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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Zut and Other Parisians, by Guy Wetmore Carryl
-
-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: Zut and Other Parisians
-
-Author: Guy Wetmore Carryl
-
-Release Date: July 14, 2013 [EBook #43216]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ZUT AND OTHER PARISIANS ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Edwards, Eleni Christofaki and the Online
-Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
-file was produced from images generously made available
-by The Internet Archive)
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-Transcriber's note.
-
-Minor punctuation inconsistencies have been silently repaired. Variable
-spelling and hyphenation have been retained. Words in italics are
-presented _this way_.
-
-
-
-
-By Guy Wetmore Carryl.
-
-
-    THE LIEUTENANT-GOVERNOR. Crown 8vo, $1.50.
-
-    ZUT AND OTHER PARISIANS. Narrow 12mo.
-
-    GRIMM TALES MADE GAY. Illustrated by ALBERT LEVERING. Square crown
-    8vo, $1.50, _net._ Postpaid, $1.62.
-
-
-HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & COMPANY, BOSTON AND NEW YORK.
-
-
-
-
-Zut
-
-_AND OTHER PARISIANS_
-
-
-
-
-  _GUY WETMORE CARRYL_
-
-  Zut
-
-  AND OTHER PARISIANS
-
-  [Illustration]
-
-  _BOSTON AND NEW YORK_
-  HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
-  _The Riverside Press, Cambridge_
-  1903
-
-
-
-
-  _Copyright 1903 by Guy Wetmore Carryl_
-  _All rights reserved_
-
-  _Published September, 1903_
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-_A_
-
-C. F. G.
-
-
-_Mon cher ami_:
-
-_En souvenir de maints beaux jours dont tu as partagé l'allégresse: en
-attendant d'autres à venir: de ceux-là encore dont tu as adouci la
-souffrance et l'ennui: par reconnaissance de conseils qu'on n'oublie
-jamais et de prévoyances dont on se souvient toujours: je te dédie les
-contes suivants. Tu y retrouveras beaucoup d'amis et peut-être autant
-d'inconnus: tu les acceuilleras assurément, les uns et les autres, avec
-cette belle hospitalité qui ne s'est jamais démentie, et qui m'a rendu
-et me rendra encore--espérons-le!--ton obligé et reconnaissant_
-
-  _G. W. C._
-
-
-
-
-_CONTENTS_
-
-
-                                       _Page_
-
-  ZUT                                     3
-
-  CAFFIARD, _Deus ex Machina_            28
-
-  THE NEXT CORNER                        56
-
-  THE ONLY SON OF HIS MOTHER             84
-
-  THE TUITION OF DODO CHAPUIS           109
-
-  LE POCHARD                            138
-
-  A LATTER-DAY LUCIFER                  161
-
-  POIRE!                                190
-
-  PAPA LABESSE                          215
-
-  IN THE ABSENCE OF MONSIEUR            245
-
-  LITTLE TAPIN                          275
-
-
-
-
-ZUT
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Zut
-
-
-SIDE by side, on the avenue de la Grande Armée, stand the épicerie of
-Jean-Baptiste Caille and the salle de coiffure of Hippolyte Sergeot, and
-between these two there is a great gulf fixed, the which has come to be
-through the acerbity of Alexandrine Caille (according to Espérance
-Sergeot), through the duplicity of Espérance Sergeot (according to
-Alexandrine Caille). But the veritable root of all evil is Zut, and Zut
-sits smiling in Jean-Baptiste's doorway, and cares naught for anything
-in the world, save the sunlight and her midday meal.
-
-When Hippolyte found himself in a position to purchase the salle de
-coiffure, he gave evidence of marked acumen by uniting himself in the
-holy--and civil--bonds of matrimony with the retiring patron's daughter,
-whose dot ran into the coveted five figures, and whose heart, said
-Hippolyte, was as good as her face was pretty, which, even by the
-unprejudiced, was acknowledged to be forcible commendation. The
-installation of the new establishment was a nine days' wonder in the
-quartier. It is a busy thoroughfare at its western end, is the avenue de
-la Grande Armée, crowded with bicyclists and with a multitude of
-creatures fearfully and wonderfully clad, who do incomprehensible things
-in connection with motor-carriages. Also there are big cafés in plenty,
-whose waiters must be smoothly shaven: and moreover, at the time when
-Hippolyte came into his own, the porte Maillot station of the
-Métropolitain had already pushed its entrée and sortie up through the
-soil, not a hundred metres from his door, where they stood like
-atrocious yellow tulips, art nouveau, breathing people out and in by
-thousands. There was no lack of possible custom. The problem was to turn
-possible into probable, and probable into permanent; and here the seven
-wits and the ten thousand francs of Espérance came prominently to the
-fore. She it was who sounded the progressive note, which is half the
-secret of success.
-
-"Pour attirer les gens," she said, with her arms akimbo, "il faut
-d'abord les épater."
-
-In her creed all that was worth doing at all was worth doing gloriously.
-So, under her guidance, Hippolyte journeyed from shop to shop in the
-faubourg St. Antoine, and spent hours of impassioned argument with
-carpenters and decorators. In the end, the salle de coiffure was
-glorified by fresh paint without and within, and by the addition of a
-long mirror in a gilt frame, and a complicated apparatus of gleaming
-nickel-plate, which went by the imposing title of appareil antiseptique,
-and the acquisition of which was duly proclaimed by a special placard
-that swung at right angles to the door. The shop was rechristened, too,
-and the black and white sign across its front which formerly bore the
-simple inscription "Kilbert, Coiffeur," now blazoned abroad the vastly
-more impressive legend "Salon Malakoff." The window shelves fairly
-groaned beneath their burden of soaps, toilet waters, and perfumery, a
-string of bright yellow sponges occupied each corner of the window, and,
-through the agency of white enamel letters on the pane itself, public
-attention was drawn to the apparently contradictory facts that English
-was spoken and "schampoing" given within. Then Hippolyte engaged two
-assistants, and clad them in white duck jackets, and his wife fabricated
-a new blouse of blue silk, and seated herself behind the desk with an
-engaging smile. The enterprise was fairly launched, and experience was
-not slow in proving the theories of Espérance to be well founded. The
-quartier was épaté from the start, and took with enthusiasm the bait
-held forth. The affairs of the Salon Malakoff prospered prodigiously.
-
-But there is a serpent in every Eden, and in that of the Sergeot this
-rôle was assumed by Alexandrine Caille. The worthy épicier himself was
-of too torpid a temperament to fall a victim to the gnawing tooth of
-envy, but in the soul of his wife the launch, and, what was worse, the
-immediate prosperity of the Salon Malakoff, bred dire resentment. Her
-own establishment had grown grimy with the passage of time, and the
-annual profits displayed a constant and disturbing tendency toward
-complete evaporation, since the coming of the big cafés, and the
-resultant subversion of custom to the wholesale dealers. This persistent
-narrowing of the former appreciable gap between purchase and selling
-price rankled in Alexandrine's mind, but her misguided efforts to
-maintain the percentage of profit by recourse to inferior qualities only
-made bad worse, and, even as the Sergeot were steering the Salon
-Malakoff forth upon the waters of prosperity, there were nightly
-conferences in the household next door, at which impending ruin
-presided, and exasperation sounded the keynote of every sentence. The
-resplendent façade of Hippolyte's establishment, the tide of custom
-which poured into and out of his door, the loudly expressed admiration
-of his ability and thrift, which greeted her ears on every side, and,
-finally, the sight of Espérance, fresh, smiling, and prosperous, behind
-her little counter,--all these were as gall and wormwood to Alexandrine,
-brooding over her accumulating debts and her decreasing earnings, among
-her dusty stacks of jars and boxes. Once she had called upon her
-neighbor, somewhat for courtesy's sake, but more for curiosity's, and
-since then the agreeable scent of violet and lilac perfumery dwelt
-always in her memory, and mirages of scrupulously polished nickel and
-glass hung always before her eyes. The air of her own shop was heavy
-with the pungent odors of raw vegetables, cheeses, and dried fish, and
-no brilliance redeemed the sardine and biscuit boxes which surrounded
-her. Life became a bitter thing to Alexandrine Caille, for if nothing is
-more gratifying than one's own success, surely nothing is less so than
-that of one's neighbor. Moreover, her visit had never been returned, and
-this again was fuel for her rage.
-
-But the sharpest thorn in her flesh--and even in that of her phlegmatic
-husband--was the base desertion to the enemy's camp of Abel Flique. In
-the days when Madame Caille was unmarried, and when her ninety kilos
-were fifty still, Abel had been youngest commis in the very shop over
-which she now held sway, and the most devoted suitor in all her train.
-Even after his prowess in the black days of '71 had won him the
-attention of the civil authorities, and a grateful municipality had
-transformed the grocer-soldier into a guardian of law and order, he
-still hung upon the favor of his heart's first love, and only gave up
-the struggle when Jean-Baptiste bore off the prize and enthroned her in
-state as presiding genius of his newly acquired épicerie. Later, an
-unwittingly kindly prefect had transferred Abel to the seventeenth
-arrondissement, and so the old friendship was picked up where it had
-been dropped, and the ruddy-faced agent found it both convenient and
-agreeable to drop in frequently at Madame Caille's on his way home, and
-exchange a few words of reminiscence or banter for a box of sardines or
-a minute package of tea. But, with the deterioration in his old friends'
-wares, and the almost simultaneous appearance of the Salon Malakoff, his
-loyalty wavered. Flique sampled the advantages of Hippolyte's
-establishment, and, being won over thereby, returned again and again.
-His hearty laugh came to be heard almost daily in the salle de coiffure,
-and because he was a brave homme and a good customer, who did not stand
-upon a question of a few sous, but allowed Hippolyte to work his will,
-and trim and curl and perfume him to his heart's content, there was
-always a welcome for him, and a smile from Madame Sergeot, and
-occasionally a little present of brillantine or perfumery, for
-friendship's sake, and because it is well to have the good-will of the
-all-powerful police.
-
-From her window Madame Caille observed the comings and goings of Abel
-with a resentful eye. It was rarely now that he glanced into the
-épicerie as he passed, and still more rarely that he greeted his former
-flame with a stiff nod. Once she had hailed him from the doorway,
-sardines in hand, but he had replied that he was pressed for time, and
-had passed rapidly on. Then indeed did blackness descend upon the soul
-of Alexandrine, and in her deepest consciousness she vowed to have
-revenge. Neither the occasion nor the method was as yet clear to her,
-but she pursed her lips ominously, and bided her time.
-
-In the existence of Madame Caille there was one emphatic consolation for
-all misfortunes, the which was none other than Zut, a white angora cat
-of surpassing beauty and prodigious size. She had come into
-Alexandrine's possession as a kitten, and, what with much eating and an
-inherent distaste for exercise, had attained her present proportions and
-her superb air of unconcern. It was from the latter that she derived her
-name, the which, in Parisian argot, at once means everything and
-nothing, but is chiefly taken to signify complete and magnificent
-indifference to all things mundane and material: and in the matter of
-indifference Zut was past-mistress. Even for Madame Caille herself, who
-fed her with the choicest morsels from her own plate, brushed her fine
-fur with excessive care, and addressed caressing remarks to her at
-minute intervals throughout the day, Zut manifested a lack of interest
-that amounted to contempt. As she basked in the warm sun at the shop
-door, the round face of her mistress beamed upon her from the little
-desk, and the voice of her mistress sent fulsome flattery winging toward
-her on the heavy air. Was she beautiful, mon Dieu! In effect, all that
-one could dream of the most beautiful! And her eyes, of a blue like the
-heaven, were they not wise and calm? Mon Dieu, yes! It was a cat among
-thousands, a mimi almost divine.
-
-Jean-Baptiste, appealed to for confirmation of these statements, replied
-that it was so. There was no denying that this was a magnificent beast.
-And of a chic. And caressing--(which was exaggeration). And of an
-affection--(which was doubtful). And courageous--(which was wholly
-untrue.) Mazette, yes! A cat of cats! And was the boy to be the whole
-afternoon in delivering a cheese, he demanded of her? And Madame Caille
-would challenge him to ask her that--but it was a good, great beast all
-the same!--and so bury herself again in her accounts, until her
-attention was once more drawn to Zut, and fresh flattery poured forth.
-For all of this Zut cared less than nothing. In the midst of her
-mistress's sweetest cajolery, she simply closed her sapphire eyes, with
-an inexpressibly eloquent air of weariness, or turned to the intricacies
-of her toilet, as who should say: "Continue. I am listening. But it is
-unimportant."
-
-But long familiarity with her disdain had deprived it of any sting, so
-far as Alexandrine was concerned. Passive indifference she could suffer.
-It was only when Zut proceeded to an active manifestation of ingratitude
-that she inflicted an irremediable wound. Returning from her marketing
-one morning, Madame Caille discovered her graceless favorite seated
-complacently in the doorway of the Salon Malakoff, and, in a paroxysm of
-indignation, bore down upon her, and snatched her to her breast.
-
-"Unhappy one!" she cried, planting herself in full view of Espérance,
-and, while raining the letter of her reproach upon the truant,
-contriving to apply its spirit wholly to her neighbor. "What hast thou
-done? Is it that thou desertest me for strangers, who may destroy thee?
-Name of a name, hast thou no heart? They would steal thee from me--and
-above all, _now_! Well then, no! One shall see if such things are
-permitted! Vagabond!" And with this parting shot, which passed
-harmlessly over the head of the offender, and launched itself full at
-Madame Sergeot, the outraged épicière flounced back into her own domain,
-where, turning, she threatened the empty air with a passionate gesture.
-
-"Vagabond!" she repeated. "Good-for-nothing! Is it not enough to have
-robbed me of my friends, that you must steal my child as well? We shall
-see!"--then, suddenly softening--"Thou art beautiful, and good, and
-wise. Mon Dieu, if I should lose thee, and above all, _now_!"
-
-Now there existed a marked, if unvoiced, community of feeling between
-Espérance and her resentful neighbor, for the former's passion for cats
-was more consuming even than the latter's. She had long cherished the
-dream of possessing a white angora, and when, that morning, of her own
-accord, Zut stepped into the Salon Malakoff, she was received with
-demonstrations even warmer than those to which she had long since become
-accustomed. And, whether it was the novelty of her surroundings, or
-merely some unwonted instinct which made her unusually susceptible, her
-habitual indifference then and there gave place to animation, and her
-satisfaction was vented in her long, appreciative purr, wherewith it was
-not once a year that she vouchsafed to gladden her owner's heart.
-Espérance hastened to prepare a saucer of milk, and, when this was
-exhausted, added a generous portion of fish, and Zut then made a tour of
-the shop, rubbing herself against the chair-legs, and receiving the
-homage of customers and duck-clad assistants alike. Flique, his ruddy
-face screwed into a mere knot of features, as Hippolyte worked violet
-hair-tonic into his brittle locks, was moved to satire by the
-apparition.
-
-"Tiens! It is with the cat as with the clients. All the world forsakes
-the Caille."
-
-Strangely enough, the wrathful words of Alexandrine, as she snatched her
-darling from the doorway, awoke in the mind of Espérance her first
-suspicion of this smouldering resentment. Absorbed in the launching of
-her husband's affairs, and constantly employed in the making of change
-and with the keeping of her simple accounts, she had had no time to
-bestow upon her neighbors, and, even had her attention been free, she
-could hardly have been expected to deduce the rancor of Madame Caille
-from the evidence at hand. But even if she had been able to ignore the
-significance of that furious outburst at her very door, its meaning had
-not been lost upon the others, and her own half-formed conviction was
-speedily confirmed.
-
-"What has she?" cried Hippolyte, pausing in the final stage of his
-operations upon the highly perfumed Flique.
-
-"Do I know?" replied his wife with a shrug. "She thinks I stole her
-cat--_I!_"
-
-"Quite simply, she hates you," put in Flique. "And why not? She is old,
-and fat, and her business is taking itself off, like that! You are young
-and"--with a bow, as he rose--"beautiful, and your affairs march to a
-marvel. She is jealous, c'est tout! It is a bad character, that."
-
-"But, mon Dieu!"--
-
-"But what does that say to you? Let her go her way, she and her cat. Au
-r'voir, 'sieurs, 'dame."
-
-And, rattling a couple of sous into the little urn reserved for tips,
-the policeman took his departure, amid a chorus of "Merci, m'sieu', au
-r'voir, m'sieu'," from Hippolyte and his duck-clad aids.
-
-But what he had said remained behind. All day Madame Sergeot pondered
-upon the incident of the morning and Abel Flique's comments thereupon,
-seeking out some more plausible reason for this hitherto unsuspected
-enmity than the mere contrast between her material conditions and those
-of Madame Caille seemed to her to afford. For, to a natural placidity of
-temperament, which manifested itself in a reluctance to incur the
-displeasure of any one, had been lately added in Espérance a shrewd
-commercial instinct, which told her that the fortunes of the Salon
-Malakoff might readily be imperiled by an unfriendly tongue. In the
-quartier, gossip spread quickly and took deep root. It was quite
-imaginably within the power of Madame Caille to circulate such rumors of
-Sergeot dishonesty as should draw their lately won custom from them and
-leave but empty chairs and discontent where now all was prosperity and
-satisfaction.
-
-Suddenly there came to her the memory of that visit which she had never
-returned. Mon Dieu! and was not that reason enough? She, the youngest
-patronne in the quartier, to ignore deliberately the friendly call of a
-neighbor! At least it was not too late to make amends. So, when business
-lagged a little in the late afternoon, Madame Sergeot slipped from her
-desk, and, after a furtive touch to her hair, went in next door to pour
-oil upon the troubled waters.
-
-Madame Caille, throned at her counter, received her visitor with
-unexampled frigidity.
-
-"Ah, it is you," she said. "You have come to make some purchases, no
-doubt."
-
-"Eggs, madame," answered her visitor, disconcerted, but tactfully
-accepting the hint.
-
-"The best quality--or--?" demanded Alexandrine, with the suggestion of a
-sneer.
-
-"The best, evidently, madame. Six, if you please. Spring weather at
-last, it would seem."
-
-To this generality the other made no reply. Descending from her stool,
-she blew sharply into a small paper bag, thereby distending it into a
-miniature balloon, and began selecting the eggs from a basket, holding
-each one to the light, and then dusting it with exaggerated care before
-placing it in the bag. While she was thus employed Zut advanced from a
-secluded corner, and, stretching her fore legs slowly to their utmost
-length, greeted her acquaintance of the morning with a yawn. Finding in
-the cat an outlet for her embarrassment, Espérance made another effort
-to give the interview a friendly turn.
-
-"He is beautiful, madame, your matou," she said.
-
-"It is a female," replied Madame Caille, turning abruptly from the
-basket, "and she does not care for strangers."
-
-This second snub was not calculated to encourage neighborly overtures,
-but Madame Sergeot had felt herself to be in the wrong, and was not to
-be so readily repulsed.
-
-"We do not see Monsieur Caille at the Salon Malakoff," she continued.
-"We should be enchanted"--
-
-"My husband shaves himself," retorted Alexandrine, with renewed dignity.
-
-"But his hair"--ventured Espérance.
-
-"_I_ cut it!" thundered her foe.
-
-Here Madame Sergeot made a false move. She laughed. Then, in confusion,
-and striving, too late, to retrieve herself--"Pardon, madame," she
-added, "but it seems droll to me, that. After all, ten sous is a sum so
-small"--
-
-"All the world, unfortunately," broke in Madame Caille, "has not the
-wherewithal to buy mirrors, and pay itself frescoes and appareils
-antiseptiques! The eggs are twenty-four sous--but we do not pride
-ourselves upon our eggs. Perhaps you had better seek them elsewhere for
-the future!"
-
-For sole reply Madame Sergeot had recourse to her expressive shrug, and
-then laying two francs upon the counter, and gathering up the sous which
-Alexandrine rather hurled at than handed her, she took her way toward
-the door with all the dignity at her command. But Madame Caille, feeling
-her snub to have been insufficient, could not let her go without a final
-thrust.
-
-"Perhaps your husband will be so amiable as to shampoo my cat!" she
-shouted. "She seems to like your 'Salon'!"
-
-But Espérance, while for concord's sake inclined to tolerate all
-rudeness to herself, was not prepared to hear Hippolyte insulted, and
-so, wheeling at the doorway, flung all her resentment into two words.
-
-"Mal élevée!"
-
-"Gueuse!" screamed Alexandrine from the desk. And so they parted.
-
-Now, even at this stage, an armed truce might still have been preserved,
-had Zut been content with the evil she had wrought, and not thought it
-incumbent upon her further to embitter a quarrel that was a very pretty
-quarrel as it stood. But, whether it was that the milk and fish of the
-Salon Malakoff lay sweeter upon her memory than any of the familiar
-dainties of the épicerie Caille, or that, by her unknowable feline
-instinct, she was irresistibly drawn toward the scent of violet and
-lilac brillantine, her first visit to the Sergeot was soon repeated, and
-from this visit other visits grew, until it was almost a daily
-occurrence for her to saunter slowly into the salle de coiffure, and
-there receive the food and homage which were rendered as her undisputed
-due. For, whatever was the bitterness of Espérance toward Madame Caille,
-no part thereof descended upon Zut. On the contrary, at each visit her
-heart was more drawn toward the sleek angora, and her desire but
-strengthened to possess her peer. But white angoras are a luxury, and an
-expensive one at that, and, however prosperous the Salon Malakoff might
-be, its proprietors were not as yet in a position to squander eighty
-francs upon a whim. So, until profits should mount higher, Madame
-Sergeot was forced to content herself with the voluntary visits of her
-neighbor's pet.
-
-Madame Caille did not yield her rights of sovereignty without a
-struggle. On the occasion of Zut's third visit, she descended upon the
-Salon Malakoff, robed in wrath, and found the adored one contentedly
-feeding on fish in the very bosom of the family Sergeot. An appalling
-scene ensued.
-
-"If," she stormed, crimson of countenance, and threatening Espérance
-with her fist, "if you _must_ entice my cat from her home, at _least_ I
-will thank you not to give her food. I provide all that is necessary;
-and, for the rest, how do I know what is in that saucer?"
-
-And she surveyed the duck-clad assistants and the astounded customers
-with tremendous scorn.
-
-"You others," she added, "I ask you, is it just? These people take my
-cat, and feed her--_feed_ her--with I know not what! It is overwhelming,
-unheard of--and, above all, _now_!"
-
-But here the peaceful Hippolyte played trumps.
-
-"It is the privilege of the vulgar," he cried, advancing, razor in hand,
-"when they are at home, to insult their neighbors, but here--no! My wife
-has told me of you and of your sayings. Beware! or I shall arrange your
-affair for you! Go! you and your cat!"
-
-And, by way of emphasis, he fairly kicked Zut into her astonished
-owner's arms. He was magnificent, was Hippolyte!
-
-This anecdote, duly elaborated, was poured into the ears of Abel Flique
-an hour later, and that evening he paid his first visit in many months
-to Madame Caille. She greeted him effusively, being willing to pardon
-all the past for the sake of regaining this powerful friend. But the
-glitter in the agent's eye would have cowed a fiercer spirit than hers.
-
-"You amuse yourself," he said sternly, looking straight at her over the
-handful of raisins which she tendered him, "by wearying my friends. I
-counsel you to take care. One does not sell inferior eggs in Paris
-without hearing of it sooner or later. I know more than I have told, but
-not more than I _can_ tell, if I choose."
-
-"Our ancient friendship"--faltered Alexandrine, touched in a vulnerable
-spot.
-
-"--preserves you thus far," added Flique, no less unmoved. "Beware how
-you abuse it!"
-
-And so the calls of Zut were no longer disturbed.
-
-But the rover spirit is progressive, and thus short visits became long
-visits, and finally the angora spent whole nights in the Salon Malakoff,
-where a box and a bit of carpet were provided for her. And one fateful
-morning the meaning of Madame Caille's significant words "and above all,
-_now_!" was made clear.
-
-The prosperity of Hippolyte's establishment had grown apace, so that, on
-the morning in question, the three chairs were occupied, and yet other
-customers awaited their turn. The air was laden with violet and lilac. A
-stout chauffeur, in a leather suit, thickly coated with dust, was
-undergoing a shampoo at the hands of one of the duck-clad, and, under
-the skillfully plied razor of the other, the virgin down slid from the
-lips and chin of a slim and somewhat startled youth, while from a
-vaporizer Hippolyte played a fine spray of perfumed water upon the ruddy
-countenance of Abel Flique. It was an eloquent moment, eminently fitted
-for some dramatic incident, and that dramatic incident Zut supplied. She
-advanced slowly and with an air of conscious dignity from the corner
-where was her carpeted box, and in her mouth was a limp something,
-which, when deposited in the immediate centre of the Salon Malakoff,
-resolved itself into an angora kitten, as white as snow!
-
-"Epatant!" said Flique, mopping his perfumed chin. And so it was.
-
-There was an immediate investigation of Zut's quarters, which revealed
-four other kittens, but each of these was marked with black or tan. It
-was the flower of the flock with which the proud mother had won her
-public.
-
-"And they are all yours!" cried Flique, when the question of ownership
-arose. "Mon Dieu, yes! There was such a case not a month ago, in the
-eighth arrondissement--a concierge of the avenue Hoche who made a
-contrary claim. But the courts decided against her. They are all yours,
-Madame Sergeot. My felicitations!"
-
-Now, as we have said, Madame Sergeot was of a placid temperament which
-sought not strife. But the unprovoked insults of Madame Caille had
-struck deep, and, after all, she was but human.
-
-So it was that, seated at her little desk, she composed the following
-masterpiece of satire:
-
-    CHÈRE MADAME,--We send you back your cat, and the others--all but
-    one. One kitten was of a pure white, more beautiful even than its
-    mother. As we have long desired a white angora, we keep this one as
-    a souvenir of you. We regret that we do not see the means of
-    accepting the kind offer you were so amiable as to make us. We fear
-    that we shall not find time to shampoo your cat, as we shall be so
-    busy taking care of our own. Monsieur Flique will explain the rest.
-
-    We pray you to accept, madame, the assurance of our distinguished
-    consideration,
-
-    HIPPOLYTE AND ESPÉRANCE SERGEOT.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-It was Abel Flique who conveyed the above epistle, and Zut, and four of
-Zut's kittens, to Alexandrine Caille, and, when that wrathful person
-would have rent him with tooth and nail, it was Abel Flique who laid his
-finger on his lip, and said,--
-
-"Concern yourself with the superior kitten, madame, and I concern myself
-with the inferior eggs!"
-
-To which Alexandrine made no reply. After Flique had taken his
-departure, she remained speechless for five consecutive minutes for the
-first time in the whole of her waking existence, gazing at the spot at
-her feet where sprawled the white angora, surrounded by her mottled
-offspring. Even when the first shock of her defeat had passed, she
-simply heaved a deep sigh, and uttered two words,--
-
-"Oh, _Zut_!"
-
-The which, in Parisian argot, at once means everything and nothing.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Caffiard
-
-DEUS EX MACHINA
-
-
-THE studio was tucked away in the extreme upper northeast corner of 13
-ter rue Visconti, higher even than that cinquième, dearly beloved of the
-impecunious, and of whoso, between stairs and street odors, chooses the
-lesser evil, and is more careful of lungs than legs. After the six long
-flights had been achieved, around a sharp corner and up a little winding
-stairway, was the door which bore the name of Pierre Vauquelin. Inside,
-after stumbling along a narrow hall, as black as Erebus, and floundering
-through a curtained doorway, one came abruptly into the studio, and, in
-all probability, fell headlong over a little rattan stool, or an easel,
-or a box of paints, and was picked up by the host, and dusted, and put
-to rights, and made much of, like a bumped child. Thus restored to
-equanimity one was better able to appreciate what Pierre called la
-Boîte.
-
-The Box was a room eight metres in width by ten in length, with a
-skylight above, and a great, square window in the north wall, which
-latter sloped inward from floor to ceiling, by reason of the mansarde
-roof. Of what might be called furniture there was but little, a Norman
-cupboard of black wood, heavily carved, a long divan, contrived from
-various packing boxes and well-worn rugs, a large, square table, a half
-dozen chairs, three easels, and a repulsive little stove with an
-interminable pipe, which, with its many twists and turns, gave one the
-impression of a thick, black snake, that had, a moment before, been
-swaying about in the room, and had suddenly found a hole in the roof
-through which to thrust its head.
-
-But of minor things the Box was full to overflowing. The Norman cupboard
-was crammed with an assortment of crockery, much of it sadly nicked and
-cracked, the divan was strewn with boxes of broken pastels,
-paint-brushes, and palettes coated with dried colors, the table littered
-with papers, sketches, and books, and every chair had its own particular
-trap for the unwary, in the form of thumb-tacks or a glass half full of
-cloudy water: and in the midst of this chaos, late on a certain mid-May
-afternoon, stood the painter himself, with his hands thrust deep into
-the pockets of his corduroy trousers, and his back turned upon the
-portrait upon which he had been at work. It was evident that something
-untoward was in the air, because Pierre, who always smoked, was not
-smoking, and Pierre, who never scowled, was scowling.
-
-In the Quartier--that Quartier which alone, of them all, is spelt with a
-capital Q--there was, in ordinary, no gayer, more happy-go-lucky type
-than this same Pierre. He lived, as did a thousand of his kind, on
-eighty sous a day (there were those who lived on less, pardi!), and
-breakfasted, and dined, at that,--yes, and paid himself an absinthe at
-the Deux Magots at six o'clock, and a package of green cigarettes, into
-the bargain. For the rest of the time, he was understood to be working
-on a portrait in his studio, and, what is more surprising, often was.
-There was nothing remarkable about Pierre's portraits, except that
-occasionally he sold one, and for money--for _actual money_, the
-astonishing animal! But if any part of the modest proceeds of such a
-transaction remained, after the rent had been paid and a new canvas
-purchased, it was not the caisse d'épargne which saw it, be sure of
-that! For Pierre lived always for the next twenty-four hours, and let
-the rest of time and eternity look out for themselves.
-
-Yet he took his work seriously. That was the trouble. Even admitting
-that, thus far, his orders had come only from the more prosperous
-tradesmen of the Quartier, did that mean, par exemple, that they would
-not come in time from the millionaires of the sixteenth arrondissement?
-By no means, whatever, said Pierre. To be sure, he had never had the
-Salon in the palm of his hand, so to speak, but what of that? Jean-Paul
-himself would tell you that it was all favoritism! So Pierre toiled away
-at his portrait painting, and made a little competency, but, if the
-truth were told, no appreciable progress from year's beginning to year's
-end.
-
-For once, however, his luck had played him false. The fat restaurateur,
-whose wife's portrait he had finished that afternoon and carried at top
-speed, with the paint not yet dry, to the rue du Bac, was out of town on
-business, and would not return until the following evening; and that, so
-far as Pierre was concerned, was quite as bad as if he were not expected
-until the following year. Pierre's total wealth amounted to one
-five-franc piece and three sous, and he had been relying upon the
-restaurateur's four louis, to enable him to fulfill his promise to Mimi.
-For the next day was her fête, and they were to have breakfasted in the
-country, and taken a boat upon the Seine, and returned to dine under the
-trees. Not at Suresnes or St. Cloud, ah, non! Something better than
-that--the true country, sapristi! at Poissy, twenty-eight kilometres
-from Paris. All of which meant at least a louis, and, no doubt, more!
-And where, demanded Pierre of the great north window, where was a louis
-to be found?
-
-For there was a tacit understanding among the comrades in the Quartier
-that there must be no borrowing and lending of money. It was a clause of
-their creed, which had been adopted in the early days of their
-companionship, for what was, clearly, the greatest general good, the
-chances being that no one of them would ever possess sufficient surplus
-capital either to accommodate another or to repay an accommodation. For
-a moment, to be sure, the thought had crossed Pierre's mind, but he had
-rejected it instantly as impracticable. Aside from the unwritten
-compact, there was no one of them all who could have been of service,
-had he so willed. Even Jacques Courbet, who possessed a disposition
-which would have impelled him to chop off his right hand with the utmost
-cheerfulness, if thereby he could have gratified a friend, was worse
-than useless in this emergency. Had it been a matter of forty sous--but
-a louis! As well have asked him for the Vénus de Milo, and had done with
-it.
-
-So it was that, with the premonition of Mimi's disappointed eyes cutting
-great gaps in his tender heart, Pierre had four times shrugged his
-shoulders, and quoted to himself this favorite scrap of his remarkable
-philosophy,--"Oh, lala! All this will arrange itself!" and four times
-had paused, in the act of lighting a cigarette, and plunged again into
-the depths of despondent reverie. As he was on the point of again
-repeating this entirely futile operation, a distant clock struck six,
-and Pierre, remembering that Mimi must even now be waiting for him at
-the west door of St. Germain-des-Prés, clapped on his cap, and sallied
-forth into the gathering twilight.
-
-It was apéritif hour at the Café des Deux Magots, and the long,
-leather-covered benches against the windows, and the double row of
-little marble-topped tables in front were rapidly filling, as Pierre and
-Mimi took their places, and ordered two Turins à l'eau. A group of
-American Beaux Arts men at their right were chattering in their uncouth
-tongue, with occasional scraps of Quartier slang, by way of local color,
-and now and again hailing a newcomer with exclamations, apparently of
-satisfaction, which began with "Hello!" The boulevard St. Germain was
-alive with people, walking past with the admirable lack of haste which
-distinguishes the Parisian, or waiting, in patient, voluble groups, for
-a chance to enter the constantly arriving and departing trams and
-omnibuses; and an unending succession of open cabs filed slowly along
-the curb, their drivers scanning the terrasse of the café for a possible
-fare. The air was full of that mingled odor of wet wood pavements and
-horse-chestnut blossoms, which is the outward, invisible sign of that
-most wonderful of inward and spiritual combinations--Paris and Spring!
-And, at the table directly behind Pierre and Mimi sat Caffiard.
-
-There was nothing about Caffiard to suggest a _deus ex machina_, or
-anything else, for that matter, except a preposterously corpulent old
-gentleman with an amiable smile. But in nothing were appearances ever
-more deceitful than in Caffiard. For it was he, with his enormous double
-chin, and his general air of harmless fatuity, who edited the little
-colored sheet entitled La Blague, which sent half Paris into convulsions
-of merriment every Thursday morning, and he who knew every caricaturist
-in town, and was beloved of them all for the heartiness of his
-appreciation and the liberality of his payments. In the first regard he
-was but one of many Parisian editors: but in the second he stood
-without a peer. Caran d'Ache, Léandre, Willette, Forain, Hermann Paul,
-Abel Faivre--they rubbed their hands when they came out of Caffiard's
-private office, and if the day chanced to be Saturday, there was
-something in their hands worth rubbing. A fine example, Caffiard!
-
-Mimi's black eyes sparkled like a squirrel's as she watched Pierre over
-the rim of her tumbler of vermouth. She was far from being blind, Mimi,
-and already, though they had been together but six minutes, she had
-noted that unusual little pucker between his eyebrows, that sad little
-droop at the corners of his merry mouth. She told herself that Pierre
-had been overworking himself, that Pierre was tired, that Pierre needed
-cheering up. So Mimi, who was never tired, not even after ten hours in
-Madame Fraichel's millinery establishment, secretly declared war upon
-the unusual little pucker and the sad little droop.
-
-"Voyons donc, my Pierrot!" she said. "It is not a funeral to which we go
-to-morrow, at least! Thou must be gay, for we have much to talk of, thou
-knowest. One dines at La Boîte?"
-
-"The dinner is there, such as it is," replied Pierre gloomily.
-
-"What it is now, is not the question," said Mimi, with confidence, "but
-what I make of it--pas? And then there is to-morrow! Oh, lala, lalala!
-What a pleasure it will be, if only the good God gives us beautiful
-weather. Dis, donc, great thunder-cloud, dost thou know it, this
-Poissy?"
-
-Pierre had begun a caricature on the back of the wine-card, glancing now
-and again at his model, an old man selling newspapers on the curb. He
-shook his head without replying.
-
-"Eh, b'en, my little one, thou mayest believe me that it is of all
-places the most beautiful! One eats at the Esturgeon, on the Seine,--but
-_on_ the Seine, with the water quite near, like that chair. He names
-himself Jarry, the proprietor, and it is a good type--fat and handsome.
-I adore him! Art thou jealous, species of thinness of a hundred nails?
-B'en, afterwards, one takes a boat, and goes, softly, softly, down the
-little arm of the Seine, and creeps under the willows, and, perhaps,
-fishes. But no, for it is the closed season. But one sings, eh? What
-does one sing? Voyons!"
-
-She bent forward, and, in a little voice, like an elf's, very thin and
-sweet, hummed a snatch of a song they both knew.
-
-    _"C'est votre ami Pierrot qui vient vous voir:
-              Bonsoir, madame la lune!"_
-
-"And then," she went on, as Pierre continued his sketch in silence, "and
-then, one disembarks at Villennes and has a Turin under the arbors of
-Bodin. Another handsome type, Bodin! Flut! _What_ a man!"
-
-Mimi paused suddenly, and searched his cloudy face with her earnest,
-tender little eyes.
-
-"Pierrot," she said, softly, "what hast thou? Thou art not angry with
-thy gosseline?"
-
-Pierre surveyed the outline of the newspaper vender thoughtfully,
-touched it, here and there, with his pencil-point, squinted, and then
-pushed the paper toward the girl.
-
-"Not bad," he said, replacing his pencil in his pocket.
-
-But Mimi had no eyes for the caricature, and merely flicked the
-wine-card to the ground.
-
-"Pierrot"--she repeated.
-
-Vauquelin plunged his hands in his pockets and looked at her.
-
-"Well, then," he announced, almost brutally, "we do not go to-morrow."
-
-"_Pierre!_"
-
-It was going to be much worse than he had supposed, this little tragedy.
-Bon Dieu, how pretty she was, with her startled, hurt eyes, already
-filling with tears, and her parted lips, and her little white hand, that
-had flashed up to her cheek at his words! Oh, much worse than he had
-supposed! But she must be told: there was nothing but that. So Pierre
-put his elbows on the table, and his chin in his hands, and brought his
-face close to hers.
-
-"Voyons!" he explained, "thou dost not believe me angry! Mais non, mais
-non! But listen. It is I who am the next to the last of idiots, since I
-have never a sou in pocket, never! And the imbecile restaurateur, whose
-wife I have been painting, will not return until to-morrow, and so I am
-not paid. Voilà!"
-
-He placed his five-franc piece upon the table, and shrugged his
-shoulders.
-
-"One full moon!" he said, and piled the three sous upon it. "And three
-soldiers. As I sit here, that is all, until to-morrow night. We cannot
-go!"
-
-Brave little Mimi! Already she was winking back her tears, and smiling.
-
-"But that--that is nothing!" she answered. "I do not care to go. No--but
-truly! Look! We shall spend the day in the studio, and breakfast on the
-balcony, and pretend the rue Visconti is the Seine."
-
-"I am an empty siphon!" said Pierre, yielding to desperation.
-
-"_Non!_" said Mimi firmly.
-
-"I am a pierced basket, a box of matches!"
-
-"_Non! Non!_" said Mimi, with tremendous earnestness. "Thou art Pierrot,
-and I love thee! Let us say no more. I shall go back and prepare the
-dinner, and thou shalt remain and drink a Pernod. It will give thee
-heart. But follow quickly. Give me the key."
-
-She laid her wide-spread hand on his, palm upward, like a little pink
-starfish.
-
-"We go together, and I adore thee!" said Pierre, and kissed her in the
-sight of all men, and was not ashamed.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Caffiard leaned forward, picked up the fallen wine-card, pretended to
-consult it, and ponderously arose. As Pierre was turning the key in the
-door of the little apartment, they heard a sound of heavy breathing, and
-the _deus ex machina_ came lumbering up the winding stair.
-
-"Monsieur is seeking some one?" asked the painter politely.
-
-There was no breath left in Caffiard. He was only able, by way of reply,
-to point at the top button of Pierre's coat, and nod helplessly: then,
-as Mimi ran ahead to light the gas, he labored along the corridor,
-staggered through the curtained doorway, stumbled over a rattan stool,
-was rescued by Pierre, and, finally, established upon the divan, very
-red and gasping.
-
-For a time there was silence, Pierre and Mimi busying themselves in
-putting the studio to rights, with an instinctive courtesy which took no
-notice of their visitor's snorts and wheezes; and Caffiard taking note
-of his surroundings with his round, blinking eyes. Opposite him, against
-the wall, reposed the portrait of the restaurateur's wife, as dry and
-pasty as a stale cream cheese upon the point of crumbling, and on an
-easel was another--that of Monsieur Pantin, the rich shirt-maker of the
-boulevard St. Germain--on which Pierre was at work. A veritable atrocity
-this, with a green background which trespassed upon Monsieur Pantin's
-hair, and a featureless face, gaunt and haggard with yellow and purple
-undertones. There was nothing in either picture to refute one's natural
-suspicion that soap had been the medium employed. Caffiard blinked
-harder still as his eyes rested upon the portraits, and he secretly
-consulted the crumpled wine-card in his hand. Then he seemed to recover
-his breath by means of a profound sigh.
-
-"Monsieur makes caricatures?" he inquired.
-
-"Ah, monsieur," said Pierre, "at times, and for amusement only. I am a
-portraitist." And he pointed proudly to the picture against the wall.
-
-For they are all alike, these painters--proudest of what they do least
-well!
-
-"Ah! Then," said Caffiard, with an air of resignation, "I must ask
-monsieur's pardon, and descend. I am not interested in portraits. When
-it comes to caricatures"--
-
-"They are well enough in their way," put in Pierre, "but as a serious
-affair--to sell, for instance--well, monsieur comprehends that one does
-not debauch one's art!"
-
-Oh, yes, they are all alike, these painters!
-
-"What is serious, what is not serious?" answered Caffiard. "It is all a
-matter of opinion. One prefers to have his painting glued to the wall of
-the Salon, next the ceiling, another to have his drawing on the front
-page of La Blague."
-
-"Oh, naturally La Blague," protested Pierre.
-
-"I am its editor," said Caffiard superbly.
-
-"_Eigh!_" exclaimed Pierre. For Mimi had cruelly pinched his arm. Before
-the sting had passed, she was seated at Caffiard's side, tugging at the
-strings of a great portfolio.
-
-"Are they imbeciles, these painters, monsieur?" she was saying. "Now you
-shall see. This great baby is marvelous, but _marvelous_, with his
-caricatures. Not Léandre himself--it is I who assure you, monsieur!--and
-to hear him, one would think--but thou _tirest_ me, Pierrot!--With his
-portraits! No, it is _too_ much!"
-
-She spread the portfolio wide, and began to shuffle through the drawings
-it contained.
-
-Caffiard's eyes glistened as he saw them. Even in her enthusiasm, Mimi
-had not overshot the mark. They were marvelous indeed, these
-caricatures, mere outlines for the most part, with a dot, here and
-there, of red, or a little streak of green, which lent them a curious,
-unusual charm. The subjects were legion. Here was Loubet, with a great
-band of crimson across his shirt bosom, here Waldeck-Rousseau, with eyes
-as round and prominent as agate marbles, or Yvette, with a nose on which
-one might have hung an overcoat, or Chamberlain, all monocle, or
-Wilhelmina, growing out of a tulip's heart, and as pretty as an old
-print, with her tight-fitting Dutch cap and broidered bodice. And then a
-host of types--cochers, grisettes, flower women, camelots, Heaven knows
-what not!--the products of half a hundred idle hours, wherein
-great-hearted, foolish Pierre had builded better than he knew!
-
-Caffiard selected five at random, and then, from a waistcoat pocket that
-clung as closely to his round figure as if it had been glued thereto,
-produced a hundred-franc note.
-
-"I must have these for La Blague, monsieur," he said. "Bring me two
-caricatures a week at my office in the rue St. Joseph, and you shall be
-paid at the same rate. It is not much, to be sure. But you will have
-ample time left for your--for your portrait-painting, monsieur!"
-
-For a moment the words of Caffiard affected Pierre and Mimi as the
-stairs had affected Caffiard. They stared at him, opening and shutting
-their mouths and gasping, like fish newly landed. Then, suddenly,
-animated by a common impulse, they rushed into each other's arms, and
-set out, around the studio, in a mad waltz, which presently resolved
-itself into an impromptu can-can, with Mimi skipping like a fairy, and
-Pierre singing: "Hi! _Hi!!_ HI!!!" and snapping at her flying feet with
-a red-bordered handkerchief. After this Mimi kissed Caffiard twice: once
-on the top of his bald head, and once on the end of his stubby nose. It
-was like being brushed by the floating down of a dandelion. And,
-finally, nothing would do but that he must accompany them upon the
-morrow; and she explained to him in detail the plan which had so nearly
-fallen through, and the _deus ex machina_ did not betray by so much as a
-wink that he had heard the entire story only half an hour before.
-
-But, in the end, he protested. But she was insane, the little one,
-completely! Had he then the air of one who gave himself into those boats
-there, name of a pipe? But let us be reasonable, voyons! He was not
-young like Pierre and Mimi--one comprehended that these holidays did not
-recommence when one was sixty. What should he do, he demanded of them,
-trailing along, as one might say, he and his odious fatness? Ah, _non_!
-For la belle jeunesse was la belle jeunesse, there was no means of
-denying it, and it was not for a species of dried sponge to be giving
-itself the airs of a fresh flower. "But no! But no!" said Caffiard,
-striving to rise from the divan. "In the morning I have my article to do
-for the Figaro, and I am going with Caran to Longchamp, en auto, for the
-races in the afternoon. But no! But no!"
-
-It was plain that Caffiard had known Mimi no more than half an hour. One
-never said, "But no! But no!" to Mimi, unless it was for the express
-purpose of having one's mouth covered by the softest little pink palm to
-be found between the Seine and the Observatoire,--which, to do him
-justice, Caffiard was quite capable of scheming to bring about, if only
-he had known! He had accepted the little dandelion-down kisses in a
-spirit of philosophy, knowing well that they were given not for his
-sake, but for Pierre's. But now his protests came to an abrupt
-termination, for Mimi suddenly seated herself on his lap, and put one
-arm around his neck.
-
-It was nothing short of an achievement, this. Even Caffiard himself had
-not imagined that such a thing as his lap was still extant. Yet here was
-Mimi, actually installed thereon, with her cheek pressed against his,
-and her breath, which was like clover, stirring the ends of his
-moustache. But she was smiling at Pierre, the witch! Caffiard could see
-it out of the corner of his eye.
-
-"Mais non!" he repeated, but more feebly.
-
-"Mais non! Mais non! Mais non!" mocked Mimi. "Great farceur! Will you
-listen, at least? Eh b'en, voilà! Here is my opinion. As to insanity, if
-for any one to propose a day in the country is insanity, well then,
-yes,--I am insane! Soit! And, again, if you wish to appear serious,--in
-Paris, that is to say--soit, également! But when you speak of odious
-fatness, you are a type of monsieur extremely low of ceiling, do you
-know! Moreover, you are going. Voilà! It is finished. As for Caran, let
-him go his way and draw his caricatures--though they are not like
-Pierre's, all the world knows!--and, without doubt, his auto will refuse
-to move beyond the porte Dauphine, yes, and blow up, bon Dieu! when he
-is in the act of mending it. One knows these boxes of vapors, what they
-do. And as for the Figaro, b'en, flut! Evidently it will not cease to
-exist for lack of your article--eh, l'ami? And it is Mimi who asks
-you,--Mimi, do you understand, who invites you to her fête. And you
-would refuse her--_toi_!"
-
-"But no! But no!" said Caffiard hurriedly. And meant it.
-
-At this point Pierre wrapped five two-sou pieces in a bit of paper, and
-tossed them, out of a little window across the hallway, to a
-street-singer whimpering in the court below. Pierre said that they
-weighed down his pockets. They were in the way, the clumsy doublins,
-said wonderful, spendthrift Pierre!
-
-For the wide sky of the Quartier is forever dotted with little clouds,
-scudding, scudding, all day long. And when one of these passes across
-the sun, there is a sudden chill in the air, and one walks for a time in
-shadow, though the comrade over there, across the way, is still in the
-warm and golden glow. But when the sun has shouldered the little cloud
-aside again, ah, that is when life is good to live, and goes gayly, to
-the tinkle of glasses and the ripple of laughter, and the ring of silver
-bits. And when the street-singer in the court receives upon his head a
-little parcel of coppers that are too heavy for the pocket, and smiles
-to himself, who knows but what he understands?
-
-For what is also true of the Quartier is this--that, in sunshine or
-shadow, one finds a soft little hand clasping his, firm, warm,
-encouraging and kindly, and hears a gay little voice that, in foul
-weather, chatters of the bright hours which it is so sweet to remember,
-and, in fair, says never a word of the storms which it is so easy to
-forget!
-
-The veriest bat might have foreseen the end, when once Mimi had put her
-arm around the neck of Caffiard. Before the _deus ex machina_ knew what
-he was about, he found his army of objections routed, horse, foot, and
-dragoons, and had promised to be at the gare St. Lazare at eleven the
-following morning.
-
-And what a morning it was! Surely the bon Dieu must have loved Mimi an
-atom better than other mortals, for in the blue-black crucible of the
-night he fashioned a day as clear and glowing as a great jewel, and set
-it, blazing with warm light and vivid color, foremost in the diadem of
-the year. And it was something to see Mimi at the carriage window, with
-Pierre at her side and her left hand in his, and in her right a huge
-bouquet--Caffiard's contribution--while the _deus ex machina_ himself,
-breathing like a happy hippopotamus, beamed upon the pair from the
-opposite corner. So the train slipped past the fortifications, swung
-through a trim suburb, slid smoothly out into the open country. It was a
-Wednesday, and there was no holiday crowd to incommode them. They had
-the compartment to themselves; and the half hour flew like six minutes,
-said Mimi, when at last they came to a shuddering standstill, and two
-guards hastened along the platform in opposite directions, one droning
-"Poiss-y-y-y-y!" and the other shouting "Poiss'! Poiss'! Poiss'!" as if
-he had been sneezing. It was an undertaking to get Caffiard out of the
-carriage, just as it had been to get him in. But finally it was
-accomplished, a whistle trilled from somewhere as if it had been a
-bird, another wailed like a stepped-on kitten, the locomotive squealed
-triumphantly, and the next minute the trio were alone in their glory.
-
-It was a day that Caffiard never forgot. They breakfasted at once, so as
-to have a longer afternoon. Mimi was guide and commander-in-chief, as
-having been to the Esturgeon before, so the table was set upon the
-terrasse overlooking the Seine, and there were radishes, and little
-individual omelettes, and a famous matelote, which Monsieur Jarry
-himself served with the air of a Lucullus, and, finally, a great dish of
-quatre saisons, and, for each of the party, a squat brown pot of fresh
-cream. And, moreover, no ordinaire, but St. Emilion, if you please, with
-a tin-foil cap which had to be removed before one could draw the cork,
-and a bottle of Source Badoit as well. And Caffiard, who had dined with
-the Russian Ambassador on Monday and breakfasted with the Nuncio on
-Tuesday, and been egregiously displeased with the fare in both
-instances, consumed an unprecedented quantity of matelote, and went back
-to radishes after he had eaten his strawberries and cream: while, to cap
-the climax, Pierre paid the addition with a louis,--and gave _all_ the
-change as a tip! But it was unheard-of!
-
-Afterwards they engaged a boat, and, with much alarm on the part of
-Mimi, and satirical comment from Caffiard, and severe admonitions to
-prudence by Pierre, pushed out into the stream and headed for Villennes,
-to the enormous edification of three small boys, who hung precariously
-over the railing of the terrace above them, and called Caffiard a
-captive balloon.
-
-They made the three kilometres at a snail's pace, allowing the boat to
-drift with the current for an hour at a time, and, now and again
-creeping in under the willows at the water's edge until they were wholly
-hidden from view, and the voice of Mimi singing was as that of some
-river nixie invisible to mortal eyes. She sang "Bonsoir, Madame la
-Lune," so sweetly and so sadly that Caffiard was moved to tears. It was
-her favorite song, because--oh, because it was about Pierrot! And her
-own Pierrot responded with a gay soldier ballad, a chanson de route
-which he had picked up at the Noctambules; and even Caffiard sang--a
-ridiculous ditty it was, which scored the English and went to a
-rollicking air. They all shouted the refrain, convulsed with merriment
-at the drollery of the sound:--
-
-    _"Qu'est ce qui quitte ses père et mère
-          Afin de s'en aller
-          S'faire taper dans le nez?
-    C'est le soldat d'Angleterre!
-          Dou-gle-di-gle-dum!
-    Avec les ba-a-a-alles dum-dum!"_
-
-Caffiard was to leave them at Villennes after they should have taken
-their apéritifs. They protested, stormed at him, scolded and cajoled by
-turns, and called him a score of fantastic names--for by this time they
-knew him intimately--as they sat in Monsieur Bodin's arbor and sipped
-amer-menthe, but all in vain. Pierre had Mimi's hand, as always, and he
-had kissed her a half-hundred times in the course of the afternoon. Mimi
-had a way of shaking her hair out of her eyes with a curious little
-backward jerk of her head when Pierre kissed her, and then looking at
-him seriously, seriously, but smiling when he caught her at it. Caffiard
-liked that. And Pierre had a trick of turning, as if to ask Mimi's
-opinion, or divine even her unspoken wishes whenever a question came up
-for decision--a choice of food or drink, or direction, or what-not. And
-Caffiard liked _that_.
-
-He looked across the table at them now, dreamily, through his cigarette
-smoke.
-
-"Pierrot," he said, after he had persuaded them to let him depart in
-peace when the train should be due,--"Pierrot. Yes, that is it. You,
-with your garret, and your painting, and your songs, and your black,
-black sadness at one moment, and your laughter the next, and, above all,
-your Pierrette, your bon-bon of a Pierrette:--you are Pierrot, the
-spirit of Paris in powder and white muslin! Eigho! my children, what a
-thing it is, la belle jeunesse! Tiens! you have given me a taste of it
-to-day, and I thank you. I thought I had forgotten. But no, one never
-forgets. It all comes back,--youth, and strength, and beauty, love, and
-music, and laughter,--but only like a breath upon a mirror, my children,
-only like a wind-ripple on a pool; for I am an old man."
-
-He paused, looking up at the vine-leaves on the trellis-roof, and
-murmured a few words of Mimi's song:--
-
-    _"Pierrette en songe va venir me voir:
-        Bonsoir, madame la lune!"_
-
-Then his eyes came back to her face.
-
-"I must be off," he said. "Why, what hast thou, little one? There are
-tears in those two stars!"
-
-"C'est vrai?" asked Mimi, smiling at him and then at Pierre, and
-brushing her hand across her eyes, "c'est vrai? Well then, they are gone
-as quickly as they came. Voilà! Without his tears Pierrot is not
-Pierrot, and without Pierrot"--
-
-She turned to Pierre suddenly, and buried her face on his shoulder.
-
-"_Je t'aime!_" she whispered. "_Je t'aime!_"
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-The Next Corner
-
-
-ANTHONY CAZEBY was a man whom the felicitous combination of an
-adventurous disposition, sufficient ready money, and a magnificent
-constitution had introduced to many and various sensations, but he was
-conscious that, so far as intensity went, no one of them all had
-approached for a moment that with which he emerged from the doorway of
-the Automobile Club, and, winking at the sting of the keen winter air,
-looked out across the place de la Concorde, with its globes of light,
-swung, like huge pearls on invisible strings, across the haze of the
-January midnight. He paused for a moment, as if he would allow his
-faculties to obtain a full and final grasp of his situation, and
-motioned aside the trim little club chasseur who stood before him, with
-one cotton-gloved hand stretched out expectantly for a supposititious
-carriage-check.
-
-"Va, mon petit, je vais à pied!"
-
-Afoot! Cazeby smiled to himself at the tone of sudden caprice which rang
-in his voice, and, turning his fur collar high up about his ears, swung
-off rapidly toward the Cours la Reine. After all, the avenue d'Eylau was
-only an agreeable stroll's length distant. Why not go home afoot? But
-then, on the other hand, why go home at all? As this thought leaped
-suddenly at Cazeby's throat out of the void of the great unpremeditated,
-he caught his breath, stopped suddenly in the middle of the driveway,
-and then went on more slowly, thinking hard.
-
-It had been that _rarissima avis_ of social life, even in Paris, a
-perfect dinner. Cazeby had found himself wondering, at more than one
-stage of its smooth and imposing progress, how the Flints could afford
-to do it. But on each recurrence of the thought he dismissed it with a
-little frown of vexation. If there was one thing more than another upon
-which Cazeby prided himself, it was originality of thought, word, and
-deed, and he was annoyed to find himself, even momentarily, on a mental
-level with the gossips of the American and English colonies, whose time
-is equally divided between wondering how the Choses can afford to do
-what they do, and why the Machins cannot afford to do what they leave
-undone.
-
-People had said many things of Hartley Flint, and still more of his
-wife, but no one had ever had the ignorance or the perversity to accuse
-them of inefficiency in the matter of a dinner. Moreover, on this
-particular occasion, they were returning the hospitality of the Baroness
-Klemftt, who had, at the close of the Exposition, impressed into her
-service the chef of the Roumanian restaurant, and whose dinners were, in
-consequence, the wonder and despair of four foreign colonies. After her
-latest exploit Hartley Flint had remarked to his wife that it was "up to
-them to make good," which, being interpreted, was to say that it was at
-once his duty and his intention to repay the Baroness in her own
-sterling coin. The fact that the men of the party afterwards commended
-Hartley's choice of wines, and that the women expressed the opinion that
-"Kate Flint looked _really_ pretty!" would seem to be proof positive
-that the operation of "making good" had been an unqualified success.
-
-Now, Cazeby was wondering whether he had actually enjoyed it all. Under
-the circumstances it seemed to him incredible, and yet he could not
-recall a qualm of uneasiness from the moment when the maître d'hôtel had
-thrown open the doors of the private dining room, until the Baroness had
-smiled at her hostess out of a cloud of old Valenciennes, and said, "Now
-there are _two_ of us who give impeccable dinners, Madame Flint." Even
-now, even facing his last ditch, Cazeby was conscious of a little thrill
-of self-satisfaction. He had said the score of clever things which each
-of his many hostesses expected of him, and had told with great effect
-his story of the little German florist, which had grown, that season,
-under the persuasive encouragement of society's applause, from a brief
-anecdote into a veritable achievement of Teutonic dialect. Also, he had
-worn a forty franc orchid, and had left it in his coffee-cup because it
-had begun to wilt. In brief, he had been Anthony Cazeby at his
-extraordinary best, a mixture of brilliancy and eccentricity, without
-which, as Mrs. Flint was wont to say, no dinner was complete.
-
-But the sublime and the ridiculous are not the only contrasting
-conditions that lie no further than a step apart, and Cazeby was
-painfully conscious of having, in the past five minutes, crossed the
-short interval which divides gay from grave. Reduced to its lowest
-terms, his situation lay in his words to the little chasseur. With the
-odor of the rarest orchid to be found in Vaillant-Rozeau's whole
-establishment yet clinging to his lapel, Anthony Cazeby was going home
-on foot because the fare from the Concorde to the avenue d'Eylau was one
-franc fifty, and one franc fifty precisely ninety centimes more than he
-possessed in the world. For a moment he straightened himself, threw back
-his head, and looked up at the dull saffron of the low-hanging sky, in
-an attempt to realize this astounding fact, and then went back to his
-thinking.
-
-Well, it was not surprising. The life of a popular young diplomat with
-extravagant tastes is not conducive to economy, and the forty thousand
-dollars which had come to Cazeby at the beginning of his twenty-eighth
-year had proved but a bad second best in the struggle with Parisian
-gayety. His bibelots, his servants, Auteuil, Longchamp, his baccarat at
-the Prince de Tréville's, a dancer at the Folies-Marigny, Monte Carlo,
-Aix, Trouville,--they had all had their share, and now the piper was
-waiting to be paid and the exchequer was empty. It was an old story.
-Other men of his acquaintance had done the same, but they had had some
-final resource. The trouble was, as Cazeby had already noted, that, in
-his case, the final resource was not, as in theirs, pecuniary. Quite on
-the contrary, it was a tidy little weapon, of Smith and Wesson make,
-which lay in the upper right hand drawer of his marqueterie desk. He had
-looked long at it that same afternoon, with all his worldly wealth, in
-the shape of forty-two francs sixty, spread out beside it. That was
-before he had taken a fiacre to Vaillant-Rozeau's.
-
-At the very moment when Cazeby was contemplating these doubtful assets,
-a grim old gentleman was seated at another desk, three thousand miles
-away, engaged upon a calculation of the monthly profits derived from a
-wholesale leather business. But Cazeby père was one of the hopeless
-persons who believe in economy. He was of the perverted opinion that
-money hardly come by should be thoughtfully spent, or, preferably,
-invested in government bonds, and he had violent prejudices against
-"industrials," games of chance, and young men who preferred the gayety
-of a foreign capital to the atmosphere of "the Swamp." Also he was very
-rich. But Anthony had long since ceased to regard his father as anything
-more than a chance relation. He could have told what would be the result
-of a frank confession of his extremity as accurately as if the avowal
-had been already made. There would have been some brief reference to the
-sowing of oats and their reaping, to the making of a metaphorical bed
-and the inevitable occupancy thereof, and to other proverbial
-illustrations which, in a financial sense, are more ornamental than
-useful,--and nothing more. The essential spark of sympathy had been
-lacking between these two since the moment when the most eminent
-physician in New York had said, "It is a boy, sir,--but--we cannot hope
-to save the mother." The fault may have lain on the one side, or the
-other, or on both, or on neither; but certain it is that to Anthony's
-imagination Cazeby senior had never appealed in the light of a final
-resource.
-
-Somehow, in none of his calculations had the idea of invoking assistance
-ever played a part. Naturally, as a reasoning being, he had foreseen the
-present crisis for some months, but at the time when the inevitable
-catastrophe first became clear to him it was already too late to regain
-his balance, since the remainder of his inheritance was so pitifully
-small that any idea of retrieving his fortunes through its
-instrumentality was simply farcical. The swirl of the rapids, as he had
-then told himself, had already caught his boat. All that was left to do
-was to go straight on to the sheer of the fall, with his pennant flying
-and himself singing at the helm. Then, on the brink, a well-placed
-bullet--no bungling for Anthony Cazeby!--and the next day people would
-be talking of the shocking accident which had killed him in the act of
-cleaning his revolver, and saying the usual things about a young man
-with a brilliant future before him and everything in life for which to
-live.
-
-And this plan he had carried out in every detail--save the last, to
-which he was now come; and his was the satisfying conviction that not
-one of the brilliant, careless men and women, among whom he lived, and
-moved, and had his being, suspected for a moment that the actual
-circumstances differed in the least from the outward appearances. He
-thought it all over carefully now, and there was no play in the entire
-game that he felt he would have liked to have changed.
-
-Sentiment had no part in the makeup of Anthony Cazeby. Lacking from
-early childhood the common ties of home affection, and by training and
-profession a diplomat, he added to a naturally undemonstrative nature
-the non-committal suavity of official poise. But that was not all. He
-had never been known to be ill at ease. This was something which gained
-him a reputation for studious self-control. As a matter of fact it was
-due to nothing of the sort. No one had ever come fairly at the root of
-his character except Cazeby père, who once said, in a fit of passion,
-"You don't care a brass cent, sir, whether you live and are made
-President of the United States, or die and are eternally damned!" And
-that was exactly the point.
-
-Something of all this had passed through Cazeby's mind, when he was
-suddenly aroused to an appreciation of his whereabouts by the sound of a
-voice, to find that the curious instinct of direction which underlies
-advanced inebriety and profound preoccupation alike, had led him up the
-avenue du Trocadéro, and across the place, and that he had already
-advanced some little way along the avenue d'Eylau in the direction of
-his apartment. The street was dimly lighted, but, just behind him, the
-windows of a tiny wine-shop gave out a subdued glow, and from within
-came the sound of a violin. Then Cazeby's attention came around to the
-owner of the voice. This was a youngish man of medium stature, in the
-familiar street dress of a French laborer, jacket and waistcoat of dull
-blue velveteen, peg-top trousers of heavy corduroy, a crimson knot at
-his throat, and a dark tam o'shanter pulled low over one ear. As their
-eyes met, he apparently saw that Cazeby had not heard his first remark,
-and so repeated it.
-
-"I have need of a drink!"
-
-There was nothing of the beggar in his tone or manner. Both were
-threatening, rather; and, as soon as he had spoken, he thrust his lower
-jaw forward, in the fashion common to the thug of any and every
-nationality when the next move is like to be a blow. But, for once,
-these manifestations of hostility failed signally of effect. Cazeby was
-the last person in the world to select as the object of sudden attack,
-with the idea that panic would make him easy prey. In his present state
-of mind he went further than preserving his equanimity: he was even
-faintly amused. It was not that he did not comprehend the other's
-purpose, but, to his way of thinking, there was something distinctly
-humorous in the idea of holding up a man with only sixty centimes to his
-name, and menacing him with injury, when he himself was on his way to
-the upper right hand drawer of the marqueterie desk.
-
-"I have need of a drink," repeated the other, coming a step nearer.
-"Thou art not deaf, at least?"
-
-"No," said Cazeby, pleasantly, "no, I am not deaf, and I, too, have
-need of a drink. Shall we take it together?" And, without waiting for a
-reply, he turned and stepped through the doorway of the little wineshop.
-The Frenchman hesitated, shrugged his shoulders with an air of complete
-bewilderment, and, after an instant also entered the shop and placed
-himself at the small table where Cazeby was already seated.
-
-"A vitriol for me," he said.
-
-Cazeby had not passed three years in Paris for nothing. He received this
-remarkable request with the unconcern of one to whom the slang of the
-exterior boulevards is sufficiently familiar, and, as the proprietor
-leaned across the nickled slab of his narrow counter with an air of
-interrogation, duplicated his companion's order.
-
-"Deux vitriols!"
-
-The proprietor, vouchsafing the phrase a grin of appreciation, lumbered
-heavily around to the table, filled two small glasses from a bottle of
-cheap cognac, and stood awaiting payment, hands on hips.
-
-"Di-ze sous," he said.
-
-There was no need to search for the exact amount. Cazeby spun his
-fifty-centime piece upon the marble, added his remaining two sous by way
-of pourboire, and disposed of the brandy at a gulp.
-
-"Have you also need of a cigarette?" he inquired, politely, tendering
-the other his case.
-
-For some minutes, as they smoked, the diplomat and the vagabond took
-stock of each other in silence. In many ways they were singularly alike.
-There was in both the same irony of lip line, the same fair chiseling of
-chin and nostril and brow, the same weariness of eye. The difference was
-one of dress and bearing alone, and, in those first moments of mutual
-analysis, Cazeby realized that there was about this street-lounger a
-vague air of the gentleman, a subtle suggestion of good birth and
-breeding, which even his slouching manner and coarse speech were not
-wholly able to conceal: and his guest was conscious that in Cazeby he
-had to deal with no mere society puppet, but with one in whom the
-limitations of position had never wholly subdued the devil-may-care
-instincts of the vagabond. The one was a finished model of a man of the
-world, the other a caricature, but the clay was the same.
-
-"I am also hungry," said the latter suddenly.
-
-"In that respect," responded Cazeby, in the same tone of even
-politeness, "I am, unfortunately, unable to assist you, unless you will
-accept the hospitality of my apartment. It is but a step, and I am
-rather an expert on bacon and eggs. Also," he added, falling into the
-idiom of the faubourgs, "there is a means there of remedying the dryness
-of the sponge in one's throat. My name is Antoine."
-
-"I am Bibi-la-Raie," said the other shortly. Then he continued, with
-instinctive suspicion, "It is a strange fashion thou hast of introducing
-a type to these gentlemen."
-
-"As a matter of fact," said Cazeby, "I do not live over a poste. But
-whether or not you will come is something for you to decide. It is less
-trouble to cook eggs for one than for two."
-
-Bibi-la-Raie reflected briefly. Finally he had recourse to his
-characteristic shrug.
-
-"After all, what difference?" he said. "As well now as another time. I
-follow thee!"
-
-The strangely assorted companions entered Cazeby's apartment as the
-clock was striking one, and pressure of an electric button, flooding the
-salon with light, revealed a little tea-table furnished with cigarettes
-and cigars, decanters of Scotch whiskey and liqueurs, and Venetian
-goblets of oddly tinted glass. Cazeby shot a swift glance at his guest
-as this array sprang into view, and was curiously content to observe
-that he manifested no surprise. Bibi-la-Raie had flung himself into a
-great leather chair with an air of being entirely at ease.
-
-"Not bad, thy little box," he observed. "Is it permitted?"
-
-He indicated the table with a nod.
-
-"Assuredly," said Cazeby. "Do as if you were at home. I shall be but a
-moment with the supper."
-
-When he returned from the kitchen, bearing a smoking dish of bacon and
-eggs, butter, rye bread, and Swiss cheese, Bibi-la-Raie was standing in
-rapt contemplation before an etching of the "Last Judgment."
-
-"What a genius, this animal of a Michel Ange!" he said.
-
-"Rather deft at times," replied Cazeby, arranging the dishes on the
-larger table.
-
-"Je te crois!" said Bibi, enthusiastically. "Without him--what?
-Evidently, it was not Léon Treize who built Saint Pierre!"
-
-The eggs had been peculiarly obstinate, as it happened, and a growing
-irritability had taken possession of Anthony. As they ate in silence,
-the full force of his tragic position returned to him. Even the
-unwontedness of his chance encounter with Bibi-la-Raie had not wholly
-dispelled the cloud that had been gradually settling around him since he
-emerged from the Automobile Club, and, as they finished the little
-repast, he turned suddenly upon his guest, in a burst of irritation.
-
-"Who are you?" he said. "And what does all this mean? Was I mistaken,
-when you first spoke to me, in thinking you a mere voyou? Surely not!
-You meant to rob me. You speak the argot of the fortifications. Yet here
-I find you discoursing on Michel Angelo as though you were the
-conservateur of the Uffizzi! What am I to think?"
-
-Bibi-la-Raie lit another cigarette, blew forth the smoke in a thin, gray
-wisp, and thrust his thumbs into the arm-holes of his velveteen
-waistcoat.
-
-"And _you_," he said, slowly, abandoning the familiar address he had
-been using, "who are _you_? No, you were not mistaken in thinking I
-meant to rob you. Such is my profession. But does a gentleman reply, in
-ordinary, to the summons of a thief by paying that thief a drink? Does
-he invite him to his apartment and cook a supper for him? What am _I_ to
-think?"
-
-There was a brief pause, and then he faced his host squarely.
-
-"Are you absolutely resolved to put an end to it all to-night?" he
-demanded.
-
-Cazeby made a small sign of bewilderment.
-
-"Ah, mon vieux," continued the other. "That, you know, is of no use with
-me. You ask me who I am. For one thing, I am one who has lived too long
-in touch with desperate men not to know the look in the eyes when the
-end has come. You think you are going to blow out your brains to-night."
-
-"Your wits are wandering; that's all," said Cazeby, compassionately.
-
-"Oh, far from it!" said Bibi-la-Raie, with a short laugh. "But one does
-not fondle one's revolver in the daytime without a good reason, nor
-does one leave it _on top_ of letters postmarked this morning unless one
-has been fondling it--quoi?"
-
-Cazeby was at the marqueterie desk in two strides, tugging at the upper
-right hand drawer. It was locked. He turned about slowly, and, half
-seating himself on the edge of the desk, surveyed his guest coolly.
-
-"The revolver is in your pocket," he said.
-
-"No," answered Bibi, with an air of cheerfulness. "I have one of my own.
-But the key is."
-
-"Why?" said Cazeby.
-
-Bibi helped himself to yellow chartreuse, and appeared to reflect.
-
-"I am not sure that I know why, myself," he said finally. "Perhaps,
-because you have done me a kindness and I would not like to have you
-burn your fingers in a moment of absent-mindedness. Perhaps, because we
-might disagree, and I should not care to take the chance of your
-shooting first!"
-
-He squinted at the liqueur, swallowed it slowly and with extreme
-appreciation, smacked his lips, and then, cocking his feet up on
-Cazeby's brass club fender, began to smoke again, staring into the
-dwindling fire. His host watched him in silence, until he should be
-ready to speak, which he presently began to do, with his cigarette
-drooping from the corner of his month and moving in time to his words.
-He had suddenly and curiously become a man of the world--of the grand
-monde--and his speech had shaken off all trace of slang, and was tinged
-instead with the faint club sarcasm which one hears in the glass
-card-room of the Volney or over coffee on the roof of the Automobile.
-Moreover, it was beautiful French. Not Mounet himself could have done
-better.
-
-"The only man to whom one should confide personal secrets," said
-Bibi-la-Raie, "is he whom one has never seen before and will, as is
-probable, never see again. I could tell you many things, Monsieur
-Cazeby, since that is your name,--I have seen your morning's mail, you
-know!--but, for the moment, let it suffice to say that the voyou who
-accosted you this evening is of birth as good as yours--pardon, but
-probably better! _Wein, weib, und gesang_--you know the saying. Add
-cards and the race-course, and you have, complete, the short ladder of
-five rungs down which I have been successful in climbing. I shall
-presume to the extent of supposing that you have just accomplished the
-same descent. One learns much thereby, but more after one has reached
-the ground. In many ways I am afraid experience has made me cynical, but
-in one it has taught me optimism. I have found, and I think I shall
-continue to find, that there is always something worth looking into
-around the next corner of even the darkest street. The rue des Sablons,
-for instance. It was very dark to-night, very damp, and very cold.
-Assuredly, as I turned into the avenue d'Eylau I had no reason to
-foresee a supper, Russian cigarettes, and chartreuse jaune. And yet, me
-voilà! Now what most of us lack--what you, in particular, seem to lack,
-Monsieur Cazeby--is the tenacity needful if one is to get to that next
-turning."
-
-"There are streets darker than the rue des Sablons," put in Anthony,
-falling in with the other's whimsical humor, "and that have no turning."
-
-"You speak from conjecture, not experience," said Bibi-la-Raie. "You
-can never have seen one."
-
-He glanced about the room, with the air of one making a mental
-inventory.
-
-"First," he added, "there come the pawnshop, the exterior boulevards,
-the somewhat insufficient shelter of the Pont Royal. No, you have not
-come to the last corner."
-
-"All that," said Cazeby, "is simply a matter of philosophy. Each of us
-has his own idea of what makes life worth the while. When that is no
-longer procurable, then that is the last corner."
-
-"For instance--?"
-
-"For instance, my own case. You have analyzed my situation sufficiently
-well--though when you said I was about to blow out my brains"--
-
-"It was a mere guess," interrupted Bibi, "founded on circumstantial
-evidence. Then I _thought_ so. Now I _know_ it."
-
-"Let us grant you are right," continued Cazeby, with a smile. "I have my
-own conception of what I require to make existence tolerable. It
-includes this apartment, or its equivalent, a horse, two servants, two
-clubs, and a sufficient income to dress, eat, entertain, and amuse
-myself in the manner of my class,--an extravagant and unreasonable
-standard, if you will, but such is my conviction. Now, granted that the
-moment has come when it is no longer possible for me to have these
-things, and when there is no prospect of my situation being bettered, I
-cannot conceive what advantage there can be in continuing to live."
-
-"I perceive you are a philosopher," said the other. "How about the
-religious view?"
-
-Cazeby shrugged his shoulders.
-
-"As to that," he said, "my religious views are, so far as I know, stored
-away in the little church which I was forced to attend three times on
-every Sunday of my boyhood. They did not come out with me on the last
-occasion, and I have never met them since."
-
-"Excellent!" said Bibi. "It is the same with me. But I think you are
-mistaken in your conviction of what makes life worth living. I had my
-own delusions in the time. But I have had a deal of schooling since
-then. There are many things as amusing as luxury--even on the exterior
-boulevards. Of course, actual experience is essential. One never knows
-what one would do under given conditions."
-
-He turned suddenly, and looked Cazeby in the eye.
-
-"What, for example, would you do if you were in my place?" he asked.
-
-"As you say, one never knows," said his host. "I _think_ that, in your
-place, I should improve the opportunity you find open, and carry out
-your late and laudable intention of robbing Monsieur Antoine Cazeby. I
-may be influenced by my knowledge that such a proceeding would not
-irritate or incommode him in the least, but that is what I think I
-should do.
-
-"I shall not need these things to-morrow," he added, indicating his
-surroundings with a gesture. "You were quite right about the pistol. As
-to your prospective booty, I regret to say that I spent my last sixty
-centimes on our cognac, but there is a remarkably fine scarf-pin on the
-table in my dressing-room."
-
-"A sapphire, surrounded by black pearls," put in the other. "You were
-rather long in cooking those eggs."
-
-"A sapphire, surrounded by black pearls," agreed Cazeby. "Yes, upon
-reflection, I am quite sure that that is what I should do."
-
-Bibi-la-Raie smiled pleasantly.
-
-"I am glad to find we are of one mind," he said. "Of course, mine was
-made up, but it is more agreeable to know that I am causing you no
-inconvenience. I suppose it is unnecessary to add that resistance will
-be quite useless. I have the only available revolver, and, moreover, I
-propose to tie you into this extremely comfortable chair. It is not," he
-added, "that I do not trust you, although our acquaintance is,
-unfortunately, too recent to inspire complete confidence. No, I have my
-convictions as well as you, Monsieur Cazeby, and one of them, curiously
-enough, is that, in spite of appearances, I am doing you a kindness in
-putting it out of your power, for tonight, at least, to do yourself an
-injury. Who knows? Perhaps, in the morning, you may find that there is
-something around the next corner, after all. If not, there is no harm
-done. Your servants come in early?"
-
-"At seven o'clock," said Anthony, briefly.
-
-"Exactly. And I will leave the key in the drawer."
-
-Bibi was expeditious. When he had bound Cazeby firmly, and with an art
-that showed practice, he disappeared into the dressing-room, returning
-in less than a minute with the sapphire scarf-pin and several other
-articles of jewelry in his hand.
-
-"I should like to add to these," he said, going to the book-case, "this
-little copy of Omar Khayyám. He is a favorite of mine. There is
-something about his philosophy which seems to accord with our own.
-But--'the bird of time has but a little way to flutter'"--He paused at
-the door.
-
-"Can I do anything for you before I go?" he inquired politely.
-
-"Be good enough to turn off the light," said the other. "The button is
-on the right of the door."
-
-"Good-night," said Bibi-la-Raie.
-
-"Good-night,--brother!" said Cazeby.
-
-Then he heard the door of the apartment close softly.
-
-Anthony was awakened from a restless sleep by the sound of its opening.
-Through the gap between the window draperies the gray light of the
-winter morning was creeping in. His wrists and ankles were aching from
-the pressure of the curtain cords with which he had been bound, and he
-was gratified when, after a brief interval, the salon door was opened in
-its turn and the invaluable Jules came in, in shirt-sleeves and long
-white apron, carrying a handful of letters.
-
-That impassive person was probably never nearer to being visibly
-surprised. For a breath he stopped, and the pupils of his round eyes
-dilated like those of a cat in a dim light. But his training stood him
-in good stead, and when he spoke his voice was as innocent of emotion as
-if he had been announcing dinner.
-
-"Monsieur desires to be untied?"
-
-Left to himself, Cazeby turned his attention to his letters, and from
-the top of the pile picked up a cablegram. He was still reflecting upon
-the singular experience of the night, in an attempt to analyze his
-present emotions. Was he in any whit changed by his enforced reprieve?
-He was glad to think not. Above all minor faults he abhorred vacillation
-of purpose. No, his situation and his purpose remained unaltered. But he
-was conscious, nevertheless, of an unwonted thrill at the thought that,
-but for the merest chance, it would have been for others to open the
-envelope he was even now fingering. Jules would already have found
-him--he wondered, with the shadow of a smile, whether Jules would still
-have been unsurprised!--and would have brought up the concierge and the
-police--
-
-Suddenly the cable message jumped at him through his revery as if, at
-that moment, the words had been instantaneously printed on what was
-before blank paper, and he realized that it was from his father's
-solicitor.
-
-    Mr. Cazeby died eight o'clock this evening after making will your
-    favor whole property. Waiting instructions.
-
-  MILLIKEN.
-
-Anthony straightened himself with a long sigh, and, putting aside the
-curtain, looked out across the mansardes, wet and gleaming under a thin
-rain. His hand trembled a little on the heavy velvet, and he frowned at
-it, and, going across to the table, poured himself out a swallow of
-brandy.
-
-With the glass at his lips he paused, his eyes upon the chair where
-Bibi-la-Raie had sat and wherein he himself had passed five hours. Then,
-very ceremoniously, he bowed and dipped his glass toward an imaginary
-occupant.
-
-"Merci, monsieur!" he said.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-The Only Son of His Mother
-
-
-IN the limited understanding of Pépin dwelt one great Fact, in the
-shadow of which all else shrank to insignificance, and that Fact was the
-existence of Comte Victor de Villersexel, the extremely tall and
-extraordinarily imposing person who was, first of all, Officier de la
-Légion d'Honneur, second, Membre de l'Académie Française, and, lastly,
-father to Pépin himself. It must be acknowledged that to the more
-observing of his limited kinsfolk and extensive acquaintance the clay
-feet of Pépin's idol were distinctly in evidence. How he had contrived
-to attain to the proud eminence which he occupied was, in the earlier
-days of his publicity, a matter of curious conjecture and not
-over-plausible explanation. Certainly no inherent merit or ability it
-was which formed the first step of the stairway he had climbed. In
-diplomacy the Comte de Villersexel had never bettered his first
-appointment as second secretary of legation at Belgrade; in literature
-his achievements were limited to one ponderous work on feudalism,
-remarkable chiefly for its surpassing futility; and in society his sole
-claim to consideration lay in his marriage to a Brazilian heiress, who
-had died within the year, leaving her husband an income of two hundred
-thousand francs--and Pépin. In all this it was difficult to find a
-sufficient reason for the crimson button and the green embroidered coat,
-unless it was that the family of de Villersexel went back to the
-Crusades. That is not always a prudent thing for a family to do, but the
-present instance was an exception.
-
-Born to the heritage of a name which his predecessors had made notable,
-Comte Victor was one of those whose greatness is thrust upon them
-rather than achieved, one of the bubbles in the ferment of Paris which
-their very levity brings to the top, to show rainbow tints in the
-sunlight of publicity. It is probable that no one was more surprised
-than de Villersexel himself at the honors which fell to his share, but
-one thing even the most contemptuous had, perforce, to concede. Once
-secure of his laurels, he wore them with a confidence that was akin to
-conviction. His reserve was iron-clad, his dignity stupendous. It
-required considerable time for new acquaintances to probe the secret of
-his insufficiency. Victor de Villersexel was, as the irreverent young
-military attaché at the American Embassy once said of him, "a dazzling
-imitation of the real thing."
-
-But to Pépin the idol was an idol without flaw. Through what shrewd
-appreciation of occasional words and chance comments he had contrived to
-grasp the significance of that speck of scarlet upon the Count's lapel
-and that apparently simple phrase, "de l'Académie Française," which, in
-formal introductions, was wont to follow his father's name, must be
-numbered among childhood's mysteries. But before he was seven, Pépin
-had solved these problems for himself, and the results of his reasoning
-were awestruck admiration and blind allegiance to the will of this
-wonderful creature who never smiled. His own small individuality was so
-completely overshadowed by that of his father that in the latter's
-presence the child was scarcely noticeable, dressed in his sober
-blouses, and creeping about the stately rooms of the great apartment in
-the avenue d'Iéna with an absolutely noiseless step. He was all brown,
-was Pépin: brown bare legs, and brown hands, very small and slender,
-brown hair, cropped short and primly parted, and deep brown eyes,
-eloquent of unspoken and unspeakable things. He was earnest, his tutor
-said, earnest and willing, but not bright, poor Pépin! He spoke English,
-to be sure, with a curious accent caught from his Cornish nurse, but
-that was due not so much to ability as to enforced association. In his
-French grammar and such simple arithmetic as was required of him he was
-slow and often stupid. But he was rarely scolded, and never punished.
-Once, indeed, the Comte had been about to strike him for some trifling
-fault, but somehow the blow, for which Pépin stood waiting, never fell.
-
-"He is like his mother," the légionnaire had muttered, as he turned
-away, "an imbecile--but"--
-
-Pépin, catching the unfinished phrase, grew sick with a great
-discouragement, mingled with profound pity for the man before him. It
-must be a dreadful thing for one so famous to be the father of an
-imbecile! From that day on the child was more inconspicuous than before.
-
-Deliberately affected in the first instance, what was known in society
-as de Villersexel's "academic manner" came in course of time to be
-second nature. Practice made perfect the chill reserve which was
-originally assumed as a precaution against possible discovery of his
-vapidity; and as the image of what the academician had been, before his
-election, grew dimmer in society's recollection, his impressive
-solemnity, barely disguised by a veneer of superficial courtesy, did not
-fail of its effect. He was spoken of as a man in whom much lay below the
-surface, and his more recent acquaintances coupled their estimate of his
-character with the proverbial profundity of still waters, and the
-familiar gloved fist of steel. Others, more observant, smiled at the
-similes, but did not go to the pains of proving them ill applied. One of
-the most characteristic things about the Comte de Villersexel was that
-he inspired neither championship nor antagonism.
-
-With all this, he was consistent, with that curious obstinacy which is
-sometimes made manifest in the shallowest natures. His rôle, once
-assumed, was, as we have said, played to perfection and never laid
-aside. The domestic threshold, which is, for the majority of men, a kind
-of uncloaking room, saw never an alteration, even of voice or
-expression, in his pose. The household affairs were regulated with
-almost military precision, and once a day, at noon, Pépin and his father
-met in the large salon,--the Comte in his tall satin stock and frock
-coat, and Pépin fresh from the careful hands of his nurse. They shook
-hands gravely, and then waited in silence, until the maître d'hôtel
-announced breakfast,--
-
-"Ces messieurs sont servis!"
-
-What meals they were, to be sure, those déjeuners, solemnly served, and
-more solemnly eaten, under the rigid observation of three menservants;
-de Villersexel, with his thin lips, his cold eyes, and his finely
-pointed gray mustache, barely moving save to raise his fork or break a
-morsel from his roll, and Pépin, all brown, perched like a mouse on the
-edge of a great chair, and nibbling at tiny scraps of food with downcast
-eyes!
-
-At the very end, as the Comte was about to push back his chair, he would
-invariably raise his glass of champagne and Pépin his, wherein a few
-drops of red wine turned the Evian to a pale heliotrope, and together
-they would glance toward the full-length portrait which hung above the
-mantel.
-
-"Ta mère!" said the Comte.
-
-"Maman!" replied Pépin.
-
-And so they drank the toast of tribute to the dead.
-
-After breakfast, the father would read for an hour to the child, and
-Pépin, seated on another large chair, would listen, perfectly
-motionless, striving desperately to understand the long sentences which
-fell in flawlessly pronounced succession from the Academician's lips. De
-Villersexel had a fairly clear recollection of what books had been the
-companions of his childhood, and these he purchased in the rarest
-editions, and clothed in the richest bindings, and read to Pépin: only
-his remembrance did not extend to a very distinct differentiation
-between seven and fifteen, for it was at the latter age that he read
-"Télémaque" to himself, and at the former that he read "Télémaque" to
-his son.
-
-Then would come a second formal handshake, and Pépin, pausing an instant
-at the door to make a slow, stiff bow, would creep off down the long
-corridor to the nursery, and the Comte turn again to his papers with a
-consciousness of paternal duty done.
-
-How Pépin contrived to spend the long hours which his daily walk and his
-short lessons left at his disposal, only Pépin knew. He talked rarely
-with the servants,--"a thing," his father told him, "that no gentleman
-would wish to do;" and other children never entered at the de
-Villersexel door, "for," said the Comte, "children sow unfortunate ideas
-and spread disease."
-
-But there were compensations. One was the full-length portrait over the
-chimney-piece in the dining-room. Pépin had no conception of how great
-was the signature it bore, or of the fabulous sum which it had cost, but
-he knew it was very beautiful, and, besides, it was his mother,--the
-sad-eyed, pale dream-mother he had never seen.
-
-The portrait of the Comtesse de Villersexel had been one of the
-sensations at the Salon of seven years before. The young Brazilian was
-represented at the moment when the bow left the strings of her violin,
-and on her lips and in her eyes yet dwelt the spirit of the music she
-had been playing. A clinging gown of ivory-white silk emphasized rather
-than hid the lines of her figure, of strangely girlish slenderness, but
-straight and proud as that of a young empress. In its frailty lay the
-keynote of the portrait's charm. It was like a reflection in clear water
-that a touch might disturb, or a young anemone that a breath might
-destroy,--not a picture before which people disputed and proffered noisy
-opinions, but one which imposed silence, like the barely audible note of
-a distant Angelus. It stood before the memory of its original, as it had
-been a spirit, finger on lip, at the doorway of a tomb.
-
-This portrait of his mother dominated the life of Pépin like the
-half-remembered substance of a dream. He had known nothing of her in the
-life, for the breath of being had passed from her lips to his at the
-moment of his birth, but with the intuition of childhood, he seemed to
-know that this was one who would have loved him and whom he would have
-loved. He spent hours before the picture, silent, spell-bound, gazing
-into the deep and tender eyes that shone with the same pathetic pleading
-that lay so eloquently in his own, and the only outbreak of rage which
-had ever stirred his simple serenity was on one occasion when his nurse
-had found him thus absorbed, and, receiving no response to her summons,
-half alarmed and half indignant, reproached him with wasting his time
-before a stupid picture. Then Pépin had whirled around upon her, his
-lips compressed, his small brown hands clenched, and a look in his eyes
-that terrified even the stout and prosaic Cornish-woman out of her
-accustomed attitude of fat complacency.
-
-"A stupid picture?" he stormed. "But it is my mother, do you hear, my
-mother! You are a wicked woman, Elizabeth!"
-
-It was when Pépin was nearing his seventh birthday that a wonderful
-thing happened. The Comte was giving a great reception to the Russian
-Ambassador, and on an impulse which, perhaps, even he himself could
-hardly have explained, sent for his son. The child was aroused from
-sleep, and, but half awake and totally uncomprehending, was submitted by
-the worthy Elizabeth to a veritable cyclone of washing, combing, and
-brushing, and finally, clad in spotless duck, was led by the maître
-d'hôtel down the long corridor to the door of the grand salon, which, at
-his approach, swung open under the touch of one of the under servants.
-Pépin, dazed by the radiance of many lights and a great clamor of
-voices, paused on the threshold, and, with a swift intuition of what was
-demanded of him, made his slow, stiff bow.
-
-"Le Vicomte de Villersexel," said the maître d'hôtel in a loud voice at
-his side, and Pépin, seeing his father beckon to him from the group
-where he stood, slipped close to him through the crowd, and was
-surprised to find that the Comte took his hand in his, and bent forward
-to say in a whisper,--
-
-"You are to hear Pazzini play the violin. That is why I sent for you.
-He was your mother's teacher."
-
-Like all that had gone before, what followed was to Pépin like a
-dream--a beautiful dream, never to be forgotten. A great hush had
-settled upon the brilliant assemblage, for even in Paris there are still
-things which society will check its chatter to hear, and the tall,
-gray-bearded man, consulting with the pianist over there, was Pazzini,
-the great Pazzini, whose services had been more than once commanded by
-royalty in vain. De Villersexel had drawn Pépin nearer to the piano in
-the brief interval, and as the opening chords of the introduction were
-struck, he found himself but a few feet from the famous violinist, his
-hand still linked in that of his father, his eyes fixed in wonder upon
-this unknown man who had been his mother's teacher.
-
-The first low note of the violin fell upon the silence like a faint, far
-voice, heard across a wide reach of calm water, and, as the marvelous
-melody swelled into the fullness of its motif, something new and strange
-stirred in Pépin's heart, mounted and tightened in his throat, ran
-tingling to his finger-tips. Through his half parted lips the breath
-tiptoed in and out, and his deep eyes grew every instant, could he have
-known it, more like those of the picture that he loved. So he stood
-entranced, seeing, hearing nothing but Pazzini and Pazzini's violin,
-till the sonata drew imperceptibly toward its close. Like the child, the
-great violinist seemed to be unconscious of all that surrounded him.
-Slowly, tenderly, he led his music through the last phrases, until he
-paused before the supreme high sweetness of the final note. How it was
-he could never have told, but, in that infinitesimal fraction of time,
-the training of years played him false. He knew that his finger-tip
-slipped an incalculable atom of space, but it was too late. The bow was
-on the string, and the imperceptibly flatted note swelled, sank, and
-died away, unrecognized, he thought, with a throb of thankfulness, by
-any save his master ear. And then--
-
-"_Ah-h!_" said Pépin.
-
-The long ripple of applause drowned the child's whisper, and for an
-instant the terror in his heart grew still, believing his exclamation
-unheard. Then it leaped to life again, for Pazzini was looking at him,
-his bow hovering above the instrument like his mother's in the picture.
-In the mysterious solitude of the crowded room the eyes of these two
-met, each reading the other's as they had been an open book, and in
-Pépin's was the pain of a wounded animal, and in Pazzini's a great
-wonder and sorrow, as of one who has hurt without intention, and mutely
-pleads for pardon.
-
-As the applause ceased, the violinist turned to the Comte, and pointed
-to Pépin with his bow.
-
-"Who is that child?" he asked.
-
-The thaw in the de Villersexel's "academic manner" had been but
-momentary. With the renewed hum of conversation he was himself again,
-pale, proud, and immovable.
-
-"It is my son, Pépin," he replied, with stiff courtesy. "How shall I
-thank you for your playing? It was the essence of perfection, as it has
-ever been, and ever will be."
-
-But he could not know, as he turned away with Pépin, that in his heart
-the violinist said, "Her boy! I understand!"
-
-The miracle of his summons to the salon that night was not, as it
-appeared, the actual climax of existence, for a new marvel awaited
-Pépin on the morrow. The doors of the dining-room had barely slid
-together behind them when the Comte turned to him.
-
-"Yesterday was Christmas," he said.
-
-Pépin made no reply. In fact, the stupor which descended upon him at
-this infraction of the usual routine of life effectually deprived him,
-for the moment, of the power of speech.
-
-"It was Christmas," repeated the Comte, "and because of that you are
-invited to a--a--soirée to-day. Do you know the English children on the
-entresol?"
-
-"I have seen them," faltered Pépin, "but we have never spoken. You told
-me"--
-
-"I have changed my mind," broke in his father. "Monsieur
-'Ameelton"--stumbling desperately over the English name--"has asked me
-to let you visit them this afternoon, and I have said yes to him.
-Elizabeth will dress you. Now you may go."
-
-Barely conscious that Pépin had added a timid "Merci, papa!" to his
-customary bow, de Villersexel turned to his writing-table, as the door
-closed behind the little Vicomte, and, unlocking a drawer, took
-therefrom a letter which had come to him that morning, and, burying
-himself in his arm-chair, proceeded to its careful reperusal. It was in
-the fine Italian handwriting of Pazzini, and ran as follows:--
-
-    MY DEAR FRIEND,--This is to be at once a confession and a prayer.
-    What would you say if I were to tell you that Pazzini--the flawless
-    Pazzini, as men are pleased to call me!--murdered, yes, murdered
-    last night's sonata by flatting that wonderful final note? Oh, it
-    was a very little thing, and passed unnoticed, for they are stupid,
-    these wise people who listen to me, and they did not hear. Even you,
-    my poor friend, even you could not detect that tiny flaw that was a
-    monstrous crime. No, of all who listened, there were but two that
-    understood what I had done. I was one of these, and the other was
-    your son--Pépin.
-
-    Do you know what that means, Monsieur le Comte de Villersexel? Do
-    you understand that it is but one ear in millions that is so finely
-    keyed that this minutest deviation could wound it like the most
-    utter discord? And I wounded him, your Pépin. I saw it in his eyes.
-    Therefore I tell you--I, who know--that he is a genius, a genius
-    greater than his mother, and that, like her, he must be my pupil. I
-    have none other now. It shall be the work of my old age to make him
-    the greatest violinist of his day. Give him to me, my friend, if not
-    for his own sake, then for hers!
-
-  PAZZINI.
-
-Prime feature of all the year to the little Hamiltons, on the entresol,
-was their Christmas tree. It arrived in some unknowable way in the
-corner of the grand salon on the morning after Christmas, and, from the
-moment of its advent, the doors were sealed, and only the privileged
-world of grown-ups went in and out, and could see the splendors within.
-Inch by inch the hands of the tall clock in the antichambre dragged
-themselves around successive circles toward the hour of revelation, and,
-keyed to the snapping point of frenzy, the slender figure of George and
-the round, squat form of John stood motionless before the inexorable
-timepiece, awaiting the stroke of four. This suspense was harrowing
-enough in itself, and only made bearable by recourse to occasional mad
-caperings up and down the hall, and whoops of mingled ecstasy and
-exasperation. What was worse was the delay in the arrival of their
-guests. Later, the latter would be an indispensable part of the
-festivities: just now they were mere impediments in the path of bliss.
-Even the grown-ups were more considerate, and came on time. Well they
-might, since they were granted immediate admission to the enchanted
-room, and came out with maddening accounts of what was to be seen
-therein. They sat about the small salon, and talked the stupid things of
-which they were so fond of talking,--Hamilton, tall, straight, and with
-an amused twinkle in his eyes, while he watched his wife vainly
-endeavoring to calm her sons as they foamed and pranced at the sealed
-doors; Miss Kedgwick, who wrote books, and invited boys to tea; Monsieur
-de Bercy, who was odd because he spoke no English, but who cut heads out
-of nuts and apples, and drew droll pictures on scraps of paper; Miss
-Lys, who played the piano for "Going to Jerusalem;" and Mr. Sedgely, who
-talked very low in her ear, and said the great trouble with "Going to
-Jerusalem" was that the players couldn't go there in good
-earnest--whatever that might mean.
-
-But would the doors _never_ open?
-
-The children arrived by twos and threes, shook hands limply with their
-elders, greeted their small hosts with embarrassed ceremony, and then,
-as if suddenly inoculated with the latter's madness, commenced to foam
-and prance in their turn before the unyielding portals. Last of all came
-Pépin, all brown, who bowed at the door, and then in turn to each of
-those who spoke to him.
-
-Suddenly, with a shout, the children burst through the opened doorway,
-and gathered in voluble groups about the glistening miracle which shone
-like a hundred stars in the gathering twilight. For a half hour all was
-chaos, and Pépin, standing a little apart, marveled and was still.
-Dancing figures whirled about him, bearing boxes of soldiers, toy
-villages, dolls, trumpets, drums. The air was full of the wailing of
-whistles, the cries of mechanical animals, and the clamor of childish
-comment.
-
-But to Pépin even the dazzling novelty of his surroundings was as
-nothing, compared to one object which drew and fixed his attention from
-the first instant, as the needle is held rigid by the magnetic pole.
-High up upon the tree, clearly outlined against its background of deep
-green, and gleaming gorgeously with fresh varnish in the light of the
-surrounding candles, hung a violin--not one like Monsieur Pazzini's,
-large and of a dull brown, but small--a violin for Pépin himself to
-hold, and new, and bright, and beyond all things beautiful and to be
-desired!
-
-Then his attention was distracted for a moment. From the time of his
-entrance the eyes of Miss Lys had followed the dignified and silent
-little Frenchman, and where Miss Lys went Mr. Sedgely followed, so that
-now the two were so close that they brushed his elbow, and Pépin,
-turning with an instinctive "Pardon," saw that they were watching him
-curiously. When, with a feeling of restlessness under their scrutiny, he
-looked once more towards the tree, the violin was gone! An instant
-later, he saw it in the madly sawing hands of George Hamilton, dancing
-like a faun down the room, and he was conscious of a great faintness,
-such as he had known but once before,--when he had cut his hand, and the
-doctor had sewed it, as Elizabeth sewed rips in cloth.
-
-"He is adorable," said Ethel Lys, "but I have never seen a sadder face.
-What eyes!--two brown poems."
-
-"He makes my heart ache," answered Sedgely, slowly, "and yet I could
-hardly say why. Ask him what he wants off the tree."
-
-The girl was on her knees by Pépin before the phrase was fairly
-finished.
-
-"What didst thou have for Christmas?" she asked, falling unconsciously
-into that tender second singular which slips so naturally from the lips
-at sight of a French child.
-
-"I?--but nothing," replied the little Vicomte, pleased out of his
-anguish by the sound of his own tongue amid the babel of English
-phrases.
-
-The girl at his side looked at him with so frank an astonishment that he
-felt it necessary to explain.
-
-"I have my gifts on the day of the year. Christmas is an English fête,
-and I am French. So I have nothing."
-
-"Nothing!" replied Miss Lys blankly, and then, of a sudden, slipped her
-arm around him, and drew his head close to her own.
-
-"What dost thou see on the tree that thou wouldst like to have?" she
-asked, eagerly. "What is there, dearest?"
-
-And, at the unwonted tenderness of her question, the floodgates of
-Pépin's reserve suddenly gave way. Placing his hands upon the girl's
-shoulders, he searched her face with his eyes.
-
-"If there were another violin"--he began, and, faltering, stopped, and
-turned away to hide the tears that would come, strive as he might to
-hold them back.
-
-"Did you _hear_ him--and _see_ him?" queried Miss Lys, a minute after,
-furiously backing Sedgely into a corner by the lapels of his frock coat.
-"You _did_--you _know_ you did! And you are still here? Lord! _What_ a
-man!"
-
-Sedgely shrugged his shoulders with a pretense of utter bewilderment.
-
-"What must I do?" he inquired, blankly.
-
-"_Do?_" stormed Miss Lys. "_Do?_ Why, scour Paris till you find a violin
-precisely like that one George is doing his best to saw in half. Here!
-Clément is at the door with the trois-quarts. Tell him to drive you like
-mad to the Printemps--to the big place opposite the Grand Hotel--to the
-Louvre--to the Bon Marché--anywhere--everywhere! But inside of one hour
-I must have that violin!"
-
-When Sedgely returned, thirty minutes later, violin in hand, Ethel met
-him at the door.
-
-"They are all at tea," she said. "We'll call Pépin out."
-
-She placed the violin in the hands of the Vicomte without a word, and
-without a word Pépin took it from her. The instrument slid to his cheek
-as if impelled by its own desire.
-
-"Canst thou play?" she asked him.
-
-"No," said Pépin, "and, besides, it is but a toy. I do not want to hear
-it. But I like to feel it--here." And he moved his cheek caressingly
-against the cheap varnish.
-
-"Don't you think you might"--began Sedgely, and then found himself on
-the other side of the door, and Miss Lys facing him with an air of
-hopeless resignation.
-
-"I--act-u-ally--be-lieve," she said, with an effort at calm, "that you
-were going to ask him to thank me for it!"
-
-"Why not?" said Sedgely.
-
-"_Lord!_ What a man!" said Miss Lys.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-In the dining-room of the de Villersexel apartment the Comte paced
-slowly to and fro, with bent head, and fingers that locked and unlocked
-behind his back. In the heavy chair before the fire, Pazzini seemed
-shrunk to but half his normal size, a mere rack of clothes, two lean
-white hands, that gripped the dragons' heads upon the arms of the
-fauteuil, and a pale stern face that looked into the smouldering embers,
-and beyond--immeasurably beyond.
-
-"How did it happen?" he asked, after a time.
-
-"Shall I ever know?" broke out de Villersexel irritably. "Pépin had been
-to a children's party below there on the entresol, at the English
-lawyer's. He and his imbecile of a bonne were entering the ascenseur.
-She goes from spasm to spasm, so there is no telling. But it seems they
-had given Pépin a toy--the English--and she wished to carry it and he
-refused. So between them--God knows how!--it slipped from their hands as
-the ascenseur cleared the gate--and Pépin stooped to catch it--and fell.
-He died at midnight."
-
-There was a long silence, broken only by the snapping of the logs in the
-fireplace and the almost inaudible footfalls of the Comte on the thick
-carpet. Then--
-
-"He was his mother's son," said Pazzini.
-
-"And mine," replied the other. "The last of the de Villersexel."
-
-He paused abruptly by a little table, and took up a handful of
-splintered wood and tangled catgut.
-
-"The toy that killed him," he added in a low voice, and hurled the
-fragments over Pazzini's shoulder into the embers. A thin tongue of
-flame caught at them as they fell, and broke into a brilliant blaze.
-Pazzini leaned forward suddenly and peered at the little conflagration.
-
-"A violin," he said.
-
-"A violin," echoed the Comte. "Think of dying for a violin!"
-
-Pazzini made no reply. His eyes had met those of the portrait over the
-chimney--and he was smiling.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-The Tuition of Dodo Chapuis
-
-
-THE situation was best summed up in the epigram of little Sacha Vitzoff,
-the second secretary at the Russian Embassy, who said that there was
-room enough in Paris for two and a half millions of people _and_
-Gabrielle de Poirier, or for two and a half millions of people _and_
-Thaïs de Trémonceau, but that even the place de la Concorde was not
-sufficiently wide for Gabrielle and Thaïs to pass without treading on
-each others' toes.
-
-It was a rivalry of long standing, nourished by innumerable petty
-jealousies and carefully treasured affronts. Gabrielle was tall and
-very slender, with a clear, pale complexion, and hair of a curious dark
-bronze that in certain lights showed a hint of olive green. So Thaïs
-called her the Asparagus Woman--la Femme Asperge. Thaïs was short and
-anything but slim, and brown of hair, eyes, and skin. So Gabrielle
-called her the Mud-Ball--la Boule de Boue. And neither appellation was
-pleasing to the object thereof.
-
-These two great luminaries of the Parisian demi-monde, blazing crimson
-with mutual jealousy, followed, for six months of the year, a kind of
-right-triangular orbit, comprising the restaurant of Armenonville, the
-race-course of Auteuil, and the Café de Paris, and embracing divers
-other points of common interest,--the Palais de Glace, of a Sunday
-afternoon, the tea-room of the Elysée Palace Hotel, the Folies-Marigny,
-the Salon, and the Horse-Show; and, individually, Gabrielle's apartment
-on the avenue Kléber, and Thaïs's little hôtel on the rue de la
-Faisanderie. Between the last two, as regards situation, cost, and
-general equipment, there was not a straw's weight of difference, save in
-the estimation of their respective occupants. The apartment had been
-rented for a term of years, and furnished and decorated, and supplied
-with four servants, by a Russian millionaire, and the same was true of
-the hotel in every, save one, detail,--the de Trémonceau's millionaire
-was a Brazilian. For the rest, Gabrielle was of a literary bent, and
-wrote occasional feuilletons for the Journal, and short stories,
-staggering with emotion, for the Gil Blas Illustré: something which, in
-the opinion of Thaïs, was stupid and all there was of the most ignoble.
-Thaïs herself was a sporadic feature at the Folies-Bergère, where she
-sang songs of a melody and a propriety equally doubtful, bunching up her
-silk skirts at the end of the refrain, with her side toward the
-audience, and winking, with brazen effrontery, at a spot midway between
-the heads of the bald gentleman in the third row and the wide-eyed
-little St. Cyrien across the aisle. The which Gabrielle found to be the
-trade of a camel.
-
-Each had her horses, and her carriage, in which she was whirled three
-times up and three times down the allée des Acacias each noon of the
-season, and again at five o'clock, and each spent hours daily in the rue
-de la Paix, trailing long skirts of tulle and satin before the mirrors
-of the men-milliners, and pricing strings of pearls in the private
-offices of servile jewelers. Each was deftly veneered, as it were, with
-the bearing of the grande dame, except at the moment when she chanced to
-pass the other, or refer to her in the course of conversation. Then the
-irrepressible past came suddenly to the fore in a word or a gesture,
-which babbled of Gabrielle's early experience in the workroom of the
-very Paquin she was now patronizing, and of Thaïs's salad days as
-assistant to a florist on the grand boulevards.
-
-Honors were even between the two when Dodo Chapuis first came up to pay
-homage to the queen capital, of which he had been dreaming for four
-years. He was only nineteen, the son of a great manufacturer of Arles,
-who had lived severely and frugally, and, dying a widower, left a cool
-half million of francs to be divided between Dodo and his sister Louise.
-There seems to have been no trace of doubt in the mind of either as to
-the respective uses to which their dazzling inheritances should be
-applied. Louise promptly accepted a young playwright with a record of
-fourteen rejected revues, to whose suit her father had been most
-violently opposed; and Dodo, as promptly, took out a letter of credit
-for fifty thousand francs and departed for Paris on the morning
-following the funeral.
-
-The story of Dodo's first six weeks in the capital is the story of full
-a million of his kind. A pocket filled with gold and a mind emptied of
-responsibility; youth, health, and craving for the fruit of the Tree of
-Knowledge,--these foundations given, the aspect of the structure erected
-thereupon is inevitable.
-
-Dodo made his début at the Moulin Rouge at eight o'clock on the evening
-of his first day in Paris. Despite appearances, this did not mean that
-he was wholly a fool. One must remember that it was the evening of the
-first day. He walked leagues, it seemed to him, around the crowded
-promenade, half stifled by an atmosphere composed of equal parts of
-stale beer, cigarette smoke, and cheap perfumery. He watched a quadrille
-made up of shrill shrieks, rouge, and an abundance of white lace. He
-tossed balls into numbered holes in a long board, and won a variety of
-prizes of pseudo-Japanese make, which he immediately presented to the
-exponents of the aforesaid quadrille. He squandered a louis in firing a
-rifle at paper rabbits passing in monotonous succession over three feet
-of sickly green hillside. He bought a citronade for a girl with blue
-eyes, and a menthe glaciale for another with brown; and, at the end,
-rebuffing the proffered services of a guide, who, by reason of his new
-tan overcoat, and to his intense disgust, addressed him in English, he
-returned to the Hôtel du Rhin in a state of profound despondency.
-
-But that, as we have said, was on his first evening. On the third, he
-had engaged a table in advance at Maxim's, and supped in state on
-caviar, langouste à l'Américaine, and Ruinart. _And_ with Antoinette
-Féria. It was not much of an achievement, but it showed progress.
-
-On the following day Dodo went to Auteuil, won twelve francs fifty on a
-ten-franc bet, and dined at Armenonville. It was here that Suzanne
-Derval looked cross-eyed at him, fingered her pearls, and remarked that
-he had beaux yeux. Dodo might be said to be fairly launched.
-
-It would be superfluous to note the further stages of his initiation.
-They were strictly conventional, and, under the circumstances, it was
-remarkable that, at the end of six weeks, he had drawn but seven
-thousand francs on his letter of credit, and still retained his
-enthusiasms. It is not every one from the provinces for whom Paris
-reserves her supreme surprise for the forty-third day.
-
-It chanced to be the first evening of the de Trémonceau's annual
-engagement at the Folies-Bergère, and for three days the eloquent legend
-"La Belle Thaïs" had been glaring at the boulevard throngs in huge block
-letters from the posters on the colonnes Morris. Dodo, meanwhile, had
-made many friends among men of tastes similar to his own--a feat which
-is curiously easy of accomplishment in Paris, when one has forty-odd
-thousand francs and a desire for company. Of these was Sacha Vitzoff,
-who, on occasion, had five louis, and invariably spent them at once upon
-his friends, before he should be tempted to put them to a worse use.
-
-So Sacha bought the box, and they sat, five of them, through two hours
-of biograph, and trained dogs, and Neapolitan ballet, until the liveried
-attendants thrust cards bearing the number 19 into rococo frames at the
-side of the proscenium, and the orchestra plunged into Sarasate's
-"Zapateado," and various stout gentlemen wrestled with mechanical
-devices for supplying opera-glasses, and, conquering, sat back in their
-seats and grunted. Then the drop rose upon a pale pink and gray libel on
-Versailles, and La Belle Thaïs flashed out from the wing, with a red
-silk scarf bound about her head and a toreador's hat perched on one
-side.
-
-There was no denying it. Despite her rouge, despite her four decades (an
-eternity in Paris), La Thaïs was very beautiful. Dodo forgot his
-cigarette, his champagne, and his companions. He followed every swish of
-her spangled skirts, every click of her castanets, every tap of her
-pointed shoes, every movement of her gleaming shoulders and her lithe,
-white arms. This, then, was the reality of his dream, the soul and
-substance of his vision, the essence of the great city that had drawn
-him like a magnet from his humdrum bourgeois life in the suburbs of
-Arles,--the ineffable, eternal Woman, poured like oil upon the
-smouldering fire of boyish imagination! His slender hands gripped the
-plush of the box-rail feverishly, his eyes widened and brightened, his
-lips parted, and his breath came short. Then, suddenly, there was a
-final clash of tambourines and castanets which brought La Belle Thaïs to
-a standstill, her head flung back, and one arm high in air!
-
-"She has charm--even now!" said Sacha, emptying his glass.
-
-Three days later, it was known to all the world that concerns itself
-with such things that Dodo Chapuis was latest in the train of victims to
-the fascinations of Thaïs de Trémonceau. One cannot pretend to say what
-she saw in him to divert her attention from richer and maturer men. He
-was handsome--yes--but the Comte d'Ys was handsomer. He was rich, as
-such things go, and for the moment. But he had no wit, poor Dodo--and as
-for money, which, after all, is the only other thing which counts in the
-demi-monde, what were forty thousand francs to one authorized to draw,
-_ad libitum_, upon a Brazilian multi-millionaire? No, evidently, it was
-one of those strange whims to which the slaves of self-interest are
-sometimes subject. The de Trémonceau had nothing to gain, and everything
-to lose, for, certainly, her Brazilian miché would have been ill pleased
-to know that Dodo Chapuis was riding daily six times up and six times
-down the allée des Acacias in the victoria of La Belle Thaïs. As it
-chanced, he was in Buenos Ayres. Still, he might return without warning.
-He had an ignoble habit of doing that. But when those sufficiently
-intimate suggested this to Thaïs she only laughed, and sang a snatch
-from La Belle Hélène:--
-
-    "_Si par mégarde il se hasarde
-      De rentrer chez lui tout à coup,
-    Il est le maître, mais c'est, peut-être,
-      Imprudent et de mauvais goût!_"
-
-As for Dodo, he was in Elysium. He was singularly innocent, Dodo, with
-his smooth russet hair, and his steady gray eyes, and his straight, fine
-nose, and his sensitive, patrician mouth; and, believe it or not as you
-will, he cherished the project of marrying Thaïs de Trémonceau! He had
-fed himself on the poetry of Alfred de Musset, giving doubtful words and
-phrases his own interpretation, from lack of experience, and, despite
-the lesson of "Don Paez" and "La Nuit d'Octobre," he believed in the
-power of trust to hold another true. Alas, he was hopelessly
-conventional! There is no one of us poor moths who is content with
-seeing his fellow singe his wings. No, each must plunge into the radius
-of consuming heat and learn its peril for himself. All of which is, no
-doubt, a wise ruling. For if experience could be handed down from father
-to son, and accepted on its face value, then the child of the third or
-fourth generation would be a demi-god, or even a full one, and there
-would be no further attraction in heaven, and no further menace in hell.
-The which morsel of morality may be allowed to pass, if only for
-contrast's sake. We were speaking of Thaïs de Trémonceau.
-
-Dodo's Elysium lasted longer than such mirages are wont to do. For a
-full month he basked in the sultry sunshine of the de Trémonceau's
-smiles, dined almost nightly in the rue de la Faisanderie, occupied a
-fauteuil at the Folies while she whisked her spangled skirts and sang
-"Holà! Holà!" to Sarasate's music, supped with her afterwards at the
-Café de Paris or Paillard's, and paid the addition, and tipped the
-garçon, and the maître d'hôtel and the chef d'orchestre, as liberally as
-if he had had a million francs instead of a dwindling twenty thousand.
-And the delirium might have lasted even longer had it not been for
-Louise Chapuis.
-
-No one ever knew who told. There is a wireless telegraphy in such cases
-which defies detection. Suffice it to say that, one morning, the Hôtel
-de Choiseuil numbered Mademoiselle Chapuis among its guests, and that,
-as this name was inscribed upon the register, the Fates rang up the
-curtain on the final act of the brief comedy of the tuition of Dodo
-Chapuis.
-
-Where, when, and how Louise contrived, in three days of Paris, to
-strike, full and firm-fingered, the keynote of the situation remained a
-mystery which none of those concerned was capable of solving. In all the
-capital there was but one person competent to deal conclusively with the
-situation. That person was Gabrielle de Poirier, and to Gabrielle de
-Poirier Louise Chapuis applied.
-
-There could have been no stranger meeting than this between the young
-Arlésienne, with her blue eyes, and her embarrassed hands, and her gown
-that all the plage turned to look at, because it was in the fashion of
-more than yester-year, and the cold, stately leader of the demi-monde,
-with her air of languid ease, her shimmer of diamonds, and her slow,
-tired voice, roused to interest for the moment by this singularly sudden
-and imperative demand upon her good-will and ingenuity.
-
-Louise found Gabrielle half buried among the cushions of a great divan,
-with a yellow-backed novel perched, tent-like, upon her knee. For once,
-the demi-mondaine was alone, bored to extinction by the blatant ribaldry
-of Octave Mirbeau. She had fingered the simply-lettered card of her
-unknown visitor for a full minute, before bidding her valet-de-pied
-admit her. A whim, a craving for novelty--who knows what? The Open
-Sesame had been spoken, and now, in the half-light of late afternoon,
-her caller stood before her.
-
-"Be seated," said Gabrielle courteously. "Be seated, Ma--?"
-
-"--Demoiselle," replied Louise, complying with the invitation.
-
-There was a brief pause. Each woman studied the other curiously. Then
-Louise began to speak, at first timidly.
-
-"You think it strange, no doubt, madame, this visit of mine. Let me be
-quite candid. I come to ask a favor of you--I, who have no right, save
-the right of one woman to crave assistance from another. I have a
-brother"--
-
-"Faith of God!" said Gabrielle, lightly, "so have I. A poor sample, if
-you will!"
-
-Her flippancy seemed suddenly to lend the other fresh courage. She
-leaned forward eagerly, clasping her gray-gloved hands upon her knee.
-
-"But mine," she said, "is but a boy. He has come to Paris, seeking to
-know the world, and, lately, he has become the friend of Mademoiselle
-Thaïs de Trémonceau."
-
-"Zut!" put in Gabrielle. "You say well that it is but a boy!"
-
-"Is there need to tell you," continued Louise, without heeding the
-sneer, "what this means to me? Is there need to tell you what it means
-to _him_?"
-
-"My faith, no!" said Mademoiselle de Poirier. "It is acquainted with me,
-that story. The end is not beautiful!"
-
-"Tout simplement," said her visitor, "I have come to Paris to bring him
-back, to show him the folly of his way. But I alone am powerless.
-You--you who are more admired, more beautiful, more clever than this
-Mademoiselle de Trémonceau"--(Oh, Louise!)--"you alone can aid me to
-rescue him."
-
-Gabrielle raised her eyebrows slightly, and let her lids droop with an
-air of unutterable boredom.
-
-"Truly, mademoiselle," she drawled, "I neither see in what fashion I can
-assist you, nor why, in any event, I should concern myself with this
-affair. If your brother has such taste"--
-
-"Oh, madame, I know I have no right," broke in Louise. "But you, of all
-women in Paris, alone have the power to win him from her."
-
-"And when I have won him," demanded Gabrielle, "what then? Do you think
-your precious brother will fare better with me than with the de
-Trémonceau?"
-
-Her calm was broken for a moment by a flash of anger.
-
-"The world is full of fools," she added. "One more or less is no great
-matter. I am not a Rescue Society, mademoiselle. Let your brother go his
-way. His best cure will be effected by the woman herself. When his money
-is gone, there will be no need to win him from her."
-
-The sneer sent the blood racing to the other's cheeks. She had been
-counting, as she realized with a pang of mortification, upon some
-Quixotic quality which her reading had taught lay always dormant, even
-in such a woman as Gabrielle de Poirier,--some innate nobility, ready to
-spring into activity at the bidding of such an appeal as she had just
-made. And, too, beneath all her anxiety, she had believed that Thaïs
-loved her brother, that his peril lay not so much in her making use of
-him and then flinging him aside, as in the existence of actual affection
-between him and a woman whom, even as his wife, society would not
-recognize. This brutal intrusion of money into the discussion, this
-flippant classification of Dodo with a world full of fools who flung
-away honor and reputation for a passing fancy, only to be flung away
-themselves in turn, suddenly seemed to lay clear the whole situation, in
-all its sordid vulgarity, and with the revelation came a white rage
-against this woman who was only another of the same kind. She despised
-herself for having stooped to ask her aid, and a fury of wounded pride
-blazed in her reply.
-
-"You know yourself well, madame!" she said. "No, surely my brother
-would fare no better with you, though that was not what I meant to ask.
-I thought, in my folly, that, perhaps, in the life of such a one as you,
-there might come moments when you longed to be other than you are,
-moments when you would like to think that among all the men you have
-played with, ruined, and spurned, there were one or two who could speak
-and think of you as men speak and think of honest women, who could say
-that you had been an ennobling influence in their lives, and whose word
-would count upon the side of good when you come to answer for the evil
-you have done. I thought that, not for money's sake or vanity's, you
-might wish to win my brother from this woman, and, when you had won him,
-teach him how sordid, how wicked, how futile such a life is, and send
-him back to decency--a better man! I see how mistaken I was in judging
-you. There is no compassion in you, no nobler instinct than
-self-interest. Your motives are the same as hers, love of admiration and
-love of gold,--and, perhaps, less worthy. I cannot say. Hers, at least,
-I can only suspect: yours I have had from your own lips. Had my brother
-been more than the poor weak boy he is, had he been brilliant, powerful,
-or a millionaire, it would never have been necessary for me to ask you
-to win him from her. No, madame, for you would have done so of your own
-accord!"
-
-Now, there is such a thing as diplomacy, and there is such a thing as
-luck, and of the former Louise Chapuis had not an atom. An impulse, made
-apparently reasonable by pure imagination, led her to seek out
-Gabrielle, and had she found her, as her fancy had painted her, readily
-moved by the appeal of honest affection and confidence, she was
-competent to have won her end. Louise was one of the people who, in
-foreseeing a dispute, invent the replies to their own questions, and
-who, if the actual answers accord with those preconceived, will emerge
-from the ordeal triumphant, but who lack the diplomat's gift of adapting
-the line of argument to that of unexpected retort. Confronted with a
-state of affairs wholly different from that which she had supposed
-existent, her sole resource was in this outburst of disappointment and
-reproach, honest, but inutile as the clamor of a baffled baby. So much
-for diplomacy.
-
-But, as we have said, there is also such a thing as luck. Gabrielle de
-Poirier was insufferably bored. Her Russian was in Moscow, her recent
-tips at Auteuil had proved disastrous, her latest feuilleton had been
-rejected. For six hours she had been buried among the cushions of the
-divan, clad materially in light pink but mentally in deepest blue,
-skipping from page to page of a novel that was not amusing, and
-confronted every ten minutes by the recurrent realization that the next
-event on her calendar was a dinner at the Café de Paris, which would not
-come for the eternity of twenty-seven hours! Despite her ungracious
-reception of Louise, she had been grateful for the diversion, and hardly
-had she sneered at Dodo's position before she lit a cigarette, and fell
-to studying the situation seriously. Louise, pausing, breathless, after
-her tirade, was surprised to find that she made no reply, looking
-straight before her with her great eyes half closed, and put down her
-silence as equivalent to admission of the charges hurled against her.
-The truth of the matter was, however, that Gabrielle had not heard one
-word of her visitor's impassioned denunciation!
-
-There was a long silence, and then the demi-mondaine looked up.
-
-"Where does your brother live?" she asked, touching an electric button
-at her side, "and what is his first name?"
-
-"At the Hôtel du Rhin," stammered Louise, "and his name is Do--I should
-say Charles,--Charles Chapuis. I am at the Hôtel de Choiseuil."
-
-"Bon!" said the other. "If you will go home, mademoiselle, and keep your
-own counsel, I think I can promise you that you will shortly have your
-brother back."
-
-Louise stepped forward impulsively.
-
-"Oh, madame!"--she began.
-
-But just then the valet-de-pied appeared at the door, and Gabrielle,
-taking up her novel, flounced back among the cushions.
-
-"Bon jour, mademoiselle," she said, without looking at Louise. "Achille,
-la porte! And send Mathilde to me."
-
-The conference between mistress and maid was brief but eloquent.
-
-"Who," demanded Gabrielle, "is Dodo Chapuis?"
-
-"The young monsieur of Boule-de-Boue," responded Mathilde promptly.
-
-"Parfaitement. I needed to refresh my memory. And how long is it since
-we cabled the last tuyau?"
-
-"Eight weeks, at least, madame--before the coming of Monsieur Chapuis."
-
-"Bon!" said Gabrielle. "We cable another tip at once."
-
-(For it may be noted, in passing, that she had one source of income
-which La Belle Thaïs little suspected!)
-
-"What does Boule-de-Boue do to-night?" she demanded again.
-
-"Dines at home with Monsieur Chapuis," replied the omniscient Mathilde,
-"dances at the Fol' Berg' at eleven, sups at Paillard's with Monsieur
-Chapuis."
-
-(For it may also be noted, in passing, that the maid of La Belle Thaïs
-had one source of income which her mistress totally ignored!)
-
-"Très bien!" said Gabrielle. "Now a pen and paper, the inkstand,
-envelopes, sealing wax, and a telegraph form, and write as I tell thee."
-
-For ten minutes Mathilde wrote rapidly, and then spread the results of
-her exertions out before her, in the shape of two notes and a cablegram,
-and read them aloud triumphantly. The first note was directed to
-Monsieur Charles Chapuis, at the Hôtel du Rhin, place Vendôme:--
-
-"If Monsieur Chapuis is a man of honor," it ran briefly, "he will break
-all engagements, however important, for this evening, and present
-himself chez Mademoiselle Gabrielle de Poirier at seven o'clock, on a
-matter intimately touching the good fame of his family. The sister of
-Monsieur, Mademoiselle Louise Chapuis, is chez Mademoiselle de Poirier."
-
-The second note was addressed to Mademoiselle Thaïs de Trémonceau, at 27
-bis, rue de la Faisanderie.
-
-"A friend advises Mademoiselle Thaïs de Trémonceau that Monsieur Charles
-Chapuis dines with Mademoiselle Gabrielle de Poirier this evening at
-half past seven."
-
-And the cablegram was to Señor Miguel Cevasco, Reconquista 21,
-Buenos-Ayres, République Argentine.
-
-"19 rides in the carriage of 52. 26."
-
-The point of which observation lay in the fact that Dodo confessed to
-nineteen, and Señor Miguel to fifty-two, and Gabrielle to twenty-six.
-
-It was a bold play, and one foredoomed to failure unless each link in
-the chain held true. But Mademoiselle de Poirier was no novice, and
-experience had long since taught her that success is the child of
-audacity; so, ten minutes later, Achille was speeding, in one cab,
-toward the place Vendôme, pausing only at the bureau de télégraphe on
-the corner of the rue Pierre Charron and the avenue Marceau, and
-Mathilde was speeding in another toward the rue de la Faisanderie: and
-Gabrielle herself was making life not worth living for Louis, her
-long-suffering maître-d'hôtel.
-
-The upshot of this triple commotion was that, as the clock on her mantel
-struck seven, Mademoiselle Gabrielle de Poirier was posing on a
-chaise-longue in correct imitation of David's "Madame Récamier," except
-for a wonderful black gown, when Achille announced Monsieur Charles
-Chapuis.
-
-Dodo entered the room in immaculate evening dress, but with a touch of
-embarrassment in his manner which betrayed his years. He was good to
-look upon, was Dodo, tall, straight, and slight, with the ruddy olive
-skin, the firm, square fling of chest and shoulder, the narrowness of
-waist, and the confident swing of long, slender, but sinewy legs with
-which one is blessed at nineteen in Bouches-du-Rhône. Gabrielle, taking
-note of him from under her covert, languid lids, was compelled, for
-once, to mental candor.
-
-"I comprehend Thaïs," she said to herself, but to Dodo, "Monsieur, I
-felicitate you. You have the true spirit of chivalry."
-
-"My sister"--began Dodo.
-
-"Is, no doubt, at the Hôtel de Choiseuil," answered Gabrielle, coolly,
-fanning herself. "In any event she is not here. Oh, she _was_ here--yes;
-but she had gone--gone _before_ I sent you the note. Be seated,
-monsieur."
-
-Dodo selected a chair, dropped into it, and awaited developments in
-silence. Six weeks before, he would have demanded in a passion the
-meaning of this subterfuge. But whatever might be said of La Belle
-Thaïs, one learned diplomacy in her company.
-
-"You are surprised, monsieur!"
-
-"I am infinitely surprised, madame," he agreed, with charming candor.
-
-"Shall we be frank with each other?" asked Gabrielle, pleasantly.
-
-"I think it is the only way," said Dodo. "Eh bien, I am infinitely
-surprised, madame; first, to see my sister's name in connection with
-yours at all, and, second, to find that you have been lying to me."
-
-"She came to ask me to rescue you from the toils of Thaïs de
-Trémonceau."
-
-Despite his elaborate self-control, Dodo flushed crimson.
-
-"I think we had best drop the discussion here," he said, rising. "There
-can be no possible profit in continuing it. If my sister was here at
-all"--
-
-"Her card is there on the table," put in Gabrielle, pointing with her
-fan.
-
-"Pardon. I should not have permitted myself the insinuation. I accept
-your statement, and simply say that it was an unwarrantable intrusion on
-her part. For you, madame, I have only admiration. Your compliance"--
-
-"It was not that," said Gabrielle, shortly. "I can conceive of nothing
-less important to me than your sister's wishes. But I dislike
-Mademoiselle de Trémonceau."
-
-"That," said Dodo, with exaggerated courtesy, "can only be a matter of
-opinion. _I_ admire Mademoiselle de Trémonceau enormously."
-
-"The force of admiration is undoubtedly strong," snapped Gabrielle, "to
-reconcile you to riding in another man's carriage, drinking another
-man's wine, dawdling with another man's"--
-
-"Assez!" said Dodo.
-
-Gabrielle shrugged her shoulders.
-
-"Quite right," she said. "You are old enough to see for yourself. I
-presume you will not return to her."
-
-"On the contrary, I shall be with her in fifteen minutes."
-
-In the distance an electric bell whirred.
-
-"Sooner than that, I think," smiled Gabrielle, and then La Belle Thaïs
-was standing at the salon door. She was gowned in scarlet, with a poppy
-flaring in her hair, and, if she had but lent to her dance at the Folies
-but half the fury of that entrance, the manager would, no doubt, have
-tripled her already ample salary. And, at the instant of her
-appearance, as if by signal,--which indeed it was,--Louis flung wide the
-opposite door, with a stately "Monsieur et madame sont servis," and
-there, gleaming with spotless napery, silver shaded candlesticks, and
-shimmering cut glass, was the daintiest of tables, set for two!
-
-What Thaïs did and what she said, this is not the time or place to
-detail. She was not wanting in vocabulary, the de Trémonceau, nor
-sparing thereof in an emergency. A decade of careful training fell from
-her like a discarded mantle, and she became in an instant the
-vulgar-tongued fleuriste of the boulevards. From her chaise-longue
-Gabrielle smiled calmly, the picture of a new Circe, rejoicing in the
-success of her spells. And, between the two, Dodo, his hands clenched
-until the knuckles shone white, turned sick with contempt and loathing.
-At the end Thaïs flung him an unspeakable taunt, and there was a pause.
-Then,--
-
-"Do you play the black or the red, monsieur?" asked Gabrielle, sweetly,
-with a glance at her own gown and another at the de Trémonceau's.
-
-Dodo let his eyes run slowly, contemptuously, from the topmost ripple
-of her bronze hair to the point of her satin slipper, with the
-felicitous inspiration of seeming to take stock of her charms and to be
-not over-pleased therewith. Then,--
-
-"I continue my game, madame!" he said. "I play the red."
-
-It was the last, faint cry of youthful chivalry, disillusioned, blotted
-out, and it was wasted on Thaïs de Trémonceau.
-
-"Tu penses, salaud!" she broke in, with a laugh. "Well, then, thou art
-well mistaken. Rien ne va plus!"
-
-"He will come back to me!" she cried to her rival, as the door closed
-behind him.
-
-"Perhaps," agreed Gabrielle, "but only to leave you again, in a fashion
-more mortifying for him and more calamitous for you. I sent a cable to
-Buenos Ayres this afternoon."
-
-She was deliberately flinging away the aforementioned source of income,
-for the sake of seeing a certain expression on the face of La Belle
-Thaïs. But when she saw it, she was well content. For the honors were no
-longer even.
-
-On the avenue Kléber, Dodo hailed the first cab that passed, and
-flinging a curt "Hôtel de Choiseuil--au galop!" to the cocher, blotted
-himself into one corner, and covered his face with his hands.
-
-"It was my first, but it shall be my last confidence in woman," he said.
-It was neither strictly original nor strictly true, this, but it showed
-progress.
-
-For there is such a thing as diplomacy and there is such a thing as
-luck, and the fact that his sister had not an atom of the former made no
-difference whatever in the tuition of Dodo Chapuis.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Le Pochard
-
-
-HIS applicability was evident to the mind of Jean Fraissigne from the
-moment when the camelot placed Le Pochard on a table in front of the
-Taverne, and he proceeded to go through his ridiculous pretense of
-drinking from the cup in his left hand which he filled from the bottle
-in his right. Jean, who was dawdling over a demi, and watching the
-familiar ebb and flow of life on the Boul' Miche', was at first
-passively pleased at the distraction provided by the appearance of the
-toy, and then, of a sudden, consumedly absorbed in the progress of his
-operations. For what was plain to any but a blind man was the fact that
-Le Pochard was the precise counterfeit of Jean's friend and comrade,
-Grégoire--Grégoire, with his flat-brimmed hat, and his loose working
-blouse, and his loud checked trousers--Grégoire, hélas! with his flushed
-face, and his tremulous hands, and his unsteady walk, as Jean had seen
-him a hundred times!
-
-Le Pochard staggered to and fro upon the marble-topped table, nodding
-maudlinly, and alternately filling his cup and raising it uncertainly to
-his expressionless face. At last, weakened by his exertions, he passed
-one arm through the handle of Jean's demi, hesitated, and then leaned
-heavily against the glass and stood motionless, with his topheavy head
-bent forward, and his eyes fixed on the price-mark upon the saucer
-below. This eloquent manoeuvre, so unspeakably appealing, determined the
-future ownership of Le Pochard. Jean purchased him upon the spot, and
-bore him off in triumph to the rue de Seine, as an object lesson for
-Grégoire Caubert.
-
-The two students shared a little sous-toit within a stone's throw of the
-Beaux-Arts, neither luxuriously nor yet insufficiently furnished. It
-was Jean's good fortune to have a father who believed in him--not a
-usual condition of mind in a provincial merchant whose son displays an
-unaccountable partiality for architecture--and, what was more to the
-point, who could afford to demonstrate his confidence by remittances,
-which were inspiring, if not on the score of magnitude, at least on that
-of regularity. And, since freedom from pecuniary solicitude is the
-surest guarantee of a cheerful spirit, there was no more diligent pupil
-at the Boîte, no blither comrade in idle hours,--above all, no more
-loyal friend, in sun or shadow, throughout the length and breadth of the
-Quartier, than little Jean le Gai, as he was called by those who loved
-him, and whom he loved.
-
-That was why the comrades were at a loss to understand his friendship
-for Grégoire Caubert. Had the latter been one of themselves, a type of
-the schools, in that fact alone, whatever his peculiarities, would have
-lain a reason for the association. But, to all intents and purposes, he
-was of another world. His similarity to Jean and to themselves began and
-ended with his costume. For the rest he was silent and reserved,
-courting no confidence and giving none, unknowing and unknown to the
-haunts they frequented,--the Deux Magots, the Escholiers, the Taverne,
-the Bullier, and Madame Roupiquet's in the rue de Beaune, and the Rouge
-on Thursday nights. Jean le Gai, when questioned as to the doings of
-Grégoire, seemed to reflect something of his friend's reserve. He
-admitted that the other wrote: he even went so far as to prophesy that
-some day Grégoire would be famous. Further, he made no admissions.
-
-"Diable!" he said. "What does it matter? He goes his way--I go mine. And
-if we choose to live together, whose concern is it then, I ask you?
-Fichez-moi la paix, vous autres!"
-
-So popular curiosity went unsatisfied, so far as Grégoire was concerned,
-and the apparently uncongenial ménage came, in time, to be looked upon
-as one of the unexplained mysteries of the Quartier,--one, for the rest,
-which made no particular difference to any one save the two immediately
-concerned.
-
-But if Jean made no admissions as to Grégoire, it was not for lack of
-sufficient knowledge. They had met, as men meet in the Quartier,--as
-bubbles meet in a stream, and, for reasons not apparent, are drawn
-together by an irresistible attraction, and fuse into one larger,
-brighter bubble than either has been before. For little Jean Fraissigne,
-whose exquisses were the wonder of the School, and whose projets had
-already come to be photographed and sold in the shops of the rue
-Bonaparte and the quai Conti, believed in his heart that architecture
-was as nothing compared to literature, and Grégoire, whose long, uphill
-struggle had been unaccompanied by comradely admiration or even
-encouragement, found indescribable comfort, in the hour of his success,
-in the faith and approbation of the friend who alone, of all men, knew
-his secret,--knew that the Réné de Lys of the "Chansons de Danaé" and
-the "Voyage de Tristan" of which all Paris was talking, was none other
-than himself--Grégoire Caubert, on whose wrist the siren of absinthe had
-laid a hand that was not to be shaken off, and whom she was leading, if
-by the paths of subtlest fancy and almost miraculous creative faculty,
-yet toward an end inevitable on which he did not dare to dwell.
-
-To Jean, healthy, rational, and cheerful as a young terrier, much that
-Grégoire said and did was totally incomprehensible, but what he did not
-understand he set down, with conviction, to the eccentricity of genius.
-The long nights which he spent alone, sleeping sanely in their bedroom
-in the rue de Seine, while Grégoire's cot stood empty beside him, and
-Grégoire himself was tramping the streets of Paris; the return of his
-friend in the first faint light of dawn, pale-faced and swaying; the
-succeeding hours which, despite his exhaustion, he spent at his desk,
-feverishly writing, and tossing the pages from him, one by one, until
-the floor was strewn with them on all sides; finally, his heavy slumber
-far into the afternoon,--all this, to Jean, was but part and parcel of
-that marvelous thing called literature. He returned at seven to find
-that Grégoire had prepared a wonderful little meal, and was walking up
-and down the floor, unevenly, absinthe in hand, awaiting his arrival.
-
-In the two hours which followed lay the keynote of their sympathy. It
-was then that Grégoire would read his work of the early morning hour,
-to Jean, curled up on the divan, with his hands clasped behind his head
-and his eyes round and wide with delight and admiration. What things
-they were, those fancies that Grégoire had pursued and caught, like
-night-moths, in the streets of Paris, while stupid folk were sleeping!
-And how he read them, Grégoire, with his flushed face lit with
-inspiration, and his eyes flaming with enthusiasm! If only he would not
-drink absinthe, thought little Jean, and said so, timidly at first, and
-then more earnestly, as, little by little, the marks of excess grew more
-plain in his friend. But Grégoire made a joke of this--he who always
-joked--and in time, Jean came to acquiesce. For he never wholly
-understood--until afterwards.
-
-So, when nine struck, it was understood that they parted company till
-the following evening. Jean brought out his drawing board, his T square,
-and all their attendant paraphernalia, and toiled at his calques with
-infinite patience and unerring accuracy, until midnight; and Grégoire,
-having corrected his manuscript here and there, gnawing savagely at his
-pencil the while, inclosed it in one of his long envelopes, scrawled
-"Rédaction du Journal" upon it, stamped it, and went out into the night
-to mail the old, and seek new moths. And this was all there was to the
-comradeship which mystified the Quartier, save that the love of Jean for
-Grégoire and of Grégoire for Jean was as deep and unfaltering as the
-current of the eternal Seine--and, if anything, more silent!
-
-Jean wound up Le Pochard stealthily, on the landing outside the
-apartment door, and, entering, placed it suddenly upon the table under
-the very nose of Grégoire, who stood, sipping his absinthe, in the
-centre of the room. Le Pochard rocked and swayed, ticking like a little
-clock, and drinking cup after cup of his imaginary beverage, as if his
-life depended upon the quantity consumed. Convulsed with merriment at
-the performance of the preposterous creature, Jean le Gai lay prone upon
-the divan, kneading the cushions with his fists and kicking his heels
-against the floor, and Grégoire, a slow smile curling his thin,
-sensitive lips, seemed to forget even his absinthe until the toy's
-energy slackened and he paused, with the bottle shaking in his hand, and
-his eyes, as usual, bent upon the ground. Then--"Eh b'en--quoi?" said
-Grégoire, looking up at his friend.
-
-"Mais c'est toi!" burst out the little architect in an ecstasy. "It is
-thou to the life, my Grégoire! Remark the blouse--what?--and the hat,
-sale pompier!--and the checked grimpant, name of a pipe! But it is thy
-brother, Le Pochard!--thy twin--thou, thyself!"
-
-And seizing the glass from Grégoire's hand, he carefully filled Le
-Pochard's cup with absinthe, and set him reeling and swaggering again,
-so that the immoral little animal spilled the liquid on his blouse, and
-presently fell headlong, totally overcome, with his nose pressed flat
-against the table.
-
-Thereafter, it was a comradeship of three instead of two. It was quite
-in accord with the whimsically fanciful nature of Grégoire that he
-should take Le Pochard into his affections, and even call him "brother"
-and "cher confrère." He treated him, did Grégoire, with marked deference
-and studied non-observance of his besetting weakness, and he expected
-and received from Le Pochard a like respect and indulgence in return.
-That, at least, was how he described their relations to Jean, and Jean,
-curled up upon the divan, was never tired of the droll pretense, but
-would laugh night after night till the tears came, at the common tact
-and the mutual courtesy of Grégoire and Le Pochard.
-
-Linked by this new, if unstable, bond of sympathy, neither of the
-friends understood, during the months that followed, that their paths,
-which had so long lain parallel, were gradually but inevitably
-diverging. Jean was now wrapped heart and soul in the competition for
-the Prix de Rome, and, as he said himself, en charrette eternally. Even
-the work of his comrade, which formerly had held him spell-bound, lost
-for him, little by little, much of its compellant charm. His nimble
-mind, busy with the stern, symmetrical lines of columns and the
-intricate proportioning of capitals, drifted imperceptibly away from its
-one-time appreciation of pure imagery. He returned later at night from
-the atelier, consumed the meal they ate in common with growing
-impatience, and was busy with his calques again before Grégoire had
-fairly finished his coffee. The evening readings, grown shorter and
-shorter, were finally abandoned altogether, and, oftener than not, Jean
-was totally oblivious to the presence of Grégoire, correcting his
-manuscript at the little desk, or his noiseless departure with the
-stamped envelope under his arm. Had he been told, he would have denied
-his defection with the scorn bred by conviction. It was not that he
-loved his comrade less, but only that the growing promise of the Prix de
-Rome lay, like the marvel of dawn, on the horizon of the immediate
-future, blinding his eyes to all beside. For Jean le Gai was finding
-himself, and in the crescent light of that new and wonderful discovery
-whatever had been bright before grew tawdry.
-
-Only one evidence remained of what had been. Le Pochard, with his absurd
-inanity, was yet a feature of every dinner in the rue de Seine, and
-because Grégoire invented daily some new drollery in connection with
-their senseless toy, Jean was unaware that things were no longer the
-same,--that his friend was thinner and more nervous, that the circles
-had deepened under his eyes, that he said no word of his work. They
-laughed together at Le Pochard, and laughed again at their own
-amusement. So the days went by and still their paths diverged,--Jean's
-toward the sungilt hills of promise and prosperity, Grégoire's toward
-the valley of shadow that a man must tread alone.
-
-Despite his proclivities, neither foresaw the end of Le Pochard. So
-gradual was his decline toward utter degradation that the varnish was
-gone from his narrow boots and his round, weak face, and his simple
-attire was frayed and worn, before they had remarked the change. Then,
-one night, as Grégoire wound him, the key turned futilely in the spring.
-Placed in his accustomed position on the table, Le Pochard made one
-feeble gesture of surrender with his bottle, one unavailing effort to
-raise his absinthe to his lips, and, reeling dizzily, crashed down upon
-the floor, his debauches done with forever.
-
-It was a curious thing that, in the face of this absurdity, neither of
-the comrades smiled. In some unaccountable fashion Le Pochard had come
-to be so much a part of their association that in his passing there was
-less of farce than tragedy. And Jean, looking across at Grégoire, saw
-for the first time the pitiful change that had crept into the face of
-his friend, the utter weariness where restless energy had been, the
-dullness of the eyes wherein had played imagination, like a
-will-o'-the-wisp above the slough of destiny. And Grégoire, looking
-across at Jean, knew that the moment had come, and dropped his glance,
-ashamed, fingering the tattered clothes of Le Pochard.
-
-"One might have expected it," said Jean, with a smile that was not a
-smile. "I suppose we must forgive him his faults, now that he is gone.
-_De mortuis nil nisi bonum!_"
-
-Then, as Grégoire made no reply, he added,
-
-"I shall not work to-night. I am tired. Que veux-tu? I have been doing
-too much. So we will sit by the fire, n'est ce pas, vieux? And thou
-shalt read to me as before. Dieu! It is a long time since the moths have
-shown their wings!"
-
-In the tiny grate the cannel coal snapped and spat fretfully, and Jean,
-buried in the largest chair, winked at the sparks, and, furtively, from
-the corners of his brown eyes, watched Grégoire reading, half-heartedly,
-with the lamp-light cutting sharply across his thin cheek and his
-temples, on which the veins stood singularly out.
-
-He was no critic, little Jean le Gai, yet even he knew that something
-had touched and bruised the wings of this latest moth that Grégoire had
-pursued and caught while stupid folk were sleeping, so that it was not,
-as had been the others, downed with the shifting brilliance of many
-unimagined hues, but dull and sombre, like the look he had surprised in
-the face of his friend. And so subtly keyed were the strings of their
-unspoken sympathy that night, that a sense of the other's feeling stole
-in upon Grégoire long before the manuscript was finished, and suddenly
-he cast it from him into the grate, where the little flames caught at
-it, and wrapped it round, and sucked out its life, exulting, until it
-lay blackened and dying, writhing on the coals.
-
-"Why?" said Jean. But he knew.
-
-"Because," answered Grégoire slowly, with his eyes upon the shrunken,
-faintly whispering ashes of his pages, whereat the sparks gnawed with
-insatiable greed, "because, my little one, it is finished. What I have
-done I shall never do again. Never didst thou wholly understand--least
-of all in these last days when thy work absorbed thee. If one is to
-catch night-moths with such a tender touch, and preserve them for other
-men to see so carefully, that no one little glint of radiance may be
-missing from their wings, one has need of a clear eye and of a steady
-hand. Neither is mine. My father, of whom I have never spoken to
-thee,--my father, who left me this gift of trapping the thoughts that
-others see not as they fly, yet love and prize when they are caught and
-pinned upon the page, yet left me a companion curse,--the curse of
-absinthe, little Jean, that is not to be gainsaid. For as the gift was
-beautiful, so was it also frail, and as the curse was subtle, so was it
-also strong. I have seen the end--long, long. Now it is here. My work is
-finished. The curse has knocked at the door of my body, and, at the
-signal, the gift has flown forth from the window of my soul."
-
-He paused, and pausing, smiled.
-
-"Thou didst most nearly understand me, Jean," he continued, "in buying
-Le Pochard. For in truth, he was my brother--my twin--my soul, in the
-semblance of a toy! How we have laughed at him! Yet all along I have
-seen myself in that senseless little man of tin. Is it fanciful?
-Peut-être bien! But, now that he is gone, I see that I must go,
-too,--and in the same way, my Jean, in the same way,--with my absinthe
-in my hand and the key of inspiration turning uselessly in the broken
-spring of my heart!"
-
-He rose suddenly, with a shiver, and looked down at Jean le Gai. For an
-instant he touched him on the hair, and then he was gone into the night,
-leaving the little architect gazing, wide-eyed and mute, at the
-crinkling ashes of the last, unworthiest moth of all.
-
-During the days that followed, Le Pochard stood upon the mantel-corner.
-They no longer touched him, but left him, as it were, a monument to his
-own folly.
-
-There was no further trace in Grégoire's manner of the mood which had
-loosed his tongue on the night of his last reading. To Jean, who, in his
-simplicity stood ready with comfort and encouragement, he seemed to be
-in need of neither. Plainly, what he had said was but a phase of that
-strange imagination which had dictated the exquisite pathos of his
-"Danaé" and his "Tristan;" and this one thing little Jean had
-learned,--that his friend lived the moods he wrote, and that oftentimes,
-when what he said was seemingly most personal, he was posing for his own
-pen--a painter in speech, drawing from his reflection in a mirror
-opposite. So the vague alarm aroused by Grégoire's words died down, and
-Jean plunged once more into his work.
-
-In those last days of the competition his projet, laboriously builded,
-detail by detail, leaped into completion with a suddenness startling
-even to himself. He knew that it was good,--knew so without the
-surprising enthusiasm of his comrades at the atelier, and the still more
-surprising commendation of his patron, the great Laloux himself, whose
-policy was _nil admirari_, whose frown a habit, and whose "Bon!" a
-miracle. But even Jean le Gai, with all his buoyant optimism, was
-unprepared in conviction for those words which reverberated, to his ears
-like thunder, beneath the dome of the Institut.
-
-"Prix de Rome--Jean Fraissigne--Atelier Laloux!"
-
-Would Grégoire _never_ come? He asked himself the question a hundred
-times as he paced the floor of their living-room an hour before dinner,
-exulting in the cold roast chicken and the champagne, and the huge
-Maréchale Niel rose which he had purchased for the occasion. For he was
-determined, was Jean le Gai, that Grégoire should be the first to know.
-Was it not Grégoire who had encouraged him all along, who had prophesied
-success when as yet the projet was no more than an exquisse exquisse,
-who had laughed down Jean's forebodings, and magnified Jean's hopes a
-hundred-fold? Yes, evidently Grégoire must be the first to know, before
-even a bleu should be sent to Avignon to gladden the heart of Fraissigne
-père!
-
-But when Grégoire came, there was no need to tell him after all. For it
-was the chicken that shouted Jean's news--the chicken, and the
-champagne, and the great yellow rose, and, most of all, the face of Jean
-himself. So it was that Grégoire held out his long, thin arms,
-wide-spread, and that into them rushed Jean, to be hugged and patted, as
-he gabbled some things that there was such a thing as understanding and
-many more that there was not.
-
-"Rome--Rome, think of it! And the paternel--but he will die of joy! Ah,
-mon vieux,--Rome! The dreams--the hopes--all I have wished for--and
-now--and now--Ah, mon vieux, mon vieux!"
-
-And so again and again, clamoring incoherently, while Grégoire, holding
-him tight, could only pat and pat, and say, over and over,--
-
-"It is well, my little brother! My little brother, it is very, very
-well!"
-
-They dined like princes, these two, pledging each other, laughing,
-singing, shouting. Never had Jean le Gai so well deserved his name,
-never had Grégoire been so whimsically droll. Even Le Pochard was
-restored to his old position and coaxed to repeat his former antics. But
-it was all in vain. The key refused to catch the spring, and, replaced
-upon the table, Le Pochard only nodded once or twice with profound
-melancholy, and stared at little Jean out of his round eyes. Once, Jean
-thought he caught in the face of his friend a hint of the sadness of
-that other night, but when he looked again the sadness, if sadness it
-were, was gone. Grégoire filled his glass, and pledged him anew with a
-laugh.
-
-"Rome, mon petit frère--Rome!"
-
-At nine, they went out together, Jean to dispatch his bleu and join the
-comrades at the Taverne--for this was a night to be celebrated with
-songs and many drained demis--and Grégoire, who knew where?
-
-Who knew where? Only the Seine, perhaps, sulking past the rampart on
-which he leaned, thinking, thinking, until the gaunt dawn crept up, like
-a sick man from his bed, behind the towers of Notre Dame; and the
-shutters of the shops on the quai Conti came rattling down, and the
-street cries went shrilly through the thin morning air: "Rac'modeur
-d'faïence et d'por-or-celaine!" or "'Archand de rôbinets! Tureetutu,
-tureetututututu!" Then Grégoire went slowly back to the rue de Seine.
-
-Jean spent the succeeding days in a whirl of excitement. There were
-calls to be made, farewell suppers to be eaten, and all the preparation
-for departure to be superintended. Fraissigne père sent a joyful letter,
-and in the letter a substantial draft, so that Jean had two new
-complets, and shirts, and socks, and shoes, and a brilliantly varnished
-trunk with his name and address painted in black letters on the
-end,--"J. Fraissigne, Villa Medici, Rome." It was magnificent! In this
-and a packing case he stowed his clothes and his household gods, though
-when the latter had been collected, the little apartment in the rue de
-Seine looked pitifully bare. There were dark squares on the faded red
-wall-paper, and clean circles in the dust of the shelves, where his
-pictures and casts and little ornaments had been, but Grégoire only
-laughed and said that the place had been too crowded before, and that
-the long-needed house-cleaning was no longer an impossibility.
-
-So, before they realized the fact, the moment of parting was upon them,
-and the sapin, with Jean's luggage on top, stood waiting at the door.
-The concierge, wiping her hands upon her blue-checked apron, came out to
-bid her favorite lodger good-by. A little throng of curious idlers
-paused on the narrow sidewalk, gaping at the new trunk with the glaring
-lettering. The cocher was already untying the nose-bag in which his lean
-brown horse had been nuzzling for fifteen minutes. And, on the curb, arm
-linked in arm, the two comrades stood watching him, with no courage to
-meet each other's eyes. For each had a thousand things to say and never
-a word in which to say so much as one.
-
-At the end, as their hands met, it was only a commonplace that came to
-Jean's tongue.
-
-"Thou wilt write me, vieux? And in four years--ce qui va vite, du
-reste!--we shall be together once more!"
-
-In four years--in four years--in four years! The words beat dully at
-Grégoire's temples, as he watched the cab swing round the corner of the
-Institut toward the quai Malaquais, with Jean's handkerchief fluttering
-at the window of the portière. Four years--four years--four years! How
-easy it was to say for one who did not know that the end had come,--that
-the moths of fancy that fly by night must be caught by others now, that
-the siren of absinthe was standing ready to claim her own!
-
-Grégoire mounted the stairs slowly, unlocked the door, and stepped into
-the familiar room, dim now in the last faint light of day. His absinthe
-stood upon the table, and he took it up, and paused, looking about him.
-Presently he went forward to the mantel, and, laying one hand upon it,
-bent forward, peering at a little photograph of Jean which leaned
-against the mirror. The woodwork jarred under his touch, and Le Pochard
-in his corner stirred, ticked feebly, and strove to raise his cup to his
-lips. Wheeling at the sound, Grégoire met the eyes of the dissipated
-little toy for a full minute, motionless and silent. Then with a sob, he
-hurled his glass into the grate, where it was shivered into a hundred
-fragments, and flung himself on his knees by the divan, with his face
-buried in his hands.
-
-"Mon frèrot!" he murmured, "my little brother--help me--help me to be
-strong."
-
-On the mantle, Le Pochard bent his head and gazed shamefacedly upon the
-ground.
-
-For his reign was at an end.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-A Latter-Day Lucifer
-
-
-THE distance between them is far less than is commonly supposed. In
-fact, they are separated only by a parti-wall. But there is a vast
-difference in their exteriors, Heaven being gay with silver paint and
-stucco cherubs, and illuminated by a huge arc-light with a white globe,
-and Hell all red, with a monster's grinning mouth for entrance, and a
-ruby lamp.
-
-The two cabarets stand on the boulevard de Clichy, side by side, and,
-when one is passing through Paris on a Cook ticket, good for a two
-weeks' stay, one is taken by an obliging friend of the Colony to see
-them, and so is enabled to return to the States with the pleasing
-conviction of having had a glimpse of the true life of Montmartre,--the
-which is so artistic, and Bohemian, and all that.
-
-It is something, as every one knows, to be an angel in Le Ciel; but it
-is also something, as every one does _not_ know, to be a demon in
-L'Enfer. Aside from the sentiment of the thing, it is all the
-same,--harps and halos or horns and hoofs. The clientèle of both places
-is, for the most part, étrangère, and what is certain is that an
-American never counts the little money one gives him in change, and that
-an Englishman disputes it anyway, so that, in the beginning, one might
-as well be wrong as right, and that a German is unable to tell a louis
-from a new sou. And a pourboire is a pourboire, whether intentional or
-otherwise. That is why Maxime Perrot felt himself to be a remarkably
-fortunate person when, one evening in June, he was suddenly transformed
-into an angel, as a result of his intimacy with Gustave Robine.
-
-Gustave was two metres twelve in height, which is something so
-astonishing in itself that it is not to be wondered at that, for more
-than a year, he had filled the eminent position of guardian of the gate
-of Le Ciel, and was much in favor with the management, because of the
-attention he attracted from the clients. Also, he kept his eyes open,
-and, moreover, he owed Maxime fifty francs. So, when one of the angels
-abruptly married a rich widow, and departed for Maisons-Laffitte, to
-live on her ample rentes, Gustave mentioned the name of his friend and
-creditor for the vacancy, and, the next day, Maxime became one of the
-personnel of Heaven, with a fresh pair of wings and new pink fleshings.
-
-Maxime was short and slender, in all except his feet, which were long
-and large, so long and large, indeed, that he was called l'L
-Majuscule--the Capital L--by his intimates, and fully merited the
-nickname when viewed in profile, standing. His experiences in life had
-been diverse, for, as he himself was wont to say, he cared less for an
-existence without variety than does a fish for an apple. He had driven a
-voiture de remise, gorgeous in a green cockade and doeskin breeches: he
-had been collector for the Banque de France, dismissed, let charity say
-not why: and garçon de restaurant, racing to and fro, with a mammoth
-tray balanced on one upright arm, like a human umbrella: and camelot,
-hoarsely crying "La Patrie!" in front of the boulevard cafés: and,
-finally, valet de chambre to Captain the Honorable Michael Douglas,
-military attaché to the British Embassy. It was in the last capacity
-that he had learned English, which now he spoke, said Gustave, like a
-veritable Goddem. That was not the least of the new angel's
-qualifications. To be sure, it was against all reason that the sales
-anglais should, under any circumstances, achieve an entrée into Heaven,
-but then there were many incongruities in connection with Le Ciel, and
-the fact remained that three out of five of the clients spoke Angliche,
-and an angel who could reply to them in their own ignoble argot was,
-without doubt, an invaluable acquisition.
-
-It cannot be denied that Maxime made a good beginning in Heaven. He
-entered upon his new duties modestly, and spent a full half-hour of the
-early evening cleaning the long table in the main hall, dusting the
-surrounding stools of gold, upon which the chosen were to sit, and
-assisting his fellow angels in polishing the liqueur glasses. And it so
-happened that the first to enter that night was Major Amos E. Cogswell,
-of the United States Army, who had spent three weeks in Paris at the age
-of twenty-two, and distinguished himself by demanding, on his second
-arrival, the way to the Jardin Mabille. With the Major were his two
-nieces, and their attendant swains, John Selfridge Appleby and P.
-Hamilton Beck, the latter in narrow-brimmed straw hats, which resembled
-lids of Japanese tea-pots, and dogskin walking gloves, turned back at
-the wrists. The party entered with an air of bravado, and were heard to
-remark that this was IT,--whatever that might mean. It was Maxime's
-opportunity, and he improved it to the utmost, seating the newcomers
-around the head of the table, and demanding, "Ces messieurs désirent?"
-as if completely oblivious to the fact that they were anything but
-bred-in-the-bone boulevardiers. For there was need of precaution. It is
-an inexplicable thing about these English that one is charmed to be
-addressed in his own tongue, and the next is insulted. It pays to feel
-one's way.
-
-"What does he say?" said Major Cogswell, turning, helplessly, to P.
-Hamilton Beck, who had taken French II. at Columbia.
-
-"Wants us to name the drinks," responded that accomplished young
-gentleman.
-
-"Spik Ingliss?" put in l'L Majuscule, deploying the skirmishers of his
-vocabulary.
-
-"Tchure!" said Mr. Beck.
-
-"Ah!" replied Maxime, much gratified, "zen v'at eest? V'at veel de
-zaintlemans aff?"
-
-"Cream de mint," said the Major, promptly, and, his companions agreeing
-with alacrity, Mr. Beck again undertook the rôle of interpreter.
-
-"Sank cream de mint," he commanded, holding up his left hand,
-wide-spread, "et toute suite."
-
-And, in a surprisingly brief space of time, five infinitesimal glasses
-of the green liqueur stood before them.
-
-"Mais avec du glace," remonstrated Mr. Beck.
-
-"What's that; what's that?" inquired the Major anxiously, as the glasses
-were as suddenly removed by the abashed Maxime.
-
-"Oh, ice, that's all," replied the other. "These chaps don't know
-what's what. Leave 'em to me. One has to know how to handle 'em."
-
-Following the entrance of the Americans, the cabaret had gradually
-filled. The majority of the places at the long table were occupied now
-by a curious assemblage of sensation-seekers,--Germans in little cloth
-hats of dark green, with a curled feather cropping up behind, Englishmen
-in tweeds and traveling-caps, with visors fore and aft, American
-architects from the Quartier, so well disguised by slouch felts, pointed
-beards, and baggy trousers, that only a nasal tang in their slangy
-French betrayed their nationality, and a sprinkling of Frenchmen, each
-clasping the hand of a grisette. Already the high-priest of Le Ciel was
-in his gilded pulpit, delivering an oration thickly sown with "mes
-soeurs" and "mes frères" and "chers bénis," at which strangers and
-Parisians alike laughed uproariously, and all for one good
-reason--because the Frenchmen understood! Maxime returned, bringing the
-five liqueurs in larger glasses with chopped ice. The head angel made
-the round of the table, carrying, on a pole, the gilded image of a pig,
-and a pseudo-sexton stood leaning on the rail of a celestial stairway
-leading to the second floor, sprinkling the assemblage with so-called
-holy water from a colored brush. It was all very French, very
-conventional,--or unconventional, according to the point of view of the
-spectator,--very sacrilegious from any point of view.
-
-With that curious instinct of womanhood which seems to recognize the
-indelicate, even in unfamiliar surroundings, even in an unknown tongue,
-the younger Miss Cogswell leaned forward suddenly and touched the Major
-on the hand.
-
-"Let us go," she said.
-
-"Yes!" agreed Appleby, buttoning his coat, "let's be moving. What do you
-say? Let's go to Hell--I mean," he added, with a blush, "let's try the
-other cabaret."
-
-The Major agreed with a sigh of relief. He had understood nothing of the
-mummery going on about him, but he was possessed by the conviction that
-in some way his party was the butt of the occasion, and had kept looking
-around abruptly, in hope of catching the angels giggling behind his
-back.
-
-"Will you ask the waiter how much I owe?" He appealed to Beck.
-
-_How much!_
-
-Maxime picked these two essential words out of the rapid phrase like a
-squirrel snapping a peanut from its shell. He had not been garçon at the
-Café Américain for nothing, Maxime. His countenance assumed an
-expression of beatific innocence as he looked over the Major's head, at
-the high-priest in the gilded pulpit.
-
-"Tain francs," he observed, mildly.
-
-This was a tide in the affairs of P. Hamilton Beck which, plainly, must
-be taken at the flood. The elder Miss Cogswell was looking at him
-expectantly, and Heaven had, of a sudden, grown very still. He leaped
-into the breach with all the eloquence accumulated during eight months
-of French II.
-
-"Mon foi, non! cream de mint coute seulement un franc la verre dans les
-établissements plus chers. Il ne faut pas nous voler, parceque nous sont
-étrangères!"
-
-"What's that; what's that?" said the Major.
-
-"He's trying to rob us," explained Beck, much excited. "Says it's ten
-francs. It can't possibly be more than five, and it _ought_ to be two
-francs fifty."
-
-The Major immediately became purple with indignation.
-
-"But, God bless my soul!" he exclaimed, "the rascal understands English
-as well as any one of us. What's the use of wasting your French on him?"
-
-He swung round upon his stool, and fixed an eye, which was celebrated in
-the 32d Regular Infantry, upon l'L Majuscule. That worthy surveyed with
-unfeigned astonishment this very angry, red-faced foreigner, who looked
-as if he was about to devour him, body and bones. He had not the most
-remote conception of the effect which his flaxen wig, and his ridiculous
-wings, and his short pleated tunic, and his pink tights, and his huge
-feet in their gilded sandals, produced upon the Major; and his attempt
-at extortion was strictly in line with the traditions of the place.
-Certainly, it was all very puzzling.
-
-"You ape!" said the Major furiously, finding his breath. "You
-pinky-panky little scoundrel! _You_ an angel? Why you're not even
-shaved! You get two francs fifty, that's what you get, and not a red
-cent of porbwure either, you Christmas-tree image!"
-
-The exact phrasing of these remarks was somewhat lost upon Maxime, but
-the general trend of the Major's meaning was quite unmistakable.
-Nevertheless, when one had been valet de chambre to Captain the
-Honorable Michael Douglas, one was not routed by a few emphatic words.
-So Maxime shrugged his shoulders apologetically, and reiterated his
-"Tain francs."
-
-"Damn it, sir, _no_!" thundered the Major. "And don't pretend you can't
-understand me. I'm a short-tempered man, sir, and--and"--
-
-He pounded with his fist upon the table, seeking a fitting expression of
-his rage, until the little liqueur glasses danced like kernels of
-popping corn. But young Appleby leaned toward him and laid a hand on his
-arm. He was big and square-shouldered, was Appleby, and, only the year
-before, he had performed prodigies with the hammer and the shot in the
-Intercollegiate Games; but his eyes were very blue and gentle, and he
-spoke with extreme mildness.
-
-"Don't let us have any trouble here, sir," he said. "It isn't as if we
-were alone. We have the girls with us, you know. Leave the beggar two
-francs fifty, and we'll go on to the next place."
-
-Now the Major, with all his fiery temper, was an ardent lover of
-discipline, and he recognized reason in Appleby's words. So, after an
-instant, he deposited the amount upon the table, rose to his full
-height, with his eye still riveted on Maxime, and then, followed by the
-others, stalked majestically toward the door.
-
-But for one circumstance, the Americans had never gone unmolested past
-Maxime's fellow-angels, and, in particular, the towering form of Gustave
-Robine. Maxime himself was astounded that no celestial hand was
-stretched out to bar their progress. What he did not understand was
-that, while one may enter Le Ciel on the strength of an accomplishment
-not possessed by the other immortals, the achievement does not
-necessarily imply that one is _persona grata_ in their eyes, or, in the
-least degree, sure of their support. The management was responsible for
-Maxime, and the edict had gone forth that the Angliches were to be
-turned over to him. But obedience to this command did not go hand in
-hand with approval thereof. The high-priest and the sexton and all the
-angels had looked on sourly, as he appropriated the Major's party, for
-it is the Americans who give the largest pourboires; and, although they
-did not wholly comprehend the dispute which had arisen, it was evident
-that the linguistic angel had met with disaster at the very outset, and
-they were proportionately gratified. So, when Maxime glanced about in
-search of succor, he found himself abandoned in his discomfiture. The
-other angels were smiling broadly, and nudging each other with their
-pink elbows; the high-priest, with his fat hands on the pulpit's edge,
-was looking down at him with a grin; the sexton above his head waved his
-brush to and fro and chanted, "_Ora pro nobis!_" in a high, whining
-voice. A French student at the further end of the table said "Roulé!"
-and his companion laughed shrilly. Even Gustave, at the door, was
-leaning on his halberd and chuckling, for he had not forgotten that
-Maxime, once sure of his position, had demanded repayment of the fifty
-francs.
-
-All this was sufficiently intolerable, but a real disaster, more
-terrible than mere ridicule, confronted Maxime. The crême de menthe was,
-as a matter of fact, one franc a glass, and it was out of his pocket
-that the deficit would have to be made good. As this tragic thought
-smote him full and fair, he bounded forward past the other angels,
-dodged nimbly under Gustave's outstretched arm, charged through the
-swinging doors, and emerged with a shout upon the boulevard de Clichy.
-
-The Major's party had paused before the entrance of L'Enfer, while Beck
-parleyed with the courteous demon in scarlet tights who kept the door,
-and the others stood by, sublimely unconscious of the none too
-complimentary comments of a half score of cochers and boulevard loungers
-who surrounded them. Into the midst of this assemblage swooped l'L
-Majuscule, his flaxen wig awry, his wings bobbing wildly on his
-shoulders, and his white tunic fluttering in the wind. Blind to
-consequences, he darted upon the unsuspecting Major, and seized him
-furiously by the coat.
-
-"Eh! vieille saucisse!" he exclaimed. "Tu te fiches de moi--quoi?"
-
-Now John Appleby had never enjoyed the advantages of French II., which
-shed such effulgence upon his classmate, but he knew the answer to this
-question, none the less. It had been taught him in the boxing-room of
-his athletic club, and it was surprisingly conclusive when applied to
-the under jaw of an infuriated angel. The ruby and white arc-lights
-before the cabarets suddenly joined in a mad waltz, the cabarets
-themselves turned upside down, the cochers and loungers swooped into the
-air like pigeons, a passing tram leaped into the trees on the further
-side of the driveway and disappeared, and, from somewhere, a factory
-whistle came close up to Maxime's side and said, "_Oo-oo-ooo-oooo!_" in
-his ear.
-
-He came to himself slowly. There was an acrid taste in his mouth, and
-this, upon investigation, proved to be boulevard mud. There was
-something fuzzy gripped tightly in his right hand, and this presently
-resolved itself into his wings. Then he saw his feet, which were
-elevated above the level of his head, by reason of being on the curb,
-while the rest of his person was in the gutter. Then the mammoth red
-face of a cocher bulged out of the night, close to his own, and a voice
-said,--
-
-"Have you harm, angel?"
-
-Then he remembered, sat up, and looked around.
-
-On the boulevard de Clichy, spectators grow out of the ground,
-spontaneously, when there is an excuse for their presence. A hundred or
-more now surrounded Maxime, with open mouths, and staring eyes that slid
-to and fro from his prostrate form to the faces of an agent and a
-vehement gentleman in a frock coat and a flat-brimmed huit reflets, who
-were disputing violently. In the crowd were all the other angels, and
-the better part of those who had been seated at the table of Heaven. The
-sexton, brush in hand, was gaping over the agent's shoulder, the
-high-priest was explaining the affair, with much elaboration, to all who
-would listen to him, and above the rest towered the face of Gustave
-Robine, still smiling blandly. The only unconcerned figure in sight was
-that of a courteous demon in scarlet tights, who was staring up at the
-sky from the doorway of L'Enfer. For Beck had slipped a gold piece into
-his hand,--as the Major and his party hurried inside, dragging the
-protesting Appleby by the arm,--and he knew how to keep his counsel.
-After all, the sanctity of hospitality must be respected, even in Hell.
-
-"But no, I tell you, but no!" exclaimed the gentleman of the huit
-reflets, who was none other than the manager of Heaven.
-
-"It is equal to me! It is equal to me!" stormed the agent. "I saw it, do
-you hear? He was struck, and the law does not allow--They went in
-there"--
-
-He made a motion, as if to thrust the other aside and plunge toward the
-entrance of L'Enfer. But the manager of Heaven was not to be thus
-outdone. He was determined that the incident should be considered
-closed; and for this there were reasons. It was but the beginning of the
-tourist season, and the foreign clientèle must not be antagonized. A
-paragraph in the "Matin," a sensational article in the "Herald" of
-to-morrow, and the Angliches would believe that the Cabaret du Ciel was
-no safe place for foreigners to enter. In agonized imagination he saw
-the gate receipts of Heaven dwindling, disappearing. It were better, far
-better, to sacrifice Maxime. He grasped the agent by the arm, and
-pointed to the fallen angel, who was still seated in the gutter,
-collecting his scattered wits, with a vacant stare.
-
-"Look you," he said, persuasively, "this tripe, this species of onion,
-this example of an eel, is the cause of all. It is I who know, n'est ce
-pas? being his patron. Eh b'en, I assure you that it is a drunkard of
-the most abandoned. Thirteen times in the dozen, one finds him in the
-fog, rigid as the Obelisk, bon Dieu! not merely lit, voyons, but
-flaming,--as full as Robespierre's donkey,--asphyxiated! It is not a
-man, sac à papier! It is a sponge--but a sponge, do you understand?--a
-pompier! He dries glasses--_poof!_--like that! Il lave sa gueule
-là-dedans, nothing less!"
-
-"Bravo!" said Gustave Robine, and all the angels applauded. The agent
-paused, doubtful of what course to pursue, overwhelmed by this burst of
-eloquence, and Top-Hat, perceiving the impression he had made, addressed
-himself to Maxime.
-
-"Waffle!" he cried, contemptuously. "Cream of a tart! Thou wast there,
-then, the day of the distribution, O stupid as thy feet! And who art
-thou, let us hear, to find thyself in a position to apply kicks to the
-clients? If thou wert employed at La Villette, where they slaughter
-pigs, sacred stove, thy first blow would be suicide!"
-
-He rose, in a majestic sweep, to the pinnacle of supreme courtesy.
-
-"Monsieur le marquis has, perhaps, hurt himself, stumbling by accident?
-Is it permitted to the obedient servitor of monsieur le marquis to
-inquire if monsieur le marquis has sustained any damage by reason of his
-deplorable mischance?"
-
-He descended, in a graceful curve, to the depths of utter scorn.
-
-"Animal low of ceiling! Camel! Gourd! Ancient senator! Gas-jet! Shut thy
-mouth, or I jump within!"
-
-And he paused,--breathless, but triumphant.
-
-It was magnificent! In the annals of Heaven there was record of no such
-climax of vituperation. The angels surveyed their patron with
-undisguised admiration. Even the agent touched the visor of his cap.
-
-"Monsieur," he said, "I yield the field to you. Your vocabulary is
-unrivaled--unless by General Cambronne!"
-
-"Monsieur, you flatter me," replied the other, with a bow.
-
-Some one had helped l'L Majuscule to his feet, and he stood there, a
-preposterous figure, in soiled pink tights, holding out his wings, with
-his huge feet turned in like a pigeon's.
-
-"Monsieur le directeur"--he began.
-
-"He speaks!" cried Huit Reflets, whirling around and addressing the
-throng. "He _dares_ to speak, this bad sou, this oyster! He does not
-comprehend that he is discharged. He counts that I am about to resign in
-his favor! Ah, non, it is too much!"
-
-He flung himself about again, facing Maxime.
-
-"Well, then," he added with forced calm, "thou art put at the door, is
-it clear? Take thy rags from yonder, and begone!"
-
-"Mais, monsieur"--
-
-"Oh!" cried the director, flinging his arms upward; and immediately
-vanished within the silver gates of Heaven, followed by his personnel,
-with the fallen angel bringing up the rear.
-
-Half an hour later, having exchanged his celestial raiment for his
-former earthly garb, Monsieur Perrot sat in solitary state at a table
-in the café Cyrano, and pondered the details of a project of revenge.
-The idea had come to him suddenly, like an inspiration, on seeing the
-nonchalant demon at the portals of L'Enfer, but it required arranging,
-elaboration. A man who made one blunder was but human, but a man who
-made two in succession--that was a mere root of celery! So l'L Majuscule
-thought hard. And when the will is so earnest, it is strange if the way
-be not forthcoming. At midnight he arose with a sigh of satisfaction,
-and took his way homeward, smiling.
-
-It was barely eight o'clock, the following evening, when Maxime entered
-L'Enfer. He was tastefully dressed in an excessively checked suit and a
-silk hat, and he wore a full black beard and spectacles, and rolled his
-r's in speaking, in the fashion of the South. The demon at the door,
-unsuspecting, greeted him effusively as "cher damné," and piloted him to
-a table at the further end of the cabaret. The table had a ground-glass
-top, through which shone electric lights which kept changing
-mysteriously from green to red and back again, and the whole interior of
-L'Enfer was of imitation rock, diversified by grinning faces. It was
-very artistic, and, what was better, very dark. Maxime was
-unnecessarily mistrustful of his false beard.
-
-At this early hour, he was the only visitor. An obliging demon supplied
-him with a green chartreuse, and, upon invitation, procured another for
-himself, and took the opposite seat.
-
-The conversation, which began with commonplaces, soon assumed a more
-intimate tone. Monsieur, it appeared, was from Toulouse, but this was
-not his first visit to L'Enfer. In fact, a place so amusing--what? He
-never missed it when he came to Paris.
-
-Oh, but monsieur was too good!
-
-No, on the contrary, it was for his own pleasure. It suited him to a
-marvel, blague à part! And often, he had had a curious fancy--to be a
-demon himself, imagine! To serve in the cabaret for just one evening, by
-way of variety--for, as for himself, he gave less for a life without
-variety than did a fish for an apple. That was the reason he had
-sometimes thought of applying to the management for permission to--but
-then, of course, the idea was fantastic, and, without doubt, quite
-impossible.
-
-Oh, quite impossible, monsieur!
-
-But, after all, why not? Not the management, naturally. That was out of
-the question, it went without saying. But an obliging demon, perhaps--a
-bon type, who understood these eccentricities, as a man of the
-world--one who would consent to a brief illness--for one night only--and
-who would provide a substitute, _in the person of monsieur_!
-Fantastic--what?--rigolo, mon Dieu!--very rigolo, and, of course, quite
-impossible.
-
-In some mysterious fashion a louis suddenly made its appearance on the
-illuminated table.
-
-Oh, quite impossible, monsieur! Evidently, affairs did not arrange
-themselves like that. Monsieur must understand that the pourboires which
-one gained in Hell were enormous--but _enormous_! It would be to throw
-away a fortune, to give up one's place for an entire evening. For forty
-francs, perhaps--but then it was certain that monsieur would not care--
-
-There was a tiny click upon the table-top, and the one louis had become
-two. A most surprising place, L'Enfer!
-
-Ah! But in addition, there were details to be arranged, and one could
-not talk with frankness in the cabaret.
-
-The doors at the further end swung open, and the demon of the gate made
-his appearance, ushering in a group of tourists. Maxime substituted two
-francs for the two louis, and rose.
-
-"That for the liqueurs, my friend," he said, "and what you say is true.
-The café Cyrano is a better place for talking. At midnight."
-
-Fifty-seven francs. The project had cost him fifty-seven francs, said
-the fallen angel to himself, as, twenty-four hours later, he dusted an
-illuminated table. What with his beard, and his spectacles, and two
-chartreuses in L'Enfer, and six demis at the café Cyrano--for the
-conference had been long--and, finally, the bribe to the obliging demon,
-revenge had cost him fifty-seven francs and it was not yet complete! But
-the prospects therefor were fair. He chuckled silently, with his eyes on
-the parti-wall which divided Hell from Heaven. It was eleven o'clock.
-
-Suddenly there was a stir in the cabaret. A voice was calling, "This
-way, chers damnés, to the Hall of the Infernal Visions!" and the clients
-were rising from their tables, and crowding out like sheep through a
-narrow door to the right. Almost immediately the place was empty, save
-for the fallen angel and two other demons, clearing away the liqueur
-glasses, and setting the stools in place. It was the dreamt-of moment.
-Maxime walked carelessly toward the door.
-
-In Le Ciel, the long table was full from end to end. The high-priest in
-his pulpit was delivering his accustomed discourse with extreme
-satisfaction, and the head angel making the round of the room, bearing
-the golden pig upon the pole. The angels, each in his place, abode the
-moment of the clients' exodus into the Hall of the Celestial Visions,
-which was coincident with the semi-hourly harvest of pourboires. In
-particular, their eyes were fixed upon a party of American tourists,
-under direction of a uniformed guide. These were worthy of comment, and
-received it. It appeared that the thin lady with the loose cloth costume
-was an empty bed ticking. There were other remarks, but this, from
-Gustave Robine, was the most successful. However, there were the
-pourboires to be considered, so the angels spoke in whispers.
-
-Of a sudden, the calm of Heaven was broken by an appalling sound,
-something midway between a shriek and a bark, and on the end of the
-table nearest the door appeared a terrible form, black-bearded and all
-in scarlet, with two long feathers nodding from his cap, and a polished
-two-pronged pitchfork brandished in one upraised hand. An instant he
-paused, superbly statuesque, his eyes blazing, an incarnation of
-demoniac fury. And, as if the sensation produced by his dramatic
-entrance were not sufficient, the newcomer received unexpected support
-from the thin lady in loose cloth costume, who, upon his appearance,
-promptly exclaimed "Good land!" and fell backward off her stool upon the
-floor.
-
-Then Bedlam broke loose. The doorway of Le Ciel is less than a metre in
-width, and when a score of affrighted tourists, and seven angels, and
-six French students with their grisettes, and a high-priest, and two
-corpulent Germans, and a sexton, and Gustave Robine are suddenly and
-simultaneously imbued with a desire to sample the air of the boulevard
-de Clichy, confusion is apt to result. There were shrieks and groans,
-protestations, oaths in three languages, a wild chaos of legs and arms,
-wings, white tunics, traveling caps, tweed suits, and golden stools,
-and over all pranced the crimson form of the invader, whirling up and
-down the table with unearthly cries, and kicking the liqueur glasses and
-little saucers in every direction. They were all agreed, both mortals
-and celestials, in believing him a madman, and agreed, also, in thinking
-the pavement of the boulevard a thing greatly to be desired. The demon
-paused presently, and watched them struggling in a frenzied mass about
-the door, and then he vanished as abruptly as he had appeared.
-
-For l'L Majuscule had not wasted the early hours of the evening in
-L'Enfer, and he knew now that the rear entrances of Heaven and Hell gave
-upon a common court, full of barrels, and empty bottles, and discarded
-properties, and even as the panic he had created was at its height, he
-had made the circuit, and was bustling into his original disguise.
-
-The doorkeeper of L'Enfer, on the outlook for clients, had stared in
-stupefaction as Maxime, in his demon's garb, darted past him and plunged
-into the entrance of Le Ciel, and when, a moment later, his ears were
-startled by the pandemonium inside the rival cabaret, he had first,
-with commendable presence of mind, shouted "Au feu! A l'assassin! Au
-secours!" to his fellows in L'Enfer, and then repeated the cry at the
-top of his lungs on the curb of the boulevard. So it was that the
-clients and personnel of Heaven and Hell reached the sidewalk almost
-simultaneously. Gustave, halberd in hand, came full upon a demon barring
-his path, and, mistaking him for the original intruder, fell upon him
-furiously. Other demons came to their companion's aid, other angels to
-Gustave's, and immediately fourscore individuals were battling
-desperately, without knowing or caring why. Agents appeared as if by
-magic, screaming for reinforcement, and pulling fainting women out of
-the mêlée by their heads and heels. Spectators ran up by hundreds, and
-formed a rampart around the fray. And, to add chaos to confusion, a
-detachment of sapeurs-pompiers presently drove up in a red wagon, their
-horn hee-hawing like an impatient donkey. Last of all, a thin gentleman
-with preposterously large feet, black-bearded, spectacled, and wearing
-an excessively checked suit, came calmly out of L'Enfer, shouldered his
-way to a position of vantage in the throng, and stood, smiling down upon
-the havoc.
-
-Peace was restored. But a half dozen of the combatants were already in
-the hands of the police, and were hurried away to the poste, protesting
-volubly. Among these were Gustave Robine, in a pitiful state of
-demoralization, and the doorkeeper of L'Enfer, and the director of Le
-Ciel, with his huits reflets, crushed to an unrecognizable mass,
-clutched desperately in his hand.
-
-Then every second person in the crowd explained to his neighbor how it
-all occurred, and, among others, a stalwart workingman proceeded to
-enlighten the spectacled gentleman at his side.
-
-"It appears there was a madman," he said. "Bon sang! What places, these
-cabarets--what infected boxes, name of a dog!"
-
-"Ah, ça!" replied the other, rolling his r's in speaking, in the fashion
-of the South, and leering at the back of the struggling director. "But
-then such an affair is in the chapter of variety, and as for me, I care
-less for a life without variety than does a fish for an apple!"
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Poire!
-
-
-LIEUTENANT EUGENE DROUIN slid from his saddle with a little grunt,
-slipped his arm through the bridle-rein, and then, with his riding crop,
-rapped smartly on the round, tin-topped table nearest to him. At the
-summons, a small square door on the left of the archway snapped open,
-and a stumpy waiter, shaped like a domino, appeared abruptly on the
-sill.
-
-"Froid!" shouted the officer.
-
-The domino waiter made a vague gesture in the air with one fat hand, and
-then vanished as suddenly as he had appeared, closing the door behind
-him with a slam. If he had but seen fit to observe "Cuckoo!" the whole
-affair--the sort of châlet from which he emerged, the small square door,
-and his own performance--would have borne a remarkable resemblance to a
-Swiss clock striking one.
-
-Lieutenant Drouin detached an end of the rein from the snaffle-bar,
-knotted it about the back of one chair and flung himself into another.
-
-"Poof!" he said, and lit a cigarette.
-
-It was exactly one o'clock, and the Pré Catalan was deserted, save for a
-half dozen cats of various breeds and colors, chasing each other about
-under the chairs and tables, and two brilliant macaws sitting on wooden
-perches in an apparent state of coma, broken only by an occasional
-reflective "Wawk!" Once, a high cart flashed in an opening of the trees
-to the left, and then disappeared with a rattle of harness chains, in
-the direction of the porte Dauphine. For the rest, there was nothing to
-suggest that Paris might not be fifty kilometres distant. All the world
-was at breakfast.
-
-Eugène stretched his legs, squinted at the toes of his narrow riding
-boots, and swore tenderly at himself for having refused the invitation
-of the Marquise de Baucheron. Experience might have taught him that Rosa
-de Mirecourt would not be in the Bois that morning. It was a peculiarity
-of Rosa's to be in evidence on every occasion when her presence was not
-to be desired, and never to turn up when one was in the mood to chat or
-breakfast with her. Eugène had measured the Acacias bridle-path at a
-canter eight times since noon, scanning the driveway for a glimpse of
-the blue and scarlet victoria with the cream-colored mares, and all in
-vain. Rosa was nowhere to be seen. By this time, no doubt, some other
-lieutenant of chasseurs was thrashing out the latest gossip of the
-demi-monde over her breakfast table in the rue de Bassano, and still
-another was, in all probability, filling his place at Madame de
-Baucheron's, and eating the Friday breakfast--sole cardinale and oeufs
-brouillés aux crevettes--for which her chef was famous. Baste! what a
-world!
-
-The domino waiter reappeared presently in the doorway, came quickly
-across to Eugène's table with a curious, tottering shuffle born of his
-swaddling apron, and served a small white mug of cold milk as if it had
-been Château Latour-Blanche.
-
-"Beautiful weather, my lieutenant," he ventured cheerfully, for he had
-done his service, and knew the meaning of the single epaulette.
-
-But Eugène was in no mood for light conversation. For sole reply, he
-paid his score, and then drank the milk slowly, looking out toward the
-lower lake, across the wide stretch of fresh grass mottled with flecks
-of sunlight sifted through the foliage above. At his side Vivandière
-nuzzled the turf along the border of the graveled terrasse, the lithe
-muscles rippling in her polished neck, and her deep eye shifting now and
-again in its socket as she looked doubtfully, almost pleadingly, toward
-her master. They were well known on the Allée and the bridle-path of the
-avenue du Bois, these two,--the young chasseur, tall, clean-cut, and
-slender, with a complexion like a girl's, and the gayety of Polichinelle
-himself, in full red breeches and tunic of black and light blue; and the
-chestnut mare, nervous and alert, with her racing lines, and her long,
-leisurely gallop, superb in its suggestion of reserve speed and
-unflagging endurance.
-
-The fates were kind to Lieutenant Eugène Drouin. Paris, spring, youth,
-an ample fortune, a commission in the _chasseurs_, good looks, a
-thoroughbred Arab, and a half dozen women frankly in love with
-him,--surely there was nothing lacking; and yet he knew that something
-was lacking, though he could not have said what, as he sat sprawling in
-his little iron chair at the Pré Catalan that morning.
-
-He straightened himself suddenly, as she came up the driveway from the
-left, and then rose with a stiff salute, for, a pace or so behind,
-walked Vieux César, so-called by an irreverent garrison, leading two
-horses, one limping badly. Eugène had seen him but once, at the review
-of the Quatorze Juillet, but, though he was not in uniform now, the
-fierce gray mustache and keen black eyes of General Tournadour were too
-familiar to Parisians to pass unrecognized in a throng, much less under
-circumstances such as these. When one has been Military Governor of
-Paris, and held the portfolio of war, one does not achieve _incognito_
-merely by donning a black civile. So Eugène saluted the general--but
-with his eyes on the girl.
-
-She was not beautiful, he told himself, in that first moment of
-surprise and swift observation, but about her, as she barely glanced at
-him in passing, there was an indefinably compellant charm which arrested
-his attention and held it, like an unrecognized but strangely sweet
-perfume, suddenly met with in a familiar spot where there is no apparent
-reason for its presence. Without doubt, it was a very little thing. He
-knew enough of such matters to be aware that an unanalyzed attraction of
-the kind which, at first glance, makes a woman appear utterly
-irresistible, is apt, on closer acquaintance, to resolve itself into the
-merest trifle of dissimilarity from other women,--a tilt of a
-lip-corner, a dimple in an unlikely spot, a trick with the hands or the
-head, a rebellious wisp of hair. For he was very philosophical, and very
-wise, was Eugène, and twenty-six years of age, into the bargain. So
-there was nothing one could tell him about women. But, in any event,
-there was no time to define the particular charm in question. He felt
-rather than saw it, as she went by him, with the faintest possible whiff
-of orris, and the gleam of a patent-leather boot at the edge of her
-habit. No, she was certainly not beautiful, but she was something
-dangerously, deliciously akin, said Lieutenant Drouin to himself; and
-that, in the unloveliest costume that can be worn by womankind,--a
-deep-green habit of extreme severity, and a squat derby, like a boy's,
-with an elastic strap brutally grooving her ruddy hair.
-
-General Tournadour did not follow the girl beyond the spot where Eugène
-was standing, but drew up abruptly, and indicated the lamed horse with a
-gesture of irritation.
-
-"A beautiful affair, my word, lieutenant!" he said. "This animal
-stumbled, back there, and has received some injury,--I know not what. We
-have walked from the Allée, in hope of finding a sapin here, and all
-without result."
-
-The young officer was already feeling the animal's hocks with a
-practiced hand. There was a swelling just above the right fore fetlock,
-and as he touched it, the horse winced and kicked out sharply.
-
-"A bad wrench, I fear, my general," said Eugène. "He should have an
-hour's rest, at least." Then, looking quickly at the saddle, "It is
-evident that madame cannot ride him home. No doubt they will give him a
-stall in the farm stable. You can send a groom out for him this
-afternoon."
-
-"Dieu! That is very well, monsieur," answered the former minister of
-war, with an air of perplexity amusingly in contrast with his fierce
-moustache. "But my daughter"--
-
-Now Lieutenant Drouin, in matters where a woman was concerned, was
-nothing if not adroit. He sent a flying glance in the direction of the
-girl. She had aroused one of the comatose macaws from his lethargy, and
-now stood watching him as he munched the biscuit she had taken from a
-neighboring table. And again Eugène was conscious of an inexplicable but
-very decided little thrill.
-
-"If Mademoiselle Tournadour--if you, my general, will consider me at
-your service, I shall be glad to have you make use of my mare
-Vivandière, here. She is as gentle as a lamb--but, perhaps, not unworthy
-of being seen in company with your own horse."
-
-The General's eyes twinkled at the boyishness of the remark. He knew a
-horse as well as another, Vieux César, and to describe the superb Arab
-before him as being, perhaps, not unworthy of being seen in company with
-his own sturdy charger was a bit of satire much to his relish.
-
-"Merci!" he answered. "It is the proposal of an officer and a gentleman.
-But my daughter must decide if it is possible for us to accept it. In
-the matter of names, monsieur, you have me at an advantage."
-
-"Pardon!" said the other. "I should have realized that. I am Eugène
-Drouin, lieutenant of the 29th Chasseurs."
-
-"Natalie!" cried the General, beckoning with his crop.
-
-As Mademoiselle Tournadour came forward, the young chasseur again made a
-confidant of himself, this time for the satisfaction of observing that
-he was an imbecile, and that a man who could not tell at the first
-glance whether or not a woman was entirely beautiful, deserved not to
-have an opportunity of discovering the fact at all. Their eyes met
-fairly, his glowing with delighted surprise, hers touched with that
-expression of negative inquiry and polite interest which immediately
-precedes an introduction.
-
-"My daughter," said the General, prodding the air with his crop in her
-direction. "Lieutenant Drouin, of the 29th Chasseurs," he added,
-prodding again, in the direction of Eugène. "Monsieur le lieutenant has
-been so kind as to offer thee the use of his own horse, and suggests
-that we leave Le Cid here to be cared for until I can send Victor for
-him. I tell him thou art the one to decide."
-
-"Monsieur, you are truly kind," said the girl easily--_too_ easily,
-thought Eugène!--"but it would be to presume upon your generosity."
-
-"But it is nothing," protested the officer. "Voyons! It is but a step to
-La Muette, and there I have the Ceinture!"
-
-"You are stationed at the quartier de cavalerie?" asked Tournadour.
-
-"Rue Desaix, yes, mon général," answered Eugène. Then, turning again to
-the girl, "Surely you must consent, mademoiselle. It is the simplest
-way. And this afternoon, if you will permit me"--
-
-"Yes," put in the General, "and this afternoon Victor can leave your
-horse at the caserne as he is coming to take Le Cid.
-
-"Eh, dis-donc, Natalie," he added, fretfully, observing that the girl
-still hesitated. "Don't make difficulties, my dear. There is
-breakfast--yes, breakfast to be considered, and it is one, and past.
-Since the lieutenant is so kind"--
-
-"Since the lieutenant is so kind," said his daughter with a smile, "eh
-bien, I accept."
-
-It was the work of a moment for Eugène to shift the side-saddle from Le
-Cid to Vivandière. The general had already mounted, and was gazing off
-toward the porte Dauphine, with his nose in the air, as if he scented
-breakfast from afar.
-
-"She is very beautiful, monsieur, your Vivandière, and you are very
-good," said Mademoiselle Tournadour, as the chasseur tightened the
-girth, after her boot had touched his hand, and she was in the saddle.
-
-"She is very fortunate, mademoiselle," answered Eugène, curiously
-embarrassed for one so skilled in compliment. "If she wins, I shall feel
-that she owes the race to this good omen."
-
-"The race?" said the girl.
-
-"The Officers' Steeple Chase at Auteuil, on Sunday."
-
-"You ride her yourself?"
-
-There was a strange little note of more than casual interest in the
-question, and Eugène looked up suddenly. For the second time their eyes
-met.
-
-"Yes," he answered. "Why?"
-
-"Why? But nothing, monsieur, except, perhaps, to wish you bonne chance."
-
-She touched Vivandière with her heel.
-
-"Adieu, monsieur," she added, "and a thousand thanks!"
-
-Eugène bowed.
-
-"For nothing," he said, "and au revoir, mademoiselle!"
-
-Then he watched them out of sight, with his arm through Le Cid's
-bridle-rein, and his trim English saddle sprawling at his feet.
-
-There was something delightfully ingenuous, to Eugène's way of thinking,
-in Vieux César's method of unloading the burden of his embarrassment on
-the shoulders of the first young lieutenant who crossed his path, and
-then riding off serenely to breakfast, leaving the other, as it were, to
-gather up and disentangle the loose ends of the situation. He was half
-amused, half annoyed that his offer of Vivandière had not been taken
-less as a matter of course; but, in view of the circumstances, he
-attended with fairly good grace to the details of stabling Le Cid, and
-arranging to send for his saddle, and then struck out at a swinging gait
-for the footpath to La Muette. For all of which there was a sufficient
-reason in the person of Mademoiselle Tournadour.
-
-Now, as he revolved the meeting in his mind, he found that it was not in
-the least degree a surprise. Somehow, he had always expected that this
-girl would step suddenly into his life, with her ruddy hair and her gray
-eyes. It seemed to him to be something which the natural evolution of
-that life demanded. He had sounded every note in the gamut of emotions
-appropriate to a man in his position. He had had his serious, almost
-ascetic moods, his despondencies, his flights of folly, his impulses of
-stern ambition, his hours of morbid brooding and of reckless gayety. He
-could no longer number his love-affairs with any approach to accuracy.
-They were hopelessly jumbled in his memory, by very reason of their
-number and their triviality. Here and there, a face stood out from its
-fellows--the Baronne de Banis, Lady Mary Kaswellyn, Rosa de Mirecourt,
-or the Marquise de Baucheron--but none of these impelled him to regret.
-There were no entanglements, no uncomfortable circumstances to recall.
-Not a stone lay in the way of the gate of the future, as, in his
-imagination, it swung open before him. As we have said, the fates were
-kind to Lieutenant Eugène Drouin. The current of experience had borne
-his individual shallop over deeps and shallows safely and with a song,
-and, now that a sudden turn of the stream had shown him Natalie
-Tournadour waiting on the bank, it seemed to him to be the most natural
-thing imaginable,--something which intuition had taught him was
-inevitable, and, what was better, which experience told him was
-desirable. The event had found him ready and willing to make room for
-her beside him in the boat, and, so, continue the journey in her
-company, well content. He bowed to fate politely, with a graceful merci!
-
-For forty-eight hours he watched, almost as if he had been a
-disinterested outsider, this pleasant fancy moulding the details of his
-future life. He reckoned his rentes anew, assigning a due proportion to
-a little hôtel in the Monceau quarter, to a villa at Houlgate, to
-horses, household expenses, his wife's allowance, servants,
-entertainment, a month at Aix, another at Nice, a third at Hombourg. He
-saw himself retired, and in the Chambre. And over all hovered, like a
-luminous presiding angel, the presence of Mademoiselle Tournadour--Madame
-Drouin!
-
-So Sunday came, and, with it, breakfast at Armenonville with two fellow
-officers, and the growing exhilaration of the approaching race. Eugène
-was in his gayest mood--for was not Vivandière not only the winner of
-last year's Steeple Chase, but to-day in better form than she had ever
-been? But he allowed his good spirits to be touched, now and again, with
-a gentle, pleasurable melancholy, as the violins of the tziganes glided
-into the long, languorous swell of the Valse Bleue, and his handsome
-eyes clouded thoughtfully, and his fine mouth drooped, so that Gaston
-Cavaignac rallied him joyously upon the new affair, which alone could
-account for such tristesse. It lent an added zest, this. Eugène smiled,
-and was glad that in his denial of the charge rang so little of
-conviction.
-
-The first race had been already run, as the three officers slipped
-through the main entrance of Auteuil, and made their way across the
-pesage, and past the betting booths, to the grass oval around which the
-horses, in charge of stable lads, were slowly circling. It was one of
-May's clearest and most brilliant afternoons. The gravel pathways and
-stretches of vivid turf were thronged with the best known men and women
-of the two great Parisian worlds of sport and fashion, and the air rang
-with gay gossip and spirited discussion. But Eugène had ears for none of
-this, and eyes but for two things,--Vivandière, blanketed, and swinging
-around the oval with her long, sure stride, and Natalie Tournadour, in a
-delicious gown of soft blue, standing at the side of Vieux César. Life,
-at that moment, was good to live. The chasseur drew a quick breath of
-pleased surprise. She was there, then, to see him win. He might have
-known!
-
-A mixture of sudden, unfamiliar embarrassment and boyish vanity caused
-him to avoid her eye as he made a turn of the oval, consulting with his
-stable lad about the mare's condition; but he held himself very
-straight, and was pleasantly conscious that his tunic was new, and his
-boots a veritable triumph of Coquillot's. When he went back to his
-companions his eyes were glowing.
-
-"Content?" asked Cavaignac.
-
-"Je te crois, mon vieux!" he answered. "One never can say, but it is
-certain that no one has a better chance. She is perfection!"
-
-"There is the white," put in Lieutenant Mors, dubiously.
-
-Eugène vouchsafed the rival racer a brief, contemptuous glance. It was a
-lean, powerfully built brute, with an astonishing reach to even the
-leisurely stride with which he paced the oval. A trainer would have had
-something to say of those lithe shoulders, and that long barrel,
-dwindling along the flanks, and that easy swing of haunch and swathed
-hock. But Eugène was not a trainer.
-
-"A fine animal," he observed, carelessly, "but there is no comparison.
-One has only to look at Vivandière."
-
-"Tiens!" cried Gaston, "the saddling-bell! I am off to put five louis on
-you gagnant, and five placé. Bonne chance, vieux!"
-
-In truth, the saddling-bell was jangling from the little pavilion to
-the left, and the officers hurrying forward to weigh in. As he passed
-into the enclosure, Eugène glanced over his shoulder. General Tournadour
-and his daughter were still standing at the oval-side, and he had a
-glimpse of Natalie clapping her hands and pointing, as the stable lad
-slipped the blanket off Vivandière. But he made no sign, even when,
-three minutes later, he mounted, within five metres of where they stood.
-Time enough, when the victory was won, to claim his reward in the gray
-eyes of which he had been dreaming. His heart leaped, nevertheless, as
-he gave Vivandière the rein. It was the voice of Vieux César, almost at
-his side:--
-
-"Be not afraid, ma petite. There is no doubt that he is going to win."
-
-No doubt, indeed, with her eyes upon him, and her heart praying for his
-success!
-
-Once upon the course, he swept the vast enclosure with a glance, and his
-blood danced with the excitement of the moment, and the brilliancy of
-the scene. To the right the great tribunes of the pesage, and the
-chair-dotted turf in front, glowed with a shifting rainbow of spring
-gowns and vivid parasols, and sparkled with a myriad white waistcoats,
-drifting, like large, lazy snowflakes, to and fro; to the left lay the
-vast enclosure of the pelouse, flooded with dazzling sunlight, its
-thousands circling here and there like ants. Beyond, the race-course
-swept away, smooth and green, to the long rows of trees in their new
-foliage, banked along the route de Boulogne and the allée des
-Fortifications. It was a day of days, whether one stood inside the rail,
-straining for a glimpse of the horses, or swept slowly to the left, on
-the course itself, toward the starting point, with a thoroughbred's
-flanks quivering between one's knees!
-
-As the horses circled about the start, getting into position, Eugène's
-keen, handsome eyes were busy with trivial details, dwindled by distance
-to mere specks,--two men, leaning far over the rails, signaling bets to
-each other across the track, a gleam of orange from the finish flag, the
-starter rocking toward him on a ridiculously fat pony. Then, in an
-instant, every faculty came taut like a stretched string, and they were
-off, in a thunder of hoofs and a whirl of flying sod. He saw a red flag
-fluttering stiffly in the breeze as he swept past, and heard, in the
-distance, the whirr of the signal gong from the judge's stand. It was a
-fair start. He touched Vivandière lightly with his hand, and, at the
-signal, felt her lengthen under him into her long, magnificent gallop.
-The tribunes and the crowded pelouse rushed down upon him with a murmur
-of many voices. The long double line of faces at the rail slid past like
-white dots, and the dark green hedge of the water-jump sprang out of the
-track at his feet. Houp, ma belle! A whish of brushed twigs, a gleam of
-silver water passing under, a thud of hoofs on the soft turf beyond, and
-they were over, and away into the southern loop to the left!
-
-As he swung to the north again, he saw the ants of the pelouse scurrying
-across to the rail along the transverse cut. Let them run, les drôles!
-They had need to if they would see the passing of Vivandière! Past the
-high hurdle--so much the better that one did not have to take it!--and
-down the transverse to the second water-jump. It was easy, that. The
-mare crossed it like a bird, and Eugène saw the tribunes again from the
-corner of his eye, and laughed at the shrill "Bravo!" of a little
-grisette in a red hat, who flew past him, leaning on the rail.
-
-Vivandière was well into the left reach of the northern loop before
-Eugène fairly realized what that smooth, empty width of turf before him
-meant. He was leading,--had been leading from the very start! And
-somewhere, back there in the gay throng of the pesage, two gray eyes
-were watching him, straining to catch each movement of the blue tunic,
-each bound of the gallant mare. He threw back his head and laughed at
-the clear, wide sky. It was very good to be alive!
-
-So, with a broad sweep to the right, into the home stretch, the last
-curve of the giant "8" he had described. It lay ahead, full and fair,
-cut by one low hedge. And then--
-
-Thud! Thud! Thud!
-
-The sound battered its way into the chasseur's understanding, and hurt
-as if it had been, in verity, that of blow on blow. He leaned forward,
-spurring the mare to her utmost endeavor. And she responded, but still
-the beat of following hoofs grew louder. For Vivandière was
-thoroughbred, and she had kept her maddest pace from the start. It was
-reserved for racers of ignobler spirit to hold their greatest effort
-for the end.
-
-Thud! Thud! Thud!
-
-Once more pesage and pelouse rushed down upon him, not now with a murmur
-of voices, but with a mighty roar, that swelled, deafening, into his
-ears.
-
-"Flambeau! Flambeau! C'est Flambeau qui gagne!"
-
-There was a gasp of short-coming breath at his elbow, a gleam of white,
-tense neck, a flash of red breeches and of polished boots, and the
-Steeple Chase Militaire was run, with Vivandière second, and the lean,
-white Flambeau winner by a length.
-
-The officers rode back slowly, past the applauding tribunes. Eugène saw
-dimly that it was a colonel of infantry who rode Flambeau, a metre ahead
-of him, but his thoughts were more for Natalie than for himself or his
-successful competitor. Poor little girl! She had been so anxious for his
-victory, and no doubt so confident, after the brave words of Vieux
-César. But, after all,--second! It was not so bad in a field of twelve.
-But he had been wrong not to speak to her before he mounted. Well, he
-would atone for that, never fear! Moreover, when once they were married,
-he would give her Vivandière--the cause of their first meeting--the
-reason of their present sympathy! It was a good thought.
-
-Eugène did not find the general and his daughter readily in the vast
-throng in the pesage. Three times he made the circuit of the tribunes,
-scanning the tiers of seats, and threading his way through the little
-wooden chairs upon the turf in front. Once he passed Cavaignac and Mors,
-walking arm in arm, who swore at him picturesquely for his defeat.
-Vivandière had paid but seventeen francs fifty placé, and so they had
-only seventy-five to show for the five louis they had placed upon her
-gagnant. The privilege of calling her master tête de laitue was but
-trifling recompense, and they strolled on, surprised that one noted for
-his eloquence in this variety of obloquy did not deign to reply.
-
-Finally, at the doors of the little refreshment pavilion, and talking
-with a colonel of infantry, he found the objects of his quest, and went
-up eagerly, saluting. Vieux César greeted him with heartiness.
-
-"Ah, lieutenant! Our preserver of Friday--quoi? Natalie, see who is
-here--our preserver of Friday!"
-
-The girl was radiant. Her cheeks were flushed, and the gray eyes shone
-with a brightness that set Eugène's heart pounding so hard that he felt
-its throbbing must be dimpling the breast of his tunic.
-
-"What a magnificent race!" she said, giving him her hand. "You have
-cause to be proud of Vivandière. It is something to have ridden such a
-horse."
-
-"It is always something to ride a good horse," said Eugène, looking into
-her eyes, "and it is something, also, to be second in a good race, but
-it is more to be first. And I had my reasons for wishing to be that,
-mademoiselle."
-
-Natalie smiled.
-
-"Ah, sans doute!" she answered. "But you must not call me mademoiselle,
-monsieur. You must know that since yesterday I am a serious married
-woman. And what is more, my husband rode Flambeau! Am I not a veritable
-mascotte?"
-
-She laid her hand on the arm of the officer at her side.
-
-"My husband, Colonel Montrésor," she added. "Paul, this is the officer
-of whom I spoke to you--who was so kind--Lieutenant"--
-
-She turned to Eugène, blushing divinely, with an embarrassed little
-laugh.
-
-"Oh, pray forgive me!" she said. "I am _so_ stupid--but--but--I have
-forgotten your name!"
-
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Papa Labesse
-
-
-UP on the Butte Montmartre life is a matter of first principles, and
-conventionality an undiscovered affliction. A spade is a spade, and the
-blacker it happens to be, the more apt it is to receive its proper
-appellation, and the less likely to be confused with the hearts and
-diamonds. That is why Papa Labesse had no hesitation in referring to
-Bombiste Fremier as a good-for-nothing,--a vaurien.
-
-Just off the boulevard de Rochechouart, in the rue Veron, Papa Labesse
-kept a tiny joiner's shop, in which, in his velvet cap with a long
-tassel and his ample apron of blue denim, he might be seen daily,
-toiling upon various small orders for the quartier. But daily, also,
-when the light began to fail, he would discard his apron, and, locking
-his shop door, walk slowly up the long curving incline of the rue Lepic,
-and through the appropriately rural-looking rue St. Rustique, until he
-emerged upon the broad summit of the Butte. Here he would light his
-pipe, and, with his legs spread wide, stand motionless by the low
-wattled fence at the brink of the bluff, looking off across the city. In
-appearance Papa Labesse was not the type of man in whom one would be apt
-to look for sentimentality. He was short and very thin, with a hooked
-nose and a gray moustache turned up fiercely at the ends, and his skin
-was brown and deeply wrinkled, as if he had somehow shrunk or warped;
-but then, as Marcelle said of him, it is the rough and crinkled
-Brazil-nut that is as full as possible of sweet white meat.
-
-Between these two there had always existed a firm bond of camaraderie.
-Marcelle was the daughter of Madame Clapot, who presided over a little
-dairy directly opposite the joiner's shop, and on the day when she first
-made the astounding discovery that small girls can stand upright and
-walk alone, as if by instinct she had made a bee-line for the doorway of
-Papa Labesse, and, staggering in, triumphant, had fallen headlong, with
-a gurgle of satisfaction, into a great pile of shavings. Thenceforward
-she came often and tarried long, and Papa Labesse built houses for her
-out of odds and ends of wood, and fashioned miniature articles of
-furniture in his spare moments, and had always a bit of sucre-candi or a
-little gingerbread figure tucked away in a certain drawer of his table,
-which she soon learned to find for herself.
-
-It seemed to Papa Labesse but the week following her first plunge among
-his shavings when Marcelle came in, all in white, and with a veil like a
-little bride's, to parade her splendor under his delighted eyes, before
-going to her first communion. But when he put into her hand the small
-white prayerbook he had bought for this great occasion, she had
-forgotten all else, and thrown her arms about his neck, entirely
-regardless of her finery.
-
-"After maman, thou knowest, Papa Labesse, I love thee best of all the
-world!"
-
-And Papa Labesse was properly shocked at this recklessness and said, bon
-Dieu! that was a fine veil, then, made to be crushed against an odious
-apron covered with chips and sawdust--what? And, as Marcelle ran off to
-join Madame Clapot, who was waiting, consumed with mingled pride and
-impatience, across the way, the old man wiped his spectacles vigorously,
-shook his head several times, and then, suddenly abandoning his work,
-three hours before the accustomed time, betook himself to the Butte, and
-smoked three pipefuls of tobacco, looking off across the city.
-
-It was at this time that two radical changes came into the life of Papa
-Labesse. First, on the very summit of the Butte they began to lay the
-foundations for the great church of Sacré-Coeur; and, second, Marcelle
-took it into her pretty little head to accompany him on his daily climb.
-At first he was disturbed by both these innovations. This curious
-afternoon communion of his with the wonderful wide city, which lay
-spread out before him like a great gray map, was akin to a religion. He
-loved Paris with a love so great that perhaps he himself was barely
-able to comprehend its proportions. He was never tired of standing there
-and watching her breathing at his feet, of picking out, in the gathering
-twilight, the faint white speck to the west that was the arc de
-l'Etoile, the domes of the Invalides and the Panthéon, Notre Dame, to
-the eastward, and the towers and spires of half a hundred minor temples
-and public buildings. He passed from one to the other in a kind of
-visual pilgrimage, saying the names over slowly to himself, and
-occasionally affecting an air of surprise, as if some one of the
-familiar piles had suddenly and unaccountably appeared in a new
-locality.
-
-"La Trinité; Notre Dame de Lorette; La Bourse. Tiens! _St. Eustache!_"
-
-At the outset, the serenity of this contemplative hour was seriously
-impaired by the creaking of derrick-pulleys and the loud chatter of
-wagon-drivers, and hardly less so by the eager questions of Marcelle,
-clinging to his hand, her eyes bright with excitement, as she looked out
-with him across Paris, or peered down into the vast pit when the masons
-were laying the foundations of the big church. But, bit by bit, Papa
-Labesse became accustomed to the new conditions; and every night, an
-hour before sunset, his high, dry voice summoned Marcelle from the dairy
-across the way, and the two set forth together up the long curving
-incline of the rue Lepic, and the old man would smoke his pipe by the
-low wattled fence at the brink of the bluff, while the child babbled of
-her little affairs. Papa Labesse no longer named the domes and spires
-now. His eyes rested alternately on the city and on the girl beside him,
-and often, when Marcelle was silent, looking off to where the thin,
-silver line of the Seine gleamed briefly between distant buildings, he
-shook his head several times, tapping the side of his inverted pipe-bowl
-against the palm of his hand, long after the ashes had fallen out.
-
-When Marcelle was seventeen, Madame Clapot died suddenly, and the girl
-moved from the rue Veron to the home of her aunt, near by, in the rue
-Seveste. But the change made no difference in her friendship for Papa
-Labesse. All through the ensuing spring she called regularly for him
-each afternoon, and they climbed the Butte in company, as before. The
-old man would have been completely happy had it not been for Bombiste
-Fremier.
-
-Bombiste was an employé of the state,--an humble one, to be sure, but,
-nevertheless, part and parcel of the great Administration which includes
-every one, from the President of the Republic to the street-sweeper on
-the rue Royale. In Fremier's case the employment was brief and not
-over-lucrative. He was engaged, for two months only in the twelve, to
-mow the grass on the fortifications and in parts of the Bois and the
-smaller parks of Paris. For the remainder of the year he lived none knew
-how, but he had always a few white pieces in his pocket, and was ready
-to treat a comrade at Le Cheval Blanc, the little wine-shop kept by
-Bonhomme Pirou at the corner of the boulevard and the rue Seveste. As
-regards the source of his income, it is probable that Amélie Chouert,
-called La Trompette, by reason of her loud voice, might have divulged
-some remarkable particulars. In any event, she was his constant
-companion, a sharp-featured, angular woman with snapping black eyes and
-a great mop of hair that came down to within an inch of her continuous
-line of eyebrow.
-
-Fremier himself was as handsome as a brutal picture,--a giant in
-stature, with square shoulders, a thick neck, in which the muscles stood
-out like ropes, and the face of an Italian brigand. It is a type of
-masculine beauty which goes far in Montmartre, and to it was added a
-deep, melodious voice, that, whether in the heat of political argument
-or the more complicated phraseology of love, carried complete
-conviction. No one blamed La Trompette for her infatuation. As we have
-said, life on the Butte is a matter of first principles, and, in view of
-the manifest attraction, her position was entirely conceivable. Except
-to Papa Labesse.
-
-He was a singularly rigid old man, who took no account of the remarkable
-beauty and the irresistible tongue of Fremier, but only of the fact that
-he was called Bombiste because he talked against the government at Le
-Cheval Blanc, advocating the use of dynamite, and only the bon Dieu knew
-what else beside. And if, as La Trompette alleged, he swung his scythe
-on the fortifications like a veritable demon, what of that? No,
-evidently he was a vaurien!
-
-So it was, that when, one fine May afternoon, Papa Labesse, emerging
-from his little shop at the summons of Marcelle, caught a glimpse of
-Bombiste slipping around the further corner into the rue Lepic, his
-heart gave a sudden great bound and then seemed to stand still. He was
-very silent on the way to the Butte, for, moment by moment, the
-blackness of untoward premonition was settling upon him. He glanced,
-covertly, but again and again, at Marcelle, observing, with a strange,
-suddenly acquired power of perception, that she was already a woman. He
-had not seemed to notice, day by day, the change in her. Now it dawned
-upon him in a flash. No, it was no longer the baby who had fallen
-headlong among his shavings, nor yet the child going to her first
-communion, all in white and with a veil like a little bride's, nor even
-the slender girl who had peered down with him into the vast pit where
-the masons were laying the foundations of the big church. It was a woman
-who walked beside him, a woman very beautiful, with dark hair, coiled
-above a pale, pure face, and great eyes, like crushed violets swimming
-in their dew. Papa Labesse caught his breath: Bombiste Fremier!
-
-But Marcelle saw nothing of her companion's preoccupation. She almost
-danced beside him up the long curving incline of the rue Lepic,
-chaffing, as she passed, the children playing in the gutters, and
-pausing continually to sniff at some flower-vender's fragrant wares, or
-peer into the window of a tiny shop. She was glowing with health and
-happiness: her cheeks dappled with color, her eyes shining. When,
-finally, they emerged upon the Butte, she ran to the little wattled
-fence, and with her hands clasped behind her head, looked out across the
-city. Even when Papa Labesse had come up to her side, she said no word
-for several minutes.
-
-They had started later than was usual, and already the daylight had
-begun to dim, and the west to turn from red to saffron, and from saffron
-to fawn. Directly below them lay a maze of steep and narrow streets,
-shelving toward the boulevard de Rochechouart; and far further, to the
-southwest, the place de l'Opéra was breaking into the alternate deep red
-and glaring white of electric advertising signs, the lettering of which
-could not be distinguished from where they stood, but which painted the
-faint haze of evening with swiftly changing contrasts of color.
-
-Suddenly Marcelle began to speak, her voice eloquent with a strange, new
-music.
-
-"Papa Labesse, dost thou comprehend what all this says to us, this
-wonderful city upon which we look each night, thou and I? From
-here--what? A bewilderment of lights, a sea of roofs, a murmur of
-faintly heard cries. But what does it mean? Surely, it is the voice of
-the mother of us all, of Paris, the great, the beautiful--of a woman,
-Papa Labesse: that finally, which thou canst never comprehend, pauvre
-Papa Labesse!--a woman who says but one word--love! Papa
-Labesse--L'amour, l'amour, l'amour!--again, and again, and again,
-l'amour!"
-
-There was a long silence. Then, almost timidly, Papa Labesse laid his
-hand on hers.
-
-"But thou dost not love, my little one,--thou?" he said.
-
-Marcelle turned suddenly.
-
-"Si, I love!" she answered.
-
-Above the tapering, distant shaft of the Tour Eiffel a tiny cloud caught
-the last ray of the departed sun, blazed crimson for an instant, and
-then, as suddenly, gloomed to slate-gray.
-
-"Que Dieu te bénisse!" said Papa Labesse, solemnly.
-
-"It is all so wonderful," continued Marcelle after a moment, "and yet I
-have never seemed to understand it till to-day,--this great, sweet voice
-of Paris. It is indeed as if she was the mother of us all, Papa Labesse,
-and was spreading out her arms, and calling us all to come to her heart.
-And for each of us she has something good--something better than ever we
-have imagined for ourselves, or wished to have; and yet, in whatever
-form, it is really the same thing always--l'amour, Papa Labesse,
-l'amour!"
-
-Out of the strain of the past half hour a great sob was suddenly wrung
-from Papa Labesse. He took the girl's radiant face between his knotted
-hands and looked long into her eyes without speaking.
-
-"Tell me, my pigeon," he said, finally, "is it--is it the young
-Fremier?"
-
-Marcelle flung both arms about his neck, as she had done on the day when
-he had given her the little white prayerbook. He felt her lips, warm
-and moist, against his wrinkled ear, and when she spoke, her voice was
-like the sound of two leaves grazing each other at the touch of a light
-breeze.
-
-"Oui!" she said.
-
-When Marcelle went away with Bombiste Fremier, all the quartier babbled.
-Fat fishwives and dairywomen stopped at each others' doors, and said,
-wisely, with their heads together and hands on hips, that they had
-always known how it would be. Since the first, whatever Bombiste wanted,
-that Bombiste was sure to have--what? Did not Madame Rollin remember
-how, when a mere baby, he had cried for the little brass dish which hung
-in front of his father's salle de coiffure, until, actually, Fremier
-père had taken it down and given it to him to cut his first tooth on?
-Assuredly, Madame Rollin recalled this astounding incident, and not only
-that, but the fact that she herself had spoken to Madame Fremier,
-warning her that the result of such folly would be the unhappiness of
-some one. But they were all alike, the Fremier. They made no excuses and
-took no advice.
-
-There were others who recalled the days when La Trompette was the belle
-of the quartier, and as respectable as the best of them. But there, what
-wouldst thou? Bombiste had wanted her, so there was nothing to be done.
-And the debate invariably ended with a bit of flattery for Bombiste. It
-was a beau garçon, after all, name of a good name, with such eyes! And a
-tongue, bon Dieu, to draw the cork from a bottle! For there are many
-mysteries of human society, but the greatest of these is the good word
-of the other women for the man.
-
-Curiously enough, Bombiste's most eloquent partisan was La Trompette
-herself. Her first appearance at Le Cheval Blanc, after Fremier's
-desertion of her, was the signal for the outburst of ironic condolence.
-
-"Eh! La Trompette, he has planted thee--yes? So the cord is cut, little
-one--hein? Did he give thee a reference, at least?"
-
-To these, and many similar compliments, La Trompette returned nothing
-beyond a tolerant smile, or--
-
-"One shall see, my children!" she cried, in her shrill voice. "It is not
-the first time, you know. Variety, one has need of that in life. Perhaps
-we do not know each other, that story and I! Wait a little. In six
-weeks we shall be here in company as before, and the little one it will
-be who is planted. But I remain. And she who laughs last--what? But,
-above all, not a word against Bombiste, unless you have need of the
-wherewithal to make broken heads. It is a brave gars, do you understand,
-and one who has often enough paid your drinks, types of
-good-for-nothings!"
-
-And she planted herself at a table amidst a burst of laughter and
-applause (for loyalty is greatly esteemed on the boulevard
-Rochechouart), and proceeded to collect interest, in the form of
-repeated glasses of cognac, on the past generosities of Bombiste
-Fremier.
-
-But the eternal feminine had its part in the make-up of La Trompette,
-and so it was that one evening, just at nightfall, she presented herself
-at the door of Papa Labesse's little shop. He was always at home now,
-poor Papa Labesse, for the growing church of Sacré-Coeur had never once
-seen him emerging, breathless but smiling, from the little rue St.
-Rustique, since the day when Marcelle disappeared. He stopped his simple
-toil at the same hour still, but, instead of stepping out briskly upon
-the long, curving incline of the rue Lepic, he would seat himself in
-his doorway, and, oftentimes forgetting to light the pipe which he had
-filled, stare out wistfully across the street, to where a trim little
-laundress stood, busily ironing shirts, in the window of the shop that
-had formerly been the dairy of Madame Clapot.
-
-He looked up as La Trompette drew up before his door, and a slight frown
-wrinkled for an instant above his patient blue eyes, from which all the
-singular intensity seemed gone.
-
-"Thou hast a strange air of solitude, Papa Labesse," began La Trompette,
-affecting a tone of solicitude.
-
-Papa Labesse made no reply.
-
-"And Marcelle," said the woman,--"she is always with Bombiste? Poor
-little one! The end is so sure! Is there one who knows him better than
-I? Ah, non! It is always the same story,--a pair of bright eyes, a good
-figure, and v'là! But, without fail, he comes back to me, ce sacré
-coureur!"
-
-She glanced up and down the street with an air of complete unconcern,
-and then her eyes came back to Papa Labesse with a vindictive snap.
-
-"Happily," she added, "he will have taught her a way of earning white
-pieces in abundance. She is not the first, thy Marcelle. They are
-sprinkled from here to La Villette, the gonzesses who know the name of
-Bombiste Fremier. Wouldst thou prove it? Walk, then, from the place
-Pigalle to the place de la Rotonde to-night at twelve!" And La Trompette
-laughed.
-
-Papa Labesse rose suddenly to his full height.
-
-"God damn you!" he said. And this was no oath, but rather a prayer.
-
-Toward the end of July Papa Labesse resumed his pilgrimages to the
-summit of the Butte. He had aged visibly in six weeks, and he walked no
-longer with the brisk and cheerful step which had bespoken his
-youthfulness of spirit, but shuffled his feet, and often stumbled over
-trifling obstacles. He looked neither to the right nor to the left, and
-if he heard the greetings of those along his way, for whom formerly he
-had always had a hearty word, he made no reply. It is doubtful whether,
-had he been suddenly asked, he could have told his exact whereabouts: it
-was rather instinct than absolute intention which sent him shuffling up
-to his old coign of vantage. His eyes took no note of his immediate
-surroundings, but looked far beyond, with an expression that was half
-question, half entreaty. It was only when he had come to the edge of the
-bluff that he seemed to awaken into something resembling the man he had
-been. Then, his lean, gnarled hands gripped the wattles with a kind of
-convulsive eagerness, and, for a little, the old blue spark gleamed
-under his lids, and his eyes swept the great city feverishly, as if they
-would pluck out her secret from her by mere force of will. He no longer
-dwelt upon the churches and the public buildings, but traced with his
-glance the line of the great boulevards, des Batignolles, de Clichy, and
-de Rochechouart, and their tributary streets; and often he remained at
-his post until nearly midnight, motionless, silent, watching, watching,
-watching, with his eyes fixed upon the distant red glare from the giant
-revolving wings of the brilliantly lighted Moulin Rouge.
-
-What he saw, what he heard, during those long hours of vigil no one ever
-knew: what he thought he barely knew himself. The entire intensity of
-his failing strength was concentrated upon one endeavor. Hour after hour
-he sent a voice without sound out, over, and down into the labyrinth of
-streets beneath him, into the dance-halls, the wine-shops, the
-café-concerts, wooing, pleading, beseeching. It was as if, minute by
-minute, he wove a great net of tenderest entreaty and persuasion,
-fitting it cunningly into each nook and cranny of the city below, and
-then, at the end, with one mighty effort of his will, drew the whole
-fabric up and into his heart, hoping against hope that, mysteriously,
-some one pleading thought of his might have caught her and swept her
-back to his arms. It was a struggle, silent but to the death, between
-Papa Labesse and the great siren city, for the possession of a soul.
-
-And, as if, indeed, that eager voice without words of his entreaty had,
-somehow, been able to reach and win her, Marcelle came back. It was at
-the hour just following sunset, the hour they had loved to pass
-together, and superbly still and clear. To the west, over the wide,
-green sweep of the Bois de Boulogne, a great multitude of little puffs
-of cloud lay piled up against a turquoise sky, and these were constantly
-changing from tint to opalescent tint, as shafts of crimson and saffron
-sunlight moved among them from below the horizon. Above, where the
-turquoise dulled to steel, the stars were already nicking the sky, one
-by one; and, one by one, the lights of the boulevard, red, white, and
-yellow, flashed into being in reply.
-
-As it was the dinner hour, the summit of the Butte was deserted save for
-the figure of Papa Labesse, silhouetted against the sky, as Marcelle
-emerged from the rue St. Rustique, came slowly across the open space
-before the church, and stood at his side. She was very pale, with the
-transparent, leaden pallor which comes only at the end, and her face
-seemed little more than two great, stunned eyes. Her clothes, in the
-last stage of what had been tawdry finery, were unspeakably more
-slovenly than mere rags. It was but eight weeks since they had stood on
-the same spot together, but this so brief period had wrought in each the
-havoc of a decade.
-
-For a time neither spoke. Papa Labesse had looked up briefly as she
-reached his side, and then, as she swayed and seemed about to fall, had
-put an arm about her and drawn her close to him. So they stood
-watching, while Paris winked and sparkled into the starry splendor of
-her summer night. Finally,--
-
-"I knew thou wouldst come, my pigeon," said Papa Labesse. "For a time I
-was desolate, is it not so?--and sat alone in the shop below there, and
-thought of nothing. But then I remembered how that thou didst love this
-place, and so I have come each night to wait for thee, because I knew
-thou wouldst return. And now thou art here. It is well, my little white
-pigeon, it is very well."
-
-A keener ear than his would have caught the unmistakable warning that
-underlay her voice when she replied. It lacked not only hope, but life
-itself. It was the voice of one long dead.
-
-"I did not think to find thee here, Papa Labesse--it has been so long
-since then. I came to see it all once again--to hear the voice of the
-great city that sings of love. And then, when at last comes the night, I
-would throw myself down from here, even into the very heart of her, for
-I am hers, and she has made me like herself."
-
-She seemed to feel the unvoiced question which quivered on the lips of
-Papa Labesse, and continued, presently,--
-
-"He never married me. Not that I cared for that. I loved him, thou
-seest, and when one loves one thinks not of little things. No, I was
-happy so. But now--last week he left me. He has gone back to La
-Trompette. He gave me a hundred sous. I think he was sorry to go."
-
-A faint smile touched the corners of her lips.
-
-"Pauvre Bombiste!" she added. "It is one who does not know his own
-heart!"
-
-And this again is unknowable mystery,--the gentle word of _the_ woman
-for the man!
-
-"He is mowing on the fortifs this week," went on Marcelle, wistfully
-echoing her lover's slang, "and La Trompette is with him. I saw them but
-to-day, from the porte de Clichy. So, since they are together, for me it
-is finished. I have come back to the Butte, Papa Labesse--come back to
-die. For now there is none to receive me, save Paris. She will take me,
-thou knowest, she who has made me like herself."
-
-That was all. There was no word, now at the end, of Bombiste Fremier,
-except that he did not know his own heart,--no word of the days without
-food, the long nights of following him from wineshop to wineshop,
-perhaps to be refused at last the wretched shelter of his little room;
-no word of curses, blows, and insults worse than either.
-
-When she was silent again Papa Labesse drew her gently away from the
-brink of the bluff.
-
-"My pigeon," he said, "there is one to receive thee. Thou wilt come to
-the little shop--pas?--and rest there upon my bed. For I have no need of
-sleep, I. And in the morning thou wilt be strong again, and well. Come,
-my pigeon!"
-
-And silently, hand in hand, they retraced the familiar way, down the
-long, curving incline of the rue Lepic, and the door of the little
-joiner's shop closed behind them.
-
-Marcelle died at daybreak, going out softly like a lamp that dims and
-dims, and then flares once into brilliance before all is dark. Papa
-Labesse was on his knees beside the narrow bed, when she woke from the
-stupor into which she had fallen, and raised herself upright, her face
-shining with a great light. The old man, himself unconscious that the
-end had come, lifted his eyes eagerly to hers.
-
-"My little white pigeon," he said tremulously, "thou findest thyself
-better, is it not so?"
-
-But the knowledge of him had passed utterly from Marcelle. For a moment
-she was silent, looking at the wall of the tiny room, as she had looked
-in the old days at the great city, spread like a map at the foot of the
-Butte Montmartre. Then she sank back upon the pillow and crossed her
-hands upon her breast.
-
-"Paris!" she said. "Paris, toi qui chantes de l'amour!"
-
-And then, very faintly, "Bombi!"
-
-It was her pet name for Fremier, but Papa Labesse did not understand.
-
-Half an hour later, he came out into the growing light of the dawn, and
-looked vacantly up and down the short stretch of the rue Veron as if
-uncertain what direction he desired to take. It was not yet five
-o'clock, but already the quartier was astir. As Papa Labesse hesitated
-in the doorway, a band of laborers passed the corner, laughing, on their
-way to their work in the Rochechouart section of the Métropolitain. The
-little assistant was taking down the shutters of the laundry across the
-way, and on every side was the sound of opening doors and windows, and
-voices suddenly raised in greeting or comment upon the weather. Madame
-Rollin lumbered by, carrying a bundle of clothes on her way to the
-public lavoir.
-
-"Hé! bonjour, Papa Labesse!" she cried in passing. "A fine
-morning--what?"
-
-Papa Labesse turned suddenly, clamped the padlock on his door, and was
-presently shuffling along the avenue de Clichy. As he went, the city
-awoke around him to full activity, but he noted his surroundings even
-less than he had been wont to do of late, on his climbs to the Butte.
-The return of Marcelle had quickened him, but for a moment only. Now he
-was again, as it were, a mere automaton, going forward without volition,
-or purpose, or perception, on, on, on, whither and why he knew not.
-
-After a time he was conscious of a great weariness. The noisy clamor of
-the crowds on the avenue, marketing and bargaining in the new sunlight,
-seemed unaccountably to have given place to quiet; and looking about
-him, Papa Labesse learned from a little signboard that he was passing
-through the porte de Clichy. The octroi officials looked curiously at
-the shuffling, stooping figure as he went by, and one of them laughed.
-
-"As full as an egg, the grandfather!" he said.
-
-Turning to the left, Papa Labesse toiled up upon the slope of the
-fortifications, stumbled on for a little, and, finally, as his
-exhaustion gained upon him, flung himself, face down, upon the grass. He
-had passed the need of sleep long since, but he lay quite motionless for
-a long time, with his chin on his hands. Directly before him, seen more
-clearly from the elevation upon which he lay, was the dingy suburb of
-Clichy, and, to the left, its still dingier neighbor, Levallois-Perret,
-studded, both of them, with gaunt sheds of blackened wood, and ghastly
-factories and storehouses of cheap brick, their endless windows, in
-close-set rows, giving them the appearance of rusted waffle-irons, and
-their tall chimneys slabbering slow coils of smoke. In the immediate
-foreground, a man with a scythe was lazily cutting the long grass on the
-outward slope of the fortifications.
-
-Presently Papa Labesse began to talk to himself. His eyes were very
-bright, and as he spoke they jumped nimbly from shed to shed, from
-factory to factory, of the dispiriting scene before him.
-
-"But what are those?" he began, scowling at two high chimneys standing
-side by side. "Tiens! Sainte Clotilde! But the evening is clear then,
-par exemple, that one sees so far and so well. It is all so
-wonderful--but I have never understood it till now. Ah! Saint
-Etienne-du-Mont! That I know, since the dome of the Panthéon is quite
-near. Sapristi! What is that? L'amour, Papa Labesse, l'amour,--that
-which, finally, thou canst never understand, poor Papa Labesse! Tiens!
-Notre Dame! Ah, ça! A woman like herself, what?--like Paris that sings
-of love! My pigeon!"
-
-So, for an hour, the thin stream of jumbled phrases slipped from his dry
-lips. He talked softly,--no one could have heard him at two paces,--but
-the babble never ceased.
-
-At seven o'clock a woman carrying a basket appeared upon the
-fortifications from the direction of the gate, and, pausing at the top
-of the slope, looked down upon the mower.
-
-"Hé! Allô--labago! Bom-biste!" she cried. The man turned. There was no
-such thing as not being able to hear La Trompette.
-
-And suddenly Papa Labesse held his peace.
-
-Bombiste came up the slope with a long leisurely stride, flung his
-scythe upon the grass, and placing his arm around La Trompette's neck,
-kissed her loudly on both cheeks.
-
-"Name of God!" he said. "But I have thirst!"
-
-They seated themselves side by side and close together, with their backs
-to Papa Labesse, some fifty metres distant, and La Trompette opened her
-basket. Presently Bombiste lowered his left elbow and raised his right
-in the act of drawing a cork, and then raised his left again and took a
-long draught from the bottle. At the same moment Papa Labesse swung
-round a quarter circle to the right, as if upon a pivot, and began to
-crawl very slowly forward.
-
-"Chouette!" said Bombiste to La Trompette, biting a great mouthful from
-a slice of rye bread and cheese, "c'est du suisse!"
-
-"Thou deservest water and a raw turnip!" replied the woman, assuming a
-tone of angry reproach. "If it were not I, thou knowest, long since
-thou wouldst have been put ashore, heart of an artichoke--va!"
-
-"I am like that," observed Bombiste, with regret. "But what wouldst
-thou, name of God! They come, they go: but at the end it is always
-thou."
-
-The woman made no reply, and Papa Labesse, two metres away, laid his
-gnarled brown fingers on the handle of Bombiste's discarded scythe.
-
-Bombiste capped his philosophy with a second long draught of wine, and
-then, taking a stupendous bite of bread and cheese, glanced slyly at his
-companion out of the corners of his eyes. She was gazing straight before
-her, her teeth nicking the edge of her lower lip.
-
-"What hast thou?" mumbled the man, with his mouth full.
-
-"She was very pretty," answered La Trompette, "and she loved thee, that
-garce. But thou art going to tell me that it is finished forever!--That
-never, never," she went on, clenching her hands, "wilt thou see her
-again! Else I plant thee, and thou canst earn thine own white
-pieces,--mackerel!"
-
-Bombiste leaned over and placed his face beside hers.
-
-"Is it not enough?" he said in his softest voice. "Voyons bien! What is
-she to me, this Marcelle? Fichtre! I planted her last week, thou
-knowest. B'en, quoi? Thou knowest the blue gown? It is that which sweeps
-the Boul' Roch' at present! But that is not for long. Perhaps the
-Morgue--more likely St. Lazare. Art thou not content?" And he pressed
-his cheek to the woman's and moved his head up and down slowly,
-caressing her.
-
-Papa Labesse rose slowly to his feet, and stretched his lean arms to
-their full length. The sun winked for the fraction of a second on the
-downward swirling scythe, and then all was still, save for the dull
-thud, thudding of two round objects rolling down the uneven slope of
-sod. In a moment even this sound ceased.
-
-Papa Labesse revolved slowly upon his heels, pausing as his blue eyes,
-wide and vacant, fell upon the distant walls of Sacré-Coeur, swimming,
-cream-white and high in air, between him and the sun. Then he pitched
-softly forward upon the grass.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-In the Absence of Monsieur
-
-
-MONSIEUR ARMAND MICHEL--seated before his newly installed Titian--was in
-the act of saying to himself that if its acquisition could not, with
-entire accuracy, be viewed as an unqualified bargain, it had been, at
-least, an indisputable stroke of diplomacy, when his complacent
-meditation was interrupted by the entrance of Arsène. It was the first
-time that Monsieur Michel had seen his new servant in his official
-capacity, and he was not ill-pleased. Arsène was in flawless evening
-dress, in marked contrast to the objectionably flamboyant costume in
-which, on the preceding evening, he had made application for the
-position of valet-maître d'hôtel, left vacant by the fall from grace of
-Monsieur Michel's former factotum. That costume had come near to being
-his undoing. The fastidious Armand had regarded with an offended eye the
-brilliant green cravat, the unspeakable checked suit, and the painfully
-pointed chrome-yellow shoes in which the applicant for his approval was
-arrayed, and more than once, in the course of conversation, was on the
-point of putting a peremptory end to the negotiations by a crushing
-comment on would-be servants who dressed like café chantant comedians.
-But the reference had outweighed the costume. Monsieur Michel did not
-remember ever to have read more unqualified commendation. Arsène Sigard
-had been for two years in the service of the Comte de Chambour, whose
-square pink marble hôtel on the avenue de Malakoff is accounted, in this
-degenerate age, one of the sights of Paris; and this of itself, was more
-than a little. The Comte did not keep his eyes in his pockets, by any
-manner of means, when it came to the affairs of his household, and
-apparently there was nothing too good for him to say about Arsène. Here,
-on pale blue note-paper, and surmounted by the de Chambour crest, it was
-set forth that the bearer was sober, honest, clean, willing, capable,
-quiet, intelligent, and respectful. _And_ discreet. When the Comte de
-Chambour gave his testimony on this last point it meant that you were
-getting the opinion of an expert. Monsieur Michel refolded the
-reference, tapped it three times upon the palm of his left hand, and
-engaged the bearer without further ado.
-
-Now, as Arsène went quietly about the salon, drawing the curtains and
-clearing away the card table, which remained as mute witness to Monsieur
-Michel's ruling passion, he was the beau idéal of a gentleman's
-manservant,--unobtrusive in manner and movement, clean-shaven and
-clear-eyed, adapting himself without need of instruction to the details
-of his new surroundings. A less complacent person than Armand might have
-been aware that, while he was taking stock of Arsène, Arsène was taking
-stock, with equal particularity, of him. And there was an unpleasant
-slyness in his black eyes, a something akin to alertness in his thin
-nostrils, which moved like those of a rabbit, and seemed to accomplish
-more than their normal share of conveying to their owner's intelligence
-an impression of exterior things. Also, had Monsieur Michel but observed
-it, his new servant walked just a trifle _too_ softly, and his hands
-were just a trifle _too_ white and slender. Moreover, he had a habit of
-smiling to himself when his back was turned, which is an undesirable
-thing in anybody, and approaches the ominous in a valet-maître d'hôtel.
-But Monsieur Michel was far too much of an aristocrat to have any doubt
-of his power to overawe and impress his inferiors, or to see in the
-newcomer's excessive inconspicuity anything more than a commendable
-recognition of monsieur's commanding presence. So, when Arsène completed
-his work and had shut the door noiselessly behind him, his master rubbed
-his hands and said "Ter-rès bien!" in a low voice, this being his
-superlative expression of satisfaction. Had his glance been able to
-penetrate his salon door, it would have met, in the antichambre, with
-the astounding spectacle of his new servant in the act of tossing
-monsieur's silk hat into the air, and catching it, with extreme
-dexterity, on the bridge of his nose. Unfortunately, the other side of
-the door is something which, like the future and the bank-accounts of
-our debtors, it is not given us to see. So Monsieur Michel repeated his
-"Ter-rès bien!" and fell again to contemplating his Titian.
-
-Yes, undoubtedly, it had been a great stroke of diplomacy. The young
-Marchese degli Abbraccioli was not conspicuous for his command of ready
-money, but his father had left him the finest private collection of
-paintings in Rome, and this, in consequence of chronic financial stress,
-was gradually passing from the walls of his palazzo in the via Cavour
-into the possession of an appreciative but none too extravagant
-government. It had been an inspiration, this proposal of Monsieur
-Michel's to settle his claim upon the Marchese for his overwhelming
-losses at baccarat by taking over one of the two Titians which flanked
-the chimney-piece in his study. The young Italian had assented eagerly,
-and had supplemented his acquiescence with a proposal to dispose of the
-pendant for somewhat more material remuneration than canceled
-reconnaissances. But Armand Michel had undertaken it before, this
-delicate task of getting objets d'art over the Italian frontier--yes,
-and been caught in the act, too, and forced to disgorge. For the moment,
-it was enough to charge himself with one picture, on the given
-conditions, without risking hard cash in the experiment. Later--well,
-later, one would see. And so, _a rivederla, mio caro marchese_.
-
-Monsieur Michel fairly hugged himself as he thought of his success. Mon
-Dieu, quelle génie, that false bottom to his trunk! He had come safely
-through them all, the imbecile inspectors, and now his treasure hung
-fairly and finally upon his wall, smiling at him out of its tapestry
-surroundings. It was épatant, truly, and moreover, all there was of the
-most calé. Only one small cloud of regret hung upon the broad blue
-firmament of his satisfaction--the other picture! It had been so easy.
-He might as well have had two as one. And now, without doubt, the
-imbecile Marchese would sell the pendant to the imbecile government, and
-that would be the end of it so far as private purchase was concerned.
-Monsieur Michel rose from his chair with a gesture of impatience, and,
-drawing the curtain back from the window, looked out lugubriously upon
-the March cheerlessness of the place Vendôme. Little by little, a most
-seductive plan formed itself in his mind. After all, why not? A couple
-of weeks at Monte Carlo, a week at Sorrento, and a fortnight at Rome, in
-which to win the Titian from the Marchese degli Abbraccioli, by baccarat
-if possible, or by banknotes should fortune prove unkind. It was the
-simplest thing in the world, and he would avoid the remainder of the wet
-weather and be back for the opening of Longchamp. And Monsieur Michel
-rubbed his hands and said "Ter-rès bien!" again, with much emphasis.
-
-When, a week later, Arsène was informed of Monsieur's intention to leave
-him in sole charge of his apartment for a time, he received the
-intelligence with the dignified composure of one who feels himself
-worthy of the confidence reposed in him. The cook was to have the
-vacation for which she had been clamoring, that she might display to her
-relatives in Lille the elaborate wardrobe which was the result of her
-savings during three years in Monsieur Michel's employ. Perfectly. And
-the apartment was to be aired and dusted daily, as if monsieur himself
-were there. And visitors to be told that monsieur was returning in a
-month. And letters to be made to follow monsieur, to Monte Carlo at
-first, and then to Rome. But perfectly; it was completely understood.
-Arsène bowed a number of times in succession, and outwardly was as calm
-as a tall, candid-faced clock, being wound up to run for a specified
-time independent of supervision. But beneath that smooth and carefully
-oiled expanse of jet-black hair a whole colony of the most fantastic
-ideas suddenly aroused themselves and began to elbow each other about in
-a veritable tumult.
-
-Monsieur Michel took his departure in a whirl of confusion, losing a
-quantity of indispensable articles with exclamations of despair, and
-finding them the next moment with cries of satisfaction. Eugénie, the
-cook, compactly laced into a traveling dress of blue silk, stood at the
-doorway to bid her master good-by, and was run into at each instant by
-the cabman or the concierge or Monsieur Michel himself, each of whom
-covered, at top speed, several kilometres of stair and hallway, in the
-stupendous task of transferring a trunk, a valise, a hat-box, a
-shawl-strap, and an umbrella from the apartment to the carriage below.
-On the surface of this uproar, the presence of Arsène swam as serenely
-as a swan on a maelstrom. He accompanied his master to the gare de Lyon,
-and the last object which met the anxious eyes of Monsieur Michel,
-peering out from one of the first-class carriages of the departing
-express, was his new servant, standing upon the platform, as unmoved by
-the events of the morning as if monsieur had been passing from the
-dining room to take coffee in the salon instead of from Paris to take
-breakfast in Marseille. The sight of him was intensely soothing to the
-fevered spirit of Monsieur Michel, on whom the details of such a
-departure produced much the same effect as do cakes of soap when tossed
-into the mouth of an active geyser.
-
-"He is calm," he said to himself, rubbing his hands. "He is very calm,
-and he will not lose his head while I am gone. Ter-rès bien!"
-
-But the calm of Arsène was the calm of thin ice over swiftly rushing
-waters. As the polished buffers of the last carriage swung out of sight
-around the curve with a curiously furtive effect, like the eyes of an
-alarmed animal, slipping backward into its burrow, he clenched the
-fingers of his right hand, and slipping his thumb nail under the edge of
-his upper teeth, drew it forward with a sharp click. At the same time he
-said something to his vanished master in the second person singular,
-which is far from being the address of affection on the lips of a
-valet-maître d'hôtel.
-
-Wheeling suddenly after this singular manifestation, Monsieur Sigard
-found himself the object of close and seemingly amused scrutiny on the
-part of an individual standing directly behind him. There was something
-so extremely disconcerting in this gentleman's unexpected proximity, and
-in his very evident enjoyment of the situation, that Arsène was upon the
-point of turning abruptly away, when the other addressed him, speaking
-the colloquial French of their class, with the slightest possible hint
-of foreign accent.
-
-"Bah, vieux! Is it that I do not know what they are, the patrons? Oh,
-lalà!"
-
-"Avec ça! There are some who have it, an astounding audacity!" said
-Arsène to the air over the stranger's head.
-
-"Farceur!" replied the stranger, to the air over Arsène's. And then--
-
-"There are two parrakeets that have need of plucking across the way," he
-added, reflectively.
-
-"There are two empty sacks here to put the feathers in," answered
-Arsène, with alacrity; and ten minutes later, oblivious to the chill
-damp of the March morning, Monsieur Sigard and his new-found
-acquaintance, seated at a little table in front of a near-by wine-shop,
-were preparing in company the smoky-green mixture of absinthe and water
-which Paris slang has dubbed a parrakeet. On the part of Arsène the
-operation was performed with elaborate solicitude, and as he poured a
-tiny stream of water over the lump of sugar on the flat spoon balanced
-deftly across the glass, he held his head tipped sidewise and his left
-eye closed, in the manner of a contemplative fowl, and was oblivious to
-all but the delectable business of the moment.
-
-But his companion, while apparently deeply engaged in the preparation
-of his own beverage, was far from being wholly preoccupied thereby. He
-was a man shorter by an inch or two than Monsieur Michel's maître
-d'hôtel, dressed in the most inconspicuous fashion, and with an air of
-avoiding any emphasis of voice or gesture which would be apt to attract
-more than casual attention to the circumstance of his existence. There
-was something about him vaguely suggestive of a chameleon, an instant
-harmonizing of his appearance and manner with any background whatsoever
-against which he chanced to find himself placed, and a curious clouding
-of his eyes when unexpectedly they were met by those of another, which
-lent him an immediate air of profound stupidity. No doubt his long
-practice in this habit of self-obliteration made him doubly appreciative
-of Arsène's little outburst of ill-feeling on the platform of the gare
-de Lyon. A man who would do that in public--well, he had much to learn!
-
-Just now, however, this gentleman's eyes were very bright, though they
-had dwindled to mere slits; and he followed every movement of the
-unconscious Arsène with short, swift glances from beneath his drooping
-lids, as, bit by bit, the lumps of sugar melted under the steady drip of
-the trickling water, and the opalescent mixture mounted toward the
-brims. He knew but two varieties of absinthe drinker, this observant
-individual,--the one who progressed, under its influence, from cheerful
-candor to shrewdest insight into the motives of others, and most skilful
-evasion of their toils; the other whom, by easy stages, it led from
-obstinate reserve to the extreme of careless garrulity. At this moment
-he was on the alert for symptoms.
-
-Arsène looked up suddenly as the last morsel of his sugar melted, and,
-lifting his glass, dipped it before the eyes of his new friend.
-
-"To your health,--Monsieur--?" he said, in courteous interrogation.
-
-"Fresque," said the other.
-
-"Bon! And I, Monsieur Fresque, am Sigard, Arsène Sigard, maître d'hôtel,
-at your service, of the type who has just taken himself off, down
-there."
-
-And he indicated the imposing pile of the gare de Lyon with his thumb,
-and then, closing his eyes, took a long sip of his absinthe, and
-replacing the glass upon the table, plunged his hands into his pockets
-and stared off gloomily toward the Seine.
-
-"Poof!" he said, "but I am content that he is gone. What a filthiness, a
-rich man--what?"
-
-"Not to be denied," agreed Monsieur Fresque. "There is not a foreign
-sou's worth of delicacy in the whole lot!"
-
-"Mazette! I believe thee," answered the other, much pleased. Fresque's
-thin lips relaxed the veriest trifle at the familiarity, and he lit a
-cigarette and gazed vacantly into space.
-
-"But what dost thou expect?" he observed, with calm philosophy.
-
-It appeared that what Arsène expected was that honest folk should not
-work from seven to ten, in an ignoble box of a pantry, on boots, and
-silver, and what not, he demanded of him, name of a pipe! and dust, and
-sweep, and serve at table, good heaven! and practice a species of
-disgusting politeness to a type of old engraving like Monsieur Armand
-Michel. And all, oh, mon Dieu! for the crushing sum of twenty dollars a
-month, did he comprehend? while the animal in question was sowing his
-yellow buttons by fistfuls. Mazette! Evidently, he himself was not an
-eagle. He did not demand the Louvre to live in, for example, nor the
-existence lalala of Emile Loubet--what? but it was not amusing, he
-assured him, to be in the employ of the great revolting one in question.
-Ah, non!
-
-"Eiffelesque!" succinctly commented Monsieur Fresque.
-
-But, said Arsène, there was another side to the question, and he
-himself, it went without saying, was no waffle-iron, speaking of
-stupidity. He had not been present the day fools were distributed. Oh,
-far from that! In consequence, it was to become hump-backed with mirth,
-that part of his life passed behind the back of the example of an old
-Sophie whom he had the honor to serve. He had not forgotten how to
-juggle since he traveled with a band of mountebanks. And there were the
-patron's plates,--at one hundred francs the piece, good blood! Also he
-smoked the ancient cantaloupe's cigarettes, and as for the
-wines--tchutt! Arsène kissed his finger-tips and took a long sip of
-absinthe.
-
-"He is gone for long?" inquired Fresque.
-
-Ah, that! Who knew? Six weeks at least. And meanwhile might not a brave
-lad amuse himself in the empty apartment--eh? Oh, it would be life in a
-gondola, name of a name of a name!
-
-The conversation was prolonged for an hour, Arsène growing more and more
-confidential under the seductive influence of his parrakeet, and his
-companion showing himself so heartily in accord with his spirit of
-license, that, by degrees, he captured completely the fancy of the
-volatile valet, and was permitted to take his departure only on the
-condition of presenting himself in the place Vendôme that evening for
-the purpose of smoking the cantaloupe's cigarettes and seeing Arsène
-juggle with the hundred-franc plates.
-
-Monsieur Fresque was as good as his word. He put in an appearance
-promptly at eight o'clock, hung his hat and coat, at his host's
-invitation, on a Louis Quinze applique, and made himself comfortable in
-a chaise longue which--on the guarantee of Duveen--had once belonged to
-the Pompadour. Arsène outdid himself in juggling, and afterwards they
-cracked a bottle of Château Laffitte and drank it with great
-satisfaction out of Salviati glasses, topping off the entertainment with
-Russian kümmel and two of Monsieur Michel's cigars. Arsène, in his
-picturesque idiom, expressed himself as being tapped in the eye with his
-new friend to the extent of being able to quit him no longer, and
-forthwith Monsieur Hercule Fresque took up his quarters in the bedroom
-of the cantaloupe, his host established himself in Monsieur Michel's
-Empire guest chamber, and the "life in a gondola" went forward for five
-weeks to the supreme contentment of both parties.
-
-Now it is a peculiarity of life in a gondola, as is known to all who
-have sampled its delights, that, while it lasts, consideration of past
-and future alike becomes dulled, and one loses all sense of
-responsibility in the lethal torpor of the present. So it was not until
-Arsène received a letter from Monsieur Michel, announcing his return,
-that he began to figure up the possible consequences of his experiment.
-They were, as he gloomily announced to Hercule, stupefying to the extent
-of dashing out one's brains against the wall. But one bottle of Château
-Laffitte remained, and none whatever of Russian kümmel. Moreover, the
-brocade of the chaise longue was hopelessly ruined by the boots of the
-conspirators, and the enthusiasm of Arsène's juggling had reduced by
-fifty per cent the set of Sèvres plates. What was to be done, bon Dieu,
-what _was_ to be done?
-
-Monsieur Fresque, having carefully perused a letter with an Italian
-stamp, which had come by the evening mail, revolved the situation in his
-mind, slowly smoking the last of the cantaloupe's cigars, and glancing
-from time to time at the despondent figure of his host, with his eyes
-narrowed to mere slits. Had the fish been sufficiently played? He reeled
-in a foot or so of line by way of experiment.
-
-"What, after all, is a situation?" he said. "Thou wilt be discharged,
-yes. But afterwards? Pah! thou wilt find another. And thou hast thy
-rigolade."
-
-"Ah, that!" replied Arsène with a shrug. "I believe thee! But thinkest
-thou my old melon will find himself in the way of glueing the ribbon of
-the Légion on me for what I have done? I see myself from here, playing
-the harp on the bars of La Maz!"
-
-"La vie à Mazas, c'est pas la vie en gondole," observed Hercule
-philosophically.
-
-"Tu parles!"
-
-Hercule appeared to take a sudden resolve. He swung his feet to the
-floor, and bending forward in the chaise longue, began to speak rapidly
-and with extreme earnestness.
-
-"Voyons, donc, mon gars, thou hast been foolish, but one must not
-despair. What is done in France is never known in Italy. And here thou
-art surrounded by such treasures as the imbeciles of foreigners pay
-fortunes for, below there. Take what thou hast need of,--a trunk of the
-patron's, some silver, what thou canst lay hands on of gold and brass
-and enamel, whatever will not break--and get away before he returns. In
-Milan thou canst sell it all, and get another place. I have friends
-there, and thou shalt have letters. Voilà!"
-
-"But one must have money," replied Arsène, brightening, nevertheless.
-"And that is lacking me."
-
-Hercule seemed to ponder this objection deeply. Finally, with a sigh of
-resignation, he spoke again.
-
-"B'en, voilà! Thou hast been my friend, is it not so? Hercule Fresque
-is not the man to be ungrateful. I am poor, and have need of my little
-savings--But, there! it is for a friend--pas? Let us say no more!" And
-he thrust a roll of banknotes into the hands of the stupefied Arsène.
-
-The evening was spent in arranging the details of the flight. Arsène
-produced a serviceable trunk from the storeroom, and in this the two men
-placed a great variety of the treasures which Monsieur Michel had
-accumulated during twenty years of patient search and exorbitant
-purchase. Squares of priceless tapestry, jeweled watches and snuff
-boxes, figurines of old Sèvres, ivories cunningly carved and yellow with
-age, madonnas of box-wood, and wax, and ebony,--all were carefully
-wrapped in newspapers and stowed away; and to these Arsène added a dozen
-of his master's shirts, two suits of clothes, and a box of cigarettes.
-But when all the available material had been appropriated there yet
-remained an empty space below the tray. It would never do to have the
-treasures knocking about on the way. Arsène proposed a blanket--or,
-better yet, one of Monsieur Michel's overcoats. But Hercule, after
-rearranging the trunk so as to make the empty space of different form,
-turned suddenly to his companion, who was picking nervously at his
-fingers and watching the so fruitful source of suggestion with a
-pathetic air of entreaty, and clapped him gleefully upon the chest.
-
-"A painting!" he exclaimed.
-
-Complete demoralization seemed to have taken possession of Arsène. He
-was very pale, and his eyes constantly sought the salon door as if he
-expected the object of his ingenious epithets to burst in at any moment,
-with the prefect and all his legions at his heels.
-
-"A painting?" he repeated blankly; "but how, a painting?"
-
-But Monsieur Fresque had already mounted nimbly on a chair and lifted
-the cherished Titian of Monsieur Michel from its place against the
-tapestry. There was no further need of persuasion. The moment had come
-for action; and, seizing a hammer, he began to wrench off the frame,
-talking rapidly between short gasps of exertion.
-
-"But certainly, a painting. This one is small--ugh!--but who can say
-how valuable? They sell readily down there, these black daubs. Ah! By
-rolling, it will fill the empty space, seest thou, and later it may mean
-a thousand francs. One does not do things by--umph!--by halves in such a
-case. Sacred nails! One would say they had been driven in for eternity!
-Oof! Thou art fortunate to have me to advise thee, great imbecile.
-Mayhap this is worth all the rest. Pig of a frame, va! It is of iron.
-Ugh! He will be furious, thy patron, but what of that? In Italy thou
-wilt hear no more of it. Still one nail. Come away, then, type of a cow!
-Enfin!"
-
-With one final effort he tore off the last fragment of frame, peeled the
-canvas from the back-board, and, rolling it carefully, tucked it into
-the empty space, replaced the tray, and closed the trunk with a snap.
-
-"Voilà!" he said, straightening himself and turning a red but triumphant
-face to the astounded maître d'hôtel.
-
-"Now for the letters," he added, seating himself at Monsieur Michel's
-desk and beginning to scribble busily. "Do thou go for a cab, and at a
-gallop. It has struck half past ten and the Bâle rapide leaves the gare
-de l'Est at midnight."
-
-Hardly had the door of the apartment closed upon the demoralized valet
-when Monsieur Fresque hastily shoved to one side the note he had begun,
-and, writing a sentence or two upon another slip of paper, wrapped the
-latter about a two-sou piece, and went quietly to the salon window.
-Opening this cautiously, he found a fine rain falling outside, and the
-eastern half of the square deserted save for two figures,--one the
-flying form of Arsène, cutting across a corner into the rue Castiglione
-in search of a cab, and the other that of a man muffled in a heavy
-overcoat and with a slouch hat pulled well over his eyes, who was
-lounging against the railing of the Column, and who, as Fresque opened
-the window, shook himself into activity and stepped nimbly out across
-the wide driveway. Hercule placed the paper containing the two-sou piece
-upon the window sill and with a sharp flick of his forefinger sent it
-spinning down into the square. The man in the slouch hat stooped for an
-instant in passing the spot where it lay, and Monsieur Fresque, softly
-closing the window, stretched his arms upward into a semblance of a
-gigantic letter Y, and indulged in a prodigious yawn.
-
-"Ça y est!" said he.
-
-Papa Briguette had long since climbed into his high bedstead, in the
-loge de concierge, when, for the second time in fifteen minutes, he was
-aroused by the voice of Arsène calling, "Cordon, s'il vous plaît!" in
-the main hallway, and, reaching from under his feather coverlid, pressed
-the bulb which unlocked the street-door.
-
-"Quel coureur, que ce gars!" grumbled the worthy man to his fat spouse,
-snoring complacently at his side. "I deceive myself if, when Monsieur
-Michel returns, thou dost not hear a different story."
-
-"Awr-r-r-r!" replied Maman Briguette.
-
-On the way to the gare de l'Est Arsène recovered the better part of his
-lost composure, and listened with something akin to cheerfulness to the
-optimistic prognostications of his companion. By the time the precious
-trunk was registered and he had secured his seat in a second-class
-compartment of the Bâle rapide, he was once more in high feather and
-profuse in expressions of gratitude, as he smoked a farewell cigarette
-with Fresque while waiting for the train to start.
-
-"Thou canst believe me, mon vieux," he protested. "It is not a little
-thing that thou hast done, name of a name. Ah, non! It was the act of a
-brave comrade, that I assure thee. Et voyons! When I have sold the
-effects down there, thou shalt have back thy little paper mattress, word
-of honor! Yes, and more--thy share of the gain, mon zig!"
-
-He grasped the other's hand fervently as a passing guard threw them a
-curt "En voiture, messieurs!" and seemed on the point of kissing him
-farewell. There was some confusion attendant upon his entering the
-compartment, owing to the excessive haste of a man muffled in a heavy
-overcoat and with a slouch hat pulled well over his eyes, who arrived at
-the last moment and persisted in scrambling in, at the very instant
-chosen by Monsieur Sigard. The latter immediately reappeared at the
-window, and, as the train began to move, shouted a few final
-acknowledgments at his benefactor.
-
-"B'en, au r'voir, vieux! And I will write thee from below there, thou
-knowest. A thousand thanks. Fear not for thy blue paper--what? Thou
-shalt have it back, sou for sou, name of a name!"
-
-He was almost out of hearing now, his face a cream-colored splotch
-against the deep maroon of the railway carriage, and, drawing out a
-gaudy handkerchief, he waved it several times in token of farewell.
-
-"I shall never forget thee, never!" he cried, as a kind of afterthought
-and valedictory in one.
-
-"Ah, ça!" said Monsieur Fresque to himself, as Arsène's face went out of
-sight, "_that_ I well believe!"
-
-Yet, so inconstant is man, the promised letter from "below there" never
-reached him. Another did, however, and it was this which he might have
-been observed reading to a friend, with every evidence of the liveliest
-satisfaction, one week later, at a rear table before the Taverne Royale.
-One would hardly have recognized the plainly, almost shabbily dressed
-comrade of Arsène, with his retiring manners and his furtive eyes, in
-this extremely prosperous individual, in polished top hat, white
-waistcoat and gaiters, and gloves of lemon yellow. His companion was
-equally imposing in appearance, and it was apparent that he derived as
-much amusement from listening to Monsieur Fresque's epistle as did the
-latter from reading it aloud, which he did with the most elaborate
-emphasis, calling the other's attention to certain sentences by tapping
-him lightly upon the arm and repeating them more slowly.
-
-The letter was in Italian, and ran as follows:--
-
-
-  MILAN, _April 20, 1901_.
-
-    MY GOOD ERCOLE,--I am leaving here today for Rome, where the case of
-    the government against the Marchese degli Abbraccioli is to come on
-    next week, but before I do so I must write you of the last act in
-    the little comedy of Arsène Sigard. I never lost sight of him from
-    the moment we left Paris, and when he found I was also on my way to
-    Italy, he became confidential, and, in exchange for certain
-    information which I was able to give him about Milan, etc., told me
-    a long story about himself and his affairs, which I found none the
-    less amusing for knowing it to be a tissue of lies. The time passed
-    readily enough, but I was relieved when we started over the St.
-    Gothard, because I knew then that the game was as good as played.
-    We arrived at Chiasso on time (two o'clock) and I found Sassevero on
-    the platform when I jumped out. He had come on from Rome the night
-    before, and was in a positive panic because Palmi, who had been
-    watching old Michel there, had lost him somehow and nobody knew
-    where he'd gone. He might have come through on any train, of course,
-    and Sassevero didn't even know him by sight.
-
-    Naturally, our little business with Sigard was soon done. Cagliacci
-    is still chief of customs at Chiasso, and he simply confiscated the
-    trunk and everything in it, though, of course, the government wasn't
-    after anything but the picture. There were two hours of argument
-    over the disposition of Sigard, but it seemed best to let him go and
-    nothing further said, which he was only too glad to do. The Old Man
-    is shy of diplomatic complications, it appears, and he had told
-    Sassevero to frighten the chap thoroughly and then let him slip off.
-
-    Here comes in the most remarkable part of all. Just as Sigard was
-    marching out of the room, in came the Lucerne express, and our
-    friend walks almost into the arms of an oldish gentleman who had
-    jumped out of a carriage and was hurrying into the customs room.
-
-    "Bon Dieu!" said this individual, "what does _this_ mean?"
-
-    "What does what mean?" put in Sassevero like a flash, and the other
-    was so taken by surprise that, before he had time to think what he
-    was saying, the secret was out.
-
-    "That's my valet de chambre!" he said.
-
-    "Really?" said Sassevero. "Bravo! Then you're the gentleman with the
-    Marchese degli Abbraccioli's second Titian in the false bottom of
-    his trunk!"
-
-    Could anything have been more exquisite? The old chap is out some
-    hundred thousand lire on the transaction, because, of course,
-    Cagliacci confiscated it like the other. It was a sight to
-    remember,--the two pictures side by side in his room, and Michel and
-    Sigard cursing each other above them! We all went on to Milan by the
-    next train, except Sigard, who did the prudent thing on the
-    appearance of his padrone, and disappeared, but Michel's appeal to
-    the French consulate was of no effect. The consul told him flat that
-    he was going directly against the law in trying to get old works of
-    art over the frontier, and that he couldn't plead ignorance after
-    the detail of the false bottom.
-
-    Sassevero says the Old Man is immensely pleased with the way you
-    handled your end of the affair. The funny part of it is that Sigard
-    apparently hadn't the most remote suspicion of your being in any way
-    involved in his catastrophe.
-
-
-  Your most devoted,
-
-  CAVALETTO.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Little Tapin
-
-
-HIS name was Jean-Marie-Michel Jumière, and the first eighteen years of
-his life were spent near the little Breton village of Plougastel. They
-were years of which each was, in every respect, like that which went
-before, and, in every respect, like that which followed after: years,
-that is to say, devoid of incident, beyond the annual pardon, when the
-peasants came from far and near to the quaint little church, to offer
-their prayers at the cemetery Calvary, and display their holiday
-costumes, and make love, and exchange gossip on the turf round about.
-It is a land of wide and wind-swept hillsides, this, imbued with the
-strange melancholy of a wild and merciless sea, and wherein there are no
-barriers of convention or artificiality between earth and sky, man and
-his Maker; but Jean-Marie loved it for its very bleakness. From the
-doorway of his mother's cottage, standing, primly white, in the midst of
-great rocks and strawberry fields, with its thatched roof drawn down,
-like a hood, about its ears, as if in protection against the western
-gales, he could look out across the broad harbor of Brest to the Goulet,
-the gateway to that great Atlantic whose mighty voice came to his ears
-in stormy weather, muttering against the barrier of the shore. And this
-voice of the sea spoke to Jean-Marie of many things, but, most of all,
-of the navies of France, of the mighty battleships which went out from
-Brest to unimagined lands, far distant, China, America, and the southern
-islands, whence comrades, older than himself, brought back curious
-treasures, coral, and shells, and coins, and even parrots, to surprise
-the good people of Plougastel. He looked at them enviously, as they
-gathered about the door of Père Yvetot's wine-shop, when they were home
-on leave, and spun sailor yarns for his delighted ears. How wonderful
-they were, these men who had seen the world,--Toulon, and Marseille, and
-Tonkin,--how wonderful, with their wide, flapping trousers, and their
-jaunty caps, with a white strap and a red pompon, and their throats and
-breasts, showing ruddy bronze at the necks of their shirts!
-
-At such times Jean-Marie would join timidly in the talk, and, perhaps,
-speak of the time when he, too, should be marin français, and see the
-world. And the big Breton sailors would laugh good-naturedly, and slap
-him on the shoulder, and say: "Tiens! And how then shall the cruisers
-find their way into Brest harbor, when the little phare is gone?" For it
-was a famous joke in Plougastel to pretend that Jean-Marie, with his
-flaming red hair, was a lighthouse, which could be seen through the
-Goulet, far, far out at sea.
-
-But Jean-Marie only smiled quietly in reply, for he knew that his day
-would come. At night, the west wind, sweeping in from the Atlantic, and
-rattling his little casement, seemed to be calling him, and it was a
-fancy of his to answer its summons in a whisper, turning his face
-toward the window.
-
-"All in good time, my friend. All in good time!"
-
-Again, when he was working in the strawberry fields, he would strain his
-eyes to catch the outline of some big green battleship, anchored off
-Brest, or, during one of his rare visits to the town, lean upon the
-railing of the pont tournant, to watch the sailors and marines moving
-about the barracks and magazines on the quais of the porte militaire.
-All in good time, my friends; all in good time!
-
-Only, there were two to whom one did not speak of these things,--the
-Little Mother, and Rosalie Vivieu. Already the sea had taken three from
-Madame Jumière--Baptiste, her husband, and Philippe and Yves, the older
-boys, who went out together, with the fishing fleet, seven years before,
-in the staunch little smack La Belle Fortune. She had been cheerful,
-even merry, during the long weeks of waiting for the fleet's return,
-and, when it came in one evening, with news of La Belle Fortune cut down
-in the fog by a North Cape German Lloyd, and all hands lost, she had
-taken the news as only a Breton woman can. Jean-Marie was but twelve at
-the time, but there is an intuition, beyond all reckoning in years, in
-the heart of a fisher's son, and never should he forget how the Little
-Mother had caught him to her heart that night, at the doorway of their
-cottage, crying, "Holy Saviour! Holy Saviour!" with her patient blue
-eyes upturned to the cold, grey sky of Finistère! As for Rosalie,
-Jean-Marie could not remember when they two had not been sweethearts,
-since the day when, as a round-eyed boy of six, he had watched Madame
-Vivieu crowding morsels of blessed bread into her baby mouth at the
-pardon of Plougastel, since all the world knows that in such manner only
-can backwardness of speech be cured. Rosalie was sixteen now, as round,
-and pink, and sweet as one of her own late peaches, and she had promised
-to marry Jean-Marie some day. For the time being, he was allowed to kiss
-her only on the great occasion of the pardon, but that was once more
-each year than any other gars in Plougastel could do, so Jean-Marie was
-content. No, evidently, to these two there must be no mention of his
-dreamings of the wide and wonderful sea, of the summons of the
-impatient western wind, of those long reveries upon the pont tournant.
-
-So Jean-Marie hugged his visions to his heart for another year, working
-in the strawberry fields, gazing out with longing eyes toward the
-warships in the harbor, and whispering, when the fingers of the wind
-tapped upon his little casement: "All in good time, my friend. All in
-good time!"
-
-And his day came at last, as he had known it would. But with what a
-difference! For there were many for the navy that spring. Plougastel had
-nine, and Daoulas fifteen ready, and Hanvec seven, and Crozon
-twenty-one, and from Landerneau, and Châteaulin, and Lambezellec, and le
-Folgoet came fifty more, and from Brest itself, a hundred; and all of
-these, with few exceptions, were great, broad-shouldered lads, strong of
-arm and deep of chest, and so the few who were slender and fragile, like
-Jean-Marie, were assigned to the infantry, and sent, as is the custom,
-far from Finistère, because, says the code, change of scene prevents
-homesickness, and what the code says must, of course, be true.
-
-When Madame Jumière heard this she smiled as she was seldom known to
-smile. The Holy Virgin, then, had listened to her prayers. The gars was
-to be a piou-piou instead of a col bleu, after all! The great sea should
-not rob her again, as it had robbed her in the time. It was very well,
-oh, grace au saint Sauveur, it was very well! And, all that night, the
-Little Mother prayed, and watched a tiny taper, flickering before her
-porcelain image of Notre Dame de la Recouvrance, while Jean-Marie tossed
-and turned upon his little garret bed, and made no reply, even in a
-whisper, to the west wind, rattling his casement with insistent fingers.
-
-But it was all far worse than he had pictured it to himself, even in
-those first few hours of disappointment and despair. The last Sunday
-afternoon which he and Rosalie passed, hand in hand, seated by the
-Calvary in Plougastel cemetery, striving dumbly to realize that they
-should see each other no more for three long years; the following
-morning, chill and bleak for that time of year, when he and the Little
-Mother, standing on the platform of the station at Brest, could barely
-see each others' faces, for the sea-fog and their own hot tears; the
-shouts and laughter and noisy farewells of the classe, crowding out of
-the windows of their third-class carriages; and, finally, the
-interminable journey to Paris,--all of these were to Jean-Marie like the
-successive stages of a feverish, uneasy dream. He knew none of the noisy
-Breton peasant lads about him, but sat by himself in the centre of the
-compartment, too far from either window to catch more than fleeting
-glimpses of the fog-wrapped landscape through which the train crept at
-thirty kilometres the hour. At long intervals, they stopped in great
-stations, of which little Jean-Marie remembered to have heard,--Morlaix,
-St. Brieuc, Rennes, and Laval, where the recruits bought cakes and
-bottles of cheap wine, and joked with white-capped peasant women on the
-platforms; and twice during the long night he was roused from a fitful,
-troubled sleep to a consciousness of raucous voices crying "Le Mans!"
-and "Chartres!" and gasped in sudden terror--before he could remember
-where he was--at the faces of his slumbering companions, ghastly and
-distorted in the wretched light of the compartment lamp. So, as the
-dawn was breaking over Paris, they came into the gare Montparnasse, and,
-too drowsy to realize what was demanded of them, were herded together by
-the drill sergeants in charge, and marched away across the city to the
-barracks of La Pépinière.
-
-The weeks that followed were to Jean-Marie hideous beyond any means of
-expression. From the first he had been assigned to the drum-corps, and
-spent hours daily, under command of a corporal expert in the art,
-laboriously learning double rolls and ruffles in the fosse of the
-fortifications. For they are not in the way of enduring martyrdom, the
-Parisians, and even while they cry "Vive l'armée!" with their hats off,
-and their eyes blazing, the drummers and buglers are sent out of
-hearing, to practice the music that later, when the regiments parade,
-will stir the patriotism of the throng.
-
-But this part of his new life was no hardship to Jean-Marie, or Little
-Tapin, as his comrades soon learned to call him, because he was the
-smallest drummer in the corps. On the contrary, it was something to be
-in the open air, even though that air was tainted with sluggish smoke
-from the factory chimneys of Levallois-Perret, instead of being swept
-and refreshed by the west wind from beyond the Goulet. And he was very
-earnest, very anxious to please, was Little Tapin. First of all the new
-drummers, he learned the intricacies of the roll, and so diligently did
-he improve the hours of practice that he was first, as well, to be
-regularly assigned to a place in the regimental band. No, this was no
-hardship. What cramped and crushed his kindly little heart, what clouded
-his queer, quizzical eyes, was nothing less than Paris, beautiful,
-careless Paris, that laughed, and danced, and sang about him, and had
-never a thought for Little Tapin, with his funny, freckled face, and his
-ill-fitting uniform of red and blue, and his coarse boots, and his
-ineradicable Breton stare.
-
-In Plougastel he had been wont to greet and to be greeted, to hear
-cheery words from those who passed him on the wide, white roads. He was
-part of it all, one who was called by his honest name, instead of by a
-ridiculous sobriquet, and who had his share in all that went forward,
-from the strawberry harvest to the procession of the pardon. And if all
-this was but neighborly interest, at least there were two to whom
-Jean-Marie meant more, and who meant more to him.
-
-But Paris,--Paris, with her throngs of strange faces hurrying past, her
-brilliantly lighted boulevards, her crowded cafés, her swirl of traffic
-along avenues that one crossed only at peril of one's life,--he was lost
-amid her clamor and confusion as utterly as a bubble in a whirlpool! The
-bitterest hours of his new life were those of his leave, in which, with
-a band of his fellows, he went out of the great green gates of the
-caserne to seek amusement. Amusement! They soon lost Little Tapin, the
-others, for he was one who did not drink, and who walked straight on
-when they turned to speak to passing grisettes, who clung to each
-others' arms, and looked back, laughing at the sallies of the
-piou-pious. He was not bon camarade. He seemed to disapprove. So,
-presently, while he was staring into a shop window, they would slip down
-a side street, or into a tiny café, and Little Tapin would find himself
-alone in the great city which he dreaded.
-
-He came to spending long hours of his leave in the galleries of the
-Louvre, hastening past row upon row of nude statues with startled eyes,
-or making his way wearily from picture to picture of the old Dutch
-masters, striving, striving to understand. Then, footsore and heartsick,
-he would creep out upon the pont du Carrousel, and stand for half an
-afternoon, with his elbows on the railing. Behind him, the human tide
-swung back and forward from bank to bank, the big omnibuses making the
-bridge throb and sway under his feet. It was good, that, like the rise
-and fall of his little boat on the swells of the bras de Landerneau,
-when he rowed up with a comrade to fish at the mouth of the Elorn. And
-there was always the Seine, whirling, brown and angry, under the arches
-of the pont Royal beyond, on its way to the sea, where were the great,
-green battleships. Little Tapin strained his eyes in an attempt to
-follow the river's long sweep to the left, toward the distant towers of
-the Trocadéro, and then pictured to himself how it would go on and on,
-out into the good, green country, past hillsides crowded with vineyards,
-and broad, flat meadows, where the poplars stood, aligned like soldiers,
-against the sky, until it broadened toward its end, running swifter and
-more joyously, for now the wind had met it and was crying, "Come! Come!
-The Sea! The Sea!" as it was used to cry, rattling the casement of his
-little room at Plougastel. Then two great tears ran slowly down his
-freckled cheeks, and dropped, unnoted, into the flying river, wherein so
-many fall. Ah, what a baby he was, to be sure, Little Tapin!
-
-So three months went by, and then one morning the news ran through La
-Pépinière that the regiment was going to move. There is no telling how
-such tidings get abroad, for the pawns are not supposed to know what
-part in the game they are to play. A loose-tongued lieutenant, perhaps,
-and a sharp-eared ordonnance, or a word between two commandants
-overheard by the sentry in his box at the gates of the caserne. Whatever
-the source of information, certain it was that, six hours after the
-colonel of the 107th of the line had received his orders, his newest
-recruit could have told you as much of them as was known to General de
-Galliffet himself, in his office on the boulevard St. Germain.
-
-A more than usually friendly comrade confided the news to Little Tapin,
-exulting. The regiment was to move--in three days, name of God!
-Epatant--what? And, what was more, they were to go to the south, to
-Grenoble, whence one saw the Alpes Maritimes, with snow upon them--snow
-upon them, did Tapin comprehend?--and always! No matter whether it was a
-Tuesday, or a Friday,--yes, or even a Sunday! There was _always_ snow!
-
-No, Little Tapin could hardly comprehend. He pondered dully upon this
-new development of his fate all that afternoon, and then, suddenly,
-while he was beating the staccato roll of the retraite in the court of
-the caserne that night, he understood! Why, it was to go further away,
-this,--further away from Plougastel, and the Little Mother, and Rosalie,
-to be stationed in God knew what great town, crueller, more crowded than
-even Paris herself!
-
-All that night Little Tapin lay staring at the ceiling of the big
-dortoir, while the comrades breathed heavily around him. And, little by
-little, the spirit of rebellion roused and stirred in his simple Breton
-heart. For he hated it all,--this army, this dreary, rigid routine, this
-contemptuous comment of trim, sneering young lieutenants, with waxed
-mustaches, and baggy red riding breeches, and immaculately varnished
-boots. He hated his own uniform, which another tapin had worn before
-him, and which, in consequence, had never even had the charm of
-freshness. He hated the bugles, and the drums,--yes, and, more than all,
-the tricolor, the flag of the great, cruel Republic which had cooped him
-up in these desolate barracks of La Pépinière, instead of sending him
-with other Bretons out to the arms of the blue sea! And, when gray
-morning crept through the windows of the dortoir, there lay upon the
-pallet of Little Tapin a deserter, in spirit, at least, from the 107th
-of the line!
-
-That day, for the third time since joining the regiment, Little Tapin
-was detailed as drummer to the guard at the Palais du Louvre. He knew
-what _that_ meant,--a long, insufferably tiresome day, with nothing to
-do save to idle about a doorway of the palace, opposite the place du
-Palais Royal, watching the throng of shoppers scurrying to and fro, and
-passing in and out of the big magasins du Louvre. It was only as sunset
-approached that the drummer of the guard detail had any duty to perform.
-Then he marched, all alone, with his drum slung on his hip, across the
-place du Carrousel, and down the wide central promenade of the Tuileries
-gardens, to the circular basin at their western end, where, on pleasant
-afternoons, the little Parisians--and some, too, of larger
-growth--manoeuvred their miniature yachts, to the extreme vexation of
-the sluggish gold-fish. There, standing motionless, like a sketch by
-Edouard Detaille, he watched the sun creep lower, lower, behind the arc
-de l'Etoile, until it went out of sight, and then, turning, he marched
-back, drumming sturdily, to warn all who lingered in the gardens that
-the gates were about to close.
-
-But they were not good for Little Tapin, those hours of idleness at the
-portals of the palace. It is the second busiest and most densely
-thronged spot in Paris, this: first the place de l'Opéra, and then the
-place du Palais Royal. And to Little Tapin's eyes, as he glanced up and
-down the rue de Rivoli, the great city seemed more careless, more cruel
-than ever, and bit by bit the rebellious impulse born in the dortoir
-grew stronger, more irresistible. His Breton mind was slow to action,
-but, once set in a direction, it was obstinacy itself. He took no heed
-of consequences. If he realized at any stage of his meditation what the
-outcome of desertion must inevitably be, it was only to put the thought
-resolutely from him. Capture, court-martial, imprisonment, they were
-only names to him. What was real was that he should see Plougastel
-again, sit hand in hand with Rosalie, and refind his comrades, the wide,
-sunlit harbor, and the impatient western wind, for which his heart was
-aching. What was false and unbearable was longer service in an army that
-he loathed.
-
-He arranged the details of escape in his mind, as he sat apart from his
-comrades of the guard, fingering the drum-cords. An hour's leave upon
-the morrow--certainly the tambour-major would grant him so much, if he
-said it was to bid his sister good-by; then, a change from his detested
-uniform to a cheap civile in the shop of some second-hand dealer in the
-Gobelins quarter; and, finally, a quick dash to the gare Montparnasse,
-when he should have learned the hour of his train, and so, away to
-Finistère. It sounded extremely simple, as all such plans do, when the
-wish is father to the thought, and in his calculations he went no
-further than Plougastel. After that, one would see. So the long
-afternoon stole past.
-
-At seven o'clock the lieutenant of the guard touched Little Tapin upon
-the shoulder, and, more by instinct than actual perception, he sprang to
-his feet and saluted.
-
-"Voyons, mon petit," said the officer, not unkindly. "It is time thou
-wast off. Thou knowest thy duty--eh? There is no need of instructions?"
-
-"Oh, ça me connait, mon lieutenant," answered Little Tapin quaintly,
-and, presently, he was striding away to his post, under the arc de
-Triomphe, past the statues, and the flowerbeds, and the dancing
-fountains, across the rue des Tuileries, and so into the wide, central
-promenade of the gardens beyond.
-
-The old woman who sold cakes, and reglisse, and balloons to the
-children, was putting up the shutters of her little booth as he passed,
-and two others were piling wooden chairs in ungainly pyramids under the
-trees, though the gardens were still full of people, hurrying north and
-south on the transverse paths leading to the rue de Rivoli or to the
-quai and the pont de Solférino. But, curiously enough, the open space
-around the western basin was almost deserted as Little Tapin took his
-position, facing the great grille.
-
-The mid-August afternoon had been oppressively warm, and now a thin haze
-had risen from the wet wood pavement of the place de la Concorde, and
-hovered low, pink in the light of the setting sun. Directly before
-Little Tapin the obelisk raised its warning finger, and beyond, the
-Champs Elysées, thickly dotted with carriages, and half veiled by great
-splotches of ruddy-yellow dust, swept away in a long, upward curve
-toward the distant arc de l'Etoile.
-
-But of all this Little Tapin saw nothing. He stood very still, with his
-back to the basin, where the fat goldfish went to and fro like lazy
-sentinels, on the watch for a possible belated little boy, with a pocket
-full of crumbs. He was still deep in his dream of Plougastel, so deep
-that he could almost smell the salt breeze rollicking in from the
-Goulet, and hear the chapel bell sending the Angelus out over the
-strawberry fields and the rock-dotted hillside.
-
-After a minute, something--a teamster's shout, or the snap of a
-cocher's whip--roused him, and he glanced around with the same
-half-sensation of terror with which he had wakened in the night to hear
-the guards shouting "Le Mans!" and "Chartres!" Then the reality came
-back to him with a rush, and he grumbled to himself. Oh, it was all very
-well, the wonderful French army, all very well if one could have been a
-marshal or a general, or even a soldier of the line in time of war.
-There was a chance for glory, bon sang! But to be a drummer--a drummer
-one metre seventy in height, with flaming red hair and a freckled
-face--a drummer who was called Little Tapin; and to have, for one's most
-important duty, to drum the loungers out of a public garden! No,
-evidently he would desert.
-
-"But why?" said a grave voice beside him.
-
-Little Tapin was greatly startled. He had not thought he was saying the
-words aloud. And his fear increased when, on turning to see who had
-spoken, he found himself looking into the eyes of one who was evidently
-an officer, though his uniform was unfamiliar. He was plain-shaven and
-very short, almost as short, indeed, as Little Tapin himself, but about
-him there was a something of dignity and command which could not fail of
-its effect. He wore a great black hat like a gendarme's, but without
-trimming, and a blue coat with a white plastron, the tails lined with
-scarlet, and the sleeves ending in red and white cuffs. White breeches,
-and knee-boots carefully polished, completed the uniform, and from over
-his right shoulder a broad band of crimson silk was drawn tightly across
-his breast. A short sword hung straight at his hip, and on his left
-breast were three orders on red ribbons,--a great star, with an eagle in
-the centre, backed by a sunburst studded with brilliants; another eagle,
-this one of white enamel, pendant from a jeweled crown, and a smaller
-star of enameled white and green, similar to the large one.
-
-Little Tapin had barely mastered these details when the other spoke
-again.
-
-"Why art thou thinking to desert?" he said.
-
-"Monsieur is an officer?" faltered the drummer,--"a general, perhaps.
-Pardon, but I do not know the uniform."
-
-"A corporal, simply--a soldier of France, like thyself. Be not afraid,
-my little one. All thou sayest shall be held in confidence. Tell me thy
-difficulties."
-
-His voice was very kind, the kindest Little Tapin had heard in three
-long months, and suddenly the barrier of his Breton reserve gave and
-broke. The nervous strain had been too great. He must have sympathy and
-advice--yes, even though it meant confiding in a stranger and the
-possible discovery and failure of his dearly cherished plans.
-
-"A soldier of France!" he exclaimed, impulsively. "Ah, monsieur, there
-you have all my difficulty. What a thing it is to be a soldier of
-France! And not even that, but a drummer, a drummer who is called Little
-Tapin because he is the smallest and weakest in the corps. To be taken
-from home, from the country he loves, from Brittany, and made to serve
-among men who despise him, who laugh at him, who avoid him in the hours
-of leave, because he is not bon camarade. To wear a uniform that has
-been already worn. To sleep in a dormitory where there are bêtes
-funestes. To have no friends. To know that he is not to see Plougastel,
-and the sweetheart, and the Little Mother for three years. Never to
-fight, but, at best, to drum voyous out of a garden! That, monsieur, is
-what it is to be a soldier of France!"
-
-There were tears in Little Tapin's eyes now, but he was more angry than
-sad. The silence of months was broken, and the hoarded resentment and
-despair of his long martyrdom, once given rein, were not to be checked a
-second time. He threw back his narrow shoulders defiantly, and said a
-hideous thing:--
-
-"Conspuez l'armée française!"
-
-There was an instant's pause, and then the other leaned forward, and
-with one white-gloved hand touched Little Tapin on the eyes.
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Before them a great plain, sloping very gradually upward in all
-directions, like a vast, shallow amphitheatre, spread away in a long
-series of low terraces to where, in the dim distance, the peaks of a
-range of purple hills nicked and notched a sky of palest turquoise. From
-where they stood, upon a slight elevation, the details of even the
-farthest slopes seemed singularly clean-cut and distinct,--the groups of
-grey willows; the poplars, standing stiffly in twos and threes; the
-short silver reaches of a little river, lying in the hollows where the
-land occasionally dipped; at long intervals, a whitewashed cottage,
-gleaming like a sail against this sea of green; even, on the most
-distant swell of all, a herd of ruddy cattle, moving slowly up toward
-the crest,--each and all of these, although in merest miniature, as
-clear and vivid in form and color as if they had been the careful
-creations of a Claude Lorrain.
-
-Directly before the knoll upon which they were stationed, a wide road,
-dazzling white in the sunlight, swept in a superb full curve from left
-to right, and on its further side the ground was covered with
-close-cropped turf, and completely empty for a distance of two hundred
-metres. But beyond! Beyond, every hectare of the great semicircle was
-occupied by dense masses of cavalry, infantry, and artillery, regiment
-upon regiment, division upon division, corps upon corps, an innumerable
-multitude, motionless, as if carved out of many-colored marbles!
-
-In some curious, unaccountable fashion, Little Tapin seemed to know all
-these by name. There, to the left, were the chasseurs à pied, their huge
-bearskins flecked with red and green pompons, and their white
-cross-belts slashed like capital X's against the blue of their tunics;
-there, beside them, the foot artillery, a long row of metal collar
-plates, like dots of gold, and gold trappings against dark blue; to the
-right, the Garde Royale Hollandaise, in brilliant crimson and white; in
-the centre, the infantry of the Guard, with tall, straight pompons, red
-above white, and square black shakos, trimmed with scarlet cord.
-
-Close at hand, surrounding Little Tapin and his companion, were the most
-brilliant figures of the scene, and these, too, he seemed to know by
-name. None was missing. Prince Murat, in a cream-white uniform blazing
-with gold embroidery, and with a scarlet ribbon across his breast; a
-group of marshals, Ney, Oudinot, Duroc, Macdonald, Augereau, and Soult,
-with their yellow sashes, and cocked hats laced with gold; a score of
-generals, Larouche, Durosnel, Marmont, Letort, Henrion, Chasteller, and
-the rest, with white instead of gold upon their hats,--clean-shaven,
-severe of brow and lip-line, they stood without movement, their
-gauntleted hands upon their sword-hilts, gazing straight before them.
-
-Little Tapin drew a deep breath.
-
-Suddenly from somewhere came a short, sharp bugle note, and instantly
-the air was full of the sound of hoofs, and the ring of scabbards and
-stirrup-irons, and the wide white road before them alive with flying
-cavalry. Squadron after squadron, they thundered by: mounted chasseurs,
-with pendants of orange-colored cloth fluttering from their shakos, and
-plaits of powdered hair bobbing at their cheeks; Polish light horse,
-with metal sunbursts gleaming on their square-topped helmets, and
-crimson and white pennons snapping in the wind at the points of their
-lances; Old Guard cavalry, with curving helmets like Roman legionaries;
-Mamelukes, with full red trousers, white and scarlet turbans, strange
-standards of horsehair surmounted by the imperial eagle, brazen stirrups
-singularly fashioned, and horse trappings of silver with flying crimson
-tassels; Horse Chasseurs of the Guard, in hussar tunics and yellow
-breeches, their sabretaches swinging as they rode; and Red Lancers, in
-gay uniforms of green and scarlet. Like a whirlwind they went
-past,--each squadron, in turn, wheeling to the left, and coming to a
-halt in the open space beyond the road, until the last lancer swept by.
-
-A thick cloud of white dust, stirred into being by the flying horses,
-now hung between the army and the knoll, and through this one saw dimly
-the mounted band of the 20th Chasseurs, on gray stallions, occupying the
-centre of the line, and heard, what before had been drowned by the
-thunder of hoofs, the strains of "Partant pour la Syrie."
-
-Slowly, slowly, the dust cloud thinned and lifted, so slowly that it
-seemed as if it would never wholly clear. But, on a sudden, a sharp puff
-of wind sent it whirling off in arabesques to the left, and the whole
-plain lay revealed.
-
-"Bon Dieu!" said Little Tapin.
-
-The first rank of cavalry was stationed within a metre of the further
-border of the road, the line sweeping off to the left and right until
-details became indistinguishable. And beyond, reaching away in a solid
-mass, the vast host dwindled and dwindled, back to where the ascending
-slopes were broken by the distant willows and the reaches of the silver
-stream. With snowy white of breeches and plastrons, with lustre of
-scarlet velvet and gold lace, with sparkle of helmet and cuirass, and
-dull black of bearskin and smoothly groomed flanks, the army blazed and
-glowed in the golden sunlight like a mosaic of a hundred thousand
-jewels. Silent, expectant, the legions flashed crimson, emerald, and
-sapphire, rolling away in broad swells of light and color, motionless
-save for a long, slow heave, as of the ocean, lying, vividly iridescent,
-under the last rays of the setting sun. Then, without warning, as if the
-touch of a magician's wand had roused the multitude to life, a myriad
-sabres swept twinkling from their scabbards, and, by tens of thousands,
-the guns of the infantry snapped with a sharp click to a present arms.
-The bugles sounded all along the line, the tricolors dipped until their
-golden fringes almost swept the ground, the troopers stood upright in
-their stirrups, their heads thrown back, their bronzed faces turned
-toward the knoll, their eyes blazing. And from the farthest slopes
-inward, like thunder that growls afar, and, coming nearer, swells into
-unbearable volume, a hoarse cry ran down the massed battalions and broke
-in a stupendous roar upon the shuddering air,--
-
-"Vive l'empereur!"
-
-       *       *       *       *       *
-
-Little Tapin rubbed his eyes.
-
-"I am ill," he murmured. "I have been faint. I seemed to see"--
-
-"Thou hast seen," said the voice of his companion, very softly, very
-solemnly,--"thou hast seen simply what it is to be a soldier of France!"
-
-His hand rested an instant on the drummer's shoulder, with the ghost of
-a caress.
-
-"My little one," he added, tenderly, "forget not this. It matters
-nothing whether one is Emperor of the French or the smallest drummer of
-the corps, whom men call 'Little Tapin.' I, too, was called 'little' in
-the time--'The Little Corporal' they called me, from Moscow to the
-Loire. But it is all the same. Chief of the army, drummer of the corps,
-on the field of battle, in the gardens of the Tuileries, routing the
-Prussians, or drumming out the voyous,--it is all the same, my little
-one, it is all the same. All that is necessary is to understand--to
-understand that it is all and always for la belle France. Empire or
-republic, in peace or war--what difference? It is still France, still
-the tricolor, still l'armée française."
-
-He lifted his hat, and looked steadily up at the sky, where the first
-stars were shouldering their way into view.
-
-"Vive la France!" he added. And on his lips the phrase was like a
-prayer.
-
-Through the arc de l'Etoile the fading sunset looked back, as upon
-something it was loath to leave. Then Little Tapin flung back his head.
-There was a strange, new light in his eyes, and his breath came quickly,
-between parted lips. Without a word he swung upon his heels, slipped his
-drum into place, and marched steadily away, beating the long roll. Once,
-when he had gone a hundred metres, he looked back. The figure of the
-Little Corporal was still standing beside the basin, but now it was very
-thin and faint, like the dust clouds on the Champs Elysées. But, as the
-little drummer turned, it raised one hand to its forehead in salute.
-
-Little Tapin stood motionless for an instant, and then he smiled, and,
-through the deepening twilight--
-
-"Vive l'armée!" he shouted, shrilly. "Vive la France!"
-
-
-
-
-The Riverside Press
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-_Electrotyped and printed by H. O. Houghton & Co._
-
-_Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A._
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