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diff --git a/old/12442.txt b/old/12442.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8454298 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12442.txt @@ -0,0 +1,19029 @@ +Project Gutenberg's In the Days of My Youth, by Amelia Ann Blandford Edwards + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In the Days of My Youth + +Author: Amelia Ann Blandford Edwards + +Release Date: May 26, 2004 [EBook #12442] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE DAYS OF MY YOUTH *** + + + + +Produced by Curtis Weyant, Charlie Kirschner and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + +IN THE + +DAYS OF MY YOUTH. + +A NOVEL. + + +BY +AMELIA B. EDWARDS + +1874 + +[Illustration] + +CAXTON PRESS OF +SHERMAN & CO., PHILADELPHIA. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +MY BIRTHPLACE AND PARENTAGE. + + Dolce sentier, + Colle, che mi piacesti, + Ov'ancor per usanza amor mi mena! + + PETRARCH. + +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. + +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 mediaeval 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Picturesque and mediaeval 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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _belles lettres_, and were never +without a doctor or an author in the family. + +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. + +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:-- + + "I felt a mother-want about the world. + And still went seeking." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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:-- + +"Hollo there! aint you the party that brought a three-cornered letter +here last evening!" + +I owned it, falteringly. + +He lifted a fold in the canvas, and gave me a gentle shove between the +shoulders. + +"Then you're to go in," said he, shortly. "She's there, somewhere. +You're sure to find her." + +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. + +I stammered the name of Miss Angelina Lascelles. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +By-and-by, while I was yet sobbing and disconsolate, I heard the +drumming and fifing which heralded the appearance of the _Corps +Dramatique_ 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. + +"Miss Angelina Lascelles, indeed!" I said to myself, as I sauntered +moodily home. "Pshaw! I shouldn't wonder if her name was Snooks!" + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE LITTLE CHEVALIER. + + A mere anatomy, a mountebank, + A threadbare juggler. + + _Comedy of Errors_. + + Nay, then, he is a conjuror. + + _Henry VI_. + +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. + +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. + +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:---- + +MAGIC AND MYSTERY! MAGIC AND MYSTERY! + + * * * * * + +M. LE CHEVALIER ARMAND PROUDHINE, (of Paris) surnamed + +THE WIZARD OF THE CAUCASUS, + +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 + +SOIREE FANTASTIQUE + +IN + +THE LARGE ROOM OF THE RED LION HOTEL. + + * * * * * + +ADMISSION 1s. RESERVED SEATS 2s. 6d. + +_To commence at Seven_. + +N.B.--_The performance will include a variety of new and surprising +feats of Legerdemain never before exhibited_. + +_A soiree fantastique_! what would I not give to be present at a _soiree +fantastique_! 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. + +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. + +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:-- + +"Well, sir!" + +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. + +"Well, sir!" he repeated, rapping impatiently upon the table with his +knuckles. + +Having nothing to reply to this greeting, I looked out of the window and +remained silent; whereby, unfortunately. I irritated him still more. + +"Confound you, sir!" he exclaimed, "have you nothing to say?" + +"Nothing," I replied, doggedly. + +"Stand there!" he said, pointing to a particular square in the pattern +of the carpet. "Stand there!" + +I obeyed. + +"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?" + +I gravely compared my watch with the clock before replying. + +"Upon my word, sir," I said, "your tortoise would have the advantage of +me." + +"The advantage of you! What do you mean by the advantage of you, you +affected puppy?" + +"I had no idea," said I, provokingly, "that you were in unusual haste +this morning." + +"Haste!" shouted my father. "I never said I was in haste. I never choose +to be in haste. I hate haste!" + +"Then why..." + +"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." + +My _sang froid_ was gone directly. + +"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?" + +"Humph!" growled my father, mollified but sarcastic; "a pretty +gentleman--a gentleman of sixteen!" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +My father settled himself obstinately in his chair. + +"If that's a gratis patient," said he, between his teeth, "I'll not +stir. From eight to ten are their hours, confound them!" + +"If you please, sir," said Mary, peeping in, "if you please, sir, it's a +gentleman." + +"A stranger?" asked my father. + +Mary nodded, put her hand to her mouth, and burst into an irrepressible +giggle. + +"If you please, sir," she began--but could get no farther. + +My father was in a towering passion directly. + +"Is the girl mad?" he shouted. "What is the meaning of this buffoonery?" + +"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!" + +"Your pardon, Mademoiselle," said a plaintive voice. "Armand +Proudhine--le Chevalier Armand Proudhine, at your service." + +Mary disappeared with her apron to her mouth, and subsided into distant +peals of laughter, leaving the Chevalier standing in the doorway. + +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. + +He advanced a step, bowed, and laid his card upon the table. + +"I believe," he said in his plaintive voice, and imperfect English, +"that I have the honor to introduce myself to Monsieur Arbuthnot." + +"If you want me, sir," said my father, gruffly, "I am Doctor Arbuthnot." + +"And I, Monsieur," said the little Frenchman, laying his hand upon his +heart, and bowing again--"I am the Wizard of the Caucasus." + +"The what?" exclaimed my father. + +"The Wizard of the Caucasus," replied our visitor, impressively. + +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. + +"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." + +"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 _tour du pistolet;_ 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. _Me voici!_" + +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. + +"Pshaw," said my father impatiently, "the man's a conjuror." + +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. + +"Monsieur will give me the hope to see him, with Monsieur _son fils_, at +my Soiree Fantastique, _n'est-ce pas?_" he asked, timidly. + +"Sir," said my father shortly, "I never encourage peripatetic +mendicity." + +The little Frenchman looked puzzled. + +"_Comment_?" said he, and glanced to me for an explanation. + +"I am very sorry, Monsieur," I interposed hastily; "but my father +objects to public entertainments." + +"_Ah, mon Dieu!_ but not to this," cried the Chevalier, raising his +hands and eyes in deprecating astonishment. "Not to my Soiree +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 _Cure_, +Monsieur le Docteur Brand." + +"Oh, father," I exclaimed, "Dr. Brand has taken tickets!" + +"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." + +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--"_Monsieur, je vous demande pardon._"--moved towards +the door. + +On the threshold he paused, and turning towards me with an air of faded +dignity:--"Young gentleman," he said, "_you_ I thank for your +politeness." + +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. + +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. + +"An attack of the nerves," he said, shaking his head feebly. "An attack +of the nerves, Messieurs." + +My father looked doubtful. + +"Are you often taken in this way?" he asked, with unusual gentleness. + +"_Mais oui_, Monsieur," admitted the Frenchman, reluctantly. "He does +often arrive to me. Not--not that he is dangerous. Ah, bah! _Pas +du tout_!" + +"Humph!" ejaculated my father, more doubtfully than before. "Let me feel +your pulse." + +The Chevalier bowed and submitted, watching the countenance of the +operator all the time with an anxiety that was not lost upon me. + +"Do you sleep well?" asked my father, holding the fragile little wrist +between his finger and thumb. + +"Passably, Monsieur." + +"Dream much?" + +"Ye--es, I dream." + +"Are you subject to giddiness?" + +The Chevalier shrugged his shoulders and looked uneasy. + +"_C'est vrai_" he acknowledged, more unwillingly than ever, "_J'ai des +vertiges_." + +My father relinquished his hold and scribbled a rapid prescription. + +"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." + +The little Frenchman attempted to get up with his usual vivacity; but +was obliged to balance himself against the back of a chair. + +"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. _Elle m'aime, Monsieur--elle m'aime, cette pauvre +petite_! What shall she do if I die?" + +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. + +My father shuffled restlessly in his chair. + +"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?" + +"That I am, sir," said I, joyfully. "I should like it above all things!" + +The Chevalier glided forward, and laid a couple of little pink cards +upon my father's desk. + +"If," said he, timidly, "if Monsieur will make me the honor to +accept...." + +"Not for the world, sir--not for the world!" interposed my father. "The +boy shan't go, unless I pay for the tickets." + +"But, Monsieur...." + +"Nothing of the kind, sir. I cannot hear of it. What are the prices of +the seats?" + +Our little visitor looked down and was silent; but I replied for him. + +"The reserved seats," I whispered, "are half-a-crown each." + +"Then I will take eight reserved," said my father, opening a drawer in +his desk and bringing out a bright, new sovereign. + +The little Frenchman started. He could hardly believe in such +munificence. + +"When? How much?" stammered he, with a pleasant confusion of adverbs. + +"Eight," growled my father, scarcely able to repress a smile. + +"Eight? _mon Dieu_, Monsieur, how you are generous! I shall keep for you +all the first row." + +"Oblige me by doing nothing of the kind," said my father, very +decisively. "It would displease me extremely." + +The Chevalier counted out the eight little pink cards, and ranged them +in a row beside my father's desk. + +"Count them, Monsieur, if you please," said he, his eyes wandering +involuntarily towards the sovereign. + +My father did so with much gravity, and handed over the money. + +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. + +"Monsieur," said he, "my thanks are in my heart. I will not fatigue you +with them. Good-morning." + +He bowed again, for perhaps the twentieth time; lingered a moment at the +threshold; and then retired, closing the door softly after him. + +My father rubbbed his head all over, and gave a great yawn of +satisfaction. + +"I am so much obliged to you, sir," I said, eagerly. + +"What for?" + +"For having bought those tickets. It was very kind of you." + +"Hold your tongue. I hate to be thanked," snarled he, and plunged back +again into his books and papers. + +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. + +"I beg your pardons," murmured the voice of the little Chevalier. + +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. + +My father frowned, and muttered something between his teeth. I fear it +was not very complimentary to the Chevalier. + +"One word, Monsieur," pleaded the little man, edging himself round the +door, "one small word!" + +"Say it, sir, and have done with it," said my father, savagely. + +The Chevalier hesitated. + +"I--I--Monsieur le Docteur--that is, I wish...." + +"Confound it, sir, what do you wish?" + +The Chevalier brushed away a tear. + +"_Dites-moi,"_ he said with suppressed agitation. "One word--yes or +no--is he dangerous?" + +My father's countenance softened. + +"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." + +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. + +When he was fairly gone, my father flung a book at my head, and said, +with more brevity than politeness:-- + +"Boy, bolt the door." + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING. + +"Basil, my boy, if you are going to that place, you must take Collins +with you." + +"Won't you go yourself, father?" + +"I! Is the boy mad!" + +"I hope not, sir; only as you took eight reserved seats, I thought...." + +"You've no business to think, sir! Seven of those tickets are in the +fire." + +"For fear, then, you should fancy to burn the eighth, I'll wish you +good-evening!" + +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. + +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. + +"_Messieurs et Mesdames_," 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." + +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? + +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 _mouchoir_ in my lamp, and make a pudding in the +_chapeau_. And, with all this, I engage to return them to their +proprietors, better as new." + +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. + +"Shall nobody lend me the watch?" asked the Chevalier; but in a voice +so hoarse that I scarcely recognised it. + +A sudden thought struck me, and I rose in my place. + +"I shall be happy to do so," I said aloud, and made my way round to the +front of the platform. + +At the moment when he took it from me, I spoke to him. + +"Monsieur Proudhine," I whispered, "you are ill! What can I do for you?" + +"Nothing, _mon enfant_," he answered, in the same low tone. "I suffer; +_mais il faut se resigner_." + +"Break off the performance--retire for half an hour." + +"Impossible. See, they already observe us!" + +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. + +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. + +"He is very tough, your watch, Monsieur," said the Wizard, pounding away +vigorously. "He--he takes a long time ... _Ah! mon Dieu!_" + +He raised his hand to his head, uttered a faint cry, and snatched at the +back of the chair for support. + +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. + +He shook his head, waved me away with one trembling hand, made a last +effort to articulate, and fell heavily to the ground. + +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. + +"Oh, Doctor Arbuthnot! Doctor Arbuthnot!" cried a dozen voices at once, +"the Conjuror is dying!" + +"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." + +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. + +Only the landlady, and elderly woman-servant, and myself remained. + +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. + +My father shook his head. + +"This man must be bled," said he, "but I have little hope of saving +him." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Good-evening, Mr. Basil," said he. "Going home, sir?" + +"Yes, Mr. Cobbe," I replied. "I can be of no further use here." + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +"Very sudden, indeed," I replied, mechanically. + +"Does Doctor Arbuthnot think he'll get the better of it, Mr. Basil?" + +"I fear he has little hope." + +Mr. Cobbe sighed, and shook his head, and smoked in silence. + +"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?" + +I uttered a sudden ejaculation, and set down my glass of negus untasted. +Till that moment I had not once thought of my watch. + +"Oh, Mr. Cobbe!" I cried, "he was pounding my watch in the mortar!" + +"_Your_ watch, Mr. Basil?" + +"Yes, mine--and I have not seen it since. What can have become of it? +What shall I do?" + +"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!" + +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. + +Mr. Cobbe laughed triumphantly. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"And my father--you won't tell my father?" I said, dolefully. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +At length, after some hours of wakefulness, I dropped into a profound +and dreamless sleep. + + + * * * * * + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE CHEVALIER MAKES HIS LAST EXIT. + + All the world's a stage, + And all the men and women merely players: + They have their exits and their entrances. + _As You Like It._ + +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. + +"Nine o'clock, Basil," cried my father. "Nine o'clock--come down +directly, sir!" + +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. + +"Good-morning, sir," I said, breathlessly. + +He stopped short in his walk, and looked at me from head to foot. + +"Humph!" said he, "you have dressed quickly...." + +"Yes, sir; I was startled to find myself so late." + +"So quickly," he continued, "that you have forgotten your watch." + +I felt my face burn. I had not a word to answer. + +"I suppose," said he, "you thought I should not find it out?" + +"I had hoped to recover it first," I replied, falteringly; "but...." + +"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." + +I hung my head. I could have wept for vexation. + +My father laughed sardonically. + +"Well, Master Basil," he said, "the loss is yours, and yours only. You +won't get another watch from me, I promise you." + +I retorted angrily, whereat he only laughed the more; and then we went +in to breakfast. + +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. + +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. + +"_Pas du tout_," said he fantastically, "_pas du tout, Messieurs_--here +is no deception. You shall see him pass from my hand to the _coffre_, +and yet you shall not find how he does travel." + +My father smiled bitterly. + +"Conjurer to the last!" said he. "In the face of death, what a mockery +is his trade!" + +Wandering as were his wits, he caught the last word and turned fiercely +round; but there was no recognition in his eye. + +"Trade, Monsieur!" he echoed. "Trade!--you shall not call him trade! Do +you know who I am, that you dare call him trade? _Dieu des Dieux! +N'est-ce pas que je suis noble, moi?_ Trade!--when did one of my race +embrace a trade? _Canaille!_ I do condescend for my reasons to take your +money, but you shall not call him a trade!" + +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. + +"You shall see my Chateaux," he said, "my horses--my carriages. +Listen--it is the ringing of the bells. Aha! _le jour viendra--le jour +viendra_! Conjuror! who speaks of a conjuror? I never was a conjuror! I +deny it: and he lies who says it! _Attendons_! Is the curtain up? Ah! my +table--where is my table? I cannot play till I have my table. +_Scelerats! je suis vole! je l'ai perdu! je l'ai perdu_! Ah, what shall +I do? What shall I do? They have taken my table--they have taken...." + +He burst into tears, moaned twice or thrice, closed his eyes, and fell +into a troubled sleep. + +The landlady sobbed. Hers was a kind heart, and the little Frenchman's +simple courtesy had won her good-will from the first. + +"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." + +"Upon my soul, Mistress Cobbe," said my father, "I incline to your +opinion. I do think he is not what he seems." + +"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!" + +"There was something said the other day about a child," mused my father. +"Have no papers or letters been found about his person?" + +"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." + +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." + +My father listened. The landlady shook her head. + +"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!" + +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. + +"If you have anything to say," he urged earnestly, "try to say it now!" + +The dying man trembled convulsively, and a terrible look of despair came +into his wan face. + +"Tell--tell" ... he gasped; but his voice failed him, and he could get +no further. + +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. + +My father laid his hand gently upon my shoulder. + +"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." + + + * * * * * + +CHAPTER V. + +IN MEMORIAM. + +The poor little Chevalier! He died and became famous. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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:-- + + "Alas! Poor Yorick!" + + * * * * * + +CHAPTER VI. + +POLONIUS TO LAERTES. + +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. + +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. + +"Basil," said he, beckoning me one morning into the consulting-room, "I +want to speak to you." + +I obeyed sullenly, and stood leaning up against the window, with my +hands in my pockets. + +"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." + +"To London, sir?" + +"No. I don't intend you to go to London." + +"To Edinburgh, then, I suppose," said I, in a tone of disappointment. + +"Nor to Edinburgh. You shall go to Paris." + +"To Paris!" + +"Yes--the French surgeons are the most skilful in the world, and Cheron +will do everything for you. I know no eminent man in London from whom I +should choose to ask a favor; and Cheron 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?" + +"More than satisfied, sir," I replied, eagerly. + +"You shall not want for money, boy; and you may start as soon as you +please. Is the thing settled?" + +"Quite, as far as I am concerned." + +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:-- + +"Understand me, Basil. I require one thing in return." + +"If that thing be industry, sir, I think I may promise that you shall +not have cause to complain," + +My father shook his head. + +"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." + +"I understand you, father," I faltered, blushing. "I know that of late +I--I have not...." + +My father laid his hand suddenly over my mouth. + +"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." + +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! + +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. + +As I took my place at the table, my father looked up cheerily and gave +me a pleased nod of recognition. + +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:-- + +"Basil, you dog, fetch up a bottle of the particular port!" + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"I trust, sir," I said in some confusion, "that I shall never incur the +last reproach again." + +"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." + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +AT THE CHEVAL BLANC + +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. + +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 _Cheval Blanc_, 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 _table d'hote_, and, having rung a feeble little bell, +sank exhausted upon a seat in the hall. + +"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." + +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. + +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 chateau of Diane de Poitiers; the archway carved in oak where +the founder of the city still, in rude effigy, presides; the museum +rich in mediaeval 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. + +"_Bon jour, M'sieur_" 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?" + +"The treasury!" I repeated. "What is there to be seen in the treasury?" + +"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." + +Something in the scornful accent and the deep voice aroused the +suspicions of the verger, though the words were spoken in English. + +"Our treasury, M'sieur," croaked he, more ravenly than ever, "is +rich--rich in episcopal jewels; in relics--inestimable relics. Tickets +two francs each." + +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. + +At five o'clock I found myself installed near the head of an immensely +long dinner-table in the _salle a manger_ of the Cheval Blanc. The +_salle a manger_ 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. + +"Your first visit to Rouen, I suppose?" said he. "Beautiful old city, is +it not? _Garcon_, a pint of Bordeaux-Leoville." + +I modestly admitted that it was not only my first visit to Rouen, but my +first to the Continent. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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!" + +I looked round, puzzled by the gravity of my new acquaintance. + +"Is this all true?" I whispered. "You told me the treasury was a +humbug." + +"And so it is." + +"But the snuff-box of Clovis, and...." + +"Pure inventions! The man's a muff, and on muffs I have no mercy. Do you +stay long in Rouen?" + +"No, I go on to Paris to-morrow. I wish I could remain longer." + +"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, _en passant_, 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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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."' + +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?" + +So we rose, took our hats, and in a few moments were strolling under the +lindens on the Quai de Corneille. + +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?" + +"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." + +"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,...." + +"What, Oscar Dalrymple!" exclaimed a voice close beside us. "I should as +soon have expected to meet the great Panjandrum himself!" + +"--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?" + +"Business--confound it! And not pleasant business either. _A proces_ +which my father has instituted against a great manufacturing firm here +at Rouen, and of which I have to bear the brunt. And you?" + +"And I, my dear fellow? Pshaw! what should I be but an idler in search +of amusement?" + +"Is it true that you have sold out of the Enniskillens?" + +"Unquestionably. Liberty is sweet; and who cares to carry a sword in +time of peace? Not I, at all events." + +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. + +"Who is your friend?" I heard the new-comer whisper. + +To which the other replied:--"Haven't the ghost of an idea." + +Presently he took out his pocket-book, and handing me a card, said:-- + +"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." + +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. + +"_Batelier, Messieurs? Batelier_?" cried a dozen men at once, rushing +down to the water's edge. + +But Dalrymple had already thrown off his coat, and seized the oars. + +"_Batelier_, 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!" + + * * * * * + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE ISLAND IN THE RIVER. + +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. + +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. + +"Bet you ten to one that's a bridal party," said Mr. Sullivan. + +"Say you so? Then suppose we follow, and have a look at the bride!" +exclaimed his friend. "The place is a public garden." + +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. + +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 _bourgeois_ 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. + +"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?" + +"I won't dance," said Phillippe sulkily. "I want some oysters." + +"Oysters, _mon enfant_! I have told you twice already that no one eats +oysters in July," observed his mother. + +"I don't care for that," said Phillippe. "It's my _fete_ day, and Uncle +Jacques said I was to have whatever I fancied; I want some oysters." + +"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 _manege_ to-night." + +Phillippe thrust his fists into his eyes and began to roar--so we walked +away. + +In an arbor, a little further on, we saw two young people whispering +earnestly, and conscious of no eyes but each other's. + +"A pair of lovers," said Sullivan. + +"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?" + +"Oh, we shall find them presently. You seem interested." + +"I am. I mean to dance with the bride and make the bridegroom jealous." + +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. + +"Grisettes and _commis voyageurs!_" said Dalrymple, contemptuously. "Let +us go and look at the dancers." + +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. + +"How I wish somebody would ask me, _ma mere_!" said a coquettish +brunette, close by, with a sidelong glance at ourselves." + +"You shall dance with your brother Paul, my dear, as soon as he comes," +replied her mother, a stout _bourgeoise_ with a green fan. + +"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." + +Mr. Frank Sullivan flung away his cigar, and began buttoning up his +gloves. + +"I'll take that damsel out immediately," said he. "A girl who objects to +dance with her brother deserves encouragement." + +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. + +"There they are!" said Dalrymple, suddenly. "There's the wedding party. +_Per Bacco_! but our little bride is charming!" + +"And the bridegroom is a handsome specimen of rusticity." + +"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, _ma +belle_--you shall have your valse, and Corydon may be as cross as +he pleases!" + +"Don't flatter yourself that she will displease Corydon to dance with +your lordship!" I said, laughingly. + +"Pshaw! she would displease fifty Corydons if I chose to make her do +so," said Dalrymple, with a smile of conscious power. + +"True; but not on her wedding-day." + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"_Ma foi!_ no, M'sieur. It would take more than that to hurt me!" + +"Nor injured your dress, I trust, Madame?" + +"_Ah, par exemple_! do I wear muslins or gauzes that they should not +bear touching? No, no, no, M'sieur--thanking you all the same." + +"You are very amiable, Madame, to say so." + +"You are very polite, M'sieur, to think so much of a trifle." + +"Nothing is a trifle, Madame, where a lady is concerned. At least, so we +Englishmen consider." + +"Bah! M'sieur is not English?" + +"Indeed, Madame, I am." + +"_Mais, mon Dieu! c'est incroyable_. Suzette--brother Jacques--Andre, 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!" + +"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?" + +The mother laughed, and rubbed her hands. + +"_Dame_! 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." + +"The bride is very like you, Madame," said Dalrymple, gravely. "Your +younger sister, I presume?" + +"_Ah, quel farceur_! He takes my daughter for my sister! Suzette, do +you hear this? M'sieur is killing me with laughter!" + +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. + +"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 Andre, who looked not +overpleased, and proceeded to introduce me as his friend Monsieur Basil +Arbuthnot, "a young English gentleman, _tres distingue_" + +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, "_la bas_." + +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 _grog-au-vin,_ 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. + +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 +Andre'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. + +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. + +"Monsieur Andre 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. + +The cloud came back upon Andre's brow, and he hesitated; but Madame +Roquet interposed. + +"Spare her!" she exclaimed. "_Dame_! 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." + +And so Suzette took off her shawl, and Andre was silenced, and +Dalrymple, in less than the half hour, was actually whirling away with +his arm round little Phillis's dainty waist. + +I am afraid that I proved a very indifferent _locum tenens_ 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. + +They danced for a long time. So long, that Andre 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. + +"Why hast thou danced so long with that big Englishman?" murmured Andre, +discontentedly. "When _I_ asked thee, thou wast too tired, and now...." + +"And now I am so happy to be near thee again," whispered Suzette. + +Andre softened directly. + +"But to dance for twenty minutes...." began he. + +"Ah, but he danced so well, and I am so fond of waltzing, Andre!" + +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. + +Dalrymple took the head of the table, and stirred the punch into leaping +tongues of blue flame till it looked like a miniature Vesuvius. + +"What diabolical-looking stuff!" I exclaimed. "You might, to all +appearance, be Lucifer's own cupbearer." + +"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!" + +We all laughed as if this was the best joke we had heard in our lives, +and Dalrymple filled the glasses up again. + +"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." + +"When I last saw him, he was dancing." + +"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!" + +"But the girl has her mother with her!" + +"All the stronger probability of a scrimmage," replied Dalrymple, +sipping his punch with a covert glance of salutation at Suzette. + +"Shall I see if they are among the dancers?" + +"Do--but make haste; for the punch is disappearing fast." + +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. + +"Look at Jean Thomas," said a young girl to her still younger companion. +"He dances like an angel!" + +The one thus called upon to admire, looked at Jean Thomas, and sighed. + +"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. + +"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...." + +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. + +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 _bourgeoise_ 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. + +"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, _monsieur le capitaine!_ Put it once, _monsieur le +capitaine_; once for yourself, and once for madame. Only fifty centimes +each, and the certainty of winning!" + +_Monsieur le capitaine_ 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. + +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. + +"You ate too many eggs, Philippe," said his mother. "I told you so at +the time." + +"It--it wasn't the eggs," faltered the wretched Philippe. "It was the +Russian swing." + +"And serve you rightly, too," said his father angrily. "I wish with all +my heart that you had had your favorite oysters as well!" + +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. Andre 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. + +He looked up--I shook my head, slipped back into my place, and listened +to the tangled threads of conversation going on around me. + +"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, _mon ami_, 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 _comme il faut_--and said to +the landlord...." + +"Another glass of punch, Monsieur Robineau," interrupted Dalrymple. + +"Thank you, M'sieur, you are very good; well, as I was saying...." + +"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, _mon ami_!" + +"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 Andre--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...." + +"Not to listen to a word of it," said Madame Robineau, sharply. "There, +you are answered, husband. Drink your punch, and hold your tongue." + +Monsieur Robineau waved his hand majestically, and assumed a +Parliamentary air. + +"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...." + +"Monsieur Robineau," said Dalrymple, "allow me to offer you some more +punch." + +"Not another drop, Jacques," said Madame, sternly. "You have had too +much already." + +Poor Monsieur Robineau, who had put out his glass to be refilled, paused +and looked helplessly at his wife. + +"_Mon cher ange_,...." 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. + +"_Dame_!" 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!" + +Whereupon Madame Roquet filled her own glass and mine, and Madame +Robineau, less indulgent to her husband than herself, followed +our example. + +Just at this moment, a confused hubbub of voices, and other sounds +expressive of a _fracas_, 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 Andre back with both hands +and implored him to stay. + +"Some _mauvais sujets_, no doubt, who refuse to pay the score," +suggested Madame Roquet. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +"It's a fight," said one. + +"It's a pickpocket," said another. + +"Bah! it's only a young fellow who has been making love to a girl," +exclaimed a third. + +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. + +"You are an aristocrat!" stormed the young man. "A pampered, insolent +aristocrat! A dog of an Englishman! A _scelerat_! Don't suppose you are +to trample upon us for nothing! We are Frenchmen, you beggarly +islander--Frenchmen, do you hear?" + +A growl of sympathetic indignation ran through the crowd, and "_a bas +les aristocrats_--_a bas les Anglais_!" broke out here and there. + +"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?" + +"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." + +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:-- + +"To the boat, boys! Follow me." + +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. + +We had left the crowd behind us, but they were still within hearing. + +"By Jove!" said Dalrymple, "I don't know which way to go. I believe we +are on the wrong side of the island." + +"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!" + +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. + +"Hurrah! here's a boat," shouted Sullivan, leaping into it, and we after +him. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +DAMON AND PYTHIAS. + +I left Rouen the day after my great adventure on the river, and Captain +Dalrymple went with me to the station. + +"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." + +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. + +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. Cheron. + +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, +cafes, 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. + +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 cafe, drinking chocolate, and yawning over +the _Charivari_. + +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. + +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 Elysees; 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 _restaurants_ 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. + +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 _commis-voyageurs_; 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. + +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 habitue of the place. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +The stranger smiled. + +"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." + +"I hope so," I replied, boldly. "I have studied closer than most men of +my age, already." + +He smiled again, coughed doubtfully, and insisted on filling my glass +from his own bottle. + +"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?" + +"Cheron," I replied, huskily. + +"True, Cheron. 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." + +"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!" + +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. + +"Upon my word," observed he, "you are a young man of infinite spirit." + +"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." + +He bowed, and said, somewhat coldly, + +"I have no doubt that we shall become better acquainted." + +"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." + +"So I should say," observed the stranger, drily. + +"And as for you and myself, we'll--we'll be Damon and ... what's the +other one's name?" + +"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." + +"Bravo! Famous! And now we'll have another bottle of wine." + +"Not on my account, I beg," said the gentleman firmly. "My head is not +so cool as yours." + +Cool, indeed, and the room whirling round and round, like a teetotum! + +"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...." + +"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." + +"Dy--dy--dyspepsia be hanged," I muttered, dreamily. "Tell me, +friend--by the by, I forget your name. Friend what?" + +"Friend Pythias," returned the stranger, drily. "You gave me the name +yourself." + +"Ay, but your real name?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"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?" + +"About old Cheron," 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?" + +"I have heard of him," he replied, intent for the moment on the pattern +of his wine-glass. + +"Clever?" + +"That is a point upon which I could not venture an opinion. You must +ask some more competent judge." + +"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?" + +My words had by this time acquired a distressing, self-propelling +tendency, and linked themselves into compounds of twenty and thirty +syllables. + +My _vis-a-vis_ smiled, bit his lip, then laughed a dry, short laugh. + +"Really," he said, "I am not in a position to reply to your question; +but upon the whole, I should say that Dr. Cheron was not quite a +griffin. The species, you see, is extinct." + +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:-- + +"Room's--'bominably--close!" + +"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." + +He did so, and we left the room. Once out in the open air I found myself +unable to stand. He called a _fiacre_; almost lifted me in; took his +place beside me, and asked the name of my hotel. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE NEXT MORNING. + +"Oh, my Christian ducats!" _Merchant of Venice_. + +Gone!--gone!--both gone!--my new gold watch and my purse full of notes +and Napoleons! + +I rang the bell furiously. It was answered by a demure-looking waiter, +with a face like a parroquet. + +"Does Monsieur please to require anything?" + +"Require anything!" I exclaimed, in the best French I could muster. "I +have been robbed!" + +"Robbed, Monsieur?" + +"Yes, of my watch and purse!" + +"_Tiens_! Of a watch and purse?" repeated the parroquet, lifting his +eyebrows with an air of well-bred surprise. "_C'est drole."_ + +"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...." + +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. + +"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." + +Struck by the force of this observation, I flung myself into a chair and +remained silent. + +"Has Monsieur no acquaintances in Paris to whom he may apply for +advice?" inquired the landlord. + +"None," said I, moodily; "except that I have a letter of introduction +to one Dr. Cheron." + +The landlord and his waiters exchanged glances. + +"I would respectfully recommend Monsieur to present his letter +immediately," said the former. "Monsieur le Docteur Cheron is a man of +the world--a man of high reputation and sagacity. Monsieur could not do +better than advise with him." + +"Call a cab for me," said I, after a long pause. "I will go." + +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. + +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. Cheron. + +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 _salon_ plainly furnished. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +"It gives me pleasure to welcome the son of my old friend John +Arbuthnot," said a clear, and not unfamiliar voice. + +I started, looked up, grew red and white, hot and cold, and had not a +syllable to utter in reply. + +In Doctor Cheron, I recognised-- + +PYTHIAS! + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +MYSTERIOUS PROCEEDINGS. + +The doctor pointed to a chair, looked at his watch, and said:-- + +"I hope you have had a pleasant journey. Arrived this morning?" + +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. + +"N--not exactly," I faltered. "Yesterday morning, sir." + +"Ah, indeed! Spent the day in sight-seeing, I dare say. Admire Paris?" + +Too much astonished to speak, I took refuge in a bow. + +"Not found any lodgings yet, I presume?" asked the doctor, mending a pen +very deliberately. + +"N--not yet, sir." + +"I concluded so The English do not seek apartments on Sunday. You +observe the day very strictly, no doubt?" + +Blushing and confused, I stammered some incoherent words and sat +twirling my hat, the very picture of remorse. + +"At what hotel have you put up?" he next inquired, without appearing to +observe my agitation. + +"The--the Hotel des Messageries." + +"Good, but expensive. You must find a lodging to-day." + +I bowed again. + +"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." + +He rang the bell, and the sad-colored footman appeared on the threshold. + +"Desire Brunet to be in readiness to walk out with this gentleman," he +said, briefly, and the servant retired. + +"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?" + +"I--I am very grateful." + +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. + +"Your age, I think," said he, "is twenty-one?" + +"Twenty, sir." + +"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?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Also, to attend here in my house for private instruction." + +"Yes, sir." + +He filled in a few words upon a printed form, and handed it to me with +his visiting card. + +"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 _bureau_ 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." + +"Indeed, sir," I murmured, "I am more obliged than...." + +"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?" + +I hesitated; could not bring myself to utter one word of that which I +had come to say; and murmured-- + +"Nothing more, I thank you, sir." + +He looked at me piercingly, paused an instant, and then rang the bell. + +"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 Hotel Dieu." + +"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. + +The servant appeared again. + +"Let the carriage be brought round immediately, and dismiss this +gentleman's cab." + +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. + +"Now, my young friend," he said authoritatively, "we must be gone. Time +is gold. After you." + +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. Cheron 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. + +Dr. Cheron took a newspaper from his pocket, and began to read; so +leaving me to my own uncomfortable reflections. + +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. +Cheron, whom I had been ready to accuse, half an hour ago, of having +stolen my watch and purse. Petty larceny and Dr. Cheron! how ludicrously +incongruous! And yet, where was my property? Was the Hotel des +Messageries a den of thieves? And again, how was it that this same Dr. +Cheron 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? + +The carriage stopped and the door opened. + +"Hotel Dieu, M'sieur," said the servant, touching his hat. + +Dr. Cheron just raised his eyes from the paper. + +"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." + +With this he resumed his paper, the carriage rolled away, and I found +myself at the Hotel Dieu, with the servant out of livery standing +respectfully behind me. + +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 +_bureau_, and transacted my business. When I came out again, Brunet +took the lead. + +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 +Hotel des Messageries. + +"Monsieur's hotel," said the doctor's valet, touching his hat. + +"You are mistaken," said I, rather impatiently. "I did not ask to be +brought here. My object this morning is to look for apartments." + +"Post in at mid-day, Monsieur," he observed, gravely. "Monsieur's +letters may have arrived." + +"I expect none, thank you." + +"Monsieur will, nevertheless, permit me to inquire," said the +persevering valet, and glided in before my eyes. + +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. + +"No letters have arrived for Monsieur," he said; "but this box was left +with the porter about an hour ago." + +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:-- + +"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." + +The paper dropped from my hands and fell upon the floor. The +impenetrable Brunet picked it up, and returned it to me. + +"Brunet!" I ejaculated. + +"Monsieur?" said he, interrogatively, raising his hand to his forehead +by force of habit, although his hat stood beside him on the floor. + +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. Cheron. 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. + +I also fancied that I heard a suspicious roar of laughter as I passed +out into the street. + +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 Cite Bergere. 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--"_Apartements a louer_"--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 +_suite_ consisted of a bed-room, dressing-room, and tiny _salon_, 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. + +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. + +"Shall I conclude for Monsieur at twenty francs a week?" murmured the +sagacious Brunet. + +"Of course," said I, laying the first week's rent upon the table. + +And so the thing was done, and, brimful of satisfaction, I went off to +the hotel for my luggage, and moved in immediately. + + * * * * * + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +BROADCLOTH AND CIVILIZATION. + +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. Cheron +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 _Quartier Latin_ (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 _Vie de Boheme_ +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. Cheron'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 Elysees 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? + +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 Chaussee 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. + +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. + +"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 _guingette_ on the river? Come, you have a thousand things +to tell me!" + +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. + +"You must excuse me, _mon cher_" said he. "I have at least a dozen calls +to make before dinner." + +Dalrymple rose, readily enough, and took a roll of bank-notes from the +cash-box. + +"If you are going," he said, "I may as well hand over the price of that +Tilbury. When will they send it home?" + +"To-morrow, undoubtedly." + +"And I am to pay fifteen hundred franks for it!" + +"Just half its value!" observed M. de Simoncourt, with a shrug of his +shoulders. + +Dalrymple smiled, counted the notes, and handed them to his friend. + +"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." + +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 _nonchalant_, perhaps, in his manner, and +somewhat too profuse in the article of jewellery; but a very elegant +gentleman, nevertheless. + +"_Bon_!" 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!" + +"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." + +M. de Simoneourt twitched at the supercilious moustache. + +"And you think you would not care to take the black mare with the +Tilbury?" said he, negligently. + +"No--I have a capital horse, already." + +"Hah I--well--'tis almost a pity. The mare is a dead bargain. Shouldn't +wonder if I buy her, after all." + +"And yet you don't want her," said Dalrymple. + +"Quite true; but one must have a favorite sin, and horseflesh is mine. I +shall ruin myself by it some day--_mort de ma vie!_ 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. _Parbleu!_ +I was forgetting--do we meet to-night?" + +"Where?" + +"At Chardonnier's." + +Dalrymple shook his head, and turned the key in his cash box. + +"Not this evening," he replied. I have other engagements." + +"Bah! and I promised to go, believing you were sure to be of the party. +St. Pol, I know, will be there, and De Brezy also." + +"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." + +M. de Simoneourt laughed a dry, short laugh, and twitched again at the +supercilious moustache. + +"I had no idea you were a philosopher," said he. + +"Nor am I. I am a _mauvais sujet_--_mauvais_ enough, already, without +seeking to become worse." + +"Well, adieu--I will see to this affair of the Tilbury, and desire them +to let you have it by noon to-morrow." + +"A thousand thanks. I am ashamed that you have so much trouble in the +matter. _Au revoir_." + +"_Au revoir_." + +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. + +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:-- + +"Now, then, my young friend, your news or your life! Out with it, every +word, as you hope to be forgiven!" + +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. Cheron, and the history of my interview with +him next morning, delighted Dalrymple beyond measure. + +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. + +"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 _entree_ into society, before I leave Paris." + +"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." + +Dalrymple looked at me half laughingly, half compassionately. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Pray introduce me at once to this illustrious man," I exclaimed +laughingly, "and let me do him homage!" + +"You will have to pay heavily for the honor," said Dalrymple. "Of that I +give you notice." + +"No matter. I am willing to pay heavily for the tone of good society and +the exterior of a gentleman." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +Presently he paused, laid his pen aside, and said:-- + +"Arbuthnot, would you like to go with me to-morrow evening to one or two +_soirees_?" + +"Can your Civilizer provide me with my evening suit in time?" + +"He? The great Michaud? Why, he would equip you for this evening, if it +were necessary!" + +"In that case, I shall be very glad." + +"_Bon!_ I will call for you at ten o'clock; so do not forget to leave me +your address." + +Whereupon he resumed his letter. When it was written, he returned to the +subject. + +"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 _salons_." + +Even in the wilds of Saxonholme I had heard and read of the great +_tragedienne_ 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 Francais; 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! + +Dalrymple smiled good-naturedly, and put my thanks aside. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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 _soirees_ 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." + +"That would, indeed, be a privilege. Who is this lady?" + +"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." + +I decided in my own mind that Madame de Courcelles was the writer of +that note. + +"Is she married?" was my next question. + +"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." + +"Then she is rich?" + +"No--not rich; but sufficiently independent." + +"And handsome?" + +"Not handsome, either; but graceful, and very fascinating." + +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. + +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:-- + +"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!" + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +I MAKE MY DEBUT IN SOCIETY. + +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. + +"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." + +"I am very uncomfortable," said I, ruefully. + +"Uncomfortable! nonsense--Michaud's customers don't know the meaning of +the word." + +"But he has not made me a single pocket!" + +"And what of that? Do you suppose the great Michaud would spoil the fit +of a masterpiece for your convenience?" + +"What am I to do with my pocket-handkerchief?" + +"Michaud's customers never need pocket-handkerchiefs." + +"And then my trousers..." + +"Unreasonable Juvenile, what of the trousers?" + +"They are so tight that I dare not sit down in them." + +"Barbarian! Michaud's customers never sit down in society." + +"And my boots are so small that I can hardly endure them." + +"Very becoming to the foot," said Dalyrmple, with exasperating +indifference. + +"And my collar is so stiff that it almost cuts my throat." + +"Makes you hold your head up," said Dalrymple, "and leaves you no +inducement to commit suicide." + +I could not help laughing, despite my discomfort. + +"Job himself never had such a comforter!" I exclaimed. + +"It would be a downright pleasure to quarrel with you." + +"Put on your hat instead, and let us delay no longer," replied my +friend. "My cab is waiting." + +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. + +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. + +"Rode single-handed right through the enemy's camp," said a bronzed, +elderly man, with a short, gray beard. + +"And escaped without a scratch," added another, with a tiny red ribbon +at his button-hole. + +"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." + +"You are speaking of de Caylus," said Dalrymple. "What news of him from +Algiers?" + +"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 _detour_ by the mountains," replied the first speaker. + +"A wild piece of boyish daring," said Dalrymple, somewhat drily. "I +presume he did not return by the same road?" + +"I should think not. It would have been certain death a second time!" + +"And this happened how long since?" + +"About a fortnight ago. But we shall soon know all particulars from +himself." + +"From himself?" + +"Yes, he has obtained leave of absence--is, perhaps, by this time in +Paris." + +Dalrymple set down his cup untasted, and turned away. + +"Come, Arbuthnot," he said, hastily, "I must introduce you to Madame +Rachel." + +We passed through a small antechamber, and into a brilliant _salon_, 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, Sevres 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 _salon_ and +into a larger one immediately beyond it. + +"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." + +I looked round, bewildered. + +"Recognise!" I echoed. "I should not recognise my own father at this +moment. I feel like Abou Hassan in the palace of the Caliph." + +"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 +Deniere, 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. _Allons donc_! have +you nothing to say in admiration of so much splendor?" + +I shook my head. + +"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?" + +"Phedre herself," replied Dalrymple. "Follow me, and be introduced." + +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 _decore_. They made way courteously at our approach. Dalrymple +then presented me. I made my bow, was graciously received, and dropped +modestly into the rear. + +"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?" + +"Nay, Madame, you flatter me," said Dalrymple. "I have been absent only +five months." + +"Then, you see, I have measured your absence by my loss." + +Dalrymple bowed profoundly. + +Rachel turned to a young man behind her chair. + +"Monsieur le Prince," said she, "do you know what is rumored in the +_foyer_ of the Francais? That you have offered me your hand!" + +"I offer you both my hands, in applause, Madame, every night of your +performance," replied the gentleman so addressed. + +She smiled and made a feint at him with the dagger. + +"Excellent!" said she. "One is not enough for a tragedian But where is +Alphonse Karr?" + +"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." + +"True; he lives by his pen--others die by it," said Rachel bitterly. "By +the way, has any one seen Scribe's new Vaudeville?" + +"I have," replied a bald little gentleman with a red and green ribbon in +his button-hole. + +"And your verdict?" + +"The plot is not ill-conceived; but Scribe is only godfather to the +piece. It is almost entirely written by Duverger, his _collaborateur_." + +"The life of a _collaborateur_," 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." + +"A _collaborateur_," 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." + +"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?" + +And he held up what appeared to be a large bone, perforated in several +places. + +The bald little man with the red and green ribbon uttered an exclamation +of surprise. + +"It is a tibia!" said he, examining it through his double eye-glass. + +"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." + +"A melodious barbarism!" exclaimed one. + +"Puts a 'stop,' at all events, to the enemy's flight!" said another. + +"Almost as good as drinking out of his skull," added a third. + +"Or as eating him, _tout de bon_," said Rachel. + +"There must be a certain satisfaction in cannibalism," observed the +cynic who had spoken before. "There are people upon whom one would sup +willingly." + +"As, for instance, critics, who are our natural enemies," said Rachel. +"_C'est a dire_, if critics were not too sour to be eaten." + +"Nay, with the sweet sauce of vengeance!" + +"You speak feelingly, Monsieur de Musset. I am almost sorry, for your +sake, that cannibalism is out of fashion!" + +"It is one of the penalties of civilization," replied de Musset, with a +shrug. "Besides, one would not wish to be an epicure." + +Dalrymple, who had been listening somewhat disdainfully to this skirmish +of words, here touched me on the arm and turned away. + +"Don't you hate this sort of high-pressure talk?" he said, impatiently. + +"I was just thinking it so brilliant." + +"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?" + +"If you mean, am I ready to go with you to Madame de Courcelles'--yes." + +"_A la bonne heure_!" + +"But you are not going away without taking leave of Madame Rachel?" + +"Unquestionably. Leave-taking is a custom more honored in the breach +than the observance." + +"But isn't that very impolite?" + +"_Ingenu!_ 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." + +By this time we were again rattling along the Boulevard. The theatres +were ablaze with lights. The road was full of carriages. The _trottoir_ +was almost as populous as at noon. The idlers outside the _cafes_ were +still eating their ices and sipping their _eau-sucre_ 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 _gamins_ about the doorway. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +The lady in the larger room here finished her song and returned to her +seat, amid a shower of _bravas_. + +"She sings exquisitely," said I, following her with my eyes. + +"And so she ought," replied my friend. "She is the Countess Rossi, whom +you may have heard of as Mademoiselle Sontag." + +"What! the celebrated Sontag?" I exclaimed. + +"The same. And the gentleman to whom she is now speaking is no less +famous a person than the author of _Pelham_." + +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. + +"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." + +"Call things by their right names, Damon," said Dalrymple, +good-naturedly. "If you were a _parvenu_ 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." + +"What have I done," said a charming voice close by, "that Captain +Dalrymple will not even deign to look upon me?" + +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. + +"I implore a thousand pardons, Madame...." began my friend. + +"_Comment_! A thousand pardons for a single offence!" exclaimed the +lady. "What an unreasonable culprit!" + +To which she added, quite audibly, though behind the temporary shelter +of her fan:-- + +"Who is this _beau garcon_ whom you seem to have brought with you?" + +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. + +"So much the better," observed the lady. "I delight in civilizing +handsome boys. Introduce him." + +Dalrymple tapped me on the arm. + +"Madame de Marignan permits me to introduce you, _mon ami_," said he. +"Mr. Basil Arbuthnot--Madame de Marignan." + +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. + +"Now, Damon, make the most of your opportunities," whispered he, as he +passed by. "_Vogue la galere_!" + +_Vogue la galere_, indeed! As if I had anything to do with the _galere_, +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 _causeuse_ in a distant corner. + +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. + +I was an easy victim, after all, and scarcely worth the powder and shot +of an experienced _franc-tireur;_ 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. + +"Past one!" I exclaimed. "Impossible! We cannot have been here half-an +hour." + +At which neither Dalrymple nor Madame de Marignan could forbear smiling. + +"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." + +I bowed almost to my boots. + +"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. + +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! + +"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." + +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 Marche +aux Fleurs and took our way along the Boulevard. + +"Are you tired, Damon?" said Dalrymple presently. + +"Not in the least," I replied, with my head full of Madame de Marignan. + +"Would you like to look in at an artists' club close by here, where I +have the _entree?_--queer place enough, but amusing to a stranger." + +"Yes, very much." + +"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." + +"Is that necessary?" + +"Indispensable--at all events in the honorable society of _Les +Chicards."_ + +"_Les Chicards_!" I repeated. "What are they?" + +"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 Argot. And yet if you were an old Parisian +and had matriculated for the last dozen years at the Bal de l'Opera, 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 _tout ensemble_ +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." + +Having turned aside some few minutes before into the Rue St. Honore, 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 +_charbonnerie_, 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. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE HONORABLE SOCIETY OF LES CHICARDS. + + "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."--_Spectator_. + +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. + +Somewhat perplexed by the general aspect of the club, I turned to my +companion for an explanation. + +"Is it possible," I asked, "that these amazing individuals are all +artists and gentlemen?" + +"Artists, every one," replied Dalrymple; "but as to their claim to be +gentlemen, I won't undertake to establish it. After all, the _Chicards_ +are not first-rate men." + +"What are they, then?" + +"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!" + +And now, heralded by a convulsive flourish from the President's bugle, a +young _Chicard_, whose dilapidated outer man sufficiently contradicted +the burthen of his song, shouted with better will than skill, a +_chanson_ of Beranger's, every verse of which ended with:-- + + "J'ai cinquante ecus, + J'ai cinquante ecus, + J'ai cinquante ecus de rente!" + +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 _aupres de la mer_, 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 _Chicard_, 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. + +"Monsieur Mueller is requested to favor the honorable society with a +song," cried the President, as soon as the tumult had somewhat subsided. + +My red-capped neighbor, answering to that name, begged to be excused, on +the score of having pledged his _ut de poitrine_ a week since at the +Mont de Piete, without yet having been able to redeem it. This apology +was received with laughter, hisses, and general incredulity. + +"But," he added, "I am willing to relate an adventure that happened to +myself in Rome two winters ago, if my honorable brother _Chicards_ will +be pleased to hear it." + +An immense burst of approbation from all but Monsieur Tourterelle and +the bald sleeper, followed this announcement; and so, after a +preliminary _grog au vin_, and another explosive demonstration on the +part of the chairman, Monsieur Mueller thus began:-- + + + +THE STUDENT'S STORY. + +"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 _Lepre_! 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!" + +"Come, Mueller--no fond memories!" cried a student in a holland blouse. +"Get on with the story." + +"Ay, get on with the story!" echoed several voices. + +To which Mueller, who took advantage of the interruption to finish his +_grog au vin_, deigned no reply. + +"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 Cafe Greco." + +"The story! the story!" interrupted a dozen impatient voices. + +"All in good time," said Mueller, with provoking indifference. "We are +now coming to it." + +And assuming an attitude expressive of mystery, he dropped his voice, +looked round the table, and proceeded:-- + +"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 _moccoli_. 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 _trattore_ 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. + +"'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?" + +"'I want an artist,' said my visitor, in Italian. 'Are you one?' + +"'I flatter myself that I am,' replied I, still holding the door +tolerably close. + +"'Can you paint heads?' + +"'Heads, figures, landscapes--anything,' said I, with my teeth +chattering like castanets. + +"The stranger pushed the door open, walked in without further ceremony, +closed it behind him, and said, in a low, distinct voice:-- + +"'Could you take the portrait of a dead man?' + +"'Of a dead man?' I stammered. 'I--I ... Suppose I strike a light?' + +"The stranger laid his hand upon my arm. + +"'Not till you have given me an answer,' said he. 'Yes or no? Remember, +you will be paid well for your work.' + +"'Well, then--yes,' I replied. + +"'And can you do it at once?' + +"'At once?' + +"'Ay, Signore, will you bring your colors, and come with me this +instant--or must I seek some other painter?' + +"I thought of the masked-ball, and sighed; but the promise of good +payment, and, above all, the peculiarity of the adventure determined me. + +"'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.' + +"'_Bene_!' said the stranger. 'But be as quick as you can, Signore, for +time presses.' + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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:-- + +"'Well, Signore, you look as if you had never seen a dead man before in +all your life!' + +"'I have seen plenty,' I replied, 'but never one so young, and so +handsome.' + +"'He dropped down quite suddenly,' said he, volunteering the +information, 'and died in a few minutes. 'Then finding that I remained +silent, added:-- + +"'But I am told that it is always so in cases of heart-disease.' + +"'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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Well?" cried two or three voices eagerly; my own being one of them. +"The door opened--what then?" + +"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:--'_Murdered_!' + +"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:-- + +"'You have seen it. If called upon to do so, will you swear it?' + +"I promised. + +"'You will not let yourself be intimidated by threats? nor bribed by +gold? nor lured by promises? + +"'Never, so help me Heaven!' + +"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. + +"'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!' + +"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. + +"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. + +"'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.' + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"The dead man was the lady's lover," said one. "That is why she wanted +his portrait." + +"Of course, and her husband had murdered him," said another. + +"Who, then, was the man in black?" asked a third. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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!" + +"Superb. The ruby alone must be worth a thousand francs." + +"To say nothing of the diamonds, and the setting," observed the next to +whom it was handed. + +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. + +"Bah!" said he, sending it on with a contemptuous fillip of the +forefinger and thumb. "Glass and paste, _mon ami_. Not worth five francs +of anybody's money." + +Mueller, 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:-- + +"Well, I'm sorry for that; because I gave seven francs for it myself +this morning, in the Palais Royal." + +"You!" + +"Seven francs!" + +"Bought in the Palais Royal!" + +"What does he mean?" + +"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." + +"But then the ring that the lady took from her finger?" + +"And the murder?" + +"And the servant in black?" + +"And the hundred scudi?" + +"One great invention from beginning to end, Messieurs les Chicards, and +being got up expressly for your amusement, I hope you liked it. +_Garcon?_--another _grog au vin_, and sweeter than the last!" + +It would be difficult to say whether the Chicards were most disappointed +or delighted at this _denoument_--disappointed at its want of fact, or +delighted with the story-weaving power of Herr Franz Mueller. 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 _fiacre_ in the next street and, as we were nearer the Rue du +Faubourg Montmartre than the Chaussee d' Antin, Dalrymple set me +down first. + +"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!" + +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. Cheron's. + + * * * * * + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +WHAT IT IS TO BE A CAVALIERE SERVENTE. + + "Everye white will have its blacke, + And everye sweet its sowere." + + _Old Ballad_. + +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 Elysees--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. + +"I shall elect you my _cavaliere servente_," 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?" + +I thought it the greatest privilege under heaven. Perhaps I said so. + +"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." + +"I will move heaven and earth to get them the day before, if that be +all!" I exclaimed. + +Madame de Marignan nodded approvingly, and went on telling off my +duties, one by one, upon her pretty fingers. + +"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." + +"Were they the flowers that bloom but once in a century," said I, with +more enthusiasm than sense, "they should be yours!" + +Madame de Marignan smiled and nodded again. + +"When I drive in the Bois, you will sometimes take a seat in my +carriage, and sometimes ride beside it, like an attentive cavalier." + +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. + +"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 _cavaliere servente_ must be +my shadow." + +"Then, like your shadow, Madame," said I, "his place is ever at your +feet, and that is all I desire!" + +Madame de Marignan laughed outright, and showed the loveliest little +double row of pearls in all the world. + +"Admirable!" said she. "Quite an elegant compliment, and worthy of an +accomplished lady-killer! _Allons_! you are a promising scholar." + +"In all that I have dared to say, Madame, I am, at least, sincere," I +added, abashed by the kind of praise. + +"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 _toilette_. Come to-morrow evening to my box at +the _Italiens_, and so adieu. Stay--being my _cavaliere_, I permit you, +at parting, to kiss my hand." + +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. + +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 _restaurant_ 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! + +The next day I went through my duties at Dr. Cheron'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. + +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. + +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. + +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. Cheron. 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. + +After all, there are few things under heaven more beautiful, or more +touching, than a boy's first love. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +A CONTRETEMPS IN A CARRIAGE. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"_Comment_!" she said, holding out her hand--the pretty, ungloved hand +that had just been kissed--"is that your good night?" + +I bowed over the hand, I would not have touched it with my lips at that +moment for all the wealth of Paris. + +"You are coming to me to-morrow morning at twelve?" she murmured +tenderly. + +"If Madame desires it." + +"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?" + +"Madame, I--I confess that--" + +"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! _Fi +donc!_ I am ashamed of you. There--adieu, twelve to-morrow!" + +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. + +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 _flaneur_ 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 _Cavaliere servente?_ 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 ..... + +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 Vendome 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 Elysees 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 paletot 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. + +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 cafe at the corner was closed. +Even the omnibus office was shut up, and the red lamp above the door +extinguished. + +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 _pourboire_ 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. + +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. + +Did I say inaccessible? + +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. + +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! + +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 _coute que coute_, when the lady ran forward; sprang lightly +in; recoiled; and uttered a little breathless cry of surprise and +apprehension! + +"_Mon Dieu_, Madame! what is it? Are you hurt?" cried two or three of +the gentlemen, running out, bareheaded, to her assistance. + +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. + +"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." + +And so, with something of a slight tremor in her voice, the lady drew up +the window. The next instant the carriage moved on. + +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. + +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:-- + +"How imprudent of you to hide in my carriage?" + +I could not believe my ears. + +"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!" + +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. + +"_Eh bien_!" said the lady, half tenderly, half reproachfully; "have you +nothing to say to me?" + +Say to her, indeed! What could I say to her? Would not my voice betray +me directly? + +"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!" + +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. + +"Naughty Hippolyte!" murmured my companion. "Confess, now, that you were +unreasonable." + +I sighed heavily, and caressed the little hand with both of mine. + +"And are you very penitent?" + +I expressed my penitence by another prodigious sigh, and ventured, this +time, to kiss the tips of the dainty fingers. + +"_Ciel_!" exclaimed the lady. "You have shaved off your beard! What can +have induced you to do such a thing?" + +My beard, indeed! Alas! I would have given any money for even a +moustache! However, the fatal moment was come when I must speak. + +"_Mon cher ange_," I began, trying a hoarse whisper, "I--I--the fact +is--a bet--" + +"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!" + +"All within the last hour," whispered I. "I was caught in the storm, +just now, and ..." + +"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!" + +I kissed her hand again. It was much pleasanter than whispering, and +expressed all that was necessary. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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!" + +I pressed her hand again. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Well, it is all over now! And will you promise _never, never, never_ 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!" + +I was delighted. I longed to embrace her on the spot! Was there ever +such a charming, sensible, lively creature? + +"Besides, the coxcomb is just now devoting himself, body and soul (such +as they are!) to that insufferable little _intriguante_, 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 _affaires du coeur_." + +Madame de Marignan! Compromised--experienced--_intriguante_! I felt as +if I were choking. + +"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?" + +"What English lad?" I asked, startled out of all sense of precaution, +and desperately resolved to know the worst. + +"What English lad? Why, Hippolyte, you are more stupid than ever! I +pointed him out to you the other night at the Comedie Francaise--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." + +"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. + +"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...." + +"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?" + +It was now the lady's turn to be startled. + +"A widow!" she repeated. "Why, you know as well as I that--_Dieu_! To +whom I am speaking?" + +"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...." + +She here uttered a quick cry, and darted forward for the check-string. +Arresting her hand half way, respectfully but firmly, I went on:-- + +"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?" + +"I appear, sir, to have no alternative," replied she, trembling like a +caged bird. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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...." + +For a moment there was silence. My companion was the first to speak. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"And you would have married her--actually married her?" + +"I--I--hardly dared to hope...." + +"_Ciel_! it is almost beyond belief. And you never inquired into her +past history?" + +"Never. Why should I?" + +"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." + +I conquered my agitation by a supreme effort. + +"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." + +"Then, finding yourself so mistaken, Monsieur, would it not have been +more honorable to undeceive me than to usurp a conversation which...." + +"Madame, I dared not. I feared to alarm you--I hoped to find some means +of escape, and...." + +"_Mon Dieu_! what means? How are you to escape as it is? How leave the +carriage without being seen by my servants?" + +I had not thought of this, nor of the dilemma in which my presence must +place her. + +"I can open the door softly," said I, "and jump out unperceived." + +"Impossible, at the pace we are going! You would break your neck." + +I shook my head, and laughed bitterly. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"I don't know how long I may have slept; but I think it must be quite +three." + +"_Bien_! 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." + +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:-- + +"Now, Monsieur, fly! It is your only chance." + +"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." + +"Monsieur, I thank you for the assurance; but I see the servant +returning. Pray, begone!" + +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. + +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 Elysees 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 _gendarmes_ went by, and, finding that they paused +and looked at me suspiciously, I turned away, and bent my steps +homewards. + +By the time I reached the Cite Bergere 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:-- + +"MY DEAR DAMON:-- + +"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 + +"Yours faithfully, + +"OSCAR DALRYMPLE." + +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." + +"Half-past seven!" exclaimed I to myself, as I jumped up and plunged my +head into a basin of cold water. "Dr. Cheron 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!" + +And away I went presently along the sunny streets, humming to myself +those saucy and wholesome lines of good Sir Walter Raleigh's:-- + + "Shall I like a hermit dwell + On a rock, or in a cell, + Calling home the smallest part + That is missing of my heart, + To bestow it where I may + Meet a rival every day? + If she undervalues me, + What care I how fair she be?" + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE WIDOW OF A MINISTER OF FINANCE. + +"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. + +"Then I am very glad I have come," I replied. "But what confusion is +this? Are you going anywhere?" + +"Yes--to perdition. There, kick that rubbish out of your way and sit +down." + +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. + +"You look ill," I said clearing a corner of the sofa for my own +accommodation; "or _ennuye_, which is much the same thing. What is the +matter? And what can I do for you?" + +"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. + +"Going abroad! Where?" + +"I don't know-- + + 'Anywhere, anywhere, out of the world.' + +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." + +"But have you no settled projects?" + +"None whatever." + +"And don't care what becomes of you?" + +"Not in the least." + +"Then, in Heaven's name, what has happened?" + +"The very thing that, three weeks ago, would have made me the happiest +fellow in Christendom. What are you going to do to-morrow?" + +"Nothing, beyond my ordinary routine of medical study." + +"Humph! Could you get a whole holiday, for once?" + +I remembered how many I had taken of late, and felt ashamed of the +readiness with which I replied:-- + +"Oh yes! easily." + +"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." + +"Married!" I exclaimed, in blank amazement; for it was the last thing I +should have guessed. + +Dalrymple tugged away at his moustache with both hands, as was his habit +when perplexed or troubled, and nodded gloomily. "To whom?" + +"To Madame de Courcelles." + +"And are you not very happy?" + +"Happy! I am the most miserable dog unhanged?" + +I was more at fault now than ever. + +"I ... judging from trifles which some would perhaps scarcely have +observed," I said, hesitatingly, "I--I thought you were interested in +Madame de Courcelles?" + +"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." + +"Then why ..." + +"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!" + +"Who is this man? Where is he?" I asked, eagerly. + +"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." + +"And why privately?" + +"Ah, there's the pity of it! There's the disappointment and the +bitterness!" + +"Can't Madame de Courcelles write and tell this man that she loves +somebody else better?" + +"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!" + +"Well, then, what is to be done?" + +"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." + +"At all events, you marry the lady." + +"Ay--I marry the lady; but I start to-morrow night for Berlin, _en +route_ for anywhere that chance may lead me." + +"Without her?" + +"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 _soirees_, 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? _Merci_! Any number of miles, whether of land or sea, +were better than a martyrdom like that!" + +"De Caylus!" I repeated. "Where have I heard that name?" + +"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." + +"On my silence and discretion you may rely absolutely." + +"And you can be here by nine?" + +"By daybreak, if you please." + +"I won't tax you to that extent. Nine will do quite well." + +"Adieu, then, till nine." + +"Adieu, and thank you." + +With this I left him, somewhat relieved to find that I had escaped all +cross-examination on the score of Madame Marignan. + +"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'...." + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +A MARRIAGE NOT "A LA MODE." + +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 _religieuse_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +"By Heaven!" said he, grasping my hand as though he would crush it. +"This is hard to bear." + +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. + +Dalrymple started and shook himself like a water-dog, as if he would so +shake off "the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune." + +"_Rex est qui metuit nihil_!" 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?" + +"I hardly know. Would you like to go into the country?" + +"Nothing better. The air perhaps would exorcise some of these +blue-devils." + +"What say you to St. Germains? It looks as if it must rain before night; +yet there is the forest and...." + +"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." + +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. + +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 + + "--verdurous glooms, and winding mossy ways." + +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 fete-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--_bonnes_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"Oh, nothing--at least, nothing new." + +"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!" + +"I--I ought not to be melancholy, I suppose; for I was thinking of +home." + +Dalrymple's face and voice softened immediately. + +"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?" + +"From infancy." + +"And you have no sisters?" + +"None. I am an only child." + +"Your father, however, is living?" + +"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--" + +"Still what?" + +--"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?" + +"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?" + +I shook my head sadly. + +"Did I not tell you that my father was a misanthrope? He visits no one, +unless professionally. We have no friends and no relations." + +"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." + +"That is true; but--" + +"But what?" + +"I am not fond of the profession. I have never liked it. I would give +much to relinquish it altogether." + +Dalrymple gave utterance to a prolonged and very dismal whistle. + +"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." + +"Yet I must endure it." + +"Why?" + +"Because it is too late to do otherwise." + +"It is never too late to repair an evil, or an error." + +"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!" + +"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!" + +"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." + +Dalrymple looked at me fixedly, and then fell back into his old +position. + +"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," + +"How so? You escaped a profession for which you were disinclined, and +entered one for which you had every qualification." + +"Ay; but think of the cursed _esclandre_--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 ..." + +His voice faltered, and he broke off abruptly. + +"I wish you were going with me to Berlin," said he, after a long silence +which I had not attempted to interrupt. + +"I wish with all my heart that I were!" + +"And yet," he added, "I am glad on--on her account, that you remain in +Paris. You will call upon her sometimes, Arbuthnot?" + +"If Madame De Cour.... I mean, if Mrs. Dalrymple will permit me." + +An involuntary smile flitted across his lips--the first I had seen there +all the day. + +"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." + +"It is as safe with me," I said, "as if I were dead, and in my grave." + +"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 ..." + +"Were she my own sister," I said, earnestly, "she would not find me +readier to assist or defend her. Of this, Dalrymple, be assured." + +"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!... _cela ne se +peut pas, mon cher_. You are too young to venture on such dangerous +ground, and too inexperienced." + +I smiled--perhaps somewhat bitterly--for the wound was still fresh, and +I could not help wincing when any hand came near it. + +"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." + +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:-- + +"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 _Pour acquit_ against the score!" + +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. + +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. + +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 +Mueller, the story-telling student of the _Chicards_ club. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"A scene, I suppose, from the life of Louis the Thirteenth," I +suggested. + +"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." + +"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." + +"_Parbleu!_ 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." + +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:-- + + "_Lisette! ma Lisette, + Tu m'as trompe toujours; + Je veux, Lisette, + Boire a nos amours_." + +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 Mueller, climbing like a cat to the roof-seats on the top of the +second-class carriages, beckoned us to follow. + +"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?" + +"Yes, we did," I replied; "but we had it to ourselves." + +"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 _Les Chicards_. Would you like to see how that old gentleman looks +when he is angry?" + +"Which? The one in the opposite corner?" + +"The same." + +"Well, that depends on circumstances. Why do you ask?" + +"Because I'll engage to satisfy your curiosity in less than ten +minutes." + +"Oh, no, don't affront him," said I. "We shall only have a scene." + +"I won't affront him. I promise not to utter a syllable, either +offensive or defensive." + +"Leave him alone, then, poor devil!" + +"Nonsense! If he chooses to be annoyed, that's his business, and not +mine. Now, you'll see." + +And Mueller, 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 with an elaborate show of fastidiousness +and deliberation--stared again--drew a deep breath--turned somewhat +aside, as 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. + +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 +Mueller 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. + +The old gentleman could stand it no longer. + +"Monsieur," said he, angrily. "Monsieur, I will thank you not to take my +portrait. I object to it. Monsieur." + +"Charming distance," said Mueller, addressing himself to me "Wants +interest, however, in the foreground. That's a picturesque tree yonder, +is it not?" + +The old gentleman struck his umbrella sharply on the floor. + +"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." + +Mueller looked up dreamily. + +"I beg your pardon, Monsieur," said he. "Did you speak?' + +"Yes, Monsieur. I did speak. I repeat that you shall not take my +portrait." + +"Your portrait, Monsieur?" + +"Yes, my portrait!" + +"But, Monsieur," remonstrated the artist, with an air of mingled candor +and surprise, "I never dreamed of taking your portrait!" + +"_Sacre non_!" shouted the old gentleman, with another rap of the +umbrella. "I saw you do it! Everybody saw you do It!" + +"Nay, if Monsieur will but do me the honor to believe that I was simply +sketching from nature, as the train...." + +"An impudent subterfuge, sir!" interrupted the old gentleman. "An +impudent subterfuge, and nothing less!" + +Mueller drew himself up with immense dignity. + +"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...." + +"A gentleman, indeed! A pretty gentleman! He takes my portrait, and...." + +"I have not taken your portrait, Monsieur." + +"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?" + +"Nay, then, if it must come to this," said Mueller, "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?" + +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! + +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. + +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. + +When we alighted, it was nearly five o'clock. + +"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 _bon garcon_ like +Herr Mueller." + +"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." + +"_Allons_, then! Where shall we go; to the _Trois Freres_, or the +_Moulin Rouge_, or the _Maison Doree_?" + +"The _Trois Freres_" said Mueller, 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," + +"True. Then shall we try the _Moulin Rouge_?" + +Mueller shook his head. + +"At the _Moulin Rouge_" 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 _carte_; 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 +_Moulin Rouge_." + +"Well, then, Vefours, Very's, the Cafe Anglais?" + +"Vefours is traditional; the Cafe Anglais is infested with English; and +at Very's, which is otherwise a meritorious establishment, one's +digestion is disturbed by the sight of omnivorous provincials, who drink +champagne with the _roti_, and eat melon at dessert." + +Dalrymple laughed outright. + +"At this rate," said he, "we shall get no dinner at all! What is to +become of us, if neither Very's, nor the _Trois Freres_, nor the _Moulin +Rouge_, nor the _Maison Doree_...." + +"_Halte-la!"_ interrupted the student, theatrically; "for by my halidom, +sirs, I said not a syllable in disparagement of the house yelept Doree! +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 Mueller, being of sound mind and body, +did less than justice to the reputation of the _Maison Doree_." + +"To the _Maison Doree_, then," said Dalrymple, "with what speed and +appetite we may! By Jove! Herr Franz, you are a _connoisseur_ in the +matter of dining." + +"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 Mueller, philosophically. "The ragouts of the +Temple--the _arlequins_ of the _Cite_--the fried fish of the Odeon +arcades--the unknown hashes of the _guingettes_, 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 _Le hasard_." + +"_Le hasard_." said I. "What is that?" + +"_Le hasard de la fourchette_," replied the student, "is the resort of +the vagabond, the _gamin_, and the _chiffonier_. 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 _Le hasard_ is a game of gastronomic chance. +But from the ridiculous to the sublime, it is but a step--and while +talking of _Le hasard_ behold, we have arrived at the _Maison Doree_." + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +A DINNER AT THE MAISON DOREE AND AN EVENING PARTY IN THE QUARTIER LATIN. + +The most genial of companions was our new acquaintance, Franz Mueller, +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 _bon garcon_, 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." + +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 _recherche_, luxurious extravagant little dinner it +was, that evening at the Maison Doree! 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. + +How merry we were! How Mueller 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! Mueller 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. + +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 _al fresco_ absinthe, +and _grog-au-vin._ 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 Mueller +could scarcely be called new acquaintances. They had met some few times +at the _Chicards_, 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! + +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 Cafe des +Aveugles? Or take a drive round by the Champs Elysees in an open fly? + +At length Mueller remembered that some fellow-students were giving a +party that evening, and offered to introduce us. + +"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." + +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. + +"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 _marron glace_ is an infallible specific. +I recommend that we lay in a liberal supply of both weapons." + +"Carried by acclamation," said Mueller. "We can buy them on our way, in +the Rue Vivienne. A capital shop; but one that I never patronize--they +give no credit." + +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. + +Mueller'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 Odeon, 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 _suite_ of rooms at the disposal of their visitors. + +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 Mueller +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. + +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 +_obligato_ on the common comb. As for the guests, they were, as Mueller +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. + +"The Duke of Dalrymple and the Marquis of Arbuthnot--Messieurs Jules +Charpentier and Gustave Dubois," said Mueller, with the most _degage_ air +in the world. + +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. Mueller, 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. + +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? + +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 +_bete_, I set down to the score of _naivete_ in Mademoiselle +Josephine. One is not diffident at twenty--by the way, I was now +twenty-one--especially after dining at the Maison Doree. + +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 _patronne_ lived in the Rue Menilmontant; +that she went to her work every morning at nine, and left it every +evening at eight; that she lodged _sous les toits_ 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. + +"Is the country pretty at Juvisy, Mademoiselle?" I asked, by way of +keeping up the conversation. + +"Oh, M'sieur, it is a real paradise. There are trees and fields, and +there is the Seine close by, and a chateau, and a park, and a church on +a hill, ... _ma foi!_ there is nothing in Paris half so pretty; not even +the Jardin des Plantes!" + +"And have you been there lately?" + +"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...." + +"Emile!" said I, quickly. "Who is he?" + +"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." + +"And what did you quarrel about, Mademoiselle?" + +My pretty partner laughed and tossed her head. + +"Eh, _mon Dieu_! he was jealous." + +"Jealous of whom?" + +"Of a gentleman--an artist--who wanted to paint me in one of his +pictures. Emile did not like me to go to his _atelier_ so often; and the +gentleman gave me a shawl (such a pretty shawl!) and a canary in a +lovely green and gold cage; and...." + +"And Emile objected ?" + +"Yes, M'sieur." + +"How very unreasonable!" + +"That's just what I said, M'sieur." + +"And have you never seen him since!" + +"Oh, yes--he keeps company now with my cousin Cecile, and she humors him +in everything," + +"And the artist--what of him, Mademoiselle?" + +"Oh, I sat to him every day, till his picture was finished. _Il etait +bien gentil_. He took me to the theatre several times, and once to a +fete at Versailles; but that was after Emile and I had broken it off." + +"Did you find it tiresome, sitting as a model?" + +"_Mais, comme ci, et comme ca_! It was a beautiful dress, and became me +wonderfully. To be sure, it was rather cold!" + +"May I ask what character you were supposed to represent, Mademoiselle?" + +"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." + +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! + +"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." + +Mademoiselle Josephine smiled, and returned the pressure. + +"One might borrow it," said she, "for the Bal de l'Opera." + +"Ah, Mademoiselle, if I dared only aspire to the honor of conducting +you!" + +"_Dame_! it is nearly four months to come!" + +"True, but in the meantime, Mademoiselle----" + +"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." + +"Mademoiselle, you make me happy!" + +"Besides, M'sieur is an Englishman, and I like the English so much!" + +"I am delighted to hear it, Mademoiselle. I hope I shall never give you +cause to alter your opinion." + +"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!" + +There were a dozen up immediately, amongst whom Dalrymple and +Mademoiselle Annette, and Mueller 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _obligato_ +before mentioned, produced a startling effect, and reminded one of +Turkish marches, Pantomime overtures, and the like barbaric music. + +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. + +"It's our neighbor on the story below," said Monsieur Jules. "He objects +to the dancing." + +"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?" + +"Monsieur Bobinet." + +"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!" + +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. + +"_Par exemple_!" cries Monsieur Jules. "The enemy dares to attack us in +our own lines!" + +"Bolt the door, and let him knock till he's tired," suggested one. + +"Open it suddenly, and deluge him with water!" cried another. + +"Tar and feather him!" proposed a third. + +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. + +"Hush! do nothing violent," cried Mueller, scenting a practical joke. +"Let us invite him in, and make fun of him. It will be ever so much +more amusing!" + +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. + +Mueller received him with a profound bow, and said:-- + +"Monsieur Bobinet, I believe?" + +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:-- + +"Yes, that is my name, Monsieur. I lodge on the fourth floor...." + +"But pray walk in, Monsieur Bobinet," said Mueller, opening the door +still wider and bowing still more profoundly. + +"Monsieur," returned the fourth-floor lodger, "I--I only come to +complain...." + +"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." + +"Oh, walk in--pray walk in, Monsieur Bobinet," echoed Jules, Gustave, +and Adrien, all together. + +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:-- + +"Really, gentlemen, I should have much pleasure, but I am not +prepared...." + +"Don't mention it, Monsieur Bobinet," said Mueller. "We are delighted to +receive you. Allow me to disembarrass you of your candle." + +"And permit me," said Jules, "to relieve you of your stick." + +"Pray, Monsieur Bobinet, do you never dance the polka?" asked Gustave. + +"Bring Monsieur Bobinet a glass of cold punch," said Adrien. + +"And a plate of lobster salad," added the bearded student. + +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. + +"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...." + +"Nay, Monsieur Bobinet, we cannot suffer you to leave us without taking +a glass of cold punch," pursued Mueller. + +"Upon my word," began the lodger, "I dare not...." + +"A glass of white wine, then?" + +"Or a cup of coffee?" + +"Or some home-made lemonade?" + +Monsieur Bobinet cast a look of helpless longing towards the door. + +"If you really insist, gentlemen," said he, "I will take a cup of +coffee; but indeed...." + +"A cup of coffee for Monsieur Bobinet!" shouted Mueller. + +"A large cup of coffee for Monsieur Bobinet!" repeated Jules. + +"A strong cup of coffee for Monsieur Bobinet!" cried Gustave, following +up the lead of the other two. + +The fourth-floor lodger frowned and colored up, beginning to be +suspicious of mischief. Seeing this, Mueller hastened to apologize. + +"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." + +And turning to one of the ballet ladies, he led her forward with +exceeding gravity, and presented her to Monsieur Bobinet as Madame +Charpentier. + +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. + +"_Mon Dieu_!" 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." + +"Oh yes, pray be seated, Monsieur Bobinet," cried the two girls. "We +shall be charmed to make room for Monsieur Bobinet!" + +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. + +"Bravo, Monsieur Bobinet!" + +"_Vive_ Monsieur Bobinet!" + +"Three cheers for Monsieur Bobinet!" + +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. + +After this interlude, the mirth grew fast and furious. _Valse_ succeeded +_valse_, 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 _pas de deux_; after which Mueller 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. + +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. + +"Going already?" said Mueller, encountering us on the landing, with a +roll in one hand and a Bologna sausage in the other. + +"Already! Why, my dear fellow, it is nearly seven o'clock!" + +"_Qu'importe_? Come up to the supper-room and have some breakfast!" + +"Not for the world!" + +"Well, _chacun a son gout_. I am as hungry as a hunter." + +"Can I not take you any part of your way?" + +"No, thank you. I am a Quartier Latinist, _pur sang_, 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!" + +"Indeed, I will come---and here is my card in exchange. Good-night, Herr +Mueller." + +"Good-night, Marquis of Arbuthnot. Mademoiselle Josephine, _au +plaisir_." + +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 Marche +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 _marrons +glaces_ 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. + +The fountain in the middle of the Marche 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 _concierge_ 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 _commissionnaire_ waiting for me. + +"_Tiens_!" said Madame Bouisse (Madame Bouisse was the wife of the +_concierge_). "_V'la_! here is M'sieur Arbuthnot." + +The man touched his cap, and handed me a letter. + +"I was told to deliver it into no hands but those of M'sieur himself," +said he. + +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: + +"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 Hotel de Russie, Berlin. Adieu, Damon; God bless you. O.D." + +"How long is it since this letter was given to you?" said I, without +taking my eyes from the card. + +The _commissionnaire_ made no reply. I repeated the question, looked up +impatiently, and found that the man was already gone. + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE CHATEAU DE SAINTE AULAIRE. + + "Mark yon old mansion frowning through the trees, + Whose hollow turret wooes the whistling breeze." + +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. + +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 _marrons glaces_. + +My divinity lived, as she had told me, _sous les toits_--and _sous les +toits_, 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 _prie-dieu_ 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! + +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! + +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 _materia medica_ at the _Ecole Pratique_; +that being a good, congenial, dismal entertainment for the evening! + +Sunday came with the sunrise, and at midday, true as the clock of St. +Eustache, I knocked once more at the door of the _mansarde_ 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. + +What I was not prepared for, however, was her cap. I had forgotten that +your Parisian grisette[1] 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. Cheron? 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? + +[1] The grisette of twenty years ago, _bien entendu_. I am writing, be +it remembered, of "The days of my youth." + +"_Eh bien_, Monsieur Basil," said Josephine, when my first compliments +had been paid. "I am quite ready. Where are we going?" + +"We shall dine, _mon cher ange_," said I, absently, "at--let me +see--at...." + +"At the Moulin Rouge," interrupted she. "But that is six hours to come. +In the meantime--" + +"In the meantime? Ay, in the meantime...what a delightful day for the +time of year!" + +"Shall it be Versailles?" suggested Josephine. + +"Heaven forbid!" + +Josephine opened her large eyes. + +"_Mon Dieu!_" said she. "What is there so very dreadful in Versailles?" + +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 Compiegne. + +The grisette pouted, and glanced at the clock. + +"If Monsieur is as slow to start as he is to answer," said she, "we +shall not get beyond the barriers to-day." + +At this moment, I remembered to have heard of Montlhery 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. + +"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 Montlhery--one of the most interesting places +near Paris." + +"I have read a romance called _The Tower of Montlhery"_ said Josephine. + +"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. Genevieve--to visit..." + +"I wonder if we shall find any donkeys to ride," interrupted Josephine, +upon whom my eloquence was taking the desired effect. + +"Donkeys!" I exclaimed, drawing, I am ashamed to say, upon my +imagination. "Of course--hundreds of them!" + +"_Ah, ca_! 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," + +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 _marche_--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 Montlhery. + +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 _auberge_ +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 _cimetiere_, which was full of black crosses and +wreaths of _immortelles_. 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. + +"_Regardez_!" she cried, "there is the dome of the Pantheon. I am sure +it is the Pantheon--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!" + +"Do me the favor, _ma belle_, 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. + +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. + +"_Tiens_! that must be a wedding!" said Josephine, drumming with her +little feet against the side of the old well on which she was sitting. + +"A wedding! what connection subsists, pray, between the bonds of +matrimony, and a tune on the bagpipes?" + +"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 _cornemuse_." + +"A _cornemuse!_" I repeated. "What's that?" + +"Oh, country music. A thing you blow into with your mouth, and play upon +with your fingers, and squeeze under your arm--like this." + +"Then it's the same thing, _ma chere_," said I. "A bagpipes and a +_cornemuse_--a _cornemuse_ and bagpipes. Both of them national, popular, +and frightful." + +"I'm so fond of music," said Josephine. + +Not wishing to object to her tastes, and believing that this observation +related to the music then audible, I made no reply. + +"And I have never been to an opera," added she. + +I was still silent, though from another motive. + +"You will take me one night to the Italiens, or the Opera Comique, will +you not, Monsieur Basil?" pursued she, determined not to lose her +opportunity. + +I had now no resource but to promise; which I did, very reluctantly. + +"You would enjoy the Opera 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," + +"Ah, bah! I should prefer the French," replied she, falling at once into +the snare. "When shall it be--this week?" + +"Ye--es; one evening this week." + +"What evening?" + +"Well, let me see--we had better wait, and consult the advertisements." + +"_Dame_! never mind the advertisements. Let it be Tuesday." + +"Why Tuesday?" + +"Because it is soon; and because I can get away early on Tuesdays if I +ask leave." + +I had, plainly, no chance of escape. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Then it shall be the Opera Comique," said I, with a sigh. + +"And on Tuesday evening next." + +"On Tuesday evening next." + +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. + +"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?" + +"But you would not dance before dinner?" + +"_Eh, mon Dieu_! I would dance before breakfast, if I had the chance. +Come along. If we do not make haste, we may miss them." + +I rose, feeling, and I daresay, looking, like a martyr; and we went down +again into the town. + +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. + +"The Chateau of St. Aulaire!" said Josephine. "What are they going to do +there? What is there to see?" + +"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." + +"To whom does it belong?" I asked, somewhat interested in this account. + +"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." + +"I should like to see the old place," said I. + +"And I should like to see how the bride is dressed," said Josephine, +"and if the bridegroom is handsome." + +"Well, let us go--not forgetting to thank Monsieur _le Perruquier_ for +his polite information." + +Monsieur _le Perruquier_ fell into what dancing-masters call the first +position, and bowed elaborately. + +"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." + +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 _sabots_, who, thinking we belonged to the +bridal party, pointed up the dusky avenue, and said, with a grin:-- + +"_Tout droit, M'sieur--ils sont passes par la!_" + +_Par la_, "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, _moyen-age_ 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. + +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 _sabots_ from a side-door, key +in hand, preceded us up the double flight of steps, unlocked the great +door, and admitted us. + +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 _salons_ 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 +_concierge_, whose heavy _sabots_ awakened ghostly echoes from floor +to floor. + +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. + +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. + +"Who was this lady?" I asked, eagerly. + +The _concierge_ nodded and rubbed her hands. + +"Aha! M'sieur," said she, "'tis the best painting in the chateau, as +folks tell me. M'sieur is a connoisseur." + +"But do you know whose portrait it is?" + +"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!" + +"What an exquisite creature! Look, Josephine, did you ever see anything +so beautiful?" + +"Beautiful!" repeated the grisette, with a sidelong glance at one of the +mirrors. "Beautiful, with such a coiffure and such a bodice! _Ciel!_ how +tastes differ!" + +"But her face, Josephine!" + +"What of her face? I'm sure it's plain enough." + +"Plain! Good heavens! what..." + +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. + +"I wish I could buy it!" I exclaimed. + +Josephine burst into a loud laugh. + +"_Grand Dieu_!" said she, half pettishly, "if you are so much in love +with it as all that, I dare say it would not be difficult!" + +The _concierge_ shook her head. + +"Everything on this estate is locked up," said she. "Nothing can be +sold, nothing given away, nothing even repaired, till the _proces_ +is ended." + +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 _concierge_ was waiting to let us out. I +drew her aside, and slipped a liberal gratuity into her hand. + +"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?" + +The _concierge_ looked into her palm, and seeing the value of the coin, +smiled, hesitated, put her finger to her lip, and said:-- + +"_Ma foi_, M'sieur, I believe I have no business to allow it; but--to +oblige a gentleman like you--if there was nobody about--" + +I nodded. We understood each other sufficiently, and no more was needed. + +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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +I FALL A SACRIFICE TO MRS. GRUNDY. + +"A word with you, if you please, Basil Arbuthnot," said Dr. Cheron, +"when you have finished copying those prescriptions." + +Dr. Cheron 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 Opera 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. + +"But you need be in no haste," he added, looking at his watch. "That is +to say, upon my account." + +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. + +Dr. Cheron coughed preparatorily. + +"It is some time," said he, "since you have given me any news of your +father. Do you often hear from him?" + +"Not very often, sir," I replied. "About once in every three weeks. He +dislikes letter-writing." + +Dr. Cheron took a packet of papers from his breast-pocket, and ruffling +them over, said, somewhat indifferently:-- + +"Very true--very true. His notes are brief and few; but always to the +purpose. I heard from him this morning." + +"Indeed, sir?" + +"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 Medecine and +the Ecole Pratique." + +I was delighted. + +"Both are made payable through my banker," continued Dr. Cheron, "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." + +My delight went down to zero. + +"Does my father say that I am not to have it now, sir?" I asked, +hesitatingly. + +"He says, as I have already told you, that it is to be yours when you +require it." + +"And if I require it very shortly, sir--in fact, if I require it now?" + +"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." + +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. + +"How have you spent it?" asked Dr. Cheron, never removing his eyes from +my face. + +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. + +Dr. Cheron looked again at his watch. + +"Have you kept any entries of your expenses since you came to Paris?" +said he. + +"Not with--with any regularity, sir," I replied. + +He took out his pencil-case and pocket-book. + +"Let us try, then," said he, "to make an average calculation of what +they might be in five months." + +I began to feel very uncomfortable. + +"I believe your father paid your travelling expenses?" + +I bowed affirmatively. + +"Leaving you the clear sum of one hundred and five pounds." I bowed +again. + +"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?" + +I bowed for the third time. + +"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?" + +"About--not more than--than a hundred and twenty francs," I replied, +stripping the feathers off all the pens in succession, without +knowing it. + +"Have you any debts?" + +"A--a few." + +"Tailors' bills?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"What others?" + +"A--a couple of months' rent, I believe, sir." + +"Is that all?" + +"N--not quite." + +Dr. Cheron frowned, and looked again at his watch. + +"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." + +"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..." + +"I beg your pardon," interrupted Dr. Cheron: "but who is Monceau?" + +"Monceau's--Monceau's livery-stables, sir." + +Dr. Cheron slightly raised his eye-brows, and entered the name. + +"And at Lavoisier's, on the Boulevard Poissonniere--" + +"What is sold, pray, at Lavoisier's?" + +"Gloves, perfumes, hosiery, ready-made linen..." + +"Enough--you can proceed." + +"I have also a bill at--at Barbet's, in the Passage de l'Opera." + +"And Barbet is--?" + +"A--a florist!" I replied, very reluctantly. + +"Humph!--a florist!" observed Dr. Cheron, again transfixing me with the +cold, blue eye. "To what amount do you suppose you are indebted to +Monsieur Barbet?" + +I looked down, and became utterly unintelligible. + +"Fifty francs?" + +"I--I fear, more than--than--" + +"A hundred? A hundred and fifty? Two hundred?" + +"About two hundred, I suppose, sir," I said desperately. + +"Two hundred francs--that is to say, eight pounds English--to your +florist! Really, Mr. Arbuthnot, you must be singularly fond of flowers!" + +I looked down in silence. + +"Have you a conservatory attached to your rooms?" + +The skeleton clock struck the half hour. + +"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...." + +"One word, young man. Will the fifty pounds cover your debts?" + +"Quite, sir, I am confident." + +"And leave you something in hand for your current expenses?" + +"Indeed, I fear very little." + +"In that case what will you do?" + +This was a terrible question, and one for which I could find no answer. + +"Write to your father for another remittance--eh?" + +"I--upon my word, I dare not, sir," I faltered. + +"Then you would go in debt again?" + +"I really fear--even with the strictest economy--I--" + +"Be so obliging as to let me have your seat," said Dr. Cheron, 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. + +"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." + +"Oh, sir!" I exclaimed, "how can I ever--" + +"No thanks, I beg," interposed Dr. Cheron. "Prove your gratitude by your +conduct; do not trouble yourself to talk about it." + +"Indeed, sir, you may depend--" + +"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." + +Hereupon Dr. Cheron replaced the cards and the printed form, +double-locked his desk, and, with a slight gesture of the hand, frigidly +dismissed me. + +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. Cheron! 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. + +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. + +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 +_ouvriere_ than ever. Aggravating above all else, however, was her own +undisguised delight in her appearance. + +"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. + +"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." + +"Ah, _mon Dieu!_ then I cannot see the house--and how pretty it is! Ever +so much prettier than the Gaiete, or the Porte St. Martin!" + +"You can see the house by peeping behind the curtain." + +"As if I were ashamed to be seen! _Par exemple_!" + +"Nay, as you please. I only advise you according to custom and fashion." + +Josephine pouted, and unwillingly conceded a couple of inches. + +"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." + +"A telescope at the opera--the gods forbid! Here, however, is my +opera-glass, if you like to use it." + +Josephine turned it over curiously, and peeped first through one tube +and then through the other. + +"Which ought I to look through?" asked she. + +"Both, of course." + +"Both! How can I?" + +"Why thus--as you look through a pair of spectacles." + +"_Ciel!_ I can't manage that! I can never look through anything without +covering up one eye with my hand." + +"Then I think you had better be contented with your own charming eyes, +_ma belle_" said I, nervously. "How do you like your bouquet?" + +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. + +"Ah, _mon Dieu!_" said she, "when will they have done singing? I have +not heard a word all this time." + +"But everything is sung, _ma chere_, in an opera." + +"What do you mean? Is there no play?" + +"This is the play; only instead of speaking their words, they sing +them." + +Josephine shrugged her shoulders. + +"Ah, bah!" said she. "How stupid! I had rather have seen the _Closerie +des Genets_ at the Graiete, 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 _glace_, trimmed with black velvet and lace!" + +"Hush! you must not talk while they are singing!" + +"_Tiens!_ 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." + +"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." + +Josephine squeezed my hand affectionately. + +"That is just as Emile used to talk to me," said she. + +I felt by no means flattered. + +"_Regardez done!_" 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 _glace_ never takes her eyes from our box! She points us out +to the gentleman who is with her--do look!" + +I turned my glass in the direction to which she pointed, and recognised +Madame de Marignan! + +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. + +"Does she know you?" asked Josephine. + +"I--I--probably--that is to say--I have met her in society." + +"And who is the gentleman?" + +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. + +"Is he her husband?" pursued Josephine. + +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! + +"How she looks at me!" said Josephine. + +I felt myself blush, so to speak, from head to foot. + +"Good Heavens! my dear girl," I exclaimed, "take your elbows off the +front of the box!" + +Josephine complied, with a pettish little grimace. + +"And, for mercy's sake, don't hold your head as if you feared it would +tumble off!" + +"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." + +"Never mind. Make the best of it, and listen to this song." + +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 _sostenuto_ 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? + +"Wretched girl!" I exclaimed, savagely, "what have you done?" + +"Done, _mon ami!_" said Josephine, innocently. "Why, I fear I have taken +cold." + +I groaned aloud. + +"Taken cold!" I muttered to myself. "Would to Heaven you had taken +prussic acid!" + +"_Qu'est ce que c'est?"_ asked she. + +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 _sucre d'orge_ 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? + + * * * * * + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +HIGH ART IN THE QUARTIER LATIN. + +"But, my dear fellow, what else could you have expected? You took +Mam'selle Josephine to the _Opera Comique. Eh bien!_ you might as well +have taken an oyster up Mount Vesuvius. Our fair friend was out of her +element. _Voila tout_." + +"Confound her and her element!" I exclaimed with a groan. "What the +deuce _is_ her element--the Quartier Latin?" + +"The Quartier Latin is to some extent her habitat--but then Mam'selle +Josephine belongs to a genus of which you, _cher_ Monsieur Arbuthnot, +are deplorably ignorant--the genus grisette. The grisette from a certain +point of view is the _chef-d'oeuvre_ of Parisian industry; the bouquet +of Parisian civilization. She is indigenous to the _mansarde_ and the +_pave_--bears no transplantation--flourishes in _the premiere balconie_, +the suburban _guingette_, 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 Chaussee 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 _Fille +de Marbre."_ + +Thus, with much gravity and emphasis, spoke Herr Franz Mueller, 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 Opera 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. + +"Josephine, at all events, is not of the stuff that _Filles de Marbre_ +are made of," I said, smiling. + +"Perhaps not--_mais, que voulez-vous?_ 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," + +"And the moral of this learned and perspicuous discourse?" + +"_Tiens_! the moral, is--keep our fair friend in her place. Remember +that a dinner at thirty sous in the Palais Royal, or a fete with +fireworks at Mabille, will give her ten times more pleasure than the +daintiest repast you could order at the Maison Doree, 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." + +Our conversation, or rather his monologue, was here interrupted by the +ringing of the outer bell. + +The artist sat up, took his pipe from his lips, and looked considerably +disturbed. + +"_Mille tonnerres_!" said he in a low tone. "Who can it be?... so early +in the day ... not yet ten o'clock ... it is very mysterious." + +"It is only mysterious," said I, "as long as you don't open the door. +Shall I answer the bell?" + +"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." + +"Unfortunately I should not know either of your princes of darkness at +first sight." + +"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. _Diable_! there +goes the bell again." + +"It would perhaps be safest," I suggested, "to let M. or N. ring on till +he is tired of the exercise." + +"But conceive the horrid possibility of letting thirty francs ring +themselves out of patience! No, _mon ami_--I will dare the worst that +may happen. Wait here for me--I will answer the door myself," + +Now it should be explained that Mueller'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. + +All these things I had observed as I passed in; for this, be it +remembered, was my first visit to Mueller in his own territory. + +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. + +"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--_Vive la France_!" + +"Man or woman? Young or old? Plain or pretty?" + +"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 ... _Will_ you oblige me by performing the part for a few +minutes, just to carry out the idea?" + +"What part?" + +"The part of sitter." + +"Oh, with pleasure," I replied, laughing. "Do with me what you please," + +"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!" + +"But you're not going to let them in! You have no portrait of me to be +at work upon!" + +"My dear fellow, I've dozens of half-finished studies, any one of which +will answer the purpose. _Voila_! here is the very thing." + +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. + +"Heavens and earth!" I exclaimed, "that's a copy of the Titian in the +Louvre--the 'Young Man with the Glove!'" + +"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." + +"I will try to do credit to the peerage." + +"And if you would not mind throwing in a word of English every now and +then ... a little Goddam, for instance.. . Eh?" + +I laughed and shook my head. + +"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." + +"No, no--_diable_! 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." + +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. + +Mueller introduced them with much ceremony and many apologies. + +"Permit me, milord," he said, "to present Monsieur and Madame +Tapotte--Monsieur and Madame Tapotte; Milord Smithfield." + +I rose and bowed with the gravity becoming my rank. + +"I have explained to milord," continued Mueller, 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. _Mille pardons_, 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 ... _enfin_ the +expression!" + +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. + +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. + +"_Ah, mon Dieu_!" she said; "but it must be very fatiguing to sit so +long in the same position. And to paint.... _Oiel!_ what practice! what +perseverance! what patience! _Avec permission_, M'sieur..." + +And with this she sidled up to Mueller's elbow, leaving Monsieur Tapotte +thunderstruck at her audacity. + +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. + +"_Tiens_!" she said bluntly. "I don't see one bit of likeness." + +I turned hot from head to foot, but Mueller's serene effrontery was equal +to the occasion. + +"I dare say not, Madame," he replied, coolly. "I dare say not. This +portrait is not intended to be like." + +Madame Tapotte's eyes and mouth opened simultaneously. + +"_Comment_!" she exclaimed. + +"I should be extremely sorry," continued Mueller, loftily, "and his +lordship would be extremely sorry, if there were too much resemblance." + +"But a--a likeness--it seems to me, should at all events be--like," +stammered Madame Tapotte, utterly bewildered. + +"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..._Dame_! it must be a +good deal more like than this." + +Mueller drew himself up with an air of great dignity. + +"Sir," he said, "if Madame does me the honor to sit to me for her +portrait--for her _own_ 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." + +The Tapottes looked at each other in a state bordering on stupefaction. + +"His lordship," continued Mueller, "is sitting for the portrait of one of +his illustrious ancestors--a nobleman of the period of Queen Elizabeth." + +Tapotte _mari_ scratched his head, and smiled feebly. + +"_Parbleu_!" said he, "_mais c'est bien drole, ca_!" + +The artist shrugged his shoulders. + +"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!" + +"Oh, enormous!" + +"The taste for family portraits," continued Mueller, 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." + +"No!" + +"_Foi d'honneur_. 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." + +Monsieur and Madame Tapotte exchanged glances. + +"_Tiens, mon ami_, why should we not have an ancestor or two, as well +as other folks," suggested the lady, in a very audible whisper. + +Monsieur shook his head, and muttered something about the expense. + +"There is no harm, at all events," urged madame, "in asking the price." + +"My charge for gallery portraits, madame, varies from sixty to a hundred +francs," said Mueller. + +"Heavens! how dear! Why, my own portrait is to be only fifty." + +"Sixty, Madame, if we put in the hands and the jewelry," said Mueller, +blandly. + +"_Eh bien_!--sixty. But for these other things.... bah! _ils sont +fierement chers_." + +"_Pardon_, 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." + +"There is some truth in that," murmured Monsieur Tapotte. + +"Besides, in the present instance, one also pays for antiquity." + +"_C'est juste--C'est juste_." + +"At the same time," continued Mueller, "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." + +"_Tiens_! that's a fair offer enough," said madame. "What say you, _mon +ami_?" + +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. + +Meanwhile Mueller 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. + +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 +_chef-d'oeuvre_ excelled all the masterpieces of Europe. + +Mueller bowed, and bowed, and bowed, like a Chinaman at a visit of +ceremony; He was more than proud; he was overwhelmed, _accable_, et +caetera, et caetera. + +The Tapottes left off whispering, and listened breathlessly. + +"He is evidently a great painter, _not' jeune homme_!" said Madame in +one of her large whispers. + +To which Monsieur replied as audibly:--"_Ca se voit, ma femme--sacre nom +d'une pipe_!" + +"Milford will do me the favor to sit again on Friday?" said Mueller, as I +took up my hat and gloves. + +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 Mueller, took my departure majestically in the +character of Lord Smithfield. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +THE QUARTIER LATIN. + +The dear old Quartier Latin of my time--the Quartier Latin of Balzac, of +Beranger, of Henry Murger---the Quartier Latin where Franz Mueller had +his studio; where Messieurs Gustave; Jules, and Adrien gave their +unparalleled _soirees dansantes_; 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. + +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.... + +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 cafes 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 +mediaeval 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 Gres, 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_ petit vin bleu_; 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. + +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. Benoit, +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 Enrage," +where, on gala days, many an Alphonse and Fifine, many a Theophile and +Cerisette, were wont to hold high feast and festival--terms sevenpence +half-penny each, bread at discretion, water gratis, wine and +toothpicks extra. + +But it was in the side streets, courts, and _impasses_ 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 Gres, 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 _moraine_ 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 _perdu_ 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. + +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 Gres, where Rousseau lived and wrote; and +the Rue du Dragon, where might then be seen the house of Bernard +Palissy; and the Rue des Macons, 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 Valliere 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 facade 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 Comedie, walked the shades of Racine, of Moliere, 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. + +Then beside, yet not apart from, all that was mediaeval and historic in +the Pays Latin, ran the gay, effervescent, laughing current of the life +of the _jeunessed' aujour d'hui._ Here beat the very heart of that rare, +that immortal, that unparalleled _vie de Boheme_, the vagabond poetry of +which possesses such an inexhaustible charm for even the soberest +imagination. What brick and mortar idylls, what romances _au cinquieme_, +what joyous epithalamiums, what gay improvident _menages_, what kisses, +what laughter, what tears, what lightly-spoken and lightly-broken vows +those old walls could have told of! + +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 _Pays Latiniste pur sang_, lived and had his being. Poring +over the bookstalls in the Place du Pantheon or the Rue des +Gres--hurrying along towards this or that college with a huge volume +under each arm, about nine o'clock in the morning--haunting the cafes 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 Odeon and every part of the Theatre du +Pantheon--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. + +And here, too (a necessary sequence), flourished the fair and frail +grisette. Her race, alas! is now all but extinct--the race of Fretillon, +of Francine, of Lisette, Musette, Rosette, and all the rest of that too +fascinating terminology--the race immortalized again and again by +Beranger, 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 _en noir_ and now all _couleur de rose_; yet, however +often described, however skilfully analyzed, remaining for ever +indescribable, and for ever defying analysis! + +"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 _pur +sang_ is to be found nowhere except in Paris; and (still a step farther) +nowhere in Paris save between the Pont Neuf and the Barriere 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 _galette, sucre d'orge_, and Frederick Lemaitre; and +looks upon a masked ball and a debardeur dress as the summit of +human felicity. + +_Vive la grisette_! 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? + +_Vive la grisette_! Let us think and speak no evil of her. "Elle ne +tient au vice que par un rayon, et s'en eloigne 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 +Chaumiere--what does that prove, except that her heels are as light as +her heart, and that her early education has been somewhat neglected? + +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 Chaumiere 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 Pantheon, are gone as if they had never been. Whole +streets, I might say whole parishes, have been swept away--whole +chapters of mediaeval history erased for ever. + +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 Ecole de Medecine. 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! + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +THE FETE AT COURBEVOIE. + +"_Halte la_! 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." + +So saying, Mueller, having stopped me as I was coming down the steps of +the Hotel 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. + +"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, _mon cher_! 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 _billets de +banque_! I feel--ah, _mon ami_! 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!" + +"I'm delighted," said I, "that Tapotte has turned up a trump card." + +"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? _'O bella eta dell' oro_!'" + +And to my horror, he then and there executed a frantic _pas seul_. + +"Gracious powers!" I exclaimed. "Are you mad?" + +"Yes--raving mad. Have you any objection?" + +"But, my dear fellow--in the face of day--in the streets of Paris! We +shall get taken up by the police!" + +"Then suppose we get out of the streets of Paris? I'm tired enough, +Heaven knows, of cultivating the arid soil of the Pave. See, it's a +glorious afternoon. Let's go somewhere." + +"With all my heart. Where?" + +"_Ah, mon Dieu! ca m'est egal_. Enghien--Vincennes--St. +Cloud--Versailles ... anywhere you like. Most probably there's a fete +going on somewhere, if we only knew where," + +"Can't we find out?" + +"Oh, yes--we can drop into a Cafe and look at the _Petites Affiches_; +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." + +So we threaded our way along the narrow thoroughfares of the Ile de la +Cite, 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 fete at Courbevoie; a village on the banks of the Seine, a +mile or two beyond Neuilly. + +"_Voila, notre affaire_!" said Mueller, gaily. "We can't do better than +steer straight for Courbevoie." + +Saying which, he hailed a passing fiacre and bade the coachman drive to +the Embarcadere of the Rive Droite. + +"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--_voila!_... one franc, one piece of fifty centimes, another +of twenty centimes, and some sous. I hope your pockets are better lined +than mine." + +"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. + +"_Parbleu_! we've just eleven francs and a half between us," said +Mueller. "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." + +"Better turn back and go to my rooms for some more money?" I exclaimed. +"I've two Napoleons in my desk." + +"No, no--we should miss the three-fifty train, and not get another till +between five and six." + +"But we shall have no fun if we have no money!" + +"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!" + +So with our eleven francs and a half we went on to the station, and took +our places for Courbevoie. + +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. + +"I was on this very line last Sunday," said one. "I went with Julie to +Asnieres, and we were so gay! I wonder if it will be very gay at +Courbevoie." + +"_Je m'en doute_," replied another, whom they called Lolotte. "I came to +one of the Courbevoie fetes 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, Adele?" + +"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?" + +"Ah! yes--the little fellow with the curly hair and the whiskers, who +waits for you at the corner when we leave the workshop." + +"The same--Achille." + +"Your Achille is nice-looking," said Mademoiselle Lolotte, with a +somewhat critical air. "It is a pity he squints." + +"He does not squint, mam'selle." + +"Oh, _ma chere_! I appeal to Caroline." + +"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." + +"_Tiens_, Caroline--it seems to me that you look very closely into the +eyes of young men," exclaims Adele, turning sharply upon this new +assailant. + +"At all events you admit that Caroline is right," cries Lolotte, +triumphantly. + +"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." + +"An _old_ one!" shrieked Mam'selle Lolotte. "Ah, _mon Dieu_! 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!" + +"He's sixty, if an hour," said the injured Adele. "And as for you, +Caroline, who have never had a beau in your life...." + +"_Ciel_! what a calumny!--I--never had a ... Holy Saint Genevieve! why, +it was only last Thursday week...." + +Here the train stopped at the Asnieres station, and two privates of the +Garde Imperiale 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. + +Meanwhile Mueller 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. + +"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!" + +To which the old lady in the bonnet, blandly smiling, replied:-- + +"Beautiful, for the time of year." + +"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. + +Here the young girl in the corner, blushing and smiling very sweetly, +interposed with--"Pardon, Madame--my aunt is somewhat deaf. Pray, +excuse her." + +Whereupon the old lady, watching the motion of her niece's lips, added-- + +"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." + +"I, for one, desire nothing better than permission to talk to +Mademoiselle," said Mueller, gallantly. + +_"Mais, Monsieur_..." + +"Mademoiselle, with Madame her aunt, are going to the fete at +Courbevoie?" + +"Yes, Monsieur." + +"The river is very pretty thereabouts, and the walks through the meadows +are delightful." + +"Indeed, Monsieur!" + +"Mademoiselle does not know the place?" + +"No, Monsieur." + +"Ah, if I might only be permitted to act as guide! I know every foot of +the ground about Courbevoie." + +Mademoiselle Marie blushed again, looked down, and made no reply. + +"I am a painter," continued Mueller; "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." + +"What is the gentleman saying, _mon enfant_?" asked the old lady, +somewhat anxiously. + +"Monsieur says that the river is very pretty about Courbevoie, _ma +tante_," replied Mademoiselle Marie, raising her voice. + +"Ah! ah! and what else?" + +"Monsieur is a painter." + +"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." + +Mueller laughed, shook his head, and declared at the top of his voice +that he had never had a day's illness in his life. + +Here the pretty niece again interposed. + +"Ah, Monsieur," she said, "my aunt does not understand....My--my uncle +Pierre was a house-painter." + +"A very respectable occupation, Mademoiselle," replied Mueller, politely. +"For my own part, I would sooner paint the insides of some houses than +the outsides of some people." + +At this moment the train began to slacken pace, and the steam was let +off with a demoniac shriek. + +"_Tiens, mon enfant_," said the old lady, turning towards her niece with +affectionate anxiety. "I hope you have not taken cold." + +The excellent soul believed that it was Mademoiselle Marie who sneezed. + +And now the train had stopped--the porters were running along the +platform, shouting "Courbevoie! Courbevoie!"--the passengers were +scrambling out _en masse_--and beyond the barrier one saw a confused +crowd of _charrette_ and omnibus-drivers, touters, fruit-sellers, and +idlers of every description. Mueller handed out the old lady and the +niece; the fat countrywoman scrambled up into a kind of tumbril driven +by a boy in _sabots_; 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. + +"What the deuce has become of _ma tante_?" exclaimed Mueller, looking +round. + +But neither _ma tante_ nor Mademoiselle Marie were anywhere to be seen. +I suggested that they must have gone on in the omnibus or taken a +_charrette_, and so have passed us unperceived. + +"And, after all," I added, "we didn't want to enter upon an indissoluble +union with them for the rest of the day. _Ma tante's_ deafness is not +entertaining, and _la petite_ Marie has nothing to say." + +"_La petite_ Marie is uncommonly pretty, though," said Mueller. "I mean +to dance a quadrille with her by-and-by, I promise you." + +"_A la bonne heure_! We shall be sure to chance upon them again before +long." + +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. + +It was just like any other of the hundred and one fetes 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. + +"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!" + +"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!" + +"Bravo! _mon vieux_--you first poison them with your dinner, and then +provide photographs for the widows and children," retorts touter number +one. "That's justice, anyhow." + +Whereupon touter number two shrieks out a torrent of abuse, and we push +on, leaving them to settle their differences after their own fashion. + +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. + +"_Entrez, entrez, Messieurs et Mesdames_" 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!" + +"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!" + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +Seeing the audience before him, he uttered a terrific howl. The front +rows were visibly agitated. Several young women faintly screamed. + +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!" + +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. + +"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?" + +A faint sound of tittering was heard in various parts of the booth; but +no one came forward. + +"Will _no_ lady be persuaded? Well, then, is there any gentleman present +who speaks Ashantee?" + +Mueller gave me a dig with his elbow, and started to his feet. + +"Yes," he replied, loudly. "I do." + +Every head was instantly turned in our direction. + +The showman collapsed with astonishment. Even the captive, despite his +ignorance of the French tongue, looked considerably startled. + +"_Comment_!" stammered the cocked hat. "Monsieur speaks Ashantee?" + +"Fluently." + +"Is it permitted to inquire how and when monsieur acquired this very +unusual accomplishment?" + +"I have spoken Ashantee from my infancy," replied Mueller, 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." + +A murmur of admiration ran through the audience, and Mueller became, for +the time, an object of livelier interest than Caraba Radokala himself. +Seeing this, the indignant monarch executed a warlike _pas_, and rattled +his chains fiercely. + +"In that case, monsieur, you had better come upon the stage, and speak +to his majesty," said the showman reluctantly. + +"With all the pleasure in life." + +"But I warn you that his temper is uncertain." + +"Bah!" said Mueller, working his way round through the crowd, "I'm not +afraid of his temper." + +"As monsieur pleases--but, if monsieur offends him, _I_ will not be +answerable for the consequences." + +"All right--give us a hand up, _mon vieux_!" And Muller, having +clambered upon the stage, made a bow to the audience and a salaam to +his majesty. + +"Chickahominy chowdar bang," said he, by way of opening the +conversation. + +The ex-king of Ashantee scowled, folded his arms, and maintained a +haughty silence. + +"Hic hac horum, high cockalorum," continued Mueller, with exceeding +suavity. + +The captive monarch stamped impatiently, ground his teeth, but still +made no reply. + +"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." + +And with this, he made another salaam, smiled persuasively, and said-- + +"Alpha, beta, gamma, delta--chin-chin--Potz tausend!--Erin-go-bragh!" + +"Borriobooloobah!" shrieked his majesty, apparently stung to +desperation. + +"Rocofoco!" retorted Mueller promptly. + +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 Mueller 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. + +"Eh, _sacredieu_!" he cried, shaking his fist in Mueller's face, "I've +not done with you yet, _diable de galerien_!" + +Whereupon there burst forth a general roar--a roar like the +"inextinguishable laughter" of Olympus. + +"_Tiens_!" said Mueller, "his majesty speaks French almost as well as I +speak Ashantee!" + +"_Bourreau! Brigand! Assassin_!" shrieked his Ferocity, as his friends +hustled him off the stage. + +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!" + +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 +Elysees, and the familiar charlatan of the Place du Chatelet 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. + +"_Tiens! Mam'selle est joliment solide_!" remarks a saucy bystander, as +the owner of the machine piles on weight after weight. + +"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. + +"_Pardon_! 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." + +"Twelve stone six ounces," pronounces the owner of the machine, +adjusting the last weight. + +Whereupon there is a burst of ironical applause, and the big _paysanne_, +half laughing, half angry, walks off, exclaiming, "_Eh bien! tant +mieux_! I've no mind to be a scarecrow--_moi_!" + +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. + +"And now, _mon ami_, what do you vote for?" asks Mueller. "Boating or +fishing? or both? or neither?" + +"Both, if you like--but I never caught anything in my life," + +"The pleasure of fishing, I take it," says Mueller, "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!" + +"_Allons donc_! I know, then, which of us two will have most of the +pleasure to-day," I reply, laughing. "But how about the expense?" + +To which Mueller, with a noble recklessness, answers:-- + +"Oh, hang the expense! Here, boatman! a boat _a quatre rames_, and some +fishing-tackle--by the hour." + +Now it was undoubtedly a fine sentiment this of Mueller'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. + +"Don't forget, for heaven's sake," I said, "that we must keep something +for dinner!" + +"My dear fellow," he replied, "I have already a tremendous appetite for +dinner--that _is_ something." + +After this, I resigned myself to whatever might happen. + +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. + +"I haven't yet had a single nibble," said Mueller, when we had been +sitting to our work for something less than ten minutes. + +"Hush!" I said. "You mustn't speak, you know." + +"True--I had forgotten. I'll sing instead. Fishes, I have been told, are +fond of music. + + 'Fanfan, je vous aimerais bien; + Contre vous je n'ai nul caprice; + Vous etes gentil, j'en convien....'" + +"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".... + +"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!" + +And with this he began:-- + + "Jeannette est une brune + Qui demeure a Pantin, + Ou toute sa fortune + Est un petit jardin!" + +"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. + +"Alas! _mon cher_, I am grieved to observe in your otherwise estimable +character, a melancholy want of faith," replied Mueller "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." + +And then he began again:-- + + "Mimi Pinson est une blonde, + Une blonde que l'on connait. + Elle n'a qu'une robe au monde, + Landerirette! + Et qu'un bonnet." + +I laid aside my rod, folded my arms, and when he had done, applauded +ironically. + +"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 +Mueller an opportunity of exercising his extensive memory, and his +limited baritone voice. The entertainment is not without its +_agrements_, but I find it dear at the price." + +"_Tiens_, Arbuthnot! let us fish seriously. I promise not to open my +lips again till you have caught something." + +"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." + +"Really and truly?" + +"Really and truly. And you?" + +"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." + +"Then the present question is--what shall we do with ourselves?" + +"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." + +"Heaven only grant that by that time we shall have enough money left for +dinner!" I murmured with a sigh. + +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. + +We were both silent. Mueller 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. + +Presently a soft voice, singing, broke upon the silence. Mueller 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. + + "O miroir ondoyant! + Je reve en te voyant + Harmonie et lumiere, + O ma riviere, + O ma belle riviere! + + "On voit se reflechir + Dans ses eaux les nuages; + Elle semble dormir + Entre les paturages + + Ou paissent les grands boeufs + Et les grasses genisses. + Au patres amoureux + Que ses bords sont propices!" + +"A woman's voice," said Mueller. "Dupont's words and music. She must be +young and pretty ... where has she hidden herself?" + +The unseen singer, meanwhile, went on with another verse. + + "Pres des iris du bord, + Sous une berge haute, + La carpe aux reflets d'or + Ou le barbeau ressaute, + Les goujons font le guet, + L'Ablette qui scintille + Fuit le dent du brochet; + Au fond rampe l'anguille! + + "O miroir ondoyant! + Je reve en te voyant + Harmonic et lumiere, + O ma riviere, + O ma belle riviere!" + +"Look!" said Mueller. "Do you not see them yonder--two women under the +trees? By Jupiter! it's _ma tante_ and _la petite_ Marie!" + +Saying which, he flung himself upon his oars and began pulling +vigorously towards the shore. + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +THAT TERRIBLE MUeLLER. + +La petite Marie broke off at the sound of our oars, and blushed a +becoming rose-color. + +"Will these ladies do us the honor of letting us row them back to +Courbevoie?" said Mueller, running our boat close in against the sedges, +and pulling off his hat as respectfully as if they were duchesses. + +Mademoiselle Marie repeated the invitation to her aunt, who accepted it +at once. + +"_Tres volontiers, tres volontiers, messieurs_" 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. _Ah, mon Dieu_! how my old bones ache! Give me thy +hand, Marie, and thank the gentlemen for their politeness." + +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. + +"Oh, dear! dear! it will not turn over, will it, my dear young man? +_Ciel_! I am slipping ... Ah, _Dieu, merci_!--Marie, _mon cher enfant_, +pray be careful not to jump in, or you will upset us all!" + +And _ma tante_, somewhat tremulous from the ordeal of embarking, settled +down in her place, while Mueller 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. + +"Mam'selle has of course seen the fair?" said Mueller, from behind the +old lady's back. + +"No, monsieur," + +"No! Is it possible?" + +"There was so much crowd, monsieur, and such a noise ... we were quite +too much afraid to venture in." + +"Would you be afraid, mam'selle, to venture with me?" + +"I--I do not know, monsieur." + +"Ah, mam'selle, you might be very sure that I would take good care of +you!" + +"_Mais ... monsieur_"... + +"These gentlemen, I see, have been angling," said the old lady, +addressing me very graciously. "Have you caught many fish?" + +"None at all, madame!" I replied, loudly. + +"_Tiens_! so many as that?" + +"_Pardon_, madame," I shouted at the top of my voice. "We have caught +nothing--nothing at all." + +_Ma tante_ smiled blandly. + +"Ah, yes," she said; "and you will have them cooked presently for +dinner, _n'est-ce pas_? There is no fish so fresh, and so well-flavored, +as the fish of our own catching." + +"Will madame and mam'selle do us the honor to taste our fish and share +our modest dinner?" said Mueller, leaning forward in his seat in the +stern, and delivering his invitation close into the old lady's ear. + +To which _ma tante_, with a readiness of hearing for which no one would +have given her credit, replied:-- + +"But--but monsieur is very polite--if we should not be inconveniencing +these gentlemen".... + +"We shall be charmed, madame--we shall be honored!" + +"_Eh bien!_ with pleasure, then--Marie, my child, thank the gentlemen +for their amiable invitation." + +I was thunderstruck. I looked at Mueller to see if he had suddenly gone +out of his senses. Mam'selle Marie, however, was infinitely amused. + +"_Fi donc!_ monsieur," she said. "You have no fish. I heard the other +gentleman say so." + +"The other gentleman, mam'selle," replied Mueller, "is an Englishman, and +troubled with the spleen. You must not mind anything he says." + +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 Mueller'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 _ma tante's_ dinner +(and _ma tante_ had a hungry eye) and for _la petite_ Marie's dinner; +and _la petite_ 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!... + +And this was not the worst of it. I thought I knew Mueller 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. + +Then would come the horrible retribution of the bill! + +I felt myself turn red and hot at the mere thought of it. + +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? + +In the meanwhile, as I was rowing with the stream, we soon got back to +Courbevoie. + +"_Are_ you mad?" I said, as, having landed the ladies, Mueller and I +delivered up the boat to its owner. + +"Didn't I admit it, two or three hours ago?" he replied. "I wonder you +don't get tired, _mon cher_, of asking the same question so often." + +"Four francs, fifty centimes, Messieurs," said the boatman, having made +fast his boat to the landing-place. + +"Four francs, fifty centimes!" I echoed, in dismay. + +Even Mueller looked aghast. + +"My good fellow," he said, "do you take us for coiners?" + +"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. + +Mueller, 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 _decrescendo_ of oaths. + +"_Tiens_!" said Mueller, reflectively. "We have but one franc left. One +franc, two sous, and a centime. _Vive la France!_" + +"And you have actually asked that wretched old woman and her niece to +dinner!" + +"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. _Dis-donc,_ what shall we give +them for dinner?" + +"Precisely what you invited them to, I should guess--the fish we caught +this afternoon." + +"Agreed. And what else?" + +"Say--a dish of invisible greens, and a phoenix _a la Marengo_." + +"You are funny, _mon cher_." + +"Then, for fear I should become too funny--good afternoon." + +"What do you mean?" + +"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." + +"But if I guarantee that the dinner shall be paid for--money down!" + +"Tra la la!" + +"You don't believe me? Well, come and see." + +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. + +"Would not these ladies prefer to rest here, while we seek for a +suitable restaurant and order the dinner?" said Mueller insinuatingly. + +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 "_ces messieurs_" pleased; and so was left sitting under the +walnut-tree, reluctant and disconsolate. + +"_Tiens! mon enfant_" I heard her say as we turned away, "suppose they +don't come back again!" + +We had promised to be gone not longer, than twenty minutes, or at most +half an hour. Mueller led the way straight to the _Toison d' Or_. + +I took him by the arm as we neared the gate. + +"Steady, steady, _mon gaillard_" I said. "We don't order our dinner, you +know, till we've found the money to pay for it." + +"True--but suppose I go in here to look for it?" + +"Into the restaurant garden?" + +"Precisely." + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +THE PETIT COURIER ILLUSTRE. + +THE _Toison d' Or_ 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 _al fresco_. + +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. + +We went in. Mueller paused, looked round, captured a passing waiter, and +asked for Monsieur le proprietaire. The waiter pointed over his shoulder +towards the house, and breathlessly rushed on his way. + +Mueller at once led the way into a salon on the ground-floor looking over +the garden. + +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 _comptoir_ 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. + +"_Ces messieurs_," she said, "will find a vacant table yonder, by the +window." + +Mueller bowed majestically. + +"Madame," he said, "I wish to see Monsieur le proprietaire." + +The dame de comptoir looked very uneasy. + +"If Monsieur has any complaint to make," she said, "he can make it to +me." + +"Madame, I have none." + +"Or if it has reference to the ordering of a dinner...." + +Mueller smiled loftily. + +"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 proprietaire, and +say that I request the honor of five minutes' interview." + +The little woman's eyes had all this time been getting rounder and +blacker. She was evidently confounded by my friend's grandiloquence. + +"_Ah! mon Dieu! M'sieur_," she said, nervously, "my husband is in the +kitchen. It is a busy day with us, you understand--but I will send +for him." + +And she forthwith despatched a waiter for "Monsieur Choucru." + +Mueller seized me by the arm. + +"Heavens!" he exclaimed, in a very audible aside, "did you hear? She is +his wife! She is Madame Choucru?" + +"Well, and what of that?" + +"What of that, indeed? _Mais, mon ami_, how can you ask the question? +Have you no eyes? Look at her! Such a remarkably handsome woman--such a +_tournure_--such eyes--such a figure for an illustration! Only conceive +the effect of Madame Choucru--in medallion!" + +"Oh, magnificent!" I replied. "Magnificent--in medallion." + +But I could not, for the life of me, imagine what he was driving at. + +"And it would make the fortune of the _Toison d'Or_" he added, solemnly. + +To which I replied that it would undoubtedly do so. + +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. + +"Here, _mon bon_," 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!" + +Monsieur, the cook and proprietor, shuffled his feet to and fro in the +doorway, but came no nearer. + +"_Parbleu_!" he said, "if M'sieur's business is not urgent." + +"It is extremely urgent, Monsieur Choucru," replied Mueller; "and, +moreover, it is not so much my business as it is yours," + +"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".... + +But Mueller strode to the door and caught him by the shoulder. + +"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!" + +"_Mais, M'sieur_--explain yourself" ... stammered the proprietaire. + +"You know who I am, Monsieur Choucru?" + +"No, M'sieur--not in the least." + +"I am Mueller--Franz Mueller--landscape painter, portrait painter, +historical painter, caricaturist, artist _en chef_ to the _Petit Courier +Illustre_" + +"_Hein! M'sieur est peintre_!" + +"Yes, Monsieur Choucru--and I offer you my protection." + +Monsieur Choucru scratched his ear, and smiled doubtfully. + +"Now listen, Monsieur Choucru--I am here to-day in the interests of the +_Petit Courier Illustre_. I take the Courbevoie fete 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?" + +"I understand that M'sieur is all this time talking to me of his own +business, while mine, _la bas_, is standing still!" exclaimed the +proprietaire, in an agony of impatience. "I have the honor to wish +M'sieur good-day." + +But Mueller seized him again, and would not let him escape. + +"Not so fast, Monsieur Choucru," he said; "not so fast! Will you answer +me one question before you go?" + +"_Eh, mon Dieu_! Monsieur." + +"Will you tell me, Monsieur Choucru, what is to prevent me from giving +a view of the best restaurant in Courbevoie?" + +Madame Choucru, from behind the _comptoir_, uttered a little scream. + +"A design in the _Petit Courier Illustre_, I need scarcely tell you," +pursued Mueller, 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 Asnieres, 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 fetes next Sunday and Monday--all Paris, with its inexhaustible +appetite for _bifteck aux pommes frites_--all Paris with its +unquenchable thirst for absinthe and Bavarian beer! Now, Monsieur +Choucru, do you begin to understand me?" + +"_Mais_, Monsieur, I--I think...." + +"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 +_Croix de Malte_?" + +Monsieur Choucru scratched his ear again, stared helplessly at his wife, +and said nothing. Madame looked grave. + +"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...." + +"'PRICE,' Madame!" interrupted Mueller, with a start of horror. "Gracious +powers! this to me--to Franz Mueller of the _Petit Courier Illustre_! +'No, Madame--you mistake me--you wound me--you touch the honor of the +Fine Arts! Madame, I am incapable of selling my patronage." + +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 _Toison d' Or_ instead of to the _Croix de Malte_? + +Mueller bowed, laid his hand upon his heart, and said:-- + +"I will do it, _pour les beaux yeux de Madame_." + +And then, in graceful recognition of the little man's rights as owner of +the eyes in question, he bowed to Monsieur Choucru. + +Madame was inexpressibly charmed. Monsieur smiled, fidgeted, and cast +longing glances towards the door. + +"I have eighty dinners on hand," he began again, "and if M'sieur will +excuse me...." + +"One moment more, my dear Monsieur Choucru," said Mueller, 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 _Petit Courier +Illustre_?" + +"Oh, by--by all means--with pleasure," faltered the proprietaire. + +"For how many copies, Monsieur Choucru? Shall we say--six?" + +Monsieur looked at Madame. Madame nodded. Mueller took out his +pocket-book, and waited, pencil in hand. + +"Eh--_parbleu_!--let it be for six, then," said Monsieur Choucru, +somewhat reluctantly. + +Mueller made the entry, shut up the pocket-book, and shook hands +boisterously with his victim. + +"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!" + +"_Bien oblige, M'sieur--bien oblige_. Will you not let my wife offer you +a glass of liqueure?" + +"Liqueure, _mon cher_!" exclaimed Mueller, with an outburst of frank +cordiality--"hang liqueure!--WE'LL DINE WITH YOU!" + +"Monsieur shall be heartily welcome to the best dinner the _Toison d'Or_ +can send up; and his friend also," said Madame, with her sweetest smile. + +"Ah, Madame!" + +"And M'sieur Choucru shall make you one of his famous cheese souffles. +_Tiens, mon bon_, go down and prepare a cheese souffle for two." + +Mueller smote his forehead distractedly. + +"For two!" he cried. "Heavens! I had forgotten my aunt and my cousin!" + +Madame looked up inquiringly. + +"Monsieur has forgotten something?" + +"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." + +"How, Monsieur?" + +"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! _Au revoir_, +Madame. In ten minutes we shall be with you again!" + +Madame Choucru looked grave. She had not bargained to entertain a party +of four; yet she dared not disoblige the _Petit Courier Illustre_. She +had no time, however, to demur to the arrangement; for Mueller, +ingeniously taking her acquiescence for granted, darted out of the room +without waiting for an answer. + +"Miserable man!" I exclaimed, as soon as we were outside the doors, +"what will you do now?" + +"Do! Why, fetch my admirable maternal aunt and my interesting cousin, to +be sure." + +"But you have raised a dinner under false pretences!" + +"I, _mon cher_? Not a bit of it." + +"Have you, then, really anything to do with the _Petit Courier +Illustre_?" + +"The Editor of the _Petit Courier Illustre_ 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!" + +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, Mueller assumed all the airs of a liberal +entertainer. He hung up _ma cousine's_ bonnet; fetched a footstool for +_ma tante_; 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 _au gratin_, 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 _souffle_; and then, +with a dish of fruit, four cups of coffee, and four glasses of liqueure, +the banquet came to an end. + +As we sat at desert, Mueller 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 _mobilier_ at least +equal in splendor to that of the _Trois Freres_. + +At sight of this _chef d'oeuvre_, Madame Choucru was moved almost to +tears. Ah, Heaven! if Monsieur could only figure to himself her +admiration for his _beau talent_! But alas! that was impossible--as +impossible as that Monsieur Choucru should ever repay this unheard-of +obligation! + +Mueller laid his hand upon his heart, and bowed profoundly. + +"Ah! Madame," he said, "it is not to Monsieur Choucru that I look for +repayment--it is to you." + +"To me, Monsieur? _Dieu merci! Monsieur se moque de moi_!" + +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. + +"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! _must_ fail to render adequate justice to such a multitude +of charms." + +And with this choice compliment, Mueller bowed again, took his leave, +bestowed a whole franc upon the astonished waiter, and departed from the +_Toison d'Or_ in an atmosphere of glory. + +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. _Ma tante_, 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 +Mueller, 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, +_bon gre, mal gre_, to a dancing-booth, where gentlemen were admitted on +payment of forty centimes per head, and ladies went in free. + +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--_ma tante_, being disposed of in a safe +corner, went soundly to sleep. + +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 +_valse a deux temps_. The band struck up--one--two--three. Away went +some thirty couples--away went Mueller 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. + +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 Mueller +and _ma cousine_ in the midst of a furious flirtation, and Madame +Marotte fast asleep in her corner. + +The clocks were just striking twelve as I passed under the archway +leading to the Cite Bergere. + +"_Tiens_!" 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 fete at Courbevoie! Ah, then, I'll be sworn that M'sieur +has had plenty of fun!" + +But had I had plenty of fun? That was the question. That Mueller 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? + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +THE ECOLE DE NATATION. + +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 Mueller +standing by my bedside. + +"_Tiens_!" said he. "How lovely are the slumbers of innocence! I was +hesitating, _mon cher_, whether to wake or sketch you." + +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. + +"You prefer everything that is basely self-indulgent, young man," +replied Mueller, making a divan of my bed, and coolly lighting his pipe +under my very nose. "Contrary to all the laws of _bon-camaraderie_, 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." + +"How did you get home?" I asked, rubbing my eyes; "and when?" + +"I have not got home at all yet," replied my visitor. "I have come to +breakfast with you first." + +Just at this moment, the _pendule_ in the adjoining room struck six. + +"To breakfast!" I repeated. "At this hour?--you who never breakfast +before midday!" + +"True, _mon cher_; 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 Barriere de +l'Etoile at the dawn of day." + +"Then what have you done with Madame Marotte and Mademoiselle Marie?" + +"Deposited them at their own door in the Rue du Faubourg St. Denis, as +was the bounden duty of a _preux chevalier_. But then, _mon cher_, 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." + +"The deuce he is!" + +"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." + +"And what is the rate at which you have waked me?" + +"Sixteen francs the fare, and something for the driver--say twenty in +all." + +"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...." + +"A thousand thanks! And then what?" + +"Will you accept a word of sound advice?" + +"Depends on whether it's pleasant to follow, _caro mio_" + +"Go home; get three or four hours' rest; and meet me in the Palais Royal +about twelve for breakfast." + +"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." + +"To Molino's?" + +"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." + +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. + +"I shall be up again in less time than it will take you to tell your +beads, _mon gaillard_" said Mueller 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." + +And then, execrating Mueller, 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. + +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 Pere 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. + +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 Vitree 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. + +And now we were skirting the Quai de l'Ecole, 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 cafe 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 Ecole 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. + +Some bathers, earlier than ourselves, were already sauntering about the +galleries in every variety of undress, from the simple _calecon_ to the +gaudiest version of Turkish robe and Algerian _kepi_. 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 +_argot_ of the bath, _moutards_), there were no swimmers in the water. + +With some of these loungers Mueller 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. Mueller +introduced this romantic-looking person to me as "Monsieur Barbet." + +"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." + +"Monsieur can swim?" said the master, addressing me, with a nautical +scrape. + +"I think so," I replied. + +"Many gentlemen think so," said Monsieur Barbet, "till they find +themselves in the water." + +"And many who wish to be thought accomplished swimmers never venture +into it on that account," added Mueller. "You would scarcely suppose," he +continued, turning to me, "that there are men here--regular _habitues_ +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 _peignoir_, 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 Vefour or the +Trois Freres, 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 _calecons_" + +Thus chattering, Mueller 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. + +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. + +"An amusing sight, isn't it?" said Mueller, 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. + +"It is a sight to disgust one for ever with human-kind," I replied. + +"And to fill one with the profoundest respect for one's tailor. After +all, it's broad-cloth makes the man." + +"But these are not men--they are caricatures." + +"Every man is a caricature of himself when you strip him," said Mueller, +epigrammatically. "Look at that scarecrow just opposite. He passes for +an Adonis, _de par le monde_." + +I looked and recognised the Count de Rivarol, a tall young man, an +_elegant_ 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:-- + + .... "long, and lank and brown, + As in the ribb'd sea sand!" + +"Gracious heavens!" I exclaimed, "what would become of the world, if +clothes went out of fashion?" + +"Humph!--one half of us, my dear fellow, would commit suicide." + +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 _elite_ 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 Vendome, would join his hands above his head and +take a tremendous "header" into the gulf below. When this feat was +successfully performed, the _elite_ in the Amphitheatre applauded +graciously. + +And now, what with swimming, and lounging, and looking on, some two +hours had slipped by, and we were both hungry and tired, Mueller proposed +that we should breakfast at the Cafe Procope. + +"But why not here?" I asked, as a delicious breeze from the buffet came +wafting by "like a steam of rich distilled perfumes." + +"Because a breakfast _chez_ Molino costs at least twenty-five francs +per head--BECAUSE I have credit at Procope--BECAUSE I have not a _sou_ +in my pocket--and BECAUSE, milord Smithfield, I aspire to the honor of +entertaining your lordship on the present occasion!" replied Mueller, +punctuating each clause of his sentence with a bow. + +If Mueller had not a _sou_, I, at all events, had now only one Napoleon; +so the Cafe Procope carried the day. + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +THE RUE DE L'ANCIENNE COMEDIE AND THE CAFE PROCOPE. + +The Rue des Fosses-Saint-Germain-des-Pres and the Rue de +l'Ancienne Comedie are one and the same. As the Rue des +Fosses-Saint-Germain-des-Pres, it dates back to somewhere about the +reign of Philippe Auguste; and as the Rue de l'Ancienne Comedie it takes +its name and fame from the year 1689, when the old Theatre Francais was +opened on the 18th of April by the company known as Moliere's +troupe--Moliere being then dead, and Lully having succeeded him at the +Theatre du Palais Royal. + +In the same year, 1689, one Francois 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 Bievre 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, Freron, +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 _regime_, met daily, nightly, to +write, to recite, to squabble, to lampoon, and some times to fight. + +The year 1770 beheld, in the closing of the Theatre +Francais, the extinction of a great power in the Rue des +Fosses-Saint-Germain-des-Pres--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 Comedie. A new house (to be on first opening invested +with the time-honored title of Theatre Francais, but afterwards to be +known as the Odeon) 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,[2] the Rue de +L'Ancienne Comedie 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 +Cafe 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 _bouleversement_;--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 _canaille_;--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! + +[2] 1782 is the date given by M. Hippolyte Lucas. Sainte-Beuve places it +two years later. + +This play, produced for the first time under the title of _La Folle +Journee_, 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 _Le Mariage de Figaro_. + +A few years later, and the Rue de l'Ancienne Comedie 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'Ecole de Medecine, where she +stabbed Marat in his bath. + +But throughout every vicissitude of time and politics, though fashion +deserted the Rue de l'Ancienne Comedie, and actors migrated, and fresh +generations of wits and philosophers succeeded each other, the Cafe +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 Gerard, and was finally occupied by a succession of +restaurateurs but the Cafe Procope remained the Cafe Procope, and is the +Cafe Procope to this day. + +The old street and all belonging to it--especially and peculiarly the +Cafe 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 _costumier_ hung out wigs, and masks, and debardeur 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 Cafe +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 Ecole de Droit, philosophers of the Ecole de +Medecine, critics of the Ecole 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. + +Such, at the time of my first introduction to it, was the famous Cafe +Procope. + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +THE PHILOSOPHY OF BREAKFAST. + +"Now this, _mon cher_," said Mueller, taking off his hat with a flourish +to the young lady at the _comptoir_, "is the immortal Cafe Procope." + +I looked round, and found myself in a dingy, ordinary sort of Cafe, in +no wise differing from any other dingy, ordinary sort of Cafe 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. + +"And this," said Mueller, 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 _demi-tasse_. Here, upon +this very table, he wrote that famous letter to Marie Antoinette that +Freron stole, and in revenge for which he wrote the comedy called +_l'Ecossaise_; 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! _Eh bien_! 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." + +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. + +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. + +"_Bonjour, l'ami_," said the one who seemed to be winning. "Hast thou +chanced to see anything of Martial, coming along!" + +"I observed a nose defiling round the corner of the Rue de Bussy," +replied Mueller, "and it looked as if Martial might be somewhere in the +far distance, but I didn't wait to see. Are you expecting him?" + +"Confound him--yes! We've been waiting more than half an hour." + +"If you have invited him to breakfast," said Mueller, "he is sure to +come." + +"On the contrary, he has invited us to breakfast." + +"Ah, that alters the case," said Mueller, philosophically. "Then he is +sure _not_ to come." "Garcon!" + +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, + +"M'sieur!" + +"What have you that you can especially recommend this morning?" + +The waiter, with that nasal volubility peculiar to his race, rapidly ran +over the whole vegetable and animal creation. + +Mueller listened with polite incredulity. + +"Nothing else?" said he, when the other stopped, apparently from want of +breath. + +"_Mais oui, M'sieur_!" and, thus stimulated, the waiter, having +"exhausted worlds and then imagined new," launched forth into a second +and still more impossible catalogue. + +Mueller turned to me. + +"The resources of this establishment, you observe," he said, very +gravely, "are inexhaustible. One might have a Roc's egg a la Sindbad for +the asking." + +The waiter looked puzzled, shuffled his slippered feet, and murmured +something about "_oeufs sur le plat_." + +"Unfortunately, however," continued Mueller, "we are but men--not +fortresses provisioning for a siege. Antoine, _mon enfant_, we know thee +to be a fellow of incontestible veracity, and thy list is magnificent; +but we will be content with a _vol-au-vent_ of fish, a _bifteck aux +pommes frites_, an _omelette sucree_, and a bottle of thy 1840 Bordeaux +with the yellow seal. Now vanish!" + +The waiter, wearing an expression of intense relief, vanished +accordingly. + +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. + +I soon found that everybody knew everybody at the Cafe Procope, and that +the specialty of the establishment was dominoes--just as the specialty +of the Cafe de la Regence 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. + +Gradually breakfast after breakfast emerged from some mysterious nether +world known only to the waiters, and the war of dominoes languished. + +"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." + +"You would find some by this time, I dare say, in the other room," +replied Mueller. "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, _mon cher_, as well as mine, is in the outer +sanctuary." + +"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. +_Parbleu!_ Horace, hasn't that absinthe given you an inconvenient amount +of appetite?" + +"Alas! my friend--don't mention it. And when the absinthe is paid for, I +haven't a sou." + +"My own case precisely. What's to be done?" + +"Done!" echoed Horace, pathetically. "Shade of Apicius! inspire +me...but, no--he's not listening." + +"Hold! I have it. We'll make our wills in one another's favor, and die." + +"I should prefer to die when the wind is due East, and the moon at the +full," said Horace, contemplatively. + +"True--besides, there is still _la mere_ Gaudissart. Her cutlets are +tough, but her heart is tender. She would not surely refuse to add one +more breakfast to the score!" + +Horace shook his head with an air of great despondency. + +"There was but one Job," said he, "and he has been dead some time. The +patience of _la mere_ Gaudissart has long since been entirely +exhausted." + +"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." + +"It is a forlorn hope, my dear fellow, but, as you say, it is worth the +effort. _Allons donc!_ to the storming of _la mere_ Gaudissart!" + +And with this they pushed aside the dominoes, took down their hats, +nodded to Mueller, and went out. + +"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 _Figaro_ and the _Petit Journal pour Rire_--Theophile +does _feuilleton_ 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 _la mere_ +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 _la chasse au diner_, and enjoy the pleasures of the chase. We +revel in the extremes of fasting and feasting, and scarcely know which +we prefer." + +"I think your friends Horace and Theophile are tolerably clear as to +which _they_ prefer," I remarked, with a smile. + +"Bah! they would die of _ennui_ 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!" + +"But for young men of genius, like Horace and Theophile..." + +"Make yourself quite easy, _mon cher_. 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 _demi-tasse_ in the next room, among our +fellow-students of physic and the fine arts?" + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +A MAN WITH A HISTORY. + +The society of the outer salon differed essentially from the society of +the inner salon at the Cafe 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 Odeon, or to the article on foreign politics in the +_Journal des Debats_. 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 cafe. 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. + +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. + +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 _a la Barbarossa_--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. + +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. + +"Hola! Mueller, where hast thou been hiding these last few centuries, +_mon gaillard?_" + +"_Tiens!_ Mueller risen from the dead!" + +"What news from _la bas,_ old fellow?" + +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 Eugene 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. + +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 _chef de cuisine_. + +"He will never surpass that last thing of his," said the Byzantine +youth. "Heavens! How smooth it is! How buttery! How pulpy!" + +"Ay--and yet with all that lusciousness of quality, he never wants +piquancy," added De Lepany. + +"I think his greens are apt to be a little raw," interposed Mueller, +taking part in the conversation. + +"Raw!" echoed the first speaker, indignantly. "_Eh, mon Dieu!_ What can +you be thinking of! They are almost too hot!" + +"But they were not so always, Eugene," 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 Mueller does not know how much he has taken to warming them up +of late. Even now, perhaps, his olives are a little cold." + +"But then, how juicy his oranges are!" exclaimed young Byzantine. + +"True--and when you remember that he never washes--!" + +"Ah, _sacredie!_ yes--there is the marvel!" + +And Monsieur Eugene Droz held up his hands and eyes with all the +reverent admiration of a true believer for a particularly dirty dervish. + +"Who, in Heaven's name, is this unclean individual who used to like his +vegetables underdone, and never washes?" whispered I in Mueller's ear. + +"What--Lemonnier! You don't mean to say you never heard of Lemonnier?" + +"Never, till now. Is he a cook?" + +Mueller gave me a dig in the ribs that took my breath away. + +"_Goguenard!_" 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!" + +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. + +"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!" + +"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?" + +"They must be ideally treated, Monsieur Valentin," replied Lepany, +majestically. + +"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?" + +"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. + +"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." + +"Are you asking me for my definition of the Ideal, Monsieur Valentin?" + +"Well, if it's not giving you too much trouble--yes." + +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. + +"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." + +"Gracious heavens!" whispered Mueller in my ear. "He must have been +reared from infancy on words of five syllables!" + +"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..." + +"My dear fellow, you have said it already--you needn't say it again," +interrupted Valentin. + +"Ay; but having said it--having expressed myself, perchance with some +obscurity...." + +"With the obscurity of Erebus!" said, very deliberately, a fat student +in a blouse. + +"Monsieur!" exclaimed De Lepany, measuring the length and breadth of +the fat student with a glance of withering scorn. + +The Byzantine was no less indignant. + +"Don't heed them, _mon ami_!" he cried, enthusiastically. "Thy +definition is sublime-eloquent!" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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 Cafe, touched Mueller on the arm, bent down, +and said quietly:-- + +"Mueller, will you do me a favor!" + +"A hundred, Monsieur," replied my companion; half rising, and with an +air of unusual respect and alacrity. + +"Thanks, one will be enough. Do you see that man yonder, sitting alone +in the corner, with his back to the light?" + +"I do." + +"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...." + +"I will do my best," said Mueller. + +"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." + +Saying which, the stranger passed on, and went out. + +"That's Flandrin!" said Mueller. + +"Really?" I said. "Flandrin! And you know him?" + +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. + +"Know him!" echoed Mueller. "I should think so. Why, I worked in his +studio for nearly two years." + +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 +Hotel de Ville in Brussels. + +"But the main point now," said Mueller, "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." + +"I! What can I do?" + +"Go and sit near him--speak to him--make him look up--keep him, if +possible, for a few minutes in conversation--nothing easier." + +"Nothing easier, perhaps, if I were you; but, being only myself, few +things more difficult!" + +"Nevertheless, my dear boy, you must try, and at once. Hey +--presto!--away!" + +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. + +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. + +"Pardon, Monsieur," I said, very civilly, "will you permit me to hang +these things up?" + +He looked up, frowned, and said abruptly:-- + +"Why, Monsieur?" + +"That I may occupy this chair." + +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. + +"I regret to have given you the trouble, Monsieur," I said, hoping to +pave the way to a conversation. + +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. + +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. + +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 mediaeval history. + +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. + +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 "_ancien militaire"_ 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. + +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. + +My coffee and cigar being brought, I asked for the _Figaro_, and holding +the paper somewhat between the stranger and myself, watched him with +increasing interest. + +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 +cafe. 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? + +"There is nothing of interest in the papers to-day, Monsieur," said, +making another effort to force him into conversation. + +He affected not to hear me. + +I drew my chair a little nearer, and repeated the observation. + +He frowned impatiently, and without looking up, replied:-- + +"_Eh, mon Dieu_, Monsieur!--when there is a dearth of news!" + +"There need not, even so, be a dearth of wit. _Figaro_ is as heavy +to-day as a government leader in the _Moniteur_." + +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. + +Presently I saw a sudden change flash over him. + +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. + +Then he rose abruptly, brushed past me as if I were not there, and +crossed to where Mueller, sketch-book in hand, was in the very act of +taking his portrait. + +I jumped up, almost involuntarily, and followed him. Mueller, with an +unsuccessful effort to conceal his confusion, thrust the book into +his pocket. + +"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." + +"Pardon, Monsieur, I--I beg to assure you--" stammered Mueller. + +"That you intended no offence? I am willing to suppose so. Give me up +the sketch, and I am content." + +"Give up the sketch!" echoed Mueller. + +"Precisely, Monsieur." + +"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 Mueller, recovering his self-possession, "it is not likely +that I shall be disposed to part from my memorandum." + +"How, Monsieur! you refuse?" + +"I am infinitely sorry, but--" + +"But you refuse?" + +"I certainly cannot comply with Monsieur's request." + +The stranger, for all his bronzing, grew pale with rage. + +"Do not compel me, Monsieur, to say what I must think of your conduct, +if you persist in this determination," he said fiercely. + +Mueller smiled, but made no reply. + +"You absolutely refuse to yield up the sketch?" + +"Absolutely." + +"Then, Monsieur, _c'est une infamie_--_et vous etes un lache_!" + +But the last word had scarcely hissed past his lips before Mueller dashed +his coffee dregs full in the stranger's face. + +In one second, the table was upset--blows were exchanged--Mueller, 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. + +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:-- + +"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?" + +Suddenly the flush of rage faded out of Mueller's face. He gasped--became +livid. Lepany, Droz, myself, and one or two others, flew at the stranger +and dragged him forcibly back. + +"Assassin!" I cried, "would you murder him?" + +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. + +Mueller, half-fainting, dropped into a chair. + +There was a tramp and clatter at the door--a swaying and parting of the +crowd. + +"Here are the sergents de ville!" cried a trembling waiter. + +"He attacked me first," gasped Mueller. "He has half strangled me." + +"_Qu'est ce que ca me fait_!" shouted the enraged proprietor. "You are a +couple of _canaille_! You have made a scandal in my Cafe. Sergents, +arrest both these gentlemen!" + +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 Mueller's shoulder; the second was +about to lay his hand on mine, but I drew back. + +"Which is the other?" said he, looking round. + +"_Sacredie_!" stammered the proprietor, "he was here--there--not a +moment ago!" + +"_Diable_!" said the sergent de ville, stroking his moustache, and +staring fiercely about him. "Did no one see him go?" + +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! + +"_Mais, mon Dieu_!" 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?" + +"_Parbleu_! a ghost with muscles of iron," said Mueller. "Talk of the +strength of a madman--he has the strength of a whole lunatic asylum!" + +"He gave me a most confounded blow in the ribs, anyhow!" said Lepany. + +"And nearly broke my arm," added Eugene Droz. + +"And has given me a pain in my chest for a week," said I, in chorus. + +"If he wasn't a ghost," observed the fat student sententiously, "he must +certainly be the devil." + +The sergents de ville grinned. + +"Do we, then, arrest this gentleman?" asked the taller and bigger of the +two, his hand still upon my friend's shoulder. + +But Mueller laughed and shook his head. + +"What!" said he, "arrest a man for resisting the devil? Nonsense, _mes +amis_, you ought to canonize me. What says Monsieur le proprietaire?" + +Monsieur the proprietor smiled. + +"I am willing to let the matter drop," he replied, "on the understanding +that Monsieur Mueller was not really the first offender." + +"_Foi d'honneur_! 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 ... _Mille tonnerres_!--the fellow has +stolen my sketch-book!" + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +FANCIES ABOUT FACES. + +The sketch-book was undoubtedly gone, and the stranger had undoubtedly +taken it. How he took it, and how he vanished, remained a mystery. + +The aspect of affairs, meanwhile, was materially changed. Mueller 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 _tour de main_. + +The police shook their heads, twirled their moustaches, and looked wise. + +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. _Tres-bon._ 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. + +Whereupon he who seemed to be chief of the twain, having entered +Mueller'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. + +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. + +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. + +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 Mueller 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. + +In the midst of the discussion, a sudden recollection flashed upon me. + +"A clue! a clue!" I shouted triumphantly. "He left his coat and black +bag hanging up in the corner!" + +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. + +Mueller thrust his hands into his pockets, shook his head, and whistled +dismally. + +"I shall never see my sketch-book again, _parbleu!_" 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." + +"And Flandrin, who is expecting the sketch," said I; "what of him?" + +Mueller shrugged his shoulders. + +"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." + +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. Mueller's own studio, however, was as yet the only one I had +seen. He laughed when I said this. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +But if the outside was like a barn, the inside was like a beautiful +mediaeval 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 Hotel 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 facades--every roof, window, +and balcony crowded with spectators. + +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. + +I stood admiring and silent, while Mueller told his tale, and Flandrin +paused in his work to listen. + +"It is horribly unlucky," said he. "I had not been able to find a +portrait of Romero and, _faute de mieux_, 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 cafe, if Providence had especially created him for my purpose, he +could not have answered it better." + +"I believe I am as sorry as you can possibly be," said Mueller. + +"Then you are very sorry indeed," replied the painter; and he looked +even more disappointment than he expressed. + +"I'm afraid I can't do it," said Mueller, 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." + +"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." + +Mueller 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. + +"Bravo! that's just his nose and brow," said Flandrin, as Mueller'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 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!" + +"_Quatre-vingt mille diables_!" ejaculated the model, his eyes riveted +upon the sketch. + +Mueller laughed and looked. + +"_Tiens_! Guichet," said he, "is that meant for a compliment?" + +"Where did you see him?" asked the model, pointing down at the sketch. + +"Why? Do you know him?" + +"Where did you see him, I say?" repeated Guichet, impatiently. + +He was a rough fellow, and garnished every other sentence with an oath; +but he did not mean to be uncivil. + +"At the Cafe Procope." + +"When?" + +"About an hour ago. But again, I repeat--do you know him?" + +"Do I know him? _Tonnerre de Dieu_!" + +"Then who and what is he?" + +The model stroked his beard; shook his head; declined to answer. + +"Bah!" said he, gloomily, "I may have seen him, or I may be mistaken. +'Tis not my affair." + +"I suspect Guichet knows something against this interesting stranger," +laughed Flandrin. "Come, Guichet, out with it! We are among friends." + +But Guichet again looked at the drawing, and again shook his head. + +"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 _griffonage_ +as that?" + +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. + +Flandrin, delighted with Mueller's sketch, put it, with many thanks and +praises, carefully away in one of the great folios against the wall. + +"You have no idea, _mon cher_ Mueller," 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 Cafe; and he looked as if he had stepped out of the Middle Ages +on purpose for me. It is quite a mediaeval face--if you know what I mean +by a mediaeval face." + +"I think I do," said Mueller. "You mean that there was a moyen-age type, +as there was a classical type, and as there is a modern type." + +"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." + +"But then has it really vanished?" said Mueller. "And how can we know for +certain that the mediaeval type did actually differ from the type we see +before us every day?" + +"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?" + +"I am not at all sure that we should observe any difference," said +Mueller, doubtfully. + +"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." + +"Still we can't be certain how much of all this may be owing to the mere +mannerisms of successive schools of art," urged Mueller, 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." + +Flandrin shook his head. + +"Ingenious, _mon garcon_" 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." + +"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 Mueller. + +"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! _It is Nature who is the mannerist_. 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 mediaeval 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." + +Thus dismissed, we took our leave and left the painter to his work. + +"An extraordinary man!" said Mueller, 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." + +"But," said I, "he is evidently an educated man." + +"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?" + +"I know nothing of the subject, and cannot form a judgment; but it +sounded as if it might be true." + +"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?" + +Chatting thus, we walked back as far as the corner of the Rue Racine, +where we parted; I to attend a lecture at the Ecole de Medecine, and +Mueller to go home to his studio in the Rue Clovis. + + + * * * * * + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +RETURNED WITH THANKS. + +A week or two had thus gone by since the dreadful evening at the Opera +Comique, and all this time I had neither seen nor heard more of the fair +Josephine. My acquaintance with Franz Mueller 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 _a la grisette_ +on the one hand, so had the excursion to Courbevoie, the visit to the +Ecole de Natation, and the adventure of the Cafe 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. +Mueller 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. Mueller (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 +Mueller, after our cheap dinner in the Quartier and our evening stroll +along the Boulevards or the Champs Elysees; 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. + +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. Cheron's, or +the Hotel Dieu, or the Ecole de Medecine, 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 Chaumiere, those third-class +trips to Versailles and Fontainebleau, those one-franc pit seats at the +Gaiete 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 _de rigueur_ in the code of Quartier Latin etiquette), how +little it still cost, and what a world of merriment we had for +the money! + +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 Opera 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. + +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 Mueller 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. + +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. + +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. + +"You see," said he, "it is _la petite_ Marie's fete; 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".... + +"Of Marie Marotte?" + +He nodded. + +"You are not serious," I said. + +"I am as serious," he replied, "as a dancing dervish." + +And then, for I suppose I looked incredulous, he went on to justify +himself. + +"She's very good," he said, "and very pretty. Quite a Madonna face, to +my thinking." + +"You may see a dozen such Madonna faces among the nurses in the +Luxembourg Gardens, every afternoon of your life," said I. + +"Oh, if you come to that, every woman is like every other woman, up to a +certain point." + +"_Les femmes se suivent et se ressemblent toujours_," said I, parodying +a well-known apothegm. + +"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." + +"Then she's a phenomenon--and what man in his senses would fall in love +with a phenomenon?" + +"Every man, _mon cher enfant_, 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." + +"I'll certainly not say No, if you particularly want me to say Yes," I +replied, "but--" + +"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." + +We had met near the Odeon, and, as our roads lay in the same direction, +had gone on walking and talking till we came to Mueller's own door in the +Rue Clovis. I accepted the invitation, and followed him in. The +_portiere_, 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. + +"_Tiens_!" said she, "wait a moment--there's a parcel for you, M'sieur +Mueller." + +And so, hobbling back again, she brought out a small flat brown +paper-packet sealed at both ends. + +"Ah, I see--from the Emperor!" said Mueller. "Did he bring it himself, +Madame Duphot, or did he send it by the Archbishop of Paris?" + +A faint grin flitted over the little old woman's withered face. + +"Get along with you, M'sieur Mueller," she said. "You're always playing +the _farceur_! The parcel was brought by a man who looked like a +stonemason." + +"And nobody has called?" + +"Nobody, except M'sieur Richard." + +"Monsieur Richard's visits are always gratifying and delightful--may +the _diable_ fly away with him!" said Mueller. "What did dear Monsieur +Richard want to-day, Madame Duphot?" + +"He wanted to see you, and the third-floor gentleman also--about the +rent." + +"Dear Richard! What an admirable memory he has for dates! Did he leave +any message, Madame Duphot?" + +The old woman looked at me, and hesitated. + +"He says, M'sieur Mueller--he says ..." + +"Nay, this gentleman is a friend--you may speak out. What does our +beloved and respected _proprietaire_ say, Madame Duphot?" + +"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." + +"Ah, I always said he was the nicest man I knew!" observed Mueller, +gravely. "Anything else, Madame Duphot?" + +"Only this, Monsieur Mueller--that if you didn't go quietly, he'd take +your windows out of the frames and your doors off the hinges." + +"_Comment_! He bade you give me that message, the miserable old son of a +spider! _Quatre-vingt mille plats de diables aux truffes_! Take my +windows out of the frames, indeed! Let him try, Madame Duphot--that's +all--let him try!" + +And with this, Mueller, 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 _portiere_ grinning +maliciously in the hall. + +"But can't you pay him?" said I. + +"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." + +"Nor have I more than twenty. How much is it?" + +"A hundred and sixty--worse luck!" + +"Haven't the Tapottes paid for any of their ancestors yet?" + +"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 _traiteur_, and the artist's colorman, and, +_enfin_, the devil to pay--and the money's gone, somehow!" + +"I've only just cleared myself from a lot of debts," I said, ruefully, +"and I daren't ask either my father or Dr. Cheron for an advance just at +present. What is to be done?" + +"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." + +"And who, in the name of all that's Israelitish, is Nebuchadnezzar?" + +"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 _Charivari_. He deals in +bric-a-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?" + +"Immensely." + +"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?" + +I admitted that I was not unconscious of a sensation akin to appetite. + +He gazed steadfastly into the cupboard, and shook his head. + +"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?" + +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. + +"But you have never opened your parcel all this time," I said presently. +"It may be full of _billets de banque_--who can tell?" + +"That's true," said Mueller; and broke the seals. + +"By all the Gods of Olympus!" he shouted, holding up a small oblong +volume bound in dark green cloth. "My sketch-book!" + +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, "_Returned with +thanks_;" but the page that contained the sketch made in the Cafe +Procope was missing. + + + * * * * * + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +AN EVENING PARTY AMONG THE PETIT-BOURGEOISIE. + +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 Chatelet 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. + +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 Compiegne 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 _banlieu,_ grisettes, commercial +travellers, porters, commissionaires, and _gamins_ of all ages here +flowed to and fro. Itinerant venders of cakes, lemonade, cocoa, +chickweed, _allumettes_, 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. + +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 pave, it was quite a relief to come upon even +an artistically-arranged _Magasin de Charcuterie_, with its rows of +glazed tongues, mighty Lyons sausages, yellow _terrines_ of Strasbourg +pies, fantastically shaped pickle-jars, and pyramids of silvery +sardine boxes. + +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, Mueller 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. + +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. + +"It's dreadful to think of going into any house in this condition, +Mueller," 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?" + +"We've only to go to a boot-cleaning and brushing-up shop," replied +Mueller. "There's sure to be one close by somewhere." + +"A boot-cleaning and brushing-up shop!" I echoed. + +"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, '_cirage des +bottes?_'" + +"Never, that I can remember." + +"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." + +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 _ouvrier_ 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 Cafe-Concert, now +that the warehouse was closed, and the day's work was over. + +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 "_Veuve Marotte_" 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. + +"After you, Messieurs," said the little old gentleman, skipping politely +back, and flourishing his hand in the direction of the stairs. +"After you!" + +We protested vehemently against this arrangement, and fought quite a +skirmish of civilities at the foot of the stairs. + +"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 +_toupet_, 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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _fete_-day it was, and who +should have come forward to welcome these gentlemen, and thank them for +the honor of their company! + +Thus summoned, Mademoiselle Marie emerged from between the two young +women, and curtsied demurely. + +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. + +"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." + +Then, turning to the grim lady in black:-- + +"And I am charmed to pay my homage to Madame de Montparnasse. I had the +pleasure of being present at the brilliant _debut_ of Madame's gifted +daughter the other evening at the private performance of the pupils of +the Conservatoire. Mademoiselle Honoria inherits the _grand air_, +Madame, from yourself." + +Then, to the plump gentleman with the shirt-front:-- + +"And Monsieur Philomene!--this is indeed a privilege and a pleasure. Bad +weather, Monsieur Philomene, for the voice!" + +Then, to the two girls:-- + +"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." + +While I was listening to these scraps of salutation, Mueller was +murmuring tender nothings in the ear of the fair Marie, and Madame +Marotte was pouring out the coffee. + +Monsieur Achille Dorinet, having gone the round of the company, next +addressed himself to me. + +"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 _premier sujet_ of the Opera Francais--now principal +choreographic professor at the Conservatoire Imperiale 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, _en effet_. 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." + +"Sir," I replied gravely, "I do not doubt it." + +"It is a noble art, Monsieur, _l'art de la dame_" said the former +_premier sujet_, with a sigh; "but it is on the decline. Of the grand +style of fifty years ago, only myself and tradition remain." + +"Monsieur was, doubtless, a contemporary of Vestris, the famous dancer," +I said. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +Madame Marotte had by this time supplied all her guests with tea and +coffee, while Monsieur Philomene 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. + +"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 _locataire_, +M'sieur Lenoir. You know him, M'sieur Dorinet--pray tell these +demoiselles what a charming man M'sieur Lenoir is!" + +The little dancing-master bowed, coughed, smiled, and looked somewhat +embarrassed. + +"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?" + +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?" + +"Monsieur Dorinet has, I fear, asked an indiscreet question," said +Mueller, boiling over with jealousy. + +"I--I have not observed Monsieur Lenoir sufficiently to--to form an +opinion," faltered Marie, ready to cry with vexation. + +Mueller glared at her reproachfully, turned on his heel, and came over to +where I was standing. + +"You saw how she blushed?" he said in a fierce whisper. "_Sacredie_! +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!" + +At this awkward moment, Monsieur Dorinet, with considerable tact, asked +Monsieur Philomene for a song; and Monsieur Philomene (who as I +afterwards learned was a favorite tenor at fifth-rate concerts) was +graciously pleased to comply. + +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. + +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. + +"Only," she added, blushing, "I play so badly!" + +Monsieur Philomene 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. + +"One--two--three," began Mdlle. Rosalie, her little fat fingers +staggering helplessly among the first cadenzas of the symphony. +"One--two--three. One" ... + +Monsieur Philomene interrupted with a wave of the hand, as if conducting +an orchestra. + +"Pardon, Mademoiselle," he said, "not quite so fast, if you please! +Andantino--andantino--one--two--three ... Just so! A thousand thanks!" + +Again Mdlle. Rosalie attacked the symphony. Again Monsieur Philomene +cleared his voice, and suffered a pensive languor to cloud his +manly brow. + + "_Revenez, revenez, beaux jours de mon enfance,_" + +he began, in a small, tremulous, fluty voice. + +"They'll have a long road to travel back, _parbleu_!" muttered Mueller. + + "_De votre aspect riant charmer ma souvenance_!" + +Here Mdlle. Rosalie struck a wrong chord, became involved in hopeless +difficulties, and gasped audibly. + +Monsieur Philomene darted a withering glance at her, and went on:-- + + "_Mon coeur; mon pauvre coeur_" ... + +More wrong chords, and a smothered "_mille pardons_!" from Mdlle. +Rosalie. + + "_Mon coeur, mon pauvre coeur a la tristesse en proie, + En fouillant le passe"...._ + +A dead stop on the part of Mdlle. Rosalie. + + _"En fouillant le passe_".... + +repeated the tenor, with the utmost severity of emphasis. + +"_Mais, mon Dieu_, Rosalie! what are you doing?" cried Madame +Desjardins, angrily. "Why don't you go on?" + +Mdlle. Rosalie burst into a flood of tears. + +"I--I can't!" she sobbed. "It's so--so very difficult--and"... + +Madame Desjardins flung up her hands in despair. + +"_Ciel_!" she cried, "and I have been paying three francs a lesson for +you, Mademoiselle, twice a week for the last six years!" + +"_Mais, maman_".... + +"_Fi done_, Mademoiselle! I am ashamed of you. Make a curtsey to +Monsieur Philomene this moment, and beg his pardon; for you have spoiled +his beautiful song!" + +But Monsieur Philomene would hear of no such expiation. His soul, to +use his own eloquent language, recoiled from it with horror! The +accompaniment, _a vrai dire_, was not easy, and _la bien aimable_ +Mam'selle Rosalie had most kindly done her best with it. _Allons +donc!_--on condition that no more should be said on the subject, +Monsieur Philomene would volunteer to sing a little unaccompanied +romance of his own composition--a mere _bagatelle_; but a tribute to +"_les beaux yeux de ces cheres dames_!" + +So Mam'selle Rosalie wiped away her tears, and Madame Desjardins +smoothed her ruffled feathers, and Monsieur Philomene warbled a +plaintive little ditty in which "_coeur_" rhymed to "_peur_" and +"_amours_" to "_toujours_" and "_le sort_" to "_la mort_" in quite the +usual way; so giving great satisfaction to all present, but most, +perhaps, to himself. + +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. + +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. + +"But it is so difficult to render a dramatic scene without an +interlocutor!" said the young lady. + +"What is it you require, _ma chere demoiselle?_" asked Madame Marotte. + +"I have no interlocutor," said Mdlle. Honoria. + +"No what, my love?" + +"No interlocutor," repeated Mdlle. Honoria, at the top of her voice. + +"Dear! dear! what a pity! Can't we send the boy for it? Marie, my child, +bid Jacques run to Madame de Montparnasse's _appartement_ in the +Rue" ... + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Mam'selle Honoria, as Camille, with clasped hands and tragic expression, +stalks in a slow and stately manner towards the footlights. + +(Breathless suspense of the audience.) + +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. + +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. + +"_Ma soeur,_" begins M. Dorinet, holding the book very much on one side, +so as to catch the light upon the page, "_ma soeur, voici le bras_".... + +"Ah, Heaven! my dear Mademoiselle, take care of the candles!" cries +Madame Marotte in a shrill whisper. + + ... "_le bras qui venge nos deux freres, + Le bras qui rompt le cours de nos destins contraires, + Qui nous rend"_... + +Here he lost his place; stammered; and recovered it with difficulty. + + _"Qui nous rend maitres d'Albe"_.... + +Madame Marotte groans aloud in an agony of apprehension + +"_Ah, mon Dieu!_" she exclaims, gaspingly, "if they didn't flare so, it +wouldn't be half so dangerous!" + +Here M. Dorinet dropped his book, and stooping to pick up the book, +dropped his spectacles. + +"I think," said Mdlle. Honoria, indignantly, "we had better begin again. +Monsieur Dorinet, pray read with the help of a candle _this_ time!" + +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. + +Monsieur Dorinet, in the meanwhile, had snatched up a candle, readjusted +his spectacles, and found his place. + +"_Ma soeur_" he began again, holding the book close to his eyes and the +candle just under his nose, and nodding vehemently with every +emphasis:-- + + "_Ma soeur, voici le bras qui venge nos deux freres, + Le bras qui rompt le cours de nos destins contraires, + Qui nous rend maitres d'Albe_" ... + +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. + +"Your wig! Your wig's on fire!" cried every one at once. + +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. + +"Save him! save him!" yelled Madame Marotte. + +But almost before the words were out of her mouth, Mueller, clearing the +candles at a bound, had rushed to the rescue, scalped Monsieur Dorinet +by a _tour de main_, cast the blazing wig upon the floor, and trampled +out the fire. + +Then followed a roar of "inextinguishable laughter," in which, however, +neither the tragic Camille nor the luckless Horace joined. + +"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. + +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 +Philomene, who suggested that "this gifted demoiselle" should be +entreated to favor the society with a soliloquy. + +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 _Henriade_. + +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. + +Brief as was that glance, and all in the shade as he stood, I recognised +him instantly. + +It was the mysterious stranger of the Cafe Procope. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +MY AUNT'S FLOWER GARDEN. + +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 Philomene and Dorinet removed the footlights; +the audience once more dispersed itself about the room; and Madame +Marotte welcomed the new-comer as Monsieur Lenoir. + +"_Monsieur est bien aimable_," 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?" + +"With pleasure, Madame Marotte." + +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 Mueller and myself, looked as if he had +never seen either of us in his life. + +I< saw Mueller start, and the color fly into his face. + +"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!" + +"It _is_ the man," I replied. "I recognised him ten minutes ago, when he +first came in." + +"You are certain?" + +"Quite certain." + +"And yet--there is something different!" + +There _was_ 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 Cafe +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, _decore_, 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 Cafe, 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 _grand air_ and his orange-colored ribbon. + +"It's the same man," said Mueller; "the same, beyond a doubt. The more I +look at him, the more confident I am." + +"And the more I look at him," said I, "the more doubtful I get." + +Madame Marotte, meanwhile, had introduced M. Lenoir to the two +Conservatoire pupils and their mammas; Monsieur Dorinet had proposed +some "_petits jeux_;" and Monsieur Philomene was helping him to +re-arrange the chairs--this time in a circle. + +"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?" + +"_Pied de Boeuf_" "_Colin Maillard_" and other games were successively +proposed and rejected. + +"We have a game in Alsace called 'My Aunt's Flower Garden'" said Mueller. +"Does any one know it?" + +"'My Aunt's Flower Garden?'" repeated Monsieur Dorinet. "I never heard +of it." + +"It sounds pretty," said Mdlle. Rosalie. + +"Will M'sieur teach it to us, if it is not very difficult?" suggested +Mdlle. Rosalie's mamma. + +"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." + +We were just about to take our places when Madame Marotte seized the +opportunity to introduce Mueller and myself to M. Lenoir. + +"We have met before, Monsieur," said Mueller, pointedly. + +"I am ashamed to confess, Monsieur, that I do not remember to have had +that pleasure," replied M. Lenoir, somewhat stiffly. + +"And yet, Monsieur, it was but the other day," persisted Mueller. + +"Monsieur, I can but reiterate my regret." + +"At the Cafe Procope." + +M. Lenoir stared coldly, slightly shrugged his shoulders, and said, +with the air of one who repudiates a discreditable charge:-- + +"Monsieur, I do not frequent the Cafe Procope." + +"If Monsieur Mueller is to teach us the game, Monsieur Mueller must begin +it!" said Monsieur Dorinet. + +"At once," replied Mueller, taking his place in the circle. + +As ill-luck would have it (the rest of us being already seated), there +were but two chairs left; so that M. Lenoir and Mueller had to sit +side by side. + +"I begin with my left-hand neighbor," said Mueller, 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-- + +thee, and lov'd thee, and ne'er can forget._'" + +MDLLE. ROSALIE _to_ M. PHILOMENE.--I have the four corners of my Aunt's +Flower Garden for sale-- + +thee, and lov'd thee, and ne'er can forget._' + +M. PHILOMENE _to_ MADAME DE MONTPARNASSE.--I have the four corners of my +Aunt's Flower Garden, etc., etc. + +MADAME DE MONTPARNASSE _to_ M. DORINET.--I have the four corners of my +Aunt's Flower Garden, etc., etc. + +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. + +Mueller resumes the lead :-- + + "_In the second grow heartsease and wild eglantine; + Fair exchange is no theft--for my heart, give me thine_." + +MDLLE. ROSALIE _to_ M. PHILOMENE:-- + + "_In the second grow heartsease and wild eglantine; + Fair exchange is no theft--for my heart, give me thine_." + +M. PHILOMENE _to_ MDLLE. DE MONTPARNASSE:-- + + "_In the second grow heartsease_," &c., &c. + +And so on again, till the second round is done. Then Mueller began +again:-- + + "_In the third of these corners pale primroses grow; + Now tell me thy secret, and whisper it low_." + +Mdlle. Rosalie was about to repeat these lines as before; but he stopped +her. + +"No, Mademoiselle, not till you have told me the secret." + +"The secret, M'sieur? What secret?" + +"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 Philomene must whisper his secret to you--and so on +through the circle." + +Mdlle. Rosalie hesitated, smiled, whispered something in Mueller's ear, +and went on with:-- + + "_In the third of these corners pale primroses grow; + Now tell me thy secret, and whisper it low_." + +Monsieur Philomene then whispered his secret to Mdlle. Rosalie, and so +on again till it ended with M. Lenoir and Mueller. + +"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. + +"It will be more entertaining presently, Madame," shouted Mueller, with a +malicious twinkle about his eyes. "Pray observe the next lines, +Messieurs et Mesdames, and follow my lead as before:-- + + '_Roses bloom in the fourth; and your secret, my dear, + Which you whisper'd so softly just now in my ear, + I repeat word for word, for the others to hear!_' + +Mademoiselle Rosalie (whose pardon I implore!) whispered to me that +Monsieur Philomene dyed his moustache and whiskers." + +There was a general murmur of alarm tempered with tittering. +Mademoiselle Rosalie was dumb with confusion. Monsieur Philomene's face +became the color of a full-blown peony. Madame de Montparnasse and +Mdlle. Honoria turned absolutely green. + +"_Comment!_" exclaimed one or two voices. "Is everything to be +repeated?" + +"Everything, Messieurs et Mesdames," replied +Mueller--"everything--without reservation. I call upon Mdlle. Rosalie to +reveal the secret of Monsieur Philomene." + +MDLLE. ROSALIE (_with great promptitude_):--Monsieur Philomene whispered +to me that Honoria was the most disagreeable girl in Paris, Marie the +dullest, and myself the prettiest. + +M. PHILOMENE (_in an agony of confusion_):--I beseech you, Mam'selle +Honoria ... I entreat you, Mam'selle Marie, not for an instant to +suppose.... + +MDLLE. HONORIA (_drawing herself up and smiling acidly_):--Oh, pray do +not give yourself the trouble to apologize, Monsieur Philomene. Your +opinion, I assure you, is not of the least moment to either of us. Is +it, Marie? + +But the fair Marie only smiled good-naturedly, and said:-- + +"I know I am not clever. Monsieur Philomene is quite right; and I am not +at all angry with him." + +"But--but, indeed, Mesdemoiselles, I--I--am incapable...." stammered the +luckless tenor, wiping the perspiration from his brow. "I am +incapable...." + +"Silence in the circle!" cried Mueller, authoritatively. "Private +civilities are forbidden by the rules of the game. I call Monsieur +Philomene to order, and I demand from him the secret of Madame de +Montparnasse." + +M. Philomene looked even more miserable than before. + +"I--I ... but it is an odious position! To betray the confidence of a +lady ... Heavens! I cannot." + +"The secret!--the secret!" shouted the others, impatiently. + +Madame de Montparnasse pursed up her parchment lips, glared upon us +defiantly, and said:-- + +"Pray don't hesitate about repeating my words, M'sieur Philomene. I am +not ashamed of them." + +M. PHILOMENE (_reluctantly_):--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. + +MULLER (_with elaborate courtesy_):--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. + +MADAME DE MONTPARNASSE (_with obvious satisfaction_):--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. + +M. DORINET (_springing to his feet as if he had been shot_):--Heavens +and earth! Madame de Montparnasse, what have I done that you should so +pervert my words? Mam'selle Rosalie--_ma chere eleve_, believe me, +I never.... + +"Silence in the circle!" shouted Mueller again. + +M. DORINET:--But, M'sieur, in simple self-defence.... + +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. + +M. DORINET:--Madame Desjardins drew my attention to the toilette of +Madame de Montparnasse. She said: "_Mon Dieu!_ 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." + +MADAME DESJARDINS (_laughing heartily_):--_Eh bien--oui!_ I don't deny +it; and Rosalie's _mot_ was not bad. And now, M'sieur the Englishman +(_turning to me_), it is your turn to be betrayed. Monsieur, whose name +I cannot pronounce, said to me:--"Madame, the French, _selon moi_, are +the best dressed and most _spirituel_ 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," + +(_A murmur of approval on the part of the company, who take the +compliment entirely aux serieux_.) + +MYSELF (_agreeably conscious of having achieved popularity_):--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 _debut_ before long at the Theatre +Francais, and hoped that I would take tickets for the occasion. + +MDLLE. ROSALIE (_satirically_):--_Brava_, Honoria! What a woman of +business you are! + +MDLLE. HONORIA (_affecting not to hear this observation_)-- + + "_Roses bloom in the fourth, and your secret, my dear, + Which you whispered so softly just now in my ear, + I repeat word for word for the others to hear_." + +Marie said to me.... _Tiens_! 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 Mueller or Monsieur +Lenoir, by only holding up her finger--but she couldn't make up her mind +which she liked best. + +MDLLE. MARIE (_half crying_):--Nay, Honoria--how can you be so--so +unkind ... so spiteful? I--I did not say I could have either M'sieur +Mueller or... or... + +M. LENOIR (_with great spirit and good breeding_):--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. + +MULLER:--Order in the circle! The game waits for Mademoiselle Marie. + +MARIE (_hesitatingly_):-- + + "_Roses bloom in the fourth, and your secret_" + +M'sieur Lenoir said that--that he admired the color of my dress, and +that blue became me more than lilac. + +MULLER: (_coldly_)--_Pardon_, 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? + +MARIE--(_in great confusion_):--As--as you please, M'sieur. + +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. + +M. LENOIR:--I do not remember what Monsieur Mueller whispered to me at +the close of the last round. + +MULLER (_pointedly_):--_Pardon,_ Monsieur, I should have thought that +scarcely possible. + +M. LENOIR:--It was perfectly unintelligible, and therefore left no +impression on my memory. + +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." + +M. LENOIR:--The sentiment does you honor, Monsieur; but I do not see the +application, + +MULLER:--Vous ne le trouvez pas, Monsieur? + +M. LENOIR--(_with a cold stare, and a scarcely perceptible shrug of the +shoulders_):--Non, Monsieur. + +Here Mdlle. Rosalie broke in with:--"What are we to do next, M'sieur +Mueller? Are we to begin another round, or shall we start a fresh game?" + +To which Mueller replied that it must be "_selon le plaisir de ces +dames_;" and put the question to the vote. + +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. Philomene, convicted of +hair-dye and _brouille_ for ever with "the most disagreeable girl in +Paris," hastened to make his adieux as brief as possible. + +"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?" + +The ex-god Scamander held up his hands and eyes. + +"_Eh, mon Dieu_!" he replied. "What an evening of disasters! I have lost +my best pupil and my second-best wig!" + +In the meanwhile, we went up like the others, and said good-night to our +hostess. + +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 soiree--so kind of M'sieur Mueller to have +exerted himself to make things go off pleasantly--so sorry we would not +stay half an hour longer," &c., &c. + +To all of which Mueller (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:-- + +"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." + +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. + +"What, in Heaven's name, does all this mean?" I said, when we were once +more in the street. + +"It means," replied Mueller fiercely, "that the man's a scoundrel, and +the woman, like all other women, is false." + +"Then the whisper you overheard" ... + +"Was only this:--'_Look in the usual place, and you will find a +letter_.' Not many words, _mon cher_, 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! _Sacredie_! what an idiot +I have been!" + +"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." + +He shook his head. + +"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." + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +WEARY AND FAR DISTANT. + +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. + +"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." + +In another, after telling me that he had been reading some books of +travel in Egypt and Central America, he said:-- + +"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,-- + + As idle as a painted ship, + Upon a painted ocean.'" + +Sometimes, though rarely, he mentioned Madame de Courcelles, and then +very guardedly: always as "Madame de Courcelles," and never as his wife. + +"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!" + +Sometimes he broke into a strain of forced gayety, more sad, to my +thinking, than the bitterest lamentations could have been. + +"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?" + +In another he wrote:-- + +"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." + +Here is one more extract, and it shall be the last:-- + +"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'hote +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!'" + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +THE VICOMTE DE CAYLUS. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"More coals, Henri," he said, imperiously; "and--stop! a bottle of +Seltzer-water." + +The servant hesitated. + +"I don't think, Monsieur le Vicomte," he said, "that Madame has any +Seltzer-water in the house; but ..." + +"Confound you!--you never have anything in the house at the moment one +wants it," interrupted the gentleman, irritably. + +"I can send for some, if Monsieur le Vicomte desires it." + +"Send for it, then; and remember, when I next ask for it, let there be +some at hand." + +"Yes, Monsieur le Vicomte." + +"And--Henri!" + +"Yes, Monsieur le Vicomte." + +"Bid them be quick. I hate to be kept waiting!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"_Mille tonnerres_!" said he, between his teeth "come out, Bijou--come +out, I say!" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Monsieur rang?" said the footman, once more making his appearance at +the door. + +"_Mort de ma vie_! yes. The Seltzer-water." + +"I have sent for it, Monsieur le Vicomte." + +"And it is not yet come?" + +"Not yet, Monsieur le Vicomte." + +He muttered something to himself, and dropped back into the chair before +the fire. + +"Does Madame de Courcelles know that I am here?" he asked, as the +servant, after lingering a moment, was about to leave the room. + +"I delivered Monsieur le Vicomte's message, and brought back Madame's +reply," said the man, "half an hour ago." + +"True--I had forgotten it. You may go." + +The footman closed the door noiselessly, and had no sooner done so than +he was recalled by another impatient peal. + +"Here, Henri--have you told Madame de Courcelles that this gentleman is +also waiting to see her?" + +"Yes, Monsieur le Vicomte." + +"_Eh bien_?" + +"And Madame said she should be down in a few moments." + +"_Sacredie_! go back, then, and inquire if...." + +"Madame is here." + +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:-- + +"I had begun to despair of ever seeing you again. Why have you always +come when I was out?" + +"Madame," I said, bending low over the slender fingers, that seemed to +linger kindly in my own, "I have been undeservedly unfortunate." + +"Remember for the future," she said, "that I am always at home till +midday, and after five." + +Then, turning to her other visitor, she said:-- + +"_Mon cousin_, allow me to present my friend. Monsieur +Arbuthnot--Monsieur le Vicomte Adrien de Caylus." + +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. + +"I have been waiting to see you, Helene," said he, looking at his watch, +"for nearly three-quarters of an hour." + +"I sent you word, _mon cousin_, that I was finishing a letter for the +foreign post," said Madame de Courcelles, coldly, "and that I could not +come sooner." + +Monsieur de Caylus bit his lip and cast an impatient glance in my +direction. + +"Can you spare me a few moments alone, Helene?" he said. + +"Alone, _mon cousin_?" + +"Yes, upon a matter of business." + +Madame de Courcelles sighed. + +"If Monsieur Arbuthnot will be so indulgent as to excuse me for five +minutes," she replied. "This way, _mon cousin_." + +So saying, she lifted a dark green curtain, beneath which they passed to +a farther room out of sight and hearing. + +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. + +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 +abbe, 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 Elysees; 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! + +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. + +"A gentleman for Monsieur le Vicomte," said the servant, drawing back +the green curtain and opening a vista into the room beyond. + +"Ask him to come upstairs," said the voice of De Caylus from within. + +"I have done so, Monsieur; but he prefers to wait in the cabriolet." + +"Pshaw!--confound it!--say that I'm coming." + +The servant withdrew. + +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. + +"Then I shall call on you again to-morrow, Helene," said he, plucking +nervously at his glove. "You will have had time to reflect. You will see +matters differently." + +Madame Courcelles shook her head. + +"Reflection will not change my opinion," she said gently. + +"Well, shall I send Lejeune to you? He acts as solicitor to the company, +and ..." + +"_Mon cousin_" 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." + +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. + +"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." + +Madame de Courcelles smiled without replying, and caressed the little +dog, which had come out from under the sofa to fondle round her. + +"Poor Bijou!" said she. "Pretty Bijou! Do you take good care of him, +_mon cousin_?" + +"Upon my soul, not I," returned De Caylus, carelessly. "Lecroix feeds +him, I believe, and superintends his general education." + +"Who is Lecroix?" + +"My valet, courier, body-guard, letter-carrier, and general _factotum_. +A useful vagabond, without whom I should scarcely know my right hand +from my left!" + +"Poor Bijou! I fear, then, your chance of being remembered is small +indeed!" said Madame de Courcelles, compassionately. + +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. + +"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?" + +"Yes, Madame, I have heard of Monsieur de Caylus." + +"From Captain Dalrymple? + +"From Captain Dalrymple, Madame; and in society." + +"He is a brave officer," she said, hesitatingly, "and has greatly +distinguished himself in this last campaign." + +"So I have heard, Madame." + +She looked at me, as if she would fain read how much or how little +Dalrymple had told me. + +"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." + +"Madame, I know it." + +"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?" + +"I understand what you say, Madame; but...." + +"But you do not quite understand why I say it? _Eh bien_, Monsieur, when +you write to Captain Dalrymple.... for you write sometimes, do you not?" + +"Often, Madame." + +"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 _is_ my own battle, and I +know how to fight it." + +"Alas! Madame...." + +She smiled sadly. + +"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?" + +"I study, Madame--not always very regularly; and I have one friend." + +"An Englishman?" + +"No, Madame--a German." + +"A fellow-student, I presume." + +"No, Madame--an artist." + +"And you are very happy here?" + +"I have occupations and amusements; therefore, if to be neither idle nor +dull is to be happy. I suppose I am happy." + +"Nay," she said quickly, "be sure of it. Do not doubt it. Who asks more +from Fate courts his own destruction." + +"But it would be difficult, Madame, to go through life without desiring +something better, something higher--without ambition, for +instance--without love." + +"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." + +"But without either, life would be a desert." + +"Life _is_ 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--_voila tout_. 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." + +"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." + +She smiled again. + +"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?" + +"Nay, Madame, that is more than I can tell you--more than I know +myself." + +"Your profession...." + +"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." + +"Your dreams, then?" + +I shook my head. + +"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." + +With this I rose to take my leave. Madame de Courcelles smiled and put +out her hand. + +"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." + +"Madame, you may rely upon me. One thing I ask, however, as the reward +of my discretion." + +"And that one thing?" + +"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." + +With a sweet earnestness that made my heart beat and my cheeks glow, she +thanked and promised me. + +"I shall look upon you henceforth," she said, "as my knight _sans peur +et sans reproche_." + +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 _toga virilis_ of a generous devotion. They made +me long to prove myself "_sans peur_," to merit the "_sans reproche."_ +They marked an era in my life never to be forgotten or effaced. + +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? + +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. + +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 _Chansons de +Geste_; to the metrical romances of the Trouveres; to the Chronicles of +Froissart, Monstrelet, and Philip de Comines, and to the poets and +dramatists that immediately succeeded them. + +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 mediaeval romance, +and leads on, century after century, to the new era that began with the +Revolution. + +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 Baviere! How I relished Voltaire! How I laughed over +Moliere! How I revelled in Montaigne! Most of all, however, I loved the +quaint lore of the earlier literature:-- + + "Old legends of the monkish page, + Traditions of the saint and sage, + Tales that have the rime of age, + And Chronicles of Eld." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 Chaussee 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 Ecole de +Medecine, 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. + + * * * * * + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +GUICHET THE MODEL. + +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 _maisonnette_ 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. + +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 _Campo Santo_ of +decayed nobility--lonely, silent, fallen upon evil days, and haunted +here and there by ghosts of departed Marquises and Abbes of the _vieille +ecole_. 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. + +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 Mueller 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. + +"I am determined to get to the bottom of this Lenoir business," said +Mueller, doggedly; "and if the police won't help me, I must help myself." + +"You have no case for the police," I replied. + +"So says the _chef de bureau_; 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." + +"I doubt if you will succeed." + +"I don't, _mon cher_. 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?" + +"Certainly I do." + +"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. _Eh bien!_ 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?" + +"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." + +Mueller looked grave. + +"I would drop it this moment," he said, "if--if it were not for the +girl." + +"Who is still less worth the cost," + +"I know it," he replied, impatiently. "She has a pretty, sentimental +Madonna face; a sweet voice; a gentle manner--_et voila tout_. 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, _Dieu +merci!_ 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." + +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. + +"You are sure you know your way?" I asked presently, seeing Mueller look +up at the name at the corner of the street. + +"Why, yes; I think I do," he answered, doubtfully. + +"Why not inquire of that man just ahead?" I suggested. + +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 Mueller fell back, laid his hand on my arm, and said:-- + +"Stop! It is Guichet himself. Let him go on, and we'll follow." + +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, "_Ici on loge la nuit_." At the end of this thoroughfare our +unconscious guide plunged into a still darker and fouler _impasse_, 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, Mueller accosted him. + +"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." + +"Is it M'sieur Mueller?" said Guichet, bending his heavy brows and +staring at us in the gloom of the landing. + +"Ay, and with me the friend you saw the other day. So, this is your den? +May we come in?" + +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:-- + +"It is just that, M'sieur Mueller--a den; not fit for gentlemen like you. +But you can go in, if you please." + +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. + +"I want to know, Guichet, if you can give me some sittings," said +Mueller, by way of opening the conversation. + +"Depends on when, M'sieur Mueller," growled the model. + +"Well--next week, for the whole week." + +Guichet shook his head. He was engaged to Monsieur Flandrin _la bas_, +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. +Mueller made a grimace of disappointment. + +"That man's head takes a deal of cutting off, _mon ami_," he said. +"Aren't you tired of playing executioner so long?" + +"Not I, M'sieur! It's all the same to me--executioner or victim, saint +or devil." + +Mueller, laughing, offered him a cigar. + +"You've posed for some queer characters in your time, Guichet," said he. + +"Parbleu, M'sieur!" + +"But you've not been a model all your life?" + +"Perhaps not, M'sieur." + +"You've been a sailor once upon a time, haven't you?" + +The model looked up quickly. + +"How did you know that?" he said, frowning. + +"By a number of little things--by this, for instance," replied Mueller, +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. +_Que diable_! you look at me as if you took me for a sorcerer!" + +The model shook his head. + +"I don't understand it," he said, slowly. + +"Nay, I could tell you more than that if I liked," said Mueller, with an +air of mystery. + +"About myself?" + +"Ay, about yourself, and others." + +Guichet, having just lighted his cigar, forgot to put it to his lips. + +"What others?" he asked, with a look half of dull bewilderment and half +of apprehension. + +Mueller shrugged his shoulders. + +"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?" + +The model, still looking at him, made no answer. + +"Why didn't you say at once where you had met him, and all the rest of +it, _mon vieux_? You might have been sure I should find out for myself, +sooner or later." + +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. + +"You ask me why I did not tell you at once?" he said, very slowly. + +"Ay--why not?" + +"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 _la bas_?" + +"And why should I not know about it?" replied Mueller, flashing a rapid +glance at me. + +Guichet was silent. + +"What if I tell you that I am particularly interested in--that place _la +bas_?" + +"Well, that may be. People used to come sometimes, I remember--artists +and writers, and so on." + +"Naturally." + +"But I don't remember to have ever seen you, M'sieur Mueller." + +"You did not observe me, _mon cher_--or it may have been before, or +after your time." + +"Yes, that's true," replied Guichet, ponderingly. "How long ago was it, +M'sieur Mueller?" + +Mueller glanced at me again. His game, hitherto so easy, was beginning to +grow difficult. + +"Eh, _mon Dieu_!" 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." + +"But you remember seeing me there?" + +"Have I not said so?" + +Guichet took a couple of turns about the room. He looked flushed and +embarrassed. + +"There is one thing I should like to know," he said, abruptly. "Where +was I? What was I doing when you saw me?" + +Mueller was at fault now, for the first time. + +"Where were you?" he repeated. "Why, there--where we said just now. _La +bas_." + +"No, no--that's not what I mean. Was I .... was I in the uniform of the +Garde Chiourme?" + +The color rushed into Mueller's face as, flashing a glance of exultation +at me, he replied:-- + +"Assuredly, _mon ami_. In that, and no other." + +The model drew a deep breath. + +"And Bras de Fer?" he said. "Was he working in the quarries ?" + +"Bras de Fer! Was that the name he went by in those days?" + +"Ay--Bras de Fer--_alias_ Coupe-gorge--_alias_ Triphot--_alias_ +Lenoir--_alias_ 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." + +"But was he in for life?" said Mueller, eagerly. + +"_Travaux forces a perpetuite_," replied Guichet, touching his own +shoulder significantly with the thumb of his right hand. + +Mueller sprang to his feet. + +"Enough," he said. "That is all I wanted to know. Guichet, _mon cher_, I +am your debtor for life. We will talk about the sittings when you have +more time to dispose of. Adieu." + +"But, M'sieur Mueller, you won't get me into trouble!" exclaimed the +model, eagerly. "You won't make any use of my words?" + +"Why, supposing I went direct to the Prefecture, what trouble could I +possibly get you into, _mon ami?_" replied Mueller. + +The model looked down in silence. + +"You are a brave man. You do not fear the vengeance of Bras de Fer, or +his friends?" + +"No, M'sieur---it's not that." + +"What is it, then?" + +"M'sieur...." + +"Pshaw, man! Speak up." + +"It is not that you would get me personally into trouble, M'sieur +Mueller," 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 +_forcat_. 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." + +"Naturally--rightly. But what has that to do with Lenoir?" + +"Ah, M'sieur Mueller, 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." + +"My good fellow," said Mueller, 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." + +"Thank you, M'sieur Mueller; 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," + +"We are men of honor," said Mueller, "and your secret is safe with us." + +"Not if you go to the Prefecture 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 +_forcat?_ M'sieur Mueller, I could never hold my head up again. It would +be the ruin of me." + +"You shall not appear against him, and it shall not be the ruin of you. +Guichet," said Mueller. "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 _forcat_, condemned for life to +the galleys." + +"That's as true, M'sieur Mueller, as that God is in heaven," said the +model, emphatically. + +"Then I can prove it without your testimony--I can prove it by simply +summoning any of the Toulon authorities to identify him." + +"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 Mueller, and it will start out as red and +fresh as if it had been done only six months ago. _Parbleu!_ 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." + +"Do you remember what his crime was?" asked Mueller + +Guichet shook his head. + +"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." + +"Then I'll find it, if I have to wade through half the Bibliotheque +Nationale!" said Mueller. "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." + +The color rushed into the model's swarthy cheeks. + +"_Comment_, M'sieur Mueller!" he said, hesitatingly. "You offer to shake +hands with me--after what I have told you?" + +"Ten times more willing than before, _mon ami_," said Mueller. "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?" + +The model grasped his outstretched hand with a vehemence that made +Mueller wince again. + +"Thank you," he said, in a low, deep voice. "Thank you. Death of my +life! M'sieur Mueller, I'd go to the galleys again for you, after +this--if you asked me." + +"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." + +And with this Mueller turned away laughingly, and I followed him down the +dimly-lighted stairs. + +"By Jove!" he said, "what a grip the fellow gave me! I'd as soon shake +hands with the Commendatore in Don Giovanni." + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +NUMBER TWO HUNDRED AND SEVEN. + +Mueller, 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. + +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. _Comment_! 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? + +To all which official catechizing, Mueller, 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." + +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. + +Thus rebuffed, Mueller 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 Ecole de Droit, and there purchased as much wisdom as +might be bought for the sum of five francs sterling. + +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 Mueller 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--_voila tout_! 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. + +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. + +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 Mueller in his solicitude for the fair Marie, could not but feel a +strange contagion of excitement in this _chasse au forcat_. And so a +week or ten days went by, till one memorable afternoon, when Mueller 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-- + +"Good news, _mon vieux_! 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!" + +"You are certain he is the same?" I said. + +"As certain as I am of my own face when I see it in the looking-glass." + +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 Marot's +door; that he, Mueller, 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. + +Behold us, then, at the time prescribed, lounging in the doorway of a +small shop adjoining the private entrance to Madame Marot'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. + +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. + +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 Marot's shutters have been put up by the boy in the +oilskin apron more than an hour ago), and the _chiffonnier_, sure herald +of the quieter hours of the night, flits by with rake and lanthorn, +observant of the gutters. + +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:-- + +"_Mais; nom de deux cent mille petards_! will this man of ours never +come?" + +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, Mueller suddenly lays his +hand on my arm, makes a sign to the sergeant, and peers eagerly down +the street. + +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 Mueller's keener eye, made keener still by jealousy, +identifies him at a glance. + +It is Lenoir. + +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 +Mueller remains, smoking his cigarette and lounging against the +door-post. + +Then Lenoir crosses over, and Mueller, affecting to observe him for the +first time, looks up, and without lifting his hat, says loudly:-- + +"_Comment_! have I the honor of saluting Monsieur Lenoir?" + +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. + +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. + +"Number two hundred and seven, you are my prisoner!" + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +THE END OF BRAS BE FER. + +LENOIR's first impulse was to struggle in silence; then, finding escape +hopeless, he folded his arms and submitted. + +"So, it is Monsieur Mueller 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." + +Then, turning impatiently upon the sergeant:-- + +"Have you no carriage at hand?" he said, sharply; "or do you want to +collect a crowd in the street?" + +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; Mueller and I scrambled up +beside the driver; word was given "to the Prefecture 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. + +Arrived at the Quai des Ortevres, we alighted at the Prefecture, 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. + +"Sergeant," he said, pompously, "bring the prisoner under the +gas-burner." + +Lenoir, without waiting to be brought, took a couple of steps forward, +and placed himself in the light. + +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. + +"Are you prepared, Monsieur," he said, addressing Mueller for the first +time--"are you, I say, prepared to identify the prisoner upon oath?" + +"Within certain limitations--yes," replied Mueller. + +"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 Prefet that they are one and the same person?" + +"I am neither more nor less prepared, Monsieur," said Mueller, "than you +are; or than Monsieur le Prefet, 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 Prefet and yourself to decide upon its value." + +"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 +Mueller was speaking. + +The bald-headed Chef jumped up with great alacrity, bowed like a second +Sir Pertinax, and handed over the photograph. + +"The peculiar difficulty of this case, Monsieur le Prefet" ... he began. + +The Prefet waved his hand. + +"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." + +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. + +We pressed round eagerly. Monsieur le Chef put up his double eye-glass; +Monsier le Prefet took off his blue spectacles. + +"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?" + +The sergeant nodded. + +"V'la, M'sieur le Prefet!" 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. + +Lenoir flashed a savage glance upon us, and checked the imprecation that +rose to his lips. Monsieur le Prefet, 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:-- + +"Sergeant, you will take this order, and convey Number Two Hundred and +Seven to the Bicetre, 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 Mueller, 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." + +Monsieur Marmot, murmuring profuse thanks, bowed and bowed again, and +followed Monsieur le Prefet obsequiously to the door. On the threshold, +the great little man paused, turned, and said very quietly: "You +understand, sergeant, this prisoner does _not_ escape again;" and so +vanished; leaving Monsieur Marmot still bowing in the doorway. + +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. + +"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 +Bicetre, instead of you two gentlemen." + +"All right, _mon ami_" said Mueller. "I suppose we should not have been +admitted if we had gone with you?" + +"Nay, I could pass you in, Messieurs, if you cared to see the affair to +the end, and followed in another _fiacre_." + +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 Orfevres, just outside the +Prefecture of Police. + +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 Cite; passing the Morgue--a mass of sinister +shadow; passing the Hotel 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. + +"It is a wild-looking night," said Mueller, as we drove under the +mountainous shadow of Notre Dame and came out again in sight of +the river. + +"And it is a wild business to be out upon," I added. "I wonder if this +is the end of it?" + +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! + +In an instant we were all out--all rushing to and fro--all shouting--all +wild with surprise and confusion. + +"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 Cite! Watch up stream and down! The moment he shows his head above +water, fire!" + +"But, in Heaven's name, how did he escape?" exclaimed Mueller. + +"_Grand Dieu_! 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?" + +The soldier on the Pont de la Cite gave a shout and fired. There was a +splash--a plunge--a rush to the opposite parapet. + +"There he goes!" + +"Where?" + +"He has dived again!" + +"Look--look yonder--between the floating bath and the bank!" + +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! + +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. + +"Bid the boatmen drag the river just here between the two bridges," he +said, "and bring the body up to the Prefecture." Then, turning to Mueller +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 Orfevres, to +depose to the facts which have just happened." + +"But is the man shot, or has he escaped?" asked a breathless bystander. + +"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." + + + +CHAPTER XL + +THE ENIGMA OF THE THIRD STORY. + + Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?--MARLOWE. + +In Paris, a lodging-house (or, as they prefer to style it, a _hotel +meuble_) 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 _the premier etage_, who +live in majestic disdain of everybody above or beneath them, from the +grisettes in the garret, to the _concierge_ who has care of the cellars. + +The house in which I lived in the Cite Bergere 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 +_employe_ in some public office; next to him, Signor Milanesi, an +Italian refugee who played in the orchestra at the _Varietes_ 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:-- + +MLLE. HORTENSE DUFRESNOY. + +_Teacher of Languages_. + +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. + +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. + +This vague interest gave place by-and-by to active curiosity. I resolved +to question Madame Bouisse, the _concierge_; and as she, good soul! +loved gossip not wisely, but too well, I soon knew all the little she +had to tell. + +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 +_concierge_, "paid her rent to the minute." + +This, and no more, had Madame Bouisse 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 Bouisse'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. + +"And how old should you suppose this lady to be?" I asked, leaning idly +against the table whereon Madame Bouisse was preparing an unsavory dish +of veal and garlic. + +The _concierge_ shrugged her ponderous shoulders. + +"Ah, bah, M'sieur, I am no judge of age," said she. + +"Well--is she pretty?" + +"I am no judge of beauty, either," grinned Madame Bouisse. + +"But, my dear soul," I expostulated, "you have eyes!" + +"Yours are younger than mine, _mon enfant_," retorted the fat +_concierge_; "and, as I see Mam'selle Hortense coming up to the door, +I'd advise you to make use of them for yourself." + +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. + +"Will you be so obliging, Madame Bouisse," she said, "as to lend me a +piece of ten sous? I have no small change left in my purse." + +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. + +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-- + + "In whose orb a shadow lies, + Like the dusk in evening skies!" + +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. + +But I cannot describe her-- + +"For oh, her looks had something excellent That wants a name!" + +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. + +Madame Bouisse, 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. + +"Pray, M'sieur Basil," said she, "have you one?" + +"One what?" I ejaculated, startled out of my reverie. + +"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?" + +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. + +"_Dame_!" said the _concierge_. "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." + +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. + +"I fear, Madame Bouisse," she said, "that I must ask you to help me with +this. I am not strong enough to carry it upstairs." + +More alert this time, I took a step in advance, and offered my services. + +"Will Mademoiselle permit me to take it?" I said. "I am going +upstairs." + +She hesitated. + +"Many thanks," she said, reluctantly, "but...." + +"But Madame Bouisse is busy," I urged, "and the _pot au feu_ will spoil +if she leaves it on the fire." + +The fat _concierge_ nodded, and patted me on the shoulder. + +"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 _bon garcon_--an +Englishman--and a book-student like yourself." + +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. + +"Pray let me carry it in for you," I said. + +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. + +The first room was an ante-chamber; the second a _salon_ 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. + +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. + +"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. + +"You have nothing to thank me for, Mademoiselle," I replied. + +She smiled, proudly still, but very sweetly, and closed the door upon +me. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +A CHRONICLE ABOUT FROISSART. + + See, Lucius, here's the book I sought for so! + JULIUS CAESAR. + + But all be that he was a philosophre, + Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre, + But all that he might of his frends hente, + On bokes and on lerning he is spente. + + CHAUCER. +&/ + +"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. +Cheron, 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. + +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. + +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. Cheron. 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. + +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 _cafe_ 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. + +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 fete 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. + +From the Cite Bergere, 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 Elysees 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. + +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. + +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. + +Standing here, then, to-day, dipping first into this work and +then into that, I light upon a very curious and interesting +edition of _Froissart_--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 + + "That weight of wood, with leathern coat overlaid, + Those ample clasps of solid metal made, + The close pressed leaves unclosed for many an age, + The dull red edging of the well-filled page, + And the broad back, with stubborn ridges roll'd, + Where yet the title stands in tarnished gold!" + +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! + +"Pray, Monsieur," says a gentle voice at the door, "where is that old +_Froissart_ that I saw outside about a quarter of an hour ago?" + +"Just sold, Madame," replies the bookseller, promptly. + +"Oh, how unfortunate!--and I only went home for the money" exclaims the +lady in a tone of real disappointment. + +Selfishly exultant, I hug the book more closely, turn to steal a glance +at my defeated rival, and recognise--Mademoiselle Dufresnoy. + +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. + +Flushed and breathless, I stand beside her with _Froissart_ in my hand. + +"Pardon, Mademoiselle," I say, hurriedly, "for having involuntarily +forestalled you just now. I had just bought the book you wished to +purchase," + +She looks at me with evident surprise and some coldness; but says +nothing. + +"And I am rejoiced to have this opportunity of transferring it to you." + +Mademoiselle Dufresnoy makes a slight but decided gesture of refusal. + +"I would not deprive you of it, Monsieur," she says promptly, "upon any +consideration." + +"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." + +"I cannot conceive why you should do that, Monsieur." + +"In order, Mademoiselle, that you may still have it in your power to +become the purchaser." + +"And yet you wished to possess the book, or you would not have bought +it." + +"I would not have bought it, Mademoiselle, if I had known that I should +disappoint a--a lady by doing so," + +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. + +A half-mocking smile flitted across her lips. + +"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?" + +"Nay, the merest by-law of courtesy..." I began, hesitatingly. + +"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." + +"_Eh bien_, Mademoiselle--what then?" + +"Then, Monsieur, may there not be some women---myself, for instance--who +do not care to be treated like children?" + +"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 Trouvere?" + +"Were it not better that the new age created a new code and a new +poetry?" said Mademoiselle Dufresnoy. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Mademoiselle is pleased to talk in paradoxes," said I. + +Mademoiselle unlocked her door, and turning towards me with the same +half-mocking smile and the same air of raillery, said:-- + +"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?" + +"You mean, perhaps, that you reject all courtesy based on mere +ceremonial. Let me then put the case of this _Froissart_ more +plainly--as I would have done from the first, had I dared to speak the +simple truth." + +"And that is...?" + +"That it will give me more pleasure to resign the book to you, +Mademoiselle, than to possess it myself." + +Mademoiselle Dufresnoy colors up, looks both haughty and amused, and +ends by laughing. + +"In truth, Monsieur," she says merrily, "if your politeness threatened +at first to be too universal, it ends by becoming unnecessarily +particular." + +"Say rather, Mademoiselle, that you will not have the book on any +terms!" I exclaim impatiently. + +"Because you have not yet offered it to me upon any just or reasonable +grounds." + +"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?" + +"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." + +And with this, she puts out her hand for the hook, and offers me in +return the sum of five and twenty francs. + +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. + +"Pardon, Monsieur," she says, "but you forget that I am in your debt." + +"And--and do you really insist..." + +She looks at me, half surprised and half offended. + +"If you do not take the money, Monsieur, how can I take the book?" + +Bowing, I receive the unwelcome francs in my unwilling palm. + +Still she lingers. + +"I--I have not thanked you as I ought for your generosity," she says, +hesitatingly. + +"Generosity!" I repeat, glancing with some bitterness at the five and +twenty francs. + +"True kindness, Monsieur, is neither bought nor sold," says the lady, +with the loveliest smile in the world, and closes her door. + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +THE OLD, OLD STORY. + + What thing is Love, which nought can countervail? + Nought save itself--even such a thing is Love. + + SIR W. RALEIGH. + +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. + +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? + +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? + +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:-- + + "Eyes not down-dropt, not over-bright, but fed + With the clear-pointed flame of chastity," + +--eyes wherein dwelt "thought folded over thought," what painter need +ever hope to copy them? + +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 + + "Innumerable, of stains and splendid dyes + As are the tiger-moth's deep damask'd wings?" + +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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +ON A WINTER'S EVENING. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +"Welcome, noisiest of visitors!" I exclaim, knowing it to be Mueller +before I even open the door. "You are quite a stranger. You have not +been near me for a fortnight." + +"It will not be your fault, Signor Book-worm, if I don't become a +stranger _au pied de la lettre_" 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." + +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. + +"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." + +"I quite believe it," replied he. "You must be bored to death, if these +old busts are all the society you keep. _Sacre nom d'une pipe_! 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?" + +"I'll have the skull made into a drinking-cup, if you do. Take some +wine." + +Mueller filled his glass, tasted with the air of a connoisseur, and +nodded approvingly. + +"Chambertin, by the god Bacchus!" said he. "Napoleon's favorite wine, +and mine--evidence of the sympathy that exists between the truly great." + +And, draining the glass, he burst into a song in praise of French wines, +beginning-- + + "Le Chambertin rend joyeux, + Le Nuits rend infatigable, + Le Volnay rend amoureux, + Le Champagne rend amiable. + Grisons-nous, mes chers amis, + L'ivresse + Vaut la richesse; + Pour moi, des que le suis gris, + Je possede tout Paris!" + +"Oh hush!" said I, uneasily; "not so loud, pray!" + +"Why not?" + +"The--the neighbors, you know. We cannot do as we would in the Quartier +Latin." + +"Nonsense, my dear fellow. You don't swear yourself to silence when you +take apartments in a _hotel meuble_! You might as well live in a +penitentiary!-- + + 'De bouchons faisons un tas, + Et s'il faut avoir la goutte, + Au moins que ce ne soit pas + Pour n'avoir bu qu'une goutte!'" + +"Nay, I implore you!" I interposed again. "The landlord ..." + +"Hang the landlord! + + 'Grisons-nous--'" + +"Well, but--but there is a lady in the next room ..." + +Mueller laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. + +"_Allons done_!" said he, "why not have told the truth at first? Oh, you +sly rogue! You _gaillard_! 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!" + +"Laugh on, pray," I said, feeling my face and my temper growing hot; +"but that lady, who is a stranger to me".... + +"Oh--oh--oh!" cried Mueller. + +"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." + +Mueller laid his hand upon my sleeve. + +"Enough--enough," he said, smiling good-naturedly. "You are right, and I +will be as dumb as Plato. What is the lady's name." + +"Dufresnoy," I answered, somewhat reluctantly. "Mademoiselle Dufresnoy." + +"Ay, but her Christian name!" + +"Her Christian name," I faltered, more reluctant still. "I--I--" + +"Don't say you don't know," said Mueller, maliciously. "It isn't worth +while. After all, what does it matter? Here's to her health, all the +same--_a votre sante_, Mademoiselle Dufresnoy! What! not drink her +health, though I have filled your glass on purpose?" + +There was no help for it, so I took the glass and drank the toast with +the best grace I could. + +"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?" + +"Old," said I, desperately. "Old and ugly. Fifty at the least. Squints +horribly." + +Then, thinking that I had been a little too emphatic, I added:-- + +"But a very ladylike person, and exceedingly well-informed," + +Mueller looked at me gravely, and filled his glass again. + +"I think I know the lady," said he. + +"Indeed?" + +"Yes--by your description. You forgot to add, however, that she is +gray." + +"To be sure--as a badger." + +"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!" + +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. + +"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 chateau near Montlhery!" + +"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?" + +"Look at it, indeed! I should rather think so--and here is the proof. +What does your connoisseurship say to it?" + +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? + +For it was like _her_--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! + +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 +chateau, she would seem to be standing for the portrait. + +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! + +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! + +"Well," said Mueller impatiently, "what do you think of it?" + +I looked up, like one dreaming. + +"Think of it!" I repeated. + +"Yes--do you think it like?" + +"So like that it might be her por ... I mean that it might be the +original." + +"Oh, that's satisfactory. I was afraid you were disappointed." + +"I was only silent from surprise and pleasure." + +"Well, however faithful the copy maybe, you know, in these things one +always misses the tone of age." + +"I would not have it look a day older!" I exclaimed, never lifting my +eyes from the canvas. + +Mueller came and looked down at it over my shoulder. + +"It is an interesting head," said he. "I have a great mind to introduce +it into my next year's competition picture." + +I started as if he had struck me. The thought was sacrilege! + +"For Heaven's sake do no such thing!" I ejaculated. + +"Why not?" said he, opening his eyes in astonishment. + +"I cannot tell you why--at least not yet; but to--to confer a very +particular obligation upon me, will you waive this point?" Mueller rubbed +his head all over with both hands, and sat down in the utmost +perplexity. + +"Upon my soul and conscience," said he, "you are the most +incomprehensible fellow I ever knew in my life!" + +"I am. I grant it. What then? Let us see, I am to give you a hundred and +fifty francs for this copy ..." + +"I won't take it," said Mueller. "I mean you to accept it as a pledge of +friendship and good-will." + +"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!" + +Mueller 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." + +"But ..." + +"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!" + +And, snatching up his cap and cloak, he made a feint of putting the +portrait back into the folio. + +"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?" + +"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. _Sapristi_! see if I don't dazzle you some day +with an effect of white satin and pearls against a fair skin!" + +"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." + +"Impossible! I have promised to meet a couple of men up at the Prado, +and have, besides, invited them afterwards to supper." + +"What is the Prado?" + +"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." + +"How very delightful!" + +"Oh, magnificent! Won't you come with me? I know a dozen pretty girls +who will be delighted to be introduced to you." + +"Not to-night, thank you," said I, laughing. + +"Well, another time?" + +"Yes, to be sure--another time." + +"Well, good-night." + +"Good-night, and thank you again, a thousand times over." + +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. + +"_Hola, amigo_! When my picture is done, I mean to give a bachelor's +supper-party--chiefly students and _chicards_. Will you come?" + +"Gladly." + +"Adieu, then. I will let you know in time." + +And with this, he broke out into a fragment of Beranger, gave a cheerful +good-night to Madame Bouisse in the hall, and was gone. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +The antechamber lay between, and I remembered that she could not hear +me. I ran back, knocked against the wall, and repeated:-- + +"What has happened? Tell me what has happened?" + +Again I listened, and in that interval of suspense heard her garments +rustle along the ground, then a deep sigh, and then the words:-- + +"Nothing serious. I have hurt my hand." + +"Can you open the door?" + +There was another long silence. + +"I cannot," she said at length, but more faintly. + +"In God's name, try!" + +No answer. + +"Shall I get over the balcony?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Alas! the white little hand all crushed and bleeding--the powerless +arm--the brave mouth striving to be firm! + +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. + +"Are you in much pain?" I asked, when all was done. + +"Not now--but I feel very faint," + +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. + +"You are much better now," I said, when she had again lain down. "Tell +me how it happened." + +She smiled languidly. + +"It was not my fault," she said, "but Froissart's. Do you remember that +Froissart?" + +Remember it! I should think so. + +"Froissart!" I exclaimed. "Why, what had he to do with it?" + +"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." + +"Could you not have got out of the way when you saw it falling?" + +"Yes--but I tried to prevent it, and so was knocked down and imprisoned +as you found me." + +"Merciful Heaven! it might have killed you." + +"That was what flashed across my mind when I saw it coming," she +replied, with a faint smile. + +"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." + +"I must travel to-morrow," she said, with quiet decision. + +"Impossible!" + +"I have no alternative." + +"But think of the danger--the imprudence--the suffering." + +"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." + +"But may I do no more for you?" + +"Nothing--unless you will have the goodness to bid Madame Bouisse to +come up-stairs, and finish packing my portmanteau for me." + +"At what hour do you start?" + +"At eight." + +"May I not go with you to the station, and see that you get a +comfortable seat?" + +"Many thanks," she replied, coldly; "but I do not go by rail, and my +seat in the diligence is already taken." + +"You will want some one to see to your luggage--to carry your cloaks." + +"Madame Bouisse has promised to go with me to the Messageries." + +Silenced, and perhaps a little hurt, I rose to take my leave. + +"I wish you a safe journey, mademoiselle," I said, "and a safe return," + +"And think me, at the same time, an ungrateful patient." + +"I did not say that." + +"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." + +"Mademoiselle," I said, "your apology pains me. I have nothing to +forgive. I will send Madame Bouisse to you immediately." + +And with this I had almost left the room, but paused upon the threshold. + +"Shall you be long away?" I asked, with assumed indifference. + +"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." + +"Once more, then, good-night." + +"Good-night," she answered, absently; and I withdrew. + +I then went down, sent Madame Bouisse to wait upon her, and sat up +anxiously listening more than half the night. Next morning, at seven, I +heard Madame Bouisse 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. + +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 Bouisse trotted beside her with a bundle of cloaks and +umbrellas; a porter followed with her little portmanteau on +his shoulder. + +And so they passed under the archway across the trampled snow, and +vanished out of sight. + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +A PRESCRIPTION. + +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 Bouisse. The good-natured _concierge_ knew no more than myself, +and the little she had to tell only increased my uneasiness. + +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 _concierge_, +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. + +"But can you not remember in what direction the diligence was going?" I +asked, again and again. + +"No, M'sieur--not in the least," + +"Nor the name of the town to which her place was taken?" + +"I don't know that I ever heard it, M'sieur." + +"But at least you must have seen the address on the portmanteau?" + +"Not I, M'sieur--I never thought of looking at it." + +"Did she say nothing to account for the suddenness of her departure?" + +"Nothing at all." + +"Nor about her return either. Madame Bouisse? Just think a +moment--surely she said something about when you might expect her +back again?" + +"Nothing, M'sieur, except, by the way--" + +"Except what?" + +"_Dame_! 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." + +"No, no--I can well believe it. Pray, go on!" + +"Well, M'sieur," she shakes hands with me, and she says, "Thank you, +good Madame Bouisse, for all your kindness to me.... Hear that, M'sieur, +'good Madame Bouisse,'--the dear child!" + +"And then--?" + +"Bah! how impatient you are! Well, then, she says (after thanking me, +you observe)--'I have paid you my rent, Madame Bouisse, 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." + +If she did not come back at all! Oh, Heaven! I had never contemplated +such a possibility. I left Madame Bouisse without another word, and +going up to my own rooms, flung myself upon my bed, as if I were +stupefied. + +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!" + +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. + +Even Dr. Cheron noticed it, and calling me in the afternoon to his +private room, said:-- + +"Basil Arbuthnot, you look ill. Are you working too hard?" + +"I don't think so, sir." + +"Humph! Are you out much at night?" + +"Out, sir?" + +"Yes--don't echo my words--do you go into society: frequent balls, +theatres, and so forth?" + +"I have not done so, sir, for several months past." + +"What is it, then? Do you read late?" + +"Really, sir, I hardly know--up to about one or two o'clock; on the +average, I believe." + +"Let me feel your pulse." + +I put out my wrist, and he held it for some seconds, looking keenly at +me all the time. + +"Got anything on your mind?" he asked, after he had dropped it again. +"Want money, eh?" + +"No, sir, thank you." + +"Home-sick?" + +"Not in the least." + +"Hah! want amusement. Can't work perpetually--not reasonable to suppose +it. There, _mon garcon_," (taking a folded paper from his pocket-book) +"there's a prescription for you. Make the most of it." + +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. + +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 Capuletti_. 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. + +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? + +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! + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"About two hours," she replied, carelessly. + +"And you have been nearly three weeks away!" + +"Have I?" said she, leaning her cheek upon her hand, and looking up +dreamily into the night. "I did not count the days." + +"That proves you passed them happily," I said; not without some secret +bitterness. + +"Happily!" she echoed. "What is happiness?" + +"A word that we all translate differently," I replied. + +"And your own reading of it?" she said, interrogatively. + +I hesitated. + +"Do you inquire what is my need, individually?" I asked, "or do you want +my general definition?" + +"The latter." + +"I think, then, that the first requirement of happiness is work; the +second, success." + +She sighed. + +"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." + +The sadness of her attitude, the melancholy import of her words, the +abstraction of her manner, filled me with a vague uneasiness. + +"Failure is often the forerunner of success," I replied, for want, +perhaps, of something better to say. + +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. + +"It is not the first time," she murmured, "nor will it be the last--and +yet they say that God is merciful." + +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! + +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." + +"Then I will wish you good-night at once," I said. + +"Good-night," she replied; and went back into her room. + +The next morning Dr. Cheron smiled one of his cold smiles, and said:-- + +"You look better to-day, my young friend. I knew how it was with you--no +worse malady, after all, than _ennui_. I shall take care to repeat the +medicine from time to time." + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + +UNDER THE STARS. + +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. + +"You are fond of your balcony, fellow-student," said she. "I often hear +you out here." + +"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." + +"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!" + +"Defer that wish for a few months," I replied smiling. "You would +scarcely like Switzerland in her winter robes." + +"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." + +"A fantastic idea," said I, "and spoken like an artist." + +"Like an artist!" she repeated, musingly. "Well, are not all students +artists?" + +"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." + +She looked at me, and the moonlight showed me that sad smile which her +lips so often wore. + +"You do not love your profession," she said. + +"I do not, indeed." + +"And yet you labor zealously to acquire it--how is that?" + +"How is it with hundreds of others? My profession was chosen for me. I +am not my own master." + +"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?" + +"I scarcely know, and I should scarcely care, so long as there was +freedom of thought and speculation in it." + +"Geology, perhaps--or astronomy," she suggested, laughingly. + +"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." + +"'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?" + +"So right that I regret I can be read so easily." + +"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." + +"A melancholy creed." + +"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." + +"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. + +"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?" + +"I do; believing that he would not forego them for a life of +common-place annoyances and placid pleasures." + +"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." + +She spoke with a rare and passionate enthusiasm; sometimes pacing to and +fro; sometimes pausing with upturned face-- + +"A dauntless muse who eyes a dreadful fate!" + +There was a long, long silence--she looking at the stars, I upon her +face. + +By-and-by she came over to where I stood, and leaned upon the railing +that divided our separate territories. + +"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." + +"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?" + +She laughed with a sudden change of mood, and shook her head. + +"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." + +"You are unlike every other woman!" + +"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!" + +"The wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best!" + +"By no means. You are comparing me with Eve; but I am 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." + +"_Eh bien!_ 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." + +"Nay, that is what Titania said to the ass," laughed Hortense. "Your +compliments become equivocal, fellow-student. But hush! what hour +is that?" + +She stood with uplifted finger. The air was keen, and over the silence +of the house-tops chimed the church-clocks--Two. + +"It is late, and cold," said she, drawing her cloak more closely round +her. + +"Not later than you usually sit up," I replied. "Don't go yet. 'Tis now +the very witching hour of night, when churchyards yawn--" + +"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." + +"Good-night," I replied, reluctantly; but almost before I had said it, +she was gone. + +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 "_au revoir_--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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + +THERMOPYLAE. + + How dreary 'tis for women to sit still + On winter nights by solitary fires, + And hear the nations praising them far off. + + AURORA LEIGH. + +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 Academie Francaise, 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 Academie Francaise 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. + +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. + +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:-- + +"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 Academie Francaise--news of the +day, M'sieur! Only forty centimes! News of the day!" + +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. + +At the further extremity of the square, near the _Galerie Vitree_ 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 +_Moniteur_, the _Presse_, 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. + +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. + +The name that met my astonished eyes on that placard was the name of +Hortense Dufresnoy. + +The sentence ran thus:-- + +"Grand Biennial Prize for Poetry--Subject: _The Pass of +Thermopylae_,--Successful Candidate, _Mademoiselle Hortense Dufresnoy_." + +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-- + +"Frightful murder in the Rue du Faubourg Saint ..." + +"Here," said I, tapping him on the shoulder; "give me one of your +papers." + +The man's eyes glittered. + +"Only forty centimes, M'sieur," said he. "'Tis the first I've sold +to-day." + +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:-- + +--"Antoine!--state of the Bourse--latest despatches from the seat of +war--news of the day--only forty centimes!" + +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 Beranger, 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. + +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 Bouisse's, +and lived in our rooms as if they were little private houses. + +She opened the door, and, seeing me, looked surprised; for I had never +before ventured to pay her a visit in her apartment. + +"I have come to wish you joy," said I, not venturing to cross the +threshold. + +"To wish me joy?" + +"You have not seen a morning paper?" + +"A morning paper!" + +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. + +"There is something in the _Moniteur_" I went on, smiling, 'that +concerns you nearly." + +"That concerns me?" she exclaimed. "_Me_? For Heaven's sake, speak +plainly. I do not understand you. Has--has anything been discovered?" + +"Yes--it has been discovered at the Academie Francaise that Mademoiselle +Hortense Dufresnoy has written the best poem on Thermopylae." + +She drew a deep breath, pressed her hands tightly together, and +murmured:-- + +"Alas! is that all?" + +"All! Nay--is it not enough to step at once into fame--to have been +advocated by Beranger--to have the poem crowned in the Theatre of the +Academie Francaise?" + +She stood silent, with drooping head and listless hands, all +disappointment and despondency. Presently she looked up. + +"Where did you learn this?" she asked. + +I handed her the journal. + +"Come in, fellow-student," said she, and held the door wide for me to +enter. + +For the second time I found myself in her little _salon_, and found +everything in the self-same order. + +"Well," I said, "are you not happy?" + +She shook her head. + +"Success is not happiness," she replied, smiling mournfully. "That +Beranger should have advocated my poem is an honor beyond price; +but--but I need more than this to make me happy." + +And her eyes wandered, with a strange, yearning look, to the sword over +the chimney-piece. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +"Ah," said Hortense, "you are criticizing my sketches!" + +"Your sketches!" I exclaimed. "Are these your work?" + +"Certainly," she replied, smiling. "Why not? What do you think of them?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Pray be your own catalogue, then, and tell me where these places are." + +"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 +mediaeval 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 _faille?_ 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." + +"You have travelled a great deal," I said. "Were you long in Belgium?" + +"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." + +"And these two little quaint bronze figures?" + +"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." + +"And this statuette in green marble?" + +"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." + +"A noble figure!" + +"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!" + +"These," said I, pausing at the chimney-piece, "are _souvenirs_ 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?" + +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. + +Her whole countenance changed. She took it down, and her eyes filled +with tears. + +"It was my father's," she said, tenderly. + +"Your father's!" I exclaimed, joyfully. "Heaven be thanked! Did you say +your father's?" + +She looked up surprised, then smiled, and faintly blushed. + +"I did," she replied. + +"And was your father a soldier?" I asked; for the sword looked more like +a sword of ceremony than a sword for service. + +But to this question she gave no direct reply. + +"It was his sword," she said, "and he had the best of all rights to wear +it." + +With this she kissed the weapon reverently, and restored it to its +place. + +I kissed her hand quite as reverently that day at parting, and she did +not withdraw it. + +CHAPTER XLVII. + +ALL ABOUT ART. + + + Art's a service. + + AURORA LEIGH. + +"God sent art, and the devil sent critics," said Mueller, dismally +paraphrasing a popular proverb. "My picture is rejected!" + +"Rejected!" I echoed, surprised to find him sitting on the floor, like a +tailor, in front of an acre of canvas. "By whom?" + +"By the Hanging Committee." + +"Hang the Hanging Committee!" + +"A pious prayer, my friend. Would that it could be carried into +execution!" + +"What cause do they assign?" + +"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!" + +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 Mueller 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. + +"Well," said Mueller, 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?" + +"Not for the world!" + +"What shall I do, then?" + +"Do better." + +"But, if I have done my best already?" + +"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." + +"Humph! but what of my picture?" + +"Well," I said, hesitatingly, "I am no critic--" + +"Thank Heaven!" muttered Mueller, parenthetically. + +"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." + +"A question of focus," said the painter, hastily. "A mere question of +focus." + +"How can that be, when you have finished some parts laboriously, and in +others seem scarcely to have troubled yourself to cover the canvas?" + +"I don't know. I'm impatient, you see, and--and I think I got tired of +it towards the last." + +"Would that have been the case if you had allowed yourself but half the +space?" + +"I'll take to enamel," exclaimed Mueller, 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!" + +"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." + +"Do you believe, then, that a man may succeed by force of will alone?" +said Mueller, musingly. + +"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." + +"Oh, but I am not talking of heroes," said Mueller. + +"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." + +"Ay; but do they come, as you would seem to imply, of the same stock?" +said Mueller. "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?" + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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?" + +Mueller, still sitting on the floor, shook his head despondingly. + +"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." + +"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!" + +Mueller yawned, as if he would have swallowed me and my argument +together. + +"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." + +His professional pride was touched, and he said this with somewhat less +than his usual _bonhomie_--almost with a shade of irritability. + +"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 Freres? +It will do you good." + +"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 _poulet a la +Marengo_ and a bottle of old _Romanee_!" + +So saying, he turned his picture to the wall, seized his cap, locked his +door, scrawled outside with a piece of chalk,--"_Summoned to the +Tuileries on state affairs_," and followed me, whistling, down the six +flights of gloomy, ricketty, Quartier-Latin lodging-house stairs up +which he lived and had his being. + + * * * * * + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + +I MAKE MYSELF ACQUAINTED WITH THE IMPOLITE WORLD AND ITS PLACES OP +UNFASHIONABLE RESORT. + +Mueller and I dined merrily at the Cafe of the Trois Freres Provencaux, +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. Mueller, +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. + +"Buy, messieurs, buy! What will you buy?" was the question that +assailed us on both sides, wherever we went. + +"What do you sell, _mon ami ?_" was Mueller's invariable reply. + +"What do you want, m'sieur?" + +"Twenty thousand francs per annum, and the prettiest wife in Paris," +says my friend; a reply which is sure to evoke something _spirituel_, +after the manner of the locality. + +"This is the most amusing place in Paris," observes he. "Like the +Alsatia of old London, it has its own peculiar _argot,_ 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 'Foret 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." + +"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. + +"What will you buy, messieurs?" shouts one salesman. "A carpet? A +capital carpet, neither too large nor too small. Just the size +you want!" + +"A hat, m'sieur, better than new," cries another; "just aired by the +last owner." + +"A coat that will fit you better than if it had been made for you?" + +"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!" + +"A cloak, m'sieur?" + +"A lace shawl to take home to Madame?" + +"An umbrella, m'sieur?" + +"A reading lamp?" + +"A warming-pan?" + +"A pair of gloves?" + +"A shower bath?" + +"A hand organ?" + +"What! m'sieurs, do you buy nothing this evening? Hola, Antoine! +monsieur keeps his hands in his pockets, for fear his money should +fall out!" + +"Bah! They've not a centime between them!" + +"Go down the next turning and have the hole in your coat mended!" + +"Make way there for monsieur the millionaire!" + +"They are ambassadors on their way to the Court of Persia." + +"_Ohe! Pane! pane! pane!_" + +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. + +"_Dame_, 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. + +"What, Josephine!" I exclaim. + +"_Comment_! Monsieur Basil!" + +And I find myself kissed on both cheeks before I even guess what is +going to happen to me. + +"Have I not also the honor of being remembered by Mademoiselle?" says +Mueller, taking off his hat with all the politeness possible; whereupon +Josephine, in an ecstasy of recognition, embraces him likewise. + +"_Mais, quel bonheur_!" 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 Chateau des +Fleurs--_eh bien_! this is he--and here is Monsieur Mueller, his friend. +Gentlemen, this is Emile, my _fiance_. We are to be married next Friday +week, and we are buying our furniture." + +The good-looking workman pulled off his cap and made his bow, and we +proffered the customary congratulations. + +"We have bought such sweet, pretty things," continued she, rattling on +with all her old volubility, "and we have hired the dearest little +_appartement_ 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?" + +Emile smiled, and confessed that the carpet was "_fort bien_." + +"And the time-piece, Madame?" suggested the furniture-dealer, at whose +door we were standing. "Madame should really not refuse herself the +time-piece." + +Josephine shook her head. + +"It is too dear," said she. + +"Pardon, madame. I am giving it away,--absolutely giving it away at the +price!" + +Josephine looked at it wistfully, and weighed her little purse. It was a +very little purse, and very light. + +"It is so pretty!" said she. + +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. + +"What is the price of it?" I asked. + +"Thirty-five francs, m'sieur," replied the dealer, briskly. + +"Say twenty-five," urged Josephine. + +The dealer shook his head. + +"What if we did without the looking-glass?" whispered Josephine to her +_fiance_. "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?" + +"I don't really see how we are to do without a clock," admitted Emile. + +"And that darling little Cupid!" + +Emile conceded that the Cupid was irresistible. + +"Then we decide to have the clock, and do without the looking-glass?" + +"Yes, we decide." + +In the meantime I had slipped the thirty-five francs into the dealer's +hand. + +"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." + +"And me also," said Mueller; "and I shall hope to be allowed to offer a +little sketch to adorn the walls of your new home." + +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. + +"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!" + +"And you promise me the first quadrille?" said I. + +"And me the second?" added Mueller. + +"Yes, yes--as many as you please." + +"Then you must let us know at what time to come, and all about it; so, +till Friday week, adieu!" + +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. + +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, cafes, gendarmes, +tumblers, grisettes, and pleasure-seekers of both sexes. + +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 _moyen-age_ costume, who is swallowing penknives and +bringing them out at his ears to the immense gratification of a large +circle of bystanders. + +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. + +"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. + +"Never; what is it?" + +"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!" + +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. Mueller 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. + +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. + +It is a noisy _entr'acte_ 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 _gamins_ 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. + +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 _gamin_ would raise his voice +above a whisper when the curtain is up. + +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. + +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 cafes 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 _Tableaux Vivants_ 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. + +"And now, _amigo_, where shall we go?" says Mueller. "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?" + +"Whichever you please. You are my guest to-night, and I am at your +disposal." + +"Or what say you to dropping in for an hour among the Chicards?" + +"A capital idea--especially if you again entertain the society with a +true story of events that never happened." + +"_Allons donc_!-- + + 'C'etait de mon temps + Que brillait Madame Gregoire. + J'allais a vingt ans + Dans son cabaret rire et boire.' + +--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!" + +With this he set off running at full speed, and I followed. + +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. Mueller +kept his blood warm by practicing extravagant quadrille steps and +singing scraps of Beranger's ballads; whilst I, watching impatiently for +a cab, kept peering up and down the street, and listening to +every sound. + +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. + +For a moment I stood still and looked after him; then, calling to Mueller +that I should be back presently, I darted off in pursuit. + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + +THE KING OF DIAMONDS. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I beg your pardon, Monsieur," I began. + +"What! my dear Damon!--is it you?" he interrupted, and held out both +hands. + +I grasped them joyously. + +"Dalrymple, is it you?" + +"Myself, Damon--_faute de mieux_." + +"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?" + +"One question at a time, my Arcadian, for mercy's sake!" said he. "Which +am I to answer?" + +"The last." + +"Oh, I am well--well enough. But let us walk on a little farther while +we talk." + +"Are you waiting for any one?" I asked, seeing him look round uneasily. + +"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." + +His manner was restless, and his hand, as it pressed mine, felt hot and +feverish. + +"I am sure you are not well," I said, following him into the gloom of a +deep, old-fashioned doorway. + +"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 AEsculapius! Mine is a sickness not to be cured by drugs. I +must let blood for it." + +The short, hard laugh with which he said this troubled me still more. + +"Speak out," I said--"for Heaven's sake, speak out! You have something +on your mind--what is it?" + +"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?" + +"Make my own marriage public at once, and set him at defiance," I +replied. + +"Ay, but...." + +"But what?" + +"That alone will not content me. I must punish him with my own hand." + +"He would be punished enough in the loss of the lady and her fortune." + +"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!" + +"But his pride----" + +"But _my_ 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!" + +"But you have not yet told me what you are doing here?" + +"I am waiting to see Monsieur de Simoncourt." + +"Monsieur de Simoncourt!" + +"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." + +"What for?" + +"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." + +"But do you play?" + +"Come with me, and see. Hark! do you hear nothing?" + +"Yes, I hear a footstep. And here comes a man." + +"Let us walk to meet him, accidentally, and seem to be talking." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"De Simoncourt, by all that's propitious!" cried Dalrymple. + +"What--Major Dalrymple returned to Paris!" + +"Ay, just returned. Bored to death with Berlin and Vienna--no place like +Paris, De Simoncourt, go where one will!" + +"None, indeed. There is but one Paris, and pleasure is the true profit +of all who visit it." + +"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?" + +M. de Simoncourt lifted his hat, and was graciously pleased to remember +the circumstance. + +"And now," pursued Dalrymple, "having met, what shall, we do next? Have +you any engagement for the small hours, De Simoncourt?" + +"I am quite at your disposal. Where were your bound for?" + +"Anywhere--everywhere. I want excitement." + +"Would a hand at _ecarte_, or a green table, have any attraction for +you?" suggested De Simoncourt, falling into the trap as readily as one +could have desired. + +"The very thing, if you know where they are to be found!" + +"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." + +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 _timbre_. 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 _salon_, where some twenty or thirty +_habitues_ 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, _passees_, 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. + +"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. + +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 _pere adore_, 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. + +"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." + +"A Greek?" + +"Ay, in the figurative sense--a gentleman who lives by dexterity at +cards." + +"And shall you play?" + +"By-and-by. Not yet, because--" + +He checked himself, and looked anxiously round the room. + +"Because what?" + +"Tell me, Arbuthnot," said he, paying no attention to my question; "do +_you_ mind playing?" + +"I? My dear fellow, I hardly know one card from another." + +"But have you any objection?" + +"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...." + +"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?" + +I still hesitated. + +"But you will be helping me," urged he. "If you don't sit down, I must." + +"You would not lose so much," I expostulated. + +"Perhaps not, if I were cool and kept my eyes open; but to-night I am +_distrait_, and should be as defenceless as yourself." + +"In that case I will play for you with pleasure." + +He slipped a little pocket-book into my hand. + +"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." + +"A thousand francs!" I exclaimed. "Why, that is forty pounds!" + +"If it were four hundred, and it answered my purpose," said Dalrymple, +between his teeth, "I should hold it money well spent!" + +At this moment De Simoncourt came up, and apologized for having left us +so long. + +"If you want mere amusement, Major Dalrymple," said he, "I suppose you +will prefer _roulette_ to _ecarte_!" + +"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 _ecarte_, Monsieur de Simoncourt, I need +hardly tell you, as a man of the world, that I never play it with +strangers." + +De Simoncourt smiled, and shrugged his shoulders. + +"Quite right," said he. "I believe that here everything is really _de +bonne foi_; but where there are cards there will always be danger. For +my part, I always shuffle the pack after my adversary!" + +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. + +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 _rouleaux_, 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. + +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. + +"Courage, Monsieur," said my amiable neighbour; "you have only to play +long enough, and you are sure to win." + +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. + +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 _lansquenet, baccarat_, and _ecarte_. 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. + +He pointed to a small inner room divided by a rich hanging from the +farther end of the _salon_. + +"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. + +Playing with De Caylus! Sitting down amicably with De Caylus! I could +not understand it. + +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. + +"At what game are they, playing?" I asked a gentleman near whom I was +standing. + +"At _ecarte_," replied he, without removing his eyes from the players. + +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. + +"Which is the winner?" I asked, eagerly. "Which is the winner?" + +The gentleman who had replied to me before looked round with a smile of +contemptuous wonder. + +"Why, Monsieur de Caylus, of course," said he. "Did you not see him play +the king?" + +"I beg your pardon," I said, somewhat nettled; "but, as I said before, I +do not understand the game." + +"_Eh bien_! the Englishman is counting out his money." + +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:-- + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +Dalrymple looked up with a dangerous light in his eyes, and took no +notice of the apology. + +"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 _ecarte_." + +De Caylus looked up with every vein on his forehead suddenly swollen and +throbbing. + +"Monsieur!" he exclaimed, hoarsely. + +"Especially when you deal," added Dalrymple, smoothing his moustache +with utter _sang-froid_, and keeping his eyes still riveted upon his +adversary. + +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. + +"I will have blood for this!" he shrieked, struggling with those who +rushed in between. "I will have blood! Blood! Blood!" + +Stained and streaming with red wine, he looked, in his ghastly rage, as +if he was already bathed in the blood he thirsted for. + +Dalrymple drew himself to his full height, and stood looking on with +folded arms and a cold smile. + +"I am quite ready," he said, "to give Monsieur le Vicomte full +satisfaction." + +The room was by this time crowded to suffocation. I forced my way +through, and laid my hand on Dalrymple's arm. + +"You have provoked this quarrel," I said, reproachfully. + +"That, my dear fellow, is precisely what I came here to do," he replied. +"You will have to be my second in this affair." + +Here De Simoncourt came up, and hearing the last words, drew me aside. + +"I act for De Caylus," he whispered. "Pistols, of course?" + +I nodded, still all bewilderment at my novel position. + +"Your man received the first blow, so is entitled to the first shot." + +I nodded again. + +"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. + +"Just so," I replied, vaguely. + +"And when shall we say? The sooner the better, it always seems to me, in +these cases." + +"Oh, certainly--the sooner the better." + +He looked at his watch. + +"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?" + +"So soon!" I exclaimed. + +"Soon!" echoed De Simoncourt. "Why, under circumstances of such +exceeding aggravation, most men would send for pistols and settle it +across the table!" + +I shuddered. These niceties of honor were new to me, and I had been +brought up to make little distinction between duelling and murder. + +"Be it so, then, Monsieur De Simoncourt," I said. "We will meet you at +Bellevue, at ten." + +"On the terrace?" + +"On the terrace." + +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 +_salon_, and more than one voice whispered:-- + +"He is the Englishman's second." + +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. + +"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." + +"We are to meet them at Bellevue at ten," I replied. + +"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!" + + + + +CHAPTER L. + +THE DUEL AT BELLEVUE. + +We drove straight to Dalrymple's rooms, and, going in with a pass-key, +went up without disturbing the _concierge_. Arrived at home, my friend's +first act was to open his buffetier and take out a loaf, a _pate de foie +gras_, 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. + +"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 _souvenir_,--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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +I bent my head. I would not trust myself to speak. "As for the letter to +Helene--to my wife," he said, turning his face away, "will you--will you +deliver that with your own hands?" + +"I will." + +"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 _fracas_ over a game at +_ecarte_. 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--" + +His voice failed, and we were both silent for some moments + +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 Sevres and the leafy heights of Bellevue +overhanging the river. + +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! + +Shortly after this, the road began winding upwards, past the porcelain +factories and through the village of Sevres; 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 Pere-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. + +"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!" + +"You are a queer fellow," said I, "to talk of scenery and painters at +such a moment!" + +"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. _Tiens!_ here comes a carriage--our men, +no doubt." + +"Are you a good shot?" I asked anxiously. + +"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." + +"Thank Heaven!" + +"Not so fast, my boy. De Caylus is just as fine a shot, and one of the +most skilful swordsmen in the French service." + +"Ay, but the first fire is yours!" + +"Is it? Well, I suppose it is. He struck the first blow, and so--here +they come." + +"One more word, Dalrymple--did he really cheat you at _ecarte?_" + +"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!" + +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 Comedie Francaise. Both +were clothed in black from head to foot, with their coats buttoned +to the chin. + +"All is ready," said De Simoncourt. "Gentlemen, choose your weapons." + +De Caylus took his pistols one by one, weighed and poised them, +examined the priming, and finally, after much hesitation, decided. + +Dalrymple took the first that came to hand. + +The combatants then took their places--De Caylus with his hat pulled low +over his eyes; Dalrymple still smoking carelessly. + +They exchanged bows. + +"Major Dalrymple," said De Simoncourt, "it is for you to fire first." + +"God bless you, Damon!" said my friend, shaking me warmly by the hand. + +He then half turned aside, flung away the end of his cigar, lifted his +right arm suddenly, and fired. + +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. + +"Give it me!" he gasped--"hold me up! I--I will have his life yet! So, +steady--steady!" + +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. + +"Dead this time, sure enough," said De Simoncourt, bending over him. + +"Indeed, I fear so," replied Dalrymple, in a low, grave voice. "Can we +do nothing to help you, Monsieur de Simoncourt?" + +"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." + +"I suppose not. Good-morning." + +"Good-morning," + +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. + +Once in the cab, Dalrymple began hastily pulling off his coat and +waistcoat. I was startled to see his shirt-front stained with blood. + +"Heavens!" I exclaimed, "you are not wounded?" + +"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!" + +"If it had been a little more to the left...." I faltered. + +"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. + +Then, suddenly changing his tone, he added, laughingly-- + +"Nonsense, Damon! cheer up, and help me to tear this handkerchief into +bandages. Now's the time to show off your surgery, my little AEsculapius. +By Jupiter, life's a capital thing, after all!" + + * * * * * + + + +CHAPTER LI + +THE PORTRAIT. + +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. + +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? + +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 Mueller; 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. + +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 Mueller 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 Cafe 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. + +Madame Bouisse 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. + +"And so, as I was saying," pursued a husky voice, which I knew at once +to be the property of Madame Bouisse, "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!" + +In the murmured reply that followed, almost inaudible though it was, my +ear distinguished a tone that set my heart beating. + +"Well, I can't tell, of course," said Madame Bouisse, 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? _Dame!_ 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!" + +"No more of this, if you please, Madame Bouisse," said Hortense, so +distinctly that I could no longer be in doubt as to the speaker. + +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:-- + +"Madame Bouisse, are you here?" + +"Not only Madame Bouisse, but an intruder who implores forgiveness," +said Hortense, with a frank smile, but a heightened color. + +I bowed profoundly. No need to tell her she was welcome--my face spoke +for me. + +"It was Madame Bouisse who lured me in," continued she, "to look at that +painting." + +"_Mais, oui!_ I told mam'selle you had her portrait in your +sitting-room," laughed the fat _concierge,_ leaning on her broom. "I'm +sure it's quite like enough to be hers, bless her sweet face!" + +I felt myself turn scarlet. To hide my confusion I took the picture +down, and carried it to the window. + +"You will see it better by this light," I said, pretending to dust it +with my handkerchief. "It is worth a close examination." + +Hortense knelt down, and studied it for some moments in silence. + +"It must be a copy," she said, presently, more to herself than me--"it +must be a copy." + +"It _is_ a copy," I replied. "The original is at the Chateau de Sainte +Aulaire, near Montlhery." + +"May I ask how you came by it?" + +"A friend of mine, who is an artist, copied it." + +"Then it was done especially for you?" + +"Just so." + +"And, no doubt, you value it?" + +"More than anything I possess!" + +Then, fearing I had said too much, I added:-- + +"If I had not admired the original very much, I should not have wished +for a copy." + +She shifted the position of the picture in such a manner that, standing +where I did, I could no longer see her face. + +"Then you have seen the original," she said, in a low tone. + +"Undoubtedly--and you?" + +"Yes, I have seen it; but not lately." + +There was a brief pause. + +"Madame Bouisse thinks it so like yourself, mademoiselle," I said, +timidly, "that it might almost be your portrait." + +"I can believe it," she answered. "It is very like my mother." + +Her voice faltered; and, still kneeling, she dropped her face in her +hands, and wept silently. + +Madame Bouisse, 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. + +"Alas! mademoiselle," I said, hesitatingly, "I little thought..." + +She rose, dashed the tears aside, and, holding out her hand to me, said, +kindly-- + +"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." + +I raised her hand reverently to my lips. + +"But you are looking worn and ill yourself," she added. "Is anything the +matter?" + +"Not now," I replied. "But I have been up all night, and--and I am very +tired." + +"Was this in your professional capacity?" + +"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." + +She sighed, and shook her head. + +"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." + +"I will lie down for a couple of hours when Madame Bouisse is gone; but +I must be up and out again at six." + +"Nay, that is in three hours." + +"I cannot help it. It is my duty." + +"Then I have no more to say. Would you drink some lemonade, if I made it +for you?" + +"I would drink poison, if you made it for me!" + +"A decidedly misplaced enthusiasm!" laughed she, and left the room. + + + +CHAPTER LII. + +NEWS FROM ENGLAND. + +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. Cheron'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. + +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. Cheron to spare me for a +fortnight? + +Turning these things over in my mind, I left the gardens, and, arriving +presently at the well-known Porte Cochere 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. + +"If you please, Monsieur," said the solemn servant, making his +appearance at the door, "Monsieur le Docteur requests your presence in +his private room." + +I went. Dr. Cheron 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. + +"Basil Arbuthnot," he said, after a pause of some minutes, "I have this +morning received a letter from England, by the early post." + +"From my father, sir?" + +"No. From a stranger," + +He looked straight at me as he said this, and hesitated. + +"But it contains news," he added, "that--that much concerns you." + +There was a fixed gravity about the lines of his handsome mouth, and an +unwonted embarrassment in his manner, that struck me with apprehension. + +"Good news, I--I hope, sir," I faltered. + +"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--" + +He pointed to the letter and turned away. + +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. + +My father was dead. + +Well as ever in the morning, he had been struck with apoplexy in the +afternoon, and died in a few hours, apparently without pain. + +The letter was written by our old family lawyer, and concluded with the +request that Dr. Cheron would "break the melancholy news to Mr. Basil +Arbuthnot, who would doubtless return to England for the funeral." + +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! + +Dr. Cheron came over, and laid his hand upon my shoulder. + +"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." + +"My poor father!" + +"Brunet," continued the Doctor, "shall go back with you to your lodgings +and help you to pack. As for money--" + +He took out his pocket-book and offered me a couple of notes; but I +shook my head and put them from me. + +"I have enough money, thank you," I said. "Good-bye." + +"Good-bye," he replied, and, for the first time in all these months, +shook me by the hand. "You will write to me?" + +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:-- + +"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 _concierge_. It is my parting +gift to you. I can offer no greater proof of my love. Farewell." + +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. + + * * * * * + + + +CHAPTER LIII. + +THE FADING OF THE RAINBOW. + + I loved a love once, fairest among women; + Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her-- + All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. + + LAMB. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +I crossed the channel this time in a thick, misting rain; pushed on +straight for Paris, and reached the Cite Bergere 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. + +Madame Bouisse 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. + +Three letters awaited me on the table; one from Dr. Cheron, 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. + +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:-- + +"FRIEND AND FELLOW-STUDENT. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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! + +"HORTENSE." + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER LIV. + +TREATETH OF MANY THINGS; BUT CHIEFLY OF BOOKS AND POETS. + + Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know, + Are a substantial world, both pure and good. + + WORDSWORTH. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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! + +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. Cheron urged me to resume my studies. In +vain Mueller, 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; Mueller'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. + +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? + +I resolved, at all events, to relinquish medicine at once, and for ever. +So I wrote a brief farewell to Dr. Cheron and another to Mueller, and +without seeing either again, returned abruptly to England. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 + + "All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing, + All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of patience!" + +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. + +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. + +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-- + +"Am I also a poet?" + +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. + + "Many fervent souls, + Strike rhyme on rhyme, who would strike steel on steel, + If steel had offer'd." + +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. + +"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." + +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 _tables-d'-hote_. He had a mania for reading; and, might, in +fact, be said to be bound up in his own library. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"But no book can paint an Italian lake or an Alpine sunset; and when one +is on the spot...." + +"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." + +"And henceforth, I suppose, your travels will be confined to your +library," I said, smiling. + +"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." + +"Books, after all, are friends," I said, with a sigh. + +"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 Moliere dull? or Lamb prosy? or Scott +unentertaining?" + +"You remind me," said I, laughing, "of the student in Chaucer, who +desired for his only pleasure and society, + + "'---at his bedde's head + A'twenty bokes clothed in black and red, + Of Aristotle and his philosophy!'" + +"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!" + +"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." + +"Sir, you cannot belong to a better. Think of the convenience of always +carrying half a dozen intimate friends in your pocket! Good-afternoon." + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER LV. + +MY BIRTHDAY. + +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 + +"...seared by toil and something touched by time," + +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. + +"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. + +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. + + "Love is not love + Which alters when it alteration finds, + Or bends with the remover to remove: + O no! it is an ever-fixed mark, + That looks on tempests and is never shaken." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"If you please, sir," said Collins, "a lady has been here." + +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. + +"A lady?" I echoed. "One of my cousins, I suppose, from Effingham." + +"No, sir," said Collins. "A strange lady--a foreigner." + +A stranger! a foreigner! I felt myself change color. + +"She left her name?" I asked. + +"Her card, sir," said Collins, and handed it to me. + +I took it up with fingers that shook in spite of me and read:-- + +MADLLE DE SAINTE AULAIRE. + +I dropped the card, with a sigh of profound disappointment. + +"At what time did this lady call, Collins?" + +"Not very long after you left the house, sir. She said she would call +again. She is at the White Horse." + +"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." + +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. + +"And what kind of person was this--this Mademoiselle de Sainte Aulaire, +Collins?" I asked, leisurely bisecting a partridge. + +"Can't say, sir, indeed. Lady kept her veil down." + +"Humph! Tall or short, Collins?" + +"Rather tall, sir." + +"Young?" + +"Haven't an idea, sir. Voice very pleasant, though." + +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. + +I took up the card again. Mademoiselle de Sainte Aulaire! Where had I +heard that name? + +"She said nothing of the nature of her business, I suppose, Collins?" + +"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." + +"Then she is in haste?" + +"Very uncommon haste, I should say, sir," replied Collins, deliberately. + +I pushed back the untasted dish, and rose directly. + +"You should have told me this before," I said, hastily. + +"But--but surely, sir, you will dine--" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Mr. Arbuthnot," said the smart waiter, flinging the door very wide +open, and lingering to see what might follow. + +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. + +"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. + +"Pray do not name it, madam," I said. "It is nothing." + +She bent her head, as if thanking me, and went on:-- + +"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?" + +"I am." + +"Were you here in the year 18--?" + +"I was." + +"Will you give me leave to test your memory respecting some events that +took place about that time?" + +"By all means." + +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:-- + +"I must entreat your patience if I first weary you with one or two +particulars of my family history," + +"Madam, I listen." + +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. + +At length, in a low, sweet voice, she began:-- + +"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 _comtat_ of +Venaissin (a district which now forms part of the department of +Vaucluse) and other demesnes at Montlhery, in the province of the Ile de +France---" + +"At Montlhery!" I exclaimed, suddenly recovering the lost link in my +memory. + +"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 Chateau near Montlhery 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?" + +"Perfectly." + +"One survivor, however, remained in the person of Charles Armand, Prevot +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." + +"Hortense!" I cried, rising from my chair. + +"It is not an uncommon name," said the lady. "Does it surprise you?" + +"I--I beg your pardon, madam," I stammered, resuming my seat. "I once +had a dear friend of that name. Pray, go on." + +"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." + +The lady's voice faltered. I neither spoke nor stirred, but sat like a +man of stone. + +Then she went on again:-- + +"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 _sobriquet_ 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 _proces_. 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." + +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:-- + +"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---" + +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! + +I also was profoundly agitated. + +"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?" + +"Did _you_ stand beside my father's deathbed?" she asked brokenly. + +"I did." + +She clasped her hands over her eyes and shuddered, as if beneath the +pressure of a great physical pain. + +"O God!" she murmured, "so many years of denial and suffering! so many +years of darkness that might have been dispelled by a word!" + +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. + +"We will visit his grave to-morrow," I said, when all was told. + +She bent her head. + +"To-morrow, then," said she, "I end the pilgrimage of years." + +"And--and afterwards?" I faltered. + +"Afterwards? Alas! friend, when the hopes of years fall suddenly to dust +and ashes, one feels as if there were no future to follow?" + +"It is true," I said gloomily. "I know it too well." + +"You know it?" she exclaimed, looking up. + +"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?" + +She looked at me with a strange earnestness in her eyes, and sighed +heavily. + +"What have you been doing all this time, fellow-student?" she asked, +after a pause. + +The old name sounded very sweet upon her lips! + +"I? Alas!--nothing." + +"But you are a surgeon, are you not?" + +"No. I never even went up for examination. I gave up all idea of +medicine as a profession when my father died." + +"What are you, then?" + +"An idler upon the great highway--a book-dreamer--a library fixture." + +Hortense looked at me thoughtfully, with her cheek resting on her hand. + +"Have you done nothing but read and dream?" + +"Not quite. I have travelled." + +"With what object?" + +"A purely personal one. I was alone and unhappy, and--" + +"And fancied that purposeless wandering was better for you than healthy +labor. Well, you have travelled, and you have read books. What more?" + +"Nothing more, except--" + +"Except what?" + +I chanced to have one of the papers in my pocket, and so drew it out, +and placed it before her. + +"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." + +She took the paper with a smile half of wonder, half of kindness, and, +glancing quickly through it, said:-- + +"This is well. This is very well. I must read the book. Will you lend it +to me?" + +"I will give it to you," I replied; "if I can give you that which is +already yours." + +"Already mine?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Then I fear you have lived a very idle life," said Hortense, smiling. +"Are you married?" + +"Married!" I echoed, indignantly. "How can you ask the question?" + +"You are not a magistrate?" + +"Certainly not." + +"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." + +"Not even the latter, mademoiselle," I replied, bitterly. "It is long +since I have ceased to value my own life." + +She smiled again, but her eyes this time were full of tears. + +"Nay," said she, softly, "am I not the owner?" + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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, + +"And lo! the twig to which they laid his head had now become a tree!" + +Hortense found nothing of her father but this grave. Papers and +title-deeds there were none. + +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. + +--Not even the latter for many weeks, O discerning reader! for before +the golden harvest was gathered in, we two were wedded. + + + + +CHAPTER LVI. + +BRINGETH THIS TRUE STORY TO AN END. + + Ye who have traced the pilgrim to the scene + Which is his last, if in your memories dwell + A thought that once was his, if on ye swell + A single recollection, not in vain + He wore his sandal shoon and scallop-shell. + + BYRON. + +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 Mueller 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 Cafe Greco. May I some day hear +his pleasant laugh again! Dr. Cheron, 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. + +As for my early _amourettes_, 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 _our premiere jeunesse._ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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! + +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. + +"Do you know anything about it, Collins?" I said, coming up suddenly +behind him in the hall. + +"About what, sir?" asked that respectable servant, looking round with +some perplexity, as if in search of the nominative. + +I pointed to the table, now being carried into the dismantled +dining-room. + +Collins smiled--he had a remarkably civil, apologetic way of smiling +behind his hand, as if it were a yawn or a liberty. + +"Oh, sir," said he, "don't you remember? To be sure, you were quite a +young gentleman at that time--but---" + +"But what?" I interrupted, impatiently. + +"Why, sir, that table once belonged to a poor little conjuring chap who +called himself Almond Pudding, and died...." + +I checked him with a gesture. + +"I know all that," I said, hastily. "I remember it perfectly; but how +came the things into my stable?" + +"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." + +I heard the sound of a suppressed sob, and, brushing past him without +another word, went in and closed the door. + +"My own Hortense!" I said, taking her into my arms. "My wife!" + +Pale and tearful, she lifted her face from my shoulder, and pointed to +the table. + +"I know what it is," she faltered. "You need not tell me. My heart tells +me!" + +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. + +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. + +"This is strange," said Hortense, peering into one of the recesses. "I +have found something in the table! Look--it is a watch!" + +I snatched it from her, and carried it to the window. Blackened and +discolored as it was, I recognised it instantly. + +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! + +"Oh, Heaven!--oh, husband!" + +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. + +"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!" + +"We will keep the table, Hortense, all our lives!" I explained, when the +first agitation was past. + +"As sacredly," replied she, "as it kept this precious secret!" + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + "Not a sun can die, nor yet be born, unseen + By dwellers at my villa." + +Nay, from this very window, one might almost pitch an orange into the +empty vettura standing in the courtyard of the Croce di Malta! + +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 Mueller'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 + + "Our work shall still be better for our love, + And still our love be sweeter for our work." + +Perhaps the original of that same painting in the study may yet be ours +some day, with the old chateau 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. + +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 + + "A happy family + Is but an earlier heaven." + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Days of My Youth +by Amelia Ann Blandford Edwards + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE DAYS OF MY YOUTH *** + +***** This file should be named 12442.txt or 12442.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/4/4/12442/ + +Produced by Curtis Weyant, Charlie Kirschner and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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