thou hast been unceasingly exhorted to let thyself be guided by gratitude. By following her inspirations thou art assured thou wilt be happy. It is true these warnings are only given thee in dreams; but these dreams are too significant and too frequent to be attributed to chance. They promise thee great advantages, enough to conquer thy repugnance. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks thee if thou wilt marry him, I advise thee not to refuse him. Thou hast admitted to me that he loves thee tenderly: take the proper means to make thy union with him indissoluble. It is much better to have an amiable husband than one whose only recommendation is a handsome person. How many girls are compelled to marry rich brutes, much more brutish than the Beast, who is only one in form, and not in his feelings or his actions." Beauty admitted the reason of all these arguments; but to resolve to marry a monster so horrible in person and who seemed as stupid as he was gigantic, appeared to her an impossibility. "How can I determine," replied she to her father, "to take a husband with whom I can have no sympathy, and whose hideousness is not compensated for by the charms of his conversation? no other object to distract my attention, and relieve that wearisome companionship; not to have the pleasure of being sometimes absent from him; to hear nothing beyond five or six questions respecting my health or my appetite, followed by a 'Good-night, Beauty,' a chorus which my parrots know by heart, and repeat a hundred times a day. It is not in my power to endure such a union, and I would rather perish at once than be dying every day of fright, sorrow, disgust, and weariness. There is nothing to plead in his favour, except the consideration he evinces in paying me very short visits, and presenting himself before me but once in four-and-twenty hours. Is that enough to inspire one with affection?" The father admitted that his daughter had reason on her side, but observing so much civility in the Beast, he could not believe him to be as stupid as she represented him. The order, the abundance, the good taste that was discernible through his palace, were not, according to his thinking, the work of a fool. In fact, he found him worthy of the consideration of his daughter, and Beauty might have felt more inclined to listen to the Monster, had not her nocturnal lover's appearance thrown an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between these two admirers could not be favourable to the Beast. The old man himself was fully aware of the great distinction which must be made between them. Notwithstanding, he tried by all manner of means to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her the advice of the lady who had warned her not to be prejudiced by appearances, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable. It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty had not the power to yield to the reiterated requests of her father. He left her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, invited her to repose, and the daughter, although delighted to see her father once more, was not sorry that he left her at liberty to retire to rest. She was glad to be alone. Her heavy eyelids inspired her with the hope that in slumber she would soon again behold her beloved Unknown. She was eager to enjoy this innocent pleasure. A quickened pulsation evinced the joy with which her gentle heart would greet that pleasant vision; but her excited imagination, while representing to her the scenes in which she had usually held sweet converse with that dear Unknown, had not sufficient power to conjure up his form to her as she so ardently desired. She awoke several times, but on falling asleep again no cupids fluttered round her couch. In a word, instead of a night full of sweet thoughts and innocent pleasures, which she had counted on passing in the arms of sleep, it was to her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. She had never known any like it in the Palace of the Beast, and the day, which she at last saw break with a mingled feeling of satisfaction and impatience, came opportunely to relieve her from this weariness. Her father, enriched by the liberality of the Beast, had quitted his country house, and in order to facilitate the establishment of his daughters, resided in a very large city, where his new fortune obtained for him new friends, or rather new acquaintances. Amidst the circle who visited him the tidings soon spread that his youngest daughter had returned. Everybody evinced an equal impatience to see her, and were each as much charmed with her intellect as with her beauty. The peaceful days she had passed in her desert palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which succeeded, so that dullness could never take possession of her spirit,--in brief, all the attentions of the Monster had combined to render her still more beautiful and more charming than she was when her father first parted from her. She was the admiration of all who saw her. The suitors to her sisters, without condescending to excuse their infidelity by the slightest pretext, fell in love with her, and attracted by the power of her charms, deserted, without a blush, their former mistresses. Insensible to the marked attentions of a crowd of adorers, she neglected nothing that could discourage them and induce them to return to the previous objects of their affection; but, notwithstanding all her care, she could not escape the jealousy of her sisters. The inconstant lovers, far from concealing their new passion, invented every day some fresh entertainment, with the view of paying their court to her. They entreated her even to bestow the prize in the games which took place in her honour; but Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and yet was unwilling to refuse utterly the favour they implored so ardently, and in so flattering a manner, found means to satisfy them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, present the prize to the victor. What she selected was a flower, or some equally simple guerdon. She left to her elder sisters the honour of giving, in their turn, jewels, crowns of diamonds, costly weapons, or superb bracelets, presents which her liberal hand supplied them with, but for which she would not take the slightest credit. The treasures lavished on her by the Monster left her in want of nothing. She divided between her sisters everything she had brought that was most rare and elegant. Bestowing nothing but trifles herself, and leaving them the pleasure of giving largely, she counted on securing for them the love as well as the gratitude of the youthful combatants. But these lovers sought only to gain her heart, and the simplest gift from her hand was more precious to them than all the treasures that were prodigally heaped upon them by the others. The amusements she partook of amongst her family, though vastly inferior to those she enjoyed in the Palace of the Beast, entertained her sufficiently to prevent the time hanging heavily on her hands. At the same time, neither the gratification of seeing her father, whom she tenderly loved, nor the pleasure of being with her brothers, who in a hundred ways studied to prove to her the extent of their affection, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, though they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her Unknown (greatly to her sorrow) came not, when she slumbered under her father's roof, to address her in the tenderest language; and the court paid to her by those who had been the admirers of her sisters, did not compensate for the loss of that pleasing illusion. Had she even been of a nature to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have distinguished an immense difference between their attentions, or those of the Beast, and the devotion of her charming Unknown. Their assiduities were received by her with the greatest indifference; but Beauty perceiving that, notwithstanding her coolness, they were obstinately bent on rivalling each other in the task of proving to her the intensity of their passion, thought it her duty to make them clearly understand they were losing their time. The first she endeavoured to undeceive was one who had courted her eldest sister. She told him that she had only returned for the purpose of being present at the marriage of her sisters, particularly that of her eldest sister, and that she was about to press her father to settle it immediately. Beauty found that she had to deal with a man who saw no longer any charms in her sister. He sighed alone for her, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the expiration of the two months--nothing, in short, could discourage him. Much vexed at having failed in her object, she held a similar conversation with the others, whom she had the mortification to find equally infatuated. To complete her distress, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her as a rival, conceived a hatred to her which they could not dissemble; and whilst Beauty was deploring the too great power of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers, believing each to be the cause of the other's rejection, were bent, in the maddest way, on fighting it out amongst themselves. All these annoyances induced her to determine upon returning sooner than she had contemplated. Her father and brothers did all they could to detain her; but the slave of her word, and firm in resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the prayers of the others could prevail upon her. All that they could extort from her was, that she would defer her departure as long as she could. The two months had nearly expired, and every morning she determined to bid adieu to her family, without having the heart when night arrived to say farewell. In the combat between her affection and her gratitude, she could not lean to the one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of her embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to decide her. She fancied she was at the Palace of the Beast, and walking in a retired avenue, terminated by a thicket full of brambles, concealing the entrance to a cavern, out of which issued horrible groans. She recognised the voice of the Beast, and ran to his assistance. The Monster, who, in her dream, appeared stretched upon the ground and dying, reproached her with being the cause of his death, and having repaid his affection with the blackest ingratitude. She then saw the lady who had before appeared to her in her sleep, and who said to her in a severe tone, that it would be her destruction if she hesitated any longer to fulfil her engagements; that she had given her word to the Beast that she would return in two months; that the time had expired; that the delay of another day would be fatal to the Beast; that the trouble she was creating in her father's house, and the hatred of her sisters, ought to increase her desire to return to the Palace of the Beast, where everything combined to delight her. Beauty, terrified by this dream, and fearing to be the cause of the death of the Beast, awoke with a start, and went immediately to inform her family that she could no longer delay her departure. This intelligence produced various effects. Her father's tears spoke for him; her brothers protested that they would not allow her to leave them; and her lovers, in despair, swore they would not suffer the house to be robbed of its brightest ornament. Her sisters alone, far from appearing distressed at her departure, were loud in praise of her sense of honour; and affecting to possess the same virtue themselves, had the audacity to assure her that if they had pledged their words to the Beast as she had done, they should not have suffered his ugliness to have interfered with their feelings of duty, and that they should have long ere that time been on their road back to the marvellous palace. It was thus they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, charmed by their apparent generosity, thought only of convincing her brothers and her lovers of the obligation she was under to leave them; but her brothers loved her too much to consent to her going, and her lovers were too infatuated to listen to reason. All of them being ignorant of the mode in which Beauty had arrived at her father's house, and never doubting but that the horse which first conveyed her to the Palace of the Beast would be sent to take her back again, resolved amongst themselves to prevent it. Her sisters, who only concealed their delight by the affectation of a sentiment of horror, as they perceived the hour approach for Beauty's departure, were frightened to death lest anything should occur to delay her; but Beauty, firm in her resolution, knowing whither duty called her, and having no more time to lose, if she would prolong the existence of the Beast, her benefactor, at nightfall took leave of her family, and of all those who were interested in her destiny. She assured them that whatever steps they took to prevent her departure, she should, nevertheless, be in the Palace of the Beast the next morning before they were stirring; that all their schemes would be fruitless; and that she had determined to return to the Enchanted Palace. She did not forget, on going to bed, to turn her ring. She slept very soundly, and did not awake until the clock in her chamber, striking noon, chimed her name to music. By that sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. As soon as she evinced a disposition to rise, her couch was surrounded by all the animals who had been so eager to serve her, and who unanimously testified their gratification at her return, and expressed the sorrow they had felt at her long absence. The day seemed to her longer than any she had previously passed in that Palace, not so much from regret for those she had quitted as from her impatience again to behold the Beast, and to say everything she could to him in the way of excuse for her conduct. She was also animated by another desire,--that of again holding in slumber one of those sweet conversations with her dear Unknown, a pleasure she had been deprived of during the two months she had passed with her family, and which she could not enjoy anywhere but in that Palace. The Beast and the Unknown were, in short, alternately the subjects of her reflections. One moment she reproached herself for not returning the affection of a lover who, under the form of a monster, displayed so noble a mind; the next she deplored having set her heart upon a visionary object, who had no existence except in her dreams. She began to doubt whether she ought to prefer the imaginary devotion of a phantom to the real affection of the Beast. The very dream in which the Unknown appeared to her was invariably accompanied by warnings not to trust to sight. She feared it was but an idle illusion, born of the vapours of the brain, and destroyed by light of day. Thus undecided, loving the Unknown, yet not wishing to displease the Beast, and seeking repose from her thoughts in some entertainment, she went to the French Comedy[24], which she found exceedingly poor. Shutting the window abruptly, she hoped to be better pleased at the Opera. She thought the music miserable. The Italians were equally unable to amuse her. Their comedy appeared to her to want smartness, wit and action. Weariness and distaste accompanied her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attractions for her. Her Court endeavoured to entertain her, but the monkeys lost their labour in frisking, and the parrots and other birds in chattering and singing. She was impatient for the visit of the Beast, the noise of whose approach she expected to hear every instant. But the hour so much desired came without the appearance of the Monster. Alarmed, and almost angry at his delay, she tried in vain to account for his absence. Divided through hope and fear, her mind agitated, her heart a prey to melancholy, she descended into the gardens, determined not to re-enter the Palace till she had found the Beast. No trace of him could she discover anywhere. She called him. Echo alone answered her. Having passed more than three hours in this disagreeable exercise, overcome by fatigue, she sank upon a garden seat. She imagined the Beast was either dead or had abandoned the place. [Illustration: Beauty and the Beast.--P. 273.] She saw herself alone in that Palace, without the hope of ever leaving it. She regretted her conversations with the Beast, unentertaining as they had been to her, and what appeared to her extraordinary, even to discover she had so much feeling for him. She blamed herself for not having married him, and considering she had been the cause of his death (for she feared

hast

How many times the word 'hast' appears in the text?