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diff --git a/43216-0.txt b/43216-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9633ef5 --- /dev/null +++ b/43216-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6162 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43216 *** + +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 + +_Electrotyped and printed by H. O. Houghton & Co._ + +_Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A._ + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Zut and Other Parisians, by Guy Wetmore Carryl + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43216 *** |