Argosy All-Story Weekly — 'The Metal Monster' — page 70: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

64 ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. make-up; ‘and we do not go alone. In- deed, we could not—unless you release us.” “Oh, I release vou; I release you!” shrieked M. Fragonard. And with shak- ing fmgers he pressed the mysterious spring that loosened the lock of their chain. “Now, go, go, go, go, go,” he said with gestures; “out of my sight forever!” “ But, papa darting,’ objected Claire. ‘Did you not promise that if we were still happy together at the end of the three days we might keep the studio?” M. Fragonard, now in a state of utter collapse, sank upon the nearest charr. “ Stay, go, stay—’’ He waved a frantic hand. “It is all one tome. My lhfe—my hopes are ruined!” “Just wait till you see our wonderful chain dance,” urged Claire. “ See how it will become the rage! Oh, vou will be proud of your pupils yet!” M. Fragonard raised his head. He caught a glimpse of Maurice srmling down at the brazen chain in his hand. In the late sunlight it glittered hike gold. “I have grown to love my chains,” said Mau- rice, with what was certainly a most idtotic expression of countenance. ‘“ You will let us keep the cham, won’t you. monsteur, papa, as a souvenir?” “Put it on again, darlmg,” said Claire, . “ just for a minute to show papa our new dance.” But papa did not wait te see the dance. He fled with a gesture that condemned them to the eternal consequence of their folly. It was not until his excellent if sohtary dinner had been consumed that Papa Frag- onard was able to thmk calmly as he sat by the window consoling himself with his cigar of evil odor. “Tt was not sufficiently thought out,” mused M. Jules Etienne Marcel Fragon- ard. should have been shorter or time longer.” ‘The cigar almost at the end of its ca- reer of unsavoriness, drooped in M. Frag- onard’s listless hands while he pursued the melancholy train of his thought. After all who knows—even without the cham she might tire of him yet? Men like that with such a superfluity of ideas— Too much re- ‘Tt is clear that either the chain Fragonard! sourcefulness 1s really very fatiguing and sooner or later must have its effect. As M. Fragonard dozed, the fury of his passion gradually abating, he was roused by the joyous twang of the studio piane accompanied by the sound of feet, pass pum te fpum—Maurice and Claire again practising their absurd chain dance! ML. Fragonard frowned, then, slowly emerging from the region of his professional emo- tions, curiosity stirred to life within him. He would see this stupid dance that they had devised to conceal from themselves the fact of their boredom. He would see it— prick their bubble. So once again M. Fragonard stole up the stairs that led to the upper room. The — door stood wide open, now, and Maurice’s friend, Gaston Duval, the fat amiable stu- pid, sat at the piano watching them while he played the dance Maurice had com- posed in his captivity. Ah, but that was a dainty step—that tyrm—very clever. And the birdlike swoop together. Now they were children dancing on a green with a chain of flowers. Now a pair of twin gold- fish darting to the surface of the pool. Papa Fragonard was laughing silently as he watched. And now he was weeping and clapping his hands. Ah, the clever chil- dren! There—it was ended! It was a pang that such ecstasy of motion should end—but after all it was just the moment to ‘stop. . Papa Fragonard could not. stop clap- ping. “ Marvelous, exquisite!” he cried. Claire, his fairy, his wild flower, his queen of the dance, was rumning toward him, her arms were about his neck. “Is it not chic? Is it not gent?’ she cried. ‘ Did I not tell you that my Mau- rice was 2 genius?” Oh, ves, Maurice was very well as a | dancer—the best partner Claire had ever had. But, after all, when one came to think of it—this chain dance that they called theirs—was not he, Jules Etienne Marcel Fragonard, if not the actual origi- nator, in truth the real source of the in- spiration? Should they call it “ The Chain Dance’? No, not really. Strictly speak- ing it should go down to history as the connichhaks.ce