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diff --git a/12442-h/12442-h.htm b/12442-h/12442-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bafc9e1 --- /dev/null +++ b/12442-h/12442-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16123 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Windows (vers 1st February 2004), see www.w3.org"> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= +"text/html; charset=UTF-8"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of In The Days of my Youth, by +Amelia B. Edwards.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + blockquote {text-align: justify; + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%;} + IMG { + BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; + BORDER-TOP: 0px; + BORDER-LEFT: 0px; + BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px } + .ctr { TEXT-ALIGN: center } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; } + // --> +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12442 ***</div> + +<h3>IN THE</h3> +<h1>DAYS OF MY YOUTH.</h1> +<h2>A NOVEL.</h2> +<br> +<h5>BY</h5> +<h3>AMELIA B. EDWARDS</h3> +<h5>1874</h5> +<p class="ctr"><img src="images/001.png" width="15%" alt=""></p> +<center>[<a href="#CHAPTER_I.">1</a>] [<a href= +"#CHAPTER_II.">2</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_III.">3</a>] [<a href= +"#CHAPTER_IV.">4</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_V.">5</a>] [<a href= +"#CHAPTER_VI.">6</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_VII.">7</a>] [<a href= +"#CHAPTER_VIII.">8</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_IX.">9</a>] [<a href= +"#CHAPTER_X.">10</a>]<br> +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XI.">11</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XII.">12</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII.">13</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV.">14</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XV.">15</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI.">16</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII.">17</a>] [<a href= +"#CHAPTER_XVIII.">18</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX.">19</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XX.">20</a>]<br> +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI.">21</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII.">22</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII.">23</a>] [<a href= +"#CHAPTER_XXIV.">24</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV.">25</a>] [<a href= +"#CHAPTER_XXVI.">26</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII.">27</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII.">28</a>] [<a href= +"#CHAPTER_XXIX.">29</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX.">30</a>]<br> +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI.">31</a>] [<a href= +"#CHAPTER_XXXII.">32</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII.">33</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV.">34</a>] [<a href= +"#CHAPTER_XXXV.">35</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI.">36</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII.">37</a>] [<a href= +"#CHAPTER_XXXVIII.">38</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX.">39</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XL.">40</a>]<br> +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XLI.">41</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XLII.">42</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII.">43</a>] [<a href= +"#CHAPTER_XLIV.">44</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XLV.">45</a>] [<a href= +"#CHAPTER_XLVI.">46</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII.">47</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII.">48</a>] [<a href= +"#CHAPTER_XLIX.">49</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_L.">50</a>]<br> +[<a href="#CHAPTER_LI.">51</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_LII.">52</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_LIII.">53</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_LIV.">54</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_LV.">55</a>] [<a href= +"#CHAPTER_LVI.">56</a>]</center> +<br> +<p class="ctr"><img src="images/002.png" width="15%" alt=""></p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I."></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> +<h3>MY BIRTHPLACE AND PARENTAGE.</h3> +<center>Dolce sentier,<br> +Colle, che mi piacesti,<br> +Ov'ancor per usanza amor mi mena!<br> +<br> +PETRARCH.</center> +<br> +<p>Sweet, secluded, shady Saxonholme! I doubt if our whole England +contains another hamlet so quaint, so picturesquely irregular, so +thoroughly national in all its rustic characteristics. It lies in a +warm hollow environed by hills. Woods, parks and young plantations +clothe every height and slope for miles around, whilst here and +there, peeping down through green vistas, or towering above +undulating seas of summer foliage, stands many a fine old country +mansion, turreted and gabled, and built of that warm red brick that +seems to hold the light of the sunset long after it has faded from +the rest of the landscape. A silver thread of streamlet, swift but +shallow, runs noisily through the meadows beside the town and loses +itself in the Chad, about a mile and a half farther eastward. Many +a picturesque old wooden bridge, many a foaming weir and ruinous +water-mill with weedy wheel, may be found scattered up and down the +wooded banks of this little river Chad; while to the brook, which +we call the Gipstream, attaches a vague tradition of trout.</p> +<p>The hamlet itself is clean and old-fashioned, consisting of one +long, straggling street, and a few tributary lanes and passages. +The houses some few years back were mostly long and low-fronted, +with projecting upper stories, and diamond-paned bay-windows +bowered in with myrtle and clematis; but modern improvements have +done much of late to sweep away these antique tenements, and a fine +new suburb of Italian and Gothic villas has sprung up, between the +town and the railway station. Besides this, we have a new church in +the mediæval style, rich in gilding and colors and +thirteenth-century brass-work; and a new cemetery, laid out like a +pleasure-garden; and a new school-house, where the children are +taught upon a system with a foreign name; and a Mechanics' +Institute, where London professors come down at long intervals to +expound popular science, and where agriculturists meet to discuss +popular grievances.</p> +<p>At the other extremity of the town, down by Girdlestone Grange, +an old moated residence where the squire's family have resided +these four centuries past, we are full fifty years behind our +modern neighbors. Here stands our famous old "King's-head Inn," a +well-known place of resort so early as the reign of Elizabeth. The +great oak beside the porch is as old as the house itself; and on +the windows of a little disused parlor overlooking the garden may +still be seen the names of Sedley, Rochester and other wits of the +Restoration. They scrawled those autographs after dinner, most +likely, with their diamond rings, and went reeling afterwards, +arm-in-arm, along the village street, singing and swearing, and +eager for adventures--as gentlemen were wont to be in those famous +old times when they drank the king's health more freely than was +good for their own.</p> +<p>Not far from the "King's Head," and almost hidden by the trees +which divide it from the road, stands an ancient charitable +institution called the College--quadrangular, mullion-windowed, +many-gabled, and colonized by some twenty aged people of both +sexes. At the back of the college, adjoining a space of waste +ground and some ruined cloisters, lies the churchyard, in the midst +of which, surrounded by solemn yews and mouldering tombs, stands +the Priory Church. It is a rare old church, founded, according to +the county history, in the reign of Edward the Confessor, and +entered with a full description in Domesday Book. Its sculptured +monuments and precious brasses, its Norman crypt, carved stalls and +tattered banners drooping over faded scutcheons, tell all of +generations long gone by, of noble families extinct, of gallant +deeds forgotten, of knights and ladies remembered only by the names +above their graves. Amongst these, some two or three modest tablets +record the passing away of several generations of my own +predecessors--obscure professional men for the most part, of whom +some few became soldiers and died abroad.</p> +<p>In close proximity to the church stands the vicarage, once the +Priory; a quaint old rambling building, surrounded by magnificent +old trees. Here for long centuries, a tribe of rooks have held +undisputed possession, filling the boughs with their nests and the +air with their voices, and, like genuine lords of the soil, +descending at their own grave will and pleasure upon the adjacent +lands.</p> +<p>Picturesque and mediæval as all these old buildings and +old associations help to make us, we of Saxonholme pretend to +something more. We claim to be, not only picturesque but historic. +Nay, more than this--we are classical. WE WERE FOUNDED BY THE +ROMANS. A great Roman road, well known to antiquaries, passed +transversely through the old churchyard. Roman coins and relics, +and fragments of tesselated pavement, have been found in and about +the town. Roman camps may be traced on most of the heights around. +Above all, we are said to be indebted to the Romans for that +inestimable breed of poultry in right of which we have for years +carried off the leading prizes at every poultry-show in the county, +and have even been enabled to make head against the exaggerated +pretensions of modern Cochin-China interlopers.</p> +<p>Such, briefly sketched, is my native Saxonholme. Born beneath +the shade of its towering trees and overhanging eaves, brought up +to reverence its antiquities, and educated in the love of its +natural beauties, what wonder that I cling to it with every fibre +of my heart, and even when affecting to smile at my own fond +prejudice, continue to believe it the loveliest peacefulest nook in +rural England?</p> +<p>My father's name was John Arbuthnot. Sprung from the Arbuthnots +of Montrose, we claim to derive from a common ancestor with the +celebrated author of "Martinus Scriblerus." Indeed, the first of +our name who settled at Saxonholme was one James Arbuthnot, son to +a certain nonjuring parson Arbuthnot, who lived and died abroad, +and was own brother to that famous wit, physician and courtier +whose genius, my father was wont to say, conferred a higher +distinction upon our branch of the family than did those Royal +Letters-Patent whereby the elder stock was ennobled by His most +Gracious Majesty King George the Fourth, on the occasion of his +visit to Edinburgh in 1823. From this James Arbuthnot (who, being +born and bred at St. Omer, and married, moreover, to a French wife, +was himself half a Frenchman) we Saxonholme Arbuthnots were the +direct descendants.</p> +<p>Our French ancestress, according to the family tradition, was of +no very exalted origin, being in fact the only daughter and heiress +of one Monsieur Tartine, Perruquier in chief at the Court of +Versailles. But what this lady wanted in birth, she made up in +fortune, and the modest estate which her husband purchased with her +dowry came down to us unimpaired through five generations. In the +substantial and somewhat foreign-looking red-brick house which he +built (also, doubtless, with Madame's Louis d'ors) we, his +successors, had lived and died ever since. His portrait, together +with the portraits of his wife, son, and grandson, hung on the +dining-room walls; and of the quaint old spindle-legged chairs and +tables that had adorned our best rooms from time immemorial, some +were supposed to date as far back as the first founding and +furnishing of the house.</p> +<p>It is almost needless to say that the son of the non-juror and +his immediate posterity were staunch Jacobites, one and all. I am +not aware that they ever risked or suffered anything for the cause; +but they were not therefore the less vehement. Many were the signs +and tokens of that dead-and-gone political faith which these loyal +Arbuthnots left behind them. In the bed-rooms there hung prints of +King James the Second at the Battle of the Boyne; of the Royal +Martyr with his plumed hat, lace collar, and melancholy fatal face; +of the Old and Young Pretenders; of the Princess Louisa Teresia, +and of the Cardinal York. In the library were to be found all kinds +of books relating to the career of that unhappy family: "Ye +Tragicall History of ye Stuarts, 1697;" "Memoirs of King James II., +writ by his own hand;" "La Stuartide," an unfinished epic in the +French language by one Jean de Schelandre; "The Fate of Majesty +exemplified in the barbarous and disloyal treatment (by traitorous +and undutiful subjects) of the Kings and Queens of the Royal House +of Stuart," genealogies of the Stuarts in English, French and +Latin; a fine copy of "Eikon Basilike," bound in old red morocco, +with the royal arms stamped upon the cover; and many other volumes +on the same subject, the names of which (although as a boy I was +wont to pore over their contents with profound awe and sympathy) I +have now for the most part forgotten.</p> +<p>Most persons, I suppose, have observed how the example of a +successful ancestor is apt to determine the pursuits of his +descendants down to the third and fourth generations, inclining the +lads of this house to the sea, and of that to the bar, according as +the great man of the family achieved his honors on shipboard, or +climbed his way to the woolsack. The Arbuthnots offered no +exception to this very natural law of selection. They could not +help remembering how the famous doctor had excelled in literature +as in medicine; how he had been not only Physician in Ordinary to +Queen Anne and Prince George of Denmark, but a satirist and +pamphleteer, a wit and the friend of wits--of such wits as Pope and +Swift, Harley and Bolingbroke. Hence they took, as it were +instinctively, to physic and the <i>belles lettres</i>, and were +never without a doctor or an author in the family.</p> +<p>My father, however, like the great Martinus Scriblerus, was both +doctor and author. And he was a John Arbuthnot. And to carry the +resemblance still further, he was gifted with a vein of rough +epigrammatic humor, in which it pleased his independence to indulge +without much respect of persons, times, or places. His tongue, +indeed, cost him some friends and gained him some enemies; but I am +not sure that it diminished his popularity as a physician. People +compared him to Abernethy, whereby he was secretly flattered. Some +even went so far as to argue that only a very clever man could +afford to be a bear; and I must say that he pushed this conclusion +to its farthest limit, showing his temper alike to rich and poor +upon no provocation whatever. He cared little, to be sure, for his +connection. He loved the profession theoretically, and from a +scientific point of view; but he disliked the drudgery of country +practice, and stood in no need of its hardly-earned profits. Yet he +was a man who so loved to indulge his humor, no matter at what +cost, that I doubt whether he would have been more courteous had +his bread depended on it. As it was, he practised and grumbled, +snarled at his patients, quarrelled with the rich, bestowed his +time and money liberally upon the poor, and amused his leisure by +writing for a variety of scientific periodicals, both English and +foreign.</p> +<p>Our home stood at the corner of a lane towards the eastern +extremity of the town, commanding a view of the Squire's Park, and +a glimpse of the mill-pool and meadows in the valley beyond. This +lane led up to Barnard's Green, a breezy space of high, uneven +ground dedicated to fairs, cricket matches, and travelling +circuses, whence the noisy music of brass bands, and the echoes of +alternate laughter and applause, were wafted past our windows in +the summer evenings. We had a large garden at the back, and a +stable up the lane; and though the house was but one story in +height, it covered a considerable space of ground, and contained +more rooms than we ever had occasion to use. Thus it happened that +since my mother's death, which took place when I was a very little +boy, many doors on the upper floor were kept locked, to the undue +development of my natural inquisitiveness by day, and my mortal +terror when sent to bed at night. In one of these her portrait +still hung above the mantelpiece, and her harp stood in its +accustomed corner. In another, which was once her bedroom, +everything was left as in her lifetime, her clothes yet hanging in +the wardrobe, her dressing-case standing upon the toilet, her +favorite book upon the table beside the bed. These things, told to +me by the servants with much mystery, took a powerful hold upon my +childish imagination. I trembled as I passed the closed doors at +dusk, and listened fearfully outside when daylight gave me courage +to linger near them. Something of my mother's presence, I fancied, +must yet dwell within--something in her shape still wander from +room to room in the dim moonlight, and echo back the sighing of the +night winds. Alas! I could not remember her. Now and then, as if +recalled by a dream, some broken and shadowy images of a pale face +and a slender hand floated vaguely through my mind; but faded even +as I strove to realize them. Sometimes, too, when I was falling off +to sleep in my little bed, or making out pictures in the fire on a +winter evening, strange fragments of old rhymes seemed to come back +upon me, mingled with the tones of a soft voice and the haunting of +a long-forgotten melody. But these, after all, were yearnings more +of the heart than the memory:--</p> +<blockquote>"I felt a mother-want about the world.<br> + And still went seeking."</blockquote> +<p>To return to my description of my early home:--the two rooms on +either side of the hall, facing the road, were appropriated by my +father for his surgery and consulting-room; while the two +corresponding rooms at the back were fitted up as our general +reception-room, and my father's bed-room. In the former of these, +and in the weedy old garden upon which it opened, were passed all +the days of my boyhood.</p> +<p>It was my father's good-will and pleasure to undertake the sole +charge of my education. Fain would I have gone like other lads of +my age to public school and college; but on this point, as on most +others, he was inflexible. Himself an obscure physician in a remote +country town, he brought me up with no other view than to be his +own successor. The profession was not to my liking. Somewhat +contemplative and nervous by nature, there were few pursuits for +which I was less fitted. I knew this, but dared not oppose him. +Loving study for its own sake, and trusting to the future for some +lucky turn of destiny, I yielded to that which seemed inevitable, +and strove to make the best of it.</p> +<p>Thus it came to pass that I lived a quiet, hard-working home +life, while other boys of my age were going through the joyous +experience of school, and chose my companions from the dusty +shelves of some three or four gigantic book-cases, instead of from +the class and the playground. Not that I regret it. I believe, on +the contrary, that a boy may have worse companions than books and +busts, employments less healthy than the study of anatomy, and +amusements more pernicious than Shakespeare and Horace. Thank +Heaven! I escaped all such; and if, as I have been told, my boyhood +was unboyish, and my youth prematurely cultivated, I am content to +have been spared the dangers in exchange for the pleasures of a +public school.</p> +<p>I do not, however, pretend to say that I did not sometimes pine +for the recreations common to my age. Well do I remember the +manifold attractions of Barnard's Green. What longing glances I +used to steal towards the boisterous cricketers, when going gravely +forth upon a botanical walk with my father! With what eager +curiosity have I not lingered many a time before the entrance to a +forbidden booth, and scanned the scenic advertisement of a +travelling show! Alas! how the charms of study paled before those +intervals of brief but bitter temptation! What, then, was pathology +compared to the pig-faced lady, or the Materia Medica to Smith's +Mexican Circus, patronized by all the sovereigns of Europe? But my +father was inexorable. He held that such places were, to use his +own words, "opened by swindlers for the ruin of fools," and from +one never-to-be-forgotten hour, when he caught me in the very act +of taking out my penny-worth at a portable peep-show, he bound me +over by a solemn promise (sealed by a whipping) never to repeat the +offence under any provocation or pretext whatsoever. I was a tiny +fellow in pinafores when this happened, but having once pledged my +word, I kept it faithfully through all the studious years that lay +between six and sixteen.</p> +<p>At sixteen an immense crisis occurred in my life. I fell in +love. I had been in love several times before--chiefly with the +elder pupils at the Miss Andrews' establishment; and once (but that +was when I was very young indeed) with the cook. This, however, was +a much more romantic and desperate affair. The lady was a Columbine +by profession, and as beautiful as an angel. She came down to our +neighborhood with a strolling company, and performed every evening, +in a temporary theatre on the green, for nearly three weeks. I used +to steal out after dinner when my father was taking his nap, and +run the whole way, that I might be in time to see the object of my +adoration walking up and down the platform outside the booth before +the performances commenced. This incomparable creature wore a blue +petticoat spangled with tinfoil, and a wreath of faded poppies. Her +age might have been about forty. I thought her the loveliest of +created beings. I wrote sonnets to her--dozens of them--intending +to leave them at the theatre door, but never finding the courage to +do it. I made up bouquets for her, over and over again, chosen from +the best flowers in our neglected garden; but invariably with the +same result. I hated the harlequin who presumed to put his arm +about her waist. I envied the clown, whom she condescended to +address as Mr. Merriman. In short, I was so desperately in love +that I even tried to lie awake at night and lose my appetite; but, +I am ashamed to own, failed signally in both endeavors.</p> +<p>At length I wrote to her. I can even now recall passages out of +that passionate epistle. I well remember how it took me a whole +morning to write it; how I crammed it with quotations from Horace; +and how I fondly compared her to most of the mythological +divinities. I then copied it out on pale pink paper, folded it in +the form of a heart, and directed it to Miss Angelina Lascelles, +and left it, about dusk, with the money-taker at the pit door. I +signed myself, if I remember rightly, Pyramus. What would I not +have given that evening to pay my sixpence like the rest of the +audience, and feast my eyes upon her from some obscure corner! What +would I not have given to add my quota to the applause!</p> +<p>I could hardly sleep that night; I could hardly read or write, +or eat my breakfast the next morning, for thinking of my letter and +its probable effect. It never once occurred to me that my Angelina +might possibly find it difficult to construe Horace. Towards +evening, I escaped again, and flew to Barnard's Green. It wanted +nearly an hour to the time of performance; but the tuning of a +violin was audible from within, and the money-taker was already +there with his pipe in his mouth and his hands in his pockets. I +had no courage to address that functionary; but I lingered in his +sight and sighed audibly, and wandered round and round the canvas +walls that hedged my divinity. Presently he took his pipe out of, +his mouth and his hands out of his pockets; surveyed me +deliberately from head to foot, and said:--</p> +<p>"Hollo there! aint you the party that brought a three-cornered +letter here last evening!"</p> +<p>I owned it, falteringly.</p> +<p>He lifted a fold in the canvas, and gave me a gentle shove +between the shoulders.</p> +<p>"Then you're to go in," said he, shortly. "She's there, +somewhere. You're sure to find her."</p> +<p>The canvas dropped behind me, and I found myself inside. My +heart beat so fast that I could scarcely breathe. The booth was +almost dark; the curtain was down; and a gentleman with striped +legs was lighting the footlamps. On the front pit bench next the +orchestra, discussing a plate of bread and meat and the contents of +a brown jug, sat a stout man in shirt-sleeves and a woman in a +cotton gown. The woman rose as I made my appearance, and asked, +civilly enough, whom I pleased to want.</p> +<p>I stammered the name of Miss Angelina Lascelles.</p> +<p>"Miss Lascelles!" she repeated. "I am Miss Lascelles," Then, +looking at me more narrowly, "I suppose," she added, "you are the +little boy that brought the letter?"</p> +<p>The little boy that brought the letter! Gracious heavens! And +this middle-aged woman in a cotton gown--was she the Angelina of my +dreams! The booth went round with me, and the lights danced before +my eyes.</p> +<p>"If you have come for an answer," she continued, "you may just +say to your Mr. Pyramid that I am a respectable married woman, and +he ought to be ashamed of himself--and, as for his letter, I never +read such a heap of nonsense in my life! There, you can go out by +the way you came in, and if you take my advice, you won't come back +again!"</p> +<p>How I looked, what I said, how I made my exit, whether the +doorkeeper spoke to me as I passed, I have no idea to this day. I +only know that I flung myself on the dewy grass under a great tree +in the first field I came to, and shed tears of such shame, +disappointment, and wounded pride, as my eyes had never known +before. She had called me a little boy, and my letter a heap of +nonsense! She was elderly--she was ignorant--she was married! I had +been a fool; but that knowledge came too late, and was not +consolatory.</p> +<p>By-and-by, while I was yet sobbing and disconsolate, I heard the +drumming and fifing which heralded the appearance of the <i>Corps +Dramatique</i> on the outer platform. I resolved to see her for the +last time. I pulled my hat over my eyes, went back to the Green, +and mingled with the crowd outside the booth. It was growing dusk. +I made my way to the foot of the ladder, and observed her narrowly. +I saw that her ankles were thick, and her elbows red. The illusion +was all over. The spangles had lost their lustre, and the poppies +their glow. I no longer hated the harlequin, or envied the clown, +or felt anything but mortification at my own folly.</p> +<p>"Miss Angelina Lascelles, indeed!" I said to myself, as I +sauntered moodily home. "Pshaw! I shouldn't wonder if her name was +Snooks!"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II."></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> +<h3>THE LITTLE CHEVALIER.</h3> +<center>A mere anatomy, a mountebank,<br> +A threadbare juggler.<br> +<br> +<i>Comedy of Errors</i>.<br> +<br> +Nay, then, he is a conjuror.<br> +<br> +<i>Henry VI</i>.</center> +<br> +<p>My adventure with Miss Lascelles did me good service, and cured +me for some time, at least, of my leaning towards the tender +passion. I consequently devoted myself more closely than ever to my +studies--indulged in a passing mania for genealogy and +heraldry--began a collection of local geological specimens, all of +which I threw away at the end of the first fortnight--and took to +rearing rabbits in an old tumble-down summer-house at the end of +the garden. I believe that from somewhere about this time I may +also date the commencement of a great epic poem in blank verse, and +Heaven knows how many cantos, which was to be called the Columbiad. +It began, I remember, with a description of the Court of Ferdinand +and Isabella, and the departure of Columbus, and was intended to +celebrate the discovery, colonization, and subsequent history of +America. I never got beyond ten or a dozen pages of the first +canto, however, and that Transatlantic epic remains unfinished to +this day.</p> +<p>The great event which I have recorded in the preceding chapter +took place in the early summer. It must, therefore, have been +towards the close of autumn in the same year when my next important +adventure befell. This time the temptation assumed a different +shape.</p> +<p>Coming briskly homewards one fine frosty morning after having +left a note at the Vicarage, I saw a bill-sticker at work upon a +line of dead wall which at that time reached from the Red Lion Inn +to the corner of Pitcairn's Lane. His posters were printed in +enormous type, and decorated with a florid bordering in which the +signs of the zodiac conspicuously figured Being somewhat idly +disposed, I followed the example of other passers-by, and lingered +to watch the process and read the advertisement. It ran as +follows:----</p> +<p>MAGIC AND MYSTERY! MAGIC AND MYSTERY!</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>M. LE CHEVALIER ARMAND PROUDHINE, (of Paris) surnamed</p> +<p>THE WIZARD OF THE CAUCASUS,</p> +<p>Has the honor to announce to the Nobility and Gentry of +Saxonholme and its vicinity, that he will, to-morrow evening +(October--, 18--), hold his First</p> +<p>SOIREE FANTASTIQUE</p> +<p>IN</p> +<p>THE LARGE ROOM OF THE RED LION HOTEL.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>ADMISSION 1s. RESERVED SEATS 2s. 6d.</p> +<p><i>To commence at Seven</i>.</p> +<p>N.B.--<i>The performance will include a variety of new and +surprising feats of Legerdemain never before exhibited</i>.</p> +<p><i>A soirée fantastique</i>! what would I not give to be +present at a <i>soirée fantastique</i>! I had read of the +Rosicrucians, of Count Cagliostro, and of Doctor Dee. I had peeped +into more than one curious treatise on Demonology, and I fancied +there could be nothing in the world half so marvellous as that last +surviving branch of the Black Art entitled the Science of +Legerdemain.</p> +<p>What if, for this once, I were to ask leave to be present at the +performance? Should I do so with even the remotest chance of +success? It was easier to propound this momentous question than to +answer it. My father, as I have already said, disapproved of public +entertainments, and his prejudices were tolerably inveterate. But +then, what could be more genteel than the programme, or more select +than the prices? How different was an entertainment given in the +large room of the Red Lion Hotel to a three-penny wax-work, or a +strolling circus on Barnard's Green! I had made one of the audience +in that very room over and over again when the Vicar read his +celebrated "Discourses to Youth," or Dr. Dunks came down from +Grinstead to deliver an explosive lecture on chemistry; and I had +always seen the reserved seats filled by the best families in the +neighborhood. Fully persuaded of the force of my own arguments, I +made up my mind to prefer this tremendous request on the first +favorable opportunity, and so hurried home, with my head full of +quite other thoughts than usual.</p> +<p>My father was sitting at the table with a mountain of books and +papers before him. He looked up sharply as I entered, jerked his +chair round so as to get the light at his back, put on his +spectacles, and ejaculated:--</p> +<p>"Well, sir!"</p> +<p>This was a bad sign, and one with which I was only too familiar. +Nature had intended my father for a barrister. He was an adept in +all the arts of intimidation, and would have conducted a +cross-examination to perfection. As it was, he indulged in a good +deal of amateur practice, and from the moment when he turned his +back to the light and donned the inexorable spectacles, there was +not a soul in the house, from myself down to the errand-boy, who +was not perfectly aware of something unpleasant to follow.</p> +<p>"Well, sir!" he repeated, rapping impatiently upon the table +with his knuckles.</p> +<p>Having nothing to reply to this greeting, I looked out of the +window and remained silent; whereby, unfortunately. I irritated him +still more.</p> +<p>"Confound you, sir!" he exclaimed, "have you nothing to +say?"</p> +<p>"Nothing," I replied, doggedly.</p> +<p>"Stand there!" he said, pointing to a particular square in the +pattern of the carpet. "Stand there!"</p> +<p>I obeyed.</p> +<p>"And now, perhaps, you will have the goodness to explain what +you have been about this morning; and why it should have taken you +just thirty-seven minutes by the clock to accomplish a journey +which a tortoise--yes, sir, a tortoise,--might have done in less +than ten?"</p> +<p>I gravely compared my watch with the clock before replying.</p> +<p>"Upon my word, sir," I said, "your tortoise would have the +advantage of me."</p> +<p>"The advantage of you! What do you mean by the advantage of you, +you affected puppy?"</p> +<p>"I had no idea," said I, provokingly, "that you were in unusual +haste this morning."</p> +<p>"Haste!" shouted my father. "I never said I was in haste. I +never choose to be in haste. I hate haste!"</p> +<p>"Then why..."</p> +<p>"Because you have been wasting your time and mine, sir," +interrupted he. "Because I will not permit you to go idling and +vagabondizing about the village."</p> +<p>My <i>sang froid</i> was gone directly.</p> +<p>"Idling and vagabondizing!" I repeated angrily. "I have done +nothing of the kind. I defy you to prove it. When have you known me +forget that I am a gentleman?"</p> +<p>"Humph!" growled my father, mollified but sarcastic; "a pretty +gentleman--a gentleman of sixteen!"</p> +<p>"It is true,"' I continued, without heeding the interruption, +"that I lingered for a moment to read a placard by the way; but if +you will take the trouble, sir, to inquire at the Rectory, you will +find that I waited a quarter of an hour before I could send up your +letter."</p> +<p>My father grinned and rubbed his hands. If there was one thing +in the world that aggravated him more than another, it was to find +his fire opposed to ice. Let him, however, succeed in igniting his +adversary, and he was in a good humor directly.</p> +<p>"Come, come, Basil," said he, taking off his spectacles, "I +never said you were not a good lad. Go to your books, boy--go to +your books; and this evening I will examine you in vegetable +physiology."</p> +<p>Silently, but not sullenly, I drew a chair to the table, and +resumed my work. We were both satisfied, because each in his heart +considered himself the victor. My father was amused at having +irritated me, whereas I was content because he had, in some sort, +withdrawn the expressions that annoyed me. Hence we both became +good-tempered, and, according to our own tacit fashion, continued +during the rest of that morning to be rather more than usually +sociable.</p> +<p>Hours passed thus--hours of quiet study, during which the quick +travelling of a pen or the occasional turning of a page alone +disturbed the silence. The warm sunlight which shone in so greenly +through the vine leaves, stole, inch by inch, round the broken +vases in the garden beyond, and touched their brown mosses with a +golden bloom. The patient shadow on the antique sundial wound its +way imperceptibly from left to right, and long slanting threads of +light and shadow pierced in time between the branches of the +poplars. Our mornings were long, for we rose early and dined late; +and while my father paid professional visits, I devoted my hours to +study. It rarely happened that he could thus spend a whole day +among his books. Just as the clock struck four, however, there came +a ring at the bell.</p> +<p>My father settled himself obstinately in his chair.</p> +<p>"If that's a gratis patient," said he, between his teeth, "I'll +not stir. From eight to ten are their hours, confound them!"</p> +<p>"If you please, sir," said Mary, peeping in, "if you please, +sir, it's a gentleman."</p> +<p>"A stranger?" asked my father.</p> +<p>Mary nodded, put her hand to her mouth, and burst into an +irrepressible giggle.</p> +<p>"If you please, sir," she began--but could get no farther.</p> +<p>My father was in a towering passion directly.</p> +<p>"Is the girl mad?" he shouted. "What is the meaning of this +buffoonery?"</p> +<p>"Oh, sir--if you please, sir," ejaculated Mary, struggling with +terror and laughter together, "it's the gentleman, sir. He--he +says, if you please, sir, that his name is Almond Pudding!"</p> +<p>"Your pardon, Mademoiselle," said a plaintive voice. "Armand +Proudhine--le Chevalier Armand Proudhine, at your service."</p> +<p>Mary disappeared with her apron to her mouth, and subsided into +distant peals of laughter, leaving the Chevalier standing in the +doorway.</p> +<p>He was a very little man, with a pinched and melancholy +countenance, and an eye as wistful as a dog's. His threadbare +clothes, made in the fashion of a dozen years before, had been +decently mended in many places. A paste pin in a faded cravat, and +a jaunty cane with a pinchbeck top, betrayed that he was still +somewhat of a beau. His scant gray hair was tied behind with a +piece of black ribbon, and he carried his hat under his arm, after +the fashion of Elliston and the Prince Regent, as one sees them in +the colored prints of fifty years ago.</p> +<p>He advanced a step, bowed, and laid his card upon the table.</p> +<p>"I believe," he said in his plaintive voice, and imperfect +English, "that I have the honor to introduce myself to Monsieur +Arbuthnot."</p> +<p>"If you want me, sir," said my father, gruffly, "I am Doctor +Arbuthnot."</p> +<p>"And I, Monsieur," said the little Frenchman, laying his hand +upon his heart, and bowing again--"I am the Wizard of the +Caucasus."</p> +<p>"The what?" exclaimed my father.</p> +<p>"The Wizard of the Caucasus," replied our visitor, +impressively.</p> +<p>There was an awkward pause, during which my father looked at me +and touched his forehead significantly with his forefinger; while +the Chevalier, embarrassed between his natural timidity and his +desire to appear of importance, glanced from one face to the other, +and waited for a reply. I hastened to disentangle the +situation.</p> +<p>"I think I can explain this gentleman's meaning," I said. +"Monsieur le Chevalier will perform to-morrow evening in the large +room of the Red Lion Hotel. He is a professor of legerdemain."</p> +<p>"Of the marvellous art of legerdemain, Monsieur Arbuthnot," +interrupted the Chevalier eagerly. "Prestidigitateur to the Court +of Sachsenhausen, and successor to Al Hakim, the wise. It is I, +Monsieur, that have invent the famous <i>tour du pistolet;</i> it +is I, that have originate the great and surprising deception of the +bottle; it is I whom the world does surname the Wizard of the +Caucasus. <i>Me voici!</i>"</p> +<p>Carried away by the force of his own eloquence, the Chevalier +fell into an attitude at the conclusion of his little speech; but +remembering where he was, blushed, and bowed again.</p> +<p>"Pshaw," said my father impatiently, "the man's a conjuror."</p> +<p>The little Frenchman did not hear him. He was at that moment +untying a packet which he carried in his hat, the contents whereof +appeared to consist of a number of very small pink and yellow +cards. Selecting a couple of each color, he deposited his hat +carefully upon the floor and came a few steps nearer to the +table.</p> +<p>"Monsieur will give me the hope to see him, with Monsieur <i>son +fils</i>, at my Soirée Fantastique, <i>n'est-ce pas?</i>" he +asked, timidly.</p> +<p>"Sir," said my father shortly, "I never encourage peripatetic +mendicity."</p> +<p>The little Frenchman looked puzzled.</p> +<p>"<i>Comment</i>?" said he, and glanced to me for an +explanation.</p> +<p>"I am very sorry, Monsieur," I interposed hastily; "but my +father objects to public entertainments."</p> +<p>"<i>Ah, mon Dieu!</i> but not to this," cried the Chevalier, +raising his hands and eyes in deprecating astonishment. "Not to my +Soirée Fantastique! The art of legerdemain, Monsieur, is not +immoral. He is graceful--he is surprising--he is innocent; and, +Monsieur, he is patronized by the Church; he is patronized by your +amiable <i>Curé</i>, Monsieur le Docteur Brand."</p> +<p>"Oh, father," I exclaimed, "Dr. Brand has taken tickets!"</p> +<p>"And pray, sir, what's that to me?" growled my father, without +looking up from the book which he had ungraciously resumed. "Let +Dr. Brand make a fool of himself, if he pleases. I'm not bound to +do the same."</p> +<p>The Chevalier blushed crimson--not with humility this time, but +with pride. He gathered the cards into his pocket, took up his hat, +and saying stiffly--"<i>Monsieur, je vous demande +pardon.</i>"--moved towards the door.</p> +<p>On the threshold he paused, and turning towards me with an air +of faded dignity:--"Young gentleman," he said, "<i>you</i> I thank +for your politeness."</p> +<p>He seemed as if he would have said more--hesitated--became +suddenly livid--put his hand to his head, and leaned for support +against the wall.</p> +<p>My father was up and beside him in an instant. We carried rather +than led him to the sofa, untied his cravat, and administered the +necessary restoratives. He was all but insensible for some moments. +Then the color came back to his lips, and he sighed heavily.</p> +<p>"An attack of the nerves," he said, shaking his head feebly. "An +attack of the nerves, Messieurs."</p> +<p>My father looked doubtful.</p> +<p>"Are you often taken in this way?" he asked, with unusual +gentleness.</p> +<p>"<i>Mais oui</i>, Monsieur," admitted the Frenchman, +reluctantly. "He does often arrive to me. Not--not that he is +dangerous. Ah, bah! <i>Pas du tout</i>!"</p> +<p>"Humph!" ejaculated my father, more doubtfully than before. "Let +me feel your pulse."</p> +<p>The Chevalier bowed and submitted, watching the countenance of +the operator all the time with an anxiety that was not lost upon +me.</p> +<p>"Do you sleep well?" asked my father, holding the fragile little +wrist between his finger and thumb.</p> +<p>"Passably, Monsieur."</p> +<p>"Dream much?"</p> +<p>"Ye--es, I dream."</p> +<p>"Are you subject to giddiness?"</p> +<p>The Chevalier shrugged his shoulders and looked uneasy.</p> +<p>"<i>C'est vrai</i>" he acknowledged, more unwillingly than ever, +"<i>J'ai des vertiges</i>."</p> +<p>My father relinquished his hold and scribbled a rapid +prescription.</p> +<p>"There, sir," said he, "get that preparation made up, and when +you next feel as you felt just now, drink a wine-glassful. I should +recommend you to keep some always at hand, in case of emergency. +You will find further directions on the other side."</p> +<p>The little Frenchman attempted to get up with his usual +vivacity; but was obliged to balance himself against the back of a +chair.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," said he, with another of his profound bows, "I thank +you infinitely. You make me too much attention; but I am grateful. +And, Monsieur, my little girl--my child that is far away across the +sea--she thanks you also. <i>Elle m'aime, Monsieur--elle m'aime, +cette pauvre petite</i>! What shall she do if I die?"</p> +<p>Again he raised his hand to his brow. He was unconscious of +anything theatrical in the gesture. He was in sad earnest, and his +eyes were wet with tears, which he made no effort to conceal.</p> +<p>My father shuffled restlessly in his chair.</p> +<p>"No obligation--no obligation at all," he muttered, with a touch +of impatience in his voice. "And now, what about those tickets? I +suppose, Basil, you're dying to see all this tomfoolery?"</p> +<p>"That I am, sir," said I, joyfully. "I should like it above all +things!"</p> +<p>The Chevalier glided forward, and laid a couple of little pink +cards upon my father's desk.</p> +<p>"If," said he, timidly, "if Monsieur will make me the honor to +accept...."</p> +<p>"Not for the world, sir--not for the world!" interposed my +father. "The boy shan't go, unless I pay for the tickets."</p> +<p>"But, Monsieur...."</p> +<p>"Nothing of the kind, sir. I cannot hear of it. What are the +prices of the seats?"</p> +<p>Our little visitor looked down and was silent; but I replied for +him.</p> +<p>"The reserved seats," I whispered, "are half-a-crown each."</p> +<p>"Then I will take eight reserved," said my father, opening a +drawer in his desk and bringing out a bright, new sovereign.</p> +<p>The little Frenchman started. He could hardly believe in such +munificence.</p> +<p>"When? How much?" stammered he, with a pleasant confusion of +adverbs.</p> +<p>"Eight," growled my father, scarcely able to repress a +smile.</p> +<p>"Eight? <i>mon Dieu</i>, Monsieur, how you are generous! I shall +keep for you all the first row."</p> +<p>"Oblige me by doing nothing of the kind," said my father, very +decisively. "It would displease me extremely."</p> +<p>The Chevalier counted out the eight little pink cards, and +ranged them in a row beside my father's desk.</p> +<p>"Count them, Monsieur, if you please," said he, his eyes +wandering involuntarily towards the sovereign.</p> +<p>My father did so with much gravity, and handed over the +money.</p> +<p>The Chevalier consigned it, with trembling fingers, to a small +canvas bag, which looked very empty, and which came from the +deepest recesses of his pocket.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," said he, "my thanks are in my heart. I will not +fatigue you with them. Good-morning."</p> +<p>He bowed again, for perhaps the twentieth time; lingered a +moment at the threshold; and then retired, closing the door softly +after him.</p> +<p>My father rubbbed his head all over, and gave a great yawn of +satisfaction.</p> +<p>"I am so much obliged to you, sir," I said, eagerly.</p> +<p>"What for?"</p> +<p>"For having bought those tickets. It was very kind of you."</p> +<p>"Hold your tongue. I hate to be thanked," snarled he, and +plunged back again into his books and papers.</p> +<p>Once more the studious silence in the room--once more the +rustling leaf and scratching pen, which only made the stillness +seem more still, within and without.</p> +<p>"I beg your pardons," murmured the voice of the little +Chevalier.</p> +<p>I turned, and saw him peeping through the half-open door. He +looked more wistful than ever, and twisted the handle nervously +between his fingers.</p> +<p>My father frowned, and muttered something between his teeth. I +fear it was not very complimentary to the Chevalier.</p> +<p>"One word, Monsieur," pleaded the little man, edging himself +round the door, "one small word!"</p> +<p>"Say it, sir, and have done with it," said my father, +savagely.</p> +<p>The Chevalier hesitated.</p> +<p>"I--I--Monsieur le Docteur--that is, I wish...."</p> +<p>"Confound it, sir, what do you wish?"</p> +<p>The Chevalier brushed away a tear.</p> +<p>"<i>Dites-moi,"</i> he said with suppressed agitation. "One +word--yes or no--is he dangerous?"</p> +<p>My father's countenance softened.</p> +<p>"My good friend," he said, gently, "we are none of us safe for +even a day, or an hour; but after all, that which we call danger is +merely a relative position. I have known men in a state more +precarious than yours who lived to a long old age, and I see no +reason to doubt that with good living, good spirits, and +precaution, you stand as fair a chance as another."</p> +<p>The little Frenchman pressed his hands together in token of +gratitude, whispered a broken word or two of thanks, and bowed +himself out of the room.</p> +<p>When he was fairly gone, my father flung a book at my head, and +said, with more brevity than politeness:--</p> +<p>"Boy, bolt the door."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III."></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> +<h3>THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING.</h3> +<br> +<p>"Basil, my boy, if you are going to that place, you must take +Collins with you."</p> +<p>"Won't you go yourself, father?"</p> +<p>"I! Is the boy mad!"</p> +<p>"I hope not, sir; only as you took eight reserved seats, I +thought...."</p> +<p>"You've no business to think, sir! Seven of those tickets are in +the fire."</p> +<p>"For fear, then, you should fancy to burn the eighth, I'll wish +you good-evening!"</p> +<p>So away I darted, called to Collins to follow me, and set off at +a brisk pace towards the Red Lion Hotel. Collins was our indoor +servant; a sharp, merry fellow, some ten years older than myself, +who desired no better employment than to escort me upon such an +occasion as the present. The audience had begun to assemble when we +arrived. Collins went into the shilling places, while I ensconced +myself in the second row of reserved seats. I had an excellent view +of the stage. There, in the middle of the platform, stood the +conjuror's table--a quaint, cabalistic-looking piece of furniture +with carved black legs and a deep bordering of green cloth all +round the top. A gay pagoda-shaped canopy of many hues was erected +overhead. A long white wand leaned up against the wall. To the +right stood a bench laden with mysterious jars, glittering bowls, +gilded cones, mystical globes, colored glass boxes, and other +properties. To the left stood a large arm-chair covered with +crimson cloth. All this was very exciting, and I waited +breathlessly till the Wizard should appear.</p> +<p>He came at last; but not, surely, our dapper little visitor of +yesterday! A majestic beard of ashen gray fell in patriarchal locks +almost to his knees. Upon his head he wore a high cap of some dark +fur; upon his feet embroidered slippers; and round his waist a +glittering belt patterned with hieroglyphics. A long woollen robe +of chocolate and orange fell about him in heavy folds, and swept +behind him, like a train. I could scarcely believe, at first, that +it was the same person; but, when he spoke, despite the pomp and +obscurity of his language. I recognised the plaintive voice of the +little Chevalier.</p> +<p>"<i>Messieurs et Mesdames</i>," he began, and took up the wand +to emphasize his discourse; "to read in the stars the events of the +future--to transform into gold the metals inferior--to discover the +composition of that Elixir who, by himself, would perpetuate life, +was in past ages the aim and aspiration of the natural philosopher. +But they are gone, those days--they are displaced, those sciences. +The Alchemist and the Rosicrucian are no more, and of all their +race, the professor of Legerdemain alone survives. Ladies and +gentlemen, my magic he is simple. I retain not familiars. I employ +not crucible, nor furnace, nor retort. I but amuse you with my +agility of hand, and for commencement I tell you that you shall be +deceived as well as the Wizard of the Caucasus can deceive +you."</p> +<p>His voice trembled, and the slender wand shivered in his hand. +Was this nervousness? Or was he, in accordance with the quaintness +of his costume and the amplitude of his beard, enacting the +feebleness of age?</p> +<p>He advanced to the front of the platform. "Three things I +require," he said. "A watch, a pocket-handkerchief and a hat. Is +there here among my visitors any person so gracious as to lend me +these trifles? I will not injure them, ladies and gentlemen. I will +only pound the watch in my mortar--burn the <i>mouchoir</i> in my +lamp, and make a pudding in the <i>chapeau</i>. And, with all this, +I engage to return them to their proprietors, better as new."</p> +<p>There was a pause, and a laugh. Presently a gentleman +volunteered his hat, and a lady her embroidered handkerchief; but +no person seemed willing to submit his watch to the pounding +process.</p> +<p>"Shall nobody lend me the watch?" asked the Chevalier; but in a +voice so hoarse that I scarcely recognised it.</p> +<p>A sudden thought struck me, and I rose in my place.</p> +<p>"I shall be happy to do so," I said aloud, and made my way round +to the front of the platform.</p> +<p>At the moment when he took it from me, I spoke to him.</p> +<p>"Monsieur Proudhine," I whispered, "you are ill! What can I do +for you?"</p> +<p>"Nothing, <i>mon enfant</i>," he answered, in the same low tone. +"I suffer; <i>mais il faut se résigner</i>."</p> +<p>"Break off the performance--retire for half an hour."</p> +<p>"Impossible. See, they already observe us!"</p> +<p>And he drew back abruptly. There was a seat vacant in the front +row. I took it, resolved at all events to watch him narrowly.</p> +<p>Not to detail too minutely the events of a performance which +since that time has become sufficiently familiar, I may say that he +carried out his programme with dreadful exactness, and, after +appearing to burn the handkerchief to ashes and mix up a quantity +of eggs and flour in the hat, proceeded very coolly to smash the +works of my watch beneath his ponderous pestle. Notwithstanding my +faith, I began to feel seriously uncomfortable. It was a neat +little silver watch of foreign workmanship--not very valuable, to +be sure, but precious to me as the most precious of repeaters.</p> +<p>"He is very tough, your watch, Monsieur," said the Wizard, +pounding away vigorously. "He--he takes a long time ... <i>Ah! mon +Dieu!</i>"</p> +<p>He raised his hand to his head, uttered a faint cry, and +snatched at the back of the chair for support.</p> +<p>My first thought was that he had destroyed my watch by +mistake--my second, that he was very ill indeed. Scarcely knowing +what I did, and quite forgetting the audience, I jumped on the +platform to his aid.</p> +<p>He shook his head, waved me away with one trembling hand, made a +last effort to articulate, and fell heavily to the ground.</p> +<p>All was confusion in an instant. Everybody crowded to the stage; +whilst I, with a presence of mind which afterwards surprised +myself, made my way out by a side-door and ran to fetch my father. +He was fortunately at home, and in less than ten minutes the +Chevalier was under his care. We found him laid upon a sofa in one +of the sitting-rooms of the inn, pale, rigid, insensible, and +surrounded by an idle crowd of lookers-on. They had taken off his +cap and beard, and the landlady was endeavoring to pour some brandy +down his throat; but his teeth were fast set, and his lips were +blue and cold.</p> +<p>"Oh, Doctor Arbuthnot! Doctor Arbuthnot!" cried a dozen voices +at once, "the Conjuror is dying!"</p> +<p>"For which reason, I suppose, you are all trying to smother +him!" said my father angrily. "Mistress Cobbe, I beg you will not +trouble yourself to pour that brandy down the man's throat. He has +no more power to swallow it than my stick. Basil, open the window, +and help me to loosen these things about his throat. Good people, +all, I must request you to leave the room. This man's life is in +peril, and I can do nothing while you remain. Go home--go home. You +will see no more conjuring to-night."</p> +<p>My father was peremptory, and the crowd unwillingly dispersed. +One by one they left the room and gathered discontentedly in the +passage. When it came to the last two or three, he took them by the +shoulders, closed the door upon them, and turned the key.</p> +<p>Only the landlady, and elderly woman-servant, and myself +remained.</p> +<p>The first thing my father did was to examine the pupil of the +patient's eye, and lay his hand upon his heart. It still fluttered +feebly, but the action of the lungs was suspended, and his hands +and feet were cold as death.</p> +<p>My father shook his head.</p> +<p>"This man must be bled," said he, "but I have little hope of +saving him."</p> +<p>He was bled, and, though still unconscious, became less rigid +They then poured a little wine down his throat, and he fell into a +passive but painless condition, more inanimate than sleep, but less +positive than a state of trance.</p> +<p>A fire was then lighted, a mattress brought down, and the +patient laid upon it, wrapped in many blankets. My father announced +his intention of sitting up with him all night. In vain I begged +for leave to share his vigil. He would hear of no such thing, but +turned me out as he had turned out the others, bade me a brief +"Good-night," and desired me to run home as quickly as I could.</p> +<p>At that stage of my history, to hear was to obey; so I took my +way quietly through the bar of the hotel, and had just reached the +door when a touch on my sleeve arrested me. It was Mr. Cobbe, the +landlord--a portly, red-whiskered Boniface of the old English +type.</p> +<p>"Good-evening, Mr. Basil," said he. "Going home, sir?"</p> +<p>"Yes, Mr. Cobbe," I replied. "I can be of no further use +here."</p> +<p>"Well, sir, you've been of more use this evening than +anybody--let alone the Doctor--that I must say for you," observed +Mr. Cobbe, approvingly. "I never see such presence o' mind in so +young a gen'leman before. Never, sir. Have a glass of grog and a +cigar, sir, before you turn out."</p> +<p>Much as I felt flattered by the supposition that I smoked (which +was more than I could have done to save my life), I declined Mr. +Cobbe's obliging offer and wished him good-night. But the landlord +of the Red Lion was in a gossiping humor, and would not let me +go.</p> +<p>"If you won't take spirits, Mr. Basil," said he, "you must have +a glass of negus. I couldn't let you go out without something +warm--particular after the excitement you've gone through. Why, +bless you, sir, when they ran out and told me, I shook like a +leaf--and I don't look like a very nervous subject, do I? And so +sudden as it was, too, poor little gentleman!"</p> +<p>"Very sudden, indeed," I replied, mechanically.</p> +<p>"Does Doctor Arbuthnot think he'll get the better of it, Mr. +Basil?"</p> +<p>"I fear he has little hope."</p> +<p>Mr. Cobbe sighed, and shook his head, and smoked in silence.</p> +<p>"To be struck down just when he was playing such tricks as them +conjuring dodges, do seem uncommon awful," said he, after a time. +"What was he after at the minute?--making a pudding, wasn't he, in +some gentleman's hat?"</p> +<p>I uttered a sudden ejaculation, and set down my glass of negus +untasted. Till that moment I had not once thought of my watch.</p> +<p>"Oh, Mr. Cobbe!" I cried, "he was pounding my watch in the +mortar!"</p> +<p>"<i>Your</i> watch, Mr. Basil?"</p> +<p>"Yes, mine--and I have not seen it since. What can have become +of it? What shall I do?"</p> +<p>"Do!" echoed the landlord, seizing a candle; "why, go and look +for it, to be sure, Mr. Basil. That's safe enough, you may be +sure!"</p> +<p>I followed him to the room where the performance had taken +place. It showed darkly and drearily by the light of one feeble +candle. The benches and chairs were all in disorder. The wand lay +where it had fallen from the hand of the Wizard. The mortar still +stood on the table, with the pestle beside it. It contained only +some fragments of broken glass.</p> +<p>Mr. Cobbe laughed triumphantly.</p> +<p>"Come, sir," said he, "the watch is safe enough, anyhow. +Mounseer only made believe to pound it up, and now all that +concerns us is to find it."</p> +<p>That was indeed all--not only all, but too much. We searched +everything. We looked in all the jars and under all the moveables. +We took the cover off the chair; we cleared the table; but without +success. My watch had totally disappeared, and we at length decided +that it must be concealed about the conjuror's person. Mr. Cobbe +was my consoling angel.</p> +<p>"Bless you, sir," said he, "don't never be cast down. My wife +shall look for the watch to-morrow morning, and I'll promise you +we'll find out every pocket he has about him."</p> +<p>"And my father--you won't tell my father?" I said, +dolefully.</p> +<p>Mr. Cobbe replied by a mute but expressive piece of pantomime +and took me back to the bar, where the good landlady ratified all +that her husband had promised in her name.</p> +<p>The stars shone brightly as I went home, and there was no moon. +The town was intensely silent, and the road intensely solitary. I +met no one on my way; let myself quietly in, and stole up to my +bed-room in the dark.</p> +<p>It was already late; but I was restless and weary--too restless +to sleep, and too weary to read. I could not detach myself from the +impressions of the day; and I longed for the morning, that I might +learn the fate of my watch, and the condition of the Chevalier.</p> +<p>At length, after some hours of wakefulness, I dropped into a +profound and dreamless sleep.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV."></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> +<h3>THE CHEVALIER MAKES HIS LAST EXIT.</h3> +<center>All the world's a stage,<br> +And all the men and women merely players:<br> +They have their exits and their entrances.<br> + <i>As You Like It.</i></center> +<br> +<p>I was waked by my father's voice calling to me from the garden, +and so started up with that strange and sudden sense of trouble +which most of us have experienced at some time or other in our +lives.</p> +<p>"Nine o'clock, Basil," cried my father. "Nine o'clock--come down +directly, sir!"</p> +<p>I sprang out of bed, and for some seconds could remember nothing +of what had happened; but when I looked out of the window and saw +my father in his dressing-gown and slippers walking up and down the +sunny path with his hands behind his back and his eyes fixed on the +ground, it all flashed suddenly upon me. To plunge into my bath, +dress, run down, and join him in the garden, was the work of but a +few minutes.</p> +<p>"Good-morning, sir," I said, breathlessly.</p> +<p>He stopped short in his walk, and looked at me from head to +foot.</p> +<p>"Humph!" said he, "you have dressed quickly...."</p> +<p>"Yes, sir; I was startled to find myself so late."</p> +<p>"So quickly," he continued, "that you have forgotten your +watch."</p> +<p>I felt my face burn. I had not a word to answer.</p> +<p>"I suppose," said he, "you thought I should not find it +out?"</p> +<p>"I had hoped to recover it first," I replied, falteringly; +"but...."</p> +<p>"But you may make up your mind to the loss of it, sir; and serve +you rightly, too," interposed my father. "I can tell you, for your +satisfaction, that the man's clothes have been thoroughly examined, +and that your watch has not been found. No doubt it lay somewhere +on the table, and was stolen in the confusion."</p> +<p>I hung my head. I could have wept for vexation.</p> +<p>My father laughed sardonically.</p> +<p>"Well, Master Basil," he said, "the loss is yours, and yours +only. You won't get another watch from me, I promise you."</p> +<p>I retorted angrily, whereat he only laughed the more; and then +we went in to breakfast.</p> +<p>Our morning meal was more unsociable than usual. I was too much +annoyed to speak, and my father too preoccupied. I longed to +inquire after the Chevalier, but not choosing to break the silence, +hurried through my breakfast that I might run round to the Red Lion +immediately after. Before we had left the table, a messenger came +to say that "the conjuror was taken worse," and so my father and I +hastened away together.</p> +<p>He had passed from his trance-like sleep into a state of +delirium, and when we entered the room was sitting up, pale and +ghost-like, muttering to himself, and gesticulating as if in the +presence of an audience.</p> +<p>"<i>Pas du tout</i>," said he fantastically, "<i>pas du tout, +Messieurs</i>--here is no deception. You shall see him pass from my +hand to the <i>coffre</i>, and yet you shall not find how he does +travel."</p> +<p>My father smiled bitterly.</p> +<p>"Conjurer to the last!" said he. "In the face of death, what a +mockery is his trade!"</p> +<p>Wandering as were his wits, he caught the last word and turned +fiercely round; but there was no recognition in his eye.</p> +<p>"Trade, Monsieur!" he echoed. "Trade!--you shall not call him +trade! Do you know who I am, that you dare call him trade? <i>Dieu +des Dieux! N'est-ce pas que je suis noble, moi?</i> Trade!--when +did one of my race embrace a trade? <i>Canaille!</i> I do +condescend for my reasons to take your money, but you shall not +call him a trade!"</p> +<p>Exhausted by this sudden burst of passion, he fell back upon his +pillow, muttering and flushed. I bent over him, and caught a +scattered phrase from time to time. He was dreaming of wealth, +fancying himself rich and powerful, poor wretch! and all +unconscious of his condition.</p> +<p>"You shall see my Chateaux," he said, "my horses--my carriages. +Listen--it is the ringing of the bells. Aha! <i>le jour viendra--le +jour viendra</i>! Conjuror! who speaks of a conjuror? I never was a +conjuror! I deny it: and he lies who says it! <i>Attendons</i>! Is +the curtain up? Ah! my table--where is my table? I cannot play till +I have my table. <i>Scélérats! je suis volé! +je l'ai perdu! je l'ai perdu</i>! Ah, what shall I do? What shall I +do? They have taken my table--they have taken...."</p> +<p>He burst into tears, moaned twice or thrice, closed his eyes, +and fell into a troubled sleep.</p> +<p>The landlady sobbed. Hers was a kind heart, and the little +Frenchman's simple courtesy had won her good-will from the +first.</p> +<p>"He had real quality manners," she said, disconsolately. "I do +believe, gentlemen, that he had seen better days. Poor as he was, +he never disputed the price of anything; and he never spoke to me +without taking off his hat."</p> +<p>"Upon my soul, Mistress Cobbe," said my father, "I incline to +your opinion. I do think he is not what he seems."</p> +<p>"And if I only knew where to find his friends, I shouldn't care +half so much!" exclaimed the landlady. "It do seem so hard that he +should die here, and not one of his own blood follow him to the +grave! Surely he has some one who loves him!"</p> +<p>"There was something said the other day about a child," mused my +father. "Have no papers or letters been found about his +person?"</p> +<p>"None at all. Why, Doctor, you were here last night when we +searched for Master Basil's watch, and you are witness that he had +nothing of the kind in his possession. As to his luggage, that's +only a carpet-bag and his conjuring things, and we looked through +them as carefully as possible."</p> +<p>The Chevalier moaned again, and tossed his arms feebly in his +sleep. "The proofs," said he. "The proofs! I can do nothing without +the proofs."</p> +<p>My father listened. The landlady shook her head.</p> +<p>"He has been going on like that ever since you left, sir," she +said pitifully; "fancying he's been robbed, and calling out about +the proofs--only ten times more violent. Then, again, he thinks he +is going to act, and asks for his table. It's wonderful how he +takes on about that trumpery table!"</p> +<p>Scarcely had she spoken the words when the Chevalier opened his +eyes, and, by a supreme effort, sat upright in his bed. The cold +dew rose upon his brow; his lips quivered; he strove to speak, and +only an inarticulate cry found utterance. My father flew to his +support.</p> +<p>"If you have anything to say," he urged earnestly, "try to say +it now!"</p> +<p>The dying man trembled convulsively, and a terrible look of +despair came into his wan face.</p> +<p>"Tell--tell" ... he gasped; but his voice failed him, and he +could get no further.</p> +<p>My father laid him gently down. There came an interval of +terrible suspense--a moment of sharp agony--a deep, deep sigh--and +then silence.</p> +<p>My father laid his hand gently upon my shoulder.</p> +<p>"It is all over," he said; "and his secret, if he had one, is in +closer keeping than ours. Come away, boy; this is no place for +you."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V."></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> +<h3>IN MEMORIAM.</h3> +<br> +<p>The poor little Chevalier! He died and became famous.</p> +<p>Births, deaths and marriages are the great events of a country +town; the prime novelties of a country newspaper; the salt of +conversation, and the soul of gossip. An individual who furnishes +the community with one or other of these topics, is a benefactor to +his species. To be born is much; to marry is more; to die is to +confer a favor on all the old ladies of the neighborhood. They love +a christening and caudle--they rejoice in a wedding and cake--but +they prefer a funeral and black kid gloves. It is a tragedy played +off at the expense of the few for the gratification of the many--a +costly luxury, of which it is pleasanter to be the spectator than +the entertainer.</p> +<p>Occurring, therefore, at a season when the supply of news was +particularly scanty, the death of the little Chevalier was a boon +to Saxonholme. The wildest reports were bandied about, and the most +extraordinary fictions set on foot respecting his origin and +station. He was a Russian spy. He was the unfortunate son of Louis +XIV and Marie Antoinette. He was a pupil of Cagliostro, and the +husband of Mlle. Lenormand. Customers flocked to the tap of the Red +Lion as they had never flocked before, unless in election-time; and +good Mrs. Cobbe had to repeat the story of the conjuror's illness +and death till, like many other reciters, she had told it so often +that she began to forget it. As for her husband, he had enough to +do to serve the customers and take the money, to say nothing of +showing the room, which proved a vast attraction, and remained for +more than a week just as it was left on the evening of the +performance, with the table, canopy and paraphernalia of wizardom +still set out upon the platform.</p> +<p>In the midst of these things arose a momentous question--what +was the religion of the deceased, and where should he be buried? As +in the old miracle plays we find good and bad angels contending for +the souls of the dead, so on this occasion did the heads of all the +Saxonholme churches, chapels and meeting-houses contend for the +body of the little Chevalier. He was a Roman Catholic. He was a +Dissenter. He was a member of the Established Church. He must be +buried in the new Protestant Cemetery. He must lie in the +churchyard of the Ebenezer Tabernacle. He must sleep in the +far-away "God's Acre" of Father Daly's Chapel, and have a cross at +his head, and masses said for the repose of his soul. The +controversy ran high. The reverend gentlemen convoked a meeting, +quarrelled outrageously, and separated in high dudgeon without +having arrived at any conclusion.</p> +<p>Whereupon arose another question, melancholy, ludicrous, +perplexing, and, withal, as momentous as the first--Would the +little Chevalier get buried at all? Or was he destined to remain, +like Mahomet's coffin, for ever in a state of suspense?</p> +<p>At the last, when Mr. and Mrs. Cobbe despairingly believed that +they were never to be relieved of their troublesome guest, a vestry +was called, and the churchwardens brought the matter to a +conclusion. When he went round with his tickets, the conjuror +called first at the Rectory, and solicited the patronage of Doctor +Brand. Would he have paid that compliment to the cloth had he been +other than a member of that religion "by law established?" +Certainly not. The point was clear--could not be clearer; so +orthodoxy and the new Protestant Cemetery carried the day.</p> +<p>The funeral was a great event--not so far as mutes, feathers and +carriages were concerned, for the Chevalier left but little worldly +gear, and without hard cash even the most deserving must forego +"the trappings and the suits of woe;" but it was a great event, +inasmuch as it celebrated the victory of the Church, and the defeat +of all schismatics. The rector himself, complacent and dignified, +preached the funeral sermon to a crowded congregation, the +following Sunday. We almost forgot, in fact, that the little +Chevalier had any concern in the matter, and regarded it only as +the triumph of orthodoxy.</p> +<p>All was not ended, even here. For some weeks our conjuror +continued to be the hero of every pulpit round about. He was cited +as a shining light, denounced as a vessel of wrath, praised, pitied +and calumniated according to the creed and temper of each +declaimer. At length the controversy languished, died a natural +death, and became "alms for oblivion."</p> +<p>Laid to rest under a young willow, in a quiet corner, with a +plain stone at his head, the little Frenchman was himself in course +of time forgotten:--</p> +<blockquote>"Alas! Poor Yorick!"</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI."></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> +<h3>POLONIUS TO LAERTES.</h3> +<br> +<p>Years went by. I studied; outgrew my jackets; became a young +man. It was time, in short, that I walked the hospitals, and passed +my examination.</p> +<p>I had spoken to my father more than once upon the +subject--spoken earnestly and urgently, as one who felt the +necessity and justice of his appeal. But he put me off from time to +time; persisted in looking upon me as a boy long after I had become +acquainted with the penalties of the razor; and counselled me to be +patient, till patience was well-nigh exhausted. The result of this +treatment was that I became miserable and discontented; spent whole +days wandering about the woods; and degenerated into a creature +half idler and half misanthrope. I had never loved the profession +of medicine. I should never have chosen it had I been free to +follow my own inclinations: but having diligently fitted myself to +enter it with credit, I felt that my father wronged me in this +delay; and I felt it perhaps all the more bitterly because my labor +had been none of love. Happily for me, however, he saw his error +before it was too late, and repaired it generously.</p> +<p>"Basil," said he, beckoning me one morning into the +consulting-room, "I want to speak to you."</p> +<p>I obeyed sullenly, and stood leaning up against the window, with +my hands in my pockets.</p> +<p>"You've been worrying me, Basil, more than enough these last few +months," he said, rummaging among his papers, and speaking in a +low, constrained voice. "I don't choose to be worried any longer. +It is time you walked the hospitals, and--you may go."</p> +<p>"To London, sir?"</p> +<p>"No. I don't intend you to go to London."</p> +<p>"To Edinburgh, then, I suppose," said I, in a tone of +disappointment.</p> +<p>"Nor to Edinburgh. You shall go to Paris."</p> +<p>"To Paris!"</p> +<p>"Yes--the French surgeons are the most skilful in the world, and +Chéron will do everything for you. I know no eminent man in +London from whom I should choose to ask a favor; and Chéron +is one of my oldest friends--nay, the oldest friend I have in the +world. If you have but two ounces of brains, he will make a clever +man of you. Under him you will study French practice; walk the +hospitals of Paris; acquire the language and, I hope, some of the +polish of the French people. Are you satisfied?"</p> +<p>"More than satisfied, sir," I replied, eagerly.</p> +<p>"You shall not want for money, boy; and you may start as soon as +you please. Is the thing settled?"</p> +<p>"Quite, as far as I am concerned."</p> +<p>My father rubbed his head all over with both hands, took off his +spectacles, and walked up and down the room. By these signs he +expressed any unusual degree of satisfaction. All at once he +stopped, looked me full in the face, and said:--</p> +<p>"Understand me, Basil. I require one thing in return."</p> +<p>"If that thing be industry, sir, I think I may promise that you +shall not have cause to complain,"</p> +<p>My father shook his head.</p> +<p>"Not industry," he said; "not industry alone. Keep good company, +my boy. Keep good hours. Never forget that a gentleman must look +like a gentleman, dress like a gentleman, frequent the society of +gentlemen. To be a mere bookworm is to be a drone in the great +hive. I hate a drone--as I hate a sloven."</p> +<p>"I understand you, father," I faltered, blushing. "I know that +of late I--I have not...."</p> +<p>My father laid his hand suddenly over my mouth.</p> +<p>"No confessions--no apologies," he said hastily. "We have both +been to blame in more respects than one, and we shall both know how +to be wiser in the future. Now go, and consider all that you may +require for your journey."</p> +<p>Agitated, delighted, full of hope, I ran up to my own room, +locked the door, and indulged in a delightful reverie. What a +prospect had suddenly opened before me! What novelty! what +adventure! To have visited London would have been to fulfil all my +desires; but to be sent to Paris was to receive a passport for +Fairyland!</p> +<p>That day, for the first time in many months, I dressed myself +carefully, and went down to dinner with a light heart, a cheerful +face, and an unexceptionable neckcloth.</p> +<p>As I took my place at the table, my father looked up cheerily +and gave me a pleased nod of recognition.</p> +<p>Our meal passed off very silently. It was my father's maxim that +no man could do more than one thing well at a time--especially at +table; so we had contracted a habit which to strangers would have +seemed even more unsociable than it really was, and gave to all our +meals an air more penitential than convivial. But this day was, in +reality, a festive occasion, and my father was disposed to be more +than usually agreeable. When the cloth was removed, he flung the +cellar-key at my head, and exclaimed, in a burst of unexampled +good-humor:--</p> +<p>"Basil, you dog, fetch up a bottle of the particular port!"</p> +<p>Now it is one of my theories that a man's after-dinner talk +takes much of its weight, color, and variety from the quality of +his wines. A generous vintage brings out generous sentiments. Good +fellowship, hospitality, liberal politics, and the milk of human +kindness, may be uncorked simultaneously with a bottle of old +Madeira; while a pint of thin Sauterne is productive only of envy, +hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness. We grow sententious on +Burgundy--logical on Bordeaux--sentimental on Cyprus--maudlin on +Lagrima Christi--and witty on Champagne.</p> +<p>Port was my father's favorite wine. It warmed his heart, cooled +his temper, and made him not only conversational, but expansive. +Leaning back complacently in his easy-chair, with the glass upheld +between his eye and the window, he discoursed to me of my journey, +of my prospects in life, and of all that I should do and avoid, +professionally and morally.</p> +<p>"Work," he said, "is the panacea for every sorrow--the plaster +for every pain--your only universal remedy. Industry, air, and +exercise are our best physicians. Trust to them, boy; but beware +how you publish the prescription, lest you find your occupation +gone. Remember, if you wish to be rich, you must never seem to be +poor; and as soon as you stand in need of your friends, you will +find yourself with none left. Be discreet of speech, and cultivate +the art of silence. Above all things, be truthful. Hold your tongue +as long as you please, but never open your lips to a lie. Show no +man the contents of your purse--he would either despise you for +having so little, or try to relieve you of the burden of carrying +so much. Above all, never get into debt, and never fall in love. +The first is disgrace, and the last is the devil! Respect yourself, +if you wish others to respect you; and bear in mind that the world +takes you at your own estimate. To dress well is a duty one owes to +society. The man who neglects his own appearance not only degrades +himself to the level of his inferiors, but puts an affront upon his +friends and acquaintances."</p> +<p>"I trust, sir," I said in some confusion, "that I shall never +incur the last reproach again."</p> +<p>"I hope not, Basil," replied my father, with a smile. "I hope +not. Keep your conscience clean and your boots blacked, and I have +no fear of you. You are no hero, my boy, but it depends upon +yourself whether you become a man of honor or a scamp; a gentleman +or a clown. You have, I see, registered a good resolution to-day. +Keep it; and remember that Pandemonium will get paved without your +help. There would be no industry, boy, if there was no idleness, +and all true progress begins with--Reform."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII."></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> +<h3>AT THE CHEVAL BLANC</h3> +<br> +<p>My journey, even at this distance of time, appears to me like an +enchanted dream. I observed, yet scarcely remembered, the scenes +through which I passed, so divided was I between the novelty of +travelling and the eagerness of anticipation. Provided with my +letters of introduction, the sum of one hundred guineas, English, +and the enthusiasm of twenty years of age, I fancied myself endowed +with an immortality of wealth and happiness.</p> +<p>The Brighton coach passed through our town once a week; so I +started for Paris without having ever visited London, and took the +route by Newhaven and Dieppe. Having left home on Tuesday morning, +I reached Rouen in the course of the next day but one. At Rouen I +stayed to dine and sleep, and so made my way to the <i>Cheval +Blanc</i>, a grand hotel on the quay, where I was received by an +aristocratic elderly waiter who sauntered out from a side office, +surveyed me patronizingly, entered my name upon a card for a seat +at the <i>table d'hote</i>, and, having rung a feeble little bell, +sank exhausted upon a seat in the hall.</p> +<p>"To number seventeen, Marie," said this majestic personage, +handing me over to a pretty little chambermaid who attended the +summons. "And, Marie, on thy return, my child, bring me an +absinthe."</p> +<p>We left this gentleman in a condition of ostentatious languor, +and Marie deposited me in a pretty room overlooking an exquisite +little garden set round with beds of verbena and scarlet geranium, +with a fountain sparkling in the midst. This garden was planted in +what had once been the courtyard, of the building. The trees nodded +and whispered, and the windows at the opposite side of the +quadrangle glittered like burnished gold in the sunlight. I threw +open the jalousies, plucked one of the white roses that clustered +outside, and drank in with delight the sunny perfumed air that +played among the leaves, and scattered the waters of the fountain. +I could not long rest thus, however. I longed to be out and about; +so, as it was now no more than half-past three o'clock, and two +good hours of the glorious midsummer afternoon yet remained to me +before the hotel dinner-hour, I took my hat, and went out along the +quays and streets of this beautiful and ancient Norman city.</p> +<p>Under the crumbling archways; through narrow alleys where the +upper stories nearly met overhead, leaving only a bright strip of +dazzling sky between; past quaint old mansions, and sculptured +fountains, and stately churches hidden away in all kinds of strange +forgotten nooks and corners, I wandered, wondering and unwearied. I +saw the statue of Jeanne d'Arc; the château of Diane de +Poitiers; the archway carved in oak where the founder of the city +still, in rude effigy, presides; the museum rich in mediæval +relics; the market-place crowded with fruit-sellers and +flower-girls in their high Norman caps. Above all, I saw the rare +old Gothic Cathedral, with its wondrous wealth of antique +sculpture; its iron spire, destined, despite its traceried beauty, +to everlasting incompleteness; its grass-grown buttresses, and +crumbling pinnacles, and portals crowded with images of saints and +kings. I went in. All was gray, shadowy, vast; dusk with the rich +gloom of painted windows; and so silent that I scarcely dared +disturb the echoes by my footsteps. There stood in a corner near +the door a triangular iron stand stuck full of votive tapers that +flickered and sputtered and guttered dismally, shedding showers of +penitential grease-drops on the paved floor below; and there was a +very old peasant woman on her knees before the altar. I sat down on +a stone bench and fell into a long study of the stained oriel, the +light o'erarching roof, and the long perspective of the pillared +aisles. Presently the verger came out of the vestry-room, followed +by two gentlemen. He was short and plump, with a loose black gown, +slender black legs, and a pointed nose--like a larger species of +raven.</p> +<p>"<i>Bon jour, M'sieur</i>" croaked he, laying his head a little +on one side, and surveying me with one glittering eye. "Will +M'sieur be pleased to see the treasury?"</p> +<p>"The treasury!" I repeated. "What is there to be seen in the +treasury?"</p> +<p>"Nothing, sir, worth one son of an Englishman's money," said the +taller of the gentlemen. "Tinsel, paste, and dusty bones--all +humbug and extortion."</p> +<p>Something in the scornful accent and the deep voice aroused the +suspicions of the verger, though the words were spoken in +English.</p> +<p>"Our treasury, M'sieur," croaked he, more ravenly than ever, "is +rich--rich in episcopal jewels; in relics--inestimable relics. +Tickets two francs each."</p> +<p>Grateful, however, for the timely caution, I acknowledged my +countryman's courtesy by a bow, declined the proffered investment, +and went out again into the sunny streets.</p> +<p>At five o'clock I found myself installed near the head of an +immensely long dinner-table in the <i>salle à manger</i> of +the Cheval Blanc. The <i>salle à manger</i> was a +magnificent temple radiant with mirrors, and lustres, and panels +painted in fresco. The dinner was an imposing rite, served with +solemn ceremonies by ministering waiters. There were about thirty +guests seated round, in august silence, most of them very smartly +dressed, and nearly all English. A stout gentleman, with a little +knob on the top of his bald head, a buff waistcoat, and a shirt +amply frilled, sat opposite to me, flanked on either side by an +elderly daughter in green silk. On my left I was supported by a +thin young gentleman with fair hair, and blue glasses. To my right +stood a vacant chair, the occupant of which had not yet arrived; +and at the head of the table sat a spare pale man dressed all in +black, who spoke to no one, kept his eyes fixed upon his plate, and +was served by the waiters with especial servility. The soup came +and went in profound silence. Faint whispers passed to and fro with +the fish. It was not till the roast made its appearance that +anything like conversation broke the sacred silence of the meal. At +this point the owner of the vacant chair arrived, and took his +place beside me. I recognised him immediately. It was the +Englishman whom I had met in the Cathedral. We bowed, and presently +he spoke to me. In the meantime, he had every forgone item of the +dinner served to him as exactly as if he had not been late at +table, and sipped his soup with perfect deliberation while others +were busy with the sweets. Our conversation began, of course, with +the weather and the place.</p> +<p>"Your first visit to Rouen, I suppose?" said he. "Beautiful old +city, is it not? <i>Garçon</i>, a pint of +Bordeaux-Leoville."</p> +<p>I modestly admitted that it was not only my first visit to +Rouen, but my first to the Continent.</p> +<p>"Ah, you may go farther than Rouen, and fare worse," said he. +"Do you sketch? No? That's a pity, for it's deliciously +picturesque--though, for my own part, I am not enthusiastic about +gutters and gables, and I object to a population composed +exclusively of old women. I'm glad, by the way, that I preserved +you from wasting your time among the atrocious lumber of that +so-called treasury."</p> +<p>"The treasury!" exclaimed my slim neighbor with the blue +glasses. "Beg your p--p--pardon, sir, but are you speaking of the +Cathedral treasury? Is it worth v--v--visiting?"</p> +<p>"Singularly so," replied he to my right. "One of the rarest +collections of authentic curiosities in France. They have the +snuff-box of Clovis, the great toe of Saint Helena, and the tongs +with which St. Dunstan took the devil by the nose."</p> +<p>"Up--p--pon my word, now, that's curious," ejaculated the thin +tourist, who had an impediment in his speech. "I must p--p--put +that down. Dear me! the snuff-box of King Clovis! I must see these +relics to-morrow."</p> +<p>"Be sure you ask for the great toe of St. Helena," said my right +hand companion, proceeding imperturbably with his dinner. "The +saint had but one leg at the period of her martyrdom, and that +great toe is unique."</p> +<p>"G--g--good gracious!" exclaimed the tourist, pulling out a +gigantic note-book, and entering the fact upon the spot. "A saint +with one leg--and a lady, too! Wouldn't m--m--miss that for the +world!"</p> +<p>I looked round, puzzled by the gravity of my new +acquaintance.</p> +<p>"Is this all true?" I whispered. "You told me the treasury was a +humbug."</p> +<p>"And so it is."</p> +<p>"But the snuff-box of Clovis, and...."</p> +<p>"Pure inventions! The man's a muff, and on muffs I have no +mercy. Do you stay long in Rouen?"</p> +<p>"No, I go on to Paris to-morrow. I wish I could remain +longer."</p> +<p>"I am not sure that you would gain more from a long visit than +from a short one. Some places are like some women, charming, <i>en +passant</i>, but intolerable upon close acquaintance. It is just so +with Rouen. The place contains no fine galleries, and no places of +public entertainment; and though exquisitely picturesque, is +nothing more. One cannot always be looking at old houses, and +admiring old churches. You will be delighted with Paris."</p> +<p>"B--b--beautiful city," interposed the stammerer, eager to join +our conversation, whenever he could catch a word of it. "I'm going +to P--P--Paris myself."</p> +<p>"Then, sir, I don't doubt you will do ample justice to its +attractions," observed my right-hand neighbor. "From the size of +your note-book, and the industry with which you accumulate useful +information, I should presume that you are a conscientious observer +of all that is recondite and curious."</p> +<p>"I as--p--pire to be so," replied the other, with a blush and a +bow. "I m--m--mean to exhaust P--P--Paris. I'm going to write a +b--b--book about it, when I get home."'</p> +<p>My friend to the right flashed one glance of silent scorn upon +the future author, drained the last glass of his Bordeaux-Leoville, +pushed his chair impatiently back, and said:--"This place smells +like a kitchen. Will you come out, and have a cigar?"</p> +<p>So we rose, took our hats, and in a few moments were strolling +under the lindens on the Quai de Corneille.</p> +<p>I, of course, had never smoked in my life; and, humiliating +though it was, found myself obliged to decline a "prime Havana," +proffered in the daintiest of embroidered cigar-cases. My companion +looked as if he pitied me. "You'll soon learn," said he. "A man +can't live in Paris without tobacco. Do you stay there many +weeks?"</p> +<p>"Two years, at least," I replied, registering an inward +resolution to conquer the difficulties of tobacco without delay. "I +am going to study medicine under an eminent French surgeon."</p> +<p>"Indeed! Well, you could not go to a better school, or embrace a +nobler profession. I used to think a soldier's life the grandest +under heaven; but curing is a finer thing than killing, after all! +What a delicious evening, is it not? If one were only in Paris, +now, or Vienna,...."</p> +<p>"What, Oscar Dalrymple!" exclaimed a voice close beside us. "I +should as soon have expected to meet the great Panjandrum +himself!"</p> +<p>"--With the little round button at top," added my companion, +tossing away the end of his cigar, and shaking hands heartily with +the new-comer. "By Jove, Frank, I'm glad to see you! What brings +you here?"</p> +<p>"Business--confound it! And not pleasant business either. <i>A +procés</i> which my father has instituted against a great +manufacturing firm here at Rouen, and of which I have to bear the +brunt. And you?"</p> +<p>"And I, my dear fellow? Pshaw! what should I be but an idler in +search of amusement?"</p> +<p>"Is it true that you have sold out of the Enniskillens?"</p> +<p>"Unquestionably. Liberty is sweet; and who cares to carry a +sword in time of peace? Not I, at all events."</p> +<p>While this brief greeting was going forward, I hung somewhat in +the rear, and amused myself by comparing the speakers. The +new-comer was rather below than above the middle height, +fair-haired and boyish, with a smile full of mirth and an eye full +of mischief. He looked about two years my senior. The other was +much older--two or three and thirty, at the least--dark, tall, +powerful, finely built; his wavy hair clipped close about his +sun-burnt neck; a thick moustache of unusual length; and a chest +that looked as if it would have withstood the shock of a +battering-ram. Without being at all handsome, there was a look of +brightness, and boldness, and gallantry about him that arrested +one's attention at first sight. I think I should have taken him for +a soldier, had I not already gathered it from the last words of +their conversation.</p> +<p>"Who is your friend?" I heard the new-comer whisper.</p> +<p>To which the other replied:--"Haven't the ghost of an idea."</p> +<p>Presently he took out his pocket-book, and handing me a card, +said:--</p> +<p>"We are under the mutual disadvantage of all chance +acquaintances. My name is Dalrymple--Oscar Dalrymple, late of the +Enniskillen Dragoons. My friend here is unknown to fame as Mr. +Frank Sullivan; a young gentleman who has the good fortune to be +younger partner in a firm of merchant princes, and the bad taste to +dislike his occupation."</p> +<p>How I blushed as I took Captain Dalrymple's card, and stammered +out my own name in return! I had never possessed a card in my life, +nor needed one, till this moment. I rather think that Captain +Dalrymple guessed these facts, for he shook hands with me at once, +and put an end to my embarrassment by proposing that we should take +a boat, and pull a mile or two up the river. The thing was no +sooner said than done. There were plenty of boats below the iron +bridge; so we chose one of the cleanest, and jumped into it without +any kind of reference to the owner, whoever he might be.</p> +<p>"<i>Batelier, Messieurs? Batelier</i>?" cried a dozen men at +once, rushing down to the water's edge.</p> +<p>But Dalrymple had already thrown off his coat, and seized the +oars.</p> +<p>"<i>Batelier</i>, indeed!" laughed he, as with two or three +powerful strokes he carried us right into the middle, of the +stream. "Trust an Oxford man for employing any arms but his own, +when a pair of sculls are in question!"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII."></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> +<h3>THE ISLAND IN THE RIVER.</h3> +<br> +<p>It was just eight o'clock when we started, with the twilight +coming on. Our course lay up the river, with a strong current +setting against us; so we made but little way, and enjoyed the +tranquil beauty of the evening. The sky was pale and clear, +somewhat greenish overhead and deepening along the line of the +horizon into amber and rose. Behind us lay the town with every +brown spire articulated against the sky and every vane glittering +in the last glow that streamed up from the west. To our left rose a +line of steep chalk cliffs, and before us lay the river, winding +away through meadow lands fringed with willows and poplars, and +interspersed with green islands wooded to the water's edge. +Presently the last flush faded, and one large planet, splendid and +solitary, like the first poet of a dark century, emerged from the +deepening gray.</p> +<p>My companions were in high spirits. They jested; they laughed; +they hummed scraps of songs; they had a greeting for every boat +that passed. By-and-by, we came to an island with a little +landing-place where a score or two of boats were moored against the +alders by the water's edge. A tall flag-staff gay with streamers +peeped above the tree-tops, and a cheerful sound of piping and +fiddling, mingled with the hum of many voices, came and went with +the passing breeze. As Dalrymple rested on his oars to listen, a +boat which we had outstripped some minutes before, shot past us to +the landing-place, and its occupants, five in number, alighted.</p> +<p>"Bet you ten to one that's a bridal party," said Mr. +Sullivan.</p> +<p>"Say you so? Then suppose we follow, and have a look at the +bride!" exclaimed his friend. "The place is a public garden."</p> +<p>The proposition was carried unanimously, and we landed, having +first tied the boat to a willow. We found the island laid out very +prettily; intersected by numbers of little paths, with rustic seats +here and there among the trees, and variegated lamps gleaming out +amid the grass, like parti-colored glow-worms. Following one of +these paths, we came presently to an open space, brilliantly +lighted and crowded by holiday-makers. Here were refreshment +stalls, and Russian swings, and queer-looking merry-go-rounds, +where each individual sat on a wooden horse and went gravely round +and round with a stick in his hand, trying to knock off a ring from +the top of a pole in the middle. Here, also, was a band in a gaily +decorated orchestra; a circular area roped off for dancers; a +mysterious tent with a fortune-teller inside; a lottery-stall +resplendent with vases and knick-knacks, which nobody was ever +known to win; in short, all kinds of attractions, stale enough, no +doubt, to my companions, but sufficiently novel and amusing to +me.</p> +<p>We strolled about for some time among the stalls and promenaders +and amused ourselves by criticising the company, which was composed +almost entirely of peasants, soldiers, artisans in blue blouses and +humble tradespeople. The younger women were mostly handsome, with +high Norman caps, white kerchiefs and massive gold ear-rings. Many, +in addition to the ear-rings, wore a gold cross suspended round the +neck by a piece of black velvet; and some had a brooch to match. +Here, sitting round a table under a tree, we came upon a family +group, consisting of a little plump, bald-headed <i>bourgeois</i> +with his wife and two children--the wife stout and rosy; the +children noisy and authoritative. They were discussing a dish of +poached eggs and a bottle of red wine, to the music of a polka +close by.</p> +<p>"I should like to dance," said the little girl, drumming with +her feet against the leg of the table, and eating an egg with her +fingers. "I may dance presently with Phillippe, may I not, +papa?"</p> +<p>"I won't dance," said Phillippe sulkily. "I want some +oysters."</p> +<p>"Oysters, <i>mon enfant</i>! I have told you twice already that +no one eats oysters in July," observed his mother.</p> +<p>"I don't care for that," said Phillippe. "It's my +<i>fête</i> day, and Uncle Jacques said I was to have +whatever I fancied; I want some oysters."</p> +<p>"Your Uncle Jacques did not know what an unreasonable boy you +are," replied the father angrily. "If you say another word about +oysters, you shall not ride in the <i>manège</i> +to-night."</p> +<p>Phillippe thrust his fists into his eyes and began to roar--so +we walked away.</p> +<p>In an arbor, a little further on, we saw two young people +whispering earnestly, and conscious of no eyes but each +other's.</p> +<p>"A pair of lovers," said Sullivan.</p> +<p>"And a pair that seldom get the chance of meeting, if we may +judge by their untasted omelette," replied Dalrymple. "But where's +the bridal party?"</p> +<p>"Oh, we shall find them presently. You seem interested."</p> +<p>"I am. I mean to dance with the bride and make the bridegroom +jealous."</p> +<p>We laughed and passed on, peeping into every arbor, observing +every group, and turning to stare at every pretty girl we met. My +own aptitude in the acquisition of these arts of gallantry +astonished myself. Now, we passed a couple of soldiers playing at +dominoes; now a noisy party round a table in the open air covered +with bottles; now an arbor where half a dozen young men and three +or four girls were assembled round a bowl of blazing punch. The +girls were protesting they dare not drink it, but were drinking it, +nevertheless, with exceeding gusto.</p> +<p>"Grisettes and <i>commis voyageurs!</i>" said Dalrymple, +contemptuously. "Let us go and look at the dancers."</p> +<p>We went on, and stood in the shelter of some trees near the +orchestra. The players consisted of three violins, a clarionette +and a big drum. The big drum was an enthusiastic performer. He +belabored his instrument as heartily as if it had been his worst +enemy, but with so much independence of character that he never +kept the same time as his fellow-players for two minutes together. +They were playing a polka for the benefit of some twelve or fifteen +couples, who were dancing with all their might in the space before +the orchestra. On they came, round and round and never weary, two +at a time--a mechanic and a grisette, a rustic and a Normandy girl, +a tall soldier and a short widow, a fat tradesman and his wife, a +couple of milliners assistants who preferred dancing together to +not dancing at all, and so forth.</p> +<p>"How I wish somebody would ask me, <i>ma mère</i>!" said +a coquettish brunette, close by, with a sidelong glance at +ourselves."</p> +<p>"You shall dance with your brother Paul, my dear, as soon as he +comes," replied her mother, a stout <i>bourgeoise</i> with a green +fan.</p> +<p>"But it is such dull work to dance with one's brother!" pouted +the brunette. "If it were one's cousin, even, it would be +different."</p> +<p>Mr. Frank Sullivan flung away his cigar, and began buttoning up +his gloves.</p> +<p>"I'll take that damsel out immediately," said he. "A girl who +objects to dance with her brother deserves encouragement."</p> +<p>So away he went with his hat inclining jauntily on one side, +and, having obtained the mother's permission, whirled away with the +pretty brunette into the very thickest of the throng.</p> +<p>"There they are!" said Dalrymple, suddenly. "There's the wedding +party. <i>Per Bacco</i>! but our little bride is charming!"</p> +<p>"And the bridegroom is a handsome specimen of rusticity."</p> +<p>"Yes--a genuine pastoral pair, like a Dresden china shepherd and +shepherdess. See, the girl is looking up in his face--he shakes his +head. She is urging him to dance, and he refuses! Never mind, <i>ma +belle</i>--you shall have your valse, and Corydon may be as cross +as he pleases!"</p> +<p>"Don't flatter yourself that she will displease Corydon to dance +with your lordship!" I said, laughingly.</p> +<p>"Pshaw! she would displease fifty Corydons if I chose to make +her do so," said Dalrymple, with a smile of conscious power.</p> +<p>"True; but not on her wedding-day."</p> +<p>"Wedding-day or not, I beg to observe that in less than half an +hour you will see me whirling along with my arm round little +Phillis's dainty waist. Now come and see how I do it."</p> +<p>He made his way through the crowd, and I, half curious, half +abashed, went with him. The party was five in number, consisting of +the bride and bridegroom, a rosy, middle-aged peasant woman, +evidently the mother of the bride, and an elderly couple who looked +like humble townsfolk, and were probably related to one or other of +the newly-married pair. Dalrymple opened the attack by stumbling +against the mother, and then overwhelming her with elaborate +apologies.</p> +<p>"In these crowded places, Madame," said he, in his fluent +French, "one is scarcely responsible for an impoliteness. I beg ten +thousand pardons, however. I hope I have not hurt you?"</p> +<p>"<i>Ma foi!</i> no, M'sieur. It would take more than that to +hurt me!"</p> +<p>"Nor injured your dress, I trust, Madame?"</p> +<p>"<i>Ah, par exemple</i>! do I wear muslins or gauzes that they +should not bear touching? No, no, no, M'sieur--thanking you all the +same."</p> +<p>"You are very amiable, Madame, to say so."</p> +<p>"You are very polite, M'sieur, to think so much of a +trifle."</p> +<p>"Nothing is a trifle, Madame, where a lady is concerned. At +least, so we Englishmen consider."</p> +<p>"Bah! M'sieur is not English?"</p> +<p>"Indeed, Madame, I am."</p> +<p>"<i>Mais, mon Dieu! c'est incroyable</i>. Suzette--brother +Jacques--André, do you hear this? M'sieur, here, swears that +he is English, and yet he speaks French like one of ourselves! Ah, +what a fine thing learning is!"</p> +<p>"I may say with truth, Madame, that I never appreciate the +advantages of education so highly, as when they enable me to +converse with ladies who are not my own countrywomen," said +Dalrymple, carrying on the conversation with as much studied +politeness as if his interlocutor had been a duchess. "But--excuse +the observation--you are here, I imagine, upon a happy +occasion?"</p> +<p>The mother laughed, and rubbed her hands.</p> +<p>"<i>Dâme</i>! one may see that," replied she, "with one's +eyes shut! Yes, M'sieur,--yes--their wedding-day, the dear +children--their wedding-day! They've been betrothed these two +years."</p> +<p>"The bride is very like you, Madame," said Dalrymple, gravely. +"Your younger sister, I presume?"</p> +<p>"<i>Ah, quel farceur</i>! He takes my daughter for my sister! +Suzette, do you hear this? M'sieur is killing me with +laughter!"</p> +<p>And the good lady chuckled, and gasped, and wiped her eyes, and +dealt Dalrymple a playful push between the shoulders, which would +have upset the balance of any less heavy dragoon.</p> +<p>"Your daughter, Madame!" said he. "Allow me to congratulate you. +May I also be permitted to congratulate the bride?" And with this +he took off his hat to Suzette and shook hands with André, +who looked not overpleased, and proceeded to introduce me as his +friend Monsieur Basil Arbuthnot, "a young English gentleman, +<i>très distingué</i>"</p> +<p>The old lady then said her name was Madame Roquet, and that she +rented a small farm about a mile and a half from Rouen; that +Suzette was her only child; and that she had lost her "blessed man" +about eight years ago. She next introduced the elderly couple as +her brother Jacques Robineau and his wife, and informed us that +Jacques was a tailor, and had a shop opposite the church of St. +Maclou, "<i>là bas</i>."</p> +<p>To judge of Monsieur Robineau's skill by his outward appearance, +I should have said that he was professionally unsuccessful, and +supplied his own wardrobe from the misfits returned by his +customers. He wore a waistcoat which was considerably too long for +him, trousers which were considerably too short, and a green cloth +coat with a high velvet collar which came up nearly to the tops of +his ears. In respect of personal characteristics, Monsieur Robineau +and his wife were the most admirable contrast imaginable. Monsieur +Robineau was short; Madame Robineau was tall. Monsieur Robineau was +as plump and rosy as a robin; Madame Robineau was pale and bony to +behold. Monsieur Robineau looked the soul of good nature, ready to +chirrup over his <i>grog-au-vin,</i> to smoke a pipe with his +neighbor, to cut a harmless joke or enjoy a harmless frolic, as +cheerfully as any little tailor that ever lived; Madame Robineau, +on the contrary, preserved a dreadful dignity, and looked as if she +could laugh at nothing on this side of the grave. Not to consider +the question too curiously, I should have said, at first sight, +that Monsieur Robineau stood in no little awe of his wife, and that +Madame Robineau was the very head and front of their domestic +establishment.</p> +<p>It was wonderful and delightful to see how Captain Dalrymple +placed himself on the best of terms with all these good people--how +he patted Robineau on the back and complimented Madame, banished +the cloud from André's brow, and summoned a smile to the +pretty cheek of Suzette. One would have thought he had known them +for years already, so thoroughly was he at home with every member +of the wedding party.</p> +<p>Presently, he asked Suzette to dance. She blushed scarlet, and +cast a pretty appealing look at her husband and her mother. I could +almost guess what she whispered to the former by the motion of her +lips.</p> +<p>"Monsieur André will, I am sure, spare Madame for one +gallop," said Dalrymple, with that kind of courtesy which accepts +no denial. It was quite another tone, quite another manner. It was +no longer the persuasive suavity of one who is desirous only to +please, but the politeness of a gentleman to au inferior.</p> +<p>The cloud came back upon André's brow, and he hesitated; +but Madame Roquet interposed.</p> +<p>"Spare her!" she exclaimed. "<i>Dâme</i>! I should think +so! She has never left his arm all day. Here, my child, give me +your shawl while you dance, and bake care not to get too warm, for +the evening air is dangerous."</p> +<p>And so Suzette took off her shawl, and André was +silenced, and Dalrymple, in less than the half hour, was actually +whirling away with his arm round little Phillis's dainty waist.</p> +<p>I am afraid that I proved a very indifferent <i>locum tenens</i> +for my brilliant friend, and that the good people thought me +exceedingly stupid. I tried to talk to them, but the language +tripped me up at every turn, and the right words never would come +when they were wanted. Besides, I felt uneasy without knowing +exactly why. I could not keep from watching Dalrymple and Suzette. +I could not help noticing how closely he held her; how he never +ceased talking to her; and how the smiles and blushes chased each +other over her pretty face. That I should have wit enough to +observe these things proved that my education was progressing +rapidly; but then, to be sure, I was studying under an accomplished +teacher.</p> +<p>They danced for a long time. So long, that André became +uneasy, and my available French was quite exhausted. I was heartily +glad when Dalrymple brought back the little bride at last, flushed +and panting, and (himself as cool as a diplomatist) assisted her +with her shawl and resigned her to the protection of her +husband.</p> +<p>"Why hast thou danced so long with that big Englishman?" +murmured André, discontentedly. "When <i>I</i> asked thee, +thou wast too tired, and now...."</p> +<p>"And now I am so happy to be near thee again," whispered +Suzette.</p> +<p>André softened directly.</p> +<p>"But to dance for twenty minutes...." began he.</p> +<p>"Ah, but he danced so well, and I am so fond of waltzing, +André!"</p> +<p>The cloud gathered again, and an impatient reply was coming, +when Dalrymple opportunely invited the whole party to a bowl of +punch in an adjoining arbor, and himself led the way with Madame +Roquet. The arbor was vacant, a waiter was placing the chairs, and +the punch was blazing in the bowl. It had evidently been ordered +during one of the pauses in the dance, that it might be ready to +the moment--a little attention which called forth exclamations of +pleasure from both Madame Roquet and Monsieur Robineau, and touched +with something like a gleam of satisfaction even the grim visage of +Monsieur Robineau's wife.</p> +<p>Dalrymple took the head of the table, and stirred the punch into +leaping tongues of blue flame till it looked like a miniature +Vesuvius.</p> +<p>"What diabolical-looking stuff!" I exclaimed. "You might, to all +appearance, be Lucifer's own cupbearer."</p> +<p>"A proof that it ought to be devilish good," replied Dalrymple, +ladling it out into the glasses. "Allow me, ladies and gentlemen, +to propose the health, happiness, and prosperity of the bride and +bridegroom. May they never die, and may they be remembered for ever +after!"</p> +<p>We all laughed as if this was the best joke we had heard in our +lives, and Dalrymple filled the glasses up again.</p> +<p>"What, in the name of all that's mischievous, can have become of +Sullivan?" said he to me. "I have not caught so much as a glimpse +of him for the last hour."</p> +<p>"When I last saw him, he was dancing."</p> +<p>"Yes, with a pretty little dark-eyed girl in a blue dress. By +Jove! that fellow will be getting into trouble if left to +himself!"</p> +<p>"But the girl has her mother with her!"</p> +<p>"All the stronger probability of a scrimmage," replied +Dalrymple, sipping his punch with a covert glance of salutation at +Suzette.</p> +<p>"Shall I see if they are among the dancers?"</p> +<p>"Do--but make haste; for the punch is disappearing fast."</p> +<p>I left them, and went back to the platform where the +indefatigable public was now engaged in the performance of +quadrilles. Never, surely, were people so industrious in the +pursuit of pleasure! They poussetted, bowed, curtsied, joined +hands, and threaded the mysteries of every figure, as if their very +lives depended on their agility.</p> +<p>"Look at Jean Thomas," said a young girl to her still younger +companion. "He dances like an angel!"</p> +<p>The one thus called upon to admire, looked at Jean Thomas, and +sighed.</p> +<p>"He never asks me, by any chance," said she, sadly, "although +his mother and mine are good neighbors. I suppose I don't dance +well enough--or dress well enough," she added, glancing at her +friend's gay shawl and coquettish cap.</p> +<p>"He has danced with me twice this evening," said the first +speaker triumphantly; "and he danced with me twice last Sunday at +the Jardin d'Armide. Elise says...."</p> +<p>Her voice dropped to a whisper, and I heard no more. It was a +passing glimpse behind the curtain--a peep at one of the many +dramas of real life that are being played for ever around us. Here +were all the elements of romance--love, admiration, vanity, envy. +Here was a hero in humble life--a lady-killer in his own little +sphere. He dances with one, neglects another, and multiplies his +conquests with all the heartlessness of a gentleman.</p> +<p>I wandered round the platform once or twice, scrutinizing the +dancers, but without success. There was no sign of Sullivan, or of +his partner, or of his partner's mother, the <i>bourgeoise</i> with +the green fan. I then went to the grotto of the fortune-teller, but +it was full of noisy rustics; and thence to the lottery hall, where +there were plenty of players, but not those of whom I was in +search.</p> +<p>"Wheel of fortune, Messieurs et Mesdames," said the young lady +behind the counter. "Only fifty centimes each. All prizes, and no +blanks--try your fortune, <i>monsieur le capitaine!</i> Put it +once, <i>monsieur le capitaine</i>; once for yourself, and once for +madame. Only fifty centimes each, and the certainty of +winning!"</p> +<p><i>Monsieur le capitaine</i> was a great, rawboned corporal, +with a pretty little maid-servant on his arm. The flattery was not +very delicate; but it succeeded. He threw down a franc. The wheel +flew round, the papers were drawn, and the corporal won a +needle-case, and the maid-servant a cigar-holder. In the midst of +the laugh to which this distribution gave rise, I walked away in +the direction of the refreshment stalls. Here were parties supping +substantially, dancers drinking orgeat and lemonade, and little +knots of tradesmen and mechanics sipping beer ridiculously out of +wine-glasses to an accompaniment of cakes and sweet-biscuits. Still +I could see no trace of Mr. Frank Sullivan.</p> +<p>At length I gave up the search in despair, and on my way back +encountered Master Philippe leaning against a tree, and looking +exceedingly helpless and unwell.</p> +<p>"You ate too many eggs, Philippe," said his mother. "I told you +so at the time."</p> +<p>"It--it wasn't the eggs," faltered the wretched Philippe. "It +was the Russian swing."</p> +<p>"And serve you rightly, too," said his father angrily. "I wish +with all my heart that you had had your favorite oysters as +well!"</p> +<p>When I came back to the arbor, I found the little party +immensely happy, and a fresh bowl of punch just placed upon the +table. André was sitting next to Suzette, as proud as a +king. Madame Roquet, volubly convivial, was talking to every one. +Madame Robineau was silently disposing of all the biscuits and +punch that came in her way. Monsieur Robineau, with his hat a +little pushed back and his thumb in the arm-hole of his waistcoat, +was telling a long story to which nobody listened; while Dalrymple, +sitting on the other side of the bride, was gallantly doing the +duties of entertainer.</p> +<p>He looked up--I shook my head, slipped back into my place, and +listened to the tangled threads of conversation going on around +me.</p> +<p>"And so," said Monsieur Robineau, proceeding with his story, and +staring down into the bottom of his empty glass, "and so I said to +myself, 'Robineau, <i>mon ami</i>, take care. One honest man is +better than two rogues; and if thou keepest thine eyes open, the +devil himself stands small chance of cheating thee!' So I buttoned +up my coat--this very coat I have on now, only that I have re-lined +and re-cuffed it since then, and changed the buttons for brass +ones; and brass buttons for one's holiday coat, you know, look so +much more <i>comme il faut</i>--and said to the landlord...."</p> +<p>"Another glass of punch, Monsieur Robineau," interrupted +Dalrymple.</p> +<p>"Thank you, M'sieur, you are very good; well, as I was +saying...."</p> +<p>"Ah, bah, brother Jacques!" exclaimed Madame Roquet, +impatiently, "don't give us that old story of the miller and the +gray colt, this evening! We've all heard it a hundred times +already. Sing us a song instead, <i>mon ami</i>!"</p> +<p>"I shall be happy to sing, sister Marie," replied Monsieur +Robineau, with somewhat husky dignity, "when I have finished my +story. You may have heard the story before. So may André--so +may Suzette--so may my wife. I admit it. But these gentlemen--these +gentlemen who have never heard it, and who have done me the +honor...."</p> +<p>"Not to listen to a word of it," said Madame Robineau, sharply. +"There, you are answered, husband. Drink your punch, and hold your +tongue."</p> +<p>Monsieur Robineau waved his hand majestically, and assumed a +Parliamentary air.</p> +<p>"Madame Robineau," he said, getting more and more husky, "be so +obliging as to wait till I ask for your advice. With regard to +drinking my punch, I have drunk it--" and here he again stared down +into the bottom of his glass, which was again empty--"and with +regard to holding my tongue, that is my business, and--and...."</p> +<p>"Monsieur Robineau," said Dalrymple, "allow me to offer you some +more punch."</p> +<p>"Not another drop, Jacques," said Madame, sternly. "You have had +too much already."</p> +<p>Poor Monsieur Robineau, who had put out his glass to be +refilled, paused and looked helplessly at his wife.</p> +<p>"<i>Mon cher ange</i>,...." he began; but she shook her head +inflexibly, and Monsieur Robineau submitted with the air of a man +who knows that from the sentence of the supreme court there is no +appeal.</p> +<p>"<i>Dâme</i>!" whispered Madame Roquet, with a +confidential attack upon my ribs that gave me a pain in my side for +half an hour after, "my brother has the heart of a rabbit. He gives +way to her in everything--so much the worse for him. My blessed +man, who was a saint of a husband, would have broken the bowl over +my ears if I had dared to interfere between his glass and his +mouth!"</p> +<p>Whereupon Madame Roquet filled her own glass and mine, and +Madame Robineau, less indulgent to her husband than herself, +followed our example.</p> +<p>Just at this moment, a confused hubbub of voices, and other +sounds expressive of a <i>fracas</i>, broke out in the direction of +the trees behind the orchestra. The dancers deserted their polka, +the musicians stopped fiddling, the noisy supper-party in the next +arbor abandoned their cold chicken and salad, and everybody ran to +the scene of action. Dalrymple was on his feet in a moment; but +Suzette held André back with both hands and implored him to +stay.</p> +<p>"Some <i>mauvais sujets</i>, no doubt, who refuse to pay the +score," suggested Madame Roquet.</p> +<p>"Or Sullivan, who has got into one of his infernal scrapes," +muttered Dalrymple, with a determined wrench at his moustache. +"Come on, anyhow, and let us see what is the matter!"</p> +<p>So we snatched up our hats and ran out, just as Monsieur +Robineau seized the opportunity to drink another tumbler of punch +when his wife was not looking.</p> +<p>Following in the direction of the rest, we took one of the paths +behind the orchestra, and came upon a noisy crowd gathered round a +wooden summer-house.</p> +<p>"It's a fight," said one.</p> +<p>"It's a pickpocket," said another.</p> +<p>"Bah! it's only a young fellow who has been making love to a +girl," exclaimed a third.</p> +<p>We forced our way through, and there we saw Mr. Frank Sullivan +with his hat off, his arms crossed, and his back against the wall, +presenting a dauntless front to the gesticulations and threats of +an exceedingly enraged young man with red hair, who was abusing him +furiously. The amount of temper displayed by this young man was +something unparalleled. He was angry in every one of his limbs. He +stamped, he shook his fist, he shook his head. The very tips of his +ears looked scarlet with rage. Every now and then he faced round to +the spectators, and appealed to them--or to a stout woman with a +green fan, who was almost as red and angry as himself, and who +always rushed forward when addressed, and shook the green fan in +Sullivan's face.</p> +<p>"You are an aristocrat!" stormed the young man. "A pampered, +insolent aristocrat! A dog of an Englishman! A +<i>scélérat</i>! Don't suppose you are to trample +upon us for nothing! We are Frenchmen, you beggarly +islander--Frenchmen, do you hear?"</p> +<p>A growl of sympathetic indignation ran through the crowd, and +"<i>à bas les aristocrats</i>--<i>à bas les +Anglais</i>!" broke out here and there.</p> +<p>"In the devil's name, Sullivan," said Dalrymple, shouldering his +way up to the object of these agreeable menaces, "what have you +been after, to bring this storm about your ears?"</p> +<p>"Pshaw! nothing at all," replied he with a mocking laugh, and a +contemptuous gesture. "I danced with a pretty girl, and treated her +to champagne afterwards. Her mother and brother hunted us out, and +spoiled our flirtation. That's the whole story."</p> +<p>Something in the laugh and gesture--something, too, perhaps in +the language which they could not understand, appeared to give the +last aggravation to both of Sullivan's assailants. I saw the young +man raise his arm to strike--I saw Dalrymple fell him with a blow +that would have stunned an ox--I saw the crowd close in, heard the +storm break out on every side, and, above it all, the deep, strong +tones of Dalrymple's voice, saying:--</p> +<p>"To the boat, boys! Follow me."</p> +<p>In another moment he had flung himself into the crowd, dealt one +or two sounding blows to left and right, cleared a passage for +himself and us, and sped away down one of the narrow walks leading +to the river. Presently, having taken one or two turnings, none of +which seemed to lead to the spot we sought, we came upon an open +space full of piled-up benches, pyramids of empty bottles, boxes, +baskets, and all kinds of lumber. Here we paused to listen and take +breath.</p> +<p>We had left the crowd behind us, but they were still within +hearing.</p> +<p>"By Jove!" said Dalrymple, "I don't know which way to go. I +believe we are on the wrong side of the island."</p> +<p>"And I believe they are after us," added Sullivan, peering into +the baskets. "By all that's fortunate, here are the fireworks! Has +anybody got a match? We'll take these with us, and go off in a +blaze of triumph!"</p> +<p>The suggestion was no sooner made than adopted. We filled our +hats and pockets with crackers and Catherine-wheels, piled the rest +into one great heap, threw a dozen or so of lighted fusees into the +midst of them, and just as the voices of our pursuers were growing +momentarily louder and nearer, darted away again down a fresh +turning, and saw the river gleaming at the end of it.</p> +<p>"Hurrah! here's a boat," shouted Sullivan, leaping into it, and +we after him.</p> +<p>It was not our boat, but we did not care for that. Ours was at +the other side of the island, far enough away, down by the +landing-place. Just as Dalrymple seized the oars, there burst forth +a tremendous explosion. A column of rockets shot up into the air, +and instantly the place was as light as day. Then a yell of +discovery broke forth, and we were seen almost as soon as we were +fairly out of reach. We had secured the only boat on that side of +the island, and three or four of Dalrymple's powerful strokes had +already carried us well into the middle of the stream. To let off +our own store of fireworks--to pitch tokens of our regard to our +friends on the island in the shape of blazing crackers, which fell +sputtering and fizzing into the water half-way between the boat and +the shore--to stand up in the stern and bow politely--finally, to +row away singing "God save the Queen" with all our might, were +feats upon which we prided ourselves very considerably at the time, +and the recollection of which afforded us infinite amusement all +the way home.</p> +<p>That evening we all supped together at the Chaval Blane, and of +what we did or said after supper I have but a confused remembrance. +I believe that I tried to smoke a cigar; and it is my impression +that I made a speech, in which I swore eternal friendship to both +of my new friends; but the only circumstance about which I cannot +be mistaken is that I awoke next morning with the worst specimen of +headache that had yet come within the limits of my experience.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX."></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> +<h3>DAMON AND PYTHIAS.</h3> +<br> +<p>I left Rouen the day after my great adventure on the river, and +Captain Dalrymple went with me to the station.</p> +<p>"You have my Paris address upon my card," he said, as we walked +to and fro upon the platform. "It's just a bachelor's den, you +know--and I shall be there in about a fortnight or three weeks. +Come and look me up."</p> +<p>To which I replied that I was glad to be allowed to do so, and +that I should "look him up" as soon as he came home. And so, with +words of cordial good-will and a hearty shake of the hand, we +parted.</p> +<p>Having started late in the evening, I arrived in Paris between +four and five o'clock on a bright midsummer Sunday morning. I was +not long delayed by the customs officers, for I carried but a scant +supply of luggage. Having left this at an hotel, I wandered about +till it should be time for breakfast. After breakfast I meant to +dress and call upon Dr. Chéron.</p> +<p>The morning air was clear and cool. The sun shone brilliantly, +and was reflected back with dazzling vividness from long vistas of +high white houses, innumerable windows, and gilded balconies. +Theatres, shops, cafés, and hotels not yet opened, lined the +great thoroughfares. Triumphal arches, columns, parks, palaces, and +churches succeeded one another in apparently endless succession. I +passed a lofty pillar crowned with a conqueror's statue--a palace +tragic in history--a modern Parthenon surrounded by columns, +peopled with sculptured friezes, and approached by a flight of +steps extending the whole width of the building. I went in, for the +doors had just been opened, and a white-haired Sacristan was +preparing the seats for matin service. There were acolytes +decorating the altar with fresh flowers, and early devotees on +their knees before the shrine of the Madonna. The gilded ornaments, +the tapers winking in the morning light, the statues, the +paintings, the faint clinging odors of incense, the hushed +atmosphere, the devotional silence, the marble angels kneeling +round the altar, all united to increase my dream of delight. I +gazed and gazed again; wandered round and round; and at last, worn +out with excitement and fatigue, sank into a chair in a distant +corner of the Church, and fell into a heavy sleep. How long it +lasted I know not; but the voices of the choristers and the deep +tones of the organ mingled with my dreams. When I awoke the last +worshippers were departing, the music had died into silence, the +wax-lights were being extinguished, and the service was ended.</p> +<p>Again I went out into the streets; but all was changed. Where +there had been the silence of early morning there was now the +confusion of a great city. Where there had been closed shutters and +deserted thoroughfares, there was the bustle of life, gayety, +business, and pleasure. The shops blazed with jewels and +merchandise; the stonemasons were at work on the new buildings; the +lemonade venders, with their gay reservoirs upon their backs, were +plying a noisy trade; the bill-stickers were papering boardings and +lamp-posts with variegated advertisements; the charlatan, in his +gaudy chariot, was selling pencils and penknives to the +accompaniment of a hand-organ; soldiers were marching to the +clangor of military music; the merchant was in his counting-house, +the stock-broker at the Bourse, and the lounger, whose name is +Legion, was sitting in the open air outside his favorite +café, drinking chocolate, and yawning over the +<i>Charivari</i>.</p> +<p>I thought I must be dreaming. I scarcely believed the evidence +of my eyes. Was this Sunday? Was it possible that in our own little +church at home--in our own little church, where we could hear the +birds twittering outside in every interval of the quiet +service--the old familiar faces, row beyond row, were even now +upturned in reverent attention to the words of the preacher? Prince +Bedreddin, transported in his sleep to the gates of Damascus, could +scarcely have opened his eyes upon a foreign city and a strange +people with more incredulous amazement.</p> +<p>I can now scarcely remember how that day of wonders went by. I +only know that I rambled about as in a dream, and am vaguely +conscious of having wandered through the gardens of the Tuilleries; +of having found the Louvre open, and of losing myself among some of +the upper galleries; of lying exhausted upon a bench in the Champs +Elysées; of returning by quays lined with palaces and +spanned by noble bridges; of pacing round and round the enchanted +arcades of the Palais Royal; of wondering how and where I should +find my hotel, and of deciding at last that I could go no farther +without dining somehow. Wearied and half stupefied, I ventured, at +length, into one of the large <i>restaurants</i> upon the +Boulevards. Here I found spacious rooms lighted by superb +chandeliers which were again reflected in mirrors that extended +from floor to ceiling. Rows of small tables ran round the rooms, +and a double line down the centre, each laid with its snowy cloth +and glittering silver.</p> +<p>It was early when I arrived; so I passed up to the top of the +room and appropriated a small table commanding a view of the great +thoroughfare below. The waiters were slow to serve me; the place +filled speedily; and by the time I had finished my soup, nearly all +the tables were occupied. Here sat a party of officers, bronzed and +mustachioed; yonder a group of laughing girls; a pair of +provincials; a family party, children, governess and all; a stout +capitalist, solitary and self content; a quatuor of rollicking +<i>commis-voyageurs</i>; an English couple, perplexed and curious. +Amused by the sight of so many faces, listening to the hum of +voices, and watching the flying waiters bearing all kinds of +mysterious dishes, I loitered over my lonely meal, and wished that +this delightful whirl of novelty might last for ever. By and by a +gentleman entered, walked up the whole length of the room in search +of a seat, found my table occupied by only a single person, bowed +politely, and drew his chair opposite mine.</p> +<p>He was a portly man of about forty-five or fifty years of age, +with a broad, calm brow; curling light hair, somewhat worn upon the +temples; and large blue eyes, more keen than tender. His dress was +scrupulously simple, and his hands were immaculately white. He +carried an umbrella little thicker than a walking-stick, and wrote +out his list of dishes with a massive gold pencil. The waiter bowed +down before him as if he were an habitué of the place.</p> +<p>It was not long before we fell into conversation. I do not +remember which spoke first; but we talked of Paris--or rather, I +talked and he listened; for, what with the excitement and fatigue +of the day, and what with the half bottle of champagne which I had +magnificently ordered, I found myself gifted with a sudden flood of +words, and ran on, I fear, not very discreetly.</p> +<p>A few civil rejoinders, a smile, a bow, an assent, a question +implied rather than spoken, sufficed to draw from me the +particulars of my journey. I told everything, from my birthplace +and education to my future plans and prospects; and the stranger, +with a frosty humor twinkling about his eyes, listened politely. He +was himself particularly silent; but he had the art of provoking +conversation while quietly enjoying his own dinner. When this was +finished, however, he leaned back in his chair, sipped his claret, +and talked a little more freely.</p> +<p>"And so," said he, in very excellent English, "you have come to +Paris to finish your studies. But have you no fear, young +gentleman, that the attractions of so gay a city may divert your +mind from graver subjects? Do you think that, when every pleasure +may be had for the seeking, you will be content to devote yourself +to the dry details of an uninteresting profession?"</p> +<p>"It is not an uninteresting profession," I replied. "I might +perhaps have preferred the church or the law; but having embarked +in the study of medicine, I shall do my best to succeed in it."</p> +<p>The stranger smiled.</p> +<p>"I am glad," he said, "to see you so ambitious. I do not doubt +that you will become a shining light in the brotherhood of +Esculapius."</p> +<p>"I hope so," I replied, boldly. "I have studied closer than most +men of my age, already."</p> +<p>He smiled again, coughed doubtfully, and insisted on filling my +glass from his own bottle.</p> +<p>"I only fear," he said, "that you will be too diffident of your +own merits. Now, when you call upon this Doctor....what did you say +was his name?"</p> +<p>"Chéron," I replied, huskily.</p> +<p>"True, Chéron. Well, when you meet him for the first time +you will, perhaps, be timid, hesitating, and silent. But, believe +me, a young man of your remarkable abilities should be +self-possessed. You ought to inspire him from the beginning with a +suitable respect for your talents."</p> +<p>"That's precisely the line I mean to take," said I, boastfully. +"I'll--I'll astonish him. I'm afraid of nobody--not I!"</p> +<p>The stranger filled my glass again. His claret must have been +very strong or my head very weak, for it seemed to me, as he did +so, that all the chandeliers were in motion.</p> +<p>"Upon my word," observed he, "you are a young man of infinite +spirit."</p> +<p>"And you," I replied, making an effort to bring the glass +steadily to my lips, "you are a capital fellow--a clear-sighted, +sensible, capital fellow. We'll be friends."</p> +<p>He bowed, and said, somewhat coldly,</p> +<p>"I have no doubt that we shall become better acquainted."</p> +<p>"Better acquainted, indeed!--we'll be intimate!" I ejaculated, +affectionately. "I'll introduce you to Dalrymple--you'll like him +excessively. Just the fellow to delight you."</p> +<p>"So I should say," observed the stranger, drily.</p> +<p>"And as for you and myself, we'll--we'll be Damon and ... what's +the other one's name?"</p> +<p>"Pythias," replied my new acquaintance, leaning back in his +chair, and surveying me with a peculiar and very deliberate stare. +"Exactly so--Damon and Pythias! A charming arrangement."</p> +<p>"Bravo! Famous! And now we'll have another bottle of wine."</p> +<p>"Not on my account, I beg," said the gentleman firmly. "My head +is not so cool as yours."</p> +<p>Cool, indeed, and the room whirling round and round, like a +teetotum!</p> +<p>"Oh, if you won't, I won't," said I confusedly; "but I--I +could--drink my share of another bottle, I assure you, and +not--feel the slightest...."</p> +<p>"I have no doubt on that point," said my neighbor, gravely; "but +our French wines are deceptive, Mr. Arbuthnot, and you might +possibly suffer some inconvenience to-morrow. You, as a medical +man, should understand the evils of dyspepsia."</p> +<p>"Dy--dy--dyspepsia be hanged," I muttered, dreamily. "Tell me, +friend--by the by, I forget your name. Friend what?"</p> +<p>"Friend Pythias," returned the stranger, drily. "You gave me the +name yourself."</p> +<p>"Ay, but your real name?"</p> +<p>He shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>"One name is as good as another," said he, lightly. "Let it be +Pythias, for the present. But you were about to ask me some +question?"</p> +<p>"About old Chéron," I said, leaning both elbows on the +table, and speaking very confidentially. "Now tell me, have +you--have you any notion of what he is like? Do you--know--know +anything about him?"</p> +<p>"I have heard of him," he replied, intent for the moment on the +pattern of his wine-glass.</p> +<p>"Clever?"</p> +<p>"That is a point upon which I could not venture an opinion. You +must ask some more competent judge."</p> +<p>"Come, now," said I, shaking my head, and trying to look +knowing; "you--you know what I mean, well enough. Is he a grim old +fellow? A--a--griffin, you know! Come, is he a +gr--r--r--riffin?"</p> +<p>My words had by this time acquired a distressing, +self-propelling tendency, and linked themselves into compounds of +twenty and thirty syllables.</p> +<p>My <i>vis-à-vis</i> smiled, bit his lip, then laughed a +dry, short laugh.</p> +<p>"Really," he said, "I am not in a position to reply to your +question; but upon the whole, I should say that Dr. Chéron +was not quite a griffin. The species, you see, is extinct."</p> +<p>I roared with laughter; vowed I had never heard a better joke in +my life; and repeated his last words over and over, like a degraded +idiot as I was. All at once a sense of deadly faintness came upon +me. I turned hot and cold by turns, and lifting my hand to my head, +said, or tried to say:--</p> +<p>"Room's--'bominably--close!"</p> +<p>"We had better go," he replied promptly. "The air will do you +good. Leave me to settle for our dinners, and you shall make it +right with me by-and-by."</p> +<p>He did so, and we left the room. Once out in the open air I +found myself unable to stand. He called a <i>fiacre</i>; almost +lifted me in; took his place beside me, and asked the name of my +hotel.</p> +<p>I had forgotten it; but I knew that it was opposite the railway +station, and that was enough. When we arrived, I was on the verge +of insensibility. I remember that I was led up-stairs by two +waiters, and that the stranger saw me to my room. Then all was +darkness and stupor.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X."></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> +<h3>THE NEXT MORNING.</h3> +<br> +<p>"Oh, my Christian ducats!" <i>Merchant of Venice</i>.</p> +<p>Gone!--gone!--both gone!--my new gold watch and my purse full of +notes and Napoleons!</p> +<p>I rang the bell furiously. It was answered by a demure-looking +waiter, with a face like a parroquet.</p> +<p>"Does Monsieur please to require anything?"</p> +<p>"Require anything!" I exclaimed, in the best French I could +muster. "I have been robbed!"</p> +<p>"Robbed, Monsieur?"</p> +<p>"Yes, of my watch and purse!"</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens</i>! Of a watch and purse?" repeated the parroquet, +lifting his eyebrows with an air of well-bred surprise. "<i>C'est +drôle."</i></p> +<p>"Droll!" I cried, furiously. "Droll, you scoundrel! I'll let you +know whether I think it droll! I'll complain to the authorities! +I'll have the house searched! I'll--I'll...."</p> +<p>I rang the bell again. Two or three more waiters came, and the +master of the hotel. They all treated my communication in the same +manner--coolly; incredulously; but with unruffled politeness.</p> +<p>"Monsieur forgets," urged the master, "that he came back to the +hotel last night in a state of absolute intoxication. Monsieur was +accompanied by a stranger, who was gentlemanly, it it true; but +since Monsieur acknowledges that that stranger was personally +unknown to him, Monsieur may well perceive it would be more +reasonable if his suspicions first pointed in that direction."</p> +<p>Struck by the force of this observation, I flung myself into a +chair and remained silent.</p> +<p>"Has Monsieur no acquaintances in Paris to whom he may apply for +advice?" inquired the landlord.</p> +<p>"None," said I, moodily; "except that I have a letter of +introduction to one Dr. Chéron."</p> +<p>The landlord and his waiters exchanged glances.</p> +<p>"I would respectfully recommend Monsieur to present his letter +immediately," said the former. "Monsieur le Docteur Chéron +is a man of the world--a man of high reputation and sagacity. +Monsieur could not do better than advise with him."</p> +<p>"Call a cab for me," said I, after a long pause. "I will +go."</p> +<p>The determination cost me something. Dismayed by the extent of +my loss, racked with headache, languid, pale, and full of remorse +for last night's folly, it needed but this humiliation to complete +my misery. What! appear before my instructor for the first time +with such a tale! I could have bitten my lips through with +vexation.</p> +<p>The cab was called. I saw, but would not see, the winks and nods +exchanged behind my back by the grinning waiters. I flung myself +into the vehicle, and soon was once more rattling through the noisy +streets. But those brilliant streets had now lost all their charm +for me. I admired nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing, on the way. +I could think only of my father's anger and the contempt of Dr. +Chéron.</p> +<p>Presently the cab stopped before a large wooden gate with two +enormous knockers. One half of this gate was opened by a servant in +a sad-colored livery. I was shown across a broad courtyard, up a +flight of lofty steps, and into a spacious <i>salon</i> plainly +furnished.</p> +<p>"Monsieur le Docteur is at present engaged," said the servant, +with an air of profound respect. "Will Monsieur have the goodness +to be seated for a few moments."</p> +<p>I sat down. I rose up. I examined the books upon the table, and +the pictures on the walls. I wished myself "anywhere, anywhere out +of the world," and more than once was on the point of stealing out +of the house, jumping into my cab, and making off without seeing +the doctor at all. One consideration alone prevented me. I had lost +all my money, and had not even a franc left to pay the driver. +Presently the door again opened, the grave footman reappeared, and +I heard the dreaded announcement:--"Monsieur le Docteur will be +happy to receive Monsieur in his consulting-room."</p> +<p>I followed mechanically. We passed through a passage thickly +carpeted, and paused before a green baize door. This door opened +noiselessly, and I found myself in the great man's presence.</p> +<p>"It gives me pleasure to welcome the son of my old friend John +Arbuthnot," said a clear, and not unfamiliar voice.</p> +<p>I started, looked up, grew red and white, hot and cold, and had +not a syllable to utter in reply.</p> +<p>In Doctor Chéron, I recognised--</p> +<p>PYTHIAS!</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI."></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> +<h3>MYSTERIOUS PROCEEDINGS.</h3> +<br> +<p>The doctor pointed to a chair, looked at his watch, and +said:--</p> +<p>"I hope you have had a pleasant journey. Arrived this +morning?"</p> +<p>There was not the faintest gleam of recognition on his face. Not +a smile; not a glance; nothing but the easy politeness of a +stranger to a stranger.</p> +<p>"N--not exactly," I faltered. "Yesterday morning, sir."</p> +<p>"Ah, indeed! Spent the day in sight-seeing, I dare say. Admire +Paris?"</p> +<p>Too much astonished to speak, I took refuge in a bow.</p> +<p>"Not found any lodgings yet, I presume?" asked the doctor, +mending a pen very deliberately.</p> +<p>"N--not yet, sir."</p> +<p>"I concluded so The English do not seek apartments on Sunday. +You observe the day very strictly, no doubt?"</p> +<p>Blushing and confused, I stammered some incoherent words and sat +twirling my hat, the very picture of remorse.</p> +<p>"At what hotel have you put up?" he next inquired, without +appearing to observe my agitation.</p> +<p>"The--the Hôtel des Messageries."</p> +<p>"Good, but expensive. You must find a lodging to-day."</p> +<p>I bowed again.</p> +<p>"And, as your father's representative, I must take care that you +procure something suitable, and are not imposed upon. My valet +shall go with you."</p> +<p>He rang the bell, and the sad-colored footman appeared on the +threshold.</p> +<p>"Desire Brunet to be in readiness to walk out with this +gentleman," he said, briefly, and the servant retired.</p> +<p>"Brunet," he continued, addressing me again, "is faithful and +sagacious. He will instruct you on certain points indispensable to +a resident in Paris, and will see that you are not ill-accommodated +or overcharged. A young man has few wants, and I should infer that +a couple of rooms in some quiet street will be all that you +require?"</p> +<p>"I--I am very grateful."</p> +<p>He waved down my thanks with an air of cold but polite +authority; took out his note-book and pencil; (I could have sworn +to that massive gold pencil!) and proceeded to question me.</p> +<p>"Your age, I think," said he, "is twenty-one?"</p> +<p>"Twenty, sir."</p> +<p>"Ah--twenty. You desire to be entered upon the list of visiting +students at the Hotel Dieu, to be free of the library and +lecture-rooms, and to be admitted into my public classes?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> +<p>"Also, to attend here in my house for private instruction."</p> +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> +<p>He filled in a few words upon a printed form, and handed it to +me with his visiting card.</p> +<p>"You will present these, and your passport, to the secretary at +the hospital," said he, "and will receive in return the requisite +tickets of admission. Your fees have already been paid in, and your +name has been entered. You must see to this matter at once, for the +<i>bureau</i> closes at two o'clock. You will then require the rest +of the day for lodging-seeking, moving, and so forth. To-morrow +morning, at nine o'clock, I shall expect you here."</p> +<p>"Indeed, sir," I murmured, "I am more obliged than...."</p> +<p>"Not in the least," he interrupted, decisively; "your father's +son has every claim upon me. I object to thanks. All that I require +from you are habits of industry, punctuality, and respect. Your +father speaks well of you, and I have no doubt I shall find you all +that he represents. Can I do anything more for you this +morning?"</p> +<p>I hesitated; could not bring myself to utter one word of that +which I had come to say; and murmured--</p> +<p>"Nothing more, I thank you, sir."</p> +<p>He looked at me piercingly, paused an instant, and then rang the +bell.</p> +<p>"I am about to order my carriage," he said; "and, as I am going +in that direction, I will take you as far as the Hôtel +Dieu."</p> +<p>"But--but I have a cab at the door," I faltered, remembering, +with a sinking heart, that I had not a sou to pay the driver.</p> +<p>The servant appeared again.</p> +<p>"Let the carriage be brought round immediately, and dismiss this +gentleman's cab."</p> +<p>The man retired, and I heaved a sigh of relief. The doctor bent +low over the papers on his desk, and I fancied for the moment that +a faint smile flitted over his face. Then he took up his hat, and +pointed to the door.</p> +<p>"Now, my young friend," he said authoritatively, "we must be +gone. Time is gold. After you."</p> +<p>I bowed and preceded him. His very courtesy was sterner than the +displeasure of another, and I already felt towards him a greater +degree of awe than I should have quite cared to confess. The +carriage was waiting in the courtyard. I placed myself with my back +to the horses; Dr. Chéron flung himself upon the opposite +seat; a servant out of livery sprang up beside the coachman; the +great gates were flung open; and we glided away on the easiest of +springs and the softest of cushions.</p> +<p>Dr. Chéron took a newspaper from his pocket, and began to +read; so leaving me to my own uncomfortable reflections.</p> +<p>And, indeed, when I came to consider my position I was almost in +despair. Moneyless, what was to become of me? Watchless and +moneyless, with a bill awaiting me at my hotel, and not a stiver in +my pocket wherewith to pay it.... Miserable pupil of a stern +master! luckless son of a savage father! to whom could I turn for +help? Not certainly to Dr. Chéron, whom I had been ready to +accuse, half an hour ago, of having stolen my watch and purse. +Petty larceny and Dr. Chéron! how ludicrously incongruous! +And yet, where was my property? Was the Hôtel des Messageries +a den of thieves? And again, how was it that this same Dr. +Chéron looked, and spoke, and acted, as if he had never seen +me in his life till this morning? Was I mad, or dreaming, or +both?</p> +<p>The carriage stopped and the door opened.</p> +<p>"Hôtel Dieu, M'sieur," said the servant, touching his +hat.</p> +<p>Dr. Chéron just raised his eyes from the paper.</p> +<p>"This is your first destination," he said. "I would advise you, +on leaving here, to return to your hotel. There may be letters +awaiting you. Good-morning."</p> +<p>With this he resumed his paper, the carriage rolled away, and I +found myself at the Hôtel Dieu, with the servant out of +livery standing respectfully behind me.</p> +<p>Go back to my hotel! Why should I go back? Letters there could +be none, unless at the Poste Restante. I thought this a very +unnecessary piece of advice, rejected it in my own mind, and so +went into the hospital <i>bureau</i>, and transacted my business. +When I came out again, Brunet took the lead.</p> +<p>He was an elderly man with a solemn countenance and a mysterious +voice. His manner was oppressively respectful; his address +diplomatic; his step stealthy as a courtier's. When we came to a +crossing he bowed, stood aside, and followed me; then took the lead +again; and so on, during a brisk walk of about half an hour. All at +once, I found myself at the Hôtel des Messageries.</p> +<p>"Monsieur's hotel," said the doctor's valet, touching his +hat.</p> +<p>"You are mistaken," said I, rather impatiently. "I did not ask +to be brought here. My object this morning is to look for +apartments."</p> +<p>"Post in at mid-day, Monsieur," he observed, gravely. +"Monsieur's letters may have arrived."</p> +<p>"I expect none, thank you."</p> +<p>"Monsieur will, nevertheless, permit me to inquire," said the +persevering valet, and glided in before my eyes.</p> +<p>The thing was absurd! Both master and servant insisted that I +must have letters, whether I would, or no! To my amazement, +however, Brunet came back with a small sealed box in his hands.</p> +<p>"No letters have arrived for Monsieur," he said; "but this box +was left with the porter about an hour ago."</p> +<p>I weighed it, shook it, examined the seals, and, going into the +public room, desired Brunet to follow me. There I opened it. It +contained a folded paper, a quantity of wadding, my purse, my roll +of bank-notes, and my watch! On the paper, I read the following +words:--</p> +<p>"Learn from the events of last night the value of temperance, +the wisdom of silence, and the danger of chance acquaintanceships. +Accept the lesson, and he by whom it is administered will forget +the error."</p> +<p>The paper dropped from my hands and fell upon the floor. The +impenetrable Brunet picked it up, and returned it to me.</p> +<p>"Brunet!" I ejaculated.</p> +<p>"Monsieur?" said he, interrogatively, raising his hand to his +forehead by force of habit, although his hat stood beside him on +the floor.</p> +<p>There was not a shadow of meaning in his face--not a quiver to +denote that he knew anything of what had passed. To judge by the +stolid indifference of his manner, one might have supposed that the +delivery of caskets full of watches and valuables was an event of +daily occurrence in the house of Dr. Chéron. His coolness +silenced me. I drew a long breath; hastened to put my watch in my +pocket, and lock up my money in my room; and then went to the +master of the hotel, and informed him of the recovery of my +property. He smiled and congratulated me; but he did not seem to be +in the least surprised. I fancied, some how, that matters were not +quite so mysterious to him as they had been to me.</p> +<p>I also fancied that I heard a suspicious roar of laughter as I +passed out into the street.</p> +<p>It was not long before I found such apartments as I required, +Piloted by Brunet through some broad thoroughfares and along part +of the Boulevards, I came upon a cluster of narrow streets +branching off through a massive stone gateway from the Rue du +Faubourg Montmartre. This little nook was called the Cité +Bergère. The houses were white and lofty. Some had +courtyards, and all were decorated with pretty iron balconies and +delicately-tinted Venetian shutters. Most of them bore the +announcement--"<i>Apartements à louer</i>"--suspended above +the door. Outside one of these houses sat two men with a little +table between them. They were playing at dominoes, and wore the +common blue blouse of the mechanic class. A woman stood by, paring +celery, with an infant playing on the mat inside the door and a cat +purring at her feet. It was a pleasant group. The men looked +honest, the woman good-tempered, and the house exquisitely clean; +so the diplomatic Brunet went forward to negotiate, while I walked +up and down outside. There were rooms to be let on the second, +third and fifth floors. The fifth was too high, and the second too +expensive; but the third seemed likely to suit me. The <i>suite</i> +consisted of a bed-room, dressing-room, and tiny <i>salon</i>, and +was furnished with the elegant uncomfortableness characteristic of +our French neighbors. Here were floors shiny and carpetless; +windows that objected to open, and drawers that refused to shut; +mirrors all round the walls a set of hanging shelves; an ormolu +time piece that struck all kinds of miscellaneous hours at +unexpected times; an abundance of vases filled with faded +artificial flowers; insecure chairs of white and gold; and a round +table that had a way of turning over suddenly like a table in a +pantomime, if you ventured to place anything on any part but the +inlaid star in the centre. Above all, there was a balcony big +enough for a couple of chairs, and some flower-pots, overlooking +the street.</p> +<p>I was delighted with everything. In imagination I beheld my +balcony already blooming with roses, and my shelves laden with +books. I admired the white and gold chairs with all my heart, and +saw myself reflected in half a dozen mirrors at once with an +innocent pride of ownership which can only be appreciated by those +who have tasted the supreme luxury of going into chambers for the +first time.</p> +<p>"Shall I conclude for Monsieur at twenty francs a week?" +murmured the sagacious Brunet.</p> +<p>"Of course," said I, laying the first week's rent upon the +table.</p> +<p>And so the thing was done, and, brimful of satisfaction, I went +off to the hotel for my luggage, and moved in immediately.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII."></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> +<h3>BROADCLOTH AND CIVILIZATION.</h3> +<br> +<p>Allowing for my inexperience in the use of the language, I +prospered better than I had expected, and found, to my +satisfaction, that I was by no means behind my French +fellow-students in medical knowledge. I passed through my +preliminary examination with credit, and although Dr. Chéron +was careful not to praise me too soon, I had reason to believe that +he was satisfied with my progress. My life, indeed, was now wholly +given up to my work. My country-breeding had made me timid, and the +necessity for speaking a foreign tongue served only to increase my +natural reserve; so that although I lived and studied day after day +in the society of some two or three hundred young men, I yet lived +as solitary a life as Robinson Crusoe in his island. No one sought +to know me. No one took a liking for me. Gay, noisy, chattering +fellows that they were, they passed me by for a "dull and +muddy-pated rogue;" voted me uncompanionable when I was only shy; +and, doubtless, quoted me to each other as a rare specimen of the +silent Englishman. I lived, too, quite out of the students' colony. +To me the <i>Quartier Latin</i> (except as I went to and fro +between the Hotel Dieu and the Ecole de Medicine) was a land +unknown; and the student's life--that wonderful <i>Vie de +Bohéme</i> which furnishes forth half the fiction of the +Paris press--a condition of being, about which I had never even +heard. What wonder, then, that I never arrived at Dr. +Chéron's door five minutes behind time, never missed a +lecture, never forgot an appointment? What wonder that, after +dropping moodily into one or two of the theatres, I settled down +quite quietly in my lodgings; gave up my days to study; sauntered +about the lighted alleys of the Champs Elysées in the sweet +spring evenings, and, going home betimes, spent an hour or two with +my books, and kept almost as early hours as in my father's house at +Saxonholme?</p> +<p>After I had been living thus for rather longer than three weeks, +I made up my mind one Sunday morning to call at Dalrymple's rooms, +and inquire if he had yet arrived in Paris. It was about eleven +o'clock when I reached the Chaussée d'Antin, and there +learned that he was not only arrived, but at home. Being by this +time in possession of the luxury of a card, I sent one up, and was +immediately admitted. I found breakfast still upon the table; +Dalrymple sitting with an open desk and cash-box before him; and, +standing somewhat back, with his elbow resting on the +chimney-piece, a gentleman smoking a cigar. They both looked up as +I was announced, and Dalrymple, welcoming me with a hearty grasp, +introduced this gentleman as Monsieur de Simoncourt.</p> +<p>M. de Simoncourt bowed, knocked the ash from his cigar, and +looked as if he wished me at the Antipodes. Dalrymple was really +glad to see me.</p> +<p>"I have been expecting you, Arbuthnot," said he, "for the last +week. If you had not soon beaten up my quarters, I should have +tried, somehow, to find out yours. What have you been about all +this time? Where are you located? What mischief have you been +perpetrating since our expedition to the <i>guingette</i> on the +river? Come, you have a thousand things to tell me!"</p> +<p>M. de Simoncourt looked at his watch--a magnificent affair, +decorated with a costly chain, and a profusion of pendant +trifles--and threw the last-half of his cigar into the +fireplace.</p> +<p>"You must excuse me, <i>mon cher</i>" said he. "I have at least +a dozen calls to make before dinner."</p> +<p>Dalrymple rose, readily enough, and took a roll of bank-notes +from the cash-box.</p> +<p>"If you are going," he said, "I may as well hand over the price +of that Tilbury. When will they send it home?"</p> +<p>"To-morrow, undoubtedly."</p> +<p>"And I am to pay fifteen hundred franks for it!"</p> +<p>"Just half its value!" observed M. de Simoncourt, with a shrug +of his shoulders.</p> +<p>Dalrymple smiled, counted the notes, and handed them to his +friend.</p> +<p>"Fifteen hundred may be half its cost," said he; "but I doubt if +I am paying much less than its full value. Just see that these are +right."</p> +<p>M. de Simoncourt ruffled the papers daintily over, and consigned +them to his pocket-book. As he did so, I could not help observing +the whiteness of his hands and the sparkle of a huge brilliant on +his little finger. He was a pale, slender, olive-hued man, with +very dark eyes, and glittering teeth, and a black moustache +inclining superciliously upwards at each corner; somewhat too +<i>nonchalant</i>, perhaps, in his manner, and somewhat too profuse +in the article of jewellery; but a very elegant gentleman, +nevertheless.</p> +<p>"<i>Bon</i>!" said he. "I am glad you have bought it. I would +have taken it myself, had the thing happened a week or two earlier. +Poor Duchesne! To think that he should have come to this, after +all!"</p> +<p>"I am sorry for him," said Dalrymple; "but it is a case of +wilful ruin. He made up his mind to go to the devil, and went +accordingly. I am only surprised that the crash came no +sooner."</p> +<p>M. de Simoneourt twitched at the supercilious moustache.</p> +<p>"And you think you would not care to take the black mare with +the Tilbury?" said he, negligently.</p> +<p>"No--I have a capital horse, already."</p> +<p>"Hah I--well--'tis almost a pity. The mare is a dead bargain. +Shouldn't wonder if I buy her, after all."</p> +<p>"And yet you don't want her," said Dalrymple.</p> +<p>"Quite true; but one must have a favorite sin, and horseflesh is +mine. I shall ruin myself by it some day--<i>mort de ma vie!</i> By +the way, have you seen my chestnut in harness? No? Then you will be +really pleased. Goes delightfully with the gray, and manages tandem +to perfection. <i>Parbleu!</i> I was forgetting--do we meet +to-night?"</p> +<p>"Where?"</p> +<p>"At Chardonnier's."</p> +<p>Dalrymple shook his head, and turned the key in his cash +box.</p> +<p>"Not this evening," he replied. I have other engagements."</p> +<p>"Bah! and I promised to go, believing you were sure to be of the +party. St. Pol, I know, will be there, and De Brézy +also."</p> +<p>"Chardonnier's parties are charming things in their way," said +Dalrymple, somewhat coldly, "and no man enjoys Burgundy and +lansquenet more heartily than myself; but one might grow to care +for nothing else, and I have no desire to fall into worse habits +than those I have contracted already."</p> +<p>M. de Simoneourt laughed a dry, short laugh, and twitched again +at the supercilious moustache.</p> +<p>"I had no idea you were a philosopher," said he.</p> +<p>"Nor am I. I am a <i>mauvais sujet</i>--<i>mauvais</i> enough, +already, without seeking to become worse."</p> +<p>"Well, adieu--I will see to this affair of the Tilbury, and +desire them to let you have it by noon to-morrow."</p> +<p>"A thousand thanks. I am ashamed that you have so much trouble +in the matter. <i>Au revoir</i>."</p> +<p>"<i>Au revoir</i>."</p> +<p>Whereupon M. de Simoncourt honored me with a passing bow, and +took his departure. Being near the window, I saw him spring into an +elegant cabriolet, and drive off with the showiest of high horses +and the tiniest of tigers.</p> +<p>He was no sooner gone than Dalrymple took me by the shoulders, +placed me in an easy chair, poured out a couple of glasses of hock, +and said:--</p> +<p>"Now, then, my young friend, your news or your life! Out with +it, every word, as you hope to be forgiven!"</p> +<p>I had but little to tell, and for that little, found myself, as +I had anticipated, heartily laughed at. My adventure at the +restaurant, my unlucky meeting with Dr. Chéron, and the +history of my interview with him next morning, delighted Dalrymple +beyond measure.</p> +<p>Nothing would satisfy him, after this, but to call me Damon, to +tease me continually about Doctor Pythias, and to remind me at +every turn of the desirableness of Arcadian friendships.</p> +<p>"And so, Damon," said he, "you go nowhere, see nothing, and know +nobody. This sort of life will never do for you! I must take you +out--introduce you--get you an <i>entrée</i> into society, +before I leave Paris."</p> +<p>"I should be heartily glad to visit at one or two private +houses," I replied. "To spend the winter in this place without +knowing a soul, would be something frightful."</p> +<p>Dalrymple looked at me half laughingly, half +compassionately.</p> +<p>"Before I do it, however," said he, "you must look a little less +like a savage, and more like a tame Christian. You must have your +hair cut, and learn to tie your cravat properly. Do you possess an +evening suit?"</p> +<p>Blushing to the tips of my ears, I not only confessed that I was +destitute of that desirable outfit, but also that I had never yet +in all my life had occasion to wear it.</p> +<p>"I am glad of it; for now you are sure to be well fitted. Your +tailor, depend on it, is your great civilizer, and a well-made suit +of clothes is in itself a liberal education. I'll take you to +Michaud--my own especial purveyor. He is a great artist. With so +many yards of superfine black cloth, he will give you the tone of +good society and the exterior of a gentleman. In short, he will do +for you in eight or ten hours more than I could do in as many +years."</p> +<p>"Pray introduce me at once to this illustrious man," I exclaimed +laughingly, "and let me do him homage!"</p> +<p>"You will have to pay heavily for the honor," said Dalrymple. +"Of that I give you notice."</p> +<p>"No matter. I am willing to pay heavily for the tone of good +society and the exterior of a gentleman."</p> +<p>"Very good. Take a book, then, or a cigar, and amuse yourself +for five minutes while I write a note. That done, you may command +me for as long as you please."</p> +<p>I took the first book that came, and finding it to be a history +of the horse, amused myself, instead, by observing the aspect of +Dalrymple's apartment.</p> +<p>Rooms are eloquent biographies. They betray at once if the owner +be careless or orderly, studious or idle, vulgar or refined. +Flowers on the table, engravings on the walls, indicate refinement +and taste; while a well-filled book-case says more in favor of its +possessor than the most elaborate letter of recommendation. +Dalrymple's room was a monograph of himself. Careless, luxurious, +disorderly, crammed with all sorts of costly things, and +characterized by a sort of reckless elegance, it expressed, as I +interpreted it, the very history of the man. Rich hangings; +luxurious carpets; walls covered with paintings; cabinets of bronze +and rare porcelain; a statuette of Rachel beside a bust of Homer; a +book-case full of French novels with a sprinkling of Shakespeare +and Horace; a stand of foreign arms; a lamp from Pompeii; a silver +casket full of cigars; tables piled up with newspapers, letters, +pipes, riding-whips, faded bouquets, and all kinds of miscellaneous +rubbish--such were my friend's surroundings; and such, had I +speculated upon them beforehand, I should have expected to find +them. Dalrymple, in the meanwhile, despatched his letter with +characteristic rapidity. His pen rushed over the paper like a +dragoon charge, nor was once laid aside till both letter and +address were finished. Just as he was sealing it, a note was +brought to him by his servant--a slender, narrow, perfumed note, +written on creamy paper, and adorned on the envelope with an +elaborate cypher in gold and colors. Had I lived in the world of +society for the last hundred seasons, I could not have interpreted +the appearance of that note more sagaciously.</p> +<p>"It is from a lady," said I to myself. Then seeing Dalrymple +tear up his own letter immediately after reading it, and begin +another, I added, still in my own mind--"And it is from the lady to +whom he was writing."</p> +<p>Presently he paused, laid his pen aside, and said:--</p> +<p>"Arbuthnot, would you like to go with me to-morrow evening to +one or two <i>soirées</i>?"</p> +<p>"Can your Civilizer provide me with my evening suit in +time?"</p> +<p>"He? The great Michaud? Why, he would equip you for this +evening, if it were necessary!"</p> +<p>"In that case, I shall be very glad."</p> +<p>"<i>Bon!</i> I will call for you at ten o'clock; so do not +forget to leave me your address."</p> +<p>Whereupon he resumed his letter. When it was written, he +returned to the subject.</p> +<p>"Then I will take you to-morrow night," said he, "to a reception +at Madame Rachel's. Hers is the most beautiful house in Paris. I +know fifty men who would give their ears to be admitted to her +<i>salons</i>."</p> +<p>Even in the wilds of Saxonholme I had heard and read of the +great <i>tragedienne</i> whose wealth vied with the Rothschilds, +and whose diamonds might have graced a crown. I had looked forward +to the probability of beholding her from afar off, if she was ever +to be seen on the boards of the Theatre Français; but to be +admitted to her presence--received in her house--introduced to her +in person ... it seemed ever so much too good to be true!</p> +<p>Dalrymple smiled good-naturedly, and put my thanks aside.</p> +<p>"It is a great sight," said he, "and nothing more. She will bow +to you--she may not even speak; and she would pass you the next +morning without remembering that she had ever seen you in her life. +Actresses are a race apart, my dear fellow, and care for no one who +is neither rich nor famous."</p> +<p>"I never imagined," said I, half annoyed, "that she would take +any notice of me at all. Even a bow from such a woman is an event +to be remembered."</p> +<p>"Having received that bow, then," continued Dalrymple, "and +having enjoyed the ineffable satisfaction of returning it, you can +go on with me to the house of a lady close by, who receives every +Monday evening. At her <i>soirées</i> you will meet pleasant +and refined people, and having been once introduced by me, you +will, I have no doubt, find the house open to you for the +future."</p> +<p>"That would, indeed, be a privilege. Who is this lady?"</p> +<p>"Her name," said Dalrymple, with an involuntary glance at the +little note upon his desk, "is Madame de Courcelles. She is a very +charming and accomplished lady."</p> +<p>I decided in my own mind that Madame de Courcelles was the +writer of that note.</p> +<p>"Is she married?" was my next question.</p> +<p>"She is a widow," replied Dalrymple. "Monsieur de Courcelles was +many years older than his wife, and held office as a cabinet +minister during the greater part of the reign of Louis Phillippe. +He has been dead these four or five years."</p> +<p>"Then she is rich?"</p> +<p>"No--not rich; but sufficiently independent."</p> +<p>"And handsome?"</p> +<p>"Not handsome, either; but graceful, and very fascinating."</p> +<p>Graceful, fascinating, independent, and a widow! Coupling these +facts with the correspondence which I believed I had detected, I +grouped them into a little romance, and laid out my friend's future +career as confidently as if it had depended only on myself to marry +him out of hand, and make all parties happy.</p> +<p>Dalrymple sat musing for a moment, with his chin resting on his +hands and his eyes fixed on the desk. Then shaking back his hair as +if he would shake back his thoughts with it, he started suddenly to +his feet and said, laughingly:--</p> +<p>"Now, young Damon, to Michaud's--to Michaud's, with what speed +we may! Farewell to 'Tempe and the vales of Arcady,' and hey for +civilization, and a swallow-tailed coat!"</p> +<p>I noticed, however, that before we left the room, he put the +little note tenderly away in a drawer of his desk, and locked it +with a tiny gold key that hung upon his watch-chain.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII."></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> +<h3>I MAKE MY DEBUT IN SOCIETY.</h3> +<br> +<p>At ten o'clock on Monday evening, Dalrymple called for me, and +by ten o'clock, thanks to the great Michaud and other men of +genius, I presented a faultless exterior. My friend walked round me +with a candle, and then sat down and examined me critically.</p> +<p>"By Jove!" said he, "I don't believe I should have known you! +You are a living testimony to the science of tailoring. I shall +call on Michaud, to-morrow, and pay my tribute of admiration."</p> +<p>"I am very uncomfortable," said I, ruefully.</p> +<p>"Uncomfortable! nonsense--Michaud's customers don't know the +meaning of the word."</p> +<p>"But he has not made me a single pocket!"</p> +<p>"And what of that? Do you suppose the great Michaud would spoil +the fit of a masterpiece for your convenience?"</p> +<p>"What am I to do with my pocket-handkerchief?"</p> +<p>"Michaud's customers never need pocket-handkerchiefs."</p> +<p>"And then my trousers..."</p> +<p>"Unreasonable Juvenile, what of the trousers?"</p> +<p>"They are so tight that I dare not sit down in them."</p> +<p>"Barbarian! Michaud's customers never sit down in society."</p> +<p>"And my boots are so small that I can hardly endure them."</p> +<p>"Very becoming to the foot," said Dalyrmple, with exasperating +indifference.</p> +<p>"And my collar is so stiff that it almost cuts my throat."</p> +<p>"Makes you hold your head up," said Dalrymple, "and leaves you +no inducement to commit suicide."</p> +<p>I could not help laughing, despite my discomfort.</p> +<p>"Job himself never had such a comforter!" I exclaimed.</p> +<p>"It would be a downright pleasure to quarrel with you."</p> +<p>"Put on your hat instead, and let us delay no longer," replied +my friend. "My cab is waiting."</p> +<p>So we went down, and in another moment were driving through the +lighted streets. I should hardly have chosen to confess how my +heart beat when, on turning an angle of the Rue Trudon, our cab +fell into the rear of three or four other carriages, passed into a +courtyard crowded with arriving and departing vehicles, and drew up +before an open door, whence a broad stream of light flowed out to +meet us. A couple of footmen received us in a hall lighted by +torches and decorated with stands of antique armor. From the centre +of this hall sprang a Gothic staircase, so light, so richly +sculptured, so full of niches and statues, slender columns, +foliated capitals, and delicate ornamentation of every kind, that +it looked a very blossoming of the stone. Following Dalrymple up +this superb staircase and through a vestibule of carved oak, I next +found myself in a room that might have been the scene of Plato's +symposium. Here were walls painted in classic fresco; windows +curtained with draperies of chocolate and amber; chairs and couches +of ebony, carved in antique fashion; Etruscan amphorae; vases and +paterae of terracotta; exquisite lamps, statuettes and candelabra +in rare green bronze; and curious parti-colored busts of +philosophers and heroes, in all kinds of variegated marbles. +Powdered footmen serving modern coffee seemed here like +anachronisms in livery. In such a room one should have been waited +on by boys crowned with roses, and have partaken only of classic +dishes--of Venafran olives or oysters from the Lucrine lake, washed +down with Massic, or Chian, or honeyed Falernian.</p> +<p>Some half-dozen gentlemen, chatting over their coffee, bowed to +Dalrymple when we came in. They were talking of the war in Algiers, +and especially of the gallantry of a certain Vicomte de Caylus, in +whose deeds they seemed to take a more than ordinary interest.</p> +<p>"Rode single-handed right through the enemy's camp," said a +bronzed, elderly man, with a short, gray beard.</p> +<p>"And escaped without a scratch," added another, with a tiny red +ribbon at his button-hole.</p> +<p>"He comes of a gallant stock," said a third. "I remember his +father at Austerlitz--literally cut to pieces at the head of his +squadron."</p> +<p>"You are speaking of de Caylus," said Dalrymple. "What news of +him from Algiers?"</p> +<p>"This--that having volunteered to carry some important +despatches to head-quarters, he preferred riding by night through +Abd-el-Kader's camp, to taking a <i>détour</i> by the +mountains," replied the first speaker.</p> +<p>"A wild piece of boyish daring," said Dalrymple, somewhat drily. +"I presume he did not return by the same road?"</p> +<p>"I should think not. It would have been certain death a second +time!"</p> +<p>"And this happened how long since?"</p> +<p>"About a fortnight ago. But we shall soon know all particulars +from himself."</p> +<p>"From himself?"</p> +<p>"Yes, he has obtained leave of absence--is, perhaps, by this +time in Paris."</p> +<p>Dalrymple set down his cup untasted, and turned away.</p> +<p>"Come, Arbuthnot," he said, hastily, "I must introduce you to +Madame Rachel."</p> +<p>We passed through a small antechamber, and into a brilliant +<i>salon</i>, the very reverse of antique. Here all was light and +color. Here were hangings of flowered chintz; fantastic divans; +lounge-chairs of every conceivable shape and hue; great Indian +jars; richly framed drawings; stands of exotic plants; Chinese +cages, filled with valuable birds from distant climes; folios of +engravings; and, above all, a large cabinet in marqueterie, crowded +with bronzes, Chinese carvings, pastille burners, fans, medals, +Dresden groups, Sévres vases, Venetian glass, Asiatic idols, +and all kinds of precious trifles in tortoise-shall, mother +o'-pearl, malachite, onyx, lapis lazuli, jasper, ivory, and mosaic. +In this room, sitting, standing, turning over engravings, or +grouped here and there on sofas and divans, were some twenty-five +or thirty gentlemen, all busily engaged in conversation. Saluting +some of these by a passing bow, my friend led the way straight +through this <i>salon</i> and into a larger one immediately beyond +it.</p> +<p>"This," he said, "is one of the most beautiful rooms in Paris. +Look round and tell me if you recognise, among all her votaries, +the divinity herself."</p> +<p>I looked round, bewildered.</p> +<p>"Recognise!" I echoed. "I should not recognise my own father at +this moment. I feel like Abou Hassan in the palace of the +Caliph."</p> +<p>"Or like Christopher Sly, when he wakes in the nobleman's +bedchamber," said Dalrymple; "though I should ask your pardon for +the comparison. But see what it is to be an actress with forty-two +thousand francs of salary per week. See these panels painted by +Muller--this chandelier by Deniére, of which no copy +exists--this bust of Napoleon by Canova--these hangings of purple +and gold--this ceiling all carved and gilded, than which Versailles +contains nothing more elaborate. <i>Allons donc</i>! have you +nothing to say in admiration of so much splendor?"</p> +<p>I shook my head.</p> +<p>"What can I say? Is this the house of an actress, or the palace +of a prince? But stay--that pale woman yonder, all in white, with a +plain gold circlet on her head--who is she?"</p> +<p>"Phédre herself," replied Dalrymple. "Follow me, and be +introduced."</p> +<p>She was sitting in a large fauteuil of purple velvet. One foot +rested on a stool richly carved and gilt; one arm rested +negligently on a table covered with curious foreign weapons. In her +right hand she held a singular poignard, the blade of which was +damascened with gold, while the handle, made of bronze and +exquisitely modelled, represented a tiny human skeleton. With this +ghastly toy she kept playing as she spoke, apparently unconscious +of its grim significance. She was surrounded by some ten or a dozen +distinguished-looking men, most of whom were profusely +<i>décoré</i>. They made way courteously at our +approach. Dalrymple then presented me. I made my bow, was +graciously received, and dropped modestly into the rear.</p> +<p>"I began to think that Captain Dalrymple had forsworn Paris," +said Rachel, still toying with the skeleton dagger. "It is surely a +year since I last had this pleasure?"</p> +<p>"Nay, Madame, you flatter me," said Dalrymple. "I have been +absent only five months."</p> +<p>"Then, you see, I have measured your absence by my loss."</p> +<p>Dalrymple bowed profoundly.</p> +<p>Rachel turned to a young man behind her chair.</p> +<p>"Monsieur le Prince," said she, "do you know what is rumored in +the <i>foyer</i> of the Francais? That you have offered me your +hand!"</p> +<p>"I offer you both my hands, in applause, Madame, every night of +your performance," replied the gentleman so addressed.</p> +<p>She smiled and made a feint at him with the dagger.</p> +<p>"Excellent!" said she. "One is not enough for a tragedian But +where is Alphonse Karr?"</p> +<p>"I have been looking for him all the evening," said a tall man, +with an iron-gray beard. "He told me he was coming; but authors are +capricious beings--the slaves of the pen."</p> +<p>"True; he lives by his pen--others die by it," said Rachel +bitterly. "By the way, has any one seen Scribe's new +Vaudeville?"</p> +<p>"I have," replied a bald little gentleman with a red and green +ribbon in his button-hole.</p> +<p>"And your verdict?"</p> +<p>"The plot is not ill-conceived; but Scribe is only godfather to +the piece. It is almost entirely written by Duverger, his +<i>collaborateur</i>."</p> +<p>"The life of a <i>collaborateur</i>," said Rachel, "is one long +act of self-abnegation. Another takes all the honor--he all the +labor. Thus soldiers fall, and their generals reap the glory."</p> +<p>"A <i>collaborateur</i>," said a cynical-looking man who had not +yet spoken, "is a hackney vehicle which one hires on the road to +fame, and dismisses at the end of the journey."</p> +<p>"Sometimes without paying the fare," added a gentleman who had +till now been examining, weapon by weapon, all the curious +poignards and pistols on the table. "But what is this singular +ornament?"</p> +<p>And he held up what appeared to be a large bone, perforated in +several places.</p> +<p>The bald little man with the red and green ribbon uttered an +exclamation of surprise.</p> +<p>"It is a tibia!" said he, examining it through his double +eye-glass.</p> +<p>"And what of that?" laughed Rachel. "Is it so wonderful to find +one leg in a collection of arms? However, not to puzzle you, I may +as well acknowledge that it was brought to me from Rome by a +learned Italian, and is a curious antique. The Romans made flutes +of the leg-bones of their enemies, and this is one of them."</p> +<p>"A melodious barbarism!" exclaimed one.</p> +<p>"Puts a 'stop,' at all events, to the enemy's flight!" said +another.</p> +<p>"Almost as good as drinking out of his skull," added a +third.</p> +<p>"Or as eating him, <i>tout de bon</i>," said Rachel.</p> +<p>"There must be a certain satisfaction in cannibalism," observed +the cynic who had spoken before. "There are people upon whom one +would sup willingly."</p> +<p>"As, for instance, critics, who are our natural enemies," said +Rachel. "<i>C'est à dire</i>, if critics were not too sour +to be eaten."</p> +<p>"Nay, with the sweet sauce of vengeance!"</p> +<p>"You speak feelingly, Monsieur de Musset. I am almost sorry, for +your sake, that cannibalism is out of fashion!"</p> +<p>"It is one of the penalties of civilization," replied de Musset, +with a shrug. "Besides, one would not wish to be an epicure."</p> +<p>Dalrymple, who had been listening somewhat disdainfully to this +skirmish of words, here touched me on the arm and turned away.</p> +<p>"Don't you hate this sort of high-pressure talk?" he said, +impatiently.</p> +<p>"I was just thinking it so brilliant."</p> +<p>"Pshaw!--conversational fireworks--every speaker bent on +eclipsing every other speaker. It's an artificial atmosphere, my +dear Damon--a sort of forcing-house for good things; and I hate +forced witticisms, as I hate forced peas. But have you had enough +of it? Or has this feast of reason taken away your appetite for +simpler fare?"</p> +<p>"If you mean, am I ready to go with you to Madame de +Courcelles'--yes."</p> +<p>"<i>A la bonne heure</i>!"</p> +<p>"But you are not going away without taking leave of Madame +Rachel?"</p> +<p>"Unquestionably. Leave-taking is a custom more honored in the +breach than the observance."</p> +<p>"But isn't that very impolite?"</p> +<p>"<i>Ingénu!</i> Do you know that society ignores +everything disagreeable? A leave-taker sets an unpleasant example, +disturbs the harmony of things, and reminds others of their +watches. Besides, he suggests unwelcome possibilities. Perhaps he +finds the party dull; or, worse still, he may be going to one that +is pleasanter."</p> +<p>By this time we were again rattling along the Boulevard. The +theatres were ablaze with lights. The road was full of carriages. +The <i>trottoir</i> was almost as populous as at noon. The idlers +outside the <i>cafés</i> were still eating their ices and +sipping their <i>eau-sucré</i> as though, instead of being +past eleven at night, it was scarcely eleven in the morning. In a +few minutes, we had once more turned aside out of the great +thoroughfare, and stopped at a private house in a quiet street. A +carriage driving off, a cab drawing up behind our own, open windows +with drawn blinds, upon which were profiled passing shadows of the +guests within, and the ringing tones of a soprano voice, +accompanied by a piano, gave sufficient indication of a party, and +had served to attract a little crowd of soldiers and <i>gamins</i> +about the doorway.</p> +<p>Having left our over-coats with a servant, we were ushered +upstairs, and, as the song was not yet ended, slipped in +unannounced and stationed ourselves just between two crowded +drawing-rooms, where, sheltered by the folds of a muslin curtain, +we could see all that was going on in both. I observed, at a +glance, that I was now in a society altogether unlike that which I +had just left.</p> +<p>At Rachel's there were present only two ladies besides herself, +and those were members of her own family. Here I found at least an +equal proportion of both sexes. At Rachel's a princely magnificence +reigned. Here the rooms were elegant, but simple; the paintings +choice but few; the ornaments costly, but in no unnecessary +profusion.</p> +<p>"It is just the difference between taste and display," said +Dalrymple. "Rachel is an actress, and Madame de Courcelles is a +lady. Rachel exhibits her riches as an Indian chief exhibits the +scalps of his victims--Madame de Courcelles adorns her house with +no other view than to make it attractive to her friends."</p> +<p>"As a Greek girl covers her head with sequins to show the amount +of her fortune, and an English girl puts a rose in her hair for +grace and beauty only," said I, fancying that I had made rather a +clever observation. I was therefore considerably disappointed when +Dalrymple merely said, "just so."</p> +<p>The lady in the larger room here finished her song and returned +to her seat, amid a shower of <i>bravas</i>.</p> +<p>"She sings exquisitely," said I, following her with my eyes.</p> +<p>"And so she ought," replied my friend. "She is the Countess +Rossi, whom you may have heard of as Mademoiselle Sontag."</p> +<p>"What! the celebrated Sontag?" I exclaimed.</p> +<p>"The same. And the gentleman to whom she is now speaking is no +less famous a person than the author of <i>Pelham</i>."</p> +<p>I was as much delighted as a rustic at a menagerie, and +Dalrymple, seeing this, continued to point out one celebrity after +another till I began no longer to remember which was which. Thus +Lamartine, Horace Vernet, Scribe, Baron Humboldt, Miss Bremer, +Arago, Auber, and Sir Edwin Landseer, were successively indicated, +and I thought myself one of the most fortunate fellows in Paris, +only to be allowed to look upon them.</p> +<p>"I suppose the spirit of lion-hunting is an original instinct," +I said, presently. "Call it vulgar excitement, if you will; but I +must confess that to see these people, and to be able to write +about them to my father, is just the most delightful thing that has +happened to me since I left home."</p> +<p>"Call things by their right names, Damon," said Dalrymple, +good-naturedly. "If you were a <i>parvenu</i> giving a party, and +wanted all these fine folks to be seen at your house, that would be +lion-hunting; but being whom and what you are, it is +hero-worship--a disease peculiar to the young; wholesome and +inevitable, like the measles."</p> +<p>"What have I done," said a charming voice close by, "that +Captain Dalrymple will not even deign to look upon me?"</p> +<p>The charming voice proceeded from the still more charming lips +of an exceedingly pretty brunette in a dress of light green silk, +fastened here and there with bouquets of rosebuds. Plump, rosy, +black-haired, bright-eyed, bewilderingly coquettish, this lady +might have been about thirty years of age, and seemed by no means +unconscious of her powers of fascination.</p> +<p>"I implore a thousand pardons, Madame...." began my friend.</p> +<p>"<i>Comment</i>! A thousand pardons for a single offence!" +exclaimed the lady. "What an unreasonable culprit!"</p> +<p>To which she added, quite audibly, though behind the temporary +shelter of her fan:--</p> +<p>"Who is this <i>beau garçon</i> whom you seem to have +brought with you?"</p> +<p>I turned aside, affecting not to hear the question; but could +not help listening, nevertheless. Of Dalrymple's reply, however, I +caught but my own name.</p> +<p>"So much the better," observed the lady. "I delight in +civilizing handsome boys. Introduce him."</p> +<p>Dalrymple tapped me on the arm.</p> +<p>"Madame de Marignan permits me to introduce you, <i>mon +ami</i>," said he. "Mr. Basil Arbuthnot--Madame de Marignan."</p> +<p>I bowed profoundly--all the more profoundly because I felt +myself blushing to the eyes, and would not for the universe have +been suspected of overhearing the preceding conversation; nor was +my timidity alleviated when Dalrymple announced his intention of +going in search of Madame de Courcelles, and of leaving me in the +care of Madame de Marignan.</p> +<p>"Now, Damon, make the most of your opportunities," whispered he, +as he passed by. "<i>Vogue la galère</i>!"</p> +<p><i>Vogue la galère</i>, indeed! As if I had anything to +do with the <i>galère</i>, except to sit down in it, the +most helpless of galley-slaves, and blindly submit to the gyves and +chains of Madame de Marignan, who, regarding me as the lawful +captive of her bow and spear, carried me off at once to a vacant +<i>causeuse</i> in a distant corner.</p> +<p>To send me in search of a footstool, to make me hold her fan, to +overwhelm me with questions and bewilder me with a thousand +coquetries, were the immediate proceedings of Madame de Marignan. A +consummate tactician, she succeeded, before a quarter of an hour +had gone by, in putting me at my ease, and in drawing from me +everything that I had to tell--all my past; all my prospects for +the future; the name and condition of my father; a description of +Saxonholme, and the very date of my birth. Then she criticized all +the ladies in the room, which only drew my attention more +admiringly upon herself; and she quizzed all the young men, whereby +I felt indirectly flattered, without exactly knowing why; and she +praised Dalrymple in terms for which I could have embraced her on +the spot had she been ten times less pretty, and ten times less +fascinating.</p> +<p>I was an easy victim, after all, and scarcely worth the powder +and shot of an experienced <i>franc-tireur;</i> but Madame de +Marignan, according to her own confession, had a taste for +civilizing "handsome boys," and as I may, perhaps, have come under +that category a good many years ago, the little victory amused her! +By the time, at all events, that Dalrymple returned to tell me it +was past one o'clock in the morning, and I must be introduced to +the mistress of the house before leaving, my head was as completely +turned as that of old Time himself.</p> +<p>"Past one!" I exclaimed. "Impossible! We cannot have been here +half-an hour."</p> +<p>At which neither Dalrymple nor Madame de Marignan could forbear +smiling.</p> +<p>"I hope our acquaintance is not to end here, monsieur," said +Madame de Marignan. "I live in the Rue Castellane, and am at home +to my friends every Wednesday evening."</p> +<p>I bowed almost to my boots.</p> +<p>"And to my intimates, every morning from twelve to two," she +added very softly, with a dimpled smile that went straight to my +heart, and set it beating like the paddle-wheels of a steamer.</p> +<p>I stammered some incoherent thanks, bowed again, nearly upset a +servant with a tray of ices, and, covered with confusion, followed +Dalrymple into the farther room. Here I was introduced to Madame de +Courcelles, a pale, aristocratic woman some few years younger than +Madame de Marignan, and received a gracious invitation to all her +Monday receptions. But I was much less interested in Madame de +Courcelles than I should have been a couple of hours before. I +scarcely looked at her, and five minutes after I was out of her +presence, could not have told whether she was fair or dark, if my +life had depended on it!</p> +<p>"What say you to walking home?" said Dalrymple, as we went down +stairs. "It is a superb night, and the fresh air would be +delightful after these hot rooms."</p> +<p>I assented gladly; so we dismissed the cab, and went out, +arm-in-arm, along a labyrinth of quiet streets lighted by gas-lamps +few and far between, and traversed only by a few homeward-bound +pedestrians. Emerging presently at the back of the Madeleine, we +paused for a moment to admire the noble building by moonlight; then +struck across the Marché aux Fleurs and took our way along +the Boulevard.</p> +<p>"Are you tired, Damon?" said Dalrymple presently.</p> +<p>"Not in the least," I replied, with my head full of Madame de +Marignan.</p> +<p>"Would you like to look in at an artists' club close by here, +where I have the <i>entree?</i>--queer place enough, but amusing to +a stranger."</p> +<p>"Yes, very much."</p> +<p>"Come along, then; but first button up your overcoat to the +throat, and tie this colored scarf round your neck. See, I do the +same. Now take off your gloves--that's it. And give your hat the +least possible inclination to the left ear. You may turn up the +bottoms of your trousers, if you like--anything to look a little +slangy."</p> +<p>"Is that necessary?"</p> +<p>"Indispensable--at all events in the honorable society of <i>Les +Chicards."</i></p> +<p>"<i>Les Chicards</i>!" I repeated. "What are they?"</p> +<p>"It is the name of the club, and means--Heaven only knows what! +for Greek or Latin root it has none, and record of it there exists +not, unless in the dictionary of Argôt. And yet if you were +an old Parisian and had matriculated for the last dozen years at +the Bal de l'Opéra, you would know the illustrious Chicard +by sight as familiarly as Punch, or Paul Pry, or Pierrot. He is a +gravely comic personage with a bandage over one eye, a battered hat +considerably inclining to the back of his head, a coat with a high +collar and long tails, and a <i>tout ensemble</i> indescribably +seedy--something between a street preacher and a travelling +showman. But here we are. Take care how you come down, and mind +your head."</p> +<p>Having turned aside some few minutes before into the Rue St. +Honoré, we had thence diverged down a narrow street with a +gutter running along the middle and no foot-pavements on either +side. The houses seemed to be nearly all shops, some few of which, +for the retailing of <i>charbonnerie</i>, stale vegetables, +uninviting cooked meats, and so forth, were still open; but that +before which we halted was closely shuttered up, with only a +private door open at the side, lighted by a single oil-lamp. +Following my friend for a couple of yards along the dim passage +within, I became aware of strange sounds, proceeding apparently +from the bowels of the earth, and found myself at the head of a +steep staircase, down which it was necessary to proceed with my +body bent almost double, in consequence of the close proximity of +the ceiling and the steps. At the foot of this staircase came +another dim passage and another oil-lamp over a low door, at which +Dalrymple paused a moment before entering. The sounds which I had +heard above now resolved themselves into their component parts, +consisting of roars of laughter, snatches of songs, clinkings of +glasses, and thumpings of bottles upon tables, to the accompaniment +of a deep bass hum of conversation, all of which prepared me to +find a very merry company within.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV."></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> +<h3>THE HONORABLE SOCIETY OF LES CHICARDS.</h3> +<blockquote>"When a set of men find themselves agree in any +particular, though never so trivial, they establish themselves into +a kind of fraternity, and meet once or twice a +week."--<i>Spectator</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>It was a long, low room lighted by gas, with a table reaching +from end to end. Round about this table, in various stages of +conviviality and conversation, were seated some thirty or forty +men, capped, bearded, and eccentric-looking, with all kinds of +queer blouses and wonderful heads of hair. Dropping into a couple +of vacant chairs at the lower end of this table, we called for a +bottle of Chablis, lit our cigars, and fell in with the general +business of the evening. At the top, dimly visible through a dense +fog of tobacco smoke, sat a stout man in a green coat fastened by a +belt round the waist. He was evidently the President, and, instead +of a hammer, had a small bugle lying by his side, which he blew +from time to time to enforce silence.</p> +<p>Somewhat perplexed by the general aspect of the club, I turned +to my companion for an explanation.</p> +<p>"Is it possible," I asked, "that these amazing individuals are +all artists and gentlemen?"</p> +<p>"Artists, every one," replied Dalrymple; "but as to their claim +to be gentlemen, I won't undertake to establish it. After all, the +<i>Chicards</i> are not first-rate men."</p> +<p>"What are they, then?"</p> +<p>"Oh, the Helots of the profession--hewers of wood engravings, +and drawers of water-colors, with a sprinkling of daguerreotypists, +and academy students. But hush--somebody is going to sing!"</p> +<p>And now, heralded by a convulsive flourish from the President's +bugle, a young <i>Chicard</i>, whose dilapidated outer man +sufficiently contradicted the burthen of his song, shouted with +better will than skill, a <i>chanson</i> of Beranger's, every verse +of which ended with:--</p> +<blockquote>"J'ai cinquante écus,<br> +J'ai cinquante écus,<br> +J'ai cinquante écus de rente!"</blockquote> +<p>Having brought this performance to a satisfactory conclusion, +the singer sat down amid great clapping of hands and clattering of +glasses, and the President, with another flourish on the bugle, +called upon one Monsieur Tourterelle. Monsieur Tourterelle was a +tall, gaunt, swarthy personage, who appeared to have cultivated his +beard at the expense of his head, since the former reached nearly +to his waist, while the latter was as bare as a billiard-ball. +Preparing himself for the effort with a wine-glass full of raw +cognac, this gentleman leaned back in his chair, stuck his thumbs +into the armholes of his waistcoat, fixed his eyes on the ceiling, +and plunged at once into a doleful ballad about one Mademoiselle +Rosine, and a certain village <i>auprès de la mer</i>, which +seemed to be in an indefinite number of verses, and amused no one +but himself. In the midst of this ditty, just as the audience had +begun to testify their impatience by much whispering and shuffling +of feet, an elderly <i>Chicard</i>, with a very bald and shiny +head, was discovered to have fallen asleep in the seat next but one +to my own; whereupon my nearest neighbor, a merry-looking young +fellow with a profusion of rough light hair surmounted by a cap of +scarlet cloth, forthwith charred a cork in one of the candles, and +decorated the bald head of the sleeper with a comic countenance and +a pair of huge mustachios. An uproarious burst of laughter was the +immediate result, and the singer, interrupted somewhere about his +18th verse, subsided into offended silence.</p> +<p>"Monsieur Müller is requested to favor the honorable +society with a song," cried the President, as soon as the tumult +had somewhat subsided.</p> +<p>My red-capped neighbor, answering to that name, begged to be +excused, on the score of having pledged his <i>ut de poitrine</i> a +week since at the Mont de Piété, without yet having +been able to redeem it. This apology was received with laughter, +hisses, and general incredulity.</p> +<p>"But," he added, "I am willing to relate an adventure that +happened to myself in Rome two winters ago, if my honorable brother +<i>Chicards</i> will be pleased to hear it."</p> +<p>An immense burst of approbation from all but Monsieur +Tourterelle and the bald sleeper, followed this announcement; and +so, after a preliminary <i>grog au vin</i>, and another explosive +demonstration on the part of the chairman, Monsieur Müller +thus began:--</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h3>THE STUDENT'S STORY.</h3> +<br> +<p>"When I was in Rome, I lodged in the Via Margutta, which, for +the benefit of those who have not been there, may be described as a +street of studios and stables, crossed at one end by a little +roofed gallery with a single window, like a shabby 'Bridge of +Sighs,' A gutter runs down the middle, interrupted occasionally by +heaps of stable-litter; and the perspective is damaged by rows of +linen suspended across the street at uncertain intervals. The +houses in this agreeable thoroughfare are dingy, dilapidated, and +comfortless, and all which are not in use as stables, are occupied +by artists. However, it was a very jolly place, and I never was +happier anywhere in my life. I had but just touched my little +patrimony, and I was acquainted with plenty of pleasant fellows who +used to come down to my rooms at night from the French Academy +where they had been studying all day. Ah, what evenings those were! +What suppers we used to have in from the <i>Lepre</i>! What lots of +Orvieto we drank! And what a mountain of empty wicker bottles had +to be cleared away from the little square yard with the solitary +lemon-tree at the back of the house!"</p> +<p>"Come, Müller--no fond memories!" cried a student in a +holland blouse. "Get on with the story."</p> +<p>"Ay, get on with the story!" echoed several voices.</p> +<p>To which Müller, who took advantage of the interruption to +finish his <i>grog au vin</i>, deigned no reply.</p> +<p>"Well," he continued, "like a good many other fellows who, +having everything to learn and nothing to do, fancy themselves +great geniuses only because they are in Rome, I put a grand brass +plate on the door, testifying to all passers-by that mine was the +STUDIO DI HERR FRANZ MULLER; and, having done this, I believed, of +course, that my fortune was to be made out of hand. Nothing came of +it, however. People in search of Dessoulavy's rooms knocked +occasionally to ask their way, and a few English and Americans +dropped in from time to time to stare about them, after the +free-and-easy fashion of foreigners in Rome; but, for all this, I +found no patrons. Thus several months went by, during which I +studied from the life, worked hard at the antique, and relieved the +monotony of study with occasional trips to Frascati, or supper +parties at the Café Greco."</p> +<p>"The story! the story!" interrupted a dozen impatient +voices.</p> +<p>"All in good time," said Müller, with provoking +indifference. "We are now coming to it."</p> +<p>And assuming an attitude expressive of mystery, he dropped his +voice, looked round the table, and proceeded:--</p> +<p>"It was on the last evening of the Carnival. It had been raining +at intervals during the day, but held up for a good hour just at +dusk, as if on purpose for the <i>moccoli</i>. Scarcely, however, +had the guns of St. Angelo thundered an end to the frolic, when the +rain came down again in torrents, and put out the last tapers that +yet lingered along the Corso. Wet, weary, and splashed from head to +foot with mud and tallow, I came home about seven o'clock, having +to dine and dress before going to a masked-ball in the evening. To +light my stove, change my wet clothes, and make the best of a +half-cold <i>trattore</i> dinner, were my first proceedings; after +which, I laid out my costume ready to put on, wrapped myself in a +huge cloak, swallowed a tumbler full of hot cognac and water, and +lay down in front of the fire, determined to have a sound nap and a +thorough warming, before venturing out again that night. I fell +asleep, of course, and never woke till roused by a tremendous peal +upon the studio-bell, about two hours and a half afterwards. More +dead than alive, I started to my feet. The fire had gone out in the +stove; the room was in utter darkness; and the bell still pealed +loud enough to raise the neighborhood.</p> +<p>"'Who's there?' I said, half-opening the door, through which the +wind and rain came rushing. 'And what, in the name of ten thousand +devils, do you want?"</p> +<p>"'I want an artist,' said my visitor, in Italian. 'Are you +one?'</p> +<p>"'I flatter myself that I am,' replied I, still holding the door +tolerably close.</p> +<p>"'Can you paint heads?'</p> +<p>"'Heads, figures, landscapes--anything,' said I, with my teeth +chattering like castanets.</p> +<p>"The stranger pushed the door open, walked in without further +ceremony, closed it behind him, and said, in a low, distinct +voice:--</p> +<p>"'Could you take the portrait of a dead man?'</p> +<p>"'Of a dead man?' I stammered. 'I--I ... Suppose I strike a +light?'</p> +<p>"The stranger laid his hand upon my arm.</p> +<p>"'Not till you have given me an answer,' said he. 'Yes or no? +Remember, you will be paid well for your work.'</p> +<p>"'Well, then--yes,' I replied.</p> +<p>"'And can you do it at once?'</p> +<p>"'At once?'</p> +<p>"'Ay, Signore, will you bring your colors, and come with me this +instant--or must I seek some other painter?'</p> +<p>"I thought of the masked-ball, and sighed; but the promise of +good payment, and, above all, the peculiarity of the adventure +determined me.</p> +<p>"'Nay, if it is to be done,' said I, 'one time is as good as +another. Let me strike a light, and I will at once pack up my +colors and come with you.'</p> +<p>"'<i>Bene</i>!' said the stranger. 'But be as quick as you can, +Signore, for time presses.'</p> +<p>"I was quick, you may be sure, and yet not so quick but that I +found time to look at my strange visitor. He was a dark, elderly +man, dressed in a suit of plain black, and might have been a clerk, +or a tradesman, or a confidential servant. As soon as I was ready, +he took the lead; conducted me to a carriage which was waiting at +the corner of a neighboring street; took his place respectfully on +the opposite seat; pulled down both the blinds, and gave the word +to drive on. I never knew by what streets we went, or to what part +of Rome he took me; but the way seemed long and intricate. At +length, we stopped and alighted. The night was pitch-dark, and +still stormy. I saw before me only the outline of a large building, +indistinct and gloomy, and a small open door dimly lighted-from +within. Hurried across the strip of narrow pavement, and shut in +immediately, I had no time to identify localities--no choice, +except to follow my conductor and blindly pursue the adventure to +its close. Having entered by a back door, we went up and down a +labyrinth of staircases and passages, for the mere purpose, as it +seemed, of bewildering me as much as possible--then paused before +an oaken door at the end of the corridor. Here my conductor +signified by a gesture that I was to precede him.</p> +<p>"It was a large, panelled chamber, richly furnished. A wood fire +smouldered on the hearth--a curtained alcove to the left partly +concealed a bed--a corresponding alcove to the right, fitted with +altar and crucifix, served as an oratory. In the centre of the room +stood a table covered with a cloth. It needed no second glance to +tell me what object lay beneath that cloth, uplifting it in ghastly +outline! My conductor pointed to the table, and asked if there was +anything I needed. To this I replied that I must have more light +and more fire, and so proceeded to disembarrass myself of my cloak, +and prepare my palette. In the meantime, he threw on a log and some +pine-cones, and went to fetch an additional lamp.</p> +<p>"Left alone with the body and impelled by an irresistible +impulse, I rolled back the cloth and saw before me the corpse of a +young man in fancy dress--a magnificent fellow cast in the very +mould of strength and grace, and measuring his six feet, if an +inch. The features were singularly handsome; the brow open and +resolute; the hair dark, and crisp with curls. Looking more +closely, I saw that a lock had been lately cut from the right +temple, and found one of the severed hairs upon the cheek, where it +had fallen. The dress was that of a jester of the middle ages, half +scarlet and half white, with a rich belt round the waist. In this +belt, as if in horrible mockery of the dead, was stuck a tiny baton +surmounted by a fool's cap, and hung with silver bells. Looking +down thus upon the body--so young, so beautiful, so evidently +unprepared for death--a conviction of foul play flashed upon me +with all the suddenness and certainty of revelation. Here were no +appearances of disease and no signs of strife. The expression was +not that of a man who had fallen weapon in hand. Neither, however, +was it that of one who had died in the agony of poison. The longer +I looked, the more mysterious it seemed; yet the more I felt +assured that there was guilt at the bottom of the mystery.</p> +<p>"While I was yet under the first confused and shuddering +impression of this doubt, my guide came back with a powerful solar +lamp, and, seeing me stand beside the body, said sharply:--</p> +<p>"'Well, Signore, you look as if you had never seen a dead man +before in all your life!'</p> +<p>"'I have seen plenty,' I replied, 'but never one so young, and +so handsome.'</p> +<p>"'He dropped down quite suddenly,' said he, volunteering the +information, 'and died in a few minutes. 'Then finding that I +remained silent, added:--</p> +<p>"'But I am told that it is always so in cases of +heart-disease.'</p> +<p>"'I turned away without replying, and, having placed the lamp to +my satisfaction, began rapidly sketching in my subject. My +instructions were simple. I was to give the head only; to produce +as rapid an effect with as little labor as possible; to alter +nothing; to add nothing; and, above all, to be ready to leave the +house before daybreak. So I set steadily to work, and my conductor, +establishing himself in an easy-chair by the fire, watched my +progress for some time, and then, as the night advanced, fell +profoundly asleep. Thus, hour after hour went by, and, absorbed in +my work, I painted on, unconscious of fatigue-- might almost say +with something of a morbid pleasure in the task before me. The +silence within; the raving of the wind and rain without; the solemn +mystery of death, and the still more solemn mystery of crime which, +as I followed out train after train of wild conjectures, grew to +still deeper conviction, had each and all their own gloomy +fascination. Was it not possible, I asked myself, by mere force of +will to penetrate the secret? Was it not possible to study that +dead face till the springs of thought so lately stilled within the +stricken brain should vibrate once more, if only for an instant, as +wire vibrates to wire, and sound to sound! Could I not, by long +studying of the passive mouth, compel some sympathetic revelation +of the last word that it uttered, though that revelation took no +outward form, and were communicable to the apprehension only? +Pondering thus, I lost myself in a labyrinth of fantastic reveries, +till the hand and the brain worked independently of each other--the +one swiftly reproducing upon canvas the outer lineaments of the +dead; the other laboring to retrace foregone facts of which no +palpable evidence remained. Thus my work progressed; thus the night +waned; thus the sleeper by the fireside stirred from time to time, +or moaned at intervals in his dreams.</p> +<p>"At length, when many hours had gone by, and I began to be +conscious of the first languor of sleeplessness, I heard, or +fancied I heard, a light sound in the corridor without. I held my +breath, and listened. As I listened, it ceased--was renewed--drew +nearer--paused outside the door. Involuntarily, I rose and looked +round for some means of defence, in case of need. Was I brought +here to perpetuate the record of a crime, and was I, when my task +was done, to be silenced in a dungeon, or a grave? This thought +flashed upon me almost before I was conscious of the horror it +involved. At the same moment, I saw the handle of the door turned +slowly and cautiously--then held back--and then, after a brief +pause, the door itself gradually opening."</p> +<p>Here the student paused as if overcome by the recollection of +that moment, and passed his hand nervously across his brow. I took +the liberty of pushing our bottle of Chablis towards him, for which +he thanked me with a nod and a smile, and filled his glass to the +brim.</p> +<p>"Well?" cried two or three voices eagerly; my own being one of +them. "The door opened--what then?"</p> +<p>"And a lady entered," he continued. "A lady dressed in black +from head to foot, with a small lamp in her hand. Seeing me, she +laid her finger significantly on her lip, closed the door as +cautiously as she had opened it, and, with the faltering, uncertain +steps of one just risen from a sick-bed, came over to where I had +been sitting, and leaned for support against my chair. She was very +pale, very calm, very young and beautiful, with just that look of +passive despair in her face that one sees in Guido's portrait of +Beatrice Cenci. Standing thus, I observed that she kept her eyes +turned from the corpse, and her attention concentrated on the +portrait. So several minutes passed, and neither of us spoke nor +stirred. Then, slowly, shudderingly, she turned, grasped me by the +arm, pointed to the dead form stretched upon the table, and less +with her breath than by the motion of her lips, shaped out the one +word:--'<i>Murdered</i>!'</p> +<p>"Stunned by this confirmation of my doubts, I could only clasp +my hands in mute horror, and stare helplessly from the lady to the +corpse, from the corpse to the sleeper. Wildly, feverishly, with +all her calmness turned to eager haste, she then bent over the +body, tore open the rich doublet, turned back the shirt, and, +without uttering one syllable, pointed to a tiny puncture just +above the region of the heart--a spot so small, so insignificant, +such a mere speck upon the marble, that but for the pale violet +discoloration which spread round it like a halo, I could scarcely +have believed it to be the cause of death. The wound had evidently +bled inwardly, and, being inflicted with some singularly slender +weapon, had closed again so completely as to leave an aperture no +larger than might have been caused by the prick of a needle. While +I was yet examining it, the fire fell together, and my conductor +stirred uneasily in his sleep. To cover the body hastily with the +cloth and resume my seat, was, with me, the instinctive work of a +moment; but he was quiet again the next instant, and breathing +heavily. With trembling hands, my visitor next re-closed the shirt +and doublet, replaced the outer covering, and bending down till her +lips almost touched my ear, whispered:--</p> +<p>"'You have seen it. If called upon to do so, will you swear +it?'</p> +<p>"I promised.</p> +<p>"'You will not let yourself be intimidated by threats? nor +bribed by gold? nor lured by promises?</p> +<p>"'Never, so help me Heaven!'</p> +<p>"She looked into my eyes, as if she would read my very soul; +then, before I knew what she was about to do, seized my hand, and +pressed it to her lip.</p> +<p>"'I believe you,' she said. 'I believe, and I thank you. Not a +word to him that you have seen me'--here she pointed to the sleeper +by the fire. 'He is faithful; but not to my interests alone. I dare +tell you no more--at all events, not now. Heaven bless and reward +you. In this portrait you give me the only treasure--the only +consolation of my future life!'</p> +<p>"So saying, she took a ring from her finger, pressed it, without +another word, into my unwilling hand; and, with the same passive +dreary look that her face had worn on first entering took up her +lamp again, and glided from the room.</p> +<p>"How the next hour, or half hour, went by, I know not--except +that I sat before the canvas like one dreaming. Now and then I +added a few touches; but mechanically, and, as it were, in a trance +of wonder and dismay. I had, however, made such good progress +before being interrupted, that when my companion woke and told me +it would soon be day and I must make haste to be gone, the portrait +was even more finished than I had myself hoped to make it in the +time. So I packed up my colors and palette again, and, while I was +doing so, observed that he not only drew the cloth once more over +the features of the dead, but concealed the likeness behind the +altar in the oratory, and even restored the chairs to their old +positions against the wall. This done, he extinguished the solar +lamp; put it out of sight; desired me once more to follow him; and +led the way back along the same labyrinth of staircases and +corridors by which he brought me. It was gray dawn as he hurried me +into the coach. The blinds were already down--the door was +instantly closed--again we seemed to be going through an infinite +number of streets--again we stopped, and I found myself at the +corner of the Via Margutta.</p> +<p>"'Alight, Signore,' said the stranger, speaking for the first +time since we started. 'Alight--you are but a few yards from your +own door. Here are a hundred scudi; and all that you have now to +do, is to forget your night's work, as if it had never been.'</p> +<p>"With this he closed the carriage-door, the horses dashed on +again, and, before I had time even to see if any arms were blazoned +on the panels, the whole equipage had disappeared.</p> +<p>"And here, strange to say, the adventure ended. I never was +called upon for evidence. I never saw anything more of the +stranger, or the lady. I never heard of any sudden death, or +accident, or disappearance having taken place about that time; and +I never even obtained any clue to the neighborhood of the house in +which these things took place. Often and often afterwards, when I +was strolling by night along the streets of Rome, I lingered before +some old palazzo, and fancied that I recognised the gloomy outline +that caught my eye in that hurried transit from the carriage to the +house. Often and often I paused and started, thinking that I had +found at last the very side-door by which I entered. But these were +mere guesses after all. Perhaps that house stood in some remote +quarter of the city where my footsteps never went again--perhaps in +some neighboring street or piazza, where I passed it every day! At +all events, the whole thing vanished like a dream, and, but for the +ring and the hundred scudi, a dream I should by this time believe +it to have been. The scudi, I am sorry to say, were spent within a +month--the ring I have never parted from, and here it is."</p> +<p>Hereupon the student took from his finger a superb ruby set +between two brilliants of inferior size, and allowed it to pass +from hand to hand, all round the table. Exclamations of surprise +and admiration, accompanied by all sorts of conjectures and +comments, broke from every lip.</p> +<p>"The dead man was the lady's lover," said one. "That is why she +wanted his portrait."</p> +<p>"Of course, and her husband had murdered him," said another.</p> +<p>"Who, then, was the man in black?" asked a third.</p> +<p>"A servant, to be sure. She said, if you remember, that he was +faithful; but not devoted to her interests alone. That meant that +he would obey to the extent of procuring for her the portrait of +her lover; but that he did not choose to betray his master, even +though his master was a murderer."</p> +<p>"But if so, where was the master?" said the first speaker. "Is +it likely that he would have neglected to conceal the body during +all these hours?"</p> +<p>"Certainly. Nothing more likely, if he were a man of the world, +and knew how to play his game out boldly to the end. Have we not +been told that it was the last night of the Carnival, and what +better could he do, to avert suspicion, than show himself at as +many balls as he could visit in the course of the evening? But +really, this ring is magnificent!"</p> +<p>"Superb. The ruby alone must be worth a thousand francs."</p> +<p>"To say nothing of the diamonds, and the setting," observed the +next to whom it was handed.</p> +<p>At length, after having gone nearly the round of the table, the +ring came to a little dark, sagacious-looking man, just one seat +beyond Dalrymple's, who peered at it suspiciously on every side, +breathed upon it, rubbed it bright again upon his coat-sleeve, and, +finally, held the stones up sideways between his eyes and the +light.</p> +<p>"Bah!" said he, sending it on with a contemptuous fillip of the +forefinger and thumb. "Glass and paste, <i>mon ami</i>. Not worth +five francs of anybody's money."</p> +<p>Müller, who had been eyeing him all the time with an odd +smile lurking about the corners of his mouth, emptied his last drop +of Chablis, turned the glass over on the table, bottom upwards, and +said very coolly:--</p> +<p>"Well, I'm sorry for that; because I gave seven francs for it +myself this morning, in the Palais Royal."</p> +<p>"You!"</p> +<p>"Seven francs!"</p> +<p>"Bought in the Palais Royal!"</p> +<p>"What does he mean?"</p> +<p>"Mean?" echoed the student, in reply to this chorus of +exclamations. "I mean that I bought it this morning, and gave seven +francs for it. It is not every morning of my life, let me tell you, +that I have seven francs to throw away on my personal +appearance."</p> +<p>"But then the ring that the lady took from her finger?"</p> +<p>"And the murder?"</p> +<p>"And the servant in black?"</p> +<p>"And the hundred scudi?"</p> +<p>"One great invention from beginning to end, Messieurs les +Chicards, and being got up expressly for your amusement, I hope you +liked it. <i>Garçon?</i>--another <i>grog au vin</i>, and +sweeter than the last!"</p> +<p>It would be difficult to say whether the Chicards were most +disappointed or delighted at this +<i>dénoûment</i>--disappointed at its want of fact, or +delighted with the story-weaving power of Herr Franz Müller. +They expressed themselves, at all events, with a tumultuous burst +of applause, in the midst of which we rose and left the room. When +we once more came out into the open air, the stars had disappeared +and the air was heavy with the damps of approaching daybreak. +Fortunately, we caught an empty <i>fiacre</i> in the next street +and, as we were nearer the Rue du Faubourg Montmartre than the +Chaussée d' Antin, Dalrymple set me down first.</p> +<p>"Adieu, Damon," he said, laughingly, as we shook hands through +the window. "If we don't meet before, come and dine with me next +Sunday at seven o'clock--and don't dream of dreadful murders, if +you can help it!"</p> +<p>I did not dream of dreadful murders. I dreamt, instead, of +Madame de Marignan, and never woke the next morning till eleven +o'clock, just two hours later than the time at which I should have +presented myself at Dr. Chéron's.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV."></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> +<h3>WHAT IT IS TO BE A CAVALIERE SERVENTE.</h3> +<center>"Everye white will have its blacke,<br> +And everye sweet its sowere."<br> +<br> +<i>Old Ballad</i>.</center> +<br> +<p>Neither the example of Oscar Dalrymple nor the broadcloth of the +great Michaud, achieved half so much for my education as did the +apprenticeship I was destined to serve to Madame de Marignan. +Having once made up her mind to civilize me, she spared no pains +for the accomplishment of that end, cost what it might to +herself--or me. Before I had been for one week her subject, she +taught me how to bow; how to pick up a pocket-handkerchief; how to +present a bouquet; how to hold a fan; how to pay a compliment; how +to turn over the leaves of a music-book--in short, how to obey and +anticipate every imperious wish; and how to fetch and carry, like a +dog. My vassalage began from the very day when I first ventured to +call upon her. Her house was small, but very elegant, and she +received me in a delicious little room overlooking the Champs +Elysées--a very nest of flowers, books, and birds. Before I +had breathed the air of that fatal boudoir for one quarter of an +hour, I was as abjectly her slave as the poodle with the +rose-colored collar which lay curled upon a velvet cushion at her +feet.</p> +<p>"I shall elect you my <i>cavaliere servente</i>," said she, +after I had twice nervously risen to take my leave within the first +half hour, and twice been desired to remain a little longer. "Will +you accept the office?"</p> +<p>I thought it the greatest privilege under heaven. Perhaps I said +so.</p> +<p>"The duties of the situation are onerous," added she, "and I +ought not to accept your allegiance without setting them before +you. In the first place, you will have to bring me every new novel +of George Sand, Flaubert, or About, on the day of publication."</p> +<p>"I will move heaven and earth to get them the day before, if +that be all!" I exclaimed.</p> +<p>Madame de Marignan nodded approvingly, and went on telling off +my duties, one by one, upon her pretty fingers.</p> +<p>"You will have to accompany me to the Opera at least twice a +week, on which occasions you will bring me a bouquet--camellias +being my favorite flowers."</p> +<p>"Were they the flowers that bloom but once in a century," said +I, with more enthusiasm than sense, "they should be yours!"</p> +<p>Madame de Marignan smiled and nodded again.</p> +<p>"When I drive in the Bois, you will sometimes take a seat in my +carriage, and sometimes ride beside it, like an attentive +cavalier."</p> +<p>I was just about to avow that I had no horse, when I remembered +that I could borrow Dalrymple's, or hire one, if necessary; so I +checked myself, and bowed.</p> +<p>"When I go to an exhibition," said Madame de Marignan, "it will +be your business to look out the pictures in the catalogue--when I +walk, you will carry my parasol--when I go into a shop, you will +take care of my dog--when I embroider, you will wind off my silks, +and look for my scissors--when I want amusement, you must make me +laugh--and when I am sleepy, you must read to me. In short, my +<i>cavaliere servente</i> must be my shadow."</p> +<p>"Then, like your shadow, Madame," said I, "his place is ever at +your feet, and that is all I desire!"</p> +<p>Madame de Marignan laughed outright, and showed the loveliest +little double row of pearls in all the world.</p> +<p>"Admirable!" said she. "Quite an elegant compliment, and worthy +of an accomplished lady-killer! <i>Allons</i>! you are a promising +scholar."</p> +<p>"In all that I have dared to say, Madame, I am, at least, +sincere," I added, abashed by the kind of praise.</p> +<p>"Sincere? Of course you are sincere. Who ever doubted it? Nay, +to blush like that is enough to spoil the finest compliment in the +world. There--it is three o'clock, and at half-past I have an +engagement, for which I must now make my <i>toilette</i>. Come +to-morrow evening to my box at the <i>Italiens</i>, and so adieu. +Stay--being my <i>cavaliere</i>, I permit you, at parting, to kiss +my hand."</p> +<p>Trembling, breathless, scarcely daring to touch it with mine, I +lifted the soft little hand to my lips, stammered something which +was, no doubt, sufficiently foolish, and hurried away, as if I were +treading on air and breathing sunshine.</p> +<p>All the rest of that day went by in a kind of agreeable +delirium. I walked about, almost without knowledge where I went. I +talked, without exactly knowing what I said. I have some +recollection of marching to and fro among the side-alleys of the +Bois de Boulogne, which at that time was really a woody park, and +not a pleasure-garden--of lying under a tree, and listening to the +birds overhead, and indulging myself in some idiotic romance about +love, and solitude, and Madame de Marignan--of wandering into a +<i>restaurant</i> somewhere about seven o'clock, and sitting down +to a dinner for which I had no appetite--of going back, sometime +during the evening, to the Rue Castellane, and walking to and fro +on the opposite side of the way, looking up for ever so long at the +darkened windows where my divinity did not show herself--of coming +back to my lodgings, weary, dusty, and not a bit more sober, +somewhere about eleven o'clock at night, driven to-bed by sheer +fatigue, and, even then, too much in love to go to sleep!</p> +<p>The next day I went through my duties at Dr. Chéron's, +and attended an afternoon lecture at the hospital; but +mechanically, like one dreaming. In the evening I presented myself +at the Opera, where Madame de Marignan received me very graciously, +and deigned to accept a superb bouquet for which I had paid sixteen +francs. I found her surrounded by elegant men, who looked upon me +as nobody, and treated me accordingly. Driven to the back of the +box where I could neither speak to her, nor see the stage, nor +achieve even a glimpse of the house, I spent an evening which +certainly fell short of my anticipations. I had, however, the +gratification of seeing my bouquet thrown to Grisi at the end of +the second act, and was permitted the privilege of going in search +of Madame de Marignan's carriage, while somebody else handed her +downstairs, and assisted her with her cloak. A whispered word of +thanks, a tiny pressure of the hand, and the words "come early +to-morrow," compensated me, nevertheless, for every disappointment, +and sent me home as blindly happy as ever.</p> +<p>The next day I called upon her, according to command, and was +transported to the seventh heaven by receiving permission to +accompany her to a morning concert, whereby I missed two lectures, +and spent ten francs.</p> +<p>On the Sunday, having hired a good horse for the occasion, I had +the honor of riding beside her carriage till some better-mounted +acquaintance came to usurp my place and her attention; after which +I was forced to drop behind and bear the eclipse of my glory as +philosophically as I could.</p> +<p>Thus day after day went by, and, for the delusive sake of Madame +de Marignan's bright eyes, I neglected my studies, spent my money, +wasted my time, and incurred the displeasure of Dr. Chéron. +Led on from folly to folly, I was perpetually buoyed up by +coquetries which meant nothing, and as perpetually mortified, +disappointed, and neglected. I hoped; I feared; I fretted; I lost +my sleep and my appetite; I felt dissatisfied with all the world, +sometimes blaming myself, and sometimes her--yet ready to excuse +and forgive her at a moment's notice. A boy in experience even more +than in years, I loved with a boy's headlong passion, and suffered +with all a boy's acute susceptibility. I was intensely +sensitive--abashed by a slight, humbled by a glance, and so easily +wounded that there were often times when, seeing myself forgotten, +I could with difficulty drive back the tears that kept rising to my +eyes. On the other hand, I was as easily elated. A kind word, an +encouraging smile, a lingering touch upon my sleeve, was enough at +any time to make me forget all my foregone troubles. How often the +mere gift of a flower sent me home rejoicing! How the tiniest show +of preference set my heart beating! How proud I was if mine was the +arm chosen to lead her to her carriage! How more than happy, if +allowed for even one half-hour in the whole evening to occupy the +seat beside her own! To dangle after her the whole day long--to +traverse all Paris on her errands--to wait upon her pleasure like a +slave, and this, too, without even expecting to be thanked for my +devotion, seemed the most natural thing in the world. She was +capricious; but caprice became her. She was exacting; but her +exactions were so coquettish and attractive, that one would not +have wished her more reasonable. She was, at least, ten or twelve +years my senior; but boys proverbially fall in love with women +older than themselves, and this one was in all respects so +charming, that I do not, even now, wonder at my infatuation.</p> +<p>After all, there are few things under heaven more beautiful, or +more touching, than a boy's first love.</p> +<p>Passionate is it as a man's--pure as a woman's--trusting as a +child's--timid, through the very excess of its +unselfishness--chivalrous, as though handed down direct from the +days of old romance--poetical beyond the utterances of the poet. To +the boy-lover, his mistress is only something less than a divinity. +He believes in her truth as in his own; in her purity, as in the +sun at noon. Her practised arts of voice and manner are, in his +eyes, the unstudied graces that spring as naturally from her beauty +as the scent from the flower. Single-hearted himself, it seems +impossible that she whom he adores should trifle with the most +sacred sentiment he has ever known. Conscious of his own devotion, +he cannot conceive that his wealth is poured forth in vain, and +that he is but the plaything of her idle hours. Yet it is so. The +boy's first love is almost always misplaced; seldom rated at its +true value; hardly ever productive of anything but disappointment. +Aspirant of the highest mysteries of the soul, he passes through +the ordeal of fire and tears, happy if he keep his faith unshaken +and his heart pure, for the wiser worship hereafter. We all know +this; and few know it better than myself. Yet, with all its +suffering, which of us would choose to obliterate all record of his +first romance? Which of us would be without the memory of its +smiles and tears, its sunshine and its clouds? Not I for one.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI."></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> +<h3>A CONTRETEMPS IN A CARRIAGE.</h3> +<br> +<p>My slavery lasted somewhat longer than three weeks, and less +than a month; and was brought, oddly enough, to an abrupt +conclusion. This was how it happened.</p> +<p>I had, as usual, attended Madame de Marignan one evening to the +Opera, and found myself, also as usual, neglected for a host of +others. There was one man in particular whom I hated, and whom +(perhaps because I hated him) she distinguished rather more than +the rest. His name was Delaroche, and he called himself Monsieur le +Comte Delaroche. Most likely he was a Count---I have no reason to +doubt his title; but I chose to doubt it for mere spite, and +because he was loud and conceited, and wore a little red and green +ribbon in his button-hole. He had, besides, an offensive sense of +my youth and his own superiority, which I have never forgiven to +this day. On the particular occasion of which I am now speaking, +this person had made his appearance in Madame de Marignan's box at +the close of the first act, established himself in the seat behind +hers, and there held the lists against all comers during the +remainder of the evening. Everything he said, everything he did, +aggravated me. When he looked through her lorgnette, I loathed him. +When he admired her fan, I longed to thrust it down his throat. +When he held her bouquet to his odious nose (the bouquet that I had +given her!) I felt it would have been justifiable manslaughter to +take him up bodily, and pitch him over into the pit.</p> +<p>At length the performance came to a close, and M. Delaroche, +having taken upon himself to arrange Madame de Marignan's cloak, +carry Madame de Marignan's fan, and put Madame de Marignan's +opera-glass into its morocco case, completed his officiousness by +offering his arm and conducting her into the lobby, whilst I, +outwardly indifferent but inwardly boiling, dropped behind, and +consigned him silently to all the torments of the seven +circles.</p> +<p>It was an oppressive autumnal night without a star in the sky, +and so still that one might have carried a lighted taper through +the streets. Finding it thus warm, Madame de Marignan proposed +walking down the line of carriages, instead of waiting till her own +came up; and so she and M. Delaroche led the way and I followed. +Having found the carriage, he assisted her in, placed her fan and +bouquet on the opposite seat, lingered a moment at the open door, +and had the unparalleled audacity to raise her hand to his lips at +parting. As for me, I stood proudly back, and lifted my hat.</p> +<p>"<i>Comment</i>!" she said, holding out her hand--the pretty, +ungloved hand that had just been kissed--"is that your good +night?"</p> +<p>I bowed over the hand, I would not have touched it with my lips +at that moment for all the wealth of Paris.</p> +<p>"You are coming to me to-morrow morning at twelve?" she murmured +tenderly.</p> +<p>"If Madame desires it."</p> +<p>"Of course I desire it. I am going to Auteuil, to look at a +house for a friend--and to Pignot's for some flowers--and to +Lubin's for some scent--and to a host of places. What should I do +without you? Nay, why that grave face? Have I done anything to +offend you?"</p> +<p>"Madame, I--I confess that--"</p> +<p>"That you are jealous of that absurd Delaroche, who is so much +in love with himself that he has no place in his heart for any one +else! <i>Fi donc!</i> I am ashamed of you. There--adieu, twelve +to-morrow!"</p> +<p>And with this she laughed, waved her hand, gave the signal to +drive on, and left me looking after the carriage, still irritated +but already half consoled.</p> +<p>I then sauntered moodily on, thinking of my tyrant, and her +caprices, and her beauty. Her smile, for instance; surely it was +the sweetest smile in the world--if only she were less lavish of +it! Then, what a delicious little hand--if mine were the only lips +permitted to kiss it! Why was she so charming?--or why, being so +charming, need she prize the attentions of every <i>flaneur</i> who +had only enough wit to admire her? Was I not a fool to believe that +she cared more for my devotion than for another's! Did I believe +it? Yes ... no ... sometimes. But then that "sometimes" was only +when under the immediate influence of her presence. She fascinated +me; but she would fascinate a hundred others in precisely the same +way. It was true that she accepted from me more devotion, more +worship, more time, more outward and visible homage than from any +other. Was I not her <i>Cavaliere servente?</i> Did she not accept +my bouquets? Did she not say the other day, when I gave her that +volume of Tennyson, that she loved all that was English for my +sake? Surely, I was worse than ungrateful, when, having so much, I +was still dissatisfied! Why was I not the happiest fellow in Paris? +Why .....</p> +<p>My meditations were here interrupted by a sudden flash of very +vivid lightning, followed by a low muttering of distant thunder. I +paused, and looked round. The sky was darker than ever, and though +the air was singularly stagnant, I could hear among the uppermost +leaves of the tall trees that stealthy rustling that generally +precedes a storm. Unfortunately for myself, I had not felt disposed +to go home at once on leaving the theatre; but, being restless +alike in mind and body, had struck down through the Place +Vendôme and up the Rue de Rivoli, intending to come home by a +circuitous route. At this precise moment I found myself in the +middle of the Place de la Concorde, with Cleopatra's needle +towering above my head, the lamps in the Champs Elysées +twinkling in long chains of light through the blank darkness before +me, and no vehicle anywhere in sight. To be caught in a heavy +shower, was not, certainly, an agreeable prospect for one who had +just emerged from the opera in the thinnest of boots and the +lightest of folding hats, with neither umbrella nor paletôt +of proof; so, having given a hasty glance in every direction from +which a cab might be expected, I took valiantly to my heels, and +made straight for the Madeleine.</p> +<p>Long before I had accomplished half the distance, however, +another flash announced the quick coming of the tempest, and the +first premonitory drops began to plash down heavily upon the +pavement. Still I ran on, thinking that I should find a cab in the +Place de la Madeleine; but the Place de la Madeleine was empty. +Even the café at the corner was closed. Even the omnibus +office was shut up, and the red lamp above the door +extinguished.</p> +<p>What was I to do now? Panting and breathless, I leaned up +against a doorway, and resigned myself to fate. Stay, what was that +file of carriages, dimly seen through the rain which was now coming +down in earnest? It was in a private street opening off at the back +of the Madeleine--a street in which I could remember no public +stand. Perhaps there was an evening party at one of the large +houses lower down, and, if so, I might surely find a not wholly +incorruptible cabman, who would consent for a liberal +<i>pourboire</i> to drive me home and keep his fare waiting, if +need were, for one little half-hour! At all events it was worth +trying for; so away I darted again, with the wind whistling about +my ears, and the rain driving in my face.</p> +<p>But my troubles were not to be so speedily ended. Among the ten +or fifteen equipages which I found drawn up in file, there was not +one hackney vehicle. They were private carriages, and all, +therefore, inaccessible.</p> +<p>Did I say inaccessible?</p> +<p>A bold idea occurred to me. The rain was so heavy that it could +scarcely be expected to last many minutes. The carriage at the very +end of the line was not likely to be the first called; and, even if +it were, one could spring out in a moment, if necessary. In short, +the very daring of the deed was as attractive as the shelter! I +made my way swiftly down the line. The last carriage was a neat +little brougham, and the coachman, with his hat pulled down over +his eyes, and his collar drawn up about his ears, was too much +absorbed in taking care of himself and his horses to pay much +attention to a foot-passenger. I passed boldly by--doubled back +stealthily on my own steps--looked round cautiously--opened the +door, and glided in.</p> +<p>It was a delightfully comfortable little vehicle--cushioned, +soft, yielding, and pervaded by a delicate perfume of eglantine. +Wondering who the owner might be--if she was young--if she was +pretty--if she was married, or single, or a widow--I settled myself +in the darkest corner of the carriage, intending only to remain +there till the rain had abated. Thus I fell, as fate would have +it--first into a profound reverie, and then into a still profounder +sleep. How long this sleep may have lasted I know not. I only +remember becoming slowly conscious of a gentle movement, which, +without awaking, partly roused me; of a check to that movement, +which brought my thoughts suddenly to the surface; of a stream of +light--of an open door--a crowded hall--a lady waiting to come out, +and a little crowd of attentive beaux surrounding her!</p> +<p>I comprehended my position in an instant, and the impossibility +of extricating myself from it. To get out next the house was to +brave detection; whilst at the other side I found myself blocked in +by carriages. Escape was now hopeless! I turned hot and cold; I +shrank back; I would have gone through the bottom of the carriage, +if I could. At this moment, to my horror, the footman opened the +door. I gave myself up for lost, and, in a sudden access of +desperation, was on the point of rushing out <i>coûte que +coûte</i>, when the lady ran forward; sprang lightly in; +recoiled; and uttered a little breathless cry of surprise and +apprehension!</p> +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu</i>, Madame! what is it? Are you hurt?" cried two +or three of the gentlemen, running out, bareheaded, to her +assistance.</p> +<p>But, to my amazement, she unfastened her cloak, and threw it +over me in such a manner as to leave me completely hidden beneath +the folds.</p> +<p>"Oh, nothing, thank you!--I only caught my foot in my cloak. I +am really quite ashamed to have alarmed you! A thousand +thanks--good-night."</p> +<p>And so, with something of a slight tremor in her voice, the lady +drew up the window. The next instant the carriage moved on.</p> +<p>And now, what was to be done? I blessed the accident which +rendered me invisible; but, at the same time, asked myself how it +was to end.</p> +<p>Should I wait till she reached her own door, and then, still +feigning sleep, allow myself to be discovered? Or should I take the +bull by the horns, and reveal myself? If the latter, would she +scream, or faint, or go into hysterics? Then, again, supposing she +resumed her cloak ... a cold damp broke out upon my forehead at the +mere thought! All at once, just as these questions flashed across +my mind, the lady drew the mantle aside, and said:--</p> +<p>"How imprudent of you to hide in my carriage?"</p> +<p>I could not believe my ears.</p> +<p>"Suppose any of those people had caught sight of you ... why, it +would have been all over Paris to-morrow! Happily, I had the +presence of mind to cover you with my cloak; otherwise ... but +there, Monsieur, I have a great mind to be very angry with +you!"</p> +<p>It was now clear that I was mistaken for some one else. +Fortunately the carriage-lamps were unlit, the windows still +blurred with rain, and the night intensely dark; so, feeling like a +wretch reprieved on the scaffold, I shrank farther and farther into +the corner, glad to favor a mistake which promised some hope of +escape.</p> +<p>"<i>Eh bien</i>!" said the lady, half tenderly, half +reproachfully; "have you nothing to say to me?"</p> +<p>Say to her, indeed! What could I say to her? Would not my voice +betray me directly?</p> +<p>"Ah," she continued, without waiting for a reply; "you are +ashamed of the cruel scene of this morning! Well, since you have +not allowed the night to pass without seeking a reconciliation, I +suppose I must forgive you!"</p> +<p>I thought, at this point, that I could not do better than press +her hand, which was exquisitely soft and small--softer and smaller +than even Madame de Marignan's.</p> +<p>"Naughty Hippolyte!" murmured my companion. "Confess, now, that +you were unreasonable."</p> +<p>I sighed heavily, and caressed the little hand with both of +mine.</p> +<p>"And are you very penitent?"</p> +<p>I expressed my penitence by another prodigious sigh, and +ventured, this time, to kiss the tips of the dainty fingers.</p> +<p>"<i>Ciel</i>!" exclaimed the lady. "You have shaved off your +beard! What can have induced you to do such a thing?"</p> +<p>My beard, indeed! Alas! I would have given any money for even a +moustache! However, the fatal moment was come when I must +speak.</p> +<p>"<i>Mon cher ange</i>," I began, trying a hoarse whisper, +"I--I--the fact is--a bet--"</p> +<p>"A bet indeed! The idea of sacrificing such a handsome beard for +a mere bet! I never heard of anything so foolish. But how hoarse +you are, Hippolyte!"</p> +<p>"All within the last hour," whispered I. "I was caught in the +storm, just now, and ..."</p> +<p>"And have taken cold, for my sake! Alas! my poor, dear friend, +why did you wait to speak to me? Why did you not go home at once, +and change your clothes? Your sleeve, I declare, is still quite +damp! Hippolyte, if you fall ill, I shall never forgive +myself!"</p> +<p>I kissed her hand again. It was much pleasanter than whispering, +and expressed all that was necessary.</p> +<p>"But you have not once asked after poor Bibi!" exclaimed my +companion, after a momentary silence. "Poor, dear Bibi, who has +been suffering from a martyrdom with her cough all the +afternoon!"</p> +<p>Now, who the deuce was Bibi? She might be a baby. Or--who could +tell?--she might be a poodle? On this point, however, I was left +uninformed; for my unknown friend, who, luckily, seemed fond of +talking and had a great deal to say, launched off into another +topic immediately.</p> +<p>"After all," said she, "I should have been wrong not to go to +the party! My uncle was evidently pleased with my compliance; and +it is not wise to vex one's rich uncles, if one can help it--is it, +Hippolyte!"</p> +<p>I pressed her hand again.</p> +<p>"Besides, Monsieur Delaroche was not there. He was not even +invited; so you see how far they were from laying matchmaking +plots, and how groundless were all your fears and reproaches!"</p> +<p>Monsieur Delaroche! Could this be the Delaroche of my special +aversion? I pressed her hand again, more closely, more tenderly, +and listened for what might come next.</p> +<p>"Well, it is all over now! And will you promise <i>never, never, +never</i> to be jealous again? Then, to be jealous of such a +creature as that ridiculous Delaroche--a man who knows nothing--who +can think and talk only of his own absurd self!--a man who has not +even wit enough to see that every one laughs at him!"</p> +<p>I was delighted. I longed to embrace her on the spot! Was there +ever such a charming, sensible, lively creature?</p> +<p>"Besides, the coxcomb is just now devoting himself, body and +soul (such as they are!) to that insufferable little +<i>intriguante</i>, Madame de Marignan. He is to be seen with her +in every drawing-room and theatre throughout Paris. For my part, I +am amazed that a woman of the world should suffer herself to be +compromised to that extent--especially one so experienced in these +<i>affaires du coeur</i>."</p> +<p>Madame de Marignan! +Compromised--experienced--<i>intriguante</i>! I felt as if I were +choking.</p> +<p>"To be sure, there is that poor English lad whom she drags about +with her, to play propriety," continued she; "but do you suppose +the world is blinded by so shallow an artifice?"</p> +<p>"What English lad?" I asked, startled out of all sense of +precaution, and desperately resolved to know the worst.</p> +<p>"What English lad? Why, Hippolyte, you are more stupid than +ever! I pointed him out to you the other night at the Comedie +Française--a pale, handsome boy, of about nineteen or +twenty, with brown curling hair, and very fine eyes, which were +riveted on Madame de Marignan the whole evening. Poor fellow! I +cannot help pitying him."</p> +<p>"Then--then, you think she really does not love him?" I said. +And this time my voice was hoarse enough, without any need of +feigning.</p> +<p>"Love him! Ridiculous! What does such a woman understand by +love? Certainly neither the sentiment nor the poetry of it! Tush, +Hippolyte! I do not wish to be censorious; but every one knows that +ever since M. de Marignan has been away in Algiers, that woman has +had, not one devoted admirer, but a dozen; and now that her husband +is coming back...."</p> +<p>"Coming back! ... her husband!" I echoed, half rising in my +place, and falling back again, as if stunned. "Good heavens! is she +not a widow?"</p> +<p>It was now the lady's turn to be startled.</p> +<p>"A widow!" she repeated. "Why, you know as well as I +that--<i>Dieu</i>! To whom I am speaking?"</p> +<p>"Madame," I said, as steadily as my agitation would let me, "I +beg you not to be alarmed. I am not, it is true, the person whom +you have supposed; but--Nay, I implore you...."</p> +<p>She here uttered a quick cry, and darted forward for the +check-string. Arresting her hand half way, respectfully but firmly, +I went on:--</p> +<p>"How I came here, I will explain presently. I am a gentleman; +and upon the word of a gentleman, Madame, am innocent of any desire +to offend or alarm you. Can you--will you--hear me for one +moment?"</p> +<p>"I appear, sir, to have no alternative," replied she, trembling +like a caged bird.</p> +<p>"I might have left you undeceived, Madame. I might have +extricated myself from, this painful position undiscovered--but for +some words which just escaped your lips; some words so nearly +concerning the--the honor and happiness of--of.... in short, I lost +my presence of mind. I now implore you to tell me if all that you +have just been saying of Madame de Marignan is strictly true."</p> +<p>"Who are you, sir, that you should dare to surprise confidences +intended for another, and by what right do you question me?" said +the lady, haughtily.</p> +<p>"By no right, Madame," I replied, fairly breaking into sobs, and +burying my face in my hands. "I can only appeal to your compassion. +I am that Englishman whom--whom...."</p> +<p>For a moment there was silence. My companion was the first to +speak.</p> +<p>"Poor boy!" she said; and her voice, now, was gentle and +compassionate. "You have been rudely undeceived. Did Madame de +Marignan pass herself off upon you for a widow?"</p> +<p>"She never named her husband to me--I believed that she was +free. I fancied he had been dead for years. She knew that was my +impression."</p> +<p>"And you would have married her--actually married her?"</p> +<p>"I--I--hardly dared to hope...."</p> +<p>"<i>Ciel</i>! it is almost beyond belief. And you never inquired +into her past history?"</p> +<p>"Never. Why should I?"</p> +<p>"Monsieur de Marignan holds a government appointment in Algiers, +and has been absent more than four years. He is, I understand, +expected back shortly, on leave of absence."</p> +<p>I conquered my agitation by a supreme effort.</p> +<p>"Madame," I said, "I thank you. It now only remains for me to +explain my intrusion. I can do so in half a dozen words. Caught in +the storm and unable to find a conveyance, I sought shelter in this +carriage, which being the last on the file, offered the only refuge +of which I could avail myself unobserved. While waiting for the +tempest to abate, I fell asleep; and but for the chance which led +you to mistake me for another, I must have been discovered when you +entered the carriage."</p> +<p>"Then, finding yourself so mistaken, Monsieur, would it not have +been more honorable to undeceive me than to usurp a conversation +which...."</p> +<p>"Madame, I dared not. I feared to alarm you--I hoped to find +some means of escape, and...."</p> +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu</i>! what means? How are you to escape as it is? +How leave the carriage without being seen by my servants?"</p> +<p>I had not thought of this, nor of the dilemma in which my +presence must place her.</p> +<p>"I can open the door softly," said I, "and jump out +unperceived."</p> +<p>"Impossible, at the pace we are going! You would break your +neck."</p> +<p>I shook my head, and laughed bitterly.</p> +<p>"Have no fear of that, Madame," I said. "Those who least value +their necks never happen to break them. See, I can spring out as we +pass the next turning, and be out of sight in a moment."</p> +<p>"Indeed, I will not permit it. Oh, dear! we have already reached +the Faubourg St. Germain. Stay--I have an idea I Do you know what +o'clock it is?"</p> +<p>"I don't know how long I may have slept; but I think it must be +quite three."</p> +<p>"<i>Bien</i>! The Countess de Blois has a ball to-night, and her +visitors are sure not to disperse before four or five. My sister is +there. I will send in to ask if she has yet gone home, and when the +carriage stops you can slip out. Here is the Rue de Bac, and the +door of her hotel is yet surrounded with equipages."</p> +<p>And with this, she let down a front window, desired the coachman +to stop, leaned forward so as to hide me completely, and sent in +her footman with the message. When the man had fairly entered the +hall, she turned to me and said:--</p> +<p>"Now, Monsieur, fly! It is your only chance."</p> +<p>"I go, Madame; but before going, suffer me to assure you that I +know neither your name, nor that of the person for whom you mistook +me--that I have no idea of your place of residence--that I should +not know you if I saw you again to-morrow--in short, that you are +to me as entirely a stranger as if this adventure had never +happened."</p> +<p>"Monsieur, I thank you for the assurance; but I see the servant +returning. Pray, begone!"</p> +<p>I sprang out without another word, and, never once looking back, +darted down a neighboring street and waited in the shadow of a +doorway till I thought the carriage must be out of sight.</p> +<p>The night was now fine, the moon was up, and the sky was full of +stars. But I heeded nothing, save my own perplexed and painful +thoughts. Absorbed in these, I followed the course of the Rue du +Bac till I came to the Pont National. There my steps were arrested +by the sight of the eddying river, the long gleaming front of the +Louvre, the quaint, glistening gables of the Tuilleries, the +far-reaching trees of the Champs Elysées all silvered in the +soft, uncertain moonlight. It was a most calm and beautiful +picture; and I stood for a long time leaning against the parapet of +the bridge, and looking dreamily at the scene before me. Then I +heard the quarters chime from belfry to belfry all over the quiet +city, and found that it was half-past three o'clock. Presently a +patrol of <i>gendarmes</i> went by, and, finding that they paused +and looked at me suspiciously, I turned away, and bent my steps +homewards.</p> +<p>By the time I reached the Cité Bergère it was past +four, and the early market-carts were already rumbling along the +Rue du Faubourg Montmartre. Going up wearily to my apartments, I +found a note waiting for me in Dalrymple's handwriting. It ran +thus:--</p> +<p>"MY DEAR DAMON:--</p> +<p>"Do you know that it is nearly a month since I last saw you? Do +you know that I have called twice at your lodgings without finding +you at home? I hear of you as having been constantly seen, of late, +in the society of a very pretty woman of our acquaintance; but I +confess that I do not desire to see you go to the devil entirely +without the friendly assistance of</p> +<p>"Yours faithfully,</p> +<p>"OSCAR DALRYMPLE."</p> +<p>I read the note twice. I could scarcely believe that I had so +neglected my only friend. Had I been mad? Or a fool?--or both? Too +anxious and unhappy to sleep, and too tired to sit up, I lit my +lamp, threw myself upon the bed, and there lay repenting my wasted +hours, my misplaced love and my egregious folly, till morning came +with its sunshine and its traffic, and found me a "wiser," if not a +"better man."</p> +<p>"Half-past seven!" exclaimed I to myself, as I jumped up and +plunged my head into a basin of cold water. "Dr. Chéron +shall see me before nine this morning. I'll call on Dalrymple at +luncheon time; at three, I must get back for the afternoon lecture; +and in the evening--in the evening, by Jove! Madame de Marignan +must be content with her adorable Delaroche, for the deuce a bit of +her humble servant will she ever see again!"</p> +<p>And away I went presently along the sunny streets, humming to +myself those saucy and wholesome lines of good Sir Walter +Raleigh's:--</p> +<blockquote>"Shall I like a hermit dwell<br> +On a rock, or in a cell,<br> +Calling home the smallest part<br> +That is missing of my heart,<br> +To bestow it where I may<br> +Meet a rival every day?<br> +If she undervalues me,<br> +What care I how fair she be?"</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII."></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> +<h3>THE WIDOW OF A MINISTER OF FINANCE.</h3> +<br> +<p>"You are just in time, Arbuthnot, to do me a service," said +Dalrymple, looking up from his desk as I went in, and reaching out +his hand to me over a barricade of books and papers.</p> +<p>"Then I am very glad I have come," I replied. "But what +confusion is this? Are you going anywhere?"</p> +<p>"Yes--to perdition. There, kick that rubbish out of your way and +sit down."</p> +<p>Never very orderly, Dalrymple's rooms were this time in as +terrible a litter as can well be conceived. The table was piled +high with bills, old letters, books, cigars, gloves, card-cases, +and pamphlets. The carpet was strewn with portmanteaus, hat-cases, +travelling-straps, old luggage labels, railway wrappers, and the +like. The chairs and sofas were laden with wearing apparel. As for +Dalrymple himself, he looked haggard and weary, as though the last +four weeks had laid four years upon his shoulders.</p> +<p>"You look ill," I said clearing a corner of the sofa for my own +accommodation; "or <i>ennuyé</i>, which is much the same +thing. What is the matter? And what can I do for you?"</p> +<p>"The matter is that I am going abroad," said he, with his chin +resting moodily in his two palms and his elbows on the table.</p> +<p>"Going abroad! Where?"</p> +<p>"I don't know--</p> +<blockquote>'Anywhere, anywhere, out of the world.'</blockquote> +<p>It's of very little consequence whether I betake myself to the +East or to the West; eat rice in the tropics, or drink train-oil at +the Pole."</p> +<p>"But have you no settled projects?"</p> +<p>"None whatever."</p> +<p>"And don't care what becomes of you?"</p> +<p>"Not in the least."</p> +<p>"Then, in Heaven's name, what has happened?"</p> +<p>"The very thing that, three weeks ago, would have made me the +happiest fellow in Christendom. What are you going to do +to-morrow?"</p> +<p>"Nothing, beyond my ordinary routine of medical study."</p> +<p>"Humph! Could you get a whole holiday, for once?"</p> +<p>I remembered how many I had taken of late, and felt ashamed of +the readiness with which I replied:--</p> +<p>"Oh yes! easily."</p> +<p>"Well, then, I want you to spend the day with me. It will be, +perhaps, my last in Paris for many a month, or even many a year. I +... Pshaw! I may as well say it, and have done with it. I am going +to be married."</p> +<p>"Married!" I exclaimed, in blank amazement; for it was the last +thing I should have guessed.</p> +<p>Dalrymple tugged away at his moustache with both hands, as was +his habit when perplexed or troubled, and nodded gloomily. "To +whom?"</p> +<p>"To Madame de Courcelles."</p> +<p>"And are you not very happy?"</p> +<p>"Happy! I am the most miserable dog unhanged?"</p> +<p>I was more at fault now than ever.</p> +<p>"I ... judging from trifles which some would perhaps scarcely +have observed," I said, hesitatingly, "I--I thought you were +interested in Madame de Courcelles?"</p> +<p>"Interested!" cried he, pushing back his chair and springing to +his feet, as if the word had stung him. "By heaven! I love that +woman as I never loved in my life."</p> +<p>"Then why ..."</p> +<p>"I'll tell you why--or, at least, I will tell you as much as I +may--as I can; for the affair is hers, and not mine. She has a +cousin--curse him!--to whom she was betrothed from childhood. His +estates adjoined hers; family interests were concerned in their +union; and the parents on both sides arranged matters. When, +however, Monsieur de Courcelles fell in love with her--a man much +older than herself, but possessed of great wealth and immense +political influence--her father did not hesitate to send the cousin +to the deuce and marry his daughter to the Minister of Finance. The +cousin, it seems, was then a wild young fellow; not particularly in +love with her himself; and not at all inconsolable for her loss. +When, however, Monsieur de Courcelles was good enough to die (which +he had the bad taste to do very hastily, and without making, by any +means, the splendid provision for his widow which he had promised), +our friend, the cousin, comes forward again. By this time he is +enough man of the world to appreciate the value of land--more +especially as he has sold, mortgaged, played the mischief with +nearly every acre of his own. He pleads the old engagement, and, as +he is pleased to call it, the old love. Madame de Courcelles is a +young widow, very solitary, with no one to love, no object to live +for, and no experience of the world. Her pity is easily awaked; and +the result is that she not only accepts the cousin, but lends him +large sums of money; suffers the title-deeds of her estates to go +into the hands of his lawyer; and is formally betrothed to him +before the eyes of all Paris!"</p> +<p>"Who is this man? Where is he?" I asked, eagerly.</p> +<p>"He is an officer of Chasseurs, now serving with his regiment in +Algiers--a daring, dashing, reckless fellow; heartless and +dissipated enough; but a splendid soldier. However, having +committed her property to his hands, and suffered her name to be +associated publicly with his, Madame de Courcelles, during his +absence in Algiers, has done me the honor to prefer me. I have the +first real love of her life, and the short and long of it is, that +we are to be privately married to-morrow."</p> +<p>"And why privately?"</p> +<p>"Ah, there's the pity of it! There's the disappointment and the +bitterness!"</p> +<p>"Can't Madame de Courcelles write and tell this man that she +loves somebody else better?"</p> +<p>"Confound it! no. The fellow has her too much in his power, and, +if he chose to be dishonest, could half ruin her. At all events she +is afraid of him; and I ... I am as helpless as a child in the +matter. If I were a rich man, I would snap my fingers at him; but +how can I, with a paltry eight hundred a year, provide for that +woman? Pshaw! If I could but settle it with a pair of hair-triggers +and twenty paces of turf, I'd leave little work for the +lawyers!"</p> +<p>"Well, then, what is to be done?"</p> +<p>"Only this," replied he, striding impatiently to and fro, like a +caged lion; "I must just bear with my helplessness, and leave the +remedy to those who can oppose skill to skill, and lawyer to +lawyer."</p> +<p>"At all events, you marry the lady."</p> +<p>"Ay--I marry the lady; but I start to-morrow night for Berlin, +<i>en route</i> for anywhere that chance may lead me."</p> +<p>"Without her?"</p> +<p>"Without her. Do you suppose that I would stay in Paris--her +husband--and live apart from her? Meet her, like an ordinary +acquaintance? See others admiring her? Be content to lounge in and +out of her <i>soirées</i>, or ride beside her carriage now +and then, as you or fifty others might do? Perhaps, have even to +endure the presence of De Caylus himself? <i>Merci</i>! Any number +of miles, whether of land or sea, were better than a martyrdom like +that!"</p> +<p>"De Caylus!" I repeated. "Where have I heard that name?"</p> +<p>"You may have heard of it in a hundred places," replied my +friend. "As I said before, the man is a gallant soldier, and does +gallant things. But to return to the present question--may I depend +on you to-morrow? For we must have a witness, and our witness must +be both discreet and silent."</p> +<p>"On my silence and discretion you may rely absolutely."</p> +<p>"And you can be here by nine?"</p> +<p>"By daybreak, if you please."</p> +<p>"I won't tax you to that extent. Nine will do quite well."</p> +<p>"Adieu, then, till nine."</p> +<p>"Adieu, and thank you."</p> +<p>With this I left him, somewhat relieved to find that I had +escaped all cross-examination on the score of Madame Marignan.</p> +<p>"De Caylus!" I again repeated to myself, as I took my rapid way +to the Hotel Dieu. "De Caylus! why, surely, it must have been that +evening at Madame de Courcelles'...."</p> +<p>And then I recollected that De Caylus was the name of that +officer who was said to have ridden by night, and single-handed, +through the heart of the enemy's camp, somewhere in Algiers.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII."></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> +<h3>A MARRIAGE NOT "A LA MODE."</h3> +<br> +<p>The marriage took place in a little out-of-the-way Protestant +chapel beyond the barriers, at about a quarter before ten o'clock +the next morning. Dalrymple and I were there first; and Madame de +Courcelles, having, in order to avoid observation, come part of the +distance in a cab and part on foot, arrived a few minutes later. +She was very pale, and looked almost like a <i>religieuse</i>, with +her black veil tied closely under her chin, and a dark violet +dress, which might have passed for mourning. She gave her hand to +Dalrymple without speaking; then knelt down at the communion-table, +and so remained till we had all taken our places. As for Dalrymple, +he had even less color than she, but held his head up haughtily, +and betrayed no sign of the conflict within.</p> +<p>It was a melancholy little chapel, dusty and neglected, full of +black and white funereal tablets, and damp as a vault. We shivered +as we stood about the altar; the clergyman's teeth chattered as he +began the marriage service; and the echoes of our responses +reverberated forlornly up among the gothic rafters overhead. Even +the sunbeams struggled sadly and palely down the upper windows, and +the chill wind whistled in when the door was opened, bringing with +it a moan of coming rain.</p> +<p>The ceremony over, the books signed in the vestry, and the +clergyman, clerk, and pew-opener duly remunerated for their +services, we prepared to be gone. For a couple of moments, +Dalrymple and his bride stood apart in the shadow of the porch. I +saw him take the hand on which he had just placed the ring, and +look down upon it tenderly, wistfully--I saw him bend lower, and +lower, whispering what no other ears might hear--saw their lips +meet for one brief instant. Then the lady's veil was lowered; she +turned hastily away; and Dalrymple was left standing in the doorway +alone.</p> +<p>"By Heaven!" said he, grasping my hand as though he would crush +it. "This is hard to bear."</p> +<p>I but returned the pressure of his hand; for I knew not with +what words to comfort him. Thus we lingered for some minutes in +silence, till the clergyman, having put off his surplice, passed us +with a bow and went out; and the pew-opener, after pretending to +polish the door-handle with her apron, and otherwise waiting about +with an air of fidgety politeness, dropped a civil curtsey, and +begged to remind us that the chapel must now be closed.</p> +<p>Dalrymple started and shook himself like a water-dog, as if he +would so shake off "the slings and arrows of outrageous +fortune."</p> +<p>"<i>Rex est qui metuit nihil</i>!" said he; "but I am a +sovereign in bad circumstances, for all that. Heigho! Care will +kill a cat. What shall we do with ourselves, old fellow, for the +rest of the day?"</p> +<p>"I hardly know. Would you like to go into the country?"</p> +<p>"Nothing better. The air perhaps would exorcise some of these +blue-devils."</p> +<p>"What say you to St. Germains? It looks as if it must rain +before night; yet there is the forest and...."</p> +<p>"Excellent! We can do as we like, with nobody to stare at us; +and I am in a horribly uncivilized frame of mind this morning."</p> +<p>With this, we turned once more toward Paris, and, jumping into +the first cab that came by, were driven to the station. It happened +that a train was then about to start; so we were off +immediately.</p> +<p>There were no other passengers in the carriage, so Dalrymple +infringed the company's mandate by lighting a cigar, and I, finding +him disinclined for talk, did the same thing, and watched the +passing country. Flat and uninteresting at first, it consisted of a +mere sandy plain, treeless, hedgeless, and imperfectly cultivated +with struggling strips of corn and vegetables. By and by came a +line of stunted pollards, a hamlet, and a little dreary cemetery. +Then the landscape improved. The straight line of the horizon broke +into gentle undulations; the Seine, studded with islets, wound +through the meadow-land at our feet; and a lofty viaduct carried us +from height to height across the eddying river. Then we passed into +the close green shade of a forest, which opened every here and +there into long vistas, yielding glimpses of</p> +<blockquote>"--verdurous glooms, and winding mossy +ways."</blockquote> +<p>Through this wood the line continued to run till we reached our +destination. Here our first few steps brought us out upon the +Place, directly facing the old red and black chateau of St. +Germain-en-Laye. Leaving this and the little dull town behind us, +we loitered for some time about the broad walks of the park, and +then passed on into the forest. Although it was neither Sunday nor +a fête-day, there were pleasure parties gipseying under +trees--Parisian cockneys riding raw-boned steeds--pony-chaises full +of laughing grisettes dashing up and down the broad roads that +pierce the wood in various directions--old women selling cakes and +lemonade--workmen gambling with half-pence on the smooth turf by +the wayside--<i>bonnes</i>, comely and important, with their little +charges playing round them, and their busy fingers plying the +knitting-needles as they walked--young ladies sketching trees, and +prudent governesses reading novels close by; in short, all the life +and variety of a favorite suburban resort on an ordinarily fine day +about the beginning of autumn.</p> +<p>Leaving the frequented routes to the right, we turned into one +of the many hundred tracks that diverge in every direction from the +beaten roads, and wandered deeper and deeper into the green shades +and solitudes of the forest. Pausing, presently, to rest, Dalrymple +threw himself at full length on the mossy ground, with his hands +clasping the back of his head, and his hat over his eyes; whilst I +found a luxurious arm-chair in the gnarled roots of a lichen-tufted +elm. Thus we remained for a considerable time puffing away at our +cigars in that sociable silence which may almost claim to be an +unique privilege of masculine friendship. Women cannot sit together +for long without talking; men can enjoy each other's companionship +for hours with scarcely the interchange of an idea.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, I watched the squirrels up in the beech-trees and the +dancing of the green leaves against the sky; and thought dreamily +of home, of my father, of the far past, and the possible future. I +asked myself how, when my term of study came to an end, I should +ever again endure the old home-life at Saxonholme? How settle down +for life as my father's partner, conforming myself to his +prejudices, obeying all the demands of his imperious temper, and +accepting for evermore the monotonous routine of a provincial +practice! It was an intolerable prospect, but no less inevitable +than intolerable. Pondering thus, I sighed heavily, and the sigh +roused Dalrymple's attention.</p> +<p>"Why, Damon," said he, turning over on his elbow, and pushing up +his hat to the level of his eyes, "what's the matter with you?"</p> +<p>"Oh, nothing--at least, nothing new."</p> +<p>"Well, new or old, what is it? A man must be either in debt, or +in love, when he sighs in that way. You look as melancholy as +Werter redivivus!"</p> +<p>"I--I ought not to be melancholy, I suppose; for I was thinking +of home."</p> +<p>Dalrymple's face and voice softened immediately.</p> +<p>"Poor boy!" he said, throwing away the end of his cigar, "yours +is not a bright home, I fear. You told me, I think, that you had +lost your mother?"</p> +<p>"From infancy."</p> +<p>"And you have no sisters?"</p> +<p>"None. I am an only child."</p> +<p>"Your father, however, is living?"</p> +<p>"Yes, my father lives. He is a rough-tempered, eccentric man; +misanthropic, but clever; kind enough, and generous enough, in his +own strange way. Still--"</p> +<p>"Still what?"</p> +<p>--"I dread the life that lies before me! I dread the life +without society, without ambition, without change--the dull +house--the bounded sphere of action--the bondage.... But of what +use is it to trouble you with these things?"</p> +<p>"This use, that it does you good to tell, and me to listen. +Sympathy, like mercy, blesseth him that gives and him that takes; +and if I cannot actually help you, I am, at all events, thankful to +be taken out of myself. Go on--tell me more of your prospects. Have +you no acquaintance at Saxonholme whose society will make the place +pleasant to you? No boyish friends? No pretty cousins? No +first-loves, from amongst whom to choose a wife in time to +come?"</p> +<p>I shook my head sadly.</p> +<p>"Did I not tell you that my father was a misanthrope? He visits +no one, unless professionally. We have no friends and no +relations."</p> +<p>"Humph! that's awkward. However, it leaves you free to choose +your own friends, when you go back. A medical man need never be +without a visiting connection. His very profession puts a thousand +opportunities in his way."</p> +<p>"That is true; but--"</p> +<p>"But what?"</p> +<p>"I am not fond of the profession. I have never liked it. I would +give much to relinquish it altogether."</p> +<p>Dalrymple gave utterance to a prolonged and very dismal +whistle.</p> +<p>"This," said he gravely, "is the most serious part of the +business. To live in a dull place is bad enough--to live with dull +people is bad enough; but to have one's thoughts perpetually +occupied with an uncongenial subject, and one's energies devoted to +an uncongenial pursuit, is just misery, and nothing short of it! In +fact 'tis a moral injustice, and one that no man should be required +to endure."</p> +<p>"Yet I must endure it."</p> +<p>"Why?"</p> +<p>"Because it is too late to do otherwise."</p> +<p>"It is never too late to repair an evil, or an error."</p> +<p>"Unless the repairing of it involved a worse evil, or a more +fatal error! No--I must not dream now of turning aside from the +path that has been chosen for me. Too much time and too much money +have been given to the thing for that;--I must let it take its +course. There's no help for it!"</p> +<p>"But, confound it, lad! you'd better follow the fife and drum, +or go before the mast, than give up your life to a profession you +hate!"</p> +<p>"Hate is a strong word," I replied. "I do not actually hate +it--at all events I must try to make the best of it, if only for my +father's sake. His heart is set on making a physician of me, and I +dare not disappoint him."</p> +<p>Dalrymple looked at me fixedly, and then fell back into his old +position.</p> +<p>"Heigho!" he said, pulling his hat once more over his eyes, "I +was a disobedient son. My father intended me for the Church; I was +expelled from College for fighting a duel before I was twenty, and +then, sooner than go home disgraced, enlisted as a private soldier +in a cavalry corps bound for foreign service. Luckily, they found +me out before the ship sailed, and made the best of a bad bargain +by purchasing me a cornetcy in a dragoon regiment. I would not +advise you to be disobedient, Damon. My experience in that line has +been bitter enough,"</p> +<p>"How so? You escaped a profession for which you were +disinclined, and entered one for which you had every +qualification."</p> +<p>"Ay; but think of the cursed <i>esclandre</i>--first the duel, +then the expulsion, then my disappearance for two months ... My +mother was in bad health at the time, too; and I, her favorite +son--I--in short, the anxiety was too much for her. She--she died +before I had been six weeks in the regiment. There! we won't talk +of it. It's the one subject that ..."</p> +<p>His voice faltered, and he broke off abruptly.</p> +<p>"I wish you were going with me to Berlin," said he, after a long +silence which I had not attempted to interrupt.</p> +<p>"I wish with all my heart that I were!"</p> +<p>"And yet," he added, "I am glad on--on her account, that you +remain in Paris. You will call upon her sometimes, Arbuthnot?"</p> +<p>"If Madame De Cour.... I mean, if Mrs. Dalrymple will permit +me."</p> +<p>An involuntary smile flitted across his lips--the first I had +seen there all the day.</p> +<p>"She will be glad--grateful. She knows that I value you, and she +has proof that I trust you. You are the only possessor of our +secret."</p> +<p>"It is as safe with me," I said, "as if I were dead, and in my +grave."</p> +<p>"I know it, old fellow. Well--you will see her sometimes. You +will write to me, and tell me how she is looking. If--if she were +to fall ill, you would not conceal it from me? and in case of any +emergency--any annoyance arising from De Caylus ..."</p> +<p>"Were she my own sister," I said, earnestly, "she would not find +me readier to assist or defend her. Of this, Dalrymple, be +assured."</p> +<p>"Thank you," he said, and stretched up his hand to me. "I do +believe you are true--though there are few men, and still fewer +women, of whom I should like to say as much. By the way, Arbuthnot, +beware of that little flirt, Madame de Marignan. She has charming +eyes, but no more heart than a vampire. Besides, an entanglement +with a married woman!... <i>cela ne se peut pas, mon cher</i>. You +are too young to venture on such dangerous ground, and too +inexperienced."</p> +<p>I smiled--perhaps somewhat bitterly--for the wound was still +fresh, and I could not help wincing when any hand came near it.</p> +<p>"You are right," I replied. "Madame de Marignan is a dangerous +woman; but dangerous for me no longer. However, I have paid rather +dearly for my safety."</p> +<p>And with this, I told him the whole story from beginning to end, +confessing all my follies without reservation. Surprised, amused, +sometimes unable to repress a smile, sometimes genuinely +compassionate, he heard my narrative through, accompanying it from +time to time with muttered comments and ejaculations, none of which +were very flattering to Madame de Marignan. When I had done, he +sprang to his feet, laid his hand heavily upon my shoulder, and +said:--</p> +<p>"Damon, there are a great many disagreeable things in life which +wise people say are good for us, and for which they tell us we +ought to be grateful in proportion to our discomfort. For my own +part, however, I am no optimist. I am not fond of mortifying the +flesh, and the eloquence of Socrates would fail to persuade me that +a carbuncle was a cheerful companion, or the gout an ailment to be +ardently desired. Yet, for all this, I cannot say that I look upon +your adventure in the light of a misfortune. You have lost time, +spent money, and endured a considerable amount of aggravation; but +you have, on the other hand, acquired ease of manner, facility of +conversation, and just that necessary polish which fits a man for +society. Come! you have received a valuable lesson both in morals +and manners; so farewell to Madame de Marignan, and let us write +<i>Pour acquit</i> against the score!"</p> +<p>Willing enough to accept this cheerful view, I flourished an +imaginary autograph upon the air with the end of my cane, and +laughingly dismissed the subject.</p> +<p>We then strolled back through the wood, treading the soft moss +under our feet, startling the brown lizards from our path and the +squirrels from the lower branches of the great trees, and, now and +then, surprising a plump little green frog, which went skipping +away into the long grass, like an animated emerald. Coming back to +the gardens, we next lingered for some time upon the terrace, +admiring the superb panorama of undulating woodland and cultivated +champaign, which, seen through the golden haze of afternoon, +stretched out in glory to the remotest horizon. To our right stood +the prison-like chateau, flinging back the sunset from its +innumerable casements, and seeming to drink in the warm glow at +every pore of its old, red bricks. To our left, all lighted up +against the sky, rose the lofty tree-tops of the forest which we +had just quitted. Our shadows stretched behind us across the level +terrace, like the shadows of giants. Involuntarily, we dropped our +voices. It would have seemed almost like profanity to speak aloud +while the first influence of that scene was upon us.</p> +<p>Going on presently towards the verge of the terrace, we came +upon an artist who, with his camp-stool under his arm, and his +portfolio at his feet, was, like ourselves, taking a last look at +the sunset before going away. As we approached, he turned and +recognised us. It was Herr Franz Müller, the story-telling +student of the <i>Chicards</i> club.</p> +<p>"Good-afternoon, gentlemen," said he, lifting his red cap, and +letting it fall back again a little on one side. "We do not see +many such sunsets in the course of the summer."</p> +<p>"Indeed, no," replied Dalrymple; "and ere long the autumn tints +will be creeping over the landscape, and the whole scene will +assume a different character. Have you been sketching in the +forest?"</p> +<p>"No--I have been making a study of the chateau and terrace from +this point, with the landscape beyond. It is for an historical +subject which I have laid out for my winter's work."</p> +<p>And with this, he good-naturedly opened his folio and took out +the sketch, which was a tolerably large one, and represented the +scene under much the same conditions of light as we now saw it.</p> +<p>"I shall have a group of figures here," he said, pointing to a +spot on the terrace, "and a more distant one there; with a +sprinkling of dogs and, perhaps, a head or two at an open window of +the chateau. I shall also add a flag flying on the turret, +yonder."</p> +<p>"A scene, I suppose, from the life of Louis the Thirteenth," I +suggested.</p> +<p>"No--I mean it for the exiled court of James the Second," +replied he. "And I shall bring in the King, and Mary of Modena, and +the Prince their son, who was afterwards the Pretender."</p> +<p>"It is a good subject," said Dalrymple. "You will of course find +excellent portraits of all these people at Versailles; and a lively +description of their court, mode of life, and so forth, if my +memory serves me correctly, in the tales of Anthony, Count +Hamilton. But with all this, I dare say, you are better acquainted +than I."</p> +<p>"<i>Parbleu!</i> not I," said the student, shouldering his +camp-stool as if it were a musket, and slinging his portfolio by a +strap across his back; "therefore, I am all the more obliged to you +for the information. My reading is neither very extensive nor very +useful; and as for my library, I could pack it all into a hat-case +any day, and find room for a few other trifles at the same time. +Here is the author I chiefly study. He is my constant companion, +and, like myself, looks somewhat the worse for wear."</p> +<p>Saying which, he produced from one of his pockets a little, +greasy, dog-eared volume of Beranger, about the size of a small +snuff-box, and began singing aloud, to a very cheerful air, a song +of which a certain faithless Mademoiselle Lisette was the heroine, +and of which the refrain was always:--</p> +<blockquote>"<i>Lisette! ma Lisette,<br> +Tu m'as trompé toujours;<br> +Je veux, Lisette,<br> +Boire à nos amours</i>."</blockquote> +<p>To this accompaniment we walked back through the gardens to the +railway station, where, being a quarter of an hour too soon, our +companion amused himself by "chaffing," questioning, contradicting, +and otherwise ingeniously tormenting the check-takers and porters +of the establishment. One pompous official, in particular, became +so helplessly indignant that he retired into a little office +overlooking the platform, and was heard to swear fluently, all by +himself, for several minutes. The time having expired and the doors +being opened, we passed out with the rest of the home-going +Parisians, and were about to take our places, when Müller, +climbing like a cat to the roof-seats on the top of the +second-class carriages, beckoned us to follow.</p> +<p>"Who would be shut up with ten fat people and a baby, when fresh +air can be breathed, and tobacco smoked, for precisely the same +fare?" asked he. "You don't mean to say that you came down to St. +Germains in one of the dens below?"</p> +<p>"Yes, we did," I replied; "but we had it to ourselves."</p> +<p>"So much the worse. Man is a gregarious animal, and woman +also--which proves Zimmerman to have been neither, and accounts for +the brotherhood of <i>Les Chicards</i>. Would you like to see how +that old gentleman looks when he is angry?"</p> +<p>"Which? The one in the opposite corner?"</p> +<p>"The same."</p> +<p>"Well, that depends on circumstances. Why do you ask?"</p> +<p>"Because I'll engage to satisfy your curiosity in less than ten +minutes."</p> +<p>"Oh, no, don't affront him," said I. "We shall only have a +scene."</p> +<p>"I won't affront him. I promise not to utter a syllable, either +offensive or defensive."</p> +<p>"Leave him alone, then, poor devil!"</p> +<p>"Nonsense! If he chooses to be annoyed, that's his business, and +not mine. Now, you'll see."</p> +<p>And Müller, alert for mischief, stared fixedly at the old +gentleman in the opposite corner for some minutes--then +sighed--roused himself as if from a profound reverie--seized his +portfolio--took out a pencil and sketch-book--mended the +pencil<br> +with an elaborate show of fastidiousness and deliberation--stared + again--drew a deep breath--turned somewhat aside, as<br> +if anxious to conceal his object, and began sketching rapidly. Now +and then he paused; stole a furtive glance over his shoulder; bit +his lip; rubbed out; corrected; glanced again; and then went on +rapidly as before.</p> +<p>In the meanwhile the old gentleman, who was somewhat red and +irascible, began to get seriously uncomfortable. He frowned, +fidgeted, coughed, buttoned and unbuttoned his coat, and jealously +watched every proceeding of his tormentor. A general smile dawned +upon the faces of the rest of the travellers. The priest over the +way pinched his lips together, and looked down demurely. The two +girls, next to the priest, tittered behind their handkerchiefs. The +young man with the blue cravat sucked the top of his cane, and +winked openly at his companions, both of whom were cracking nuts, +and flinging the shells down the embankment. Presently Müller +threw his head back, held the drawing off, still studiously keeping +the back of it towards the rest of the passengers; looked at it +with half-closed eyes; stole another exceedingly cautious glance at +his victim; and then, affecting for the first time to find himself +observed, made a vast show of pretending to sketch the country +through which we were passing.</p> +<p>The old gentleman could stand it no longer.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," said he, angrily. "Monsieur, I will thank you not to +take my portrait. I object to it. Monsieur."</p> +<p>"Charming distance," said Müller, addressing himself to me +"Wants interest, however, in the foreground. That's a picturesque +tree yonder, is it not?"</p> +<p>The old gentleman struck his umbrella sharply on the floor.</p> +<p>"It's of no use, Monsieur," he exclaimed, getting more red and +excited. "You are taking my portrait, and I object to it. I know +you are taking my portrait."</p> +<p>Müller looked up dreamily.</p> +<p>"I beg your pardon, Monsieur," said he. "Did you speak?'</p> +<p>"Yes, Monsieur. I did speak. I repeat that you shall not take my +portrait."</p> +<p>"Your portrait, Monsieur?"</p> +<p>"Yes, my portrait!"</p> +<p>"But, Monsieur," remonstrated the artist, with an air of mingled +candor and surprise, "I never dreamed of taking your portrait!"</p> +<p>"<i>Sacre non</i>!" shouted the old gentleman, with another rap +of the umbrella. "I saw you do it! Everybody saw you do It!"</p> +<p>"Nay, if Monsieur will but do me the honor to believe that I was +simply sketching from nature, as the train...."</p> +<p>"An impudent subterfuge, sir!" interrupted the old gentleman. +"An impudent subterfuge, and nothing less!"</p> +<p>Müller drew himself up with immense dignity.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," he said, haughtily, "that is an expression which I +must request you to retract. I have already assured you, on the +word of a gentleman...."</p> +<p>"A gentleman, indeed! A pretty gentleman! He takes my portrait, +and...."</p> +<p>"I have not taken your portrait, Monsieur."</p> +<p>"Good heavens!" cried the old gentleman, looking round, "was +ever such assurance! Did not every one present see him in the act? +I appeal to every one--to you, Monsieur--to you, Mesdames,--to you, +reverend father,--did you not all see this person taking my +portrait?"</p> +<p>"Nay, then, if it must come to this," said Müller, "let the +sketch be evidence, and let these ladies and gentlemen decide +whether it is really the portrait of Monsieur--and if they think it +like?"</p> +<p>Saying which, he held up the book, and displayed a head, +sketched, it is true, with admirable spirit and cleverness, +but--the head of an ass, with a thistle in its mouth!</p> +<p>A simultaneous explosion of mirth followed. Even the priest +laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks, and Dalrymple, +heavy-hearted as he was, could not help joining in the general +shout. As for the old gentleman, the victim of this elaborate +practical joke, he glared at us all round, swore that it was a +premeditated insult from beginning to end, and, swelling with +suppressed rage, flung himself back into his corner, and looked +resolutely in the opposite direction.</p> +<p>By this time we were half-way to Paris, and the student, +satisfied with his success, packed up his folio, brought out a +great meerschaum with a snaky tube, and smoked like a +factory-chimney.</p> +<p>When we alighted, it was nearly five o'clock.</p> +<p>"What shall we do next?" said Dalrymple, pulling drearily at his +moustache. "I am so deuced dull to-day that I am ashamed to ask +anybody to do me the charity to dine with me--especially a <i>bon +garçon</i> like Herr Müller."</p> +<p>"Don't be ashamed," said the student, laughingly, "I would dine +with Pluto himself, if the dishes were good and my appetite as +sharp as to-day."</p> +<p>"<i>Allons</i>, then! Where shall we go; to the <i>Trois +Frères</i>, or the <i>Moulin Rouge</i>, or the <i>Maison +Dorée</i>?"</p> +<p>"The <i>Trois Frères</i>" said Müller, with the air +of one who deliberates on the fate of nations, "has the +disadvantage of being situated in the Palais Royal, where the band +still continues to play at half-past five every afternoon. Now, +music should come on with the sweets and the champagne. It is not +appropriate with soup or fish, and it distracts one's attention if +injudiciously administered with the made dishes,"</p> +<p>"True. Then shall we try the <i>Moulin Rouge</i>?"</p> +<p>Müller shook his head.</p> +<p>"At the <i>Moulin Rouge</i>" said he, gravely, "one can +breakfast well; but their dinners are stereotyped. For the last ten +years they have not added a new dish to their <i>carte</i>; and the +discovery of a new dish, says Brillat Savarin, is of more +importance to the human race than the discovery of a new planet. +No--I should not vote for the <i>Moulin Rouge</i>."</p> +<p>"Well, then, Véfours, Véry's, the Café +Anglais?"</p> +<p>"Véfours is traditional; the Café Anglais is +infested with English; and at Véry's, which is otherwise a +meritorious establishment, one's digestion is disturbed by the +sight of omnivorous provincials, who drink champagne with the +<i>rôti</i>, and eat melon at dessert."</p> +<p>Dalrymple laughed outright.</p> +<p>"At this rate," said he, "we shall get no dinner at all! What is +to become of us, if neither Véry's, nor the <i>Trois +Frères</i>, nor the <i>Moulin Rouge</i>, nor the <i>Maison +Dorée</i>...."</p> +<p>"<i>Halte-là!"</i> interrupted the student, theatrically; +"for by my halidom, sirs, I said not a syllable in disparagement of +the house yelept Dorée! Is it not there that we eat of the +crab of Bordeaux, succulent and roseate? Is it not there that we +drink of Veuve Cliquot the costly, and of that Johannisberger, to +which all other hocks are vinegar and water? Never let it be said +that Franz Müller, being of sound mind and body, did less than +justice to the reputation of the <i>Maison Dorée</i>."</p> +<p>"To the <i>Maison Dorée</i>, then," said Dalrymple, "with +what speed and appetite we may! By Jove! Herr Franz, you are a +<i>connoisseur</i> in the matter of dining."</p> +<p>"A man who for twenty-nine days out of every thirty pays his +sixty-five centimes for two dishes at a student's Restaurant in the +Quartier Latin, knows better than most people where to go for a +good dinner when he has the chance," said Müller, +philosophically. "The ragoûts of the Temple--the +<i>arlequins</i> of the <i>Cité</i>--the fried fish of the +Odéon arcades--the unknown hashes of the <i>guingettes</i>, +and the 'funeral baked meats' of the Palais Royal, are all familiar +to my pocket and my palate. I do not scruple to confess that in +cases of desperate emergency, I have even availed myself of the +advantages of <i>Le hasard</i>."</p> +<p>"<i>Le hasard</i>." said I. "What is that?"</p> +<p>"<i>Le hasard de la fourchette</i>," replied the student, "is +the resort of the vagabond, the <i>gamin</i>, and the +<i>chiffonier</i>. It lies down by the river-side, near the Halles, +and consists of nothing but a shed, a fire, and a caldron. In this +caldron a seething sea of oleaginous liquid conceals an infinite +variety of animal and vegetable substances. The arrangements of the +establishment are beautifully simple. The votary pays his five +centimes and is armed by the presiding genius of the place with a +huge two-pronged iron fork. This fork he plunges in once;--he may +get a calf's foot, or a potato, or a sheep's head, or a carrot, or +a cabbage, or nothing, as fate and the fork direct. All men are +gamblers in some way or another, and <i>Le hasard</i> is a game of +gastronomic chance. But from the ridiculous to the sublime, it is +but a step--and while talking of <i>Le hasard</i> behold, we have +arrived at the <i>Maison Dorée</i>."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX."></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> +<h3>A DINNER AT THE MAISON DORÉE AND AN EVENING PARTY IN THE +QUARTIER LATIN.</h3> +<br> +<p>The most genial of companions was our new acquaintance, Franz +Müller, the art-student. Light-hearted, buoyant, unassuming, +he gave his animal spirits full play, and was the life of our +little dinner. He had more natural gayety than generally belongs to +the German character, and his good-temper was inexhaustible. He +enjoyed everything; he made the best of everything; he saw food for +laughter in everything. He was always amused, and therefore was +always amusing. Above all, there was a spontaneity in his mirth +which acted upon others as a perpetual stimulant. He was in short, +what the French call a <i>bon garçon</i>, and the English a +capital fellow; easy without assurance, comic without vulgarity, +and, as Sydney Smith wittily hath it--"a great number of other +things without a great number of other things."</p> +<p>Upon Dalrymple, who had been all day silent, abstracted, and +unlike his usual self, this joyous influence acted like a tonic. As +entertainer, he was bound to exert himself, and the exertion did +him good. He threw off his melancholy; and with the help, possibly, +of somewhat more than his usual quantity of wine, entered +thoroughly into the passing joyousness of the hour. What a +<i>recherché</i>, luxurious extravagant little dinner it +was, that evening at the Maison Dorée! We had a charming +little room overlooking the Boulevard, furnished with as much +looking-glass, crimson-velvet, gilding, and arabesque painting as +could be got together within the space of twelve-feet by eight. Our +wine came to table in a silver cooler that Cellini might have +wrought. Our meats were served upon porcelain that would have +driven Palissy to despair. We had nothing that was in season, +except game, and everything that was out; which, by-the-way, +appears to be our modern criterion of excellence with respect to a +dinner. Finally, we were waited upon by the most imposing of +waiters--a waiter whose imperturbable gravity was not to be shaken +by any amount of provocation, and whose neckcloth alone was +sufficient to qualify him for the church.</p> +<p>How merry we were! How Müller tormented that diplomatic +waiter! What stories we told! what puns we made! What brilliant +things we said, or fancied we said, over our Chambertin and +Johannisberger! Müller knew nothing of the substratum of +sadness underlying all that jollity. He little thought how heavy +Dalrymple's strong heart had been that morning. He had no idea that +my friend and I were to part on the morrow, for months or years, as +the case might be--he to carry his unrest hither and thither +through distant lands; I to remain alone in a strange city, +pursuing a distasteful study, and toiling onward to a future +without fascination or hope. But, as the glass seals tell us, "such +is life." We are all mysteries to one another. The pleasant fellow +whom I invite to dinner because he amuses me, carries a scar on his +soul which it would frighten me to see; and he in turn, when he +praises my claret, little dreams of the carking care that poisons +it upon my palate, and robs it of all its aroma. Perhaps the +laughter-loving painter himself had his own little tragedy locked +up in some secret corner of the heart that seemed to beat so +lightly under that braided blouse of Palais Royal cut and Quartier +Latin fashion! Who could tell? And of what use would it be, if it +were told? Smiles carry one through the world more agreeably than +tears, and if the skeleton is only kept decently out of sight in +its own unsuspected closet, so much the better for you and me, and +society at large.</p> +<p>Dinner over, and the serious waiter dismissed with the dessert +and the empty bottles, we sat by the open window for a long time, +sipping our coffee, smoking our cigars, and watching the busy life +of the Boulevard below. There the shops were all alight and the +passers-by more numerous than by day. Carriages were dashing along, +full of opera-goers and ball-room beauties. On the pavement just +under our window were seated the usual crowd of Boulevard idlers, +sipping their <i>al fresco</i> absinthe, and <i>grog-au-vin.</i> In +the very next room, divided from us by only a slender partition, +was a noisy party of young men and girls. We could hear their +bursts of merriment, the chinking of their glasses as they pledged +one another, the popping of the champagne corks, and almost the +very jests that passed from lip to lip. Presently a band came and +played at the corner of an adjoining street. All was mirth, all was +life, all was amusement and dissipation both in-doors and +out-of-doors, in the "care-charming" city of Paris on that pleasant +September night; and we, of course, were gay and noisy, like our +neighbors. Dalrymple and Müller could scarcely be called new +acquaintances. They had met some few times at the <i>Chicards</i>, +and also, some years before, in Rome. What stories they told of +artists whom they had known! What fun they made of Academic dons +and grave professors high in authority! What pictures they drew, of +life in Rome--in Vienna--in Paris! Though we had no ladies of our +party and were only three in number, I am not sure that the +merry-makers in the next room laughed any louder or oftener than +we!</p> +<p>At length the clock on the mantelpiece warned us that it was +already half-past nine, and that we had been three hours at dinner. +It was clearly time to vary the evening's amusement in some way or +other, and the only question was what next to do? Should we go to a +billiard-room? Or to the Salle Valentinois? Or to some of the cheap +theatres on the Boulevard du Temple? Or to the Tableaux Vivants? Or +the Café des Aveugles? Or take a drive round by the Champs +Elysées in an open fly?</p> +<p>At length Müller remembered that some fellow-students were +giving a party that evening, and offered to introduce us.</p> +<p>"It is up five pairs of stairs, in the Quartier Latin," said he; +"but thoroughly jolly--all students and grisettes. They'll be +delighted to see us."</p> +<p>This admirable proposition was no sooner made than acted upon; +so we started immediately, and Dalrymple, who seemed to be well +acquainted with the usages of student-life, proposed that we should +take with us a store of sweetmeats for the ladies.</p> +<p>"There subsists," observed he, "a mysterious elective affinity +between the grisette and the chocolate bon-bon. He who can +skilfully exhibit the latter, is almost certain to win the heart of +the former. Where the chocolate fails, however, the <i>marron +glacé</i> is an infallible specific. I recommend that we lay +in a liberal supply of both weapons."</p> +<p>"Carried by acclamation," said Müller. "We can buy them on +our way, in the Rue Vivienne. A capital shop; but one that I never +patronize--they give no credit."</p> +<p>Chatting thus, and laughing, we made our way across the +Boulevard and through a net-work of by-streets into the Rue +Vivienne, where we laid siege to a great bon-bon shop--a gigantic +depot for dyspepsia at so much per kilogramme--and there filled our +pockets with sweets of every imaginable flavor and color. This +done, a cab conveyed us in something less than ten minutes across +the Pont Neuf to the Quartier Latin.</p> +<p>Müller's friends were three in number, and all +students--one of art, one of law, and one of medicine. They lodged +at the top of a dingy house near the Odéon, and being very +great friends and very near neighbors were giving this +entertainment conjointly. Their names were Gustave, Jules, and +Adrien. Adrien was the artist, and lived in the garret, just over +the heads of Gustave and Jules, which made it very convenient for a +party, and placed a <i>suite</i> of rooms at the disposal of their +visitors.</p> +<p>Long before we had achieved the five pairs of stairs, we heard +the sound of voices and the scraping of a violin, and on the fifth +landing were received by a pretty young lady in a coquettish little +cap, whom Müller familiarly addressed as Annette, and who +piloted us into a very small bed-room which was already full of +hats and coats, bonnets, shawls, and umbrellas. Having added our +own paletots and beavers to the general stock, and having each +received a little bit of pasteboard in exchange for the same, we +were shown into the ball-room by Mademoiselle Annette, who appeared +to fill the position of hostess, usher, and general +superintendent.</p> +<p>It was a good-sized room, somewhat low in the ceiling, and +brilliantly lighted with lots of tallow candles in bottles. The +furniture had all been cleared out for the dancers, except a row of +benches round the walls, and a chest of draws in a recess between +the windows which served as a raised platform for the orchestra. +The said orchestra consisted of a violin and accordion, both played +by amateurs, with an occasional <i>obligato</i> on the common comb. +As for the guests, they were, as Müller had already told us, +all students and grisettes--the former wearing every strange +variety of beard and blouse; the latter in pretty light-colored +muslins and bewitching little caps, with the exception of two who +wore flowers in their hair, and belonged to the opera ballet. They +were in the midst of a tremendous galop when we arrived; so we +stood at the door and looked on, and Dalrymple flirted with +Mademoiselle Annette. As soon as the galop was over, two of our +hosts came forward to welcome us.</p> +<p>"The Duke of Dalrymple and the Marquis of Arbuthnot--Messieurs +Jules Charpentier and Gustave Dubois," said Müller, with the +most <i>dégagé</i> air in the world.</p> +<p>Monsieur Jules, a tall young man with an enormous false nose of +the regular carnival pattern, and Monsieur Gustave, who was short +and stout, with a visible high-water mark round his throat and +wrists, and curious leather mosaics in his boots, received us very +cordially, and did not appear to be in the least surprised at the +magnificence of the introduction. On the contrary, they shook hands +with us; apologized for the absence of Adrien, who was preparing +the supper upstairs; and offered to find us partners for the next +valse. Dalrymple immediately proposed for the hand of Mademoiselle +Annette. Müller, declining adventitious aid, wandered among +the ladies, making himself universally agreeable and trusting for a +partner to his own unassisted efforts. For myself, I was indebted +to Monsieur Gustave for an introduction to a very charming young +lady whose name was Josephine, and with whom I fell over head and +ears in love without a moment's warning.</p> +<p>She was somewhat under the middle height, slender, supple, +rosy-lipped, and coquettish to distraction. Her pretty mouth +dimpled round with smiles at every word it uttered. Her very eyes +laughed. Her hair, which was more adorned than concealed by a tiny +muslin cap that clung by some unseen agency to the back of her +head, was of a soft, warm, wavy brown, with a woof of gold +threading it here and there. Her voice was perhaps a little loud; +her conversation rather childish; her accent such as would scarcely +have passed current in the Faubourg St. Germain--but what of that? +One would be worse than foolish to expect style and cultivation in +a grisette; and had I not had enough to disgust me with both in +Madame de Marignan? What more charming, after all, than youth, +beauty, and lightheartedness? Were Noel and Chapsal of any +importance to a mouth that could not speak without such a smile as +Hebe might have envied?</p> +<p>I was, at all events, in no mood to take exception to these +little defects. I am not sure that I did not even regard them in +the light of additional attractions. That which in another I should +have called <i>bête</i>, I set down to the score of +<i>naïveté</i> in Mademoiselle Josephine. One is not +diffident at twenty--by the way, I was now twenty-one--especially +after dining at the Maison Dorée.</p> +<p>Mademoiselle Josephine was frankness itself. Before I had +enjoyed the pleasure of her acquaintance for ten minutes, she told +me she was an artificial florist; that her <i>patronne</i> lived in +the Rue Ménilmontant; that she went to her work every +morning at nine, and left it every evening at eight; that she +lodged <i>sous les toits</i> at No. 70, Rue Aubry-le-Boucher; that +her relations lived at Juvisy; and that she went to see them now +and then on Sundays, when the weather and her funds permitted.</p> +<p>"Is the country pretty at Juvisy, Mademoiselle?" I asked, by way +of keeping up the conversation.</p> +<p>"Oh, M'sieur, it is a real paradise. There are trees and fields, +and there is the Seine close by, and a château, and a park, +and a church on a hill, ... <i>ma foi!</i> there is nothing in +Paris half so pretty; not even the Jardin des Plantes!"</p> +<p>"And have you been there lately?"</p> +<p>"Not for eight weeks, at the very least, M'sieur. But then it +costs three francs and a half for the return ticket, and since I +quarrelled with Emile...."</p> +<p>"Emile!" said I, quickly. "Who is he?"</p> +<p>"He is a picture-frame maker, M'sieur, and works for a great +dealer in the Rue du Faubourg Montmartre. He was my sweetheart, and +he took me out somewhere every Sunday, till we quarrelled."</p> +<p>"And what did you quarrel about, Mademoiselle?"</p> +<p>My pretty partner laughed and tossed her head.</p> +<p>"Eh, <i>mon Dieu</i>! he was jealous."</p> +<p>"Jealous of whom?"</p> +<p>"Of a gentleman--an artist--who wanted to paint me in one of his +pictures. Emile did not like me to go to his <i>atelier</i> so +often; and the gentleman gave me a shawl (such a pretty shawl!) and +a canary in a lovely green and gold cage; and...."</p> +<p>"And Emile objected ?"</p> +<p>"Yes, M'sieur."</p> +<p>"How very unreasonable!"</p> +<p>"That's just what I said, M'sieur."</p> +<p>"And have you never seen him since!"</p> +<p>"Oh, yes--he keeps company now with my cousin Cecile, and she +humors him in everything,"</p> +<p>"And the artist--what of him, Mademoiselle?"</p> +<p>"Oh, I sat to him every day, till his picture was finished. +<i>Il était bien gentil</i>. He took me to the theatre +several times, and once to a fête at Versailles; but that was +after Emile and I had broken it off."</p> +<p>"Did you find it tiresome, sitting as a model?"</p> +<p>"<i>Mais, comme ci, et comme ça</i>! It was a beautiful +dress, and became me wonderfully. To be sure, it was rather +cold!"</p> +<p>"May I ask what character you were supposed to represent, +Mademoiselle?"</p> +<p>"He said it was Phryne. I have no idea who she was; but I think +she must have found it very uncomfortable if she always wore +sandals, and went without stockings."</p> +<p>I looked down at her little foot, and thought how pretty it must +have looked in the Greek sandal. I pictured her to myself in the +graceful Greek robe, with a chalice in her hand and her temples +crowned with flowers. What a delicious Phryne! And what a happy +fellow Praxiteles must have been!</p> +<p>"It was a privilege, Mademoiselle, to be allowed to see you in +so charming a costume," I said, pressing her hand tenderly. "I envy +that artist from the bottom of my heart."</p> +<p>Mademoiselle Josephine smiled, and returned the pressure.</p> +<p>"One might borrow it," said she, "for the Bal de +l'Opéra."</p> +<p>"Ah, Mademoiselle, if I dared only aspire to the honor of +conducting you!"</p> +<p>"<i>Dame</i>! it is nearly four months to come!"</p> +<p>"True, but in the meantime, Mademoiselle----"</p> +<p>"In the meantime," said the fair Josephine, anticipating my +hopes with all the unembarrassed straightforwardness imaginable, "I +shall be delighted to improve M'sieur's acquaintance."</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle, you make me happy!"</p> +<p>"Besides, M'sieur is an Englishman, and I like the English so +much!"</p> +<p>"I am delighted to hear it, Mademoiselle. I hope I shall never +give you cause to alter your opinion."</p> +<p>"Last galop before supper!" shouted Monsieur Jules through, a +brass speaking-trumpet, in order to make use of which he was +obliged to hold up his nose with one hand. "Gentlemen, choose your +partners. All couples to dance till they drop!"</p> +<p>There were a dozen up immediately, amongst whom Dalrymple and +Mademoiselle Annette, and Müller with one of the ballet +ladies, were the first to start. As for Josephine, she proved to be +a damsel of forty-galop power. She never wanted to rest, and she +never cared to leave off. She did not even look warm when it was +over. I wonder to this day how it was that I did not die on the +spot.</p> +<p>When the galop was ended, we all went upstairs to Monsieur +Adrien's garret, where Monsieur Adrien, who had red hair and wore +glasses, received us in person, and made us welcome. Here we found +the supper elegantly laid out on two doors which had been taken off +their hinges for the purpose; but which, being supported from +beneath on divers boxes and chairs of unequal heights, presented a +painfully sloping surface, thereby causing the jellies to look like +leaning towers of Pisa, and the spongecake (which was already +professedly tipsy) to assume an air so unbecomingly convivial that +it might almost have been called drunk.</p> +<p>Nobody thought of sitting down, and, if they did, there were no +means of doing so; for Monsieur Adrien's garret was none of the +largest, and, as in a small villa residence we sometimes see the +whole house sacrificed to a winding staircase, so in this instance +had the whole room been sacrificed to the splendor of the supper. +For the inconvenience of standing, we were compensated, however, by +the abundance and excellence of the fare. There were cold chickens, +meat-pies, dishes of sliced ham, pyramids of little Bologna +sausages, huge rolls of bread a yard in length, lobster salad, and +cold punch in abundance.</p> +<p>The flirtations at supper were tremendous. In a bachelor +establishment one cannot expect to find every convenience, and on +this occasion the prevailing deficiencies were among the plates and +glasses; so those who had been partners in the dance now became +partners in other matters, eating off the same plate and drinking +out of the same tumbler; but this only made it so much the merrier. +By and by somebody volunteered a song, and somebody else made a +speech, and then we went down again to the ball-room, and dancing +recommenced.</p> +<p>The laughter now became louder, and the legs of the guests more +vigorous than ever. The orchestra, too, received an addition to its +strength in the person of a gentleman who, having drunk more cold +punch than was quite consistent with the preservation of his +equilibrium, was still sober enough to oblige us with a spirited +accompaniment on the shovel and tongs, which, with the violin and +accordion, and the comb <i>obligato</i> before mentioned, produced +a startling effect, and reminded one of Turkish marches, Pantomime +overtures, and the like barbaric music.</p> +<p>In the midst of the first polka, however, we were interrupted by +a succession of furious double knocks on the floor beneath our +feet. We stopped by involuntary consent--dancers, musicians, and +all.</p> +<p>"It's our neighbor on the story below," said Monsieur Jules. "He +objects to the dancing."</p> +<p>"Then we'll dance a little heavier, to teach him better taste," +said a student, who had so little hair on his head and so much on +his chin, that he looked as if his face had been turned upside +down. "What is the name of the ridiculous monster?"</p> +<p>"Monsieur Bobinet."</p> +<p>"Ladies and gentlemen, let us dance for the edification of +Monsieur Bobinet! Orchestra, strike up, in honor of Monsieur +Bobinet! One, two, three, and away!"</p> +<p>Hereupon we uttered a general hurrah, and dashed off again, like +a herd of young elephants. The knocking ceased, and we thought that +Monsieur Bobinet had resigned himself to his fate, when, just as +the polka ended and the dancers were promenading noisily round and +round the room, the bombardment began afresh; and this time against +the very door of the ball-room.</p> +<p>"<i>Par exemple</i>!" cries Monsieur Jules. "The enemy dares to +attack us in our own lines!"</p> +<p>"Bolt the door, and let him knock till he's tired," suggested +one.</p> +<p>"Open it suddenly, and deluge him with water!" cried +another.</p> +<p>"Tar and feather him!" proposed a third.</p> +<p>In the meantime, Monsieur Bobinet, happily ignorant of these +agreeable schemes for his reception, continued to thunder away upon +the outer panels, accompanying the raps with occasional loud +coughs, and hems, and stampings of the feet.</p> +<p>"Hush! do nothing violent," cried Müller, scenting a +practical joke. "Let us invite him in, and make fun of him. It will +be ever so much more amusing!"</p> +<p>And with this he drove the rest somewhat back and threw open the +door, upon the outer threshold of which, with a stick in one hand +and a bedroom candle in the other, and a flowered dressing-gown +tied round his ample waist by a cord and tassels, stood Monsieur +Bobinet.</p> +<p>Müller received him with a profound bow, and said:--</p> +<p>"Monsieur Bobinet, I believe?"</p> +<p>Monsieur Bobinet, who was very bald, very cross, and very stout, +cast an irritable glance into the room, but, seeing so many people, +drew back and said:--</p> +<p>"Yes, that is my name, Monsieur. I lodge on the fourth +floor...."</p> +<p>"But pray walk in, Monsieur Bobinet," said Müller, opening +the door still wider and bowing still more profoundly.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," returned the fourth-floor lodger, "I--I only come to +complain...."</p> +<p>"Whatever the occasion of this honor, Monsieur," pursued the +student, with increasing politeness, "we cannot suffer you to +remain on the landing. Pray do us the favor to walk in."</p> +<p>"Oh, walk in--pray walk in, Monsieur Bobinet," echoed Jules, +Gustave, and Adrien, all together.</p> +<p>The fourth-floor lodger hesitated; took a step forward; thought, +perhaps, that, since we were all so polite, he would do his best to +conciliate us; and, glancing down nervously at his dressing-gown +and slippers, said:--</p> +<p>"Really, gentlemen, I should have much pleasure, but I am not +prepared...."</p> +<p>"Don't mention it, Monsieur Bobinet," said Müller. "We are +delighted to receive you. Allow me to disembarrass you of your +candle."</p> +<p>"And permit me," said Jules, "to relieve you of your stick."</p> +<p>"Pray, Monsieur Bobinet, do you never dance the polka?" asked +Gustave.</p> +<p>"Bring Monsieur Bobinet a glass of cold punch," said Adrien.</p> +<p>"And a plate of lobster salad," added the bearded student.</p> +<p>Monsieur Bobinet, finding the door already closed behind him, +looked round nervously; but encountering only polite and smiling +faces, endeavored to seem at his ease, and to put a good face upon +the matter.</p> +<p>"Indeed, gentlemen, I must beg you to excuse me," said he. "I +never drink at night, and I never eat suppers. I only came to +request...."</p> +<p>"Nay, Monsieur Bobinet, we cannot suffer you to leave us without +taking a glass of cold punch," pursued Müller.</p> +<p>"Upon my word," began the lodger, "I dare not...."</p> +<p>"A glass of white wine, then?"</p> +<p>"Or a cup of coffee?"</p> +<p>"Or some home-made lemonade?"</p> +<p>Monsieur Bobinet cast a look of helpless longing towards the +door.</p> +<p>"If you really insist, gentlemen," said he, "I will take a cup +of coffee; but indeed...."</p> +<p>"A cup of coffee for Monsieur Bobinet!" shouted Müller.</p> +<p>"A large cup of coffee for Monsieur Bobinet!" repeated +Jules.</p> +<p>"A strong cup of coffee for Monsieur Bobinet!" cried Gustave, +following up the lead of the other two.</p> +<p>The fourth-floor lodger frowned and colored up, beginning to be +suspicious of mischief. Seeing this, Müller hastened to +apologize.</p> +<p>"You must pardon us, Monsieur Bobinet," he said with the most +winning amiability, "if we are all in unusually high spirits +to-night. You are not aware, perhaps, that our friend Monsieur +Jules Charpentier was married this morning, and that we are here in +celebration of that happy event. Allow me to introduce you to the +bride."</p> +<p>And turning to one of the ballet ladies, he led her forward with +exceeding gravity, and presented her to Monsieur Bobinet as Madame +Charpentier.</p> +<p>The fourth-floor lodger bowed, and went through the usual +congratulations. In the meantime, some of the others had prepared a +mock sofa by means of two chairs set somewhat wide apart, with a +shawl thrown over the whole to conceal the space between. Upon one +of these chairs sat a certain young lady named Louise, and upon the +other Mam'selle Josephine. As soon as it was ready, Muller, who had +been only waiting for it, affected to observe for the first time +that Monsieur Bobinet was still standing.</p> +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu</i>!" he exclaimed, "has no one offered our visitor +a chair? Monsieur Bobinet, I beg a thousand pardons. Pray do us the +favor to be seated. Your coffee will be here immediately, and these +ladies on the sofa will be delighted to make room for you."</p> +<p>"Oh yes, pray be seated, Monsieur Bobinet," cried the two girls. +"We shall be charmed to make room for Monsieur Bobinet!"</p> +<p>More than ever confused and uncomfortable, poor Monsieur Bobinet +bowed; sat down upon the treacherous space between the two chairs; +went through immediately; and presented the soles of his slippers +to the company in the least picturesque manner imaginable. This +involuntary performance was greeted with a shout of wild +delight.</p> +<p>"Bravo, Monsieur Bobinet!"</p> +<p>"<i>Vive</i> Monsieur Bobinet!"</p> +<p>"Three cheers for Monsieur Bobinet!"</p> +<p>Scarlet with rage, the fourth-floor lodger sprang to his feet +and made a rush to the door; but he was hemmed in immediately. In +vain he stormed; in vain he swore. We joined hands; we called for +music; we danced round him; we sang; and at last, having fairly +bumped and thumped and hustled him till we were tired, pushed him +out on the landing, and left him to his fate.</p> +<p>After this interlude, the mirth grew fast and furious. +<i>Valse</i> succeeded <i>valse</i>, and galop followed galop, till +the orchestra declared they could play no longer, and the gentleman +with the shovel and tongs collapsed in a corner of the room and +went to sleep with his head in the coal-scuttle. Then the +ballet-ladies were prevailed upon to favor us with a <i>pas de +deux</i>; after which Müller sang a comic song with a chorus, +in which everybody joined; and then the orchestra was bribed with +hot brandy-and-water, and dancing commenced again. By this time the +visitors began to drop away in twos and threes, and even the fair +Josephine, to whom I had never ceased paying the most devoted +attention, declared she could not stir another step. As for +Dalrymple, he had disappeared during supper, without a word of +leave-taking to any one.</p> +<p>Matters being at this pass, I looked at my watch, and found that +it was already half-past six o'clock; so, having bade good-night, +or rather good-morning, to Messieurs Jules, Gustave, and Adrien, +and having, with great difficulty, discovered my own coat and hat +among the miscellaneous collection in the adjoining bed-room, I +prepared to escort Mademoiselle Josephine to her home.</p> +<p>"Going already?" said Müller, encountering us on the +landing, with a roll in one hand and a Bologna sausage in the +other.</p> +<p>"Already! Why, my dear fellow, it is nearly seven o'clock!"</p> +<p>"<i>Qu'importe</i>? Come up to the supper-room and have some +breakfast!"</p> +<p>"Not for the world!"</p> +<p>"Well, <i>chacun à son goût</i>. I am as hungry as +a hunter."</p> +<p>"Can I not take you any part of your way?"</p> +<p>"No, thank you. I am a Quartier Latinist, <i>pur sang</i>, and +lodge only a street or two off. Stay, here is my address. Come and +see me--you can't think how glad I shall be!"</p> +<p>"Indeed, I will come---and here is my card in exchange. +Good-night, Herr Müller."</p> +<p>"Good-night, Marquis of Arbuthnot. Mademoiselle Josephine, <i>au +plaisir</i>."</p> +<p>So we shook hands and parted, and I saw my innamorata home to +her residence at No. 70, Rue Aubry le Boucher, which opened upon +the Marché des Innocents. She fell asleep upon my shoulder +in the cab, and was only just sufficiently awake when I left her, +to accept all the <i>marrons glacés</i> that yet remained in +the pockets of my paletot, and to remind me that I had promised to +take her out next Sunday for a drive in the country, and a dinner +at the Moulin Rouge.</p> +<p>The fountain in the middle of the Marché was now +sparkling in the sunshine like a shower of diamonds, and the +business of the market was already at its height. The shops in the +neighboring streets were opening fast. The "iron tongue" of St. +Eustache was calling the devout to early prayer. Fagged as I was, I +felt that a walk through the fresh air would do me good; so I +dismissed the cab, and reached my lodgings just as the sleepy +<i>concierge</i> had turned out to sweep the hall, and open the +establishment for the day. When I came down again two hours later, +after a nap and a bath, I found a <i>commissionnaire</i> waiting +for me.</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens</i>!" said Madame Bouïsse (Madame Bouïsse +was the wife of the <i>concierge</i>). "<i>V'la</i>! here is +M'sieur Arbuthnot."</p> +<p>The man touched his cap, and handed me a letter.</p> +<p>"I was told to deliver it into no hands but those of M'sieur +himself," said he.</p> +<p>The address was in Dalrymple's writing. I tore the envelope +open. It contained only a card, on the back of which, scrawled +hastily in pencil, were the following words:</p> +<p>"To have said good-bye would have made our parting none the +lighter. By the time you decipher this hieroglyphic I shall be some +miles on my way: Address Hôtel de Russie, Berlin. Adieu, +Damon; God bless you. O.D."</p> +<p>"How long is it since this letter was given to you?" said I, +without taking my eyes from the card.</p> +<p>The <i>commissionnaire</i> made no reply. I repeated the +question, looked up impatiently, and found that the man was already +gone.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX."></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> +<h3>THE CHATEAU DE SAINTE AULAIRE.</h3> +<center>"Mark yon old mansion frowning through the trees,<br> +Whose hollow turret wooes the whistling breeze."</center> +<br> +<p>My acquaintance with Mademoiselle Josephine progressed rapidly; +although, to confess the truth, I soon found myself much less +deeply in love than I had at first supposed. For this +disenchantment, fate and myself were alone to blame. It was not her +fault if I had invested her with a thousand imaginary perfections; +nor mine if the spell was broken as soon as I discovered my +mistake.</p> +<p>Too impatient to wait till Sunday, I made my way on Saturday +afternoon to Rue Aubry-le-Boucher. I persuaded myself that I was +bound to call on her, in order to conclude our arrangements for the +following day. At all events, I argued, she might forget the +engagement, or believe that I had forgotten it. So I went, taking +with me a magnificent bouquet, and an embroidered satin bag full of +<i>marrons glacés</i>.</p> +<p>My divinity lived, as she had told me, <i>sous les +toits</i>--and <i>sous les toits</i>, up seven flights of very +steep and dirty stairs, I found her. It was a large attic with a +sloping roof, overlooking a bristling expanse of chimney-pots, and +commanding the twin towers of Notre Dame. There were some colored +prints of battles and shipwrecks wafered to the walls; a couple of +flower-pots in the narrow space between the window-ledge and the +coping outside; a dingy canary in a wire cage; a rival mechanical +cuckoo in a Dutch clock in the corner; a little bed with striped +hangings; a rush-bottomed <i>prie-dieu</i> chair in front of a +plain black crucifix, over which drooped a faded branch of +consecrated palm; and some few articles of household furniture of +the humblest description. In all this there was nothing vulgar. +Under other circumstances I might, perhaps, have even elicited +somewhat of grace and poetry from these simple materials. But +conceive what it was to see them through an atmosphere of warm +white steam that left an objectionable clamminess on the backs of +the chairs and caused even the door-handle to burst into a tepid +perspiration. Conceive what it was to behold my adored one standing +in the middle of the room, up to her elbows in soap-suds, washing +out the very dress in which she was to appear on the morrow.... +Good taste defend us! Could anything be more cruelly calculated to +disturb the tender tenor of a lover's dreams? Fancy what Leander +would have felt, if, after swimming across the Hellespont, he had +surprised Hero at the washing-tub! Imagine Romeo's feelings, if he +had scaled the orchard-walls only to find Juliet helping to hang +out the family linen!</p> +<p>The worst of it was that my lovely Josephine was not in the +least embarrassed. She evidently regarded the washing-tub as a +desirable piece of furniture, and was not even conscious that the +act of "soaping in," was an unromantic occupation!</p> +<p>Such was the severity of this first blow that I pleaded an +engagement, presented my offerings (how dreadfully inappropriate +they seemed!), and hurried away to a lecture on <i>materia +medica</i> at the <i>École Pratique</i>; that being a good, +congenial, dismal entertainment for the evening!</p> +<p>Sunday came with the sunrise, and at midday, true as the clock +of St. Eustache, I knocked once more at the door of the +<i>mansarde</i> where my Josephine dwelt. This time, my visit being +anticipated, I found her dressed to receive me. She looked more +fresh and charming than ever; and the lilac muslin which I had seen +in the washing-tub some eighteen or twenty hours before, became her +to perfection. So did her pretty green shawl, pinned closely at the +throat and worn as only a French-woman would have known how to wear +it. So did the white camellia and the moss-rose buds which she had +taken out of my bouquet, and fastened at her waist.</p> +<p>What I was not prepared for, however, was her cap. I had +forgotten that your Parisian grisette<a name= +"FNanchor1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1">[1]</a> would no more dream +of wearing a bonnet than of crowning her head with feathers and +adorning her countenance with war-paint. It had totally escaped me +that I, a bashful Englishman of twenty-one, nervously sensitive to +ridicule and gifted by nature with but little of the spirit of +social defiance, must in broad daylight make my appearance in the +streets of Paris, accompanied by a bonnetless grisette! What should +I do, if I met Dr. Chéron? or Madame de Courcelles? or, +worse than all, Madame de Marignan? My obvious resource was to take +her in whatever direction we should be least likely to meet any of +my acquaintances. Where, oh fate! might that obscurity be found +which had suddenly become the dearest object of my desires?</p> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor1">[1]</a> +The grisette of twenty years ago, <i>bien entendu</i>. I am +writing, be it remembered, of "The days of my youth."</blockquote> +<p>"<i>Eh bien</i>, Monsieur Basil," said Josephine, when my first +compliments had been paid. "I am quite ready. Where are we +going?"</p> +<p>"We shall dine, <i>mon cher ange</i>," said I, absently, +"at--let me see--at...."</p> +<p>"At the Moulin Rouge," interrupted she. "But that is six hours +to come. In the meantime--"</p> +<p>"In the meantime? Ay, in the meantime...what a delightful day +for the time of year!"</p> +<p>"Shall it be Versailles?" suggested Josephine.</p> +<p>"Heaven forbid!"</p> +<p>Josephine opened her large eyes.</p> +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu!</i>" said she. "What is there so very dreadful in +Versailles?"</p> +<p>I made no reply. I was passing all the suburbs in review before +my mind's eye,--Bellevue, Enghien, Fontenay-aux-Roses, St. +Germains, Sceaux; even Fontainebleau and Compiègne.</p> +<p>The grisette pouted, and glanced at the clock.</p> +<p>"If Monsieur is as slow to start as he is to answer," said she, +"we shall not get beyond the barriers to-day."</p> +<p>At this moment, I remembered to have heard of Montlhéry +as a place where there was a forest and a feudal ruin; also, which +was more to the purpose, as lying at least six-and-twenty miles +south of Paris.</p> +<p>"My dear Mademoiselle Josephine," I said, "forgive me. I have +planned an excursion which I am sure will please you infinitely +better than a mere common-place trip to Versailles. Versailles, on +Sunday, is vulgar. You have heard, of course, of +Montlhéry--one of the most interesting places near +Paris."</p> +<p>"I have read a romance called <i>The Tower of +Montlhéry"</i> said Josephine.</p> +<p>"And that tower--that historical and interesting tower--is still +standing! How delightful to wander among the ruins--to recall the +stirring events which caused it to be besieged in the reign of--of +either Louis the Eleventh, or Louis the Fourteenth; I don't +remember which, and it doesn't signify--to explore the picturesque +village, and ramble through the adjoining woods of St. +Geneviève--to visit..."</p> +<p>"I wonder if we shall find any donkeys to ride," interrupted +Josephine, upon whom my eloquence was taking the desired +effect.</p> +<p>"Donkeys!" I exclaimed, drawing, I am ashamed to say, upon my +imagination. "Of course--hundreds of them!"</p> +<p>"<i>Ah, ça</i>! Then the sooner we go the better. Stay, I +must just lock my door, and leave word with my neighbor on the next +floor that I am gone out for the day,"</p> +<p>So she locked the door and left the message, and we started. I +was fortunate enough to find a close cab at the corner of the +<i>marché</i>--she would have preferred an open one, but I +overruled that objection on the score of time--and before very long +we were seated in the cushioned fauteuils of a first-class +compartment on the Orleans Railway, and speeding away towards +Montlhéry.</p> +<p>It was with no trifling sense of relief that I found the place +really picturesque, when we arrived. We had, it is true, to put up +with a comfortless drive of three or four miles in a primitive, +jolting, yellow omnibus, which crawled at stated hours of the day +between the town and the station; but that was a minor evil, and we +made the best of it. First of all, we strolled through the +village--the clean, white, sunny village, where the people were +sitting outside their doors playing at dominoes, and the cocks and +hens were walking about like privileged inhabitants of the +market-place. Then we had luncheon at the <i>auberge</i> of the +"Lion d'Or." Then we looked in at the little church (still smelling +of incense from the last service) with its curious old altar-piece +and monumental brasses. Then we peeped through the iron gate of the +melancholy <i>cimetière</i>, which was full of black crosses +and wreaths of <i>immortelles</i>. Last of all, we went to see the +ruin, which stood on the summit of a steep and solitary rock in the +midst of a vast level plain. It proved to be a round keep of +gigantic strength and height, approached by two courtyards and +surrounded by the weed-grown and fragmentary traces of an extensive +stronghold, nothing of which now remained save a few broken walls, +three or four embrasured loopholes, an ancient well of incalculable +depth, and the rusted teeth of a formidable portcullis. Here we +paused awhile to rest and admire the view; while Josephine, pleased +as a child on a holiday, flung pebbles into the well, ate +sugar-plums, and amused herself with my pocket-telescope.</p> +<p>"<i>Regardez</i>!" she cried, "there is the dome of the +Panthéon. I am sure it is the Panthéon--and to the +right, far away, I see a town!--little white houses, and a steeple. +And there goes a steamer on the river--and there is the railway and +the railway station, and the long road by which we came in the +omnibus. Oh, how nice it is, Monsieur Basil, to look through a +telescope!"</p> +<p>"Do me the favor, <i>ma belle</i>, to accept it--for my sake," +said I, thankful to find her so easily entertained. I was lying in +a shady angle of old wall, puffing away at a cigar, with my hat +over my eyes, and the soles of my boots levelled at the view. It is +difficult to smoke and make love at the same time; and I preferred +the tobacco.</p> +<p>Josephine was enchanted, and thanked me in a thousand pretty, +foolish phrases. She declared she saw ever so much farther and +clearer with the glass, now that it was her own. She looked at me +through it, and insisted that I should look at her. She picked out +all sorts of marvellous objects, at all sorts of incredible +distances. In short, she prattled and chattered till I forgot all +about the washing-tub, and again began to think her quite charming. +Presently we heard wandering sounds of music among the trees at the +foot of the hill--sounds as of a violin and bagpipes; now coming +with the wind from the west, now dying away to the north, now +bursting out afresh more merrily than ever, and leading off towards +the village.</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens</i>! that must be a wedding!" said Josephine, drumming +with her little feet against the side of the old well on which she +was sitting.</p> +<p>"A wedding! what connection subsists, pray, between the bonds of +matrimony, and a tune on the bagpipes?"</p> +<p>"I don't know what you mean by bagpipes--I only know that when +people get married in the country, they go about with the musicians +playing before them. What you hear yonder is a violin and a +<i>cornemuse</i>."</p> +<p>"A <i>cornemuse!</i>" I repeated. "What's that?"</p> +<p>"Oh, country music. A thing you blow into with your mouth, and +play upon with your fingers, and squeeze under your arm--like +this."</p> +<p>"Then it's the same thing, <i>ma chère</i>," said I. "A +bagpipes and a <i>cornemuse</i>--a <i>cornemuse</i> and bagpipes. +Both of them national, popular, and frightful."</p> +<p>"I'm so fond of music," said Josephine.</p> +<p>Not wishing to object to her tastes, and believing that this +observation related to the music then audible, I made no reply.</p> +<p>"And I have never been to an opera," added she.</p> +<p>I was still silent, though from another motive.</p> +<p>"You will take me one night to the Italiens, or the Opéra +Comique, will you not, Monsieur Basil?" pursued she, determined not +to lose her opportunity.</p> +<p>I had now no resource but to promise; which I did, very +reluctantly.</p> +<p>"You would enjoy the Opéra Comique far more than the +Italiens," said I, remembering that Madame de Marignan had a box at +the Italiens, and rapidly weighing the chances for and against the +possibility of recognition. "At the first they sing in French--at +the last, in Italian,"</p> +<p>"Ah, bah! I should prefer the French," replied she, falling at +once into the snare. "When shall it be--this week?"</p> +<p>"Ye--es; one evening this week."</p> +<p>"What evening?"</p> +<p>"Well, let me see--we had better wait, and consult the +advertisements."</p> +<p>"<i>Dame</i>! never mind the advertisements. Let it be +Tuesday."</p> +<p>"Why Tuesday?"</p> +<p>"Because it is soon; and because I can get away early on +Tuesdays if I ask leave."</p> +<p>I had, plainly, no chance of escape.</p> +<p>"You would not prefer to see the great military piece at the +Porte St. Martin?" I suggested. "There are three hundred real +soldiers in it, and they fire real cannon."</p> +<p>"Not I! I have been to the Porte St. Martin, over and over +again. Emile knew one of the scene-painter's assistants, and used +to get tickets two or three times a month."</p> +<p>"Then it shall be the Opera Comique," said I, with a sigh.</p> +<p>"And on Tuesday evening next."</p> +<p>"On Tuesday evening next."</p> +<p>At this moment the piping and fiddling broke out afresh, and +Josephine, who had scarcely taken the little telescope from her eye +all the time, exclaimed that she saw the wedding party going +through the market-place of the town.</p> +<p>"There they are--the musicians first; the bride and bridegroom +next; and eight friends, all two and two! There will be a dance, +depend on it! Let us go down to the town, and hear all about it! +Perhaps they might invite us to join them--who knows?"</p> +<p>"But you would not dance before dinner?"</p> +<p>"<i>Eh, mon Dieu</i>! I would dance before breakfast, if I had +the chance. Come along. If we do not make haste, we may miss +them."</p> +<p>I rose, feeling, and I daresay, looking, like a martyr; and we +went down again into the town.</p> +<p>There we inquired of the first person who seemed likely to +know--he was a dapper hairdresser, standing at his shop-door with +his hands in his apron pockets and a comb behind his ear--and were +told that the wedding-party had just passed through the village, on +their way to the Chateau of Saint Aulaire.</p> +<p>"The Chateau of St. Aulaire!" said Josephine. "What are they +going to do there? What is there to see?"</p> +<p>"It is an ancient mansion, Mademoiselle, much visited by +strangers," replied the hairdresser with exceeding politeness. +"Worthy of Mademoiselle's distinguished attention--and Monsieur's. +Contains old furniture, old paintings, old china--stands in an +extensive park--one of the lions of this neighborhood, +Mademoiselle--also Monsieur."</p> +<p>"To whom does it belong?" I asked, somewhat interested in this +account.</p> +<p>"That, Monsieur, is a question difficult to answer," replied the +fluent hairdresser, running his fingers through his locks and +dispersing a gentle odor of rose-oil. "It was formerly the property +of the ancient family of Saint Aulaire. The last Marquis de Saint +Aulaire, with his wife and family, were guillotined in 1793. Some +say that the young heir was saved; and an individual asserting +himself to be that heir did actually put forward a claim to the +estate, some twenty, or five-and-twenty years ago, but lost his +cause for want of sufficient proof. In the meantime, it had passed +into the hands of a wealthy republican family, descended, it is +said, from General Dumouriez. This family held it till within the +last four years, when two or three fresh claimants came forward; so +that it is now the object of a lawsuit which may last till every +brick of it falls to ruin, and every tree about it withers away. At +present, a man and his wife have charge of the place, and visitors +are permitted to see it any day between twelve and four."</p> +<p>"I should like to see the old place," said I.</p> +<p>"And I should like to see how the bride is dressed," said +Josephine, "and if the bridegroom is handsome."</p> +<p>"Well, let us go--not forgetting to thank Monsieur <i>le +Perruquier</i> for his polite information."</p> +<p>Monsieur <i>le Perruquier</i> fell into what dancing-masters +call the first position, and bowed elaborately.</p> +<p>"Most welcome, Mademoiselle--and Monsieur," said he. "Straight +up the road--past the orchard about a quarter of a mile--old iron +gates--can't miss it. Good-afternoon, Mademoiselle--also +Monsieur."</p> +<p>Following his directions, we came presently to the gates, which +were rusty and broken-hinged, with traces of old gilding still +showing faintly here and there upon their battered scrolls and +bosses. One of them was standing open, and had evidently been +standing so for years; while the other had as evidently been long +closed, so that the deep grass had grown rankly all about it, and +the very bolt was crusted over with a yellow lichen. Between the +two, an ordinary wooden hurdle had been put up, and this hurdle was +opened for us by a little blue-bloused urchin in a pair of huge +<i>sabots</i>, who, thinking we belonged to the bridal party, +pointed up the dusky avenue, and said, with a grin:--</p> +<p>"<i>Tout droit, M'sieur--ils sont passés par +là!</i>"</p> +<p><i>Par là</i>, "under the shade of melancholy boughs," we +went accordingly. Far away on either side stretched dim vistas of +neglected park-land, deep with coarse grass and weeds and, where +the trees stood thickest, all choked with a brambly undergrowth. +After about a quarter of a mile of this dreary avenue, we came to a +broad area of several acres laid out in the Italian style with +fountains and terraces, at the upper end of which stood the +house--a feudal, <i>moyen-âge</i> French chateau, with +irregular wings, steep slated roofings, innumerable windows, and +fantastic steeple-topped turrets sheeted with lead and capped with +grotesque gilded weathercocks. The principal front had been +repaired in the style of the Renaissance and decorated with little +foliated entablatures above the doors and windows; whilst a double +flight of steps leading up to a grand entrance on the level of the +first story, like the famous double staircase of Fontainebleau, had +been patched on in the very centre, to the manifest disfigurement +of the building. Most of the windows were shuttered up, and as we +drew nearer, the general evidences of desolation became more +apparent. The steps of the terraces were covered with patches of +brown and golden moss. The stone urns were some of them fallen in +the deep grass, and some broken. There were gaps in the rich +balustrade here and there; and the two great fountains on either +side of the lower terrace had long since ceased to fling up their +feathery columns towards the sun. In the middle of one a broken +Pan, noseless and armless, turned up a stony face of mute appeal, +as if imploring us to free him from the parasitic jungle of aquatic +plants which flourished rankly round him in the basin. In the +other, a stalwart river-god with his finger on his lip, seemed +listening for the music of those waters which now scarcely stirred +amid the tangled weeds that clustered at his feet.</p> +<p>Passing all these, passing also the flower-beds choked with +brambles and long waving grasses, and the once quaintly-clipped +myrtle and box-trees, all flinging out fantastic arms of later +growth, we came to the upper terrace, which was paved in curious +patterns of stars and arabesques, with stones alternately round and +flat. Here a good-humored, cleanly peasant woman came clattering +out in her <i>sabots</i> from a side-door, key in hand, preceded us +up the double flight of steps, unlocked the great door, and +admitted us.</p> +<p>The interior, like the front, had been modernized about a +hundred and fifty years before, and resembled a little formal +Versailles or miniature Fontainebleau. Dismantled halls paved with +white marble; panelled ante-chambers an inch deep in dust; dismal +<i>salons</i> adorned with Renaissance arabesques and huge +looking-glasses, cracked and mildewed, and mended with pasted seams +of blue paper; boudoirs with faded Watteau panellings; corridors +with painted ceilings where mythological divinities, marvellously +foreshortened on a sky-blue ground, were seen surrounded by +rose-colored Cupids and garlanded with ribbons and flowers; +innumerable bed-rooms, some containing grim catafalques of beds +with gilded cornices and funereal plumes, some empty, some full of +stored-up furniture fast going to decay--all these in endless +number we traversed, conducted by the good-tempered +<i>concierge</i>, whose heavy <i>sabots</i> awakened ghostly echoes +from floor to floor.</p> +<p>At length, through an ante-chamber lined with a double file of +grim old family portraits--some so blackened with age and dust as +to be totally indistinguishable, and others bulging hideously out +of their frames--we came to the library, a really noble room, +lofty, panelled with walnut wood, floored with polished oak, and +looking over a wide expanse of level country. Long ranges of empty +book-shelves fenced in with broken wire-work ran round the walls. +The painted ceiling represented, as usual, the heavens and some +pagan divinities. A dumb old time-piece, originally constructed to +tell the months, the days of the year, and the hours, stood on a +massive corner bracket near the door. Long antique mirrors in heavy +black frames reached from floor to ceiling between each of the +windows; and in the centre of the room, piled all together and +festooned with a thick drapery of cobwebs, stood a dozen or so of +old carved chairs, screens, and foot-stools, rich with velvet, +brocade, and gilded leather, but now looking as if a touch would +crumble them to dust. Over the great carved fireplace, however, +hung a painting upon which my attention became riveted as soon as I +entered the room--a painting yellow with age; covered with those +minute cracks which are like wrinkles on the face of antique art, +coated with dust, and yet so singularly attractive that, having +once noticed it, I looked at nothing else.</p> +<p>It was the half-length portrait of a young lady in the costume +of the reign of Louis XVI. One hand rested on a stone urn; the +other was raised to her bosom, holding a thin blue scarf that +seemed to flutter in the wind. Her dress was of white satin, cut +low and square, with a stomacher of lace and pearls. She also wore +pearls in her hair, on her white arms, and on her whiter neck. Thus +much for the mere adjuncts; as for the face--ah, how can I ever +describe that pale, perfect, tender face, with its waving brown +hair and soft brown eyes, and that steadfast perpetual smile that +seemed to light the eyes from within, and to dwell in the corners +of the lips without parting or moving them? It was like a face seen +in a dream, or the imperfect image which seems to come between us +and the page when we read of Imogen asleep.</p> +<p>"Who was this lady?" I asked, eagerly.</p> +<p>The <i>concierge</i> nodded and rubbed her hands.</p> +<p>"Aha! M'sieur," said she, "'tis the best painting in the +chateau, as folks tell me. M'sieur is a connoisseur."</p> +<p>"But do you know whose portrait it is?"</p> +<p>"To be sure I do, M'sieur. It's the portrait of the last +Marquise--the one who was guillotined, poor soul, with her husband, +in--let me see--in 1793!"</p> +<p>"What an exquisite creature! Look, Josephine, did you ever see +anything so beautiful?"</p> +<p>"Beautiful!" repeated the grisette, with a sidelong glance at +one of the mirrors. "Beautiful, with such a coiffure and such a +bodice! <i>Ciel!</i> how tastes differ!"</p> +<p>"But her face, Josephine!"</p> +<p>"What of her face? I'm sure it's plain enough."</p> +<p>"Plain! Good heavens! what..."</p> +<p>But it was not worth while to argue upon it. I pulled out one of +the old chairs, and so climbed near enough to dust the surface of +the painting with my handkerchief.</p> +<p>"I wish I could buy it!" I exclaimed.</p> +<p>Josephine burst into a loud laugh.</p> +<p>"<i>Grand Dieu</i>!" said she, half pettishly, "if you are so +much in love with it as all that, I dare say it would not be +difficult!"</p> +<p>The <i>concierge</i> shook her head.</p> +<p>"Everything on this estate is locked up," said she. "Nothing can +be sold, nothing given away, nothing even repaired, till the +<i>procès</i> is ended."</p> +<p>I sighed, and came down reluctantly from my perch. Josephine was +visibly impatient. She had seen the wedding-party going down one of +the walks at the back of the house; and the <i>concierge</i> was +waiting to let us out. I drew her aside, and slipped a liberal +gratuity into her hand.</p> +<p>"If I were to come down here some day with a friend of mine who +is a painter," I whispered, "would you have any objection, Madame, +to allow him to make a little sketch of that portrait?"</p> +<p>The <i>concierge</i> looked into her palm, and seeing the value +of the coin, smiled, hesitated, put her finger to her lip, and +said:--</p> +<p>"<i>Ma foi</i>, M'sieur, I believe I have no business to allow +it; but--to oblige a gentleman like you--if there was nobody +about--"</p> +<p>I nodded. We understood each other sufficiently, and no more was +needed.</p> +<p>Once out of the house, Medemoiselle Josephine pouted, and took +upon herself to be sulky--a disposition which was by no means +lessened when, after traversing the park in various directions in +search of the bridal company, we found that they had gone out long +ago by a gate at the other side of the estate, and were by this +time piping, most probably, in the adjoining parish.</p> +<p>It was now five o'clock; so we hastened back through the +village, cast a last glance at the grim old tower on its steep +solitude, consigned ourselves to the yellow omnibus, and in due +time were once more flying along the iron road towards Paris. The +rapid motion, the dignity of occupying a first-class seat, and, +above all, the prospects of an excellent dinner, soon brought my +fair companion round again, and by the time we reached the Moulin +Rouge, she was all vivacity and good temper. The less I say about +that dinner the better. I am humiliated when I recall all that I +suffered, and all that she did. I blush even now when I remember +how she blew upon her soup, put her knife in her mouth, and picked +her teeth with her shawl-pin. What possessed her that she would +persist in calling the waiter "Monsieur?" And why, in Heaven's +name, need she have clapped her hands when I ordered the champagne? +To say that I had no appetite--that I wished myself at the +antipodes--that I longed to sink into my boots, to smother the +waiter, or to do anything equally desperate and unreasonable, is to +express but a tithe of the anguish I endured. I bore it, however, +in silence, little dreaming what a much heavier trial was yet in +store for me.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI."></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> +<h3>I FALL A SACRIFICE TO MRS. GRUNDY.</h3> +<br> +<p>"A word with you, if you please, Basil Arbuthnot," said Dr. +Chéron, "when you have finished copying those +prescriptions."</p> +<p>Dr. Chéron was standing with his feet firmly planted in +the tiger-skin rug and his back to the fireplace. I was busy +writing at the study table, and glancing anxiously from time to +time at the skeleton clock upon the chimney-piece; for it was +getting on fast towards five, and at half-past six I was to take +Josephine to the Opéra Comique. As perverse fortune would +have it, the Doctor had this afternoon given me more desk-work than +usual, and I began to doubt whether I should be able to dine, +dress, and reach the theatre in time if he detained me much +longer.</p> +<p>"But you need be in no haste," he added, looking at his watch. +"That is to say, upon my account."</p> +<p>I bowed nervously--I was always nervous in his presence--and +tried to write faster than ever; but, feeling his cold blue eye +upon me, made a blot, smeared it with my sleeve, left one word out, +wrote another twice over, and was continually tripped up by my pen, +which sputtered hideously and covered the page with florid passages +in little round spots, which only needed tails to become crotchets +and quavers. At length, just as the clock struck the hour, I +finished my task and laid aside my pen.</p> +<p>Dr. Chéron coughed preparatorily.</p> +<p>"It is some time," said he, "since you have given me any news of +your father. Do you often hear from him?"</p> +<p>"Not very often, sir," I replied. "About once in every three +weeks. He dislikes letter-writing."</p> +<p>Dr. Chéron took a packet of papers from his +breast-pocket, and ruffling them over, said, somewhat +indifferently:--</p> +<p>"Very true--very true. His notes are brief and few; but always +to the purpose. I heard from him this morning."</p> +<p>"Indeed, sir?"</p> +<p>"Yes--here is his letter. It encloses a remittance of +seventy-five pounds; fifty of which are for you. The remaining +twenty-five being reserved for the defrayal of your expenses at the +Ecole de Médecine and the Ecole Pratique."</p> +<p>I was delighted.</p> +<p>"Both are made payable through my banker," continued Dr. +Chéron, "and I am to take charge of your share till you +require it; which cannot be just yet, as I understand from this +letter that your father supplied you with the sum of one hundred +and five pounds on leaving England."</p> +<p>My delight went down to zero.</p> +<p>"Does my father say that I am not to have it now, sir?" I asked, +hesitatingly.</p> +<p>"He says, as I have already told you, that it is to be yours +when you require it."</p> +<p>"And if I require it very shortly, sir--in fact, if I require it +now?"</p> +<p>"You ought not to require it now," replied the Doctor, with a +cold, scrutinizing stare. "You ought not to have spent one hundred +and five pounds in five months."</p> +<p>I looked down in silence. I had more than spent it long since; +and I had to thank Madame de Marignan for the facility with which +it had flown. It was not to be denied that my course of lessons in +practical politeness had been somewhat expensive.</p> +<p>"How have you spent it?" asked Dr. Chéron, never removing +his eyes from my face.</p> +<p>I might have answered, in bouquets, opera stalls, and riding +horses; in dress coats, tight boots, and white kid gloves; in new +books, new music, bon-bons, cabs, perfumery, and the like +inexcusable follies. But I held my tongue instead, and said +nothing.</p> +<p>Dr. Chéron looked again at his watch.</p> +<p>"Have you kept any entries of your expenses since you came to +Paris?" said he.</p> +<p>"Not with--with any regularity, sir," I replied.</p> +<p>He took out his pencil-case and pocket-book.</p> +<p>"Let us try, then," said he, "to make an average calculation of +what they might be in five months."</p> +<p>I began to feel very uncomfortable.</p> +<p>"I believe your father paid your travelling expenses?"</p> +<p>I bowed affirmatively.</p> +<p>"Leaving you the clear sum of one hundred and five pounds." I +bowed again.</p> +<p>"Allowing, then, for your rent--which is, I believe, twenty +francs per week," said he, entering the figures as he went on, +"there will be four hundred francs spent in five months. For your +living, say thirty francs per week, which makes six hundred. For +your clothing, seventy-five per month, which makes three hundred +and seventy-five, and ought to be quite enough for a young man of +moderate tastes. For your washing and firewood, perhaps forty per +month, which makes two hundred--and for your incidental expenses, +say fifteen per week, which makes three hundred. We thus arrive at +a total of one thousand eight hundred and seventy-five francs, +which, reduced to English money at the average standard of +twenty-five francs to the sovereign, represents the exact sum of +seventy-five pounds. Do I make myself understood?"</p> +<p>I bowed for the third time.</p> +<p>"Of the original one hundred and five pounds, we now have thirty +not accounted for. May I ask how much of that surplus you have +left?"</p> +<p>"About--not more than--than a hundred and twenty francs," I +replied, stripping the feathers off all the pens in succession, +without knowing it.</p> +<p>"Have you any debts?"</p> +<p>"A--a few."</p> +<p>"Tailors' bills?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> +<p>"What others?"</p> +<p>"A--a couple of months' rent, I believe, sir."</p> +<p>"Is that all?"</p> +<p>"N--not quite."</p> +<p>Dr. Chéron frowned, and looked again at his watch.</p> +<p>"Be good enough, Mr. Arbuthnot," he said, "to spare me this +amount of useless interrogation by at once stating the nature and +amount of the rest."</p> +<p>"I--I cannot positively state the amount, sir," I said, absurdly +trying to get the paper-weight into my waistcoat pocket, and then +putting it down in great confusion. "I--I have an account at +Monceau's in the Rue Duphot, and..."</p> +<p>"I beg your pardon," interrupted Dr. Chéron: "but who is +Monceau?"</p> +<p>"Monceau's--Monceau's livery-stables, sir."</p> +<p>Dr. Chéron slightly raised his eye-brows, and entered the +name.</p> +<p>"And at Lavoisier's, on the Boulevard Poissonnière--"</p> +<p>"What is sold, pray, at Lavoisier's?"</p> +<p>"Gloves, perfumes, hosiery, ready-made linen..."</p> +<p>"Enough--you can proceed."</p> +<p>"I have also a bill at--at Barbet's, in the Passage de +l'Opéra."</p> +<p>"And Barbet is--?"</p> +<p>"A--a florist!" I replied, very reluctantly.</p> +<p>"Humph!--a florist!" observed Dr. Chéron, again +transfixing me with the cold, blue eye. "To what amount do you +suppose you are indebted to Monsieur Barbet?"</p> +<p>I looked down, and became utterly unintelligible.</p> +<p>"Fifty francs?"</p> +<p>"I--I fear, more than--than--"</p> +<p>"A hundred? A hundred and fifty? Two hundred?"</p> +<p>"About two hundred, I suppose, sir," I said desperately.</p> +<p>"Two hundred francs--that is to say, eight pounds English--to +your florist! Really, Mr. Arbuthnot, you must be singularly fond of +flowers!"</p> +<p>I looked down in silence.</p> +<p>"Have you a conservatory attached to your rooms?"</p> +<p>The skeleton clock struck the half hour.</p> +<p>"Excuse me, sir," I said, driven now to the last extremity, +"but--but I have an engagement which--in short, I will, if you +please, make out a list of--of these items, ascertaining the +correct amount of each; and when once paid, I will endeavor--I +mean, it is my earnest desire, to--to limit my expenditure strictly +to--in short, to study economy for the future. If, in the meantime, +you will have the goodness to excuse me...."</p> +<p>"One word, young man. Will the fifty pounds cover your +debts?"</p> +<p>"Quite, sir, I am confident."</p> +<p>"And leave you something in hand for your current expenses?"</p> +<p>"Indeed, I fear very little."</p> +<p>"In that case what will you do?"</p> +<p>This was a terrible question, and one for which I could find no +answer.</p> +<p>"Write to your father for another remittance--eh?"</p> +<p>"I--upon my word, I dare not, sir," I faltered.</p> +<p>"Then you would go in debt again?"</p> +<p>"I really fear--even with the strictest economy--I--"</p> +<p>"Be so obliging as to let me have your seat," said Dr. +Chéron, thrusting the obnoxious note-book into his pocket +and taking my place at the desk, from which he brought out a couple +of cards, and a printed paper.</p> +<p>"This ticket," said he, "admits the holder to the anatomical +course for the term now beginning, and this to the lectures at the +Ecole Pratique. Both are in my gift. The first is worth two hundred +francs, and the second two hundred and fifty. I ought, perhaps, in +strict justice, to bestow them upon some needy and deserving +individual: however, to save you from debt, or a very unpleasant +alternative, I will fill them in with your name, and, when you +bring me all your bills receipted, I will transfer to your account +the four hundred and fifty francs which I must, otherwise, have +paid for your courses out of the remittance forwarded by your +father for that purpose. Understand, however, that I must first +have the receipts, and that I expect you, on the word of a +gentleman, to commit no more follies, and to contract no more +debts."</p> +<p>"Oh, sir!" I exclaimed, "how can I ever--"</p> +<p>"No thanks, I beg," interposed Dr. Chéron. "Prove your +gratitude by your conduct; do not trouble yourself to talk about +it."</p> +<p>"Indeed, sir, you may depend--"</p> +<p>"And no promises either, if you please. I attach no kind of +value to them. Stay--here is my check for the fifty pounds +forwarded by your father. With that sum extricate yourself from +debt. You know the rest."</p> +<p>Hereupon Dr. Chéron replaced the cards and the printed +form, double-locked his desk, and, with a slight gesture of the +hand, frigidly dismissed me.</p> +<p>I left the house quite chopfallen. I was relieved, it is true, +from the incubus of debt; but then how small a figure I had cut in +the eyes of Dr. Chéron! Besides, I was small for the second +time--reproved for the second time--lectured, helped, put down, and +poohpoohed, for the second time! Could I have peeped at myself just +then through the wrong end of a telescope, I vow I could not have +looked smaller in my own eyes.</p> +<p>I had no time to dine; so I despatched a cup of coffee and a +roll on my way home, and went hungry to the theatre.</p> +<p>Josephine was got up with immense splendor for this occasion; +greatly to her own satisfaction and my disappointment. Having hired +a small private box in the least conspicuous part of the theatre, I +had committed the cowardly mistake of endeavoring to transform my +grisette into a woman of fashion. I had bought her a pink and white +opera cloak, a pretty little fan, a pair of white kid gloves, and a +bouquet. With these she wore a decent white muslin dress furnished +out of the limited resources of her own wardrobe, and a wreath of +pink roses, the work of her own clever fingers. Thus equipped, she +was far less pretty than in her coquettish little every-day cap, +and looked, I regret to say, more like an <i>ouvrière</i> +than ever. Aggravating above all else, however, was her own +undisguised delight in her appearance.</p> +<p>"Are my flowers all right? Is my dress tumbled? Is the hood of +my cloak in the middle of my back?" were the questions she +addressed to me every moment. In the ante-room she took advantage +of each mirror we passed. In the lobby I caught her trying to look +at her own back. When we reached our box she pulled her chair to +the very centre of it, and sat there as if she expected to be +admired by the whole audience.</p> +<p>"My dear Josephine," I remonstrated, "sit back here, facing the +stage. You will see much better--besides, it is your proper seat, +being the only lady in the box."</p> +<p>"Ah, <i>mon Dieu!</i> then I cannot see the house--and how +pretty it is! Ever so much prettier than the Gaiété, +or the Porte St. Martin!"</p> +<p>"You can see the house by peeping behind the curtain."</p> +<p>"As if I were ashamed to be seen! <i>Par exemple</i>!"</p> +<p>"Nay, as you please. I only advise you according to custom and +fashion."</p> +<p>Josephine pouted, and unwillingly conceded a couple of +inches.</p> +<p>"I wish I had brought the little telescope you gave me last +Sunday," said she, presently. "There is a gentleman with one down +there in the stalls."</p> +<p>"A telescope at the opera--the gods forbid! Here, however, is my +opera-glass, if you like to use it."</p> +<p>Josephine turned it over curiously, and peeped first through one +tube and then through the other.</p> +<p>"Which ought I to look through?" asked she.</p> +<p>"Both, of course."</p> +<p>"Both! How can I?"</p> +<p>"Why thus--as you look through a pair of spectacles."</p> +<p>"<i>Ciel!</i> I can't manage that! I can never look through +anything without covering up one eye with my hand."</p> +<p>"Then I think you had better be contented with your own charming +eyes, <i>ma belle</i>" said I, nervously. "How do you like your +bouquet?"</p> +<p>Josephine sniffed at it as if she were taking snuff, and +pronounced it perfect. Just then the opera began. I withdrew into +the shade, and Josephine was silenced for a while in admiration of +the scenery and the dresses. By and by, she began to yawn.</p> +<p>"Ah, <i>mon Dieu!</i>" said she, "when will they have done +singing? I have not heard a word all this time."</p> +<p>"But everything is sung, <i>ma chére</i>, in an +opera."</p> +<p>"What do you mean? Is there no play?"</p> +<p>"This is the play; only instead of speaking their words, they +sing them."</p> +<p>Josephine shrugged her shoulders.</p> +<p>"Ah, bah!" said she. "How stupid! I had rather have seen the +<i>Closerie des Gênets</i> at the Graiété, if +that is to be the case the whole evening. Oh, dear! there is such a +pretty lady come into the opposite box, in such a beautiful blue +<i>glacé</i>, trimmed with black velvet and lace!"</p> +<p>"Hush! you must not talk while they are singing!"</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens!</i> it is no pleasure to come out and be dumb. But do +just see the lady in the opposite box! She looks exactly as if she +had walked out of a fashion-book."</p> +<p>"My dear child, I don't care one pin to look at her," said I, +preferring to keep as much out of sight as possible. "To admire +your pretty face is enough for me."</p> +<p>Josephine squeezed my hand affectionately.</p> +<p>"That is just as Emile used to talk to me," said she.</p> +<p>I felt by no means flattered.</p> +<p>"<i>Regardez done!</i>" said she, pulling me by the sleeve, just +as I was standing up, a little behind her chair, looking at the +stage. "That lady in the blue <i>glacé</i> never takes her +eyes from our box! She points us out to the gentleman who is with +her--do look!"</p> +<p>I turned my glass in the direction to which she pointed, and +recognised Madame de Marignan!</p> +<p>I turned hot and cold, red and white, all in one moment, and +shrank back like a snail that has been touched, or a sea-anemone at +the first dig of the naturalist.</p> +<p>"Does she know you?" asked Josephine.</p> +<p>"I--I--probably--that is to say--I have met her in society."</p> +<p>"And who is the gentleman?"</p> +<p>That was just what I was wondering. It was not Delaroche. It was +no one whom I had ever seen before. It was a short, fat, pale man, +with a bald head, and a ribbon in his button-hole.</p> +<p>"Is he her husband?" pursued Josephine.</p> +<p>The suggestion flashed upon me like a revelation. Had I not +heard that M. de Marignan was coming home from Algiers? Of course +it was he. No doubt of it. A little vulgar, fat, bald man.... +Pshaw, just the sort of a husband that she deserved!</p> +<p>"How she looks at me!" said Josephine.</p> +<p>I felt myself blush, so to speak, from head to foot.</p> +<p>"Good Heavens! my dear girl," I exclaimed, "take your elbows off +the front of the box!"</p> +<p>Josephine complied, with a pettish little grimace.</p> +<p>"And, for mercy's sake, don't hold your head as if you feared it +would tumble off!"</p> +<p>"It is the flowers," said she. "They tickle the back of my neck, +whenever I move my head. I am much more comfortable in my cap."</p> +<p>"Never mind. Make the best of it, and listen to this song."</p> +<p>It was the great tenor ballad of the evening. The house was +profoundly silent; the first wandering chords of a harp were heard +behind the scenes; and Duprez began. In the very midst of one of +his finest and tenderest <i>sostenuto</i> passages, Josephine +sneezed--and such a sneeze! you might have heard it out in the +lobbies. An audible titter ran round the house. I saw Madame de +Marignan cover her face with her handkerchief, and yield to an +irrepressible fit of laughter. As for the tenor, he cast a +withering glance up at the box, and made a marked pause before +resuming his song. Merciful powers! what crime had I committed that +I should be visited with such a punishment as this?</p> +<p>"Wretched girl!" I exclaimed, savagely, "what have you +done?"</p> +<p>"Done, <i>mon ami!</i>" said Josephine, innocently. "Why, I fear +I have taken cold."</p> +<p>I groaned aloud.</p> +<p>"Taken cold!" I muttered to myself. "Would to Heaven you had +taken prussic acid!"</p> +<p>"<i>Qu'est ce que c'est?"</i> asked she.</p> +<p>But it was not worth while to reply. I gave myself up to my +fate. I determined to remonstrate no more. I flung myself on a seat +at the back of the box, and made up my mind to bear all that might +yet be in store for me. When she openly ate a stick of <i>sucre +d'orge</i> after this, I said nothing. When she applauded with both +hands, I endured in silence. At length the performance came to a +close and the curtain fell. Madame de Marignan had left before the +last act, so I ran no danger of encountering her on the way out; +but I was profoundly miserable, nevertheless. As for Josephine, +she, poor child, had not enjoyed her evening at all, and was +naturally out of temper. We quarrelled tremendously in the cab, and +parted without having made it up. It was all my own fault. How +could I be such a fool as to suppose that, with a few shreds and +patches of finery, I could make a fine lady of a grisette?</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII."></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> +<h3>HIGH ART IN THE QUARTIER LATIN.</h3> +<br> +<p>"But, my dear fellow, what else could you have expected? You +took Mam'selle Josephine to the <i>Opera Comique. Eh bien!</i> you +might as well have taken an oyster up Mount Vesuvius. Our fair +friend was out of her element. <i>Voilà tout</i>."</p> +<p>"Confound her and her element!" I exclaimed with a groan. "What +the deuce <i>is</i> her element--the Quartier Latin?"</p> +<p>"The Quartier Latin is to some extent her habitat--but then +Mam'selle Josephine belongs to a genus of which you, <i>cher</i> +Monsieur Arbuthnot, are deplorably ignorant--the genus grisette. +The grisette from a certain point of view is the +<i>chef-d'oeuvre</i> of Parisian industry; the bouquet of Parisian +civilization. She is indigenous to the <i>mansarde</i> and the +<i>pavé</i>--bears no transplantation--flourishes in <i>the +première balconie</i>, the suburban <i>guingette</i>, and +the Salle Valentinois; but degenerates at a higher elevation. To +improve her is to spoil her. In her white cap and muslin gown, the +Parisian grisette is simply delicious. In a smart bonnet, a +Cashmere and a brougham, she is simply detestable. Fine clothes +vulgarize her. Fine surroundings demoralize her. Lodged on the +sixth story, rich in the possession of a cuckoo-clock, a canary, +half a dozen pots of mignonette, and some bits of cheap furniture +in imitation mahogany, she has every virtue and every fault that is +charming in woman--childlike gaiety; coquetry; thoughtless +generosity; the readiest laugh, the readiest tear, and the warmest +heart in the world. Transplant her to the Chaussée d'Antin, +instil the taste for diamonds, truffles, and Veuve Clicquot, and +you poison her whole nature. She becomes false, cruel, greedy, +prodigal of your money, parsimonious of her own--a vampire--a +ghoul--the hideous thing we call in polite parlance a <i>Fille de +Marbre."</i></p> +<p>Thus, with much gravity and emphasis, spoke Herr Franz +Müller, lying on his back upon a very ricketty sofa, and +smoking like a steam-engine. A cup of half-cold coffee, and a +bottle of rum three parts emptied stood beside him on the floor. +These were the remains of his breakfast; for it was yet early in +the morning of the day following my great misadventure at the +Opéra Comique, and I had sought him out at his lodgings in +the Rue Clovis at an hour when the Quartier Latin was for the most +part in bed.</p> +<p>"Josephine, at all events, is not of the stuff that <i>Filles de +Marbre</i> are made of," I said, smiling.</p> +<p>"Perhaps not--<i>mais, que voulez-vous?</i> We are what we are. +A grisette makes a bad fine lady. A fine lady would make a still +worse grisette. The Archbishopric of Paris is a most repectable and +desirable preferment; but your humble servant, for instance, would +hardly suit the place,"</p> +<p>"And the moral of this learned and perspicuous discourse?"</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens</i>! the moral, is--keep our fair friend in her place. +Remember that a dinner at thirty sous in the Palais Royal, or a +fête with fireworks at Mabille, will give her ten times more +pleasure than the daintiest repast you could order at the Maison +Dorée, or the choicest night of the season at either opera +house. And how should it be otherwise? One must understand a thing +to be able to enjoy it; and I'll be sworn Mam'selle Josephine was +infinitely more bored last night than yourself."</p> +<p>Our conversation, or rather his monologue, was here interrupted +by the ringing of the outer bell.</p> +<p>The artist sat up, took his pipe from his lips, and looked +considerably disturbed.</p> +<p>"<i>Mille tonnerres</i>!" said he in a low tone. "Who can it +be?... so early in the day ... not yet ten o'clock ... it is very +mysterious."</p> +<p>"It is only mysterious," said I, "as long as you don't open the +door. Shall I answer the bell?"</p> +<p>"No--yes--wait a moment ... suppose it is that demon, my +landlord, or that archfiend, my tailor--then you must say ... holy +St. Nicholas! you must say I am in bed with small-pox, or that I've +broken out suddenly into homicidal delirium, and you're my +keeper."</p> +<p>"Unfortunately I should not know either of your princes of +darkness at first sight."</p> +<p>"True--and it might be Dupont, who owes me thirty francs, and +swore by the bones of his aunt (an excellent person, who keeps an +estaminet in the Place St. Sulpice) that he would pay me this week. +<i>Diable</i>! there goes the bell again."</p> +<p>"It would perhaps be safest," I suggested, "to let M. or N. ring +on till he is tired of the exercise."</p> +<p>"But conceive the horrid possibility of letting thirty francs +ring themselves out of patience! No, <i>mon ami</i>--I will dare +the worst that may happen. Wait here for me--I will answer the door +myself,"</p> +<p>Now it should be explained that Müller's apartments +consisted of three rooms. First, a small outer chamber which he +dignified with the title of Salle d'Attente, but which, as it was +mainly furnished with old boots, umbrellas and walking-sticks, and +contained, by way of accommodation for visitors only a three-legged +stool and a door-mat, would have been more fitly designated as the +hall. Between this Salle d'Attente and the den in which he slept, +ate, smoked, and received his friends, lay the studio--once a +stately salon, now a wilderness of litter and dilapidation. On one +side you beheld three windows closely boarded up, with strips of +newspaper pasted over the cracks to exclude every gleam of day. +Overhead yawned a huge, dusty skylight, to make way for which a +fine old painted ceiling had been ruthlessly knocked away. On the +walls were pinned and pasted all sorts of rough sketches and +studies in color and crayon. In one corner lolled a +despondent-looking lay-figure in a moth-eaten Spanish cloak; in +another lay a heap of plaster-casts, gigantic hands and feet, +broken-nosed masks of the Apollo, the Laocoon, the Hercules +Farnese, and other foreigners of distinction. Upon the +chimney-piece were displayed a pair of foils, a lute, a skull, an +antique German drinking-mug, and several very modern empty bottles. +In the middle of the room stood two large easels, a divan, a round +table, and three or four chairs; while the floor was thickly strewn +with empty color-tubes, bits of painting-rag, corks, cigar-ends, +and all kinds of miscellaneous litter.</p> +<p>All these things I had observed as I passed in; for this, be it +remembered, was my first visit to Müller in his own +territory.</p> +<p>I heard him go through the studio and close the door behind him, +and then I heard him open the door upon the public staircase. +Presently he came back, shutting the door behind him as before.</p> +<p>"My dear fellow," he exclaimed, breathlessly, "you have brought +luck with you! What do you think? A sitter--positively, a sitter! +Wants to be sketched in at once--<i>Vive la France</i>!"</p> +<p>"Man or woman? Young or old? Plain or pretty?"</p> +<p>"Elderly half-length, feminine gender--Madame Tapotte. They are +both there, Monsieur and Madame Excellent couple--redolent of the +country--husband bucolic, adipose, auriferous--wife arrayed in all +her glory, like the Queen of Sheba. I left them in the Salle +d'Attente--told them I had a sitter--time immensely +occupied--half-lengths furiously in demand ... <i>Will</i> you +oblige me by performing the part for a few minutes, just to carry +out the idea?"</p> +<p>"What part?"</p> +<p>"The part of sitter."</p> +<p>"Oh, with pleasure," I replied, laughing. "Do with me what you +please,"</p> +<p>"You don't mind? Come! you are the best fellow in the world. +Now, if you'll sit in that arm-chair facing the light--head a +little thrown back, arms folded, chin up ... Capital! You don't +know what an effect this will have upon the provincial mind!"</p> +<p>"But you're not going to let them in! You have no portrait of me +to be at work upon!"</p> +<p>"My dear fellow, I've dozens of half-finished studies, any one +of which will answer the purpose. <i>Voilà</i>! here is the +very thing."</p> +<p>And snatching up a canvas that had been standing till now with +its face to the wall, he flourished it triumphantly before my eyes, +and placed it on the easel.</p> +<p>"Heavens and earth!" I exclaimed, "that's a copy of the Titian +in the Louvre--the 'Young Man with the Glove!'"</p> +<p>"What of that? Our Tapottes will never find out the difference. +By the way, I told them you were a great English Milord, so please +keep up the character."</p> +<p>"I will try to do credit to the peerage."</p> +<p>"And if you would not mind throwing in a word of English every +now and then ... a little Goddam, for instance.. . Eh?"</p> +<p>I laughed and shook my head.</p> +<p>"I will pose for you as Milord with all the pleasure in life," I +said; "only I cannot undertake to pose for the traditional Milord +of the Bouffes Parisiens! However, I will speak some English, and, +if you like, I'll know no French."</p> +<p>"No, no--<i>diable</i>! you must know a little, or I can't +exchange a word with you. But very little--the less the better. And +now I'll let them in."</p> +<p>They came; Madame first--tall, buxom, large-featured, +fresh-colored, radiant in flowers, lace, and Palais Royal jewelry; +then Monsieur--short, fat, bald, rosy and smiling, with a huge +frill to his shirt-front and a nankeen waistcoat.</p> +<p>Müller introduced them with much ceremony and many +apologies.</p> +<p>"Permit me, milord," he said, "to present Monsieur and Madame +Tapotte--Monsieur and Madame Tapotte; Milord Smithfield."</p> +<p>I rose and bowed with the gravity becoming my rank.</p> +<p>"I have explained to milord," continued Müller, addressing +himself partly to the new-comers, partly to me, and chiefly to the +study on the easel, "that having no second room in which to invite +Monsieur and Madame to repose themselves, I am compelled to ask +them into the studio--where, however, his lordship is so very kind +as to say that they are welcome." (Hereupon Madame Tapotte curtsied +again, and Monsieur ducked his bald head, and I returned their +salutations with the same dignity as before.) "If Monsieur and +Madame will be pleased to take seats, however, his lordship's +sitting will be ended in about ten minutes. <i>Mille pardons</i>, +the face, milord, a little more to the right. Thank you--thank you +very much. And if you will do me the favor to look at me ... for +the expression of the eye--just so--thank you! A most important +point, milord, is the expression of the eye. When I say the +expression, I mean the fire, the sparkle, the liquidity ... +<i>enfin</i> the expression!"</p> +<p>Here he affected to put in some touches with immense +delicacy--then retreated a couple of yards, the better to +contemplate his work--pursed up his mouth--ran his fingers through +his hair--shaded his eyes with his hand--went back and put in +another touch--again retreated--again put in a touch; and so on +some three or four times successively.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Monsieur and Madame Tapotte were fidgeting upon their +chairs in respectful silence. Every now and then they exchanged +glances of wonder and admiration. They were evidently dying to +compare my august features with my portrait, but dared not take the +liberty of rising. At length the lady's curiosity could hold out no +longer.</p> +<p>"<i>Ah, mon Dieu</i>!" she said; "but it must be very fatiguing +to sit so long in the same position. And to paint.... <i>Oiel!</i> +what practice! what perseverance! what patience! <i>Avec +permission</i>, M'sieur..."</p> +<p>And with this she sidled up to Müller's elbow, leaving +Monsieur Tapotte thunderstruck at her audacity.</p> +<p>Then for a moment she stood silent; but during that moment the +eager, apologetic smile vanished suddenly out of her face, and was +succeeded by an expression of blank disappointment.</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens</i>!" she said bluntly. "I don't see one bit of +likeness."</p> +<p>I turned hot from head to foot, but Müller's serene +effrontery was equal to the occasion.</p> +<p>"I dare say not, Madame," he replied, coolly. "I dare say not. +This portrait is not intended to be like."</p> +<p>Madame Tapotte's eyes and mouth opened simultaneously.</p> +<p>"<i>Comment</i>!" she exclaimed.</p> +<p>"I should be extremely sorry," continued Müller, loftily, +"and his lordship would be extremely sorry, if there were too much +resemblance."</p> +<p>"But a--a likeness--it seems to me, should at all events +be--like," stammered Madame Tapotte, utterly bewildered.</p> +<p>"And if M'sieur is to paint my wife," added Monsieur Tapotte, +who had by this time joined the group at the easel, +"I--I...<i>Dame</i>! it must be a good deal more like than +this."</p> +<p>Müller drew himself up with an air of great dignity.</p> +<p>"Sir," he said, "if Madame does me the honor to sit to me for +her portrait--for her <i>own</i> portrait, observe--I flatter +myself the resemblance will be overwhelming. But you must permit me +to inform you that Milord Smithfield is not sitting for his own +portrait."</p> +<p>The Tapottes looked at each other in a state bordering on +stupefaction.</p> +<p>"His lordship," continued Müller, "is sitting for the +portrait of one of his illustrious ancestors--a nobleman of the +period of Queen Elizabeth."</p> +<p>Tapotte <i>mari</i> scratched his head, and smiled feebly.</p> +<p>"<i>Parbleu</i>!" said he, "<i>mais c'est bien drôle, +ça</i>!"</p> +<p>The artist shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>"It so happens," said he, "that his lordship's gallery at +Smithfield Castle has unhappily been more than half destroyed by +fire. Two centuries of family portraits reduced to ashes! Terrible +misfortune! Only one way of repairing the loss--that is of +partially repairing it. I do my best. I read the family records--I +study the history of the period--his lordship sits to me daily--I +endeavor to give a certain amount of family likeness; sometimes +more, you observe, sometimes less ... enormous responsibility, +Monsieur Tapotte!"</p> +<p>"Oh, enormous!"</p> +<p>"The taste for family portraits," continued Müller, still +touching up the Titian, "is a very natural one--and is on the +increase. Many gentlemen of--of somewhat recent wealth, come to me +for their ancestors."</p> +<p>"No!"</p> +<p>"<i>Foi d'honneur</i>. Few persons, however, are as +conscientious as his lordship in the matter of family resemblance. +They mostly buy up their forefathers ready-made--adopt them, +christen them, and ask no questions."</p> +<p>Monsieur and Madame Tapotte exchanged glances.</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens, mon ami</i>, why should we not have an ancestor or +two, as well as other folks," suggested the lady, in a very audible +whisper.</p> +<p>Monsieur shook his head, and muttered something about the +expense.</p> +<br> +<p>"There is no harm, at all events," urged madame, "in asking the +price."</p> +<p>"My charge for gallery portraits, madame, varies from sixty to a +hundred francs," said Müller.</p> +<p>"Heavens! how dear! Why, my own portrait is to be only +fifty."</p> +<p>"Sixty, Madame, if we put in the hands and the jewelry," said +Müller, blandly.</p> +<p>"<i>Eh bien</i>!--sixty. But for these other things.... bah! +<i>ils sont fierement chers</i>."</p> +<p>"<i>Pardon</i>, madame! The elegancies and superfluities of life +are, by a just rule of political economy, expensive. It is right +that they should be so; as it is right that the necessaries of life +should be within the reach of the poorest. Bread, for instance, is +strictly necessary, and should be cheap. A great-grandfather, on +the contrary, is an elegant superfluity, and may be put up at a +high figure."</p> +<p>"There is some truth in that," murmured Monsieur Tapotte.</p> +<p>"Besides, in the present instance, one also pays for +antiquity."</p> +<p>"<i>C'est juste--C'est juste</i>."</p> +<p>"At the same time," continued Müller, "if Monsieur Tapotte +were to honor me with a commission for, say, half a dozen family +portraits, I would endeavor to put them in at forty francs +apiece--including, at that very low price, a Revolutionary Deputy, +a beauty of the Louis Quinze period, and a Marshal of France."</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens</i>! that's a fair offer enough," said madame. "What +say you, <i>mon ami</i>?"</p> +<p>But Monsieur Tapotte, being a cautious man, would say nothing +hastily. He coughed, looked doubtful, declined to commit himself to +an opinion, and presently drew off into a corner for the purpose of +holding a whispered consultation with his wife.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Müller laid aside his brushes and palette, +informed me with a profound bow that my lordship had honored him by +sitting as long as was strictly necessary, and requested my opinion +upon the progress of the work.</p> +<p>I praised it rapturously. You would have thought, to hear me, +that for drawing, breadth, finish, color, composition, chiaroscuro, +and every other merit that a painting could possess, this +particular <i>chef-d'oeuvre</i> excelled all the masterpieces of +Europe.</p> +<p>Müller bowed, and bowed, and bowed, like a Chinaman at a +visit of ceremony; He was more than proud; he was overwhelmed, +<i>accablé</i>, et caetera, et caetera.</p> +<p>The Tapottes left off whispering, and listened breathlessly.</p> +<p>"He is evidently a great painter, <i>not' jeune homme</i>!" said +Madame in one of her large whispers.</p> +<p>To which Monsieur replied as audibly:--"<i>Ça se voit, ma +femme--sacre nom d'une pipe</i>!"</p> +<p>"Milford will do me the favor to sit again on Friday?" said +Müller, as I took up my hat and gloves.</p> +<p>I replied with infinite condescension that I would endeavor to +do so. I then made the stiffest of stiff bows to the excellent +Tapottes, and, ushered to the door by Müller, took my +departure majestically in the character of Lord Smithfield.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII."></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> +<h3>THE QUARTIER LATIN.</h3> +<br> +<p>The dear old Quartier Latin of my time--the Quartier Latin of +Balzac, of Béranger, of Henry Murger---the Quartier Latin +where Franz Müller had his studio; where Messieurs Gustave; +Jules, and Adrien gave their unparalleled <i>soirées +dansantes</i>; where I first met my ex-flame Josephine--exists no +longer. It has been improved off the face of the earth, and with it +such a gay bizarre, improvident world of youth and folly as shall +never again be met together on the banks of the Seine.</p> +<p>Ah me! how well I remember that dingy, delightful Arcadia--the +Rue de la Vieille Boucherie, narrow, noisy, crowded, with +projecting upper stories and Gothic pent-house roofs--the Rue de la +Parcheminerie, unchanged since the Middle Ages--the Rue St. +Jacques, steep, interminable, dilapidated; with its dingy cabarets, +its brasseries, its cheap restaurants, its grimy shop windows +filled with colored prints, with cooked meats, with tobacco, old +books, and old clothes; its ancient colleges and hospitals, +time-worn and weather-beaten, frowning down upon the busy +thoroughfare and breaking the squalid line of shops; its grim old +hotels swarming with lodgers, floor above floor, from the cobblers +in the cellars to the grisettes in the attics! Then again, the +gloomy old Place St. Michel, its abundant fountain ever flowing, +ever surrounded by water-carts and water-carriers, by women with +pails, and bare-footed street urchins, and thirsty drovers drinking +out of iron cups chained to the wall. And then, too, the Rue de la +Harpe....</p> +<p>I close my eyes, and the strange, precipitous, picturesque, +decrepit old street, with its busy, surging crowd, its +street-cries, its street-music, and its indescribable union of +gloom and gayety, rises from its ashes. Here, grand old dilapidated +mansions with shattered stone-carvings, delicate wrought-iron +balconies all rust-eaten and broken, and windows in which every +other pane is cracked or patched, alternate with more modern but +still more ruinous houses, some leaning this way, some that, some +with bulging upper stories, some with doorways sunk below the level +of the pavement. Yonder, gloomy and grim, stands the College of +Saint Louis. Dark alleys open off here and there from the main +thoroughfare, and narrow side streets, steep as flights of steps. +Low sheds and open stalls cling, limpet-like, to every available +nook and corner. An endless procession of trucks, wagons, +water-carts, and fiacres rumbles perpetually by. Here people live +at their windows and in the doorways--the women talking from +balcony to balcony, the men smoking, reading, playing at dominoes. +Here too are more cafés and cabarets, open-air stalls for +the sale of fried fish, and cheap restaurants for workmen and +students, where, for a sum equivalent to sevenpence half-penny +English, the Quartier Latin regales itself upon meats and drinks of +dark and enigmatical origin. Close at hand is the Place and College +of the Sorbonne--silent in the midst of noisy life, solitary in the +heart of the most crowded quarter of Paris. A sombre mediæval +gloom pervades that ancient quadrangle; scant tufts of sickly grass +grow here and there in the interstices of the pavement; the dust of +centuries crust those long rows of windows never opened. A little +further on is the Rue des Grès, narrow, crowded, +picturesque, one uninterrupted perspective of bookstalls and +bookshops from end to end. Here the bookseller occasionally pursues +a two-fold calling, and retails not only literature but a cellar of +<i>petit vin bleu</i>; and here, overnight, the thirsty student +exchanges for a bottle of Macon the "Code Civile" that he must +perforce buy back again at second-hand in the morning.</p> +<p>A little farther on, and we come to the College Saint Louis, +once the old College Narbonne; and yet a few yards more, and we are +at the doors of the Theatre du Pantheon, once upon a time the +Church of St. Bénoit, where the stage occupies the site of +the altar, and an orchestra stall in what was once the nave, may be +had for seventy-five centimes. Here, too, might be seen the shop of +the immortal Lesage, renowned throughout the Quartier for the +manufacture of a certain kind of transcendental ham-patty, +peculiarly beloved by student and grisette; and here, clustering +within a stone's throw of each other, were to be found those famous +restaurants, Pompon, Viot, Flicoteaux, and the "Boeuf +Enragé," where, on gala days, many an Alphonse and Fifine, +many a Théophile and Cerisette, were wont to hold high feast +and festival--terms sevenpence half-penny each, bread at +discretion, water gratis, wine and toothpicks extra.</p> +<p>But it was in the side streets, courts, and <i>impasses</i> that +branched off to the left and right of the main arteries, that one +came upon the very heart of the old Pays Latin; for the Rue St. +Jacques, the Rue de la Harpe, the Rue des Grès, narrow, +steep, dilapidated though they might be, were in truth the leading +thoroughfares--the Boulevards, so to speak--of the Student +Quartier. In most of the side alleys, however, some of which dated +back as far, and farther, than the fifteenth century, there was no +footway for passengers, and barely space for one wheeled vehicle at +a time. A filthy gutter invariably flowed down the middle of the +street. The pavement, as it peeped out here and there through a +<i>moraine</i> of superimposed mud and offal, was seen to consist +of small oblong stones, like petrified kidney potatoes. The houses, +some leaning this way, some that, with projecting upper stories and +overhanging gable-roofs, nodded together overhead, leaving but a +narrow strip of sky down which the sunlight strove in vain to +struggle. Long poles upon which were suspended old clothes hung out +to air, and ragged linen to dry, stood out like tattered banners +from the attic windows. Here, too, every ground-floor was a shop, +open, unglazed, cavernous, where the dealer lay <i>perdu</i> in the +gloom of midday, like a spider in the midst of his web, surrounded +by piles of old bottles, old iron, old clothes, old furniture, or +whatever else his stock in trade might consist of.</p> +<p>Of such streets--less like streets, indeed, than narrow, +overhanging gorges and ravines of damp and mouldering stone--of +such streets, I say, intricate, winding, ill-lighted, unventilated, +pervaded by an atmosphere compounded of the fumes of fried fish, +tobacco, old leather, mildew and dirt, there were hundreds in the +Quartier Latin of my time:--streets to the last degree unattractive +as places of human habitation, but rich, nevertheless, in historic +associations, in picturesque detail, and in archaeological +interest. Such a street, for instance, was the Rue du Fouarre +(scarcely a feature of which has been modernized to this day), +where Dante, when a student of theology in Paris, attended the +lectures of one Sigebert, a learned monk of Gemblours, who +discoursed to his scholars in the open air, they sitting round him +the while upon fresh straw strewn upon the pavement. Such a street +was the Rue des Cordiers, close adjoining the Rue des Grès, +where Rousseau lived and wrote; and the Rue du Dragon, where might +then be seen the house of Bernard Palissy; and the Rue des +Maçons, where Racine lived; and the Rue des Marais, where +Adrienne Lecouvreur--poor, beautiful, generous, ill-fated Adrienne +Lecouvreur!--died. Here, too, in a blind alley opening off the Rue +St. Jacques, yet stands part of that Carmelite Convent in which, +for thirty years, Madame de la Vallière expiated the +solitary frailty of her life. And so at every turn! Not a gloomy +by-street, not a dilapidated fountain, not a grim old college +façade but had its history, or its legend. Here the voice of +Abelard thundered new truths, and Rabelais jested, and Petrarch +discoursed with the doctors. Here, in the Rue de l'Ancienne +Comédie, walked the shades of Racine, of Molière, of +Corneille, of Voltaire. Dear, venerable, immortal old Quartier +Latin! Thy streets were narrow, but they were the arteries through +which, century after century, circulated all the wisdom and poetry, +all the art, and science, and learning of France! Their gloom, +their squalor, their very dirt was sacred. Could I have had my +will, not a stone of the old place should have been touched, not a +pavement widened, not a landmark effaced.</p> +<p>Then beside, yet not apart from, all that was mediæval and +historic in the Pays Latin, ran the gay, effervescent, laughing +current of the life of the <i>jeunessed' aujour d'hui.</i> Here +beat the very heart of that rare, that immortal, that unparalleled +<i>vie de Bohème</i>, the vagabond poetry of which possesses +such an inexhaustible charm for even the soberest imagination. What +brick and mortar idylls, what romances <i>au cinquième</i>, +what joyous epithalamiums, what gay improvident +<i>ménages</i>, what kisses, what laughter, what tears, what +lightly-spoken and lightly-broken vows those old walls could have +told of!</p> +<p>Here, apparelled in all sorts of unimaginable tailoring, in +jaunty colored cap or flapped sombrero, his pipe dangling from his +button-hole, his hair and beard displaying every eccentricity under +heaven, the Paris student, the <i>Pays Latiniste pur sang</i>, +lived and had his being. Poring over the bookstalls in the Place du +Panthéon or the Rue des Grès--hurrying along towards +this or that college with a huge volume under each arm, about nine +o'clock in the morning--haunting the cafés at midday and the +restaurants at six--swinging his legs out of upper windows and +smoking in his shirt-sleeves in the summer evenings--crowding the +pit of the Odéon and every part of the Theatre du +Panthéon--playing wind instruments at dead of night to the +torment of his neighbors, or, in vocal mood, traversing the +Quartier with a society of musical friends about the small hours of +the morning--getting into scuffles with the gendarmes--flirting, +dancing, playing billiards and the deuce; falling in love and in +debt; dividing his time between Aristotle and Mademoiselle Mimi +Pinson ... here, and here only, in all his phases, at every hour of +the day and night, he swarmed, ubiquitous.</p> +<p>And here, too (a necessary sequence), flourished the fair and +frail grisette. Her race, alas! is now all but extinct--the race of +Frétillon, of Francine, of Lisette, Musette, Rosette, and +all the rest of that too fascinating terminology--the race +immortalized again and again by Béranger, Gavarni, Balzac, +De Musset; sketched by a hundred pencils and described by a hundred +pens; celebrated in all manner of metres and set to all manner of +melodies; now caricatured and now canonized; now painted wholly +<i>en noir</i> and now all <i>couleur de rose</i>; yet, however +often described, however skilfully analyzed, remaining for ever +indescribable, and for ever defying analysis!</p> +<p>"De tous les produits Parisiens," says Monsieur Jules Janin +(himself the quintessence of everything most Parisian), "le produit +le plus Parisien, sans contredit, c'est la grisette." True; but our +epigrammatist should have gone a step farther. He should have added +that the grisette <i>pur sang</i> is to be found nowhere except in +Paris; and (still a step farther) nowhere in Paris save between the +Pont Neuf and the Barrière d'Enfer. There she reigns; there +(ah! let me use the delicious present tense--let me believe that I +still live in Arcadia!)--there she lights up the old streets with +her smile; makes the old walls ring with her laughter; flits over +the crossings like a fairy; wears the most coquettish of little +caps and the daintiest of little shoes; rises to her work with the +dawn; keeps a pet canary; trains a nasturtium round her window; +loves as heartily as she laughs, and almost as readily; owes not a +sou, saves not a centime; sews on Adolphe's buttons, like a good +neighbor; is never so happy as when Adolphe in return takes her to +Tivoli or the Jardin Turc; adores <i>galette, sucre d'orge</i>, and +Frederick Lemaître; and looks upon a masked ball and a +debardeur dress as the summit of human felicity.</p> +<p><i>Vive la grisette</i>! Shall I not follow many an illustrious +example and sing my modest paean in her praise? Frown not, august +Britannia! Look not so severely askance upon my poor little heroine +of the Quartier Latin! Thinkest thou because thou art so eminently +virtuous that she who has many a serviceable virtue of her own, +shall be debarred from her share in this world's cakes and ale?</p> +<p><i>Vive la grisette</i>! Let us think and speak no evil of her. +"Elle ne tient au vice que par un rayon, et s'en éloigne par +les mille autres points de la circonference sociale." The world +sees only her follies, and sees them at first sight; her good +qualities lie hidden in the shade. Is she not busy as a bee, joyous +as a lark, helpful, pitiful, unselfish, industrious, contented? How +often has she not slipped her last coin into the alms-box at the +hospital gate, and gone supperless to bed? How often sat up all +night, after a long day's toil in a crowded work-room, to nurse +Victorine in the fever? How often pawned her Sunday gown and shawl, +to redeem that coat without which Adolphe cannot appear before the +examiners to-morrow morning? Granted, if you will, that she has an +insatiable appetite for sweets, cigarettes, and theatrical +admissions--shall she not be welcome to her tastes? And is it her +fault if her capacity in the way of miscellaneous refreshments +partakes of the nature of the miraculous--somewhat to the +inconvenience of Adolphe, who has overspent his allowance? +Supposing even that she may now and then indulge (among friends) in +a very modified can-can at the Chaumière--what does that +prove, except that her heels are as light as her heart, and that +her early education has been somewhat neglected?</p> +<p>But I am writing of a world that has vanished as completely as +the lost Pleiad. The Quartier Latin of my time is no more. The +Chaumière is no more. The grisette is fast dying out. Of the +Rue de la Harpe not a recognisable feature is left. The old Place +St. Michel, the fountain, the Theatre du Panthéon, are gone +as if they had never been. Whole streets, I might say whole +parishes, have been swept away--whole chapters of mediæval +history erased for ever.</p> +<p>Well, I love to close my eyes from time to time, and evoke the +dear old haunts from their ruins; to descend once more the perilous +steeps of the Rue St. Jacques, and to thread the labyrinthine +by-streets that surround the École de Médecine. I see +them all so plainly! I look in at the familiar print-shops--I meet +many a long-forgotten face--I hear many a long-forgotten voice--I +am twenty years of age and a student again!</p> +<p>Ah me! what a pleasant time, and what a land of enchantment! +Dingy, dilapidated, decrepit as it was, that graceless old Quartier +Latin, believe me, was paved with roses and lighted with laughing +gas.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV."></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> +<h3>THE FETE AT COURBEVOIE.</h3> +<br> +<p>"<i>Halte là</i>! I thought I should catch you about this +time! They've been giving you unconscionable good measure to-day, +though, haven't they? I thought Bollinet's lecture was always over +by three; and here I've been moralizing on the flight of Time for +more than twenty minutes."</p> +<p>So saying, Müller, having stopped me as I was coming down +the steps of the Hôtel Dieu, linked his arm in mine, drew me +into a shady angle under the lee of Notre Dame, and, without +leaving me time to reply, went on pouring out his light, eager +chatter as readily as a mountain-spring bubbles out its waters.</p> +<p>"I thought you'd like to know about the Tapottes, you see--and I +was dying to tell you. I went to your rooms last night between +eight and nine, and you were out; so I thought the only sure way +was to come here--I know you never miss Bollinet's Lectures. Well, +as I was saying, the Tapottes.... Oh, <i>mon cher</i>! I am your +debtor for life in that matter of Milord Smithfield. It has been +the making of me. What do you think? Tapotte is not only going to +sit for a companion half-length to Madame's portrait, but he has +given me a commission for half-a-dozen ancestors. +Fancy--half-a-dozen illustrious dead-and-done Tapottes! What a +scope for the imagination! What a bewildering vista of <i>billets +de banque</i>! I feel--ah, <i>mon ami</i>! I feel that the wildest +visions of my youth are about to be realized, and that I shall see +my tailor's bill receipted before I die!"</p> +<p>"I'm delighted," said I, "that Tapotte has turned up a trump +card."</p> +<p>"A trump card? Say a California--a Pactolus--a Golden Calf. Nay, +hath not Tapotte two golden calves? Is he not of the precious metal +all compact? Stands he not, in the amiable ripeness of his years, a +living representative of the Golden Age? <i>'O bella età +dell' oro</i>!'"</p> +<p>And to my horror, he then and there executed a frantic <i>pas +seul</i>.</p> +<p>"Gracious powers!" I exclaimed. "Are you mad?"</p> +<p>"Yes--raving mad. Have you any objection?"</p> +<p>"But, my dear fellow--in the face of day--in the streets of +Paris! We shall get taken up by the police!"</p> +<p>"Then suppose we get out of the streets of Paris? I'm tired +enough, Heaven knows, of cultivating the arid soil of the +Pavé. See, it's a glorious afternoon. Let's go +somewhere."</p> +<p>"With all my heart. Where?"</p> +<p>"<i>Ah, mon Dieu! ça m'est égal</i>. +Enghien--Vincennes--St. Cloud--Versailles ... anywhere you like. +Most probably there's a fête going on somewhere, if we only +knew where,"</p> +<p>"Can't we find out?"</p> +<p>"Oh, yes--we can drop into a Café and look at the +<i>Petites Affiches</i>; only that entails an absinthe; or we can +go into the nearest Omnibus Bureau and see the notices on the +walls, which will be cheaper."</p> +<p>So we threaded our way along the narrow thoroughfares of the Ile +de la Cité, and came presently to an Omnibus Bureau on the +Quai de l'Horloge, overlooking the Pont Neuf and the river. Here +the first thing we saw was a flaming placard setting forth the +pleasures and attractions of the great annual fête at +Courbevoie; a village on the banks of the Seine, a mile or two +beyond Neuilly.</p> +<p>"<i>Voilà, notre affaire</i>!" said Müller, gaily. +"We can't do better than steer straight for Courbevoie."</p> +<p>Saying which, he hailed a passing fiacre and bade the coachman +drive to the Embarcadère of the Rive Droite.</p> +<p>"We shall amuse ourselves famously at Courbevoie," he said, as +we rattled over the stones. "We'll dine at the Toison d'Or--an +excellent little restaurant overlooking the river; and if you're +fond of angling, we can hire a punt and catch our own fish for +dinner. Then there will be plenty of fiddling and dancing at the +guingettes and gardens in the evening. By the way, though, I've no +money! That is to say, none worth speaking +of--<i>voilà!</i>... one franc, one piece of fifty centimes, +another of twenty centimes, and some sous. I hope your pockets are +better lined than mine."</p> +<p>"Not much, I fear," I replied, pulling out my porte-monnaie, and +emptying the contents into my hand. They amounted to nine francs +and seventy-five centimes.</p> +<p>"<i>Parbleu</i>! we've just eleven francs and a half between +us," said Müller. "A modest sum-total; but we must make it as +elastic as we can. Let me see, there'll be a franc for the fiacre, +four francs for our return tickets, four for our dinner, and two +and a half to spend as we like in the fair. Well, we can't commit +any great extravagance with that amount of floating capital."</p> +<p>"Better turn back and go to my rooms for some more money?" I +exclaimed. "I've two Napoleons in my desk."</p> +<p>"No, no--we should miss the three-fifty train, and not get +another till between five and six."</p> +<p>"But we shall have no fun if we have no money!"</p> +<p>"I dissent entirely from that proposition, Monsieur Englishman. +I have always had plenty of fun, and I have been short of cash +since the hour of my birth. Come, it shall be my proud task to-day +to prove to you the pleasures of impecuniosity!"</p> +<p>So with our eleven francs and a half we went on to the station, +and took our places for Courbevoie.</p> +<p>We travelled, of course, by third class in the open wagons; and +it so happened that in our compartment we had the company of three +pretty little chattering grisettes, a fat countrywoman with a +basket, and a quiet-looking elderly female with her niece. These +last wore bonnets, and some kind of slight mourning. They belonged +evidently to the small bourgeoise class, and sat very quietly in +the corner of the carriage, speaking to no one. The three +grisettes, however, kept up an incessant fire of small talk and +squabble.</p> +<p>"I was on this very line last Sunday," said one. "I went with +Julie to Asnières, and we were so gay! I wonder if it will +be very gay at Courbevoie."</p> +<p>"<i>Je m'en doute</i>," replied another, whom they called +Lolotte. "I came to one of the Courbevoie fêtes last spring, +and it was not gay at all. But then, to be sure, I was with +Edouard, and he is as dull as the first day in Lent. Where were you +last Sunday, Adéle?"</p> +<p>"I did not go beyond the barriers. I went to the Cirque with my +cousin, and we dined in the Palais Royal. We enjoyed ourselves so +much! You know my cousin?"</p> +<p>"Ah! yes--the little fellow with the curly hair and the +whiskers, who waits for you at the corner when we leave the +workshop."</p> +<p>"The same--Achille."</p> +<p>"Your Achille is nice-looking," said Mademoiselle Lolotte, with +a somewhat critical air. "It is a pity he squints."</p> +<p>"He does not squint, mam'selle."</p> +<p>"Oh, <i>ma chère</i>! I appeal to Caroline."</p> +<p>"I am not sure that he actually squints," said Mam'selle +Caroline, speaking for the first time; "but he certainly has one +eye larger than the other, and of quite a different color."</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens</i>, Caroline--it seems to me that you look very +closely into the eyes of young men," exclaims Adèle, turning +sharply upon this new assailant.</p> +<p>"At all events you admit that Caroline is right," cries Lolotte, +triumphantly.</p> +<p>"I admit nothing of the kind. I say that you are both very +ill-natured, and that you say what is not true. As for you, +Lolotte, I don't believe you ever had the chance of seeing a young +man's eyes turned upon you, or you would not be so pleased with the +attentions of an old one."</p> +<p>"An <i>old</i> one!" shrieked Mam'selle Lolotte. "Ah, <i>mon +Dieu</i>! Is a man old at forty-seven? Monsieur Durand is in the +prime of life, and there isn't a girl in the Quartier who would not +be proud of his attentions!"</p> +<p>"He's sixty, if an hour," said the injured Adèle. "And as +for you, Caroline, who have never had a beau in your life...."</p> +<p>"<i>Ciel</i>! what a calumny!--I--never had a ... Holy Saint +Geneviève! why, it was only last Thursday week...."</p> +<p>Here the train stopped at the Asnières station, and two +privates of the Garde Impériale got into the carriage. The +horizon cleared as if by magic. The grisettes suddenly forgot their +differences, and began to chat quite amicably. The soldiers twirled +their mustachios, listened, smiled, and essayed to join in the +conversation. In a few minutes all was mirth and flirtation.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Müller was casting admiring glances on the young +girl in the corner, whilst the fat countrywoman, pursing up her +mouth, and watching the grisettes and soldiers, looked the image of +offended virtue.</p> +<p>"Dame! Madame," she said, addressing herself to the old lady in +the bonnet, "girls usen't to be so forward in the days when you and +I were young!"</p> +<p>To which the old lady in the bonnet, blandly smiling, +replied:--</p> +<p>"Beautiful, for the time of year."</p> +<p>"Eh? For the time of year? Dame! I don't see that the time of +year has anything to do with it," exclaimed the fat +countrywoman.</p> +<p>Here the young girl in the corner, blushing and smiling very +sweetly, interposed with--"Pardon, Madame--my aunt is somewhat +deaf. Pray, excuse her."</p> +<p>Whereupon the old lady, watching the motion of her niece's lips, +added--</p> +<p>"Ah, yes--yes! I am a poor, deaf old woman--I don't understand +what you say. Talk to my little Marie, here--she can answer +you."</p> +<p>"I, for one, desire nothing better than permission to talk to +Mademoiselle," said Müller, gallantly.</p> +<p><i>"Mais, Monsieur</i>..."</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle, with Madame her aunt, are going to the fête +at Courbevoie?"</p> +<p>"Yes, Monsieur."</p> +<p>"The river is very pretty thereabouts, and the walks through the +meadows are delightful."</p> +<p>"Indeed, Monsieur!"</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle does not know the place?"</p> +<p>"No, Monsieur."</p> +<p>"Ah, if I might only be permitted to act as guide! I know every +foot of the ground about Courbevoie."</p> +<p>Mademoiselle Marie blushed again, looked down, and made no +reply.</p> +<p>"I am a painter," continued Müller; "and I have sketched +all the windings of the Seine from Neuilly to St. Germains. My +friend here is English--he is a student of medicine, and speaks +excellent French."</p> +<p>"What is the gentleman saying, <i>mon enfant</i>?" asked the old +lady, somewhat anxiously.</p> +<p>"Monsieur says that the river is very pretty about Courbevoie, +<i>ma tante</i>," replied Mademoiselle Marie, raising her +voice.</p> +<p>"Ah! ah! and what else?"</p> +<p>"Monsieur is a painter."</p> +<p>"A painter? Ah, dear me! it's an unhealthy occupation. My poor +brother Pierre might have been alive to this day if he had taken to +any other line of business! You must take great care of your lungs, +young man. You look delicate."</p> +<p>Müller laughed, shook his head, and declared at the top of +his voice that he had never had a day's illness in his life.</p> +<p>Here the pretty niece again interposed.</p> +<p>"Ah, Monsieur," she said, "my aunt does not understand....My--my +uncle Pierre was a house-painter."</p> +<p>"A very respectable occupation, Mademoiselle," replied +Müller, politely. "For my own part, I would sooner paint the +insides of some houses than the outsides of some people."</p> +<p>At this moment the train began to slacken pace, and the steam +was let off with a demoniac shriek.</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens, mon enfant</i>," said the old lady, turning towards +her niece with affectionate anxiety. "I hope you have not taken +cold."</p> +<p>The excellent soul believed that it was Mademoiselle Marie who +sneezed.</p> +<p>And now the train had stopped--the porters were running along +the platform, shouting "Courbevoie! Courbevoie!"--the passengers +were scrambling out <i>en masse</i>--and beyond the barrier one saw +a confused crowd of <i>charrette</i> and omnibus-drivers, touters, +fruit-sellers, and idlers of every description. Müller handed +out the old lady and the niece; the fat countrywoman scrambled up +into a kind of tumbril driven by a boy in <i>sabots</i>; the +grisettes and soldiers walked off together; and the tide of +holiday-makers, some on foot, some in hired vehicles, set towards +the village. In the meanwhile, what with the crowd on the platform +and the crowd outside the barrier, and what with the hustling and +pushing at the point where the tickets were taken, we lost sight of +the old lady and her niece.</p> +<p>"What the deuce has become of <i>ma tante</i>?" exclaimed +Müller, looking round.</p> +<p>But neither <i>ma tante</i> nor Mademoiselle Marie were anywhere +to be seen. I suggested that they must have gone on in the omnibus +or taken a <i>charrette</i>, and so have passed us unperceived.</p> +<p>"And, after all," I added, "we didn't want to enter upon an +indissoluble union with them for the rest of the day. <i>Ma +tante's</i> deafness is not entertaining, and <i>la petite</i> +Marie has nothing to say."</p> +<p>"<i>La petite</i> Marie is uncommonly pretty, though," said +Müller. "I mean to dance a quadrille with her by-and-by, I +promise you."</p> +<p>"<i>A la bonne heure</i>! We shall be sure to chance upon them +again before long."</p> +<p>We had come by this time to a group of pretty villa-residences +with high garden walls and little shady side-lanes leading down to +the river. Then came a church and more houses; then an open Place; +and suddenly we found ourselves in the midst of the fair.</p> +<p>It was just like any other of the hundred and one fêtes +that take place every summer in the environs of Paris. There was a +merry-go-round and a greasy pole; there was a juggler who swallowed +knives and ribbons; there were fortune-tellers without number; +there were dining-booths, and drinking-booths, and dancing-booths; +there were acrobats, organ-boys with monkeys, and Savoyards with +white mice; there were stalls for the sale of cakes, fruit, +sweetmeats, toys, combs, cheap jewelry, glass, crockery, boots and +shoes, holy-water vessels, rosaries, medals, and little colored +prints of saints and martyrs; there were brass bands, and string +bands, and ballad-singers everywhere; and there was an atmosphere +compounded of dust, tobacco-smoke, onions, musk, and every +objectionable perfume under heaven.</p> +<p>"Dine at the Restaurant de l'Empire, Messieurs," shouted a +shabby touter in a blouse, thrusting a greasy card into our faces. +"Three dishes, a dessert, a half-bottle, and a band of music, for +one franc-fifty. The cheapest dinner in the fair!"</p> +<p>"The cheapest dinner in the fair is at the Belle Gabrielle!" +cried another. "We'll give you for the same money soup, fish, two +dishes, a dessert, a half-bottle, and take your photograph into the +bargain!"</p> +<p>"Bravo! <i>mon vieux</i>--you first poison them with your +dinner, and then provide photographs for the widows and children," +retorts touter number one. "That's justice, anyhow."</p> +<p>Whereupon touter number two shrieks out a torrent of abuse, and +we push on, leaving them to settle their differences after their +own fashion.</p> +<p>At the next booth we are accosted by a burly fellow daubed to +the eyes with red and blue paint, and dressed as an Indian +chief.</p> +<p>"<i>Entrez, entrez, Messieurs et Mesdames</i>" he cries, +flourishing a war-spear some nine feet in length. "Come and see the +wonderful Peruvian maiden of Tanjore, with webbed fingers and toes, +her mouth in the back of her head, and her eyes in the soles of her +feet! Only four sous each, and an opportunity that will never occur +again!"</p> +<p>"Only fifty centimes!" shouts another public orator; "the most +ingenious little machine ever invented! Goes into the waistcoat +pocket--is wound up every twenty-four hours--tells the day of the +month, the day of the year, the age of the moon, the state of the +Bourse, the bank rate of discount, the quarter from which the wind +is blowing, the price of new-laid eggs in Paris and the provinces, +the rate of mortality in the Fee-jee islands, and the state of your +sweetheart's affections!"</p> +<p>A little further on, by dint of much elbowing, we made our way +into a crowded booth where, for the modest consideration of two +sous per head, might be seen a Boneless Youth and an Ashantee King. +The performances were half over when we went in. The Boneless Youth +had gone through his feats of agility, and was lying on a mat in a +corner of the stage, the picture of limp incapability. The Ashantee +monarch was just about to make his appearance. Meanwhile, a little +man in fleshings and a cocked hat addressed the audience.</p> +<p>"Messieurs and Mesdames--I have the honor to announce that +Caraba Radokala, King of Ashantee, will next appear before you. +This terrific native sovereign was taken captive by that famous +Dutch navigator, the Mynheer Van Dunk, in his last voyage round the +globe. Van Dunk, having brought his prisoner to Europe in an iron +cage, sold him to the English government in 1840; who sold him +again to Milord Barnum, the great American philanthropist, in 1842; +who sold him again to Franconi of the Cirque Olympique; who finally +sold him to me. At the time of his capture, Caraba Radokala was the +most treacherous, barbarous, and sanguinary monster upon record. He +had three hundred and sixty-five wives--a wife, you observe, for +every day in the year. He lived exclusively upon human flesh, and +consumed, when in good health, one baby per diem. His palace in +Ashantee was built entirely of the skulls and leg-bones of his +victims. He is now, however, much less ferocious; and, though he +feeds on live pigeons, rabbits, dogs, mice, and the like, he has +not tasted human flesh since his captivity. He is also heavily +ironed. The distinguished company need therefore entertain no +apprehensions. Pierre--draw the bolt, and let his majesty +loose!"</p> +<p>A savage roar was now heard, followed by a rattling of chains. +Then the curtains were suddenly drawn back, and the Ashantee +king--crowned with a feather head-dress, loaded with red and blue +war-paint, and chained from ankle to ankle--bounded on the +stage.</p> +<p>Seeing the audience before him, he uttered a terrific howl. The +front rows were visibly agitated. Several young women faintly +screamed.</p> +<p>The little man in the cocked hat rushed to the front, protesting +that the ladies had no reason to be alarmed. Caraba Radokala, if +not wantonly provoked, was now quite harmless--a little irritable, +perhaps, from being waked too suddenly--would be as gentle as a +lamb, if given something to eat:--"Pierre, quiet his majesty with a +pigeon!"</p> +<p>Pierre, a lank lad in motley, hereupon appeared with a live +pigeon, which immediately escaped from his hands and perched on the +top of the proscenium. Caraba Radokala yelled; the little man in +the cocked hat raved; and Pierre, in default of more pigeons, +contritely reappeared with a lump of raw beef, into which his +majesty ravenously dug his royal teeth. The pigeon, meanwhile, +dressed its feathers and looked complacently down, as if used to +the incident.</p> +<p>"Having fed, Caraba Radokala will now be quite gentle and +good-humored," said the showman. "If any lady desires to shake +hands with him, she may do so with perfect safety. Will any lady +embrace the opportunity?"</p> +<p>A faint sound of tittering was heard in various parts of the +booth; but no one came forward.</p> +<p>"Will <i>no</i> lady be persuaded? Well, then, is there any +gentleman present who speaks Ashantee?"</p> +<p>Müller gave me a dig with his elbow, and started to his +feet.</p> +<p>"Yes," he replied, loudly. "I do."</p> +<p>Every head was instantly turned in our direction.</p> +<p>The showman collapsed with astonishment. Even the captive, +despite his ignorance of the French tongue, looked considerably +startled.</p> +<p>"<i>Comment</i>!" stammered the cocked hat. "Monsieur speaks +Ashantee?"</p> +<p>"Fluently."</p> +<p>"Is it permitted to inquire how and when monsieur acquired this +very unusual accomplishment?"</p> +<p>"I have spoken Ashantee from my infancy," replied Müller, +with admirable aplomb. "I was born at sea, brought up in an +undiscovered island, twice kidnapped by hostile tribes before +attaining the age of ten years, and have lived among savage nations +all my life."</p> +<p>A murmur of admiration ran through the audience, and Müller +became, for the time, an object of livelier interest than Caraba +Radokala himself. Seeing this, the indignant monarch executed a +warlike <i>pas</i>, and rattled his chains fiercely.</p> +<p>"In that case, monsieur, you had better come upon the stage, and +speak to his majesty," said the showman reluctantly.</p> +<p>"With all the pleasure in life."</p> +<p>"But I warn you that his temper is uncertain."</p> +<p>"Bah!" said Müller, working his way round through the +crowd, "I'm not afraid of his temper."</p> +<p>"As monsieur pleases--but, if monsieur offends him, <i>I</i> +will not be answerable for the consequences."</p> +<p>"All right--give us a hand up, <i>mon vieux</i>!" And Muller, +having clambered upon the stage, made a bow to the audience and a +salaam to his majesty.</p> +<p>"Chickahominy chowdar bang," said he, by way of opening the +conversation.</p> +<p>The ex-king of Ashantee scowled, folded his arms, and maintained +a haughty silence.</p> +<p>"Hic hac horum, high cockalorum," continued Müller, with +exceeding suavity.</p> +<p>The captive monarch stamped impatiently, ground his teeth, but +still made no reply.</p> +<p>"Monsieur had better not aggravate him," said the showman. "On +the contrary--I am overwhelming him with civilities Now observe--I +condole with him upon his melancholy position. I inquire after his +wives and children; and I remark how uncommonly well he is +looking."</p> +<p>And with this, he made another salaam, smiled persuasively, and +said--</p> +<p>"Alpha, beta, gamma, delta--chin-chin--Potz +tausend!--Erin-go-bragh!"</p> +<p>"Borriobooloobah!" shrieked his majesty, apparently stung to +desperation.</p> +<p>"Rocofoco!" retorted Müller promptly.</p> +<p>But as if this last was more than any Ashantee temper could +bear, Caraba Rodokala clenched both his fists, set his teeth hard, +and charged down upon Müller like a wild elephant. Being met, +however, by a well-planted blow between the eyes, he went down like +a ninepin--picked himself up,--rushed in again, and, being forcibly +seized and held back by the cocked hat, Pierre of the pigeons, and +a third man who came tumbling up precipitately from somewhere +behind the stage, vented his fury, in a torrent of very highly +civilized French oaths.</p> +<p>"Eh, <i>sacredieu</i>!" he cried, shaking his fist in +Müller's face, "I've not done with you yet, <i>diable de +galérien</i>!"</p> +<p>Whereupon there burst forth a general roar--a roar like the +"inextinguishable laughter" of Olympus.</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens</i>!" said Müller, "his majesty speaks French +almost as well as I speak Ashantee!"</p> +<p>"<i>Bourreau! Brigand! Assassin</i>!" shrieked his Ferocity, as +his friends hustled him off the stage.</p> +<p>The curtains then fell together again; and the audience, still +laughing vociferously, dispersed with cries of "Vive Caraba +Rodokala!" "Kind remembrances to the Queens of Ashantee!" "What's +the latest news from home?" "Borriobooloo-bah--ah--ah!"</p> +<p>Elbowing our way out with the crowd, we now plunged once more +into the press of the fair. Here our old friends the dancing dogs +of the Champs Elysées, and the familiar charlatan of the +Place du Châtelet with his chariot and barrel-organ, +transported us from Ashantee to Paris. Next we came to a temporary +shooting-gallery, adorned over the entrance with a spirited cartoon +of a Tyrolean sharpshooter; and then to an exhibition of +cosmoramas; and presently to a weighing machine, in which a great, +rosy-cheeked, laughing Normandy peasant girl, with her high cap, +blue skirt, massive gold cross and heavy ear-rings, was in the act +of being weighed.</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens! Mam'selle est joliment solide</i>!" remarks a saucy +bystander, as the owner of the machine piles on weight after +weight.</p> +<p>"Perhaps if I had no more brains than m'sieur, I should weigh as +light!" retorts the damsel, with a toss of her high cap.</p> +<p>"<i>Pardon</i>! it is not a question of brains--it is a question +of hearts," interposes an elderly exquisite in a white hat. +"Mam'selle has captured so many that she is completely over +weighted."</p> +<p>"Twelve stone six ounces," pronounces the owner of the machine, +adjusting the last weight.</p> +<p>Whereupon there is a burst of ironical applause, and the big +<i>paysanne</i>, half laughing, half angry, walks off, exclaiming, +"<i>Eh bien! tant mieux</i>! I've no mind to be a +scarecrow--<i>moi</i>!"</p> +<p>By this time we have both had enough of the fair, and are glad +to make our way out of the crowd and down to the riverside. Here we +find lovers strolling in pairs along the towing-path; family groups +pic-nicking in the shade; boats and punts for hire, and a +swimming-match just coming off, of which all that is visible are +two black heads bobbing up and down along the middle of the +stream.</p> +<p>"And now, <i>mon ami</i>, what do you vote for?" asks +Müller. "Boating or fishing? or both? or neither?"</p> +<p>"Both, if you like--but I never caught anything in my life,"</p> +<p>"The pleasure of fishing, I take it," says Müller, "is not +in the fish you catch, but in the fish you miss. The fish you catch +is a poor little wretch, worth neither the trouble of landing, +cooking, nor eating; but the fish you miss is always the finest +fellow you ever saw in your life!"</p> +<p>"<i>Allons donc</i>! I know, then, which of us two will have +most of the pleasure to-day," I reply, laughing. "But how about the +expense?"</p> +<p>To which Müller, with a noble recklessness, answers:--</p> +<p>"Oh, hang the expense! Here, boatman! a boat <i>à quatre +rames</i>, and some fishing-tackle--by the hour."</p> +<p>Now it was undoubtedly a fine sentiment this of Müller's, +and had we but fetched my two Napoleons before starting, I should +have applauded it to the echo; but when I considered that something +very nearly approaching to a franc had already filtered out of our +pockets in passing through the fair, and that the hour of dinner +was looming somewhat indefinitely in the distance, I confess that +my soul became disquieted within me.</p> +<p>"Don't forget, for heaven's sake," I said, "that we must keep +something for dinner!"</p> +<p>"My dear fellow," he replied, "I have already a tremendous +appetite for dinner--that <i>is</i> something."</p> +<p>After this, I resigned myself to whatever might happen.</p> +<p>We then rowed up the river for about a mile beyond Courbevoie. +moored our boat to a friendly willow, put our fishing-tackle +together, and composed ourselves for the gentle excitement that +waits upon the gudgeon and the minnow.</p> +<p>"I haven't yet had a single nibble," said Müller, when we +had been sitting to our work for something less than ten +minutes.</p> +<p>"Hush!" I said. "You mustn't speak, you know."</p> +<p>"True--I had forgotten. I'll sing instead. Fishes, I have been +told, are fond of music.</p> +<blockquote>'Fanfan, je vous aimerais bien;<br> + Contre vous je n'ai nul caprice;<br> +Vous êtes gentil, j'en convien....'"</blockquote> +<p>"Come, now!" I exclaimed pettishly, "this is really too bad. I +had a bite--a most decided bite--and if you had only kept +quiet"....</p> +<p>"Nonsense, my dear fellow! I tell you again--and I have it on +the best authority--fishes like music. Did you never hear of Arion! +Have you forgotten about the Syrens? Believe me, your gudgeon +nibbled because I sang him to the surface--just as the snakes come +out for the song of the snake-charmer. I'll try again!"</p> +<p>And with this he began:--</p> +<blockquote>"Jeannette est une brune<br> + Qui demeure à Pantin,<br> +Où toute sa fortune<br> + Est un petit jardin!"</blockquote> +<p>"Well, if you go on like that, all I have to say is, that not a +fish will come within half a mile of our bait," said I, with +tranquil despair.</p> +<p>"Alas! <i>mon cher</i>, I am grieved to observe in your +otherwise estimable character, a melancholy want of faith," replied +Müller "Without faith, what is friendship? What is angling? +What is matrimony? Now, I tell you that with regard to the finny +tribe, the more I charm them, the more enthusiastically they will +flock to be caught. We shall have a miraculous draught in a few +minutes, if you are but patient."</p> +<p>And then he began again:--</p> +<blockquote>"Mimi Pinson est une blonde,<br> + Une blonde que l'on connaît.<br> +Elle n'a qu'une robe au monde,<br> + Landerirette!<br> +Et qu'un bonnet."</blockquote> +<p>I laid aside my rod, folded my arms, and when he had done, +applauded ironically.</p> +<p>"Very good," I said. "I understand the situation. We are here, +at some--indeed, I may say, considering the state of our exchequer, +at a considerable mutual expense; not to catch fish, but to afford +Herr Müller an opportunity of exercising his extensive memory, +and his limited baritone voice. The entertainment is not without +its <i>agréments</i>, but I find it dear at the price."</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens</i>, Arbuthnot! let us fish seriously. I promise not +to open my lips again till you have caught something."</p> +<p>"Then, seriously, I believe you would have to be silent the +whole night, and all I should catch would be the rheumatism. I am +the worst angler in the world, and the most unlucky."</p> +<p>"Really and truly?"</p> +<p>"Really and truly. And you?"</p> +<p>"As bad as yourself. If a tolerably large and energetic fish did +me the honor to swallow my bait, the probability is that he would +catch me. I certainly shouldn't know what to do with him."</p> +<p>"Then the present question is--what shall we do with +ourselves?"</p> +<p>"I vote that we row up as far as yonder bend in the river, just +to see what lies beyond; and then back to Courbevoie."</p> +<p>"Heaven only grant that by that time we shall have enough money +left for dinner!" I murmured with a sigh.</p> +<p>We rowed up the river as far as the first bend, a distance of +about half a mile; and then we rowed on as far as the next bend. +Then we turned, and, resting on our oars, drifted slowly back with +the current. The evening was indescribably brilliant and serene. +The sky was cloudless, of a greenish blue, and full of light. The +river was clear as glass. We could see the flaccid water-weeds +swaying languidly with the current far below, and now and then a +shoal of tiny fish shooting along half-way between the weeds and +the surface. A rich fringe of purple iris, spear-leaved +sagittarius, and tufted meadow-sweet (each blossom a bouquet on a +slender thyrsus) bordered the towing-path and filled the air with +perfume. Here the meadows lay open to the water's edge; a little +farther on, they were shut off by a close rampart of poplars and +willows whose leaves, already yellowed by autumn, were now fiery in +the sunset. Joyous bands of gnats, like wild little intoxicated +maenads, circled and hummed about our heads as we drifted slowly +on; while, far away and mellowed by distance, we heard the brazen +music of the fair.</p> +<p>We were both silent. Müller pulled out a small sketch-book +and made a rapid study of the scene--the reach in the river; the +wooded banks; the green flats traversed by long lines of stunted +pollards; the church-tops and roofs of Courbevoie beyond.</p> +<p>Presently a soft voice, singing, broke upon the silence. +Müller stopped involuntarily, pencil in hand. I held my +breath, and listened. The tune was flowing and sweet; and as our +boat drifted on, the words of the singer became audible.</p> +<blockquote>"O miroir ondoyant!<br> +Je rève en te voyant<br> +Harmonie et lumière,<br> + O ma rivière,<br> +O ma belle rivière!<br> +<br> +"On voit se réfléchir<br> +Dans ses eaux les nuages;<br> +Elle semble dormir<br> +Entre les pâturages<br> +<br> +Où paissent les grands boeufs<br> +Et les grasses genisses.<br> +Au pâtres amoureux<br> +Que ses bords sont propices!"</blockquote> +<p>"A woman's voice," said Müller. "Dupont's words and music. +She must be young and pretty ... where has she hidden herself?"</p> +<p>The unseen singer, meanwhile, went on with another verse.</p> +<blockquote>"Près des iris du bord,<br> +Sous une berge haute,<br> +La carpe aux reflets d'or<br> +Où le barbeau ressaute,<br> +Les goujons font le guet,<br> +L'Ablette qui scintille<br> +Fuit le dent du brochet;<br> +Au fond rampe l'anguille!<br> +<br> +"O miroir ondoyant!<br> +Je rève en te voyant<br> +Harmonic et lumière,<br> + O ma rivière,<br> +O ma belle rivière!"</blockquote> +<p>"Look!" said Müller. "Do you not see them yonder--two women +under the trees? By Jupiter! it's <i>ma tante</i> and <i>la +petite</i> Marie!"</p> +<p>Saying which, he flung himself upon his oars and began pulling +vigorously towards the shore.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV."></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> +<h3>THAT TERRIBLE MÜLLER.</h3> +<br> +<p>La petite Marie broke off at the sound of our oars, and blushed +a becoming rose-color.</p> +<p>"Will these ladies do us the honor of letting us row them back +to Courbevoie?" said Müller, running our boat close in against +the sedges, and pulling off his hat as respectfully as if they were +duchesses.</p> +<p>Mademoiselle Marie repeated the invitation to her aunt, who +accepted it at once.</p> +<p>"<i>Très volontiers, très volontiers, +messieurs</i>" she said, smiling and nodding. "We have rambled out +so far--so far! And I am not as young as I was forty years ago. +<i>Ah, mon Dieu</i>! how my old bones ache! Give me thy hand, +Marie, and thank the gentlemen for their politeness."</p> +<p>So Mam'selle Marie helped her aunt to rise, and we steadied the +boat close under the bank, at a point where the interlacing roots +of a couple of sallows made a kind of natural step by means of +which they could easily get down.</p> +<p>"Oh, dear! dear! it will not turn over, will it, my dear young +man? <i>Ciel</i>! I am slipping ... Ah, <i>Dieu, merci</i>!--Marie, +<i>mon cher enfant</i>, pray be careful not to jump in, or you will +upset us all!"</p> +<p>And <i>ma tante</i>, somewhat tremulous from the ordeal of +embarking, settled down in her place, while Müller lifted +Mam'selle Marie into the boat, as if she had been a child. I then +took the oars, leaving him to steer; and so we pursued our way +towards Courbevoie.</p> +<p>"Mam'selle has of course seen the fair?" said Müller, from +behind the old lady's back.</p> +<p>"No, monsieur,"</p> +<p>"No! Is it possible?"</p> +<p>"There was so much crowd, monsieur, and such a noise ... we were +quite too much afraid to venture in."</p> +<p>"Would you be afraid, mam'selle, to venture with me?"</p> +<p>"I--I do not know, monsieur."</p> +<p>"Ah, mam'selle, you might be very sure that I would take good +care of you!"</p> +<p>"<i>Mais ... monsieur</i>"...</p> +<p>"These gentlemen, I see, have been angling," said the old lady, +addressing me very graciously. "Have you caught many fish?"</p> +<p>"None at all, madame!" I replied, loudly.</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens</i>! so many as that?"</p> +<p>"<i>Pardon</i>, madame," I shouted at the top of my voice. "We +have caught nothing--nothing at all."</p> +<p><i>Ma tante</i> smiled blandly.</p> +<p>"Ah, yes," she said; "and you will have them cooked presently +for dinner, <i>n'est-ce pas</i>? There is no fish so fresh, and so +well-flavored, as the fish of our own catching."</p> +<p>"Will madame and mam'selle do us the honor to taste our fish and +share our modest dinner?" said Müller, leaning forward in his +seat in the stern, and delivering his invitation close into the old +lady's ear.</p> +<p>To which <i>ma tante</i>, with a readiness of hearing for which +no one would have given her credit, replied:--</p> +<p>"But--but monsieur is very polite--if we should not be +inconveniencing these gentlemen"....</p> +<p>"We shall be charmed, madame--we shall be honored!"</p> +<p>"<i>Eh bien!</i> with pleasure, then--Marie, my child, thank the +gentlemen for their amiable invitation."</p> +<p>I was thunderstruck. I looked at Müller to see if he had +suddenly gone out of his senses. Mam'selle Marie, however, was +infinitely amused.</p> +<p>"<i>Fi donc!</i> monsieur," she said. "You have no fish. I heard +the other gentleman say so."</p> +<p>"The other gentleman, mam'selle," replied Müller, "is an +Englishman, and troubled with the spleen. You must not mind +anything he says."</p> +<p>Troubled with the spleen! I believe myself to be as +even-tempered and as ready to fall in with a joke as most men; but +I should have liked at that moment to punch Franz Müller's +head. Gracious heavens! into what a position he had now brought us! +What was to be done? How were we to get out of it? It was now just +seven; and we had already been upon the water for more than an +hour. What should we have to pay for the boat? And when we had paid +for the boat, how much money should we have left to pay for the +dinner? Not for our own dinners--ah, no! For <i>ma tante's</i> +dinner (and <i>ma tante</i> had a hungry eye) and for <i>la +petite</i> Marie's dinner; and <i>la petite</i> Marie, plump, rosy, +and well-liking, looked as if she might have a capital appetite +upon occasion! Should we have as much as two and a half francs? I +doubted it. And then, in the absence of a miracle, what could we do +with two and a half francs, if we had them? A miserable +sum!--convertible, perhaps, into as much bouilli, bread and cheese, +and thin country wine as might have satisfied our own hunger in a +prosaic and commonplace way; but for four persons, two of them +women!...</p> +<p>And this was not the worst of it. I thought I knew Müller +well enough by this time to feel that he would entirely dismiss +this minor consideration of ways and means; that he would order the +dinner as recklessly as if we had twenty francs apiece in our +pockets; and that he would not only order it, but eat it and +preside at it with all the gayety and audacity in life.</p> +<p>Then would come the horrible retribution of the bill!</p> +<p>I felt myself turn red and hot at the mere thought of it.</p> +<p>Then a dastardly idea insinuated itself into my mind. I had my +return-ticket in my waistcoat-pocket:--what if I slipped away +presently to the station and went back to Paris by the next train, +leaving my clever friend to improvise his way out of his own scrape +as best he could?</p> +<p>In the meanwhile, as I was rowing with the stream, we soon got +back to Courbevoie.</p> +<p>"<i>Are</i> you mad?" I said, as, having landed the ladies, +Müller and I delivered up the boat to its owner.</p> +<p>"Didn't I admit it, two or three hours ago?" he replied. "I +wonder you don't get tired, <i>mon cher</i>, of asking the same +question so often."</p> +<p>"Four francs, fifty centimes, Messieurs," said the boatman, +having made fast his boat to the landing-place.</p> +<p>"Four francs, fifty centimes!" I echoed, in dismay.</p> +<p>Even Müller looked aghast.</p> +<p>"My good fellow," he said, "do you take us for coiners?"</p> +<p>"Hire of boat, two francs the hour. These gentlemen have been +out nearly one hour and a half--three francs. Hire of bait and +fishing-tackle, one franc fifty. Total, four francs and a half," +replied the boatman, putting out a great brown palm.</p> +<p>Müller, who was acting as cashier and paymaster, pulled out +his purse, deposited one solitary half-franc in the middle of that +brown palm, and suggested that the boatman and he should toss up +for the remaining four francs--or race for them--or play for +them--or fight for them. The boatman, however, indignantly rejected +each successive proposal, and, being paid at last, retired with a +<i>decrescendo</i> of oaths.</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens</i>!" said Müller, reflectively. "We have but one +franc left. One franc, two sous, and a centime. <i>Vive la +France!</i>"</p> +<p>"And you have actually asked that wretched old woman and her +niece to dinner!"</p> +<p>"And I have actually solicited that excellent and admirable +woman, Madame Marotte, relict of the late lamented Jacques Marotte, +umbrella maker, of number one hundred and two, Rue du Faubourg St. +Denis, and her beautiful and accomplished niece, Mademoiselle Marie +Charpentier, to honor us with their company this evening. +<i>Dis-donc,</i> what shall we give them for dinner?"</p> +<p>"Precisely what you invited them to, I should guess--the fish we +caught this afternoon."</p> +<p>"Agreed. And what else?"</p> +<p>"Say--a dish of invisible greens, and a phoenix <i>à la +Marengo</i>."</p> +<p>"You are funny, <i>mon cher</i>."</p> +<p>"Then, for fear I should become too funny--good afternoon."</p> +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> +<p>"I mean that I have no mind to dine first, and be kicked out of +doors afterwards. It is one of those aids to digestion that I can +willingly dispense with."</p> +<p>"But if I guarantee that the dinner shall be paid for--money +down!"</p> +<p>"Tra la la!"</p> +<p>"You don't believe me? Well, come and see."</p> +<p>With this, he went up to Madame Marotte, who, with her niece, +had sat down on a bench under a walnut-tree close by, waiting our +pleasure.</p> +<p>"Would not these ladies prefer to rest here, while we seek for a +suitable restaurant and order the dinner?" said Müller +insinuatingly.</p> +<p>The old lady looked somewhat blank. She was not too tired to go +on--thought it a pity to bring us all the way back again--would do, +however, as "<i>ces messieurs</i>" pleased; and so was left sitting +under the walnut-tree, reluctant and disconsolate.</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens! mon enfant</i>" I heard her say as we turned away, +"suppose they don't come back again!"</p> +<p>We had promised to be gone not longer, than twenty minutes, or +at most half an hour. Müller led the way straight to the +<i>Toison d' Or</i>.</p> +<p>I took him by the arm as we neared the gate.</p> +<p>"Steady, steady, <i>mon gaillard</i>" I said. "We don't order +our dinner, you know, till we've found the money to pay for +it."</p> +<p>"True--but suppose I go in here to look for it?"</p> +<p>"Into the restaurant garden?"</p> +<p>"Precisely."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI."></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> +<h3>THE PETIT COURIER ILLUSTRÉ.</h3> +<br> +<p>The <i>Toison d' Or</i> was but a modest little establishment as +regarded the house, but it was surrounded on three sides by a +good-sized garden overlooking the river. Here, in the trellised +arbors which lined the lawn on either side, those customers who +preferred the open air could take their dinners, coffees, and +absinthes <i>al fresco</i>.</p> +<p>The scene when we arrived was at its gayest. There were dinners +going on in every arbor; waiters running distractedly to and fro +with trays and bottles; two women, one with a guitar, the other +with a tamborine, singing under a tree in the middle of the garden; +while in the air there reigned an exhilarating confusion of sounds +and smells impossible to describe.</p> +<p>We went in. Müller paused, looked round, captured a passing +waiter, and asked for Monsieur le propriétaire. The waiter +pointed over his shoulder towards the house, and breathlessly +rushed on his way.</p> +<p>Müller at once led the way into a salon on the ground-floor +looking over the garden.</p> +<p>Here we found ourselves in a large low room containing some +thirty or forty tables, and fitted up after the universal +restaurant pattern, with cheap-looking glasses, rows of hooks, and +spittoons in due number. The air was heavy with the combined smells +of many dinners, and noisy with the clatter of many tongues. Behind +the fruits, cigars, and liqueur bottles that decorated the +<i>comptoir</i> sat a plump, black-eyed little woman in a gorgeous +cap and a red silk dress. This lady welcomed us with a bewitching +smile and a gracious inclination of the head.</p> +<p>"<i>Ces messieurs</i>," she said, "will find a vacant table +yonder, by the window."</p> +<p>Müller bowed majestically.</p> +<p>"Madame," he said, "I wish to see Monsieur le +propriétaire."</p> +<p>The dame de comptoir looked very uneasy.</p> +<p>"If Monsieur has any complaint to make," she said, "he can make +it to me."</p> +<p>"Madame, I have none."</p> +<p>"Or if it has reference to the ordering of a dinner...."</p> +<p>Müller smiled loftily.</p> +<p>"Dinner, Madame," he said, with a disdainful gesture, "is but +one of the accidents common to humanity. A trifle! A trifle always +humiliating--sometimes inconvenient--occasionally impossible. No, +Madame, mine is a serious mission; a mission of the highest +importance, both socially and commercially. May I beg that you will +have the goodness to place my card in the hands of Monsieur le +propriétaire, and say that I request the honor of five +minutes' interview."</p> +<p>The little woman's eyes had all this time been getting rounder +and blacker. She was evidently confounded by my friend's +grandiloquence.</p> +<p>"<i>Ah! mon Dieu! M'sieur</i>," she said, nervously, "my husband +is in the kitchen. It is a busy day with us, you understand--but I +will send for him."</p> +<p>And she forthwith despatched a waiter for "Monsieur +Choucru."</p> +<p>Müller seized me by the arm.</p> +<p>"Heavens!" he exclaimed, in a very audible aside, "did you hear? +She is his wife! She is Madame Choucru?"</p> +<p>"Well, and what of that?"</p> +<p>"What of that, indeed? <i>Mais, mon ami</i>, how can you ask the +question? Have you no eyes? Look at her! Such a remarkably handsome +woman--such a <i>tournure</i>--such eyes--such a figure for an +illustration! Only conceive the effect of Madame Choucru--in +medallion!"</p> +<p>"Oh, magnificent!" I replied. "Magnificent--in medallion."</p> +<p>But I could not, for the life of me, imagine what he was driving +at.</p> +<p>"And it would make the fortune of the <i>Toison d'Or</i>" he +added, solemnly.</p> +<p>To which I replied that it would undoubtedly do so.</p> +<p>Monsieur Choucru now came upon the scene; a short, rosy, +round-faced little man in a white flat cap and bibbed apron--like +an elderly cherub that had taken to cookery. He hung back upon the +threshold, wiping his forehead, and evidently unwilling to show +himself in his shirt-sleeves.</p> +<p>"Here, <i>mon bon</i>," cried Madame, who was by this time +crimson with gratified vanity, and in a fever of curiosity; "this +way--the gentleman is waiting to speak to you!"</p> +<p>Monsieur, the cook and proprietor, shuffled his feet to and fro +in the doorway, but came no nearer.</p> +<p>"<i>Parbleu</i>!" he said, "if M'sieur's business is not +urgent."</p> +<p>"It is extremely urgent, Monsieur Choucru," replied Müller; +"and, moreover, it is not so much my business as it is yours,"</p> +<p>"Ah bah! if it is my business, then, it may stand over till +to-morrow," replied the little man, impatiently. "To-day I have +eighty dinners on hand, and with M'sieur's permission"....</p> +<p>But Müller strode to the door and caught him by the +shoulder.</p> +<p>"No, Monsieur Choucru," he said sternly, "I will not let you +ruin yourself by putting off till to-morrow what can only be done +to-day. I have come here, Monsieur Choucru, to offer you fame. Fame +and fortune, Monsieur Choucru!--and I will not suffer you, for the +sake of a few miserable dinners, to turn your back upon the most +brilliant moment of your life!"</p> +<p>"<i>Mais, M'sieur</i>--explain yourself" ... stammered the +propriétaire.</p> +<p>"You know who I am, Monsieur Choucru?"</p> +<p>"No, M'sieur--not in the least."</p> +<p>"I am Müller--Franz Müller--landscape painter, +portrait painter, historical painter, caricaturist, artist <i>en +chef</i> to the <i>Petit Courier Illustré</i>"</p> +<p>"<i>Hein! M'sieur est peintre</i>!"</p> +<p>"Yes, Monsieur Choucru--and I offer you my protection."</p> +<p>Monsieur Choucru scratched his ear, and smiled doubtfully.</p> +<p>"Now listen, Monsieur Choucru--I am here to-day in the interests +of the <i>Petit Courier Illustré</i>. I take the Courbevoie +fête for my subject. I sketch the river, the village, the +principal features of the-scene; and on Saturday my designs are in +the hands of all Paris. Do you understand me?"</p> +<p>"I understand that M'sieur is all this time talking to me of his +own business, while mine, <i>là bas</i>, is standing still!" +exclaimed the propriétaire, in an agony of impatience. "I +have the honor to wish M'sieur good-day."</p> +<p>But Müller seized him again, and would not let him +escape.</p> +<p>"Not so fast, Monsieur Choucru," he said; "not so fast! Will you +answer me one question before you go?"</p> +<p>"<i>Eh, mon Dieu</i>! Monsieur."</p> +<p>"Will you tell me, Monsieur Choucru, what is to prevent me from +giving a view of the best restaurant in Courbevoie?"</p> +<p>Madame Choucru, from behind the <i>comptoir</i>, uttered a +little scream.</p> +<p>"A design in the <i>Petit Courier Illustré</i>, I need +scarcely tell you," pursued Müller, with indescribable +pomposity, "is in itself sufficient to make the fortune not only of +an establishment, but of a neighborhood. I am about to make +Courbevoie the fashion. The sun of Asnières, of Montmorency, +of Enghien has set--the sun of Courbevoie is about to rise. My +sketches will produce an unheard-of effect. All Paris will throng +to your fêtes next Sunday and Monday--all Paris, with its +inexhaustible appetite for <i>bifteck aux pommes frites</i>--all +Paris with its unquenchable thirst for absinthe and Bavarian beer! +Now, Monsieur Choucru, do you begin to understand me?"</p> +<p>"<i>Mais</i>, Monsieur, I--I think...."</p> +<p>"You think you do, Monsieur Choucru? Very good. Then will you +please to answer me one more question. What is to prevent me from +conferring fame, fortune, and other benefits too numerous to +mention on your excellent neighbor at the corner of the +Place--Monsieur Coquille of the Restaurant <i>Croix de +Malte</i>?"</p> +<p>Monsieur Choucru scratched his ear again, stared helplessly at +his wife, and said nothing. Madame looked grave.</p> +<p>"Are we to treat this matter on the footing of a business +transaction, Monsieur!" she asked, somewhat sharply. "Because, if +so, let Monsieur at once name his price for me...."</p> +<p>"'PRICE,' Madame!" interrupted Müller, with a start of +horror. "Gracious powers! this to me--to Franz Müller of the +<i>Petit Courier Illustré</i>! 'No, Madame--you mistake +me--you wound me--you touch the honor of the Fine Arts! Madame, I +am incapable of selling my patronage."</p> +<p>Madame clasped her hands; raised her voice; rolled her black +eyes; did everything but burst into tears. She was shocked to have +offended Monsieur! She was profoundly desolated! She implored a +thousand pardons! And then, like a true French-woman of business, +she brought back the conversation to the one important +point:--since money was not in question, upon what consideration +would Monsieur accord his preference to the <i>Toison d' Or</i> +instead of to the <i>Croix de Malte</i>?</p> +<p>Müller bowed, laid his hand upon his heart, and said:--</p> +<p>"I will do it, <i>pour les beaux yeux de Madame</i>."</p> +<p>And then, in graceful recognition of the little man's rights as +owner of the eyes in question, he bowed to Monsieur Choucru.</p> +<p>Madame was inexpressibly charmed. Monsieur smiled, fidgeted, and +cast longing glances towards the door.</p> +<p>"I have eighty dinners on hand," he began again, "and if M'sieur +will excuse me...."</p> +<p>"One moment more, my dear Monsieur Choucru," said Müller, +slipping his hand affectionately through the little man's arm. "For +myself, as I have already told you, I can accept nothing--but I am +bound in honor not to neglect the interests of the journal I +represent. You will of course wish to express your sense of the +compliment paid to your house by adding your name to the +subscription list of the <i>Petit Courier Illustré</i>?"</p> +<p>"Oh, by--by all means--with pleasure," faltered the +propriétaire.</p> +<p>"For how many copies, Monsieur Choucru? Shall we say--six?"</p> +<p>Monsieur looked at Madame. Madame nodded. Müller took out +his pocket-book, and waited, pencil in hand.</p> +<p>"Eh--<i>parbleu</i>!--let it be for six, then," said Monsieur +Choucru, somewhat reluctantly.</p> +<p>Müller made the entry, shut up the pocket-book, and shook +hands boisterously with his victim.</p> +<p>"My dear Monsieur Choucru," he said, "I cannot tell you how +gratifying this is to my feelings, or with what disinterested +satisfaction I shall make your establishment known to the Parisian +public. You shall be immortalized, my dear fellow--positively +immortalized!"</p> +<p>"<i>Bien obligé, M'sieur--bien obligé</i>. Will +you not let my wife offer you a glass of liqueure?"</p> +<p>"Liqueure, <i>mon cher</i>!" exclaimed Müller, with an +outburst of frank cordiality--"hang liqueure!--WE'LL DINE WITH +YOU!"</p> +<p>"Monsieur shall be heartily welcome to the best dinner the +<i>Toison d'Or</i> can send up; and his friend also," said Madame, +with her sweetest smile.</p> +<p>"Ah, Madame!"</p> +<p>"And M'sieur Choucru shall make you one of his famous cheese +soufflés. <i>Tiens, mon bon</i>, go down and prepare a +cheese soufflé for two."</p> +<p>Müller smote his forehead distractedly.</p> +<p>"For two!" he cried. "Heavens! I had forgotten my aunt and my +cousin!"</p> +<p>Madame looked up inquiringly.</p> +<p>"Monsieur has forgotten something?"</p> +<p>"Two somethings, Madame--two somebodies! My aunt--my excellent +and admirable maternal aunt,--and my cousin. We left them sitting +under a tree by the river-side, more than half an hour ago. But the +fault, Madame, is yours."</p> +<p>"How, Monsieur?"</p> +<p>"Yes; for in your charming society I forget the ties of family +and the laws of politeness. But I hasten to fetch my forgotten +relatives. With what pleasure they will share your amiable +hospitality! <i>Au revoir</i>, Madame. In ten minutes we shall be +with you again!"</p> +<p>Madame Choucru looked grave. She had not bargained to entertain +a party of four; yet she dared not disoblige the <i>Petit Courier +Illustré</i>. She had no time, however, to demur to the +arrangement; for Müller, ingeniously taking her acquiescence +for granted, darted out of the room without waiting for an +answer.</p> +<p>"Miserable man!" I exclaimed, as soon as we were outside the +doors, "what will you do now?"</p> +<p>"Do! Why, fetch my admirable maternal aunt and my interesting +cousin, to be sure."</p> +<p>"But you have raised a dinner under false pretences!"</p> +<p>"I, <i>mon cher</i>? Not a bit of it."</p> +<p>"Have you, then, really anything to do with the <i>Petit Courier +Illustré</i>?"</p> +<p>"The Editor of the <i>Petit Courier Illustré</i> is one +of the best fellows in the world, and occasionally (when my pockets +represent that vacuum which Nature very properly abhors) he +advances me a couple of Napoleons. I wipe out the score from time +to time by furnishing a design for the paper. Now to-day, you see, +I'm in luck. I shall pay off two obligations at once--to say +nothing of Monsieur Choucru's six-fold subscription to the P.C., on +which the publishers will allow me a douceur of thirty francs. Now, +confess that I'm a man of genius!"</p> +<p>In less than a quarter of an hour we were all four established +round one of Madame Choucru's comfortable little dining-tables, in +a snug recess at the farthest end of the salon. Here, being well +out of reach of our hostess's black eyes, Müller assumed all +the airs of a liberal entertainer. He hung up <i>ma cousine's</i> +bonnet; fetched a footstool for <i>ma tante</i>; criticised the +sauces; presided over the wine; cut jokes with the waiter; and +pretended to have ordered every dish beforehand. The stewed kidneys +with mushrooms were provided especially for Madame Marotte; the +fricandeau was selected in honor of Mam'selle Marie (had he not an +innate presentiment that she loved fricandeau?); and as for the +soles <i>au gratin</i>, he swore, in defiance of probability and +all the laws of nature, that they were the very fish we had just +caught in the Seine. By-and-by came Monsieur Choucru's famous +cheese <i>soufflé</i>; and then, with a dish of fruit, four +cups of coffee, and four glasses of liqueure, the banquet came to +an end.</p> +<p>As we sat at desert, Müller pulled out his book and +pencilled a rapid but flattering sketch of the dining-room +interior, developing a perspective as long as the Rue de Rivoli, +and a <i>mobilier</i> at least equal in splendor to that of the +<i>Trois Frères</i>.</p> +<p>At sight of this <i>chef d'oeuvre</i>, Madame Choucru was moved +almost to tears. Ah, Heaven! if Monsieur could only figure to +himself her admiration for his <i>beau talent</i>! But alas! that +was impossible--as impossible as that Monsieur Choucru should ever +repay this unheard-of obligation!</p> +<p>Müller laid his hand upon his heart, and bowed +profoundly.</p> +<p>"Ah! Madame," he said, "it is not to Monsieur Choucru that I +look for repayment--it is to you."</p> +<p>"To me, Monsieur? <i>Dieu merci! Monsieur se moque de +moi</i>!"</p> +<p>And the Dame de Comptoir, intrenched behind her fruits and +liqueure bottles, shot a Parthian glance from under her black +eye-lashes, and made believe to blush.</p> +<p>"Yes, Madame, to you. I only ask permission to come again very +soon, for the purpose of executing a little portrait of Madame--a +little portrait which, alas! <i>must</i> fail to render adequate +justice to such a multitude of charms."</p> +<p>And with this choice compliment, Müller bowed again, took +his leave, bestowed a whole franc upon the astonished waiter, and +departed from the <i>Toison d'Or</i> in an atmosphere of glory.</p> +<p>The fair, or rather that part of the fair where the dancers and +diners most did congregate, was all ablaze with lights, and noisy +with brass bands as we came out. <i>Ma tante</i>, who was somewhat +tired, and had been dozing for the last half hour over her coffee +and liqueure, was impatient to get back to Paris. The fair Marie, +who was not tired at all, confessed that she should enjoy a waltz +above everything. While Müller, who professed to be an +animated time-table, swore that we were just too late for the ten +minutes past ten train, and that there would be no other before +eleven forty-five. So Madame Marotte was carried off, <i>bon +gré, mal gré</i>, to a dancing-booth, where gentlemen +were admitted on payment of forty centimes per head, and ladies +went in free.</p> +<p>Here, despite the noise, the dust, the braying of an abominable +band, the overwhelming smell of lamp-oil, and the clatter, not only +of heavy walking-boots, but even of several pairs of sabots upon an +uneven floor of loosely-joined planks--<i>ma tante</i>, being +disposed of in a safe corner, went soundly to sleep.</p> +<p>It was a large booth, somewhat over-full; and the company +consisted mainly of Parisian blue blouses, little foot-soldiers, +grisettes (for there were grisettes in those days, and plenty of +them), with a sprinkling of farm-boys and dairy-maids from the +villages round about. We found this select society caracoling round +the booth in a thundering galop, on first going in. After the +galop, the conductor announced a <i>valse à deux temps</i>. +The band struck up--one--two--three. Away went some thirty +couples--away went Müller and the fair Marie--and away went +the chronicler of this modest biography with a pretty little girl +in green boots who waltzed remarkably well, and who deserted him in +the middle of the dance for a hideous little French soldier about +four feet and a half high.</p> +<p>After this rebuff (having learned, notwithstanding my friend's +representations to the contrary, that a train ran from Courbevoie +to Paris every half-hour up till midnight) I slipped away, leaving +Müller and <i>ma cousine</i> in the midst of a furious +flirtation, and Madame Marotte fast asleep in her corner.</p> +<p>The clocks were just striking twelve as I passed under the +archway leading to the Cité Bergère.</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens</i>!" said the fat concierge, as she gave me my key +and my candle. "Monsieur has perhaps been to the theatre this +evening? No!--to the country--to the fête at Courbevoie! Ah, +then, I'll be sworn that M'sieur has had plenty of fun!"</p> +<p>But had I had plenty of fun? That was the question. That +Müller had had plenty of flirting and plenty of fun was a fact +beyond the reach of doubt. But a flirtation, after all, unless in a +one-act comedy, is not entertaining to the mere looker-on; and oh! +must not those bridesmaids who sometimes accompany a happy couple +in their wedding-tour, have a dreary time of it?</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII."></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> +<h3>THE ÉCOLE DE NATATION.</h3> +<br> +<p>It seemed to me that I had but just closed my eyes, when I was +waked by a hand upon my shoulder, and a voice calling me by my +name. I started up to find the early sunshine pouring in at the +window, and Franz Müller standing by my bedside.</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens</i>!" said he. "How lovely are the slumbers of +innocence! I was hesitating, <i>mon cher</i>, whether to wake or +sketch you."</p> +<p>I muttered something between a growl and a yawn, to the effect +that I should have been better satisfied if he had left me +alone.</p> +<p>"You prefer everything that is basely self-indulgent, young +man," replied Müller, making a divan of my bed, and coolly +lighting his pipe under my very nose. "Contrary to all the laws of +<i>bon-camaraderie</i>, you stole away last night, leaving your +unprotected friend in the hands of the enemy. And for what?--for +the sake of a few hours' ignominious oblivion! Look at me--I have +not been to bed all night, and I am as lively as a lobster in a +lobster-pot."</p> +<p>"How did you get home?" I asked, rubbing my eyes; "and +when?"</p> +<p>"I have not got home at all yet," replied my visitor. "I have +come to breakfast with you first."</p> +<p>Just at this moment, the <i>pendule</i> in the adjoining room +struck six.</p> +<p>"To breakfast!" I repeated. "At this hour?--you who never +breakfast before midday!"</p> +<p>"True, <i>mon cher</i>; but then you see there are reasons. In +the first place, we danced a little too long, and missed the last +train, so I was obliged to bring the dear creatures back to Paris +in a fiacre. In the second place, the driver was drunk, and the +horse was groggy, and the fiacre was in the last stage of +dilapidation. The powers below only know how many hours we were on +the road; for we all fell asleep, driver included, and never woke +till we found ourselves at the Barrière de l'Étoile +at the dawn of day."</p> +<p>"Then what have you done with Madame Marotte and Mademoiselle +Marie?"</p> +<p>"Deposited them at their own door in the Rue du Faubourg St. +Denis, as was the bounden duty of a <i>preux chevalier</i>. But +then, <i>mon cher</i>, I had no money; and having no money, I +couldn't pay for the fiacre; so I drove on here--and here I am--and +number One Thousand and Eleven is now at the door, waiting to be +paid."</p> +<p>"The deuce he is!"</p> +<p>"So you see, sad as it was to disturb the slumbers of innocence, +I couldn't possibly let you go on sleeping at the rate of two +francs an hour."</p> +<p>"And what is the rate at which you have waked me?"</p> +<p>"Sixteen francs the fare, and something for the driver--say +twenty in all."</p> +<p>"Then, my dear fellow, just open my desk and take one of the two +Napoleons you will see lying inside, and dismiss number One +Thousand and Eleven without loss of time; and then...."</p> +<p>"A thousand thanks! And then what?"</p> +<p>"Will you accept a word of sound advice?"</p> +<p>"Depends on whether it's pleasant to follow, <i>caro +mio</i>"</p> +<p>"Go home; get three or four hours' rest; and meet me in the +Palais Royal about twelve for breakfast."</p> +<p>"In order that you may turn round and go to sleep again in +comfort? No, young man, I will do nothing of the kind. You shall +get up, instead, and we'll go down to Molino's."</p> +<p>"To Molino's?"</p> +<p>"Yes--don't you know Molino's--the large swimming-school by the +Pont Neuf. It's a glorious morning for a plunge in the Seine."</p> +<p>A plunge in the Seine! Now, given a warm bed, a chilly autumn +morning, and a decided inclination to quote the words of the +sluggard, and "slumber again," could any proposition be more +inopportune, savage, and alarming? I shuddered; I protested; I +resisted; but in vain.</p> +<p>"I shall be up again in less time than it will take you to tell +your beads, <i>mon gaillard</i>" said Müller the ferocious, +as, having captured my Napoleon, he prepared to go down and +liquidate with number One Thousand and Eleven. "And it's of no use +to bolt me out, because I shall hammer away till you let me in, and +that will wake your fellow-lodgers. So let me find you up, and +ready for the fray."</p> +<p>And then, execrating Müller, and Molino, and Molino's bath, +and Molino's customers, and all Molino's ancestors from the period +of the deluge downwards, I reluctantly complied.</p> +<p>The air was brisk, the sky cloudless, the sun coldly bright; and +the city wore that strange, breathless, magical look so peculiar to +Paris at early morning. The shops were closed; the pavements +deserted; the busy thoroughfares silent as the avenues of +Père la Chaise. Yet how different from the early stillness +of London! London, before the world is up and stirring, looks dead, +and sullen, and melancholy; but Paris lies all beautiful, and +bright, and mysterious, with a look as of dawning smiles upon her +face; and we know that she will wake presently, like the Sleeping +Beauty, to sudden joyousness and activity.</p> +<p>Our road lay for a little way along the Boulevards, then down +the Rue Vivienne, and through the Palais Royal to the quays; but +long ere we came within sight of the river this magical calm had +begun to break up. The shop-boys in the Palais Royal were already +taking down the shutters--the great book-stall at the end of the +Galerie Vitrée showed signs of wakefulness; and in the Place +du Louvre there was already a detachment of brisk little +foot-soldiers at drill. By the time we had reached the open line of +the quays, the first omnibuses were on the road; the water-carriers +were driving their carts and blowing their shrill little bugles; +the washer-women, hard at work in their gay, oriental-looking +floating kiosques, were hammering away, mallet in hand, and +chattering like millions of magpies; and the early matin-bell was +ringing to prayers as we passed the doors of St. Germain +L'Auxerrois.</p> +<p>And now we were skirting the Quai de l'École, looking +down upon the bath known in those days as Molino's--a hugh, +floating quadrangular structure, surrounded by trellised arcades +and rows of dressing-rooms, with a divan, a café restaurant, +and a permanent corps of cooks and hair-dressers on the +establishment. For your true Parisian has ever been wedded to his +Seine, as the Venetian to his Adriatic; and the École de +Natation was then, as now, a lounge, a reading-room, an adjunct of +the clubs, and one of the great institutions of the capital.</p> +<p>Some bathers, earlier than ourselves, were already sauntering +about the galleries in every variety of undress, from the simple +<i>caleçon</i> to the gaudiest version of Turkish robe and +Algerian <i>kepi</i>. Some were smoking; some reading the morning +papers; some chatting in little knots; but as yet, with the +exception of two or three school-boys (called, in the <i>argot</i> +of the bath, <i>moutards</i>), there were no swimmers in the +water.</p> +<p>With some of these loungers Müller exchanged a nod or a few +words as we passed along the platform; but shook hands cordially +with a bronzed, stalwart man, dressed like a Venetian gondolier in +the frontispiece to a popular ballad, with white trousers, blue +jacket, anchor buttons, red sash, gold ear-rings, and great silver +buckles in his shoes. Müller introduced this romantic-looking +person to me as "Monsieur Barbet."</p> +<p>"My friend, Monsieur Barbet," said he, "is the prince of +swimming-masters. He is more at home in the water than on land, and +knows more about swimming than a fish. He will calculate you the +specific gravity of the heaviest German metaphysician at a glance, +and is capable of floating even the works of Monsieur Thiers, if +put to the test."</p> +<p>"Monsieur can swim?" said the master, addressing me, with a +nautical scrape.</p> +<p>"I think so," I replied.</p> +<p>"Many gentlemen think so," said Monsieur Barbet, "till they find +themselves in the water."</p> +<p>"And many who wish to be thought accomplished swimmers never +venture into it on that account," added Müller. "You would +scarcely suppose," he continued, turning to me, "that there are men +here--regular <i>habitués</i> of the bath--who never go into +the water, and yet give themselves all the airs of practised +bathers. That tall man, for instance, with the black beard and +striped <i>peignoir</i>, yonder--there's a fellow who comes once or +twice a week all through the season, goes through the ceremony of +undressing, smokes, gossips, criticises, is looked up to as an +authority, and has never yet been seen off the platform. Then +there's that bald man in the white robe--his name's Giroflet--a +retired stockbroker. Well, that fellow robes himself like an +ancient Roman, puts himself in classical attitudes, affects +taciturnity, models himself upon Brutus, and all that sort of +thing; but is as careful not to get his feet wet as a cat. Others, +again, come simply to feed. The restaurant is one of the choicest +in Paris, with this advantage over Véfour or the Trois +Frères, that it is the only place where you may eat and +drink of the best in hot weather, with nothing on but the briefest +of <i>caleçons</i>"</p> +<p>Thus chattering, Müller took me the tour of the bath, which +now began to fill rapidly. We then took possession of two little +dressing-rooms no bigger than sentry-boxes, and were presently in +the water.</p> +<p>The scene now became very animated. Hundreds of eccentric +figures crowded the galleries--some absurdly fat, some ludicrously +thin; some old, some young; some bow-legged, some knock-kneed; some +short, some tall; some brown, some yellow; some got up for effect +in gorgeous wrappers; and all more or less hideous.</p> +<p>"An amusing sight, isn't it?" said Müller, as, having swum +several times round the bath, we sat down for a few moments on one +of the flights of steps leading down to the water.</p> +<p>"It is a sight to disgust one for ever with human-kind," I +replied.</p> +<p>"And to fill one with the profoundest respect for one's tailor. +After all, it's broad-cloth makes the man."</p> +<p>"But these are not men--they are caricatures."</p> +<p>"Every man is a caricature of himself when you strip him," said +Müller, epigrammatically. "Look at that scarecrow just +opposite. He passes for an Adonis, <i>de par le monde</i>."</p> +<p>I looked and recognised the Count de Rivarol, a tall young man, +an <i>élégant</i> of the first water, a curled +darling of society, a professed lady-killer, whom I had met many a +time in attendance on Madame de Marignan. He now looked like a +monkey:--</p> +<blockquote>.... "long, and lank and brown,<br> +As in the ribb'd sea sand!"</blockquote> +<p>"Gracious heavens!" I exclaimed, "what would become of the +world, if clothes went out of fashion?"</p> +<p>"Humph!--one half of us, my dear fellow, would commit +suicide."</p> +<p>At the upper end of the bath was a semicircular platform +somewhat loftier than the rest, called the Amphitheatre. This, I +learned, was the place of honor. Here clustered the +<i>élite</i> of the swimmers; here they discussed the great +principles of their art, and passed judgment on the performances of +those less skilful than themselves. To the right of the +Amphitheatre rose a slender spiral staircase, like an openwork +pillar of iron, with a tiny circular platform on the top, half +surrounded by a light iron rail. This conspicuous perch, like the +pillar of St. Simeon Stylites, was every now and then surmounted by +the gaunt figure of some ambitious plunger who, after +attitudinizing awhile in the pose of Napoleon on the column +Vendôme, would join his hands above his head and take a +tremendous "header" into the gulf below. When this feat was +successfully performed, the <i>élite</i> in the Amphitheatre +applauded graciously.</p> +<p>And now, what with swimming, and lounging, and looking on, some +two hours had slipped by, and we were both hungry and tired, +Müller proposed that we should breakfast at the Café +Procope.</p> +<p>"But why not here?" I asked, as a delicious breeze from the +buffet came wafting by "like a steam of rich distilled +perfumes."</p> +<p>"Because a breakfast <i>chez</i> Molino costs at least +twenty-five francs per head--BECAUSE I have credit at +Procope--BECAUSE I have not a <i>sou</i> in my pocket--and BECAUSE, +milord Smithfield, I aspire to the honor of entertaining your +lordship on the present occasion!" replied Müller, punctuating +each clause of his sentence with a bow.</p> +<p>If Müller had not a <i>sou</i>, I, at all events, had now +only one Napoleon; so the Café Procope carried the day.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII."></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> +<h3>THE RUE DE L'ANCIENNE COMÉDIE AND THE CAFÉ +PROCOPE.</h3> +<br> +<p>The Rue des Fossés-Saint-Germain-des-Près and the +Rue de l'Ancienne Comédie are one and the same. As the Rue +des Fossés-Saint-Germain-des-Près, it dates back to +somewhere about the reign of Philippe Auguste; and as the Rue de +l'Ancienne Comèdie it takes its name and fame from the year +1689, when the old Théâtre Français was opened +on the 18th of April by the company known as Moliêre's +troupe--Moliêre being then dead, and Lully having succeeded +him at the Théâtre du Palais Royal.</p> +<p>In the same year, 1689, one François Procope, a Sicilian, +conceived the happy idea of hiring a house just opposite the new +theatre, and there opening a public refreshment-room, which at once +became famous, not only for the excellence of its coffee (then +newly introduced into France), but also for being the favorite +resort of all the wits, dramatists, and beaux of that brilliant +time. Here the latest epigrams were circulated, the newest scandals +discussed, the bitterest literary cabals set on foot. Here Jean +Jacques brooded over his chocolate; and Voltaire drank his mixed +with coffee; and Dorat wrote his love-letters to Mademoiselle +Saunier; and Marmontel wrote praises of Mademoiselle Clairon; and +the Marquis de Biévre made puns innumerable; and Duclos and +Mercier wrote satires, now almost forgotten; and Piron recited +those verses which are at once his shame and his fame; and the +Chevalier de St. Georges gave fencing lessons to his literary +friends; and Lamothe, Fréron, D'Alembert, Diderot, +Helvetius, and all that wonderful company of wits, philosophers, +encyclopaedists, and poets, that lit up as with a dying glory the +last decades of the old <i>régime</i>, met daily, nightly, +to write, to recite, to squabble, to lampoon, and some times to +fight.</p> +<p>The year 1770 beheld, in the closing of the Théâtre +Français, the extinction of a great power in the Rue des +Fossés-Saint-Germain-des-Près--for it was not, in +fact, till the theatre was no more a theatre that the street +changed its name, and became the Rue de L'Ancienne Comédie. +A new house (to be on first opening invested with the time-honored +title of Théâtre Français, but afterwards to be +known as the Odéon) was now in progress of erection in the +close neighborhood of the Luxembourg. The actors, meanwhile, +repaired to the little theatre of the Tuilleries. At length, in +1782,<a name="FNanchor2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2">[2]</a> the Rue +de L'Ancienne Comédie was one evening awakened from its two +years' lethargy by the echo of many footfalls, the glare of many +flambeaux, and the rattle of many wheels; for all Paris, all the +wits and critics of the Café Procope, all the fair +shepherdesses and all the beaux seigneurs of the court of Marie +Antoinette and Louis XVI., were hastening on foot, in chairs, and +in chariots, to the opening of the new house and the performance of +a new play! And what a play! Surely, not to consider it too +curiously, a play which struck, however sportively, the key-note of +the coming Revolution;--a play which, for the first time, displayed +society literally in a state of <i>bouleversement</i>;--a play in +which the greed of the courtier, the venality of the judge, the +empty glitter of the crown, were openly held up to scorn;--a play +in which all the wit, audacity, and success are on the side of the +<i>canaille</i>;--a play in which a lady's-maid is the heroine, and +a valet canes his master, and a great nobleman is tricked, +outwitted, and covered with ridicule!</p> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor2">[2]</a> +1782 is the date given by M. Hippolyte Lucas. Sainte-Beuve places +it two years later.</blockquote> +<p>This play, produced for the first time under the title of <i>La +Folle Journée</i>, was written by one Caron de +Beaumarchais--a man of wit, a man of letters, a man of the people, +a man of nothing--and was destined to achieve immortality under its +later title of <i>Le Mariage de Figaro</i>.</p> +<p>A few years later, and the Rue de l'Ancienne Comédie +echoed daily and nightly to the dull rumble of Revolutionary +tumbrils, and the heavy tramp of Revolutionary mobs. Danton and +Camille Desmoulins must have passed through it habitually on their +way to the Revolutionary Tribunal. Charlotte Corday (and this is a +matter of history) did pass through it that bright July evening, +1793, on her way to a certain gloomy house still to be seen in the +adjoining Rue de l'École de Médecine, where she +stabbed Marat in his bath.</p> +<p>But throughout every vicissitude of time and politics, though +fashion deserted the Rue de l'Ancienne Comédie, and actors +migrated, and fresh generations of wits and philosophers succeeded +each other, the Café Procope still held its ground and +maintained its ancient reputation. The theatre (closed in less than +a century) became the studio first of Gros and then of +Gérard, and was finally occupied by a succession of +restaurateurs but the Café Procope remained the Café +Procope, and is the Café Procope to this day.</p> +<p>The old street and all belonging to it--especially and +peculiarly the Café Procope---was of the choicest Quartier +Latin flavor in the time of which I write; in the pleasant, +careless, impecunious days of my youth. A cheap and highly popular +restaurateur named Pinson rented the old theatre. A +<i>costumier</i> hung out wigs, and masks, and débardeur +garments next door to the restaurateur. Where the fatal tumbril +used to labor past, the frequent omnibus now rattled gayly by; and +the pavements trodden of old by Voltaire, and Beaumarchais, and +Charlotte Corday, were thronged by a merry tide of students and +grisettes. Meanwhile the Café Procope, though no longer the +resort of great wits and famous philosophers, received within its +hospitable doors, and nourished with its indifferent refreshments, +many a now celebrated author, painter, barrister, and statesman. It +was the general rendezvous for students of all kinds--poets of the +École de Droit, philosophers of the École de +Médecine, critics of the École des Beaux Arts. It +must however be admitted that the poetry and criticism of these +future great men was somewhat too liberally perfumed with tobacco, +and that into their systems of philosophy there entered a +considerable element of grisette.</p> +<p>Such, at the time of my first introduction to it, was the famous +Café Procope.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX."></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> +<h3>THE PHILOSOPHY OF BREAKFAST.</h3> +<br> +<p>"Now this, <i>mon cher</i>," said Müller, taking off his +hat with a flourish to the young lady at the <i>comptoir</i>, "is +the immortal Café Procope."</p> +<p>I looked round, and found myself in a dingy, ordinary sort of +Café, in no wise differing from any other dingy, ordinary +sort of Café in that part of Paris. The decorations were +ugly enough to be modern. The ceiling was as black with gas-fumes +and tobacco smoke as any other ceiling in any other estaminet in +the Quartier Latin. The waiters looked as waiters always look +before midday--sleepy, discontented, and unwashed. A few young men +of the regular student type were scattered about here and there at +various tables, reading, smoking, chatting, breakfasting, and +reading the morning papers. In an alcove at the upper end of the +second room (for there were two, one opening from the other) stood +a blackened, broken-nosed, plaster bust of Voltaire, upon the +summit of whose august wig some irreverent customer had perched a +particularly rakish-looking hat. Just in front of this alcove and +below the bust stood a marble-topped table, at one end of which two +young men were playing dominoes to the accompaniment of the +matutinal absinthe.</p> +<p>"And this," said Müller, with another flourish, "is the +still more immortal table of the still more supremely immortal +Voltaire. Here he was wont to rest his sublime elbows and sip his +<i>demi-tasse</i>. Here, upon this very table, he wrote that famous +letter to Marie Antoinette that Fréron stole, and in revenge +for which he wrote the comedy called <i>l'Ecossaise</i>; but of +this admirable satire you English, who only know Voltaire in his +Henriade and his history of Charles the Twelfth, have probably +never heard till this moment! <i>Eh bien</i>! I'm not much wiser +than you--so never mind. I'll be hanged if I've ever read a line of +it. Anyhow, here is the table, and at this other end of it we'll +have our breakfast."</p> +<p>It was a large, old-fashioned, Louis Quatorze piece of +furniture, the top of which, formed from a single slab of some kind +of gray and yellow marble, was stained all over with the coffee, +wine, and ink-splashes of many generations of customers. It looked +as old--nay, older--than the house itself.</p> +<p>The young men who were playing at dominoes looked up and nodded, +as three or four others had done in the outer room when we passed +through.</p> +<p>"<i>Bonjour, l'ami</i>," said the one who seemed to be winning. +"Hast thou chanced to see anything of Martial, coming along!"</p> +<p>"I observed a nose defiling round the corner of the Rue de +Bussy," replied Müller, "and it looked as if Martial might be +somewhere in the far distance, but I didn't wait to see. Are you +expecting him?"</p> +<p>"Confound him--yes! We've been waiting more than half an +hour."</p> +<p>"If you have invited him to breakfast," said Müller, "he is +sure to come."</p> +<p>"On the contrary, he has invited us to breakfast."</p> +<p>"Ah, that alters the case," said Müller, philosophically. +"Then he is sure <i>not</i> to come." "Garçon!"</p> +<p>A bullet-headed, short-jacketed, long-aproned waiter, who looked +as if he had not been to bed since his early youth, answered the +summons,</p> +<p>"M'sieur!"</p> +<p>"What have you that you can especially recommend this +morning?"</p> +<p>The waiter, with that nasal volubility peculiar to his race, +rapidly ran over the whole vegetable and animal creation.</p> +<p>Müller listened with polite incredulity.</p> +<p>"Nothing else?" said he, when the other stopped, apparently from +want of breath.</p> +<p>"<i>Mais oui, M'sieur</i>!" and, thus stimulated, the waiter, +having "exhausted worlds and then imagined new," launched forth +into a second and still more impossible catalogue.</p> +<p>Müller turned to me.</p> +<p>"The resources of this establishment, you observe," he said, +very gravely, "are inexhaustible. One might have a Roc's egg +à la Sindbad for the asking."</p> +<p>The waiter looked puzzled, shuffled his slippered feet, and +murmured something about "<i>oeufs sur le plat</i>."</p> +<p>"Unfortunately, however," continued Müller, "we are but +men--not fortresses provisioning for a siege. Antoine, <i>mon +enfant</i>, we know thee to be a fellow of incontestible veracity, +and thy list is magnificent; but we will be content with a +<i>vol-au-vent</i> of fish, a <i>bifteck aux pommes frites</i>, an +<i>omelette sucrée</i>, and a bottle of thy 1840 Bordeaux +with the yellow seal. Now vanish!"</p> +<p>The waiter, wearing an expression of intense relief, vanished +accordingly.</p> +<p>Meanwhile more students had come in, and more kept coming. Hats +and caps cropped up rapidly wherever there were pegs to hang them +on, and the talking became fast and furious.</p> +<p>I soon found that everybody knew everybody at the Café +Procope, and that the specialty of the establishment was +dominoes--just as the specialty of the Café de la +Régence is chess. There were games going on before long at +almost every table, and groups of lookers-on gathered about those +who enjoyed the reputation of being skilful players.</p> +<p>Gradually breakfast after breakfast emerged from some mysterious +nether world known only to the waiters, and the war of dominoes +languished.</p> +<p>"These are all students, of course," I said presently, "and yet, +though I meet a couple of hundred fellows at our hospital lectures, +I don't see a face I know."</p> +<p>"You would find some by this time, I dare say, in the other +room," replied Müller. "I brought you in here that you might +sit at Voltaire's table, and eat your steak under the shadow of +Voltaire's bust; but this salon is chiefly frequented by +law-students--the other by medical and art students. Your place, +<i>mon chér</i>, as well as mine, is in the outer +sanctuary."</p> +<p>"That infernal Martial!" groaned one of the domino-players at +the other end of the table. "So ends the seventh game, and here we +are still. <i>Parbleu!</i> Horace, hasn't that absinthe given you +an inconvenient amount of appetite?"</p> +<p>"Alas! my friend--don't mention it. And when the absinthe is +paid for, I haven't a sou."</p> +<p>"My own case precisely. What's to be done?"</p> +<p>"Done!" echoed Horace, pathetically. "Shade of Apicius! inspire +me...but, no--he's not listening."</p> +<p>"Hold! I have it. We'll make our wills in one another's favor, +and die."</p> +<p>"I should prefer to die when the wind is due East, and the moon +at the full," said Horace, contemplatively.</p> +<p>"True--besides, there is still <i>la mère</i> Gaudissart. +Her cutlets are tough, but her heart is tender. She would not +surely refuse to add one more breakfast to the score!"</p> +<p>Horace shook his head with an air of great despondency.</p> +<p>"There was but one Job," said he, "and he has been dead some +time. The patience of <i>la mère</i> Gaudissart has long +since been entirely exhausted."</p> +<p>"I am not so sure of that. One might appeal to her feelings, you +know--have a presentiment of early death--wipe away a tear... Bah! +it is worth the effort, anyhow."</p> +<p>"It is a forlorn hope, my dear fellow, but, as you say, it is +worth the effort. <i>Allons donc!</i> to the storming of <i>la +mère</i> Gaudissart!"</p> +<p>And with this they pushed aside the dominoes, took down their +hats, nodded to Müller, and went out.</p> +<p>"There go two of the brightest fellows and most improvident +scamps in the whole Quartier," said my companion. "They are both +studying for the bar; both under age; both younger sons of good +families; and both destined, if I am not much mistaken, to rise to +eminence by-and-by. Horace writes for <i>Figaro</i> and the +<i>Petit Journal pour Rire</i>--Théophile does +<i>feuilleton</i> work--romances, chit-chat, and political +squibs--rubbish, of course; but clever rubbish, and wonderful when +one considers what boys they both are, and what dissipated lives +they lead. The amount of impecuniosity those fellows get through in +the course of a term is something inconceivable. They have often +only one decent suit between them--and sometimes not that. To-day, +you see, they are at their wits' end for a breakfast. They have run +their credit dry at Procope and everywhere else, and are gone now +to a miserable little den in the Rue du Paon, kept by a fat +good-natured old soul called <i>la mère</i> Gaudissart. She +will perhaps take compassion on their youth and inexperience, and +let them have six sous worth of horsebeef soup, stale bread, and +the day before yesterday's vegetables. Nay, don't look so pitiful! +We poor devils of the Student Quartier hug our Bohemian life, and +exalt it above every other. When we have money, we cannot find +windows enough out of which to fling it--when we have none, we +start upon <i>la chasse au diner</i>, and enjoy the pleasures of +the chase. We revel in the extremes of fasting and feasting, and +scarcely know which we prefer."</p> +<p>"I think your friends Horace and Théophile are tolerably +clear as to which <i>they</i> prefer," I remarked, with a +smile.</p> +<p>"Bah! they would die of <i>ennui</i> if they had always enough +to eat! Think how it sharpens a man's wits if--given the time, the +place, and the appetite--he has every day to find the credit for +his dinners! Show me a mathematical problem to compare with it as a +popular educator of youth!"</p> +<p>"But for young men of genius, like Horace and +Théophile..."</p> +<p>"Make yourself quite easy, <i>mon cher</i>. A little privation +will do them no kind of harm. They belong to that class of whom it +has been said that 'they would borrow money from Harpagon, and find +truffles on the raft of the Medusa.' But hold! we are at the end of +our breakfast. What say you? Shall we take our <i>demi-tasse</i> in +the next room, among our fellow-students of physic and the fine +arts?"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX."></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h2> +<h3>A MAN WITH A HISTORY.</h3> +<br> +<p>The society of the outer salon differed essentially from the +society of the inner salon at the Café Procope. It was +noisier--it was shabbier--it was smokier. The conversation in the +inner salon was of a general character on the whole, and, as one +caught sentences of it here and there, seemed for the most part to +relate to the literature and news of the day--to the last important +paper in the Revue des Deux Mondes, to the new drama at the +Odéon, or to the article on foreign politics in the +<i>Journal des Débats</i>. But in the outer salon the talk +was to the last degree shoppy, and overflowed with the argot of the +studios. Some few medical students were clustered, it is true, in a +corner near the door; but they were so outnumbered by the artists +at the upper end of the room, that these latter seemed to hold +complete possession, and behaved more like the members of a +recognised club than the casual customers of a café. They +talked from table to table. They called the waiters by their +Christian names. They swaggered up and down the middle of the room +with their hats on their heads, their hands in their pockets, and +their pipes in their mouths, as coolly as if it were the broad walk +of the Luxembourg gardens.</p> +<p>And the appearance of these gentlemen was not less remarkable +than their deportment. Their hair, their beards, their clothes, +were of the wildest devising. They seemed one and all to have +started from a central idea, that central idea being to look as +unlike their fellow-men as possible; and thence to have diverged +into a variety that was nothing short of infinite. Each man had +evidently modelled himself upon his own ideal, and no two ideals +were alike. Some were picturesque, some were grotesque; and some, +it must be admitted, were rather dirty ideals, into the realization +of which no such paltry considerations as those of soap, water, or +brushes were permitted to enter.</p> +<p>Here, for instance, were Roundhead crops and flowing locks of +Cavalier redundancy--steeple-crowned hats, and Roman cloaks draped +bandit-fashion--moustachios frizzed and brushed up the wrong way in +the style of Louis XIV.--pointed beards and slouched hats, after +the manner of Vandyke---patriarchal beards <i>à la +Barbarossa</i>--open collars, smooth chins, and long undulating +locks of the Raffaelle type--coats, blouses, paletots of +inconceivable cut, and all kinds of unusual colors--in a word, +every eccentricity of clothing, short of fancy costume, in which it +was practicable for men of the nineteenth century to walk abroad +and meet the light of day.</p> +<p>We had no sooner entered this salon, taken possession of a +vacant table, and called for coffee, than my companion was beset by +a storm of greetings.</p> +<p>"Holà! Müller, where hast thou been hiding these +last few centuries, <i>mon gaillard?</i>"</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens!</i> Müller risen from the dead!"</p> +<p>"What news from <i>là bas,</i> old fellow?"</p> +<p>To all which ingenious pleasantries my companion replied in +kind--introducing me at the same time to two or three of the +nearest speakers. One of these, a dark young man got up in the +style of a Byzantine Christ, with straight hair parted down the +middle, a bifurcated beard, and a bare throat, was called +Eugène Droz. Another--big, burly, warm-complexioned, with +bright open blue eyes, curling reddish beard and moustache, +slouched hat, black velvet blouse, immaculate linen, and an +abundance of rings, chains, and ornaments--was made up in excellent +imitation of the well-known portrait of Rubens. This gentleman's +name, as I presently learned, was Caesar de Lepany.</p> +<p>When we came in, these two young men, Droz and De Lepany, were +discussing, in enthusiastic but somewhat unintelligible language, +the merits of a certain Monsieur Lemonnier, of whom, although till +that moment ignorant of his name and fame, I at once perceived that +he must be some celebrated <i>chef de cuisine</i>.</p> +<p>"He will never surpass that last thing of his," said the +Byzantine youth. "Heavens! How smooth it is! How buttery! How +pulpy!"</p> +<p>"Ay--and yet with all that lusciousness of quality, he never +wants piquancy," added De Lepany.</p> +<p>"I think his greens are apt to be a little raw," interposed +Müller, taking part in the conversation.</p> +<p>"Raw!" echoed the first speaker, indignantly. "<i>Eh, mon +Dieu!</i> What can you be thinking of! They are almost too +hot!"</p> +<p>"But they were not so always, Eugène," said he of the +Rubens make-up, with an air of reluctant candor. "It must be +admitted that Lemonnier's greens used formerly to be a trifle--just +a trifle--raw. Evidently Monsieur Müller does not know how +much he has taken to warming them up of late. Even now, perhaps, +his olives are a little cold."</p> +<p>"But then, how juicy his oranges are!" exclaimed young +Byzantine.</p> +<p>"True--and when you remember that he never washes--!"</p> +<p>"Ah, <i>sacredie!</i> yes--there is the marvel!"</p> +<p>And Monsieur Eugène Droz held up his hands and eyes with +all the reverent admiration of a true believer for a particularly +dirty dervish.</p> +<p>"Who, in Heaven's name, is this unclean individual who used to +like his vegetables underdone, and never washes?" whispered I in +Müller's ear.</p> +<p>"What--Lemonnier! You don't mean to say you never heard of +Lemonnier?"</p> +<p>"Never, till now. Is he a cook?"</p> +<p>Müller gave me a dig in the ribs that took my breath +away.</p> +<p>"<i>Goguenard!</i>" said he. "Lemonnier's an artist--the +foremost man of the water-color school. But I wouldn't be too funny +if I were you. Suppose you were to burst your jocular vein--there'd +be a catastrophe!"</p> +<p>Meanwhile the conversation of Messieurs Droz and Lepany had +taken a fresh turn, and attracted a little circle of listeners, +among whom I observed an eccentric-looking young man with a +club-foot, an enormously long neck, and a head of short, stiff, +dusty hair, like the bristles of a blacking-brush.</p> +<p>"Queroulet!" said Lepany, with a contemptuous flourish of his +pipe. "Who spoke of Queroulet? Bah!--a miserable plodder, destitute +of ideality--a fellow who paints only what he sees, and sees only +what is commonplace--a dull, narrow-souled, unimaginative +handicraftsman, to whom a tree is just a tree; and a man, a man; +and a straw, a straw, and nothing more!"</p> +<p>"That's a very low-souled view to take of art, no doubt," +croaked in a grating treble voice the youth with the club-foot; +"but if trees and men and straws are not exactly trees and men and +straws, and are not to be represented as trees and men and straws, +may I inquire what else they are, and how they are to be +pictorially treated?"</p> +<p>"They must be ideally treated, Monsieur Valentin," replied +Lepany, majestically.</p> +<p>"No doubt; but what will they be like when they are ideally +treated? Will they still, to the vulgar eye, be recognisable for +trees and men and straws?"</p> +<p>"I should scarcely have supposed that Monsieur Valentin would +jest upon such a subject as a canon of the art he professes," said +Lepany, becoming more and more dignified.</p> +<p>"I am not jesting," croaked Monsieur Valentin; "but when I hear +men of your school talk so much about the Ideal, I (as a realist) +always want to know what they themselves understand by the +phrase."</p> +<p>"Are you asking me for my definition of the Ideal, Monsieur +Valentin?"</p> +<p>"Well, if it's not giving you too much trouble--yes."</p> +<p>Lepany, who evidently relished every chance of showing off, fell +into a picturesque attitude and prepared to hold forth. Valentin +winked at one or two of his own clique, and lit a cigar.</p> +<p>"You ask me," began Lepany, "to define the Ideal--in other +words, to define the indefinite, which alas! whether from a +metaphysical, a philosophical, or an aesthetic point of view, is a +task transcending immeasurably my circumscribed powers of +expression."</p> +<p>"Gracious heavens!" whispered Müller in my ear. "He must +have been reared from infancy on words of five syllables!"</p> +<p>"What shall I say?" pursued Lepany. "Shall I say that the Ideal +is, as it were, the Real distilled and sublimated in the alembic of +the imagination? Shall I say that the Ideal is an image projected +by the soul of genius upon the background of the universe? That it +is that dazzling, that unimaginable, that incommunicable goal +towards which the suns in their orbits, the stars in their courses, +the spheres with all their harmonies, have been chaotically tending +since time began! Ideal, say you? Call it ideal, soul, mind, +matter, art, eternity,... what are they all but words? What are +words but the weak strivings of the fettered soul that fain would +soar to those empyrean heights where Truth, and Art, and Beauty are +one and indivisible? Shall I say all this..."</p> +<p>"My dear fellow, you have said it already--you needn't say it +again," interrupted Valentin.</p> +<p>"Ay; but having said it--having expressed myself, perchance with +some obscurity...."</p> +<p>"With the obscurity of Erebus!" said, very deliberately, a fat +student in a blouse.</p> +<p>"Monsieur!" exclaimed De Lepany, measuring the length and +breadth of the fat student with a glance of withering scorn.</p> +<p>The Byzantine was no less indignant.</p> +<p>"Don't heed them, <i>mon ami</i>!" he cried, enthusiastically. +"Thy definition is sublime-eloquent!"</p> +<p>"Nay," said Valentin, "we concede that Monsieur de Lepany is +sublime; we recognise with admiration that he is eloquent; but we +submit that he is wholly unintelligible."</p> +<p>And having delivered this parting shot, the club-footed realist +slipped his arm through the arm of the fat student, and went off to +a distant table and a game at dominoes.</p> +<p>Then followed an outburst of offended idealism. His own clique +crowded round Lepany as the champion of their school. They shook +hands with him. They embraced him. They fooled him to the top of +his bent. Presently, being not only as good-natured as he was +conceited, but (rare phenomenon in the Quartier Latin!) a rich +fellow into the bargain, De Lepany called for champagne and treated +his admirers all around.</p> +<p>In the midst of the chatter and bustle which this incident +occasioned, a pale, earnest-looking man of about five-and-thirty, +coming past our table on his way out of the Café, touched +Müller on the arm, bent down, and said quietly:--</p> +<p>"Müller, will you do me a favor!"</p> +<p>"A hundred, Monsieur," replied my companion; half rising, and +with an air of unusual respect and alacrity.</p> +<p>"Thanks, one will be enough. Do you see that man yonder, sitting +alone in the corner, with his back to the light?"</p> +<p>"I do."</p> +<p>"Good--don't look at him again, for fear of attracting his +attention. I have been trying for the last half hour to get a +sketch of his head, but I think he suspected me. Anyhow he moved so +often, and so hid his face with his hands and the newspaper, that I +was completely baffled. Now it is a remarkable head--just the head +I have been wanting for my Marshal Romero--and if, with your rapid +pencil and your skill in seizing expression, you could manage this +for me...."</p> +<p>"I will do my best," said Müller.</p> +<p>"A thousand thanks. I will go now; for when I am gone he will be +off his guard. You will find me in the den up to three o'clock. +Adieu."</p> +<p>Saying which, the stranger passed on, and went out.</p> +<p>"That's Flandrin!" said Müller.</p> +<p>"Really?" I said. "Flandrin! And you know him?"</p> +<p>But in truth I only answered thus to cover my own ignorance; for +I knew little at that time of modern French art, and I had never +even heard the name of Flandrin before.</p> +<p>"Know him!" echoed Müller. "I should think so. Why, I +worked in his studio for nearly two years."</p> +<p>And then he explained to me that this great painter (great even +then, though as yet appreciated only in certain choice Parisian +circles, and not known out of France) was at work upon a grand +historical subject connected with the Spanish persecutions in the +Netherlands--the execution of Egmont and Horn, in short, in the +great square before the Hôtel de Ville in Brussels.</p> +<p>"But the main point now," said Müller, "is to get the +sketch--and how? Confound the fellow! while he keeps his back to +the light and his head down like that, the thing is impossible. +Anyhow I can't do it without an accomplice. You must help me."</p> +<p>"I! What can I do?"</p> +<p>"Go and sit near him--speak to him--make him look up--keep him, +if possible, for a few minutes in conversation--nothing +easier."</p> +<p>"Nothing easier, perhaps, if I were you; but, being only myself, +few things more difficult!"</p> +<p>"Nevertheless, my dear boy, you must try, and at once. Hey +--presto!--away!"</p> +<p>Placed where we were, the stranger was not likely to have +observed us; for we had come into the room from behind the corner +in which he was sitting, and had taken our places at a table which +he could not have seen without shifting his own position. So, thus +peremptorily commanded, I rose; slipped quietly back into the inner +salon, made a pretext of looking at the clock over the door; and +came out again, as if alone and looking for a vacant seat.</p> +<p>The table at which he had placed himself was very small--only +just big enough to stand in a corner and hold a plate and a +coffee-cup; but it was supposed to be large enough for two, and +there were evidently two chairs belonging to it. On one of these, +being alone, the stranger had placed his overcoat and a small black +bag. I at once saw and seized my opportunity.</p> +<p>"Pardon, Monsieur," I said, very civilly, "will you permit me to +hang these things up?"</p> +<p>He looked up, frowned, and said abruptly:--</p> +<p>"Why, Monsieur?"</p> +<p>"That I may occupy this chair."</p> +<p>He glanced round; saw that there was really no other vacant; +swept off the bag and coat with his own hands; hung them on a peg +overhead; dropped back into his former attitude, and went on +reading.</p> +<p>"I regret to have given you the trouble, Monsieur," I said, +hoping to pave the way to a conversation.</p> +<p>But a little quick, impatient movement of the hand was his only +reply. He did not even raise his head. He did not even lift his +eyes from the paper.</p> +<p>I called for a demi-tasse and a cigar; then took out a note-book +and pencil, assumed an air of profound abstraction, and affected to +become absorbed in calculations.</p> +<p>In the meanwhile, I could not resist furtively observing the +appearance of this man whom a great artist had selected as his +model for one of the darkest characters of mediæval +history.</p> +<p>He was rather below than above the middle height; spare and +sinewy; square in the shoulders and deep in the chest; with +close-clipped hair and beard; grizzled moustache; high cheek-bones; +stern impassive features, sharply cut; and deep-set restless eyes, +quick and glancing as the eyes of a monkey. His face, throat, and +hands were sunburnt to a deep copper-color, as if cast in bronze. +His age might have been from forty-five to fifty. He wore a +thread-bare frock-coat buttoned to the chin; a stiff black stock +revealing no glimpse of shirt-collar; a well-worn hat pulled low +over his eyes; and trousers of dark blue cloth, worn very white and +shiny at the knees, and strapped tightly down over a pair of +much-mended boots.</p> +<p>The more I looked at him, the less I was surprised that Flandrin +should have been struck by his appearance. There was an air of +stern poverty and iron resolution about the man that arrested one's +attention at first sight. The words "<i>ancien militaire"</i> were +written in every furrow of his face; in every seam and on every +button of his shabby clothing. That he had seen service, missed +promotion, suffered unmerited neglect (or, it might be, merited +disgrace), seemed also not unlikely.</p> +<p>Watching him as he sat, half turned away, half hidden by the +newspaper he was reading, one elbow resting on the table, one +brown, sinewy hand supporting his chin and partly concealing his +mouth, I told myself that here, at all events, was a man with a +history--perhaps with a very dark history. What were the secrets of +his past? What had he done? What had he endured? I would give much +to know.</p> +<p>My coffee and cigar being brought, I asked for the +<i>Figaro</i>, and holding the paper somewhat between the stranger +and myself, watched him with increasing interest.</p> +<p>I now began to suspect that he was less interested in his own +newspaper than he appeared to be, and that his profound +abstraction, like my own, was assumed. An indefinable something in +the turn of his head seemed to tell me that his attention was +divided between whatever might be going forward in the room and +what he was reading. I cannot describe what that something was; but +it gave me the impression that he was always listening. When the +outer door opened or shut, he stirred uneasily, and once or twice +looked sharply round to see what new-comer entered the café. +Was he anxiously expecting some one who did not come? Or was he +dreading the appearance of some one whom he wished to avoid? Might +he not be a political refugee? Might he not be a spy?</p> +<p>"There is nothing of interest in the papers to-day, Monsieur," +said, making another effort to force him into conversation.</p> +<p>He affected not to hear me.</p> +<p>I drew my chair a little nearer, and repeated the +observation.</p> +<p>He frowned impatiently, and without looking up, replied:--</p> +<p>"<i>Eh, mon Dieu</i>, Monsieur!--when there is a dearth of +news!"</p> +<p>"There need not, even so, be a dearth of wit. <i>Figaro</i> is +as heavy to-day as a government leader in the <i>Moniteur</i>."</p> +<p>He shrugged his shoulders and moved slightly round, apparently +to get a better light upon what he was reading, but in reality to +turn still more away from me. The gesture of avoidance was so +marked, that with the best will in the world, it would have been +impossible for me to address him again. I therefore relapsed into +silence.</p> +<p>Presently I saw a sudden change flash over him.</p> +<p>Now, in turning away from myself, he had faced round towards a +narrow looking-glass panel which reflected part of the opposite +side of the room; and chancing, I suppose, to lift his eyes from +the paper, he had seen something that arrested his attention. His +head was still bent; but I could see that his eyes were riveted +upon the mirror. There was alertness in the tightening of his hand +before his mouth--in the suspension of his breathing.</p> +<p>Then he rose abruptly, brushed past me as if I were not there, +and crossed to where Müller, sketch-book in hand, was in the +very act of taking his portrait.</p> +<p>I jumped up, almost involuntarily, and followed him. +Müller, with an unsuccessful effort to conceal his confusion, +thrust the book into his pocket.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," said the stranger, in a low, resolute voice, "I +protest against what you have been doing. You have no right to take +my likeness without my permission."</p> +<p>"Pardon, Monsieur, I--I beg to assure you--" stammered +Müller.</p> +<p>"That you intended no offence? I am willing to suppose so. Give +me up the sketch, and I am content."</p> +<p>"Give up the sketch!" echoed Müller.</p> +<p>"Precisely, Monsieur."</p> +<p>"Nay--but if, as an artist, I have observed that which leads me +to desire a--a memorandum--let us say of the pose and contour of a +certain head," replied Müller, recovering his self-possession, +"it is not likely that I shall be disposed to part from my +memorandum."</p> +<p>"How, Monsieur! you refuse?"</p> +<p>"I am infinitely sorry, but--"</p> +<p>"But you refuse?"</p> +<p>"I certainly cannot comply with Monsieur's request."</p> +<p>The stranger, for all his bronzing, grew pale with rage.</p> +<p>"Do not compel me, Monsieur, to say what I must think of your +conduct, if you persist in this determination," he said +fiercely.</p> +<p>Müller smiled, but made no reply.</p> +<p>"You absolutely refuse to yield up the sketch?"</p> +<p>"Absolutely."</p> +<p>"Then, Monsieur, <i>c'est une infamie</i>--<i>et vous êtes +un lâche</i>!"</p> +<p>But the last word had scarcely hissed past his lips before +Müller dashed his coffee dregs full in the stranger's +face.</p> +<p>In one second, the table was upset--blows were +exchanged--Müller, pinned against the wall with his +adversary's hands upon his throat, was striking out with the +desperation of a man whose strength is overmatched--and the whole +room was in a tumult.</p> +<p>In vain I attempted to fling myself between them. In vain the +waiters rushed to and fro, imploring "ces Messieurs" to interpose. +In vain a stout man pushed his way through the bystanders, +exclaiming angrily:--</p> +<p>"Desist, Messieurs! Desist, in the name of the law! I am the +proprietor of this establishment--I forbid this brawling--I will +have you both arrested! Messieurs, do you hear?"</p> +<p>Suddenly the flush of rage faded out of Müller's face. He +gasped--became livid. Lepany, Droz, myself, and one or two others, +flew at the stranger and dragged him forcibly back.</p> +<p>"Assassin!" I cried, "would you murder him?"</p> +<p>He flung us off, as a baited bull flings off a pack of curs. For +myself, though I received only a backhanded blow on the chest, I +staggered as if I had been struck with a sledgehammer.</p> +<p>Müller, half-fainting, dropped into a chair.</p> +<p>There was a tramp and clatter at the door--a swaying and parting +of the crowd.</p> +<p>"Here are the sergents de ville!" cried a trembling waiter.</p> +<p>"He attacked me first," gasped Müller. "He has half +strangled me."</p> +<p>"<i>Qu'est ce que ça me fait</i>!" shouted the enraged +proprietor. "You are a couple of <i>canaille</i>! You have made a +scandal in my Café. Sergents, arrest both these +gentlemen!"</p> +<p>The police--there were two of them, with their big cocked hats +on their heads and their long sabres by their sides--pushed through +the circle of spectators. The first laid his hand on Müller's +shoulder; the second was about to lay his hand on mine, but I drew +back.</p> +<p>"Which is the other?" said he, looking round.</p> +<p>"<i>Sacredie</i>!" stammered the proprietor, "he was +here--there--not a moment ago!"</p> +<p>"<i>Diable</i>!" said the sergent de ville, stroking his +moustache, and staring fiercely about him. "Did no one see him +go?"</p> +<p>There was a chorus of exclamations--a rush to the inner +salon--to the door--to the street. But the stranger was nowhere in +sight; and, which was still more incomprehensible, no one had seen +him go!</p> +<p>"<i>Mais, mon Dieu</i>!" exclaimed the proprietor, mopping his +head and face violently with his pocket-handkerchief, "was the man +a ghost, that he should vanish into the air?"</p> +<p>"<i>Parbleu</i>! a ghost with muscles of iron," said +Müller. "Talk of the strength of a madman--he has the strength +of a whole lunatic asylum!"</p> +<p>"He gave me a most confounded blow in the ribs, anyhow!" said +Lepany.</p> +<p>"And nearly broke my arm," added Eugène Droz.</p> +<p>"And has given me a pain in my chest for a week," said I, in +chorus.</p> +<p>"If he wasn't a ghost," observed the fat student sententiously, +"he must certainly be the devil."</p> +<p>The sergents de ville grinned.</p> +<p>"Do we, then, arrest this gentleman?" asked the taller and +bigger of the two, his hand still upon my friend's shoulder.</p> +<p>But Müller laughed and shook his head.</p> +<p>"What!" said he, "arrest a man for resisting the devil? +Nonsense, <i>mes amis</i>, you ought to canonize me. What says +Monsieur le propriétaire?"</p> +<p>Monsieur the proprietor smiled.</p> +<p>"I am willing to let the matter drop," he replied, "on the +understanding that Monsieur Müller was not really the first +offender."</p> +<p>"<i>Foi d'honneur</i>! He insulted me--I threw some coffee in +his face--he flung himself upon me like a tiger, and almost choked +me, as all here witnessed. And for what? Because I did him the +honor to make a rough pencilling of his ugly face ... +<i>Mille tonnerres</i>!--the fellow has stolen my sketch-book!"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI."></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> +<h3>FANCIES ABOUT FACES.</h3> +<br> +<p>The sketch-book was undoubtedly gone, and the stranger had +undoubtedly taken it. How he took it, and how he vanished, remained +a mystery.</p> +<p>The aspect of affairs, meanwhile, was materially changed. +Müller no longer stood in the position of a leniently-treated +offender. He had become accuser, and plaintiff. A grave breach of +the law had been committed, and he was the victim of a bold and +skilful <i>tour de main</i>.</p> +<p>The police shook their heads, twirled their moustaches, and +looked wise.</p> +<p>It was a case of premeditated assault--in short, of robbery with +violence. It must be inquired into--reported, of course, at +head-quarters, without loss of time. Would Monsieur be pleased to +describe the stolen sketch-book? An oblong, green volume, secured +by an elastic band; contains sketches in pencil and water-colors; +value uncertain--Good. And the accused ... would Monsieur also be +pleased to describe the person of the accused? His probable age, +for instance; his height; the color of his hair, eyes, and beard? +Good again. Lastly, Monsieur's own name and address, exactly and in +full. <i>Très-bon.</i> It might, perhaps, be necessary for +Monsieur to enter a formal deposition to-morrow morning at the +Prefecture of Police, in which case due notice would be given.</p> +<p>Whereupon he who seemed to be chief of the twain, having entered +Müller's replies in a greasy pocket-book of stupendous +dimensions, which he seemed to wear like a cuirass under the breast +of his uniform, proceeded to interrogate the proprietor and +waiters.</p> +<p>Was the accused an habitual frequenter of the cafe?--No. Did +they remember ever to have seen him there before?--No. Should they +recognise him if they saw him again? To this question the answers +were doubtful. One waiter thought he should recognise the man; +another was not sure; and Monsieur the proprietor admitted that he +had himself been too angry to observe anything or anybody very +minutely.</p> +<p>Finally, having made themselves of as much importance and asked +as many questions as possible, the sergents de ville condescended +to accept a couple of-petits verres a-piece, and then, with much +lifting of cocked hats and clattering of sabres, departed.</p> +<p>Most of the students had ere this dropped off by twos and +threes, and were gone to their day's work, or pleasure--to return +again in equal force about five in the afternoon. Of those that +remained, some five or six came up when the police were gone, and +began chatting about the robbery. When they learned that Flandrin +had desired to have a sketch of the man's head; when Müller +described his features, and I his obstinate reserve and +semi-military air, their excitement knew no bounds. Each had +immediately his own conjecture to offer. He was a political spy, +and therefore fearful lest his portrait should be recognised. He +was a conspirator of the Fieschi school. He was Mazzini in +person.</p> +<p>In the midst of the discussion, a sudden recollection flashed +upon me.</p> +<p>"A clue! a clue!" I shouted triumphantly. "He left his coat and +black bag hanging up in the corner!"</p> +<p>Followed by the others, I ran to the spot where I had been +sitting before the affray began. But my exultation was shortlived. +Coat and bag, like their owner, had disappeared.</p> +<p>Müller thrust his hands into his pockets, shook his head, +and whistled dismally.</p> +<p>"I shall never see my sketch-book again, <i>parbleu!</i>" said +he. "The man who could not only take it out of my breast-pocket, +but also in the very teeth of the police, secure his property and +escape unseen, is a master of his profession. Our friends in the +cocked hats have no chance against him."</p> +<p>"And Flandrin, who is expecting the sketch," said I; "what of +him?"</p> +<p>Müller shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>"Next to being beaten," growled he, "there's nothing I hate like +confessing it. However, it has to be done--so the sooner the +better. Would you like to come with me? You'll see his studio."</p> +<p>I was only too glad to accompany him; for to me, as to most of +us, there was ever a nameless charm in the picturesque litter of an +artist's studio. Müller's own studio, however, was as yet the +only one I had seen. He laughed when I said this.</p> +<p>"If your only notion of a studio is derived from that specimen," +said he, "you will he agreeably surprised by the contrast. He calls +his place a 'den,' but that's a metaphor. Mine is a howling +wilderness."</p> +<p>Arriving presently at a large house at the bottom of a courtyard +in the Rue Vaugirard, he knocked at a small side-door bearing a +tiny brass plate not much larger than a visiting-card, on which was +engraved--"Monsieur Flandrin."</p> +<p>The door opened by some invisible means from within, and we +entered a passage dimly lighted by a painted glass door at the +farther end. My companion led the way down this passage, through +the door, and into a small garden containing some three or four old +trees, a rustic seat, a sun-dial on an antique-looking fragment of +a broken column, and a little weed-grown pond about the size of an +ordinary drawing-room table, surrounded by artificial +rock-work.</p> +<p>At the farther extremity of this garden, filling the whole space +from wall to wall, and occupying as much ground as must have been +equal to half the original enclosure, stood a large, new, +windowless building, in shape exactly like a barn, lighted from a +huge skylight in the roof, and entered by a small door in one +corner. I did not need to be told that this was the studio.</p> +<p>But if the outside was like a barn, the inside was like a +beautiful mediæval interior by Cattermole--an interior +abounding in rich and costly detail; in heavy crimson draperies, +precious old Italian cabinets, damascened armor, carved chairs with +upright backs and twisted legs, old paintings in massive Florentine +frames, and strange quaint pieces of Elizabethan furniture, like +buffets, with open shelves full of rare and artistic +things--bronzes, ivory carvings, unwieldy Majolica jars, and lovely +goblets of antique Venetian glass laced with spiral ornaments of +blue and crimson and that dark emerald green of which the secret is +now lost for ever.</p> +<p>Then, besides all these things, there were great folios leaning +piled against the walls, one over the other; and Persian rugs of +many colors lying here and there about the floor; and down in one +corner I observed a heap of little models, useful, no doubt, as +accessories in pictures--gondolas, frigates, foreign-looking carts, +a tiny sedan chair, and the like.</p> +<p>But the main interest of the scene concentrated itself in the +unfinished picture, the hired model (a brawny fellow in a +close-fitting suit of black, leaning on a huge two-handed sword), +and the artist in his holland blouse, with the palette and brushes +in his hand.</p> +<p>It was a very large picture, and stood on a monster easel, +somewhat towards the end of the studio. The light from above poured +full upon the canvas, while beyond lay a background of shadow. Much +of the subject was as yet only indicated, but enough was already +there to tell the tragic story and display the power of the +painter. There, high above the heads of the mounted guards and the +assembled spectators, rose the scaffold, hung with black. Egmont, +wearing a crimson tabard, a short black cloak embroidered with +gold, and a hat ornamented with black and white plumes, stood in a +haughty attitude, as if facing the square and the people. Two other +figures, apparently of an ecclesiastic and a Spanish general, +partly in outline, partly laid in with flat color, were placed to +the right of the principal character. The headsman stood behind, +leaning upon his sword. The slender spire of the Hôtel de +Ville, surmounted by its gilded archangel glittering in the morning +sun, rose high against a sky of cloudless blue; while all around +was seen the well-known square with its sculptured gables and +decorated façades--every roof, window, and balcony crowded +with spectators.</p> +<p>Unfinished though it was, I saw at once that I was brought face +to face with what would some day be a famous work of art. The +figures were grandly grouped; the heads were noble; the sky was +full of air; the action of the whole scene informed with life and +motion.</p> +<p>I stood admiring and silent, while Müller told his tale, +and Flandrin paused in his work to listen.</p> +<p>"It is horribly unlucky," said he. "I had not been able to find +a portrait of Romero and, <i>faute de mieux</i>, have been trying +for days past to invent the right sort of head for him--of course, +without success. You never saw such a heap of failures! But as for +that man at the café, if Providence had especially created +him for my purpose, he could not have answered it better."</p> +<p>"I believe I am as sorry as you can possibly be," said +Müller.</p> +<p>"Then you are very sorry indeed," replied the painter; and he +looked even more disappointment than he expressed.</p> +<p>"I'm afraid I can't do it," said Müller, after a moment's +silence; "but if you'll give me a pencil and a piece of paper, and +credit me with the will in default of the deed, I will try to +sketch the head from memory."</p> +<p>"Ah? if you can only do that! Here is a drawing block--choose +what pencils you prefer--or here are crayons, if you like them +better."</p> +<p>Müller took the pencils and block, perched himself on the +corner of a table, and began. Flandrin, breathless with +expectation, looked over his shoulder. Even the model (in the grim +character of Egmont's executioner) laid aside his two-handed sword, +and came round for a peep.</p> +<p>"Bravo! that's just his nose and brow," said Flandrin, as +Müller's rapid hand flew over the paper. "Yes--the likeness +comes with every touch ... and the eyes, so keen and furtive. + ... Nay, that eyelid should be a little more depressed at +the<br> +corner.... Yes, yes--just so. Admirable! There!--don't attempt to +work it up. The least thing might mar the likeness. My dear fellow, +what a service you have rendered me!"</p> +<p>"<i>Quatre-vingt mille diables</i>!" ejaculated the model, his +eyes riveted upon the sketch.</p> +<p>Müller laughed and looked.</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens</i>! Guichet," said he, "is that meant for a +compliment?"</p> +<p>"Where did you see him?" asked the model, pointing down at the +sketch.</p> +<p>"Why? Do you know him?"</p> +<p>"Where did you see him, I say?" repeated Guichet, +impatiently.</p> +<p>He was a rough fellow, and garnished every other sentence with +an oath; but he did not mean to be uncivil.</p> +<p>"At the Café Procope."</p> +<p>"When?"</p> +<p>"About an hour ago. But again, I repeat--do you know him?"</p> +<p>"Do I know him? <i>Tonnerre de Dieu</i>!"</p> +<p>"Then who and what is he?"</p> +<p>The model stroked his beard; shook his head; declined to +answer.</p> +<p>"Bah!" said he, gloomily, "I may have seen him, or I may be +mistaken. 'Tis not my affair."</p> +<p>"I suspect Guichet knows something against this interesting +stranger," laughed Flandrin. "Come, Guichet, out with it! We are +among friends."</p> +<p>But Guichet again looked at the drawing, and again shook his +head.</p> +<p>"I'm no judge of pictures, messieurs," said he. "I'm only a poor +devil of a model. How can I pretend to know a man from such a +<i>griffonage</i> as that?"</p> +<p>And, taking up his big sword again, he retreated to his former +post over against the picture. We all saw that he was resolved to +say no more.</p> +<p>Flandrin, delighted with Müller's sketch, put it, with many +thanks and praises, carefully away in one of the great folios +against the wall.</p> +<p>"You have no idea, <i>mon cher</i> Müller," he said, "of +what value it is to me. I was in despair about the thing till I saw +that fellow this morning in the Café; and he looked as if he +had stepped out of the Middle Ages on purpose for me. It is quite a +mediæval face--if you know what I mean by a mediæval +face."</p> +<p>"I think I do," said Müller. "You mean that there was a +moyen-âge type, as there was a classical type, and as there +is a modern type."</p> +<p>"Just so; and therein lies the main difficulty that we +historical painters have to encounter. When we cannot find +portraits of our characters, we are driven to invent faces for +them--and who can invent what he never sees? Invention must be +based on some kind of experience; and to study old portraits is not +enough for our purpose, except we frankly make use of them as +portraits. We cannot generalize upon them, so as to resuscitate a +vanished type."</p> +<p>"But then has it really vanished?" said Müller. "And how +can we know for certain that the mediæval type did actually +differ from the type we see before us every day?"</p> +<p>"By simple and direct proof--by studying the epochs of portrait +painting. Take Holbein's heads, for instance. Were not the people +of his time grimmer, harder-visaged, altogether more unbeautiful +than the people of ours? Take Petitot's and Sir Peter Lely's. Can +you doubt that the characteristics of their period were entirely +different? Do you suppose that either race would look as we look, +if resuscitated and clothed in the fashion of to-day?"</p> +<p>"I am not at all sure that we should observe any difference," +said Müller, doubtfully.</p> +<p>"And I feel sure we should observe the greatest," replied +Flandrin, striding up and down the studio, and speaking with great +animation. "I believe, as regards the men and women of Holbein's +time, that their faces were more lined than ours; their eyes, as a +rule, smaller--their mouths wider--their eyebrows more +scanty--their ears larger--their figures more ungainly. And in like +manner, I believe the men and women of the seventeenth century to +have been more fleshy than either Holbein's people or ourselves; to +have had rounder cheeks, eyes more prominent and heavy-lidded, +shorter noses, more prominent chins, and lips of a fuller and more +voluptuous mould."</p> +<p>"Still we can't be certain how much of all this may be owing to +the mere mannerisms of successive schools of art," urged +Müller, sticking manfully to his own opinion. "Where will you +find a more decided mannerist than Holbein? And because he was the +first portrait-painter of his day, was he not reproduced with all +his faults of literalness and dryness by a legion of imitators? So +with Sir Peter Lely, with Petitot, with Vandyck, with every great +artist who painted kings and queens and court beauties. Then, +again, a certain style of beauty becomes the rage, and-a skilful +painter flatters each fair sitter in turn by bringing up her +features, or her expression, or the color of her hair, as near as +possible to the fashionable standard. And further, there is the +dress of a period to be taken into account. Think of the family +likeness that pervades the flowing wigs of the courts of Louis +Quatorze and Charles the Second--see what powder did a hundred +years ago to equalize mankind."</p> +<p>Flandrin shook his head.</p> +<p>"Ingenious, <i>mon garçon</i>" said he; "ingenious, but +unsound The cut of a fair lady's bodice never yet altered the shape +of her nose; neither was it the fashion of their furred surtouts +that made Erasmus and Sir Thomas More as like as twins. What you +call the 'mannerism' of Holbein is only his way of looking at his +fellow-creatures. He and Sir Antonio More were the most faithful of +portrait-painters. They didn't know how to flatter. They painted +exactly what they saw--no more, and no less; so that every head +they have left us is a chapter in the history of the Middle Ages. +The race--depend on't--the race was unbeautiful; and not even the +picturesque dress of the period (which, according to your theory, +should have helped to make the wearers of it more attractive) could +soften one jot of their plainness."</p> +<p>"I can't bring myself to believe that we were all so +ugly--French, English, and Germans alike--only a couple of +centuries ago," said Müller.</p> +<p>"That is to say, you prefer to believe that Holbein, and Lucas +Cranach, and Sir Antonio More, and all their school, were +mannerists. Nonsense, my dear fellow--nonsense! <i>It is Nature who +is the mannerist</i>. She loves to turn out a certain generation +after a particular pattern; and when she is tired of that pattern, +she invents another. Her fancies last, on the average about, a +hundred years. Sometimes she changes the type quite abruptly; +sometimes modifies it by gentle, yet always perceptible, degrees. +And who shall say what her secret processes are? Education, travel, +intermarriage with foreigners, the introduction of new kinds of +food) the adoption of new habits, may each and all have something +to do with these successive changes; but of one point at least we +may be certain--and that is, that we painters are not responsible +for her caprices. Our mission is to interpret Dame Nature more or +less faithfully, according to our powers; but beyond interpretation +we cannot go. And now (for you know I am as full of speculations as +an experimental philosopher) I will tell you another conclusion I +have come to with regard to this subject; and that is that national +types were less distinctive in mediæval times than in ours. +The French, English, Flemish, and Dutch of the Middle Ages, as we +see them in their portraits, are curiously alike in all outward +characteristics. The courtiers of Francis the First and their +(James, and the lords and ladies of the court of Henry the Eighth, +resemble each other as people of one nation. Their features are, as +it were, cast in one mould. So also with the courts of Louis +Quatorze and Charles the Second. As for the regular French face of +to-day, with its broad cheek-bones and high temples running far up +into the hair on either side, that type does not make its +appearance till close upon the advent of the Reign of Terror. But +enough! I shall weary you with theories, and wear out the patience +of our friend Guichet, who is sufficiently tired already with +waiting for a head that never comes to be cut off as it ought. +Adieu--adieu. Come soon again, and see how I get on with Marshal +Romero."</p> +<p>Thus dismissed, we took our leave and left the painter to his +work.</p> +<p>"An extraordinary man!" said Müller, as we passed out again +through the neglected garden and paused for a moment to look at +some half-dozen fat gold and silver fish that were swimming lazily +about the little pond. "A man made up of contradictions--abounding +in energy, yet at the same time the dreamiest of speculators. An +original thinker, too; but wanting that basis which alone makes +original thinking of any permanent value."</p> +<p>"But," said I, "he is evidently an educated man."</p> +<p>"Yes--educated as most artists are educated; but Flandrin has as +strong a bent for science as for art, and deserved something +better. Five years at a German university would have made of him +one of the most remarkable men of his time. What did you think of +his theory of faces?"</p> +<p>"I know nothing of the subject, and cannot form a judgment; but +it sounded as if it might be true."</p> +<p>"Yes--just that. It may be true, and it may not. If true, then +for my own part I should like to pursue his theory a step further, +and trace the operation of these secret processes by means of which +I am, happily, such a much better-looking fellow than my +great-great-great-great-grandfather of two hundred years ago. What, +for instance, has the introduction of the potato done for the noses +of mankind?"</p> +<p>Chatting thus, we walked back as far as the corner of the Rue +Racine, where we parted; I to attend a lecture at the École +de Médecine, and Müller to go home to his studio in the +Rue Clovis.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII."></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> +<h3>RETURNED WITH THANKS.</h3> +<br> +<p>A week or two had thus gone by since the dreadful evening at the +Opéra Comique, and all this time I had neither seen nor +heard more of the fair Josephine. My acquaintance with Franz +Müller and the life of the Quartier Latin had, on the +contrary, progressed rapidly. Just as the affair of the Opera had +dealt a final blow to my romance <i>à la grisette</i> on the +one hand, so had the excursion to Courbevoie, the visit to the +École de Natation, and the adventure of the Café +Procope, fostered my intimacy with the artist on the other. We were +both young, somewhat short of money, and brimful of fun. Each, too, +had a certain substratum of earnestness underlying the mere +surface-gayety of his character. Müller was enthusiastic for +art; I for poetry; and both for liberty. I fear, when I look back +upon them, that we talked a deal of nonsense about Brutus, and the +Rights of Man, and the noble savage, and all that sort of thing, in +those hot-headed days of our youth. It was a form of political +measles that the young men of that time were quite as liable to as +the young men of our own; and, living as we then were in the heart +of the most revolutionary city in Europe, I do not well see how we +could have escaped the infection. Müller (who took it worse +than I did, and was very rabid indeed when I first knew him) +belonged just then not only to the honorable brotherhood of Les +Chicards, but also to a small debating club that met twice a week +in a private room at the back of an obscure Estaminet in the Rue de +la Harpe. The members of this club were mostly art-students, and +some, like himself, Chicards--generous, turbulent, high-spirited +boys, with more enthusiasm than brains, and a flow of words wholly +out of proportion to the bulk of their ideas. As I came to know him +more intimately, I used sometimes to go there with Müller, +after our cheap dinner in the Quartier and our evening stroll along +the Boulevards or the Champs Elysées; and I am bound to +admit that I never, before or since, heard quite so much nonsense +of the declamatory sort as on those memorable occasions. I did not +think it nonsense then, however. I admired it with all my heart; +applauded the nursery eloquence of these sucking Mirabeaus and +Camille Desmoulins as frantically as their own vanity could desire; +and was even secretly chagrined that my own French was not yet +fluent enough to enable me to take part in their discussions.</p> +<p>In the meanwhile, my debts were paid; and, having dropped out of +society when I fell out of love with Madame de Marignan, I no +longer overspent my allowance. I bought no more bouquets, paid for +no more opera-stalls, and hired no more prancing steeds at seven +francs the hour. I bade adieu to picture-galleries, flower-shows, +morning concerts, dress boots, white kid gloves, elaborate +shirt-fronts, and all the vanities of the fashionable world. In a +word, I renounced the Faubourg St. Germain for the Quartier Latin, +and applied myself to such work and such pleasures as pertained to +the locality. If, after a long day at Dr. Chéron's, or the +Hôtel Dieu, or the École de Médecine, I did +waste a few hours now and then, I, at least, wasted them cheaply. +Cheaply, but oh, so pleasantly! Ah me! those nights at the debating +club, those evenings at the Chicards, those student's balls at the +Chaumière, those third-class trips to Versailles and +Fontainebleau, those one-franc pit seats at the Gaîeté +and the Palais Royal, those little suppers at Pompon's and +Flicoteau's--how delightful they were! How joyous! How free from +care! And even when we made up a party and treated the ladies (for +to treat the ladies is <i>de rigueur</i> in the code of Quartier +Latin etiquette), how little it still cost, and what a world of +merriment we had for the money!</p> +<p>It was well for me, too, and a source of much inward +satisfaction, that my love-affair with Mademoiselle Josephine had +faded and died a natural death. We never made up that quarrel of +the Opéra Comique, and I had not desired that we should make +it up. On the contrary, I was exceedingly glad of the opportunity +of withdrawing my attentions; so I wrote her a polite little note, +in which I expressed my regret that our tastes were so dissimilar +and our paths in life so far apart; wished her every happiness; +assured her that I should ever remember her with friendly regard; +and signed my name with a tremendous flourish at the bottom of the +second page. With the note, however, I sent her a raised pie and a +red and green shawl, of which I begged her acceptance in token of +amity; and as neither of those gifts was returned, I concluded that +she ate the one and wore the other, and that there was peace +between us.</p> +<p>But the scales of fortune as they go up for one, go down for +another. This man's luck is balanced by that man's ruin--Orestes +falls sick, and Pylades returns from Kissingen cured of his +lumbago--old Croesus dies, and little Miss Kilmansegg comes into +the world with a golden spoon in her mouth, So it fell out with +Franz Müller and myself. As I happily steered clear of +Charybdis, he drifted into Scylla--in other words, just as I +recovered from my second attack of the tender passion, he caught +the epidemic and fancied himself in love with the fair Marie.</p> +<p>I say "fancied," because his way of falling in love was so +unlike my way, that I could scarcely believe it to be the same +complaint. It affected neither his appetite, nor his spirits, nor +his wardrobe. He made as many puns and smoked as many pipes as +usual. He did not even buy a new hat. If, in fact, he had not told +me himself, I should never have guessed that anything whatever was +the matter with him.</p> +<p>It came out one day when he was pressing me to go with him to a +certain tea-party at Madame Marotte's, in the Rue St. Denis.</p> +<p>"You see," said he, "it is <i>la petite</i> Marie's fête; +and the party's in her honor; and they'd be so proud if we both +went to it; and--and, upon my soul, I'm awfully fond of that little +girl"....</p> +<p>"Of Marie Marotte?"</p> +<p>He nodded.</p> +<p>"You are not serious," I said.</p> +<p>"I am as serious," he replied, "as a dancing dervish."</p> +<p>And then, for I suppose I looked incredulous, he went on to +justify himself.</p> +<p>"She's very good," he said, "and very pretty. Quite a Madonna +face, to my thinking."</p> +<p>"You may see a dozen such Madonna faces among the nurses in the +Luxembourg Gardens, every afternoon of your life," said I.</p> +<p>"Oh, if you come to that, every woman is like every other woman, +up to a certain point."</p> +<p>"<i>Les femmes se suivent et se ressemblent toujours</i>," said +I, parodying a well-known apothegm.</p> +<p>"Precisely, but then they wear their rue, or cause you to wear +yours, 'with a difference.' This girl, however, escapes the +monotony of her sex by one or two peculiarities:--she has not a bit +of art about her, nor a shred of coquetry. She is as simple and as +straightforward as an Arcadian. She doesn't even know when she is +being made love to, or understand what you mean, when you pay her a +compliment."</p> +<p>"Then she's a phenomenon--and what man in his senses would fall +in love with a phenomenon?"</p> +<p>"Every man, <i>mon cher enfant</i>, who falls in love at all! +The woman we worship is always a phenomenon, whether of beauty, or +grace, or virtue--till we find her out; and then, probably, she +becomes a phenomenon of deceit, or slovenliness, or bad temper! And +now, to return to the point we started from--will you go with me to +Madame Marotte's tea-party to-morrow evening at eight? Don't say +'No,' there's a good fellow."</p> +<p>"I'll certainly not say No, if you particularly want me to say +Yes," I replied, "but--"</p> +<p>"Prythee, no buts! Let it be Yes, and the thing is settled. +So--here we are. Won't you come in and smoke a pipe with me? I've a +bottle of capital Rhenish in the cupboard."</p> +<p>We had met near the Odéon, and, as our roads lay in the +same direction, had gone on walking and talking till we came to +Müller's own door in the Rue Clovis. I accepted the +invitation, and followed him in. The <i>portière</i>, a +sour-looking, bent old woman with a very dirty duster tied about +her head, hobbled out from her little dark den at the foot of the +stairs, and handed him the key of his apartment.</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens</i>!" said she, "wait a moment--there's a parcel for +you, M'sieur Müller."</p> +<p>And so, hobbling back again, she brought out a small flat brown +paper-packet sealed at both ends.</p> +<p>"Ah, I see--from the Emperor!" said Müller. "Did he bring +it himself, Madame Duphôt, or did he send it by the +Archbishop of Paris?"</p> +<p>A faint grin flitted over the little old woman's withered +face.</p> +<p>"Get along with you, M'sieur Müller," she said. "You're +always playing the <i>farceur</i>! The parcel was brought by a man +who looked like a stonemason."</p> +<p>"And nobody has called?"</p> +<p>"Nobody, except M'sieur Richard."</p> +<p>"Monsieur Richard's visits are always gratifying and +delightful--may the <i>diable</i> fly away with him!" said +Müller. "What did dear Monsieur Richard want to-day, Madame +Duphôt?"</p> +<p>"He wanted to see you, and the third-floor gentleman also--about +the rent."</p> +<p>"Dear Richard! What an admirable memory he has for dates! Did he +leave any message, Madame Duphôt?"</p> +<p>The old woman looked at me, and hesitated.</p> +<p>"He says, M'sieur Müller--he says ..."</p> +<p>"Nay, this gentleman is a friend--you may speak out. What does +our beloved and respected <i>propriétaire</i> say, Madame +Duphôt?"</p> +<p>"He says, if you don't both of you pay up the arrears by midday +on Sunday next, he'll seize your goods, and turn you into the +street."</p> +<p>"Ah, I always said he was the nicest man I knew!" observed +Müller, gravely. "Anything else, Madame Duphôt?"</p> +<p>"Only this, Monsieur Müller--that if you didn't go quietly, +he'd take your windows out of the frames and your doors off the +hinges."</p> +<p>"<i>Comment</i>! He bade you give me that message, the miserable +old son of a spider! <i>Quatre-vingt mille plats de diables aux +truffes</i>! Take my windows out of the frames, indeed! Let him +try, Madame Duphôt--that's all--let him try!"</p> +<p>And with this, Müller, in a towering rage, led the way +upstairs, muttering volleys of the most extraordinary and eccentric +oaths of his own invention, and leaving the little old +<i>portière</i> grinning maliciously in the hall.</p> +<p>"But can't you pay him?" said I.</p> +<p>"Whether I can, or can't, it seems I must," he replied, kicking +open the door of his studio as viciously as if it were the +corporeal frame of Monsieur Richard. "The only question is--how? At +the present moment, I haven't five francs in the till."</p> +<p>"Nor have I more than twenty. How much is it?"</p> +<p>"A hundred and sixty--worse luck!"</p> +<p>"Haven't the Tapottes paid for any of their ancestors yet?"</p> +<p>"Confound it!--yes; they've paid for a Marshal of France and a +Farmer General, which are all I've yet finished and sent home. But +there was the washerwoman, and the <i>traiteur</i>, and the +artist's colorman, and, <i>enfin</i>, the devil to pay--and the +money's gone, somehow!"</p> +<p>"I've only just cleared myself from a lot of debts," I said, +ruefully, "and I daren't ask either my father or Dr. Chéron +for an advance just at present. What is to be done?"</p> +<p>"Oh, I don't know. I must raise the money somehow. I must sell +something--there's my copy of Titian's 'Pietro Aretino.' It's worth +eighty francs, if only for a sign. And there's a Madonna and Child +after Andrea del Sarto, worth a fortune to any enterprising +sage-femme with artistic proclivities. I'll try what Nebuchadnezzar +will do for me."</p> +<p>"And who, in the name of all that's Israelitish, is +Nebuchadnezzar?"</p> +<p>"Nebuchadnezzar, my dear Arbuthnot, is a worthy Shylock of my +acquaintance--a gentleman well known to Bohemia--one who buys and +sells whatever is purchasable and saleable on the face of the +globe, from a ship of war to a comic paragraph in the +<i>Charivari</i>. He deals in bric-à-brac, sermons, +government sinecures, pugs, false hair, light literature, patent +medicines, and the fine arts. He lives in the Place des Victoires. +Would you like to be introduced to him?"</p> +<p>"Immensely."</p> +<p>"Well, then, be here by eight to-morrow morning, and I'll take +you with me. After nine he goes out, or is only visible to buyers. +Here's my bottle of Rhenish--genuine Assmanshauser. Are you +hungry?"</p> +<p>I admitted that I was not unconscious of a sensation akin to +appetite.</p> +<p>He gazed steadfastly into the cupboard, and shook his head.</p> +<p>"A box of sardines," he said, gloomily, "nearly empty. Half a +loaf, evidently disinterred from Pompeii. An inch of Lyons sausage, +saved from the ark; the remains of a bottle of fish sauce, and a +pot of currant jelly. What will you have?"</p> +<p>I decided for the relics of Pompeii and the deluge, and we sat +down to discuss those curious delicacies. Having no corkscrew, we +knocked off the neck of the bottle, and being short of glasses, +drank our wine out of teacups.</p> +<p>"But you have never opened your parcel all this time," I said +presently. "It may be full of <i>billets de banque</i>--who can +tell?"</p> +<p>"That's true," said Müller; and broke the seals.</p> +<p>"By all the Gods of Olympus!" he shouted, holding up a small +oblong volume bound in dark green cloth. "My sketch-book!"</p> +<p>He opened it, and a slip of paper fell out. On this slip of +paper were written, in a very neat, small hand, the words, +"<i>Returned with thanks</i>;" but the page that contained the +sketch made in the Café Procope was missing.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII."></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2> +<h3>AN EVENING PARTY AMONG THE PETIT-BOURGEOISIE.</h3> +<br> +<p>Madame Marotte, as I have already mentioned more than once, +lived in the Rue du Faubourg St. Denis; which, as all the world +knows, is a prolongation of the Rue St. Denis--just as the Rue St. +Denis was, in my time, a transpontine continuation of the old Rue +de la Harpe. Beginning at the Place du Châtelet as the Rue +St. Denis, opening at its farther end on the Boulevart St. Denis +and passing under the triumphal arch of Louis le Grand (called the +Porte St. Denis), it there becomes first the Rue du Faubourg St. +Denis, and then the interminable Grande Route du St. Denis which +drags its slow length along all the way to the famous Abbey outside +Paris.</p> +<p>The Rue du Faubourg St. Denis is a changed street now, and +widens out, prim, white, and glittering, towards the new barrier +and the new Rond Point. But in the dear old days of which I tell, +it was the sloppiest, worst-paved, worst-lighted, noisiest, +narrowest, and most crowded of all the great Paris thoroughfares +north of the Seine. All the country traffic from Chantilly and +Compiégne came lumbering this way into the city; diligences, +omnibuses, wagons, fiacres, water-carts, and all kinds of vehicles +thronged and blocked the street perpetually; and the sound of +wheels ceased neither by night nor by day. The foot-pavements of +the Rue du Faubourg St. Denis, too, were always muddy, be the +weather what it might; and the gutters were always full of stagnant +pools. An ever-changing, never-failing stream of rustics from the +country, workpeople from the factories of the <i>banlieu,</i> +grisettes, commercial travellers, porters, commissionaires, and +<i>gamins</i> of all ages here flowed to and fro. Itinerant venders +of cakes, lemonade, cocoa, chickweed, <i>allumettes</i>, +pincushions, six-bladed penknives, and never-pointed pencils filled +the air with their cries, and made both day and night hideous. You +could not walk a dozen yards at any time without falling down a +yawning cellar-trap, or being run over by a porter with a huge load +upon his head, or getting splashed from head to foot by the sudden +pulling-up of some cart in the gutter beside you.</p> +<p>It was among the peculiarities of the Rue du Faubourg St. Denis +that everybody was always in a hurry, and that nobody was ever seen +to look in at the shop-windows. The shops, indeed, might as well +have had no windows, since there were no loungers to profit by +them. Every house, nevertheless, was a shop, and every shop had its +window. These windows, however, were for the most part of that kind +before which the passer-by rarely cares to linger; for the commerce +of the Rue du Faubourg St. Denis was of that steady, unpretending, +money-making sort that despises mere shop-front attractions. +Grocers, stationers, corn-chandlers, printers, cutlers, +leather-sellers, and such other inelegant trades, here most did +congregate; and to the wearied wayfarer toiling along the dead +level of this dreary pavé, it was quite a relief to come +upon even an artistically-arranged <i>Magasin de Charcuterie</i>, +with its rows of glazed tongues, mighty Lyons sausages, yellow +<i>terrines</i> of Strasbourg pies, fantastically shaped +pickle-jars, and pyramids of silvery sardine boxes.</p> +<p>It was at number One Hundred and Two in this agreeable +thoroughfare that my friend's innamorata resided with her maternal +aunt, the worthy relict of Monsieur Jacques Marotte, +umbrella-maker, deceased. Thither, accordingly, we wended our miry +way, Müller and I, after dining together at one of our +accustomed haunts on the evening following the events related in my +last chapter. The day had been dull and drizzly, and the evening +had turned out duller and more drizzly still. We had not had rain +for some time, and the weather had been (as it often is in Paris in +October) oppressively hot; and now that the rain had come, it did +not seem to cool the air at all, but rather to load it with vapors, +and make the heat less endurable than before.</p> +<p>Having toiled all the way up from the Rue de la Harpe on the +farther bank of the Seine, and having forded the passage of the +Arch of Louis le Grand, we were very wet and muddy indeed, very +much out of breath, and very melancholy objects to behold.</p> +<p>"It's dreadful to think of going into any house in this +condition, Müller," said I, glancing down ruefully at the +state of my boots, and having just received a copious spattering of +mud all down the left side of my person. "What is to be done?"</p> +<p>"We've only to go to a boot-cleaning and brushing-up shop," +replied Müller. "There's sure to be one close by +somewhere."</p> +<p>"A boot-cleaning and brushing-up shop!" I echoed.</p> +<p>"What--didn't you know there were lots of them, all over Paris? +Have you never noticed places that look like shops, with ground +glass windows instead of shop-fronts, on which are painted up the +words, '<i>cirage des bottes?</i>'"</p> +<p>"Never, that I can remember."</p> +<p>"Then be grateful to me for a piece of very useful information! +Suppose we turn down this by-street--it's mostly to the seclusion +of by-streets and passages that our bashful sex retires to renovate +its boots and its broadcloth."</p> +<p>I followed him, and in the course of a few minutes we found the +sort of place of which we were in search. It consisted of one +large, long room, like a shop without goods, counters, or shelves. +A single narrow bench ran all round the walls, raised on a sort of +wooden platform about three feet in width and three feet from the +ground. Seated upon this bench, somewhat uncomfortably, as it +seemed, with their backs against the wall, sat some ten or a dozen +men and boys, each with an attendant shoeblack kneeling before him, +brushing away vigorously. Two or three other customers, standing up +in the middle of the shop, like horses in the hands of the groom, +were having their coats brushed instead of their boots. Of those +present, some looked like young shopmen, some were of the +<i>ouvrier</i> class, and one or two looked like respectable small +tradesmen and fathers of families. The younger men were evidently +smartening up for an hour or two at some cheap ball or +Café-Concert, now that the warehouse was closed, and the +day's work was over.</p> +<p>Our boots being presently brought up to the highest degree of +polish, and our garments cleansed of every disfiguring speck, we +paid a few sous apiece and turned out again into the streets. +Happily, we had not far to go. A short cut brought us into the +midst of the Rue de Faubourg St. Denis, and within a few yards of a +gloomy-looking little shop with the words "<i>Veuve Marotte</i>" +painted up over the window, and a huge red and white umbrella +dangling over the door. A small boy in a shiny black apron was at +that moment putting up the shutters; the windows of the front room +over the shop were brightly lit from within; and a little old +gentleman in goloshes and a large blue cloak with a curly collar, +was just going in at the private door. We meekly followed him, and +hung up our hats and overcoats, as he did, in the passage.</p> +<p>"After you, Messieurs," said the little old gentleman, skipping +politely back, and flourishing his hand in the direction of the +stairs. "After you!"</p> +<p>We protested vehemently against this arrangement, and fought +quite a skirmish of civilities at the foot of the stairs.</p> +<p>"I am at home here, Messieurs," said the little old gentleman, +who, now that he was divested of hat, cloak, and goloshes, appeared +in a flaxen <i>toupet</i>, an antiquated blue coat with brass +buttons, a profusely frilled shirt, and low-cut shoes with silver +buckles. "I am an old friend of the family--a friend of fifty +years. I hold myself privileged to do the honors, Messieurs;--a +friend of fifty years may claim to have his privileges."</p> +<p>With this he smirked, bowed, and backed against the wall, so +that we were obliged to precede him. When we reached the landing, +however, he (being evidently an old gentleman of uncommon +politeness and agility) sprang forward, held open the door for us, +and insisted on ushering us in.</p> +<p>It was a narrow, long-shaped room, the size of the shop, with +two windows looking upon the street; a tiny square of carpet in the +middle of the floor; boards highly waxed and polished; a tea-table +squeezed up in one corner; a somewhat ancient-looking, +spindle-legged cottage piano behind the door; a mirror and an +ornamental clock over the mantelpiece; and a few French +lithographs, colored in imitation of crayon drawings, hanging +against the walls.</p> +<p>Madame Marotte, very deaf and fussy, in a cap with white +ribbons, came forward to receive us. Mademoiselle Marie, sitting +between two other young women of her own age, hung her head, and +took no notice of our arrival.</p> +<p>The rest of the party consisted of a gentleman and two old +ladies. The gentleman (a plump, black-whiskered elderly Cupid, with +a vast expanse of shirt-front like an immense white ace of hearts, +and a rose in his button-hole) was standing on the hearth-rug in a +graceful attitude, with one hand resting on his hip, and the other +under his coat-tails. Of the two old ladies, who seemed as if +expressly created by nature to serve as foils to one another, one +was very fat and rosy, in a red silk gown and a kind of black +velvet hat trimmed with white marabout feathers and Roman pearls; +while the other was tall, gaunt, and pale, with a long nose, a long +upper lip, and supernaturally long yellow teeth. She wore a black +gown, black cotton gloves, and a black velvet band across her +forehead, fastened in the centre with a black and gold clasp +containing a ghastly representation of a human eye, apparently +purblind--which gave this lady the air of a serious Cyclops.</p> +<p>Madame Marotte was profuse of thanks, welcomes, apologies, and +curtseys. It was so good of these gentlemen to come so far--and in +such unpleasant weather, too! But would not these Messieurs give +themselves the trouble to be seated? And would they prefer tea or +coffee--for both were on the table? And where was Marie? Marie, +whose <i>fête</i>-day it was, and who should have come +forward to welcome these gentlemen, and thank them for the honor of +their company!</p> +<p>Thus summoned, Mademoiselle Marie emerged from between the two +young women, and curtsied demurely.</p> +<p>In the meanwhile, the little old gentleman who had ushered as in +was bustling about the room, shaking hands with every one, and +complimenting the ladies.</p> +<p>"Ah, Madame Desjardins," he said, addressing the stout lady in +the hat, "enchanted to see you back from the sea-side!--you and +your charming daughter. I do not know which looks the more young +and blooming."</p> +<p>Then, turning to the grim lady in black:--</p> +<p>"And I am charmed to pay my homage to Madame de Montparnasse. I +had the pleasure of being present at the brilliant +<i>début</i> of Madame's gifted daughter the other evening +at the private performance of the pupils of the Conservatoire. +Mademoiselle Honoria inherits the <i>grand air</i>, Madame, from +yourself."</p> +<p>Then, to the plump gentleman with the shirt-front:--</p> +<p>"And Monsieur Philomène!--this is indeed a privilege and +a pleasure. Bad weather, Monsieur Philomène, for the +voice!"</p> +<p>Then, to the two girls:--</p> +<p>"Mesdemoiselles--Achille Dorinet prostrates himself at the feet +of youth, beauty, and talent! Mademoiselle Honoria, I salute in you +the future Empress of the tragic stage. Mademoiselle Rosalie, +modesty forbids me to extol the acquired graces of even my most +promising pupil; but I may be permitted to adore in you the graces +of nature."</p> +<p>While I was listening to these scraps of salutation, Müller +was murmuring tender nothings in the ear of the fair Marie, and +Madame Marotte was pouring out the coffee.</p> +<p>Monsieur Achille Dorinet, having gone the round of the company, +next addressed himself to me.</p> +<p>"Permit me, Monsieur," he said, bringing his heels together and +punctuating his sentences with little bows, "permit me, in the +absence of a master of the ceremonies, to introduce myself--Achille +Dorinet, Achille Dorinet, whose name may not, perhaps, be wholly +unknown to you in connection with the past glories of the classical +ballet. Achille Dorinet, formerly <i>premier sujet</i> of the +Opéra Français--now principal choreographic professor +at the Conservatoire Impériale de Musique. I have had the +honor, Monsieur, of dancing at Erfurth before their Imperial +Majesties the Emperors Napoleon and Alexander, and a host of minor +sovereigns. Those, Monsieur, were the high and palmy days of the +art. We performed a ballet descriptive of the siege of Troy, and I +undertook the part of a river god--the god Scamander, <i>en +effet</i>. The great ladies of the court, Monsieur, were graciously +pleased to admire my proportions as the god Scamander. I wore a +girdle of sedges, a wreath of water-lilies, and a scarf of blue and +silver. I have reason to believe that the costume became me."</p> +<p>"Sir," I replied gravely, "I do not doubt it."</p> +<p>"It is a noble art, Monsieur, <i>l'art de la dame</i>" said the +former <i>premier sujet</i>, with a sigh; "but it is on the +decline. Of the grand style of fifty years ago, only myself and +tradition remain."</p> +<p>"Monsieur was, doubtless, a contemporary of Vestris, the famous +dancer," I said.</p> +<p>"The illustrious Vestris, Monsieur," said the little old +gentleman, "was, next to Louis the Fourteenth, the greatest of +Frenchmen. I am proud to own myself his disciple, as well as his +contemporary."</p> +<p>"Why next to Louis the Fourteenth, Monsieur Dorinet?" I asked, +keeping my countenance with difficulty. "Why not next to Napoleon +the First, who was a still greater conqueror?"</p> +<p>"But no dancer, Monsieur!" replied the ex-god Scamander, with a +kind of half pirouette; "whereas the Grand Monarque was the finest +dancer of his epoch."</p> +<p>Madame Marotte had by this time supplied all her guests with tea +and coffee, while Monsieur Philomène went round with the +cakes and bread and butter. Madame Desjardins spread her +pocket-handkerchief on her lap--a pocket-handkerchief the size of a +small table-cloth. Madame de Montparnasse, more mindful of her +gentility, removed to a corner of the tea-table, and ate her bread +and butter in her black cotton gloves.</p> +<p>"We hope we have another bachelor by-and-by," said Madame +Marotte, addressing herself to the young ladies, who looked down +and giggled. "A charming man, mesdemoiselles, and quite the +gentleman--our <i>locataire</i>, M'sieur Lenoir. You know him, +M'sieur Dorinet--pray tell these demoiselles what a charming man +M'sieur Lenoir is!"</p> +<p>The little dancing-master bowed, coughed, smiled, and looked +somewhat embarrassed.</p> +<p>"Monsieur Lenoir is no doubt a man of much information," he +said, hesitatingly; "a traveller--a reader--a gentleman--oh! yes, +certainly a gentleman. But to say that he is a--a charming man ... +well, perhaps the ladies are the best judges of such nice +questions. What says Mam'selle Marie?"</p> +<p>Thus applied to, the fair Marie became suddenly crimson, and had +not a word to reply with. Monsieur Dorinet stared. The young ladies +tittered. Madame Marotte, deaf as a post and serenely unconscious, +smiled, nodded, and said "Ah, yes, yes--didn't I tell you so?"</p> +<p>"Monsieur Dorinet has, I fear, asked an indiscreet question," +said Müller, boiling over with jealousy.</p> +<p>"I--I have not observed Monsieur Lenoir sufficiently to--to form +an opinion," faltered Marie, ready to cry with vexation.</p> +<p>Müller glared at her reproachfully, turned on his heel, and +came over to where I was standing.</p> +<p>"You saw how she blushed?" he said in a fierce whisper. +"<i>Sacredie</i>! I'll bet my head she's an arrant flirt. Who, in +the name of all the fiends, is this lodger she's been carrying on +with? A lodger, too--oh! the artful puss!"</p> +<p>At this awkward moment, Monsieur Dorinet, with considerable +tact, asked Monsieur Philomène for a song; and Monsieur +Philomène (who as I afterwards learned was a favorite tenor +at fifth-rate concerts) was graciously pleased to comply.</p> +<p>Not, however, without a little preliminary coquetry, after the +manner of tenors. First he feared he was hoarse; then struck a note +or two on the piano, and tried his falsetto; then asked for a glass +of water; and finally begged that one of the young ladies would be +so amiable as to accompany him.</p> +<p>Mademoiselle Honoria, inheriting rigidity from the maternal +Cyclops, drew herself up and declined stiffly; but the other, whom +the dancing-master had called Rosalie, got up directly and said she +would do her best.</p> +<p>"Only," she added, blushing, "I play so badly!"</p> +<p>Monsieur Philomène was provided with two copies of his +song--one for the accompanyist and one for himself; then, standing +well away from the piano with his face to the audience, he balanced +his music in his hand, made his little professional bow, coughed, +ran his fingers through his hair, and assumed an expression of +tender melancholy.</p> +<p>"One--two--three," began Mdlle. Rosalie, her little fat fingers +staggering helplessly among the first cadenzas of the symphony. +"One--two--three. One" ...</p> +<p>Monsieur Philomène interrupted with a wave of the hand, +as if conducting an orchestra.</p> +<p>"Pardon, Mademoiselle," he said, "not quite so fast, if you +please! Andantino--andantino--one--two--three ... Just so! A +thousand thanks!"</p> +<p>Again Mdlle. Rosalie attacked the symphony. Again Monsieur +Philomène cleared his voice, and suffered a pensive languor +to cloud his manly brow.</p> +<blockquote>"<i>Revenez, revenez, beaux jours de mon +enfance,</i>"</blockquote> +<p>he began, in a small, tremulous, fluty voice.</p> +<p>"They'll have a long road to travel back, <i>parbleu</i>!" +muttered Müller.</p> +<blockquote>"<i>De votre aspect riant charmer ma +souvenance</i>!"</blockquote> +<p>Here Mdlle. Rosalie struck a wrong chord, became involved in +hopeless difficulties, and gasped audibly.</p> +<p>Monsieur Philomène darted a withering glance at her, and +went on:--</p> +<blockquote>"<i>Mon coeur; mon pauvre coeur</i>" ...</blockquote> +<p>More wrong chords, and a smothered "<i>mille pardons</i>!" from +Mdlle. Rosalie.</p> +<blockquote>"<i>Mon coeur, mon pauvre coeur a la tristesse en +proie,<br> +En fouillant le passé"....</i></blockquote> +<p>A dead stop on the part of Mdlle. Rosalie.</p> +<blockquote><i>"En fouillant le passé</i>"....</blockquote> +<p>repeated the tenor, with the utmost severity of emphasis.</p> +<p>"<i>Mais, mon Dieu</i>, Rosalie! what are you doing?" cried +Madame Desjardins, angrily. "Why don't you go on?"</p> +<p>Mdlle. Rosalie burst into a flood of tears.</p> +<p>"I--I can't!" she sobbed. "It's so--so very +difficult--and"...</p> +<p>Madame Desjardins flung up her hands in despair.</p> +<p>"<i>Ciel</i>!" she cried, "and I have been paying three francs a +lesson for you, Mademoiselle, twice a week for the last six +years!"</p> +<p>"<i>Mais, maman</i>"....</p> +<p>"<i>Fi done</i>, Mademoiselle! I am ashamed of you. Make a +curtsey to Monsieur Philomène this moment, and beg his +pardon; for you have spoiled his beautiful song!"</p> +<p>But Monsieur Philomène would hear of no such expiation. +His soul, to use his own eloquent language, recoiled from it with +horror! The accompaniment, <i>à vrai dire</i>, was not easy, +and <i>la bien aimable</i> Mam'selle Rosalie had most kindly done +her best with it. <i>Allons donc!</i>--on condition that no more +should be said on the subject, Monsieur Philomène would +volunteer to sing a little unaccompanied romance of his own +composition--a mere <i>bagatelle</i>; but a tribute to "<i>les +beaux yeux de ces chères dames</i>!"</p> +<p>So Mam'selle Rosalie wiped away her tears, and Madame Desjardins +smoothed her ruffled feathers, and Monsieur Philomène +warbled a plaintive little ditty in which "<i>coeur</i>" rhymed to +"<i>peur</i>" and "<i>amours</i>" to "<i>toujours</i>" and "<i>le +sort</i>" to "<i>la mort</i>" in quite the usual way; so giving +great satisfaction to all present, but most, perhaps, to +himself.</p> +<p>And now, hospitably anxious that each of her guests should have +a chance of achieving distinction, Madame Marotte invited Mdlle. +Honoria to favor the company with a dramatic recitation.</p> +<p>Mdlle. Honoria hesitated; exchanged glances with the Cyclops; +and, in order to enhance the value of her performance, began +raising all kinds of difficulties. There was no stage, for +instance; and there were no footlights; but M. Dorinet met these +objections by proposing to range all the seats at one end of the +room, and to divide the stage off by a row of lighted candles.</p> +<p>"But it is so difficult to render a dramatic scene without an +interlocutor!" said the young lady.</p> +<p>"What is it you require, <i>ma chère demoiselle?</i>" +asked Madame Marotte.</p> +<p>"I have no interlocutor," said Mdlle. Honoria.</p> +<p>"No what, my love?"</p> +<p>"No interlocutor," repeated Mdlle. Honoria, at the top of her +voice.</p> +<p>"Dear! dear! what a pity! Can't we send the boy for it? Marie, +my child, bid Jacques run to Madame de Montparnasse's +<i>appartement</i> in the Rue" ...</p> +<p>But Madame Marotte's voice was lost in the confusion; for +Monsieur Dorinet was already deep in the arrangement of the room, +and we were all helping to move the furniture. As for +Mademoiselle's last difficulty, the little dancing-master met that +by offering to read whatever was necessary to carry on the +scene.</p> +<p>And now, the stage being cleared, the audience placed, and +Monsieur Dorinet provided with a volume of Corneille, Mademoiselle +Honoria proceeded to drape herself in an old red shawl belonging to +Madame Marotte.</p> +<p>The scene selected is the fifth of the fourth act of Horace, +where Camille, meeting her only surviving brother, upbraids him +with the death of Curiace.</p> +<p>Mam'selle Honoria, as Camille, with clasped hands and tragic +expression, stalks in a slow and stately manner towards the +footlights.</p> +<p>(Breathless suspense of the audience.)</p> +<p>M. Dorinet, who should begin by vaunting his victory over the +Curiatii, stops to put on his glasses, finds it difficult to read +with all the candles on the ground, and mutters something about the +smallness of the type.</p> +<p>Mdlle. Honoria, not to keep the audience waiting, surveys the +ex-god Seamander with a countenance expressive of horror; starts; +and takes a turn across the stage.</p> +<p>"<i>Ma soeur,</i>" begins M. Dorinet, holding the book very much +on one side, so as to catch the light upon the page, "<i>ma soeur, +voici le bras</i>"....</p> +<p>"Ah, Heaven! my dear Mademoiselle, take care of the candles!" +cries Madame Marotte in a shrill whisper.</p> +<blockquote>... "<i>le bras qui venge nos deux frères,<br> +Le bras qui rompt le cours de nos destins contraires,<br> +Qui nous rend"</i>...</blockquote> +<p>Here he lost his place; stammered; and recovered it with +difficulty.</p> +<blockquote><i>"Qui nous rend maîtres +d'Albe"</i>....</blockquote> +<p>Madame Marotte groans aloud in an agony of apprehension</p> +<p>"<i>Ah, mon Dieu!</i>" she exclaims, gaspingly, "if they didn't +flare so, it wouldn't be half so dangerous!"</p> +<p>Here M. Dorinet dropped his book, and stooping to pick up the +book, dropped his spectacles.</p> +<p>"I think," said Mdlle. Honoria, indignantly, "we had better +begin again. Monsieur Dorinet, pray read with the help of a candle +<i>this</i> time!"</p> +<p>And, with an angry toss of her head, Mdlle. Honoria went up the +stage, put on her tragedy face again, and prepared once more to +stalk down to the footlights.</p> +<p>Monsieur Dorinet, in the meanwhile, had snatched up a candle, +readjusted his spectacles, and found his place.</p> +<p>"<i>Ma soeur</i>" he began again, holding the book close to his +eyes and the candle just under his nose, and nodding vehemently +with every emphasis:--</p> +<blockquote>"<i>Ma soeur, voici le bras qui venge nos deux +frères,<br> +Le bras qui rompt le cours de nos destins contraires,<br> +Qui nous rend maîtres d'Albe</i>" ...</blockquote> +<p>A piercing scream from Madame Marotte, a general cry on the part +of the audience, and a strong smell of burning, brought the +dancing-master to a sudden stop. He looked round, bewildered.</p> +<p>"Your wig! Your wig's on fire!" cried every one at once.</p> +<p>Monsieur Dorinet clapped his hand to his head, which was now +adorned with a rapidly-spreading glory; burned his fingers; and cut +a frantic caper.</p> +<p>"Save him! save him!" yelled Madame Marotte.</p> +<p>But almost before the words were out of her mouth, Müller, +clearing the candles at a bound, had rushed to the rescue, scalped +Monsieur Dorinet by a <i>tour de main</i>, cast the blazing wig +upon the floor, and trampled out the fire.</p> +<p>Then followed a roar of "inextinguishable laughter," in which, +however, neither the tragic Camille nor the luckless Horace +joined.</p> +<p>"Heavens and earth!" murmured the little dancing-master, +ruefully surveying the ruins of his blonde peruke. And then he put +his hand to his head, which was as bald as an egg.</p> +<p>In the meanwhile Mdlle. Honoria, who had not yet succeeded in +uttering a syllable of her part, took no pains to dissemble her +annoyance; and was only pacified at last by a happy proposal on the +part of Monsieur Philomène, who suggested that "this gifted +demoiselle" should be entreated to favor the society with a +soliloquy.</p> +<p>Thus invited, she draped herself again, stalked down to the +footlights for the third time, and in a high, shrill voice, with +every variety of artificial emphasis and studied gesture, recited +Voltaire's famous "Death of Coligny," from the <i>Henriade</i>.</p> +<p>In the midst of this performance, just at that point when the +assassins are described as falling upon their knees before their +victim, the door of the room was softly opened, and another guest +slipped in unseen behind us. Slipped in, indeed, so quietly that +(the backs of the audience being turned that way) no one seemed to +hear, and no one looked round but myself.</p> +<p>Brief as was that glance, and all in the shade as he stood, I +recognised him instantly.</p> +<p>It was the mysterious stranger of the Café Procope.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV."></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2> +<h3>MY AUNT'S FLOWER GARDEN.</h3> +<br> +<p>Having despatched the venerable Coligny much to her own +satisfaction and apparently to the satisfaction of her hearers, +Mdlle. Honoria returned to private life; Messieurs Philomène +and Dorinet removed the footlights; the audience once more +dispersed itself about the room; and Madame Marotte welcomed the +new-comer as Monsieur Lenoir.</p> +<p>"<i>Monsieur est bien aimable</i>," she said, nodding and +smiling, and, with tremulous hands, smoothing down the front of her +black silk gown. "I had told these young ladies that we hoped for +the honor of Monsieur's society. Will Monsieur permit me to +introduce him?"</p> +<p>"With pleasure, Madame Marotte."</p> +<p>And M. Lenoir--white cravatted, white kid-gloved, hat in hand, +perfectly well-dressed in full evening black, and wearing a small +orange-colored rosette at his button-hole--bowed, glanced round the +room, and, though his eyes undoubtedly took in both Müller and +myself, looked as if he had never seen either of us in his +life.</p> +<p>I< saw Müller start, and the color fly into his +face.</p> +<p>"By Heaven!" he exclaimed, "it is--it must be ... look at him, +Arbuthnot! If that isn't the man who stole my sketch-book, I'll eat +my head!"</p> +<p>"It <i>is</i> the man," I replied. "I recognised him ten minutes +ago, when he first came in."</p> +<p>"You are certain?"</p> +<p>"Quite certain."</p> +<p>"And yet--there is something different!"</p> +<p>There <i>was</i> something different; but, at the same time, +much that was identical. There was the same strange, inscrutable +look, the same bronzed complexion, the same military bearing. M. +Lenoir, it was true, was well, and even elegantly dressed; whereas, +the stranger of the Café Procope bore all the outward +stigmata of penury; but that was not all. There was yet "something +different." The one looked like a man who had done, or suffered, a +wrong in his time; who had an old quarrel with the world; and who +only sought to hide himself, his poverty, and his bitter pride from +the observation of his fellow men. The other stood before us +dignified, <i>décoré</i>, self-possessed, a man not +only of the world, but apparently no stranger to that small section +of it called "the great world." In a word, the man of the +Café, sunken, sullen, threadbare as he was, would have been +almost less out of his proper place in Madame Marotte's society of +small trades-people and minor professionals, than was M. Lenoir +with his <i>grand air</i> and his orange-colored ribbon.</p> +<p>"It's the same man," said Müller; "the same, beyond a +doubt. The more I look at him, the more confident I am."</p> +<p>"And the more I look at him," said I, "the more doubtful I +get."</p> +<p>Madame Marotte, meanwhile, had introduced M. Lenoir to the two +Conservatoire pupils and their mammas; Monsieur Dorinet had +proposed some "<i>petits jeux</i>;" and Monsieur Philomène +was helping him to re-arrange the chairs--this time in a +circle.</p> +<p>"Take your places, Messieurs et Mesdames--take your places!" +cried Monsieur Dorinet, who had by this time resumed his wig, +singed as it was, and shorn of its fair proportions. "What game +shall we play at?"</p> +<p>"<i>Pied de Boeuf</i>" "<i>Colin Maillard</i>" and other games +were successively proposed and rejected.</p> +<p>"We have a game in Alsace called 'My Aunt's Flower Garden'" said +Müller. "Does any one know it?"</p> +<p>"'My Aunt's Flower Garden?'" repeated Monsieur Dorinet. "I never +heard of it."</p> +<p>"It sounds pretty," said Mdlle. Rosalie.</p> +<p>"Will M'sieur teach it to us, if it is not very difficult?" +suggested Mdlle. Rosalie's mamma.</p> +<p>"With pleasure, Madame. It is not a bad game--and it is +extremely easy. We will sit in a circle, if you please--the chairs +as they are placed will do quite well."</p> +<p>We were just about to take our places when Madame Marotte seized +the opportunity to introduce Müller and myself to M. +Lenoir.</p> +<p>"We have met before, Monsieur," said Müller, pointedly.</p> +<p>"I am ashamed to confess, Monsieur, that I do not remember to +have had that pleasure," replied M. Lenoir, somewhat stiffly.</p> +<p>"And yet, Monsieur, it was but the other day," persisted +Müller.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, I can but reiterate my regret."</p> +<p>"At the Café Procope."</p> +<p>M. Lenoir stared coldly, slightly shrugged his shoulders, and +said, with the air of one who repudiates a discreditable +charge:--</p> +<p>"Monsieur, I do not frequent the Café Procope."</p> +<p>"If Monsieur Müller is to teach us the game, Monsieur +Müller must begin it!" said Monsieur Dorinet.</p> +<p>"At once," replied Müller, taking his place in the +circle.</p> +<p>As ill-luck would have it (the rest of us being already seated), +there were but two chairs left; so that M. Lenoir and Müller +had to sit side by side.</p> +<p>"I begin with my left-hand neighbor," said Müller, +addressing himself with a bow to Mdlle. Rosalie; "and the circle +will please to repeat after me:--'I have the four corners of my +Aunt's Flower Garden for sale--</p> +<p>'<i>In the first of these corners grows sweet mignonette; I've +seen thee, and lov'd thee, and ne'er can forget.</i>'"</p> +<p>MDLLE. ROSALIE <i>to</i> M. PHILOMÈNE.--I have the four +corners of my Aunt's Flower Garden for sale--</p> +<p>'<i>In the first of these corners grows sweet mignonette; I've +seen thee, and lov'd thee, and ne'er can forget.</i>'</p> +<p>M. PHILOMÈNE <i>to</i> MADAME DE MONTPARNASSE.--I have +the four corners of my Aunt's Flower Garden, etc., etc.</p> +<p>MADAME DE MONTPARNASSE <i>to</i> M. DORINET.--I have the four +corners of my Aunt's Flower Garden, etc., etc.</p> +<p>Monsieur Dorinet repeats the formula to Madame Desjardins; +Madame Desjardins passes it on to me; I proclaim it at the top of +my voice to Madame Marotte; Madame Marotte transfers it to Mdlle. +Honoria; Mdlle. Honoria delivers it to the fair Marie; the fair +Marie tells it to M. Lenoir, and the first round is completed.</p> +<p>Müller resumes the lead :--</p> +<blockquote>"<i>In the second grow heartsease and wild +eglantine;<br> +Fair exchange is no theft--for my heart, give me +thine</i>."</blockquote> +<p>MDLLE. ROSALIE <i>to</i> M. PHILOMÈNE:--</p> +<blockquote>"<i>In the second grow heartsease and wild +eglantine;<br> +Fair exchange is no theft--for my heart, give me +thine</i>."</blockquote> +<p>M. PHILOMÈNE <i>to</i> MDLLE. DE MONTPARNASSE:--</p> +<blockquote>"<i>In the second grow heartsease</i>," &c., +&c.</blockquote> +<p>And so on again, till the second round is done. Then Müller +began again:--</p> +<blockquote>"<i>In the third of these corners pale primroses +grow;<br> +Now tell me thy secret, and whisper it low</i>."</blockquote> +<p>Mdlle. Rosalie was about to repeat these lines as before; but he +stopped her.</p> +<p>"No, Mademoiselle, not till you have told me the secret."</p> +<p>"The secret, M'sieur? What secret?"</p> +<p>"Nay, Mademoiselle, how can I tell that till you have told me? +You must whisper something to me--something very secret, which you +would not wish any one else to hear--before you repeat the lines. +And when you repeat them, Monsieur Philomène must whisper +his secret to you--and so on through the circle."</p> +<p>Mdlle. Rosalie hesitated, smiled, whispered something in +Müller's ear, and went on with:--</p> +<blockquote>"<i>In the third of these corners pale primroses +grow;<br> +Now tell me thy secret, and whisper it low</i>."</blockquote> +<p>Monsieur Philomène then whispered his secret to Mdlle. +Rosalie, and so on again till it ended with M. Lenoir and +Müller.</p> +<p>"I don't think it is a very amusing game," said Madame Marotte; +who, being deaf, had been left out of the last round, and found it +dull.</p> +<p>"It will be more entertaining presently, Madame," shouted +Müller, with a malicious twinkle about his eyes. "Pray observe +the next lines, Messieurs et Mesdames, and follow my lead as +before:--</p> +<blockquote>'<i>Roses bloom in the fourth; and your secret, my +dear,<br> +Which you whisper'd so softly just now in my ear,<br> +I repeat word for word, for the others to hear!</i>'</blockquote> +<p>Mademoiselle Rosalie (whose pardon I implore!) whispered to me +that Monsieur Philomène dyed his moustache and +whiskers."</p> +<p>There was a general murmur of alarm tempered with tittering. +Mademoiselle Rosalie was dumb with confusion. Monsieur +Philomène's face became the color of a full-blown peony. +Madame de Montparnasse and Mdlle. Honoria turned absolutely +green.</p> +<p>"<i>Comment!</i>" exclaimed one or two voices. "Is everything to +be repeated?"</p> +<p>"Everything, Messieurs et Mesdames," replied +Müller--"everything--without reservation. I call upon Mdlle. +Rosalie to reveal the secret of Monsieur Philomène."</p> +<p>MDLLE. ROSALIE (<i>with great promptitude</i>):--Monsieur +Philomène whispered to me that Honoria was the most +disagreeable girl in Paris, Marie the dullest, and myself the +prettiest.</p> +<p>M. PHILOMÈNE (<i>in an agony of confusion</i>):--I +beseech you, Mam'selle Honoria ... I entreat you, Mam'selle Marie, +not for an instant to suppose....</p> +<p>MDLLE. HONORIA (<i>drawing herself up and smiling +acidly</i>):--Oh, pray do not give yourself the trouble to +apologize, Monsieur Philomène. Your opinion, I assure you, +is not of the least moment to either of us. Is it, Marie?</p> +<p>But the fair Marie only smiled good-naturedly, and said:--</p> +<p>"I know I am not clever. Monsieur Philomène is quite +right; and I am not at all angry with him."</p> +<p>"But--but, indeed, Mesdemoiselles, I--I--am incapable...." +stammered the luckless tenor, wiping the perspiration from his +brow. "I am incapable...."</p> +<p>"Silence in the circle!" cried Müller, authoritatively. +"Private civilities are forbidden by the rules of the game. I call +Monsieur Philomène to order, and I demand from him the +secret of Madame de Montparnasse."</p> +<p>M. Philomène looked even more miserable than before.</p> +<p>"I--I ... but it is an odious position! To betray the confidence +of a lady ... Heavens! I cannot."</p> +<p>"The secret!--the secret!" shouted the others, impatiently.</p> +<p>Madame de Montparnasse pursed up her parchment lips, glared upon +us defiantly, and said:--</p> +<p>"Pray don't hesitate about repeating my words, M'sieur +Philomène. I am not ashamed of them."</p> +<p>M. PHILOMENE (<i>reluctantly</i>):--Madame de Montparnasse +observed to me that what she particularly disliked was a mixed +society like--like the present; and that she hoped our friend +Madame Marotte would in future be less indiscriminate in the choice +of her acquaintances.</p> +<p>MULLER (<i>with elaborate courtesy</i>):--We are all infinitely +obliged to Madame de Montparnasse for her opinion of us--(I speak +for the society, as leader of the circle)--and beg to assure her +that we entirely coincide in her views. It rests with Madame to +carry on the game, and to betray the confidence of Monsieur +Dorinet.</p> +<p>MADAME DE MONTPARNASSE (<i>with obvious +satisfaction</i>):--Monsieur Dorinet told me that Rosalie +Desjardin's legs were ill-made, and that she would never make a +dancer, though she practised from now till doomsday.</p> +<p>M. DORINET (<i>springing to his feet as if he had been +shot</i>):--Heavens and earth! Madame de Montparnasse, what have I +done that you should so pervert my words? Mam'selle Rosalie--<i>ma +chère elève</i>, believe me, I never....</p> +<p>"Silence in the circle!" shouted Müller again.</p> +<p>M. DORINET:--But, M'sieur, in simple self-defence....</p> +<p>MULLER:--Self-defence, Monsieur Dorinet, is contrary to the +rules of the game. Revenge only is permitted. Revenge yourself on +Madame Desjardins, whose secret it is your turn to tell.</p> +<p>M. DORINET:--Madame Desjardins drew my attention to the toilette +of Madame de Montparnasse. She said: "<i>Mon Dieu!</i> Monsieur +Dorinet, are you not tired of seeing La Montparnasse in that +everlasting old black gown? My Rosalie says she is in mourning for +her ugliness."</p> +<p>MADAME DESJARDINS (<i>laughing heartily</i>):--<i>Eh +bien--oui!</i> I don't deny it; and Rosalie's <i>mot</i> was not +bad. And now, M'sieur the Englishman (<i>turning to me</i>), it is +your turn to be betrayed. Monsieur, whose name I cannot pronounce, +said to me:--"Madame, the French, <i>selon moi</i>, are the best +dressed and most <i>spirituel</i> people of Europe. Their very +silence is witty; and if mankind were, by universal consent, to go +without clothes to-morrow, they would wear the primitive costume of +Adam and Eve more elegantly than the rest of the world, and still +lead the fashion,"</p> +<p>(<i>A murmur of approval on the part of the company, who take +the compliment entirely aux serieux</i>.)</p> +<p>MYSELF (<i>agreeably conscious of having achieved +popularity</i>):--Our hostess's deafness having unfortunately +excluded her from this part of the game, I was honored with the +confidence of Mdlle. Honoria, who informed me that she is to make +her <i>début</i> before long at the Theatre Français, +and hoped that I would take tickets for the occasion.</p> +<p>MDLLE. ROSALIE (<i>satirically</i>):--<i>Brava</i>, Honoria! +What a woman of business you are!</p> +<p>MDLLE. HONORIA (<i>affecting not to hear this +observation</i>)--</p> +<blockquote>"<i>Roses bloom in the fourth, and your secret, my +dear,<br> +Which you whispered so softly just now in my ear,<br> +I repeat word for word for the others to hear</i>."</blockquote> +<p>Marie said to me.... <i>Tiens</i>! Marie, don't pull my dress in +that way. You shouldn't have said it, you know, if it won't bear +repeating! Marie said to me that she could have either Monsieur +Müller or Monsieur Lenoir, by only holding up her finger--but +she couldn't make up her mind which she liked best.</p> +<p>MDLLE. MARIE (<i>half crying</i>):--Nay, Honoria--how can you be +so--so unkind ... so spiteful? I--I did not say I could have either +M'sieur Müller or... or...</p> +<p>M. LENOIR (<i>with great spirit and good breeding</i>):--Whether +Mademoiselle used those words or not is of very little importance. +The fact remains the same; and is as old as the world. Beauty has +but to will and to conquer.</p> +<p>MULLER:--Order in the circle! The game waits for Mademoiselle +Marie.</p> +<p>MARIE (<i>hesitatingly</i>):--</p> +<blockquote>"<i>Roses bloom in the fourth, and your +secret</i>"</blockquote> +<p>M'sieur Lenoir said that--that he admired the color of my dress, +and that blue became me more than lilac.</p> +<p>MULLER: (<i>coldly</i>)--<i>Pardon</i>, Mademoiselle, but I +happened to overhear what Monsieur Lenoir whispered just now, and +those were not his words. Monsieur Lenoir said, "Look in"... but +perhaps Mademoiselle would prefer me not to repeat more?</p> +<p>MARIE--(<i>in great confusion</i>):--As--as you please, +M'sieur.</p> +<p>MULLER:--Then, Mademoiselle, I will be discreet, and I will not +even impose a forfeit upon you, as I might do, by the laws of the +game. It is for Monsieur Lenoir to continue.</p> +<p>M. LENOIR:--I do not remember what Monsieur Müller +whispered to me at the close of the last round.</p> +<p>MULLER (<i>pointedly</i>):--<i>Pardon,</i> Monsieur, I should +have thought that scarcely possible.</p> +<p>M. LENOIR:--It was perfectly unintelligible, and therefore left +no impression on my memory.</p> +<p>MULLER:--Permit me, then, to have the honor of assisting your +memory. I said to you--"Monsieur, if I believed that any modest +young woman of my acquaintance was in danger of being courted by a +man of doubtful character, do you know what I would do? I would +hunt that man down with as little remorse as a ferret hunts down a +rat in a drain."</p> +<p>M. LENOIR:--The sentiment does you honor, Monsieur; but I do not +see the application,</p> +<p>MULLER:--Vous ne le trouvez pas, Monsieur?</p> +<p>M. LENOIR--(<i>with a cold stare, and a scarcely perceptible +shrug of the shoulders</i>):--Non, Monsieur.</p> +<p>Here Mdlle. Rosalie broke in with:--"What are we to do next, +M'sieur Müller? Are we to begin another round, or shall we +start a fresh game?"</p> +<p>To which Müller replied that it must be "<i>selon le +plaisir de ces dames</i>;" and put the question to the vote.</p> +<p>But too many plain, unvarnished truths had cropped up in the +course of the last round of my Aunt's Flower Garden; and the ladies +were out of humor. Madame de Montparnasse, frigid, Cyclopian, black +as Erebus, found that it was time to go home; and took her leave, +bristling with gentility. The tragic Honoria stalked majestically +after her. Madame Desjardins, mortally offended with M. Dorinet on +the score of Rosalie's legs, also prepared to be gone; while M. +Philomène, convicted of hair-dye and <i>brouillé</i> +for ever with "the most disagreeable girl in Paris," hastened to +make his adieux as brief as possible.</p> +<p>"A word in your ear, mon cher Dorinet," whispered he, catching +the little dancing-master by the button-hole. "Isn't it the most +unpleasant party you were ever at in your life?"</p> +<p>The ex-god Scamander held up his hands and eyes.</p> +<p>"<i>Eh, mon Dieu</i>!" he replied. "What an evening of +disasters! I have lost my best pupil and my second-best wig!"</p> +<p>In the meanwhile, we went up like the others, and said +good-night to our hostess.</p> +<p>She, good soul! in her deafness, knew nothing about the horrors +of the evening, and was profuse of her civilities. "So amiable of +these gentlemen to honor her little soirée--so kind of +M'sieur Müller to have exerted himself to make things go off +pleasantly--so sorry we would not stay half an hour longer," +&c., &c.</p> +<p>To all of which Müller (with a sly grimace expressive of +contrition) replied only by a profound salutation and a rapid +retreat. Passing M. Lenoir without so much as a glance, he paused a +moment before Mdlle. Marie who was standing near the door, and said +in a tone audible only to her and myself:--</p> +<p>"I congratulate you, Mademoiselle, on your admirable talent for +intrigue. I trust, when you look in the usual place and find the +promised letter, it will prove agreeable reading. J'ai l'honneur, +Mademoiselle, de vous saluer."</p> +<p>I saw the girl flush crimson, then turn deadly white, and draw +back as if his hand had struck her a sudden blow. The next moment +we were half-way down the stairs.</p> +<p>"What, in Heaven's name, does all this mean?" I said, when we +were once more in the street.</p> +<p>"It means," replied Müller fiercely, "that the man's a +scoundrel, and the woman, like all other women, is false."</p> +<p>"Then the whisper you overheard" ...</p> +<p>"Was only this:--'<i>Look in the usual place, and you will find +a letter</i>.' Not many words, <i>mon cher</i>, but confoundedly +comprehensive! And I who believed that girl to be an angel of +candor! I who was within an ace of falling seriously in love with +her! <i>Sacredie</i>! what an idiot I have been!"</p> +<p>"Forget her, my dear fellow," said I. "Wipe her out of your +memory (which I think will not be difficult), and leave her to her +fate."</p> +<p>He shook his head.</p> +<p>"No," he said, gloomily, "I won't do that. I'll get to the +bottom of that man's mystery; and if, as I suspect, there's that +about his past life which won't bear the light of day--I'll save +her, if I can."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV."></a>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2> +<h3>WEARY AND FAR DISTANT.</h3> +<br> +<p>Twice already, in accordance with my promise to Dalrymple, I had +called upon Madame de Courcelles, and finding her out each time, +had left my card, and gone away disappointed. From Dalrymple +himself, although I had written to him several times, I heard +seldom, and always briefly. His first notes were dated from Berlin, +and those succeeding them from Vienna. He seemed restless, bitter, +dissatisfied with himself, and with the world. Naturally unfit for +a lounging, idle life, his active nature, now that it had to bear +up against the irritation of hope deferred, chafed and fretted for +work.</p> +<p>"My sword-arm," he wrote in one of his letters, "is weary of its +holiday. There are times when I long for the smell of gunpowder, +and the thunder of battle. I am sick to death of churches and +picture-galleries, operas, dilettantism, white-kid-glovism, and all +the hollow shows and seemings of society. Sometimes I regret having +left the army--at others I rejoice; for, after all, in these piping +times of peace, to be a soldier is to be a mere painted puppet--a +thing of pipe-clay and gold bullion--an expensive scarecrow--an +elegant Guy Fawkes--a sign, not of what is, but of what has been, +and yet may be again. For my part, I care not to take the livery +without the service. Pshaw! will things never mend! Are the good +old times, and the good old international hatreds, gone by for +ever? Shall we never again have a thorough, seasonable, wholesome, +continental war? This place (Vienna) would be worth fighting for, +if one had the chance. I sometimes amuse myself by planning a +siege, when I ride round the fortifications, as is my custom of an +afternoon."</p> +<p>In another, after telling me that he had been reading some books +of travel in Egypt and Central America, he said:--</p> +<p>"Next to a military life I think that of a traveller--a genuine +traveller, who turns his back upon railroads and guides--must be +the most exciting and the most enviable under heaven. Since reading +these books, I dream of the jungle and the desert, and fancy that a +buffalo-hunt must be almost as fine sport as a charge of cavalry. +Oh, what a weary exile this is! I feel as if the very air were +stagnant around me, and I, like the accursed vessel that carried +the ancient mariner,--</p> +<blockquote>As idle as a painted ship,<br> +Upon a painted ocean.'"</blockquote> +<p>Sometimes, though rarely, he mentioned Madame de Courcelles, and +then very guardedly: always as "Madame de Courcelles," and never as +his wife.</p> +<p>"That morning," he wrote, "comes back to me with all the +vagueness of a dream--you will know what morning I mean, and why it +fills so shadowy a page in the book of my memory. And it might as +well have been a dream, for aught of present peace or future hope +that it has brought me. I often think that I was selfish when I +exacted that pledge from her. I do not see of what good it can be +to either her or me, or in what sense I can be said to have gained +even the power to protect and serve her. Would that I were rich; or +that she and I were poor together, and dwelling far away in some +American wild, under the shade of primeval trees, the world +forgetting; by the world forgot! I should enjoy the life of a +Canadian settler--so free, so rational, so manly. How happy we +might be--she with her children, her garden, her books; I with my +dogs, my gun, my lands! What a curse it is, this spider's web of +civilization, that hems and cramps us in on every side, and from +which not all the armor of common-sense is sufficient to preserve +us!"</p> +<p>Sometimes he broke into a strain of forced gayety, more sad, to +my thinking, than the bitterest lamentations could have been.</p> +<p>"I wish to Heaven," he said, in one of his later letters--"I +wish to Heaven I had no heart, and no brain! I wish I was, like +some worthy people I know, a mere human zoophyte, consisting of +nothing but a mouth and a stomach. Only conceive how it must +simplify life when once one has succeeded in making a clean sweep +of all those finer emotions which harass more complicated +organisms! Enviable zoophytes, that live only to digest!--who would +not be of the brotherhood?"</p> +<p>In another he wrote:--</p> +<p>"I seem to have lived years in the last five or six weeks, and +to have grown suddenly old and cynical. Some French writer (I think +it is Alphonse Karr) says, 'Nothing in life is really great and +good, except what is not true. Man's greatest treasures are his +illusions.' Alas! my illusions have been dropping from me in +showers of late, like withered leaves in Autumn. The tree will be +bare as a gallows ere long, if these rough winds keep on blowing. +If only things would amuse me as of old! If there was still +excitement in play, and forgetfulness in wine, and novelty in +travel! But there is none--and all things alike are 'flat, stale, +and unprofitable,' The truth is, Damon, I want but one thing--and +wanting that, lack all."</p> +<p>Here is one more extract, and it shall be the last:--</p> +<p>"You ask me how I pass my days--in truth, wearily enough. I rise +with the dawn, but that is not very early in September; and I ride +for a couple of hours before breakfast. After breakfast I play +billiards in some public room, consume endless pipes, read the +papers, and so on. Later in the day I scowl through a +picture-gallery, or a string of studios; or take a pull up the +river; or start off upon a long, solitary objectless walk through +miles and miles of forest. Then comes dinner--the inevitable, +insufferable, interminable German table-d'hôte dinner--and +then there is the evening to be got through somehow! Now and then I +drop in at a theatre, but generally take refuge in some plebeian +Lust Garten or Beer Hall, where amid clouds of tobacco-smoke, one +may listen to the best part-singing and zitter-playing in Europe. +And so my days drag by--who but myself knows how slowly? Truly, +Damon, there comes to every one of us, sooner or later, a time when +we say of life as Christopher Sly said of the comedy--''Tis an +excellent piece of work. Would 'twere done!'"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI."></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2> +<h3>THE VICOMTE DE CAYLUS.</h3> +<br> +<p>It was after receiving the last of these letters that I hazarded +a third visit to Madame de Courcelles. This time, I ventured to +present myself at her door about midday, and was at once ushered +upstairs into a drawing-room looking out on the Rue Castellane.</p> +<p>Seeing her open work-table, with the empty chair and footstool +beside it, I thought at the first glance that I was alone in the +room, when a muttered "Sacr-r-r-re! Down, Bijou!" made me aware of +a gentleman extended at full length upon a sofa near the fireplace, +and of a vicious-looking Spitz crouched beneath it.</p> +<p>The gentleman lifted his head from the sofa-cusion; stared at +me; bowed carelessly; got upon his feet; and seizing the poker, +lunged savagely at the fire, as if he had a spite against it, and +would have put it out, if he could. This done, he yawned aloud, +flung himself into the nearest easy-chair, and rang the bell.</p> +<p>"More coals, Henri," he said, imperiously; "and--stop! a bottle +of Seltzer-water."</p> +<p>The servant hesitated.</p> +<p>"I don't think, Monsieur le Vicomte," he said, "that Madame has +any Seltzer-water in the house; but ..."</p> +<p>"Confound you!--you never have anything in the house at the +moment one wants it," interrupted the gentleman, irritably.</p> +<p>"I can send for some, if Monsieur le Vicomte desires it."</p> +<p>"Send for it, then; and remember, when I next ask for it, let +there be some at hand."</p> +<p>"Yes, Monsieur le Vicomte."</p> +<p>"And--Henri!"</p> +<p>"Yes, Monsieur le Vicomte."</p> +<p>"Bid them be quick. I hate to be kept waiting!"</p> +<p>The servant murmured his usual "Yes, Monsieur le Vicomte," and +disappeared; but with a look of such subdued dislike and impatience +in his face, as would scarcely have flattered Monsieur le Vicomte +had he chanced to surprise it.</p> +<p>In the meantime the dog had never ceased growling; whilst I, in +default of something better to do, turned over the leaves of an +album, and took advantage of a neighboring mirror to scrutinize the +outward appearance of this authoritative occupant of Madame de +Courcelles' drawing-room.</p> +<p>He was a small, pallid, slender man of about thirty-five or +seven years of age, with delicate, effeminate features, and hair +thickly sprinkled with gray. His fingers, white and taper as a +woman's, were covered with rings. His dress was careless, but that +of a gentleman. Glancing at him even thus furtively, I could not +help observing the worn lines about his temples, the mingled +languor and irritability of his every gesture; the restless +suspicion of his eye; the hard curves about his handsome mouth.</p> +<p>"<i>Mille tonnerres</i>!" said he, between his teeth "come out, +Bijou--come out, I say!"</p> +<p>The dog came out unwillingly, and changed the growl to a little +whine of apprehension. His master immediately dealt him a smart +kick that sent him crouching to the farther corner of the room, +where he hid himself under a chair.</p> +<p>"I'll teach you to make that noise," muttered he, as he drew his +chair closer to the fire, and bent over it, shiveringly. "A yelping +brute, that would be all the better for hanging."</p> +<p>Having sat thus for a few moments, he seemed to grow restless +again, and, pushing back his chair, rose, looked out of the window, +took a turn or two across the room, and paused at length to take a +book from one of the side-tables. As he did this, our eyes met in +the looking-glass; whereupon he turned hastily back to the window, +and stood there whistling till it occurred to him to ring the bell +again.</p> +<p>"Monsieur rang?" said the footman, once more making his +appearance at the door.</p> +<p>"<i>Mort de ma vie</i>! yes. The Seltzer-water."</p> +<p>"I have sent for it, Monsieur le Vicomte."</p> +<p>"And it is not yet come?"</p> +<p>"Not yet, Monsieur le Vicomte."</p> +<p>He muttered something to himself, and dropped back into the +chair before the fire.</p> +<p>"Does Madame de Courcelles know that I am here?" he asked, as +the servant, after lingering a moment, was about to leave the +room.</p> +<p>"I delivered Monsieur le Vicomte's message, and brought back +Madame's reply," said the man, "half an hour ago."</p> +<p>"True--I had forgotten it. You may go."</p> +<p>The footman closed the door noiselessly, and had no sooner done +so than he was recalled by another impatient peal.</p> +<p>"Here, Henri--have you told Madame de Courcelles that this +gentleman is also waiting to see her?"</p> +<p>"Yes, Monsieur le Vicomte."</p> +<p>"<i>Eh bien</i>?"</p> +<p>"And Madame said she should be down in a few moments."</p> +<p>"<i>Sacredie</i>! go back, then, and inquire if...."</p> +<p>"Madame is here."</p> +<p>As the footman moved back respectfully, Madame de Courcelles +came into the room. She was looking perhaps somewhat paler, but, to +my thinking, more charming than ever. Her dark hair was gathered +closely round her head in massive braids, displaying to their +utmost advantage all the delicate curves of her throat and chin; +while her rich morning dress, made of some dark material, and +fastened at the throat by a round brooch of dead gold, fell in +loose and ample folds, like the drapery of a Roman matron. Coming +at once to meet me, she extended a cordial hand, and said:--</p> +<p>"I had begun to despair of ever seeing you again. Why have you +always come when I was out?"</p> +<p>"Madame," I said, bending low over the slender fingers, that +seemed to linger kindly in my own, "I have been undeservedly +unfortunate."</p> +<p>"Remember for the future," she said, "that I am always at home +till midday, and after five."</p> +<p>Then, turning to her other visitor, she said:--</p> +<p>"<i>Mon cousin</i>, allow me to present my friend. Monsieur +Arbuthnot--Monsieur le Vicomte Adrien de Caylus."</p> +<p>I had suspected as much already. Who but he would have dared to +assume these airs of insolence? Who but her suitor and my friend's +rival? I had disliked him at first sight, and now I detested him. +Whether it was that my aversion showed itself in my face, or that +Madame de Courcelles's cordial welcome of myself annoyed him, I +know not; but his bow was even cooler than my own.</p> +<p>"I have been waiting to see you, Helène," said he, +looking at his watch, "for nearly three-quarters of an hour."</p> +<p>"I sent you word, <i>mon cousin</i>, that I was finishing a +letter for the foreign post," said Madame de Courcelles, coldly, +"and that I could not come sooner."</p> +<p>Monsieur de Caylus bit his lip and cast an impatient glance in +my direction.</p> +<p>"Can you spare me a few moments alone, Helène?" he +said.</p> +<p>"Alone, <i>mon cousin</i>?"</p> +<p>"Yes, upon a matter of business."</p> +<p>Madame de Courcelles sighed.</p> +<p>"If Monsieur Arbuthnot will be so indulgent as to excuse me for +five minutes," she replied. "This way, <i>mon cousin</i>."</p> +<p>So saying, she lifted a dark green curtain, beneath which they +passed to a farther room out of sight and hearing.</p> +<p>They remained a long time away. So long, that I grew weary of +waiting, and, having turned over all the illustrated books upon the +table, and examined every painting on the walls, turned to the +window, as the idler's last resource, and watched the +passers-by.</p> +<p>What endless entertainment in the life-tide of a Paris street, +even though but a branch from one of the greater arteries! What +color--what character--what animation--what variety! Every third or +fourth man is a blue-bloused artisan; every tenth, a soldier in a +showy uniform. Then comes the grisette in her white cap; and the +lemonade-vender with his fantastic pagoda, slung like a peep-show +across his shoulders; and the peasant woman from Normandy, with her +high-crowned head-dress; and the abbé, all in black, with +his shovel-hat pulled low over his eyes; and the mountebank selling +pencils and lucifer-matches to the music of a hurdy-gurdy; and the +gendarme, who is the terror of street urchins; and the gamin, who +is the torment of the gendarme; and the water-carrier, with his +cart and his cracked bugle; and the elegant ladies and gentlemen, +who look in at shop windows and hire seats at two sous each in the +Champs Elysées; and, of course, the English tourist reading +"Galignani's Guide" as he goes along. Then, perhaps, a regiment +marches past with colors flying and trumpets braying; or a +fantastic-looking funeral goes by, with a hearse like a four-post +bed hung with black velvet and silver; or the peripatetic showman +with his company of white rats establishes himself on the pavement +opposite, till admonished to move on by the sergent de ville. What +an ever-shifting panorama! What a kaleidoscope of color and +character! What a study for the humorist, the painter, the +poet!</p> +<p>Thinking thus, and watching the overflowing current as it +hurried on below, I became aware of a smart cab drawn by a showy +chestnut, which dashed round the corner of the street and came down +the Rue Castellane at a pace that caused every head to turn as it +went by. Almost before I had time to do more than observe that it +was driven by a moustachioed and lavender-kidded gentleman, it drew +up before the house, and a trim tiger jumped down, and thundered at +the door. At that moment, the gentleman, taking advantage of the +pause to light a cigar, looked up, and I recognised the black +moustache and sinister countenance of Monsieur de Simoncourt.</p> +<p>"A gentleman for Monsieur le Vicomte," said the servant, drawing +back the green curtain and opening a vista into the room +beyond.</p> +<p>"Ask him to come upstairs," said the voice of De Caylus from +within.</p> +<p>"I have done so, Monsieur; but he prefers to wait in the +cabriolet."</p> +<p>"Pshaw!--confound it!--say that I'm coming."</p> +<p>The servant withdrew.</p> +<p>I then heard the words "perfectly safe investment--present +convenience--unexpected demand," rapidly uttered by Monsieur de +Caylus; and then they both came back; he looked flushed and +angry--she calm as ever.</p> +<p>"Then I shall call on you again to-morrow, Helène," said +he, plucking nervously at his glove. "You will have had time to +reflect. You will see matters differently."</p> +<p>Madame Courcelles shook her head.</p> +<p>"Reflection will not change my opinion," she said gently.</p> +<p>"Well, shall I send Lejeune to you? He acts as solicitor to the +company, and ..."</p> +<p>"<i>Mon cousin</i>" interposed the lady, "I have already given +you my decision--why pursue the question further? I do not wish to +see Monsieur Lejeune, and I have no speculative tastes +whatever."</p> +<p>Monsieur de Caylus, with a suppressed exclamation that sounded +like a curse, rent his glove right in two, and then, as if annoyed +at the self-betrayal, crushed up the fragments in his hand, and +laughed uneasily.</p> +<p>"All women are alike," he said, with an impatient shrug. "They +know nothing of the world, and place no faith in those who are +competent to advise them. I had given you credit, my charming +cousin, for broader views."</p> +<p>Madame de Courcelles smiled without replying, and caressed the +little dog, which had come out from under the sofa to fondle round +her.</p> +<p>"Poor Bijou!" said she. "Pretty Bijou! Do you take good care of +him, <i>mon cousin</i>?"</p> +<p>"Upon my soul, not I," returned De Caylus, carelessly. "Lecroix +feeds him, I believe, and superintends his general education."</p> +<p>"Who is Lecroix?"</p> +<p>"My valet, courier, body-guard, letter-carrier, and general +<i>factotum</i>. A useful vagabond, without whom I should scarcely +know my right hand from my left!"</p> +<p>"Poor Bijou! I fear, then, your chance of being remembered is +small indeed!" said Madame de Courcelles, compassionately.</p> +<p>But Monsieur le Vicomte only whistled to the dog; bowed +haughtily to me; kissed, with an air of easy familiarity, before +which she evidently recoiled, first the hand and then the cheek of +his beautiful cousin, and so left the room. The next moment I saw +him spring into the cabriolet, take his place beside Monsieur de +Simoncourt, and drive away, with Bijou following at a pace that +might almost have tried a greyhound.</p> +<p>"My cousin, De Caylus, has lately returned from Algiers on leave +of absence," said Madame de Courcelles, after a few moments of +awkward silence, during which I had not known what to say. "You +have heard of him, perhaps?"</p> +<p>"Yes, Madame, I have heard of Monsieur de Caylus."</p> +<p>"From Captain Dalrymple?</p> +<p>"From Captain Dalrymple, Madame; and in society."</p> +<p>"He is a brave officer," she said, hesitatingly, "and has +greatly distinguished himself in this last campaign."</p> +<p>"So I have heard, Madame."</p> +<p>She looked at me, as if she would fain read how much or how +little Dalrymple had told me.</p> +<p>"You are Captain Dalrymple's friend, Mr. Arbuthnot," she said, +presently, "and I know you have his confidence. You are probably +aware that my present position with regard to Monsieur de Caylus is +not only very painful, but also very difficult."</p> +<p>"Madame, I know it."</p> +<p>"But it is a position of which I have the command, and which no +one understands so well as myself. To attempt to help me, would be +to add to my embarrassments. For this reason it is well that +Captain Dalrymple is not here. His presence just now in Paris could +do no good--on the contrary, would be certain to do harm. Do you +follow my meaning, Monsieur Arbuthnot?"</p> +<p>"I understand what you say, Madame; but...."</p> +<p>"But you do not quite understand why I say it? <i>Eh bien</i>, +Monsieur, when you write to Captain Dalrymple.... for you write +sometimes, do you not?"</p> +<p>"Often, Madame."</p> +<p>"Then, when you write, say nothing that may add to his +anxieties. If you have reason at any time to suppose that I am +importuned to do this or that; that I am annoyed; that I have my +own battle to fight--still, for his sake as well as for mine, be +silent. It <i>is</i> my own battle, and I know how to fight +it."</p> +<p>"Alas! Madame...."</p> +<p>She smiled sadly.</p> +<p>"Nay," she said, "I have more courage than you would suppose; +more courage and more will. I am fully capable of bearing my own +burdens; and Captain Dalrymple has already enough of his own. Now +tell me something of yourself. You are here, I think, to study +medicine. Are you greatly devoted to your work? Have you many +friends?"</p> +<p>"I study, Madame--not always very regularly; and I have one +friend."</p> +<p>"An Englishman?"</p> +<p>"No, Madame--a German."</p> +<p>"A fellow-student, I presume."</p> +<p>"No, Madame--an artist."</p> +<p>"And you are very happy here?"</p> +<p>"I have occupations and amusements; therefore, if to be neither +idle nor dull is to be happy. I suppose I am happy."</p> +<p>"Nay," she said quickly, "be sure of it. Do not doubt it. Who +asks more from Fate courts his own destruction."</p> +<p>"But it would be difficult, Madame, to go through life without +desiring something better, something higher--without ambition, for +instance--without love."</p> +<p>"Ambition and love!" she repeated, smiling sadly. "There speaks +the man. Ambition first--the aim and end of life; love next--the +pleasant adjunct to success! Ah, beware of both."</p> +<p>"But without either, life would be a desert."</p> +<p>"Life <i>is</i> a desert," she replied, bitterly. "Ambition is +its mirage, ever beckoning, ever receding--love its Dead Sea fruit, +fair without and dust within. You look surprised. You did not +expect such gloomy theories from me--yet I am no cynic. I have +lived; I have suffered; I am a woman--<i>voilà tout</i>. +When you are a few years older, and have trodden some of the flinty +ways of life, you will see the world as I see it."</p> +<p>"It may be so, Madame; but if life is indeed a desert, it is, at +all events, some satisfaction to know that the dwellers in tents +become enamored of their lot, and, content with what the desert has +to give, desire no other. It is only the neophyte who rides after +the mirage and thirsts for the Dead Sea apple."</p> +<p>She smiled again.</p> +<p>"Ah!" she said, "the gifts of the desert are two-fold, and what +one gets depends on what one seeks. For some the wilderness has +gifts of resignation, meditation, peace; for others it has the +horse, the tent, the pipe, the gun, the chase of the panther and +antelope. But to go back to yourself. Life, you say, would be +barren without ambition and love. What is your ambition?"</p> +<p>"Nay, Madame, that is more than I can tell you--more than I know +myself."</p> +<p>"Your profession...."</p> +<p>"If ever I dream dreams, Madame," I interrupted quickly, "my +profession has no share in them. It is a profession I do not love, +and which I hope some day to abandon."</p> +<p>"Your dreams, then?"</p> +<p>I shook my head.</p> +<p>"Vague--unsubstantial--illusory--forgotten as soon as dreamt! +How can I analyze them? How can I describe them? In childhood one +says--'I should like to be a soldier, and conquer the world;' or 'I +should like to be a sailor, and discover new Continents;' or 'I +should like to be a poet, and wear a laurel wreath, like Petrarch +and Dante;' but as one gets older and wiser (conscious, perhaps, of +certain latent energies, and weary of certain present difficulties +and restraints), one can only wait, as best one may, and watch for +the rising of that tide whose flood leads on to fortune."</p> +<p>With this I rose to take my leave. Madame de Courcelles smiled +and put out her hand.</p> +<p>"Come often," she said; "and come at the hours when I am at +home. I shall always be glad to see you. Above all, remember my +caution--not a word to Captain Dalrymple, either now or at any +other time."</p> +<p>"Madame, you may rely upon me. One thing I ask, however, as the +reward of my discretion."</p> +<p>"And that one thing?"</p> +<p>"Permission, Madame, to serve you in any capacity, however +humble--in any strait where a brother might interfere, or a +faithful retainer lay down his life in your service."</p> +<p>With a sweet earnestness that made my heart beat and my cheeks +glow, she thanked and promised me.</p> +<p>"I shall look upon you henceforth," she said, "as my knight +<i>sans peur et sans reproche</i>."</p> +<p>Heaven knows that not all the lessons of all the moralists that +ever wrote or preached since the world began, could just then have +done me half such good service as did those simple words. They came +at the moment when I most needed them--when I had almost lost my +taste for society, and was sliding day by day into habits of more +confirmed idleness and Bohemianism. They roused me. They made a man +of me. They recalled me to higher aims, "purer manners, nobler +laws." They clothed me, so to speak, in the <i>toga virilis</i> of +a generous devotion. They made me long to prove myself "<i>sans +peur</i>," to merit the "<i>sans reproche."</i> They marked an era +in my life never to be forgotten or effaced.</p> +<p>Let it not be thought for one moment that I loved her--or +fancied I loved her. No, not so far as one heart-beat would carry +me; but I was proud to possess her confidence and her friendship. +Was she not Dalrymple's wife, and had not he asked me to watch over +and protect her? Nay, had she not called me her knight and accepted +my fealty?</p> +<p>Nothing perhaps, is so invaluable to a young man on entering +life as the friendship of a pure-minded and highly-cultivated woman +who, removed too far above him to be regarded with passion, is yet +beautiful enough to engage his admiration; whose good opinion +becomes the measure of his own self-respect; and whose confidence +is a sacred trust only to be parted from with loss of life or +honor.</p> +<p>Such an influence upon myself at this time was the friendship of +Madame de Courcelles. I went out from her presence that morning +morally stronger than before, and at each repetition of my visit I +found her influence strengthen and increase. Sometimes I met +Monsieur de Caylus, on which occasions my stay was ever of the +briefest; but I most frequently found her alone, and then our talk +was of books, of art, of culture, of all those high and stirring +things that alike move the sympathies of the educated woman and +rouse the enthusiasm of the young man. She became interested in me; +at first for Dalrymple's sake, and by-and-by, however little I +deserved it, for my own--and she showed that interest in many ways +inexpressibly valuable to me then and thenceforth. She took pains +to educate my taste; opened to me hitherto unknown avenues of +study; led me to explore "fresh fields and pastures new," to which, +but for her help, I might not have found my way for many a year to +come. My reading, till now, had been almost wholly English or +classical; she sent me to the old French literature--to the +<i>Chansons de Geste</i>; to the metrical romances of the +Trouvères; to the Chronicles of Froissart, Monstrelet, and +Philip de Comines, and to the poets and dramatists that immediately +succeeded them.</p> +<p>These books opened a new world to me; and, having daily access +to two fine public libraries, I plunged at once into a course of +new and delightful reading, ranging over all that fertile tract of +song and history that begins far away in the morning land of +mediæval romance, and leads on, century after century, to the +new era that began with the Revolution.</p> +<p>With what avidity I devoured those picturesque old +chronicles--those autobiographies--those poems, and satires, and +plays that I now read for the first time! What evenings I spent +with St. Simon, and De Thou, and Charlotte de Bavière! How I +relished Voltaire! How I laughed over Molière! How I +revelled in Montaigne! Most of all, however, I loved the quaint +lore of the earlier literature:--</p> +<blockquote>"Old legends of the monkish page,<br> + Traditions of the saint and sage,<br> + Tales that have the rime of age,<br> + And Chronicles of Eld."</blockquote> +<p>Nor was this all. I had hitherto loved art as a child or a +savage might love it, ignorantly, half-blindly, without any +knowledge of its principles, its purposes, or its history. But +Madame de Courcelles put into my hands certain books that opened my +eyes to a thousand wonders unseen before. The works of Vasari, +Nibby, Winkelman and Lessing, the aesthetic writings of Goethe and +the Schlegels, awakened in me, one after the other, fresher and +deeper revelations of beauty.</p> +<p>I wandered through the galleries of the Louvre like one newly +gifted with sight. I haunted the Venus of Milo and the Diane +Chasseresse like another Pygmalion. The more I admired, the more I +found to admire. The more I comprehended, the more I found there +remained for me to comprehend. I recognised in art the Sphinx whose +enigma is never solved. I learned, for the first time, that poetry +may be committed to imperishable marble, and steeped in unfading +colors. By degrees, as I followed in the footsteps of great +thinkers, my insight became keener and my perceptions more refined. +The symbolism of art evolved itself, as it were, from below the +surface; and instead of beholding in paintings and statues mere +studies of outward beauty, I came to know them as exponents of +thought--as efforts after ideal truth--as aspirations which, +because of their divineness, can never be wholly expressed; but +whose suggestiveness is more eloquent than all the eloquence of +words.</p> +<p>Thus a great change came upon my life--imperceptibly at first, +and by gradual degrees; but deeply and surely. To apply myself to +the study of medicine became daily more difficult and more +distasteful to me. The boisterous pleasures of the Quartier Latin +lost their charm for me. Day by day I gave myself up more and more +passionately to the cultivation of my taste for poetry and art. I +filled my little sitting-room with casts after the antique. I +bought some good engravings for my walls, and hung up a copy of the +Madonna di San Sisto above the table at which I wrote and read. All +day long, wherever I might be--at the hospital, in the +lecture-room, in the laboratory--I kept looking longingly forward +to the quiet evening by-and-by when, with shaded lamp and curtained +window, I should again take up the studies of the night before.</p> +<p>Thus new aims opened out before me, and my thoughts flowed into +channels ever wider and deeper. Already the first effervescence of +youth seemed to have died off the surface of my life, as the +"beaded bubbles" die off the surface of champagne. I had tried +society, and wearied of it. I had tried Bohemia, and found it +almost as empty as the Chaussée d'Autin. And now that life +which from boyhood I had ever looked upon as the happiest on earth, +the life of the student, was mine. Could I have devoted it wholly +and undividedly to those pursuits which were fast becoming to me as +the life of my life, I would not have exchanged my lot for all the +wealth of the Rothschilds. Somewhat indolent, perhaps, by nature, +indifferent to achieve, ambitious only to acquire, I asked nothing +better than a life given up to the worship of all that is beautiful +in art, to the acquisition of knowledge, and to the development of +taste. Would the time ever come when I might realize my dream? Ah! +who could tell? In the meanwhile ... well, in the meanwhile, here +was Paris--here were books, museums, galleries, schools, golden +opportunities which, once past, might never come again. So I +reasoned; so time went on; so I lived, plodding on by day in the +École de Médecine, but, when evening came, resuming +my studies at the leaf turned down the night before, and, like the +visionary in "The Pilgrims of the Rhine," taking up my dream-life +at the point where I had been last awakened.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII."></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2> +<h3>GUICHET THE MODEL.</h3> +<br> +<p>To the man who lives alone and walks about with his eyes open, +the mere bricks and mortar of a great city are instinct with +character. Buildings become to him like living creatures. The +streets tell him tales. For him, the house-fronts are written over +with hieroglyphics which, to the passing crowd, are either unseen +or without meaning. Fallen grandeur, pretentious gentility, decent +poverty, the infamy that wears a brazen front, and the crime that +burrows in darkness--he knows them all at a glance. The patched +window, the dingy blind, the shattered doorstep, the pot of +mignonette on the garret ledge, are to him as significant as the +lines and wrinkles on a human face. He grows to like some houses +and to dislike others, almost without knowing why--just as one +grows to like or dislike certain faces in the parks and clubs. I +remember now, as well as if it were yesterday, how, during the +first weeks of my life in Paris, I fell in love at first sight with +a wee <i>maisonnette</i> at the corner of a certain street +overlooking the Luxembourg gardens--a tiny little house, with +soft-looking blue silk window-curtains, and cream-colored +jalousies, and boxes of red and white geraniums at all the windows. +I never knew who lived in that sunny little nest; I never saw a +face at any of those windows; yet I used to go out of my way in the +summer evenings to look at it, as one might go to look at a +beautiful woman behind a stall in the market-place, or at a Madonna +in a shop-window.</p> +<p>At the time about which I write, there was probably no city in +Europe of which the street-scenery was so interesting as that of +Paris. I have already described the Quartier Latin, joyous, +fantastic, out-at-elbows; a world in itself and by itself; unlike +anything else in Paris or elsewhere. But there were other districts +in the great city--now swept away and forgotten--as characteristic +in their way as the Quartier Latin. There was the He de Saint +Louis, for instance--a <i>Campo Santo</i> of decayed +nobility--lonely, silent, fallen upon evil days, and haunted here +and there by ghosts of departed Marquises and Abbés of the +<i>vieille école</i>. There was the debateable land to the +rear of the Invalides and the Champ de Mars. There was the Faubourg +St. Germain, fast falling into the sere and yellow leaf, and going +the way of the Ile de Saint Louis. There was the neighborhood of +the Boulevart d'Aulnay, and the Rue de la Roquette, ghastly with +the trades of death; a whole Quartier of monumental sculptors, +makers of iron crosses, weavers of funereal chaplets, and wholesale +coffin-factors. And beside and apart from all this, there were (as +in all great cities) districts of evil report and obscure +topography--lost islets of crime, round which flowed and circled +the daily tide of Paris life; flowed and circled, yet never +penetrated. A dark arch here and there--the mouth of a foul +alley--a riverside vista of gloom and squalor, marked the entrance +to these Alsatias. Such an Alsatia was the Rue Pierre Lescot, the +Rue Sans Nom, and many more than I can now remember--streets into +which no sane man would venture after nightfall without the escort +of the police.</p> +<p>Into the border land of such a neighborhood--a certain congeries +of obscure and labyrinthine streets to the rear of the old +Halles--I accompanied Franz Müller one wintry afternoon, about +an hour before sunset, and perhaps some ten days after our evening +in the Rue du Faubourg St. Denis. We were bound on an expedition of +discovery, and the object of our journey was to find the habitat of +Guichet the model.</p> +<p>"I am determined to get to the bottom of this Lenoir business," +said Müller, doggedly; "and if the police won't help me, I +must help myself."</p> +<p>"You have no case for the police," I replied.</p> +<p>"So says the <i>chef de bureau</i>; but I am of the opposite +opinion. However, I shall make my case out clearly enough before +long. This Guichet can help me, if he will. He knows Lenoir, and he +knows something against him; that is clear. You saw how cautious he +was the other day. The difficulty will be to make him speak."</p> +<p>"I doubt if you will succeed."</p> +<p>"I don't, <i>mon cher</i>. But we shall see. Then, again, I have +another line of evidence open to me. You remember that +orange-colored rosette in the fellow's button-hole?"</p> +<p>"Certainly I do."</p> +<p>"Well, now, I happen, by the merest chance, to know what that +rosette means. It is the ribbon of the third order of the Golden +Palm of Mozambique--a Portuguese decoration. They give it to +diplomatic officials, eminent civilians, distinguished foreigners, +and the like. I know a fellow who has it, and who belongs to the +Portuguese Legation here. <i>Eh bien!</i> I went to him the other +day, and asked him about our said friend--how he came by it, who he +is, where he comes from, and so forth. My Portuguese repeats the +name--elevates his eyebrows--in short, has never heard of such a +person. Then he pulls down a big book from a shelf in the +secretary's room--turns to a page headed 'Golden Palm of +Mozambique'--runs his finger along the list of names--shakes his +head, and informs me that no Lenoir is, or ever has been, received +into the order. What do you say to that, now?"</p> +<p>"It is just what I should have expected; but still it is not a +ease for the police. It concerns the Portuguese minister; and the +Portuguese minister is by no means likely to take any trouble about +the matter. But why waste all this time and care? If I were you, I +would let the thing drop. It is not worth the cost."</p> +<p>Müller looked grave.</p> +<p>"I would drop it this moment," he said, "if--if it were not for +the girl."</p> +<p>"Who is still less worth the cost,"</p> +<p>"I know it," he replied, impatiently. "She has a pretty, +sentimental Madonna face; a sweet voice; a gentle manner--<i>et +voilà tout</i>. I'm not the least bit in love with her now. +I might have been. I might have committed some great folly for her +sake; but that danger is past, <i>Dieu merci!</i> I couldn't love a +girl I couldn't trust, and that girl is a flirt. A flirt of the +worst sort, too--demure, serious, conventional. No, no; my fancy +for the fair Marie has evaporated; but, for all that, I don't +relish the thought of what her fate might be if linked for life to +an unscrupulous scoundrel like Lenoir. I must do what I can, my +dear fellow--I must do what I can."</p> +<p>We had by this time rounded the Halles, and were threading our +way through one gloomy by-street after another. The air was chill, +the sky low and rainy; and already the yellow glow of an oil-lamp +might be seen gleaming through the inner darkness of some of the +smaller shops. Meanwhile, the dusk seemed to gather at our heels, +and to thicken at every step.</p> +<p>"You are sure you know your way?" I asked presently, seeing +Müller look up at the name at the corner of the street.</p> +<p>"Why, yes; I think I do," he answered, doubtfully.</p> +<p>"Why not inquire of that man just ahead?" I suggested.</p> +<p>He was a square-built, burly, shabby-looking fellow, and was +striding along so fast that we had to quicken our pace in order to +come up with him. All at once Müller fell back, laid his hand +on my arm, and said:--</p> +<p>"Stop! It is Guichet himself. Let him go on, and we'll +follow."</p> +<p>So we dropped into the rear and followed him. He turned +presently to the right, and preceded us down a long and horribly +ill-favored street, full of mean cabarets and lodging-houses of the +poorest class, where, painted in red letters on broken lamps above +the doors, or printed on cards wafered against the window-panes, +one saw at almost every other house, the words, "<i>Ici on loge la +nuit</i>." At the end of this thoroughfare our unconscious guide +plunged into a still darker and fouler <i>impasse</i>, hung across +from side to side with rows of dingy linen, and ornamented in the +centre with a mound of decaying cabbage-leaves, potato-parings, +oyster-shells, and the like. Here he made for a large tumble-down +house that closed the alley at the farther end, and, still followed +by ourselves, went in at an open doorway, and up a public staircase +dimly lighted by a flickering oil-lamp at every landing. At his own +door he paused, and just as he had turned the key, Müller +accosted him.</p> +<p>"Is that you, Guichet?" he said. "Why, you are the very man I +want! If I had come ten minutes sooner, I should have missed +you."</p> +<p>"Is it M'sieur Müller?" said Guichet, bending his heavy +brows and staring at us in the gloom of the landing.</p> +<p>"Ay, and with me the friend you saw the other day. So, this is +your den? May we come in?"</p> +<p>He had been standing till now with his hand on the key and the +closed door at his back, evidently not intending to admit us; but +thus asked, he pushed the door open, and said, somewhat +ungraciously:--</p> +<p>"It is just that, M'sieur Müller--a den; not fit for +gentlemen like you. But you can go in, if you please."</p> +<p>We did not wait for a second invitation, but went in +immediately. It was a long, low, dark room, with a pale gleam of +fading daylight struggling in through a tiny window at the farther +end. We could see nothing at first but this gleam; and it was not +till Guichet had raked out the wood ashes on the hearth, and blown +them into a red glow with his breath, that we could distinguish the +form or position of anything in the room. Then, by the flicker of +the fire, we saw a low truckle-bed close under the window; a kind +of bruised and battered seaman's chest in the middle of the room; a +heap of firewood in one corner; a pile of old packing-cases; old +sail-cloth, old iron, and all kinds of rubbish in another; a few +pots and pans over the fire-place; and a dilapidated stool or two +standing about the room. Avoiding these latter, we set ourselves +down upon the edge of the chest; while Guichet, having by this time +lit a piece of candle-end in a tin sconce against the wall, stood +before us with folded arms, and stared at us in silence.</p> +<p>"I want to know, Guichet, if you can give me some sittings," +said Müller, by way of opening the conversation.</p> +<p>"Depends on when, M'sieur Müller," growled the model.</p> +<p>"Well--next week, for the whole week."</p> +<p>Guichet shook his head. He was engaged to Monsieur Flandrin +<i>là bas</i>, for the next month, from twelve to three +daily, and had only his mornings and evenings to dispose of; in +proof of which he pulled out a greasy note-book and showed where +the agreement was formally entered. Müller made a grimace of +disappointment.</p> +<p>"That man's head takes a deal of cutting off, <i>mon ami</i>," +he said. "Aren't you tired of playing executioner so long?"</p> +<p>"Not I, M'sieur! It's all the same to me--executioner or victim, +saint or devil."</p> +<p>Müller, laughing, offered him a cigar.</p> +<p>"You've posed for some queer characters in your time, Guichet," +said he.</p> +<p>"Parbleu, M'sieur!"</p> +<p>"But you've not been a model all your life?"</p> +<p>"Perhaps not, M'sieur."</p> +<p>"You've been a sailor once upon a time, haven't you?"</p> +<p>The model looked up quickly.</p> +<p>"How did you know that?" he said, frowning.</p> +<p>"By a number of little things--by this, for instance," replied +Müller, kicking his heels against the sea-chest; "by certain +words you make use of now and then; by the way you walk; by the way +you tie your cravat. <i>Que diable</i>! you look at me as if you +took me for a sorcerer!"</p> +<p>The model shook his head.</p> +<p>"I don't understand it," he said, slowly.</p> +<p>"Nay, I could tell you more than that if I liked," said +Müller, with an air of mystery.</p> +<p>"About myself?"</p> +<p>"Ay, about yourself, and others."</p> +<p>Guichet, having just lighted his cigar, forgot to put it to his +lips.</p> +<p>"What others?" he asked, with a look half of dull bewilderment +and half of apprehension.</p> +<p>Müller shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>"Pshaw!" said he; "I know more than you think I know, Guichet. +There's our friend, you know--he of whom I made the head t'other +day ... you remember?"</p> +<p>The model, still looking at him, made no answer.</p> +<p>"Why didn't you say at once where you had met him, and all the +rest of it, <i>mon vieux</i>? You might have been sure I should +find out for myself, sooner or later."</p> +<p>The model turned abruptly towards the fire-place, and, leaning +his head against the mantel-shelf, stood with his back towards us, +looking down into the fire.</p> +<p>"You ask me why I did not tell you at once?" he said, very +slowly.</p> +<p>"Ay--why not?"</p> +<p>"Why not? Because--because when a man has begun to lead an +honest life, and has gone on leading an honest life, as I have, for +years, he is glad to put the past behind him--to forget it, and all +belonging to it. How was I to guess you knew anything about--about +that place <i>là bas</i>?"</p> +<p>"And why should I not know about it?" replied Müller, +flashing a rapid glance at me.</p> +<p>Guichet was silent.</p> +<p>"What if I tell you that I am particularly interested in--that +place <i>là bas</i>?"</p> +<p>"Well, that may be. People used to come sometimes, I +remember--artists and writers, and so on."</p> +<p>"Naturally."</p> +<p>"But I don't remember to have ever seen you, M'sieur +Müller."</p> +<p>"You did not observe me, <i>mon cher</i>--or it may have been +before, or after your time."</p> +<p>"Yes, that's true," replied Guichet, ponderingly. "How long ago +was it, M'sieur Müller?"</p> +<p>Müller glanced at me again. His game, hitherto so easy, was +beginning to grow difficult.</p> +<p>"Eh, <i>mon Dieu</i>!" he said, indifferently, "how can I tell? +I have knocked about too much, now here, now there, in the course +of my life, to remember in what particular year this or that event +may have happened. I am not good at dates, and never was."</p> +<p>"But you remember seeing me there?"</p> +<p>"Have I not said so?"</p> +<p>Guichet took a couple of turns about the room. He looked flushed +and embarrassed.</p> +<p>"There is one thing I should like to know," he said, abruptly. +"Where was I? What was I doing when you saw me?"</p> +<p>Müller was at fault now, for the first time.</p> +<p>"Where were you?" he repeated. "Why, there--where we said just +now. <i>Là bas</i>."</p> +<p>"No, no--that's not what I mean. Was I .... was I in the uniform +of the Garde Chiourme?"</p> +<p>The color rushed into Müller's face as, flashing a glance +of exultation at me, he replied:--</p> +<p>"Assuredly, <i>mon ami</i>. In that, and no other."</p> +<p>The model drew a deep breath.</p> +<p>"And Bras de Fer?" he said. "Was he working in the quarries +?"</p> +<p>"Bras de Fer! Was that the name he went by in those days?"</p> +<p>"Ay--Bras de Fer--<i>alias</i> Coupe-gorge--<i>alias</i> +Triphot--<i>alias</i> Lenoir--<i>alias</i> a hundred other names. +Bras de Fer was the one he went by at Toulon--and a real devil he +was in the Bagnes! He escaped three times, and was twice caught and +brought back again. The third time he killed one sentry, injured +another for life, and got clear off. That was five years ago, and I +left soon after. I suppose, if you saw him in Paris the other day, +he has kept clear of Toulon ever since."</p> +<p>"But was he in for life?" said Müller, eagerly.</p> +<p>"<i>Travaux forcés à +perpétuité</i>," replied Guichet, touching his own +shoulder significantly with the thumb of his right hand.</p> +<p>Müller sprang to his feet.</p> +<p>"Enough," he said. "That is all I wanted to know. Guichet, +<i>mon cher</i>, I am your debtor for life. We will talk about the +sittings when you have more time to dispose of. Adieu."</p> +<p>"But, M'sieur Müller, you won't get me into trouble!" +exclaimed the model, eagerly. "You won't make any use of my +words?"</p> +<p>"Why, supposing I went direct to the Préfecture, what +trouble could I possibly get you into, <i>mon ami?</i>" replied +Müller.</p> +<p>The model looked down in silence.</p> +<p>"You are a brave man. You do not fear the vengeance of Bras de +Fer, or his friends?"</p> +<p>"No, M'sieur---it's not that."</p> +<p>"What is it, then?"</p> +<p>"M'sieur...."</p> +<p>"Pshaw, man! Speak up."</p> +<p>"It is not that you would get me personally into trouble, +M'sieur Müller," said Guichet, slowly. "I am no coward, I +hope--a coward would make a bad Garde Chiourme at Toulon, I fancy. +And I'm not an escaped <i>forçat</i>. But--but, you see, +I've worked my way into a connection here in Paris, and I've made +myself a good name among the artists, and ... and I hold to that +good name above everything in the world."</p> +<p>"Naturally--rightly. But what has that to do with Lenoir?"</p> +<p>"Ah, M'sieur Müller, if you knew more about me, you would +not need telling how much it has to do with him! I was not always a +Garde Chiourme at Toulon. I was promoted to it after a time, for +good conduct, you know, and that sort of thing. But--but I began +differently--I began by wearing the prison dress, and working in +the quarries."</p> +<p>"My good fellow," said Müller, gently, "I half suspected +this--I am not surprised; and I respect you for having redeemed +that past in the way you have redeemed it."</p> +<p>"Thank you, M'sieur Müller; but you see, redeemed or +unredeemed, I'd rather be lying at the bottom of the Seine than +have it rise up against me now,"</p> +<p>"We are men of honor," said Müller, "and your secret is +safe with us."</p> +<p>"Not if you go to the Préfecture and inform against Bras +de Fer on my words," exclaimed the model, eagerly. "How can I +appear against him--Guichet the model--Guichet the Garde +Chiourme--Guichet the <i>forçat?</i> M'sieur Müller, I +could never hold my head up again. It would be the ruin of me."</p> +<p>"You shall not appear against him, and it shall not be the ruin +of you. Guichet," said Müller. "That I promise you. Only +assure me that what you have said is strictly correct--that Bras de +Fer and Lenoir are one and the same person--an escaped +<i>forçat</i>, condemned for life to the galleys."</p> +<p>"That's as true, M'sieur Müller, as that God is in heaven," +said the model, emphatically.</p> +<p>"Then I can prove it without your testimony--I can prove it by +simply summoning any of the Toulon authorities to identify +him."</p> +<p>"Or by stripping his shirt off his back, and showing the brand +on his left shoulder," said Guichet. "There you'll find it, T.F. as +large as life--and if it don't show at first, just you hit him a +sharp blow with the flat of your hand, M'sieur Müller, and it +will start out as red and fresh as if it had been done only six +months ago. <i>Parbleu!</i> I remember the day he came in, and the +look in his face when the hot iron hissed into his flesh! They roar +like bulls, for the most part; but he never flinched or spoke. He +just turned a shade paler under the tan, and that was all."</p> +<p>"Do you remember what his crime was?" asked Müller</p> +<p>Guichet shook his head.</p> +<p>"Not distinctly," he said. "I only know that he was in for a +good deal, and had a lot of things proved against him on his trial. +But you can find all that out for yourself, easily enough. He was +tried in Paris, about fourteen years ago, and it's all in print, if +you only know where to look for it."</p> +<p>"Then I'll find it, if I have to wade through half the +Bibliothèque Nationale!" said Müller. "Adieu, +Guichet--you have done me a great service, and you may be sure I +will do nothing to betray you. Let us shake hands upon it."</p> +<p>The color rushed into the model's swarthy cheeks.</p> +<p>"<i>Comment</i>, M'sieur Müller!" he said, hesitatingly. +"You offer to shake hands with me--after what I have told you?"</p> +<p>"Ten times more willing than before, <i>mon ami</i>," said +Müller. "Did I not tell you just now that I respected you for +having redeemed that past, and shall I not give my hand where I +give my respect?"</p> +<p>The model grasped his outstretched hand with a vehemence that +made Müller wince again.</p> +<p>"Thank you," he said, in a low, deep voice. "Thank you. Death of +my life! M'sieur Müller, I'd go to the galleys again for you, +after this--if you asked me."</p> +<p>"Agreed. Only when I do ask you, it shall be to pay a visit of +ceremony to Monsieur Bras de Fer, when he is safely lodged again at +Toulon with a chain round his leg, and a cannon-ball at the end of +it."</p> +<p>And with this Müller turned away laughingly, and I followed +him down the dimly-lighted stairs.</p> +<p>"By Jove!" he said, "what a grip the fellow gave me! I'd as soon +shake hands with the Commendatore in Don Giovanni."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII."></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2> +<h3>NUMBER TWO HUNDRED AND SEVEN.</h3> +<br> +<p>Müller, when he so confidently proposed to visit Bras de +Fer in his future retirement at Toulon, believed that he had only +to lodge his information with the proper authorities, and see the +whole affair settled out of hand. He had not taken the bureaucratic +system into consideration; and he had forgotten how little positive +evidence he had to offer. It was no easier then than now to inspire +the official mind with either insight or decision; and the police +of Paris, inasmuch as they in no wise differed from the police of +to-day, yesterday, or to-morrow, were slow to understand, slow to +believe, and slower still to act.</p> +<p>An escaped convict? Monsieur le Chef du Bureau, upon whom we +took the liberty of waiting the next morning, could scarcely take +in the bare possibility of such a fact. An escaped convict? Bah! no +convict could possibly escape under the present admirable system. +<i>Comment</i>! He effected his escape some years ago? How many +years ago? In what yard, in what ward, under what number was he +entered in the official books? For what offence was he convicted? +Had Monsieur seen him at Toulon?--and was Monsieur prepared to +swear that Lenoir and Bras de Fer were one and the same person? +How! Monsieur proposed to identify a certain individual, and yet +was incapable of replying to these questions! Would Monsieur be +pleased to state upon what grounds he undertook to denounce the +said individual, and what proof he was prepared to produce in +confirmation of the same?</p> +<p>To all which official catechizing, Müller, who (wanting +Guichet's testimony) had nothing but his intense personal +conviction to put forward, could only reply that he was ready to +pledge himself to the accuracy of his information; and that if +Monsieur the Chef du Bureau would be at the pains to call in any +Toulon official of a few years' standing, he would undoubtedly find +that the person now described as calling himself Lenoir, and the +person commonly known in the Bagnes as Bras de Fer, were indeed +"one and the same."</p> +<p>Whereupon Monsieur le Chef--a pompous personage, with a bald +head and a white moustache--shrugged his shoulders, smiled +incredulously, had the honor to point out to Monsieur that the +Government could by no means be at the expense of conveying an +inspector from Toulon to Paris on so shadowy and unsupported a +statement, and politely bowed us out.</p> +<p>Thus rebuffed, Müller began to despair of present success; +whilst I, in default of any brighter idea, proposed that he should +take legal advice on the subject. So we went to a certain avocat, +in a little street adjoining the École de Droit, and there +purchased as much wisdom as might be bought for the sum of five +francs sterling.</p> +<p>The avocat, happily, was fertile in suggestions. This, he said, +was not a case for a witness. Here was no question of appearing +before a court. With the foregone offences of either Lenoir or Bras +de Fer, we had nothing to do; and to convict them of such offences +formed no part of our plan. We only sought to show that Lenoir and +Bras de Fer were in truth "one and the same person," and we could +only do so upon the authority of some third party who had seen +both. Now Monsieur Müller had seen Lenoir, but not Bras de +Fer; and Guichet had seen Bras de Fer, but not Lenoir. Here, then, +was the real difficulty; and here, he hoped, its obvious solution. +Let Guichet be taken to some place where, being himself unseen, he +may obtain a glimpse of Lenoir. This done, he can, in a private +interview of two minutes, state his conviction to Monsieur the Chef +de Bureau--<i>voilà tout</i>! If, however, the said Guichet +can be persuaded by no considerations either of interest or +justice, then another very simple course remains open. Every +newly-arrived convict in every penal establishment throughout +France is photographed on his entrance into the Bagne, and these +photographs are duly preserved for purposes of identification like +the present. Supposing therefore Bras de Fer had not escaped from +Toulon before the introduction of this system, his portrait would +exist in the official books to this day, and might doubtless be +obtained, if proper application were made through an official +channel.</p> +<p>Armed with this information, and knowing that any attempt to +induce Guichet to move further in the matter would be useless, we +then went back to the Bureau, and with much difficulty succeeded in +persuading M. le Chef to send to Toulon for the photograph. This +done, we could only wait and be patient.</p> +<p>Briefly, then, we did wait and were patient--though the last +condition was not easy; for even I, who was by no means disposed to +sympathize with Müller in his solicitude for the fair Marie, +could not but feel a strange contagion of excitement in this +<i>chasse au forçat</i>. And so a week or ten days went by, +till one memorable afternoon, when Müller came rushing round +to my rooms in hot haste, about an hour before the time when we +usually met to go to dinner, and greeted me with--</p> +<p>"Good news, <i>mon vieux</i>! good news! The photograph has +come--and I have been to the Bureau to see it--and I have +identified my man--and he will be arrested to-night, as surely as +that he carries T.F. on his shoulder!"</p> +<p>"You are certain he is the same?" I said.</p> +<p>"As certain as I am of my own face when I see it in the +looking-glass."</p> +<p>And then he went on to say that a party of soldiers were to be +in readiness a couple of hours hence, in a shop commanding Madame +Marôt's door; that he, Müller, was to be there to watch +with them till Lenoir either came out from or went into the house; +and that as soon as he pointed him out to the sergeant in command, +he was to be arrested, put into a cab waiting for the purpose, and +conveyed to La Roquette.</p> +<p>Behold us, then, at the time prescribed, lounging in the doorway +of a small shop adjoining the private entrance to Madame +Marôt's house; our hands in our pockets; our cigars in our +mouths; our whole attitude expressive of idleness and unconcern. +The wintry evening has closed in rapidly. The street is bright with +lamps, and busy with passers-by. The shop behind us is quite +dark--so dark that not the keenest observer passing by could detect +the dusky group of soldiers sitting on the counter within, or the +gleaming of the musket-barrels which rest between their knees. The +sergeant in command, a restless, black-eyed, intelligent little +Gascon, about five feet four in height, with a revolver stuck in +his belt, paces impatiently to and fro, and whistles softly between +his teeth. The men, four in number, whisper together from time to +time, or swing their feet in silence.</p> +<p>Thus the minutes go by heavily; for it is weary work waiting in +this way, uncertain how long the watch may last, and not daring to +relax the vigilance of eye and ear for a single moment. It may be +for an hour, or for many hours, or it may be for only a few +minutes-who can tell? Of Lenoir's daily haunts and habits we know +nothing. All we do know is that he is wont to be out all day, +sometimes returning only to dress and go out again; sometimes not +coming home till very late at night; sometimes absenting himself +for a day and a night, or two days and two nights together. With +this uncertain prospect before us, therefore, we wait and watch, +and watch and wait, counting the hours as they strike, and scanning +every face that gleams past in the lamplight.</p> +<p>So the first hour goes by, and the second. Ten o'clock strikes. +The traffic in the street begins perceptibly to diminish. Shops +close here and there (Madame Marôt's shutters have been put +up by the boy in the oilskin apron more than an hour ago), and the +<i>chiffonnier</i>, sure herald of the quieter hours of the night, +flits by with rake and lanthorn, observant of the gutters.</p> +<p>The soldiers on' the counter yawn audibly from time to time; and +the sergeant, who is naturally of an impatient disposition, +exclaims, for the twentieth time, with an inexhaustible variety, +however, in the choice of expletives:--</p> +<p>"<i>Mais; nom de deux cent mille petards</i>! will this man of +ours never come?"</p> +<p>To which inquiry, though not directly addressed to myself, I +reply, as I have already replied once or twice before, that he may +come immediately, or that he may not come for hours; and that all +we can do is to wait and be patient. In the midst of which +explanation, Müller suddenly lays his hand on my arm, makes a +sign to the sergeant, and peers eagerly down the street.</p> +<p>There is a man coming up quickly on the opposite side of the +way. For myself, I could recognise no one at such a distance, +especially by night; but Müller's keener eye, made keener +still by jealousy, identifies him at a glance.</p> +<p>It is Lenoir.</p> +<p>He wears a frock coat closely buttoned, and comes on with a +light, rapid step, suspecting nothing. The sergeant gives the +word--the soldiers spring to their feet--I draw back into the gloom +of the shop-and only Müller remains, smoking his cigarette and +lounging against the door-post.</p> +<p>Then Lenoir crosses over, and Müller, affecting to observe +him for the first time, looks up, and without lifting his hat, says +loudly:--</p> +<p>"<i>Comment</i>! have I the honor of saluting Monsieur +Lenoir?"</p> +<p>Whereupon Lenoir, thrown off his guard by the suddenness of the +address, hesitates--seems about to reply--checks himself--quickens +his pace, and passes without a word.</p> +<p>The next instant he is surrounded. The butt ends of four muskets +rattle on the pavement--the sergeant's hand is on his shoulder--the +sergeant's voice rings in his ear.</p> +<p>"Number two hundred and seven, you are my prisoner!"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX."></a>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2> +<h3>THE END OF BRAS BE FER.</h3> +<br> +<p>Lenoir's first impulse was to struggle in silence; then, finding +escape hopeless, he folded his arms and submitted.</p> +<p>"So, it is Monsieur Müller who has done me this service," +he said coldly; but with a flash in his eye like the sudden glint +in the eye of a cobra di capello. "I will take care not to be +unmindful of the obligation."</p> +<p>Then, turning impatiently upon the sergeant:--</p> +<p>"Have you no carriage at hand?" he said, sharply; "or do you +want to collect a crowd in the street?"</p> +<p>The cab, however, which had been waiting a few doors lower down, +drove up while he was speaking. The sergeant hurried him in; the +half-dozen loiterers who had already gathered about us pressed +eagerly forward; two of the soldiers and the sergeant got inside; +Müller and I scrambled up beside the driver; word was given +"to the Préfecture of Police;" and we drove rapidly away +down the Rue du Faubourg St. Denis, through the arch of Louis +Quatorze, out upon the bright noisy Boulevard, and on through +thoroughfares as brilliant and crowded as at midday, towards the +quays and the river.</p> +<p>Arrived at the Quai des Ortëvres, we alighted at the +Préfecture, and were conducted through a series of +ante-rooms and corridors into the presence of the same bald-headed +Chef de Bureau whom we had seen on each previous occasion. He +looked up as we came in, pressed the spring of a small bell that +stood upon his desk, and growled something in the ear of a clerk +who answered the summons.</p> +<p>"Sergeant," he said, pompously, "bring the prisoner under the +gas-burner."</p> +<p>Lenoir, without waiting to be brought, took a couple of steps +forward, and placed himself in the light.</p> +<p>Monsieur le Chef then took out his double eye-glass, and +proceeded to compare Lenoir's face, feature by feature, with a +photograph which he took out of his pocket-book for the +purpose.</p> +<p>"Are you prepared, Monsieur," he said, addressing Müller +for the first time--"are you, I say, prepared to identify the +prisoner upon oath?"</p> +<p>"Within certain limitations--yes," replied Müller.</p> +<p>"Certain limitations!" exclaimed the Chef, testily. "What do you +mean by 'certain limitations?' Here is the man whom you accuse, and +here is the photograph. Are you, I repeat, prepared to make your +deposition before Monsieur le Préfet that they are one and +the same person?"</p> +<p>"I am neither more nor less prepared, Monsieur," said +Müller, "than you are; or than Monsieur le Préfet, when +he has the opportunity of judging. As I have already had the honor +of informing you, I saw the prisoner for the first time about two +months since. Having reason to believe that he was living in Paris +under an assumed name, and wearing a decoration to which he had no +right, I prosecuted certain inquiries about him. The result of +those inquiries led me to conclude that he was an escaped convict +from the Bagnes of Toulon. Never having seen him at Toulon, I was +unable to prove this fact without assistance. You, Monsieur, have +furnished that assistance, and the proof is now in your hand. It +only remains for Monsieur le Préfet and yourself to decide +upon its value."</p> +<p>"Give me the photograph, Monsieur Marmot," said a pale little +man in blue spectacles, who had come in unobserved from a door +behind us, while Müller was speaking.</p> +<p>The bald-headed Chef jumped up with great alacrity, bowed like a +second Sir Pertinax, and handed over the photograph.</p> +<p>"The peculiar difficulty of this case, Monsieur le +Préfet" ... he began.</p> +<p>The Préfet waved his hand.</p> +<p>"Thanks, Monsieur Marmot," he said, "I know all the particulars +of this case. You need not trouble to explain them. So this is the +photograph forwarded from Toulon. Well--well! Sergeant, strip the +prisoner's shoulders."</p> +<p>A sudden quiver shot over Lenoir's face at this order, and his +cheek blenched under the tan; but he neither spoke nor resisted. +The next moment his coat and waistcoat were lying on the ground; +his shirt, torn in the rough handling, was hanging round his loins, +and he stood before us naked to the waist, lean, brown, muscular--a +torso of an athlete done in bronze.</p> +<p>We pressed round eagerly. Monsieur le Chef put up his double +eye-glass; Monsier le Préfet took off his blue +spectacles.</p> +<p>"So--so," he said, pointing with the end of his glasses towards +a whitish, indefinite kind of scar on Lenoir's left shoulder, "here +is a mark like a burn. Is this the brand?"</p> +<p>The sergeant nodded.</p> +<p>"V'là, M'sieur le Préfet!" he said, and struck the +spot smartly with his open palm. Instantly the smitten place turned +livid, while from the midst of it, like the handwriting on the +wall, the fatal letters T. F. sprang out in characters of fire.</p> +<p>Lenoir flashed a savage glance upon us, and checked the +imprecation that rose to his lips. Monsieur le Préfet, with +a little nod of satisfaction, put on his glasses again, went over +to the table, took out a printed form from a certain drawer, dipped +a pen in the ink, and said:--</p> +<p>"Sergeant, you will take this order, and convey Number Two +Hundred and Seven to the Bicêtre, there to remain till +Thursday next, when he will be drafted back to Toulon by the +convict train, which leaves two hours after midnight. Monsieur +Müller, the Government is indebted to you for the assistance +you have rendered the executive in this matter. You are probably +aware that the prisoner is a notorious criminal, guilty of one +proved murder, and several cases of forgery, card-sharping, and the +like. The Government is also indebted to Monsieur Marmot" (here he +inclined his head to the bald-headed Chef), "who has acted with his +usual zeal and intelligence."</p> +<p>Monsieur Marmot, murmuring profuse thanks, bowed and bowed +again, and followed Monsieur le Préfet obsequiously to the +door. On the threshold, the great little man paused, turned, and +said very quietly: "You understand, sergeant, this prisoner does +<i>not</i> escape again;" and so vanished; leaving Monsieur Marmot +still bowing in the doorway.</p> +<p>Then the sergeant hurried on Lenoir's coat and waistcoat, +clapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists, thrust his hat on his +head, and prepared to be gone; Monsieur, the bald-headed, looking +on, meanwhile, with the utmost complacency, as if taking to himself +all the merit of discovery and capture.</p> +<p>"Pardon, Messieurs," said the serjeant, when all was ready. +"Pardon--but here is a fellow for whom I am responsible now, and +who must be strictly looked after. I shall have to put a gendarme +on the box from here to the Bicêtre, instead of you two +gentlemen."</p> +<p>"All right, <i>mon ami</i>" said Müller. "I suppose we +should not have been admitted if we had gone with you?"</p> +<p>"Nay, I could pass you in, Messieurs, if you cared to see the +affair to the end, and followed in another <i>fiacre</i>."</p> +<p>So we said we would see it to the end, and following the +prisoner and his guard through all the rooms and corridors by which +we had come, picked up a second cab on the Quai des +Orfèvres, just outside the Préfecture of Police.</p> +<p>It was now close upon midnight. The sky was flecked with driving +clouds. The moon had just risen above the towers of Notre Dame. The +quays were silent and deserted. The river hurried along, swirling +and turbulent. The sergeant's cab led the way, and the driver, +instead of turning back towards the Pont Neuf, followed the line of +the quays along the southern bank of the Ile de la Cité; +passing the Morgue--a mass of sinister shadow; passing the +Hôtel Dieu; traversing the Parvis Notre Dame; and making for +the long bridge, then called the Pont Louis Philippe, which +connects the two river islands with the northern half of Paris.</p> +<p>"It is a wild-looking night," said Müller, as we drove +under the mountainous shadow of Notre Dame and came out again in +sight of the river.</p> +<p>"And it is a wild business to be out upon," I added. "I wonder +if this is the end of it?"</p> +<p>The words were scarcely past my lips when the door of the cab +ahead flew suddenly open, and a swift something, more like a shadow +than a man, darted across the moonlight, sprang upon the parapet of +the bridge, and disappeared!</p> +<p>In an instant we were all out--all rushing to and fro--all +shouting--all wild with surprise and confusion.</p> +<p>"One man to the Pont d'Arcole!" thundered the sergeant, running +along the perapet, revolver in hand. "One to the Quai Bourbon--one +to the Pont de la Cité! Watch up stream and down! The moment +he shows his head above water, fire!"</p> +<p>"But, in Heaven's name, how did he escape?" exclaimed +Müller.</p> +<p>"<i>Grand Dieu</i>! who can tell--unless he is the very devil?" +cried the sergeant, distractedly. "The handcuffs were on the floor, +the door was open, and he was gone in a breath! Hold! What's +that?"</p> +<p>The soldier on the Pont de la Cité gave a shout and +fired. There was a splash--a plunge--a rush to the opposite +parapet.</p> +<p>"There he goes!"</p> +<p>"Where?"</p> +<p>"He has dived again!"</p> +<p>"Look--look yonder--between the floating bath and the bank!"</p> +<p>The sergeant stood motionless, his revolver ready cocked--the +water swirled and eddied, eddied and parted--a dark dot rose for a +second to the surface!</p> +<p>Three shots fired at the same moment (one by the sergeant, two +by the soldiers) rang sharply through the air, and were echoed with +startling suddenness again and again from the buttressed walls of +Notre Dame. Ere the last echo had died away, or the last faint +smoke-wreath had faded, two boats were pulling to the spot, and all +the quays were alive with a fast-gathering crowd. The sergeant +beckoned to the gendarme who had come upon the box.</p> +<p>"Bid the boatmen drag the river just here between the two +bridges," he said, "and bring the body up to the +Préfecture." Then, turning to Müller and myself, "I am +sorry to trouble you again, Messieurs," he said, "but I must ask +you to come back once more to the Quai des Orfèvres, to +depose to the facts which have just happened."</p> +<p>"But is the man shot, or has he escaped?" asked a breathless +bystander.</p> +<p>"Both," said the sergeant, with a grim smile, replacing his +revolver in his belt. "He has escaped Toulon; but he has gone to +the bottom of the Seine with something like six ounces of lead in +his skull."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL."></a>CHAPTER XL.</h2> +<h3>THE ENIGMA OF THE THIRD STORY.</h3> +<center>Who ever loved, that loved not at first +sight?--MARLOWE.</center> +<br> +<p>In Paris, a lodging-house (or, as they prefer to style it, a +<i>hôtel meublé</i>) is a little town in itself; a +beehive swarming from basement to attic; a miniature model of the +great world beyond, with all its loves and hatreds, jealousies, +aspirations, and struggles. Like that world, it contains several +grades of society, but with this difference, that those who therein +occupy the loftiest position are held in the lowest estimation. +Thus, the fifth-floor lodgers turn up their noses at the +inhabitants of the attics; while the fifth-floor is in its turn +scorned by the fourth, and the fourth is despised by the third, and +the third by the second, down to the magnificent dwellers on <i>the +premier étage</i>, who live in majestic disdain of everybody +above or beneath them, from the grisettes in the garret, to the +<i>concierge</i> who has care of the cellars.</p> +<p>The house in which I lived in the Cité Bergère +was, in fact, a double house, and contained no fewer than thirty +tenants, some of whom had wives, children, and servants. It +consisted of six floors, and each floor contained from eight to ten +rooms. These were let in single chambers, or in suites, as the case +might be; and on the outer doors opening round the landings were +painted the names, or affixed the visiting-cards, of the dwellers +within. My own third-floor neighbors were four in number. To my +left lived a certain Monsieur and Madame Lemercier, a retired +couple from Alsace. Opposite their door, on the other side of the +well staircase, dwelt one Monsieur Cliquot, an elderly +<i>employé</i> in some public office; next to him, Signor +Milanesi, an Italian refugee who played in the orchestra at the +<i>Variétés</i> every night, was given to practising +the violoncello by day, and wore as much hair about his face as a +Skye-terrier. Lastly, in the apartment to my right, resided a lady, +upon whose door was nailed a small visiting-card engraved with +these words:--</p> +<blockquote>MLLE. HORTENSE DUFRESNOY.<br> +<br> +<i>Teacher of Languages</i>.</blockquote> +<p>I had resided in the house for months before I ever beheld this +Mademoiselle Hortense Dufresnoy. When I did at last encounter her +upon the stairs one dusk autumnal evening, she wore a thick black +veil, and, darting past me like a bird on the wing, disappeared +down the staircase in fewer moments than I take to write it. I +scarcely observed her at the time. I had no more curiosity to learn +whether the face under that veil was pretty or plain than I cared +to know whether the veil itself was Shetland or Chantilly. At that +time Paris was yet new to me: Madame de Marignan's evil influence +was about me; and, occupied as my time and thoughts were with +unprofitable matters, I took no heed of my fellow-lodgers. Save, +indeed, when the groans of that much-tortured violoncello woke me +in the morning to an unwelcome consciousness of the vicinity of +Signor Milanesi, I should scarcely have remembered that I was not +the only inhabitant of the third story.</p> +<p>Now, however, that I spent all my evenings in my own quiet room, +I became, by imperceptible degrees, interested in the unseen +inhabitant of the adjoining apartment. Sometimes, when the house +was so still that the very turning of the page sounded unnaturally +loud, and the mere falling of a cinder startled me, I heard her in +her chamber, singing softly to herself. Every night I saw the light +from her window streaming out over the balcony and touching the +evergreens with a midnight glow. Often and often, when it was so +late that even I had given up study and gone to bed, I heard her +reading aloud, or pacing to and fro to the measure of her own +recitations. Listen as I would, I could only make out that these +recitations were poetical fragments--I could only distinguish a +certain chanted metre, the chiming of an occasional rhyme, the +rising and falling of a voice more than commonly melodious.</p> +<p>This vague interest gave place by-and-by to active curiosity. I +resolved to question Madame Bouïsse, the <i>concierge</i>; and +as she, good soul! loved gossip not wisely, but too well, I soon +knew all the little she had to tell.</p> +<p>Mademoiselle Hortense, it appeared, was the enigma of the third +story. She had resided in the house for more than two years. She +earned her living by her labor; went out teaching all the day; sat +up at night, studying and writing; had no friends; received no +visitors; was as industrious as a bee, and as proud as a princess. +Books and flowers were her only friends, and her only luxuries. +Poor as she was, she was continually filling her shelves with the +former, and supplying her balcony with the latter. She lived +frugally, drank no wine, was singularly silent and reserved, and +"like a real lady," said the fat <i>concierge</i>, "paid her rent +to the minute."</p> +<p>This, and no more, had Madame Bouïsse to tell. I had sought +her in her own little retreat at the foot of the public staircase. +It was a very wet afternoon, and under pretext of drying my boots +by the fire, I stayed to make conversation and elicit what +information I could. Now Madame Bouïsse's sanctuary was a +queer, dark, stuffy little cupboard devoted to many heterogeneous +uses, and it "served her for parlor, kitchen, and all." In one +corner stood that famous article of furniture which became "a bed +by night, a chest of drawers by day." Adjoining the bed was the +fireplace; near the fireplace stood a corner cupboard filled with +crockery and surmounted by a grand ormolu clock, singularly at +variance with the rest of the articles. A table, a warming-pan, and +a couple of chairs completed the furniture of the room, which, with +all its contents, could scarcely have measured more than eight feet +square. On a shelf inside the door stood thirty flat candlesticks; +and on a row of nails just beneath them, hung two and twenty bright +brass chamber-door keys--whereby an apt arithmetician might have +divined that exactly two-and-twenty lodgers were out in the rain, +and only eight housed comfortably within doors.</p> +<p>"And how old should you suppose this lady to be?" I asked, +leaning idly against the table whereon Madame Bouïsse was +preparing an unsavory dish of veal and garlic.</p> +<p>The <i>concierge</i> shrugged her ponderous shoulders.</p> +<p>"Ah, bah, M'sieur, I am no judge of age," said she.</p> +<p>"Well--is she pretty?"</p> +<p>"I am no judge of beauty, either," grinned Madame +Bouïsse.</p> +<p>"But, my dear soul," I expostulated, "you have eyes!"</p> +<p>"Yours are younger than mine, <i>mon enfant</i>," retorted the +fat <i>concierge</i>; "and, as I see Mam'selle Hortense coming up +to the door, I'd advise you to make use of them for yourself."</p> +<p>And there, sure enough, was a tall and slender girl, dressed all +in black, pausing to close up her umbrella at the threshold of the +outer doorway. A porter followed her, carrying a heavy parcel. +Having deposited this in the passage, he touched his cap and stated +his charge. The young lady took out her purse, turned over the +coins, shook her head, and finally came up to Madame's little +sanctuary.</p> +<p>"Will you be so obliging, Madame Bouïsse," she said, "as to +lend me a piece of ten sous? I have no small change left in my +purse."</p> +<p>How shall I describe her? If I say that she was not particularly +beautiful, I do her less than justice; for she was beautiful, with +a pale, grave, serious beauty, unlike the ordinary beauty of woman. +But even this, her beauty of feature, and color, and form, was +eclipsed and overborne by that "true beauty of the soul" which +outshines all other, as the sun puts out the stars.</p> +<p>There was in her face--or, perhaps, rather in her expression--an +indefinable something that came upon me almost like a memory. Had I +seen that face in some forgotten dream of long ago? Brown-haired +was she, and pale, with a brow "as chaste ice, as pure as snow," +and eyes--</p> +<blockquote>"In whose orb a shadow lies,<br> +Like the dusk in evening skies!"</blockquote> +<p>Eyes lit from within, large, clear, lustrous, with a meaning in +them so profound and serious that it was almost sorrowful,--like +the eyes of Giotto's saints and Cimabue's Madonnas.</p> +<p>But I cannot describe her--</p> +<p>"For oh, her looks had something excellent That wants a +name!"</p> +<p>I can only look back upon her with "my mind's eye," trying to +see her as I saw her then for the first time, and striving to +recall my first impressions.</p> +<p>Madame Bouïsse, meanwhile, searched in all the corners of +her ample pockets, turned out her table-drawer, dived into the +recesses of her husband's empty garments, and peeped into every +ornament upon the chimney-piece; but in vain. There was no such +thing as a ten-sous piece to be found.</p> +<p>"Pray, M'sieur Basil," said she, "have you one?"</p> +<p>"One what?" I ejaculated, startled out of my reverie.</p> +<p>"Why, a ten-sous piece, to be sure. Don't you see that Mam'selle +Hortense is waiting in her wet shoes, and that I have been hunting +for the last five minutes, and can't find one anywhere?"</p> +<p>Blushing like a school-boy, and stammering some unintelligible +excuse, I pulled out a handful of francs and half-francs, and +produced the coin required.</p> +<p>"<i>Dame</i>!" said the <i>concierge</i>. "This comes of using +one's eyes too well, my young Monsieur. Hem! I'm not so blind but +that I can see as far as my neighbors."</p> +<p>Mademoiselle Hortense had fortunately gone back to settle with +the porter, so this observation passed unheard. The man being +dismissed, she came back, carrying the parcel. It was evidently +heavy, and she put it down on the nearest chair.</p> +<p>"I fear, Madame Bouïsse," she said, "that I must ask you to +help me with this. I am not strong enough to carry it +upstairs."</p> +<p>More alert this time, I took a step in advance, and offered my +services.</p> +<p>"Will Mademoiselle permit me to take it?" I said. "I am going +upstairs."</p> +<p>She hesitated.</p> +<p>"Many thanks," she said, reluctantly, "but...."</p> +<p>"But Madame Bouïsse is busy," I urged, "and the <i>pot au +feu</i> will spoil if she leaves it on the fire."</p> +<p>The fat <i>concierge</i> nodded, and patted me on the +shoulder.</p> +<p>"Let him carry the parcel, Mam'selle Hortense," she chuckled. +"Let him carry it. M'sieur is your neighbor, and neighbors should +be neighborly. Besides," she added, in an audible aside, "he is a +<i>bon garçon</i>--an Englishman--and a book-student like +yourself."</p> +<p>The young lady bent her head, civilly, but proudly. Compelled, +as it seemed, to accept my help, she evidently wished to show me +that I must nevertheless put forward no claim to further +intercourse--not even on the plea of neighborhood. I understood +her, and taking up the parcel, followed her in silence to her door +on the third story. Here she paused and thanked me.</p> +<p>"Pray let me carry it in for you," I said.</p> +<p>Again she hesitated; but only for an instant. Too well-bred not +to see that a refusal would now be a discourtesy, she unlocked the +door, and held it open.</p> +<p>The first room was an ante-chamber; the second a <i>salon</i> +somewhat larger than my own, with a door to the right, leading into +what I supposed would be her bedroom. At a glance, I took in all +the details of her home. There was her writing-table laden with +books and papers, her desk, and her pile of manuscripts. At one end +of the room stood a piano doing duty as a side-board, and looking +as if it were seldom opened. Some water-color drawings were pinned +against the walls, and a well-filled bookcase stood in a recess +beside the fireplace. Nothing escaped me --not even the shaded +reading-lamp, nor the plain ebony time-piece, nor the bronze Apollo +on the bracket above the piano, nor the sword over the mantelpiece, +which seemed a strange ornament in the study of a gentle lady. +Besides all this, there were books everywhere, heaped upon the +tables, ranged on shelves, piled in corners, and scattered hither +and thither in most admired disorder. It was, however, the only +disorder there.</p> +<p>I longed to linger, but dared not. Having laid the parcel down +upon the nearest chair, there was nothing left for me to do but to +take my leave. Mademoiselle Dufresnoy still kept her hand upon the +door.</p> +<p>"Accept my best thanks, sir," she said in English, with a pretty +foreign accent, that seemed to give new music to the dear familiar +tongue.</p> +<p>"You have nothing to thank me for, Mademoiselle," I replied.</p> +<p>She smiled, proudly still, but very sweetly, and closed the door +upon me.</p> +<p>I went back to my room; it had become suddenly dark and +desolate. I tried to read; but all subjects seemed alike tedious +and unprofitable. I could fix my attention to nothing; and so, +becoming restless, I went out again, and wandered about the dusky +streets till evening fairly set in, and the shops were lighted, and +the tide of passers-by began to flow faster in the direction of +boulevard and theatre.</p> +<p>The soft light of her shaded lamp streamed from her window when +I came back, nor faded thence till two hours after midnight. I +watched it all the long evening, stealing out from time to time +upon my balcony, which adjoined her own, and welcoming the cool +night air upon my brow. For I was fevered and disquieted, I knew +not why, and my heart was stirred within me, strangely and +sweetly.</p> +<p>Such was my first meeting with Hortense Dufresnoy. No incident +of it has since faded from my memory. Brief as it was, it had +already turned all the current of my life. I had fallen in love at +first sight. Yes--in love; for love it was--real, passionate, +earnest; a love destined to be the master-passion of all my future +years.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI."></a>CHAPTER XLI.</h2> +<h3>A CHRONICLE ABOUT FROISSART.</h3> +<center>See, Lucius, here's the book I sought for so!<br> +<br> +JULIUS CAESAR.<br> +<br> +But all be that he was a philosophre,<br> +Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre,<br> +But all that he might of his frends hente,<br> +On bokes and on lerning he is spente.<br> +<br> +CHAUCER.</center> +<br> +<p>"Love-In-Idleness" has passed into a proverb, and lovers, +somehow, are not generally supposed to be industrious. I, however, +worked none the less zealously for being in love. I applied only +the more closely to my studies, both medical and literary, and made +better progress in both than I had made before. I was not +ambitious; but I had many incentives to work. I was anxious to +satisfy my father. I earnestly desired to efface every unfavorable +impression from the mind of Dr. Chéron, and to gain, if +possible, his esteem. I was proud of the friendship of Madame de +Courcelles, and wished to prove the value that I placed upon her +good opinion. Above all, I had a true and passionate love of +learning--not that love which leadeth on to fame; but rather that +self-abandoning devotion which exchangeth willingly the world of +action for the world of books, and, for an uninterrupted communion +with the "souls of all that men held wise," bartereth away the +society of the living.</p> +<p>Little gregarious by nature, Paris had already ceased to delight +me in the same way that it had delighted me at first. A "retired +leisure," and the society of the woman whom I loved, grew to be the +day-dream of my solitary life. And still, ever more and more +plainly, it became evident to me that for the career of the student +I was designed by nature. Bayle, Magliabecchi of Florence, Isaac +Reed, Sir Thomas Brown, Montaigne--those were the men whose lot in +life I envied--those the literary anchorites in whose steps I would +fain have followed.</p> +<p>But this was not to be; so I worked on, rose early, studied +late, gained experience, took out my second inscription with +credit, and had the satisfaction of knowing that I was fast +acquiring the good opinion of Dr. Chéron. Thus Christmas +passed by, and January with its bitter winds; and February set in, +bright but frosty. And still, without encouragement or nope, I went +on loving Hortense Dufresnoy.</p> +<p>My opportunities of seeing her were few and brief. A passing bow +in the hall, or a distant "good-evening" as we passed upon the +stairs, for some time made up the sum of our intercourse. +Gradually, however, a kind of formal acquaintance sprang up between +us; an acquaintance fostered by trifles and dependent on the +idlest, or what seemed the idlest, casualties. I say "seemed," for +often that which to her appeared the work of chance was the result +of elaborate contrivance on my part. She little knew, when I met +her on the staircase, how I had been listening for the last hour to +catch the echo of her step. She little dreamed when I encountered +her at the corner of the street, how I had been concealed, till +that moment, in the <i>café</i> over the way, ready to dart +out as soon as she appeared in sight. I would then affect either a +polite unconcern, or an air of judicious surprise, or pretend not +to lift my eyes at all till she was nearly past; and I think I must +have been a very fair actor, for it all succeeded capitally, and I +am not aware that she ever had the least suspicion of the truth. +Let me, however, recall one incident over which I had no control, +and which did more towards promoting our intercourse than all the +rest.</p> +<p>It is a cold, bright morning in February. There is a brisk +exhilaration in the air. The windows and gilded balconies sparkle +in the sun, and it is pleasant to hear the frosty ring of one's +boots upon the pavement. It is a fête to-day. Nothing is +doing in the lecture-rooms, and I have the whole day before me. +Meaning, therefore, to enjoy it over the fire and a book, I wisely +begin it by a walk.</p> +<p>From the Cité Bergère, out along the right-hand +side of the Boulevards, down past the front of the Madeleine, +across the Place de la Concorde, and up the Champs Elysées +as far as the Arc de Triomphe; this is the route I take in going. +Arrived at the arch, I cross over, and come back by the same roads, +but on the other side of the way. I have a motive in this. There is +a certain second-hand book-shop on the opposite side of the +Boulevard des Italiens, which draws me by a wholly irresistible +attraction. Had I started on that side, I should have gone no +further. I should have looked, lingered, purchased, and gone home +to read. But I know my weakness. I have reserved the book-shop for +my return journey, and now, rewarded and triumphant, compose myself +for a quiet study of its treasures.</p> +<p>And what a book-shop it is! Not only are its windows filled--not +only are its walls a very perspective of learning--but square +pillars of volumes are built up on either side of the door, and an +immense supplementary library is erected in the open air, down all +the length of a dead-wall adjoining the house.</p> +<p>Here then I pause, turning over the leaves of one volume, +reading the title of another, studying the personal appearance of a +third, and weighing the merits of their authors against the +contents of my purse. And when I say "personal appearance," I say +it advisedly; for book-hunters, are skilled Lavaters in their way, +and books, like men, attract or repel at first sight. Thus it +happens that I love a portly book, in a sober coat of calf, but +hate a thin, smart volume, in a gaudy binding. The one promises to +be philosophic, learnedly witty, or solidly instructive; the other +is tolerably certain to be pert and shallow, and reminds me of a +coxcombical lacquey in bullion and red plush. On the same +principle, I respect leaves soiled and dog's-eared, but mistrust +gilt edges; love an old volume better than a new; prefer a spacious +book-stall to all the unpurchased stores of Paternoster Row; and +buy every book that I possess at second-hand. Nay, that it is +second-hand is in itself a pass port to my favor. Somebody has read +it before; therefore it is readable. Somebody has derived pleasure +from it before; therefore I open it with a student's sympathy, and +am disposed to be indulgent ere I have perused a single line. There +are cases, however, in which I incline to luxury of binding. Just +as I had rather have my historians in old calf and my chroniclers +in black letter, so do I delight to see my modern poets, the +Benjamins of my affections, clothed in coats of many colors. For +them no moroccos are too rich, and no "toolings" too elaborate. I +love to see them smiling on me from the shelves of my book-cases, +as glowing and varied as the sunset through a painted oriel.</p> +<p>Standing here, then, to-day, dipping first into this work and +then into that, I light upon a very curious and interesting edition +of <i>Froissart</i>--an edition full of quaint engravings, and +printed in the obsolete spelling of two hundred years ago. The book +is both a treasure and a bargain, being marked up at five and +twenty francs. Only those who haunt book-stalls and luxuriate in +old editions can appreciate the satisfaction with which I +survey</p> +<blockquote>"That weight of wood, with leathern coat overlaid,<br> +Those ample clasps of solid metal made,<br> +The close pressed leaves unclosed for many an age,<br> +The dull red edging of the well-filled page,<br> +And the broad back, with stubborn ridges roll'd,<br> +Where yet the title stands in tarnished gold!"</blockquote> +<p>They only can sympathize in the eagerness with which I snatch up +the precious volume, the haste with which I count out the five and +twenty francs, the delight with which I see the dealer's hand close +on the sum, and know that the book is legally and indisputably +mine! Then how lovingly I embrace it under my arm, and taking +advantage of my position as a purchaser, stroll leisurely round the +inner warehouse, still courting that literary world which (in a +library at least) always turns its back upon its worshipper!</p> +<p>"Pray, Monsieur," says a gentle voice at the door, "where is +that old <i>Froissart</i> that I saw outside about a quarter of an +hour ago?"</p> +<p>"Just sold, Madame," replies the bookseller, promptly.</p> +<p>"Oh, how unfortunate!--and I only went home for the money" +exclaims the lady in a tone of real disappointment.</p> +<p>Selfishly exultant, I hug the book more closely, turn to steal a +glance at my defeated rival, and recognise--Mademoiselle +Dufresnoy.</p> +<p>She does not see me. I am standing in the inner gloom of the +shop, and she is already turning away. I follow her at a little +distance; keep her in sight all the way home; let her go into the +house some few seconds in advance; and then, scaling three stairs +at a time, overtake her at the door of her apartment.</p> +<p>Flushed and breathless, I stand beside her with <i>Froissart</i> +in my hand.</p> +<p>"Pardon, Mademoiselle," I say, hurriedly, "for having +involuntarily forestalled you just now. I had just bought the book +you wished to purchase,"</p> +<p>She looks at me with evident surprise and some coldness; but +says nothing.</p> +<p>"And I am rejoiced to have this opportunity of transferring it +to you."</p> +<p>Mademoiselle Dufresnoy makes a slight but decided gesture of +refusal.</p> +<p>"I would not deprive you of it, Monsieur," she says promptly, +"upon any consideration."</p> +<p>"But, Mademoiselle, unless you allow me to relinquish it in your +favor, I beg to assure you that I shall take the book back to the +bookseller and exchange it for some other."</p> +<p>"I cannot conceive why you should do that, Monsieur."</p> +<p>"In order, Mademoiselle, that you may still have it in your +power to become the purchaser."</p> +<p>"And yet you wished to possess the book, or you would not have +bought it."</p> +<p>"I would not have bought it, Mademoiselle, if I had known that I +should disappoint a--a lady by doing so,"</p> +<p>I was on the point of saying, "if I had known that I should +disappoint you by so doing," but hesitated, and checked myself in +time.</p> +<p>A half-mocking smile flitted across her lips.</p> +<p>"Monsieur is too self-sacrificing," she said. "Had I first +bought the book, I should have kept it--being a woman. Reverse the +case as you will, and show me any just reason why you should not do +the same--being a man?"</p> +<p>"Nay, the merest by-law of courtesy..." I began, +hesitatingly.</p> +<p>"Do not think me ungracious, Monsieur," she interrupted, "if I +hold that these so-called laws of courtesy are in truth but +concessions, for the most part, from the strength of your sex to +the weakness of ours."</p> +<p>"<i>Eh bien</i>, Mademoiselle--what then?"</p> +<p>"Then, Monsieur, may there not be some women---myself, for +instance--who do not care to be treated like children?"</p> +<p>"Pardon, Mademoiselle, but are you stating the case quite +fairly? Is it not rather that we desire not to efface the last +lingering tradition of the age of chivalry--not to reduce to prose +the last faint echoes of that poetry which tempered the sword of +the Crusader and inspired the song of the Trouvère?"</p> +<p>"Were it not better that the new age created a new code and a +new poetry?" said Mademoiselle Dufresnoy.</p> +<p>"Perhaps; but I confess I love old forms and usages, and cling +to creeds outworn. Above all, to that creed which in the age of +powder and compliment, no less than in the age of chivalry, +enjoined absolute devotion and courtesy towards women."</p> +<p>"Against mere courtesy reasonably exercised and in due season, I +have nothing to say," replied Mademoiselle Dufresnoy; "but the +half-barbarous homage of the Middle Ages is as little to my taste +as the scarcely less barbarous refinement of the Addison and +Georgian periods. Both are alike unsound, because both have a basis +of insincerity. Just as there is a mock refinement more vulgar than +simple vulgarity, so are there courtesies which humiliate and +compliments that offend."</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle is pleased to talk in paradoxes," said I.</p> +<p>Mademoiselle unlocked her door, and turning towards me with the +same half-mocking smile and the same air of raillery, said:--</p> +<p>"Monsieur, it is written in your English histories that when +John le Bon was taken captive after the battle of Cressy, the Black +Prince rode bareheaded before him through the streets of London, +and served him at table as the humblest of his attendants. But for +all that, was John any the less a prisoner, or the Black Prince any +the less a conqueror?"</p> +<p>"You mean, perhaps, that you reject all courtesy based on mere +ceremonial. Let me then put the case of this <i>Froissart</i> more +plainly--as I would have done from the first, had I dared to speak +the simple truth."</p> +<p>"And that is...?"</p> +<p>"That it will give me more pleasure to resign the book to you, +Mademoiselle, than to possess it myself."</p> +<p>Mademoiselle Dufresnoy colors up, looks both haughty and amused, +and ends by laughing.</p> +<p>"In truth, Monsieur," she says merrily, "if your politeness +threatened at first to be too universal, it ends by becoming +unnecessarily particular."</p> +<p>"Say rather, Mademoiselle, that you will not have the book on +any terms!" I exclaim impatiently.</p> +<p>"Because you have not yet offered it to me upon any just or +reasonable grounds."</p> +<p>"Well, then, bluntly and frankly, as student to student, I beg +you to spare me the trouble of carrying this book back to the +Boulevard. Yours, Mademoiselle, was the first intention. You saw +the book before I saw it. You would have bought it on the spot, but +had to go home for the money. In common equity, it is yours. In +common civility, as student to student, I offer it to you. Say, is +it yes or no?"</p> +<p>"Since you put it so simply and so generously, and since I +believe you really wish me to accept your offer," replies +Mademoiselle Dufresnoy, taking out her purse, "I suppose I must +say--yes."</p> +<p>And with this, she puts out her hand for the hook, and offers me +in return the sum of five and twenty francs.</p> +<p>Pained at having to accept the money, pained at being offered +it, seeing no way of refusing it, and feel altogether more distress +than is reasonable in a man brought up to the taking of fees; I +affect not to see the coin, and, bowing, move away in the direction +of my own door.</p> +<p>"Pardon, Monsieur," she says, "but you forget that I am in your +debt."</p> +<p>"And--and do you really insist..."</p> +<p>She looks at me, half surprised and half offended.</p> +<p>"If you do not take the money, Monsieur, how can I take the +book?"</p> +<p>Bowing, I receive the unwelcome francs in my unwilling palm.</p> +<p>Still she lingers.</p> +<p>"I--I have not thanked you as I ought for your generosity," she +says, hesitatingly.</p> +<p>"Generosity!" I repeat, glancing with some bitterness at the +five and twenty francs.</p> +<p>"True kindness, Monsieur, is neither bought nor sold," says the +lady, with the loveliest smile in the world, and closes her +door.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII."></a>CHAPTER XLII.</h2> +<h3>THE OLD, OLD STORY.</h3> +<center>What thing is Love, which nought can countervail?<br> +Nought save itself--even such a thing is Love.<br> +<br> +SIR W. RALEIGH.</center> +<br> +<p>My acquaintance with Hortense Dufresnoy progressed slowly as, +ever, and not even the Froissart incident went far towards +promoting it. Absorbed in her studies, living for the intellect +only, too self-contained to know the need for sympathy, she +continued to be, at all events for me, the most inaccessible of +God's creatures. And yet, despite her indifference, I loved her. +Her pale, proud face haunted me; her voice haunted me. I thought of +her sometimes till it seemed impossible she should not in some way +be conscious of how my very soul was centred in her. But she knew +nothing--guessed nothing--cared nothing; and the knowledge that I +held no place in her life wrought in me at times till it became +almost too bitter for endurance.</p> +<p>And this was love--real, passionate, earnest; the first and last +love of my heart. Did I believe that I ever loved till now? Ah! no; +for now only I felt the god in his strength, and beheld him in his +beauty. Was I not blind till I had looked into her eyes and drunk +of their light? Was I not deaf till I had heard the music of her +voice? Had I ever truly lived, or breathed, or known delight till +now?</p> +<p>I never stayed to ask myself how this would end, or whither it +would lead me. The mere act of loving was too sweet for +questioning. What cared I for the uncertainties of the future, +having hope to live upon in the present? Was it not enough "to feed +for aye my lamp and flames of love," and worship her till that +worship became a religion and a rite?</p> +<p>And now, longing to achieve something which should extort at +least her admiration, if not her love, I wished I were a soldier, +that I might win glory for her--or a poet, that I might write +verses in her praise which should be deathless--or a painter, that +I might spend years of my life in copying the dear perfection of +her face. Ah! and I would so copy it that all the world should be +in love with it. Not a wave of her brown hair that I would not +patiently follow through all its windings. Not the tender tracery +of a blue vein upon her temples that I would not lovingly render +through its transparent veil of skin. Not a depth of her dark eyes +that I would not study, "deep drinking of the infinite." Alas! +those eyes, so grave, so luminous, so steadfast:--</p> +<blockquote>"Eyes not down-dropt, not over-bright, but fed<br> + With the clear-pointed flame of chastity,"</blockquote> +<p>--eyes wherein dwelt "thought folded over thought," what painter +need ever hope to copy them?</p> +<p>And still she never dreamed how dear she had grown to me. She +never knew how the very air seemed purer to me because she breathed +it. She never guessed how I watched the light from her window night +after night--how I listened to every murmur in her chamber--how I +watched and waited for the merest glimpse of her as she passed +by--how her lightest glance hurried the pulses through my +heart--how her coldest word was garnered up in the treasure-house +of my memory! What cared she, though to her I had dedicated all the +"book and volume of my brain;" hallowed its every page with +blazonings of her name; and illuminated it, for love of her, with +fair images, and holy thoughts, and forms of saints and angels</p> +<blockquote>"Innumerable, of stains and splendid dyes<br> +As are the tiger-moth's deep damask'd wings?"</blockquote> +<p>Ah me! her hand was never yet outstretched to undo its golden +clasps--her eye had never yet deigned to rest upon its records. To +her I was nothing, or less than nothing--a fellow-student, a +fellow-lodger, a stranger.</p> +<p>And yet I loved her "with a love that was more than love"--with +a love dearer than life and stronger than death--a love that, day +after day, struck its roots deeper and farther into my very soul, +never thence to be torn up here or hereafter.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII."></a>CHAPTER XLIII.</h2> +<h3>ON A WINTER'S EVENING.</h3> +<br> +<p>After a more than usually severe winter, the early spring came, +crowned with rime instead of primroses. Paris was intensely cold. +In March the Seine was still frozen, and snow lay thickly on the +house-tops. Quiet at all times, the little nook in which I lived +became monastically still, and at night, when the great gates were +closed, and the footsteps of the passers-by fell noiselessly upon +the trodden snow, you might have heard a whisper from one side of +the street to the other. There was to me something indescribably +delightful about this silent solitude in the heart of a great +city.</p> +<p>Sitting beside the fire one evening, enjoying the profound calm +of the place, attending from time to time to my little coffee-pot +on the hob, and slowly turning the pages of a favorite author, I +luxuriate in a state of mind half idle, half studious. Leaving off +presently to listen to some sound which I hear, or fancy I hear, in +the adjoining room, I wonder for the twentieth time whether +Hortense has yet returned from her long day's teaching; and so +rise--open my window--and look out. Yes; the light from her +reading-lamp streams out at last across the snow-laden balcony. +Heigho! it is something even to know that she is there so near +me--divided only by a thin partition!</p> +<p>Trying to comfort myself with this thought, I close the window +again and return to my book, more restless and absent than before. +Sitting thus, with the unturned leaf lingering between my thumb and +forefinger, I hear a rapid footfall on the stairs, and a musical +whistle which, growing louder as it draws nearer, breaks off at my +door, and is followed by a prolonged assault and battery of the +outer panels.</p> +<p>"Welcome, noisiest of visitors!" I exclaim, knowing it to be +Müller before I even open the door. "You are quite a stranger. +You have not been near me for a fortnight."</p> +<p>"It will not be your fault, Signor Book-worm, if I don't become +a stranger <i>au pied de la lettre</i>" replies he, cheerily. "Why, +man, it is close upon three weeks since you have crossed the +threshold of my door. The Quartier Latin is aggrieved by your +neglect, and the fine arts t'other side of the water languish and +are forlorn."</p> +<p>So saying, he shakes the snow from his coat like a St. Bernard +mastiff, perches his cap on the head of the plaster Niobe that +adorns my chimney-piece, and lays aside the folio which he had been +carrying under his arm. I, in the meanwhile, have wheeled an +easy-chair to the fire, brought out a bottle of Chambertin, and +piled on more wood in honor of my guest.</p> +<p>"You can't think," said I, shaking hands with him for the second +time, "how glad I am that you have come round to-night."</p> +<p>"I quite believe it," replied he. "You must be bored to death, +if these old busts are all the society you keep. <i>Sacre nom d'une +pipe</i>! how can a fellow keep up his conviviality by the +perpetual contemplation of Niobe and Jupiter Tonans? What do you +mean by living such a life as this? Have you turned Trappist? Shall +I head a subscription to present you with a skull and an +hour-glass?"</p> +<p>"I'll have the skull made into a drinking-cup, if you do. Take +some wine."</p> +<p>Müller filled his glass, tasted with the air of a +connoisseur, and nodded approvingly.</p> +<p>"Chambertin, by the god Bacchus!" said he. "Napoleon's favorite +wine, and mine--evidence of the sympathy that exists between the +truly great."</p> +<p>And, draining the glass, he burst into a song in praise of +French wines, beginning--</p> +<blockquote>"Le Chambertin rend joyeux,<br> +Le Nuits rend infatigable,<br> +Le Volnay rend amoureux,<br> +Le Champagne rend amiable.<br> +Grisons-nous, mes chers amis,<br> +L'ivresse<br> +Vaut la richesse;<br> +Pour moi, dès que le suis gris,<br> +Je possède tout Paris!"</blockquote> +<p>"Oh hush!" said I, uneasily; "not so loud, pray!"</p> +<p>"Why not?"</p> +<p>"The--the neighbors, you know. We cannot do as we would in the +Quartier Latin."</p> +<p>"Nonsense, my dear fellow. You don't swear yourself to silence +when you take apartments in a <i>hôtel meublé</i>! You +might as well live in a penitentiary!--</p> +<blockquote>'De bouchons faisons un tas,<br> +Et s'il faut avoir la goutte,<br> +Au moins que ce ne soit pas<br> +Pour n'avoir bu qu'une goutte!'"</blockquote> +<p>"Nay, I implore you!" I interposed again. "The landlord ..."</p> +<p>"Hang the landlord!</p> +<blockquote>'Grisons-nous--'"</blockquote> +<p>"Well, but--but there is a lady in the next room ..."</p> +<p>Müller laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks.</p> +<p>"<i>Allons done</i>!" said he, "why not have told the truth at +first? Oh, you sly rogue! You <i>gaillard</i>! This is your +seclusion, is it? This is your love of learning--this the secret of +your researches into science and art! What art, pray? Ovid's 'Art +of Love,' I'll be sworn!"</p> +<p>"Laugh on, pray," I said, feeling my face and my temper growing +hot; "but that lady, who is a stranger to me"....</p> +<p>"Oh--oh--oh!" cried Müller.</p> +<p>"Who is a stranger to me," I repeated, "and who passes her +evenings in study, must not be annoyed by noises in my room. +Surely, my dear fellow, you know me well enough to understand +whether I am in jest or in earnest."</p> +<p>Müller laid his hand upon my sleeve.</p> +<p>"Enough--enough," he said, smiling good-naturedly. "You are +right, and I will be as dumb as Plato. What is the lady's +name."</p> +<p>"Dufresnoy," I answered, somewhat reluctantly. "Mademoiselle +Dufresnoy."</p> +<p>"Ay, but her Christian name!"</p> +<p>"Her Christian name," I faltered, more reluctant still. +"I--I--"</p> +<p>"Don't say you don't know," said Müller, maliciously. "It +isn't worth while. After all, what does it matter? Here's to her +health, all the same--<i>à votre santé</i>, +Mademoiselle Dufresnoy! What! not drink her health, though I have +filled your glass on purpose?"</p> +<p>There was no help for it, so I took the glass and drank the +toast with the best grace I could.</p> +<p>"And now, tell me," continued my companion, drawing nearer to +the fire and settling himself with a confidential air that was +peculiarly provoking, "what is she like? Young or old? Dark or +fair? Plain or pretty?"</p> +<p>"Old," said I, desperately. "Old and ugly. Fifty at the least. +Squints horribly."</p> +<p>Then, thinking that I had been a little too emphatic, I +added:--</p> +<p>"But a very ladylike person, and exceedingly well-informed,"</p> +<p>Müller looked at me gravely, and filled his glass +again.</p> +<p>"I think I know the lady," said he.</p> +<p>"Indeed?"</p> +<p>"Yes--by your description. You forgot to add, however, that she +is gray."</p> +<p>"To be sure--as a badger."</p> +<p>"To say nothing of a club foot, an impediment in her speech, a +voice like a raven's, and a hump like a dromedary's! Ah! my dear +friend, what an amazingly comic fellow you are!"</p> +<p>And the student burst again into a peal of laughter so hearty +and infectious that I could not have helped joining in it to save +my life.</p> +<p>"And now," said he, when we had laughed ourselves out of breath, +"now to the object of my visit. Do you remember asking me, months +ago, to make you a copy of an old portrait that you had taken a +fancy to in some tumble-down château near +Montlhéry!"</p> +<p>"To be sure; and I have intended, over and over again, to remind +you of it. Did you ever take the trouble to go over there and look +at it?"</p> +<p>"Look at it, indeed! I should rather think so--and here is the +proof. What does your connoisseurship say to it?"</p> +<p>Say to it! Good heavens! what could I say, what could I do, but +flush up all suddenly with pleasure, and stare at it without power +at first to utter a single word?</p> +<p>For it was like <i>her</i>--so like that it might have been her +very portrait. The features were cast in the same mould--the brow, +perhaps, was a little less lofty--the smile a little less cold; but +the eyes, the beautiful, lustrous, soul-lighted eyes were the +same--the very same!</p> +<p>If she were to wear an old-fashioned dress, and deck her fair +neck and arms with pearls, and put powder on her hair, and stand +just so, with her hand upon one of the old stone urns in the garden +of that deserted château, she would seem to be standing for +the portrait.</p> +<p>Well might I feel, when I first saw her, that the beauty of her +face was not wholly unfamiliar to me! Well might I fancy I had seen +her in some dream of long ago!</p> +<p>So this was the secret of it--and this picture was mine. Mine to +hang before my desk when I was at work--mine to place at my bed's +foot, where I might see it on first waking--mine to worship and +adore, to weave fancies and build hopes upon, and "burn out the day +in idle phantasies" of passionate devotion!</p> +<p>"Well," said Müller impatiently, "what do you think of +it?"</p> +<p>I looked up, like one dreaming.</p> +<p>"Think of it!" I repeated.</p> +<p>"Yes--do you think it like?"</p> +<p>"So like that it might be her por ... I mean that it might be +the original."</p> +<p>"Oh, that's satisfactory. I was afraid you were +disappointed."</p> +<p>"I was only silent from surprise and pleasure."</p> +<p>"Well, however faithful the copy maybe, you know, in these +things one always misses the tone of age."</p> +<p>"I would not have it look a day older!" I exclaimed, never +lifting my eyes from the canvas.</p> +<p>Müller came and looked down at it over my shoulder.</p> +<p>"It is an interesting head," said he. "I have a great mind to +introduce it into my next year's competition picture."</p> +<p>I started as if he had struck me. The thought was sacrilege!</p> +<p>"For Heaven's sake do no such thing!" I ejaculated.</p> +<p>"Why not?" said he, opening his eyes in astonishment.</p> +<p>"I cannot tell you why--at least not yet; but to--to confer a +very particular obligation upon me, will you waive this point?" +Müller rubbed his head all over with both hands, and sat down +in the utmost perplexity.</p> +<p>"Upon my soul and conscience," said he, "you are the most +incomprehensible fellow I ever knew in my life!"</p> +<p>"I am. I grant it. What then? Let us see, I am to give you a +hundred and fifty francs for this copy ..."</p> +<p>"I won't take it," said Müller. "I mean you to accept it as +a pledge of friendship and good-will."</p> +<p>"Nay, I insist on paying for it. I shall be proud to pay for it; +but a hundred and fifty are not enough. Let me give you three +hundred, and promise me that you will not put the head into your +picture!"</p> +<p>Müller laughed, and shook his own head resolutely. "I will +give you both the portrait and the promise," said he; "but I won't +take your money, if I know it."</p> +<p>"But ..."</p> +<p>"But I won't--and so, if you don't like me well enough to accept +such a trifle from me, I'll e'en carry the thing home again!"</p> +<p>And, snatching up his cap and cloak, he made a feint of putting +the portrait back into the folio.</p> +<p>"Not for the world!" I exclaimed, taking possession of it +without further remonstrance. "I would sooner part from all I +possess. How can I ever thank you enough?"</p> +<p>"By never thanking me at all! What little time the thing has +cost me is overpaid, not only by the sight of your pleasure, but by +my own satisfaction in copying it. To copy a good work is to have a +lesson from the painter, though he were dead a hundred years +before; and the man who painted that portrait, be he who he might, +has taught me a trick or two that I never knew before. +<i>Sapristi</i>! see if I don't dazzle you some day with an effect +of white satin and pearls against a fair skin!"</p> +<p>"An ingenious argument; but it leaves me unconvinced, all the +same. How! you are not going to run away already? Here's another +bottle of Chambertin waiting to be opened; and it is yet quite +early."</p> +<p>"Impossible! I have promised to meet a couple of men up at the +Prado, and have, besides, invited them afterwards to supper."</p> +<p>"What is the Prado?"</p> +<p>"The Prado! Why, is it possible that I have never yet introduced +you to the Prado? It's one of the joiliest places in all the +Quartier Latin--it's close to the Palais de Justice. You can dance +there, or practise pistol-shooting, or play billiards, or sup--or +anything you please. Everybody smokes--ladies not excepted."</p> +<p>"How very delightful!"</p> +<p>"Oh, magnificent! Won't you come with me? I know a dozen pretty +girls who will be delighted to be introduced to you."</p> +<p>"Not to-night, thank you," said I, laughing.</p> +<p>"Well, another time?"</p> +<p>"Yes, to be sure--another time."</p> +<p>"Well, good-night."</p> +<p>"Good-night, and thank you again, a thousand times over."</p> +<p>But he would not stay to hear me thank him, and was half way +down the first flight before my sentence was finished. Just as I +was going back into my room, and about to close the door, he called +after me from the landing.</p> +<p>"<i>Holà, amigo</i>! When my picture is done, I mean to +give a bachelor's supper-party--chiefly students and +<i>chicards</i>. Will you come?"</p> +<p>"Gladly."</p> +<p>"Adieu, then. I will let you know in time."</p> +<p>And with this, he broke out into a fragment of Beranger, gave a +cheerful good-night to Madame Bouïsse in the hall, and was +gone.</p> +<p>And now to enjoy my picture. Now to lock the door, and trim the +lamp, and place it up against a pile of books, and sit down before +it in silent rapture, like a devotee before the portrait of his +patron saint. Now I can gaze, unreproved, into those eyes, and +fancy they are hers. Now press my lips, unforbidden, upon that +exquisite mouth, and believe it warm. Ah, will her eyes ever so +give back the look of love in mine? Will her lips ever suffer mine +to come so near? Would she, if she knew the treasure I possessed, +be displeased that I so worshipped it?</p> +<p>Hanging over it thus, and suffering my thoughts to stray on at +their own will and pleasure, I am startled by the fall of some +heavy object in the adjoining chamber. The fall is followed by a +stifled cry, and then all is again silent.</p> +<p>To unlock my door and rush to hers--to try vainly to open it--to +cry "Hortense! Hortense! what has happened? For Heaven's sake, what +has happened?" is the work of but an instant.</p> +<p>The antechamber lay between, and I remembered that she could not +hear me. I ran back, knocked against the wall, and repeated:--</p> +<p>"What has happened? Tell me what has happened?"</p> +<p>Again I listened, and in that interval of suspense heard her +garments rustle along the ground, then a deep sigh, and then the +words:--</p> +<p>"Nothing serious. I have hurt my hand."</p> +<p>"Can you open the door?"</p> +<p>There was another long silence.</p> +<p>"I cannot," she said at length, but more faintly.</p> +<p>"In God's name, try!"</p> +<p>No answer.</p> +<p>"Shall I get over the balcony?"</p> +<p>I waited another instant, heard nothing, and then, without, +further hesitation, opened my own window and climbed the iron rail +that separated her balcony from mine, leaving my footsteps trampled +in the snow.</p> +<p>I found her sitting on the floor, with her body bent forward and +her head resting against the corner of a fallen bookcase. The +scattered volumes lay all about. A half-filled portmanteau stood +close by on a chair. A travelling-cloak and a passport-case lay on +the table.</p> +<p>Seeing, yet scarcely noting all this, I flung myself on my knees +beside her, and found that one hand and arm lay imprisoned under +the bookcase. She was not insensible, but pain had deprived her of +the power of speech. I raised her head tenderly, and supported it +against a chair; then lifted the heavy bookcase, and, one by one, +removed the volumes that had fallen upon her.</p> +<p>Alas! the white little hand all crushed and bleeding--the +powerless arm--the brave mouth striving to be firm!</p> +<p>I took the poor maimed arm, made a temporary sling for it with +my cravat, and, taking her up in my arms as if she had been an +infant, carried her to the sofa. Then I closed the window; ran back +to my own room for hot water; tore up some old handkerchiefs for +bandages; and so dressed and bound her wounds--blessing (for the +first time in my life) the destiny that had made me a surgeon.</p> +<p>"Are you in much pain?" I asked, when all was done.</p> +<p>"Not now--but I feel very faint,"</p> +<p>I remembered my coffee in the next room, and brought it to her. +I lifted her head, and supported her with my arm while she drank +it.</p> +<p>"You are much better now," I said, when she had again lain down. +"Tell me how it happened."</p> +<p>She smiled languidly.</p> +<p>"It was not my fault," she said, "but Froissart's. Do you +remember that Froissart?"</p> +<p>Remember it! I should think so.</p> +<p>"Froissart!" I exclaimed. "Why, what had he to do with it?"</p> +<p>"Only this. I usually kept him on the top of the bookcase that +fell down this evening. Just now, while preparing for a journey +upon which I must start to-morrow morning, I thought to remove the +book to a safer place; and so, instead of standing on a chair, I +tried to reach up, and, reaching up, disturbed the balance of the +bookcase, and brought it down."</p> +<p>"Could you not have got out of the way when you saw it +falling?"</p> +<p>"Yes--but I tried to prevent it, and so was knocked down and +imprisoned as you found me."</p> +<p>"Merciful Heaven! it might have killed you."</p> +<p>"That was what flashed across my mind when I saw it coming," she +replied, with a faint smile.</p> +<p>"You spoke of a journey," I said presently, turning my face away +lest she should read its story too plainly; "but now, of course, +you must not move for a few days."</p> +<p>"I must travel to-morrow," she said, with quiet decision.</p> +<p>"Impossible!"</p> +<p>"I have no alternative."</p> +<p>"But think of the danger--the imprudence--the suffering."</p> +<p>"Danger there cannot be," she replied, with a touch of +impatience in her voice. "Imprudent it may possibly be; but of that +I have no time to think. And as for the suffering, that concerns +myself alone. There are mental pains harder to bear than the pains +of the body, and the consciousness of a duty unfulfilled is one of +the keenest of them. You urge in vain; I must go. And now, since it +is time you bade me good-night, let me thank you for your ready +help and say good-bye."</p> +<p>"But may I do no more for you?"</p> +<p>"Nothing--unless you will have the goodness to bid Madame +Bouïsse to come up-stairs, and finish packing my portmanteau +for me."</p> +<p>"At what hour do you start?"</p> +<p>"At eight."</p> +<p>"May I not go with you to the station, and see that you get a +comfortable seat?"</p> +<p>"Many thanks," she replied, coldly; "but I do not go by rail, +and my seat in the diligence is already taken."</p> +<p>"You will want some one to see to your luggage--to carry your +cloaks."</p> +<p>"Madame Bouïsse has promised to go with me to the +Messageries."</p> +<p>Silenced, and perhaps a little hurt, I rose to take my +leave.</p> +<p>"I wish you a safe journey, mademoiselle," I said, "and a safe +return,"</p> +<p>"And think me, at the same time, an ungrateful patient."</p> +<p>"I did not say that."</p> +<p>"No--but you thought so. After all, it is possible that I seem +so. I am undemonstrative--unused to the amenities of life--in +short, I am only half-civilized. Pray, forgive me."</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle," I said, "your apology pains me. I have nothing +to forgive. I will send Madame Bouïsse to you +immediately."</p> +<p>And with this I had almost left the room, but paused upon the +threshold.</p> +<p>"Shall you be long away?" I asked, with assumed +indifference.</p> +<p>"Shall I be long away?" she repeated, dreamily. "How can I +tell?" Then, correcting herself, "Oh, not long," she added. "Not +long. Perhaps a fortnight--perhaps a week."</p> +<p>"Once more, then, good-night."</p> +<p>"Good-night," she answered, absently; and I withdrew.</p> +<p>I then went down, sent Madame Bouïsse to wait upon her, and +sat up anxiously listening more than half the night. Next morning, +at seven, I heard Madame Bouïsse go in again. I dared not even +go to her door to inquire how she had slept, lest I should seem too +persistent; but when they left the room and went downstairs +together, I flew to my window.</p> +<p>I saw her cross the street in the gray morning. She walked +feebly, and wore a large cloak, that hid the disabled arm and +covered her to the feet. Madame Bouïsse trotted beside her +with a bundle of cloaks and umbrellas; a porter followed with her +little portmanteau on his shoulder.</p> +<p>And so they passed under the archway across the trampled snow, +and vanished out of sight.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV."></a>CHAPTER XLIV.</h2> +<h3>A PRESCRIPTION.</h3> +<br> +<p>A week went by--a fortnight went by--and still Hortense +prolonged her mysterious absence. Where could she be gone? Was she +ill? Had any accident befallen her on the road? What if the wounded +hand had failed to heal? What if inflammation had set in, and she +were lying, even now, sick and helpless, among strangers? These +terrors came back upon me at every moment, and drove me almost to +despair. In vain I interrogated Madame Bouïsse. The +good-natured <i>concierge</i> knew no more than myself, and the +little she had to tell only increased my uneasiness.</p> +<p>Hortense, it appeared, had taken two such journeys before, and +had, on both occasions, started apparently at a moment's notice, +and with every indication of anxiety and haste. From the first she +returned after an interval of more than three weeks; from the +second after about four or five days. Each absence had been +followed by a long season of despondency and lassitude, during +which, said the <i>concierge</i>, Mademoiselle scarcely spoke, or +ate, or slept, but, silent and pale as a ghost, sat up later than +ever with her books and papers. As for this last journey, all she +knew about it was that Mam'selle had had her passport regulated for +foreign parts the afternoon of the day before she started.</p> +<p>"But can you not remember in what direction the diligence was +going?" I asked, again and again.</p> +<p>"No, M'sieur--not in the least,"</p> +<p>"Nor the name of the town to which her place was taken?"</p> +<p>"I don't know that I ever heard it, M'sieur."</p> +<p>"But at least you must have seen the address on the +portmanteau?"</p> +<p>"Not I, M'sieur--I never thought of looking at it."</p> +<p>"Did she say nothing to account for the suddenness of her +departure?"</p> +<p>"Nothing at all."</p> +<p>"Nor about her return either. Madame Bouïsse? Just think a +moment--surely she said something about when you might expect her +back again?"</p> +<p>"Nothing, M'sieur, except, by the way--"</p> +<p>"Except what?"</p> +<p>"<i>Dame</i>! only this--as she was just going to step into the +diligence, she turned back and shook hands with me--Mam'selle +Hortense, proud as she is, is never above shaking hands with me, I +can tell you, M'sieur."</p> +<p>"No, no--I can well believe it. Pray, go on!"</p> +<p>"Well, M'sieur," she shakes hands with me, and she says, "Thank +you, good Madame Bouïsse, for all your kindness to me.... Hear +that, M'sieur, 'good Madame Bouïsse,'--the dear child!"</p> +<p>"And then--?"</p> +<p>"Bah! how impatient you are! Well, then, she says (after +thanking me, you observe)--'I have paid you my rent, Madame +Bouïsse, up to the end of the present month, and if, when the +time has expired, I have neither written nor returned, consider me +still as your tenant. If, however, I do not come back at all, I +will let you know further respecting the care of my books and other +property."</p> +<p>If she did not come back at all! Oh, Heaven! I had never +contemplated such a possibility. I left Madame Bouïsse without +another word, and going up to my own rooms, flung myself upon my +bed, as if I were stupefied.</p> +<p>All that night, all the next day, those words haunted me. They +seemed to have burned themselves into my brain in letters of fire. +Dreaming, I woke up with them upon my lips; reading, they started +out upon me from the page. "If I never come back at all!"</p> +<p>At last, when the fifth day came round--the fifth day of the +third week of her absence--I became so languid and desponding that +I lost all power of application.</p> +<p>Even Dr. Chéron noticed it, and calling me in the +afternoon to his private room, said:--</p> +<p>"Basil Arbuthnot, you look ill. Are you working too hard?"</p> +<p>"I don't think so, sir."</p> +<p>"Humph! Are you out much at night?"</p> +<p>"Out, sir?"</p> +<p>"Yes--don't echo my words--do you go into society: frequent +balls, theatres, and so forth?"</p> +<p>"I have not done so, sir, for several months past."</p> +<p>"What is it, then? Do you read late?"</p> +<p>"Really, sir, I hardly know--up to about one or two o'clock; on +the average, I believe."</p> +<p>"Let me feel your pulse."</p> +<p>I put out my wrist, and he held it for some seconds, looking +keenly at me all the time.</p> +<p>"Got anything on your mind?" he asked, after he had dropped it +again. "Want money, eh?"</p> +<p>"No, sir, thank you."</p> +<p>"Home-sick?"</p> +<p>"Not in the least."</p> +<p>"Hah! want amusement. Can't work perpetually--not reasonable to +suppose it. There, <i>mon garçon</i>," (taking a folded +paper from his pocket-book) "there's a prescription for you. Make +the most of it."</p> +<p>It was a stall-ticket for the opera. Too restless and unhappy to +reject any chance of relief, however temporary, I accepted it, and +went.</p> +<p>I had not been to a theatre since that night with Josephine, nor +to the Italian Opera since I used to go with Madame de Marignan. As +I went in listlessly and took my place, the lights, the noise, the +multitude of faces, confused and dazzled me. Presently the curtain +rose, and the piece began. The opera was <i>I Capuletti</i>. I do +not remember who the singers were, I am not sure that I ever knew. +To me they were Romeo and Juliet, and I was a dweller in Verona. +The story, the music, the scenery, took a vivid hold upon my +imagination. From the moment the curtain rose, I saw only the +stage, and, except that I in some sort established a dim comparison +between Romeo's sorrows and my own disquietude of mind, I seemed to +lose all recollection of time and place, and almost of my own +identity.</p> +<p>It seemed quite natural that that ill-fated pair of lovers +should go through life, love, wed, and die singing. And why not? +Are they not airy nothings, "born of romance, cradled in poetry, +thinking other thoughts, and doing other deeds than ours?" As they +live in poetry, so may they not with perfect fitness speak in +song?</p> +<p>I went home in a dream, with the melodies ringing in my ears and +the story lying heavy at my heart. I passed upstairs in the dark, +went over to the window, and saw, oh joy! the light--the dear, +familiar, welcome, blessed light, streaming forth, as of old, from +Hortense's chamber window!</p> +<p>To thank Heaven that she was safe was my first impulse--to step +out on the balcony, and watch the light as though it were a part of +herself, was the second. I had not been there many moments when it +was obscured by a passing shadow. The window opened and she came +out.</p> +<p>"Good-evening," she said, in her calm, clear voice. "I heard you +out here, and thought you might like to know that, thanks to your +treatment in the first instance, and such care as I have been able +since to give it, my hand is once more in working order."</p> +<p>"You are kind to come out and tell me so," I said. "I had no +hope of seeing you to-night. How long is it since you arrived?"</p> +<p>"About two hours," she replied, carelessly.</p> +<p>"And you have been nearly three weeks away!"</p> +<p>"Have I?" said she, leaning her cheek upon her hand, and looking +up dreamily into the night. "I did not count the days."</p> +<p>"That proves you passed them happily," I said; not without some +secret bitterness.</p> +<p>"Happily!" she echoed. "What is happiness?"</p> +<p>"A word that we all translate differently," I replied.</p> +<p>"And your own reading of it?" she said, interrogatively.</p> +<p>I hesitated.</p> +<p>"Do you inquire what is my need, individually?" I asked, "or do +you want my general definition?"</p> +<p>"The latter."</p> +<p>"I think, then, that the first requirement of happiness is work; +the second, success."</p> +<p>She sighed.</p> +<p>"I accept your definition," she said, "and hope that you may +realize it to the full in your own experience. For myself, I have +toiled and failed--sought, and found not. Judge, then, how I came +to leave the days uncounted."</p> +<p>The sadness of her attitude, the melancholy import of her words, +the abstraction of her manner, filled me with a vague +uneasiness.</p> +<p>"Failure is often the forerunner of success," I replied, for +want, perhaps, of something better to say.</p> +<p>She shook her head drearily, and stood looking up at the sky, +where, every now and then, the moon shone out fitfully between the +flying clouds.</p> +<p>"It is not the first time," she murmured, "nor will it be the +last--and yet they say that God is merciful."</p> +<p>She had forgotten my presence. These words were not spoken to +me, but in answer to her own thoughts. I said nothing, but watched +her upturned face. It was pale as the wan moon overhead; thinner +than before she went away; and sadder--oh, how much sadder!</p> +<p>She roused herself presently, and turning to me, said:--"I beg +your pardon. I am very absent; but I am greatly fatigued. I have +been travelling incessantly for two days and nights."</p> +<p>"Then I will wish you good-night at once," I said.</p> +<p>"Good-night," she replied; and went back into her room.</p> +<p>The next morning Dr. Chéron smiled one of his cold +smiles, and said:--</p> +<p>"You look better to-day, my young friend. I knew how it was with +you--no worse malady, after all, than <i>ennui</i>. I shall take +care to repeat the medicine from time to time."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV."></a>CHAPTER XLV.</h2> +<h3>UNDER THE STARS.</h3> +<br> +<p>Hoping, yet scarcely expecting to see her, I went out upon my +balcony the next night at the same hour; but the light of her lamp +was bright within, no shadow obscured it, and no window opened. So, +after waiting for more than an hour, I gave her up, and returned to +my work. I did this for six nights in succession. On the seventh +she came.</p> +<p>"You are fond of your balcony, fellow-student," said she. "I +often hear you out here."</p> +<p>"My room gets heated," I replied, "and my eyes weary, after +several hours of hard reading; and this keen, clear air puts new +life into one's brains."</p> +<p>"Yes, it is delicious," said she, looking up into the night. +"How dark the space of heaven is, and, how bright are the stars! +What a night for the Alps! What a night to be upon some Alpine +height, watching the moon through a good telescope, and waiting for +the sunrise!"</p> +<p>"Defer that wish for a few months," I replied smiling. "You +would scarcely like Switzerland in her winter robes."</p> +<p>"Nay, I prefer Switzerland in winter," she said. "I passed +through part of the Jura about ten days ago, and saw nothing but +snow. It was magnificent--like a paradise of pure marble awaiting +the souls of all the sculptors of all the ages."</p> +<p>"A fantastic idea," said I, "and spoken like an artist."</p> +<p>"Like an artist!" she repeated, musingly. "Well, are not all +students artists?"</p> +<p>"Not those who study the exact sciences--not the student of law +or divinity--nor he who, like myself, is a student of medicine. He +is the slave of Fact, and Art is the Eden of his banishment. His +imagination is for ever captive. His horizon is for ever bounded. +He is fettered by routine, and paralyzed by tradition. His very +ideas must put on the livery of his predecessors; for in a +profession where originality of thought stands for the blackest +shade of original sin, skill--mere skill--must be the end of his +ambition."</p> +<p>She looked at me, and the moonlight showed me that sad smile +which her lips so often wore.</p> +<p>"You do not love your profession," she said.</p> +<p>"I do not, indeed."</p> +<p>"And yet you labor zealously to acquire it--how is that?"</p> +<p>"How is it with hundreds of others? My profession was chosen for +me. I am not my own master."</p> +<p>"But are you sure you would be happier in some other pursuit? +Supposing, for instance, that you were free to begin again, what +career do you think you would prefer?"</p> +<p>"I scarcely know, and I should scarcely care, so long as there +was freedom of thought and speculation in it."</p> +<p>"Geology, perhaps--or astronomy," she suggested, laughingly.</p> +<p>"Merci! The bowels of the earth are too profound, and the +heavens too lofty for me. I should choose some pursuit that would +set the Ariel of the imagination free. That is to say, I could be +very happy if my life were devoted to Science, but my soul echoes +to the name of Art."</p> +<p>"'The artist creates--the man of science discovers," said +Hortense. "Beware lest you fancy you would prefer the work of +creation only because you lack patience to pursue the work of +discovery. Pardon me, if I suggest that you may, perhaps, be fitted +for neither. Your sphere, I fancy, is +reflection--comparison--criticism. You are not made for action, or +work. Your taste is higher than your ambition, and you love +learning better than fame. Am I right?"</p> +<p>"So right that I regret I can be read so easily."</p> +<p>"And therefore, it may be that you would find yourself no +happier with Art than with Science. You might even fall into deeper +discouragement; for in Science every onward step is at least +certain gain, but in Art every step is groping, and success is only +another form of effort. Art, in so far as it is more divine, is +more unattainable, more evanescent, more unsubstantial. It needs as +much patience as Science, and the passionate devotion of an entire +life is as nothing in comparison with the magnitude of the work. +Self-sacrifice, self-distrust, infinite patience, infinite +disappointment--such is the lot of the artist, such the law of +aspiration."</p> +<p>"A melancholy creed."</p> +<p>"But a true one. The divine is doomed to suffering, and under +the hays of the poet lurk ever the thorns of the +self-immolator."</p> +<p>"But, amid all this record of his pains, do you render no +account of his pleasures?" I asked. "You forget that he has moments +of enjoyment lofty as his aims, and deep as his devotion.</p> +<p>"I do not forget it," she said. "I know it but too well. Alas! +is not the catalogue of his pleasures the more melancholy record of +the two? Hopes which sharpen disappointment; visions which cheat +while they enrapture; dreams that embitter his waking +hours--fellow-student, do you envy him these?"</p> +<p>"I do; believing that he would not forego them for a life of +common-place annoyances and placid pleasures."</p> +<p>"Forego them! Never. Who that had once been the guest of the +gods would forego the Divine for the Human? No--it is better to +suffer than to stagnate. The artist and poet is overpaid in his +brief snatches of joy. While they last, his soul sings 'at heaven's +gate,' and his forehead strikes the stars."</p> +<p>She spoke with a rare and passionate enthusiasm; sometimes +pacing to and fro; sometimes pausing with upturned face--</p> +<p>"A dauntless muse who eyes a dreadful fate!"</p> +<p>There was a long, long silence--she looking at the stars, I upon +her face.</p> +<p>By-and-by she came over to where I stood, and leaned upon the +railing that divided our separate territories.</p> +<p>"Friend," said she, gravely, "be content. Art is the Sphinx, and +to question her is destruction. Enjoy books, pictures, music, +statues--rifle the world of beauty to satiety, if satiety be +possible--but there pause Drink the wine; seek not to crush the +grape. Be happy, be useful, labor honestly upon the task that is +thine, and be assured that the work will itself achieve its reward. +Is it nothing to relieve pain--to prolong the days of the +sickly--to restore health to the suffering--to soothe the last +pangs of the dying? Is it nothing to be followed by the prayers and +blessing of those whom you have restored to love, to fame, to the +world's service? To my thinking, the physician's trade hath +something god-like in it. Be content. Harvey's discovery was as +sublime as Newton's, and it were hard to say which did God's work +best--Shakespeare or Jenner."</p> +<p>"And you," I said, the passion that I could not conceal +trembling in my voice; "and you--what are you, poet, or painter, or +musician, that you know and reason of all these things?"</p> +<p>She laughed with a sudden change of mood, and shook her +head.</p> +<p>"I am a woman," said she. "Simply a woman--no more. One of the +inferior sex; and, as I told you long ago, only half +civilized."</p> +<p>"You are unlike every other woman!"</p> +<p>"Possibly, because I am more useless. Strange as it may seem, do +you know I love art better than sewing, or gossip, or dress; and +hold my liberty to be a dower more precious than either beauty or +riches? And yet--I am a woman!"</p> +<p>"The wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best!"</p> +<blockquote> "By no means. You are comparing me with Eve; but +I am<br> +not in the least like Eve, I assure you. She was an excellent +housewife, and, if we may believe Milton, knew how to prepare +'dulcet creams,' and all sorts of Paradisaical dainties for her +husband's dinner. I, on the contrary, could not make a cream if +Adam's life depended on it."</blockquote> +<p>"<i>Eh bien!</i> of the theology of creams I know nothing. I +only know that Eve was the first and fairest of her sex, and that +you are as wise as you are beautiful."</p> +<p>"Nay, that is what Titania said to the ass," laughed Hortense. +"Your compliments become equivocal, fellow-student. But hush! what +hour is that?"</p> +<p>She stood with uplifted finger. The air was keen, and over the +silence of the house-tops chimed the church-clocks--Two.</p> +<p>"It is late, and cold," said she, drawing her cloak more closely +round her.</p> +<p>"Not later than you usually sit up," I replied. "Don't go yet. +'Tis now the very witching hour of night, when churchyards +yawn--"</p> +<p>"I beg your pardon," she interrupted. "The churchyards have done +yawning by this time, and, like other respectable citizens, are +sound asleep. Let us follow their example. Good-night."</p> +<p>"Good-night," I replied, reluctantly; but almost before I had +said it, she was gone.</p> +<p>After this, as the winter wore away, and spring drew on, +Hortense's balcony became once more a garden, and she used to +attend to her flowers every evening. She always found me on my +balcony when she came out, and soon our open-air meetings became +such an established fact that, instead of parting with +"good-night," we said "<i>au revoir</i>--till to-morrow." At these +times we talked of many things; sometimes of subjects abstract and +mystical--of futurity, of death, of the spiritual life--but +oftenest of Art in its manifold developments. And sometimes our +speculations wandered on into the late hours of the night.</p> +<p>And yet, for all our talking and all our community of tastes, we +became not one jot more intimate. I still loved in silence--she +still lived in a world apart.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI."></a>CHAPTER XLVI.</h2> +<h3>THERMOPYLÆ.</h3> +<center>How dreary 'tis for women to sit still<br> +On winter nights by solitary fires,<br> +And hear the nations praising them far off.<br> +<br> +AURORA LEIGH.</center> +<br> +<p>Abolished by the National Convention of 1793, re-established in +1795, reformed by the first Napoleon in 1803, and remodelled in +1816 on the restoration of the Bourbons, the Académie +Française, despite its changes of fortune, name, and +government, is a liberal and splendid institution. It consists of +forty members, whose office it is to compile the great dictionary, +and to enrich, purify, and preserve the language. It assists +authors in distress. It awards prizes for poetry, eloquence, and +virtue; and it bestows those honors with a noble impartiality that +observes no distinction of sex, rank, or party. To fill one of the +forty fauteuils of the Académie Française is the +darling ambition of every eminent Frenchman of letters. There the +poet, the philosopher, the historian, the man of science, sit side +by side, and meet on equal ground. When a seat falls vacant, when a +prize is to be awarded, when an anniversary is to be celebrated, +the interest and excitement become intense. To the political, the +fashionable, or the commercial world, these events are perhaps of +little moment. They affect neither the Bourse nor the Budget. They +exercise no perceptible influence on the Longchamps toilettes. But +to the striving author, to the rising orator, to all earnest +workers in the broad fields of literature, they are serious and +significant circumstances.</p> +<p>Living out of society as I now did, I knew little and cared less +for these academic crises. The success of one candidate was as +unimportant to me as the failure of another; and I had more than +once read the crowned poem of the prize essay without even glancing +at the name or the fortunate author.</p> +<p>Now it happened that, pacing to and fro under the budding +acacias of the Palais Royal garden one sunny spring-like morning, +some three or four weeks after the conversation last recorded, I +was pursued by a persecuting newsvender with a hungry eye, mittened +fingers, and a shrill voice, who persisted in reiterating close +against my ear:--</p> +<p>"News of the day, M'sieur!--news of the day. Frightful murder in +the Rue du Faubourg St. Antoine--state of the Bourse--latest +despatches from the seat of war--prize poem crowned by the +Académie Française--news of the day, M'sieur! Only +forty centimes! News of the day!"</p> +<p>I refused, however, to be interested in any of those topics, +turned a deaf ear to his allurements, and peremptorily dismissed +him. I then continued my walk in solitary silence.</p> +<p>At the further extremity of the square, near the <i>Galerie +Vitrée</i> and close beside the little newspaper kiosk, +stood a large tree since cut down, which at that time served as an +advertising medium, and was daily decorated with a written placard, +descriptive of the contents of the <i>Moniteur</i>, the +<i>Presse</i>, and other leading papers. This placard was generally +surrounded by a crowd of readers, and to-day the crowd of readers +was more than usually dense.</p> +<p>I seldom cared in these days for what was going on in the busy +outside world; but this morning, my attention having been drawn to +the subject, I amused myself, as I paced to and fro, by watching +the eager faces of the little throng of idlers. Presently I fell in +with the rest, and found myself conning the placard on the +tree.</p> +<p>The name that met my astonished eyes on that placard was the +name of Hortense Dufresnoy.</p> +<p>The sentence ran thus:--</p> +<p>"Grand Biennial Prize for Poetry--Subject: <i>The Pass of +Thermopylæ</i>,--Successful Candidate, <i>Mademoiselle +Hortense Dufresnoy</i>."</p> +<p>Breathless, I read the passage twice; then, hearing at a little +distance the shrill voice of the importunate newsvender, I plunged +after him and stopped him, just as he came to the--</p> +<p>"Frightful murder in the Rue du Faubourg Saint ..."</p> +<p>"Here," said I, tapping him on the shoulder; "give me one of +your papers."</p> +<p>The man's eyes glittered.</p> +<p>"Only forty centimes, M'sieur," said he. "'Tis the first I've +sold to-day."</p> +<p>He looked poor and wretched. I dropped into his hand a coin that +would have purchased all his little sheaf of journals, and hurried +away, not to take the change or hear his thanks. He was silent for +some moments; then took up his cry at the point where he had broken +off, and started away with:--</p> +<p>--"Antoine!--state of the Bourse--latest despatches from the +seat of war--news of the day--only forty centimes!"</p> +<p>I took my paper to a quiet bench near the fountain, and read the +whole account. There had been eighteen anonymous poems submitted to +the Academy. Three out of the eighteen had come under discussion; +one out of the three had been warmly advocated by Béranger, +one by Lebrun, and the third by some other academician. The poem +selected by Beranger was at length chosen; the sealed enclosure +opened; and the name of the successful competitor found to be +Hortense Dufresnoy. To Hortense Dufresnoy, therefore, the prize and +crown were awarded.</p> +<p>I read the article through, and then went home, hoping to be the +first to congratulate her. Timidly, and with a fast-beating heart, +I rang the bell at her outer door; for we all had our bells at +Madame Bouïsse's, and lived in our rooms as if they were +little private houses.</p> +<p>She opened the door, and, seeing me, looked surprised; for I had +never before ventured to pay her a visit in her apartment.</p> +<p>"I have come to wish you joy," said I, not venturing to cross +the threshold.</p> +<p>"To wish me joy?"</p> +<p>"You have not seen a morning paper?"</p> +<p>"A morning paper!"</p> +<p>And, echoing me thus, her color changed, and a strange vague +look--it might be of hope, it might be of fear--came into her +face.</p> +<p>"There is something in the <i>Moniteur</i>" I went on, smiling, +'that concerns you nearly."</p> +<p>"That concerns me?" she exclaimed. "<i>Me</i>? For Heaven's +sake, speak plainly. I do not understand you. Has--has anything +been discovered?"</p> +<p>"Yes--it has been discovered at the Académie +Française that Mademoiselle Hortense Dufresnoy has written +the best poem on Thermopylæ."</p> +<p>She drew a deep breath, pressed her hands tightly together, and +murmured:--</p> +<p>"Alas! is that all?"</p> +<p>"All! Nay--is it not enough to step at once into fame--to have +been advocated by Béranger--to have the poem crowned in the +Theatre of the Académie Française?"</p> +<p>She stood silent, with drooping head and listless hands, all +disappointment and despondency. Presently she looked up.</p> +<p>"Where did you learn this?" she asked.</p> +<p>I handed her the journal.</p> +<p>"Come in, fellow-student," said she, and held the door wide for +me to enter.</p> +<p>For the second time I found myself in her little <i>salon</i>, +and found everything in the self-same order.</p> +<p>"Well," I said, "are you not happy?"</p> +<p>She shook her head.</p> +<p>"Success is not happiness," she replied, smiling mournfully. +"That Béranger should have advocated my poem is an honor +beyond price; but--but I need more than this to make me happy."</p> +<p>And her eyes wandered, with a strange, yearning look, to the +sword over the chimney-piece.</p> +<p>Seeing that look, my heart sank, and the tears sprang unbidden +to my eyes. Whose was the sword? For whose sake was her life so +lonely and secluded? For whom was she waiting? Surely here, if one +could but read it aright, lay the secret of her strange and sudden +journeys--here I touched unawares upon the mystery of her life!</p> +<p>I did not speak. I shaded my face with my hand, and sat looking +on the ground. Then, the silence remaining unbroken, I rose, and +examined the drawings on the walls.</p> +<p>They were water-colors for the most part, and treated in a +masterly but quite peculiar style. The skies were sombre, the +foregrounds singularly elaborate, the color stern and forcible. +Angry sunsets barred by lines of purple cirrus stratus; sweeps of +desolate heath bounded by jagged peaks; steep mountain passes +crimson with faded ferns and half-obscured by rain-clouds; strange +studies of weeds, and rivers, and lonely reaches of desolate +sea-shore ... these were some of the subjects, and all were +evidently by the same hand.</p> +<p>"Ah," said Hortense, "you are criticizing my sketches!"</p> +<p>"Your sketches!" I exclaimed. "Are these your work?"</p> +<p>"Certainly," she replied, smiling. "Why not? What do you think +of them?"</p> +<p>"What do I think of them! Well, I think that if you had not been +a poet you ought to have been a painter. How fortunate you are in +being able to express yourself so variously! Are these +compositions, or studies from Nature?"</p> +<p>"All studies from Nature--mere records of fact. I do not presume +to create--I am content humbly and from a distance to copy the +changing moods of Nature."</p> +<p>"Pray be your own catalogue, then, and tell me where these +places are."</p> +<p>"Willingly. This coast-line with the run of breaking surf was +taken on the shores of Normandy, some few miles from Dieppe. This +sunset is a recollection of a glorious evening near Frankfort, and +those purple mountains in the distance are part of the Taunus +range. Here is an old mediæval gateway at Solothurn, in +Switzerland. This wild heath near the sea is in the neighborhood of +Biscay. This quaint knot of ruinous houses in a weed-grown Court +was sketched at Bruges. Do you see that milk-girl with her scarlet +petticoat and Flemish <i>faille?</i> She supplied us with milk, and +her dairy was up that dark archway. She stood for me several times, +when I wanted a foreground figure."</p> +<p>"You have travelled a great deal," I said. "Were you long in +Belgium?"</p> +<p>"Yes; I lived there for some years. I was first pupil, then +teacher, in a large school in Brussels. I was afterwards governess +in a private family in Bruges. Of late, however, I have preferred +to live in Paris, and give morning lessons. I have more liberty +thus, and more leisure."</p> +<p>"And these two little quaint bronze figures?"</p> +<p>"Hans Sachs and Peter Vischer. I brought them from Nuremberg. +Hans Sachs, you see, wears a furred robe, and presses a book to his +breast. He does not look in the least like a cobbler. Peter +Vischer, on the contrary, wears his leather apron and carries his +mallet in his hand. Artist and iron-smith, he glories in his trade, +and looks as sturdy a little burgher as one would wish to see."</p> +<p>"And this statuette in green marble?"</p> +<p>"A copy of the celebrated 'Pensiero' of Michel Angelo--in other +words, the famous sitting statue of Lorenzo de Medici, in the +Medicean chapel in Florence. I had it executed for me on the spot +by Bazzanti."</p> +<p>"A noble figure!"</p> +<p>"Indeed it is--a noble figure, instinct with life, and strength, +and meditation. My first thought on seeing the original was that I +would not for worlds be condemned to pass a night alone with it. I +should every moment expect the musing hand to drop away from the +stern mouth, and the eyes to turn upon me!"</p> +<p>"These," said I, pausing at the chimney-piece, "are +<i>souvenirs</i> of Switzerland. How delicately those chamois are +carved out of the hard wood! They almost seem to snuff the mountain +air! But here is a rapier with a hilt of ornamented steel--where +did this come from?"</p> +<p>I had purposely led up the conversation to this point. I had +patiently questioned and examined for the sake of this one inquiry, +and I waited her reply as if my life hung on it.</p> +<p>Her whole countenance changed. She took it down, and her eyes +filled with tears.</p> +<p>"It was my father's," she said, tenderly.</p> +<p>"Your father's!" I exclaimed, joyfully. "Heaven be thanked! Did +you say your father's?"</p> +<p>She looked up surprised, then smiled, and faintly blushed.</p> +<p>"I did," she replied.</p> +<p>"And was your father a soldier?" I asked; for the sword looked +more like a sword of ceremony than a sword for service.</p> +<p>But to this question she gave no direct reply.</p> +<p>"It was his sword," she said, "and he had the best of all rights +to wear it."</p> +<p>With this she kissed the weapon reverently, and restored it to +its place.</p> +<p>I kissed her hand quite as reverently that day at parting, and +she did not withdraw it.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII."></a>CHAPTER XLVII.</h2> +<h3>ALL ABOUT ART.</h3> +<center>Art's a service.<br> +<br> +AURORA LEIGH.</center> +<br> +<p>"God sent art, and the devil sent critics," said Müller, +dismally paraphrasing a popular proverb. "My picture is +rejected!"</p> +<p>"Rejected!" I echoed, surprised to find him sitting on the +floor, like a tailor, in front of an acre of canvas. "By whom?"</p> +<p>"By the Hanging Committee."</p> +<p>"Hang the Hanging Committee!"</p> +<p>"A pious prayer, my friend. Would that it could be carried into +execution!"</p> +<p>"What cause do they assign?"</p> +<p>"Cause! Do you suppose they trouble themselves to find one? Not +a bit of it. They simply scrawl a great R in chalk on the back of +it, and send you a printed notice to carry it home again. What is +it to them, if a poor devil has been painting his very heart and +hopes out, day after day, for a whole year, upon that piece of +canvas? Nothing, and less than nothing--confound them!"</p> +<p>I drew a chair before the picture, and set myself to a patient +study of the details. He had chosen a difficult subject--the death +of Louis XI. The scene represented a spacious chamber in the Castle +of Plessisles-Tours. To the left, in a great oak chair beside the +bed from which he had just risen, sat the dying king, with a rich, +furred mantle loosely thrown around him. At his feet, his face +buried in his hands, kneeled the Dauphin. Behind his chair, holding +up the crucifix to enjoin silence, stood the king's confessor. A +physician, a couple of councillors in scarlet robes, and a captain +of archers, stood somewhat back, whispering together and watching +the countenance of the dying man; while through the outer door was +seen a crowd of courtiers and pages, waiting to congratulate King +Charles VIII. It was an ambitious subject, and Müller had +conceived it in a grand spirit. The heads were expressive; and the +textures of the velvets, tapestries, oak carvings, and so forth, +had been executed with more than ordinary finish and fidelity. For +all this, however, there was more of promise than of achievement in +the work. The lights were scattered; the attitudes were stiff; +there was too evident an attempt at effect. One could see that it +was the work of a young painter, who had yet much to learn, and +something of the Academy to forget.</p> +<p>"Well," said Müller, still sitting ruefully on the floor, +"what do you think of it? Am I rightly served? Shall I send for a +big pail of whitewash, and blot it all out?"</p> +<p>"Not for the world!"</p> +<p>"What shall I do, then?"</p> +<p>"Do better."</p> +<p>"But, if I have done my best already?"</p> +<p>"Still do better; and when you have done that, do better again. +So genius toils higher and ever higher, and like the climber of the +glacier, plants his foot where only his hand clung the moment +before."</p> +<p>"Humph! but what of my picture?"</p> +<p>"Well," I said, hesitatingly, "I am no critic--"</p> +<p>"Thank Heaven!" muttered Müller, parenthetically.</p> +<p>"But there is something noble in the disposition of the figures. +I should say, however, that you had set to work upon too large a +scale."</p> +<p>"A question of focus," said the painter, hastily. "A mere +question of focus."</p> +<p>"How can that be, when you have finished some parts laboriously, +and in others seem scarcely to have troubled yourself to cover the +canvas?"</p> +<p>"I don't know. I'm impatient, you see, and--and I think I got +tired of it towards the last."</p> +<p>"Would that have been the case if you had allowed yourself but +half the space?"</p> +<p>"I'll take to enamel," exclaimed Müller, with a grin of +hyperbolical despair. "I'll immortalize myself in miniature. I'll +paint henceforward with the aid of a microscope, and never again +look at nature unless through the wrong end of a telescope!"</p> +<p>"Pshaw!--be in earnest, man, and talk sensibly! Do you conceive +that for every failure you are to change your style? Give yourself, +heart and soul, to the school in which you have begun, and make up +your mind to succeed."</p> +<p>"Do you believe, then, that a man may succeed by force of will +alone?" said Müller, musingly.</p> +<p>"Yes, because force of will proceeds from force of character, +and the two together, warp and woof, make the stuff out of which +Nature clothes her heroes."</p> +<p>"Oh, but I am not talking of heroes," said Müller.</p> +<p>"By heroes, I do not mean only soldiers. Captain Pen is as good +a hero as Captain Sword, any day; and Captain Brush, to my +thinking, is as fine a fellow as either."</p> +<p>"Ay; but do they come, as you would seem to imply, of the same +stock?" said Müller. "Force of will and force of character are +famous clays in which to mould a Wellington or a Columbus; but is +not something more--at all events, something different--necessary +to the modelling of a Raffaelle?"</p> +<p>"I don't fancy so. Power is the first requisite of genius. Give +power in equal quantity to your Columbus and your Raffaelle, and +circumstance shall decide which will achieve the New World, and +which the Transfiguration."</p> +<p>"Circumstance!" cried the painter, impatiently. "Good heavens! +do you make no account of the spontaneous tendencies of genius? Is +Nature a mere vulgar cook, turning out men, like soups, from one +common stock, with only a dash of flavoring here and there to give +them variety? No--Nature is a subtle chemist, and her workshop, +depend on it, is stored with delicate elixirs, volatile spirits, +and precious fires of genius. Certain of these are kneaded with the +clay of the poet, others with the clay of the painter, the +astronomer, the mathematician, the legislator, the soldier. +Raffaelle had in him some of 'the stuff that dreams are made of.' +Never tell me that that same stuff, differently treated, would +equally well have furnished forth an Archimedes or a Napoleon!"</p> +<p>"Men are what their age calls upon them to be," I replied, after +a moment's consideration. "Be that demand what it may, the supply +is ever equal to it. Centre of the most pompous and fascinating of +religions, Rome demanded Madonnas and Transfigurations, and +straightway Raffaelle answered to the call. The Old World, +overstocked with men, gold, and aristocracies, asked wider fields +of enterprise, and Columbus added America to the map. What is this +but circumstance? Had Italy needed colonies, would not her men of +genius have turned sailors and discoverers? Had Madrid been the +residence of the Popes, might not Columbus have painted +altar-pieces or designed churches?"</p> +<p>Müller, still sitting on the floor, shook his head +despondingly.</p> +<p>"I don't think it," he replied; "and I don't wish to think it. +It is too material a view of genius to satisfy my imagination. I +love to believe that gifts are special. I love to believe that the +poet is born a poet, and the artist an artist."</p> +<p>"Hold! I believe that the poet is born a poet, and the artist an +artist; but I also believe the poetry of the one and the art of the +other to be only diverse manifestations of a power that is +universal in its application. The artist whose lot in life it is to +be a builder is none the less an artist. The poet, though engineer +or soldier, is none the less a poet. There is the poetry of +language, and there is also the poetry of action. So also there is +the art which expresses itself by means of marble or canvas, and +the art which designs a capitol, tapers a spire, or plants a +pleasure-ground. Nay, is not this very interfusion of gifts, this +universality of uses, in itself the bond of beauty which girdles +the world like a cestus? If poetry were only rhyme, and art only +painting, to what an outer darkness of matter-of-fact should we be +condemning nine-tenths of the creation!"</p> +<p>Müller yawned, as if he would have swallowed me and my +argument together.</p> +<p>"You are getting transcendental," said he. "I dare say your +theories are all very fine and all very true; but I confess that I +don't understand them. I never could find out all this poetry of +bricks and mortar, railroads and cotton-factories, that people talk +about so fluently now-a-days. We Germans take the dreamy side of +life, and are seldom at home in the practical, be it ever so highly +colored and highly flavored. In our parlance, an artist is an +artist, and neither a bagman nor an engine-driver."</p> +<p>His professional pride was touched, and he said this with +somewhat less than his usual <i>bonhomie</i>--almost with a shade +of irritability.</p> +<p>"Come," said I, smiling, "we will not discuss a topic which we +can never see from the same point of view. Doing art is better than +talking art; and your business now is to find a fresh subject and +prepare another canvas. Meanwhile cheer up, and forget all about +Louis XI. and the Hanging Committee. What say you to dining with me +at the Trois Frères? It will do you good."</p> +<p>"Good!" cried he, springing to his feet and shaking his fist at +the picture. "More good, by Jupiter, than all the paint and megilp +that ever was wasted! Not all the fine arts of Europe are worth a +<i>poulet à la Marengo</i> and a bottle of old +<i>Romanée</i>!"</p> +<p>So saying, he turned his picture to the wall, seized his cap, +locked his door, scrawled outside with a piece of +chalk,--"<i>Summoned to the Tuileries on state affairs</i>," and +followed me, whistling, down the six flights of gloomy, ricketty, +Quartier-Latin lodging-house stairs up which he lived and had his +being.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII."></a>CHAPTER XLVIII.</h2> +<h3>I MAKE MYSELF ACQUAINTED WITH THE IMPOLITE WORLD<br> +AND ITS PLACES OP UNFASHIONABLE RESORT.</h3> +<br> +<p>Müller and I dined merrily at the Café of the Trois +Frères Provençaux, discussed our coffee and cigars +outside the Rotonde in the Palais Royal, and then started off in +search of adventures. Striking up in a north-easterly direction +through a labyrinth of narrow streets, we emerged at the Rue des +Fontaines, just in front of that famous second-hand market yclept +the Temple. It was Saturday night, and the business of the place +was at its height. We went in, and turning aside from the broad +thoroughfares which intersect the market at right angles, plunged +at once into a net-work of crowded side-alleys, noisy and populous +as a cluster of beehives. Here were bargainings, hagglings, +quarrellings, elbowings, slang, low wit, laughter, abuse, cheating, +and chattering enough to turn the head of a neophyte like myself. +Müller, however, was in his element. He took me up one row and +down another, pointed out all that was curious, had a nod for every +grisette, and an answer for every touter, and enjoyed the Babel +like one to the manner born.</p> +<p>"Buy, messieurs, buy! What will you buy?" was the question that +assailed us on both sides, wherever we went.</p> +<p>"What do you sell, <i>mon ami ?</i>" was Müller's +invariable reply.</p> +<p>"What do you want, m'sieur?"</p> +<p>"Twenty thousand francs per annum, and the prettiest wife in +Paris," says my friend; a reply which is sure to evoke something +<i>spirituel</i>, after the manner of the locality.</p> +<p>"This is the most amusing place in Paris," observes he. "Like +the Alsatia of old London, it has its own peculiar <i>argot,</i> +and its own peculiar privileges. The activity of its commerce is +amazing. If you buy a pocket-handkerchief at the first stall you +come to, and leave it unprotected in your coat-pocket for five +minutes, you may purchase it again at the other end of the alley +before you leave. As for the resources of the market, they are +inexhaustible. You may buy anything you please here, from a Court +suit to a cargo of old rags. In this alley (which is the +aristocratic quarter), are sold old jewelry, old china, old +furniture, silks that have rustled at the Tuileries; fans that may +have fluttered at the opera; gloves once fitted to tiny hands, and +yet bearing a light soil where the rings were worn beneath; laces +that may have been the property of Countesses or Cardinals; +masquerade suits, epaulets, uniforms, furs, perfumes, artificial +flowers, and all sorts of elegant superfluities, most of which have +descended to the merchants of the Temple through the hands of +ladies-maids and valets. Yonder lies the district called the +'Forêt Noire'--a land of unpleasing atmosphere inhabited by +cobblers and clothes-menders. Down to the left you see nothing but +rag and bottle-shops, old iron stores, and lumber of every kind. +Here you find chiefly household articles, bedding, upholstery, +crockery, and so forth."</p> +<p>"What will you buy, Messieurs?" continued to be the cry, as we +moved along arm-in-arm, elbowing our way through the crowd, and +exploring this singular scene in all directions.</p> +<p>"What will you buy, messieurs?" shouts one salesman. "A carpet? +A capital carpet, neither too large nor too small. Just the size +you want!"</p> +<p>"A hat, m'sieur, better than new," cries another; "just aired by +the last owner."</p> +<p>"A coat that will fit you better than if it had been made for +you?"</p> +<p>"A pair of boots? Dress-boots, dancing-boots, walking-boots, +morning-boots, evening-boots, riding-boots, fishing-boots, +hunting-boots. All sorts, m'sieur--all sorts!"</p> +<p>"A cloak, m'sieur?"</p> +<p>"A lace shawl to take home to Madame?"</p> +<p>"An umbrella, m'sieur?"</p> +<p>"A reading lamp?"</p> +<p>"A warming-pan?"</p> +<p>"A pair of gloves?"</p> +<p>"A shower bath?"</p> +<p>"A hand organ?"</p> +<p>"What! m'sieurs, do you buy nothing this evening? Holà, +Antoine! monsieur keeps his hands in his pockets, for fear his +money should fall out!"</p> +<p>"Bah! They've not a centime between them!"</p> +<p>"Go down the next turning and have the hole in your coat +mended!"</p> +<p>"Make way there for monsieur the millionaire!"</p> +<p>"They are ambassadors on their way to the Court of Persia."</p> +<p>"<i>Ohe! Panè! panè! panè!</i>"</p> +<p>Thus we run the gauntlet of all the tongues in the Temple, +sometimes retorting, sometimes laughing and passing on, sometimes +stopping to watch the issue of a dispute or the clinching of a +bargain.</p> +<p>"<i>Dame</i>, now! if it were only ten francs cheaper," says a +voice that strikes my ear with a sudden sense of familiarity. +Turning, I discover that the voice belongs to a young woman close +at my elbow, and that the remark is addressed to a good-looking +workman upon whose arm she is leaning.</p> +<p>"What, Josephine!" I exclaim.</p> +<p>"<i>Comment</i>! Monsieur Basil!"</p> +<p>And I find myself kissed on both cheeks before I even guess what +is going to happen to me.</p> +<p>"Have I not also the honor of being remembered by Mademoiselle?" +says Müller, taking off his hat with all the politeness +possible; whereupon Josephine, in an ecstasy of recognition, +embraces him likewise.</p> +<p>"<i>Mais, quel bonheur</i>!" cries she. "And to meet in the +Temple, above all places! Emile, you heard me speak of Monsieur +Basil--the gentleman who gave me that lovely shawl that I wore last +Sunday to the Château des Fleurs--<i>eh bien</i>! this is +he--and here is Monsieur Müller, his friend. Gentlemen, this +is Emile, my <i>fiancé</i>. We are to be married next Friday +week, and we are buying our furniture."</p> +<p>The good-looking workman pulled off his cap and made his bow, +and we proffered the customary congratulations.</p> +<p>"We have bought such sweet, pretty things," continued she, +rattling on with all her old volubility, "and we have hired the +dearest little <i>appartement</i> on the fourth story, in a street +near the Jardin des Plantes. See--this looking-glass is ours; we +have just bought it. And those maple chairs, and that chest of +drawers with the marble top. It isn't real marble, you know; but +it's ever so much better than real:--not nearly so heavy, and so +beautifully carved that it's quite a work of art. Then we have +bought a carpet--the sweetest carpet! Is it not, Emile?"</p> +<p>Emile smiled, and confessed that the carpet was "<i>fort +bien</i>."</p> +<p>"And the time-piece, Madame?" suggested the furniture-dealer, at +whose door we were standing. "Madame should really not refuse +herself the time-piece."</p> +<p>Josephine shook her head.</p> +<p>"It is too dear," said she.</p> +<p>"Pardon, madame. I am giving it away,--absolutely giving it away +at the price!"</p> +<p>Josephine looked at it wistfully, and weighed her little purse. +It was a very little purse, and very light.</p> +<p>"It is so pretty!" said she.</p> +<p>The clock was of ormolu upon a painted stand, that was +surmounted by a stout little gilt Cupid in a triumphal chariot, +drawn by a pair of hard-working doves.</p> +<p>"What is the price of it?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Thirty-five francs, m'sieur," replied the dealer, briskly.</p> +<p>"Say twenty-five," urged Josephine.</p> +<p>The dealer shook his head.</p> +<p>"What if we did without the looking-glass?" whispered Josephine +to her <i>fiancé</i>. "After all, you know, one can live +without a looking-glass; but how shall I have your dinners ready, +if I don't know what o'clock it is?"</p> +<p>"I don't really see how we are to do without a clock," admitted +Emile.</p> +<p>"And that darling little Cupid!"</p> +<p>Emile conceded that the Cupid was irresistible.</p> +<p>"Then we decide to have the clock, and do without the +looking-glass?"</p> +<p>"Yes, we decide."</p> +<p>In the meantime I had slipped the thirty-five francs into the +dealer's hand.</p> +<p>"You must do me the favor to accept the clock as a +wedding-present, Mademoiselle Josephine," I said. "And I hope you +will favor me with an invitation to the wedding."</p> +<p>"And me also," said Müller; "and I shall hope to be allowed +to offer a little sketch to adorn the walls of your new home."</p> +<p>Their delight and gratitude were almost too great. We shook +hands again all round. I am not sure, indeed, that Josephine did +not then and there embrace us both for the second time.</p> +<p>"And you will both come to our wedding!" cried she. "And we will +spend the day at St. Cloud, and have a dance in the evening; and we +will invite Monsieur Gustave, and Monsieur Jules, and Monsieur +Adrien. Oh, dear! how delightful it will be!"</p> +<p>"And you promise me the first quadrille?" said I.</p> +<p>"And me the second?" added Müller.</p> +<p>"Yes, yes--as many as you please."</p> +<p>"Then you must let us know at what time to come, and all about +it; so, till Friday week, adieu!"</p> +<p>And thus, with more shaking of hands, and thanks, and good +wishes, we parted company, leaving them still occupied with the +gilt Cupid and the furniture-broker.</p> +<p>After the dense atmosphere of the clothes-market, it is a relief +to emerge upon the Boulevart du Temple--the noisy, feverish, +crowded Boulevart du Temple, with its half dozen theatres, its +glare of gas, its cake-sellers, bill-sellers, lemonade-sellers, +cabs, cafés, gendarmes, tumblers, grisettes, and +pleasure-seekers of both sexes.</p> +<p>Here we pause awhile to applaud the performances of a company of +dancing-dogs, whence we are presently drawn away by the sight of a +gentleman in a <i>moyen-âge</i> costume, who is swallowing +penknives and bringing them out at his ears to the immense +gratification of a large circle of bystanders.</p> +<p>A little farther on lies the Jardin Turc; and here we drop in +for half an hour, to restore ourselves with coffee-ices, and look +on at the dancers. This done, we presently issue forth again, still +in search of amusement.</p> +<p>"Have you ever been to the Petit Lazary?" asks my friend, as we +stand at the gate of the Jardin Turc, hesitating which way to +turn.</p> +<p>"Never; what is it?"</p> +<p>"The most inexpensive of theatrical luxuries--an evening's +entertainment of the mildest intellectual calibre, and at the +lowest possible cost. Here we are at the doors. Come in, and +complete your experience of Paris life!"</p> +<p>The Petit Lazary occupies the lowest round of the theatrical +ladder. We pay something like sixpence half-penny or sevenpence +apiece, and are inducted into the dress-circle. Our appearance is +greeted with a round of applause. The curtain has just fallen, and +the audience have nothing better to do. Müller lays his hand +upon his heart, and bows profoundly, first to the gallery and next +to the pit; whereupon they laugh, and leave us in peace. Had we +looked dignified or indignant we should probably have been hissed +till the curtain rose.</p> +<p>It is an audience in shirt-sleeves, consisting for the most part +of workmen, maid-servants, soldiers, and street-urchins, with a +plentiful sprinkling of pickpockets--the latter in a strictly +private capacity, being present for entertainment only, without any +ulterior professional views.</p> +<p>It is a noisy <i>entr'acte</i> enough. Three vaudevilles have +already been played, and while the fourth is in preparation the +public amuses itself according to its own riotous will and +pleasure. Nuts and apple parings fly hither and thither; oranges +describe perilous parabolas between the pit and the gallery; +adventurous <i>gamins</i> make daring excursions round the upper +rails; dialogues maintained across the house, and quarrels +supported by means of an incredible copiousness of invective, +mingle in discordant chorus with all sorts of howlings, groanings, +whistlings, crowings, and yelpings, above which, in shrillest +treble, rise the voices of cake and apple-sellers, and the piercing +cry of the hump-back who distributes "vaudevilles at five centimes +apiece." In the meantime, almost distracted by the patronage that +assails him in every direction, the lemonade-vendor strides hither +and thither, supplying floods of nectar at two centimes the glass; +while the audience, skilled in the combination of enjoyments, eats, +drinks, and vociferates to its heart's content. Fabulous meats, and +pies of mysterious origin, are brought out from baskets and hats. +Pocket-handkerchiefs spread upon benches do duty as table-cloths. +Clasp-knives, galette, and sucre d'orge pass from hand to +hand--nay, from mouth to mouth--and, in the midst of the tumult, +the curtain rises.</p> +<p>All is, in one moment, profoundly silent. The viands disappear; +the lemonade-seller vanishes; the boys outside the gallery-rails +clamber back to their places. The drama, in the eyes of the +Parisians, is almost a sacred rite, and not even the noisiest +<i>gamin</i> would raise his voice above a whisper when the curtain +is up.</p> +<p>The vaudeville that follows is, to say the least of it, a +perplexing performance. It has no plot in particular. The scene is +laid in a lodging-house, and the discomforts of one Monsieur +Choufleur, an elderly gentleman in a flowered dressing-gown and a +gigantic nightcap, furnish forth all the humor of the piece. What +Monsieur Choufleur has done to deserve his discomforts, and why a +certain student named Charles should devote all the powers of his +mind to the devising and inflicting of those discomforts, is a +mystery which we, the audience, are never permitted to penetrate. +Enough that Charles, being a youth of mischievous tastes and +extensive wardrobe, assumes a series of disguises for the express +purpose of tormenting Monsieur Choufleur, and is unaccountably +rewarded in the end with the hand of Monsieur Choufleur's daughter; +a consummation which brings down the curtain amid loud applause, +and affords entire satisfaction to everybody.</p> +<p>It is by this time close upon midnight, and, leaving the theatre +with the rest of the audience, we find a light rain falling. The +noisy thoroughfare is hushed to comparative quiet. The carriages +that roll by are homeward bound. The waiters yawn at the doors of +the cafés and survey pedestrians with a threatening aspect. +The theatres are closing fast, and a row of flickering gas-lamps in +front of a faded transparency which proclaims that the juvenile +<i>Tableaux Vivants</i> are to be seen within, denotes the only +place of public amusement yet open to the curious along the whole +length of the Boulevart du Temple.</p> +<p>"And now, <i>amigo</i>, where shall we go?" says Müller. +"Are you for a billiard-room or a lobster supper? Or shall we beat +up the quarters of some of the fellows in the Quartier Latin, and +see what fun is afoot on the other side of the water?"</p> +<p>"Whichever you please. You are my guest to-night, and I am at +your disposal."</p> +<p>"Or what say you to dropping in for an hour among the +Chicards?"</p> +<p>"A capital idea--especially if you again entertain the society +with a true story of events that never happened."</p> +<p>"<i>Allons donc</i>!--</p> +<blockquote>'C'était de mon temps<br> +Que brillait Madame Grégoire.<br> +J'allais à vingt ans<br> +Dans son cabaret rire et boire.'</blockquote> +<p>--confound this drizzle! It soaks one through and through, like +a sponge. If you are no fonder of getting wet through than I am, I +vote we both run for it!"</p> +<p>With this he set off running at full speed, and I followed.</p> +<p>The rain soon fell faster and thicker. We had no umbrellas; and +being by this time in a region of back-streets, an empty fiacre was +a prize not to be hoped for. Coming presently to a dark archway, we +took shelter and waited till the shower should pass over. It lasted +longer than we had expected, and threatened to settle into a +night's steady rain. Müller kept his blood warm by practicing +extravagant quadrille steps and singing scraps of Béranger's +ballads; whilst I, watching impatiently for a cab, kept peering up +and down the street, and listening to every sound.</p> +<p>Presently a quick footfall echoed along the wet pavement, and +the figure of a man, dimly seen by the blurred light of the +street-lamps, came hurrying along the other side of the way. +Something in the firm free step, in the upright carriage, in the +height and build of the passer-by, arrested my attention. He drew +nearer. He passed under the lamp just opposite, and, as he passed, +flung away the end of his cigar, which fell, hissing, into the +little rain-torrent running down the middle of the street. He +carried no umbrella; but his hat was pulled low, and his collar +drawn up, and I could see nothing of his face. But the gesture was +enough.</p> +<p>For a moment I stood still and looked after him; then, calling +to Müller that I should be back presently, I darted off in +pursuit.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIX."></a>CHAPTER XLIX.</h2> +<h3>THE KING OF DIAMONDS.</h3> +<br> +<p>The rain beat in my face and almost blinded me, the wind hustled +me; the gendarme at the corner of the street looked at me +suspiciously; and still I followed, and still the tall stranger +strode on ahead. Up one street he led me and down another, across a +market-place, through an arcade, past the Bourse, and into that +labyrinth of small streets that lies behind the Italian +Opera-house, and is bounded on the East by the Rue de Richelieu, +and on the West by the Rue Louis le Grand. Here he slackened his +pace, and I found myself gaming upon him for the first time. +Presently he came to a dead stop, and as I continued to draw +nearer, I saw him take out his watch and look at it by the light of +a street-lamp. This done, he began sauntering slowly backwards and +forwards, as if waiting for some second person.</p> +<p>For a moment I also paused, hesitating. What should I do?--pass +him under the lamp, and try to see his face? Go boldly up to him, +and invent some pretence to address him, or wait in this angle of +deep shade, and see what would happen next? I was deceived, of +course--deceived by a merely accidental resemblance. Well, then, I +should have had my run for my pains, and have taken cold, most +likely, into the bargain. At all events, I would speak to him.</p> +<p>Seeing me emerge from the darkness, and cross over towards the +spot where he was standing, he drew aside with the air of a man +upon his guard, and put his hand quickly into his breast.</p> +<p>"I beg your pardon, Monsieur," I began.</p> +<p>"What! my dear Damon!--is it you?" he interrupted, and held out +both hands.</p> +<p>I grasped them joyously.</p> +<p>"Dalrymple, is it you?"</p> +<p>"Myself, Damon--<i>faute de mieux</i>."</p> +<p>"And I have been running after you for the last two miles! What +brings you to Paris? Why did you not let me know you were here? How +long have you been back? Has anything gone wrong? Are you +well?"</p> +<p>"One question at a time, my Arcadian, for mercy's sake!" said +he. "Which am I to answer?"</p> +<p>"The last."</p> +<p>"Oh, I am well--well enough. But let us walk on a little farther +while we talk."</p> +<p>"Are you waiting for any one?" I asked, seeing him look round +uneasily.</p> +<p>"Yes--no--that is, I expect to see some one come past here +presently. Step into this doorway, and I will tell you all about +it."</p> +<p>His manner was restless, and his hand, as it pressed mine, felt +hot and feverish.</p> +<p>"I am sure you are not well," I said, following him into the +gloom of a deep, old-fashioned doorway.</p> +<p>"Am I not? Well, I don't know--perhaps I am not. My blood burns +in my veins to-night like fire. Nay, thou wilt learn nothing from +my pulse, thou sucking Æsculapius! Mine is a sickness not to +be cured by drugs. I must let blood for it."</p> +<p>The short, hard laugh with which he said this troubled me still +more.</p> +<p>"Speak out," I said--"for Heaven's sake, speak out! You have +something on your mind--what is it?"</p> +<p>"I have something on my hands," he replied, gloomily. "Work. +Work that must be done quickly, or there will be no peace for any +of us. Look here, Damon--if you had a wife, and another man stood +before the world as her betrothed husband--if you had a wife, and +another man spoke of her as his--boasted of her--behaved in the +house as if it were already his own--treated her servants as though +he were their master--possessed himself of her papers--extorted +money from her--brought his friends, on one pretext or another, +about her house--tormented her, day after day, to marry him ... +what would you do to such a man as this?"</p> +<p>"Make my own marriage public at once, and set him at defiance," +I replied.</p> +<p>"Ay, but...."</p> +<p>"But what?"</p> +<p>"That alone will not content me. I must punish him with my own +hand."</p> +<p>"He would be punished enough in the loss of the lady and her +fortune."</p> +<p>"Not he! He has entangled her affairs sufficiently by this time +to indemnify himself for her fortune, depend on it. And as for +herself--pshaw! he does not know what love is!"</p> +<p>"But his pride----"</p> +<p>"But <i>my</i> pride!" interrupted Dalrymple, passionately. +"What of my pride?--my wounded honor?--my outraged love? No, no, I +tell you, it is not such a paltry vengeance that will satisfy me! +Would to Heaven I had trusted only my own arm from the first! Would +to Heaven that, instead of having anything to say to the cursed +brood of the law, I had taken the viper by the throat, and brought +him to my own terms, after my own fashion!"</p> +<p>"But you have not yet told me what you are doing here?"</p> +<p>"I am waiting to see Monsieur de Simoncourt."</p> +<p>"Monsieur de Simoncourt!"</p> +<p>"Yes. That white house at the corner is one of his haunts,--a +private gaming-house, never open till after midnight. I want to +meet him accidentally, as he is going in."</p> +<p>"What for?"</p> +<p>"That he may take me with him. You can't get into one of these +places without an introduction, you know. Those who keep them are +too much afraid of the police."</p> +<p>"But do you play?"</p> +<p>"Come with me, and see. Hark! do you hear nothing?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I hear a footstep. And here comes a man."</p> +<p>"Let us walk to meet him, accidentally, and seem to be +talking."</p> +<p>I took Dalrymple's arm, and we strolled in the direction of the +new comer. It was not De Simoncourt, however, but a tall man with a +grizzled beard, who crossed over, apprehensively, at our approach, +but recrossed and went into the white house at the corner as soon +as he thought us out of sight.</p> +<p>"One of the gang," said Dalrymple, with a shrug of his broad +shoulders. "We had better go back to our doorway, and wait till the +right man comes."</p> +<p>We had not long to wait. The next arrival was he whom we sought. +We strolled on, as before, and came upon him face to face.</p> +<p>"De Simoncourt, by all that's propitious!" cried Dalrymple.</p> +<p>"What--Major Dalrymple returned to Paris!"</p> +<p>"Ay, just returned. Bored to death with Berlin and Vienna--no +place like Paris, De Simoncourt, go where one will!"</p> +<p>"None, indeed. There is but one Paris, and pleasure is the true +profit of all who visit it."</p> +<p>"My dear De Simoncourt, I am appalled to hear you perpetrate a +pun! By the way, you have met Mr. Basil Arbuthnot at my rooms?"</p> +<p>M. de Simoncourt lifted his hat, and was graciously pleased to +remember the circumstance.</p> +<p>"And now," pursued Dalrymple, "having met, what shall, we do +next? Have you any engagement for the small hours, De +Simoncourt?"</p> +<p>"I am quite at your disposal. Where were your bound for?"</p> +<p>"Anywhere--everywhere. I want excitement."</p> +<p>"Would a hand at <i>écarté</i>, or a green table, +have any attraction for you?" suggested De Simoncourt, falling into +the trap as readily as one could have desired.</p> +<p>"The very thing, if you know where they are to be found!"</p> +<p>"Nay, I need not take you far to find both. There is in this +very street a house where money may be lost and won as easily as at +the Bourse. Follow me."</p> +<p>He took us to the white house at the corner, and, pressing a +spring concealed in the wood-work of the lintel, rung a bell of +shrill and peculiar <i>timbre</i>. The door opened immediately, +and, after we had passed in, closed behind us without any visible +agency. Still following at the heels of M. de Simoncourt, we then +went up a spacious staircase dimly lighted, and, leaving our hats +in an ante-room, entered unannounced into an elegant <i>salon</i>, +where some twenty or thirty <i>habitués</i> of both sexes +had already commenced the business of the evening. The ladies, of +whom there were not more than half-a-dozen, were all more or less +painted, <i>passées</i>, and showily dressed. Among the men +were military stocks, ribbons, crosses, stars, and fine titles in +abundance. We were evidently supposed to be in very brilliant +society--brilliant, however, with a fictitious lustre that betrayed +the tinsel beneath, and reminded one of a fashionable reception on +the boards of the Haymarket or the Porte St. Martin. The mistress +of the house, an abundant and somewhat elderly Juno in green +velvet, with a profusion of jewelry on her arms and bosom, came +forward to receive us.</p> +<p>"Madame de Sainte Amaranthe, permit me to present my friends, +Major Dalrymple and Mr. Arbuthnot," said De Simoncourt, imprinting +a gallant kiss on the plump hand of the hostess.</p> +<p>Madame de Ste. Amaranthe professed herself charmed to receive +any friends of M. de Simoncourt; whereupon M. de Simoncourt's +friends were enchanted to be admitted to the privilege of Madame de +Ste. Amaranthe's acquaintance. Madame de Ste. Amaranthe then +informed us that she was the widow of a general officer who fell at +Austerlitz, and the daughter of a rich West India planter whom she +called her <i>père adoré</i>, and to whose +supposititious memory she wiped away an imaginary tear with an +embroidered pocket-handkerchief. She then begged that we would make +ourselves at home, and, gliding away, whispered something in De +Simoncourt's ear, to which he replied by a nod of intelligence.</p> +<p>"That harpy hopes to fleece us," said Dalrymple, slipping his +arm through mine and drawing me towards the roulette table. "She +has just told De Simoncourt to take us in hand. I always suspected +the fellow was a Greek."</p> +<p>"A Greek?"</p> +<p>"Ay, in the figurative sense--a gentleman who lives by dexterity +at cards."</p> +<p>"And shall you play?"</p> +<p>"By-and-by. Not yet, because--"</p> +<p>He checked himself, and looked anxiously round the room.</p> +<p>"Because what?"</p> +<p>"Tell me, Arbuthnot," said he, paying no attention to my +question; "do <i>you</i> mind playing?"</p> +<p>"I? My dear fellow, I hardly know one card from another."</p> +<p>"But have you any objection?"</p> +<p>"None whatever to the game; but a good deal to the penalty. I +don't mind confessing to you that I ran into debt some months back, +and that...."</p> +<p>"Nonsense, boy!" interrupted Dalrymple, with a kindly smile. "Do +you suppose I want you to gamble away your money? No, no--the fact +is, that I am here for a purpose, and it will not do to let my +purpose be suspected. These Greeks want a pigeon. Will you oblige +me by being that pigeon, and by allowing me to pay for your +plucking?"</p> +<p>I still hesitated.</p> +<p>"But you will be helping me," urged he. "If you don't sit down, +I must."</p> +<p>"You would not lose so much," I expostulated.</p> +<p>"Perhaps not, if I were cool and kept my eyes open; but to-night +I am <i>distrait</i>, and should be as defenceless as +yourself."</p> +<p>"In that case I will play for you with pleasure."</p> +<p>He slipped a little pocket-book into my hand.</p> +<p>"Never stake more than five francs at a time," said he, "and you +cannot ruin me. The book contains a thousand. You shall have more, +if necessary; but I think that sum will last as long as I shall +want you to keep playing."</p> +<p>"A thousand francs!" I exclaimed. "Why, that is forty +pounds!"</p> +<p>"If it were four hundred, and it answered my purpose," said +Dalrymple, between his teeth, "I should hold it money well +spent!"</p> +<p>At this moment De Simoncourt came up, and apologized for having +left us so long.</p> +<p>"If you want mere amusement, Major Dalrymple," said he, "I +suppose you will prefer <i>roulette</i> to +<i>écarté</i>!"</p> +<p>"I will stake a few pieces presently on the green cloth," +replied Dalrymple, carelessly; "but, first of all, I want to +initiate my young friend here. As to double +<i>écarté</i>, Monsieur de Simoncourt, I need hardly +tell you, as a man of the world, that I never play it with +strangers."</p> +<p>De Simoncourt smiled, and shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>"Quite right," said he. "I believe that here everything is +really <i>de bonne foi</i>; but where there are cards there will +always be danger. For my part, I always shuffle the pack after my +adversary!"</p> +<p>With this he strolled off again, and I took a vacant chair at +the long table, next to a lady, who made way for me with the most +gracious smile imaginable. Only the players sat; so Dalrymple stood +behind me and looked on. It was a green board, somewhat larger than +an ordinary billiard-table, with mysterious boundaries traced here +and there in yellow and red, and a cabalistic table of figures +towards each end. A couple of well-dressed men sat in the centre; +one to deal out the cards, and the other to pay and receive the +money. The one who had the management of the cash wore a superb +diamond ring, and a red and green ribbon at his button-hole. +Dalrymple informed me in a whisper that this noble seigneur was +Madame de Ste. Amaranthe's brother.</p> +<p>As for the players, they all looked serious and polite enough, +as ladies and gentlemen should, at their amusement. Some had pieces +of card, which they pricked occasionally with a pin, according to +the progress of the game. Some had little piles of silver, or +sealed <i>rouleaux</i>, lying beside them. As for myself, I took +out Dalrymple's pocket-book, and laid it beside me, as if I were an +experienced player and meant to break the bank. For a few minutes +he stood by, and then, having given me some idea of the leading +principles of the game, wandered away to observe the other +players.</p> +<p>Left to myself, I played on--timidly at first; soon with more +confidence; and, of course, with the novice's invariable +good-fortune. My amiable neighbor drew me presently into +conversation. She had a theory of chances relating to averages of +color, and based upon a bewildering calculation of all the black +and red cards in the pack, which she was so kind as to explain to +me. I could not understand a word of it, but politeness compelled +me to listen. Politeness also compelled me to follow her advice +when she was so obliging as to offer it, and I lost, as a matter of +course. From this moment my good-luck deserted me.</p> +<p>"Courage, Monsieur," said my amiable neighbour; "you have only +to play long enough, and you are sure to win."</p> +<p>In the meantime, I kept following Dalrymple with my eyes, for +there was something in his manner that filled me with vague +uneasiness. Sometimes he drew near the table and threw down a +Napoleon, but without heeding the game, or caring whether he won or +lost. He was always looking to the door, or wandering restlessly +from table to table. Watching him thus, I thought how haggard he +looked, and what deep channels were furrowed in his brow since that +day when we lay together on the autumnal grass under the trees in +the forest of St. Germain.</p> +<p>Thus a long time went by, and I found by my watch that it was +nearly four o'clock in the morning--also that I had lost six +hundred francs out of the thousand. It seemed incredible. I could +hardly believe that the time and the money had flown so fast. I +rose in my seat and looked round for Dalrymple; but in vain. Could +he be gone, leaving me here? Impossible! Apprehensive of I knew not +what, I pushed back my chair, and left the table. The rooms were +now much fuller--more stars and moustachios; more velvets and +laces, and Paris diamonds. Fresh tables, too, had been opened for +<i>lansquenet, baccarat</i>, and <i>écarté</i>. At +one of these I saw M. de Simoncourt. When he laid down his cards +for the deal, I seized the opportunity to inquire for my +friend.</p> +<p>He pointed to a small inner room divided by a rich hanging from +the farther end of the <i>salon</i>.</p> +<p>"You will find Major Dalrymple in Madame de Ste. Amaranthe's +boudoir, playing with M. le Vicomte de Caylus," said he, +courteously, and resumed his game.</p> +<p>Playing with De Caylus! Sitting down amicably with De Caylus! I +could not understand it.</p> +<p>Crowded as the rooms now were, it took me some time to thread my +way across, and longer still, when I had done so, to pass the +threshold of the boudoir, and obtain sight of the players. The room +was very small, and filled with lookers-on. At a table under a +chandelier sat De Caylus and Dalrymple. I could not see Dalrymple's +face, for his back was turned towards me; but the Vicomte I +recognised at once--pale, slight, refined, with the old look of +dissipation and irritability, and the same restlessness of eye and +hand that I had observed on first seeing him. They were evidently +playing high, and each had a pile of notes and gold lying at his +left hand. De Caylus kept nervously crumbling a note in his +fingers. Dalrymple sat motionless as a man of bronze, and, except +to throw down a card when it came to his turn, never stirred a +finger. There was, to my thinking, something ominous in his +exceeding calmness.</p> +<p>"At what game are they, playing?" I asked a gentleman near whom +I was standing.</p> +<p>"At <i>écarté</i>," replied he, without removing +his eyes from the players.</p> +<p>Knowing nothing of the game, I could only judge of its progress +by the faces of those around me. A breathless silence prevailed, +except when some particular subtlety in the play sent a murmur of +admiration round the room. Even this was hushed almost as soon as +uttered. Gradually the interest grew more intense, and the +bystanders pressed closer. De Caylus sighed impatiently, and passed +his hand across his brow. It was his turn to deal. Dalrymple +shuffled the pack. De Caylus shuffled them after him, and dealt. +The falling of a pin might have been heard in the pause that +followed. They had but five cards each. Dalrymple played first--a +queen of diamonds. De Caylus played the king, and both threw down +their cards. A loud murmur broke out instantaneously in every +direction, and De Caylus, looking excited and weary, leaned back in +his chair, and called for wine. His expression was so unlike that +of a victor that I thought at first he must have lost the game.</p> +<p>"Which is the winner?" I asked, eagerly. "Which is the +winner?"</p> +<p>The gentleman who had replied to me before looked round with a +smile of contemptuous wonder.</p> +<p>"Why, Monsieur de Caylus, of course," said he. "Did you not see +him play the king?"</p> +<p>"I beg your pardon," I said, somewhat nettled; "but, as I said +before, I do not understand the game."</p> +<p>"<i>Eh bien</i>! the Englishman is counting out his money."</p> +<p>What a changed scene it was! The circle of intent faces broken +and shifting--the silence succeeded by a hundred conversations--De +Caylus leaning back, sipping his wine and chatting over his +shoulder--the cards pushed aside, and Dalrymple gravely sorting out +little shining columns of Napoleons, and rolls of crisp bank paper! +Having ranged all these before him in a row, he took out his +check-book, filled in a page, tore it out and laid it with the +rest. Then, replacing the book in his breast-pocket, he pushed back +his chair, and, looking up for the first time since the close of +the game, said aloud:--</p> +<p>"Monsieur le Vicomte de Caylus, I have this evening had the +honor of losing the sum of twelve thousand francs to you; will you +do me the favor to count this money?"</p> +<p>M. de Caylus bowed, emptied his glass, and languidly touching +each little column with one dainty finger, told over his winnings +as though they were scarcely worth even that amount of trouble.</p> +<p>"Six rouleaux of four hundred each," said he, "making two +thousand four hundred--six notes of five hundred each, making three +thousand--and an order upon Rothschild for six thousand six +hundred; in all, twelve thousand. Thanks, Monsieur ... Monsieur ... +forgive me for not remembering your name."</p> +<p>Dalrymple looked up with a dangerous light in his eyes, and took +no notice of the apology.</p> +<p>"It appears to me, Monsieur le Vicomte Caylus," said he, giving +the other his full title and speaking with singular distinctness, +"that you hold the king very often at +<i>écarté</i>."</p> +<p>De Caylus looked up with every vein on his forehead suddenly +swollen and throbbing.</p> +<p>"Monsieur!" he exclaimed, hoarsely.</p> +<p>"Especially when you deal," added Dalrymple, smoothing his +moustache with utter <i>sang-froid</i>, and keeping his eyes still +riveted upon his adversary.</p> +<p>With an inarticulate cry like the cry of a wild beast, De Caylus +sprung at him, foaming with rage, and was instantly flung back +against the wall, dragging with him not only the table-cloth, but +all the wine, money, and cards upon it.</p> +<p>"I will have blood for this!" he shrieked, struggling with those +who rushed in between. "I will have blood! Blood! Blood!"</p> +<p>Stained and streaming with red wine, he looked, in his ghastly +rage, as if he was already bathed in the blood he thirsted for.</p> +<p>Dalrymple drew himself to his full height, and stood looking on +with folded arms and a cold smile.</p> +<p>"I am quite ready," he said, "to give Monsieur le Vicomte full +satisfaction."</p> +<p>The room was by this time crowded to suffocation. I forced my +way through, and laid my hand on Dalrymple's arm.</p> +<p>"You have provoked this quarrel," I said, reproachfully.</p> +<p>"That, my dear fellow, is precisely what I came here to do," he +replied. "You will have to be my second in this affair."</p> +<p>Here De Simoncourt came up, and hearing the last words, drew me +aside.</p> +<p>"I act for De Caylus," he whispered. "Pistols, of course?"</p> +<p>I nodded, still all bewilderment at my novel position.</p> +<p>"Your man received the first blow, so is entitled to the first +shot."</p> +<p>I nodded again.</p> +<p>"I don't know a better place," he went on, "than Bellevue. +There's a famous little bit of plantation, and it is just far +enough from Paris to be secure. The Bois is hackneyed, and the +police are too much about it.</p> +<p>"Just so," I replied, vaguely.</p> +<p>"And when shall we say? The sooner the better, it always seems +to me, in these cases."</p> +<p>"Oh, certainly--the sooner the better."</p> +<p>He looked at his watch.</p> +<p>"It is now ten minutes to five," he said. "Suppose we allow them +five hours to put their papers in order, and meet at Bellevue, on +the terrace, at ten?"</p> +<p>"So soon!" I exclaimed.</p> +<p>"Soon!" echoed De Simoncourt. "Why, under circumstances of such +exceeding aggravation, most men would send for pistols and settle +it across the table!"</p> +<p>I shuddered. These niceties of honor were new to me, and I had +been brought up to make little distinction between duelling and +murder.</p> +<p>"Be it so, then, Monsieur De Simoncourt," I said. "We will meet +you at Bellevue, at ten."</p> +<p>"On the terrace?"</p> +<p>"On the terrace."</p> +<p>We bowed and parted. Dalrymple was already gone, and De Caylus, +still white and trembling with rage, was wiping the wine from his +face and shirt. The crowd opened for me right and left as I went +through the <i>salon</i>, and more than one voice whispered:--</p> +<p>"He is the Englishman's second."</p> +<p>I took my hat and cloak mechanically, and let myself out. It was +broad daylight, and the blinding sun poured full upon my eyes as I +passed into the street.</p> +<p>"Come, Damon," said Dalrymple, crossing over to me from the +opposite side of the way. "I have just caught a cab--there it is, +waiting round the corner! We've no time to lose, I'll be +bound."</p> +<p>"We are to meet them at Bellevue at ten," I replied.</p> +<p>"At ten? Hurrah! then I've still five certain hours of life +before me! Long enough, Damon, to do a world of mischief, if one +were so disposed!"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_L."></a>CHAPTER L.</h2> +<h3>THE DUEL AT BELLEVUE.</h3> +<br> +<p>We drove straight to Dalrymple's rooms, and, going in with a +pass-key, went up without disturbing the <i>concierge</i>. Arrived +at home, my friend's first act was to open his buffetier and take +out a loaf, a <i>paté de foie gras</i>, and a bottle of +wine. I could not eat a morsel; but he supped (or breakfasted) with +a capital appetite; insisted that I should lie down on his bed for +two or three hours; and slipping into his dressing-gown, took out +his desk and cash-box, and settled himself to a regular morning's +work.</p> +<p>"I hope to get a nap myself before starting," said he. "I have +not many debts, and I made my will the day after I married--so I +have but little to transact in the way of business. A few letters +to write--a few to burn--a trifle or two to seal up and direct to +one or two fellows who may like a <i>souvenír</i>,--that is +the extent of my task! Meanwhile, my dear boy, get what rest you +can. It will never do to be shaky and pale on the field, you +know."</p> +<p>I went, believing that I should be less in his way; and, lying +down in my clothes, fell into a heavy sleep, from which, after what +seemed a long time, I woke suddenly with the conviction that it was +just ten o'clock. To start up, look at my watch, find that it was +only a quarter to seven and fall profoundly asleep again, was the +work of only a few minutes. At the end of another half-hour I woke +with the same dread, and with the same result; and so on twice or +thrice after, till at a quarter to nine I jumped up, plunged my +head into a basin of cold water, and went back to the +sitting-room.</p> +<p>I found him lying forward upon the table, fast asleep, with his +head resting on his hands. Some half-dozen letters lay folded and +addressed beside him--one directed to his wife. A little pile of +burnt paper fluttered on the hearth. His pistols were lying close +by in their mahogany case, the blue and white steel relieved +against the crimson-velvet lining. He slept so soundly, poor +fellow, that I could with difficulty make up my mind to wake him. +Once roused, however, he was alert and ready in a moment, changed +his coat, took out a new pair of lavender gloves, hailed a cab from +the window, and bade the driver name his own fare if he got us to +the terrace at Bellevue by five minutes before ten.</p> +<p>"I always like to be before my time in a matter of this kind, +Damon," said he. "It's shabby to be merely punctual when one has, +perhaps, not more than a quarter of an hour to live. By-the-by, +here are my keys. Take them, in case of accident. You will find a +copy of my will in my desk---the original is with my lawyer. The +letters you will forward, according to the addresses; and in my +cash-box you will find a paper directed to yourself."</p> +<p>I bent my head. I would not trust myself to speak. "As for the +letter to Hélène--to my wife," he said, turning his +face away, "will you--will you deliver that with your own +hands?"</p> +<p>"I will."</p> +<p>"I--I have had but little time to write it," he faltered, "and I +trust to you to supply the details. Tell her how I made the +quarrel, and how it ended. No one suspects it to be other than a +<i>fracas</i> over a game at <i>écarté</i>. No one +supposes that I had any other motive, or any deeper vengeance--not +even De Caylus! I have not compromised her by word or deed. If I +shoot him, I free her without a breath of scandal. If I fall--"</p> +<p>His voice failed, and we were both silent for some moments</p> +<p>We were now past the Barrier, and speeding on rapidly towards +the open country. High white houses with jalousies closed against +the sun, and pretty maisonnettes in formal gardens, succeeded the +streets and shops of suburban Paris. Then came a long country road +bordered by poplars--by-and-by, glimpses of the Seine, and +scattered farms and villages far away--then Sèvres and the +leafy heights of Bellevue overhanging the river.</p> +<p>We crossed the bridge, and the driver, mindful of his fare, +urged on his tired horse. Some country folks met us presently, and +a wagoner with a load of fresh hay. They all smiled and gave us +"good-day" as we passed--they going to their work in the fields, +and we to our work of bloodshed!</p> +<p>Shortly after this, the road began winding upwards, past the +porcelain factories and through the village of Sèvres; after +which, having but a short distance of very steep road to climb, we +desired the cabman to wait, and went up on foot. Arrived at the +top, where a peep of blue daylight came streaming down upon us +through a green tunnel of acacias, we emerged all at once upon the +terrace, and found ourselves first on the field. Behind us rose a +hillside of woods--before us, glassy and glittering, as if traced +upon the transparent air, lay the city of palaces. Domes and +spires, arches and columns of triumph, softened by distance, looked +as if built of the sunshine. Far away on one side stretched the +Bois de Boulogne, undulating like a sea of tender green. Still +farther away on the other, lay Père-la-Chaise--a dark hill +specked with white; cypresses and tombs. At our feet, winding round +a "lawny islet" and through a valley luxuriant in corn-fields and +meadows, flowed the broad river, bluer than the sky.</p> +<p>"A fine sight, Damon!" said Dalrymple, leaning on the parapet, +and coolly lighting a cigar. "If my eyes are never to open on the +day again, I am glad they should have rested for the last time on a +scene of so much beauty! Where is the painter who could paint it? +Not Claude himself, though he should come back to life on purpose, +and mix his colors with liquid sunlight!"</p> +<p>"You are a queer fellow," said I, "to talk of scenery and +painters at such a moment!"</p> +<p>"Not at all. Things are precious according to the tenure by +which we hold them. For my part, I do not know when I appreciated +earth and sky so heartily as this morning. <i>Tiens!</i> here comes +a carriage--our men, no doubt."</p> +<p>"Are you a good shot?" I asked anxiously.</p> +<p>"Pretty well. I can write my initials in bullet-holes on a sheet +of notepaper at forty paces, or toss up half-a-crown as I ride at +full gallop, and let the daylight through it as it comes down."</p> +<p>"Thank Heaven!"</p> +<p>"Not so fast, my boy. De Caylus is just as fine a shot, and one +of the most skilful swordsmen in the French service."</p> +<p>"Ay, but the first fire is yours!"</p> +<p>"Is it? Well, I suppose it is. He struck the first blow, and +so--here they come."</p> +<p>"One more word, Dalrymple--did he really cheat you at +<i>écarté?</i>"</p> +<p>"Upon my soul, I don't know. He did hold the king very often, +and there are some queer stories told of him in Vienna by the +officers of the Emperor's Guard. At all events, this is not the +first duel he has had to fight in defence of his good-fortune!"</p> +<p>De Simoncourt now coming forward, we adjourned at once to the +wood behind the village. A little open glade was soon found; the +ground was soon measured; the pistols were soon loaded. De Caylus +looked horribly pale, but it was the pallor of concentrated rage, +with nothing of the craven hue in it. Dalrymple, on the contrary, +had neither more nor less color than usual, and puffed away at his +cigar with as much indifference as if he were waiting his turn at +the pit of the Comédie Française. Both were clothed +in black from head to foot, with their coats buttoned to the +chin.</p> +<p>"All is ready," said De Simoncourt. "Gentlemen, choose your +weapons."</p> +<p>De Caylus took his pistols one by one, weighed and poised them, +examined the priming, and finally, after much hesitation, +decided.</p> +<p>Dalrymple took the first that came to hand.</p> +<p>The combatants then took their places--De Caylus with his hat +pulled low over his eyes; Dalrymple still smoking carelessly.</p> +<p>They exchanged bows.</p> +<p>"Major Dalrymple," said De Simoncourt, "it is for you to fire +first."</p> +<p>"God bless you, Damon!" said my friend, shaking me warmly by the +hand.</p> +<p>He then half turned aside, flung away the end of his cigar, +lifted his right arm suddenly, and fired.</p> +<p>I heard the dull thud of the ball--I saw De Caylus fling up his +arms and fall forward on the grass. I saw Dalrymple running to his +assistance. The next instant, however, the wounded man was on his +knees, ghastly and bleeding, and crying for his pistol.</p> +<p>"Give it me!" he gasped--"hold me up! I--I will have his life +yet! So, steady--steady!"</p> +<p>Shuddering, but not for his own danger, Dalrymple stepped calmly +back to his place; while De Caylus, supported by his second, +struggled to his feet and grasped his weapon. For a moment he once +more stood upright. His eye burned; his lips contracted; he seemed +to gather up all his strength for one last effort. Slowly, +steadily, surely, he raised his pistol--then swaying heavily back, +fired, and fell again.</p> +<p>"Dead this time, sure enough," said De Simoncourt, bending over +him.</p> +<p>"Indeed, I fear so," replied Dalrymple, in a low, grave voice. +"Can we do nothing to help you, Monsieur de Simoncourt?"</p> +<p>"Nothing, thank you. I have a carriage down the road, and must +get further assistance from the village. You had better lose no +time in leaving Paris."</p> +<p>"I suppose not. Good-morning."</p> +<p>"Good-morning,"</p> +<p>So we lifted our hats; gathered up the pistols; hurried out of +the wood and across a field, so avoiding the village; found our cab +waiting where we had left it; and in less than five minutes, were +rattling down the dusty hill again and hurrying towards Paris.</p> +<p>Once in the cab, Dalrymple began hastily pulling off his coat +and waistcoat. I was startled to see his shirt-front stained with +blood.</p> +<p>"Heavens!" I exclaimed, "you are not wounded?"</p> +<p>"Very slightly. De Caylus was too good a shot to miss me +altogether. Pshaw! 'tis nothing--a mere graze--not even the bullet +left in it!"</p> +<p>"If it had been a little more to the left...." I faltered.</p> +<p>"If he had fired one second sooner, or lived one second longer, +he would have had me through the heart, as sure as there's a heaven +above us!" said Dalrymple.</p> +<p>Then, suddenly changing his tone, he added, laughingly--</p> +<p>"Nonsense, Damon! cheer up, and help me to tear this +handkerchief into bandages. Now's the time to show off your +surgery, my little Æsculapius. By Jupiter, life's a capital +thing, after all!"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LI."></a>CHAPTER LI.</h2> +<h3>THE PORTRAIT.</h3> +<br> +<p>Having seen Dalrymple to his lodgings and dressed his wound, +which was, in truth, but a very slight one, I left him and went +home, promising to return in a few hours, and help him with his +packing; for we both agreed that he must leave Paris that evening, +come what might.</p> +<p>It was now close upon two o'clock, and I had been out since +between three and four the previous afternoon--not quite +twenty-four hours, in point of actual time; but a week, a month, a +year, in point of sensation! Had I not seen a man die since that +hour yesterday?</p> +<p>Walking homewards through the garish streets in the hot +afternoon, all the strange scenes in which I had just been an actor +thronged fantastically upon my memory. The joyous dinner with Franz +Müller; the busy Temple; the noisy theatre; the long chase +through the wet streets at midnight; the crowded gaming-house; the +sweet country drive at early morning; the quiet wood, and the dead +man lying on his back, with the shadows of the leaves upon his +face,--all this, in strange distinctness, came between me and the +living tide of the Boulevards.</p> +<p>And now, over-tired and over-excited as I was, I remembered for +the first time that I had eaten nothing since half-past five that +morning. And then I also remembered that I had left Müller +waiting for me under the archway, without a word of explanation. I +promised myself that I would write to him as soon as I got home, +and in the meantime turned in at the first Café to which I +came and called for breakfast. But when the breakfast was brought, +I could not eat it. The coffee tasted bitter to me. The meat stuck +in my throat. I wanted rest more than food--rest of body and mind, +and the forgetfulness of sleep! So I paid my bill, and, leaving the +untasted meal, went home like a man in a dream.</p> +<p>Madame Bouïsse was not in her little lodge as I passed +it--neither was my key on its accustomed hook. I concluded that she +was cleaning my rooms, and so, going upstairs, found my door open. +Hearing my own name, however, I paused involuntarily upon the +threshold.</p> +<p>"And so, as I was saying," pursued a husky voice, which I knew +at once to be the property of Madame Bouïsse, "M'sieur Basil's +friend painted it on purpose for him; and I am sure if he was as +good a Catholic as the Holy Father himself, and that picture was a +true portrait of our Blessed Lady, he could not worship it more +devoutly. I believe he says his prayers to it, mam'selle! I often +find it in the morning stuck up by the foot of his bed; and when he +comes home of an evening to study his books and papers, it always +stands on a chair just in front of his table, so that he can see it +without turning his head, every time he lifts his eyes from the +writing!"</p> +<p>In the murmured reply that followed, almost inaudible though it +was, my ear distinguished a tone that set my heart beating.</p> +<p>"Well, I can't tell, of course," said Madame Bouïsse, in +answer, evidently, to the remark just made; "but if mam'selle will +only take the trouble to look in the glass, and then look at the +picture, she will see how like it is. For my part, I believe it to +be that, and nothing else. Do you suppose I don't know the +symptoms? <i>Dame!</i> I have eyes, as well as my neighbors; and +you may take my word for it, mam'selle, that poor young gentleman +is just as much in love as ever a man was in this world!"</p> +<p>"No more of this, if you please, Madame Bouïsse," said +Hortense, so distinctly that I could no longer be in doubt as to +the speaker.</p> +<p>I stayed to hear no more; but retreating softly down the first +flight of stairs, came noisily up again, and went straight into my +rooms, saying:--</p> +<p>"Madame Bouïsse, are you here?"</p> +<p>"Not only Madame Bouïsse, but an intruder who implores +forgiveness," said Hortense, with a frank smile, but a heightened +color.</p> +<p>I bowed profoundly. No need to tell her she was welcome--my face +spoke for me.</p> +<p>"It was Madame Bouïsse who lured me in," continued she, "to +look at that painting."</p> +<p>"<i>Mais, oui!</i> I told mam'selle you had her portrait in your +sitting-room," laughed the fat <i>concierge,</i> leaning on her +broom. "I'm sure it's quite like enough to be hers, bless her sweet +face!"</p> +<p>I felt myself turn scarlet. To hide my confusion I took the +picture down, and carried it to the window.</p> +<p>"You will see it better by this light," I said, pretending to +dust it with my handkerchief. "It is worth a close +examination."</p> +<p>Hortense knelt down, and studied it for some moments in +silence.</p> +<p>"It must be a copy," she said, presently, more to herself than +me--"it must be a copy."</p> +<p>"It <i>is</i> a copy," I replied. "The original is at the +Château de Sainte Aulaire, near Montlhéry."</p> +<p>"May I ask how you came by it?"</p> +<p>"A friend of mine, who is an artist, copied it."</p> +<p>"Then it was done especially for you?"</p> +<p>"Just so."</p> +<p>"And, no doubt, you value it?"</p> +<p>"More than anything I possess!"</p> +<p>Then, fearing I had said too much, I added:--</p> +<p>"If I had not admired the original very much, I should not have +wished for a copy."</p> +<p>She shifted the position of the picture in such a manner that, +standing where I did, I could no longer see her face.</p> +<p>"Then you have seen the original," she said, in a low tone.</p> +<p>"Undoubtedly--and you?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I have seen it; but not lately."</p> +<p>There was a brief pause.</p> +<p>"Madame Bouïsse thinks it so like yourself, mademoiselle," +I said, timidly, "that it might almost be your portrait."</p> +<p>"I can believe it," she answered. "It is very like my +mother."</p> +<p>Her voice faltered; and, still kneeling, she dropped her face in +her hands, and wept silently.</p> +<p>Madame Bouïsse, in the meantime, had gone into my +bedchamber, where she was sweeping and singing to herself with the +door three parts closed, believing, no doubt, that she was +affording me the opportunity to make a formal declaration.</p> +<p>"Alas! mademoiselle," I said, hesitatingly, "I little +thought..."</p> +<p>She rose, dashed the tears aside, and, holding out her hand to +me, said, kindly--</p> +<p>"It is no fault of yours, fellow-student, if I remind you of the +portrait, or if the portrait reminds me of one whom it resembles +still more nearly. I am sorry to have troubled your kind heart with +my griefs. It is not often that they rise to the surface."</p> +<p>I raised her hand reverently to my lips.</p> +<p>"But you are looking worn and ill yourself," she added. "Is +anything the matter?"</p> +<p>"Not now," I replied. "But I have been up all night, and--and I +am very tired."</p> +<p>"Was this in your professional capacity?"</p> +<p>"Not exactly--and yet partly so. I have been more a looker-on +than an active agent--and I have witnessed a frightful +death-scene."</p> +<p>She sighed, and shook her head.</p> +<p>"You are not of the stuff that surgeons are made of, +fellow-student," she said, kindly. "Instead of prescribing for +others, you need some one to prescribe for you. Why, your hand is +quite feverish. You should go to bed, and keep quiet for the next +twelve hours."</p> +<p>"I will lie down for a couple of hours when Madame Bouïsse +is gone; but I must be up and out again at six."</p> +<p>"Nay, that is in three hours."</p> +<p>"I cannot help it. It is my duty."</p> +<p>"Then I have no more to say. Would you drink some lemonade, if I +made it for you?"</p> +<p>"I would drink poison, if you made it for me!"</p> +<p>"A decidedly misplaced enthusiasm!" laughed she, and left the +room.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LII."></a>CHAPTER LII.</h2> +<h3>NEWS FROM ENGLAND.</h3> +<br> +<p>It was a glorious morning--first morning of the first week in +the merry month of June--as I took my customary way to Dr. +Chéron's house in the Faubourg St. Germain. I had seen +Dalrymple off by the night train the evening previous, and, +refreshed by a good night's rest, had started somewhat earlier than +usual, for the purpose of taking a turn in the Luxembourg Gardens +before beginning my day's work.</p> +<p>There the blossoming parterres, the lavish perfume from +geranium-bed and acacia-blossom, and the mad singing of the little +birds up among the boughs, set me longing for a holiday. I thought +of Saxonholme, and the sweet English woodlands round about. I +thought how pleasant it would be to go home to dear Old England, if +only for ten days, and surprise my father in his quiet study. What +if I asked Dr. Chéron to spare me for a fortnight?</p> +<p>Turning these things over in my mind, I left the gardens, and, +arriving presently at the well-known Porte Cochère in the +Rue de Mont Parnasse, rang the great bell, crossed the dull +courtyard, and took my usual seat at my usual desk, not nearly so +well disposed for work as usual.</p> +<p>"If you please, Monsieur," said the solemn servant, making his +appearance at the door, "Monsieur le Docteur requests your presence +in his private room."</p> +<p>I went. Dr. Chéron was standing on the hearth-rug, with +his back to the fire, and his arms folded over his breast. An open +letter, bordered broadly with black, lay upon his desk. Although +distant some two yards from the table, his eyes were fixed upon +this paper. When I came in he looked up, pointed to a seat, but +himself remained standing and silent.</p> +<p>"Basil Arbuthnot," he said, after a pause of some minutes, "I +have this morning received a letter from England, by the early +post."</p> +<p>"From my father, sir?"</p> +<p>"No. From a stranger,"</p> +<p>He looked straight at me as he said this, and hesitated.</p> +<p>"But it contains news," he added, "that--that much concerns +you."</p> +<p>There was a fixed gravity about the lines of his handsome mouth, +and an unwonted embarrassment in his manner, that struck me with +apprehension.</p> +<p>"Good news, I--I hope, sir," I faltered.</p> +<p>"Bad news, my young friend," said he, compassionately. "News +that you must meet like a man, with fortitude--with resignation. +Your father--your excellent father--my honored friend--"</p> +<p>He pointed to the letter and turned away.</p> +<p>I rose up, sat down, rose up again, reached out a trembling hand +for the letter, and read the loss that my heart had already +presaged.</p> +<p>My father was dead.</p> +<p>Well as ever in the morning, he had been struck with apoplexy in +the afternoon, and died in a few hours, apparently without +pain.</p> +<p>The letter was written by our old family lawyer, and concluded +with the request that Dr. Chéron would "break the melancholy +news to Mr. Basil Arbuthnot, who would doubtless return to England +for the funeral."</p> +<p>My tears fell one by one upon the open letter. I had loved my +father tenderly in my heart. His very roughnesses and +eccentricities were dear to me. I could not believe that he was +gone. I could not believe that I should never hear his voice +again!</p> +<p>Dr. Chéron came over, and laid his hand upon my +shoulder.</p> +<p>"Come," he said, "you have much to do, and must soon be on your +way. The express leaves at midday. It is now ten, you have only two +hours left."</p> +<p>"My poor father!"</p> +<p>"Brunet," continued the Doctor, "shall go back with you to your +lodgings and help you to pack. As for money--"</p> +<p>He took out his pocket-book and offered me a couple of notes; +but I shook my head and put them from me.</p> +<p>"I have enough money, thank you," I said. "Good-bye."</p> +<p>"Good-bye," he replied, and, for the first time in all these +months, shook me by the hand. "You will write to me?"</p> +<p>I bowed my head in silence, and we parted. I found a cab at the +door, and Brunet on the box. I was soon at home again. Home! I felt +as if I had no home now, either in France or England--as if all my +Paris life were a brief, bright dream, and this the dreary waking. +Hortense was out. It was one of her busy mornings, and she would +not be back till the afternoon. It was very bitter to leave without +one last look--one last word. I seized pen and paper, and yielding +for the first time to all the impulses of my love, wrote, without +weighing my words, these few brief sentences:--</p> +<p>"I have had a heavy loss, Hortense, and by the time you open +this letter I shall be far away. My father--my dear, good +father--is no more. My mother died when I was a little child. I +have no brothers--no sisters--no close family ties. I am alone in +the world now--quite alone. My last thought here is of you. If it +seems strange to speak of love at such a moment, forgive me, for +that love is now my only hope. Oh, that you were here, that I might +kiss your hand at parting, and know that some of your thoughts went +with me! I cannot believe that you are quite indifferent to me. It +seems impossible that, loving you as I love, so deeply, so +earnestly, I should love in vain. When I come back I shall seek you +here, where I have loved you so long. I shall look into your eyes +for my answer, and read in them all the joy, or all the despair, of +the life that lies before me. I had intended to get that portrait +copied again for you, because you saw in it some likeness to your +mother; but there has been no time, and ere you receive this letter +I shall be gone. I therefore send the picture to you by the +<i>concierge</i>. It is my parting gift to you. I can offer no +greater proof of my love. Farewell."</p> +<p>Once written, I dared not read the letter over. I thrust it +under her door, and in less than five minutes was on my way to the +station.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIII."></a>CHAPTER LIII.</h2> +<h3>THE FADING OF THE RAINBOW.</h3> +<center>I loved a love once, fairest among women;<br> +Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her--<br> +All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.<br> +<br> +LAMB.</center> +<br> +<p>Beautifully and truly, in the fourth book of the most poetical +of stories, has a New World romancist described the state of a +sorrowing lover. "All around him," saith he, "seemed dreamy and +vague; all within him, as in a sun's eclipse. As the moon, whether +visible or invisible, has power over the tides of the ocean, so the +face of that lady, whether present or absent, had power over the +tides of his soul, both by day and night, both waking and sleeping. +In every pale face and dark eye he saw a resemblance to her; and +what the day denied him in reality, the night gave him in +dreams."</p> +<p>Such was, very faithfully, my own condition of mind during the +interval which succeeded my departure from Paris--the only +difference being that Longfellow's hero was rejected by the woman +he loved, and sorrowing for that rejection; whilst I, neither +rejected nor accepted, mourned another grief, and through the tears +of that trouble, looked forward anxiously to my uncertain +future.</p> +<p>I reached Saxonholme the night before my father's funeral, and +remained there for ten days. I found myself, to my surprise, almost +a rich man--that is to say, sufficiently independent to follow the +bent of my inclinations as regarded the future.</p> +<p>My first impulse, on learning the extent of my means, was to +relinquish a career that had been from the first distasteful to +me--my second was to leave the decision to Hortense. To please her, +to be worthy of her, to prove my devotion to her, was what I most +desired upon earth. If she wished to see me useful and active in my +generation, I would do my best to be so for her sake--if, on the +contrary, she only cared to see me content, I would devote myself +henceforth to that life of "retired leisure" that I had always +coveted. Could man love more honestly and heartily?</p> +<p>One year of foreign life had wrought a marked difference in me. +I had not observed it so much in Paris; but here, amid old scenes +and old reminiscences, I seemed to meet the image of my former +self, and wondered at the change 'twixt now and then. I left home, +timid, ignorant of the world and its ways, reserved, silent, almost +misanthropic. I came back strengthened mentally and physically. +Studious as ever, I could yet contemplate an active career without +positive repugnance; I knew how to meet and treat my fellow-men; I +was acquainted with society in its most refined and most homely +phases. I had tasted of pleasure, of disappointment, of love--of +all that makes life earnest.</p> +<p>As the time drew near when I should return to Paris, grief, and +hope, and that strange reluctance which would fain defer the thing +it most desires, perplexed and troubled me by day and night. Once +again on the road, the past seemed more than ever dream-like, and +Paris and Saxonholme became confused together in my mind, like the +mingling outlines of two dissolving views.</p> +<p>I crossed the channel this time in a thick, misting rain; pushed +on straight for Paris, and reached the Cité Bergère +in the midst of a warm and glowing afternoon. The great streets +were crowded with carriages and foot-passengers. The trees were in +their fullest leaf. The sun poured down on pavement and awning with +almost tropical intensity. I dismissed my cab at the top of the Rue +du Faubourg Montmatre, and went up to the house on foot. A +flower-girl sat in the shade of the archway, tying up her flowers +for the evening-sale, and I bought a cluster of white roses for +Hortense as I went by.</p> +<p>Madame Bouïsse was sound asleep in her little sanctum; but +my key hung in its old place, so I took it without disturbing her, +and went up as if I had been away only a few hours. Arrived at the +third story, I stopped outside Hortense's door and listened. All +was very silent within. She was out, perhaps; or writing quietly in +the farther chamber. I thought I would leave my travelling-bag in +my own room, and then ring boldly for admittance. I turned the key, +and found myself once again in my own familiar, pleasant student +home. The books and busts were there in their accustomed places; +everything was as I had left it. Everything, except the picture! +The picture was gone; so Hortense had accepted it.</p> +<p>Three letters awaited me on the table; one from Dr. +Chéron, written in a bold hand--a mere note of condolence: +one from Dalrymple, dated Chamounix: the third from Hortense. I +knew it was from her. I knew that that small, clear, upright +writing, so singularly distinct and regular, could be only hers. I +had never seen it before; but my heart identified it.</p> +<p>That letter contained my fate. I took it up, laid it down, paced +backwards and forwards, and for several minutes dared not break the +seal. At length I opened it. It ran thus:--</p> +<p>"FRIEND AND FELLOW-STUDENT.</p> +<p>"I had hoped that a man such as you and a woman such as I might +become true friends, discuss books and projects, give and take the +lesser services of life, and yet not end by loving. In this belief, +despite occasional misgivings, I have suffered our intercourse to +become intimacy--our acquaintance, friendship. I see now that I was +mistaken, and now, when it is, alas! too late, I reproach myself +for the consequences of that mistake.</p> +<p>"I can be nothing to you, friend. I have duties in life more +sacred than marriage. I have a task to fulfil which is sterner than +love, and imperative as fate. I do not say that to answer you thus +costs me no pain. Were there even hope, I would bid you hope; but +my labor presses heavily upon me, and repeated failure has left me +weary and heart-sick.</p> +<p>"You tell me in your letter that, by the time I read it, you +will be far away. It is now my turn to repeat the same words. When +you come back to your rooms, mine will be empty. I shall be gone; +all I ask is, that you will not attempt to seek me.</p> +<p>"Farewell. I accept your gift. Perhaps I act selfishly in taking +it, but a day may come when I shall justify that selfishness to +you. In the meantime, once again farewell. You are my only friend, +and these are the saddest words I have ever written--forget me!</p> +<p>"HORTENSE."</p> +<p>I scarcely know how I felt, or what I did, on first reading this +letter. I believe that I stood for a long time stone still, +incapable of realizing the extent of my misfortune. By-and-by it +seemed to rush upon me suddenly. I threw open my window, scaled the +balcony rails, and forced my way into her rooms.</p> +<p>Her rooms! Ah, by that window she used to sit--at that table she +read and wrote--in that bed she slept! All around and about were +scattered evidences of her presence. Upon the chimney-piece lay an +envelope addressed to her name--upon the floor, some fragments of +torn paper and some ends of cordage! The very flowers were yet +fresh upon her balcony! The sight of these things, while they +confirmed my despair, thawed the ice at my heart. I kissed the +envelope that she had touched, the flowers she had tended, the +pillow on which her head had been wont to rest. I called wildly on +her name. I threw myself on the floor in my great agony, and wept +aloud.</p> +<p>I cannot tell how long I may have lain there; but it seemed like +a lifetime. Long enough, at all events, to drink the bitter draught +to the last drop--long enough to learn that life had now no grief +in store for which I should weep again.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIV."></a>CHAPTER LIV.</h2> +<h3>TREATETH OF MANY THINGS; BUT CHIEFLY OF BOOKS AND POETS.</h3> +<center>Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know,<br> +Are a substantial world, both pure and good.<br> +<br> +WORDSWORTH.</center> +<br> +<p>There are times when this beautiful world seems to put on a +mourning garb, as if sympathizing, like a gentle mother, with the +grief that consumes us; when the trees shake their arms in mute +sorrow, and scatter their faded leaves like ashes on our heads; +when the slow rains weep down upon us, and the very clouds look +cold above. Then, like Hamlet the Dane, we take no pleasure in the +life that weighs so wearily upon us, and deem "this goodly frame, +the earth, a sterile promonotory; this most excellent canopy, the +air, this brave, overhanging firmament, this majestical roof +fretted with golden fire, a foul and pestilent congregation of +vapors."</p> +<p>So it was with me, in the heavy time that followed my return to +Paris. I had lost everything in losing her I loved. I had no aim in +life. No occupation. No hope. No rest. The clouds had rolled +between me and the sun, and wrapped me in their cold shadows, and +all was dark about me. I felt that I could say with an old +writer--"For the world, I count it, not an inn, but an hospital; +and a place, not to live, but to die in."</p> +<p>Week after week I lingered in Paris, hoping against hope, and +always seeking her. I had a haunting conviction that she was not +far off, and that, if I only had strength to persevere, I must find +her. Possessed by this fixed idea, I paced the sultry streets day +after day throughout the burning months of June and July; lingered +at dusk and early morning about the gardens of the Luxembourg, and +such other quiet places as she might frequent; and, heedless alike +of fatigue, or heat, or tempest, traversed the dusty city over and +over again from barrier to barrier, in every direction.</p> +<p>Could I but see her once more--once only! Could I but listen to +her sweet voice, even though it bade me an eternal farewell! Could +I but lay my lips for the last, last time upon her hand, and see +the tender pity in her eyes, and be comforted!</p> +<p>Seeking, waiting, sorrowing thus, I grew daily weaker and paler, +scarcely conscious of my own failing strength, and indifferent to +all things save one. In vain Dr. Chéron urged me to resume +my studies. In vain Müller, ever cheerful and active, came +continually to my lodgings, seeking to divert my thoughts into +healthier channels. In vain I received letter after letter from +Oscar Dalrymple, imploring me to follow him to Switzerland, where +his wife had already joined him. I shut my eyes to all alike. Study +had grown hateful to me; Müller's cheerfulness jarred upon me; +Dalrymple was too happy for my companionship. Liberty to pursue my +weary search, peace to brood over my sorrow, were all that I now +asked. I had not yet arrived at that stage when sympathy grows +precious.</p> +<p>So weeks went by, and August came, and a slow conviction of the +utter hopelessness of my efforts dawned gradually upon me. She was +really gone. If she had been in Paris all this time pursuing her +daily avocations, I must surely have found her. Where should I seek +her next? What should I do with life, with time, with the +future?</p> +<p>I resolved, at all events, to relinquish medicine at once, and +for ever. So I wrote a brief farewell to Dr. Chéron and +another to Müller, and without seeing either again, returned +abruptly to England.</p> +<p>I will not dwell on this part of my story; enough that I settled +my affairs as quickly as might be, left an old servant in care of +the solitary house that had been my birthplace, and turned my back +once more on Saxonholme, perhaps for years--perhaps for ever; and +in less than three weeks was again on my way to the Continent.</p> +<p>The spirit of restlessness was now upon me. I had no home; I had +no peace; and in place of the sun there was darkness. So I went +with the thorns around my brow, and the shadow of the cross upon my +breast. I went to suffer--to endure,--if possible, to forget. Oh, +the grief of the soul which lives on in the night, and looks for no +dawning! Oh, the weary weight that presses down the tired eyelids, +and yet leaves them sleepless! Oh, the tide of alien faces, and the +sickening remembrance of one, too dear, which may never be looked +upon again! I carried with me the antidote to every pleasure. In +the midst of crowds, I was alone. In the midst of novelty, the one +thought came, and made all stale to me. Like Dr. Donne, I dwelt +with the image of my dead self at my side.</p> +<p>Thus for many, many months we journeyed together---I and my +sorrow--and passed through fair and famous places, and saw the +seasons change under new skies. To the quaint old Flemish cities +and the Gothic Rhine--to the plains and passes of Spain--to the +unfrequented valleys of the Tyrol and the glacier-lands of +Switzerland I went, but still found not the forgetfulness I sought. +As in Holbein's fresco the skeleton plays his part in every scene, +so my trouble stalked beside me, drank of my cup, and sat grimly at +my table. It was with me in Naples and among the orange groves of +Sorrento. It met me amid the ruins of the Roman Forum. It travelled +with me over the blue Mediterranean, and landed beside me on the +shores of the Cyclades. Go where I would, it possessed and followed +me, and brooded over my head, like the cloud that rested on the +ark.</p> +<p>Thinking over this period of my life, I seem to be turning the +leaves of a rich album, or wandering through a gallery of glowing +landscapes, and yet all the time to be dreaming. Faces grown +familiar for a few days and never seen after--pictures photographed +upon the memory in all their vividness--glimpses of cathedrals, of +palaces, of ruins, of sunset and storm, sea and shore, flit before +me for a moment, and are gone like phantasmagoria.</p> +<p>And like phantasmagoria they impressed me at the time. Nothing +seemed real to me. Startled, now and then, into admiration or +wonder, my apathy fell from me like a garment, and my heart +throbbed again as of old. But this was seldom--so seldom that I +could almost count the times when it befell me.</p> +<p>Thus it was that travelling did me no permanent good. It +enlarged my experience; it undoubtedly cultivated my taste; but it +brought me neither rest, nor sympathy, nor consolation. On the +contrary, it widened the gulf between me and my fellow-men. I +formed no friendships. I kept up no correspondence. A sojourner in +hotels, I became more and more withdrawn from all tender and social +impulses, and almost forgot the very name of home. So strong a hold +did this morbid love of self-isolation take upon me, that I left +Florence on one occasion, after a stay of only three days, because +I had seen the names of a Saxonholme family among the list of +arrivals in the Giornale Toscano.</p> +<p>Three years went by thus--three springs--three vintages--three +winters--till, weary of wandering, I began to ask myself "what +next?" My old passion for books had, in the meantime, re-asserted +itself, and I longed once more for quiet. I knew not that my +pilgrimage was hopeless. I know that I loved her ever; that I could +never forget her; that although the first pangs were past, I yet +must bear</p> +<blockquote>"All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied +longing,<br> +All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of +patience!"</blockquote> +<p>I reasoned with myself. I resolved to be stronger--at all +events, to be calmer. Exhausted and world-worn, I turned in thought +to my native village among the green hills, to my deserted home, +and the great solitary study with its busts and bookshelves, and +its vista of neglected garden. The rooms where my mother died; +where my father wrote; where, as a boy, I dreamed and studied, +would at least have memories for me.</p> +<p>Perhaps, silently underlying all these motives, I may at this +time already have begun to entertain one other project which was +not so much a motive as a hope--not so much a hope as a half-seen +possibility. I had written verses from time to time all my life +long, and of late they had come to me more abundantly than ever. +They flowed in upon me at times like an irresistible tide; at +others they ebbed away for weeks, and seemed as if gone for ever. +It was a power over which I had no control, and sought to have +none. I never tried to make verses; but, when the inspiration was +upon me, I made them, as it were, in spite of myself. My desk was +full of them in time--sonnets, scraps of songs, fragments of blank +verse, attempts in all sorts of queer and rugged +metres--hexameters, pentameters, alcaics, and the like; with, here +and there, a dialogue out of an imaginary tragedy, or a translation +from some Italian or German poet. This taste grew by degrees, to be +a rare and subtle pleasure to me. My rhymes became my companions, +and when the interval of stagnation came, I was restless and lonely +till it passed away.</p> +<p>At length there came an hour (I was lying, I remember, on a +ledge of turf on a mountain-side, overlooking one of the Italian +valleys of the Alps), when I asked myself for the first time--</p> +<p>"Am I also a poet?"</p> +<p>I had never dreamed of it, never thought of it, never even hoped +it, till that moment. I had scribbled on, idly, carelessly, out of +what seemed a mere facile impulse, correcting nothing; seldom even +reading what I had written, after it was committed to paper. I had +sometimes been pleased with a melodious cadence or a happy +image--sometimes amused with my own flow of thought and readiness +of versification; but that I, simple Basil Arbuthnot, should be, +after all, enriched with this splendid gift of song--was it mad +presumption, or were these things proof? I knew not; but lying on +the parched grass of the mountain-side, I tried the question over +in my mind, this way and that, till "my heart beat in my brain," +How should I come at the truth? How should I test whether this +opening Paradise was indeed Eden, or only the mirage of my +fancy--mere sunshine upon sand? We all write verses at some moment +or other in our lives, even the most prosaic amongst us--some +because they are happy; some because they are sad; some because the +living fire of youth impels them, and they must be up and doing, +let the work be what it may.</p> +<blockquote>"Many fervent souls,<br> +Strike rhyme on rhyme, who would strike steel on steel,<br> +If steel had offer'd."</blockquote> +<p>Was this case mine? Was I fancying myself a poet, only because I +was an idle man, and had lost the woman I loved? To answer these +questions myself was impossible. They could only be answered by the +public voice, and before I dared question that oracle I had much to +do. I resolved to discipline myself to the harness of rhythm. I +resolved to go back to the fathers of poetry--to graduate once +again in Homer and Dante, Chaucer and Shakespeare. I promised +myself that, before I tried my wings in the sun, I would be my own +severest critic. Nay, more--that I would never try them so long as +it seemed possible a fall might come of it. Once come to this +determination, I felt happier and more hopeful than I had felt for +the last three years. I looked across the blue mists of the valley +below, and up to the aerial peaks which rose, faint, and far, and +glittering--mountain beyond mountain, range above range, as if +painted on the thin, transparent air--and it seemed to me that they +stood by, steadfast and silent, the witnesses of my resolve.</p> +<p>"I will be strong," I said. "I will be an idler and a dreamer no +longer. Books have been my world. I have taken all, and given +nothing. Now I too will work, and work to prove that I was not +unworthy of her love."</p> +<p>Going down, by-and-by, into the valley as the shadows were +lengthening, I met a traveller with an open book in his hand. He +was an Englishman--small, sallow, wiry, and wore a gray, loose +coat, with two large pockets full of books. I had met him once +before at Milan, and again in a steamer on Lago Maggiore. He was +always reading. He read in the diligence--he read when he was +walking--he read all through dinner at the +<i>tables-d'-hôte</i>. He had a mania for reading; and, +might, in fact, be said to be bound up in his own library.</p> +<p>Meeting thus on the mountain, we fell into conversation. He told +me that he was on his way to Geneva, that he detested continental +life, and that he was only waiting the arrival of certain letters +before starting for England.</p> +<p>"But," said I, "you do not, perhaps, give continental life a +trial. You are always absorbed in the pages of a book; and, as for +the scenery, you appear not to observe it."</p> +<p>"Deuce take the scenery!" he exclaimed, pettishly. "I never look +at it. All scenery's alike. Trees, mountains, water--water, +mountains, trees; the same thing over and over again, like the bits +of colored glass in a kaleidoscope. I read about the scenery, and +that is quite enough for me."</p> +<p>"But no book can paint an Italian lake or an Alpine sunset; and +when one is on the spot...."</p> +<p>"I beg your pardon," interrupted the traveller in gray. +"Everything is much pleasanter and more picturesque in books than +in reality--travelling especially. There are no bad smells in +books. There are no long bills in books. Above all, there are no +mosquitoes. Travelling is the greatest mistake in the world, and I +am going home as fast as I can."</p> +<p>"And henceforth, I suppose, your travels will be confined to +your library," I said, smiling.</p> +<p>"Exactly so. I may say, with Hazlitt, that 'food, warmth, sleep, +and a book,' are all I require. With those I may make the tour of +the world, and incur neither expense nor fatigue."</p> +<p>"Books, after all, are friends," I said, with a sigh.</p> +<p>"Sir," replied the traveller, waving his hand somewhat +theatrically, "books are our first real friends, and our last. I +have no others. I wish for no others. I rely upon no others. They +are the only associates upon whom a sensible man may depend. They +are always wise, and they are always witty. They never intrude upon +us when we desire to be alone. They never speak ill of us behind +our backs. They are never capricious, and never surly; neither are +they, like some clever folks, pertinaciously silent when we most +wish them to shine. Did Shakespeare ever refuse his best thoughts +to us, or Montaigne decline to be companionable? Did you ever find +Molière dull? or Lamb prosy? or Scott unentertaining?"</p> +<p>"You remind me," said I, laughing, "of the student in Chaucer, +who desired for his only pleasure and society,</p> +<blockquote>"'---at his bedde's head<br> +A'twenty bokes clothed in black and red,<br> +Of Aristotle and his philosophy!'"</blockquote> +<p>"Ay," replied my new acquaintance, "but he preferred them +expressly to 'robes riche, or fidel or sautrie,' whereas, I prefer +them to men and women, and to Aristotle and his philosophy, into +the bargain!"</p> +<p>"Your own philosophy, at least, is admirable," said I. "For many +a year--I might almost say for most years of my life--I have been a +disciple in the same school."</p> +<p>"Sir, you cannot belong to a better. Think of the convenience of +always carrying half a dozen intimate friends in your pocket! +Good-afternoon."</p> +<p>We had now come to a point where two paths diverged, and the +reading traveller, always economical of time, opened his book where +he had last turned down the leaf, and disappeared round the +corner.</p> +<p>I never saw him again; but his theory amused me, and, as trifles +will sometimes do even in the gravest matters, decided me. So the +result of all my hopes and reflections was, that I went back to +England and to the student life that had been the dream of my +youth.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LV."></a>CHAPTER LV.</h2> +<h3>MY BIRTHDAY.</h3> +<br> +<p>Three years of foreign travel, and five of retirement at home, +brought my twenty-ninth birthday. I was still young, it is true; +but how changed from that prime of early manhood when I used to +play Romeo at midnight to Hortense upon her balcony! I looked at +myself in the glass that morning, and contemplated the wearied, +bronzed, and bearded face which</p> +<p>"...seared by toil and something touched by time,"</p> +<p>now gave me back glance for glance. I looked older than my age +by many years. My eyes had grown grave with a steadfast melancholy, +and streaks of premature silver gleamed here and there in the still +abundant hair which had been the solitary vanity of my youth.</p> +<p>"Is she also thus changed and faded?" I asked myself, as I +turned away. And then I sighed to think that if we met she might +not know me.</p> +<p>For I loved her still; worshipped her; raised altars to her in +the dusky chambers of my memory. My whole life was dedicated to +her. My best thoughts were hers. My poems, my ambition, my hours of +labor, all were hers only! I knew now that no time could change the +love which had so changed me, or dim the sweet remembrance of that +face which I carried for ever at my heart like an amulet. Other +women might be fair, but my eyes never sought them; other voices +might be sweet, but my ear never listened to them; other hands +might be soft, but my lips never pressed them. She was the only +woman in all my world--the only star in all my night--the one Eve +of my ruined Paradise. In a word, I loved her--loved her, I think, +more dearly than before I lost her.</p> +<blockquote>"Love is not love<br> +Which alters when it alteration finds,<br> +Or bends with the remover to remove:<br> +O no! it is an ever-fixed mark,<br> +That looks on tempests and is never shaken."</blockquote> +<p>I had that morning received by post a parcel of London papers +and magazines, which, for a foolish reason of my own, I almost +dreaded to open; so, putting off the evil hour, I thrust the +ominous parcel into my pocket and went out to read it in some green +solitude, far away among the lonely hills and tracts of furzy +common that extend for miles and miles around my native place. It +was a delicious autumn morning, bright and fresh and joyous as +spring. The purple heather was all abloom along the slopes of the +hill-sides. The golden sandcliffs glittered in the sun. The great +firwoods reached away over heights and through valleys--"grand and +spiritual trees," pointing ever upward with warning finger, like +the Apostles in the old Italian pictures. Now I passed a solitary +farm-yard where busy laborers were piling the latest stacks; now +met a group of happy children gathering wild nuts and blackberries. +By-and-by, I came upon a great common, with a picturesque mill +standing high against the sky. All around and about stretched a +vast prospect of woodland and tufted heath, bounded far off by a +range of chalk-hills speckled with farm-houses and villages, and +melting towards the west into a distance faint and far, and mystic +as the horizon of a Turner.</p> +<p>Here I threw myself on the green turf and rested. Truly, Nature +is a great "physician of souls." The peace of the place descended +into my heart, and hushed for a while the voice of its repinings. +The delicious air, the living silence of the woods, the dreamy +influences of the autumnal sunshine, all alike served to lull me +into a pleasant mood, neither gay nor sad, but very calm--calm +enough for the purpose for which I had come. So I brought out my +packet of papers, summoned all my philosophy to my aid, and met my +own name upon the second page. For here was, as I had anticipated, +a critique on my first volume of poems.</p> +<p>Indifference to criticism, if based upon a simple consciousness +of moral right, is a noble thing. But indifference to criticism, +taken in its ordinary, and especially its literary sense, is +generally a very small thing, and resolves itself, for the most +part, into a halting and one-sided kind of stoicism, meaning +indifference to blame and ridicule, and never indifference to +praise. It is very convenient to the disappointed authorling; very +effective, in the established writer; but it is mere vanity at the +root, and equally contemptible in both. For my part, I confess that +I came to my trial as tremblingly as any poor caitiff to the fiery +ordeal, and finding myself miraculously clear of the burning +ploughshares, was quite as full of wonder and thankfulness at my +good fortune. For I found my purposes appreciated, and my best +thoughts understood; not, it is true, without some censure, but it +was censure tempered so largely with encouragement that I drew hope +from it, and not despondency. And then I thought of Hortense, and, +picturing to myself all the joy it would have been to lay these +things at her feet, I turned my face to the grass, and wept like a +child.</p> +<p>Then, one by one, the ghosts of my dead hopes rose out of the +grave of the past and vanished "into thin air" before me; and in +their place came earnest aspirations, born of the man's strong +will. I resolved to use wisely the gifts that were mine--to sing +well the song that had risen to my lips--to "seize the spirit of my +time," and turn to noble uses the God-given weapons of the poet. So +should I be worthier of her remembrance, if she yet remembered +me--worthier, at all events, to remember her.</p> +<p>Thus the hours ebbed, and when I at length rose and turned my +face homeward, the golden day was already bending westward. Lower +and lower sank the sun as the miles shortened; stiller and sweeter +grew the evening air; and ever my lengthening shadow travelled +before me along the dusty road--wherein I was more fortunate than +the man in the German story who sold his to the devil.</p> +<p>It was quite dusk by the time I gained the outskirts of the +town, and I reflected with much contentment upon the prospect of a +cosy bachelor dinner, and, after dinner, lamplight and a book.</p> +<p>"If you please, sir," said Collins, "a lady has been here."</p> +<p>Collins--the same Collins who had been my father's servant when +I was a boy at home--was now a grave married man, with hair fast +whitening.</p> +<p>"A lady?" I echoed. "One of my cousins, I suppose, from +Effingham."</p> +<p>"No, sir," said Collins. "A strange lady--a foreigner."</p> +<p>A stranger! a foreigner! I felt myself change color.</p> +<p>"She left her name?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Her card, sir," said Collins, and handed it to me.</p> +<p>I took it up with fingers that shook in spite of me and +read:--</p> +<p>MADLLE DE SAINTE AULAIRE.</p> +<p>I dropped the card, with a sigh of profound disappointment.</p> +<p>"At what time did this lady call, Collins?"</p> +<p>"Not very long after you left the house, sir. She said she would +call again. She is at the White Horse."</p> +<p>"She shall not have the trouble of coming here," I said, drawing +my chair to the table. "Send James up to the White Horse with my +compliments, and say that I will wait upon the lady in about an +hour's time."</p> +<p>Collins darted away to despatch the message, and returning +presently with the pale ale, uncorked it dexterously, and stood at +the side-board, serenely indifferent.</p> +<p>"And what kind of person was this--this Mademoiselle de Sainte +Aulaire, Collins?" I asked, leisurely bisecting a partridge.</p> +<p>"Can't say, sir, indeed. Lady kept her veil down."</p> +<p>"Humph! Tall or short, Collins?"</p> +<p>"Rather tall, sir."</p> +<p>"Young?"</p> +<p>"Haven't an idea, sir. Voice very pleasant, though."</p> +<p>A pleasant voice has always a certain attraction for me. +Hortense's voice was exquisite--rich and low, and somewhat deeper +than the voices of most women.</p> +<p>I took up the card again. Mademoiselle de Sainte Aulaire! Where +had I heard that name?</p> +<p>"She said nothing of the nature of her business, I suppose, +Collins?"</p> +<p>"Nothing at all, sir. Dear me, sir, I beg pardon for not +mentioning it before; but there's been a messenger over from the +White Horse, since the lady left, to know if you were yet +home."</p> +<p>"Then she is in haste?"</p> +<p>"Very uncommon haste, I should say, sir," replied Collins, +deliberately.</p> +<p>I pushed back the untasted dish, and rose directly.</p> +<p>"You should have told me this before," I said, hastily.</p> +<p>"But--but surely, sir, you will dine--"</p> +<p>"I will wait for nothing," I interrupted. "I'll go at once. Had +I known the lady's business was urgent, I would not have delayed a +moment."</p> +<p>Collins cast a mournful glance at the table, and sighed respect +fully. Before he had recovered from his amazement, I was half way +to the inn.</p> +<p>The White Horse was now the leading hostelry of Saxonholme. The +old Red Lion was no more. Its former host and hostess were dead; a +brewery occupied its site; and the White Horse was kept by a portly +Boniface, who had been head-waiter under the extinct dynasty. But +there had been many changes in Saxonholme since my boyish days, and +this was one of the least among them.</p> +<p>I was shown into the best sitting-room, preceded by a smart +waiter in a white neckcloth. At a glance I took in all the bearings +of the scene--the table with its untasted dessert; the shaded lamp; +the closed curtains of red damask; the thoughtful figure in the +easy chair. Although the weather was yet warm, a fire blazed in the +grate; but the windows were open behind the crimson curtains, and +the evening air stole gently in. It was like stepping into a +picture by Gerard Dow, so closed, so glowing, so rich in color.</p> +<p>"Mr. Arbuthnot," said the smart waiter, flinging the door very +wide open, and lingering to see what might follow.</p> +<p>The lady rose slowly, bowed, waved her hand towards a chair at +some distance from her own, and resumed her seat. The waiter +reluctantly left the room.</p> +<p>"I had not intended, sir, to give you the trouble of coming +here," said Mademoiselle de Sainte Aulaire, using her fan as a +handscreen, and speaking in a low, and, as it seemed to me, a +somewhat constrained voice. I could not see her face, but something +in the accent made my heart leap.</p> +<p>"Pray do not name it, madam," I said. "It is nothing."</p> +<p>She bent her head, as if thanking me, and went on:--</p> +<p>"I have come to this place," she said, "in order to prosecute +certain inquiries which are of great importance to myself. May I +ask if you are a native of Saxonholme?"</p> +<p>"I am."</p> +<p>"Were you here in the year 18--?"</p> +<p>"I was."</p> +<p>"Will you give me leave to test your memory respecting some +events that took place about that time?"</p> +<p>"By all means."</p> +<p>Mademoiselle de Sainte Aulaire thanked me with a gesture, +withdrew her chair still farther from the radius of the lamp and +the tire, and said:--</p> +<p>"I must entreat your patience if I first weary you with one or +two particulars of my family history,"</p> +<p>"Madam, I listen."</p> +<p>During the brief pause that ensued, I tried vainly to +distinguish something more of her features. I could only trace the +outline of a slight and graceful figure, the contour of a very +slender hand, and the ample folds of a dark silk dress.</p> +<p>At length, in a low, sweet voice, she began:--</p> +<p>"Not to impose upon you any dull genealogical details," she +said, "I will begin by telling you that the Sainte Aulaires are an +ancient French family of Bearnais extraction, and that my +grandfather was the last Marquis who bore the title. Holding large +possessions in the <i>comtat</i> of Venaissin (a district which now +forms part of the department of Vaucluse) and other demesnes at +Montlhéry, in the province of the Ile de France---"</p> +<p>"At Montlhéry!" I exclaimed, suddenly recovering the lost +link in my memory.</p> +<p>"The Sainte Aulaires," continued the lady, without pausing to +notice my interruption, "were sufficiently wealthy to keep up their +social position, and to contract alliances with many of the best +families in the south of France. Towards the early part of the +reign of Louis XIII. they began to be conspicuous at court, and +continued to reside in and near Paris up to the period of the +Revolution. Marshals of France, Envoys, and Ministers of State +during a period of nearly a century and a half, the Sainte Aulaires +had enjoyed too many honors not to be among the first of those who +fell in the Reign of Terror. My grandfather, who, as I have already +said, was the last Marquis bearing the title, was seized with his +wife and daughter at his Château near Montlhéry in the +spring-time of 1793, and carried to La Force. Thence, after a mock +trial, they were all three conveyed to execution, and publicly +guillotined on the sixth of June in the same year. Do you follow +me?"</p> +<p>"Perfectly."</p> +<p>"One survivor, however, remained in the person of Charles +Armand, Prévôt de Sainte Aulaire, only son of the +Marquis, then a youth of seventeen years of age, and pursuing his +studies in the seclusion of an old family seat in Vaucluse. He fled +into Italy. In the meantime, his inheritance was confiscated; and +the last representative of the race, reduced to exile and beggary, +assumed another name. It were idle to attempt to map out his life +through the years that followed. He wandered from land to land; +lived none knew how; became a tutor, a miniature-painter, a +volunteer at Naples under General Pepe, a teacher of languages in +London, corrector of the press to a publishing house in +Brussels--everything or anything, in short, by which he could +honorably earn his bread. During these years of toil and poverty, +he married. The lady was an orphan, of Scotch extraction, poor and +proud as himself, and governess in a school near Brussels. She died +in the third year of their union, and left him with one little +daughter. This child became henceforth his only care and happiness. +While she was yet a mere infant, he placed her in the school where +her mother had been teacher. There she remained, first as pupil, +by-and-by as governess, for more than sixteen years. The child was +called by an old family name that had been her grandmother's and +her great-grandmother's in the high and palmy days of the Sainte +Aulaires--Hortense."</p> +<p>"Hortense!" I cried, rising from my chair.</p> +<p>"It is not an uncommon name," said the lady. "Does it surprise +you?"</p> +<p>"I--I beg your pardon, madam," I stammered, resuming my seat. "I +once had a dear friend of that name. Pray, go on."</p> +<p>"For ten years the refugee contrived to keep his little Hortense +in the safe and pleasant shelter of her Flemish home. He led a +wandering life, no one knew where; and earned his money, no one +knew how. Travel-worn and careworn, he was prematurely aged, and at +fifty might well have been mistaken for a man of sixty-five or +seventy. Poor and broken as he was, however, Monsieur de Sainte +Aulaire was every inch a gentleman of the old school; and his +little girl was proud of him, when he came to the school to see +her. This, however, was very seldom--never oftener than twice or +three times in the year. When she saw him for the last time, +Hortense was about thirteen years of age. He looked paler, and +thinner, and poorer than ever; and when he bade her farewell, it +was as if under the presentiment that they might meet no more. He +then told her, for the first time, something of his story, and left +with her at parting a small coffer containing his decorations, a +few trinkets that had been his mother's, and his sword--the badge +of his nobility."</p> +<p>The lady's voice faltered. I neither spoke nor stirred, but sat +like a man of stone.</p> +<p>Then she went on again:--</p> +<p>"The father never came again. The child, finding herself after a +certain length of time thrown upon the charity of her former +instructors, was glad to become under-teacher in their school. The +rest of her history may be told in a few words. From under-teacher +she became head-teacher, and at eighteen passed as governess into a +private family. At twenty she removed to Paris, and set foot for +the first time in the land of her fathers. All was now changed in +France. The Bourbons reigned again, and her father, had he +reappeared, might have reclaimed his lost estates. She sought him +far and near. She employed agents to discover him. She could not +believe that he was dead. To be once again clasped in his arms--to +bring him back to his native country---to see him resume his name +and station--this was the bright dream of her life. To accomplish +these things she labored in many ways, teaching and writing; for +Hortense also was proud--too proud to put forward an unsupported +claim. For with her father were lost the title-deeds and papers +that might have made the daughter wealthy, and she had no means of +proving her identity. Still she labored heartily, lived poorly, and +earned enough to push her inquiries far and wide--even to journey +hither and thither, whenever she fancied, alas! that a clue had +been found. Twice she travelled into Switzerland, and once into +Italy, but always in vain. The exile had too well concealed, even +from her, his <i>sobriquet</i> and his calling, and Hortense at +last grew weary of failure. One fact, however, she succeeded in +discovering, and only one--namely, that her father had, many years +before, made some attempt to establish his claims to the estates, +but that he had failed for want either of sufficient proof, or of +means to carry on the <i>procés</i>. Of even this +circumstance only a meagre law-record remained, and she could +succeed in learning no more. Since then, a claim has been advanced +by a remote branch of the Sainte Aulaire family, and the cause is, +even now, in course of litigation."</p> +<p>She paused, as if fatigued by so long talking; but, seeing me +about to speak, prevented me with a gesture of the hand, and +resumed:--</p> +<p>"Hortense de Ste. Aulaire continued to live in Paris for nearly +five years, at the end of which time she left it to seek out the +members of her mother's family. Finding them kindly disposed +towards her, she took up her abode amongst them in the calm +seclusion of a remote Scotch town. There, even there, she still +hoped, still employed agents; still yearned to discover, if not her +father, at least her father's grave. Several years passed thus. She +continued to earn a modest subsistence by her pen, till at length +the death of one of those Scotch relatives left her mistress of a +small inheritance. Money was welcome, since it enabled her to +pursue her task with renewed vigor. She searched farther and +deeper. A trivial circumstance eagerly followed up brought a train +of other circumstances to light. She discovered that her father had +assumed a certain name; she found that the bearer of this name was +a wandering man, a conjuror by trade; she pursued the vague traces +of his progress from town to town, from county to county, sometimes +losing, sometimes regaining the scattered links. Sir, he was my +father--I am that Hortense. I have spent my life seeking him--I +have lived for this one hope. I have traced his footsteps here to +Saxonholme, and here the last clue fails. If you know anything--if +you can remember anything---"</p> +<p>Calm and collected as she had been at first, she was trembling +now, and her voice died away in sobs. The firelight fell upon her +face--upon the face of my lost love!</p> +<p>I also was profoundly agitated.</p> +<p>"Hortense," I said, "do you not know, that he who stood beside +your father in his last hour, and he who so loved you years ago, +are one and the same? Alas! why did you not tell me these things +long since?"</p> +<p>"Did <i>you</i> stand beside my father's deathbed?" she asked +brokenly.</p> +<p>"I did."</p> +<p>She clasped her hands over her eyes and shuddered, as if beneath +the pressure of a great physical pain.</p> +<p>"O God!" she murmured, "so many years of denial and suffering! +so many years of darkness that might have been dispelled by a +word!"</p> +<p>We were both silent for a long time. Then I told her all that I +remembered of her father; how he came to Saxonholme--how he fell +ill--how he died, and was buried. It was a melancholy recital; +painful for me to relate--painful for her to hear--and interrupted +over and over again by questions and tears, and bursts of +unavailing sorrow.</p> +<p>"We will visit his grave to-morrow," I said, when all was +told.</p> +<p>She bent her head.</p> +<p>"To-morrow, then," said she, "I end the pilgrimage of +years."</p> +<p>"And--and afterwards?" I faltered.</p> +<p>"Afterwards? Alas! friend, when the hopes of years fall suddenly +to dust and ashes, one feels as if there were no future to +follow?"</p> +<p>"It is true," I said gloomily. "I know it too well."</p> +<p>"You know it?" she exclaimed, looking up.</p> +<p>"I know it, Hortense. There was a moment in which all the hope, +and the fulness, and the glory of my life went down at a blow. Have +you not heard of ships that have gone to the bottom in fair +weather, suddenly, with all sail set, and every hand on board?"</p> +<p>She looked at me with a strange earnestness in her eyes, and +sighed heavily.</p> +<p>"What have you been doing all this time, fellow-student?" she +asked, after a pause.</p> +<p>The old name sounded very sweet upon her lips!</p> +<p>"I? Alas!--nothing."</p> +<p>"But you are a surgeon, are you not?"</p> +<p>"No. I never even went up for examination. I gave up all idea of +medicine as a profession when my father died."</p> +<p>"What are you, then?"</p> +<p>"An idler upon the great highway--a book-dreamer--a library +fixture."</p> +<p>Hortense looked at me thoughtfully, with her cheek resting on +her hand.</p> +<p>"Have you done nothing but read and dream?"</p> +<p>"Not quite. I have travelled."</p> +<p>"With what object?"</p> +<p>"A purely personal one. I was alone and unhappy, and--"</p> +<p>"And fancied that purposeless wandering was better for you than +healthy labor. Well, you have travelled, and you have read books. +What more?"</p> +<p>"Nothing more, except--"</p> +<p>"Except what?"</p> +<p>I chanced to have one of the papers in my pocket, and so drew it +out, and placed it before her.</p> +<p>"I have been a rhymer as well as a dreamer," I said, shyly. +"Perhaps the rhymes grew out of the dreams, as the dreams +themselves grew out of something else which has been underlying my +life this many a year. At all events I have hewn a few of them into +shape, and trusted them to paper and type--and here is a critique +which came to me this morning with some three or four others."</p> +<p>She took the paper with a smile half of wonder, half of +kindness, and, glancing quickly through it, said:--</p> +<p>"This is well. This is very well. I must read the book. Will you +lend it to me?"</p> +<p>"I will give it to you," I replied; "if I can give you that +which is already yours."</p> +<p>"Already mine?"</p> +<p>"Yes, as the poet in me, however worthless, is all and only +yours! Do you suppose, Hortense, that I have ever ceased to love +you? As my songs are born of my sorrow, so my sorrow was born of my +love; and love, and sorrow, and song, such as they are, are of your +making."</p> +<p>"Hush!" she said, with something of her old gay indifference. +"Your literary sins must not be charged upon me, fellow-student! I +have enough of my own to answer for. Besides, I am not going to +acquit you so easily. Granted that you have written a little book +of poetry--what then? Have you done nothing else? Nothing active? +Nothing manly? Nothing useful?"</p> +<p>"If by usefulness and activity you mean manual labor, I +certainly have neither felled a tree, nor ploughed a field, nor +hammered a horse-shoe. I have lived by thought alone."</p> +<p>"Then I fear you have lived a very idle life," said Hortense, +smiling. "Are you married?"</p> +<p>"Married!" I echoed, indignantly. "How can you ask the +question?"</p> +<p>"You are not a magistrate?"</p> +<p>"Certainly not."</p> +<p>"In short, then, you are perfectly useless. You play no part, +domestic or public. You serve neither the state nor the community. +You are a mere cypher--a make-weight in the social scale--an +article of no value to any one except the owner."</p> +<p>"Not even the latter, mademoiselle," I replied, bitterly. "It is +long since I have ceased to value my own life."</p> +<p>She smiled again, but her eyes this time were full of tears.</p> +<p>"Nay," said she, softly, "am I not the owner?"</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Great joys at first affect us like great griefs. We are stunned +by them, and know not how deep they are till the night comes with +its solemn stillness, and we are alone with our own hearts. Then +comes the season of thankfulness, and wonder and joy. Then our +souls rise up within us, and chant a hymn of praise; and the great +vault of Heaven is as the roof of a mighty cathedral studded with +mosaics of golden stars, and the night winds join in with the bass +of their mighty organ-pipes; and the poplars rustle, like the +leaves of the hymn-books in the hands of the congregation.</p> +<p>So it was with me that evening when I went forth into the quiet +fields where the summer moon was shining, and knew that Hortense +was mine at last--mine now and for ever. Overjoyed and restless, I +wandered about for hours. I could not go home. I felt I must +breathe the open air of the hills, and tread the dewy grass, and +sing my hymn of praise and thanksgiving after my own fashion. At +length, as the dawning light came widening up the east, I turned my +steps homewards, and before the sun had risen above the farthest +pine-ridge, I was sleeping the sweetest sleep that had been mine +for years.</p> +<p>The conjuror's grave was green with grass and purple with wild +thyme when Hortense knelt beside it, and there consummated the +weary pilgrimage of half a life. The sapling willow had spread its +arms above him in a pleasant canopy, leaning farther and reaching +higher, year by year,</p> +<p>"And lo! the twig to which they laid his head had now become a +tree!"</p> +<p>Hortense found nothing of her father but this grave. Papers and +title-deeds there were none.</p> +<p>I well remembered the anxious search made thirteen years ago, +when not even a card was found to indicate the whereabouts of his +friends or family. Not to lose the vestige of a chance, we pushed +inquiry farther; but in vain. Our rector, now a very old man, +remembered nothing of the wandering lecturer. Mine host and hostess +of the Red Lion were both dead. The Red Lion itself had +disappeared, and become a thing of tradition. All was lost and +forgotten; and of all her hereditary wealth, station, and honors, +Hortense de Sainte Aulaire retained nothing but her father's sword +and her ancestral name.</p> +<p>--Not even the latter for many weeks, O discerning reader! for +before the golden harvest was gathered in, we two were wedded.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVI."></a>CHAPTER LVI.</h2> +<h3>BRINGETH THIS TRUE STORY TO AN END.</h3> +<center>Ye who have traced the pilgrim to the scene<br> +Which is his last, if in your memories dwell<br> +A thought that once was his, if on ye swell<br> +A single recollection, not in vain<br> +He wore his sandal shoon and scallop-shell.<br> +<br> +BYRON.</center> +<br> +<p>Having related the story of my life as it happened, incident by +incident, and brought it down to that point at which stories are +wont to end, I find that I have little to add respecting others. My +narrative from first to last has been purely personal. The one love +of my life was Hortense--the one friend of my life, Oscar +Dalrymple. The catalogue of my acquaintances would scarcely number +so many names as I have fingers on one hand. The two first are +still mine; the latter, having been brought forward only in so far +as they re-acted upon my feelings or modified my experiences, have +become, for the most part, mere memories, and so vanish, +ghost-like, from the page. Franz Müller is studying in Rome, +having carried off a prize at the Ecole des Beaux Arts, which +entitles him to three years at the Villa Medici, that Ultima Thule +of the French art-student's ambition. I hear that he is as full of +whim and jest as ever, and the very life of the Café Greco. +May I some day hear his pleasant laugh again! Dr. Chéron, I +believe, is still practising in Paris; and Monsieur de Simoncourt, +I have no doubt, continues to exercise the profession of Chevalier +d'Industrie, with such failures and successes as are incidental to +that career.</p> +<p>As for my early <i>amourettes</i>, they have disappeared from my +path as utterly as though they had never crossed it. Of Madame de +Marignan, I have neither heard, nor desired to hear, more. Even +Josephine's pretty face is fast fading from my memory. It is ever +thus with the transient passions of <i>our première +jeunesse.</i> We believe in them for the moment, and waste laughter +and tears, chaplets and sackcloth, upon them. Presently the +delusion passes; the earnest heart within us is awakened; and we +know that till now we have been mere actors in "a masquerade of +dreams." The chaplets were woven of artificial flowers. The funeral +was a mock funeral--the banquet a stage feast of painted fruits and +empty goblets! Alas! we cannot undo that foolish past. We may only +hope to blot it out with after records of high, and wise, and +tender things. Thus it is that the young man's heart is like the +precious palimpsest of old. He first of all defiles it with idle +anacreontics in praise of love and wine; but, erasing these +by-and-by with his own pious hand, he writes it over afresh with +chronicles of a pure and holy passion, and dedicates it to the fair +saint of all his orisons.</p> +<p>Dalrymple and his wife are now settled in Italy, having +purchased a villa in the neighborhood of Spezzia, where they live +in great retirement. In their choice of such retirement they are +influenced by more than one good reason. In the first place, the +death of the Vicomte de Caylus was an event likely to be productive +of many unpleasant consequences to one who had deprived the French +government of so distinguished an officer. In the next, Dalrymple +is a poor man, and his wife is no longer rich; so that Italy agrees +with their means as well as with their tastes. Lastly, they love +each other so well that they never weary of their solitude, nor +care to barter away their blue Italian skies and solemn pine-woods +for the glittering unrest of society.</p> +<p>Fascinated by Dalrymple's description of his villa and the life +he led in it, Hortense and I made up our minds some few weeks after +our marriage, to visit that part of Italy--perhaps, in case we were +much pleased with it, to settle there, for at least a few years. So +I prepared once more to leave my father's house; this time to let +it, for I knew that I should never live in it again.</p> +<p>It took some weeks to clear the old place out. The thing was +necessary; yet I felt as if it were a kind of sacrilege. To disturb +the old dust upon the library-shelves and select such books as I +cared to keep; to sort and destroy all kinds of hoarded papers; to +ransack desks that had never been unlocked since the hands that +last closed them were laid to rest for ever, constituted my share +of the work. Hortense superintended the rest. As for the household +goods, we resolved to keep nothing, save a few old family portraits +and my father's plate, some of which had descended to us through +two or three centuries.</p> +<p>While yet in this unsettled state, with the house all in +confusion and the time appointed for our journey drawing nearer and +nearer day by day, a strange thing happened.</p> +<p>At the end of the garden, encroaching partly upon a corner of +it, and opening into the lane that bounded it on the other side of +the hedge, stood the stable belonging to the house.</p> +<p>It had been put to no use since my father's time, and was now so +thoroughly out of repair that I resolved to have it pulled down and +rebuilt before letting it to strangers. In the meantime, I went +down there one morning with a workman before the work of demolition +was begun.</p> +<p>We had some difficulty to get in, for the lock and hinges were +rusted, and the floor within was choked with fallen rubbish. At +length we forced an entrance. I thought I had never seen a more +dreary interior. My father's old chaise was yet standing there, +with both wheels off. The mouldy harness was dropping to pieces on +the walls. The beams were festooned with cobwebs. The very ladder +leading to the loft above was so rotten that I scarcely dared trust +to it for a footing.</p> +<p>Having trusted to it, however, I found myself in a still more +ruinous and dreary hole. The posts supporting the roof were +insecure; the tiles were all displaced overhead; and the rafters +showed black and bare against the sky in many places. In one corner +lay a heap of mouldy straw, and at the farther end, seen dimly +through the darkness, a pile of old lumber, and--by Heaven! the +pagoda-canopy of many colors, and the little Chevalier's Conjuring +Table!</p> +<p>I could scarcely believe my eyes. My poor Hortense! Here, at +last, were some relics of her father; but found in how strange a +place, and by how strange a chance!</p> +<p>I had them dragged out into the light, all mildewed and +cob-webbed as they were; whereupon an army of spiders rushed out in +every direction, a bat rose up, shrieking, and whirled in blind +circles overhead. In a corner of the pagoda we found an empty +bird's-nest. The table was small, and could be got out without much +difficulty; so I helped the workman to carry it down the ladder, +and sending it on before me to the house, sauntered back through +the glancing shadows of the acacia-leaves, musing upon the way in +which these long-forgotten things had been brought to light, and +wondering how they came to be stored away in my own stable.</p> +<p>"Do you know anything about it, Collins?" I said, coming up +suddenly behind him in the hall.</p> +<p>"About what, sir?" asked that respectable servant, looking round +with some perplexity, as if in search of the nominative.</p> +<p>I pointed to the table, now being carried into the dismantled +dining-room.</p> +<p>Collins smiled--he had a remarkably civil, apologetic way of +smiling behind his hand, as if it were a yawn or a liberty.</p> +<p>"Oh, sir," said he, "don't you remember? To be sure, you were +quite a young gentleman at that time--but---"</p> +<p>"But what?" I interrupted, impatiently.</p> +<p>"Why, sir, that table once belonged to a poor little conjuring +chap who called himself Almond Pudding, and died...."</p> +<p>I checked him with a gesture.</p> +<p>"I know all that," I said, hastily. "I remember it perfectly; +but how came the things into my stable?"</p> +<p>"Your respected father and my honored master, sir, had them +conveyed there when the Red Lion was sold off," said Collins, with +a sidelong glance at the dining-room door. "He was of opinion, sir, +that they might some day identify the poor man to his relatives, in +case of inquiry."</p> +<p>I heard the sound of a suppressed sob, and, brushing past him +without another word, went in and closed the door.</p> +<p>"My own Hortense!" I said, taking her into my arms. "My +wife!"</p> +<p>Pale and tearful, she lifted her face from my shoulder, and +pointed to the table.</p> +<p>"I know what it is," she faltered. "You need not tell me. My +heart tells me!"</p> +<p>I led her to a chair, and explained how and where it had been +found. I even told her of the little empty nest from which the +young birds had long since flown away. In this tiny incident there +was something pathetic that soothed her; so, presently, when she +left off weeping, we examined the table together.</p> +<p>It was a quaint, fragile, ricketty thing, with slender twisted +legs of black wood, and a cloth-covered top that had once been +green, but now retained no vestige of its original color. This +cloth top was covered with slender slits of various shapes and +sizes, round, square, sexagonal, and so forth, which, being pressed +with the finger, fell inwards and disclosed little hiding-places +sunk in the well of the table; but which, as soon as the pressure +was removed, flew up again by means of concealed springs, and +closed as neatly as before.</p> +<p>"This is strange," said Hortense, peering into one of the +recesses. "I have found something in the table! Look--it is a +watch!"</p> +<p>I snatched it from her, and carried it to the window. Blackened +and discolored as it was, I recognised it instantly.</p> +<p>It was my own watch--my own watch of which I was so boyishly +vain years and years ago, and which I had lost so unaccountably on +the night of the Chevalier's performance! There were my initials +engraved on the back, amid a forest of flourishes, and there on the +dial was that identical little Cupid with the cornucopia of +flowers, which I once thought such a miracle of workmanship! Alas! +what a mighty march old Time had stolen upon me, while that little +watch was standing still!</p> +<p>"Oh, Heaven!--oh, husband!"</p> +<p>Startled from my reverie more by the tone than the words, I +turned and saw Hortense with a packet of papers in her hand--old, +yellow, dusty papers, tied together with a piece of black +ribbon.</p> +<p>"I found them there--there--there!" she faltered, pointing to a +drawer in the table which I now saw for the first time. "I chanced +to press that little knob, and the drawer flew out. Oh, my dear +father!--see, Basil, here are his patents of nobility--here is the +certificate of my birth--here are the title-deeds of the manor of +Sainte Aulaire! This alone was wanted to complete our +happiness!"</p> +<p>"We will keep the table, Hortense, all our lives!" I explained, +when the first agitation was past.</p> +<p>"As sacredly," replied she, "as it kept this precious +secret!"</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>My task is done. Here on my desk lies the piled-up manuscript +which has been my companion through so many pleasant hours. Those +hours are over now. I may lay down my pen, and put aside the +whispering vine-leaves from my casement, and lean out into the +sweet Italian afternoon, as idly as though I wore to the climate +and the manner born.</p> +<p>The world to-day is only half awake. The little white town, +crouched down by the "beached margent" of the bay, winks with its +glittering windows and dozes in the sunshine. The very cicalas are +silent. The fishermen's barques, with their wing-like sails all +folded to rest, rock lazily at anchor, like sea-birds asleep. The +cork-trees nod languidly to each other; and not even yonder +far-away marble peaks are more motionless than that cloud which +hangs like a white banner in the sky. Hush! I can almost believe +that I hear the drowsy washing of the tide against the ruined tower +on the beach.</p> +<p>And this is the bay of Spezzia--the lovely, treacherous bay of +Spezzia, where our English Shelley lost his gentle life! How blue +those cruel waters are to-day! Bluer, by Heaven! than the sky, with +scarce a ripple setting to the shore.</p> +<p>We are very happy in our remote Italian home. It stands high +upon a hill-side, and looks down over a slope of silvery olives to +the sea. Vineyard and orange grove, white town, blue bay, and amber +sands lie mapped out beneath our feet. Not a felucca "to Spezzia +bound from Cape Circella" can sail past without our +observation.</p> +<blockquote>"Not a sun can die, nor yet be born, unseen<br> +By dwellers at my villa."</blockquote> +<p>Nay, from this very window, one might almost pitch an orange +into the empty vettura standing in the courtyard of the Croce di +Malta!</p> +<p>Then we have a garden--a wild, uncultured place, where figs and +lemons, olives "blackening sullen ripe," and prickly aloes flourish +in rank profusion, side by side; and a loggia, where we sit at +twilight drinking our Chianti wine and listening to the +nightingales; and a study looking out on the bay through a trellis +of vine-leaves, where we read and write together, surrounded by our +books. Here, also, just opposite my desk, hangs Müller's copy +of that portrait of the Marquise de Sainte Aulaire, which I once +gave to Hortense, and which is now my own again. How often I pause +upon the unturned page, how often lay my pen aside, to look from +the painting to the dear, living face beneath it! For there she +sits, day after day, my wife! my poet! with the side-light falling +on her hair, and the warm sea-breezes stirring the soft folds of +her dress. Sometimes she lifts her eyes, those wondrous eyes, +luminous from within "with the light of the rising soul"--and then +we talk awhile of our work, or of our love, believing ever that</p> +<blockquote>"Our work shall still be better for our love,<br> +And still our love be sweeter for our work."</blockquote> +<p>Perhaps the original of that same painting in the study may yet +be ours some day, with the old château in which it hangs, and +all the broad lands belonging thereunto. Our claim has been put +forward some time now, and our lawyers are confident of success. +Shall we be happier, if that success is ours? Can rank add one +grace, or wealth one pleasure, to a life which is already so +perfect? I think not, and there are moments when I almost wish that +we may never have it in our power to test the question.</p> +<p>But stay! the hours fly past. The sun is low, and the tender +Italian twilight will soon close in. Then, when the moon rises, we +shall sail out upon the bay in our own tiny felucca; or perhaps go +down through the town to that white villa gleaming out above the +dark tops of yonder cypresses, and spend some pleasant hours with +Dalrymple and his wife. They, too, are very happy; but their +happiness is of an older date than ours, and tends to other ends. +They have bought lands in the neighborhood, which they cultivate; +and they have children whom they adore. To educate these little +ones for the wide world lying beyond that blue bay and the far-off +mountains, is the one joy, the one care of their lives. Truly has +it been said that</p> +<blockquote>"A happy family<br> +Is but an earlier heaven."</blockquote> +<h3>THE END.</h3> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12442 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/12442-h/images/001.png b/12442-h/images/001.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f62c4ec --- /dev/null +++ b/12442-h/images/001.png diff --git a/12442-h/images/002.png b/12442-h/images/002.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6be1d74 --- /dev/null +++ b/12442-h/images/002.png |
