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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/9928-8.txt b/9928-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..65d962f --- /dev/null +++ b/9928-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10298 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Chair on The Boulevard, by Leonard Merrick + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Chair on The Boulevard + +Author: Leonard Merrick + +Posting Date: November 15, 2011 [EBook #9928] +Release Date: February, 2006 +Posting Date: November 1, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHAIR ON THE BOULEVARD *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Ginny Brewer, Tom Allen and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + + + + +A CHAIR ON THE BOULEVARD + + + +By LEONARD MERRICK + + + + +WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY A. NEIL LYONS + +1921 + + + + + +CONTENTS + + I THE TRAGEDY OF A COMIC SONG + + II TRICOTRIN ENTERTAINS + + III THE FATAL FLOROZONDE + + IV THE OPPORTUNITY OF PETITPAS + + V THE CAFÉ OF THE BROKEN HEART + + VI THE DRESS CLOTHES OF MONSIEUR POMPONNET + + VII THE SUICIDES IN THE RUE SOMBRE + + VIII THE CONSPIRACY FOR CLAUDINE + + IX THE DOLL IN THE PINK SILK DRESS + + X THE LAST EFFECT + + XI AN INVITATION TO DINNER + + XII THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS + + XIII THE FAIRY POODLE + + XIV LITTLE-FLOWER-OF-THE-WOOD + + XV A MIRACLE IN MONTMARTRE + + XVI THE DANGER OF BEING A TWIN + + XVII HERCULES AND APHRODITE + + XVIII "PARDON, YOU ARE MADEMOISELLE GIRARD!" + + XIX HOW TRICOTRIN SAW LONDON + + XX THE INFIDELITY OF MONSIEUR NOULENS + + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +These disjointed thoughts about one of Leonard Merrick's most +articulate books must begin with a personal confession. + +For many years I walked about this earth avoiding the works of Leonard +Merrick, as other men might have avoided an onion. This insane aversion +was created in my mind chiefly by admirers of what is called the +"cheerful" note in fiction. Such people are completely agreed in +pronouncing Mr. Merrick to be a pessimistic writer. I hate pessimistic +writers. + +Years ago, when I was of an age when the mind responds acutely to +exterior impressions, some well-meaning uncle, or other fool, gave me a +pessimistic book to read. This was a work of fiction which the British +Public had hailed as a masterpiece of humour. It represented, with an +utter fury of pessimism, the spiritual inadequacies of--but why go into +details. + +Now, I have to confess that for a long time I did Mr. Merrick the +extraordinary injustice of believing him to be the author of that +popular masterpiece. + +The mistake, though intellectually unpardonable, may perhaps be +condoned on other grounds. By virtue of that process of thought which +we call the "association of ideas," I naturally connected Mr. Merrick +with this work of super-pessimism; my friends being so confirmed in +their belief that he was a super-pessimist. + +But by virtue of a fortunate accident, I at last got the truth about +Mr. Merrick. This event arose from the action of a right-minded +butcher, who, having exhausted his stock of _The Pigeon-Fancier's +Gazette_, sent me my weekly supply of dog-bones wrapped about with +Leonard Merrick. + +These dog-bones happened to reach my house at a moment when no other +kind of literary nutriment was to be had. Having nothing better to read +I read the dog-bone wrappers. Thus, by dog-bones, was I brought to +Merrick: the most jolly, amusing, and optimistic of all spiritual +friends. + +The book to which these utterances are prefixed is to my mind one of +the few _really_ amusing books which have been published in +England during my lifetime. But, then, I think that all of Mr. +Merrick's books are amusing: even his "earnest" books, such as _The +Actor-Manager, When Love Flies out o' the Window_, or _The +Position of Peggy Harper_. + +It is, of course, true that such novels as these are unlikely to be +found congenial by those persons who derive entertainment from fiction +like my uncle's present. On the other hand, there are people in the +world with a capacity for being amused by psychological inquiry. To +such people I would say: "Don't miss Merrick." The extraordinary +cheerfulness of Mr. Merrick's philosophy is a fact which will impress +itself upon all folk who are able to take a really cheerful view of +life. + +All of Mr. Merrick's sermons--I do not hesitate to call his novels +"sermons," because no decent novel can be anything else--all his +sermons, I say, point to this conclusion: that people who go out +deliberately to look for happiness, to kick for it, and fight for it, +or who try to buy it with money, will miss happiness; this being a +state of heart--a mere outgrowth, more often to be found by a careless +and self-forgetful vagrant than by the deliberate and self-conscious +seeker. A cheerful doctrine this. Not only cheerful, but self-evidently +true. How right it is, and how cheerful it is, to think that while +philosophers and clergymen strut about this world looking out, and +smelling out, for its prime experiences, more careless and less +celebrated men are continually finding such things, without effort, +without care, in irregular and unconsecrated places. + +In novel after novel, Mr. Merrick has preached the same good-humoured, +cheerful doctrine: the doctrine of anti-fat. He asks us to believe--he +_makes_ us believe--that a man (or woman) is not merely virtuous, +but merely sane, who exchanges the fats of fulfilment for the little +lean pleasures of honourable hope and high endeavour. Oh wise, oh witty +Mr. Merrick! + +Mr. Merrick has not, to my knowledge, written one novel in which his +hero is represented as having achieved complacency. Mr. Merrick's +heroes all undergo the very human experience of "hitting a snag." They +are none of them represented as _enjoying_ this experience; but +none of them whimper and none of them "rat." + +If anybody could prove to me that Mr. Merrick had ever invented a hero +who submitted tamely to tame success, to fat prosperity; or who had +stepped, were it ever so lightly, into the dirty morass of accepted +comfort, then would I cheerfully admit to anybody that Leonard Merrick +is a Pessimistic Writer. But until this proof be forthcoming, I stick +to my opinion: I stick to the conviction that Mr. Merrick is the +gayest, cheer fullest, and most courageous of living humorists. + +This opinion is a general opinion, applicable to Mr. Merrick's general +work. This morning, however, I am asked to narrow my field of view: to +contemplate not so much Mr. Merrick at large as Mr. Merrick in +particular: to look at Mr. Merrick in his relationship to this one +particular book: _A Chair on the Boulevard_. + +Now, if I say, as I have said, that Mr. Merrick is cheerful in his +capacity of solemn novelist, what am I to say of Mr. Merrick in his +lighter aspect, that of a writer of _feuilletons?_ Addressing +myself to an imaginary audience of Magazine Enthusiasts, I ask them to +tell me whether, judged even by comparison with their favourite +fiction, some of the stories to be found in this volume are not +exquisitely amusing? + +The first story in the book--that which Mr. Merrick calls "The Tragedy +of a Comic Song"--is in my view the funniest story of this century: +but I don't ask or expect the Magazine Enthusiast to share this view or +to endorse that judgment. "The Tragedy of a Comic Song" is essentially +one of those productions in which the reader is expected to +collaborate. The author has deliberately contrived certain voids of +narrative; and his reader is expected to populate these anecdotal +wastes. This is asking more than it is fair to ask of a Magazine +Enthusiast. No genuine Magazine reader cares for the elusive or +allusive style in fiction. "The Tragedy of a Comic Song" won't do for +Bouverie Street, however well and completely it may do for me. + +But there are other stories in this book. There is that screaming farce +called "The Suicides in the Rue Sombre." Now, then, you Magazine +zealots, speak up and tell me truly: is there anything too difficult +for you in this? If so, the psychology of what is called "public taste" +becomes a subject not suited to public discussion. + +The foregoing remarks and considerations apply equally to such stories +as "The Dress Clothes of M. Pomponnet" and "Tricotrin Entertains." +There are other stories which delight me, as, for example, "Little- +Flower-of-the-Wood": but this jerks us back again to the essential Mr. +Merrick: he who demands collaboration. + +There are, again, other stories, and yet others; but to write down all +their titles here would be merely to transcribe the index page of the +book. Neither the reader nor I can afford to waste our time like that. + +I have said nothing about the technical qualities of Mr. Merrick's +work. I don't intend to do so. It has long been a conceit of mine to +believe that professional vendors of letterpress should reserve their +mutual discussions of technique for technical occasions, such as those +when men of like mind and occupation sit at table, with a bottle +between them. + +I am convinced that Mr. Merrick is a very great and gifted man, deeply +skilled in his profession. I can bring forth arguments and proofs to +support this conviction; but I fail utterly to see why I should do so. +To people who have a sense of that which is sincere and fresh in +fiction, these facts will be apparent. To them my arguments and +illustrations would be profitless. As for those honest persons to whom +the excellencies of Merrick are not apparent, I can only think that +nothing which I or any other man could say would render them obvious. +"Happiness is in ourselves," as the Vicar remarked to the donkey who +was pulling the lawn-mower. + +Good luck, Leonard Merrick, and good cheer! I shout my greeting to you +across the ripples of that inky lake which is our common fishery. + +A. NEIL LYONS. + + + +A CHAIR ON THE BOULEVARD + + + +THE TRAGEDY OF A COMIC SONG + +I like to monopolise a table in a restaurant, unless a friend is with +me, so I resented the young man's presence. Besides, he had a +melancholy face. If it hadn't been for the piano-organ, I don't suppose +I should have spoken to him. As the organ that was afflicting Lisle +Street began to volley a comic song of a day that was dead, he started. + +"That tune!" he murmured in French. If I did not deceive myself, tears +sprang to his eyes. + +I was curious. Certainly, on both sides of the Channel, we had long ago +had more than enough of the tune--no self-respecting organ-grinder +rattled it now. That the young Frenchman should wince at the tune I +understood. But that he should weep! + +I smiled sympathetically. "We suffered from it over here as well," I +remarked. + +"I did not know," he said, in English that reproved my French, "it was +sung in London also--'Partant pour le Moulin'?" + +"Under another name," I told him, "it was an epidemic." + +Clearly, the organ had stirred distressing memories in him, for though +we fell to chatting, I could see that he neither talked nor dined with +any relish. As luck would have it, too, the instrument of torture +resumed its répertoire well within hearing, and when "Partant pour le +Moulin" was reached again, he clasped his head. + +"You find it so painful?" I inquired. + +"Painful?" he exclaimed. "Monsieur, it is my 'istory, that comic tune! +It is to me romance, tragedy, ruin. Will you hear? Wait! I shall range +my ideas. Listen:" + + * * * * * + +It is Paris, at Montmartre--we are before the door of a laundress. A +girl approaches. Her gaze is troubled, she frowns a little. What ails +her? I shall tell you: the laundress has refused to deliver her washing +until her bill is paid. And the girl cannot pay it--not till Saturday-- +and she has need of things to put on. It is a moment of anxiety. + +She opens the door. Some minutes pass. The girl reappears, holding +under her arm a little parcel. Good! she has triumphed. In coming out +she sees a young man, pale, abstracted, who stands before the shop. He +does not attempt to enter. He stands motionless, regarding the window +with an air forlorn. + +"Ah," she says to herself, "here is another customer who cannot pay his +bill!" + +But wait a little. After 'alf an hour what happens? She sees the young +man again! This time he stands before a modest restaurant. Does he go +in? No, again no! He regards the window sorrowfully. He sighs. The +dejection of his attitude would melt a stone. + +"Poor boy," she thought; "he cannot pay for a dinner either!" + +The affair is not finished. How the summer day is beautiful--she will +do some footing! Figure yourself that once more she perceives the young +man. Now it is before the mont-de-piété, the pawnbroker's. She watches +him attentively. Here, at least, he will enter, she does not doubt. She +is wrong. It is the same thing--he regards, he laments, he turns away! + +"Oh, mon Dieu," she said. "Nothing remains to him to pawn even!" + +It is too strong! She addressed him: + +"Monsieur!" + +But, when she has said "Monsieur," there is the question how she shall +continue. Now the young man regards the girl instead of the +pawnbroker's. Her features are pretty--or "pretty well"; her costume +has been made by herself, but it is not bad; and she has chic--above +all she has chic. He asks: + +"What can I have the pleasure to do for you?" + +Remark that she is bohemian, and he also. + +The conversation was like this: + +"Monsieur, three times this morning I have seen you. It was impossible +that I resist speaking. You have grief?" + +"Frightful!" he said. + +"Perhaps," she added timidly, "you have hunger also?" + +"A hunger insupportable, mademoiselle!" + +"I myself am extremely hard up, monsieur, but will you permit that I +offer you what I can?" + +"Angel!" the young man exclaimed. "There must be wings under your coat. +But I beg of you not to fly yet. I shall tell you the reason of my +grief. If you will do me the honour to seat yourself at the café +opposite, we shall be able to talk more pleasantly." + +This appeared strange enough, this invitation from a young man who she +had supposed was starving; but wait a little! Her amazement increased +when, to pay for the wine he had ordered, her companion threw on to the +table a bank-note with a gesture absolutely careless. + +She was in danger of distrusting her eyes. + +"Is it a dream?" she cried. "Is it a vision from the _Thousand and +One Nights_, or is it really a bank-note?" + +"Mademoiselle, it is the mess of pottage," the young man answered +gloomily. "It is the cause of my sadness: for that miserable money, and +more that is to come, I have sold my birthright." + +She was on a ship--no, what is it, your expression?--"at sea"! + +"I am a poet," he explained; "but perhaps you may not know my work; I +am not celebrated. I am Tricotrin, mademoiselle--Gustave Tricotrin, at +your feet! For years I have written, aided by ambition, and an uncle +who manufactures silk in Lyons. Well, the time is arrived when he is +monstrous, this uncle. He says to me, 'Gustave, this cannot last--you +make no living, you make nothing but debts. (My tragedies he ignores.) +Either you must be a poet who makes money, or you must be a partner who +makes silk,' How could I defy him?--he holds the purse. It was +unavoidable that I stooped. He has given me a sum to satisfy my +creditors, and Monday I depart for Lyons. In the meantime, I take +tender farewells of the familiar scenes I shall perhaps never behold +again." + +"How I have been mistaken!" she exclaimed. And then: "But the hunger +you confessed?" + +"Of the soul, mademoiselle," said the poet--"the most bitter!" + +"And you have no difficulties with the laundress?" + +"None," he groaned. "But in the bright days of poverty that have fled +for ever, I have had many difficulties with her. This morning I +reconstituted the situation--I imagined myself without a sou, and +without a collar." + +"The little restaurant," she questioned, "where I saw you dining on the +odour?" + +"I figured fondly to myself that I was ravenous and that I dared not +enter. It was sublime." + +"The mont-de-piété?" + +"There imagination restored to me the vanished moments when I have +mounted with suspense, and my least deplorable suit of clothes." His +emotion was profound. "It is my youth to which I am bidding adieu!" he +cried. "It is more than that--it is my aspirations and my renown!" + +"But you have said that you have no renown," she reminded him. + +"So much the more painful," said the young man; "the hussy we could not +win is always the fairest--I part from renown even more despairingly +than from youth." + +She felt an amusement, an interest. But soon it was the turn of him to +feel an interest--the interest that had consequences so important, so +'eart-breaking, so _fatales_! He had demanded of her, most +naturally, her history, and this she related to him in a style +dramatic. Myself, I have not the style dramatic, though I avow to you I +admire that. + +"We are in a provincial town," she said to the young man, "we are in +Rouen--the workroom of a modiste. Have no embarrassment, monsieur +Tricotrin, you, at least, are invisible to the girls who sew! They sew +all day and talk little--already they are _tristes_, resigned. +Among them sits one who is different--one passionate, ambitious--a girl +who burns to be _divette_, singer, who is devoured by longings for +applause, fashion, wealth. She has made the acquaintance of a little +pastrycook. He has become fascinated, they are affianced. In a month +she will be married." + +The young man, Tricotrin, well understood that the girl she described +was herself. + +"What does she consider while she sits sewing?" she continued. "That +the pastrycook loves her, that he is generous, that she will do her +most to be to him a good wife? Not at all. Far from that! She +considers, on the contrary, that she was a fool to promise him; she +considers how she shall escape--from him, from Rouen, from her ennui-- +she seeks to fly to Paris. Alas! she has no money, not a franc. And she +sews--always she sews in the dull room--and her spirit rebels." + +"Good!" said the poet. "It is a capital first instalment." + +"The time goes on. There remains only a week to the marriage morning. +The little home is prepared, the little pastrycook is full of joy. +_Alors_, one evening they go out; for her the sole attraction in +the town is the hall of varieties. Yes, it is third class, it is not +great things; however, it is the only one in Rouen. He purchases two +tickets. What a misfortune--it is the last temptation to her! They +stroll back; she takes his arm--under the moon, under the stars; but +she sees only the lamps of Paris!--she sees only that he can say +nothing she cares to hear!" + +"Ah, unhappy man!" murmured the poet. + +"They sit at a café table, and he talks, the fiancé, of the bliss that +is to come to them. She attends to not a word, not a syllable. While +she smiles, she questions herself, frenzied, how she can escape. She +has commanded a _sirop_. As she lifts her glass to the syphon, her +gaze falls on the ring she wears--the ring of their betrothal. 'To the +future, cher ange!' says the fiancé. 'To the future, vieux chéri!' she +says. And she laughs in her heart--for she resolves to sell the ring!" + +Tricotrin had become absolutely enthralled. + +"She obtained for the ring forty-five francs the next day--and for the +little pastrycook all is finished. She wrote him a letter--'Good-bye.' +He has lost his reason. Mad with despair, he has flung himself before +an electric car, and is killed.... It is strange," she added to the +poet, who regarded her with consternation, "that I did not think sooner +of the ring that was always on my finger, n'est-ce-pas? It may be that +never before had I felt so furious an impulse to desert him. It may be +also--that there was no ring and no pastrycook!" And she broke into +peals of laughter. + +"Ah, mon Dieu," exclaimed the young man, "but you are enchanting! Let +us go to breakfast--you are the kindred soul I have looked for all my +life. By-the-bye, I may as well know your name?" + +Then, monsieur, this poor girl who had trembled before her laundress, +she told him a name which was going, in a while, to crowd the +Ambassadeurs and be famous through all Paris--a name which was to mean +caprices, folly, extravagance the most wilful and reckless. She +answered--and it said nothing yet--"My name is Paulette Fleury." + + * * * * * + +The piano-organ stopped short, as if it knew the Frenchman had reached +a crisis in his narrative. He folded his arms and nodded impressively. + +"Voilà! Monsieur, I 'ave introduced you to Paulette Fleury! It was her +beginning." + +He offered me a cigarette, and frowned, lost in thought, at the lady +who was chopping bread behind the counter. + +"Listen," he resumed. + + * * * * * + +They have breakfasted; they have fed the sparrows around their chairs, +and they have strolled under the green trees in the sunshine. She was +singing then at a little café-concert the most obscure. It is arranged, +before they part, that in the evening he shall go to applaud her. + +He had a friend, young also, a composer, named Nicolas Pitou. I cannot +express to you the devotion that existed between them. Pitou was +employed at a publisher's, but the publisher paid him not much better +than his art. The comrades have shared everything: the loans from the +mont-de-piété, the attic, and the dreams. In Montmartre it was said +"Tricotrin and Pitou" as one says "Orestes and Pylades." It is +beautiful such affection, hein? Listen! + +Tricotrin has recounted to his friend his meeting with Paulette, and +when the hour for the concert is arrived, Pitou accompanied him. The +musician, however, was, perhaps, the more sedate. He has gone with +little expectation; his interest was not high. + +What a surprise he has had! He has found her an actress--an artist to +the ends of the fingers. Tricotrin was astonished also. The two +friends, the poet and the composer, said "Mon Dieu!" They regarded the +one the other. They said "Mon Dieu!" again. Soon Pitou has requested of +Tricotrin an introduction. It is agreed. Tricotrin has presented his +friend, and invited the _chanteuse_ to drink a bock--a glass of +beer.... A propos, you take a liqueur, monsieur, yes? What liqueur you +take? Sst, garçon!... Well, you conjecture, no doubt, what I shall say? +Before the bock was finished, they were in love with her--both! + +At the door of her lodging, Paulette has given to each a pressure of +the hand, and said gently, "Till to-morrow." + +"I worship her!" Tricotrin told Pitou. + +"I have found my ideal!" Pitou answered Tricotrin. + +It is superb, such friendship, hein? + +In the mind of the poet who had accomplished tragedies majestic--in the +mind of the composer, the most classical in Montmartre--there had been +born a new ambition: it was to write a comic song for Paulette Fleury! + +It appears to you droll, perhaps? Monsieur, to her lover, the humblest +_divette_ is more than Patti. In all the world there can be no joy +so thrilling as to hear the music of one's brain sung by the woman one +adores--unless it be to hear the woman one adores give forth one's +verse. I believe it has been accepted as a fact, this; nevertheless it +is true. + +Yes, already the idea had come to them, and Paulette was well pleased +when they told her of it. Oh, she knew they loved her, both, and with +both she coquetted. But with their intention she did not coquet; as to +that she was in earnest. Every day they discussed it with enthusiasm-- +they were to write a song that should make for her a furore. + +What happened? I shall tell you. Monday, when Tricotrin was to depart +for Lyons, he informed his uncle that he will not go. No less than +that! His uncle was furious--I do not blame him--but naturally +Tricotrin has argued, "If I am to create for Paulette her great chance, +I must remain in Paris to study Paulette! I cannot create in an +atmosphere of commerce. I require the Montmartrois, the boulevards, the +inspiration of her presence." Isn't it? + +And Pitou--whose very soul had been enraptured in his leisure by a +fugue he was composing--Pitou would have no more of it. He allowed the +fugue to grow dusty, while day and night he thought always of refrains +that ran "_Zim-la-zim-la zim-boum-boum!_" Constantly they +conferred, the comrades. They told the one the other how they loved +her; and then they beat their heads, and besought of Providence a fine +idea for the comic song. + +It was their thought supreme. The silk manufacturer has washed his +'ands of Tricotrin, but he has not cared--there remained to him still +one of the bank-notes. As for Pitou, who neglected everything except to +find his melody for Paulette, the publisher has given him the sack. +Their acquaintances ridiculed the sacrifices made for her. But, +monsieur, when a man loves truly, to make a sacrifice for the woman is +to make a present to himself. + +Nevertheless I avow to you that they fretted because of her coquetry. +One hour it seemed that Pitou had gained her heart; the next her +encouragement has been all to Tricotrin. Sometimes they have said to +her: + +"Paulette, it is true we are as Orestes and Pylades, but there can be +only one King of Eden at the time. Is it Orestes, or Pylades that you +mean to crown?" + +Then she would laugh and reply: + +"How can I say? I like you both so much I can never make up my mind +which to like best." + +It was not satisfactory. + +And always she added. "In the meantime, where is the song?" + +Ah, the song, that song, how they have sought it!--on the Butte, and in +the Bois, and round the Halles. Often they have tramped Paris till +daybreak, meditating the great chance for Paulette. And at last the +poet has discovered it: for each verse a different phase of life, but +through it all, the pursuit of gaiety, the fever of the dance--the +gaiety of youth, the gaiety of dotage, the gaiety of despair! It should +be the song of the pleasure-seekers--the voices of Paris when the lamps +are lit. + +Monsieur, if we sat 'ere in the restaurant until it closed, I could not +describe to you how passionately Tricotrin, the devoted Tricotrin, +worked for her. He has studied her without cease; he has studied her +attitudes, her expressions. He has taken his lyric as if it were +material and cut it to her figure; he has taken it as if it were +plaster, and moulded it upon her mannerisms. There was not a +_moue_ that she made, not a pretty trick that she had, not a word +that she liked to sing for which he did not provide an opportunity. At +the last line, when the pen fell from his fingers, he shouted to Pitou, +"Comrade, be brave--I have won her!" + +And Pitou? Monsieur, if we sat 'ere till they prepared the tables for +déjeuner to-morrow, I could not describe to you how passionately Pitou, +the devoted Pitou, worked that she might have a grand popularity by his +music. At dawn, when he has found that _strepitoso_ passage, which +is the hurrying of the feet, he wakened the poet and cried, "Mon ami, I +pity you--she is mine!" It was the souls of two men when it was +finished, that comic song they made for her! It was the song the organ +has ground out--"Partant pour le Moulin." + +And then they rehearsed it, the three of them, over and over, inventing +always new effects. And then the night for the song is arrived. It has +rained all day, and they have walked together in the rain--the singer, +and the men who loved her, both--to the little café-concert where she +would appear. + +They tremble in the room, among the crowd, Pitou and Tricotrin; they +are agitated. There are others who sing--it says nothing to them. In +the room, in the Future, there is only Paulette! + +It is very hot in the café-concert, and there is too much noise. At +last they ask her: "Is she nervous?" She shakes her head: "Mais non!" +She smiles to them. + +Attend! It is her turn. Ouf; but it is hot in the café-concert, and +there is too much noise! She mounts the platform. The audience are +careless; it continues, the jingle of the glasses, the hum of talk. She +begins. Beneath the table Tricotrin has gripped the hand of Pitou. + +Wait! Regard the crowd that look at her! The glasses are silent, now, +hein? The talk has stopped. To a great actress is come her chance. +There is _not_ too much noise in the café-concert! + +But, when she finished! What an uproar! Never will she forget it. A +thousand times she has told the story, how it was written--the song-- +and how it made her famous. Before two weeks she was the attraction of +the Ambassadeurs, and all Paris has raved of Paulette Fleury. + +Tricotrin and Pitou were mad with joy. Certainly Paris did not rave of +Pitou nor Tricotrin--there have not been many that remembered who wrote +the song; and it earned no money for them, either, because it was hers +--the gift of their love. Still, they were enraptured. To both of them +she owed equally, and more than ever it was a question which would be +the happy man. + +Listen! When they are gone to call on her one afternoon she was not at +'ome. What had happened? I shall tell you. There was a noodle, rich-- +what you call a "Johnnie in the Stalls"--who became infatuated with her +at the Ambassadeurs. He whistled "Partant pour le Moulin" all the days, +and went to hear it all the nights. Well, she was not at 'ome because +she had married him. Absolutely they were married! Her lovers have been +told it at the door. + +What a moment! Figure yourself what they have suffered, both! They had +worshipped her, they had made sacrifices for her, they had created for +her her grand success; and, as a consequence of that song, she was the +wife of the "Johnnie in the Stalls"! + + * * * * * + +Far down the street, but yet distinct, the organ revived the tune +again. My Frenchman shuddered, and got up. + +"I cannot support it," he murmured. "You understand? The associations +are too pathetic." + +"They must be harrowing," I said. "Before you go, there is one thing I +should like to ask you, if I may. Have I had the honour of meeting +monsieur Tricotrin, or monsieur Pitou?" + +He stroked his hat, and gazed at me in sad surprise. "Ah, but neither, +monsieur," he groaned. "The associations are much more 'arrowing than +that--I was the 'Johnnie in the Stalls'!" + + + +TRICOTRIN ENTERTAINS + +One night when Pitou went home, an unaccustomed perfume floated to +meet him on the stairs. He climbed them in amazement. + +"If we lived in an age of miracles I should conclude that Tricotrin was +smoking a cigar," he said to himself. "What can it be?" + +The pair occupied a garret in the rue des Trois Frères at this time, +where their window, in sore need of repairs, commanded an unrivalled +view of the dirty steps descending to the passage des Abbesses. +To-night, behold Tricotrin pacing the garret with dignity, between +his lips an Havannah that could have cost no less than a franc. The +composer rubbed his eyes. + +"Have they made you an Academician?" he stammered. "Or has your uncle, +the silk manufacturer, died and left you his business?" + +"My friend," replied the poet, "prepare yourself forthwith for 'a New +and Powerful Serial of the Most Absorbing Interest'! I am no longer the +young man who went out this evening--I am a celebrity." + +"I thought," said the composer, "that it couldn't be you when I saw the +cigar." + +"Figure yourself," continued Tricotrin, "that at nine o'clock I was +wandering on the Grand Boulevard with a thirst that could have consumed +a brewery. I might mention that I had also empty pockets, but--" + +"It would be to pad the powerful Serial shamelessly," said Pitou: +"there are things that one takes for granted." + +"At the corner of the place de l'Opera a fellow passed me whom I knew +and yet did not know; I could not recall where it was we had met. I +turned and followed him, racking my brains the while. Suddenly I +remembered--" + +"Pardon me," interrupted the composer, "but I have read _Bel-Ami_ +myself. Oh, it is quite evident that you are a celebrity--you have +already forgotten how to be original!" + +"There is a resemblance, it is true," admitted Tricotrin. "However, +Maupassant had no copyright in the place de l'Opera. I say that I +remembered the man; I had known him when he was in the advertisement +business in Lyons. Well, we have supped together; he is in a position +to do me a service--he will ask an editor to publish an Interview with +me!" + +"An Interview?" exclaimed Pitou. "You are to be Interviewed? Ah, no, my +poor friend, too much meat has unhinged your reason! Go to sleep--you +will be hungry and sane again to-morrow." + +"It will startle some of them, hein? 'Gustave Tricotrin at Home'--in +the illustrated edition of _Le Demi-Mot?_" + +"Illustrated?" gasped Pitou. He looked round the attic. "Did I +understand you to say 'illustrated'?" + +"Well, well," said Tricotrin, "we shall move the beds! And, when the +concierge nods, perhaps we can borrow the palm from the portals. With a +palm and an amiable photographer, an air of splendour is easily arrived +at. I should like a screen--we will raise one from a studio in the rue +Ravignan. Mon Dieu! with a palm and a screen I foresee the most opulent +effects. 'A Corner of the Study'--we can put the screen in front of the +washhand-stand, and litter the table with manuscripts--you will admit +that we have a sufficiency of manuscripts?--no one will know that they +have all been rejected. Also, a painter in the rue Ravignan might lend +us a few of his failures--'Before you go, let me show you my pictures,' +said monsieur Tricotrin: 'I am an ardent collector'!" + +In Montmartre the sight of two "types" shifting household gods makes +no sensation--the sails of the remaining windmills still revolve. On +the day that it had its likeness taken, the attic was temporarily +transformed. At least a score of unappreciated masterpieces concealed +the dilapidation of the walls; the broken window was decorated with an +Eastern fabric that had been a cherished "property" of half the +ateliers in Paris; the poet himself--with the palm drooping gracefully +above his head--mused in a massive chair, in which Solomon had been +pronouncing judgment until 12:15, when the poet had called for it. The +appearance of exhaustion observed by admirers of the poet's portrait +was due to the chair's appalling weight. As he staggered under it up +the steps of the passage des Abbesses, the young man had feared he +would expire on the threshold of his fame. + +However, the photographer proved as resourceful as could be desired, +and perhaps the most striking feature of the illustration was the +spaciousness of the apartment in which monsieur Tricotrin was presented +to readers of _Le Demi-Mot._ The name of the thoroughfare was not +obtruded. + +With what pride was that issue of the journal regarded in the rue des +Trois Frères! + +"Aha!" cried Tricotrin, who in moments persuaded himself that he +really occupied such noble quarters, "those who repudiated me in the +days of my struggles will be a little repentant now, hein? Stone Heart +will discover that I was not wrong in relying on my genius!" + +"I assume," said Pitou, "that 'Stone Heart' is your newest pet-name for +the silk-manufacturing uncle?" + +"You catch my meaning precisely. I propose to send a copy of the paper +to Lyons, with the Interview artistically bordered by laurels; I cannot +draw laurels myself, but there are plenty of persons who can. We will +find someone to do it when we palter with starvation at the Café du Bel +Avenir this evening--or perhaps we had better fast at the Lucullus +Junior, instead; there is occasionally some ink in the bottle there. I +shall put the address in the margin--my uncle will not know where it +is, and on the grounds of euphony I have no fault to find with it. It +would not surprise me if I received an affectionate letter and a +bank-note in reply--the perversity of human nature delights in generosities +to the prosperous." + +"It is a fact," said Pitou. "That human nature!" + +"Who knows?--he may even renew the allowance that he used to make me!" + +"Upon my word, more unlikely things have happened," Pitou conceded. + +"Mon Dieu, Nicolas, we shall again have enough to eat!" + +"Ah, visionary!" exclaimed Pitou; "are there no bounds to your +imagination?" + +Now, the perversity to which the poet referred did inspire monsieur +Rigaud, of Lyons, to loosen his purse-strings. He wrote that he +rejoiced to learn that Gustave was beginning to make his way, and +enclosed a present of two hundred and fifty francs. More, after an +avuncular preamble which the poet skipped--having a literary hatred of +digression in the works of others--he even hinted that the allowance +might be resumed. + +What a banquet there was in bohemia! How the glasses jingled afterwards +in La Lune Rousse, and oh, the beautiful hats that Germaine and +Marcelle displayed on the next fine Sunday! Even when the last ripples +of the splash were stilled, the comrades swaggered gallantly on the +boulevard Rochechouart, for by any post might not the first instalment +of that allowance arrive? + +Weeks passed; and Tricotrin began to say, "It looks to me as if we +needed another Interview!" + +And then came a letter which was no less cordial than its predecessor, +but which stunned the unfortunate recipient like a warrant for his +execution. Monsieur Rigaud stated that business would bring him to +Paris on the following evening and that he anticipated the pleasure of +visiting his nephew; he trusted that his dear Gustave would meet him at +the station. The poet and composer stared at each other with bloodless +faces. + +"You must call at his hotel instead," faltered Pitou at last. + +"But you may be sure he will wish to see my elegant abode." + +"'It is in the hands of the decorators. How unfortunate!'" + +"He would propose to offer them suggestions; he is a born suggester." + +"'Fever is raging in the house--a most infectious fever'; we will ask a +medical student to give us one." + +"It would not explain my lodging in a slum meanwhile." + +"Well, let us admit that there is nothing to be done; you will have to +own up!" + +"Are you insane? It is improvident youths like you, who come to lament +their wasted lives. If I could receive him this once as he expects to +be received, we cannot doubt that it would mean an income of two +thousand francs to me. Prosperity dangles before us--shall I fail to +clutch it? Mon Dieu, what a catastrophe, his coming to Paris! Why +cannot he conduct his business in Lyons? Is there not enough money in +the city of Lyons to satisfy him? O grasper! what greed! Nicolas, my +more than brother, if it were night when I took him to a sumptuous +apartment, he might not notice the name of the street--I could talk +brilliantly as we turned the corner. Also I could scintillate as I led +him away. He would never know that it was not the rue des Trois +Frères." + +"You are right," agreed Pitou; "but which is the pauper in our social +circle whose sumptuous apartment you propose to acquire?" + +"One must consider," said Tricotrin. "Obviously, I am compelled to +entertain in somebody's; fortunately, I have two days to find it in. I +shall now go forth!" + +It was a genial morning, and the first person he accosted in the rue +Ravignan was Goujaud, painting in the patch of garden before the +studios. "Tell me, Goujaud," exclaimed the poet, "have you any gilded +acquaintance who would permit me the use of his apartment for two hours +to-morrow evening?" + +Goujaud reflected for some seconds, with his head to one side. "I have +never done anything so fine as this before," he observed; "regard the +atmosphere of it!" + +"It is execrable!" replied Tricotrin, and went next door to Flamant. +"My old one," he explained, "I have urgent need of a regal apartment +for two hours to-morrow--have you a wealthy friend who would +accommodate me?" + +"You may beautify your bedroom with all my possessions," returned +Flamant heartily. "I have a stuffed parrot that is most decorative, but +I have not a friend that is wealthy." + +"You express yourself like a First Course for the Foreigner," said +Tricotrin, much annoyed. "Devil take your stuffed parrot!" + +The heat of the sun increased towards midday, and drops began to +trickle under the young man's hat. By four o'clock he had called upon +sixty-two persons, exclusive of Sanquereau, whom he had been unable to +wake. He bethought himself of Lajeunie, the novelist; but Lajeunie +could offer him nothing more serviceable than a pass for the Elysée- +Montmartre. "Now how is it possible that I spend my life among such +imbeciles?" groaned the unhappy poet; "one offers me a parrot, and +another a pass for a dancing-hall! Can I assure my uncle, who is a +married man, and produces silk in vast quantities, that I reside in a +dancing-hall? Besides, we know those passes--they are available only +for ladies." + +"It is true that you could not get in by it," assented Lajeunie, "but I +give it to you freely. Take it, my poor fellow! Though it may appear +inadequate to the occasion, who knows but what it will prove to be the +basis of a fortune?" + +"You are as crazy as the stories you write," said Tricotrin, "Still, it +can go in my pocket." And he made, exhausted, for a bench in the place +Dancourt, where he apostrophised his fate. + +Thus occupied, he fell asleep; and presently a young woman sauntered +from the sidewalk across the square. In the shady little place Dancourt +is the little white Theatre Montmartre, and she first perused the +play-bill, and then contemplated the sleeping poet. It may have been that +she found something attractive in his bearing, or it may have been that +ragamuffins sprawled elsewhere; but, having determined to wait awhile, +she selected the bench on which he reposed, and forthwith woke him. + +"Now this is nice!" he exclaimed, realising his lapse with a start. + +"Oh, monsieur!" said she, blushing. + +"Pardon; I referred to my having dozed when every moment is of +consequence," he explained. "And yet," he went on ruefully, "upon my +soul, I cannot conjecture where I shall go next!" + +Her response was so sympathetic that it tempted him to remain a little +longer, and in five minutes she was recounting her own perplexities. It +transpired that she was a lady's-maid with a holiday, and the problem +before her was whether to spend her money on a theatre, or on a ball. + +"Now that is a question which is disposed of instantly," said +Tricotrin, "You shall spend your money on a theatre, and go to a ball +as well." And out fluttered the pink pass presented to him by Lajeunie. + +The girl's tongue was as lively as her gratitude. She was, she told +him, maid to the famous Colette Aubray, who had gone unattended that +afternoon to visit the owner of a villa in the country, where she would +stay until the next day but one. "So you see, monsieur, we poor +servants are left alone in the flat to amuse ourselves as best we can!" + +"Mon Dieu!" ejaculated Tricotrin, and added mentally, "It was decidedly +the good kind fairies that pointed to this bench!" + +He proceeded to pay the young woman such ardent attentions that she +assumed he meant to accompany her to the ball, and her disappointment +was extreme when he had to own that the state of his finances forbade +it. "All I can suggest, my dear Léonie," he concluded, "is that I shall +be your escort when you leave. It is abominable that you must have +other partners in the meantime, but I feel that you will be constant to +me in your thoughts. I shall have much to tell you--I shall whisper a +secret in your ear; for, incredible as it may sound, my sweet child, +you alone in Paris have the power to save me!" + +"Oh, monsieur!" faltered the admiring lady's-maid, "it has always been +my great ambition to save a young man, especially a young man who used +such lovely language. I am sure, by the way you talk, that you must be +a poet!" + +"Extraordinary," mused Tricotrin, "that all the world recognises me as +a poet, excepting when it reads my poetry!" And this led him to reflect +that he must sell some of it, in order to provide refreshment for +Léonie before he begged her aid. Accordingly, he arranged to meet her +when the ball finished, and limped back to the attic, where he made up +a choice assortment of his wares. + +He had resolved to try the office of _Le Demi-Mot;_ but his +reception there was cold. "You should not presume on our good nature," +demurred the Editor; "only last month we had an article on you, saying +that you were highly talented, and now you ask us to publish your work +besides. There must be a limit to such things." + +He examined the collection, nevertheless, with a depreciatory +countenance, and offered ten francs for three of the finest specimens. +"From _Le Demi-Mot_ I would counsel you to accept low terms," he +said, with engaging interest, "on account of the prestige you, derive +from appearing in it." + +"In truth it is a noble thing, prestige," admitted Tricotrin; "but, +monsieur, I have never known a man able to make a meal of it when he +was starving, or to warm himself before it when he was without a fire. +Still--though it is a jumble-sale price--let them go!" + +"Payment will be made in due course," said the Editor, and became +immersed in correspondence. + +Tricotrin paled to the lips, and the next five minutes were terrible; +indeed, he did not doubt that he would have to limp elsewhere. At last +he cried, "Well, let us say seven francs, cash! Seven francs in one's +fist are worth ten in due course." And thus the bargain was concluded. + +"It was well for Hercules that none of his labours was the extraction +of payment from an editor!" panted the poet on the doorstep. But he was +now enabled to fête the lady's-maid in grand style, and--not to be +outdone in generosity--she placed mademoiselle Aubray's flat at his +disposal directly he asked for it. + +"You have accomplished a miracle!" averred Pitou, in the small hours, +when he heard the news. + +Tricotrin waved a careless hand. "To a man of resource all things are +possible!" he murmured. + +The next evening the silk manufacturer was warmly embraced on the +platform, and not a little surprised to learn that his nephew expected +a visit at once. However, the young man's consternation was so profound +when objections were made that, in the end, they were withdrawn. +Tricotrin directed the driver after monsieur Rigaud was in the cab, +and, on their reaching the courtyard, there was Léonie, all frills, +ready to carry the handbag. + +"Your servant?" inquired monsieur Rigaud, with some disapproval, as +they went upstairs; "she is rather fancifully dressed, hein?" + +"Is it so?" answered Tricotrin. "Perhaps a bachelor is not sufficiently +observant in these matters. Still, she is an attentive domestic. Take +off your things, my dear uncle, and make yourself at home. What joy it +gives me to see you here!" + +"Mon Dieu," exclaimed the silk manufacturer, looking about him, "you +have a place fit for a prince! It must have cost a pretty penny." + +"Between ourselves," said Tricotrin, "I often reproach myself for what +I spent on it; I could make very good use to-day of some of the money I +squandered." + +"What curtains!" murmured monsieur Rigaud, fingering the silk +enraptured. "The quality is superb! What may they have charged you for +these curtains?" + +"It was years ago--upon my word I do not remember," drawled Tricotrin, +who had no idea whether he ought to say five hundred francs, or five +thousand. "Also, you must not think I have bought everything you see-- +many of the pictures and bronzes are presents from admirers of my work. +It is gratifying, hein?" + +"I--I--To confess the truth, we had not heard of your triumphs," +admitted monsieur Rigaud; "I did not dream you were so successful." + +"Ah, it is in a very modest way," Tricotrin replied. "I am not a +millionaire, I assure you! On the contrary, it is often difficult to +make both ends meet--although," he added hurriedly, "I live with the +utmost economy, my uncle. The days of my thoughtlessness are past. A +man should save, a man should provide for the future." + +At this moment he was astonished to see Léonie open the door and +announce that dinner was served. She had been even better than her +word. + +"Dinner?" cried monsieur Rigaud. "Ah, now I understand why you were so +dejected when I would not come!" + +"Bah, it will be a very simple meal," said his nephew, "but after a +journey one must eat. Let us go in." He was turning the wrong way, but +Léonie's eye saved him. + +"Come," he proceeded, taking his seat, "some soup--some good soup! What +will you drink, my uncle?" + +"On the sideboard I see champagne," chuckled monsieur Rigaud; "you +treat the old man well, you rogue!" + +"Hah," said Tricotrin, who had not observed it, "the cellar, I own, is +an extravagance of mine! Alone, I drink only mineral waters, or a +little claret, much diluted; but to my dearest friends I must give the +dearest wines. Léonie, champagne!" It was a capital dinner, and the +cigars and cigarettes that Léonie put on the table with the coffee were +of the highest excellence. Agreeable conversation whiled away some +hours, and Tricotrin began to look for his uncle to get up. But it was +raining smartly, and monsieur Rigaud was reluctant to bestir himself. +Another hour lagged by, and at last Tricotrin faltered: + +"I fear I must beg you to excuse me for leaving you, my uncle; it is +most annoying, but I am compelled to go out. The fact is, I have +consented to collaborate with Capus, and he is so eccentric, this dear +Alfred--we shall be at work all night." + +"Go, my good Gustave," said his uncle readily; "and, as I am very +tired, if you have no objection, I will occupy your bed." + +Tricotrin's jaw dropped, and it was by a supreme effort that he +stammered how pleased the arrangement would make him. To intensify the +fix, Leonie and the cook had disappeared--doubtless to the mansarde in +which they slept--and he was left to cope with the catastrophe alone. +However, having switched on the lights, he conducted the elderly +gentleman to an enticing apartment. He wished him an affectionate +"good-night," and after promising to wake him early, made for home, +leaving the manufacturer sleepily surveying the room's imperial +splendour. + +"What magnificence!" soliloquised monsieur Rigaud. "What toilet +articles!" He got into bed. "What a coverlet--there must be twenty +thousand francs on top of me!" + +He had not slumbered under them long when he was aroused by such a +commotion that he feared for the action of his heart. Blinking in the +glare, he perceived Léonie in scanty attire, distracted on her knees-- +and, by the bedside, a beautiful lady in a travelling cloak, raging +with the air of a lioness. + +"Go away!" quavered the manufacturer. "What is the meaning of this +intrusion?" + +"Intrusion?" raved the lady. "That is what you will explain, monsieur! +How comes it that you are in my bed?" + +"Yours?" ejaculated monsieur Rigaud. "What is it you say? You are +making a grave error, for which you will apologise, madame!" + +"Ah, hold me back," pleaded the lady, throwing up her eyes, "hold me +back or I shall assault him!" She flung to Leonie. "Wretched girl, you +shall pay for this! Not content with lavishing my champagne and my +friend's cigars on your lover, you must put him to recuperate in my +room!" + +"Oh!" gasped the manufacturer, and hid his head under the priceless +coverlet. "Such an imputation is unpardonable," he roared, reappearing. +"I am monsieur Rigaud, of Lyons; the flat belongs to my nephew, +monsieur Tricotrin; I request you to retire!" + +"Imbecile!" screamed the lady; "the flat belongs to _me_--Colette +Aubray. And your presence may ruin me--I expect a visitor on most +important business! He has not my self-control; if he finds you here he +will most certainly send you a challenge. He is the best swordsman in +Paris! I advise you to believe me, for you have just five minutes to +save your life!" + +"Monsieur," wailed Léonie, "you have been deceived!" And, between her +sobs, she confessed the circumstances, which he heard with the greatest +difficulty, owing to the chattering of his teeth. + +The rain was descending in cataracts when monsieur Rigaud got outside, +but though the trams and the trains had both stopped running, and cabs +were as dear as radium, his fury was so tempestuous that nothing could +deter him from reaching the poet's real abode. His attack on the front +door warned Tricotrin and Pitou what had happened, and they raised +themselves, blanched, from their pillows, to receive his curses. It was +impossible to reason with him, and he launched the most frightful +denunciation at his nephew for an hour, when the abatement of the +downpour permitted him to depart. More, at noon, who should arrive but +Leonie in tears! She had been dismissed from her employment, and came +to beg the poet to intercede for her. + +"What calamities!" groaned Tricotrin. "How fruitless are man's noblest +endeavours without the favouring breeze! I shall drown myself at eight +o'clock. However, I will readily plead for you first, if your mistress +will receive me." + +By the maid's advice he presented himself late in the day, and when he +had cooled his heels in the salon for some time, a lady entered, who +was of such ravishing appearance that his head swam. + +"Monsieur Tricotrin?" she inquired haughtily. "I have heard your name +from your uncle, monsieur. Are you here to visit my servant?" + +"Mademoiselle," he faltered, "I am here to throw myself on your mercy. +At eight o'clock I have decided to commit suicide, for I am ruined. The +only hope left me is to win your pardon before I die." + +"I suppose your uncle has disowned you?" she said. "Naturally! It was a +pretty situation to put him in. How would you care to be in it +yourself?" + +"Alas, mademoiselle," sighed Tricotrin, "there are situations to which +a poor poet may not aspire!" + +After regarding him silently she exclaimed, "I cannot understand what a +boy with eyes like yours saw in Léonie?" + +"Merely good nature and a means to an end, believe me! If you would +ease my last moments, reinstate her in your service. Do not let me +drown with the knowledge that another is suffering for my fault! +Mademoiselle, I entreat you--take her back!" + +"And why should I ease your last moments?" she demurred. + +"Because I have no right to ask it; because I have no defence for my +sin towards you; because you would be justified in trampling on me--and +to pardon would be sublime!" + +"You are very eloquent for my maid," returned the lady. + +He shook his head. "Ah, no--I fear I am pleading for myself. For, if +you reinstate the girl, it will prove that you forgive the man--and I +want your forgiveness so much!" He fell at her feet. + +"Does your engagement for eight o'clock press, monsieur?" murmured the +lady, smiling. "If you could dine here again to-night, I might relent +by degrees." + +"And she is adorable!" he told Pitou. "I passed the most delicious +evening of my life!" "It is fortunate," observed Pitou, "for that, and +your uncle's undying enmity, are all you have obtained by your +imposture. Remember that the evening cost two thousand francs a year!" + +"Ah, misanthrope," cried Tricotrin radiantly, "there must be a crumpled +roseleaf in every Eden!" + + + +THE FATAL FLOROZONDE + +Before Pitou, the composer, left for the Hague, he called on Théophile +de Fronsac, the poet. _La Voix Parisienne_ had lately appointed de +Fronsac to its staff, on condition that he contributed no poetry. + +"Good-evening," said de Fronsac. "Mon Dieu! what shall I write about?" + +"Write about my music," said Pitou, whose compositions had been +rejected in every arrondissement of Paris. + +"Let us talk sanely," demurred de Fronsac. "My causerie is half a +column short. Tell me something interesting." + +"Woman!" replied Pitou. + +De Fronsac flicked his cigarette ash. "You remind me," he said, "how +much I need a love affair; my sensibilities should be stimulated. To +continue to write with fervour I require to adore again." + +"It is very easy to adore," observed Pitou. + +"Not at forty," lamented the other; "especially to a man in Class A. +Don't forget, my young friend, that I have loved and been loved +persistently for twenty-three years. I cannot adore a repetition, and +it is impossible for me to discover a new type." + +"All of which I understand," said Pitou, "excepting 'Class A.'" + +"There are three kinds of men," explained the poet. "Class A are the +men to whom women inevitably surrender. Class B consists of those whom +they trust by instinct and confide in on the second day; these men +acquire an extensive knowledge of the sex--but they always fall short +of winning the women for themselves. Class C women think of merely as +'the others'--they do not count; eventually they marry, and try to +persuade their wives that they were devils of fellows when they were +young. However, such reflections will not assist me to finish my +causerie, for I wrote them all last week." + +"Talking of women," remarked Pitou, "a little blonde has come to live +opposite our lodging. So far we have only bowed from our windows, but I +have christened her 'Lynette,' and Tricotrin has made a poem about her. +It is pathetic. The last verse--the others are not written yet--goes: + + "'O window I watched in the days that are dead, + Are you watched by a lover to-day? + Are glimpses caught now of another blonde head + By a youth who lives over the way? + Does _she_ repeat words that Lynette's lips have said-- + And does _he_ say what _I_ used to say?'" + +"What is the answer?" asked de Fronsac. "Is it a conundrum? In any case +it is a poor substitute for a half a column of prose in _La Voix_. +How on earth am I to arrive at the bottom of the page? If I am short in +my copy, I shall be short in my rent; if I am short in my rent, I shall +be put out of doors; if I am put out of doors, I shall die of exposure. +And much good it will do me that they erect a statue to me in the next +generation! Upon my word, I would stand a dinner--at the two-franc +place where you may eat all you can hold--if you could give me a +subject." + +"It happens," said Pitou, "that I can give you a very strange one. As I +am going to a foreign land, I have been to the country to bid farewell +to my parents; I came across an extraordinary girl." + +"One who disliked presents?" inquired de Fronsac. + +"I am not jesting. She is a dancer in a travelling circus. The flare +and the drum wooed me one night, and I went in. As a circus, well, you +may imagine--a tent in a fair. My fauteuil was a plank, and the +orchestra surpassed the worst tortures of the Inquisition. And then, +after the decrepit horses, and a mangy lion, a girl came into the ring, +with the most marvellous eyes I have ever seen in a human face. They +are green eyes, with golden lights in them." + +"Really?" murmured the poet. "I have never been loved by a girl who had +green eyes with golden lights in them." + +"I am glad you have never been loved by this one," returned the +composer gravely; "she has a curious history. All her lovers, without +exception, have committed suicide." + +"What?" said de Fronsac, staring. + +"It is very queer. One of them had just inherited a hundred thousand +francs--he hanged himself. Another, an author from Italy, took poison, +while all Rome was reading his novel. To be infatuated by her is +harmless enough, but to win her is invariably fatal within a few weeks. +Some time ago she attached herself to one of the troupe, and soon +afterwards he discovered she was deceiving him. He resolved to shoot +her. He pointed a pistol at her breast. She simply laughed--and +_looked at him_. He turned the pistol on himself, and blew his +brains out!" + +De Fronsac had already written: "Here is the extraordinary history of a +girl whom I discovered in a fair." The next moment: + +"But you repeat a rumour," he objected. "_La Voix Parisienne_ has +a reputation; odd as the fact may appear to you, people read it. If +this is published in _La Voix_ it will attract attention. Soon she +will be promoted from a tent in a fair to a stage in Paris. Well, what +happens? You tell me she is beautiful, so she will have hundreds of +admirers. Among the hundreds there will be one she favours. And then? +Unless he committed suicide in a few weeks, the paper would be proved a +liar. I should not be able to sleep of nights for fear he would not +kill himself." + +"My dear," exclaimed Pitou with emotion, "would I add to your +anxieties? Rather than you should be disturbed by anybody's living, let +us dismiss the subject, and the dinner, and talk of my new Symphony. On +the other hand, I fail to see that the paper's reputation is your +affair--it is not your wife; and I am more than usually empty to-day." + +"Your argument is sound," said de Fronsac. "Besides, the Editor refuses +my poetry." And he wrote without cessation for ten minutes. + +The two-franc table-d'hôte excelled itself that evening, and Pitou did +ample justice to the menu. + +Behold how capricious is the jade, Fame! The poet whose verses had left +him obscure, accomplished in ten minutes a paragraph that fascinated +all Paris. On the morrow people pointed it out to one another; the +morning after, other journals referred to it; in the afternoon the +Editor of _La Voix Parisienne_ was importuned with questions. No +one believed the story to be true, but not a soul could help wondering +if it might be so. + +When a day or two had passed, Pitou received from de Fronsac a note +which ran: + +"Send to me at once, I entreat thee, the name of that girl, and say +where she can be found. The managers of three variety theatres of the +first class have sought me out and are eager to engage her." + +"Decidedly," said Pitou, "I have mistaken my vocation--I ought to have +been a novelist!" And he replied: + +"The girl whose eyes suggested the story to me is called on the +programmes 'Florozonde.' For the rest, I know nothing, except that thou +didst offer a dinner and I was hungry." + +However, when he had written this, he destroyed it. + +"Though I am unappreciated myself, and shall probably conclude in the +Morgue," he mused, "that is no excuse for my withholding prosperity +from others. Doubtless the poor girl would rejoice to appear at three +variety theatres of the first class, or even at one of them." He +answered simply: + +"Her name is 'Florozonde'; she will be found in a circus at Chartres"-- +and nearly suffocated with laughter. + +Then a little later the papers announced that Mlle. Florozonde--whose +love by a strange series of coincidences had always proved fatal--would +be seen at La Coupole. Posters bearing the name of "Florozonde"--yellow +on black--invaded the boulevards. Her portrait caused crowds to +assemble, and "That girl who, they say, deals death, that Florozonde!" +was to be heard as constantly as ragtime. + +By now Pitou was at the Hague, his necessities having driven him into +the employment of a Parisian who had opened a shop there for the sale +of music and French pianos. When he read the Paris papers, Pitou +trembled so violently that the onlookers thought he must have ague. +Hilarity struggled with envy in his breast. "Ma foi!" he would say to +himself, "it seems that my destiny is to create successes for others. +Here am I, exiled, and condemned to play cadenzas all day in a piano +warehouse, while she whom I invented, dances jubilant in Paris. I do +not doubt that she breakfasts at Armenonville, and dines at +Paillard's." + +And it was a fact that Florozonde was the fashion. As regards her eyes, +at any rate, the young man had not exaggerated more than was to be +forgiven in an artist; her eyes were superb, supernatural; and now that +the spangled finery of a fair was replaced by the most triumphant of +audacities--now that a circus band had been exchanged for the orchestra +of La Coupole--she danced as she had not danced before. You say that a +gorgeous costume cannot improve a woman's dancing? Let a woman realise +that you improve her appearance, and you improve everything that she +can do! + +Nevertheless one does not pretend that it was owing to her talent, or +her costume, or the weird melody proposed by the chef d'orchestre, that +she became the rage. Not at all. That was due to her reputation. +Sceptics might smile and murmur the French for "Rats!" but, again, +nobody could say positively that the tragedies had not occurred. And +above all, there were the eyes--it was conceded that a woman with eyes +like that _ought_ to be abnormal. La Coupole was thronged every +night, and the stage doorkeeper grew rich, so numerous were the daring +spirits, coquetting with death, who tendered notes inviting the Fatal +One to supper. + +Somehow the suppers were rather dreary. The cause may have been that +the guest was handicapped by circumstances--to be good company without +discarding the fatal air was extremely difficult; also the cause may +have been that the daring spirits felt their courage forsake them in a +tête-à-tête; but it is certain that once when Florozonde drove home in +the small hours to the tattered aunt who lived on her, she exclaimed +violently that, "All this silly fake was giving her the hump, and that +she wished she were 'on the road' again, with a jolly good fellow who +was not afraid of her!" + +Then the tattered aunt cooed to her, reminding her that little +ducklings had run to her already roasted, and adding that she (the +tattered aunt) had never heard of equal luck in all the years she had +been in the show business. + +"Ah, zut!" cried Florozonde. "It does not please me to be treated as if +I had scarlet fever. If I lean towards a man, he turns pale." + +"Life is good," said her aunt philosophically, "and men have no wish to +die for the sake of an embrace--remember your reputation! II faut +souffrir pour être fatale. Look at your salary, sweetie--and you have +had nothing to do but hold your tongue! Ah, was anything ever heard +like it? A miracle of le bon Dieu!" + +"It was monsieur de Fronsac, the journalist, who started it," said +Florozonde. "I supposed he had made it up, to give me a lift; but, ma +foi, I think _he_ half believes it, too! What can have put it in +his head? I have a mind to ask him the next time he comes behind." + +"What a madness!" exclaimed the old woman; "you might queer your pitch! +Never, never perform a trick with a confederate when you can work +alone; that is one of the first rules of life. If he thinks it is true, +so much the better. Now get to bed, lovey, and think of pleasant +things--what did you have for supper?" + +Florozonde was correct in her surmise--de Fronsac did half believe it, +and de Fronsac was accordingly much perturbed. Consider his dilemma! +The nature of his pursuits had demanded a love affair, and he had +endeavoured conscientiously to comply, for the man was nothing if not +an artist. But, as he had said to Pitou, he had loved so much, and so +many, that the thing was practically impossible for him, He was like +the pastrycook's boy who is habituated and bilious. Then suddenly a new +type, which he had despaired of finding, was displayed. His curiosity +awoke; and, fascinated in the first instance by her ghastly reputation, +he was fascinated gradually by her physical charms. Again he found +himself enslaved by a woman--and the woman, who owed her fame to his +services, was clearly appreciative. But he had a strong objection to +committing suicide. + +His eagerness for her love was only equalled by his dread of what might +happen if she gave it to him. Alternately he yearned, and shuddered, On +Monday he cried, "Idiot, to be frightened by such blague!" and on +Tuesday he told himself, "All the same, there may be something in it!" +It was thus tortured that he paid his respects to Florozonde at the +theatre on the evening after she complained to her aunt. She was in her +dressing-room, making ready to go. + +"You have danced divinely," he said to her. "There is no longer a +programme at La Coupole--there is only 'Florozonde.'" + +She smiled the mysterious smile that she was cultivating. "What have +you been doing with yourself, monsieur? I have not seen you all the +week." + +De Fronsac sighed expressively. "At my age one has the wisdom to avoid +temptation." + +"May it not be rather unkind to temptation?" she suggested, raising her +marvellous eyes. + +De Fronsac drew a step back. "Also I have had a great deal to do," he +added formally; "I am a busy man. For example, much as I should like to +converse with you now.--" But his resolution forsook him and he was +unable to say that he had looked in only for a minute. + +"Much as you would like to converse with me--?" questioned Florozonde. + +"I ought, by rights, to be seated at my desk," he concluded lamely. + +"I am pleased that you are not seated at your desk," she said. + +"Because?" murmured de Fronsac, with unspeakable emotions. + +"Because I have never thanked you enough for your interest in me, and I +want to tell you that I remember." She gave him her hand. He held it, +battling with terror. + +"Mademoiselle," he returned tremulously, "when I wrote the causerie you +refer to, my interest in you was purely the interest of a journalist, +so for that I do not deserve your thanks. But since I have had the +honour to meet you I have experienced an interest altogether different; +the interest of a man, of a--a--" Here his teeth chattered, and he +paused. + +"Of a what?" she asked softly, with a dreamy air. + +"Of a friend," he muttered. A gust of fear had made the "friend" an +iceberg. But her clasp tightened. + +"I am glad," she said. "Ah, you have been good to me, monsieur! And if, +in spite of everything, I am sometimes sad, I am, at least, never +ungrateful." + +"You are sad?" faltered the vacillating victim. "Why?" + +Her bosom rose. "Is success all a woman wants?" + +"Ah!" exclaimed de Fronsac, in an impassioned quaver, "is that not +life? To all of us there is the unattainable--to you, to me!" + +"To you?" she murmured. Her eyes were transcendental. Admiration and +alarm tore him in halves. + +"In truth," he gasped, "I am the most miserable of men! What is genius, +what is fame, when one is lonely and unloved?" + +She moved impetuously closer--so close that the perfume of her hair +intoxicated him. His heart seemed to knock against his ribs, and he +felt the perspiration burst out on his brow. For an instant he +hesitated--on the edge of his grave, he thought. Then he dropped her +hand, and backed from her. "But why should I bore you with my griefs?" +he stammered. "Au revoir, mademoiselle!" + +Outside the stage door he gave thanks for his self-control. Also, pale +with the crisis, he registered an oath not to approach her again. + +Meanwhile the expatriated Pitou had remained disconsolate. Though the +people at the Hague spoke French, they said foreign things to him in +it. He missed Montmartre--the interests of home. While he waxed +eloquent to customers on the tone of pianos, or the excellence of rival +composers' melodies, he was envying Florozonde in Paris. Florozonde, +whom he had created, obsessed the young man. In the evening he read +about her at Van der Pyl's; on Sundays, when the train carried him to +drink beer at Scheveningen, he read about her in the Kurhaus. And then +the unexpected happened. In this way: + +Pitou was discharged. + +Few things could have surprised him more, and, to tell the truth, few +things could have troubled him less. "It is better to starve in Paris +than grow fat in Holland," he observed. He jingled his capital in his +trouser-pocket, in fancy savoured his dinner cooking at the Café du Bel +Avenir, and sped from the piano shop as if it had been on fire. + +The clock pointed to a quarter to six as Nicolas Pitou, composer, +emerged from the gare du Nord, and lightly swinging the valise that +contained his wardrobe, proceeded to the rue des Trois Frères. Never +had it looked dirtier, or sweeter. He threw himself on Tricotrin's +neck; embraced the concierge--which took her breath away, since she was +ill-favoured and most disagreeable; fared sumptuously for one franc +fifty at the Café du Bel Avenir--where he narrated adventures abroad +that surpassed de Rougemont's; and went to La Coupole. + +And there, jostled by the crowd, the poor fellow looked across the +theatre at the triumphant woman he had invented--and fell in love with +her. + +One would have said there was more than the width of a theatre between +them--one would have said the distance was interminable. Who in the +audience could suspect that Florozonde would have been unknown but for +a boy in the Promenoir? + +Yes, he fell in love--with her beauty, her grace--perhaps also with the +circumstances. The theatre rang with plaudits; the curtain hid her; and +he went out, dizzy with romance. He could not hope to speak to her +to-night, but he was curious to see her when she left. He decided that on +the morrow he would call upon de Fronsac, whom she doubtless knew now, +and ask him for an introduction. Promising himself this, he reached the +stage door--where de Fronsac, with trembling limbs, stood giving thanks +for his self-control. + +"My friend!" cried Pitou enthusiastically, "how rejoiced I am to meet +you!" and nearly wrung his hand off. + +"Aïe! Gently!" expostulated de Fronsac, writhing. "Aïe, aïe! I did not +know you loved me so much. So you are back from Sweden, hein?" + +"Yes. I have not been there, but why should we argue about geography? +What were you doing as I came up--reciting your poems? By the way, I +have a favour to ask; I want you to introduce me to Florozonde." + +"Never!" answered the poet firmly; "I have too much affection for you-- +I have just resolved not to see her again myself. Besides, I thought +you knew her in the circus?" + +"I never spoke to her there--I simply admired her from the plank. Come, +take me inside, and present me!" + +"It is impossible," persisted de Fronsac; "I tell you I will not +venture near her any more. Also, she is coming out--that is her coupé +that you see waiting." + +She came out as he spoke, and, affecting not to recognise him, moved +rapidly towards the carriage. But this would not do for Pitou at all. +"Mademoiselle!" he exclaimed, sweeping his hat nearly to the pavement. + +"Yes, well?" she said sharply, turning. + +"I have just begged my friend de Fronsac to present me to you, and he +feared you might not pardon his presumption. May I implore you to +pardon mine?" + +She smiled. There was the instant in which neither the man nor the +woman knows who will speak next, nor what is to be said--the instant on +which destinies hang. Pitou seized it. + +"Mademoiselle, I returned to France only this evening. All the journey +my thought was--to see you as soon as I arrived!" + +"Your friend," she said, with a scornful glance towards de Fronsac, who +sauntered gracefully away, "would warn you that you are rash." + +"I am not afraid of his warning." + +"Are you not afraid of _me_?" + +"Afraid only that you will banish me too soon." + +"Mon Dieu! then you must be the bravest man in Paris," she said. + +"At any rate I am the luckiest for the moment." + +It was a delightful change to Florozonde to meet a man who was not +alarmed by her; and it pleased her to show de Fronsac that his +cowardice had not left her inconsolable. She laughed loud enough for +him to hear. + +"I ought not to be affording you the luck," she answered. "I have +friends waiting for me at the Café de Paris." "I expected some such +blow," said Pitou. "And how can I suppose you will disappoint your +friends in order to sup with me at the Café du Bel Avenir instead?" + +"The Café du--?" She was puzzled. + +"Bel Avenir." + +"I do not know it." + +"Nor would your coachman. We should walk there--and our supper would +cost three francs, wine included." + +"Is it an invitation?" + +"It is a prayer." + +"Who are you?" + +"My name is Nicolas Pitou," + +"Of Paris?" + +"Of bohemia." + +"What do you do in it?" + +"Hunger, and make music." + +"Unsuccessful?" + +"Not to-night!" + +"Take me to the Bel Avenir," she said, and sent the carriage away. + +De Fronsac, looking back as they departed, was distressed to see the +young man risking his life. + +At the Bel Avenir their entrance made a sensation. She removed her +cloak, and Pitou arranged it over two chairs. Then she threw her gloves +out of the way, in the bread-basket; and the waiter and the +proprietress, and all the family, did homage to her toilette. + +"Who would have supposed?" she smiled, and her smile forgot to be +mysterious. + +"That the restaurant would be so proud?" + +"That I should be supping with you in it! Tell me, you had no hope of +this on your journey? It was true about your journey, hein?" + +"Ah, really! No, how could I hope? I went round after your dance simply +to see you closer; and then I met de Fronsac, and then--" + +"And then you were very cheeky. Answer! Why do I interest you? Because +of what they say of me?" + +"Not altogether." + +"What else?" + +"Because you are so beautiful. Answer! Why did you come to supper with +me? To annoy some other fellow?" + +"Not altogether." + +"What else?" + +"Because you were not frightened of me. Are you sure you are not +frightened? Oh, remember, remember your horrible fate if I should like +you too much!" + +"It would be a thumping advertisement for you," said Pitou. "Let me +urge you to try to secure it." + +"Reckless boy!" she laughed, "Pour out some more wine. Ah, it is good, +this! it is like old times. The strings of onions on the dear, dirty +walls, and the serviettes that are so nice and damp! It was in +restaurants like this, if my salary was paid, I used to sup on fête +days." + +"And if it was not paid?" + +"I supped in imagination. My dear, I have had a cigarette for a supper, +and the grass for a bed. I have tramped by the caravan while the stars +faded, and breakfasted on the drum in the tent. And you--on a bench in +the Champs Elysées, hein?" + +"It has occurred." + +"And you watched the sun rise, and made music, and wished _you_ +could rise, too? I must hear your music some day. You shall write me a +dance. Is it agreed?" + +"The contract is already stamped," said Pitou. + +"I am glad I met you--it is the best supper I have had in Paris. Why +are you calculating the expenses on the back of the bill of fare?" + +"I am not. I am composing your dance," said Pitou. "Don't speak for a +minute, it will be sublime! Also it will be a souvenir when you have +gone." + +But she did not go for a long while. It was late when they left the +Café du Bel Avenir, still talking--and there was always more to say. By +this time Pitou did not merely love her beauty--he adored the woman. As +for Florozonde, she no longer merely loved his courage--she approved +the man. + +Listen: he was young, fervid, and an artist; his proposal was made +before they reached her doorstep, and she consented! + +Their attachment was the talk of the town, and everybody waited to hear +that Pitou had killed himself. His name was widely known at last. But +weeks and months went by; Florozonde's protracted season came to an +end; and still he looked radiantly well. Pitou was the most unpopular +man in Paris. + +In the rue Dauphine, one day, he met de Fronsac. + +"So you are still alive!" snarled the poet. + +"Never better," declared Pitou. "It turns out," he added +confidentially, "there was nothing in that story--it was all fudge." + +"Evidently! I must congratulate you," said de Fronsac, looking +bomb-shells. + + + +THE OPPORTUNITY OF PETITPAS + +In Bordeaux, on the 21st of December, monsieur Petitpas, a clerk with +bohemian yearnings, packed his portmanteau for a week's holiday. In +Paris, on the same date, monsieur Tricotrin, poet and pauper, was +commissioned by the Editor of _Le Demi-Mot_ to convert a rough +translation into literary French. These two disparate incidents were +destined by Fate--always mysterious in her workings--to be united in a +narrative for the present volume. + +Three evenings later the poet's concierge climbed the stairs and rapped +peremptorily at the door. + +"Well?" cried Tricotrin, raising bloodshot eyes from the manuscript; +"who disturbs me now? Come in!" + +"I have come in," panted madame Dubois, who had not waited for his +invitation, "and I am here to tell you, monsieur, that you cannot be +allowed to groan in this agonised fashion. Your lamentations can be +heard even in the basement." + +"Is it in my agreement, madame, that I shall not groan if I am so +disposed?" inquired the poet haughtily. + +"There are things tacitly understood. It is enough that you are in +arrears with your rent, without your doing your best to drive away the +other tenants. For two days they have all complained that it would be +less disturbing to reside in a hospital." + +"Well, they have my permission to remove there," said Tricotrin. "Now +that the matter is settled, let me get on with my work!" And with the +groan of a soul in Hades, he perused another line. + +"There you go again!" expostulated the woman angrily, "It is not to be +endured, monsieur. What is the matter with you, for goodness' sake?" + +"With me, madame, there is nothing the matter; the fault lies with an +infernal Spanish novel. A misguided editor has commissioned me to +rewrite it from a translation made by a foreigner. How can I avoid +groans when I read his rot? Miranda exclaims, 'May heaven confound you, +bandit!' And the fiancé of the ingénue addresses her as 'Angel of this +house!'" + +"Well, at least groan quietly," begged the concierge; "do not bellow +your sufferings to the cellar." + +"To oblige you I will be as Spartan as I can," agreed Tricotrin. "Now I +have lost my place in the masterpiece. Ah, here we are! 'I feel she +brings bad tidings--she wears a disastrous mien.' It is sprightly +dialogue! If the hundred and fifty francs were not essential to keep a +roof over my head, I would send the Editor a challenge for offering me +the job." + +Perspiration bespangled the young man's brow as he continued his task. +When another hour had worn by he thirsted to do the foreign translator +a bodily injury, and so intense was his exasperation that, by way of +interlude, he placed the manuscript on the floor and jumped on it. But +the climax was reached in Chapter XXVII; under the provocation of the +love scene in Chapter XXVII frenzy mastered him, and with a yell of +torture he hurled the whole novel through the window, and burst into +hysterical tears. + +The novel, which was of considerable bulk, descended on the landlord, +who was just approaching the house to collect his dues. + +"What does it mean," gasped monsieur Gouge, when he had recovered his +equilibrium, and his hat; "what does it mean that I cannot approach my +own property without being assaulted with a ton of paper? Who has dared +to throw such a thing from a window?" + +"Monsieur," stammered the concierge, "I do not doubt that it was the +top-floor poet; he has been behaving like a lunatic for days." + +"Aha, the top-floor poet?" snorted monsieur Gouge. "I shall soon +dispose of _him_!" And Tricotrin's tears were scarcely dried when +_bang_ came another knock at his door. + +"So, monsieur," exclaimed the landlord, with fine satire, "your poems +are of small account, it appears, since you use them as missiles? The +value you put upon your scribbling does not encourage me to wait for my +rent!" + +"Mine?" faltered Tricotrin, casting an indignant glance at the muddy +manuscript restored to him; "you accuse _me_ of having perpetrated +that atrocity? Oh, this is too much! I have a reputation to preserve, +monsieur, and I swear by all the Immortals that it was no work of +mine." + +"Did you not throw it?" + +"Throw it? Yes, assuredly I threw it. But I did not write it." + +"Morbleu! what do I care who wrote it?" roared monsieur Gouge, purple +with spleen. "Does its authorship improve the condition of my hat? My +grievance is its arrival on my head, not its literary quality. Let me +tell you that you expose yourself to actions at law, pitching weights +like this from a respectable house into a public street." + +"I should plead insanity," said Tricotrin; "twenty-seven chapters of +that novel, translated into a Spaniard's French, would suffice to +people an asylum. Nevertheless, if it arrived on your hat, I owe you an +apology." + +"You also owe me two hundred francs!" shouted the other, "and I have +shown you more patience than you deserve. Well, my folly is finished! +You settle up, or you get out, right off!" + +"Have you reflected that it is Christmas Eve--do we live in a +melodrama, that I should wander homeless on Christmas Eve? Seriously, +you cannot expect a man of taste to lend himself to so hackneyed a +situation? Besides, I share this apartment with the composer monsieur +Nicolas Pitou. Consider how poignant he would find the room's +associations if he returned to dwell here alone!" + +"Monsieur Pitou will not be admitted when he returns--there is not a +pin to choose between the pair of you. You hand me the two hundred +francs, or you go this minute--and I shall detain your wardrobe till +you pay. Where is it?" + +"It is divided between my person and a shelf at the pawnbroker's," +explained the poet; "but I have a soiled collar in the left-hand corner +drawer. However, I can offer you more valuable security for this +trifling debt than you would dare to ask; the bureau is full of pearls +--metrical, but beyond price. I beg your tenderest care of them, +especially my tragedy in seven acts. Do not play jinks with the +contents of that bureau, or Posterity will gibbet you and the name of +'Gouge' will one day be execrated throughout France. Garbage, +farewell!" + +"Here, take your shaving paper with you!" cried monsieur Gouge, +flinging the Spanish novel down the stairs. And the next moment the man +of letters stood dejected on the pavement, with the fatal manuscript +under his arm. + +"Ah, Miranda, Miranda, thou little knowest what mischief thou hast +done!" he murmured, unconsciously plagiarising. "She brought bad +tidings indeed, with her disastrous mien," he added. "What is to become +of me now?" + +The moon, to which he had naturally addressed this query, made no +answer; and, fingering the sou in his trouser-pocket, he trudged in the +direction of the rue Ravignan. "The situation would look well in +print," he reflected, "but the load under my arm should, dramatically, +be a bundle of my own poems. Doubtless the matter will be put right by +my biographer. I wonder if I can get half a bed from Goujaud?" + +Encouraged by the thought of the painter's hospitality, he proceeded to +the studio; but he was informed in sour tones that monsieur Goujaud +would not sleep there that night. + +"So much the better," he remarked, "for I can have all his bed, instead +of half of it! Believe me, I shall put you to no trouble, madame." + +"I believe it fully," answered the woman, "for you will not come +inside--not monsieur Goujaud, nor you, nor any other of his vagabond +friends. So, there!" + +"Ah, is that how the wind blows--the fellow has not paid his rent?" +said Tricotrin. "How disgraceful of him, to be sure! Fortunately +Sanquereau lives in the next house." + +He pulled the bell there forthwith, and the peal had scarcely sounded +when Sanquereau rushed to the door, crying, "Welcome, my Beautiful!" + +"Mon Dieu, what worthless acquaintances I possess!" moaned the unhappy +poet. "Since you are expecting your Beautiful I need not go into +details." + +"What on earth did you want?" muttered Sanquereau, crestfallen. + +"I came to tell you the latest Stop Press news--Goujaud's landlord has +turned him out and I have no bed to lie on. Au revoir!" + +After another apostrophe to the heavens, "That inane moon, which makes +no response, is beginning to get on my nerves," he soliloquised. "Let +me see now! There is certainly master Criqueboeuf, but it is a long +journey to the quartier Latin, and when I get there his social +engagements may annoy me as keenly as Sanquereau's. It appears to me I +am likely to try the open-air cure to-night. In the meanwhile I may as +well find Miranda a seat and think things over." + +Accordingly he bent his steps to the place Dancourt, and having +deposited the incubus beside him, stretched his limbs on a bench +beneath a tree. His attitude, and his luxuriant locks, to say nothing +of his melancholy aspect, rendered him a noticeable figure in the +little square, and monsieur Petitpas, from Bordeaux, under the awning +of the café opposite, stood regarding him with enthusiasm. + +"Upon my word of honour," mused Petitpas, rubbing his hands, "I believe +I see a Genius in the dumps! At last I behold the Paris of my dreams. +If I have read my Murger to any purpose, I am on the verge of an epoch. +What a delightful adventure!" + +Taking out his Marylands, Petitpas sauntered towards the bench with a +great show of carelessness, and made a pretence of feeling in his +pockets for a match. "Tschut!" he exclaimed; then, affecting to observe +Tricotrin for the first time, "May I beg you to oblige me with a light, +monsieur?" he asked deferentially. A puff of wind provided an excuse +for sitting down to guard the flame; and the next moment the Genius had +accepted a cigarette, and acknowledged that the weather was mild for +the time of year. + +Excitement thrilled Petitpas. How often, after business hours, he had +perused his well-thumbed copy of _La Vie de Bohème_ and in fancy +consorted with the gay descendants of Rodolphe and Marcel; how often he +had regretted secretly that he, himself, did not woo a Muse and jest at +want in a garret, instead of totting up figures, and eating three meals +a day in comfort! And now positively one of the fascinating beings of +his imagination lolled by his side! The little clerk on a holiday +longed to play the generous comrade. In his purse he had a couple of +louis, designed for sight-seeing, and, with a rush of emotion, he +pictured himself squandering five or six francs in half an hour and +startling the artist by his prodigality. + +"If I am not mistaken, I have the honour to address an author, +monsieur?" he ventured. + +"Your instincts have not misled you," replied the poet; "I am +Tricotrin, monsieur--Gustave Tricotrin. The name, however, is to be +found, as yet, on no statues." + +"My own name," said the clerk, "is Adolphe Petitpas. I am a stranger in +Paris, and I count myself fortunate indeed to have made monsieur +Tricotrin's acquaintance so soon." + +"He expresses himself with some discretion, this person," reflected +Tricotrin. "And his cigarette was certainly providential!" + +"To meet an author has always been an ambition of mine," Petitpas +continued; "I dare to say that I have the artistic temperament, though +circumstances have condemned me to commercial pursuits. You have no +idea how enviable the literary life appears to me, monsieur!" + +"Its privileges are perhaps more monotonous than you suppose," drawled +the homeless poet. "Also, I had to work for many years before I +attained my present position." + +"This noble book, for instance," began the clerk, laying a reverent +hand on the abominable manuscript. + +"Hein?" exclaimed its victim, starting. + +"To have written this noble book must be a joy compared with which my +own prosperity is valueless." + +"The damned thing is no work of mine," cried Tricotrin; "and if we are +to avoid a quarrel, I will ask you not to accuse me of it! A joy, +indeed? In that block of drivel you view the cause of my deepest +misfortunes." + +"A thousand apologies!" stammered his companion; "my inference was +hasty. But what you say interests me beyond words. This manuscript, of +seeming innocence, is the cause of misfortunes? May I crave an enormous +favour; may I beg you to regard me as a friend and give me your +confidence?" + +"I see no reason why I should refuse it," answered Tricotrin, on whom +the boast of "prosperity" had made a deep impression. "You must know, +then, that this ineptitude, inflicted on me by an eccentric editor for +translation, drove me to madness, and not an hour ago I cast it from my +window in disgust. It is a novel entirely devoid of taste and tact, and +it had the clumsiness to alight on my landlord's head. Being a man of +small nature, he retaliated by demanding his rent." + +"Which it was not convenient to pay?" interrupted Petitpas, all the +pages of _La Vie de Bohème_ playing leapfrog through his brain. + +"I regret to bore you by so trite a situation. 'Which it was not +convenient to pay'! Indeed, I was not responsible for all of it, for I +occupied the room with a composer named Pitou. Well, you can construct +the next scene without a collaborator; the landlord has a speech, and +the tragedy is entitled 'Tricotrin in Quest of a Home.'" + +"What of the composer?" inquired the delighted clerk; "what has become +of monsieur Pitou?" + +"Monsieur Pitou was not on in that Act. The part of Pitou will attain +prominence when he returns and finds himself locked out." + +"But, my dear monsieur Tricotrin, in such an extremity you should have +sought the services of a friend." + +"I had that inspiration myself; I sought a painter called Goujaud. And +observe how careless is Reality in the matter of coincidences! I learnt +from his concierge that precisely the same thing had befallen monsieur +Goujaud. He, too, is Christmassing alfresco." + +"Mon Dieu," faltered the clerk, "how it rejoices me that I have met +you! All my life I have looked forward to encountering a genius in such +a fix." + +"Alas!" sighed Tricotrin, with a pensive smile, "to the genius the fix +is less spicy. Without a supper--" + +"Without a supper!" crowed Petitpas. + +"Without a bed--" + +"Without a bed!" babbled Petitpas, enravished. + +"With nothing but a pen and the sacred fire, one may be forgiven +sadness." + +"Not so, not so," shouted Petitpas, smacking him on the back. "You are +omitting _me_ from your list of assets! Listen, I am staying at an +hotel. You cannot decline to accord me the honour of welcoming you +there as my guest for the night. Hang the expense! I am no longer in +business, I am a bohemian, like yourself; some supper, a bed, and a +little breakfast will not ruin me. What do you say, monsieur?" + +"I say, drop the 'monsieur,' old chap," responded Tricotrin. "Your +suggestions for the tragedy are cordially accepted. I have never known +a collaborator to improve a plot so much. And understand this: I feel +more earnestly than I speak; henceforth we are pals, you and I." + +"Brothers!" cried Petitpas, in ecstasy. "You shall hear all about a +novel that I have projected for years. I should like to have your +opinion of it." + +"I shall be enchanted," said Tricotrin, his jaw dropping. + +"You must introduce me to your circle--the painters, and the models, +and the actresses. Your friends shall be _my_ friends in future." + +"Don't doubt it! When I tell them what a brick you are, they will be +proud to know you." + +"No ceremony, mind!" + +"Not a bit. You shall be another chum. Already I feel as if we had been +confidants in our cradles." + +"It is the same with me. How true it is that kindred spirits recognise +each other in an instant. What is environment? Bah! A man may be a +bohemian and an artist although his occupations are commercial?" + +"Perfectly! I nearly pined amid commercial occupations myself." + +"What an extraordinary coincidence! Ah, that is the last bond between +us! You can realise my most complex moods, you can penetrate to the +most distant suburbs of my soul! Gustave, if I had been free to choose +my career, I should have become a famous man." "My poor Adolphe! +Still, prosperity is not an unmixed evil. You must seek compensation in +your wealth," murmured the poet, who began to think that one might pay +too high a price for a bed. + +"Oh--er--to be sure!" said the little clerk, reminded that he was +pledged to a larger outlay than he had originally proposed. "That is to +say, I am not precisely 'wealthy.'" He saw his pocket-money during the +trip much curtailed, and rather wished that his impulse had been less +expansive. + +"A snug income is no stigma, whether one derives it from Parnassus or +the Bourse," continued Tricotrin. "Hold! Who is that I see, slouching +over there? As I live, it's Pitou, the composer, whose dilemma I told +you of!" + +"Another?" quavered the clerk, dismayed. + +"Hé, Nicolas! Turn your symphonic gaze this way! 'Tis I, Gustave!" + +"Ah, mon vieux!" exclaimed the young musician joyfully; "I was +wondering what your fate might be. I have only just come from the +house. Madame Dubois refused me admission; she informed me that you had +been firing Spanish novels at Gouge's head. Why Spanish? Is the Spanish +variety deadlier? So the villain has had the effrontery to turn us +out?" + +"Let me make your affinities known to each other," said Tricotrin. "My +brother Nicolas--my brother Adolphe. Brother Adolphe has received a +scenario of the tragedy already, and he has a knack of inventing +brilliant 'curtains.'" + +Behind Pitou's back he winked at Petitpas, as if to say, "He little +suspects what a surprise you have in store for him!" + +"Oh--er--I am grieved to hear of your trouble, monsieur Pitou," said +Petitpas feebly. + +"What? 'Grieved'? Come, that isn't all about it!" cried Tricotrin, who +attributed his restraint to nothing but diffidence. In an undertone he +added, "Don't be nervous, dear boy. Your invitation won't offend him in +the least!" + +Petitpas breathed heavily. He aspired to prove himself a true bohemian, +but his heart quailed at the thought of such expense. Two suppers, two +beds, and two little breakfasts as a supplement to his bill would be no +joke. It was with a very poor grace that he stammered at last, "I hope +you will allow me to suggest a way out, monsieur Pitou? A room at my +hotel seems to dispose of the difficulty." + +"Hem?" exclaimed Pitou. "Is that room a mirage, or are you serious?" + +"'Serious'?" echoed Tricotrin. "He is as serious as an English +adaptation of a French farce." He went on, under his breath, "You +mustn't judge him by his manner, I can see that he has turned a little +shy. Believe me, he is the King of Trumps." + +"Well, upon my word I shall be delighted, monsieur," responded Pitou. +"It was evidently the good kind fairies that led me to the place +Dancourt. I would ask you to step over the way and have a bock, but my +finances forbid." + +"Your finances need cause no drought--Adolphe will be paymaster!" +declared Tricotrin gaily, shouldering his manuscript. "Come, let us +adjourn and give the Réveillon its due!" + +Petitpas suppressed a moan. "By all means," he assented; "I was about +to propose it myself. I am a real bohemian, you know, and think nothing +of ordering several bocks at once." + +"Are you sure he is all you say?" whispered Pitou to Tricotrin, with +misgiving. + +"A shade embarrassed, that is all," pronounced the poet. And then, as +the trio moved arm-in-arm toward the café, a second solitary figure +emerged from the obscurity of the square. + +"Bless my soul!" ejaculated Tricotrin; "am I mistaken, or--Look, look, +Adolphe! I would bet ten to one in sonnets that it is Goujaud, the +painter, whose plight I mentioned to you!" + +"Yet another?" gasped Petitpas, panic-stricken. + +"Sst! Hé, Goujaud! Come here, you vagrant, and be entertaining!" + +"Well met, you fellows!" sighed Goujaud. "Where are you off to?" + +"We are going to give Miranda a drink," said the poet; "she is drier +than ever. Let there be no strangers--my brother Adolphe, my brother +Théodose! What is your secret woe, Théo? Your face is as long as this +Spaniard's novel, Adolphe, have you a recipe in your pocket for the +hump?" + +"Perhaps monsieur Goujaud will join us in a glass of beer?" said +Petitpas very coldly. + +"There are more unlikely things than that!" affirmed the painter; and +when the café was entered, he swallowed his bock like one who has a +void to fill. "The fact is," he confided to the group, "I was about to +celebrate the Réveillon on a bench. That insolent landlord of mine has +kicked me out." + +"And you will not get inside," said Tricotrin, "'not you, nor I, nor +any other of your vagabond friends. So there!' I had the privilege of +conversing with your concierge earlier in the evening." + +"Ah, then, you know all about it. Well, now that I have run across you, +you can give me a shakedown in your attic. Good business!" + +"I discern only one drawback to the scheme," said Pitou; "we haven't +any attic. It must be something in the air--all the landlords seem to +have the same complaint." + +"But if you decide in the bench's favour, after all, you may pillow +your curls on Miranda," put in Tricotrin. "She would be exhilarating +company for him, Adolphe, hein? What do you think?" He murmured aside, +"Give him a dig in the ribs and say, 'You silly ass, _I_ can fix +you up all right!' That's the way we issue invitations in Montmartre." + +The clerk's countenance was livid; his tongue stuck to his front teeth. +At last, wrenching the words out, he groaned, "If monsieur Goujaud will +accept my hospitality, I shall be charmed!" He was not without a hope +that his frigid bearing would beget a refusal. + +"Ah, my dear old chap!" shouted Goujaud without an instant's +hesitation, "consider it done!" And now there were to be three suppers, +three beds, and three little breakfasts, distorting the account! + +Petitpas sipped his bock faintly, affecting not to notice that his +guests' glasses had been emptied. With all his soul he repented the +impulse that had led to his predicament. Amid the throes of his mental +arithmetic he recognised that he had been deceived in himself, that he +had no abiding passion for bohemia. How much more pleasing than to +board and lodge this disreputable collection would have been the daily +round of amusements that he had planned! Even now--he caught his +breath--even now it was not too late; he might pay for the drinks and +escape! Why shouldn't he run away? + +"Gentlemen," cried Petitpas, "I shall go and fetch a cab for us all. +Make yourselves comfortable till I come back!" + +When the café closed, messieurs Tricotrin, Goujaud, and Pitou crept +forlornly across the square and disposed themselves for slumber on the +bench. + +"Well, there is this to be said," yawned the poet, "if the little +bounder had kept his word, it would have been an extraordinary +conclusion to our adventures--as persons of literary discretion, we can +hardly regret that a story did not end so improbably.... My children, +Miranda, good-night--and a Merry Christmas!" + + + +THE CAFÉ OF THE BROKEN HEART + +On the last day of the year, towards the dinner-hour, a young and +attractive woman, whose costume proclaimed her a widow, entered the +Café of the Broken Heart. That modest restaurant is situated near the +Cemetery of Mont-martre. The lady, quoting from an announcement over +the window, requested the proprietor to conduct her to the "Apartment +reserved for Those Desirous of Weeping Alone." + +The proprietor's shoulders became apologetic. "A thousand regrets, +madame," he murmured; "the Weeping Alone apartment is at present +occupied." + +This visibly annoyed the customer. + +"It is the second anniversary of my bereavement," she complained, "and +already I have wept here twice. The woe of an habituée should find a +welcome!" + +Her reproof, still more her air of being well-to-do, had an effect on +Brochat. He looked at his wife, and his wife said hesitatingly: + +"Perhaps the young man would consent to oblige madame if you asked him +nicely. After all, he engaged the room for seven o'clock, and it is not +yet half-past six." + +"That is true," said Brochat. "Alors, I shall see what can be arranged! +I beg that madame will put herself to the trouble of sitting down while +I make the biggest endeavours." + +But he returned after a few minutes to declare that the young man's +sorrow was so profound that no reply could be extracted from him. + +The lady showed signs of temper. "Has this person the monopoly of +sorrowing on your premises?" she demanded. "Whom does he lament? Surely +the loss of a husband should give me prior claim?" + +"I cannot rightly say whom the gentleman laments," stammered Brochat; +"the circumstances are, in fact, somewhat unusual. I would mention, +however, that the apartment is a spacious one, as madame doubtless +recalls, and no further mourners are expected for half an hour. If in +the meantime madame would be so amiable as to weep in the young man's +presence, I can assure her that she would find him too stricken to +stare." + +The widow considered. "Well," she said, after the pause, "if you can +guarantee his abstraction, so be it! It is a matter of conscience with +me to behave in precisely the same way each year, and, rather than miss +my meditations there altogether, I am willing to make the best of him." + +Brochat, having taken her order for refreshments--for which he always +charged slightly higher prices on the first floor--preceded her up the +stairs. The single gas-flame that had been kindled in the room was very +low, and the lady received but a momentary impression of a man's figure +bowed over a white table. She chose a chair at once with her back +towards him, and resting her brow on her forefinger, disposed herself +for desolation. + +It may have been that the stranger's proximity told on her nerves, or +it may have been that Time had done something to heal the wound. +Whatever the cause, the frame of mind that she invited was slow in +arriving, and when the bouillon and biscottes appeared she was not +averse from trifling with them. Meanwhile, for any sound that he had +made, the young man might have been as defunct as Henri IV; but as she +took her second sip, a groan of such violence escaped him that she +nearly upset her cup. + +His abandonment of despair seemed to reflect upon her own +insensibility; and, partly to raise herself in his esteem, the lady a +moment later uttered a long-drawn, wistful sigh. No sooner had she done +so, however, than she deeply regretted the indiscretion, for it +stimulated the young man to a howl positively harrowing. + +An impatient movement of her graceful shoulders protested against these +demonstrations, but as she had her back to him, she could not tell +whether he observed her. Stealing a glance, she discovered that his +face was buried in his hands, and that the white table seemed to be +laid for ten covers. Scrutiny revealed ten bottles of wine around it, +the neck of each bottle embellished with a large crape bow. Curiosity +now held the lady wide-eyed, and, as luck would have it, the young man, +at this moment, raised his head. + +"I trust that my agony does not disturb you, madame?" he inquired, +meeting her gaze with some embarrassment. + +"I must confess, monsieur," said she, "that you have been carrying it +rather far." + +He accepted the rebuke humbly. "If you divined the intensity of my +sufferings, you would be lenient," he murmured. "Nevertheless, it was +dishonest of me to moan so bitterly before seven o'clock, when my claim +to the room legally begins. I entreat your pardon." + +"It is accorded freely," said the lady, mollified by his penitence. +"She would be a poor mourner who quarrelled with the affliction of +another." + +Again she indulged in a plaintive sigh, and this time the young man's +response was tactfully harmonious. + +"Life is a vale of tears, madame," he remarked, with more solicitude +than originality. + +"You may indeed say so, monsieur," she assented. "To have lost one who +was beloved--" + +"It must be a heavy blow; I can imagine it!" + +He had made a curious answer. She stared at him, perplexed. + +"You can 'imagine' it?" + +"Very well." + +"But you yourself have experienced such a loss, monsieur?" faltered the +widow nervously. Had trouble unhinged his brain? + +"No," said the young man; "to speak by the clock, my own loss has not +yet occurred." + +A brief silence fell, during which she cast uneasy glances towards the +door. + +He added, as if anxious that she should do him justice: "But I would +not have you consider my lamentations premature." + +"How true it is," breathed the lady, "that in this world no human soul +can wholly comprehend another!" + +"Mine is a very painful history," he warned her, taking the hint; "yet +if it will serve to divert your mind from your own misfortune, I shall +be honoured to confide it to you. Stay, the tenth invitation, which an +accident prevented my dispatching, would explain the circumstances +tersely: but I much fear that the room is too dark for you to decipher +all the subtleties. Have I your permission to turn up the gas?" + +"Do so, by all means, monsieur," said the lady graciously. And the +light displayed to her, first, as personable a young man as she could +have desired to see; second, an imposing card, which was inscribed as +follows: + + MONSIEUR ACHILLE FLAMANT, ARTIST, + + Forewarns you of the + + DEATH OF HIS CAREER + + The Interment will take place at the + Café of the Broken Heart + on December 31st. + + _Valedictory N.B.--A sympathetic costume + Victuals will be appreciated. + 7 p.m._ + +"I would call your attention to the border of cypress, and to the tomb +in the corner," said the young man, with melancholy pride. "You may +also look favourably on the figure with the shovel, which, of course, +depicts me in the act of burying my hopes. It is a symbolic touch that +no hope is visible." + +"It is a very artistic production altogether," said the widow, +dissembling her astonishment. "So you are a painter, monsieur Flamant?" + +"Again speaking by the clock, I am a painter," he concurred; "but at +midnight I shall no longer be in a position to say so--in the morning I +am pledged to the life commercial. You will not marvel at my misery +when I inform you that the existence of Achille Flamant, the artist, +will terminate in five hours and twenty odd minutes!" + +"Well, I am commercial myself," she said. "I am madame Aurore, the +Beauty Specialist, of the rue Baba. Do not think me wanting in the +finer emotions, but I assure you that a lucrative establishment is not +a calamity." + +"Madame Aurore," demurred the painter, with a bow, "your own business +is but a sister art. In your atelier, the saffron of a bad complexion +blooms to the fairness of a rose, and the bunch of a lumpy figure is +modelled to the grace of Galatea. With me it will be a different pair +of shoes; I shall be condemned to perch on a stool in the office of a +wine-merchant, and invoice vintages which my thirty francs a week will +not allow me to drink. No comparison can be drawn between your lot and +my little." + +"Certainly I should not like to perch," she confessed. + +"Would you rejoice at the thirty francs a week?" + +"Well, and the thirty francs a week are also poignant. But you may +rise, monsieur; who shall foretell the future? Once I had to make both +ends meet with less to coax them than the salary you mention. Even when +my poor husband was taken from me--heigho!" she raised a miniature +handkerchief delicately to her eyes--"when I was left alone in the +world, monsieur, my affairs were greatly involved--I had practically +nothing but my resolve to succeed." + +"And the witchery of your personal attractions, madame," said the +painter politely. + +"Ah!" A pensive smile rewarded him. "The business was still in its +infancy, monsieur; yet to-day I have the smartest clientèle in Paris. I +might remove to the rue de la Paix to-morrow if I pleased. But, I say, +why should I do that? I say, why a reckless rental for the sake of a +fashionable address, when the fashionable men and women come to me +where I am?" + +"You show profound judgment, madame," said Flamant. "Why, indeed!" + +"And you, too, will show good judgment, I am convinced," continued +madame Aurore, regarding him with approval. "You have an air of +intellect. If your eyebrows were elongated a fraction towards the +temples--an improvement that might be effected easily enough by regular +use of my Persian Pomade--you would acquire the appearance of a born +conqueror." + +"Alas," sighed Flamant, "my finances forbid my profiting by the tip!" + +"Monsieur, you wrong me," murmured the specialist reproachfully. "I was +speaking with no professional intent. On the contrary, if you will +permit me, I shall take joy in forwarding a pot to you gratis." + +"Is it possible?" cried Flamant: "you would really do this for me? You +feel for my sufferings so much?" + +"Indeed, I regret that I cannot persuade you to reduce the sufferings," +she replied. "But tell me why you have selected the vocation of a +wine-merchant's clerk." + +"Fate, not I, has determined my cul-de-sac in life," rejoined her +companion. "It is like this: my father, who lacks an artistic soul, +consented to my becoming a painter only upon the understanding that I +should gain the Prix de Rome and pursue my studies in Italy free of any +expense to him. This being arranged, he agreed to make me a minute +allowance in the meanwhile. By a concatenation of catastrophes upon +which it is unnecessary to dwell, the Beaux-Arts did not accord the +prize to me; and, at the end of last year, my parent reminded me of our +compact, with a vigour which nothing but the relationship prevents my +describing as 'inhuman'. He insisted that I must bid farewell to +aspiration and renounce the brush of an artist for the quill of a +clerk! Distraught, I flung myself upon my knees. I implored him to +reconsider. My tribulation would have moved a rock--it even moved his +heart!" + +"He showed you mercy?" + +"He allowed me a respite." + +"It was for twelve months?" + +"Precisely. What rapid intuitions you have!--if I could remain in +Paris, we should become great friends. He allowed me twelve months' +respite. If, at the end of that time, Art was still inadequate to +supply my board and lodging, it was covenanted that, without any more +ado, I should resign myself to clerical employment at Nantes. The +merchant there is a friend of the family, and had offered to +demonstrate his friendship by paying me too little to live on. Enfin, +Fame has continued coy. The year expires to-night. I have begged a few +comrades to attend a valedictory dinner--and at the stroke of midnight, +despairing I depart!" + +"Is there a train?" + +"I do not depart from Paris till after breakfast to-morrow; but at +midnight I depart from myself, I depart psychologically--the Achille +Flamant of the Hitherto will be no more." + +"I understand," said madame Aurore, moved. "As you say, in my own way I +am an artist, too, there is a bond between us. Poor fellow, it is +indeed a crisis in your life!... Who put the crape bows on the +bottles? they are badly tied. Shall I tie them properly for you?" + +"It would be a sweet service," said Flamant, "and I should be grateful. +How gentle you are to me--pomade, bows, nothing is too much for you!" + +"You must give me your Nantes address," she said, "and I will post the +pot without fail." + +"I shall always keep it," he vowed--"not the pomade, but the pot--as a +souvenir. Will you write a few lines to me at the same time?" + +Her gaze was averted; she toyed with her spoon. "The directions will be +on the label," she said timidly. + +"It was not of my eyebrows I was thinking," murmured the man. + +"What should I say? The latest quotation for artificial lashes, or a +development in dimple culture, would hardly be engrossing to you." + +"I am inclined to believe that anything that concerned you would +engross me." + +"It would be so unconventional," she objected dreamily. + +"To send a brief message of encouragement? Have we not talked like +confidants?" + +"That is queerer still." + +"I admit it. Just now I was unaware of your existence, and suddenly you +dominate my thoughts. How do you work these miracles, madame? Do you +know that I have an enormous favour to crave of you?" + +"What, another one?" + +"Actually! Is it not audacious of me? Yet for a man on the verge of +parting from his identity, I venture to hope that you will strain a +point." + +"The circumstances are in the man's favour," she owned. "Nevertheless, +much depends on what the point is." + +"Well, I ask nothing less than that you accept the invitation on the +card that you examined; I beg you to soothe my last hours by remaining +to dine." + +"Oh, but really," she exclaimed. "I am afraid--" + +"You cannot urge that you are required at your atelier so late. And as +to any social engagement, I do not hesitate to affirm that my +approaching death in life puts forth the stronger claim." + +"On me? When all is said, a new acquaintance!" + +"What is Time?" demanded the painter. And she was not prepared with a +reply. + +"Your comrades will be strangers to me," she argued. + +"It is a fact that now I wish they were not coming," acknowledged the +host; "but they are young men of the loftiest genius, and some day it +may provide a piquant anecdote to relate how you met them all in the +period of their obscurity." + +"My friend," she said, hurt, "if I consented, it would not be to garner +anecdotes." + +"Ah, a million regrets!" he cried; "I spoke foolishly." + +"It was tactless." + +"Yes--I am a man. Do you forgive?" + +"Yes--I am a woman. Well, I must take my bonnet off!" + +"Oh, you are not a woman, but an angel! What beautiful hair you have! +And your hands, how I should love to paint them!" + +"I have painted them, myself--with many preparations. My hands have +known labour, believe me; they have washed up plates and dishes, and +often the dishes had provided little to eat." + +"Poor girl! One would never suspect that you had struggled like that." + +"How feelingly you say it! There have been few to show me sympathy. Oh, +I assure you, my life has been a hard one; it is a hard one now, in +spite of my success. Constantly, when customers moan before my mirrors, +I envy them, if they did but know it. I think: 'Yes, you have a double +chin, and your eyes have lost their fire, and nasty curly little veins +are spoiling the pallor of your nose; but you have the affection of +husband and child, while _I_ have nothing but fees.' What is my +destiny? To hear great-grandmothers grumble because I cannot give them +back their girlhood for a thousand francs! To devote myself to making +other women beloved, while _I_ remain loveless in my shop!" + +"Honestly, my heart aches for you. If I might presume to advise, I +would say, 'Do not allow the business to absorb your youth--you were +meant to be worshipped.' And yet, while I recommend it, I hate to think +of another man worshipping you." + +"Why should you care, my dear? But there is no likelihood of that; I am +far too busy to seek worshippers. A propos an idea has just occurred to +me which might be advantageous to us both. If you could inform your +father that you would be able to earn rather more next year by +remaining in Paris than by going to Nantes, would it be satisfactory?" + +"Satisfactory?" ejaculated Flamant. "It would be ecstatic! But how +shall I acquire such information?" + +"Would you like to paint a couple of portraits of me?" + +"I should like to paint a thousand." + +"My establishment is not a picture-gallery. Listen. I offer you a +commission for two portraits: one, present day, let us say, moderately +attractive--" + +"I decline to libel you." + +"O, flatterer! The other, depicting my faded aspect before I discovered +the priceless secrets of the treatment that I practise in the rue Baba. +I shall hang them both in the reception-room. I must look at least a +decade older in the 'Before' than in the 'After,' and it must, of +course, present the appearance of having been painted some years ago. +That can be faked?" + +"Perfectly." + +"You accept?" "I embrace your feet. You have saved my life; you have +preserved my hopefulness, you have restored my youth!" + +"It is my profession to preserve and restore." + +"Ah, mon Dieu!" gasped Flamant in a paroxysm of adoration. "Aurore, I +can no longer refrain from avowing that--" + +At this instant the door opened, and there entered solemnly nine young +men, garbed in such habiliments of woe as had never before been seen +perambulating, even on the figures of undertakers. The foremost bore a +wreath of immortelles, which he laid in devout silence on the dinner-table. + +"Permit me," said Flamant, recovering himself by a stupendous effort: +"monsieur Tricotrin, the poet--madame Aurore." + +"Enchanted!" said the poet, in lugubrious tones. "I have a heavy cold, +thank you, owing to my having passed the early hours of Christmas Day +on a bench, in default of a bed. It is superfluous to inquire as to the +health of madame." + +"Monsieur Goujaud, a colleague." + +"Overjoyed!" responded Goujaud, with a violent sneeze. + +"Goujaud was with me," said Tricotrin. + +"Monsieur Pitou, the composer." + +"I ab hodoured. I trust badabe is dot dervous of gerbs? There is +nothing to fear," said Pitou. + +"So was Pitou!" added Tricotrin. + +"Monsieur Sanquereau, the sculptor; monsieur Lajeunie, the novelist," +continued the host. But before he could present the rest of the +company, Brochat was respectfully intimating to the widow that her +position in the Weeping Alone apartment was now untenable. He was +immediately commanded to lay another cover. + +"Madame and comrades," declaimed Tricotrin, unrolling a voluminous +manuscript, as they took their seats around the pot-au-feu, "I have +composed for this piteous occasion a brief poem!" + +"I must beseech your pardon," stammered Flamant, rising in deep +confusion; "I have nine apologies to tender. Gentlemen, this touching +wreath for the tomb of my career finds the tomb unready. These +affecting garments which you have hired at, I fear, ruinous expense, +should be exchanged for bunting; that immortal poem with which our +friend would favour us has been suddenly deprived of all its point." + +"Explain! explain!" volleyed from nine throats. + +"I shall still read it," insisted Tricotrin, "it is good." + +"The lady--nay, the goddess--whom you behold, has showered commissions, +and for one year more I shall still be in your midst. Brothers in art, +brothers in heart, I ask you to charge your glasses, and let your +voices ring. The toast is, 'Madame Aurore and her gift of the New +Year!'" + +"Madame Aurore and her gift of the New Year!" shrieked the nine young +men, springing to their feet. + +"In a year much may happen," said the lady tremulously. + +And when they had all sat down again, Flamant was thrilled to find her +hand in his beneath the table. + + + +THE DRESS CLOTHES OF MONSIEUR POMPONNET + +It was thanks to Touquet that she was able to look so chic--the little +baggage!--yet of all her suitors Touquet was the one she favoured +least. He was the costumier at the corner of the rue des Martyrs, and +made a very fair thing of the second-hand clothes. It was to Touquet's +that the tradesmen of the quarter turned as a matter of course to hire +dress-suits for their nuptials; it was in the well-cleaned satins of +Touquet that the brides' mothers and the lady guests cut such imposing +figures when they were photographed after the wedding breakfasts; it +was even Touquet who sometimes supplied a gown to one or another of the +humble actresses at the Théâtre Montmartre, and received a couple of +free tickets in addition to his fee. I tell you that Touquet was not a +person to be sneezed at, though he had passed the first flush of youth, +and was never an Adonis. + +Besides, who was she, this little Lisette, who had the impudence to +flout him? A girl in a florist's, if you can believe me, with no +particular beauty herself, and not a son by way of dot! And yet--one +must confess it--she turned a head as swiftly as she made a +"buttonhole"; and Pomponnet, the pastrycook, was paying court to her, +too--to say nothing of the homage of messieurs Tricotrin, the poet, and +Goujaud, the painter, and Lajeunie, the novelist. You would never have +guessed that her wages were only twenty francs a week, as you watched +her waltz with Tricotrin at the ball on Saturday evening, or as you saw +her enter Pomponnet's shop, when the shutters were drawn, to feast on +his strawberry tarts. Her costumes were the cynosure of the boulevard +Rochechouart! + +And they were all due to Touquet, Touquet the infatuated, who lent the +fine feathers to her for the sake of a glance, or a pressure of the +hand--and wept on his counter afterwards while he wondered whose arms +might be embracing her in the costumes that he had cleaned and pressed +with so much care. Often he swore that his folly should end--that she +should be affianced to him, or go shabby; but, lo! in a day or two she +would make her appearance again, to coax for the loan of a smart +blouse, or "that hat with the giant rose and the ostrich plume"--and +Touquet would be as weak as ever. + +Judge, then, of his despair when he heard that she had agreed to marry +Pomponnet! She told him the news with the air of an amiable gossip when +she came to return a ball-dress that she had borrowed. + +"Enfin," she said--perched on the counter, and swinging her remorseless +feet--"it is arranged; I desert the flowers for the pastry, and become +the mistress of a shop. I shall have to beg from my good friend +monsieur Touquet no more--not at all! I shall be his client, like the +rest. It will be better, hein?" + +Touquet groaned. "You know well, Lisette," he answered, "that it has +been a joy to me to place the stock at your disposal, even though it +was to make you more attractive in the eyes of other men. Everything +here that you have worn possesses a charm to me. I fondle the garments +when you bring them back; I take them down from the pegs and dream over +them. Truly! There is no limit to my weakness, for often when a client +proposes to hire a frock that you have had, I cannot bear that she +should profane it, and I say that it is engaged." + +"You dear, kind monsieur Touquet," murmured the coquette; "how +agreeable you are!" + +"I have always hoped for the day when the stock would be all your own, +Lisette. And by-and-by we might have removed to a better position-- +even down the hill. Who knows? We might have opened a business in the +Madeleine quarter. That would suit you better than a little cake-shop +up a side street? And I would have risked it for you--I know how you +incline to fashion. When I have taken you to a theatre, did you choose +the Montmartre--where we might have gone for nothing--or the Moncey? +Not you!--that might do for other girls. _You_ have always +demanded the theatres of the Grand Boulevard; a cup of coffee at the +Café de la Paix is more to your taste than a bottle of beer and +hard-boiled eggs at The Nimble Rabbit. Heaven knows I trust you will be +happy, but I cannot persuade myself that this Pomponnet shares your +ambitions; with his slum and his stale pastry he is quite content." + +"It is not stale," she said. + +"Well, we will pass his pastry--though, word of honour, I bought some +there last week that might have been baked before the Commune; but to +recur to his soul, is it an affinity?" + +"Affinities are always hard up," she pouted. + +"Zut!" exclaimed Touquet; "now your mind is running on that monsieur +Tricotrin--by 'affinities' I do not mean hungry poets. Why not have +entrusted your happiness to _me_? I adore you, I have told you a +thousand times that I adore you. Lisette, consider before it is too +late! You cannot love this--this obscure baker?" + +She gave a shrug. "It is a fact that devotion has not robbed me of my +appetite," she confessed. "But what would you have? His business goes +far better than you imagine--I have seen his books; and anyhow, my +sentiment for you is friendship, and no more." + +"To the devil with friendship!" cried the unhappy wardrobe-dealer; "did +I dress you like the Empress Joséphine for friendship?" + +"Do not mock yourself of it," she said reprovingly; "remember that +'Friendship is a beautiful flower, of which esteem is the stem.'" And, +having thrown the adage to him, coupled with a glance that drove him to +distraction, the little flirt jumped off the counter and was gone. + +Much more reluctantly she contemplated parting with him whom the +costumier had described as a "hungry poet"; but matrimony did not enter +the poet's scheme of things, nor for that matter had she ever regarded +him as a possible parti. Yet a woman may give her fancy where her +reason refuses to follow, and when she imparted her news to Tricotrin +there was no smile on her lips. + +"We shall not go to balls any more, old dear," she said. "Monsieur +Pomponnet has proposed marriage to me--and I settle down." + +"Heartless girl," exclaimed the young man, with tears in his eyes. "So +much for woman's constancy!" + +"Mon Dieu," she faltered, "did you then love me, Gustave--really?" + +"I do not know," said Tricotrin, "but since I am to lose you, I prefer +to think so. Ah, do not grieve for me--fortunately, there is always the +Seine! And first I shall pour my misery into song; and in years to +come, fair daughters at your side will read the deathless poem, little +dreaming that the Lisette I sang to is their mother. Some time--long +after I am in my grave, when France has honoured me at last--you may +stand before a statue that bears my name, and think, 'He loved me, and +I broke his heart!'" + +"Oh," she whimpered, "rather than break your heart I--I might break the +engagement! I might consider again, Gustave." + +"No, no," returned Tricotrin, "I will not reproach myself with the +thought that I have marred your life; I will leave you free. Besides, +as I say, I am not certain that I should want you so much but for the +fact that I have lost you. After all, you will not appreciate the poem +that immortalises you, and if I lived, many of your remarks about it +would doubtless infuriate me." + +"Why shall I not appreciate it? Am I so stupid?" + +"It is not that you are stupid, my Soul," he explained; "it is that I +am transcendentally clever. To understand the virtues of my work one +must have sipped from all the flowers of Literature. 'There is to be +found in it Racine, Voltaire, Flaubert, Renan--and always Gustave +Tricotrin,' as Lemaître has written. He wrote, '--and always Anatole +France,' but I paraphrase him slightly. So you are going to marry +Pomponnet? Mon Dieu, when I have any sous in my pocket, I will ruin +myself, for the rapture of regretting you among the pastry!" + +"I thought," she said, a little mortified, "that you were going to +drown yourself?" + +"Am I not to write my Lament to you? I must eat while I write it--why +not pastry? Also, when I am penniless and starving, you may sometimes, +in your prosperity--And yet, perhaps, it is too much to ask?" + +"Give you tick, do you mean, dear? But yes, Gustave; how can you doubt +that I will do that? In memory of--" + +"In memory of the love that has been, you will permit me to run up a +small score for cakes, will you not, Lisette?" + +"I will, indeed!" she promised. "But, but--Oh, it's quite true, I +should never understand you! A minute ago you made me think of you in +the Morgue, and now you make me think of you in the cake-shop. What are +you laughing at?" + +"I laugh, like Figaro," said Tricotrin, "that I may not be obliged to +weep. When are you going to throw yourself away, my little Lisette? Has +my accursed rival induced you to fix a date?' + +"We are to be married in a fortnight's time," she said. "And if you +could undertake to be sensible, I would ask Alphonse to invite you to +the breakfast." + +"In a fortnight's time hunger and a hopeless passion will probably have +made an end of me," replied the poet; "however, if I survive, the +breakfast will certainly be welcome. Where is it to be held? I can +recommend a restaurant that is especially fine at such affairs, and +most moderate. 'Photographs of the party are taken gratuitously in the +Jardin d'Acclimatation, and pianos are at the disposal of the ladies'; +I quote from the menu--I study it in the window every time I pass. +There are wedding breakfasts from six to twelve francs per head. At six +francs, the party have their choice of two soups and three hors +d'oeuvres. Then comes 'poisson'--I fear it may be whiting--filet de +boeuf with tomates farcies, bouchées à la Reine, chicken, pigeons, +salad, two vegetables, an ice, assorted fruits, and biscuits. The wines +are madeira, a bottle of mâcon to each person, a bottle of bordeaux +among four persons, and a bottle of champagne among ten persons. Also +coffee and liqueurs. At six francs a head! It is good, hein? At seven +francs there is a bottle of champagne among every eight persons-- +Pomponnet will, of course, do as he thinks best. At eight francs, a +bottle is provided for every six persons. I have too much delicacy to +make suggestions, but should he be willing to soar to twelve francs a +head, I might eat enough to last a week--and of such quality! The soups +would then be bisque d'écrevisse and consommé Rachel. Rissoles de foies +gras would appear. Asparagus 'in branches,' and compote of peaches +flavoured with maraschino would be included. Also, in the twelve-franc +breakfast, the champagne begins to have a human name on the label!" + +Now, it is not certain how much of this information Lisette repeated to +Pomponnet, but Pomponnet, having a will of his own, refused to +entertain monsieur Tricotrin at any price at all. More-over, he found +it unconventional that she should desire the poet's company, +considering the attentions that he had paid her; and she was forced to +listen, with an air of humility which she was far from feeling, to a +lecture on the responsibilities of her new position. + +"I am not a jealous man," said the pastrycook, who was as jealous a man +as ever baked a pie; "but it would be discreet that you dropped this +acquaintance now that we are engaged. I know well that you have never +taken the addresses of such a fellow seriously, and that it is only in +the goodness of your heart you wish to present him with a blow-out. +Nevertheless, the betrothal of a man in my circumstances is much +remarked; all the daughters of the hairdresser next door have had their +hopes of me--indeed, there is scarcely a neighbour who is not chagrined +at the turn events have taken--and the world would be only too glad of +an excuse to call me 'fool.' Pomponnet's wife must be above suspicion. +You will remember that a little lightness of conduct which might be +forgiven in the employée of the florist would be unseemly in my +fiancée. No more conversation with monsieur Tricotrin, Lisette! Some +dignity--some coldness in the bow when you pass him. The boulevard will +observe it, it will be approved." + +"You, of course, know best, my dear Alphonse," she returned meekly; "I +am only an inexperienced girl, and I am thankful to have your advice to +guide me. But let me say that never, never has there been any +'lightness of conduct,' to distress you. Monsieur Tricotrin and I have +been merely friends. If I have gone to a ball with him sometimes--and I +acknowledge that has happened--it has been because nobody more to my +taste has offered to take me." She had ground her little teeth under +the infliction of his homily, and it was only by dint of thinking hard +of his profits that she abstained from retorting that he might marry +all the daughters of the hairdresser and go to Uganda. + +However, during the next week or so, she did not chance to meet the +poet on the boulevard; and since she wished to conquer her tenderness +for him, one cannot doubt that all would have been well but for the +Editor of _L'Echo de la Butte._ By a freak of fate, the Editor of +_L'Echo de la Butte_ was moved to invite monsieur Tricotrin to an +affair of ceremony two days previous to the wedding. What followed? +Naturally Tricotrin must present himself in evening dress. Naturally, +also, he must go to Touquet's to hire the suit. + +"Regard," said the costumier, "here is a suit that I have just +acquired. Monsieur will observe that it is of the most distinguished +cut--quite in the latest fashion. I will whisper to monsieur that it +comes to me through the valet of the Comte de St.-Nom-la-Bretèche- +Forêt-de-Marly." + +"Mon Dieu!" said Tricotrin, "let me try it on!" And he was so gratified +by his appearance in it that he barely winced at the thought of the +expense. "I am improving my position," he soliloquised; "if I have not +precisely inherited the mantle of Victor Hugo, I have, at any rate, +hired the dress-suit of the Comte de St.-Nom-la-Bretèche-Forêt-de- +Marly!" + +Never had a more impressive spectacle been witnessed in Montmartre than +Tricotrin's departure from his latest lodging shortly after six +o'clock. Wearing a shirt of Pitou's, Flamant's patent-leather boots, +and a white tie contributed by Goujaud, the young man sallied forth +with the deportment of the Count himself. Only one thing more did he +desire, a flower for his buttonhole--and Lisette remained in her +situation until the morrow! What more natural, finally, than that he +should hie him to the florist's? + +It was the first time that she had seen her lover in evening dress, and +sentiment overpowered her as he entered. + +"Thou!" she murmured, paling. + +On the poet, too, the influence of the clothes was very strong; attired +like a jeune premier, he craved with all the dramatic instinct of his +nature for a love scene; and, instead of fulfilling his intention to +beg for a rosebud at cost price, he gazed at her soulfully and breathed +"Lisette!" + +"So we have met again!" she said. + +"The world is small," returned the poet, ignoring the fact that he had +come to the shop. "And am I yet remembered?" + +"It is not likely I should forget you in a few days," she said, more +practically; "I didn't forget about the breakfast, either, but Alphonse +put his foot down." + +"Pig!" said the poet. "And yet it may be better so! How could I eat in +such an hour?" + +"However, you are not disconsolate this evening?" she suggested. "Mais +vrai! what a swell you are!" + +"Flûte! some fashionable assembly that will bore me beyond endurance," +he sighed. "With you alone, Lisette, have I known true happiness--the +train rides on summer nights that were joyous because we loved; the +simple meals that were sweetened by your smile!" + +"Ah, Gustave!" she said. "Wait, I must give you a flower for your +coat!" + +"I shall keep it all my life!" vowed Tricotrin. "Tell me, little one--I +dare not stay now, because my host lives a long way off--but this +evening, could you not meet me once again? For the last time, to say +farewell? I have nearly two francs fifty, and we might go to supper, if +you agree." + +It was arranged before he took leave of her that she should meet him +outside the _débit_ at the corner of the rue de Sontay at eleven +o'clock, and sup with him there, in a locality where she was unlikely +to be recognised. Rash enough, this conduct, for a young woman who was +to be married to another man on the next day but one! But a greater +imprudence was to follow. They supped, they sentimentalised, and when +they parted in the Champs Elysées and the moonshine, she gave him from +her bosom a little rose-coloured envelope that contained nothing less +than a lock of her hair. + +The poet placed it tenderly in his waistcoat pocket; and, after he had +wept, and quoted poetry to the stars, forgot it. He began to wish that +he had not mixed his liquors quite so impartially; and, on the morrow, +when he woke, he was mindful of nothing more grievous than a splitting +headache. + +Now Touquet, who could not sleep of nights because the pastrycook was +going to marry Lisette, made a practice of examining the pockets of all +garments returned to him, with an eye to stray sous; and when he +proceeded to examine the pockets of the dress-suit returned by monsieur +Tricotrin, what befell but that he drew forth a rose-tinted envelope +containing a tress of hair, and inscribed, "To Gustave, from Lisette. +Adieu." + +And the Editor who invited monsieur Tricotrin had never heard of +Lisette; never heard of Pomponnet; did not know that such a person as +Touquet existed; yet the editorial caprice had manipulated destinies. +How powerful are Editors! How complicated is life! + +But a truce to philosophy--let us deal with the emotions of the soul! +The shop reeled before Touquet. All the good and the bad in his +character battled tumultuously. In one moment he aspired to be generous +and restore to Lisette the evidence of her guilt; in the next he sank +to the base thought of displaying it to Pomponnet and breaking off the +match. The discovery fired his brain. No longer was he a nonentity, the +odd man out--chance had transformed him to the master of the situation. +Full well he knew that there would be no nuptials next day were +Pomponnet aware of his fiancée's perfidy; it needed but to go to him +and say, "Monsieur, my sense of duty compels me to inform you--." How +easy it would be! He laughed hysterically. + +But Lisette would never pardon such a meanness--she would always +despise and hate him! He would have torn her from his rival's arms, it +was true, yet his own would still be empty. "Ah, Lisette, Lisette!" +groaned the wretched man; and, swept to evil by the force of passion, +he cudgelled his mind to devise some piece of trickery, some diabolical +artifice, by which the incriminating token might be placed in the +pastrycook's hands as if by accident. + +And while he pondered--his "whole soul a chaos"--in that hour Pomponnet +entered to hire a dress-suit for his wedding! + +Touquet raised his head, blanched to the lips. + +"Regard," he said, with a forced calm terrible to behold; "here is a +suit that I have just acquired. Monsieur will observe that it is of the +most distinguished cut--quite in the latest fashion. I will whisper to +monsieur that it comes to me through the valet of the Comte de St. Nom- +la-Bretéche-Forét-de-Marly." And, unseen by the guileless bridegroom, +he slipped the damning proof into a pocket of the trousers, where his +knowledge of the pastrycook's attitudes assured him that it was even +more certain to be found than in the waistcoat. + +"Mon Dieu!" said the other, duly impressed by the suit's pedigree; "let +me try it on.... The coat is rather tight," he complained, "but it has +undeniably an air." + +"No more than one client has worn it," gasped the wardrobe dealer +haggardly: _"monsieur Gustave Tricotrin, the poet, who hired it last +night!_ The suit is practically new; I have no other in the +establishment to compare with it. Listen, monsieur Pomponnet! To an old +client like yourself, I will be liberal; wear it this evening for an +hour in your home--if you find it not to your figure, there will be +time to make another selection before the ceremony to-morrow. You shall +have this on trial, I will make no extra charge." + +Such munificence was bound to have its effect, and five minutes later +Touquet's plot had progressed. But the tension had been frightful; the +door had scarcely closed when he sank into a chair, trembling in every +limb, and for the rest of the day he attended to his business like one +moving in a trance. + +Meanwhile, the unsuspecting Pomponnet reviewed the arrangement with +considerable satisfaction; and when he came to attire himself, after +the cake-shop was shut, his reflected image pleased him so well that he +was tempted to stroll abroad. He decided to call on his betrothed, and +to exhibit himself a little on the boulevard. Accordingly, he put some +money in the pocket of the waistcoat, oiled his silk hat, to give it an +additional lustre, and sallied forth in high good-humour. + +"How splendid you look, my dear Alphonse!" exclaimed Lisette, little +dreaming it was the same suit that she had approved on Tricotrin the +previous evening. + +Her innocent admiration was agreeable to Pomponnet; he patted her on +the cheek. + +"In truth," he said carelessly, "I had forgotten that I had it on! But I +was so impatient for to-morrow, my pet angel, that I could not remain +alone and I had to come to see you." + +They were talking on her doorstep, for she had no apartment in which it +would have been _convenable_ to entertain him, and it appeared to +him that the terrace of a café would be more congenial. + +"Run upstairs and make your toilette, my loving duck," he suggested, +"and I shall take you out for a tasse. While you are getting ready, I +will smoke a cigar." And he drew his cigar-case from the breast-pocket +of the coat, and took a match-box from the pocket where he had put his +cash. + +It was a balmy evening, sweet with the odour of spring, and the streets +were full of life. As he promenaded with her on the boulevard, +Pomponnet did not fail to remark the attention commanded by his +costume. He strutted proudly, and when they reached the café and took +their seats, he gave his order with the authority of the President. + +"Ah!" he remarked, "it is good here, hein?" And then, stretching his +legs, he thrust both his hands into the pockets of his trousers. +"_Comment?_" he murmured. "What have I found?... Now is not this +amusing--I swear it is a billet-doux!" He bent, chuckling, to the +light--and bounded in his chair with an oath that turned a dozen heads +towards them. "Traitress," roared Pomponnet, "miserable traitress! It +is _your_ name! It is your _writing_! It is your _hair_! +Do not deny it; give me your head--it matches to a shade! Jezebel, last +night you met monsieur Tricotrin--you have deceived me!" + +Lisette, who had jumped as high as he in recognising the envelope, sat +like one paralysed now. Her tongue refused to move. For an instant, the +catastrophe seemed to her of supernatural agency--it was as if a +miracle had happened, as she saw her fiancé produce her lover's +keepsake. All she could stammer at last was: + +"Let us go away--pay for the coffee!" + +"I will not pay," shouted monsieur Pomponnet. "Pay for it yourself, +jade--I have done with you!" And, leaving her spellbound at the table, +he strode from the terrace like a madman before the waiters could stop +him. + +Oh, of course, he was well known at the café, and they did not detain +Lisette, but it was a most ignominious position for a young woman. And +there was no wedding next day, and everybody knew why. The little +coquette, who had mocked suitors by the dozen, was jilted almost on the +threshold of the Mairie. She smacked Tricotrin's face in the morning, +but her humiliation was so acute that it demanded the salve of +immediate marriage; and at the moment she could think of no one better +than Touquet. + +So Touquet won her after all. And though by this time she may guess how +he accomplished it, he will tell you--word of honour!--that never, +never has he had occasion for regret. + + + +THE SUICIDES IN THE RUE SOMBRE + +Having bought the rope, Tournicquot wondered where he should hang +himself. The lath-and-plaster ceiling of his room might decline to +support him, and while the streets were populous a lamp-post was out of +the question. As he hesitated on the kerb, he reflected that a pan of +charcoal would have been more convenient after all; but the coil of +rope in the doorway of a shop had lured his fancy, and now it would be +laughable to throw it away. + +Tournicquot was much averse from being laughed at in private life-- +perhaps because Fate had willed that he should be laughed at so much in +his public capacity. Could he have had his way, indeed, Tournicquot +would have been a great tragedian, instead of a little droll, whose +portraits, with a bright red nose and a scarlet wig, grimaced on the +hoardings; and he resolved that, at any rate, the element of humour +should not mar his suicide. + +As to the motive for his death, it was as romantic as his heart +desired. He adored "La Belle Lucèrce," the fascinating Snake Charmer, +and somewhere in the background the artiste had a husband. Little the +audience suspected the passion that devoured their grotesque comedian +while he cut his capers and turned love to ridicule; little they +divined the pathos of a situation which condemned him behind the scenes +to whisper the most sentimental assurances of devotion when disfigured +by a flaming wig and a nose that was daubed vermilion! How nearly it +has been said, One half of the world does not know how the other half +loves! + +But such incongruities would distress Tournicquot no more--to-day he +was to die; he had worn his chessboard trousers and his little green +coat for the last time! For the last time had the relentless virtue of +Lucrèce driven him to despair! When he was discovered inanimate, +hanging to a beam, nothing comic about him, perhaps the world would +admit that his soul had been solemn, though his "line of business" had +been funny; perhaps Lucrèce would even drop warm tears on his tomb! + +It was early in the evening. Dusk was gathering over Paris, the promise +of dinner was in the breeze. The white glare of electric globes began +to flood the streets; and before the cafés, waiters bustled among the +tables, bearing the vermouth and absinthe of the hour. Instinctively +shunning the more frequented thoroughfares, Tournicquot crossed the +boulevard des Batignolles, and wandered, lost in reverie, along the +melancholy continuation of the rue de Rome until he perceived that he +had reached a neighbourhood unknown to him--that he stood at the corner +of a street which bore the name "Rue Sombre." Opposite, one of the +houses was being rebuilt, and as he gazed at it--this skeleton of a +home in which the workmen's hammers were silenced for the night-- +Tournicquot recognised that his journey was at an end. Here, he could +not doubt that he would find the last, grim hospitality that he sought. +The house had no door to bar his entrance, but--as if in omen--above +the gap where a door had been, the sinister number "13" was still to be +discerned. He cast a glance over his shoulder, and, grasping the rope +with a firm hand, crept inside. + +It was dark within, so dark that at first he could discern nothing but +the gleam of bare walls. He stole along the passage, and, mounting a +flight of steps, on which his feet sprung mournful echoes, proceeded +stealthily towards an apartment on the first floor. At this point the +darkness became impenetrable, for the _volets_ had been closed, +and in order to make his arrangements, it was necessary that he should +have a light. He paused, fumbling in his pocket; and then, with his +next step, blundered against a body, which swung from the contact, like +a human being suspended in mid-air. + +Tournicquot leapt backwards in terror. A cold sweat bespangled him, and +for some seconds he shook so violently that he was unable to strike a +match. At last, when he accomplished it, he beheld a man, apparently +dead, hanging by a rope in the doorway. + +"Ah, mon Dieu!" gasped Tournicquot. And the thudding of his heart +seemed to resound through the deserted house. + +Humanity impelled him to rescue the poor wretch, if it was still to be +done. Shuddering, he whipped out his knife, and sawed at the cord +desperately. The cord was stout, and the blade of the knife but small; +an eternity seemed to pass while he sawed in the darkness. Presently +one of the strands gave way. He set his teeth and pressed harder, and +harder yet. Suddenly the rope yielded and the body fell to the ground. +Tournicquot threw himself beside it, tearing open the collar, and using +frantic efforts to restore animation. There was no result. He +persevered, but the body lay perfectly inert. He began to reflect that +it was his duty to inform the police of the discovery, and he asked +himself how he should account for his presence on the scene. Just as he +was considering this, he felt the stir of life. As if by a miracle the +man groaned. + +"Courage, my poor fellow!" panted Tournicquot. "Courage--all is well!" + +The man groaned again; and after an appalling silence, during which +Tournicquot began to tremble for his fate anew, asked feebly, "Where am +I?" + +"You would have hanged yourself," explained Tournicquot. "Thanks to +Heaven, I arrived in time to save your life!" + +In the darkness they could not see each other, but he felt for the +man's hand and pressed it warmly. To his consternation, he received, +for response, a thump in the chest. + +"Morbleu, what an infernal cheek!" croaked the man. "So you have cut me +down? You meddlesome idiot, by what right did you poke your nose into +my affairs, hein?" + +Dismay held Tournicquot dumb. + +"Hein?" wheezed the man; "what concern was it of yours, if you please? +Never in my life before have I met with such a piece of presumption!" + +"My poor friend," stammered Tournicquot, "you do not know what you say +--you are not yourself! By-and-by you will be grateful, you will fall on +your knees and bless me." + +"By-and-by I shall punch you in the eye," returned the man, "just as +soon as I am feeling better! What have you done to my collar, too? I +declare you have played the devil with me!" His annoyance rose. "Who +are you, and what are you doing here, anyhow? You are a trespasser--I +shall give you in charge." + +"Come, come," said Tournicquot, conciliatingly, "if your misfortunes +are more than you can bear, I regret that I was obliged to save you; +but, after all, there is no need to make such a grievance of it--you +can hang yourself another day." + +"And why should I be put to the trouble twice?" grumbled the other. "Do +you figure yourself that it is agreeable to hang? I passed a very bad +time, I can assure you. If you had experienced it, you would not talk +so lightly about 'another day.' The more I think of your impudent +interference, the more it vexes me. And how dark it is! Get up and +light the candle--it gives me the hump here." + +"I have no candle, I have no candle," babbled Tournicquot; "I do not +carry candles in my pocket." + +"There is a bit on the mantelpiece," replied the man angrily; "I saw it +when I came in. Go and feel for it--hunt about! Do not keep me lying +here in the dark--the least you can do is to make me as comfortable as +you can." + +Tournicquot, not a little perturbed by the threat of assault, groped +obediently; but the room appeared to be of the dimensions of a park, +and he arrived at the candle stump only after a prolonged excursion. +The flame revealed to him a man of about his own age, who leant against +the wall regarding him with indignant eyes. Revealed also was the coil +of rope that the comedian had brought for his own use; and the man +pointed to it. + +"What is that? It was not here just now." + +"It belongs to me," admitted Tournicquot, nervously. + +"I see that it belongs to you. Why do you visit an empty house with a +coil of rope, hein? I should like to understand that ... Upon my life, +you were here on the same business as myself! Now if this does not pass +all forbearance! You come to commit suicide, and yet you have the +effrontery to put a stop to mine!" + +"Well," exclaimed Tournicquot, "I obeyed an impulse of pity! It is true +that I came to destroy myself, for I am the most miserable of men; but +I was so much affected by the sight of your sufferings that temporarily +I forgot my own." + +"That is a lie, for I was not suffering--I was not conscious when you +came in. However, you have some pretty moments in front of you, so we +will say no more! When you feel yourself drop, it will be diabolical, I +promise you; the hair stands erect on the head, and each spot of blood +in the veins congeals to a separate icicle! It is true that the drop +itself is swift, but the clutch of the rope, as you kick in the air, is +hardly less atrocious. Do not be encouraged by the delusion that the +matter is instantaneous. Time mocks you, and a second holds the +sensations of a quarter of an hour. What has forced you to it? We need +not stand on ceremony with each other, hein?" + +"I have resolved to die because life is torture," said Tournicquot, on +whom these details had made an unfavourable impression. + +"The same with me! A woman, of course?" + +"Yes," sighed Tournicquot, "a woman!" + +"Is there no other remedy? Cannot you desert her?" + +"Desert her? I pine for her embrace!" + +"Hein?" + +"She will not have anything to do with me." + +"_Comment?_ Then it is love with you?" + +"What else? An eternal passion!" + +"Oh, mon Dieu, I took it for granted you were married! But this is +droll. _You_ would die because you cannot get hold of a woman, and +_I_ because I cannot get rid of one. We should talk, we two. Can +you give me a cigarette?" + +"With pleasure, monsieur," responded Tournicquot, producing a packet. +"I, also, will take one--my last!" + +"If I expressed myself hastily just now," said his companion, +refastening his collar, "I shall apologise--no doubt your interference +was well meant, though I do not pretend to approve it. Let us dismiss +the incident; you have behaved tactlessly, and I, on my side, have +perhaps resented your error with too much warmth. Well, it is finished! +While the candle burns, let us exchange more amicable views. Is my +cravat straight? It astonishes me to hear that love can drive a man to +such despair. I, too, have loved, but never to the length of the rope. +There are plenty of women in Paris--if one has no heart, there is +always another. I am far from proposing to frustrate your project, +holding as I do that a man's suicide is an intimate matter in which +'rescue' is a name given by busybodies to a gross impertinence; but as +you have not begun the job, I will confess that I think you are being +rash." + +"I have considered," replied Tournicquot, "I have considered +attentively. There is no alternative, I assure you." + +"I would make another attempt to persuade the lady--I swear I would +make another attempt! You are not a bad-looking fellow. What is her +objection to you?" + +"It is not that she objects to me--on the contrary. But she is a woman +of high principle, and she has a husband who is devoted to her--she +will not break his heart. It is like that." + +"Young?" + +"No more than thirty." + +"And beautiful?" + +"With a beauty like an angel's! She has a dimple in her right cheek +when she smiles that drives one to distraction." + +"Myself, I have no weakness for dimples; but every man to his taste-- +there is no arguing about these things. What a combination--young, +lovely, virtuous! And I make you a bet the oaf of a husband does not +appreciate her! Is it not always so? Now _I_--but of course I +married foolishly, I married an artiste. If I had my time again I would +choose in preference any sempstress. The artistes are for applause, +for bouquets, for little dinners, but not for marriage." + +"I cannot agree with you," said Tournicquot, with some hauteur, "Your +experience may have been unfortunate, but the theatre contains women +quite as noble as any other sphere. In proof of it, the lady I adore is +an artiste herself!" + +"Really--is it so? Would it be indiscreet to ask her name?" + +"There are things that one does not tell." + +"But as a matter of interest? There is nothing derogatory to her in +what you say--quite the reverse." + +"True! Well, the reason for reticence is removed. She is known as 'La +Belle Lucrèce.'" + +"_Hein?"_ ejaculated the other, jumping. + +"What ails you?" + +"She is my wife!" + +"Your wife? Impossible!" + +"I tell you I am married to her--she is 'madame Béguinet.'" + +"Mon Dieu!" faltered Tournicquot, aghast; "what have I done!" + +"So?... You are her lover?" + +"Never has she encouraged me--recall what I said! There are no grounds +for jealousy--am I not about to die because she spurns me? I swear to +you--" + +"You mistake my emotion--why should I be jealous? Not at all--I am only +amazed. She thinks I am devoted to her? Ho, ho! Not at all! You see my +'devotion' by the fact that I am about to hang myself rather than live +with her. And _you_, you cannot bear to live because you adore +her! Actually, you adore her! Is it not inexplicable? Oh, there is +certainly the finger of Providence in this meeting!... Wait, we must +discuss--we should come to each other's aid!... Give me another +cigarette." + +Some seconds passed while they smoked in silent meditation. + +"Listen," resumed monsieur Béguinet; "in order to clear up this +complication, a perfect candour is required on both sides. Alors, as to +your views, is it that you aspire to marry madame? I do not wish to +appear exigent, but in the position that I occupy you will realise that +it is my duty to make the most favourable arrangements for her that I +can. Now open your heart to me; speak frankly!" + +"It is difficult for me to express myself without restraint to you, +monsieur," said Tournicquot, "because circumstances cause me to regard +you as a grievance. To answer you with all the delicacy possible, I +will say that if I had cut you down five minutes later, life would be a +fairer thing to me." + +"Good," said monsieur Béguinet, "we make progress! Your income? Does it +suffice to support her in the style to which she is accustomed? What +may your occupation be?" + +"I am in madame's own profession--I, too, am an artiste." + +"So much the more congenial! I foresee a joyous union. Come, we go +famously! Your line of business--snakes, ventriloquism, performing- +rabbits, what is it?" + +"My name is 'Tournicquot,'" responded the comedian, with dignity. "All +is said!" + +"A-ah! Is it so? Now I understand why your voice has been puzzling me! +Monsieur Tournicquot, I am enchanted to make your acquaintance. I +declare the matter arranges itself! I shall tell you what we will do. +Hitherto I have had no choice between residing with madame and +committing suicide, because my affairs have not prospered, and--though +my pride has revolted--her salary has been essential for my +maintenance. Now the happy medium jumps to the eyes; for you, for me, +for her the bright sunshine streams! I shall efface myself; I shall go +to a distant spot--say, Monte Carlo--and you shall make me a snug +allowance. Have no misgiving; crown her with blossoms, lead her to the +altar, and rest tranquil--I shall never reappear. Do not figure +yourself that I shall enter like the villain at the Amibigu and menace +the blissful home. Not at all! I myself may even re-marry, who knows? +Indeed, should you offer me an allowance adequate for a family man, I +will undertake to re-marry--I have always inclined towards speculation. +That will shut my mouth, hein? I could threaten nothing, even if I had +a base nature, for I, also, shall have committed bigamy. Suicide, +bigamy, I would commit _anything_ rather than live with Lucrèce!" + +"But madame's consent must be gained," demurred Tournicquot; "you +overlook the fact that madame must consent. It is a fact that I do not +understand why she should have any consideration for you, but if she +continues to harp upon her 'duty,' what then?" + +"Do you not tell me that her only objection to your suit has been her +fear that she would break my heart? What an hallucination! I shall +approach the subject with tact, with the utmost delicacy. I shall +intimate to her that to ensure her happiness I am willing to sacrifice +myself. Should she hesitate, I shall demand to sacrifice myself! Rest +assured that if she regards you with the favour that you believe, your +troubles are at an end--the barrier removes itself, and you join +hands.... The candle is going out! Shall we depart?" + +"I perceive no reason why we should remain; In truth, we might have got +out of it sooner." + +"You are right! a café will be more cheerful. Suppose we take a bottle +of wine together; how does it strike you? If you insist, I will be your +guest; if not--" + +"Ah, monsieur, you will allow me the pleasure," murmured Tournicquot. + +"Well, well," said Beguinet, "you must have your way!... Your rope you +have no use for, hein--we shall leave it?" + +"But certainly! Why should I burden myself?" + +"The occasion has passed, true. Good! Come, my comrade, let us +descend!" + +Who shall read the future? Awhile ago they had been strangers, neither +intending to quit the house alive; now the pair issued from it +jauntily, arm in arm. Both were in high spirits, and by the time the +lamps of a café gave them welcome, and the wine gurgled gaily into the +glasses, they pledged each other with a sentiment no less than +fraternal. + +"How I rejoice that I have met you!" exclaimed Béguinet. "To your +marriage, mon vieux; to your joy! Fill up, again a glass!--there are +plenty of bottles in the cellar. Mon Dieu, you are my preserver--I must +embrace you. Never till now have I felt such affection for a man. This +evening all was black to me; I despaired, my heart was as heavy as a +cannon-ball--and suddenly the world is bright. Roses bloom before my +feet, and the little larks are singing in the sky. I dance, I skip. How +beautiful, how sublime is friendship!--better than riches, than youth, +than the love of woman: riches melt, youth flies, woman snores. But +friendship is--Again a glass! It goes well, this wine. + +"Let us have a lobster! I swear I have an appetite; they make one +peckish, these suicides, n'est-ce pas? I shall not be formal--if you +consider it your treat, you shall pay. A lobster and another bottle! At +your expense, or mine?" + +"Ah, the bill all in one!" declared Tourniequot. + +"Well, well," said Béguinet, "you must have your way! What a happy man +I am! Already I feel twenty years younger. You would not believe what I +have suffered. My agonies would fill a book. Really. By nature I am +domesticated; but my home is impossible--I shudder when I enter it. It +is only in a restaurant that I see a clean table-cloth. Absolutely. I +pig. All Lucrèce thinks about is frivolity." + +"No, no," protested Tournicquot; "to that I cannot agree." + +"What do you know? You 'cannot agree'! You have seen her when she is +laced in her stage costume, when she prinks and prattles, with the +paint, and the powder, and her best corset on. It is I who am 'behind +the scenes,' mon ami, not you. I see her dirty peignoir and her curl +rags. At four o'clock in the afternoon. Every day. You 'cannot agree'!" + +"Curl rags?" faltered Tournicquot. + +"But certainly! I tell you I am of a gentle disposition, I am most +tolerant of women's failings; it says much that I would have hanged +myself rather than remain with a woman. Her untidiness is not all; her +toilette at home revolts my sensibilities, but--well, one cannot have +everything, and her salary is substantial; I have closed my eyes to the +curl rags. However, snakes are more serious." + +"Snakes?" ejaculated Tournicquot. + +"Naturally! The beasts must live, do they not support us? But +'Everything in its place' is my own motto; the motto of my wife--'All +over the place.' Her serpents have shortened my life, word of honour!-- +they wander where they will. I never lay my head beside those curl rags +of hers without anticipating a cobra-decapello under the bolster. It is +not everybody's money. Lucrèce has no objection to them; well, it is +very courageous--very fortunate, since snakes are her profession--but +_I_, I was not brought up to snakes; I am not at my ease in a +Zoölogical Gardens." + +"It is natural." + +"Is it not? I desire to explain myself to you, you understand; are we +not as brothers? Oh, I realise well that when one loves a woman one +always thinks that the faults are the husband's: believe me I have had +much to justify my attitude. Snakes, dirt, furies, what a ménage!" + +"Furies?" gasped Tournicquot. + +"I am an honest man," affirmed Béguinet draining another bumper; "I +shall not say to you 'I have no blemish, I am perfect,' Not at all. +Without doubt, I have occasionally expressed myself to Lucrèce with +more candour than courtesy. Such things happen. But"--he refilled his +glass, and sighed pathetically--"but to every citizen, whatever his +position--whether his affairs may have prospered or not--his wife owes +respect. Hein? She should not throw the ragoút at him. She should not +menace him with snakes." He wept. "My friend, you will admit that it is +not _gentil_ to coerce a husband with deadly reptiles?" + +Tournicquot had turned very pale. He signed to the waiter for the bill, +and when it was discharged, sat regarding his companion with round +eyes, At last, clearing his throat, he said nervously: + +"After all, do you know--now one comes to think it over--I am not sure, +upon my honour, that our arrangement is feasible?" + +"What?" exclaimed Béguinet, with a violent start. "Not feasible? How is +that, pray? Because I have opened my heart to you, do you back out? Oh, +what treachery! Never will I believe you could be capable of it!" + +"However, it is a fact. On consideration, I shall not rob you of her." + +"Base fellow! You take advantage of my confidence. A contract is a +contract!" + +"No," stammered Tournicquot, "I shall be a man and live my love down. +Monsieur, I have the honour to wish you 'Good-night.'" + +"Hé, stop!" cried Béguinet, infuriated. "What then is to become of +_me_? Insolent poltroon--you have even destroyed my rope!" + + + +THE CONSPIRACY FOR CLAUDINE + +"Once," remarked Tricotrin, pitching his pen in the air, "there were +four suitors for the Most Beautiful of her Sex. The first young man was +a musician, and he shut himself in his garret to compose a divine +melody, to be dedicated to her. The second lover was a chemist, who +experimented day and night to discover a unique perfume that she alone +might use. The third, who was a floriculturist, aspired constantly +among his bulbs to create a silver rose, that should immortalise the +lady's name." + +"And the fourth," inquired Pitou, "what did the fourth suitor do?" + +"The fourth suitor waited for her every afternoon in the sunshine, +while the others were at work, and married her with great éclat. The +moral of which is that, instead of cracking my head to make a sonnet to +Claudine, I shall be wise to put on my hat and go to meet her." + +"I rejoice that the dénoûment is arrived at," Pitou returned, "but it +would be even more absorbing if I had previously heard of Claudine." + +"Miserable dullard!" cried the poet; "do you tell me that you have not +previously heard of Claudine? She is the only woman I have ever loved." + +"A--ah," rejoined Pitou; "certainly, I have heard of her a thousand +times--only she has never been called 'Claudine' before." + +"Let us keep to the point," said Tricotrin. "Claudine represents the +devotion of a lifetime. I think seriously of writing a tragedy for her +to appear in." + +"I shall undertake to weep copiously at it if you present me with a +pass," affirmed Pitou. "She is an actress, then, this Claudine? At what +theatre is she blazing--the Montmartre?" + +"How often I find occasion to lament that your imagination is no larger +than the quartier! Claudine is not of Montmartre at all, at all. My +poor friend, have you never heard that there are theatres on the Grand +Boulevard?" + +"Ah, so you betake yourself to haunts of fashion? Now I begin to +understand why you have become so prodigal with the blacking; for some +time I have had the intention of reproaching you with your shoes--our +finances are not equal to such lustre." + +"Ah, when one truly loves, money is no object!" said Tricotrin. +"However, if it is time misspent to write a sonnet to her, it is even +more unprofitable to pass the evening justifying one's shoes." And, +picking up his hat, the poet ran down the stairs, and made his way as +fast as his legs would carry him to the Comédie Moderne. + +He arrived at the stage-door with no more than three minutes to spare, +and disposing himself in a graceful attitude, waited for mademoiselle +Claudine Hilairet to come out. It might have been observed that his +confidence deserted him while he waited, for although it was perfectly +true that he adored her, he had omitted to add that the passion was not +mutual. He was conscious that the lady might resent his presence on the +door-step; and, in fact, when she appeared, she said nothing more +tender than-- + +"Mon Dieu, again you! What do you want?" + +"How can you ask?" sighed the poet. "I came to walk home with you lest +an electric train should knock you down at one of the crossings. What a +magnificent performance you have given this evening! Superb!" + +"Were you in the theatre?" + +"In spirit. My spirit, which no official can exclude, is present every +night, though sordid considerations force me to remain corporally in my +attic. Transported by admiration, I even burst into frantic applause +there. How perfect is the sympathy between our souls!" + +"Listen, my little one," she said. "I am sorry for your relatives, if +you have any--your condition must be a great grief to them. But, all +the same, I cannot have you dangling after me and talking this bosh. +What do you suppose can come of it?" + +"Fame shall come of it," averred the poet, "fame for us both! Do not +figure yourself that I am a dreamer. Not at all! I am practical, a man +of affairs. Are you content with your position in the Comédie Moderne? +No, you are not. You occupy a subordinate position; you play the rôle +of a waiting-maid, which is quite unworthy of your genius, and +understudy the ingénue, who is a portly matron in robust health. The +opportunity to distinguish yourself appears to you as remote as Mars. +Do I romance, or is it true?" + +"It is true," she said. "Well?" + +"Well, I propose to alter all this--I! I have the intention of writing +a great tragedy, and when it is accepted, I shall stipulate that you, +and you alone, shall thrill Paris as my heroine. When the work of my +brain has raised you to the pinnacle for which you were born, when the +theatre echoes with our names, I shall fall at your feet, and you will +murmur, 'Gustave--I love thee!'" + +"Why does not your mother do something?" she asked. "Is there nobody to +place you where you might be cured? A tragedy? Imbecile, I am +comédienne to the finger-tips! What should I do with your tragedy, even +if it were at the Français itself?" + +"You are right," said Tricotrin; "I shall turn out a brilliant comedy +instead. And when the work of my brain has raised you to the pinnacle +for which you were born, when the theatre echoes with our names--" + +She interrupted him by a peal of laughter which disconcerted him hardly +less than her annoyance. + +"It is impossible to be angry with you long," she declared, "you are +too comic. Also, as a friend, I do not object to you violently. Come, I +advise you to be content with what you can have, instead of crying for +the moon!" + +"Well, I am not unwilling to make shift with it in the meantime," +returned Tricotrin; "but friendship is a poor substitute for the +heavens--and we shall see what we shall see. Tell me now, they mean to +revive _La Curieuse_ at the Comédie, I hear--what part in it have +you been assigned?" "Ah," exclaimed mademoiselle Hilairet, "is it not +always the same thing? I dust the same decayed furniture with the same +feather brush, and I say 'Yes,' and 'No,' and 'Here is a letter, +madame.' That is all." + +"I swear it is infamous!" cried the poet. "It amazes me that they fail +to perceive that your gifts are buried. One would suppose that managers +would know better than to condemn a great artiste to perform such +ignominious roles. The critics also! Why do not the critics call +attention to an outrage which continues year by year? It appears to me +that I shall have to use my influence with the Press." And so serious +was the tone in which he made this boast, that the fair Claudine began +to wonder if she had after all underrated the position of her out-at- +elbows gallant. + +"Your influence?" she questioned, with an eager smile. "Have you +influence with the critics, then?" + +"We shall see what we shall see," repeated Tricotrin, significantly. "I +am not unknown in Paris, and I have your cause at heart--I may make a +star of you yet. But while we are on the subject of astronomy, one +question! When my services have transformed you to a star, shall I +still be compelled to cry for the moon?" + +Mademoiselle Hilairet's tones quivered with emotion--as she murmured +how grateful to him she would be, and it was understood, when he took +leave of her, that if he indeed accomplished his design, his suit would +be no longer hopeless. + +The poet pressed her hand ardently, and turned homeward in high +feather; and it was not until he had trudged a mile or so that the +rapture in his soul began to subside under the remembrance that he had +been talking through his hat. + +"In fact," he admitted to Pitou when the garret was reached, "my +imagination took wings unto itself; I am committed to a task beside +which the labours of Hercules were child's play. The question now +arises how this thing, of which I spoke so confidently, is to be +effected. What do you suggest?" + +"I suggest that you allow me to sleep," replied Pitou, "for I shall +feel less hungry then." + +"Your suggestion will not advance us," demurred Tricotrin. "We shall, +on the contrary, examine the situation in all its bearings. Listen! +Claudine is to enact the waiting-maid in _La Curieuse,_ which will +be revived at the Comédie Moderne in a fortnight's time; she will dust +the Empire furniture, and say 'Yes' and 'No' with all the intellect and +animation for which those monosyllables provide an opening. Have you +grasped the synopsis so far? Good! On the strength of this performance, +it has to be stated by the foremost dramatic critic in Paris that she +is an actress of genius. Now, how is it to be done? How shall we induce +Labaregue to write of her with an outburst of enthusiasm in _La +Voix_?" + +"Labaregue?" faltered Pitou. "I declare the audacity of your notion +wakes me up!" + +"Capital," said Tricotrin, "we are making progress already! Yes, we +must have Labaregue--it has never been my custom to do things by +halves. Dramatically, of course, I should hold a compromising paper of +Labaregue's. I should say, 'Monsieur, the price of this document is an +act of justice to mademoiselle Claudine Hilairet. It is agreed? Good! +Sit down--you will write from my dictation!'" + +"However--" said Pitou. + +"However--I anticipate your objection--I do not hold such a paper. +Therefore, that scene is cut. Well, let us find another! Where is your +fertility of resource? Mon Dieu! why should I speak to him at all?" + +"I do not figure myself that you will speak to him, you will never get +the chance." + +"Precisely my own suspicion. What follows? Instead of wasting my time +seeking an interview which would not be granted--" + +"And which would lead to nothing even if it were granted!" + +"And which would lead to nothing even if it were granted, as you point +out; instead of doing this, it is evident that I must write Labaregue's +criticism myself!" + +"Hein?" ejaculated Pitou, sitting up in bed. + +"I confess that I do not perceive yet how it is to be managed, but +obviously it is the only course. _I_ must write what is to be +said, and _La Voix_ must believe that it has been written by +Labaregue. Come, we are getting on famously--we have now decided what +we are to avoid!" + +"By D'Artagnan, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis," cried Pitou, "this will be +the doughtiest adventure in which we have engaged!" + +"You are right, it is an adventure worthy of our steel ... pens! We +shall enlighten the public, crown an artiste, and win her heart by way +of reward--that is to say, _I_ shall win her heart by way of +reward. What your own share of the booty will be I do not recognize, +but I promise you, at least, a generous half of the dangers." + +"My comrade," murmured Pitou; "ever loyal! But do you not think that +_La Voix_ will smell a rat? What about the handwriting?" + +"It is a weak point which had already presented itself to me. Could I +have constructed the situation to my liking, Labaregue would have the +custom to type-write his notices; however, as he is so inconsiderate as +to knock them off in the Café de l'Europe, he has not that custom, and +we must adapt ourselves to the circumstances that exist. The +probability is that a criticism delivered by the accredited messenger, +and signed with the familiar 'J.L.' will be passed without question; +the difference in the handwriting may be attributed to an amanuensis. +When the great man writes his next notice, I shall make it my business +to be taking a bock in the Café de l'Europe, in order that I may +observe closely what happens. There is to be a répétition générale at +the Vaudeville on Monday night--on Monday night, therefore, I hope to +advise you of our plan of campaign. Now do not speak to me any more--I +am about to compose a eulogy on Claudine, for which Labaregue will, in +due course, receive the credit." + +The poet fell asleep at last, murmuring dithyrambic phrases; and if you +suppose that in the soberness of daylight he renounced his harebrained +project, it is certain that you have never lived with Tricotrin in +Montmartre. + +No, indeed, he did not renounce it. On Monday night--or rather in the +small hours of Tuesday morning--he awoke Pitou with enthusiasm. + +"Mon vieux," he exclaimed, "the evening has been well spent! I have +observed, and I have reflected. When he quitted the Vaudeville, +Labaregue entered the Café de l'Europe, seated himself at his favourite +table, and wrote without cessation for half an hour. When his critique +was finished, he placed it in an envelope, and commanded his supper. +All this time I, sipping a bock leisurely, accorded to his actions a +scrutiny worthy of the secret police. Presently a lad from the office +of _La Voix_ appeared; he approached Labaregue, received the +envelope, and departed. At this point, my bock was finished; I paid for +it and sauntered out, keeping the boy well in view. His route to the +office lay through a dozen streets which were all deserted at so late +an hour; but I remarked one that was even more forbidding than the +rest--a mere alley that seemed positively to have been designed for our +purpose. Our course is clear--we shall attack him in the rue des +Cendres." + +"Really?" inquired Pitou, somewhat startled. + +"But really! We will not shed his blood; we will make him turn out his +pockets, and then, disgusted by the smallness of the swag, toss it back +to him with a flip on the ear. Needless to say that when he escapes, he +will be the bearer of _my_ criticism, not of Labaregue's. He will +have been too frightened to remark the exchange." + +"It is not bad, your plan." + +"It is an inspiration. But to render it absolutely safe, we must have +an accomplice." + +"Why, is he so powerful, your boy?" + +"No, mon ami, the boy is not so powerful, but the alley has two ends--I +do not desire to be arrested while I am giving a lifelike +representation of an apache. I think we will admit Lajeunie to our +scheme--as a novelist he should appreciate the situation. If Lajeunie +keeps guard at one end of the alley, while you stand at the other, I +can do the business without risk of being interrupted and removed to +gaol." + +"It is true. As a danger signal, I shall whistle the first bars of my +Fugue." + +"Good! And we will arrange a signal with Lajeunie also. Mon Dieu! will +not Claudine be amazed next day? I shall not breathe a word to her in +the meantime; I shall let her open _La Voix_ without expectation; +and then--ah, what joy will be hers! 'The success of the evening was +made by the actress who took the role of the maidservant, and who had +perhaps six words to utter. But with what vivacity, with what esprit +were they delivered! Every gesture, every sparkle of the eyes, +betokened the comedienne. For myself, I ceased to regard the fatuous +ingénue, I forgot the presence of the famous leading lady; I watched +absorbed the facial play of this maidservant, whose brains and beauty, +I predict, will speedily bring Paris to her feet'!" + +"Is that what you mean to write?" + +"I shall improve upon it. I am constantly improving--that is why the +notice is still unfinished. It hampers me that I must compose in the +strain of Labaregue himself, instead of allowing my eloquence to soar. +By the way, we had better speak to Lajeunie on the subject soon, lest +he should pretend that he has another engagement for that night; he is +a good boy, Lajeunie, but he always pretends that he has engagements in +fashionable circles." + +The pair went to him the following day, and when they had climbed to +his garret, found the young literary man in bed. + +"It shocks me," said Pitou, "to perceive that you rise so late, +Lajeunie; why are you not dashing off chapters of a romance?" + +"Mon Dieu!" replied Lajeunie, "I was making studies among the beau +monde until a late hour last night at a reception; and, to complete my +fatigue, it was impossible to get a cab when I left." + +"Naturally; it happens to everybody when he lacks a cab-fare," said +Tricotrin. "Now tell me, have you any invitation from a duchess for +next Thursday evening?" + +"Thursday, Thursday?" repeated Lajeunie thoughtfully. "No, I believe +that I am free for Thursday." + +"Now, that is fortunate!" exclaimed Tricotrin. "Well, we want you to +join us on that evening, my friend." + +"Indeed, we should be most disappointed if you could not," put in +Pitou. + +"Certainly; I shall have much pleasure," said Lajeunie. "Is it a +supper?" + +"No," said Tricotrin, "it is a robbery. I shall explain. Doubtless you +know the name of 'mademoiselle Claudine Hilairet'?" + +"I have never heard it in my life. Is she in Society?" + +"Society? She is in the Comédie Moderne. She is a great actress, but-- +like us all--unrecognised." + +"My heart bleeds for her. Another comrade!" + +"I was sure I could depend upon your sympathy. Well, on Thursday night +they will revive _La Curieuse_ at the Comédie, and I myself +propose to write Labaregue's critique of the performance. Do you +tumble?" + +"It is a gallant action. Yes, I grasp the climax, but at present I do +not perceive how the plot is to be constructed." + +"Labaregue's notices are dispatched by messenger," began Pitou. + +"From the Café de l'Europe," added Tricotrin. + +"So much I know," said Lajeunie. + +"I shall attack the messenger, and make a slight exchange of +manuscripts," Tricotrin went on. + +"A blunder!" proclaimed Lajeunie; "you show a lack of invention. Now be +guided by me, because I am a novelist and I understand these things. +The messenger is an escaped convict, and you say to him, 'I know your +secret. You do my bidding, or you go back to the galleys; I shall give +you three minutes to decide!' You stand before him, stern, dominant, +inexorable--your watch in your hand." + +"It is at the pawn-shop." + +"Well, well, of course it is; since when have you joined the realists? +Somebody else's watch--or a clock. Are there no clocks in Paris? You +say, 'I shall give you until the clock strikes the hour.' That is even +more literary--you obtain the solemn note of the clock to mark the +crisis." + +"But there is no convict," demurred Tricotrin; "there are clocks, but +there is no convict." + +"No convict? The messenger is not a convict?" + +"Not at all--he is an apple-cheeked boy." + +"Oh, it is a rotten plot," said Lajeunie; "I shall not collaborate in +it!" + +"Consider!" cried Tricotrin; "do not throw away the chance of a +lifetime, think what I offer you--you shall hang about the end of a +dark alley, and whistle if anybody comes. How literary again is that! +You may develop it into a novel that will make you celebrated. Pitou +will be at the other end. I and the apple-cheeked boy who is to die-- +that is to say, to be duped--will occupy the centre of the stage--I +mean the middle of the alley. And on the morrow, when all Paris rings +with the fame of Claudine Hilairet, I, who adore her, shall have won +her heart!" + +"Humph," said Lajeunie. "Well, since the synopsis has a happy ending, I +consent. But I make one condition--I must wear a crêpe mask. Without a +crêpe mask I perceive no thrill in my rôle." + +"Madness!" objected Pitou. "Now listen to _me_--I am serious-minded, +and do not commit follies, like you fellows. Crêpe masks are not being +worn this season. Believe me, if you loiter at a street corner with a +crêpe mask on, some passer-by will regard you, he may even wonder what +you are doing there. It might ruin the whole job." + +"Pitou is right," announced Tricotrin, after profound consideration. + +"Well, then," said Lajeunie, "_you_ must wear a crêpe mask! Put it +on when you attack the boy. I have always had a passion for crêpe +masks, and this is the first opportunity that I find to gratify it. I +insist that somebody wears a crêpe mask, or I wash my hands of the +conspiracy." + +"Agreed! In the alley it will do no harm; indeed it will prevent the +boy identifying me. Good, on Thursday night then! In the meantime we +shall rehearse the crime assiduously, and you and Pitou can practise +your whistles." + +With what diligence did the poet write each day now! How lovingly he +selected his superlatives! Never in the history of the Press had such +ardent care been lavished on a criticism--truly it was not until +Thursday afternoon that he was satisfied that he could do no more. He +put the pages in his pocket, and, too impatient even to be hungry, +roamed about the quartier, reciting to himself the most hyperbolic of +his periods. + +And dusk gathered over Paris, and the lights sprang out, and the tense +hours crept away. + +It was precisely half-past eleven when the three conspirators arrived +at the doors of the Comédie Moderne, and lingered near by until the +audience poured forth. Labaregue was among the first to appear. He +paused on the steps to take a cigarette, and stepped briskly into the +noise and glitter of the Boulevard. The young men followed, exchanging +feverish glances. Soon the glow of the Café de l'Europe was visible. +The critic entered, made a sign to a waiter, and seated himself gravely +at a table. + +Many persons gazed at him with interest. To those who did not know, +habitués whispered, "There is Labaregue--see, he comes to write his +criticism on the revival of _La Curieuse_!" Labaregue affected +unconsciousness of all this, but secretly he lapped it up. Occasionally +he passed his hand across his brow with a gesture profoundly +intellectual. + +Few there remarked that at brief intervals three shabby young men +strolled in, who betrayed no knowledge of one another, and merely +called for bocks. None suspected that these humble customers plotted to +consign the celebrity's criticism to the flames. + +Without a sign of recognition, taciturn and impassive, the three young +men waited, their eyes bent upon the critic's movements. + +By-and-by Labaregue thrust his "copy" into an envelope that was +provided. Some moments afterwards one of the young men asked another +waiter for the materials to write a letter. The paper he crumpled in +his pocket; in the envelope he placed the forged critique. + +A quarter of an hour passed. Then a youth of about sixteen hurried in +and made his way to Labaregue's table. At this instant Lajeunie rose +and left. As the youth received the "copy," Tricotrin also sauntered +out. When the youth again reached the door, it was just swinging behind +Pitou. + +The conspirators were now in the right order--Lajeunie pressing +forward, Tricotrin keeping pace with the boy, Pitou a few yards in the +rear. + +The boy proceeded swiftly. It was late, and even the Boulevard showed +few pedestrians now; in the side streets the quietude was unbroken. +Tricotrin whipped on his mask at the opening of the passage. When the +messenger was half-way through it, the attack was made suddenly, with +determination. + +"Fat one," exclaimed the poet, "I starve--give me five francs!" + +"_Comment?_" stammered the youth, jumping; "I haven't five francs, +I!" + +"Give me all you have--empty your pockets, let me see! If you obey, I +shall not harm you; if you resist, you are a dead boy!" + +The youth produced, with trepidation, a sou, half a cigarette, a piece +of string, a murderous clasp knife, a young lady's photograph, and +Labaregue's notice. The next moment the exchange of manuscripts had +been deftly accomplished. + +"Devil take your rubbish," cried the apache; "I want none of it--there! +Be off, or I shall shoot you for wasting my time." + +The whole affair had occupied less than a minute; and the three +adventurers skipped to Montmartre rejoicing. + +And how glorious was their jubilation in the hour when they opened +_La Voix_ and read Tricotrin's pronouncement over the initials +"J.L."! There it was, printed word for word--the leading lady was +dismissed with a line, the ingénue received a sneer, and for the rest, +the column was a panegyric of the waiting-maid! The triumph of the +waiting-maid was unprecedented and supreme. Certainly, when Labaregue +saw the paper, he flung round to the office furious. + +But _La Voix_ did not desire people to know that it had been taken +in; so the matter was hushed up, and Labaregue went about pretending +that he actually thought all those fine things of the waiting-maid. + +The only misfortune was that when Tricotrin called victoriously upon +Claudine, to clasp her in his arms, he found her in hysterics on the +sofa--and it transpired that she had not represented the waiting-maid +after all. On the contrary, she had at the last moment been promoted to +the part of the ingénue, while the waiting-maid had been played by a +little actress whom she much disliked. + +"It is cruel, it is monstrous, it is heartrending!" gasped Tricotrin, +when he grasped the enormity of his failure; "but, light of my life, +why should you blame _me_ for this villainy of Labaregue's?" + +"I do not know," she said; "however, you bore me, you and your +'influence with the Press.' Get out!" + + + +THE DOLL IN THE PINK SILK DRESS + +How can I write the fourth Act with this ridiculous thing posed among +my papers? What thing? It is a doll in a pink silk dress--an elaborate +doll that walks, and talks, and warbles snatches from the operas. A +terrible lot it cost! Why does an old dramatist keep a doll on his +study table? I do not keep it there. It came in a box from the +Boulevard an hour ago, and I took it from its wrappings to admire its +accomplishments again--and ever since it has been reminding me that +women are strange beings. + +Yes, women are strange, and this toy sets me thinking of one woman in +particular: that woman who sued, supplicated for my help, and then, +when she had all my interest--Confound the doll; here is the incident, +just as it happened! + +It happened when all Paris flocked to see my plays and "Paul de +Varenne" was a name to conjure with. Fashions change. To-day I am a +little out of the running, perhaps; younger men have shot forward. In +those days I was still supreme, I was master of the Stage. + +Listen! It was a spring morning, and I was lolling at my study window, +scenting the lilac in the air. Maximin, my secretary, came in and said: + +"Mademoiselle Jeanne Laurent asks if she can see you, monsieur." + +"Who is mademoiselle Jeanne Laurent?" I inquired. + +"She is an actress begging for an engagement, monsieur." + +"I regret that I am exceedingly busy. Tell her to write." + +"The lady has already written a thousand times," he mentioned, going. +"'Jeanne Laurent' has been one of the most constant contributors to our +waste-paper basket." + +"Then tell her that I regret I can do nothing for her. Mon Dieu! is it +imagined that I have no other occupation than to interview nonentities? +By the way, how is it you have bothered me about her, why this unusual +embassy? I suppose she is pretty, hein?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"And young?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +I wavered. Let us say my sympathy was stirred. But perhaps the lilac +was responsible--lilac and a pretty girl seem to me a natural +combination, like coffee and a cigarette. "Send her in!" I said. + +I sat at the table and picked up a pen. + +"Monsieur de Varenne--" She paused nervously on the threshold. + +Maximin was a fool, she was not "pretty"; she was either plain, or +beautiful. To my mind, she had beauty, and if she hadn't been an +actress come to pester me for a part I should have foreseen a very +pleasant quarter of an hour. "I can spare you only a moment, +mademoiselle," I said, ruffling blank paper. + +"It is most kind of you to spare me that." + +I liked her voice too. "Be seated," I said more graciously. + +"Monsieur, I have come to implore you to do something for me. I am +breaking my heart in the profession for want of a helping hand. Will +you be generous and give me a chance?" + +"My dear mademoiselle--er--Laurent," I said, "I sympathise with your +difficulties, and I thoroughly understand them, but I have no +engagement to offer you--I am not a manager." + +She smiled bitterly. "You are de Varenne--a word from you would 'make' +me!" + +I was wondering what her age was. About eight-and-twenty, I thought, +but alternately she looked much younger and much older. + +"You exaggerate my influence--like every other artist that I consent to +see. Hundreds have sat in that chair and cried that I could 'make' +them. It is all bosh. Be reasonable! I cannot 'make' anybody." + +"You could cast me for a part in Paris. You are 'not a manager,' but +any manager will engage a woman that you recommend. Oh, I know that +hundreds appeal to you, I know that I am only one of a crowd; but, +monsieur, think what it means to me! Without help, I shall go on +knocking at the stage doors of Paris and never get inside; I shall go +on writing to the Paris managers and never get an answer. Without help +I shall go on eating my heart out in the provinces till I am old and +tired and done for!" + +Her earnestness touched me. I had heard the same tale so often that I +was sick of hearing it, but this woman's earnestness touched me. If I +had had a small part vacant, I would have tried her in it. + +"Again," I said, "as a dramatist I fully understand the difficulties of +an actress's career; but you, as an actress, do not understand a +dramatist's. There is no piece of mine going into rehearsal now, +therefore I have no opening for you, myself; and it is impossible for +me to write to a manager or a brother author, advising him to +entrust a part, even the humblest, to a lady of whose capabilities I +know nothing." + +"I am not applying for a humble part," she answered quietly. + +"Hein?" + +"My line is lead." + +I stared at her pale face, speechless; the audacity of the reply took +my breath away. + +"You are mad," I said, rising. + +"I sound so to you, monsieur?" + +"Stark, staring mad. You bewail that you are at the foot of the ladder, +and at the same instant you stipulate that I shall lift you at a bound +to the top. Either you are a lunatic, or you are an amateur." + +She, too, rose--resigned to her dismissal, it seemed. Then, suddenly, +with a gesture that was a veritable abandonment of despair, she +laughed. + +"That's it, I am an amateur!" she rejoined passionately. "I will tell +you the kind of 'amateur' I am, monsieur de Varenne! I was learning my +business in a fit-up when I was six years old--yes, I was playing parts +on the road when happier children were playing games in nurseries. I +was thrust on for lead when I was a gawk of fifteen, and had to wrestle +with half a dozen roles in a week, and was beaten if I failed to make +my points. I have supered to stars, not to earn the few francs I got +by it, for by that time the fit-ups paid me better, but that I might +observe, and improve my method. I have waited in the rain, for hours, +at the doors of the milliners and modistes, that I might note how great +ladies stepped from their carriages and spoke to their footmen--and when +I snatched a lesson from their aristocratic tones I was in heaven, though +my feet ached and the rain soaked my wretched clothes. I have played good +women and bad women, beggars and queens, ingénues and hags. I was born +and bred on the stage, have suffered and starved on it. It is my life and +my destiny." She sobbed. "An 'amateur'!" + +I could not let her go like that. She interested me strongly; somehow I +believed in her. I strode to and fro, considering. + +"Sit down again," I said. "I will do this for you: I will go to the +country to see your performance. When is your next show?" + +"I have nothing in view." + +"Bigre! Well, the next time you are playing, write to me." + +"You will have forgotten all about me," she urged feverishly, "or your +interest will have faded, or Fate will prevent your coming." + +"Why do you say so?" + +"Something tells me. You will help me now, or you will never help me-- +my chance is to-day! Monsieur, I entreat you--" + +"To-day I can do nothing at all, because I have not seen you act." + +"I could recite to you." + +"Zut!" + +"I could rehearse on trial." + +"And if you made a mess of it? A nice fool I should look, after +fighting to get you in!" + +A servant interrupted us to tell me that my old friend de Lavardens was +downstairs. And now I did a foolish thing. When I intimated to +mademoiselle Jeanne Laurent that our interview must conclude, she +begged so hard to be allowed to speak to me again after my visitor +went, that I consented to her waiting. Why? I had already said all that +I had to say, and infinitely more than I had contemplated. Perhaps she +impressed me more powerfully than I realised; perhaps it was sheer +compassion, for she had an invincible instinct that if I sent her away +at this juncture, she would never hear from me any more. I had her +shown into the next room, and received General de Lavardens in the +study. + +Since his retirement from the Army, de Lavardens had lived in his +chateau at St. Wandrille, in the neighbourhood of Caudebec-en-Caux, and +we had met infrequently of late. But we had been at college together; I +had entered on my military service in the same regiment as he; and we +had once been comrades. I was glad to see him. + +"How are you, my dear fellow? I didn't know you were in Paris." + +"I have been here twenty-four hours," he said. "I have looked you up at +the first opportunity. Now am I a nuisance? Be frank! I told the +servant that if you were at work you weren't to be disturbed. Don't +humbug about it; if I am in the way, say so!" + +"You are not in the way a bit," I declared. "Put your hat and cane +down. What's the news? How is Georges?" + +"Georges" was Captain de Lavardens, his son, a young man with good +looks, and brains, an officer for whom people predicted a brilliant +future. + +"Georges is all right," he said hesitatingly. "He is dining with me +to-night. I want you to come, too, if you can. Are you free?" + +"To-night? Yes, certainly; I shall be delighted." + +"That was one of the reasons I came round--to ask you to join us." He +glanced towards the table again. "Are you sure you are not in a hurry +to get back to that?" + +"Have a cigar, and don't be a fool. What have you got to say for +yourself? Why are you on the spree here?" + +"I came up to see Georges," he said. "As a matter of fact, my dear +chap, I am devilish worried." + +"Not about Georges?" I asked, surprised. + +He grunted. "About Georges." + +"Really? I'm very sorry." + +"Yes. I wanted to talk to you about it. You may be able to give me a +tip. Georges--the boy I hoped so much for"--his gruff voice quivered-- +"is infatuated with an actress." + +"Georges?" + +"What do you say to that?" + +"Are you certain it is true?" + +"True? He makes no secret of it. That isn't all. The idiot wants to +marry her!" + +"Georges wants to marry an actress?" + +"Voilà!" + +"My dear old friend!" I stammered. + +"Isn't it amazing? One thinks one knows the character of one's own son, +hein? And then, suddenly, a boy--a boy? A man! Georges will soon be +thirty--a man one is proud of, who is distinguishing himself in his +profession, he loses his head about some creature of the theatre and +proposes to mar his whole career." + +"As for that, it might not mar it," I said. + +"We are not in England, in France gentlemen do not choose their wives +from the stage! I can speak freely to you; you move among these people +because your writing has taken you among them, but you are not of their +breed," + +"Have you reasoned with him?" + +"Reasoned? Yes." + +"What did he say?" + +"Prepare to be amused. He said that 'unfortunately, the lady did not +love him'!" + +"What? Then there is no danger?" + +"Do you mean to say that it takes you in? You may be sure her +'reluctance' is policy, she thinks it wise to disguise her eagerness to +hook him. He told me plainly that he would not rest till he had won +her. It is a nice position! The honour of the family is safe only till +this adventuress consents, _consents_ to accept his hand! What can +I do? I can retard the marriage by refusing my permission, but I cannot +prevent it, if he summons me.... Of course, if I could arrange matters +with her, I would do it like a shot--at any price!" + +"Who is she?" + +"A nobody; he tells me she is quite obscure, I don't suppose you have +ever heard of her. But I thought you might make inquiries for me, that +you might ascertain whether she is the sort of woman we could settle +with?" + +"I will do all I can, you may depend. Where is she--in Paris?" + +"Yes, just now." + +"What's her name?" + +"Jeanne Laurent." + +My mouth fell open: "Hein?" + +"Do you know her?" + +"She is there!" + +"What?" + +"In the next room. She just called on business." + +"Mon Dieu! That's queer!" + +"It's lucky. It was the first time I had ever met her." + +"What's she like?" + +"Have you never seen her? You shall do so in a minute. She came to beg +me to advance her professionally, she wants my help. This ought to save +you some money, my friend. We'll have her in! I shall tell her who you +are." + +"How shall I talk to her?" + +"Leave it to me." + +I crossed the landing, and opened the salon door. The room was littered +with the illustrated journals, but she was not diverting herself with +any of them--she was sitting before a copy of _La Joconde_, +striving to reproduce on her own face the enigma of the smile: I had +discovered an actress who never missed an opportunity. + +"Please come here." + +She followed me back, and my friend stood scowling at her. + +"This gentleman is General de Lavardens," I said. + +She bowed--slightly, perfectly. That bow acknowledged de Lavardens' +presence, and rebuked the manner of my introduction, with all the +dignity of the patricians whom she had studied in the rain. + +"Mademoiselle, when my servant announced that the General was +downstairs you heard the name. You did not tell me that you knew his +son." + +"Dame, non, monsieur!" she murmured. + +"And when you implored me to assist you, you did not tell me that you +aspired to a marriage that would compel you to leave the stage. I never +waste my influence. Good-morning!" + +"I do not aspire to the marriage," she faltered, pale as death. + +"Rubbish, I know all about it. Of course, it is your aim to marry him +sooner or later, and of course he will make it a condition that you +cease to act. Well, I have no time to help a woman who is playing the +fool! That's all about it. I needn't detain you." + +"I have refused to marry him," she gasped. "On my honour! You can ask +him. It is a fact." + +"But you see him still," broke in de Lavardens wrathfully; "he is with +you every day! That is a fact, too, isn't it? If your refusal is +sincere, why are you not consistent? why do you want him at your side?" + +"Because, monsieur," she answered, "I am weak enough to miss him when +he goes." + +"Ah! you admit it. You profess to be in love with him?" + +"No, monsieur," she dissented thoughtfully, "I am not in love with him +--and my refusal has been quite sincere, incredible as it may seem that +a woman like myself rejects a man like him. I could never make a +marriage that would mean death to my ambition. I could not sacrifice my +art--the stage is too dear to me for that. So it is evident that I am +not in love with him, for when a woman loves, the man is dearer to her +than all else." + +De Lavardens grunted. I knew his grunts: there was some apology in this +one. + +"The position is not fair to my son," he demurred. "You show good sense +in what you say--you are an artist, you are quite right to devote +yourself to your career; but you reject and encourage him at the same +time. If he married you it would be disastrous--to you, and to him; you +would ruin his life, and spoil your own. Enfin, give him a chance to +forget you! Send him away. What do you want to keep seeing him for?" + +She sighed. "It is wrong of me, I own!" + +"It is highly unnatural," said I. + +"No, monsieur; it is far from being unnatural, and I will tell you why +--he is the only man I have ever known, in all my vagabond life, who +realised that a struggling actress might have the soul of a +gentlewoman. Before I met him, I had never heard a man speak to me with +courtesy, excepting on the stage; I had never known a man to take my +hand respectfully when he was not performing behind the footlights.... +I met him first in the country; I was playing the Queen in _Ruy +Blas_, and the manager brought him to me in the wings. In everything +he said and did he was different from others. We were friends for +months before he told me that he loved me. His friendship has been the +gift of God, to brighten my miserable lot. Never to see him any more +would be awful to me!" + +I perceived that if she was not in love with him she was so dangerously +near to it that a trifle might turn the scale. De Lavardens had the +same thought. His glance at me was apprehensive. + +"However, you acknowledge that you are behaving badly!" I exclaimed. +"It is all right for _you_, friendship is enough for you, and you +pursue your career. But for _him_, it is different; he seeks your +love, and he neglects his duties. For him to spend his life sighing for +you would be monstrous, and for him to marry you would be fatal. If you +like him so much, be just to him, set him free! Tell him that he is not +to visit you any more." + +"He does not visit me; he has never been inside my lodging." + +"Well, that he is not to write there--that there are to be no more +dinners, drives, bouquets!" + +"And I do not let him squander money on me. I am not that kind of +woman." + +"We do not accuse you, mademoiselle. On the contrary, we appeal to your +good heart. Be considerate, be brave! Say good-bye to him!" + +"You are asking me to suffer cruelly," she moaned. + +"It is for your friend's benefit. Also, the more you suffer, the better +you will act. Every actress should suffer." + +"Monsieur, I have served my apprenticeship to pain." + +"There are other things than friendship--you have your prospects to +think about." + +"What prospects?" she flashed back. + +"Well, I cannot speak definitely to-day, as you know; but you would not +find me unappreciative." + +De Lavardens grunted again--emotionally, this time. I checked him with +a frown. + +"What use would it be for me to refuse to see him?" she objected +chokily. "When I am playing anywhere, _he_ can always see +_me_. I cannot kill his love by denying myself his companionship. +Besides, he would not accept the dismissal. One night, when I left the +theatre, I should find him waiting there again." + +This was unpalatably true. + +"If a clever woman desires to dismiss a man, she can dismiss him +thoroughly, especially a clever actress," I said. "You could talk to +him in such a fashion that he would have no wish to meet you again. +Such things have been done." + +"What? You want me to teach him to despise me?" + +"Much better if he did!" + +"To turn his esteem to scorn, hein?" + +"It would be a generous action." + +"To falsify and degrade myself?" + +"For your hero's good!" + +"I will not do it!" she flamed. "You demand too much. What have +_you_ done for _me_ that I should sacrifice myself to please +you? I entreat your help, and you give me empty phrases; I cry that I +despair this morning, and you answer that by-and-by, some time, in the +vague future, you will remember that I exist. I shall not do this for +you--I keep my friend!" + +"Your rhetoric has no weight with me," I said. "I do not pretend that I +have a claim on you. In such circumstances a noble woman would take the +course I suggest, not for my sake, not for the sake of General de +Lavardens, but for the sake of the man himself. You will 'keep your +friend'? Bien! But you will do so because you are indifferent to his +welfare and too selfish to release him." + +She covered her face. There were tears on it. The General and I +exchanged glances again. + +I went on: + +"You charge me with giving you only empty phrases. That is undeserved. +I said all that was possible, and I meant what I said. I could not +pledge myself to put you into anything without knowing what you are +capable of doing; but, if you retain my good will, I repeat that I will +attend your next performance." + +"And then?" she queried. + +"Then--if I think well of it--you shall have a good part." + +"Lead?" + +"Bigre! I cannot say that. A good part, in Paris!" + +"It is a promise?" + +"Emphatically--if I think well of your performance." + +"Of my next--the very next part I play?" + +"Of the very next part you play." + +She paused, reflecting. The pause lasted so long that it began to seem +to my suspense as if none of us would ever speak again. I took a +cigarette, and offered the box, in silence, to de Lavardens. He shook +his head without turning it to me, his gaze was riveted on the woman. + +"All right," she groaned, "I agree!" + +"Ah! good girl!" + +"All you require is that Captain de Lavardens shall no longer seek me +for his wife. Is that it?" + +"That's it." + +"Very well. I know what would repel him--it shall be done to-night. +But you, gentlemen, will have to make the opportunity for me; you will +have to bring him to my place--both of you. You can find some reason +for proposing it? Tonight at nine o'clock. He knows the address." + +She moved weakly to the door. + +De Lavardens took three strides and grasped her hands. "Mademoiselle," +he stuttered, "I have no words to speak my gratitude. I am a father, +and I love my son, but--mon Dieu! if--if things had been different, +upon my soul, I should have been proud to call you my daughter-in-law!" + +Oh, how she could bow, that woman--the eloquence of her ill-fed form! + +"Au revoir, gentlemen," she said. + +Phew! We dropped into chairs. + +"Paul," he grunted at me, "we have been a pair of brutes!" + +"I know it. But you feel much relieved?" + +"I feel another man. What is she going to say to him? I wish it were +over. _I_ should find it devilish difficult to propose going to +see her, you know! It will have to be _your_ suggestion. And +supposing he won't take us?" + +"He will take us right enough," I declared, "and rejoice at the chance. +Hourra! hourra! hourra!" I sprang up and clapped him on the back. "My +friend, if that woman had thrown herself away on Georges it might have +been a national calamity." + +"What?" he roared, purpling. + +"Oh, no slight to Georges! I think--I think--I am afraid to say what I +think, I am afraid to think it!" I paced the room, struggling to +control myself. "Only, once in a blue moon, Jules, there is a woman +born of the People with a gift that is a blessing, and a curse--and her +genius makes an epoch, and her name makes theatrical history. And if a +lover of the stage like me discovers such a woman, you stodgy old +soldier, and blazes her genius in his work, he feels like Cheops, +Chephrenus, and Asychis rearing the Pyramids for immortality!" + +My excitement startled him. "You believe she is a genius? Really?" + +"I dare not believe," I panted. "I refuse to let myself believe, for I +have never seen blue moons. But--but--I wonder!" + +We dined at Voisin's. It had been arranged that he should make some +allusion to the courtship; and I said to Georges, "I hope you don't +mind your father having mentioned the subject to me--we are old +friends, you know?" The topic was led up to very easily. It was +apparent that Georges thought the world of her. I admired the way he +spoke. It was quiet and earnest. As I feigned partial sympathy with his +matrimonial hopes, I own that I felt a Judas. + +"I, too, am an artist," I said. "To me social distinctions naturally +seem somewhat less important than they do to your father." + +"Indeed, monsieur," he answered gravely, "mademoiselle Laurent is +worthy of homage. If she were willing to accept me, every man who knew +her character would think me fortunate. Her education has not qualified +her to debate with professors, and she has no knowledge of society +small-talk, but she is intelligent, and refined, and good." + +It was child's play. A sudden notion, over the liqueurs: "Take us to +see her! Come along, mon ami!" Astonishment (amateurish); persuasion +(masterly); Georges's diffidence to intrude, but his obvious delight at +the thought of the favourable impression she would create. He had +"never called there yet--it would be very unconventional at such an +hour?" "Zut, among artists! My card will be a passport, I assure you." +Poor fellow, the trap made short work of him! At half-past eight we +were all rattling to the left bank in a cab. + +The cab stopped before a dilapidated house in an unsavoury street. I +knew that the aspect of her home went to his heart. "Mademoiselle +Laurent has won no prize in her profession," he observed, "and she is +an honest girl." Well said! + +In the dim passage a neglected child directed us to the fourth floor. +On the fourth floor a slattern, who replied at last to our persistent +tapping, told us shortly that mademoiselle was out. I realised that we +had committed the error of being before our time; and the woman, +evidently unprepared for our visit, did not suggest our going in. It +seemed bad stage-management. + +"Will it be long before mademoiselle is back?" I inquired, annoyed. + +"Mais non." + +"We will wait," I said, and we were admitted sulkily to a room, of +which the conspicuous features were a malodorous lamp, and a brandy- +bottle. I had taken the old drab for a landlady rather the worse for +liquor, but, more amiably, she remarked now: "It's a pity Jeanne didn't +know you were coming." + +At the familiar "Jeanne" I saw Georges start. + +"Mademoiselle is a friend of yours?" I asked, dismayed. + +"A friend? She is my daughter." She sat down. + +By design the girl was out! The thought flashed on me. It flashed on me +that she had plotted for her lover to learn what a mother-in-law he +would have. The revelation must appal him. I stole a look--his face was +blanched. The General drew a deep breath, and nodded to himself. The +nod said plainly, "He is saved. Thank God!" + +"Will you take a little drop while you are waiting, gentlemen?" + +"Nothing for us, thank you." + +She drank alone, and seemed to forget that we were present. None of us +spoke. I began to wonder if we need remain. Then, drinking, she grew +garrulous. It was of Jeanne she talked. She gave us her maternal views, +and incidentally betrayed infamies of her own career. I am a man of the +world, but I shuddered at that woman. The suitor who could have risked +making her child his wife would have been demented, or sublime. And +while she maundered on, gulping from her glass, and chuckling at her +jests, the ghastliness of it was that, in the gutter face before us, I +could trace a likeness to Jeanne; I think Georges must have traced it, +too. The menace of heredity was horrible. We were listening to Jeanne +wrecked, Jeanne thirty years older--Jeanne as she might become! + +Ciel! To choose a bride with this blood in her--a bride from the dregs! + +"Let us go, Georges," I murmured. "Courage! You will forget her. We'll +be off." + +He was livid. I saw that he could bear no more. + +But the creature overheard, and in those bleary eyes intelligence +awoke. + +"What? Hold on!" she stammered. "Is one of you the toff that wants to +marry her? Ah!... I've been letting on finely, haven't I? It was a +plant, was it? You've come here ferreting and spying?" She turned +towards me in a fury: "You!" + +Certainly I had made a comment from time to time, but I could not see +why she should single me out for her attack. She lurched towards me +savagely. Her face was thrust into mine. And then, so low that only I +could hear, and like another woman, she breathed a question: + +"Can I act?" + +Jeanne herself! Every nerve in me jumped. The next instant she was back +in her part, railing at Georges. + +I took a card from my case, and scribbled six words. + +"When your daughter comes in, give her that!" I said. I had scribbled: +"I write you a star rôle!" + +She gathered the message at a glance, and I swear that the moroseness +of her gaze was not lightened by so much as a gleam. She was +representing a character; the actress sustained the character even +while she read words that were to raise her from privation to renown. + +"Not that I care if I _have_ queered her chance," she snarled. "A +good job, too, the selfish cat! I've got nothing to thank her for. +Serve her right if you do give her the go-by, my Jackanapes, _I_ +don't blame you!" + +"Madame Laurent," Georges answered sternly, and his answer vibrated +through the room, "I have never admired, pitied, or loved Jeanne so +much as now that I know that she has been--motherless." + +All three of us stood stone-still. The first to move was she. I saw +what was going to happen. She burst out crying. + +"It's I, Jeanne!--I love you! I thought I loved the theatre best--I was +wrong." Instinctively she let my card fall to the ground. "Forgive me-- +I did it for your sake, too. It was cruel, I am ashamed. Oh, my own, if +my love will not disgrace you, take me for your wife! In all the world +there is no woman who will love you better--in all my heart there is no +room for anything but you!" + +They were in each other's arms. De Lavardens, whom the proclamation of +identity had electrified, dragged me outside. The big fool was +blubbering with sentiment. + +"This is frightful," he grunted. + +"Atrocious!" said I. + +"But she is a woman in a million." + +"She is a great actress," I said reverently. + +"I could never approve the marriage," he faltered. "What do you think?" + +"Out of the question! I have no sympathy with either of them." + +"You humbug! Why, there is a tear running down your nose!" + +"There are two running down yours," I snapped; "a General should know +better." + +And why has the doll in the pink silk dress recalled this to me? Well, +you see, to-morrow will be New Year's Day and the doll is a gift for my +godchild--and the name of my godchild's mother is "Jeanne de +Lavardens." Oh, I have nothing to say against her as a mother, the +children idolise her! I admit that she has conquered the General, and +that Georges is the proudest husband in France. But when I think of the +parts I could have written for her, of the lustre the stage has lost, +when I reflect that, just to be divinely happy, the woman deliberately +declined a worldwide fame--Morbleu! I can never forgive her for it, +never--the darling! + + + +THE LAST EFFECT + +Jean Bourjac was old and lazy. Why should he work any more? In his +little cottage he was content enough. If the place was not precisely +gay, could he not reach Paris for a small sum? And if he had no +neighbours to chat with across the wall, weren't there his flowers to +tend in the garden? Occasionally--because one cannot shake off the +interests of a lifetime--he indulged in an evening at the Folies- +Bergère, or Olympia, curious to witness some Illusion that had made a +hit. + +At such times old Bourjac would chuckle and wag his head sagely, for he +saw no Illusions now to compare with those invented by himself when he +was in the business. + +And there were many persons who admitted that he had been supreme in +his line. At the Folies-Bergère he was often recognised and addressed +as "Maître." + +One summer evening, when old Bourjac sat reading _Le Journal_, +Margot, the housekeeper, who had grown deaf and ancient in his service, +announced a stranger. + +She was a girl with a delicate oval face, and eyes like an angel's. + +"Monsieur Bourjac," she began, as if reciting a speech that she had +studied, "I have come out here to beg a favour of you. I thirst for a +career behind the footlights. Alas! I cannot sing, or dance, or act. +There is only one chance for me--to possess an Illusion that shall take +Paris by storm. I am told that there is nothing produced to-day fit to +hold a candle to the former 'Miracles Bourjac.' Will you help me? Will +you design for me the most wonderful Illusion of your life?" + +"Mademoiselle," said Bourjac, with a shrug, "I have retired." + +"I implore you!" she urged. "But I have not finished; I am poor, I am +employed at a milliner's, I could not pay down a single franc. My offer +is a share of my salary as a star. I am mad for the stage. It is not +the money that I crave for, but the applause. I would not grudge you +even half my salary! Oh, monsieur, it is in your power to lift me from +despair into paradise. Say you consent." + +Bourjac mused. Her offer was very funny; if she had been of the +ordinary type, he would have sent her packing, with a few commercial +home-truths. Excitement had brought a flush to the oval face, her +glorious eyes awoke in him emotions which he had believed extinct. She +was so captivating that he cast about him for phrases to prolong the +interview. Though he could not agree, he didn't want her to go yet. + +And when she did rise at last, he murmured, "Well, well, see me again +and we will talk about it. I have no wish to be hard, you understand." + +Her name was Laure. She was in love with a conjurer, a common, flashy +fellow, who gave his mediocre exhibitions of legerdemain at such places +as Le Jardin Extérieur, and had recently come to lodge at her mother's. +She aspired to marry him, but did not dare to expect it. Her homage was +very palpable, and monsieur Eugéne Legrand, who had no matrimonial +intentions, would often wish that the old woman did not keep such a +sharp eye upon her. + +Needless to say, Bourjac's semi-promise sent her home enraptured. She +had gone to him on impulse, without giving her courage time to take +flight; now, in looking back, she wondered at her audacity, and that +she had gained so much as she had. "I have no wish to be hard," he had +said. Oh, the old rascal admired her hugely! If she coaxed enough, he +would end by giving in. What thumping luck! She determined to call upon +him again on Sunday, and to look her best. + +Bourjac, however, did not succumb on Sunday. Fascinating as he found +her, he squirmed at the prospect of the task demanded of him. His +workshop in the garden had been closed so long that rats had begun to +regard it as their playroom; the more he contemplated resuming his +profession, the less inclined he felt to do it. + +She paid him many visits and he became deeply infatuated with her; yet +he continued to maintain that he was past such an undertaking--that she +had applied to him too late. + +Then, one day, after she had flown into a passion, and wept, and been +mollified, he said hesitatingly: + +"I confess that an idea for an Illusion has occurred to me, but I do +not pledge myself to execute it. I should call it 'A Life.' An empty +cabinet is examined; it is supported by four columns--there is no stage +trap, no obscurity, no black velvet curtain concealed in the dark, to +screen the operations; the cabinet is raised high above the ground, and +the lights are full up. You understand?" Some of the inventor's +enthusiasm had crept into his voice. "You understand?" + +"Go on," she said, holding her breath. + +"Listen. The door of the cabinet is slammed, and in letters of fire +there appears on it, 'Scene I.' Instantly it flies open again and +discloses a baby. The baby moves, it wails--in fine, it is alive. Slam! +Letters of fire, 'Scene II.' Instantly the baby has vanished; in its +place is a beautiful girl--you! You smile triumphantly at your +reflection in a mirror, your path is strewn with roses, the world is at +your feet. Slam! 'Scene III.' In a moment twenty years have passed; +your hair is grey, you are matronly, stout, your face is no longer +oval; yet unmistakably it is you yourself, the same woman. Slam! 'Scene +IV.' You are enfeebled, a crone, toothless, tottering on a stick. Once +more! It is the last effect--the door flies open and reveals a +skeleton." + +"You can make this?" she questioned. + +"I could make it if I chose," he answered. + +"Will you?" + +"It depends." + +"On what?" + +"On you!" + +"Take any share you want," she cried. "I will sign anything you like! +After all, would not the success be due to you?" + +"So you begin to see that?" said the old man drily. "But, I repeat, it +depends! In spite of everything, you may think my terms too high." + +"What do you want me to do?" she stammered. + +"Marry me!" said Bourjac. + +He did not inquire if she had any affection for him; he knew that if +she said "Yes" it would be a lie. But he adored this girl, who, of a +truth, had nothing but her beauty to recommend her, and he persuaded +himself that his devotion would evoke tenderness in her by degrees. She +found the price high indeed. Not only was she young enough to be his +granddaughter--she had given her fancy to another man. Immediately she +could not consent. When she took leave of him, it was understood that +she would think the offer over; and she went home and let Legrand hear +that Bourjac had proposed for her hand. If, by any chance, the news +piqued Legrand into doing likewise--? + +But Legrand said nothing to the point. Though he was a little chagrined +by the intelligence, it never even entered his mind to attempt to cut +the inventor out. How should it? She was certainly an attractive girl, +but as to marrying her--He thought Bourjac a fool. As for himself, if +he married at all, it would be an artist who was drawing a big salary +and who would be able to provide him with some of the good things of +life. "I pray you will be very happy, mademoiselle," he said, putting +on a sentimental air. + +So, after she had cried with mortification, Laure promised to be old +Bourjac's wife. + +A few weeks later they were married; and in that lonely little cottage +she would have been bored to death but for the tawdry future that she +foresaw. The man's dream of awakening her tenderness was speedily +dispelled; he had been accepted as the means to an end, and he was held +fast to the compact. She grudged him every hour in which he idled by +her side. Driven from her arms by her impatience, old Bourjac would +toil patiently in the workroom: planning, failing--surmounting +obstacles atom by atom, for the sake of a woman whose sole interest in +his existence was his progress with the Illusion that was to gratify +her vanity. + +He worshipped her still. If he had not worshipped her, he would sooner +or later have renounced the scheme as impracticable; only his love for +her supported him in the teeth of the impediments that arose. Of these +she heard nothing. For one reason, her interest was so purely selfish +that she had not even wished to learn how the cabinet was to be +constructed. "All those figures gave her a headache," she declared. For +another, when early in the winter he had owned himself at a deadlock, +she had sneered at him as a duffer who was unable to fulfil his boasts. +Old Bourjac never forgot that--his reputation was very dear to him--he +did not speak to her of his difficulties again. + +But they often talked of the success she was to achieve. She liked to +go into a corner of the parlour and rehearse the entrance that she +would make to acknowledge the applause. "It will be the great moment," +she would say, "when I reappear as myself and bow." + +"No, it will be expected; that will not surprise anybody," Bourjac +would insist. "The climax, the last effect, will be the skeleton!" + +It was the skeleton that caused him the most anxious thought of all. In +order to compass it, he almost feared that he would be compelled to +sacrifice one of the preceding scenes. The babe, the girl, the matron, +the crone, for all these his mechanism provided; but the skeleton, the +"last effect," baffled his ingenuity. Laure began to think his task +eternal. + +Ever since the wedding, she had dilated proudly to her mother and +Legrand on her approaching début, and it angered her that she could +never say when the début was to be. Now that there need be no question +of his marrying her, Legrand's manner towards her had become more +marked. She went to the house often. One afternoon, when she rang, the +door was opened by him; he explained that the old woman was out +marketing. + +Laure waited in the kitchen, and the conjurer sat on the table, talking +to her. + +"How goes the Illusion?" he asked. + +"Oh, big!" she said. "It's going to knock them, I can tell you!" Her +laugh was rather derisive. "It's a rum world; the shop-girl will become +an artist, with a show that draws all Paris. We expect to open at the +Folies-Bergère." She knew that Legrand could never aspire to an +engagement at the Folies-Bergère as long as he lived. + +"I hope you will make a hit," he said, understanding her resentment +perfectly. + +"You did not foresee me a star turn, hein?" + +He gave a shrug. "How could I foresee? If you had not married Bourjac, +of course it would not have happened?" + +"I suppose not," she murmured. She was sorry he realised that; she +would have liked him to feel that she might have had the Illusion +anyhow, and been a woman worth his winning. + +"Indeed," added Legrand pensively, rolling a cigarette, "you have done +a great deal to obtain a success. It is not every girl who would go to +such lengths." + +"What?" She coloured indignantly. + +"I mean it is not every girl who would break the heart of a man who +loved her." + +They looked in each other's eyes for a moment. Then she turned her head +scornfully away. + +"Why do you talk rot to me? Do you take me for a kid?" + +He decided that a pained silence would be most effective. + +"If you cared about me, why didn't you say so?" she flashed, putting +the very question he had hoped for. + +"Because my position prevented it," he sighed. "I could not propose, a +poor devil like me! Do I lodge in an attic from choice? But you are the +only woman I ever wanted for my wife." + +After a pause, she said softly, "I never knew you cared." + +"I shall never care for anybody else," he answered. And then her mother +came in with the vegetables. + +It is easy to believe what one wishes, and she wished to believe +Legrand's protestations. She began to pity herself profoundly, feeling +that she had thrown away the substance for the shadow. In the +sentimentality to which she yielded, even the prospect of being a star +turn failed to console her; and during the next few weeks she invented +reasons for visiting at her mother's more frequently than ever. + +After these visits, Legrand used to smirk to himself in his attic. He +reflected that the turn would, probably, earn a substantial salary for +a long time to come. If he persuaded her to run away with him when the +show had been produced, it would be no bad stroke of business for him! +Accordingly, in their conversations, he advised her to insist on the +Illusion being her absolute property. + +"One can never tell what may occur," he would say. "If the managers +arranged with Bourjac, not with you, you would always be dependent on +your husband's whims for your engagements." And, affecting +unconsciousness of his real meaning, the woman would reply, "That's +true; yes, I suppose it would be best--yes, I shall have all the +engagements made with _me_." + +But by degrees even such pretences were dropped between them; they +spoke plainly. He had the audacity to declare that it tortured him to +think of her in old Bourjac's house--old Bourjac who plodded all day to +minister to her caprice! She, no less shameless, acknowledged that her +loneliness there was almost unendurable. So Legrand used to call upon +her, to cheer her solitude, and while Bourjac laboured in the workroom, +the lovers lolled in the parlour, and talked of the future they would +enjoy together when his job was done. + +"See, monsieur--your luncheon!" mumbled Margot, carrying a tray into +the workroom on his busiest days. + +"And madame, has madame her luncheon?" shouted Bourjac. Margot was very +deaf indeed. + +"Madame entertains monsieur Legrand again," returned the housekeeper, +who was not blind as well. + +Bourjac understood the hint, and more than once he remonstrated with +his wife. But she looked in his eyes and laughed suspicion out of him +for the time: "Eugène was an old friend, whom she had known from +childhood! Enfin, if Jean objected, she would certainly tell him not to +come so often. It was very ridiculous, however!" + +And afterwards she said to Legrand, "We must put up with him in the +meanwhile; be patient, darling! We shall not have to worry about what +he thinks much longer." + +Then, as if to incense her more, Bourjac was attacked by rheumatism +before the winter finished; he could move only with the greatest +difficulty, and took to his bed. Day after day he lay there, and she +fumed at the sight of him, passive under the blankets, while his work +was at a standstill. + +More than ever the dullness got on her nerves now, especially as +Legrand had avoided the house altogether since the complaint about the +frequency of his visits. He was about to leave Paris to fulfil some +engagements in the provinces. It occurred to her that it would be a +delightful change to accompany him for a week. She had formerly had an +aunt living in Rouen, and she told Bourjac that she had been invited to +stay with her for a few days. + +Bourjac made no objection. Only, as she hummed gaily over her packing, +he turned his old face to the wall to hide his tears. + +Her luggage was dispatched in advance, and by Legrand's counsel, it was +labelled at the last minute with an assumed name. If he could have done +so without appearing indifferent to her society, Legrand would have +dissuaded her from indulging in the trip, for he had resolved now to be +most circumspect until the Illusion was inalienably her own. As it was, +he took all the precautions possible. They would travel separately; he +was to depart in the evening, and Laure would follow by the next train. +When she arrived, he would be awaiting her. + +With the removal of her trunk, her spirits rose higher still. But the +day passed slowly. At dusk she sauntered about the sitting-room, +wishing that it were time for her to start. She had not seen Legrand +since the previous afternoon, when they had met at a café to settle the +final details. When the clock struck again, she reckoned that he must +be nearly at his destination; perhaps he was there already, pacing the +room as she paced this one? She laughed. Not a tinge of remorse +discoloured the pleasure of her outlook--her "au revoir" to her husband +was quite careless. The average woman who sins longs to tear out her +conscience for marring moments which would otherwise be perfect. This +woman had absolutely no conscience. + +The shortest route to the station was by the garden gate; as she raised +the latch, she was amazed to see Legrand hurriedly approaching. + +"Thank goodness, I have caught you!" he exclaimed--"I nearly went round +to the front." + +"What has happened?" + +"Nothing serious; I am not going, that is all--they have changed my +date. The matter has been uncertain all day, or I would have let you +know earlier. It is lucky I was in time to prevent your starting." + +She was dumb with disappointment. + +"It is a nuisance about your luggage," he went on; "we must telegraph +about it. Don't look so down in the mouth--we shall have our trip next +week instead." + +"What am I to say to Jean--he will think it so strange? I have said +good-bye to him." + +"Oh, you can find an excuse--you 'missed your train.' Come out for half +an hour, and we can talk." His glance fell on the workroom. "Is that +fastened up?" + +"I don't know. Do you want to see what he has done?" + +"I may as well." He had never had an opportunity before--Bourjac had +always been in there. + +"No, it isn't locked," she said; "come on then! Wait till I have shut +it after us before you strike a match--Margot might see the light." + +A rat darted across their feet as they lit the lamp, and he dropped the +matchbox. "Ugh!" + +"The beastly things!" she shivered, "Make haste!" + +On the floor stood a cabinet that was not unlike a gloomy wardrobe in +its outward aspect. Legrand examined it curiously. + +"Too massive," he remarked. "It will cost a fortune for carriage--and +where are the columns I heard of?" He stepped inside and sounded the +walls. "Humph, of course I see his idea. The fake is a very old one, +but it is always effective." Really, he knew nothing about it, but as +he was a conjurer, she accepted him as an authority. + +"Show me! Is there room for us both?" she said, getting in after him. +And as she got in, the door slammed. + +Instantaneously they were in darkness, black as pitch, jammed close +together. Their four hands flew all over the door at once, but they +could touch no handle. The next moment, some revolving apparatus that +had been set in motion, flung them off their feet. Round and round it +swirled, striking against their bodies and their faces. They grovelled +to escape it, but in that awful darkness their efforts were futile; +they could not even see its shape. + +"Stop it!" she gasped. + +"I don't know how," he panted. + +After a few seconds the whir grew fainter, the gyrations stopped +automatically. She wiped the blood from her face, and burst into +hysterical weeping. The man, cursing horribly, rapped to find the +spring that she must have pressed as she entered. It seemed to them +both that there could be no spot he did not rap a thousand times, but +the door never budged. + +His curses ceased; he crouched by her, snorting with fear. + +"What shall we do?" she muttered. + +He did not answer her. + +"Eugène, let us stamp! Perhaps the spring is in the floor." + +Still he paid no heed--he was husbanding his breath. When a minute had +passed, she felt his chest distend, and a scream broke from him-- +"_Help!_" + +"Mon Dieu!" She clutched him, panic-stricken. "We mustn't be found +here, it would ruin everything. Feel for the spring! Eugène, feel for +the spring, don't call!" + +"_Help!_" + +"Don't you understand? Jean will guess--it will be the end of my hopes, +I shall have no career!" + +"I have myself to think about!" he whimpered. And pushing away her +arms, he screamed again and again. But there was no one to hear him, no +neighbours, no one passing in the fields--none but old Bourjac, and +deaf Margot, beyond earshot, in the house. + +The cabinet was, of course, ventilated, and the danger was, not +suffocation, but that they would be jammed here while they slowly +starved to death. Soon her terror of the fate grew all-powerful in the +woman, and, though she loathed him for having been the first to call, +she, too, shrieked constantly for help now. By turns, Legrand would +yell, distraught, and heave himself helplessly against the door--they +were so huddled that he could bring no force to bear upon it. + +In their black, pent prison, like a coffin on end the night held a +hundred hours. The matchbox lay outside, where it had fallen, and +though they could hear his watch ticking in his pocket, they were +unable to look at it. After the watch stopped, they lost their sense of +time altogether; they disputed what day of the week it was. + + * * * * * + +Their voices had been worn to whispers now; they croaked for help. + +In the workroom, the rats missed the remains of old Bourjac's +luncheons; the rats squeaked ravenously.... As she strove to scream, +with the voice that was barely audible, she felt that she could resign +herself to death were she but alone. She could not stir a limb nor draw +a breath apart from the man. She craved at last less ardently for life +than for space--the relief of escaping, even for a single moment, from +the oppression of contact. It became horrible, the contact, as +revolting as if she had never loved him. The ceaseless contact maddened +her. The quaking of his body, the clamminess of his flesh, the smell of +his person, poisoning the darkness, seemed to her the eternities of +Hell. + + * * * * * + +Bourjac lay awaiting his wife's return for more than a fortnight. Then +he sent for her mother, and learnt that the "aunt in Rouen" had been +buried nearly three years. + +The old man was silent. + +"It is a coincidence," added the visitor hesitatingly, "that monsieur +Legrand has also disappeared. People are always ringing my bell to +inquire where he is." + +As soon as he was able to rise, Bourjac left for Paris; and, as the +shortest route to the station was by the garden gate, he passed the +workroom on his way. He nodded, thinking of the time that he had wasted +there, but he did not go inside--he was too impatient to find Laure, +and, incidentally, to shoot Legrand. + +Though his quest failed, he never went back to the cottage; he could +not have borne to live in it now. He tried to let it, but the little +house was not everybody's money, and it stood empty for many years; +indeed, before it was reoccupied Bourjac was dead and forgotten. + +When the new owners planned their renovations, they had the curiosity +to open a mildewed cabinet in an outhouse, and uttered a cry of dismay. +Not until then was the "last effect" attained; but there were two +skeletons, instead of one. + + + +AN INVITATION TO DINNER + +The creators of Eau d'Enfer invited designs for a poster calling the +attention of the world to their liqueur's incomparable qualities. It +occurred to Théodose Goujaud that this was a first-class opportunity to +demonstrate his genius. + +For an article with such a glistening name it was obvious that a poster +must be flamboyant--one could not advertise a "Water of Hell" by a +picture of a village maiden plucking cowslips--and Goujaud passed +wakeful nights devising a sketch worthy of the subject. He decided at +last upon a radiant brunette sharing a bottle of the liqueur with his +Satanic Majesty while she sat on his knee. + +But where was the girl to be found? Though his acquaintance with the +models of Paris was extensive, he could think of none with a face to +satisfy him. One girl's arms wreathed themselves before his mind, +another girl's feet were desirable, but the face, which was of supreme +importance, eluded his most frenzied search. + +"Mon Dieu," groaned Goujaud, "here I am projecting a poster that would +conquer Paris, and my scheme is frustrated by the fact that Nature +fails to produce women equal to the heights of my art! It is such +misfortunes as this that support the Morgue." + +"I recommend you to travel," said Tricotrin; "a tour in the East might +yield your heart's desire." + +"It's a valuable suggestion," rejoined Goujaud; "I should like a couple +of new shirts also, but I lack the money to acquire them." + +"Well," said Tricotrin, "the Ball of the Willing Hand is nearer. Try +that!" + +Goujaud looked puzzled. "The Ball of the Willing Hand?" he repeated; "I +do not know any Ball of the Willing Hand." + +"Is it possible?" cried the poet; "where do you live? Why, the Willing +Hand, my recluse, is the most fascinating resort in Paris. I have been +familiar with it for fully a week. It is a bal de barrière where the +criminal classes enjoy their brief leisure. Every Saturday night they +frisk. The Cut-throats' Quadrille is a particularly sprightly measure, +and the damsels there are often striking." + +"And their escorts, too--if one of the willing hands planted a knife in +my back, there would be no sprightliness about _me!_" + +"In the interests of art one must submit to a little annoyance. Come, +if you are conscientious I will introduce you to the place, and give +you a few hints. For example, the company have a prejudice against +collars, and, assuming for a moment that you possessed more than a +franc, you would do well to leave the surplus at home." + +Goujaud expanded his chest. + +"As a matter of fact," he announced languidly, "I possess five hundred +francs." And so dignified was his air that Tricotrin came near to +believing him. + +"You possess five hundred francs? You? How? No, such things do not +occur! Besides, you mentioned a moment since that you were short of +shirts." + +"It is true that I am short of shirts, but, nevertheless, I have five +hundred francs in my pocket. It is like this. My father, who is not +artistic, has always desired to see me renounce my profession and sink +to commerce. Well, I was at the point of yielding--man cannot live by +hope alone, and my pictures were strangely unappreciated. Then, while +consent trembled on my lips, up popped this Eau d'Enfer! I saw my +opportunity, I recognised that, of all men in Paris, I was the best +qualified to execute the poster. You may divine the sequel? I addressed +my father with burning eloquence, I persuaded him to supply me with the +means to wield my brush for a few months longer. If my poster succeeds, +I become a celebrity. If it fails, I become a pétrole merchant. This +summer decides my fate. In the meanwhile I am a capitalist; but it +would be madness for me to purchase shirts, for I shall require every +son to support existence until the poster is acclaimed." + +"You have a practical head!" exclaimed Tricotrin admiringly; "I foresee +that you will go far. Let us trust that the Willing Hand will prove the +ante-chamber to your immortality." + +"I have no faith in your Willing Hand," demurred the painter; "the +criminal classes are not keen on sitting for their portraits--the +process has unpleasant associations to them. Think again! I can spare +half an hour this morning. Evolve a further inspiration on the +subject!" + +"Do you imagine I have nothing to do but to provide you with a model? +My time is fully occupied; I am engaged upon a mystical play, which is +to be called _The Spinster's Prayer or the Goblin Child's Mother_, +and take Paris by storm. A propos--yes, now I come to think of it, +there is something in _Comoedia_ there that might suit you." + +"My preserver!" returned Goujaud. "What is it?" + +Tricotrin picked the paper up and read: + +WANTED: A HUNDRED LADIES FOR THE STAGE.--Beauty more essential than +talent. No dilapidations need apply. _Agence_ Lavalette, rue Baba, +Thursday, 12 to 5. + +"Mon Dieu! Now you are beginning to talk," said Goujaud. "A hundred! +One among them should be suitable, hein? But, all the same--" He +hesitated. "'Twelve to five'! It will be a shade monotonous standing on +a doorstep from twelve to five, especially if the rain streams." + +"Do you expect a Cleopatra to call at your attic, or to send an eighty +horse-power automobile, that you may cast your eye over her? Anyhow, +there may be a café opposite; you can order a bock on the terrace, and +make it last." + +"You are right. I shall go and inspect the spot at once. A hundred +beauties! I declare the advertisement might have been framed to meet my +wants. How fortunate that you chanced to see it! To-morrow evening you +shall hear the result--dine with me at the Bel Avenir at eight o'clock. +For one occasion I undertake to go a buster, I should be lacking in +gratitude if I neglected to stuff you to the brim." + +"Oh, my dear chap!" said Tricotrin. "The invitation is a godsend, I +have not viewed the inside of a restaurant for a week. While our pal +Pitou is banqueting with his progenitors in Chartres, _I_ have +even exhausted my influence with the fishmonger--I did not so much as +see my way to a nocturnal herring in the garret. Mind you are not late. +I shall come prepared to do justice to your hospitality, I promise +you." + +"Right, cocky!" said the artist. And he set forth, in high spirits, to +investigate the rue Baba. + +He was gratified to discover a café in convenient proximity to the +office. And twelve o'clock had not sounded next day when he took a seat +at one of the little white-topped tables, his gaze bent attentively +upon the agent's step. + +For the earliest arrival he had not long to wait. A dumpy girl with an +enormous nose approached, swinging her _sac à main_. She cast a +complacent glance at the name on the door, opened the bag, whipped out +a powder-puff, and vanished. + +"Morbleu!" thought the painter. "If she is a fair sample, I have +squandered the price of a bock!" He remained in a state of depression +for two or three minutes, and then the girl reappeared, evidently in a +very bad temper. + +"Ah!" he mused, rubbing his hands. "Monsieur Lavalette is plainly a +person of his word. No beauty, no engagement! This is going to be all +right, Where is the next applicant? A sip to Venus!" + +Venus, however, did not irradiate the street yet. The second young +woman was too short in the back, and at sight of her features he shook +his head despondently. "No good, my dear," he said to himself. "Little +as you suspect it, there is a disappointment for you inside, word of +honour! Within three minutes, I shall behold you again." + +And, sure enough, she made her exit promptly, looking as angry as the +other. + +"I am becoming a dramatic prophet!" soliloquised Goujaud; "if I had +nothing more vital to do, I might win drinks, betting on their chances, +with the proprietor of the café. However, I grow impatient for the bevy +of beauty--it is a long time on the road." + +As if in obedience to his demand, girls now began to trip into the rue +Baba so rapidly that he was kept busy regarding them. By twos, and +threes, and in quartettes they tripped--tall girls, little girls, plain +girls, pretty girls, girls shabby, and girls chic. But though many of +them would have made agreeable partners at a dance, there was none who +possessed the necessary qualifications for The Girl on Satan's Knee. He +rolled a cigarette, and blew a pessimistic puff. "Another day lost!" +groaned Goujaud. "All is over, I feel it. Posterity will never praise +my poster, the clutch of Commerce is upon me--already the smell of the +pétrole is in my nostrils!" + +And scarcely had he said it when his senses reeled. + +For, stepping from a cab, disdainfully, imperially, was his Ideal. Her +hair, revealing the lobes of the daintiest ears that ever listened to +confessions of love, had the gleam of purple grapes. Her eyes were a +mystery, her mouth was a flower, her neck was an intoxication. So +violently was the artist affected that, during several moments, he +forgot his motive for being there. To be privileged merely to +contemplate her was an ecstasy. While he sat transfixed with +admiration, her dainty foot graced the agent's step, and she entered. + +Goujaud caught his breath, and rose. The cab had been discharged. Dared +he speak to her when she came out? It would be a different thing +altogether from speaking to the kind of girl that he had foreseen. But +to miss such a model for lack of nerve, that would be the regret of a +lifetime! Now the prospect of the poster overwhelmed him, and he felt +that he would risk any rebuff, commit any madness to induce her to +"sit." + +The estimate that he had, by this time, formed of monsieur Lavalette's +taste convinced him that her return would not be yet. He sauntered to +and fro, composing a preliminary and winning phrase. What was his +surprise, after a very few seconds, to see that she had come out +already, and was hastening away! + +He overtook her in a dozen strides, and with a bow that was eloquent of +his homage, exclaimed: + +"Mademoiselle!" + +"Hein?" she said, turning. "Oh, it's all right--there are too many +people there; I've changed my mind, I shan't wait." + +He understood that she took him for a minion of the agent's, and he +hesitated whether to correct her mistake immediately. However, candour +seemed the better course. + +"I do not bring a message from monsieur Lavalette, mademoiselle," he +explained. + +"No?" + +"No." + +"What then?" + +"I have ventured to address you on my own account--on a matter of the +most urgent importance." + +"I have no small change," she said curtly, making to pass. + +"Mademoiselle!" His outraged dignity was superb. "You mistake me first +for an office-boy, and then for a beggar. I am a man of means, though +my costume may be unconventional. My name is Théodosc Goujaud." + +Her bow intimated that the name was not significant; but her exquisite +eyes had softened at the reference to his means. + +"For weeks I have been seeking a face for a picture that I have +conceived," he went on; "a face of such peculiar beauty that I +despaired of finding it! I had the joy to see you enter the agency, and +I waited, trembling with the prayer that I might persuade you to come +to my aid. Mademoiselle, will you do me the honour to allow me to +reproduce the magic of your features on my canvas? I entreat it of you +in the sacred name of Art!" + +During this appeal, the lady's demeanour had softened more still. A +faint smile hovered on her lips; her gaze was half gratified, half +amused. + +"Oh, you're a painter?" she said; "you want me to sit to you for the +Salon? I don't know, I'm sure." + +"It is not precisely for the Salon," he acknowledged. "But I am +absorbed by the scheme--it will be the crown of my career. I will +explain. It is a long story. If--if we could sit down?" + +"Where?" + +"There appears to be a café close to the agency," said Goujaud timidly. + +"Oh!" She dismissed the café's pretensions with her eyebrows. + +"You are right," he stammered. "Now that I look at it again, I see that +it is quite a common place. Well, will you permit me to walk a little +way with you?" + +"We will go to breakfast at Armenonville, if you like," she said +graciously, "where you can explain to me at your leisure." It seemed +to Goujaud that his heart dropped into his stomach and turned to a +cannon-ball there. Armenonville? What would such a breakfast cost? +Perhaps a couple of louis? Never in his life had he contemplated +breakfasting at Armenonville. + +She smiled, as if taking his consent for granted. Her loveliness and +air of fashion confused him dreadfully. And if he made excuses, there +would be no poster! Oh, he must seize the chance at any price! + +"Oh course--I shall be enchanted," he mumbled. And before he half +realised that the unprecedented thing had happened they were rattling +away, side by side in a fiacre. + +It was astounding, it was breathless, it was an episode out of a novel! +But Goujaud felt too sick, in thinking of the appalling expense, to +enjoy his sudden glory. Accustomed to a couple of louis providing meals +for three weeks, he was stupefied by the imminence of scattering the +sum in a brief half-hour. Even the cab fare weighed upon him; he not +infrequently envied the occupants of omnibuses. + +It was clear that the lady herself was no stranger to the restaurant. +While he blinked bewildered on the threshold, she was referring to her +"pet table," and calling a waiter "Jules." The menu was a fresh +embarrassment to the bohemian, but she, and the deferential waiter, +relieved him of that speedily, and in five minutes an epicurean +luncheon had been ordered, and he was gulping champagne. + +It revived his spirits. Since he had tumbled into the adventure of his +life, by all means let him savour the full flavour of it! His +companion's smiles had become more frequent, her eyes were more +transcendental still. + +"How funnily things happen!" she remarked presently. "I had not the +least idea of calling on Lavalette when I got up this morning. If I had +not had a tiff with somebody, and decided to go on the stage to spite +him, I should never have met you." + +"Oh, you are not on the stage yet, then?" + +"No. But I have often thought about it, and the quarrel determined me. +So I jumped into a cab, drove off, and then--well, there was such a +crowd of girls there, and they looked so vulgar; I changed my mind." + +"Can an angel quarrel?" demanded Goujaud sentimentally. "I cannot +imagine you saying an angry word to anyone." + +"Oh!" she laughed. "Can't I, though! I'm a regular demon when I'm +cross. People shouldn't vex me." + +"Certainly not," he agreed. "And no one but a brute would do so. +Besides, some women are attractive even in a rage. On the whole, I +think I should like to see you in a rage with _me_, providing +always that you 'made it up' as nicely as I should wish." + +"Do you fancy that I could?" she asked, looking at the table-cloth. + +"My head swims, in fancying!" + +Her laughter rippled again, and her fascination was so intense that the +poor fellow could scarcely taste a mouthful of his unique repast. "Talk +to me," she commanded, "sensibly I mean! Where do you live?" + +"I am living in the rue Ravignan." + +"The rue Ravignan? Where is that?" + +"Montmartre." + +"Oh, really?" She seemed chilled. "It is not a very nice quarter in the +daytime, is it?" + +"My studio suits me," murmured Goujaud, perceiving his fall in her +esteem. "For that reason I am reluctant to remove. An artist becomes +very much attached to his studio. And what do I care for fashion, I? +You may judge by my coat!" + +"You're eccentric, aren't you?" + +"Hitherto I have lived only for Art. But now I begin to realise that +there may be something more potent and absorbing still." + +"What is that?" + +"Love!" added Goujaud, feeling himself the embodiment of all the heroes +of romance. + +"Oh?" Her glance mocked, encouraged. "I am dying to hear about your +picture, though! What is the subject?" + +"It is not exactly what you mean by a 'picture.'" He fiddled with his +glass. "It is, in fact, a poster that I project." + +"A poster?" she exclaimed. "And you ask _me_ to--oh, no, I +couldn't possibly!" + +"Mademoiselle!" + +"I really don't think I could. A poster? Ah, no!" + +"To save me!" he implored. "Because my whole life depends on your +decision!" + +"How can a poster matter so much to you? The proposal is absurd." She +regarded her pêche Melba with a frown. + +"If you think of becoming an actress, remember what a splendid +advertisement it would be!" he urged feverishly. + +"Oh, flûte!" But she had wavered at that. + +"All Paris would flock to your debut. They would go saying, 'Can she be +as beautiful as her portrait?' And they would come back saying, 'She is +lovelier still!' Let me give you some more wine." + +"No more; I'll have coffee, and a grand marnier--red." + +"Doubtless the more expensive colour!" reflected Goujaud. But the time +had passed for dwelling on minor troubles. "Listen," he resumed; "I +shall tell you my history. You will then realise to what an abyss of +despair your refusal will plunge me--to what effulgent heights I may be +raised by your consent. You cannot be marble! My father--" + +"Indeed, I am not marble," she put in. "I am instinct with sensibility +--it is my great weakness." + +"So much the better. Be weak to _me_. My father--" + +"Oh, let us get out of this first!" she suggested, "You can talk to me +as we drive." + +And the attentive Jules presented the discreetly folded bill. + +For fully thirty seconds the Pavilion d'Armenonville swirled round the +unfortunate painter so violently that he felt as if he were on a +roundabout at a fair. He feared that the siren must hear the pounding +of his heart. To think that he had dreaded paying two louis! Two louis? +Why, it would have been a bagatelle! Speechlessly he laid a fortune on +the salver. With a culminating burst of recklessness he waved four +francs towards Jules, and remarked that that personage eyed the tip +with cold displeasure. "What a lucrative career, a waiter's!" moaned +the artist; "he turns up his nose at four francs!" + +Well, he had speculated too heavily to accept defeat now! Bracing +himself for the effort, Goujaud besought the lady's help with such a +flood of blandishment during the drive that more than once she seemed +at the point of yielding. Only one difficult detail had he withheld-- +that he wished to pose her on the knee of Mephistopheles--and to +propitiate her further, before breaking the news, he stopped the cab at +a florist's. + +She was so good-humoured and tractable after the florist had pillaged +him that he could scarcely be callous when she showed him that she had +split her glove. But, to this day, he protests that, until the glove-shop +had been entered, it never occurred to him that it would be +necessary to present her with more than one pair. As they came out-- +Goujaud moving beside her like a man in a trance--she gave a faint +start. + +"Mon Dieu!" she muttered. "There's my friend--he has seen us--I must +speak to him, or he will think I am doing wrong. Wait a minute!" And a +dandy, with a monocle, was, indeed, casting very supercilious glances +at the painter. + +At eight o'clock that evening, monsieur Tricotrin, with a prodigious +appetite, sat in the Café du Bel Avenir, awaiting the arrival of his +host. When impatience was mastering him, there arrived, instead, a +petit bleu. The impecunious poet took it from the proprietress, paling, +and read: + +"I discovered my Ideal--she ruined, and then deserted me! To-morrow +there will be a painter the less, and a petrole merchant the more. +Pardon my non-appearance--I am spending my last sous on this message." + +"Monsieur will give his order now?" inquired the proprietress. + +"Er--thank you, I do not dine to-night," said Tricotrin. + + + +THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS + +In the summer of the memorable year ----, but the date doesn't matter, +Robichon and Quinquart both paid court to mademoiselle Brouette, +Mademoiselle Brouette was a captivating actress, Robichon and Quinquart +were the most comic of comedians, and all three were members of the +Théâtre Suprême. + +Robichon was such an idol of the public's that they used to laugh +before he uttered the first word of his rôle; and Quinquart was so +vastly popular that his silence threw the audience into convulsions. + +Professional rivalry apart, the two were good friends, although they +were suitors for the same lady, and this was doubtless due to the fact +that the lady favoured the robust Robichon no more than she favoured +the skinny Quinquart. She flirted with them equally, she approved them +equally--and at last, when each of them had plagued her beyond +endurance, she promised in a pet that she would marry the one that was +the better actor. Tiens! Not a player on the stage, not a critic on +the Press could quite make up his mind which the better actor was. Only +Suzanne Brouette could have said anything so tantalising. + +"But how shall we decide the point, Suzanne?" stammered Robichon +helplessly. "Whose pronouncement will you accept?" + +"How can the question be settled?" queried Quinquart, dismayed. "Who +shall be the judge?" + +"Paris shall be the judge," affirmed Suzanne. "We are the servants of +the public--I will take the public's word!" + +Of course she was as pretty as a picture, or she couldn't have done +these things. + +Then poor Quinquart withdrew, plunged in reverie. So did Robichon. +Quinquart reflected that she had been talking through her expensive +hat. Robichon was of the same opinion. The public lauded them both, was +no less generous to one than to the other--to wait for the judgment of +Paris appeared equivalent to postponing the matter _sine die_. No +way out presented itself to Quinquart. None occurred to Robichon. + +"Mon vieux," said the latter, as they sat on the terrace of their +favourite café a day or two before the annual vacation, "let us discuss +this amicably. Have a cigarette! You are an actor, therefore you +consider yourself more talented than I. I, too, am an actor, therefore +I regard you as less gifted than myself. So much for our artistic +standpoints! But we are also men of the world, and it must be obvious +to both of us that we might go on being funny until we reached our +death-beds without demonstrating the supremacy of either. Enfin, our +only hope lies in versatility--the conqueror must distinguish himself +in a solemn part!" He viewed the other with complacence, for the quaint +Quinquart had been designed for a droll by Nature. + +"Right!" said Quinquart. He contemplated his colleague with +satisfaction, for it was impossible to fancy the fat Robichon in +tragedy. + +"I perceive only one drawback to the plan," continued Robichon, "the +Management will never consent to accord us a chance. Is it not always +so in the theatre? One succeeds in a certain line of business and one +must be resigned to play that line as long as one lives. If my earliest +success had been scored as a villain of melodrama, it would be believed +that I was competent to enact nothing but villains of melodrama; it +happened that I made a hit as a comedian, wherefore nobody will credit +that I am capable of anything but being comic." + +"Same here!" concurred Quinquart. "Well, then, what do you propose?" + +Robichon mused. "Since we shall not be allowed to do ourselves justice +on the stage, we must find an opportunity off it!" + +"A private performance? Good! Yet, if it is a private performance, how +is Paris to be the judge?" + +"Ah," murmured Robichon, "that is certainly a stumbling-block." + +They sipped their apéritifs moodily. Many heads were turned towards the +little table where they sat. "There are Quinquart and Robichon, how +amusing they always are!" said passers-by, little guessing the anxiety +at the laughter-makers' hearts. + +"What's to be done?" sighed Quinquart at last. + +Robichon shrugged his fat shoulders, with a frown. + +Both were too absorbed to notice that, after a glance of recognition, +one of the pedestrians had paused, and was still regarding them +irresolutely. He was a tall, burly man, habited in rusty black, and the +next moment, as if finding courage, he stepped forward and spoke: + +"Gentlemen, I ask pardon for the liberty I take--impulse urges me to +seek your professional advice! I am in a position to pay a moderate +fee. Will you permit me to explain myself?" + +"Monsieur," returned Robichon, "we are in deep consideration of our +latest parts. We shall be pleased to give you our attention at some +other time." + +"Alas!" persisted the newcomer, "with me time presses. I, too, am +considering my latest part--and it will be the only speaking part I +have ever played, though I have been 'appearing' for twenty years." + +"What? You have been a super for twenty years?" said Quinquart, with a +grimace. + +"No, monsieur," replied the stranger grimly. "I have been the public +executioner; and I am going to lecture on the horrors of the post I +have resigned." + +The two comedians stared at him aghast. Across the sunlit terrace +seemed to have fallen the black shadow of the guillotine. + +"I am Jacques Roux," the man went on, "I am 'trying it on the dog' at +Appeville-sous-Bois next week, and I have what you gentlemen call +'stage fright'--I, who never knew what nervousness meant before! Is it +not queer? As often as I rehearse walking on to the platform, I feel +myself to be all arms and legs--I don't know what to do with them. +Formerly, I scarcely remembered my arms and legs; but, of course, my +attention used to be engaged by the other fellow's head. Well, it +struck me that you might consent to give me a few hints in deportment. +Probably one lesson would suffice." + +"Sit down," said Robichon. "Why did you abandon your official +position?" + +"Because I awakened to the truth," Roux answered. "I no longer agree +with capital punishment: it is a crime that should be abolished." + +"The scruples of conscience, hein?" + +"That is it." + +"Fine!" said Robichon. "What dramatic lines such a lecture might +contain! And of what is it to consist?" + +"It is to consist of the history of my life--my youth, my poverty, my +experiences as Executioner, and my remorse." + +"Magnificent!" said Robichon. "The spectres of your victims pursue you +even to the platform. Your voice fails you, your eyes start from your +head in terror. You gasp for mercy--and imagination splashes your +outstretched hands with gore. The audience thrill, women swoon, strong +men are breathless with emotion." Suddenly he smote the table with his +big fist, and little Quinquart nearly fell off his chair, for he +divined the inspiration of his rival. "Listen!" cried Robichon, "are +you known at Appeville-sous-Bois?" + +"My name is known, yes." + +"Bah! I mean are you known personally, have you acquaintances there?" + +"Oh, no. But why?" + +"There will be nobody to recognize you?" + +"It is very unlikely in such a place." + +"What do you estimate that your profits will amount to?" + +"It is only a small hall, and the prices are very cheap. Perhaps two +hundred and fifty francs." + +"And you are nervous, you would like to postpone your début?" + +"I should not be sorry, I admit. But, again, why?" + +"I will tell you why--I offer you five hundred francs to let me take +your place!" + +"Monsieur!" + +"Is it a bargain?" + +"I do not understand!" + +"I have a whim to figure in a solemn part. You can explain next day +that you missed your train--that you were ill, there are a dozen +explanations that can be made; you will not be supposed to know that I +personated you--the responsibility for that is mine. What do you say?" + +"It is worth double the money," demurred the man. + +"Not a bit of it! All the Press will shout the story of my practical +joke--Paris will be astounded that I, Robichon, lectured as Jacques +Roux and curdled an audience's blood. Millions will speak of your +intended lecture tour who otherwise would never have heard of it. I am +giving you the grandest advertisement, and paying you for it, besides. +Enfin, I will throw a deportment lesson in! Is it agreed?" + +"Agreed, monsieur!" said Roux. + +Oh, the trepidation of Quinquart! Who could eclipse Robichon if his +performance of the part equalled his conception of it? At the theatre +that evening Quinquart followed Suzanne about the wings pathetically. +He was garbed like a buffoon, but he felt like Romeo. The throng that +applauded his capers were far from suspecting the romantic longings +under his magenta wig. For the first time in his life he was thankful +that the author hadn't given him more to do. + +And, oh, the excitement of Robichon! He was to put his powers to a +tremendous test, and if he made the effect that he anticipated he had +no fear of Quinquart's going one better. Suzanne, to whom he whispered +his project proudly, announced an intention of being present to "see +the fun." Quinquart also promised to be there. Robichon sat up all +night preparing his lecture. + +If you wish to know whether Suzanne rejoiced at the prospect of his +winning her, history is not definite on the point; but some chroniclers +assert that at this period she made more than usual of Quinquart, who +had developed a hump as big as the Panthéon. + +And they all went to Appeville-sous-Bois. + +Though no one in the town was likely to know the features of the +Executioner, it was to be remembered that people there might know the +actor's, and Robichon had made up to resemble Roux as closely as +possible. Arriving at the humble hall, he was greeted by the lessee, +heard that a "good house" was expected, and smoked a cigarette in the +retiring-room while the audience assembled. + +At eight o'clock the lessee reappeared. + +"All is ready, monsieur Roux," he said. + +Robichon rose. + +He saw Suzanne and Quinquart in the third row, and was tempted to wink +at them. + +"Ladies and gentlemen--" + +All eyes were riveted on him as he began; even the voice of the +"Executioner" exercised a morbid fascination over the crowd. The men +nudged their neighbours appreciatively, and women gazed at him, half +horrified, half charmed. + +The opening of his address was quiet enough--there was even a humorous +element in it, as he narrated imaginary experiences of his boyhood. +People tittered, and then glanced at one another with an apologetic +air, as if shocked at such a monster's daring to amuse them. Suzanne +whispered to Quinquart: "Too cheerful; he hasn't struck the right +note." Quinquart whispered back gloomily: "Wait; he may be playing for +the contrast!" + +And Quinquart's assumption was correct. Gradually the cheerfulness +faded from the speaker's voice, the humorous incidents were past. +Gruesome, hideous, grew the anecdotes, The hall shivered. Necks were +craned, and white faces twitched suspensively. He dwelt on the agonies +of the Condemned, he recited crimes in detail, he mirrored the last +moments before the blade fell. He shrieked his remorse, his lacerating +remorse. "I am a murderer," he sobbed; and in the hall one might have +heard a pin drop. + +There was no applause when he finished--that set the seal on his +success; he bowed and withdrew amid tense silence. Still none moved in +the hall, until, with a rush, the representatives of the Press sped +forth to proclaim Jacques Roux an unparalleled sensation. + +The triumph of Robichon! How generous were the congratulations of +Quinquart, and how sweet the admiring tributes of Suzanne! And there +was another compliment to come--nothing less than a card from the +marquis de Thevenin, requesting an interview at his home. + +"Ah!" exclaimed Robichon, enravished, "an invitation from a noble! That +proves the effect I made, hein?" + +"Who may he be?" inquired Quinquart. "I never heard of the marquis de +Thevenin!" + +"It is immaterial whether you have heard of him," replied Robichon. "He +is a marquis, and he desires to converse with me! It is an honour that +one must appreciate. I shall assuredly go." + +And, being a bit of a snob, he sought a fiacre in high feather. + +The drive was short, and when the cab stopped he was distinctly taken +aback to perceive the unpretentious aspect of the nobleman's abode. It +was, indeed, nothing better than a lodging. A peasant admitted him, and +the room to which he was ushered boasted no warmer hospitality than a +couple of candles and a decanter of wine. However, the sconces were +massive silver. Monsieur le marquis, he was informed, had been suddenly +compelled to summon his physician, and begged that monsieur Roux would +allow him a few minutes' grace. + +Robichon ardently admired the candlesticks, but began to think he might +have supped more cozily with Suzanne. + +It was a long time before the door opened. + +The marquis de Thevenin was old--so old that he seemed to be falling to +pieces as he tottered forward. His skin was yellow and shrivelled, his +mouth sunken, his hair sparse and grey; and from this weird face peered +strange eyes--the eyes of a fanatic. + +"Monsieur, I owe you many apologies for my delay," he wheezed. "My +unaccustomed exertion this evening fatigued me, and on my return from +the hall I found it necessary to see my doctor. Your lecture was +wonderful, monsieur Roux--most interesting and instructive; I shall +never forget it." + +Robichon bowed his acknowledgments. + +"Sit down, monsieur Roux, do not stand! Let me offer you some wine. I +am forbidden to touch it myself. I am a poor host, but my age must be +my excuse." + +"To be the guest of monsieur le marquis," murmured Robichon, "is a +privilege, an honour, which--er--" + +"Ah," sighed the Marquis. "I shall very soon be in the Republic where +all men are really equals and the only masters are the worms. My reason +for requesting you to come was to speak of your unfortunate +experiences--of a certain unfortunate experience in particular. You +referred in your lecture to the execution of one called 'Victor +Lesueur.' He died game, hein?" + +"As plucky a soul as I ever dispatched!" said Robichon, savouring the +burgundy. + +"Ah! Not a tremor? He strode to the guillotine like a man?" + +"Like a hero!" said Robichon, who knew nothing about him. + +"That was fine," said the Marquis; "that was as it should be! You have +never known a prisoner to die more bravely?" There was a note of pride +in his voice that was unmistakable. + +"I shall always recall his courage with respect," declared Robichon, +mystified. + +"Did you respect it at the time?" + +"Pardon, monsieur le marquis?" + +"I inquire if you respected it at the time; did you spare him all +needless suffering?" + +"There is no suffering," said Robichon. "So swift is the knife that--" +The host made a gesture of impatience. "I refer to mental suffering. +Cannot you realise the emotions of an innocent man condemned to a +shameful death!" + +"Innocent! As for that, they all say that they are innocent." + +"I do not doubt it. Victor, however, spoke the truth. I know it. He was +my son." + +"Your son?" faltered Robichon, aghast. + +"My only son--the only soul I loved on earth. Yes; he was innocent, +monsieur Roux. And it was you who butchered him--he died by your +hands." + +"I--I was but the instrument of the law," stammered Robichon. "I was +not responsible for his fate, myself." + +"You have given a masterly lecture, monsieur Roux," said the Marquis +musingly; "I find myself in agreement with all that you said in it-- +you are his murderer,' I hope the wine is to your taste, monsieur Roux? +Do not spare it!" + +"The wine?" gasped the actor. He started to his feet, trembling--he +understood. + +"It is poisoned," said the old man calmly, "In an hour you will be +dead." + +"Great Heavens!" moaned Robichon. Already he was conscious of a strange +sensation--his blood was chilled, his limbs were weighted, there were +shadows before his eyes. + +"Ah, I have no fear of you!" continued the other; "I am feeble, I could +not defend myself; but your violence would avail you nothing. Fight, or +faint, as you please--you are doomed." + +For some seconds they stared at each other dumbly--the actor paralysed +by terror, the host wearing the smile of a lunatic. And then the +"lunatic" slowly peeled court-plaster from his teeth, and removed +features, and lifted a wig. + + * * * * * + +And when the whole story was published, a delighted Paris awarded the +palm to Quinquart without a dissentient voice, for while Robichon had +duped an audience, Quinquart had duped Robichon himself. + +Robichon bought the silver candlesticks, which had been hired for the +occasion, and he presented them to Quinquart and Suzanne on their +wedding-day. + + + +THE FAIRY POODLE + +They were called the "Two Children" because they were so unpractical; +even in bohemia, where practicality is the last virtue to flourish, +their improvidence was surprising; but really they were not children at +all--they had been married for three years, though to watch their +billing and cooing, you would have supposed them to be bride and +bridegroom. + +Julian and Juliette had fallen in love and run to the Mairie as +joyously as if chateaubriands were to be gathered from the boughs in +the Jardin des Buttes-Chaumont; and since then their home had been the +studio under the slates, where they were often penniless. Indeed, if it +had not been for the intermittent mercies of madame Cochard, the +concierge, they would have starved under the slates. However, they were +sure that the pictures which Julien painted would some day make him +celebrated, and that the fairy-tales which Juliette weaved would some +day be as famous as Hans Andersen's. So they laughed, and painted and +scribbled, and spent their money on bonbons, instead of saving it for +bread; and when they had no dinner, they would kiss each other, and say +"There is a good time coming," And they were called the "Two Children," +as you know. + +But even the patience of madame Cochard was taxed when Juliette brought +back the poodle. + +She found him--a strayed, muddy, unhappy little poodle--in the rue de +Rivoli one wet afternoon in November, and what more natural than that +she should immediately bear him home, and propose to give him a bath, +and adopt him? It was the most natural thing in the world, since she +was Juliette, yet this madame Cochard, who objected to a dog on her +stairs as violently as if it were a tiger, was furious. + +"Is it not enough," she cried, "that you are the worst tenants in the +house, you two--that you are always behindhand with your rent, and that +I must fill your mouths out of my own purse? Is a concierge an Angel +from Heaven, do you think, that you expect her to provide also for lost +dogs?" + +"Dear, kind madame Cochard," cooed Juliette, "you will learn to love +the little creature as if it were your own child! See how trustfully he +regards you!" + +"It is a fact," added Julien; "he seems to take to her already! It is +astonishing how quickly a dog recognises a good heart." + +"Good heart, or not," exclaimed the concierge, "it is to be understood +that I do not consent to this outrage. The poodle shall not remain!" + +"Be discreet," urged Juliette. "I entreat you to be discreet, for your +own sake; if you must have the whole truth, he is a fairy poodle!" + +"What do you say?" ejaculated madame Cochard. + +"He is a fairy poodle, and if we treat him ungenerously, we shall +suffer. Remember the history of the Lodgers, the Concierge, and the +Pug!" + +"I have never heard of such a history," returned madame Cochard; "and I +do not believe that there ever was one." + +"She has never heard the history of the Lodgers, the Concierge, and the +Pug!" cried Juliette. "Oh, then listen, madame! Once upon a time there +were two lodgers, a young man and his wife, and they were so poor that +often they depended on the tenderness of the concierge to supply them +with a dinner." + +"Did they also throw away their good money on bonbons and flowers?" +asked madame Cochard, trying her utmost to look severe. + +"It is possible," admitted Juliette, who was perched on the table, with +the dirty little animal in her lap, "for though they are our hero and +heroine, I cannot pretend that they were very wise. Well, this +concierge, who suffered badly from lumbago and stairs, had sometimes a +bit of temper, so you may figure yourself what a fuss she raised when +the poor lodgers brought home a friendless pug to add to their +embarrassments. However--" + +"There is no 'however,'" persisted madame Cochard; "she raises a fuss, +and that is all about it!" + +"Pardon, dear madame," put in Julien, "you confuse the cases; we are +now concerned with the veracious history of the pug, not the uncertain +future of the poodle." + +"Quite so," said Juliette. "She raised a terrible fuss and declared +that the pug should go, but finally she melted to it and made it +welcome. And then, what do you suppose happened? Why, it turned out to +be an enchanted prince, who rewarded them all with wealth and +happiness. The young man's pictures were immediately accepted by the +Salon--did I mention that he was an artist? The young woman's stories-- +did I tell you that she wrote stories?--became so much the fashion that +her head swam with joy; and the concierge--the dear, kind concierge-- +was changed into a beautiful princess, and never had to walk up any +stairs again as long as she lived. Thus we see that one should never +forbid lodgers to adopt a dog!" + +"Thus we see that they do well to call you a pair of 'children,'" +replied madame Cochard, "that is what we see! Well, well, keep the dog, +since you are so much bent on it; only I warn you that if it gives me +trouble, it will be sausages in no time! I advise you to wash it +without delay, for a more deplorable little beast I never saw." + +Julien and Juliette set to work with delight, and after he was bathed +and dry, the alteration in the dog was quite astonishing. Although he +did not precisely turn into a prince, he turned into a poodle of the +most fashionable aspect. Obviously an aristocrat among poodles, a +poodle of high estate. The metamorphosis was so striking that a new +fear assailed his rescuers, the fear that it might be dishonest of them +to retain him--probably some great lady was disconsolate at his loss! + +Sure enough! A few days later, when Sanquereau called upon them, he +said: + +"By the way, did I not hear that you had found a poodle, my children? +Doubtless it is the poodle for which they advertise. See!" And he +produced a copy of a journal in which "a handsome reward" was promised +for the restoration of an animal which resembled their protégé to a +tuft. + +The description was too accurate for the Children to deceive +themselves, and that afternoon Juliette carried the dog to a +magnificent house which was nothing less than the residence of the +comtesse de Grand Ecusson. + +She was left standing in a noble hall while a flunkey bore the dog +away. Then another flunkey bade her follow him upstairs; and in a salon +which was finer than anything that Juliette had ever met with outside +the pages of a novel, the Countess was reclining on a couch with the +poodle in her arms. + +"I am so grateful to you for the recovery of my darling," said the +great lady; "my distress has been insupportable. Ah, naughty, naughty +Racine!" She made a pretence of chastising the poodle on the nose. + +"I can understand it, madame," said Juliette, much embarrassed. + +"Where did you find him? And has he been well fed, well taken care of? +I hope he has not been sleeping in a draught?" + +"Oh, indeed, madame, he has been nourished like a beloved child. +Doubtless, not so delicately as with madame, but--" + +"It was most kind of you," said the lady. "I count myself blessed that +my little Racine fell into such good hands. Now as to the reward, what +sum would you think sufficient?" + +Juliette looked shy. "I thank you, madame, but we could not accept +anything," she faltered. + +"What?" exclaimed the Countess, raising her eyebrows in surprise, "you +cannot accept anything? How is that?" + +"Well," said Juliette, "it would be base to accept money for a simple +act of honesty. It is true that we did not wish to part with the dog-- +we had grown to love him--but, as to our receiving payment for giving +him up, that is impossible." + +The Countess laughed merrily. "What a funny child you are! And, who are +'we'--you and your parents?" + +"Oh no," said Juliette; "my parents are in Heaven, madame; but I am +married." + +"Your husband must be in heaven, too!" said the Countess, who was a +charming woman. + +"Ah," demurred Juliette, "but although I have a warm heart, I have also +a healthy appetite, and he is not rich; he is a painter." + +"I must go to see his pictures some day," replied the comtesse de Grand +Ecusson. "Give me the address--and believe that I am extremely grateful +to you!" + +It need not be said that Juliette skipped home on air after this +interview. The hint of such patronage opened the gates of paradise to +her, and the prospect was equally dazzling to Julien. For fully a week +they talked of nothing but a visit from the comtesse de Grand Ecusson, +having no suspicion that fine ladies often forgot their pretty promises +as quickly as they made them. + +And the week, and a fortnight, and a month passed, and at last the +expectation faded; they ceased to indulge their fancies of a carriage- +and-pair dashing into the street with a Lady Bountiful. And what was +much more serious, madame Cochard ceased to indulge their follies. The +truth was that she had never pardoned the girl for refusing to accept +the proffered reward; the delicacy that prompted the refusal was beyond +her comprehension, and now that the pair were in arrears with their +rent again, she put no bridle on her tongue. "It appears to me that it +would have been more honourable to accept money for a poodle than to +owe money to a landlord," she grunted. "It must be perfectly understood +that if the sum is not forthcoming on the first of January, you will +have to get out. I have received my instructions, and I shall obey +them. On the first day of January, my children, you pay, or you go! Le +bon Dieu alone knows what will become of you, but that is no affair of +mine. I expect you will die like the babes in the wood, for you are no +more fit to make a living than a cow is fit to fly." + +"Dear madame Cochard," they answered, peacefully, "why distress +yourself about us? The first of January is more than a week distant; in +a week we may sell a picture, or some fairy tales--in a week many +things may happen!" And they sunned themselves on the boulevard the +same afternoon with as much serenity as if they had been millionaires. + +Nevertheless, they did not sell a picture or some fairy tales in the +week that followed--and the first of January dawned with relentless +punctuality, as we all remember. + +In the early morning, when madame Cochard made her ascent to the attic +--her arms folded inexorably, the glare of a creditor in her eye--she +found that Juliette had already been out. (If you can believe me, she +had been out to waste her last two francs on an absurd tie for Julien!) + +"Eh bien," demanded the concierge sternly, "where is your husband? I am +here, as arranged, for the rent; no doubt he has it ready on the +mantelpiece for me?" + +"He is not in," answered Juliette coaxingly, "and I am sorry to say we +have had disappointments. The fact is there is something wrong with the +construction of a story of which I had immense hopes--it needs letting +out at the waist, and a tuck put in at the hem. When I have made the +alterations, I am sure it will fit some journal elegantly." + +"All this passes forbearance!" exclaimed madame Cochard. "Well, you +have thoroughly understood, and all is said--you will vacate your +lodging by evening! So much grace I give you; but at six o'clock you +depart promptly, or you will be ejected! And do not reckon on me to +send any meal up here during the day, for you will not get so much as a +crust. What is it that you have been buying there?" + +"It is a little gift for Julien; I rose early to choose it before he +woke, and surprise him; but when I returned he was out." + +"A gift?" cried the concierge. "You have no money to buy food, and you +buy a gift for your husband! What for?" + +"What for?" repeated Juliette wonderingly. "Why, because it is New +Year's Day! And that reminds me--I wish you the compliments of the +season, madame; may you enjoy many happy years!" + +"Kind words pay no bills," snapped the concierge. "I have been lenient +far too long--I have my own reputation to consider with the landlord. +By six o'clock, bear in mind!" And then, to complete her resentment, +what should happen but that Julien entered bearing a bouquet! + +To see Julien present Juliette with the roses, and to watch Juliette +enchant Julien with the preposterous tie, was as charming a little +comedy of improvidence as you would be likely to meet with in a +lifetime. + +"Mon Dieu!" gasped madame Cochard, purple with indignation, "it is, +indeed, well that you are leaving here, monsieur--a madhouse is the +fitting address for you! You have nothing to eat and you buy roses for +your wife! What for?" + +"What for?" echoed Julien, astonished. "Why, because it is New Year's +Day! And I take the opportunity to wish you the compliments of the +season, madame--may your future be as bright as Juliette's eyes!" + +"By six o'clock!" reiterated the concierge, who was so exasperated that +she could barely articulate. "By six o'clock you will be out of the +place!" And to relieve her feelings, she slammed the door with such +violence that half a dozen canvases fell to the floor. + +"Well, this is a nice thing," remarked Julien, when she had gone. "It +looks to me, mignonne, as if we shall sleep in the Bois, with the moon +for an eiderdown." + +"At least you shall have a comfy pillow, sweetheart," cried Juliette, +drawing his head to her breast. + +"My angel, there is none so soft in the Elysée, And as we have nothing +for déjeuner in the cupboard, I propose that we breakfast now on +kisses." + +"Ah, Julien!" whispered the girl, as she folded him in her arms. + +"Ah, Juliette!" It was as if they had been married that morning. + +"And yet," continued the young man, releasing her at last, "to own the +truth, your kisses are not satisfying as a menu; they are the choicest +of hors d'oeuvres--they leave one hungry for more." + +They were still making love when Sanquereau burst in to wish them a +Happy New Year. + +"How goes it, my children?" he cried. "You look like a honeymoon, I +swear! Am I in the way, or may I breakfast with you?" + +"You are not in the way, mon vieux," returned Julien; "but I shall not +invite you to breakfast with me, because my repast consists of +Juliette's lips." + +"Mon Dieu!" said Sanquereau. "So you are broke? Well, in my chequered +career I have breakfasted on much worse fare than yours." + +At this reply, Juliette blushed with all the bashfulness of a bride, +and Julien endeavoured to assume the air of a man of the world. + +"Tell me," he said; "we are in difficulties about the rent--have you by +chance a louis that you could lend me?" + +Sanquereau turned out his pockets, like the good fellow he was, but he +could produce no more than a sou. "What a bother!" he cried. "I would +lend you a louis if I had it as readily as a cigarette-paper, but you +see how I am situated. On my honour, it rends my heart to have to +refuse." + +"You are a gallant comrade," said Julien, much touched. "Come back and +sup with us this evening, and we will open the New Year with a +festivity!" + +"Hein? But there will be no supper," faltered Juliette. + +"That's true," said Julien; "there will be no supper--I was forgetting. +Still--who knows? There is plenty of time; I shall have an idea. +Perhaps I may be able to borrow something from Tricotrin." + +"I shall be enchanted," responded Sanquereau; "depend on my arrival! If +I am not mistaken, I recognize Tricotrin's voice on the stairs." + +His ears had not deceived him; Tricotrin appeared with Pitou at this +very moment. + +"Greeting, my children!" they cried. "How wags the world? May the New +Year bring you laurels and lucre!" + +"To you also, dear Gustave and Nicolas," cried the Children. "May your +poems and your music ignite the Seine, and may Sanquereau rise to +eminence and make statues of you both!" + +"In the meantime," added Sanquereau, "can either of you put your hands +on a few francs? There is a fine opening for them here." + +"A difference of opinion exists between ourselves and the landlord," +Julien explained; "we consider that he should wait for his rent, and he +holds a different view. If you could lend us fifteen francs, we might +effect a compromise." + +The poet and the composer displayed the lining of their pockets as +freely as the sculptor had done, but their capital proved to be a sou +less than his own. Tears sprang to their eyes as they confessed their +inability to be of use, "We are in despair," they groaned. + +"My good, kind friends," exclaimed Julien, "your sympathy is a noble +gift in itself! Join us in a little supper this evening in celebration +of the date." + +"We shall be delighted," declared Tricotrin and Pitou. + +"But--but--" stammered Juliette again, "where is it to come from, this +supper--and where shall we be by supper-time?" + +"Well, our address is on the lap of the gods," admitted Julien, "but +while there is life there is hope. Possibly I may obtain a loan from +Lajeunie." + +Not many minutes had passed before Lajeunie also paid a visit to the +attic, "Aha," cried the unsuccessful novelist, as he perceived the +company, "well met! My children, my brothers, may your rewards equal +your deserts this year--may France do honour to your genius!" + +"And may Lajeunie be crowned the New Balzac," shouted the assembly; +"may his abode be in the Champs Elysées, and his name in the mouth of +all the world!" + +But, extraordinary as it appears, Lajeunie proved to be as impecunious +as the rest there; and he was so much distressed that Julien, deeply +moved, said: + +"Come back to supper, Lajeunie, we will drink toasts to the Muses!" And +now there were four guests invited to the impracticable supper, and +when the Children were left alone they clapped their hands at the +prospect. + +"How merry we shall be!" Julien exclaimed; "and awhile ago we talked of +passing the night in the Bois! It only shows you that one can never +tell what an hour may bring forth." + +"Yes, yes," assented Juliette blithely. "And as for the supper--" + +"We shall not require it till nine o'clock at the earliest." + +"And now it is no more than midday. Why, there is an eternity for +things to arrange themselves!" + +"Just so. The sky may rain truffles in such an interval," said the +painter. And they drew their chairs closer to the fire, and pretended +to each other that they were not hungry. + +The hours crept past, and the sunshine waned, and snow began to flutter +over Paris. But no truffles fell. By degrees the fire burnt low, and +died. To beg for more fuel was impossible, and Juliette shivered a +little. + +"You are cold, sweetheart," sighed Julien. "I will fetch a blanket from +the bed and wrap you in it." + +"No," she murmured, "wrap me in your arms--it will be better." + +Darker and darker grew the garret, and faster and faster fell the snow. + +"I have a fancy," said Juliette, breaking a long silence, "that it is +the hour in which a fairy should appear to us. Let us look to see if +she is coming!" + +They peered from the window, but in the twilight no fairy was to be +discerned; only an "old clo'" man was visible, trudging on his round. + +"I declare," cried Julien, "he is the next best thing to your fairy! I +will sell my summer suit and my velvet jacket. What do I want of a +velvet jacket? Coffee and eggs will be much more cheerful." + +"And I," vowed Juliette, "can spare my best hat easily--indeed, it is +an encumbrance. If we make madame Cochard a small peace-offering she +may allow us to remain until the morning." + +"What a grand idea! We shall provide ourselves with a night's shelter +and the means to entertain our friends as well Hasten to collect our +wardrobe, mignonette, while I crack my throat to make him hear. Hé, +hé!" + +At the repeated cries the "old clo'" man lifted his gaze to the fifth- +floor window at last, and in a few minutes Julien and Juliette were +kneeling on the boards above a pile of garments, which they raised one +by one for his inspection. + +"Regard, monsieur," said Julien, "this elegant summer suit! It is +almost as good as new. I begin to hesitate to part with it. What shall +we say for this elegant summer suit?" + +The dealer fingered it disdainfully. "Show me boots," he suggested; "we +can do business in boots." + +"Alas!" replied Julien, "the only boots that I possess are on my feet. +We will again admire the suit. What do you estimate it at--ten francs?" + +"Are you insane? are you a lunatic?" returned the dealer. "To a +reckless man it might be worth ten sous. Let us talk of boots!" + +"I cannot go barefoot," expostulated Julien. "Juliette, my Heart, do +you happen to possess a second pair of boots?" + +Juliette shook her head forlornly. "But I have a hat with daisies in +it," she said. "Observe, monsieur, the delicate tints of the buds! How +like to nature, how exquisite they are! They make one dream of +courtship in the woods. I will take five francs for it." + +"From me I swear you will not take them!" said the "old clo'" man. +"Boots," he pleaded; "for the love of God, boots!" + +"Morbleu, what a passion for boots you have!" moaned the unhappy +painter; "they obsess you, they warp your judgment. Can you think of +nothing in the world but boots? Look, we come to the gem of the +exhibition--a velvet jacket! A jacket like this confers an air of +greatness, one could not feel the pinch of poverty in such a jacket. It +is, I confess, a little white at the elbows, but such high lights are +very effective. And observe the texture--as soft as a darling's cheek!" + +The other turned it about with indifferent hands, and the Children +began to realise that he would prove no substitute for a fairy after +all. Then, while they watched him with sinking hearts, the door was +suddenly opened, and the concierge tottered on the threshold. + +"Monsieur, madame!" she panted, with such respect that they stared at +each other. + +"Eh bien?" + +"A visitor!" She leant against the wall, overwhelmed. + +"Who is it?" + +"Madame, la comtesse de Grand Ecusson!" + +Actually! The Countess had kept her word after all, and now she rustled +in, before the "old clo'" man could be banished. White as a virgin +canvas, Julien staggered forward to receive her, a pair of trousers, +which he was too agitated to remember, dangling under his arm. "Madame, +this honour!" he stammered; and, making a piteous effort to disguise +his beggary, "One's wardrobe accumulates so that, really, in a small +ménage, one has no room to--" + +"I have suffered from the inconvenience myself, monsieur," said the +Countess graciously. "Your charming wife was so kind as to invite me to +view your work; and see--my little Racine has come to wish his +preservers a Happy New Year!" + +And, on the honour of an historian, he brought one! Before they left +she had given a commission for his portrait at a thousand francs, and +purchased two landscapes, for which a thousand francs more would be +paid on the morrow. When Sanquereau, and Lajeunie, and Tricotrin, and +Pitou arrived, expecting the worst, they were amazed to discover the +Children waltzing round the attic to the music of their own voices. + +What _hurras_ rang out when the explanation was forthcoming; what +loans were promised to the guests, and what a gay quadrille was danced! +It was not until the last figure had concluded that Julien and Juliette +recognised that, although they would be wealthy in the morning, they +were still penniless that night. + +"Hélas! but we have no supper after all," groaned Julien. + +"Pardon, it is here, monsieur!" shouted madame Cochard, who entered +behind a kingly feast. "_Comment_, shall the artist honoured by +madame la comtesse de Grand Ecusson have no supper? Pot-au-feu, +monsieur; leg of mutton, monsieur; little tarts, monsieur; dessert, +monsieur; and for each person a bottle of good wine!" + +And the justice that was done to it, and the laughter that pealed under +the slates! The Children didn't forget that it was all due to the dog. +Juliette raised her glass radiantly. + +"Gentlemen," she cried, "I ask you to drink to the Fairy Poodle!" + + + +LITTLE-FLOWER-OF-THE-WOOD + +Janiaud used to lie abed all day, and drink absinthe all night. When +he contrived to write his poetry is a mystery. But he did write it, and +he might have written other things, too, if he had had the will. It was +often said that his paramount duty was to publish a history of modern +Paris, for the man was an encyclopaedia of unsuspected facts. Since he +can never publish it now, however, I am free to tell the story of the +Café du Bon Vieux Temps as he told it to an English editor and me one +night on the terrace of the café itself. It befell thus: + +When we entered that shabby little Montmartre restaurant, Janiaud +chanced to be seated, at a table in a corner, sipping his favourite +stimulant. He was deplorably dirty and suggested a scarecrow, and the +English editor looked nervous when I offered an introduction. Still, +Janiaud was Janiaud. The offer was accepted, and Janiaud discoursed in +his native tongue. At midnight the Editor ordered supper. Being +unfamiliar with the Café du Bon Vieux Temps in those days, I said that +I would drink beer. Janiaud smiled sardonically, and the waiter +surprised us with the information that beer could not be supplied. + +"What?" + +"After midnight, nothing but champagne," he answered. + +"Really? Well, let us go somewhere else," I proposed. + +But the Editor would not hear of that. He had a princely soul, and, +besides, he was "doing Paris." + +"All the same, what does it mean?" he inquired of Janiaud. + +Janiaud blew smoke rings. "It is the rule. During the evening the +bock-drinker is welcomed here as elsewhere; but at midnight--well, you will +see what you will see!" + +And we saw very soon. The bourgeoisie of Montmartre had straggled out +while we talked, and in a little while the restaurant was crowded with +a rackety crew who had driven up in cabs. Everybody but ourselves was +in evening-dress. Where the coppers had been counted carefully, gold +was scattered. A space was cleared for dancing, and mademoiselle Nan +Joliquette obliged the company with her latest comic song. + +The Editor was interested. "It is a queer change, though! Has it always +been like this?" + +"Ask Janiaud," I said; _I_ don't know." + +"Oh, not at all," replied Janiaud; "no, indeed, it was not always like +this! It used to be as quiet at midnight as at any other hour. But it +became celebrated as a supper-place; and now it is quite the thing for +the ardent spirits, with money, to come and kick up their heels here +until five in the morning." + +"Curious, how such customs originate," remarked the Editor. "Here we +have a restaurant which is out of the way, which is the reverse of +luxurious, and which, for all that, seems to be a gold mine to the +proprietor. Look at him! Look at his white waistcoat and his massive +watch-chain, his air of prosperity." + +"How did he come to rake it in like this, Janiaud--you know +everything?" I said. + +The poet stroked his beard, and glanced at his empty glass. The Editor +raised a bottle. + +"I cannot talk on Clicquot," demurred Janiaud. "If you insist, I will +take another absinthe--they will allow it, in the circumstances. Sst, +Adolphe!" The waiter whisked over to us. "Monsieur pays for champagne, +but I prefer absinthe. There is no law against that, hein?" + +Adolphe smiled tolerantly. + +"Shall we sit outside?" suggested the Editor. "What do you think? It's +getting rather riotous in here, isn't it?" + +So we moved on to the terrace, and waited while Janiaud prepared his +poison. + +"It is a coincidence that you have asked me for the history of the Bon +Vieux Temps tonight," he began, after a gulp; "if you had asked for it +two days earlier, the climax would have been missing. The story +completed itself yesterday, and I happened to be here and saw the end. + +"Listen: Dupont--the proprietor whom monsieur has just admired--used to +be chef to a family on the boulevard Haussmann. He had a very fair +salary, and probably he would have remained in the situation till now +but for the fact that he fell in love with the parlourmaid. She was a +sprightly little flirt, with ambitions, and she accepted him only on +condition that they should withdraw from domestic service and start a +business of their own. Dupont was of a cautious temperament; he would +have preferred that they should jog along with some family in the +capacities of chef and housekeeper. Still, he consented; and, with what +they had saved between them, they took over this little restaurant-- +where monsieur the Editor has treated me with such regal magnificence. +It was not they who christened it--it was called the Café du Bon Vieux +Temps already; how it obtained its name is also very interesting, but I +have always avoided digressions in my work--that is one of the first +principles of the literary art." + +He swallowed some more absinthe. + +"They took the establishment over, and they conducted it on the lines +of their predecessor--they provided a déjeuner at one franc fifty, and +a dinner at two francs. These are side-shows of the Bon Vieux Temps to-day, +but, in the period of which I speak, they were all that it had to +say for itself--they were its foundation-stone, and its cupola. When I +had two francs to spare, I used to dine here myself. + +"Well, the profits were not dazzling. And after marriage the little +parlourmaid developed extravagant tastes. She had a passion for +theatres. I, Janiaud, have nothing to say against theatres, excepting +that the managers have never put on my dramas, but in the wife of a +struggling restaurateur a craze for playgoing is not to be encouraged. +Monsieur will agree? Also, madame had a fondness for dress. She did +little behind the counter but display new ribbons and trinkets. She was +very stupid at giving change--and always made the mistake on the wrong +side for Dupont. At last he had to employ a cousin of his own as dame- +de-comptoir. The expenses had increased, and the returns remained the +same. In fine, Dupont was in difficulties; the Bon Vieux Temps was on +its last legs. + +"Listen: There was at that time a dancer called 'Little-Flower-of-the- +Wood'; she was very chic, very popular. She had her appartement in the +avenue Wagram, she drove to the stage-doors in her coupé, her +photographs were sold like confetti at a carnival. Well, one afternoon, +when Dupont's reflections were oscillating between the bankruptcy court +and the Morgue, he was stupefied to receive a message from her--she +bade him reserve a table for herself and some friends for supper that +night! + +"Dupont could scarcely credit his ears. He told his wife that a +practical joker must be larking with him. He declared that he would +take no notice of the message, that he was not such an ass to be duped +by it. Finally, he proposed to telegraph to Little-Flower-of-the-Wood, +inquiring if it was genuine. + +"Monsieur, as an editor, will have observed that a woman who is +incapable in the daily affairs of life, may reveal astounding force in +an emergency? It was so in this case. Madame put her foot down; she +showed unsuspected commercial aptitude. She firmly forbade Dupont to do +anything of the sort! + +"'What?' she exclaimed. 'You will telegraph to her, inquiring? Never in +this life! You might as well advise her frankly not to come. What would +such a question mean? That you do not think the place is good enough +for her! Well, if _you_ do not think so, neither will _she_-- +she will decide that she had a foolish impulse and stay away! + +"'Mon Dieu! do you dream that a woman accustomed to the Café de Paris +would choose to sup in an obscure little restaurant like ours?' said +Dupont, fuming. 'Do you dream that I am going to buy partridges, and +peaches, and wines, and heaven knows what other delicacies, in the +dark? Do you dream that I am going to ruin myself while every instinct +in me protests? It would be the act of a madman!' + +"'My little cabbage,' returned madame, 'we are so near to ruin as we +are, that a step nearer is of small importance. If Little-Flower-of- +the-Wood should come, it might be the turning-point in our fortunes-- +people would hear of it, the Bon Vieux Temps might become renowned. +Yes, we shall buy partridges, and peaches--and bonbons, and flowers +also, and we shall hire a piano! And if our good angel should indeed +send her to us, I swear she shall pass as pleasant an evening as if she +had gone to Maxim's or the Abbaye! + +"Bien! She convinced him. For the rest of the day the place was in a +state of frenzy. Never before had such a repast been seen in its +kitchen, never before had he cooked with such loving care, even when he +had been preparing a dinner of ceremony on the boulevard Haussmann. +Madame herself ran out to arrange for the piano. The floor was swept. +The waiter was put into a clean shirt. Dupont shed tears of excitement +in his saucepans. + +"He served the two-franc dinner that evening with eyes that watched +nothing but the clock. All his consciousness now was absorbed by the +question whether the dancer would come or not. The dinner passed +somehow--it is to be assumed that the customers grumbled, but in his +suspense Dupont regarded them with indifference. The hours crept by. It +was a quarter to twelve--twelve o'clock. He trembled behind the +counter as if with ague. Now it was time that she was here! His face +was blanched, his teeth chattered in his head. What if he had been +hoaxed after all? Half-past twelve! The sweat ran down him. Terror +gripped his heart. A vision of all the partridges wasted convulsed his +soul. Hark! a carriage stopped. He tottered forward. The door opened-- +she had come! + +"Women are strange. Little-Flower-of-the-Wood, who yawned her pretty +head off at Armenonville, was enraptured with the Bon Vieux Temps. The +rest of the party took their tone from her, and everything was +pronounced 'fun,' the coarse linen, the dirty ceiling, the admiring +stares of the bock-drinkers. The lady herself declared that she had +'never enjoyed a supper so much in her life,' and the waiter--it was +not Adolphe then--was dumfounded by a louis tip. + +"Figure yourself the exultation of madame! 'Ah,' she chuckled, when +they shut up shop at sunrise, 'what did I tell you, my little cabbage?' +Monsieur, as an editor, will have observed that a woman who reveals +astounding force in an emergency may triumph pettily when the emergency +is over? + +"'It remains to be seen whether they will come any more, however,' said +Dupont. 'Let us go to bed. Mon Dieu, how sleepy I am!' It was the first +occasion that the Bon Vieux Temps had been open after two o'clock in +the morning. + +"It was the first occasion, and for some days they feared it might be +the last. But no, the dancer came again! A few eccentrics who came with +her flattered themselves on having made a 'discovery.' They boasted of +it. Gradually the name of the Bon Vieux Temps became known. By the time +that Little-Flower-of-the-Wood had had enough, there was a supper +clientèle without her. Folly is infectious, and in Paris there are +always people catching a fresh craze. Dupont began to put up his +prices, and levied a charge on the waiter for the privilege of waiting +at supper. The rest of the history is more grave ... _Comment_, +monsieur? Since you insist--again an absinthe!" + +Janiaud paused, and ran his dirty fingers through his hair. + +"This man can talk!" said the Editor, in an undertone. + +"Gentlemen," resumed the poet, "two years passed. Little-Flower-of-the- +Wood was on the Italian Riviera. The Italian Riviera was awake again +after the heat of the summer--the little town that had dozed for many +months began to stir. Almost every day now she saw new faces on the +promenade; the sky was gentler, the sea was fairer. And she sat +loathing it all, craving to escape from it to the bleak streets of +Paris. + +"Two winters before, she had been told, 'Your lungs will stand no more +of the pranks you have been playing. You must go South, and keep early +hours, or--' The shrug said the rest. And she had sold some of her +diamonds and obeyed. Of course, it was an awful nuisance, but she must +put up with it for a winter in order to get well. As soon as she was +well, she would go back, and take another engagement. She had promised +herself to be dancing again by May. + +"But when May had come, she was no better. And travelling was +expensive, and all places were alike to her since she was forbidden to +return to Paris. She, had disposed of more jewellery, and looked forward +to the autumn. And in the autumn she had looked forward to the spring. +So it had gone on. + +"At first, while letters came to her sometimes, telling her how she was +missed, the banishment had been alleviated; later, in her loneliness, +it had grown frightful. Monsieur, her soul--that little soul that +pleasure had held dumb--cried out, under misfortune, like a homeless +child for its mother. Her longing took her by the throat, and the +doctor had difficulty in dissuading her from going to meet death by the +first train. She did not suspect that she was doomed in any case; he +thought it kinder to deceive her. He had preached 'Patience, +mademoiselle, a little patience!' And she had wrung her hands, but +yielded--sustained by the hope of a future that she was never to know. + +"By this time the last of her jewels was sold, and most of the money +had been spent. The fact alarmed her when she dwelt upon it, but she +did not dwell upon it very often--in the career of Little-Flower-of- +the-Wood, so many financial crises had been righted at the last moment. +No, although there was nobody now to whom she could turn for help, it +was not anxiety that bowed her; the thoughts by which she was stricken, +as she sauntered feebly on the eternal promenade, were that in Paris +they no longer talked of her, and that her prettiness had passed away. +She was forgotten, ugly! The tragedy of her exile was that. + +"Now it was that she found out the truth--she learnt that there was no +chance of her recovering. She made no reproaches for the lies that had +been told her; she recognized that they had been well meant. All she +said was, 'I am glad that it is not too late; I may see Paris still +before the curtain tumbles--I shall go at once.' + +"Not many months of life remained to her, but they were more numerous +than her louis. It was an unfamiliar Paris that she returned to! She +had quitted the Paris of the frivolous and fêted; she came back to the +Paris of the outcast poor. The world that she had remembered gave her +no welcome--she peered through its shut windows, friendless in the +streets. + +"Gentlemen, last night all the customers had gone from the little Café +du Bon Vieux Temps but a woman in a shabby opera-cloak--a woman with +tragic eyes, and half a lung. She sat fingering her glass of beer +absently, though the clock over the desk pointed to a quarter to +midnight, and at midnight beer-drinkers are no longer desired in the +Bon Vieux Temps. But she was a stranger; it was concluded that she +didn't know. + +"Adolphe approached to enlighten her; 'Madame wishes to order supper?' +he asked. + +"The stranger shook her head. + +"'Madame will have champagne?' + +"'Don't bother me!' said the woman. + +"Adolphe nodded toward the bock contemptuously. 'After midnight, only +champagne is served here,' he said; 'it is the rule of the house,' + +"'A fig for the rule!' scoffed the woman; 'I am going to stop.' + +"Adolphe retired and sought the _patron_, and Dupont advanced to +her with dignity. + +"'Madame is plainly ignorant of our arrangements,' he began; 'at twelve +o'clock one cannot remain here for the cost of a bock--the restaurant +becomes very gay,' + +"'So I believe,' she said; 'I want to see the gaiety,' + +"'It also becomes expensive. I will explain. During the evening we +serve a dinner at two francs for our clients in the neighbourhood--and +until twelve o'clock one may order bocks, or what one wishes, at +strictly moderate prices. But at twelve o'clock there is a change; we +have quite a different class of trade. The world that amuses itself +arrives here to sup and to dance. As a supper-house, the Bori Vieux +Temps is known to all Paris.' + +"'One lives and learns!' said the woman, ironically; 'but I--know more +about the Bon Vieux Temps than you seem to think. I can tell you the +history of its success.' + +"'Madame?' Dupont regarded her with haughty eyes. + +"'Three years ago, monsieur, there was no "different class of trade" at +twelve o'clock, and no champagne. The dinners at two francs for your +clients in the neighbourhood were all that you aspired to. You did the +cooking yourself in those days, and you did not sport a white waistcoat +and a gold watch-chain.' + +"'These things have nothing to do with it. You will comply with the +rule, or you must go. All is said!' "'One night Little-Flower-of-the- +Wood had a whim to sup here,' continued the woman as if he had not +spoken. 'She had passed the place in her carriage and fancied its name, +or its flowerpot--or she wanted to do something new. Anyhow, she had +the whim! I see you have the telephone behind the desk, monsieur--your +little restaurant was not on the telephone when she wished to reserve a +table that night; she had to reserve it by a messenger.' + +"'Well, well?' said Dupont, impatiently. + +"'But you were a shrewd man; you saw your luck and leapt at it--and +when she entered with her party, you received her like a queen. You had +even hired a piano, you said, in case Little-Flower-of-the-Wood might +wish to play. I notice that a piano is in the corner now--no doubt you +soon saved the money to buy one.' + +"'How do you know all this, you?' Dupont's gaze was curious. + +"'Her freak pleased her, and she came again and again--and others came, +just to see her here. Then you recognized that your clients from the +neighbourhood were out of place among the spendthrifts, who yielded +more profit in a night than all the two-franc dinners in a month; you +said, "At twelve o'clock there shall be no more bocks, only champagne!" +I had made your restaurant famous--and you introduced the great rule +that you now command me to obey.' + +"'You? You are Little-Flower-of-the-Wood?' + +"'Yes, it was I who did it for you,' she said quietly. 'And the +restaurant flourished after Little-Flower-of-the-Wood had faded. Well, +to-night I want to spend an hour here again, for the sake of what I +used to be. Time brings changes, you understand, and I cannot conform +with the great rule.' She opened the opera-cloak, trembling, and he saw +that beneath it Little-Flower-of-the-Wood was in rags. + +"'I am very poor and ill,' she went on. 'I have been away in the South +for more than two years; they told me I ought to stop there, but I had +to see Paris once more! What does it matter? I shall finish here a +little sooner, that is all. I lodge close by, in a garret. The garret +is very dirty, but I hear the muisc from the Bal Tabarin across the +way. I like that--I persuade myself I am living the happy life I used +to have. When I am tossing sleepless, I hear the noise and laughter of +the crowd coming out, and blow kisses to them in the dark. You see, +although one is forgotten, one cannot forget. I pray that their +laughter will come up to me right at the end, before I die.' + +"'You cannot afford to enter Tabarin's?' faltered Dupont; 'you are so +stony as that?' + +"'So stony as that!' she said. 'And I repeat that to-night I want to +pass an hour in the midst of the life I loved. Monsieur, remember how +you came to make your rule! Break it for me once! Let me stay here +to-night for a bock!' + +"Dupont is a restaurateur, but he is also a man. He took both her +hands, and the waiters were astonished to perceive that the +_patron_ was crying. + +"'My child,' he stammered, 'you will sup here as my guest.' + +"Adolphe set before her champagne that she sipped feverishly, and a +supper that she was too ill to eat. And cabs came rattling from the +Boulevard with boisterous men and women who no longer recalled her +name--and with other 'Little-Flowers-of-the-Wood,' who had sprung up +since her day. + +"The woman who used to reign there sat among them looking back, until +the last jest was bandied, and the last bottle was drained. Then she +bade her host 'good-bye,' and crawled home--to the garret where she +'heard the music of the ball'; the garret where she 'prayed that the +laughter would come up to her right at the end, before she died.'" + +Janiaud finished the absinthe, and lurched to his feet. "That's all." + +"Great Scott," said the Editor, "I wish he could write in English! But +--but it's very pitiable, she may starve there; something ought to be +done.... Can you tell us where she is living, monsieur?" + +The poet shrugged his shoulders. "Is there no satisfying you? You asked +me for the history of the Bon Vieux Temps, and there are things that +even I do not know. However, I have done my best. I cannot say where +the lady is living, but I can tell you where she was born." He pointed, +with a drunken laugh, to his glass: "There!" + + + +A MIRACLE IN MONTMARTRE + +Lajeunie, the luckless novelist, went to Pitou, the unrecognized +composer, saying, "I have a superb scenario for a revue. Let us join +forces! I promise you we shall make a fortune; we shall exchange our +attics for first floors of fashion, and be wealthy enough to wear sable +overcoats and Panama hats at the same time." In ordinary circumstances, +of course, Pitou would have collaborated only with Tricotrin, but +Tricotrin was just then engrossed by a tragedy in blank verse and seven +acts, and he said to them, "Make a fortune together by all means, my +comrades; I should be unreasonable if I raised objections to having +rich friends." + +Accordingly the pair worked like heroes of biography, and, after +vicissitudes innumerable, _Patatras_ was practically accepted at +La Coupole. The manager even hinted that Fifi Blondette might be seen +in the leading part. La Coupole, and Blondette! Pitou and Lajeunie +could scarcely credit their ears. To be sure, she was no actress, and +her voice was rather unpleasant, and she would probably want everything +rewritten fifteen times before it satisfied her; but she was a +beautiful woman and all Paris paid to look at her when she graced a +stage; and she had just ruined Prince Czernowitz, which gave her name +an additional value. "Upon my word," gasped Pitou, "our luck seems as +incredible, my dear Lajeunie, as the plot of any of your novels! Come +and have a drink!" + +"I feel like Rodolphe at the end of _La Vie de Bohème_," he +confided to Tricotrin in their garret one winter's night, as they went +supper-less to their beds. "Now that the days of privation are past, I +recall them with something like regret. The shock of the laundress's +totals, the meagre dinners at the Bel Avenir, these things have a +fascination now that I part from them. I do not wish to sound +ungrateful, but I cannot help wondering if my millions will impair the +taste of life to me." + +"To me they will make it taste much better," said Tricotrin, "for I +shall have somebody to borrow money from, and I shall get enough +blankets. _Brrr_! how cold I am! Besides, you need not lose touch +with Montmartre because you are celebrated--you can invite us all to +your magnificent abode. Also, you can dine at the Bel Avenir still, if +sentiment pulls you that way." + +"I shall certainly dine there," averred Pitou. "And I shall buy a house +for my parents, with a peacock and some deer on the lawn. At the same +time, a triumph is not without its pathos. I see my return to the Bel +Avenir, the old affections in my heart, the old greetings on my lips-- +and I see the fellows constrained and formal in my presence. I see +madame apologising for the cuisine, instead of reminding me that my +credit is exhausted, and the waiter polishing my glass, instead of +indicating the cheapest item on the menu. Such changes hurt!" He was +much moved. "A fortune is not everything," he sighed, forgetting that +his pockets were as empty as his stomach. "Poverty yielded joys which I +no longer know." + +The poet embraced him with emotion. "I rejoice to find that Fame has +not spoilt your nature," he cried; and he, too, forgot the empty +pockets, and that the contract from La Coupole had yet to come. "Yes, +we had hard times together, you and I, and I am still a nobody, but we +shall be chums as long as we live. I feel that you can unbosom yourself +to me, the poor bohemian, more freely than to any Immortal with whom +you hobnob in scenes of splendour." + +"Oh indeed, indeed!" assented Pitou, weeping. "You are as dear to me +now as in the days of our struggles; I should curse my affluence if it +made you doubt that! Good-night, my brother; God bless you." + +He lay between the ragged sheets; and half an hour crept by. + +"Gustave!" + +"Well?" said Tricotrin, looking towards the other bed. "Not asleep +yet?" + +"I cannot sleep--hunger is gnawing at me." + +"Ah, what a relentless realist is this hunger," complained the poet, +"how it destroys one's illusions!" + +"Is there nothing to eat in the cupboard?" + +"Not a crumb--I am ravenous myself. But I recall a broken cigarette in +my waistcoat pocket; let us cut it in halves!" + +They strove, shivering, to appease their pangs by slow whiffs of a +Caporal, and while they supped in this unsatisfactory fashion, there +came an impetuous knocking at the street door. + +"It must be that La Coupole has sent you a sack of gold to go on with!" +Tricotrin opined. "Put your head out and see." + +"It is Lajeunie," announced the composer, withdrawing from the window +with chattering teeth. "What the devil can he want? I suppose I must go +down and let him in." + +"Perhaps we can get some more cigarettes from him," said Tricotrin; "it +might have been worse." + +But when the novelist appeared, the first thing he stammered was, "Give +me a cigarette, one of you fellows, or I shall die!" + +"Well, then, dictate your last wishes to us!" returned Pitou. "Do you +come here under the impression that the house is a tobacconist's? What +is the matter with you, what is up?" "For three hours," snuffled +Lajeunie, who looked half frozen and kept shuddering violently, "for +three hours I have been pacing the streets, questioning whether I +should break the news to you to-night or not. In one moment I told +myself that it would be better to withhold it till the morning; in the +next I felt that you had a right to hear it without delay. Hour after +hour, in the snow, I turned the matter over in my mind, and--" + +"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Pitou, "is this an interminable serial at so much +a column? Come to the point!" + +Lajeunie beat his breast. "I am distracted," he faltered, "I am no +longer master of myself. Listen! It occurred to me this evening that I +might do worse than pay a visit to La Coupole and inquire if a date was +fixed yet for the rehearsals to begin. Well, I went! For a long time I +could obtain no interview, I could obtain no appointment--the messenger +came back with evasive answers. I am naturally quick at smelling a rat +--I have the detective's instinct--and I felt that there was something +wrong. My heart began to fail me." + +"For mercy's sake," groaned his unhappy collaborator, "explode the bomb +and bury my fragments! Enough of these literary introductions. Did you +see the manager, or didn't you?" + +"I did see the miscreant, the bandit-king, I saw him in the street. For +I was not to be put off--I waited till he came out. Well, my friend, to +compress the tragedy into one act, our hope is shattered-- +_Patatras_ is again refused!" + +"Oh, heavens!" moaned Pitou, and fell back upon the mattress as white +as death. + +"What explanation did he make?" cried Tricotrin; "what is the reason?" + +"The reason is that Blondette is an imbecile--she finds the part +'unworthy of her talents.' A part on which I have lavished all the +wealth of my invention--she finds it beneath her, she said she would +'break her contract rather than play it.' Well, Blondette is the trump-card +of his season--he would throw over the whole of the Academy sooner +than lose Blondette. Since she objects to figuring in _Patatras, +Patatras_ is waste-paper to him. Alas! who would be an author? I +would rather shovel coke, or cut corns for a living. He himself +admitted that there was no fault to find with the revue, but, 'You know +well, monsieur, that we must humour Blondette!' I asked him if he would +try to bring her to her senses, but it seems that there have been a +dozen discussions already--he is sick of the subject. Now it is +settled--our manuscript will be banged back at us and we may rip!" + +"Oh, my mother!" moaned Pitou. "Oh, the peacock and the deer!" + +"What's that you say?" asked Lajeunie. "Are you positive that you +haven't got a cigarette anywhere?" + +"I am positive that I have nothing," proclaimed Pitou vehemently, +"nothing in life but a broken heart! Oh, you did quite right to come to +me, but now leave me--leave me to perish. I have no words, I am +stricken. The next time you see me it will be in the Morgue. Mon Dieu, +that beautiful wretch, that creature without conscience, or a note in +her voice--by a shrug of her elegant shoulders she condemns me to the +Seine!" + +"Ah, do not give way!" exclaimed Tricotrin, leaping out of bed. +"Courage, my poor fellow, courage! Are there not other managers in +Paris?" + +"There are--and _Patatras_ has been refused by them. La Coupole +was our last chance, and it has collapsed. We have no more to expect-- +it is all over. Is it not so, Lajeunie?" + +"All over," sobbed Lajeunie, bowing his head on the washhand-stand. +"_Patatras_ is dead!" + +Then for some seconds the only sound to be heard in the attic was the +laboured breathing of the three young men's despair. + +At last Tricotrin, drawing himself upright in his tattered nightshirt, +said, with a gesture of dignity, "Well, the case may justify me--in the +present situation it appears to me that I have the right to use my +influence with Blondette!" + +A signal from Mars could not have caused a more profound sensation. +Pitou and Lajeunie regarded him with open mouths. "Your influence?" +echoed Pitou: "your influence? I was not aware that you had ever met +her." + +"No," rejoined the poet darkly; "I have not met her. But there are +circumstances in my life which entitle me to demand a service of this +triumphant woman. Do not question me, my friends--what I shall say to +her must remain a secret even from you. I declare, however, that nobody +has a stronger claim on her than Gustave Tricotrin, the poor penny-a- +liner whom she does not know!" + +The sudden intervention--to say nothing of its literary flavour--so +excited the collaborators that they nearly wrung his hands off: and +Lajeunie, who recognised a promising beginning for another serial, was +athirst for further hints. + +"She has perhaps committed a murder, that fair fiend?" he inquired +rapturously. + +"Perhaps," replied Tricotrin. + +"In that case she dare refuse you nothing." + +"Why not, since I have never heard of it?" + +"I was only jesting," said the novelist. "In sober earnest, I +conjecture that you are married to her, like Athos to Miladi. As you +stand there, with that grave air, you strongly resemble Athos." + +"Nevertheless, Athos did not marry a woman to whom he had not spoken, +and I repeat that I have never spoken to Blondette in my life." + +"Well," said Lajeunie, "I have too much respect for your wishes to show +any curiosity. Besides, by an expert the mystery is to be divined-- +before the story opens, you rendered her some silent aid, and your name +will remind her of a great heroism?" + +"I have never rendered her any aid at all," demurred Tricotrin, "and +there is not the slightest reason to suppose that she has ever heard my +name. But again, I have an incontestable right to demand a service of +her, and for the sake of the affection I bear you both, I shall go and +do it." + +"When Tricotrin thinks that he is living in _The Three Musketeers_ +it is useless to try to pump him," said Pitou; "let us content +ourselves with what we are told! Is it not enough? Our fate is in +Blondette's hands, and he is in a position to ask a favour of her. What +more can we want?" + +But he could not resist putting a question on his own account after +Lajeunie had skipped downstairs. + +"Gustave, why did you never mention to me that you knew Blondette?" + +"Morbleu! how often must I say that I do _not_ know her?" + +"Well--how shall I express it?--that some episode in your career gave +you a claim on her consideration?" + +"Because, by doing so, I should have both violated a confidence, and +re-opened a wound which still burns," said Tricotrin, more like Athos +than ever. "Only the urgency of your need, my comrade, could induce me +to take the course that I project. Now let me sleep, for to-morrow I +must have all my wits!" + +It was, however, five o'clock already, and before either of them had +slept long, the street was clattering with feet on their way to the +laundries, and vendors of delicacies were bawling suggestions for +appetising breakfasts. + +"Not only do the shouts of these monsters disturb my slumber, but they +taunt my starvation!" yawned the poet. "Yet, now I come to think of it, +I have an appointment with a man who has sworn to lend me a franc, so +perhaps I had better get up before he is likely to have spent it. I +shall call upon Blondette in the afternoon, when she returns from her +drive. What is your own programme?" + +"My first attempt will be at a crèmerie in the rue St. Rustique, where +I am inclined to think I may get credit for milk and a roll if I +swagger." + +"Capital," said Tricotrin; "things are looking up with us both! And if +I raise the franc, there will be ten sous for you to squander on a +recherché luncheon. Meet me in the place Dancourt in an hour's time. So +long!" + +Never had mademoiselle Blondette looked more captivating than when her +carriage brought her back that day. She wore--but why particularise? +Suffice it, that she had just been photographed. As she stepped to the +pavement she was surprised by the obeisance of a shabby young man, who +said in courtly tones, "Mademoiselle, may I beg the honour of an +interview? I came from La Coupole." Having bestowed a glance of +annoyance on him, she invited him to ascend the stairs, and a minute +later Tricotrin was privileged to watch her take off her hat before the +mirror. + +"Well?" she inquired, "what's the trouble there now; what do they +want?" + +"So far as I know, mademoiselle," returned the intruder deferentially, +"they want nothing but your beauty and your genius; but I myself want +infinitely more--I want your attention and your pity. Let me explain +without delay that I do not represent the Management, and that when I +said I came from La Coupole I should have added that I did not come +from the interior." + +"Ça, par exemple!" she said sharply. "Who are you, then?" + +"I am Tricotrin, mademoiselle--Gustave Tricotrin, at your feet. I have +two comrades, the parents of _Patatras_; you have refused to play +in it, and I fear they will destroy themselves. I come to beg you to +save their lives." + +"Monsieur," exclaimed the lady, and her eyes were brilliant with +temper, "all that I have to say about _Patatras_ I have said! The +part gave me the hump." + +"And yet," continued the suppliant firmly, "I hope to induce you to +accept it. I am an author myself, and I assure you that it teems with +opportunities that you may have overlooked in a casual reading." + +"It is stupid!" + +"As you would play it, I predict that it would make an epoch." + +"And the music is no good." + +"If I may venture to differ from you, the music is haunting--the +composer is my lifelong friend." + +"I appreciate the argument," she said, with fine irony. "But you will +scarcely expect me to play a part that I don't like in order to please +you!" + +"Frankly, that is just what I do expect," replied the poet. "I think +you will consent for my sake." + +"Oh, really? For _your_ sake? Would you mind mentioning why, +before you go?" + +"Because, mademoiselle," said Tricotrin, folding his arms, "in years +gone by, you ruined me!" + +"Mon Dieu!" she gasped, and she did not doubt that she was in the +presence of a lunatic. + +"Do not rush to the bell!" he begged. "If it will allay your panic, I +will open the door and address you from the landing. I am not insane, I +solemnly assert that I am one of the men who have had the honour of +being ruined by you." "I have never seen you in my life before!" "I +know it. I even admit that I attach no blame to you in the matter. +Nevertheless, you cost me two thousand five hundred and forty-three +francs, and--as you may judge by my costume--I do not own the Crédit +Lyonnais. If you will deign to hear my story, I guarantee that it will +convince you. Do you permit me to proceed?" + +The beauty nodded wonderingly, and the shabby young man continued in +the following words: + +"As I have said, I am an author; I shall 'live' by my poetry, but I +exist by my prose--in fact, I turn my pen to whatever promises a +dinner, be it a sonnet to the Spring, or a testimonial to a hair +restorer. One summer, when dinners had been even more elusive than +usual, I conceived the idea of calling attention to my talents by means +of an advertisement. In reply, I received a note bidding me be on the +third step of the Madeleine at four o'clock the following day, and my +correspondent proved to be a gentleman whose elegant apparel proclaimed +him a Parisian of the Boulevard. + +"'You are monsieur Gustave Tricotrin?' he inquired. + +"'I have that misfortune, monsieur,' said I. We adjourned to a café, +and after a preliminary chat, from which he deduced that I was a person +of discretion, he made me a proposal. + +"He said, 'Monsieur Tricotrin, it is evident that you and I were +designed to improve each other's condition; _your_ dilemma is +that, being unknown, you cannot dispose of your stories--_mine_ is +that, being known so well, I am asked for more stories than I can +possibly write, I suggest that you shall write some for me. _I_ +will sign them, they will be paid for in accordance with my usual +terms, and you shall receive a generous share of the swag. I need not +impress upon you that I am speaking in the strictest confidence, and +that you must never breathe a word about our partnership, even to the +wife of your bosom.' + +"'Monsieur,' I returned, 'I have no wife to breathe to, and my bosom is +unsurpassed as a receptacle for secrets,' + +"'Good,' he said. 'Well, without beating about the bush, I will tell +you who I am.' He then uttered a name that made me jump, and before we +parted it was arranged that I should supply him with a tale immediately +as a specimen of my abilities. + +"This tale, which I accomplished the same evening, pleased him so well +that he forthwith gave me an order for two more. I can create a plot +almost as rapidly as a debt, and before long I had delivered +manuscripts to him in such wholesale quantities that if I had been paid +cash for them, I should have been in a position to paint the Butte the +richest shade of red. It was his custom, however, to make excuses and +payments on account, and as we were capital friends by now, I never +demurred. + +"Well, things went on in this fashion until one day he hinted to me +that I had provided him with enough manuscripts to last him for two +years; his study was lumbered with evidence of my talent, and his +market, after all, was not unlimited. He owed me then close upon three +thousand francs, and it was agreed that he should wipe the debt out by +weekly instalments. Enfin, I was content enough--I foresaw an ample +income for two years to come, and renewed leisure to win immortality by +my epics. I trust that my narrative does not fatigue you, +mademoiselle?" + +"What has it all to do with me, however?" asked the lady. + +"You shall hear. Though the heroine comes on late, she brings the house +down when she enters. For a few weeks my patron fulfilled his compact +with tolerable punctuality, but I never failed to notice when we met +that he was a prey to some terrible grief. At last, when he had reduced +the sum to two thousand five hundred and forty-three francs--the +figures will be found graven on my heart--he confided in me, he made me +a strange request; he exclaimed: + +"'Tricotrin, I am the most miserable of men!' + +"'Poor fellow!' I responded. 'It is, of course, a woman?' + +"'Precisely,' he answered. 'I adore her. Her beauty is incomparable, +her fascinations are unparalleled, her intelligence is unique. She has +only one blemish--she is mercenary.' + +"'After all, perfection would be tedious,' I said. + +"'You are a man of sensibility, you understand!' he cried. 'Her tastes +have been a considerable strain on my resources, and in consequence my +affairs have become involved. Now that I am in difficulties, she is +giving me the chuck. I have implored and besought, I have worn myself +out in appeals, but her firmness is as striking as her other gifts. +There remains only one chance for me--a letter so impassioned that it +shall awake her pity. _I_, as I tell you, am exhausted; I can no +longer plead, no longer phrase, I am a wreck! Will you, as a friend, as +a poet, compose such a letter and give it to me to copy?' + +"Could I hesitate? I drove my pen for him till daybreak. All the +yearnings of my own nature, all the romance of my fiery youth, I poured +out in this appeal to a siren whom I had never seen, and whose name I +did not know. I was distraught, pathetic, humorous, and sublime by +turns. Subtle gleams of wit flashed artistically across the lurid +landscape of despair. I reminded her of scenes of happiness--vaguely, +because I had no details to elaborate; the reminiscences, however, were +so touching that I came near to believing in them. Mindful of her +solitary blemish, I referred to 'embarrassments now almost at an end'; +and so profoundly did I affect myself, that while I wrote that I was +weeping, it was really true. Well, when I saw the gentleman again he +embraced me like a brother. 'Your letter was a masterpiece,' he told +me; 'it has done the trick!' + +"Mademoiselle, I do not wish to say who he was, and as you have known +many celebrities, and had many love-letters, you may not guess. But the +woman was you! And if I had been a better business man, I should have +written less movingly, for I recognised, even during my inspiration, +that it was against my interests to reunite him to you. I was an +artist; I thrilled your heart, I restored you to his arms--and you had +the two thousand five hundred and forty-three francs that would +otherwise have come to me! Never could I extract another sou from him!" + +As Tricotrin concluded his painful history, mademoiselle Blondette +seemed so much amused that he feared she had entirely missed its +pathos. But his misgiving was relieved when she spoke. + +"It seems to me I have been expensive to you, monsieur," she said; "and +you have certainly had nothing for your money. Since this revue--which +I own that I have merely glanced at--is the apple of your eye, I +promise to read it with more attention." + + * * * * * + +A month later _Patatras_ was produced at La Coupole after all, and +no one applauded its performance more enthusiastically than the poet, +who subsequently went to supper arm-in-arm with its creators. + +"Mon vieux," said the elated pair, "we will not ask again by what means +you accomplished this miracle, but let it teach you a lesson! Tonight's +experience proves that nothing is beyond your power if you resolve to +succeed!" + +"It proves," replied Tricotrin, "that Blondette's first impression was +correct, for, between ourselves, my children, _Patatras_ is no +shakes." + +Nevertheless, Lajeunie and Pitou wore laurels in Montmartre; and one is +happy to say that their fees raised the young collaborators from +privation to prosperity--thanks to Blondette's attractions--for nearly +three weeks. + + + +THE DANGER OF BEING A TWIN + +My Confessions must begin when I was four years old and recovering +from swollen glands. As I grew well, my twin-brother, Grégoire, who was +some minutes younger, was put to bed with the same complaint. + +"What a misfortune," exclaimed our mother, "that Silvestre is no sooner +convalescent than Grégoire falls ill!" + +The doctor answered: "It astonishes me, madame Lapalme, that you were +not prepared for it--since the children are twins, the thing was to be +foreseen; when the elder throws the malady off, the younger naturally +contracts it. Among twins it is nearly always so." + +And it always proved to be so with Grégoire and me. No sooner did I +throw off whooping-cough than Grégoire began to whoop, though I was at +home at Vernon and he was staying with our grandmother at Tours. If I +had to be taken to a dentist, Grégoire would soon afterwards be howling +with toothache; as often as I indulged in the pleasures of the table +Grégoire had a bilious attack. The influence I exercised upon him was +so remarkable that once when my bicycle ran away with me and broke my +arm, our mother consulted three medical men as to whether Grégoire's +bicycle was bound to run away with him too. Indeed, my brother was +distinctly apprehensive of it himself. + +Of course, the medical men explained that he was susceptible to any +abnormal physical or mental condition of mine, not to the vagaries of +my bicycle. "As an example, madame, if the elder of two twins were +killed in a railway accident, it would be no reason for thinking that +an accident must befall a train by which the younger travelled. What +sympathy can there be between locomotives? But if the elder were to die +by his own hand, there is a strong probability that the younger would +commit suicide also." + +However, I have not died by my own hand, so Grégoire has had nothing to +reproach me for on that score. As to other grounds--well, there is much +to be said on both sides! + +To speak truly, that beautiful devotion for which twins are so +celebrated in drama and romance has never existed between my brother +and myself. Nor was this my fault. I was of a highly sensitive +disposition, and from my earliest years it was impressed upon me that +Grégoire regarded me in the light of a grievance, I could not help +having illnesses, yet he would upbraid me for taking them. Then, too, +he was always our mother's favourite, and instead of there being +caresses and condolence for me when I was indisposed, there was nothing +but grief for the indisposition that I was about to cause Grégoire. +This wounded me. + +Again at college. I shall not pretend that I was a bookworm, or that I +shared Grégoire's ambitions; on the contrary, the world beyond the +walls looked such a jolly place to me that the mere sight of a +classroom would sometimes fill me with abhorrence. But, mon Dieu! if +other fellows were wild occasionally, they accepted the penalties, and +the affair was finished; on me rested a responsibility--my wildness was +communicated to Grégoire. Scarcely had I resigned myself to dull +routine again when Grégoire, the industrious, would find himself unable +to study a page, and commit freaks for which he rebuked me most +sternly. I swear that my chief remembrance of my college days is +Grégoire addressing pompous homilies to me, in this fashion, when he +was in disgrace with the authorities: + +"I ask you to remember, Silvestre, that you have not only your own +welfare to consider--you have mine! I am here to qualify myself for an +earnest career. Be good enough not to put obstacles in my path. Your +levity impels me to distractions which I condemn even while I yield to +them. I perceive a weakness in your nature that fills me with +misgivings for my future; if you do not learn to resist temptation, to +what errors may I not be driven later on--to what outbreaks of +frivolity will you not condemn me when we are men?" + +Well, it is no part of my confession to whitewash myself his misgivings +were realised! So far as I had any serious aspirations at all, I +aspired to be a painter, and, after combating my family's objections, I +entered an art school in Paris. Grégoire, on the other hand, was +destined for the law. During the next few years we met infrequently, +but that my brother continued to be affected by any unusual conditions +of my body and mind I knew by his letters, which seldom failed to +contain expostulations and entreaties. If he could have had his way, +indeed, I believe he would have shut me in a monastery. + +Upon my word, I was not without consideration for him, but what would +you have? I think some sympathy was due to me also. Regard the +situation with my eyes! I was young, popular, an artist; my life was no +more frivolous than the lives of others of my set; yet, in lieu of +being free, like them, to call the tune and dance the measure, I was +burdened with a heavier responsibility than weighs upon the shoulders +of any paterfamilias. Let me but drink a bottle too much, and Grégoire, +the grave, would subsequently manifest all the symptoms of +intoxication. Let me but lose my head about a petticoat, and Grégoire, +the righteous, would soon be running after a girl instead of attending +to his work. I had a conscience--thoughts of the trouble that I was +brewing for Grégoire would come between me and the petticoat and rob it +of its charms; his abominable susceptibility to my caprices marred half +my pleasures for me. Once when I sat distrait, bowed by such +reflections, a woman exclaimed, "What's the matter with you? One would +think you had a family!" "Well," I said, "I have a twin!" And I went +away. She was a pretty woman, too! + +Do you suppose that Maître Lapalme--he was Maître Lapalme by then, this +egregious Grégoire--do you suppose that he wrote to bless me for my +sacrifice? Not at all! Of my heroisms he knew nothing--he was conscious +only of my lapses. To read his letters one would have imagined that I +was a reprobate, a creature without honour or remorse. I quote from +one of them--it is a specimen of them all. Can you blame me if I had no +love for this correspondent? + +MY BROTHER, + +THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF OUR BIRTH:-- + +Your attention is directed to my preceding communications on this +subject. I desire to protest against the revelry from which you +recovered either on the 15th or 16th inst. On the afternoon of the +latter date, while engaged in a conference of the first magnitude, I +was seized with an overwhelming desire to dance a quadrille at a public +ball. I found it impossible to concentrate my attention on the case +concerning which I was consulted; I could no longer express myself with +lucidity. Outwardly sedate, reliable, I sat at my desk dizzied by such +visions as pursued St. Anthony to his cell. No sooner was I free than I +fled from Vernon, dined in Paris, bought a false beard, and plunged +wildly into the vortex of a dancing-hall. Scoundrel! This is past +pardon! My sensibilities revolt, and my prudence shudders. Who shall +say but that one night I may be recognised? Who can foretell to what +blackmail you may expose me? I, Maitre Lapalme, forbid your +profligacies, which devolve upon me; I forbid--etc. + +Such admissions my brother sent to me in a disguised hand, and +unsigned; perhaps he feared that his blackmailer might prove to be +myself! Typewriting was not yet general in France. + +Our mother still lived at Vernon, where she contemplated her favourite +son's success with the profoundest pride. Occasionally I spent a few +days with her; sometimes even more, for she always pressed me to +remain. I think she pressed me to remain, not from any pleasure in my +society, but because she knew that while I was at home I could commit +no actions that would corrupt Grégoire. One summer, when I visited her, +I met mademoiselle Leuillet. + +Mademoiselle Leuillet was the daughter of a widower, a neighbour. I +remembered that when our servant first announced her, I thought, "What +a nuisance; how bored I am going to be!" And then she came in, and in +an instant I was spellbound. + +I am tempted to describe Berthe Leuillet to you as she entered our +salon that afternoon in a white frock, with a basket of roses in her +little hands, but I know very well that no description of a girl ever +painted her to anybody yet. Suffice it that she was beautiful as an +angel, that her voice was like the music of the spheres--more than all, +that one felt all the time, "How good she is, how good, how good!" + +I suppose the impression that she made upon me was plainly to be seen, +for when she had gone, my mother remarked, "You did not say much. Are +you always so silent in girls' company?" "No," I answered; "I do not +often meet such girls." + +But afterwards I often met Berthe Leuillet. + +Never since I was a boy had I stayed at Vernon for so long as now; +never had I repented so bitterly as now the error of my ways. I loved, +and it seemed to me sometimes that my attachment was reciprocated, yet +my position forbade me to go to monsieur Leuillet and ask boldly for +his daughter's hand. While I had remained obscure, painters of my +acquaintance, whose talent was no more remarkable than my own, had +raised themselves from bohemia into prosperity. I abused myself, I +acknowledged that I was an idler, a good-for-nothing, I declared that +the punishment that had overtaken me was no more than I deserved. And +then--well, then I owned to Berthe that I loved her! + +Deliberately, of course, I should not have done this before seeking her +father's permission, but it happened in the hour of our "good-bye", and +I was suffering too deeply to subdue the impulse. I owned that I loved +her--and when I left for Paris we were secretly engaged. + +Mon Dieu! Now I worked indeed! To win this girl for my own, to show +myself worthy of her innocent faith, supplied me with the most powerful +incentive in life. In the quarter they regarded me first with ridicule, +then with wonder, and, finally, with respect. For my enthusiasm did not +fade. "He has turned over a new leaf," they said, "he means to be +famous!" It was understood. No more excursions for Silvestre, no more +junketings and recklessness! In the morning as soon as the sky was +light I was at my easel; in the evening I studied, I sketched, I wrote +to Berthe, and re-read her letters. I was another man--my ideal of +happiness was now a wife and home. + +For a year I lived this new life. I progressed. Men--men whose approval +was a cachet--began to speak of me as one with a future. In the Salon a +picture of mine made something of a stir. How I rejoiced, how grateful +and sanguine I was! All Paris sang "Berthe" to me; the criticisms in +the papers, the felicitations of my friends, the praise of the public, +all meant Berthe--Berthe with her arms about me, Berthe on my breast. + +I said that it was not too soon for me to speak now; I had proved my +mettle, and, though I foresaw that her father would ask more before he +gave his consent, I was, at least, justified in avowing myself. I +telegraphed to my mother to expect me; I packed my portmanteau with +trembling hands, and threw myself into a cab. On the way to the +station, I noticed the window of a florist; I bade the driver stop, and +ran in to bear off some lilies for Berthe. The shop was so full of +wonderful flowers that, once among them, I found some difficulty in +making my choice. Hence I missed the train--and returned to my studio, +incensed by the delay. A letter for me had just been delivered. It told +me that on the previous morning Berthe had married my brother. + +I could have welcomed a pistol-shot--my world rocked. Berthe lost, +false, Gregoire's wife, I reiterated it, I said it over and over, I +was stricken by it--and yet I could not realise that actually it had +happened. It seemed too treacherous, too horrible to be true. + +Oh, I made certain of it later, believe me!--I was no hero of a "great +serial," to accept such intelligence without proof. I assured myself of +her perfidy, and burnt her love-letters one by one; tore her +photographs into shreds--strove also to tear her image from my heart. +Ah, that mocked me, that I could not tear! A year before I should have +rushed to the cafés for forgetfulness, but now, as the shock subsided, +I turned feverishly to work. I told myself that she had wrecked my +peace, my faith in women, that I hated and despised her; but I swore +that she should not have the triumph of wrecking my career, too. I said +that my art still remained to me--that I would find oblivion in my art. + +Brave words! But one does not recover from such blows so easily. + +For months I persisted, denying myself the smallest respite, clinging +to a resolution which proved vainer daily. Were art to be mastered by +dogged endeavour, I should have conquered; but alas! though I could +compel myself to paint, I could not compel myself to paint well. It was +the perception of this fact that shattered me at last. I had fought +temptation for half a year, worked with my teeth clenched, worked +against nature, worked while my pulses beat and clamoured for the +draughts of dissipation, which promised a speedier release. I had wooed +art, not as art's lover, but as a tortured soul may turn to one woman +in the desperate hope of subduing his passion for another--and art +would yield nothing to a suitor who approached like that; I recognised +that my work had been wasted, that the struggle had been useless--I +broke down! + +I need say little of the months that followed--it would be a record of +degradations, and remorse; alternately, I fell, and was ashamed. There +were days when I never left the house, when I was repulsive to myself; +I shuddered at the horrors that I had committed. No saint has loved +virtue better than I did during those long, sick days of self-disgust; +no man was ever more sure of defying such hideous temptations if they +recurred. As my lassitude passed, I would take up my brushes and feel +confident for an hour, or for a week. And then temptation would creep +on me once more--humming in my ears, and tingling in my veins. And +temptation had lost its loathsomeness now--it looked again attractive. +It was a siren, it dizzied my conscience, and stupefied my common +sense. Back to the mire! + +One afternoon when I returned to my rooms, from which I had been absent +since the previous day, I heard from the concierge that a visitor +awaited me. I climbed the stairs without anticipation. My thoughts were +sluggish, my limbs leaden, my eyes heavy and bloodshot. Twilight had +gathered, and as I entered I discerned merely the figure of a woman. +Then she advanced--and all Hell seemed to leap flaring to my heart. My +visitor was Berthe. + +I think nearly a minute must have passed while we looked speechlessly +in each other's face--hers convulsed by entreaty, mine dark with hate. + +"Have you no word for me?" she whispered. + +"Permit me to offer my congratulations on your marriage, madame," I +said; "I have had no earlier opportunity." + +"Forgive me," she gasped. "I have come to beseech your forgiveness! Can +you not forget the wrong I did you?" + +"Do I look as if I had forgotten?" + +"I was inconstant, cruel, I cannot excuse myself. But, O Silvestre, in +the name of the love you once bore me, have pity on us! Reform, abjure +your evil courses! Do not, I implore you, condemn my husband to this +abyss of depravity, do not wreck my married life!" Now I understood +what had procured me the honour of a visit from this woman, and I +triumphed devilishly that I was the elder twin. + +"Madame," I answered, "I think that I owe you no explanations, but I +shall say this: the evil courses that you deplore were adopted, not +vindictively, but in the effort to numb the agony that you had made me +suffer. You but reap as you have sown." + +"Reform!" she sobbed. She sank on her knees before me. "Silvestre, in +mercy to us, reform!" + +"I will never reform," I said inflexibly. "I will grow more abandoned +day by day--my past faults shall shine as merits compared with the +atrocities that are to come. False girl, monster of selfishness, you +are dragging me to the gutter, and your only grief is that _he_ +must share my shame! You have blackened my soul, and you have no regret +but that my iniquities must react on _him!_ By the shock that +stunned him in the first flush of your honeymoon, you know what I +experienced when I received the news of your deceit; by the anguish of +repentance that overtakes him after each of his orgies, which revolt +you, you know that I was capable of being a nobler man. The degradation +that you behold is your own work. You have made me bad, and you must +bear the consequences--you cannot make me good now to save your +husband!" + +Humbled and despairing, she left me. + +I repeat that it is no part of my confession to palliate my guilt. The +sight of her had served merely to inflame my resentment--and it was at +this stage that I began deliberately to contemplate revenge. + +But not the one that I had threatened. Ah, no! I bethought myself of a +vengeance more complete than that. What, after all, were these +escapades of his that were followed by contrition, that saw him again +and again a penitent at her feet? There should be no more of such +trifles; she should be tortured with the torture that she had dealt to +me--I would make him _adore another woman_ with all his heart and +brain! + +It was difficult, for first I must adore, and tire of another woman +myself--as my own passion faded, his would be born. I swore, however, +that I would compass it, that I would worship some woman for a year-- +two years, as long as possible. He would be at peace in the meantime, +but the longer my enslavement lasted, the longer Berthe would suffer +when her punishment began. + +For some weeks now I worked again, to provide myself with money. I +bought new clothes and made myself presentable. When my appearance +accorded better with my plan, I paraded Paris, seeking the woman to +adore. + +You may think Paris is full of adorable women? Well, so contrary is +human nature, that never had I felt such indifference towards the sex +as during that tedious quest--never had a pair of brilliant eyes, or a +well-turned neck appealed to me so little. After a month, my search +seemed hopeless; I had viewed women by the thousand, but not one with +whom I could persuade myself that I might fall violently in love. + +How true it is that only the unforeseen comes to pass! There was a +model, one Louise, whose fortune was her back, and who had long bored +me by an evident tenderness. One day, this Louise, usually so +constrained in my presence, appeared in high spirits, and mentioned +that she was going to be married. + +The change in her demeanour interested me; for the first time, I +perceived that the attractions of Louise were not limited to her back. +A little piqued, I invited her to dine with me. If she had said "yes," +doubtless that would have been the end of my interest; but she refused. +Before I parted from her, I made an appointment for her to sit to me +the next morning. + +"So you are going to be married, Louise?" I said carelessly, as I set +the palette. + +"In truth!" she answered. + +"No regrets?" + +"What regrets could I have? He is a very pretty boy, and well-to-do, +believe me!" + +"And _I_ am not a pretty boy, nor well-to-do, hein?" + +"Ah, zut!" she laughed, "you do not care for me." + +"Is it so?" I said. "What would you say if I told you that I did care?" + +"I should say that you told me too late, monsieur," she replied, with a +shrug, "Are you ready for me to pose?" And this changed woman turned +her peerless back on me without a scruple. + +A little mortified, I attended strictly to business for the rest of the +morning. But I found myself, on the following day, waiting for her with +impatience. + +"And when is the event to take place?" I inquired, more eagerly than I +chose to acknowledge. This was by no means the sort of enchantress that +I had been seeking, you understand. + +"In the spring," she said. "Look at the ring he has given to me, +monsieur; is it not beautiful?" + +I remarked that Louise's hands were very well shaped; and, indeed, +happiness had brought a certain charm to her face. + +"Do you know, Louise, that I am sorry that you are going to marry?" I +exclaimed. + +"Oh, get out!" she laughed, pushing me away. "It is no good your +talking nonsense to me now, don't flatter yourself!" + +Pouchin, the sculptor, happened to come in at that moment. "Sapristi!" +he shouted; "what changes are to be seen! The nose of our brave +Silvestre is out of joint now that we are affianced, hein?" + +She joined in his laughter against me, and I picked up my brush again +in a vile humour. + +Well, as I have said, she was not the kind of woman that I had +contemplated, but these things arrange themselves--I became seriously +enamoured of her. And, recognising that Fate works with her own +instruments, I did not struggle. For months I was at Louise's heels; I +was the sport of her whims, and her slights, sometimes even of her +insults. I actually made her an offer of marriage, at which she snapped +her white fingers with a grimace--and the more she flouted me, the more +fascinated I grew. In that rapturous hour when her insolent eyes +softened to sentiment, when her mocking mouth melted to a kiss, I was +in Paradise. My ecstasy was so supreme that I forgot to triumph at my +approaching vengeance. + +So I married Louise; and yesterday was the twentieth anniversary of our +wedding. Berthe? To speak the truth, my plot against her was frustrated +by an accident. You see, before I could communicate my passion to +Grégoire I had to recover from it, and--this invincible Louise!--I have +not recovered from it yet. There are days when she turns her remarkable +back on me now--generally when I am idle--but, mon Dieu! the moments +when she turns her lips are worth working for. Therefore, Berthe has +been all the time quite happy with the good Grégoire--and, since I +possess Louise, upon my word of honour I do not mind! + + + +HERCULES AND APHRODITE + +Mademoiselle Clairette used to say that if a danseuse could not throw +a glance to the conductor of the band without the juggler being +jealous, the Variety Profession was coming to a pretty pass. She also +remarked that for a girl to entrust her life's happiness to a jealous +man would be an act of lunacy. And then "Little Flouflou, the Juggling +Genius," who was dying to marry her, would suffer tortures. He tried +hard to conquer his failing, but it must be owned that Clairette's +glances were very expressive, and that she distributed them +indiscriminately. At Chartres, one night, he was so upset that he +missed the umbrella, and the cigar, and the hat one after another, and +instead of condoling with him when he came off the stage, all she said +was "Butter-fingers!" + +"Promise to be my wife," he would entreat: "it is not knowing where I +am that gives me the pip. If you consented, I should be as right as +rain--your word is better to me than any Management's contract. I trust +you--it is only myself that I doubt; every time you look at a man I +wonder, 'Am I up to that chap's mark? is my turn as clever as his? +isn't it likely he will cut me out with her?' If you only belonged to +me I should never be jealous again as long as I lived. Straight!" + +And Clairette would answer firmly, "Poor boy, you couldn't help it--you +are made like that. There'd be ructions every week; I should be for +ever in hot water. I like you very much, Flouflou, but I'm not going to +play the giddy goat. Chuck it!" + +Nevertheless, he continued to worship her--from her tawdry tiara to her +tinselled shoes--and everybody was sure that it would be a match one +day. That is to say, everybody was sure of it until the Strong Man had +joined the troupe. + +Hercule was advertised as "The Great Paris Star." Holding himself very +erect, he strutted, in his latticed foot-gear, with stiff little steps, +and inflated lungs, to the footlights, and tore chains to pieces as +easily as other persons tear bills. He lay down and supported a posse +of mere mortals, and a van-load of "properties" on his chest, and +regained his feet with a skip and a smirk. He--but his achievements are +well known. Preceding these feats of force, was a feature of his +entertainment which Hercule enjoyed inordinately. He stood on a +pedestal and struck attitudes to show the splendour of his physique. +Wearing only a girdle of tiger-skin, and bathed in limelight, he felt +himself to be as glorious as a god. The applause was a nightly +intoxication to him. He lived for it. All day he looked forward to the +moment when he could mount the pedestal again and make his biceps jump, +and exhibit the magnificence of his highly developed back to hundreds +of wondering eyes. No woman was ever vainer of her form than was +Hercule of his. No woman ever contemplated her charms more tenderly +than Hercule regarded his muscles. The latter half of his "turn" was +fatiguing, but to posture in the limelight, while the audience stared +open-mouthed and admired his nakedness, that was fine, it was dominion, +it was bliss. + +Hercule had never experienced a great passion--the passion of vanity +excepted--never waited in the rain at a street corner for a coquette +who did not come, nor sighed, like the juggler, under the window of a +girl who flouted his declarations. He had but permitted homage to be +rendered to him. So when he fell in love with Clairette, he didn't know +what to make of it. + +For Clairette, sprightly as she was, did not encourage Hercule. He at +once attracted and repelled her. When he rent chains, and poised +prodigious weights above his head, she thrilled at his prowess, but the +next time he attitudinised in the tiger-skin she turned up her nose. +She recognised something feminine in the giant. Instinct told her that +by disposition the Strong Man was less manly than Little Flouflou, whom +he could have swung like an Indian club. + +No, Hercule didn't know what to make of it. It was a new and painful +thing to find himself the victim instead of the conqueror. For once in +his career, he hung about the wings wistfully, seeking a sign of +approval. For once he displayed his majestic figure on the pedestal +blankly conscious of being viewed by a woman whom he failed to impress. + +"What do you think of my turn?" he questioned at last. + +"Oh, I have seen worse," was all she granted. + +The giant winced. + +"I am the strongest man in the world," he proclaimed. + +"I have never met a Strong Man who wasn't!" said she. + +"But there is someone stronger than I am," he owned humbly. (Hercule +humble!) "Do you know what you have done to me, Clairette? You have +made a fool of me, my dear." + +"Don't be so cheeky," she returned. "Who gave you leave to call me +'Clairette,' and 'my dear'? A little more politeness, if you please, +monsieur!" And she cut the conversation short as unceremoniously as if +he had been a super. + +Those who have seen Hercule only in his "act"--who think of him superb, +supreme--may find It difficult to credit the statement, but, honestly, +the Great Star used to trot at her heels like a poodle. And she was not +a beauty by any means, with her impudent nose, and her mouth that was +too big to defy criticism. Perhaps it was her carriage that fascinated +him, the grace of her slender figure, which he could have snapped as a +child snaps jumbles. Perhaps it was those eyes which unwittingly +promised more than she gave. Perhaps, above all, it was her +indifference. Yes, on consideration, it must have been her indifferent +air, the novelty of being scorned, that made him a slave. + +But, of course, she was more flattered by his bondage than she showed. +Every night he planted himself in the prompt-entrance to watch her +dance and clap his powerful hands in adulation. She could not be +insensible to the compliment, though her smiles were oftenest for +Flouflou, who planted himself, adulating, on the opposite side. +_Adagio! Allegretto! Vivace!_ Unperceived by the audience, the +gaze of the two men would meet across the stage with misgiving. Each +feared the other's attentions to her, each wished with all his heart +that the other would get the sack; they glared at each other horribly. +And, meanwhile, the orchestra played its sweetest, and Clairette +pirouetted her best, and the Public, approving the obvious, saw nothing +of the intensity of the situation. + +Imagine the emotions of the little juggler, jealous by temperament, +jealous even without cause, now that he beheld a giant laying siege to +her affections! + +And then, on a certain evening, Clairette threw but two smiles to +Flouflou, and three to Hercule. + +The truth is that she did not attach so much significance to the smiles +as did the opponents who counted them. But that accident was momentous. +The Strong Man made her a burning offer of marriage within half an +hour; and next, the juggler made her furious reproaches. + +Now she had rejected the Strong Man--and, coming when they did, the +juggler's reproaches had a totally different effect from the one that +he had intended. So far from exciting her sympathy towards him, they +accentuated her compassion for Hercule. How stricken he had been by her +refusal! She could not help remembering his despair as he sat huddled +on a hamper, a giant that she had crushed. Flouflou was a thankless +little pig, she reflected, for, as a matter of fact, he had had a good +deal to do with her decision. She had deserved a better reward than to +be abused by him! + +Yes, her sentiments towards Hercule were newly tender, and an event of +the next night intensified them. It was Hercule's custom, in every town +that the Constellation visited, to issue a challenge. He pledged +himself to present a "Purse of Gold"--it contained a ten-franc piece-- +to any eight men who vanquished him in a tug-of-war. The spectacle was +always an immense success--the eight yokels straining, and tumbling +over one another, while Hercule, wearing a masterful smile, kept his +ten francs intact. A tug-of-war had been arranged for the night +following, and by every law of prudence, Hercule should have abstained +from the bottle during the day. + +But he did not. His misery sent discretion headlong to the winds. Every +time that he groaned for the danseuse he took another drink, and when +the time came for him to go to the show, the giant was as drunk as a +lord. The force of habit enabled him to fulfil some of his stereotyped +performance, he emerged from that without disgrace; but when the eight +brawny competitors lumbered on to the boards, his heart sank. The other +artists winked at one another appreciatively, and the manager hopped +with apprehension. + +Sure enough, the hero's legs made strange trips to-night. The sixteen +arms pulled him, not only over the chalk line, but all over the stage. +They played havoc with him. And then the manager had to go on and make +a speech, besides, because the "Purse of Gold" aroused dissatisfaction. +The fiasco was hideous. + +"Ah, Clairette," moaned the Strong Man, pitifully, "it was all through +you!" + +Elsewhere a Strong Man had put forth that plea, and the other lady had +been inexorable. But Clairette faltered. + +"Through me?" she murmured, with emotion. + +"I'm no boozer," muttered Hercule, whom the disaster had sobered. "If I +took too much today, it was because I had got such a hump." + +"But why be mashed on me, Hercule?" she said; "why not think of me as a +pal?" + +"You're talking silly," grunted Hercule. + +"Perhaps so," she confessed. "But I'm awfully sorry the turn went so +rotten." + +"Don't kid!" + +"Why should I kid about it?" + +"If you really meant it, you would take back what you said yesterday." + +"Oh!" The gesture was dismayed. "You see! What's the good of gassing? +As soon as I ask anything of you, you dry up. Bah! I daresay you will +guy me just as much as all the rest, I know you!" + +"If you weren't in trouble, I'd give you a thick ear for that," she +said. "You ungrateful brute!" She turned haughtily away, + +"Clairette!" + +"Oh, rats!" + +"Don't get the needle! I'm off my rocker to-night." + +"Ah! That's all right, cully!" Her hand was swift. "I've been there +myself." + +"Clairette!" He caught her close. + +"Here, what are you at?" she cried. "Drop it!" + +"Clairette! Say 'yes.' I'm loony about you. There's a duck! I'll be a +daisy of a husband. Won't you?" + +"Oh, I--I don't know," she stammered. + +And thus were they betrothed. + +To express what Flouflou felt would be but to harrow the reader's +sensibilities. What he said, rendered into English, was: "I'd rather +you had given me the go-by for any cove in the crowd than that swine!" + +They were in the ladies' dressing-room. "The Two Bonbons" had not +finished their duet, and he was alone with her for a moment. She was +pinning a switch into her back hair, in front of the scrap of looking- +glass against the mildewed wall. + +"You don't do yourself any good with me Flouflou, by calling Hercule +names," she replied icily. + +"So he is!" + +"Oh, you are jealous of him," she retorted. + +"Of course I am jealous of him," owned Flouflou; "you can't rile me by +saying that. Didn't I love you first? And a lump better than _he_ +does." + +"Now you're talking through your hat!" + +"You usedn't to take any truck of him, yourself, at the beginning. He +only got round you because he was drunk and queered his business. I +have been drunk, too--you didn't say you'd marry _me_. It's not in +him to love any girl for long--he's too sweet on himself." + +"Look here," she exclaimed. "I've had enough. Hook it! And don't you +speak to me any more. Understand?" She put the hairpins aside, and +began to whitewash her hands and arms. + +"That's the straight tip," said Flouflou, brokenly; "I'm off. Well, I +wish you luck, old dear!" + +"Running him down to me like that! A dirty trick, I call it." + +"I never meant to, straight; I--Sorry, Clairette." He lingered at the +door. "I suppose I shall have to say 'madame' soon?" + +"Footle," she murmured, moved. + +"You've not got your knife into me, have you, Clairette? I didn't mean +to be a beast. I'd have gone to hell for you, that's all, and I wish I +was dead." + +"Silly kid!" she faltered, blinking. And then "The Two Bonbons" came +back to doff their costumes, and he was turned out. + +Never had Hercule been so puffed up. His knowledge of the juggler's +sufferings made the victory more rapturous still. No longer did +Flouflou stand opposite-prompt to watch Clairette's dance; no longer +did he loiter about the passages after the curtain was down, on the +chance of being permitted to escort her to her doorstep. Such +privileges were the Strong Man's alone. She was affianced to him! At +the swelling thought, his chest became Brobdingnagian. His bounce in +company was now colossal; and it afforded the troupe a popular +entertainment to see him drop to servility in her presence. Her frown +was sufficient to reduce him to a cringe. They called him the "Quick- +change artist." + +But Hercule scarcely minded cringing to her; at all events he scarcely +minded it in a tête-à-tête; she was unique. He would have run to her +whistle, and fawned at her kick. She had agreed to marry him in a few +weeks' time, and his head swam at the prospect. Visions of the future +dazzled him. When he saw her to her home after the performance, he used +to talk of the joint engagements they would get by-and-by--"not in +snide shows like this, but in first-class halls"--and of how +tremendously happy they were going to be. And then Clairette would +stifle a sigh and say, "Oh, yes, of course!" and try to persuade +herself that she had no regrets. + +Meanwhile the Constellation had not been playing to such good business +as the manager had anticipated. He had done a bold thing in obtaining +Hercule--who, if not so famous as the posters pretended, was at least a +couple of rungs above the other humble mountebanks--and the box-office +ought to have yielded better results. Monsieur Blond was anxious. He +asked himself what the Public wanted. Simultaneously he pondered the +idea of a further attraction, and perspired at the thought of further +expense. + +At this time the "Living Statuary" turn was the latest craze in the +variety halls of fashion, and one day poor Blond, casting an expert eye +on his danseuse, questioned why she should not be billed, a town or two +ahead, as "Aphrodite, the Animated Statue, Direct from Paris." + +To question was to act. The weather was mild, and, though Clairette +experienced pangs of modesty when she learnt that the Statue's +"costume" was to be applied with a sponge, she could not assert that +she would be in danger of taking a chill. Besides, her salary was to be +raised a trifle. + +Blond rehearsed her assiduously (madame Blond in attendance), and, to +his joy, she displayed a remarkable gift for adopting the poses, As +"The Bather" she promised to be entrancing, and, until she wobbled, her +"Nymph at the Fountain" was a pure delight. Moreover, thanks to her +accomplishments as a dancer, she did not wobble very badly. + +All the same, when the date of her debut arrived, she was extremely +nervous. Elated by his inspiration. Blond had for once been prodigal +with the printing and on her way to the stage door, it seemed to her +that the name of "Aphrodite" flamed from every hoarding in the place. +Hercule met her with encouraging words, but the ordeal was not one that +she wished to discuss with him, and he took leave of her very much +afraid that she would break down. + +What was his astonishment to hear her greeted with salvos of applause! +Blond's enterprise had undoubtedly done the trick. The little hall +rocked with enthusiasm, and, cloaked in a voluminous garment, +"Aphrodite" had to bow her acknowledgments again and again. When the +time came for Hercule's own postures, they fell, by comparison, quite +flat. + +"Ciel!" she babbled, on the homeward walk; "who would have supposed +that I should go so strong? If I knock them like this next week too, I +shall make Blond spring a bit more!" She looked towards her lover for +congratulations; so far he had been rather unsatisfactory. + +"Oh, well," he mumbled, "it was a very good audience, you know, I never +saw a more generous house--you can't expect to catch on like it +anywhere else." + +His tone puzzled her. Though she was quite alive to the weaknesses of +her profession, she could not believe that her triumph could give +umbrage to her fiancé. Hercule, her adorer, to be annoyed because she +had received more "hands" than _he_ had? Oh, it was mean of her to +fancy such a thing! + +But she was conscious that he had never wished her "pleasant dreams" so +briefly as he did that night, and the Strong Man, on his side, was +conscious of a strange depression. He could not shake it off. The next +evening, too, he felt it. Wherever he went, he heard praises of her +proportions. The dancing girl had, in fact, proved to be beautifully +formed, and it could not be disputed that "Aphrodite" had wiped +"Hercules" out. Her success was repeated in every town. Morosely now +did he make his biceps jump, and exhibit the splendours of his back-- +his poses commanded no more than half the admiration evoked by hers. +His muscles had been eclipsed by her graces. Her body had outvied his +own! + +Oh, she was dear to him, but he was an "artiste"! There are trials that +an artiste cannot bear. He hesitated to refer to the subject, but when +he nursed her on his lap, he thought what a great fool the Public was +to prefer this ordinary woman to a marvellous man. He derived less +rapture from nursing her. He eyed her critically. His devotion was +cankered by resentment. + +And each evening the resentment deepened. And each evening it forced +him to the wings against his will. He stood watching, though every +burst of approval wrung his heart. Soured, and sexless, he watched her. +An intense jealousy of the slim nude figure posturing in the limelight +took possession of him. It had robbed him of his plaudits! He grew to +hate it, to loathe the white loveliness that had dethroned him. It was +no longer the figure of a mistress that he viewed, but the figure of a +rival. If he had dared, he would have hissed her. + +Finally, he found it impossible to address her with civility. And +Clairette married Flouflou, after all. + +"Clairette," said Flouflou on the day they were engaged, "if you don't +chuck the Statuary turn, I know that one night I shall massacre the +audience! Won't you give it up for me, peach?" + +"So you are beginning your ructions already?" laughed Clairette, "I +told you what a handful you would be. Oh, well then, just as you like, +old dear!--in this business a girl may meet with a worse kind of +jealousy than yours." + + + +"PARDON, YOU ARE MADEMOISELLE GIRARD!" + +A newsvendor passed along the terrace of the Café d'Harcourt bawling +_La Voix Parisienne_. The Frenchman at my table made a gesture of +aversion. Our eyes met; I said: + +"You do not like _La Voix?_" + +He answered with intensity: + +"I loathe it." + +"What's its offence?" + +The wastrel frowned; he fiddled with his frayed and filthy collar. + +"You revive painful associations; you ask me for a humiliating story," +he murmured--and regarded his empty glass. + +I can take a hint as well as most people. + +He prepared his poison reflectively, + +"I will tell you all," he said. + +One autumn the Editor of _La Voix_ announced to the assistant-editor: +"I have a great idea for booming the paper." + +The assistant-editor gazed at him respectfully. "I propose to prove, in +the public interest, the difficulty of tracing a missing person. I +shall instruct a member of the staff to disappear. I shall publish his +description, and his portrait; and I shall offer a prize to the first +stranger who identifies him." + +The assistant-editor had tact and he did not reply that the idea had +already been worked in London with a disappearing lady. He replied: + +"What an original scheme!" + +"It might be even more effective that the disappearing person should be +a lady," added the chief, like one inspired. + +"That," cried the assistant-editor, "is the top brick of genius!" + +So the Editor reviewed the brief list of his lady contributors, and +sent for mademoiselle Girard. + +His choice fell upon mademoiselle Girard for two reasons. First, she +was not facially remarkable--a smudgy portrait of her would look much +like a smudgy portrait of anybody else. Second, she was not widely +known in Paris, being at the beginning of her career; in fact she was +so inexperienced that hitherto she had been entrusted only with +criticism. + +However, the young woman had all her buttons on; and after he had +talked to her, she said cheerfully: + +"Without a chaperon I should be conspicuous, and without a fat purse I +should be handicapped. So it is understood that I am to provide myself +with a suitable companion, and to draw upon the office for expenses?" + +"Mademoiselle," returned the Editor, "the purpose of the paper is to +portray a drama of life, not to emulate an opera bouffe. I shall +explain more fully. Please figure to yourself that you are a young girl +in an unhappy home. Let us suppose that a stepmother is at fault. You +feel that you can submit to her oppression no longer--you resolve to be +free, or to end your troubles in the Seine. Weeping, you pack your +modest handbag; you cast a last, lingering look at the oil painting of +your own dear mother who is with the Angels in the drawing-room; that +is to say, of your own dear mother in the drawing-room, who is with the +Angels. It still hangs there--your father has insisted on it. Unheard, +you steal from the house; the mysterious city of Paris stretches before +your friendless feet. Can you engage a chaperon? Can you draw upon an +office for expenses? The idea is laughable. You have saved, at a +liberal computation, forty francs; it is necessary for you to find +employment without delay. But what happens? Your father is distracted +by your loss, the thought of the perils that beset you frenzies him; he +invokes the aid of the police. Well, the object of our experiment is to +demonstrate that, in spite of an advertised reward, in spite of a +published portrait, in spite of the Public's zeal itself, you will be +passed on the boulevards and in the slums by myriads of unsuspecting +eyes for weeks." + +The girl inquired, much less blithely: + +"How long is this experiment to continue?" + +"It will continue until you are identified, of course. The longer the +period, the more triumphant our demonstration." + +"And I am to have no more than forty francs to exist on all the time? +Monsieur, the job does not call to me." + +"You are young and you fail to grasp the value of your opportunity," +said the Editor, with paternal tolerance. "From such an assignment you +will derive experiences that will be of the highest benefit to your +future. Rejoice, my child! Very soon I shall give you final +instructions." + + * * * * * + +The Frenchman lifted his glass, which was again empty. + +"I trust my voice does not begin to grate upon you?" he asked +solicitously. "Much talking affects my uvula." + +I made a trite inquiry. + +He answered that, since I was so pressing, he would! + +"Listen," he resumed, after a sip. + + * * * * * + +I am not in a position to say whether the young lady humoured the +Editor by rejoicing, but she obeyed him by going forth. Her portrait +was duly published, _La Volx_ professed ignorance of her +whereabouts from the moment that she left the rue Louis-le-Grand, and a +prize of two thousand francs was to reward the first stranger who said +to her, "Pardon, you are mademoiselle Girard!" In every issue the +Public were urged towards more strenuous efforts to discover her, and +all Paris bought the paper, with amusement, to learn if she was found +yet. + +At the beginning of the week, misgivings were ingeniously hinted as to +her fate. On the tenth day the Editor printed a letter (which he had +written himself), hotly condemning him for exposing a poor girl to +danger. It was signed "An Indignant Parent," and teemed with the most +stimulating suggestions. Copies of _La Voix_ were as prevalent as +gingerbread pigs at a fair. When a fortnight had passed, the prize was +increased to three thousand francs, and many young men resigned less +promising occupations, such as authorship and the fine arts, in order +to devote themselves exclusively to the search. + +Personally, I had something else to do. I am an author, as you may have +divined by the rhythm of my impromptu phrases, but it happened at that +time that a play of mine had been accepted at the Grand Guignol, +subject to an additional thrill being introduced, and I preferred +pondering for a thrill in my garret to hunting for a pin in a haystack, + +Enfin, I completed the drama to the Management's satisfaction, and +received a comely little cheque in payment. It was the first cheque +that I had seen for years! I danced with joy, I paid for a shampoo, I +committed no end of follies. + +How good is life when one is rich--immediately one joins the optimists! +I feared the future no longer; I was hungry, and I let my appetite do +as it liked with me. I lodged in Montmartre, and it was my custom to +eat at the unpretentious Bel Avenir, when I ate at all; but that +morning my mood demanded something resplendent. Rumours had reached me +of a certain Café Eclatant, where for one-franc-fifty one might +breakfast on five epicurean courses amid palms and plush. I said I +would go the pace, I adventured the Café Eclatant. + +The interior realised my most sanguine expectations. The room would +have done no discredit to the Grand Boulevard. I was so much +exhilarated, that I ordered a half bottle of barsac, though I noted +that here it cost ten sous more than at the Bel Avenir, and I prepared +to enjoy the unwonted extravagance of my repast to the concluding +crumb. + +Monsieur, there are events in life of which it is difficult to speak +without bitterness. When I recall the disappointment of that déjeuner +at the Café Eclatant, my heart swells with rage. The soup was slush, +the fish tasted like washing, the meat was rags. Dessert consisted of +wizened grapes; the one thing fit to eat was the cheese. + +As I meditated on the sum I had squandered, I could have cried with +mortification, and, to make matters more pathetic still, I was as +hungry as ever. I sat seeking some caustic epigram to wither the dame- +de-comptoir; and presently the door opened and another victim entered. +Her face was pale and interesting. I saw, by her hesitation, that the +place was strange to her. An accomplice of the chief brigand pounced on +her immediately, and bore her to a table opposite. The misguided girl +was about to waste one-franc-fifty. I felt that I owed a duty to her in +this crisis. The moment called for instant action; before she could +decide between slush and hors d'oeuvres, I pulled an envelope from my +pocket, scribbled a warning, and expressed it to her by the robber who +had brought my bill. + +I had written, "The déjeuner is dreadful. Escape!" + +It reached her in the nick of time. She read the wrong side of the +envelope first, and was evidently puzzled. Then she turned it over. A +look of surprise, a look of thankfulness, rendered her still more +fascinating. I perceived that she was inventing an excuse--that she +pretended to have forgotten something. She rose hastily and went out. +My barsac was finished--shocking bad tipple it was for the money!--and +now I, too, got up and left. When I issued into the street, I found her +waiting for me. + +"I think you are the knight to whom my gratitude is due, monsieur?" she +murmured graciously. + +"Mademoiselle, you magnify the importance of my service," said I. + +"It was a gallant deed," she insisted. "You have saved me from a great +misfortune--perhaps greater than you understand. My finances are at +their lowest ebb, and to have beggared myself for an impossible meal +would have been no joke. Thanks to you, I may still breakfast +satisfactorily somewhere else. Is it treating you like Baedeker's Guide +to the Continent if I ask you to recommend a restaurant?" + +"Upon my word, I doubt if you can do better than the Bel Avenir," I +said. "A moment ago I was lacerated with regret that I had not gone +there. But there is a silver lining to every hash-house, and my choice +of the Eclatant has procured me the glory of your greeting." + +She averted her gaze with a faint smile. She had certainly charm. +Admiration and hunger prompted me to further recklessness. I said: +"This five-course swindle has left me ravenous, and I am bound for the +Avenir myself. May I beg for the rapture of your company there?" + +"Monsieur, you overwhelm me with chivalries," she replied; "I shall be +enchanted." And, five minutes later, the Incognita and I were polishing +off smoked herring and potato salad, like people who had no time to +lose. + +"Do you generally come here?" she asked, when we had leisure. + +"Infrequently--no oftener than I have a franc in my pocket. But details +of my fasts would form a poor recital, and I make a capital listener." + +"You also make a capital luncheon," she remarked. + +"Do not prevaricate," I said severely. "I am consumed with impatience +to hear the history of your life. Be merciful and communicative." + +"Well, I am young, fair, accomplished, and of an amiable disposition," +she began, leaning her elbows on the table. + +"These things are obvious. Come to confidences! What is your +profession?" + +"By profession I am a clairvoyante and palmist," she announced. + +I gave her my hand at once, and I was in two minds about giving her my +heart. "Proceed," I told her; "reveal my destiny!" + +Her air was profoundly mystical. + +"In the days of your youth," she proclaimed, "your line of authorship +is crossed by many rejections." + +"Oh, I am an author, hein? That's a fine thing in guesses!" + +"It is written!" she affirmed, still scrutinising my palm. "Your +dramatic lines are--er--countless; some of them are good. I see danger; +you should beware of--I cannot distinguish!" she clasped her brow and +shivered. "Ah, I have it! You should beware of hackneyed situations." + +"So the Drama is 'written,' too, is it?" + +"It is written, and I discern that it is already accepted," she said. +"For at the juncture where the Eclatant is eclipsed by the Café du Bel +Avenir, there is a distinct manifestation of cash." + +"Marvellous!" I exclaimed. "And will the sybil explain why she surmised +that I was a dramatic author?" + +"Even so!" she boasted. "You wrote your message to me on an envelope +from the Dramatic Authors' Society, What do you think of my palmistry?" + +"I cannot say that I think it is your career. You are more likely an +author yourself, or an actress, or a journalist. Perhaps you are +mademoiselle Girard. Mon Dieu! What a piece of luck for me if I found +mademoiselle Girard!" + +"And what a piece of luck for her!" + +"Why for her?" + +"Well, she cannot be having a rollicking time. It would not break her +heart to be found, one may be certain." + +"In that case," I said, "she has only to give some one the tip." + +"Oh, that would be dishonourable--she has a duty to fulfil to _La +Voix_, she must wait till she is identified. And, remember, there +must be no half measures--the young man must have the intuition to say +firmly, 'Pardon, you are mademoiselle Girard!'" + +Her earnest gaze met mine for an instant. + +"As a matter of fact," I said, "I do not see how anyone can be expected +to identify her in the street. The portrait shows her without a hat, +and a hat makes a tremendous difference." + +She sighed. + +"What is your trouble?" I asked. + +"Man!" + +"Man? Tell me his address, that I may slay him." + +"The whole sex. Its impenetrable stupidity. If mademoiselle Girard is +ever recognised it will be by a woman. Man has no instinct." + +"May one inquire the cause of these flattering reflections?" + +Her laughter pealed. + +"Let us talk of something else!" she commanded. "When does your play +come out, monsieur Thibaud Hippolyte Duboc? You see I learnt your name, +too." + +"You have all the advantages," I complained. "Will you take a second +cup of coffee, mademoiselle--er--?" + +"No, thank you, monsieur," she said. + +"Well, will you take a liqueur, mademoiselle--er--?" + +"Mademoiselle Er will not take a liqueur either," she pouted. + +"Well, will you take a walk?" + +In the end we took an omnibus, and then we proceeded to the Buttes- +Chaumont--and very agreeable I found it there. We chose a seat in the +shade, and I began to feel that I had known her all my life. More +precisely, perhaps, I began to feel that I wished to know her all my +life. A little breeze was whispering through the boughs, and she lifted +her face to it gratefully. + +"How delicious," she said. "I should like to take off my hat." + +"Do, then!" + +"Shall I?" + +"Why not?" + +She pulled the pins out slowly, and laid the hat aside, and raised her +eyes to me, smiling. + +"Well?" she murmured. + +"You are beautiful." + +"Is that all?" + +"What more would you have me say?" + +The glare of sunshine mellowed while we talked; clocks struck unheeded +by me. It amazed me at last, to discover how long she had held me +captive. Still, I knew nothing of her affairs, excepting that she was +hard up--that, by comparison, I was temporarily prosperous. I did not +even know where she meant to go when we moved, nor did it appear +necessary to inquire yet, for the sentiment in her tones assured me +that she would dismiss me with no heartless haste. + +Two men came strolling past the bench, and one of them stared at her so +impudently that I burned with indignation. After looking duels at him, +I turned to her, to deprecate his rudeness. Judge of my dismay when I +perceived that she was shuddering with emotion! Jealousy blackened the +gardens to me. + +"Who is that man?" I exclaimed. + +"I don't know," she faltered. + +"You don't know? But you are trembling?" + +"Am I?" + +"I ask you who he is? How he dared to look at you like that?" + +"Am I responsible for the way a loafer looks?" + +"You are responsible for your agitation; I ask you to explain it!" + +"And by what right, after all?" + +"By what right? Wretched, false-hearted girl! Has our communion for +hours given me no rights? Am I a Frenchman or a flounder? Answer; you +are condemning me to tortures! Why did you tremble under that man's +eyes?" + +"I was afraid," she stammered. + +"Afraid?" + +"Afraid that he had recognised me." + +"Mon Dieu! Of what are you guilty?" + +"I am not guilty." + +"Of what are you accused?" + +"I can tell you nothing," she gasped. + +"You shall tell me all!" I swore. "In the name of my love I demand it +of you. Speak! Why did you fear his recognition?" + +Her head drooped pitifully. + +"Because I wanted _you_ to recognise me first!" + +For a tense moment I gazed at her bewildered. In the next, I cursed +myself for a fool--I blushed for my suspicions, my obtuseness--I sought +dizzily the words, the prescribed words that I must speak. + +"Pardon," I shouted, "you are mademoiselle Girard!" + +She sobbed. + +"What have I done?" + +"You have done a great and generous thing! I am humbled before you. I +bless you. I don't know how I could have been such a dolt as not to +guess!" + +"Oh, how I wish you had guessed! You have been so kind to me, I longed +for you to guess! And now I have betrayed a trust. I have been a bad +journalist." + +"You have been a good friend. Courage! No one will ever hear what has +happened. And, anyhow, it is all the same to the paper whether the +prize is paid to me, or to somebody else." + +"Yes," she admitted. "That is true. Oh, when that man turned round and +looked at me, I thought your chance had gone! I made sure it was all +over! Well"--she forced a smile--"it is no use my being sorry, is it? +Mademoiselle Girard is 'found'!" + +"But you must not be sorry," I said. "Come, a disagreeable job is +finished! And you have the additional satisfaction of knowing the money +goes to a fellow you don't altogether dislike. What do I have to do +about it, hein?" + +"You must telegraph to _La Voix_ at once that you have identified +me. Then, in the morning you should go to the office. I can depend upon +you, can't I? You will never give me away to a living soul?" + +"Word of honour!" I vowed. "What do you take me for? Do tell me you +don't regret! There's a dear. Tell me you don't regret." + +She threw back her head dauntlessly. + +"No," she said, "I don't regret. Only, in justice to me, remember that +I was treacherous in order to do a turn to you, not to escape my own +discomforts. To be candid, I believe that I wish we had met in two or +three weeks' time, instead of to-day!" + +"Why that?" + +"In two or three weeks' time the prize was to be raised to five +thousand francs, to keep up the excitement." + +"Ciel!" I cried. "Five thousand francs? Do you know that positively?" + +"Oh, yes!" She nodded. "It is arranged." + +Five thousand francs would have been a fortune to me. + +Neither of us spoke for some seconds. Then, continuing my thoughts +aloud, I said: + +"After all, why should I telegraph at once? What is to prevent +_my_ waiting the two or three weeks?" + +"Oh, to allow you to do that would be scandalous of me," she demurred; +"I should be actually swindling _La Voix_." + +"_La Voix_ will obtain a magnificent advertisement for its outlay, +which is all that it desires," I argued; "the boom will be worth five +thousand francs to _La Voix_, there is no question of swindling. +Five thousand francs is a sum with which one might--" + +"It can't be done," she persisted. + +"To a man in my position," I said, "five thousand francs--" + +"It is impossible for another reason! As I told you, I am at the end of +my resources. I rose this morning, praying that I should be identified. +My landlady has turned me out, and I have no more than the price of one +meal to go on with." + +"You goose!" I laughed. "And if I were going to net five thousand +francs by your tip three weeks hence, don't you suppose it would be +good enough for me to pay your expenses in the meanwhile?" + +She was silent again. I understood that her conscience was a more +formidable drawback than her penury. + +Monsieur, I said that you had asked me for a humiliating story--that I +had poignant memories connected with _La Voix_. Here is one of +them: I set myself to override her scruples--to render this girl false +to her employers. + +Many men might have done so without remorse. But not a man like me; I +am naturally high-minded, of the most sensitive honour. Even when I +conquered at last, I could not triumph. Far from it. I blamed the force +of circumstances furiously for compelling me to sacrifice my principles +to my purse. I am no adventurer, hein? + +Enfin, the problem now was, where was I to hide her? Her portmanteau +she had deposited at a railway station. Should we have it removed to +another bedroom, or to a pension de famille? Both plans were open to +objections--a bedroom would necessitate her still challenging discovery +in restaurants; and at a pension de famille she would run risks on the +premises. A pretty kettle of fish if someone spotted her while I was +holding for the rise! + +We debated the point exhaustively. And, having yielded, she displayed +keen intelligence in arranging for the best. Finally she declared: + +"Of the two things, a pension de famille is to be preferred. Install me +there as your sister! Remember that people picture me a wanderer and +alone; therefore, a lady who is introduced by her brother is in small +danger of being recognized as mademoiselle Girard." + +She was right, I perceived it. We found an excellent house, where I was +unknown. I presented her as "mademoiselle Henriette Delafosse, my +sister." And, to be on the safe side, I engaged a private sitting-room +for her, explaining that she was somewhat neurasthenic. + +Good! I waited breathless now for every edition of _La Voix_, +thinking that her price might advance even sooner. But she closed at +three thousand francs daily. Girard stood firm, but there was no upward +tendency. Every afternoon I called on her. She talked about that +conscience of hers again sometimes, and it did not prove quite so +delightful as I had expected, when I paid a visit. Especially when I +paid a bill as well. + +Monsieur, my disposition is most liberal. But when I had been mulcted +in the second bill, I confess that I became a trifle downcast. I had +prepared myself to nourish the girl wholesomely, as befitted the +circumstances, but I had said nothing of vin supérieur, and I noted +that she had been asking for it as if it were cider in Normandy. The +list of extras in those bills gave me the jumps, and the charges made +for scented soap were nothing short of an outrage. + +Well, there was but one more week to bear now, and during the week I +allowed her to revel. This, though I was approaching embarrassments +_re_ the rent of my own attic! + +How strange is life! Who shall foretell the future? I had wrestled with +my self-respect, I had nursed an investment which promised stupendous +profits were I capable of carrying my scheme to a callous conclusion. +But could I do it? Did I claim the prize, which had already cost me so +much? Monsieur, you are a man of the world, a judge of character: I ask +you, did I claim the prize, or did I not? + +He threw himself back in the chair, and toyed significantly with his +empty glass. + +I regarded him, his irresolute mouth, his receding chin, his +unquenchable thirst for absinthe. I regarded him and I paid him no +compliments. I said: + +"You claimed the prize." + +"You have made a bloomer," he answered. "I did not claim it. The prize +was claimed by the wife of a piano-tuner, who had discovered +mademoiselle Girard employed in the artificial flower department of the +Printemps. I read the bloodcurdling news at nine o'clock on a Friday +evening; and at 9:15, when I hurled myself, panic-stricken, into the +pension de famille, the impostor who had tricked me out of three weeks' +board and lodging had already done a bolt. I have never had the joy of +meeting her since." + + + +HOW TRICOTKIN SAW LONDON + +One day Tricotrin had eighty francs, and he said to Pitou, who was no +less prosperous, "Good-bye to follies, for we have arrived at an epoch +in our careers! Do not let us waste our substance on trivial pleasures, +or paying the landlord--let us make it a provision for our future!" + +"I rejoice to hear you speak for once like a business-man," returned +Pitou. "Do you recommend gilt-edged securities, or an investment in +land?" + +"I would suggest, rather, that we apply our riches to some educational +purpose, such as travel," explained the poet, producing a railway +company's handbill. "By this means we shall enlarge our minds, and +somebody has pretended that 'knowledge is power'--it must have been the +principal of a school. It is not for nothing that we have l'Entente +Cordiale--you may now spend a Sunday in London at about the cost of one +of Madeleine's hats." + +"These London Sunday baits may be a plot of the English Government to +exterminate us; I have read that none but English people can survive a +Sunday in London." + +"No, it is not that, for we are offered the choice of a town called +'Eastbourne,' Listen, they tell me that in London the price of +cigarettes is so much lower than with us that, to a bold smuggler, the +trip is a veritable economy. Matches too! Matches are so cheap in +England that the practice of stealing them from café tables has not +been introduced." + +"Well, your synopsis will be considered, and reported on in due +course," announced the composer, after a pause; "but at the moment of +going to press we would rather buy a hat for Madeleine." + +And as Madeleine also thought that this would be better for him, it was +decided that Tricotrin should set forth alone. + +His departure for a foreign country was a solemn event. A small party +of the Montmartrois had marched with him to the station, and more than +once, in view of their anxious faces, the young man acknowledged +mentally that he was committed to a harebrained scheme. "Heaven +protect thee, my comrade!" faltered Pitou. "Is thy vocabulary safely in +thy pocket? Remember that 'un bock' is 'glass of beer.'" + +"Here is a small packet of chocolate," murmured Lajeunie, embracing +him; "in England, nothing to eat can be obtained on Sunday, and +chocolate is very sustaining." + +"And listen!" shouted Sanquereau; "on no account take off thy hat to +strangers, nor laugh in the streets; the first is 'mad' over there, and +the second is 'immoral.' May le bon Dieu have thee in His keeping! We +count the hours till thy return!" + +Then the train sped out into the night, and the poet realised that home +and friends were left behind. + +He would have been less than a poet if, in the first few minutes, the +pathos of the situation had not gripped him by the throat. Vague, +elusive fancies stirred his brain; he remembered the franc that he owed +at the Café du Bel Avenir, and wondered if madame would speak gently of +him were he lost at sea. Tender memories of past loves dimmed his eyes, +and he reflected how poignant it would be to perish before the papers +would give him any obituary notices. Regarding his fellow passengers, +he lamented that none of them was a beautiful girl, for it was an +occasion on which woman's sympathy would have been sweet; indeed he +proceeded to invent some of the things that they might have said to +each other. Inwardly he was still resenting the faces of his travelling +companions when the train reached Dieppe. + +"It is material for my biography," he soliloquised, as he crept down +the gangway. "Few who saw the young man step firmly on to the good +ship's deck conjectured the emotions that tore his heart; few +recognised him to be Tricotrin, whose work was at that date practically +unknown.'" But as a matter of fact he did arouse conjectures of a kind, +for when the boat moved from the quay, he could not resist the +opportunity to murmur, "My France, farewell!" with an appropriate +gesture. + +His repose during the night was fitful, and when Victoria was reached +at last, he was conscious of some bodily fatigue. However, his mind was +never slow to receive impressions, and at the sight of the scaffolding, +he whipped out his note-book on the platform. He wrote, "The English +are extraordinarily prompt of action. One day it was discerned that la +gare Victoria was capable of improvement--no sooner was the fact +detected than an army of contractors was feverishly enlarging it." +Pleased that his journey was already yielding such good results, the +poet lit a Caporal, and sauntered through the yard. + +Though the sky promised a fine Sunday, his view of London at this early +hour was not inspiriting. He loitered blankly, debating which way to +wander. Presently the outlook brightened--he observed a very dainty +pair of shoes and ankles coming through the station doors. Fearing that +the face might be unworthy of them, he did not venture to raise his +gaze until the girl had nearly reached the gate, but when he took the +risk, he was rewarded by the discovery that her features were as +piquant as her feet. + +She came towards him slowly, and now he remarked that she had a grudge +against Fate; her pretty lips were compressed, her beautiful eyes +gloomy with grievance, the fairness of her brow was darkened by a +frown. "Well," mused Tricotrin, "though the object of my visit is +educational, the exigencies of my situation clearly compel me to ask +this young lady to direct me somewhere. Can I summon up enough English +before she has passed?" + +It was a trying moment, for already she was nearly abreast of him. +Forgetful of Sanquereau's instructions, as well as of most of the +phrases that had been committed to memory, the poet swept off his hat, +and stammered, "Mees, I beg your pardon!" + +She turned the aggrieved eyes to him inquiringly. Although she had +paused, she made no answer. Was his accent so atrocious as all that? +For a second they regarded each other dumbly, while a blush of +embarrassment mantled the young man's cheeks. Then, with a little +gesture of apology, the girl said in French-- + +"I do not speak English, monsieur." + +"Oh, le bon Dieu be praised!" cried Tricotrin, for all the world as if +he had been back on the boulevard Rochechouart. "I was dazed with +travel, or I should have recognized you were a Frenchwoman. Did you, +too, leave Paris last night, mademoiselle?" + +"Ah, no," said the girl pensively. "I have been in London for months. I +hoped to meet a friend who wrote that she would arrive this morning, +but,"--she sighed--"she has not come!" + +"She will arrive to-night instead, no doubt; I should have no anxiety. +You may be certain she will arrive to-night, and this contretemps will +be forgotten." + +She pouted. "I was looking forward so much to seeing her! To a stranger +who cannot speak the language, London is as triste as a tomb. Today, I +was to have had a companion, and now--" + +"Indeed, I sympathise with you," replied Tricotrin. "But is it really +so--London is what you say? You alarm me. I am here absolutely alone. +Where, then, shall I go this morning?" + +"There are churches," she said, after some reflection. + +"And besides?" + +"W-e-ll, there are other churches." + +"Of course, such things can be seen in Paris also," demurred Tricotrin. +"It is not essential to go abroad to say one's prayers. If I may take +the liberty of applying to you, in which direction would you recommend +me to turn my steps? For example, where is Soho--is it too far for a +walk?" + +"No, monsieur, it is not very far--it is the quarter in which I lodge." + +"And do you return there now?" he asked eagerly. + +"What else is there for me to do? My friend has not come, and--" + +"Mademoiselle," exclaimed the poet, "I entreat you to have mercy on a +compatriot! Permit me, at least, to seek Soho in your company--do not, +I implore you, leave me homeless and helpless in a strange land! I +notice an eccentric vehicle which instinct whispers is an English +'hansom.' For years I have aspired to drive in an English hansom once. +It is in your power to fulfil my dream with effulgence. Will you +consent to instruct the acrobat who is performing with a whip, and to +take a seat in the English hansom beside me?" + +"Monsieur," responded the pretty girl graciously, "I shall be charmed;" +and, romantic as the incident appears, the next minute they were +driving along Victoria Street together. + +"The good kind fairies have certainly taken me under their wings," +declared Tricotrin, as he admired his companion's profile. "It was +worth enduring the pangs of exile, to meet with such kindness as you +have shown me." + +"I am afraid you will speedily pronounce the fairies fickle," said she, +"for our drive will soon be over, and you will find Soho no fairyland." + +"How comes it that your place of residence is so unsuitable to you, +mademoiselle?" + +"I lodge in the neighbourhood of the coiffeur's where I am employed, +monsieur--where I handle the tails and transformations. Our specialty +is artificial eyelashes; the attachment is quite invisible--and the +result absolutely ravishing! No," she added hurriedly; "I am not +wearing a pair myself, these are quite natural, word of honour! But we +undertake to impart to any eyes the gaze soulful, or the twinkle +coquettish, as the customer desires--as an artist, I assure you that +these expressions are due, less to the eyes themselves than to the +shade, and especially the curve, of the lashes. Many a woman has +entered our saloon entirely insignificant, and turned the heads of all +the men in the street when she left." + +"You interest me profoundly," said Tricotrin, "At the same time, I +shall never know in future whether I am inspired by a woman's eyes, or +the skill of her coiffeur. I say 'in future.' I entertain no doubt as +to the source of my sensations now." + +She rewarded him for this by a glance that dizzied him, and soon +afterwards the hansom came to a standstill amid an overpowering odour +of cheese. + +"We have arrived!" she proclaimed; "so it is now that we part, +monsieur. For me there is the little lodging--for you the enormous +London. It is Soho--wander where you will! There are restaurants +hereabouts where one may find coffee and rolls at a modest price. +Accept my thanks for your escort, and let us say bonjour." + +"Are the restaurants so unsavoury that you decline to honour them?" he +questioned. + +"_Comment?"_ + +"Will you not bear me company? Or, better still, will you not let me +command a coffee-pot for two to be sent to your apartment, and invite +me to rest after my voyage?" + +She hesitated. "My apartment is very humble," she said, "and--well, I +have never done a thing like that! It would not be correct. What would +you think of me if I consented?" + +"I will think all that you would have me think," vowed Tricotrin. +"Come, take pity on me! Ask me in, and afterwards we will admire the +sights of London together. Where can the coffee-pot be ordered?" + +"As for that," she said, "there is no necessity--I have a little +breakfast for two already prepared. Enfin, it is understood--we are to +be good comrades, and nothing more? Will you give yourself the trouble +of entering, monsieur?" + +The bedroom to which they mounted was shabby, but far from +unattractive. The mantelshelf was brightened with flowers, a piano was +squeezed into a corner, and Tricotrin had scarcely put aside his hat +when he was greeted by the odour of coffee as excellent as was ever +served in the Café de la Régence. + +"If this is London," he cried, "I have no fault to find with it! I own +it is abominably selfish of me, but I cannot bring myself to regret +that your friend failed to arrive this morning; indeed, I shudder to +think what would have become of me if we had not met. Will you mention +the name that is to figure in my benisons?" + +"My name is Rosalie Durand, monsieur." + +"And mine is Gustave Tricotrin, mademoiselle--always your slave. I do +not doubt that in Paris, at this moment, there are men who picture me +tramping the pavement, desolate. Not one of them but would envy me from +his heart if he could see my situation!" + +"It might have fallen out worse, I admit," said the girl. "My own day +was at the point of being dull to tears--and here I am chattering as if +I hadn't a grief in the world! Let me persuade you to take another +croissant!" + +"Fervently I wish that appearances were not deceptive!" said Tricotrin, +who required little persuasion. "Is it indiscreet to inquire to what +griefs you allude? Upon my word, your position appears a very pretty +one! Where do those dainty shoes pinch you?" + +"They are not easy on foreign soil, monsieur. When I reflect that you +go back to-night, that to-morrow you will be again in Paris, I could +gnash my teeth with jealousy." + +"But, ma foi!" returned Tricotrin, "to a girl of brains, like yourself, +Paris is always open. Are there no customers for eyelashes in France? +Why condemn yourself to gnash with jealousy when there is a living to +be earned at home?" + +"There are several reasons," she said; "for one thing, I am an +extravagant little hussy and haven't saved enough for a ticket." + +"I have heard no reason yet! At the moment my pocket is nicely lined-- +you might return with me this evening," + +"Are you mad by any chance?" she laughed. + +"It seems to me the natural course." + +"Well, I should not be free to go like that, even if I took your money. +I am a business woman, you see, who does not sacrifice her interests to +her sentiment. What is your own career, monsieur Tricotrin?" + +"I am a poet, And when I am back in Paris I shall write verse about +you. It shall be an impression of London--the great city as it reveals +itself to a stranger whose eyes are dazzled by the girl he loves." + +"Forbidden ground!" she cried, admonishing him with a finger. "No +dazzle!" + +"I apologise," said Tricotrin; "you shall find me a poet of my word. +Why, I declare," he exclaimed, glancing from the window, "it has begun +to rain!" + +"Well, fortunately, we have plenty of time; there is all day for our +excursion and we can wait for the weather to improve. If you do not +object to smoking while I sing, monsieur, I propose a little music to +go on with." + +And it turned out that this singular assistant of a hairdresser had a +very sympathetic voice, and no contemptible repertoire. Although the +sky had now broken its promise shamefully and the downpour continued, +Tricotrin found nothing to complain of. By midday one would have said +that they had been comrades for years. By luncheon both had ceased even +to regard the rain. And before evening approached, they had confided to +each other their histories from the day of their birth. + +Ascertaining that the basement boasted a smudgy servant girl, who was +to be dispatched for entrées and sauterne, Tricotrin drew up the menu +of a magnificent dinner as the climax. It was conceded that at this +repast he should be the host; and having placed him on oath behind a +screen, Rosalie proceeded to make an elaborate toilette in honour of +his entertainment. + +Determined, as he had said, to prove himself a poet of his word, the +young man remained behind the screen as motionless as a waxwork, but +the temptation to peep was tremendous, and at the whispering of a silk +petticoat he was unable to repress a groan. + +"What ails you?" she demanded, the whispering suspended. + +"I merely expire with impatience to meet you again." + +"Monsieur, I am hastening to the trysting-place, And my costume will be +suitable to the occasion, believe me!" + +"In that case, if you are not quick, you will have to wear crape. +However, proceed, I can suffer with the best of them.... Are you +certain that I can be of no assistance? I feel selfish, idling here +like this. Besides, since I am able to see--" + +"See?" she screamed. + +"--see no reason why you should refuse my aid, my plight is worse +still. What are you doing now?" + +"My hair," she announced. + +"Surely it would not be improper for me to view a head of hair?" + +"Perhaps not, monsieur; but my head is on my shoulders--which makes a +difference." + +"Mademoiselle," sighed Tricotrin, "never have I known a young lady +whose head was on her shoulders more tightly. May I crave one +indulgence? My imprisonment would be less painful for a cigarette, and +I cannot reach the matches--will you consent to pass them round the +screen?" + +"It is against the rules. But I will consent to throw them over the +top. Catch! Why don't you say 'thank you'?" + +"Because your unjust suspicion killed me; I now need nothing but +immortelles, and at dinner I will compose my epitaph. If I am not +mistaken, I already smell the soup on the stairs." + +And the soup had scarcely entered when his guest presented herself. +Paquin and the Fairy Godmother would have approved her gown; as to her +coiffure, if her employer could have seen it, he would have wanted to +put her in his window. Tricotrin gave her his arm with stupefaction. +"Upon my word," he faltered, "you awe me. I am now overwhelmed with +embarrassment that I had the temerity to tease you while you dressed. +And what shall I say of the host who is churl enough to welcome you in +such a shabby coat?" + +The cork went pop, their tongues went nineteen to the dozen, and the +time went so rapidly that a little clock on the chest of drawers became +a positive killjoy. + +"By all the laws of dramatic effect," remarked the poet, as they +trifled with the almonds and raisins, "you will now divulge that the +fashionable lady before me is no 'Rosalie Durand,' of a hairdresser's +shop, but madame la comtesse de Thrilling Mystery. Every novel reader +would be aware that at this stage you will demand some dangerous +service of me, and that I shall forthwith risk my life and win your +love." + +"Bien sûr! That is how it ought to be," she agreed. + +"Is it impossible?" + +"That I can be a countess?" + +"Well, we will waive the 'countess'; and for that matter I will not +insist on risking my life; but what about the love?" + +"Without the rest," she demurred, "the situation would be too +commonplace. When I can tell you that I am a countess I will say also +that I love you; to-night I am Rosalie Durand, a friend. By the way, +now I come to think of it, I shall be all that you have seen in +London!" + +"Why, I declare, so you will!" exclaimed Tricotrin. "Really this is a +nice thing! I come to England for the benefit of my education--and when +it is almost time for me to return, I find that I have spent the whole +of the day in a room." + +"But you have, at least, had a unique experience in it?" she queried +with a whimsical smile. + +"Well, yes; my journey has certainly yielded an adventure that none of +my acquaintances would credit! Do you laugh at me?" + +"Far from it; by-and-by I may even spare a tear for you--if you do not +spoil the day by being clumsy at the end." + +"Ah, Rosalie," cried the susceptible poet, "how can I bear the parting? +What is France without you? I am no longer a Frenchman--my true home is +now England! My heart will hunger for it, my thoughts will stretch +themselves to it across the sea; banished to Montmartre, I shall mourn +daily for the white cliffs of Albion, for Soho, and for you!" + +"I, too, shall remember," she murmured. "But perhaps one of these days +you will come to England again?" + +"If the fare could be paid with devotion, I would come every Sunday, +but how can I hope to amass enough money? Such things do not happen +twice. No, I will not deceive myself--this is our farewell. See!" He +rose, and turned the little clock with its face to the wall. "When that +clock strikes, I must go to catch my train--in the meantime we will +ignore the march of time. Farewells, tears, regrets, let us forget that +they exist--let us drink the last glass together gaily, mignonne!" + +They pledged each other with brave smiles, hand in hand. And now their +chatter became fast and furious, to drown the clock's impatient tick. + +The clockwork wheezed and whirred. + +"'Tis going to part us," shouted Tricotrin; "laugh, laugh, Beloved, so +that we may not hear!" + +"Kiss me," she cried; "while the hour sounds, you shall hold me in your +arms!" + +"Heaven," gasped the young man, as the too brief embrace concluded, +"how I wish it had been striking midnight!" + +The next moment came the separation. He descended the stairs; at the +window she waved her hand to him. And in the darkness of an "English +hansom" the poet covered his face and wept. + + * * * * * + +"From our hearts we rejoice to have thee safely back!" they chorused in +Montmartre. "And what didst thou see in London?" + +"Oh, mon Dieu, what noble sights!" exclaimed Tricotrin. "The Lor' Maire +blazes with jewels like the Shah of Persia; and compared with +Peeccadeelly, the Champs Elysées are no wider than a hatband. Vive +l'Entente! Positively my brain whirls with all the splendours of London +I have seen!" + + + +THE INFIDELITY OF MONSIEUR NOULENS + +Whenever they talk of him, whom I will call "Noulens"--of his novels, +his method, the eccentricities of his talent--someone is sure to say, +"But what comrades, he and his wife!"--you are certain to hear it. And +as often as I hear it myself, I think of what he told me that evening +--I remember the shock I had. + +At the beginning, I had expected little. When I went in, his wife said, +"I fear he will be poor company; he has to write a short story for +_La Voix,_ and cannot find a theme--he has been beating his brains +all day." So far, from anticipating emotions, I had proposed dining +there another night instead, but she would not allow me to leave. +"Something you say may suggest a theme to him," she declared, "and he +can write or dictate the story in an hour, when you have gone." + +So I stayed, and after dinner he lay on the sofa, bewailing the fate +that had made him an author. The salon communicated with his study, and +through the open door he had the invitation of his writing-table--the +little sheaf of paper that she had put in readiness for him, the +lighted lamp, the pile of cigarettes. I knew that she hoped the view +would stimulate him, but it was soon apparent that he had ceased to +think of a story altogether. He spoke of one of the latest murders in +Paris, one sensational enough for the Paris Press to report a murder +prominently--of a conference at the Université des Annales, of the +artistry of Esther Lekain, of everything except his work. Then, in the +hall, the telephone bell rang, and madame Noulens rose to receive the +message. "Allô! Allô!" + +She did not come back. There was a pause, and presently he murmured: + +"I wonder if a stranger has been moved to telephone a plot to me?" + +"What?" I said. + +"It sounds mad, hein? But it once happened--on just such a night as +this, when my mind was just as blank. Really! Out of the silence a +woman told me a beautiful story. Of course, I never used it, nor do I +know if she made use of it herself; but I have never forgotten. For +years I could not hear a telephone bell without trembling. Even now, +when I am working late, I find myself hoping for her voice." + +"The story was so wonderful as that?" + +He threw a glance into the study, as if to assure himself that his wife +had not entered it from the hall. + +"Can you believe that a man may learn to love--tenderly and truly love +--a woman he has never met?" he asked me. + +"I don't think I understand you." + +"There has been only one woman in my life who was all in all to me," he +said--"and I never saw her." + +How was I to answer? I looked at him. + +"After all, what is there incredible in it?" he demanded. "Do we give +our love to a face, or to a temperament? I swear to you that I could +not have known that woman's temperament more intimately if we had made +our confidences in each other's arms. I knew everything of her, except +the trifles which a stranger learns in the moment of being presented-- +her height, her complexion, her name, whether she was married or +single. No, those things I never knew. But her tastes, her sympathies, +her soul, these, the secret truths of the woman, were as familiar to me +as to herself." + +He hesitated. + +"I am in a difficulty. If I seem to disparage my wife, I shall be a +cad; if I let you think we have been as happy together as people +imagine, you will not understand the importance of what I am going to +tell you. I will say this: before our honeymoon was over, I bored her +fearfully. While we were engaged, I had talked to her of my illusions +about herself; when we were married, I talked to her of my convictions +about my art. The change appalled her. She was chilled, crushed, +dumfounded. I looked to her to share my interests. For response, she +yawned--and wept. + +"Oh, her tears! her hourly tears! the tears that drowned my love! + +"The philosopher is made, not born; in the first few years I rebelled +furiously. I wanted a companion, a confidant, and I had never felt so +desperately alone. + +"We had a flat in the rue de Sontay then, and the telephone was in my +workroom. One night late, as I sat brooding there, the bell startled +me; and a voice--a woman's voice, said: + +"'I am so lonely; I want to talk to you before I sleep.' + +"I cannot describe the strangeness of that appeal, reaching me so +suddenly out of the distance. I knew that it was a mistake, of course, +but it was as if, away in the city, some nameless soul had echoed the +cry in my own heart. I obeyed an impulse; I said: + +"'I, too, am very lonely--I believe I have been waiting for you.' + +"There was a pause, and then she asked, dismayed: + +"'Who are you?' + +"'Not the man you thought,' I told her. 'But a very wistful one.' + +"I heard soft laughter, 'How absurd!' she murmured. + +"'Be merciful,' I went on; 'we are both sad, and Fate clearly intends +us to console each other. It cannot compromise you, for I do not even +know who you are. Stay and talk to me for five minutes.' + +"'What do you ask me to talk about?' + +"'Oh, the subject to interest us both--yourself.' + +"After a moment she answered, 'I am shaking my head.' + +"'It is very unfeeling of you,' I said. 'And I have not even the +compensation of seeing you do it.' + +"Imagine another pause, and then her voice in my ear again: + +"'I will tell you what I can do for you--I can tell you a story.' + +"'The truth would please me more,' I owned. 'Still, if my choice must +be made between your story and your silence, I certainly choose the +story.' + +"'I applaud your taste,' she said. 'Are you comfortable--are you +sitting down?' + +"I sat down, smiling. 'Madame--' + +"She did not reply. + +"Then, 'Mademoiselle--' + +"Again no answer. + +"'Well, say at least if I have your permission to smoke while I listen +to you?' + +"She laughed: 'You carry courtesy far!' + +"'How far?' I asked quickly. + +"But she would not even hint from what neighbourhood she was speaking +to me. 'Attend!' she commanded--and began: + +"'It is a story of two lovers,' she said, 'Paul and Rosamonde. They +were to have married, but Rosamonde died too soon. When she was dying, +she gave him a curl of the beautiful brown hair that he used to kiss. +"Au revoir, dear love," she whispered; "it will be very stupid in +Heaven until you come. Remember that I am waiting for you and be +faithful. If your love for me fades, you will see that curl of mine +fade too." + +"'Every day through the winter Paul strewed flowers on her tomb, and +sobbed. And in the spring he strewed flowers and sighed. And in the +summer he paid that flowers might be strewn there for him. Sometimes, +when he looked at the dead girl's hair, he thought that it was paler +than it had been, but, as he looked at it seldom now, he could easily +persuade himself that he was mistaken. + +"'Then he met a woman who made him happy again; and the wind chased the +withered flowers from Rosamonde's grave and left it bare. One day +Paul's wife found a little packet that lay forgotten in his desk. She +opened it jealously, before he could prevent her. Paul feared that the +sight would give her pain, and watched her with anxious eyes. But in a +moment she was laughing. "What an idiot I am," she exclaimed--"I was +afraid that it was the hair of some girl you had loved!" The curl was +snow-white.' + +"Her fantastic tale," continued Noulens, "which was told with an +earnestness that I cannot reproduce, impressed me very much. I did not +offer any criticism, I did not pay her any compliment; I said simply: + +"'Who are you?' + +"'That,' she warned me, 'is a question that you must not ask. Well, are +you still bored?' + +"'No.' + +"'Interested, a little?' + +"'Very much so.' + +"'I, too, am feeling happier than I did. And now, bonsoir!' + +"'Wait,' I begged. 'Tell me when I shall speak to you again.' + +"She hesitated; and I assure you that I had never waited for a woman's +answer with more suspense while I held her hand, than I waited for the +answer of this woman whom I could not see. 'To-morrow?' I urged. 'In +the morning?' + +"'In the morning it would be difficult.' + +"'The afternoon?' + +"'In the afternoon it would be impossible,' + +"'Then the evening--at the same hour?' + +"'Perhaps,' she faltered--'if I am free.' + +"'My number,' I told her, 'is five-four-two, one-nine. Can you write it +now?' + +"'I have written it.' + +"'Please repeat, so that there may be no mistake.' + +"'Five-four-two, one-nine. Correct?' + +"'Correct. I am grateful.' + +"'Good-night.' + +"'Good-night. Sleep well.' + +"You may suppose that on the morrow I remembered the incident with a +smile, that I ridiculed the emotion it had roused in me? You would be +wrong. I recalled it more and more curiously: I found myself looking +forward to the appointment with an eagerness that was astonishing. We +had talked for about twenty minutes, hidden from each other--half +Paris, perhaps, dividing us; I had nothing more tangible to expect this +evening. Yet I experienced all the sensations of a man who waits for an +interview, for an embrace. What did it mean? I was bewildered. The +possibility of love at first sight I understood; but might the spirit +also recognise an affinity by telephone? + +"There is a phrase in feuilletons that had always irritated me--'To his +impatience it seemed that the clock had stopped.' It had always struck +me as absurd. Since that evening I have never condemned the phrase, for +honestly, I thought more than once that the clock had stopped. By-and-by, +to increase the tension, my wife, who seldom entered my workroom, +opened the door. She found me idle, and was moved to converse with me. +Mon Dieu! Now that the hour approached at last, my wife was present, +with the air of having settled herself for the night! + +"The hands of the clock moved on--and always faster now. If she +remained till the bell rang, what was I to do? To answer that I had +'someone with me' would be intelligible to the lady, but it would sound +suspicious to my wife. To answer that I was 'busy' would sound innocent +to my wife, but it would be insulting to the lady. To disregard the +bell altogether would be to let my wife go to the telephone herself! I +tell you I perspired. + +"Under Providence, our cook rescued me. There came a timid knock, and +then the figure of the cook, her eyes inflamed, her head swathed in +some extraordinary garment. She had a raging toothache--would madame +have the kindness to give her a little cognac? The ailments of the cook +always arouse in human nature more solicitude than the ailments of any +other servant. My wife's sympathy was active--I was saved! + +"The door had scarcely closed when _tr-rr-r-ng_ the signal came. + +"'Good-evening,' from the voice. 'So you are here to meet me.' + +"'Good-evening,' I said. 'I would willingly go further to meet you,' + +"'Be thankful that the rendez-vous was your flat--listen to the rain! +Come, own that you congratulated yourself when it began! "Luckily I can +be gallant without getting wet," you thought. Really, I am most +considerate--you keep a dry skin, you waste no time in reaching me, and +you need not even trouble to change your coat.' + +"'It sounds very cosy,' I admitted, 'but there is one drawback to it +all--I do not see you.' + +"'That may be more considerate of me still! I may be reluctant to +banish your illusions. Isn't it probable that I am elderly--or, at +least plain? I may even be a lady novelist, with ink on her fingers. +By-the-bye, monsieur, I have been rereading one of your books since +last night.' + +"'Oh, you know my name now? I am gratified to have become more than a +telephonic address to you. May I ask if we have ever met?' + +"'We never spoke till last night, but I have seen you often,' + +"'You, at any rate, can have no illusions to be banished. What a +relief! I have endeavoured to talk as if I had a romantic bearing; now +that you know how I look, I can be myself.' + +"'I await your next words with terror,' she said. 'What shock is in +store for me? Speak gently.' + +"'Well, speaking gently, I am very glad that you were put on to the +wrong number last night. At the same time, I feel a constraint, a +difficulty; I cannot talk to you frankly, cannot be serious--it is as +if I showed my face while you were masked.' + +"'Yes, it is true--I understand,' she said. 'And even if I were to +swear that I was not unworthy of your frankness, you would still be +doubtful of me, I suppose?' + +"'Madame--' + +"'Oh, it is natural! I know very well how I must appear to you,' she +exclaimed; 'a coquette, with a new pastime--a vulgar coquette, besides, +who tries to pique your interest by an air of mystery. Believe me, +monsieur, I am forbidden to unmask. Think lightly of me if you must--I +have no right to complain--but believe as much as that! I do not give +you my name, simply because I may not.' + +"'Madame,' I replied, 'so far from wishing to force your confidences, I +assure you that I will never inquire who you are, never try to find +out.' + +"'And you will talk frankly, unconstrainedly, all the same?' + +"'Ah, you are too illogical to be elderly and plain,' I demurred. 'You +resolve to remain a stranger to me, and I bow to your decision; but, on +the other hand, a man makes confidences only to his friends.' + +"There was a long pause; and when I heard the voice again, it trembled: + +"'Adieu, monsieur.' + +"'Adieu, madame,' I said. + +"No sooner had she gone than I would have given almost anything to +bring her back. For a long while I sat praying that she would ring +again. I watched the telephone as if it had been her window, the door +of her home--something that could yield her to my view. During the next +few days I grudged every minute that I was absent from the room--I took +my meals in it. Never had I had the air of working so indefatigably, +and in truth I did not write a line, 'I suppose you have begun a new +romance?' said my wife. In my soul I feared that I had finished it!" + +Noulens sighed; he clasped his hands on his head. The dark hair, the +thin, restless fingers were all that I could see of him where I sat. +Some seconds passed; I wondered whether there would be time for me to +hear the rest before his wife returned. + + * * * * * + +"In my soul I feared that I had finished it," he repeated. +"Extraordinary as it appears, I was in love with a woman I had never +seen. Each time that bell sounded, my heart seemed to try to choke me. +It had been my grievance, since we had the telephone installed, that we +heard nothing of it excepting that we had to make another payment for +its use; but now, by a maddening coincidence, everybody that I had ever +met took to ringing me up about trifles and agitating me twenty times a +day. + +"At last, one night--when expectation was almost dead--she called to me +again. Oh, but her voice was humble! My friend, it is piteous when we +love a woman, to hear her humbled. I longed to take her hands, to fold +my arms about her. I abased myself, that she might regain her pride. +She heard how I had missed and sorrowed for her; I owned that she was +dear to me. + +"And then began a companionship--strange as you may find the word-- +which was the sweetest my life has held. We talked together daily. This +woman, whose whereabouts, whose face, whose name were all unknown to +me, became the confidant of my disappointments and my hopes. If I +worked well, my thoughts would be, 'Tonight I shall have good news to +give her;' if I worked ill--'Never mind, by-and-by she will encourage +me!' There was not a page in my next novel that I did not read to her; +never a doubt beset me in which I did not turn for her sympathy and +advice. + +"'Well, how have you got on?' + +"'Oh, I am so troubled this evening, dear!' + +"'Poor fellow! Tell me all about it. I tried to come to you sooner, but +I couldn't get away.' + +"Like that! We talked as if she were really with me. My life was no +longer desolate--the indifference in my home no longer grieved me. All +the interest, the love, the inspiration I had hungered for, was given +to me now by a woman who remained invisible." + +Noulens paused again. In the pause I got up to light a cigarette, and-- +I shall never forget it--I saw the bowed figure of his wife beyond the +study door! It was only a glimpse I had, but the glimpse was enough to +make my heart stand still--she leant over the table, her face hidden by +her hand. + +I tried to warn, to signal to him--he did not see me. I felt that I +could do nothing, nothing at all, without doubling her humiliation by +the knowledge that I had witnessed it. If he would only look at me! + +"Listen," he went on rapidly. "I was happy, I was young again--and +there was a night when she said to me, 'It is for the last time.' + +"Six words! But for a moment I had no breath, no life, to answer them. + +"'Speak!' she cried out. 'You are frightening me!' + +"'What has happened?' I stammered. 'Trust me, I implore you!' + +"I heard her sobbing--and minutes seemed to pass. It was horrible. I +thought my heart would burst while I shuddered at her sobs--the sobbing +of a woman I could not reach. + +"'I can tell you nothing,' she said, when she was calmer; 'only that we +are speaking together for the last time.' + +"'But why--why? Is it that you are leaving France?' + +"'I cannot tell you,' she repeated. 'I have had to swear that to +myself.' + +"Oh, I raved to her! I was desperate. I tried to wring her name from +her then--I besought her to confess where she was hidden. The space +between us frenzied me. It was frightful, it was like a nightmare, that +struggle to tear the truth from a woman whom I could not clasp or see. + +"'My dear,' she said, 'there are some things that are beyond human +power. They are not merely difficult, or unwise, or mad--they are +impossible. _You_ have begged the impossible of _me_. You +will never hear me again, it is far from likely we shall ever meet--and +if one day we do, you will not even know that it is I. But I love you. +I should like to think that you believe it, for I love you very dearly. +Now say good-bye to me. My arms are round your neck, dear heart--I +kiss you on the lips.' + +"It was the end. She was lost. A moment before, I had felt her presence +in my senses; now I stood in an empty room, mocked by a futile +apparatus. My friend, if you have ever yearned to see a woman whose +whereabouts you did not know--ever exhausted yourself tramping some +district in the hope of finding her--you may realise what I feel; for +remember that by comparison your task was easy--I am even ignorant of +this woman's arrondissement and appearance. She left me helpless. The +telephone had given her--the telephone had taken her away. All that +remained to me was the mechanism on a table." + + * * * * * + +Noulens turned on the couch at last--and, turning, he could not fail to +see his wife. I was spellbound. + +"'Mechanism on a table,' he repeated, with a prodigious yawn of relief. +'That is all, my own.'" + +"Good!" said madame Noulens cheerily. She bustled in, fluttering pages +of shorthand. "But, old angel, the tale of Paul and Rosamonde is thrown +away--it is an extravagance, telling two stories for the price of one!" + +"My treasure, thou knowest I invented it months ago and couldn't make +it long enough for it to be of any use." + +"True. Well, we will be liberal, then--we will include it." She noticed +my amazement. "What ails our friend?" + +Noulens gave a guffaw. "I fear our friend did not recognize that I was +dictating to you. By-the-bye, it was fortunate someone rang us up just +now--that started my plot for me! Who was it?" + +"It was _La Voix_" she laughed, "inquiring if the story would be +done in time!" + + * * * * * + +Yes, indeed, they are comrades!--you are certain to hear it. And as +often as I hear it myself, I think of what he told me that evening--I +remember how he took me in. + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Chair on The Boulevard, by Leonard Merrick + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHAIR ON THE BOULEVARD *** + +***** This file should be named 9928-8.txt or 9928-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/9/9/2/9928/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Ginny Brewer, Tom Allen and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Chair on The Boulevard + +Author: Leonard Merrick + +Posting Date: November 15, 2011 [EBook #9928] +Release Date: February, 2006 +Posting Date: November 1, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHAIR ON THE BOULEVARD *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Ginny Brewer, Tom Allen and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + + + + +A CHAIR ON THE BOULEVARD + + + +By LEONARD MERRICK + + + + +WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY A. NEIL LYONS + +1921 + + + + + +CONTENTS + + I THE TRAGEDY OF A COMIC SONG + + II TRICOTRIN ENTERTAINS + + III THE FATAL FLOROZONDE + + IV THE OPPORTUNITY OF PETITPAS + + V THE CAFE OF THE BROKEN HEART + + VI THE DRESS CLOTHES OF MONSIEUR POMPONNET + + VII THE SUICIDES IN THE RUE SOMBRE + + VIII THE CONSPIRACY FOR CLAUDINE + + IX THE DOLL IN THE PINK SILK DRESS + + X THE LAST EFFECT + + XI AN INVITATION TO DINNER + + XII THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS + + XIII THE FAIRY POODLE + + XIV LITTLE-FLOWER-OF-THE-WOOD + + XV A MIRACLE IN MONTMARTRE + + XVI THE DANGER OF BEING A TWIN + + XVII HERCULES AND APHRODITE + + XVIII "PARDON, YOU ARE MADEMOISELLE GIRARD!" + + XIX HOW TRICOTRIN SAW LONDON + + XX THE INFIDELITY OF MONSIEUR NOULENS + + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +These disjointed thoughts about one of Leonard Merrick's most +articulate books must begin with a personal confession. + +For many years I walked about this earth avoiding the works of Leonard +Merrick, as other men might have avoided an onion. This insane aversion +was created in my mind chiefly by admirers of what is called the +"cheerful" note in fiction. Such people are completely agreed in +pronouncing Mr. Merrick to be a pessimistic writer. I hate pessimistic +writers. + +Years ago, when I was of an age when the mind responds acutely to +exterior impressions, some well-meaning uncle, or other fool, gave me a +pessimistic book to read. This was a work of fiction which the British +Public had hailed as a masterpiece of humour. It represented, with an +utter fury of pessimism, the spiritual inadequacies of--but why go into +details. + +Now, I have to confess that for a long time I did Mr. Merrick the +extraordinary injustice of believing him to be the author of that +popular masterpiece. + +The mistake, though intellectually unpardonable, may perhaps be +condoned on other grounds. By virtue of that process of thought which +we call the "association of ideas," I naturally connected Mr. Merrick +with this work of super-pessimism; my friends being so confirmed in +their belief that he was a super-pessimist. + +But by virtue of a fortunate accident, I at last got the truth about +Mr. Merrick. This event arose from the action of a right-minded +butcher, who, having exhausted his stock of _The Pigeon-Fancier's +Gazette_, sent me my weekly supply of dog-bones wrapped about with +Leonard Merrick. + +These dog-bones happened to reach my house at a moment when no other +kind of literary nutriment was to be had. Having nothing better to read +I read the dog-bone wrappers. Thus, by dog-bones, was I brought to +Merrick: the most jolly, amusing, and optimistic of all spiritual +friends. + +The book to which these utterances are prefixed is to my mind one of +the few _really_ amusing books which have been published in +England during my lifetime. But, then, I think that all of Mr. +Merrick's books are amusing: even his "earnest" books, such as _The +Actor-Manager, When Love Flies out o' the Window_, or _The +Position of Peggy Harper_. + +It is, of course, true that such novels as these are unlikely to be +found congenial by those persons who derive entertainment from fiction +like my uncle's present. On the other hand, there are people in the +world with a capacity for being amused by psychological inquiry. To +such people I would say: "Don't miss Merrick." The extraordinary +cheerfulness of Mr. Merrick's philosophy is a fact which will impress +itself upon all folk who are able to take a really cheerful view of +life. + +All of Mr. Merrick's sermons--I do not hesitate to call his novels +"sermons," because no decent novel can be anything else--all his +sermons, I say, point to this conclusion: that people who go out +deliberately to look for happiness, to kick for it, and fight for it, +or who try to buy it with money, will miss happiness; this being a +state of heart--a mere outgrowth, more often to be found by a careless +and self-forgetful vagrant than by the deliberate and self-conscious +seeker. A cheerful doctrine this. Not only cheerful, but self-evidently +true. How right it is, and how cheerful it is, to think that while +philosophers and clergymen strut about this world looking out, and +smelling out, for its prime experiences, more careless and less +celebrated men are continually finding such things, without effort, +without care, in irregular and unconsecrated places. + +In novel after novel, Mr. Merrick has preached the same good-humoured, +cheerful doctrine: the doctrine of anti-fat. He asks us to believe--he +_makes_ us believe--that a man (or woman) is not merely virtuous, +but merely sane, who exchanges the fats of fulfilment for the little +lean pleasures of honourable hope and high endeavour. Oh wise, oh witty +Mr. Merrick! + +Mr. Merrick has not, to my knowledge, written one novel in which his +hero is represented as having achieved complacency. Mr. Merrick's +heroes all undergo the very human experience of "hitting a snag." They +are none of them represented as _enjoying_ this experience; but +none of them whimper and none of them "rat." + +If anybody could prove to me that Mr. Merrick had ever invented a hero +who submitted tamely to tame success, to fat prosperity; or who had +stepped, were it ever so lightly, into the dirty morass of accepted +comfort, then would I cheerfully admit to anybody that Leonard Merrick +is a Pessimistic Writer. But until this proof be forthcoming, I stick +to my opinion: I stick to the conviction that Mr. Merrick is the +gayest, cheer fullest, and most courageous of living humorists. + +This opinion is a general opinion, applicable to Mr. Merrick's general +work. This morning, however, I am asked to narrow my field of view: to +contemplate not so much Mr. Merrick at large as Mr. Merrick in +particular: to look at Mr. Merrick in his relationship to this one +particular book: _A Chair on the Boulevard_. + +Now, if I say, as I have said, that Mr. Merrick is cheerful in his +capacity of solemn novelist, what am I to say of Mr. Merrick in his +lighter aspect, that of a writer of _feuilletons?_ Addressing +myself to an imaginary audience of Magazine Enthusiasts, I ask them to +tell me whether, judged even by comparison with their favourite +fiction, some of the stories to be found in this volume are not +exquisitely amusing? + +The first story in the book--that which Mr. Merrick calls "The Tragedy +of a Comic Song"--is in my view the funniest story of this century: +but I don't ask or expect the Magazine Enthusiast to share this view or +to endorse that judgment. "The Tragedy of a Comic Song" is essentially +one of those productions in which the reader is expected to +collaborate. The author has deliberately contrived certain voids of +narrative; and his reader is expected to populate these anecdotal +wastes. This is asking more than it is fair to ask of a Magazine +Enthusiast. No genuine Magazine reader cares for the elusive or +allusive style in fiction. "The Tragedy of a Comic Song" won't do for +Bouverie Street, however well and completely it may do for me. + +But there are other stories in this book. There is that screaming farce +called "The Suicides in the Rue Sombre." Now, then, you Magazine +zealots, speak up and tell me truly: is there anything too difficult +for you in this? If so, the psychology of what is called "public taste" +becomes a subject not suited to public discussion. + +The foregoing remarks and considerations apply equally to such stories +as "The Dress Clothes of M. Pomponnet" and "Tricotrin Entertains." +There are other stories which delight me, as, for example, "Little- +Flower-of-the-Wood": but this jerks us back again to the essential Mr. +Merrick: he who demands collaboration. + +There are, again, other stories, and yet others; but to write down all +their titles here would be merely to transcribe the index page of the +book. Neither the reader nor I can afford to waste our time like that. + +I have said nothing about the technical qualities of Mr. Merrick's +work. I don't intend to do so. It has long been a conceit of mine to +believe that professional vendors of letterpress should reserve their +mutual discussions of technique for technical occasions, such as those +when men of like mind and occupation sit at table, with a bottle +between them. + +I am convinced that Mr. Merrick is a very great and gifted man, deeply +skilled in his profession. I can bring forth arguments and proofs to +support this conviction; but I fail utterly to see why I should do so. +To people who have a sense of that which is sincere and fresh in +fiction, these facts will be apparent. To them my arguments and +illustrations would be profitless. As for those honest persons to whom +the excellencies of Merrick are not apparent, I can only think that +nothing which I or any other man could say would render them obvious. +"Happiness is in ourselves," as the Vicar remarked to the donkey who +was pulling the lawn-mower. + +Good luck, Leonard Merrick, and good cheer! I shout my greeting to you +across the ripples of that inky lake which is our common fishery. + +A. NEIL LYONS. + + + +A CHAIR ON THE BOULEVARD + + + +THE TRAGEDY OF A COMIC SONG + +I like to monopolise a table in a restaurant, unless a friend is with +me, so I resented the young man's presence. Besides, he had a +melancholy face. If it hadn't been for the piano-organ, I don't suppose +I should have spoken to him. As the organ that was afflicting Lisle +Street began to volley a comic song of a day that was dead, he started. + +"That tune!" he murmured in French. If I did not deceive myself, tears +sprang to his eyes. + +I was curious. Certainly, on both sides of the Channel, we had long ago +had more than enough of the tune--no self-respecting organ-grinder +rattled it now. That the young Frenchman should wince at the tune I +understood. But that he should weep! + +I smiled sympathetically. "We suffered from it over here as well," I +remarked. + +"I did not know," he said, in English that reproved my French, "it was +sung in London also--'Partant pour le Moulin'?" + +"Under another name," I told him, "it was an epidemic." + +Clearly, the organ had stirred distressing memories in him, for though +we fell to chatting, I could see that he neither talked nor dined with +any relish. As luck would have it, too, the instrument of torture +resumed its repertoire well within hearing, and when "Partant pour le +Moulin" was reached again, he clasped his head. + +"You find it so painful?" I inquired. + +"Painful?" he exclaimed. "Monsieur, it is my 'istory, that comic tune! +It is to me romance, tragedy, ruin. Will you hear? Wait! I shall range +my ideas. Listen:" + + * * * * * + +It is Paris, at Montmartre--we are before the door of a laundress. A +girl approaches. Her gaze is troubled, she frowns a little. What ails +her? I shall tell you: the laundress has refused to deliver her washing +until her bill is paid. And the girl cannot pay it--not till Saturday-- +and she has need of things to put on. It is a moment of anxiety. + +She opens the door. Some minutes pass. The girl reappears, holding +under her arm a little parcel. Good! she has triumphed. In coming out +she sees a young man, pale, abstracted, who stands before the shop. He +does not attempt to enter. He stands motionless, regarding the window +with an air forlorn. + +"Ah," she says to herself, "here is another customer who cannot pay his +bill!" + +But wait a little. After 'alf an hour what happens? She sees the young +man again! This time he stands before a modest restaurant. Does he go +in? No, again no! He regards the window sorrowfully. He sighs. The +dejection of his attitude would melt a stone. + +"Poor boy," she thought; "he cannot pay for a dinner either!" + +The affair is not finished. How the summer day is beautiful--she will +do some footing! Figure yourself that once more she perceives the young +man. Now it is before the mont-de-piete, the pawnbroker's. She watches +him attentively. Here, at least, he will enter, she does not doubt. She +is wrong. It is the same thing--he regards, he laments, he turns away! + +"Oh, mon Dieu," she said. "Nothing remains to him to pawn even!" + +It is too strong! She addressed him: + +"Monsieur!" + +But, when she has said "Monsieur," there is the question how she shall +continue. Now the young man regards the girl instead of the +pawnbroker's. Her features are pretty--or "pretty well"; her costume +has been made by herself, but it is not bad; and she has chic--above +all she has chic. He asks: + +"What can I have the pleasure to do for you?" + +Remark that she is bohemian, and he also. + +The conversation was like this: + +"Monsieur, three times this morning I have seen you. It was impossible +that I resist speaking. You have grief?" + +"Frightful!" he said. + +"Perhaps," she added timidly, "you have hunger also?" + +"A hunger insupportable, mademoiselle!" + +"I myself am extremely hard up, monsieur, but will you permit that I +offer you what I can?" + +"Angel!" the young man exclaimed. "There must be wings under your coat. +But I beg of you not to fly yet. I shall tell you the reason of my +grief. If you will do me the honour to seat yourself at the cafe +opposite, we shall be able to talk more pleasantly." + +This appeared strange enough, this invitation from a young man who she +had supposed was starving; but wait a little! Her amazement increased +when, to pay for the wine he had ordered, her companion threw on to the +table a bank-note with a gesture absolutely careless. + +She was in danger of distrusting her eyes. + +"Is it a dream?" she cried. "Is it a vision from the _Thousand and +One Nights_, or is it really a bank-note?" + +"Mademoiselle, it is the mess of pottage," the young man answered +gloomily. "It is the cause of my sadness: for that miserable money, and +more that is to come, I have sold my birthright." + +She was on a ship--no, what is it, your expression?--"at sea"! + +"I am a poet," he explained; "but perhaps you may not know my work; I +am not celebrated. I am Tricotrin, mademoiselle--Gustave Tricotrin, at +your feet! For years I have written, aided by ambition, and an uncle +who manufactures silk in Lyons. Well, the time is arrived when he is +monstrous, this uncle. He says to me, 'Gustave, this cannot last--you +make no living, you make nothing but debts. (My tragedies he ignores.) +Either you must be a poet who makes money, or you must be a partner who +makes silk,' How could I defy him?--he holds the purse. It was +unavoidable that I stooped. He has given me a sum to satisfy my +creditors, and Monday I depart for Lyons. In the meantime, I take +tender farewells of the familiar scenes I shall perhaps never behold +again." + +"How I have been mistaken!" she exclaimed. And then: "But the hunger +you confessed?" + +"Of the soul, mademoiselle," said the poet--"the most bitter!" + +"And you have no difficulties with the laundress?" + +"None," he groaned. "But in the bright days of poverty that have fled +for ever, I have had many difficulties with her. This morning I +reconstituted the situation--I imagined myself without a sou, and +without a collar." + +"The little restaurant," she questioned, "where I saw you dining on the +odour?" + +"I figured fondly to myself that I was ravenous and that I dared not +enter. It was sublime." + +"The mont-de-piete?" + +"There imagination restored to me the vanished moments when I have +mounted with suspense, and my least deplorable suit of clothes." His +emotion was profound. "It is my youth to which I am bidding adieu!" he +cried. "It is more than that--it is my aspirations and my renown!" + +"But you have said that you have no renown," she reminded him. + +"So much the more painful," said the young man; "the hussy we could not +win is always the fairest--I part from renown even more despairingly +than from youth." + +She felt an amusement, an interest. But soon it was the turn of him to +feel an interest--the interest that had consequences so important, so +'eart-breaking, so _fatales_! He had demanded of her, most +naturally, her history, and this she related to him in a style +dramatic. Myself, I have not the style dramatic, though I avow to you I +admire that. + +"We are in a provincial town," she said to the young man, "we are in +Rouen--the workroom of a modiste. Have no embarrassment, monsieur +Tricotrin, you, at least, are invisible to the girls who sew! They sew +all day and talk little--already they are _tristes_, resigned. +Among them sits one who is different--one passionate, ambitious--a girl +who burns to be _divette_, singer, who is devoured by longings for +applause, fashion, wealth. She has made the acquaintance of a little +pastrycook. He has become fascinated, they are affianced. In a month +she will be married." + +The young man, Tricotrin, well understood that the girl she described +was herself. + +"What does she consider while she sits sewing?" she continued. "That +the pastrycook loves her, that he is generous, that she will do her +most to be to him a good wife? Not at all. Far from that! She +considers, on the contrary, that she was a fool to promise him; she +considers how she shall escape--from him, from Rouen, from her ennui-- +she seeks to fly to Paris. Alas! she has no money, not a franc. And she +sews--always she sews in the dull room--and her spirit rebels." + +"Good!" said the poet. "It is a capital first instalment." + +"The time goes on. There remains only a week to the marriage morning. +The little home is prepared, the little pastrycook is full of joy. +_Alors_, one evening they go out; for her the sole attraction in +the town is the hall of varieties. Yes, it is third class, it is not +great things; however, it is the only one in Rouen. He purchases two +tickets. What a misfortune--it is the last temptation to her! They +stroll back; she takes his arm--under the moon, under the stars; but +she sees only the lamps of Paris!--she sees only that he can say +nothing she cares to hear!" + +"Ah, unhappy man!" murmured the poet. + +"They sit at a cafe table, and he talks, the fiance, of the bliss that +is to come to them. She attends to not a word, not a syllable. While +she smiles, she questions herself, frenzied, how she can escape. She +has commanded a _sirop_. As she lifts her glass to the syphon, her +gaze falls on the ring she wears--the ring of their betrothal. 'To the +future, cher ange!' says the fiance. 'To the future, vieux cheri!' she +says. And she laughs in her heart--for she resolves to sell the ring!" + +Tricotrin had become absolutely enthralled. + +"She obtained for the ring forty-five francs the next day--and for the +little pastrycook all is finished. She wrote him a letter--'Good-bye.' +He has lost his reason. Mad with despair, he has flung himself before +an electric car, and is killed.... It is strange," she added to the +poet, who regarded her with consternation, "that I did not think sooner +of the ring that was always on my finger, n'est-ce-pas? It may be that +never before had I felt so furious an impulse to desert him. It may be +also--that there was no ring and no pastrycook!" And she broke into +peals of laughter. + +"Ah, mon Dieu," exclaimed the young man, "but you are enchanting! Let +us go to breakfast--you are the kindred soul I have looked for all my +life. By-the-bye, I may as well know your name?" + +Then, monsieur, this poor girl who had trembled before her laundress, +she told him a name which was going, in a while, to crowd the +Ambassadeurs and be famous through all Paris--a name which was to mean +caprices, folly, extravagance the most wilful and reckless. She +answered--and it said nothing yet--"My name is Paulette Fleury." + + * * * * * + +The piano-organ stopped short, as if it knew the Frenchman had reached +a crisis in his narrative. He folded his arms and nodded impressively. + +"Voila! Monsieur, I 'ave introduced you to Paulette Fleury! It was her +beginning." + +He offered me a cigarette, and frowned, lost in thought, at the lady +who was chopping bread behind the counter. + +"Listen," he resumed. + + * * * * * + +They have breakfasted; they have fed the sparrows around their chairs, +and they have strolled under the green trees in the sunshine. She was +singing then at a little cafe-concert the most obscure. It is arranged, +before they part, that in the evening he shall go to applaud her. + +He had a friend, young also, a composer, named Nicolas Pitou. I cannot +express to you the devotion that existed between them. Pitou was +employed at a publisher's, but the publisher paid him not much better +than his art. The comrades have shared everything: the loans from the +mont-de-piete, the attic, and the dreams. In Montmartre it was said +"Tricotrin and Pitou" as one says "Orestes and Pylades." It is +beautiful such affection, hein? Listen! + +Tricotrin has recounted to his friend his meeting with Paulette, and +when the hour for the concert is arrived, Pitou accompanied him. The +musician, however, was, perhaps, the more sedate. He has gone with +little expectation; his interest was not high. + +What a surprise he has had! He has found her an actress--an artist to +the ends of the fingers. Tricotrin was astonished also. The two +friends, the poet and the composer, said "Mon Dieu!" They regarded the +one the other. They said "Mon Dieu!" again. Soon Pitou has requested of +Tricotrin an introduction. It is agreed. Tricotrin has presented his +friend, and invited the _chanteuse_ to drink a bock--a glass of +beer.... A propos, you take a liqueur, monsieur, yes? What liqueur you +take? Sst, garcon!... Well, you conjecture, no doubt, what I shall say? +Before the bock was finished, they were in love with her--both! + +At the door of her lodging, Paulette has given to each a pressure of +the hand, and said gently, "Till to-morrow." + +"I worship her!" Tricotrin told Pitou. + +"I have found my ideal!" Pitou answered Tricotrin. + +It is superb, such friendship, hein? + +In the mind of the poet who had accomplished tragedies majestic--in the +mind of the composer, the most classical in Montmartre--there had been +born a new ambition: it was to write a comic song for Paulette Fleury! + +It appears to you droll, perhaps? Monsieur, to her lover, the humblest +_divette_ is more than Patti. In all the world there can be no joy +so thrilling as to hear the music of one's brain sung by the woman one +adores--unless it be to hear the woman one adores give forth one's +verse. I believe it has been accepted as a fact, this; nevertheless it +is true. + +Yes, already the idea had come to them, and Paulette was well pleased +when they told her of it. Oh, she knew they loved her, both, and with +both she coquetted. But with their intention she did not coquet; as to +that she was in earnest. Every day they discussed it with enthusiasm-- +they were to write a song that should make for her a furore. + +What happened? I shall tell you. Monday, when Tricotrin was to depart +for Lyons, he informed his uncle that he will not go. No less than +that! His uncle was furious--I do not blame him--but naturally +Tricotrin has argued, "If I am to create for Paulette her great chance, +I must remain in Paris to study Paulette! I cannot create in an +atmosphere of commerce. I require the Montmartrois, the boulevards, the +inspiration of her presence." Isn't it? + +And Pitou--whose very soul had been enraptured in his leisure by a +fugue he was composing--Pitou would have no more of it. He allowed the +fugue to grow dusty, while day and night he thought always of refrains +that ran "_Zim-la-zim-la zim-boum-boum!_" Constantly they +conferred, the comrades. They told the one the other how they loved +her; and then they beat their heads, and besought of Providence a fine +idea for the comic song. + +It was their thought supreme. The silk manufacturer has washed his +'ands of Tricotrin, but he has not cared--there remained to him still +one of the bank-notes. As for Pitou, who neglected everything except to +find his melody for Paulette, the publisher has given him the sack. +Their acquaintances ridiculed the sacrifices made for her. But, +monsieur, when a man loves truly, to make a sacrifice for the woman is +to make a present to himself. + +Nevertheless I avow to you that they fretted because of her coquetry. +One hour it seemed that Pitou had gained her heart; the next her +encouragement has been all to Tricotrin. Sometimes they have said to +her: + +"Paulette, it is true we are as Orestes and Pylades, but there can be +only one King of Eden at the time. Is it Orestes, or Pylades that you +mean to crown?" + +Then she would laugh and reply: + +"How can I say? I like you both so much I can never make up my mind +which to like best." + +It was not satisfactory. + +And always she added. "In the meantime, where is the song?" + +Ah, the song, that song, how they have sought it!--on the Butte, and in +the Bois, and round the Halles. Often they have tramped Paris till +daybreak, meditating the great chance for Paulette. And at last the +poet has discovered it: for each verse a different phase of life, but +through it all, the pursuit of gaiety, the fever of the dance--the +gaiety of youth, the gaiety of dotage, the gaiety of despair! It should +be the song of the pleasure-seekers--the voices of Paris when the lamps +are lit. + +Monsieur, if we sat 'ere in the restaurant until it closed, I could not +describe to you how passionately Tricotrin, the devoted Tricotrin, +worked for her. He has studied her without cease; he has studied her +attitudes, her expressions. He has taken his lyric as if it were +material and cut it to her figure; he has taken it as if it were +plaster, and moulded it upon her mannerisms. There was not a +_moue_ that she made, not a pretty trick that she had, not a word +that she liked to sing for which he did not provide an opportunity. At +the last line, when the pen fell from his fingers, he shouted to Pitou, +"Comrade, be brave--I have won her!" + +And Pitou? Monsieur, if we sat 'ere till they prepared the tables for +dejeuner to-morrow, I could not describe to you how passionately Pitou, +the devoted Pitou, worked that she might have a grand popularity by his +music. At dawn, when he has found that _strepitoso_ passage, which +is the hurrying of the feet, he wakened the poet and cried, "Mon ami, I +pity you--she is mine!" It was the souls of two men when it was +finished, that comic song they made for her! It was the song the organ +has ground out--"Partant pour le Moulin." + +And then they rehearsed it, the three of them, over and over, inventing +always new effects. And then the night for the song is arrived. It has +rained all day, and they have walked together in the rain--the singer, +and the men who loved her, both--to the little cafe-concert where she +would appear. + +They tremble in the room, among the crowd, Pitou and Tricotrin; they +are agitated. There are others who sing--it says nothing to them. In +the room, in the Future, there is only Paulette! + +It is very hot in the cafe-concert, and there is too much noise. At +last they ask her: "Is she nervous?" She shakes her head: "Mais non!" +She smiles to them. + +Attend! It is her turn. Ouf; but it is hot in the cafe-concert, and +there is too much noise! She mounts the platform. The audience are +careless; it continues, the jingle of the glasses, the hum of talk. She +begins. Beneath the table Tricotrin has gripped the hand of Pitou. + +Wait! Regard the crowd that look at her! The glasses are silent, now, +hein? The talk has stopped. To a great actress is come her chance. +There is _not_ too much noise in the cafe-concert! + +But, when she finished! What an uproar! Never will she forget it. A +thousand times she has told the story, how it was written--the song-- +and how it made her famous. Before two weeks she was the attraction of +the Ambassadeurs, and all Paris has raved of Paulette Fleury. + +Tricotrin and Pitou were mad with joy. Certainly Paris did not rave of +Pitou nor Tricotrin--there have not been many that remembered who wrote +the song; and it earned no money for them, either, because it was hers +--the gift of their love. Still, they were enraptured. To both of them +she owed equally, and more than ever it was a question which would be +the happy man. + +Listen! When they are gone to call on her one afternoon she was not at +'ome. What had happened? I shall tell you. There was a noodle, rich-- +what you call a "Johnnie in the Stalls"--who became infatuated with her +at the Ambassadeurs. He whistled "Partant pour le Moulin" all the days, +and went to hear it all the nights. Well, she was not at 'ome because +she had married him. Absolutely they were married! Her lovers have been +told it at the door. + +What a moment! Figure yourself what they have suffered, both! They had +worshipped her, they had made sacrifices for her, they had created for +her her grand success; and, as a consequence of that song, she was the +wife of the "Johnnie in the Stalls"! + + * * * * * + +Far down the street, but yet distinct, the organ revived the tune +again. My Frenchman shuddered, and got up. + +"I cannot support it," he murmured. "You understand? The associations +are too pathetic." + +"They must be harrowing," I said. "Before you go, there is one thing I +should like to ask you, if I may. Have I had the honour of meeting +monsieur Tricotrin, or monsieur Pitou?" + +He stroked his hat, and gazed at me in sad surprise. "Ah, but neither, +monsieur," he groaned. "The associations are much more 'arrowing than +that--I was the 'Johnnie in the Stalls'!" + + + +TRICOTRIN ENTERTAINS + +One night when Pitou went home, an unaccustomed perfume floated to +meet him on the stairs. He climbed them in amazement. + +"If we lived in an age of miracles I should conclude that Tricotrin was +smoking a cigar," he said to himself. "What can it be?" + +The pair occupied a garret in the rue des Trois Freres at this time, +where their window, in sore need of repairs, commanded an unrivalled +view of the dirty steps descending to the passage des Abbesses. +To-night, behold Tricotrin pacing the garret with dignity, between +his lips an Havannah that could have cost no less than a franc. The +composer rubbed his eyes. + +"Have they made you an Academician?" he stammered. "Or has your uncle, +the silk manufacturer, died and left you his business?" + +"My friend," replied the poet, "prepare yourself forthwith for 'a New +and Powerful Serial of the Most Absorbing Interest'! I am no longer the +young man who went out this evening--I am a celebrity." + +"I thought," said the composer, "that it couldn't be you when I saw the +cigar." + +"Figure yourself," continued Tricotrin, "that at nine o'clock I was +wandering on the Grand Boulevard with a thirst that could have consumed +a brewery. I might mention that I had also empty pockets, but--" + +"It would be to pad the powerful Serial shamelessly," said Pitou: +"there are things that one takes for granted." + +"At the corner of the place de l'Opera a fellow passed me whom I knew +and yet did not know; I could not recall where it was we had met. I +turned and followed him, racking my brains the while. Suddenly I +remembered--" + +"Pardon me," interrupted the composer, "but I have read _Bel-Ami_ +myself. Oh, it is quite evident that you are a celebrity--you have +already forgotten how to be original!" + +"There is a resemblance, it is true," admitted Tricotrin. "However, +Maupassant had no copyright in the place de l'Opera. I say that I +remembered the man; I had known him when he was in the advertisement +business in Lyons. Well, we have supped together; he is in a position +to do me a service--he will ask an editor to publish an Interview with +me!" + +"An Interview?" exclaimed Pitou. "You are to be Interviewed? Ah, no, my +poor friend, too much meat has unhinged your reason! Go to sleep--you +will be hungry and sane again to-morrow." + +"It will startle some of them, hein? 'Gustave Tricotrin at Home'--in +the illustrated edition of _Le Demi-Mot?_" + +"Illustrated?" gasped Pitou. He looked round the attic. "Did I +understand you to say 'illustrated'?" + +"Well, well," said Tricotrin, "we shall move the beds! And, when the +concierge nods, perhaps we can borrow the palm from the portals. With a +palm and an amiable photographer, an air of splendour is easily arrived +at. I should like a screen--we will raise one from a studio in the rue +Ravignan. Mon Dieu! with a palm and a screen I foresee the most opulent +effects. 'A Corner of the Study'--we can put the screen in front of the +washhand-stand, and litter the table with manuscripts--you will admit +that we have a sufficiency of manuscripts?--no one will know that they +have all been rejected. Also, a painter in the rue Ravignan might lend +us a few of his failures--'Before you go, let me show you my pictures,' +said monsieur Tricotrin: 'I am an ardent collector'!" + +In Montmartre the sight of two "types" shifting household gods makes +no sensation--the sails of the remaining windmills still revolve. On +the day that it had its likeness taken, the attic was temporarily +transformed. At least a score of unappreciated masterpieces concealed +the dilapidation of the walls; the broken window was decorated with an +Eastern fabric that had been a cherished "property" of half the +ateliers in Paris; the poet himself--with the palm drooping gracefully +above his head--mused in a massive chair, in which Solomon had been +pronouncing judgment until 12:15, when the poet had called for it. The +appearance of exhaustion observed by admirers of the poet's portrait +was due to the chair's appalling weight. As he staggered under it up +the steps of the passage des Abbesses, the young man had feared he +would expire on the threshold of his fame. + +However, the photographer proved as resourceful as could be desired, +and perhaps the most striking feature of the illustration was the +spaciousness of the apartment in which monsieur Tricotrin was presented +to readers of _Le Demi-Mot._ The name of the thoroughfare was not +obtruded. + +With what pride was that issue of the journal regarded in the rue des +Trois Freres! + +"Aha!" cried Tricotrin, who in moments persuaded himself that he +really occupied such noble quarters, "those who repudiated me in the +days of my struggles will be a little repentant now, hein? Stone Heart +will discover that I was not wrong in relying on my genius!" + +"I assume," said Pitou, "that 'Stone Heart' is your newest pet-name for +the silk-manufacturing uncle?" + +"You catch my meaning precisely. I propose to send a copy of the paper +to Lyons, with the Interview artistically bordered by laurels; I cannot +draw laurels myself, but there are plenty of persons who can. We will +find someone to do it when we palter with starvation at the Cafe du Bel +Avenir this evening--or perhaps we had better fast at the Lucullus +Junior, instead; there is occasionally some ink in the bottle there. I +shall put the address in the margin--my uncle will not know where it +is, and on the grounds of euphony I have no fault to find with it. It +would not surprise me if I received an affectionate letter and a +bank-note in reply--the perversity of human nature delights in generosities +to the prosperous." + +"It is a fact," said Pitou. "That human nature!" + +"Who knows?--he may even renew the allowance that he used to make me!" + +"Upon my word, more unlikely things have happened," Pitou conceded. + +"Mon Dieu, Nicolas, we shall again have enough to eat!" + +"Ah, visionary!" exclaimed Pitou; "are there no bounds to your +imagination?" + +Now, the perversity to which the poet referred did inspire monsieur +Rigaud, of Lyons, to loosen his purse-strings. He wrote that he +rejoiced to learn that Gustave was beginning to make his way, and +enclosed a present of two hundred and fifty francs. More, after an +avuncular preamble which the poet skipped--having a literary hatred of +digression in the works of others--he even hinted that the allowance +might be resumed. + +What a banquet there was in bohemia! How the glasses jingled afterwards +in La Lune Rousse, and oh, the beautiful hats that Germaine and +Marcelle displayed on the next fine Sunday! Even when the last ripples +of the splash were stilled, the comrades swaggered gallantly on the +boulevard Rochechouart, for by any post might not the first instalment +of that allowance arrive? + +Weeks passed; and Tricotrin began to say, "It looks to me as if we +needed another Interview!" + +And then came a letter which was no less cordial than its predecessor, +but which stunned the unfortunate recipient like a warrant for his +execution. Monsieur Rigaud stated that business would bring him to +Paris on the following evening and that he anticipated the pleasure of +visiting his nephew; he trusted that his dear Gustave would meet him at +the station. The poet and composer stared at each other with bloodless +faces. + +"You must call at his hotel instead," faltered Pitou at last. + +"But you may be sure he will wish to see my elegant abode." + +"'It is in the hands of the decorators. How unfortunate!'" + +"He would propose to offer them suggestions; he is a born suggester." + +"'Fever is raging in the house--a most infectious fever'; we will ask a +medical student to give us one." + +"It would not explain my lodging in a slum meanwhile." + +"Well, let us admit that there is nothing to be done; you will have to +own up!" + +"Are you insane? It is improvident youths like you, who come to lament +their wasted lives. If I could receive him this once as he expects to +be received, we cannot doubt that it would mean an income of two +thousand francs to me. Prosperity dangles before us--shall I fail to +clutch it? Mon Dieu, what a catastrophe, his coming to Paris! Why +cannot he conduct his business in Lyons? Is there not enough money in +the city of Lyons to satisfy him? O grasper! what greed! Nicolas, my +more than brother, if it were night when I took him to a sumptuous +apartment, he might not notice the name of the street--I could talk +brilliantly as we turned the corner. Also I could scintillate as I led +him away. He would never know that it was not the rue des Trois +Freres." + +"You are right," agreed Pitou; "but which is the pauper in our social +circle whose sumptuous apartment you propose to acquire?" + +"One must consider," said Tricotrin. "Obviously, I am compelled to +entertain in somebody's; fortunately, I have two days to find it in. I +shall now go forth!" + +It was a genial morning, and the first person he accosted in the rue +Ravignan was Goujaud, painting in the patch of garden before the +studios. "Tell me, Goujaud," exclaimed the poet, "have you any gilded +acquaintance who would permit me the use of his apartment for two hours +to-morrow evening?" + +Goujaud reflected for some seconds, with his head to one side. "I have +never done anything so fine as this before," he observed; "regard the +atmosphere of it!" + +"It is execrable!" replied Tricotrin, and went next door to Flamant. +"My old one," he explained, "I have urgent need of a regal apartment +for two hours to-morrow--have you a wealthy friend who would +accommodate me?" + +"You may beautify your bedroom with all my possessions," returned +Flamant heartily. "I have a stuffed parrot that is most decorative, but +I have not a friend that is wealthy." + +"You express yourself like a First Course for the Foreigner," said +Tricotrin, much annoyed. "Devil take your stuffed parrot!" + +The heat of the sun increased towards midday, and drops began to +trickle under the young man's hat. By four o'clock he had called upon +sixty-two persons, exclusive of Sanquereau, whom he had been unable to +wake. He bethought himself of Lajeunie, the novelist; but Lajeunie +could offer him nothing more serviceable than a pass for the Elysee- +Montmartre. "Now how is it possible that I spend my life among such +imbeciles?" groaned the unhappy poet; "one offers me a parrot, and +another a pass for a dancing-hall! Can I assure my uncle, who is a +married man, and produces silk in vast quantities, that I reside in a +dancing-hall? Besides, we know those passes--they are available only +for ladies." + +"It is true that you could not get in by it," assented Lajeunie, "but I +give it to you freely. Take it, my poor fellow! Though it may appear +inadequate to the occasion, who knows but what it will prove to be the +basis of a fortune?" + +"You are as crazy as the stories you write," said Tricotrin, "Still, it +can go in my pocket." And he made, exhausted, for a bench in the place +Dancourt, where he apostrophised his fate. + +Thus occupied, he fell asleep; and presently a young woman sauntered +from the sidewalk across the square. In the shady little place Dancourt +is the little white Theatre Montmartre, and she first perused the +play-bill, and then contemplated the sleeping poet. It may have been that +she found something attractive in his bearing, or it may have been that +ragamuffins sprawled elsewhere; but, having determined to wait awhile, +she selected the bench on which he reposed, and forthwith woke him. + +"Now this is nice!" he exclaimed, realising his lapse with a start. + +"Oh, monsieur!" said she, blushing. + +"Pardon; I referred to my having dozed when every moment is of +consequence," he explained. "And yet," he went on ruefully, "upon my +soul, I cannot conjecture where I shall go next!" + +Her response was so sympathetic that it tempted him to remain a little +longer, and in five minutes she was recounting her own perplexities. It +transpired that she was a lady's-maid with a holiday, and the problem +before her was whether to spend her money on a theatre, or on a ball. + +"Now that is a question which is disposed of instantly," said +Tricotrin, "You shall spend your money on a theatre, and go to a ball +as well." And out fluttered the pink pass presented to him by Lajeunie. + +The girl's tongue was as lively as her gratitude. She was, she told +him, maid to the famous Colette Aubray, who had gone unattended that +afternoon to visit the owner of a villa in the country, where she would +stay until the next day but one. "So you see, monsieur, we poor +servants are left alone in the flat to amuse ourselves as best we can!" + +"Mon Dieu!" ejaculated Tricotrin, and added mentally, "It was decidedly +the good kind fairies that pointed to this bench!" + +He proceeded to pay the young woman such ardent attentions that she +assumed he meant to accompany her to the ball, and her disappointment +was extreme when he had to own that the state of his finances forbade +it. "All I can suggest, my dear Leonie," he concluded, "is that I shall +be your escort when you leave. It is abominable that you must have +other partners in the meantime, but I feel that you will be constant to +me in your thoughts. I shall have much to tell you--I shall whisper a +secret in your ear; for, incredible as it may sound, my sweet child, +you alone in Paris have the power to save me!" + +"Oh, monsieur!" faltered the admiring lady's-maid, "it has always been +my great ambition to save a young man, especially a young man who used +such lovely language. I am sure, by the way you talk, that you must be +a poet!" + +"Extraordinary," mused Tricotrin, "that all the world recognises me as +a poet, excepting when it reads my poetry!" And this led him to reflect +that he must sell some of it, in order to provide refreshment for +Leonie before he begged her aid. Accordingly, he arranged to meet her +when the ball finished, and limped back to the attic, where he made up +a choice assortment of his wares. + +He had resolved to try the office of _Le Demi-Mot;_ but his +reception there was cold. "You should not presume on our good nature," +demurred the Editor; "only last month we had an article on you, saying +that you were highly talented, and now you ask us to publish your work +besides. There must be a limit to such things." + +He examined the collection, nevertheless, with a depreciatory +countenance, and offered ten francs for three of the finest specimens. +"From _Le Demi-Mot_ I would counsel you to accept low terms," he +said, with engaging interest, "on account of the prestige you, derive +from appearing in it." + +"In truth it is a noble thing, prestige," admitted Tricotrin; "but, +monsieur, I have never known a man able to make a meal of it when he +was starving, or to warm himself before it when he was without a fire. +Still--though it is a jumble-sale price--let them go!" + +"Payment will be made in due course," said the Editor, and became +immersed in correspondence. + +Tricotrin paled to the lips, and the next five minutes were terrible; +indeed, he did not doubt that he would have to limp elsewhere. At last +he cried, "Well, let us say seven francs, cash! Seven francs in one's +fist are worth ten in due course." And thus the bargain was concluded. + +"It was well for Hercules that none of his labours was the extraction +of payment from an editor!" panted the poet on the doorstep. But he was +now enabled to fete the lady's-maid in grand style, and--not to be +outdone in generosity--she placed mademoiselle Aubray's flat at his +disposal directly he asked for it. + +"You have accomplished a miracle!" averred Pitou, in the small hours, +when he heard the news. + +Tricotrin waved a careless hand. "To a man of resource all things are +possible!" he murmured. + +The next evening the silk manufacturer was warmly embraced on the +platform, and not a little surprised to learn that his nephew expected +a visit at once. However, the young man's consternation was so profound +when objections were made that, in the end, they were withdrawn. +Tricotrin directed the driver after monsieur Rigaud was in the cab, +and, on their reaching the courtyard, there was Leonie, all frills, +ready to carry the handbag. + +"Your servant?" inquired monsieur Rigaud, with some disapproval, as +they went upstairs; "she is rather fancifully dressed, hein?" + +"Is it so?" answered Tricotrin. "Perhaps a bachelor is not sufficiently +observant in these matters. Still, she is an attentive domestic. Take +off your things, my dear uncle, and make yourself at home. What joy it +gives me to see you here!" + +"Mon Dieu," exclaimed the silk manufacturer, looking about him, "you +have a place fit for a prince! It must have cost a pretty penny." + +"Between ourselves," said Tricotrin, "I often reproach myself for what +I spent on it; I could make very good use to-day of some of the money I +squandered." + +"What curtains!" murmured monsieur Rigaud, fingering the silk +enraptured. "The quality is superb! What may they have charged you for +these curtains?" + +"It was years ago--upon my word I do not remember," drawled Tricotrin, +who had no idea whether he ought to say five hundred francs, or five +thousand. "Also, you must not think I have bought everything you see-- +many of the pictures and bronzes are presents from admirers of my work. +It is gratifying, hein?" + +"I--I--To confess the truth, we had not heard of your triumphs," +admitted monsieur Rigaud; "I did not dream you were so successful." + +"Ah, it is in a very modest way," Tricotrin replied. "I am not a +millionaire, I assure you! On the contrary, it is often difficult to +make both ends meet--although," he added hurriedly, "I live with the +utmost economy, my uncle. The days of my thoughtlessness are past. A +man should save, a man should provide for the future." + +At this moment he was astonished to see Leonie open the door and +announce that dinner was served. She had been even better than her +word. + +"Dinner?" cried monsieur Rigaud. "Ah, now I understand why you were so +dejected when I would not come!" + +"Bah, it will be a very simple meal," said his nephew, "but after a +journey one must eat. Let us go in." He was turning the wrong way, but +Leonie's eye saved him. + +"Come," he proceeded, taking his seat, "some soup--some good soup! What +will you drink, my uncle?" + +"On the sideboard I see champagne," chuckled monsieur Rigaud; "you +treat the old man well, you rogue!" + +"Hah," said Tricotrin, who had not observed it, "the cellar, I own, is +an extravagance of mine! Alone, I drink only mineral waters, or a +little claret, much diluted; but to my dearest friends I must give the +dearest wines. Leonie, champagne!" It was a capital dinner, and the +cigars and cigarettes that Leonie put on the table with the coffee were +of the highest excellence. Agreeable conversation whiled away some +hours, and Tricotrin began to look for his uncle to get up. But it was +raining smartly, and monsieur Rigaud was reluctant to bestir himself. +Another hour lagged by, and at last Tricotrin faltered: + +"I fear I must beg you to excuse me for leaving you, my uncle; it is +most annoying, but I am compelled to go out. The fact is, I have +consented to collaborate with Capus, and he is so eccentric, this dear +Alfred--we shall be at work all night." + +"Go, my good Gustave," said his uncle readily; "and, as I am very +tired, if you have no objection, I will occupy your bed." + +Tricotrin's jaw dropped, and it was by a supreme effort that he +stammered how pleased the arrangement would make him. To intensify the +fix, Leonie and the cook had disappeared--doubtless to the mansarde in +which they slept--and he was left to cope with the catastrophe alone. +However, having switched on the lights, he conducted the elderly +gentleman to an enticing apartment. He wished him an affectionate +"good-night," and after promising to wake him early, made for home, +leaving the manufacturer sleepily surveying the room's imperial +splendour. + +"What magnificence!" soliloquised monsieur Rigaud. "What toilet +articles!" He got into bed. "What a coverlet--there must be twenty +thousand francs on top of me!" + +He had not slumbered under them long when he was aroused by such a +commotion that he feared for the action of his heart. Blinking in the +glare, he perceived Leonie in scanty attire, distracted on her knees-- +and, by the bedside, a beautiful lady in a travelling cloak, raging +with the air of a lioness. + +"Go away!" quavered the manufacturer. "What is the meaning of this +intrusion?" + +"Intrusion?" raved the lady. "That is what you will explain, monsieur! +How comes it that you are in my bed?" + +"Yours?" ejaculated monsieur Rigaud. "What is it you say? You are +making a grave error, for which you will apologise, madame!" + +"Ah, hold me back," pleaded the lady, throwing up her eyes, "hold me +back or I shall assault him!" She flung to Leonie. "Wretched girl, you +shall pay for this! Not content with lavishing my champagne and my +friend's cigars on your lover, you must put him to recuperate in my +room!" + +"Oh!" gasped the manufacturer, and hid his head under the priceless +coverlet. "Such an imputation is unpardonable," he roared, reappearing. +"I am monsieur Rigaud, of Lyons; the flat belongs to my nephew, +monsieur Tricotrin; I request you to retire!" + +"Imbecile!" screamed the lady; "the flat belongs to _me_--Colette +Aubray. And your presence may ruin me--I expect a visitor on most +important business! He has not my self-control; if he finds you here he +will most certainly send you a challenge. He is the best swordsman in +Paris! I advise you to believe me, for you have just five minutes to +save your life!" + +"Monsieur," wailed Leonie, "you have been deceived!" And, between her +sobs, she confessed the circumstances, which he heard with the greatest +difficulty, owing to the chattering of his teeth. + +The rain was descending in cataracts when monsieur Rigaud got outside, +but though the trams and the trains had both stopped running, and cabs +were as dear as radium, his fury was so tempestuous that nothing could +deter him from reaching the poet's real abode. His attack on the front +door warned Tricotrin and Pitou what had happened, and they raised +themselves, blanched, from their pillows, to receive his curses. It was +impossible to reason with him, and he launched the most frightful +denunciation at his nephew for an hour, when the abatement of the +downpour permitted him to depart. More, at noon, who should arrive but +Leonie in tears! She had been dismissed from her employment, and came +to beg the poet to intercede for her. + +"What calamities!" groaned Tricotrin. "How fruitless are man's noblest +endeavours without the favouring breeze! I shall drown myself at eight +o'clock. However, I will readily plead for you first, if your mistress +will receive me." + +By the maid's advice he presented himself late in the day, and when he +had cooled his heels in the salon for some time, a lady entered, who +was of such ravishing appearance that his head swam. + +"Monsieur Tricotrin?" she inquired haughtily. "I have heard your name +from your uncle, monsieur. Are you here to visit my servant?" + +"Mademoiselle," he faltered, "I am here to throw myself on your mercy. +At eight o'clock I have decided to commit suicide, for I am ruined. The +only hope left me is to win your pardon before I die." + +"I suppose your uncle has disowned you?" she said. "Naturally! It was a +pretty situation to put him in. How would you care to be in it +yourself?" + +"Alas, mademoiselle," sighed Tricotrin, "there are situations to which +a poor poet may not aspire!" + +After regarding him silently she exclaimed, "I cannot understand what a +boy with eyes like yours saw in Leonie?" + +"Merely good nature and a means to an end, believe me! If you would +ease my last moments, reinstate her in your service. Do not let me +drown with the knowledge that another is suffering for my fault! +Mademoiselle, I entreat you--take her back!" + +"And why should I ease your last moments?" she demurred. + +"Because I have no right to ask it; because I have no defence for my +sin towards you; because you would be justified in trampling on me--and +to pardon would be sublime!" + +"You are very eloquent for my maid," returned the lady. + +He shook his head. "Ah, no--I fear I am pleading for myself. For, if +you reinstate the girl, it will prove that you forgive the man--and I +want your forgiveness so much!" He fell at her feet. + +"Does your engagement for eight o'clock press, monsieur?" murmured the +lady, smiling. "If you could dine here again to-night, I might relent +by degrees." + +"And she is adorable!" he told Pitou. "I passed the most delicious +evening of my life!" "It is fortunate," observed Pitou, "for that, and +your uncle's undying enmity, are all you have obtained by your +imposture. Remember that the evening cost two thousand francs a year!" + +"Ah, misanthrope," cried Tricotrin radiantly, "there must be a crumpled +roseleaf in every Eden!" + + + +THE FATAL FLOROZONDE + +Before Pitou, the composer, left for the Hague, he called on Theophile +de Fronsac, the poet. _La Voix Parisienne_ had lately appointed de +Fronsac to its staff, on condition that he contributed no poetry. + +"Good-evening," said de Fronsac. "Mon Dieu! what shall I write about?" + +"Write about my music," said Pitou, whose compositions had been +rejected in every arrondissement of Paris. + +"Let us talk sanely," demurred de Fronsac. "My causerie is half a +column short. Tell me something interesting." + +"Woman!" replied Pitou. + +De Fronsac flicked his cigarette ash. "You remind me," he said, "how +much I need a love affair; my sensibilities should be stimulated. To +continue to write with fervour I require to adore again." + +"It is very easy to adore," observed Pitou. + +"Not at forty," lamented the other; "especially to a man in Class A. +Don't forget, my young friend, that I have loved and been loved +persistently for twenty-three years. I cannot adore a repetition, and +it is impossible for me to discover a new type." + +"All of which I understand," said Pitou, "excepting 'Class A.'" + +"There are three kinds of men," explained the poet. "Class A are the +men to whom women inevitably surrender. Class B consists of those whom +they trust by instinct and confide in on the second day; these men +acquire an extensive knowledge of the sex--but they always fall short +of winning the women for themselves. Class C women think of merely as +'the others'--they do not count; eventually they marry, and try to +persuade their wives that they were devils of fellows when they were +young. However, such reflections will not assist me to finish my +causerie, for I wrote them all last week." + +"Talking of women," remarked Pitou, "a little blonde has come to live +opposite our lodging. So far we have only bowed from our windows, but I +have christened her 'Lynette,' and Tricotrin has made a poem about her. +It is pathetic. The last verse--the others are not written yet--goes: + + "'O window I watched in the days that are dead, + Are you watched by a lover to-day? + Are glimpses caught now of another blonde head + By a youth who lives over the way? + Does _she_ repeat words that Lynette's lips have said-- + And does _he_ say what _I_ used to say?'" + +"What is the answer?" asked de Fronsac. "Is it a conundrum? In any case +it is a poor substitute for a half a column of prose in _La Voix_. +How on earth am I to arrive at the bottom of the page? If I am short in +my copy, I shall be short in my rent; if I am short in my rent, I shall +be put out of doors; if I am put out of doors, I shall die of exposure. +And much good it will do me that they erect a statue to me in the next +generation! Upon my word, I would stand a dinner--at the two-franc +place where you may eat all you can hold--if you could give me a +subject." + +"It happens," said Pitou, "that I can give you a very strange one. As I +am going to a foreign land, I have been to the country to bid farewell +to my parents; I came across an extraordinary girl." + +"One who disliked presents?" inquired de Fronsac. + +"I am not jesting. She is a dancer in a travelling circus. The flare +and the drum wooed me one night, and I went in. As a circus, well, you +may imagine--a tent in a fair. My fauteuil was a plank, and the +orchestra surpassed the worst tortures of the Inquisition. And then, +after the decrepit horses, and a mangy lion, a girl came into the ring, +with the most marvellous eyes I have ever seen in a human face. They +are green eyes, with golden lights in them." + +"Really?" murmured the poet. "I have never been loved by a girl who had +green eyes with golden lights in them." + +"I am glad you have never been loved by this one," returned the +composer gravely; "she has a curious history. All her lovers, without +exception, have committed suicide." + +"What?" said de Fronsac, staring. + +"It is very queer. One of them had just inherited a hundred thousand +francs--he hanged himself. Another, an author from Italy, took poison, +while all Rome was reading his novel. To be infatuated by her is +harmless enough, but to win her is invariably fatal within a few weeks. +Some time ago she attached herself to one of the troupe, and soon +afterwards he discovered she was deceiving him. He resolved to shoot +her. He pointed a pistol at her breast. She simply laughed--and +_looked at him_. He turned the pistol on himself, and blew his +brains out!" + +De Fronsac had already written: "Here is the extraordinary history of a +girl whom I discovered in a fair." The next moment: + +"But you repeat a rumour," he objected. "_La Voix Parisienne_ has +a reputation; odd as the fact may appear to you, people read it. If +this is published in _La Voix_ it will attract attention. Soon she +will be promoted from a tent in a fair to a stage in Paris. Well, what +happens? You tell me she is beautiful, so she will have hundreds of +admirers. Among the hundreds there will be one she favours. And then? +Unless he committed suicide in a few weeks, the paper would be proved a +liar. I should not be able to sleep of nights for fear he would not +kill himself." + +"My dear," exclaimed Pitou with emotion, "would I add to your +anxieties? Rather than you should be disturbed by anybody's living, let +us dismiss the subject, and the dinner, and talk of my new Symphony. On +the other hand, I fail to see that the paper's reputation is your +affair--it is not your wife; and I am more than usually empty to-day." + +"Your argument is sound," said de Fronsac. "Besides, the Editor refuses +my poetry." And he wrote without cessation for ten minutes. + +The two-franc table-d'hote excelled itself that evening, and Pitou did +ample justice to the menu. + +Behold how capricious is the jade, Fame! The poet whose verses had left +him obscure, accomplished in ten minutes a paragraph that fascinated +all Paris. On the morrow people pointed it out to one another; the +morning after, other journals referred to it; in the afternoon the +Editor of _La Voix Parisienne_ was importuned with questions. No +one believed the story to be true, but not a soul could help wondering +if it might be so. + +When a day or two had passed, Pitou received from de Fronsac a note +which ran: + +"Send to me at once, I entreat thee, the name of that girl, and say +where she can be found. The managers of three variety theatres of the +first class have sought me out and are eager to engage her." + +"Decidedly," said Pitou, "I have mistaken my vocation--I ought to have +been a novelist!" And he replied: + +"The girl whose eyes suggested the story to me is called on the +programmes 'Florozonde.' For the rest, I know nothing, except that thou +didst offer a dinner and I was hungry." + +However, when he had written this, he destroyed it. + +"Though I am unappreciated myself, and shall probably conclude in the +Morgue," he mused, "that is no excuse for my withholding prosperity +from others. Doubtless the poor girl would rejoice to appear at three +variety theatres of the first class, or even at one of them." He +answered simply: + +"Her name is 'Florozonde'; she will be found in a circus at Chartres"-- +and nearly suffocated with laughter. + +Then a little later the papers announced that Mlle. Florozonde--whose +love by a strange series of coincidences had always proved fatal--would +be seen at La Coupole. Posters bearing the name of "Florozonde"--yellow +on black--invaded the boulevards. Her portrait caused crowds to +assemble, and "That girl who, they say, deals death, that Florozonde!" +was to be heard as constantly as ragtime. + +By now Pitou was at the Hague, his necessities having driven him into +the employment of a Parisian who had opened a shop there for the sale +of music and French pianos. When he read the Paris papers, Pitou +trembled so violently that the onlookers thought he must have ague. +Hilarity struggled with envy in his breast. "Ma foi!" he would say to +himself, "it seems that my destiny is to create successes for others. +Here am I, exiled, and condemned to play cadenzas all day in a piano +warehouse, while she whom I invented, dances jubilant in Paris. I do +not doubt that she breakfasts at Armenonville, and dines at +Paillard's." + +And it was a fact that Florozonde was the fashion. As regards her eyes, +at any rate, the young man had not exaggerated more than was to be +forgiven in an artist; her eyes were superb, supernatural; and now that +the spangled finery of a fair was replaced by the most triumphant of +audacities--now that a circus band had been exchanged for the orchestra +of La Coupole--she danced as she had not danced before. You say that a +gorgeous costume cannot improve a woman's dancing? Let a woman realise +that you improve her appearance, and you improve everything that she +can do! + +Nevertheless one does not pretend that it was owing to her talent, or +her costume, or the weird melody proposed by the chef d'orchestre, that +she became the rage. Not at all. That was due to her reputation. +Sceptics might smile and murmur the French for "Rats!" but, again, +nobody could say positively that the tragedies had not occurred. And +above all, there were the eyes--it was conceded that a woman with eyes +like that _ought_ to be abnormal. La Coupole was thronged every +night, and the stage doorkeeper grew rich, so numerous were the daring +spirits, coquetting with death, who tendered notes inviting the Fatal +One to supper. + +Somehow the suppers were rather dreary. The cause may have been that +the guest was handicapped by circumstances--to be good company without +discarding the fatal air was extremely difficult; also the cause may +have been that the daring spirits felt their courage forsake them in a +tete-a-tete; but it is certain that once when Florozonde drove home in +the small hours to the tattered aunt who lived on her, she exclaimed +violently that, "All this silly fake was giving her the hump, and that +she wished she were 'on the road' again, with a jolly good fellow who +was not afraid of her!" + +Then the tattered aunt cooed to her, reminding her that little +ducklings had run to her already roasted, and adding that she (the +tattered aunt) had never heard of equal luck in all the years she had +been in the show business. + +"Ah, zut!" cried Florozonde. "It does not please me to be treated as if +I had scarlet fever. If I lean towards a man, he turns pale." + +"Life is good," said her aunt philosophically, "and men have no wish to +die for the sake of an embrace--remember your reputation! II faut +souffrir pour etre fatale. Look at your salary, sweetie--and you have +had nothing to do but hold your tongue! Ah, was anything ever heard +like it? A miracle of le bon Dieu!" + +"It was monsieur de Fronsac, the journalist, who started it," said +Florozonde. "I supposed he had made it up, to give me a lift; but, ma +foi, I think _he_ half believes it, too! What can have put it in +his head? I have a mind to ask him the next time he comes behind." + +"What a madness!" exclaimed the old woman; "you might queer your pitch! +Never, never perform a trick with a confederate when you can work +alone; that is one of the first rules of life. If he thinks it is true, +so much the better. Now get to bed, lovey, and think of pleasant +things--what did you have for supper?" + +Florozonde was correct in her surmise--de Fronsac did half believe it, +and de Fronsac was accordingly much perturbed. Consider his dilemma! +The nature of his pursuits had demanded a love affair, and he had +endeavoured conscientiously to comply, for the man was nothing if not +an artist. But, as he had said to Pitou, he had loved so much, and so +many, that the thing was practically impossible for him, He was like +the pastrycook's boy who is habituated and bilious. Then suddenly a new +type, which he had despaired of finding, was displayed. His curiosity +awoke; and, fascinated in the first instance by her ghastly reputation, +he was fascinated gradually by her physical charms. Again he found +himself enslaved by a woman--and the woman, who owed her fame to his +services, was clearly appreciative. But he had a strong objection to +committing suicide. + +His eagerness for her love was only equalled by his dread of what might +happen if she gave it to him. Alternately he yearned, and shuddered, On +Monday he cried, "Idiot, to be frightened by such blague!" and on +Tuesday he told himself, "All the same, there may be something in it!" +It was thus tortured that he paid his respects to Florozonde at the +theatre on the evening after she complained to her aunt. She was in her +dressing-room, making ready to go. + +"You have danced divinely," he said to her. "There is no longer a +programme at La Coupole--there is only 'Florozonde.'" + +She smiled the mysterious smile that she was cultivating. "What have +you been doing with yourself, monsieur? I have not seen you all the +week." + +De Fronsac sighed expressively. "At my age one has the wisdom to avoid +temptation." + +"May it not be rather unkind to temptation?" she suggested, raising her +marvellous eyes. + +De Fronsac drew a step back. "Also I have had a great deal to do," he +added formally; "I am a busy man. For example, much as I should like to +converse with you now.--" But his resolution forsook him and he was +unable to say that he had looked in only for a minute. + +"Much as you would like to converse with me--?" questioned Florozonde. + +"I ought, by rights, to be seated at my desk," he concluded lamely. + +"I am pleased that you are not seated at your desk," she said. + +"Because?" murmured de Fronsac, with unspeakable emotions. + +"Because I have never thanked you enough for your interest in me, and I +want to tell you that I remember." She gave him her hand. He held it, +battling with terror. + +"Mademoiselle," he returned tremulously, "when I wrote the causerie you +refer to, my interest in you was purely the interest of a journalist, +so for that I do not deserve your thanks. But since I have had the +honour to meet you I have experienced an interest altogether different; +the interest of a man, of a--a--" Here his teeth chattered, and he +paused. + +"Of a what?" she asked softly, with a dreamy air. + +"Of a friend," he muttered. A gust of fear had made the "friend" an +iceberg. But her clasp tightened. + +"I am glad," she said. "Ah, you have been good to me, monsieur! And if, +in spite of everything, I am sometimes sad, I am, at least, never +ungrateful." + +"You are sad?" faltered the vacillating victim. "Why?" + +Her bosom rose. "Is success all a woman wants?" + +"Ah!" exclaimed de Fronsac, in an impassioned quaver, "is that not +life? To all of us there is the unattainable--to you, to me!" + +"To you?" she murmured. Her eyes were transcendental. Admiration and +alarm tore him in halves. + +"In truth," he gasped, "I am the most miserable of men! What is genius, +what is fame, when one is lonely and unloved?" + +She moved impetuously closer--so close that the perfume of her hair +intoxicated him. His heart seemed to knock against his ribs, and he +felt the perspiration burst out on his brow. For an instant he +hesitated--on the edge of his grave, he thought. Then he dropped her +hand, and backed from her. "But why should I bore you with my griefs?" +he stammered. "Au revoir, mademoiselle!" + +Outside the stage door he gave thanks for his self-control. Also, pale +with the crisis, he registered an oath not to approach her again. + +Meanwhile the expatriated Pitou had remained disconsolate. Though the +people at the Hague spoke French, they said foreign things to him in +it. He missed Montmartre--the interests of home. While he waxed +eloquent to customers on the tone of pianos, or the excellence of rival +composers' melodies, he was envying Florozonde in Paris. Florozonde, +whom he had created, obsessed the young man. In the evening he read +about her at Van der Pyl's; on Sundays, when the train carried him to +drink beer at Scheveningen, he read about her in the Kurhaus. And then +the unexpected happened. In this way: + +Pitou was discharged. + +Few things could have surprised him more, and, to tell the truth, few +things could have troubled him less. "It is better to starve in Paris +than grow fat in Holland," he observed. He jingled his capital in his +trouser-pocket, in fancy savoured his dinner cooking at the Cafe du Bel +Avenir, and sped from the piano shop as if it had been on fire. + +The clock pointed to a quarter to six as Nicolas Pitou, composer, +emerged from the gare du Nord, and lightly swinging the valise that +contained his wardrobe, proceeded to the rue des Trois Freres. Never +had it looked dirtier, or sweeter. He threw himself on Tricotrin's +neck; embraced the concierge--which took her breath away, since she was +ill-favoured and most disagreeable; fared sumptuously for one franc +fifty at the Cafe du Bel Avenir--where he narrated adventures abroad +that surpassed de Rougemont's; and went to La Coupole. + +And there, jostled by the crowd, the poor fellow looked across the +theatre at the triumphant woman he had invented--and fell in love with +her. + +One would have said there was more than the width of a theatre between +them--one would have said the distance was interminable. Who in the +audience could suspect that Florozonde would have been unknown but for +a boy in the Promenoir? + +Yes, he fell in love--with her beauty, her grace--perhaps also with the +circumstances. The theatre rang with plaudits; the curtain hid her; and +he went out, dizzy with romance. He could not hope to speak to her +to-night, but he was curious to see her when she left. He decided that on +the morrow he would call upon de Fronsac, whom she doubtless knew now, +and ask him for an introduction. Promising himself this, he reached the +stage door--where de Fronsac, with trembling limbs, stood giving thanks +for his self-control. + +"My friend!" cried Pitou enthusiastically, "how rejoiced I am to meet +you!" and nearly wrung his hand off. + +"Aie! Gently!" expostulated de Fronsac, writhing. "Aie, aie! I did not +know you loved me so much. So you are back from Sweden, hein?" + +"Yes. I have not been there, but why should we argue about geography? +What were you doing as I came up--reciting your poems? By the way, I +have a favour to ask; I want you to introduce me to Florozonde." + +"Never!" answered the poet firmly; "I have too much affection for you-- +I have just resolved not to see her again myself. Besides, I thought +you knew her in the circus?" + +"I never spoke to her there--I simply admired her from the plank. Come, +take me inside, and present me!" + +"It is impossible," persisted de Fronsac; "I tell you I will not +venture near her any more. Also, she is coming out--that is her coupe +that you see waiting." + +She came out as he spoke, and, affecting not to recognise him, moved +rapidly towards the carriage. But this would not do for Pitou at all. +"Mademoiselle!" he exclaimed, sweeping his hat nearly to the pavement. + +"Yes, well?" she said sharply, turning. + +"I have just begged my friend de Fronsac to present me to you, and he +feared you might not pardon his presumption. May I implore you to +pardon mine?" + +She smiled. There was the instant in which neither the man nor the +woman knows who will speak next, nor what is to be said--the instant on +which destinies hang. Pitou seized it. + +"Mademoiselle, I returned to France only this evening. All the journey +my thought was--to see you as soon as I arrived!" + +"Your friend," she said, with a scornful glance towards de Fronsac, who +sauntered gracefully away, "would warn you that you are rash." + +"I am not afraid of his warning." + +"Are you not afraid of _me_?" + +"Afraid only that you will banish me too soon." + +"Mon Dieu! then you must be the bravest man in Paris," she said. + +"At any rate I am the luckiest for the moment." + +It was a delightful change to Florozonde to meet a man who was not +alarmed by her; and it pleased her to show de Fronsac that his +cowardice had not left her inconsolable. She laughed loud enough for +him to hear. + +"I ought not to be affording you the luck," she answered. "I have +friends waiting for me at the Cafe de Paris." "I expected some such +blow," said Pitou. "And how can I suppose you will disappoint your +friends in order to sup with me at the Cafe du Bel Avenir instead?" + +"The Cafe du--?" She was puzzled. + +"Bel Avenir." + +"I do not know it." + +"Nor would your coachman. We should walk there--and our supper would +cost three francs, wine included." + +"Is it an invitation?" + +"It is a prayer." + +"Who are you?" + +"My name is Nicolas Pitou," + +"Of Paris?" + +"Of bohemia." + +"What do you do in it?" + +"Hunger, and make music." + +"Unsuccessful?" + +"Not to-night!" + +"Take me to the Bel Avenir," she said, and sent the carriage away. + +De Fronsac, looking back as they departed, was distressed to see the +young man risking his life. + +At the Bel Avenir their entrance made a sensation. She removed her +cloak, and Pitou arranged it over two chairs. Then she threw her gloves +out of the way, in the bread-basket; and the waiter and the +proprietress, and all the family, did homage to her toilette. + +"Who would have supposed?" she smiled, and her smile forgot to be +mysterious. + +"That the restaurant would be so proud?" + +"That I should be supping with you in it! Tell me, you had no hope of +this on your journey? It was true about your journey, hein?" + +"Ah, really! No, how could I hope? I went round after your dance simply +to see you closer; and then I met de Fronsac, and then--" + +"And then you were very cheeky. Answer! Why do I interest you? Because +of what they say of me?" + +"Not altogether." + +"What else?" + +"Because you are so beautiful. Answer! Why did you come to supper with +me? To annoy some other fellow?" + +"Not altogether." + +"What else?" + +"Because you were not frightened of me. Are you sure you are not +frightened? Oh, remember, remember your horrible fate if I should like +you too much!" + +"It would be a thumping advertisement for you," said Pitou. "Let me +urge you to try to secure it." + +"Reckless boy!" she laughed, "Pour out some more wine. Ah, it is good, +this! it is like old times. The strings of onions on the dear, dirty +walls, and the serviettes that are so nice and damp! It was in +restaurants like this, if my salary was paid, I used to sup on fete +days." + +"And if it was not paid?" + +"I supped in imagination. My dear, I have had a cigarette for a supper, +and the grass for a bed. I have tramped by the caravan while the stars +faded, and breakfasted on the drum in the tent. And you--on a bench in +the Champs Elysees, hein?" + +"It has occurred." + +"And you watched the sun rise, and made music, and wished _you_ +could rise, too? I must hear your music some day. You shall write me a +dance. Is it agreed?" + +"The contract is already stamped," said Pitou. + +"I am glad I met you--it is the best supper I have had in Paris. Why +are you calculating the expenses on the back of the bill of fare?" + +"I am not. I am composing your dance," said Pitou. "Don't speak for a +minute, it will be sublime! Also it will be a souvenir when you have +gone." + +But she did not go for a long while. It was late when they left the +Cafe du Bel Avenir, still talking--and there was always more to say. By +this time Pitou did not merely love her beauty--he adored the woman. As +for Florozonde, she no longer merely loved his courage--she approved +the man. + +Listen: he was young, fervid, and an artist; his proposal was made +before they reached her doorstep, and she consented! + +Their attachment was the talk of the town, and everybody waited to hear +that Pitou had killed himself. His name was widely known at last. But +weeks and months went by; Florozonde's protracted season came to an +end; and still he looked radiantly well. Pitou was the most unpopular +man in Paris. + +In the rue Dauphine, one day, he met de Fronsac. + +"So you are still alive!" snarled the poet. + +"Never better," declared Pitou. "It turns out," he added +confidentially, "there was nothing in that story--it was all fudge." + +"Evidently! I must congratulate you," said de Fronsac, looking +bomb-shells. + + + +THE OPPORTUNITY OF PETITPAS + +In Bordeaux, on the 21st of December, monsieur Petitpas, a clerk with +bohemian yearnings, packed his portmanteau for a week's holiday. In +Paris, on the same date, monsieur Tricotrin, poet and pauper, was +commissioned by the Editor of _Le Demi-Mot_ to convert a rough +translation into literary French. These two disparate incidents were +destined by Fate--always mysterious in her workings--to be united in a +narrative for the present volume. + +Three evenings later the poet's concierge climbed the stairs and rapped +peremptorily at the door. + +"Well?" cried Tricotrin, raising bloodshot eyes from the manuscript; +"who disturbs me now? Come in!" + +"I have come in," panted madame Dubois, who had not waited for his +invitation, "and I am here to tell you, monsieur, that you cannot be +allowed to groan in this agonised fashion. Your lamentations can be +heard even in the basement." + +"Is it in my agreement, madame, that I shall not groan if I am so +disposed?" inquired the poet haughtily. + +"There are things tacitly understood. It is enough that you are in +arrears with your rent, without your doing your best to drive away the +other tenants. For two days they have all complained that it would be +less disturbing to reside in a hospital." + +"Well, they have my permission to remove there," said Tricotrin. "Now +that the matter is settled, let me get on with my work!" And with the +groan of a soul in Hades, he perused another line. + +"There you go again!" expostulated the woman angrily, "It is not to be +endured, monsieur. What is the matter with you, for goodness' sake?" + +"With me, madame, there is nothing the matter; the fault lies with an +infernal Spanish novel. A misguided editor has commissioned me to +rewrite it from a translation made by a foreigner. How can I avoid +groans when I read his rot? Miranda exclaims, 'May heaven confound you, +bandit!' And the fiance of the ingenue addresses her as 'Angel of this +house!'" + +"Well, at least groan quietly," begged the concierge; "do not bellow +your sufferings to the cellar." + +"To oblige you I will be as Spartan as I can," agreed Tricotrin. "Now I +have lost my place in the masterpiece. Ah, here we are! 'I feel she +brings bad tidings--she wears a disastrous mien.' It is sprightly +dialogue! If the hundred and fifty francs were not essential to keep a +roof over my head, I would send the Editor a challenge for offering me +the job." + +Perspiration bespangled the young man's brow as he continued his task. +When another hour had worn by he thirsted to do the foreign translator +a bodily injury, and so intense was his exasperation that, by way of +interlude, he placed the manuscript on the floor and jumped on it. But +the climax was reached in Chapter XXVII; under the provocation of the +love scene in Chapter XXVII frenzy mastered him, and with a yell of +torture he hurled the whole novel through the window, and burst into +hysterical tears. + +The novel, which was of considerable bulk, descended on the landlord, +who was just approaching the house to collect his dues. + +"What does it mean," gasped monsieur Gouge, when he had recovered his +equilibrium, and his hat; "what does it mean that I cannot approach my +own property without being assaulted with a ton of paper? Who has dared +to throw such a thing from a window?" + +"Monsieur," stammered the concierge, "I do not doubt that it was the +top-floor poet; he has been behaving like a lunatic for days." + +"Aha, the top-floor poet?" snorted monsieur Gouge. "I shall soon +dispose of _him_!" And Tricotrin's tears were scarcely dried when +_bang_ came another knock at his door. + +"So, monsieur," exclaimed the landlord, with fine satire, "your poems +are of small account, it appears, since you use them as missiles? The +value you put upon your scribbling does not encourage me to wait for my +rent!" + +"Mine?" faltered Tricotrin, casting an indignant glance at the muddy +manuscript restored to him; "you accuse _me_ of having perpetrated +that atrocity? Oh, this is too much! I have a reputation to preserve, +monsieur, and I swear by all the Immortals that it was no work of +mine." + +"Did you not throw it?" + +"Throw it? Yes, assuredly I threw it. But I did not write it." + +"Morbleu! what do I care who wrote it?" roared monsieur Gouge, purple +with spleen. "Does its authorship improve the condition of my hat? My +grievance is its arrival on my head, not its literary quality. Let me +tell you that you expose yourself to actions at law, pitching weights +like this from a respectable house into a public street." + +"I should plead insanity," said Tricotrin; "twenty-seven chapters of +that novel, translated into a Spaniard's French, would suffice to +people an asylum. Nevertheless, if it arrived on your hat, I owe you an +apology." + +"You also owe me two hundred francs!" shouted the other, "and I have +shown you more patience than you deserve. Well, my folly is finished! +You settle up, or you get out, right off!" + +"Have you reflected that it is Christmas Eve--do we live in a +melodrama, that I should wander homeless on Christmas Eve? Seriously, +you cannot expect a man of taste to lend himself to so hackneyed a +situation? Besides, I share this apartment with the composer monsieur +Nicolas Pitou. Consider how poignant he would find the room's +associations if he returned to dwell here alone!" + +"Monsieur Pitou will not be admitted when he returns--there is not a +pin to choose between the pair of you. You hand me the two hundred +francs, or you go this minute--and I shall detain your wardrobe till +you pay. Where is it?" + +"It is divided between my person and a shelf at the pawnbroker's," +explained the poet; "but I have a soiled collar in the left-hand corner +drawer. However, I can offer you more valuable security for this +trifling debt than you would dare to ask; the bureau is full of pearls +--metrical, but beyond price. I beg your tenderest care of them, +especially my tragedy in seven acts. Do not play jinks with the +contents of that bureau, or Posterity will gibbet you and the name of +'Gouge' will one day be execrated throughout France. Garbage, +farewell!" + +"Here, take your shaving paper with you!" cried monsieur Gouge, +flinging the Spanish novel down the stairs. And the next moment the man +of letters stood dejected on the pavement, with the fatal manuscript +under his arm. + +"Ah, Miranda, Miranda, thou little knowest what mischief thou hast +done!" he murmured, unconsciously plagiarising. "She brought bad +tidings indeed, with her disastrous mien," he added. "What is to become +of me now?" + +The moon, to which he had naturally addressed this query, made no +answer; and, fingering the sou in his trouser-pocket, he trudged in the +direction of the rue Ravignan. "The situation would look well in +print," he reflected, "but the load under my arm should, dramatically, +be a bundle of my own poems. Doubtless the matter will be put right by +my biographer. I wonder if I can get half a bed from Goujaud?" + +Encouraged by the thought of the painter's hospitality, he proceeded to +the studio; but he was informed in sour tones that monsieur Goujaud +would not sleep there that night. + +"So much the better," he remarked, "for I can have all his bed, instead +of half of it! Believe me, I shall put you to no trouble, madame." + +"I believe it fully," answered the woman, "for you will not come +inside--not monsieur Goujaud, nor you, nor any other of his vagabond +friends. So, there!" + +"Ah, is that how the wind blows--the fellow has not paid his rent?" +said Tricotrin. "How disgraceful of him, to be sure! Fortunately +Sanquereau lives in the next house." + +He pulled the bell there forthwith, and the peal had scarcely sounded +when Sanquereau rushed to the door, crying, "Welcome, my Beautiful!" + +"Mon Dieu, what worthless acquaintances I possess!" moaned the unhappy +poet. "Since you are expecting your Beautiful I need not go into +details." + +"What on earth did you want?" muttered Sanquereau, crestfallen. + +"I came to tell you the latest Stop Press news--Goujaud's landlord has +turned him out and I have no bed to lie on. Au revoir!" + +After another apostrophe to the heavens, "That inane moon, which makes +no response, is beginning to get on my nerves," he soliloquised. "Let +me see now! There is certainly master Criqueboeuf, but it is a long +journey to the quartier Latin, and when I get there his social +engagements may annoy me as keenly as Sanquereau's. It appears to me I +am likely to try the open-air cure to-night. In the meanwhile I may as +well find Miranda a seat and think things over." + +Accordingly he bent his steps to the place Dancourt, and having +deposited the incubus beside him, stretched his limbs on a bench +beneath a tree. His attitude, and his luxuriant locks, to say nothing +of his melancholy aspect, rendered him a noticeable figure in the +little square, and monsieur Petitpas, from Bordeaux, under the awning +of the cafe opposite, stood regarding him with enthusiasm. + +"Upon my word of honour," mused Petitpas, rubbing his hands, "I believe +I see a Genius in the dumps! At last I behold the Paris of my dreams. +If I have read my Murger to any purpose, I am on the verge of an epoch. +What a delightful adventure!" + +Taking out his Marylands, Petitpas sauntered towards the bench with a +great show of carelessness, and made a pretence of feeling in his +pockets for a match. "Tschut!" he exclaimed; then, affecting to observe +Tricotrin for the first time, "May I beg you to oblige me with a light, +monsieur?" he asked deferentially. A puff of wind provided an excuse +for sitting down to guard the flame; and the next moment the Genius had +accepted a cigarette, and acknowledged that the weather was mild for +the time of year. + +Excitement thrilled Petitpas. How often, after business hours, he had +perused his well-thumbed copy of _La Vie de Boheme_ and in fancy +consorted with the gay descendants of Rodolphe and Marcel; how often he +had regretted secretly that he, himself, did not woo a Muse and jest at +want in a garret, instead of totting up figures, and eating three meals +a day in comfort! And now positively one of the fascinating beings of +his imagination lolled by his side! The little clerk on a holiday +longed to play the generous comrade. In his purse he had a couple of +louis, designed for sight-seeing, and, with a rush of emotion, he +pictured himself squandering five or six francs in half an hour and +startling the artist by his prodigality. + +"If I am not mistaken, I have the honour to address an author, +monsieur?" he ventured. + +"Your instincts have not misled you," replied the poet; "I am +Tricotrin, monsieur--Gustave Tricotrin. The name, however, is to be +found, as yet, on no statues." + +"My own name," said the clerk, "is Adolphe Petitpas. I am a stranger in +Paris, and I count myself fortunate indeed to have made monsieur +Tricotrin's acquaintance so soon." + +"He expresses himself with some discretion, this person," reflected +Tricotrin. "And his cigarette was certainly providential!" + +"To meet an author has always been an ambition of mine," Petitpas +continued; "I dare to say that I have the artistic temperament, though +circumstances have condemned me to commercial pursuits. You have no +idea how enviable the literary life appears to me, monsieur!" + +"Its privileges are perhaps more monotonous than you suppose," drawled +the homeless poet. "Also, I had to work for many years before I +attained my present position." + +"This noble book, for instance," began the clerk, laying a reverent +hand on the abominable manuscript. + +"Hein?" exclaimed its victim, starting. + +"To have written this noble book must be a joy compared with which my +own prosperity is valueless." + +"The damned thing is no work of mine," cried Tricotrin; "and if we are +to avoid a quarrel, I will ask you not to accuse me of it! A joy, +indeed? In that block of drivel you view the cause of my deepest +misfortunes." + +"A thousand apologies!" stammered his companion; "my inference was +hasty. But what you say interests me beyond words. This manuscript, of +seeming innocence, is the cause of misfortunes? May I crave an enormous +favour; may I beg you to regard me as a friend and give me your +confidence?" + +"I see no reason why I should refuse it," answered Tricotrin, on whom +the boast of "prosperity" had made a deep impression. "You must know, +then, that this ineptitude, inflicted on me by an eccentric editor for +translation, drove me to madness, and not an hour ago I cast it from my +window in disgust. It is a novel entirely devoid of taste and tact, and +it had the clumsiness to alight on my landlord's head. Being a man of +small nature, he retaliated by demanding his rent." + +"Which it was not convenient to pay?" interrupted Petitpas, all the +pages of _La Vie de Boheme_ playing leapfrog through his brain. + +"I regret to bore you by so trite a situation. 'Which it was not +convenient to pay'! Indeed, I was not responsible for all of it, for I +occupied the room with a composer named Pitou. Well, you can construct +the next scene without a collaborator; the landlord has a speech, and +the tragedy is entitled 'Tricotrin in Quest of a Home.'" + +"What of the composer?" inquired the delighted clerk; "what has become +of monsieur Pitou?" + +"Monsieur Pitou was not on in that Act. The part of Pitou will attain +prominence when he returns and finds himself locked out." + +"But, my dear monsieur Tricotrin, in such an extremity you should have +sought the services of a friend." + +"I had that inspiration myself; I sought a painter called Goujaud. And +observe how careless is Reality in the matter of coincidences! I learnt +from his concierge that precisely the same thing had befallen monsieur +Goujaud. He, too, is Christmassing alfresco." + +"Mon Dieu," faltered the clerk, "how it rejoices me that I have met +you! All my life I have looked forward to encountering a genius in such +a fix." + +"Alas!" sighed Tricotrin, with a pensive smile, "to the genius the fix +is less spicy. Without a supper--" + +"Without a supper!" crowed Petitpas. + +"Without a bed--" + +"Without a bed!" babbled Petitpas, enravished. + +"With nothing but a pen and the sacred fire, one may be forgiven +sadness." + +"Not so, not so," shouted Petitpas, smacking him on the back. "You are +omitting _me_ from your list of assets! Listen, I am staying at an +hotel. You cannot decline to accord me the honour of welcoming you +there as my guest for the night. Hang the expense! I am no longer in +business, I am a bohemian, like yourself; some supper, a bed, and a +little breakfast will not ruin me. What do you say, monsieur?" + +"I say, drop the 'monsieur,' old chap," responded Tricotrin. "Your +suggestions for the tragedy are cordially accepted. I have never known +a collaborator to improve a plot so much. And understand this: I feel +more earnestly than I speak; henceforth we are pals, you and I." + +"Brothers!" cried Petitpas, in ecstasy. "You shall hear all about a +novel that I have projected for years. I should like to have your +opinion of it." + +"I shall be enchanted," said Tricotrin, his jaw dropping. + +"You must introduce me to your circle--the painters, and the models, +and the actresses. Your friends shall be _my_ friends in future." + +"Don't doubt it! When I tell them what a brick you are, they will be +proud to know you." + +"No ceremony, mind!" + +"Not a bit. You shall be another chum. Already I feel as if we had been +confidants in our cradles." + +"It is the same with me. How true it is that kindred spirits recognise +each other in an instant. What is environment? Bah! A man may be a +bohemian and an artist although his occupations are commercial?" + +"Perfectly! I nearly pined amid commercial occupations myself." + +"What an extraordinary coincidence! Ah, that is the last bond between +us! You can realise my most complex moods, you can penetrate to the +most distant suburbs of my soul! Gustave, if I had been free to choose +my career, I should have become a famous man." "My poor Adolphe! +Still, prosperity is not an unmixed evil. You must seek compensation in +your wealth," murmured the poet, who began to think that one might pay +too high a price for a bed. + +"Oh--er--to be sure!" said the little clerk, reminded that he was +pledged to a larger outlay than he had originally proposed. "That is to +say, I am not precisely 'wealthy.'" He saw his pocket-money during the +trip much curtailed, and rather wished that his impulse had been less +expansive. + +"A snug income is no stigma, whether one derives it from Parnassus or +the Bourse," continued Tricotrin. "Hold! Who is that I see, slouching +over there? As I live, it's Pitou, the composer, whose dilemma I told +you of!" + +"Another?" quavered the clerk, dismayed. + +"He, Nicolas! Turn your symphonic gaze this way! 'Tis I, Gustave!" + +"Ah, mon vieux!" exclaimed the young musician joyfully; "I was +wondering what your fate might be. I have only just come from the +house. Madame Dubois refused me admission; she informed me that you had +been firing Spanish novels at Gouge's head. Why Spanish? Is the Spanish +variety deadlier? So the villain has had the effrontery to turn us +out?" + +"Let me make your affinities known to each other," said Tricotrin. "My +brother Nicolas--my brother Adolphe. Brother Adolphe has received a +scenario of the tragedy already, and he has a knack of inventing +brilliant 'curtains.'" + +Behind Pitou's back he winked at Petitpas, as if to say, "He little +suspects what a surprise you have in store for him!" + +"Oh--er--I am grieved to hear of your trouble, monsieur Pitou," said +Petitpas feebly. + +"What? 'Grieved'? Come, that isn't all about it!" cried Tricotrin, who +attributed his restraint to nothing but diffidence. In an undertone he +added, "Don't be nervous, dear boy. Your invitation won't offend him in +the least!" + +Petitpas breathed heavily. He aspired to prove himself a true bohemian, +but his heart quailed at the thought of such expense. Two suppers, two +beds, and two little breakfasts as a supplement to his bill would be no +joke. It was with a very poor grace that he stammered at last, "I hope +you will allow me to suggest a way out, monsieur Pitou? A room at my +hotel seems to dispose of the difficulty." + +"Hem?" exclaimed Pitou. "Is that room a mirage, or are you serious?" + +"'Serious'?" echoed Tricotrin. "He is as serious as an English +adaptation of a French farce." He went on, under his breath, "You +mustn't judge him by his manner, I can see that he has turned a little +shy. Believe me, he is the King of Trumps." + +"Well, upon my word I shall be delighted, monsieur," responded Pitou. +"It was evidently the good kind fairies that led me to the place +Dancourt. I would ask you to step over the way and have a bock, but my +finances forbid." + +"Your finances need cause no drought--Adolphe will be paymaster!" +declared Tricotrin gaily, shouldering his manuscript. "Come, let us +adjourn and give the Reveillon its due!" + +Petitpas suppressed a moan. "By all means," he assented; "I was about +to propose it myself. I am a real bohemian, you know, and think nothing +of ordering several bocks at once." + +"Are you sure he is all you say?" whispered Pitou to Tricotrin, with +misgiving. + +"A shade embarrassed, that is all," pronounced the poet. And then, as +the trio moved arm-in-arm toward the cafe, a second solitary figure +emerged from the obscurity of the square. + +"Bless my soul!" ejaculated Tricotrin; "am I mistaken, or--Look, look, +Adolphe! I would bet ten to one in sonnets that it is Goujaud, the +painter, whose plight I mentioned to you!" + +"Yet another?" gasped Petitpas, panic-stricken. + +"Sst! He, Goujaud! Come here, you vagrant, and be entertaining!" + +"Well met, you fellows!" sighed Goujaud. "Where are you off to?" + +"We are going to give Miranda a drink," said the poet; "she is drier +than ever. Let there be no strangers--my brother Adolphe, my brother +Theodose! What is your secret woe, Theo? Your face is as long as this +Spaniard's novel, Adolphe, have you a recipe in your pocket for the +hump?" + +"Perhaps monsieur Goujaud will join us in a glass of beer?" said +Petitpas very coldly. + +"There are more unlikely things than that!" affirmed the painter; and +when the cafe was entered, he swallowed his bock like one who has a +void to fill. "The fact is," he confided to the group, "I was about to +celebrate the Reveillon on a bench. That insolent landlord of mine has +kicked me out." + +"And you will not get inside," said Tricotrin, "'not you, nor I, nor +any other of your vagabond friends. So there!' I had the privilege of +conversing with your concierge earlier in the evening." + +"Ah, then, you know all about it. Well, now that I have run across you, +you can give me a shakedown in your attic. Good business!" + +"I discern only one drawback to the scheme," said Pitou; "we haven't +any attic. It must be something in the air--all the landlords seem to +have the same complaint." + +"But if you decide in the bench's favour, after all, you may pillow +your curls on Miranda," put in Tricotrin. "She would be exhilarating +company for him, Adolphe, hein? What do you think?" He murmured aside, +"Give him a dig in the ribs and say, 'You silly ass, _I_ can fix +you up all right!' That's the way we issue invitations in Montmartre." + +The clerk's countenance was livid; his tongue stuck to his front teeth. +At last, wrenching the words out, he groaned, "If monsieur Goujaud will +accept my hospitality, I shall be charmed!" He was not without a hope +that his frigid bearing would beget a refusal. + +"Ah, my dear old chap!" shouted Goujaud without an instant's +hesitation, "consider it done!" And now there were to be three suppers, +three beds, and three little breakfasts, distorting the account! + +Petitpas sipped his bock faintly, affecting not to notice that his +guests' glasses had been emptied. With all his soul he repented the +impulse that had led to his predicament. Amid the throes of his mental +arithmetic he recognised that he had been deceived in himself, that he +had no abiding passion for bohemia. How much more pleasing than to +board and lodge this disreputable collection would have been the daily +round of amusements that he had planned! Even now--he caught his +breath--even now it was not too late; he might pay for the drinks and +escape! Why shouldn't he run away? + +"Gentlemen," cried Petitpas, "I shall go and fetch a cab for us all. +Make yourselves comfortable till I come back!" + +When the cafe closed, messieurs Tricotrin, Goujaud, and Pitou crept +forlornly across the square and disposed themselves for slumber on the +bench. + +"Well, there is this to be said," yawned the poet, "if the little +bounder had kept his word, it would have been an extraordinary +conclusion to our adventures--as persons of literary discretion, we can +hardly regret that a story did not end so improbably.... My children, +Miranda, good-night--and a Merry Christmas!" + + + +THE CAFE OF THE BROKEN HEART + +On the last day of the year, towards the dinner-hour, a young and +attractive woman, whose costume proclaimed her a widow, entered the +Cafe of the Broken Heart. That modest restaurant is situated near the +Cemetery of Mont-martre. The lady, quoting from an announcement over +the window, requested the proprietor to conduct her to the "Apartment +reserved for Those Desirous of Weeping Alone." + +The proprietor's shoulders became apologetic. "A thousand regrets, +madame," he murmured; "the Weeping Alone apartment is at present +occupied." + +This visibly annoyed the customer. + +"It is the second anniversary of my bereavement," she complained, "and +already I have wept here twice. The woe of an habituee should find a +welcome!" + +Her reproof, still more her air of being well-to-do, had an effect on +Brochat. He looked at his wife, and his wife said hesitatingly: + +"Perhaps the young man would consent to oblige madame if you asked him +nicely. After all, he engaged the room for seven o'clock, and it is not +yet half-past six." + +"That is true," said Brochat. "Alors, I shall see what can be arranged! +I beg that madame will put herself to the trouble of sitting down while +I make the biggest endeavours." + +But he returned after a few minutes to declare that the young man's +sorrow was so profound that no reply could be extracted from him. + +The lady showed signs of temper. "Has this person the monopoly of +sorrowing on your premises?" she demanded. "Whom does he lament? Surely +the loss of a husband should give me prior claim?" + +"I cannot rightly say whom the gentleman laments," stammered Brochat; +"the circumstances are, in fact, somewhat unusual. I would mention, +however, that the apartment is a spacious one, as madame doubtless +recalls, and no further mourners are expected for half an hour. If in +the meantime madame would be so amiable as to weep in the young man's +presence, I can assure her that she would find him too stricken to +stare." + +The widow considered. "Well," she said, after the pause, "if you can +guarantee his abstraction, so be it! It is a matter of conscience with +me to behave in precisely the same way each year, and, rather than miss +my meditations there altogether, I am willing to make the best of him." + +Brochat, having taken her order for refreshments--for which he always +charged slightly higher prices on the first floor--preceded her up the +stairs. The single gas-flame that had been kindled in the room was very +low, and the lady received but a momentary impression of a man's figure +bowed over a white table. She chose a chair at once with her back +towards him, and resting her brow on her forefinger, disposed herself +for desolation. + +It may have been that the stranger's proximity told on her nerves, or +it may have been that Time had done something to heal the wound. +Whatever the cause, the frame of mind that she invited was slow in +arriving, and when the bouillon and biscottes appeared she was not +averse from trifling with them. Meanwhile, for any sound that he had +made, the young man might have been as defunct as Henri IV; but as she +took her second sip, a groan of such violence escaped him that she +nearly upset her cup. + +His abandonment of despair seemed to reflect upon her own +insensibility; and, partly to raise herself in his esteem, the lady a +moment later uttered a long-drawn, wistful sigh. No sooner had she done +so, however, than she deeply regretted the indiscretion, for it +stimulated the young man to a howl positively harrowing. + +An impatient movement of her graceful shoulders protested against these +demonstrations, but as she had her back to him, she could not tell +whether he observed her. Stealing a glance, she discovered that his +face was buried in his hands, and that the white table seemed to be +laid for ten covers. Scrutiny revealed ten bottles of wine around it, +the neck of each bottle embellished with a large crape bow. Curiosity +now held the lady wide-eyed, and, as luck would have it, the young man, +at this moment, raised his head. + +"I trust that my agony does not disturb you, madame?" he inquired, +meeting her gaze with some embarrassment. + +"I must confess, monsieur," said she, "that you have been carrying it +rather far." + +He accepted the rebuke humbly. "If you divined the intensity of my +sufferings, you would be lenient," he murmured. "Nevertheless, it was +dishonest of me to moan so bitterly before seven o'clock, when my claim +to the room legally begins. I entreat your pardon." + +"It is accorded freely," said the lady, mollified by his penitence. +"She would be a poor mourner who quarrelled with the affliction of +another." + +Again she indulged in a plaintive sigh, and this time the young man's +response was tactfully harmonious. + +"Life is a vale of tears, madame," he remarked, with more solicitude +than originality. + +"You may indeed say so, monsieur," she assented. "To have lost one who +was beloved--" + +"It must be a heavy blow; I can imagine it!" + +He had made a curious answer. She stared at him, perplexed. + +"You can 'imagine' it?" + +"Very well." + +"But you yourself have experienced such a loss, monsieur?" faltered the +widow nervously. Had trouble unhinged his brain? + +"No," said the young man; "to speak by the clock, my own loss has not +yet occurred." + +A brief silence fell, during which she cast uneasy glances towards the +door. + +He added, as if anxious that she should do him justice: "But I would +not have you consider my lamentations premature." + +"How true it is," breathed the lady, "that in this world no human soul +can wholly comprehend another!" + +"Mine is a very painful history," he warned her, taking the hint; "yet +if it will serve to divert your mind from your own misfortune, I shall +be honoured to confide it to you. Stay, the tenth invitation, which an +accident prevented my dispatching, would explain the circumstances +tersely: but I much fear that the room is too dark for you to decipher +all the subtleties. Have I your permission to turn up the gas?" + +"Do so, by all means, monsieur," said the lady graciously. And the +light displayed to her, first, as personable a young man as she could +have desired to see; second, an imposing card, which was inscribed as +follows: + + MONSIEUR ACHILLE FLAMANT, ARTIST, + + Forewarns you of the + + DEATH OF HIS CAREER + + The Interment will take place at the + Cafe of the Broken Heart + on December 31st. + + _Valedictory N.B.--A sympathetic costume + Victuals will be appreciated. + 7 p.m._ + +"I would call your attention to the border of cypress, and to the tomb +in the corner," said the young man, with melancholy pride. "You may +also look favourably on the figure with the shovel, which, of course, +depicts me in the act of burying my hopes. It is a symbolic touch that +no hope is visible." + +"It is a very artistic production altogether," said the widow, +dissembling her astonishment. "So you are a painter, monsieur Flamant?" + +"Again speaking by the clock, I am a painter," he concurred; "but at +midnight I shall no longer be in a position to say so--in the morning I +am pledged to the life commercial. You will not marvel at my misery +when I inform you that the existence of Achille Flamant, the artist, +will terminate in five hours and twenty odd minutes!" + +"Well, I am commercial myself," she said. "I am madame Aurore, the +Beauty Specialist, of the rue Baba. Do not think me wanting in the +finer emotions, but I assure you that a lucrative establishment is not +a calamity." + +"Madame Aurore," demurred the painter, with a bow, "your own business +is but a sister art. In your atelier, the saffron of a bad complexion +blooms to the fairness of a rose, and the bunch of a lumpy figure is +modelled to the grace of Galatea. With me it will be a different pair +of shoes; I shall be condemned to perch on a stool in the office of a +wine-merchant, and invoice vintages which my thirty francs a week will +not allow me to drink. No comparison can be drawn between your lot and +my little." + +"Certainly I should not like to perch," she confessed. + +"Would you rejoice at the thirty francs a week?" + +"Well, and the thirty francs a week are also poignant. But you may +rise, monsieur; who shall foretell the future? Once I had to make both +ends meet with less to coax them than the salary you mention. Even when +my poor husband was taken from me--heigho!" she raised a miniature +handkerchief delicately to her eyes--"when I was left alone in the +world, monsieur, my affairs were greatly involved--I had practically +nothing but my resolve to succeed." + +"And the witchery of your personal attractions, madame," said the +painter politely. + +"Ah!" A pensive smile rewarded him. "The business was still in its +infancy, monsieur; yet to-day I have the smartest clientele in Paris. I +might remove to the rue de la Paix to-morrow if I pleased. But, I say, +why should I do that? I say, why a reckless rental for the sake of a +fashionable address, when the fashionable men and women come to me +where I am?" + +"You show profound judgment, madame," said Flamant. "Why, indeed!" + +"And you, too, will show good judgment, I am convinced," continued +madame Aurore, regarding him with approval. "You have an air of +intellect. If your eyebrows were elongated a fraction towards the +temples--an improvement that might be effected easily enough by regular +use of my Persian Pomade--you would acquire the appearance of a born +conqueror." + +"Alas," sighed Flamant, "my finances forbid my profiting by the tip!" + +"Monsieur, you wrong me," murmured the specialist reproachfully. "I was +speaking with no professional intent. On the contrary, if you will +permit me, I shall take joy in forwarding a pot to you gratis." + +"Is it possible?" cried Flamant: "you would really do this for me? You +feel for my sufferings so much?" + +"Indeed, I regret that I cannot persuade you to reduce the sufferings," +she replied. "But tell me why you have selected the vocation of a +wine-merchant's clerk." + +"Fate, not I, has determined my cul-de-sac in life," rejoined her +companion. "It is like this: my father, who lacks an artistic soul, +consented to my becoming a painter only upon the understanding that I +should gain the Prix de Rome and pursue my studies in Italy free of any +expense to him. This being arranged, he agreed to make me a minute +allowance in the meanwhile. By a concatenation of catastrophes upon +which it is unnecessary to dwell, the Beaux-Arts did not accord the +prize to me; and, at the end of last year, my parent reminded me of our +compact, with a vigour which nothing but the relationship prevents my +describing as 'inhuman'. He insisted that I must bid farewell to +aspiration and renounce the brush of an artist for the quill of a +clerk! Distraught, I flung myself upon my knees. I implored him to +reconsider. My tribulation would have moved a rock--it even moved his +heart!" + +"He showed you mercy?" + +"He allowed me a respite." + +"It was for twelve months?" + +"Precisely. What rapid intuitions you have!--if I could remain in +Paris, we should become great friends. He allowed me twelve months' +respite. If, at the end of that time, Art was still inadequate to +supply my board and lodging, it was covenanted that, without any more +ado, I should resign myself to clerical employment at Nantes. The +merchant there is a friend of the family, and had offered to +demonstrate his friendship by paying me too little to live on. Enfin, +Fame has continued coy. The year expires to-night. I have begged a few +comrades to attend a valedictory dinner--and at the stroke of midnight, +despairing I depart!" + +"Is there a train?" + +"I do not depart from Paris till after breakfast to-morrow; but at +midnight I depart from myself, I depart psychologically--the Achille +Flamant of the Hitherto will be no more." + +"I understand," said madame Aurore, moved. "As you say, in my own way I +am an artist, too, there is a bond between us. Poor fellow, it is +indeed a crisis in your life!... Who put the crape bows on the +bottles? they are badly tied. Shall I tie them properly for you?" + +"It would be a sweet service," said Flamant, "and I should be grateful. +How gentle you are to me--pomade, bows, nothing is too much for you!" + +"You must give me your Nantes address," she said, "and I will post the +pot without fail." + +"I shall always keep it," he vowed--"not the pomade, but the pot--as a +souvenir. Will you write a few lines to me at the same time?" + +Her gaze was averted; she toyed with her spoon. "The directions will be +on the label," she said timidly. + +"It was not of my eyebrows I was thinking," murmured the man. + +"What should I say? The latest quotation for artificial lashes, or a +development in dimple culture, would hardly be engrossing to you." + +"I am inclined to believe that anything that concerned you would +engross me." + +"It would be so unconventional," she objected dreamily. + +"To send a brief message of encouragement? Have we not talked like +confidants?" + +"That is queerer still." + +"I admit it. Just now I was unaware of your existence, and suddenly you +dominate my thoughts. How do you work these miracles, madame? Do you +know that I have an enormous favour to crave of you?" + +"What, another one?" + +"Actually! Is it not audacious of me? Yet for a man on the verge of +parting from his identity, I venture to hope that you will strain a +point." + +"The circumstances are in the man's favour," she owned. "Nevertheless, +much depends on what the point is." + +"Well, I ask nothing less than that you accept the invitation on the +card that you examined; I beg you to soothe my last hours by remaining +to dine." + +"Oh, but really," she exclaimed. "I am afraid--" + +"You cannot urge that you are required at your atelier so late. And as +to any social engagement, I do not hesitate to affirm that my +approaching death in life puts forth the stronger claim." + +"On me? When all is said, a new acquaintance!" + +"What is Time?" demanded the painter. And she was not prepared with a +reply. + +"Your comrades will be strangers to me," she argued. + +"It is a fact that now I wish they were not coming," acknowledged the +host; "but they are young men of the loftiest genius, and some day it +may provide a piquant anecdote to relate how you met them all in the +period of their obscurity." + +"My friend," she said, hurt, "if I consented, it would not be to garner +anecdotes." + +"Ah, a million regrets!" he cried; "I spoke foolishly." + +"It was tactless." + +"Yes--I am a man. Do you forgive?" + +"Yes--I am a woman. Well, I must take my bonnet off!" + +"Oh, you are not a woman, but an angel! What beautiful hair you have! +And your hands, how I should love to paint them!" + +"I have painted them, myself--with many preparations. My hands have +known labour, believe me; they have washed up plates and dishes, and +often the dishes had provided little to eat." + +"Poor girl! One would never suspect that you had struggled like that." + +"How feelingly you say it! There have been few to show me sympathy. Oh, +I assure you, my life has been a hard one; it is a hard one now, in +spite of my success. Constantly, when customers moan before my mirrors, +I envy them, if they did but know it. I think: 'Yes, you have a double +chin, and your eyes have lost their fire, and nasty curly little veins +are spoiling the pallor of your nose; but you have the affection of +husband and child, while _I_ have nothing but fees.' What is my +destiny? To hear great-grandmothers grumble because I cannot give them +back their girlhood for a thousand francs! To devote myself to making +other women beloved, while _I_ remain loveless in my shop!" + +"Honestly, my heart aches for you. If I might presume to advise, I +would say, 'Do not allow the business to absorb your youth--you were +meant to be worshipped.' And yet, while I recommend it, I hate to think +of another man worshipping you." + +"Why should you care, my dear? But there is no likelihood of that; I am +far too busy to seek worshippers. A propos an idea has just occurred to +me which might be advantageous to us both. If you could inform your +father that you would be able to earn rather more next year by +remaining in Paris than by going to Nantes, would it be satisfactory?" + +"Satisfactory?" ejaculated Flamant. "It would be ecstatic! But how +shall I acquire such information?" + +"Would you like to paint a couple of portraits of me?" + +"I should like to paint a thousand." + +"My establishment is not a picture-gallery. Listen. I offer you a +commission for two portraits: one, present day, let us say, moderately +attractive--" + +"I decline to libel you." + +"O, flatterer! The other, depicting my faded aspect before I discovered +the priceless secrets of the treatment that I practise in the rue Baba. +I shall hang them both in the reception-room. I must look at least a +decade older in the 'Before' than in the 'After,' and it must, of +course, present the appearance of having been painted some years ago. +That can be faked?" + +"Perfectly." + +"You accept?" "I embrace your feet. You have saved my life; you have +preserved my hopefulness, you have restored my youth!" + +"It is my profession to preserve and restore." + +"Ah, mon Dieu!" gasped Flamant in a paroxysm of adoration. "Aurore, I +can no longer refrain from avowing that--" + +At this instant the door opened, and there entered solemnly nine young +men, garbed in such habiliments of woe as had never before been seen +perambulating, even on the figures of undertakers. The foremost bore a +wreath of immortelles, which he laid in devout silence on the dinner-table. + +"Permit me," said Flamant, recovering himself by a stupendous effort: +"monsieur Tricotrin, the poet--madame Aurore." + +"Enchanted!" said the poet, in lugubrious tones. "I have a heavy cold, +thank you, owing to my having passed the early hours of Christmas Day +on a bench, in default of a bed. It is superfluous to inquire as to the +health of madame." + +"Monsieur Goujaud, a colleague." + +"Overjoyed!" responded Goujaud, with a violent sneeze. + +"Goujaud was with me," said Tricotrin. + +"Monsieur Pitou, the composer." + +"I ab hodoured. I trust badabe is dot dervous of gerbs? There is +nothing to fear," said Pitou. + +"So was Pitou!" added Tricotrin. + +"Monsieur Sanquereau, the sculptor; monsieur Lajeunie, the novelist," +continued the host. But before he could present the rest of the +company, Brochat was respectfully intimating to the widow that her +position in the Weeping Alone apartment was now untenable. He was +immediately commanded to lay another cover. + +"Madame and comrades," declaimed Tricotrin, unrolling a voluminous +manuscript, as they took their seats around the pot-au-feu, "I have +composed for this piteous occasion a brief poem!" + +"I must beseech your pardon," stammered Flamant, rising in deep +confusion; "I have nine apologies to tender. Gentlemen, this touching +wreath for the tomb of my career finds the tomb unready. These +affecting garments which you have hired at, I fear, ruinous expense, +should be exchanged for bunting; that immortal poem with which our +friend would favour us has been suddenly deprived of all its point." + +"Explain! explain!" volleyed from nine throats. + +"I shall still read it," insisted Tricotrin, "it is good." + +"The lady--nay, the goddess--whom you behold, has showered commissions, +and for one year more I shall still be in your midst. Brothers in art, +brothers in heart, I ask you to charge your glasses, and let your +voices ring. The toast is, 'Madame Aurore and her gift of the New +Year!'" + +"Madame Aurore and her gift of the New Year!" shrieked the nine young +men, springing to their feet. + +"In a year much may happen," said the lady tremulously. + +And when they had all sat down again, Flamant was thrilled to find her +hand in his beneath the table. + + + +THE DRESS CLOTHES OF MONSIEUR POMPONNET + +It was thanks to Touquet that she was able to look so chic--the little +baggage!--yet of all her suitors Touquet was the one she favoured +least. He was the costumier at the corner of the rue des Martyrs, and +made a very fair thing of the second-hand clothes. It was to Touquet's +that the tradesmen of the quarter turned as a matter of course to hire +dress-suits for their nuptials; it was in the well-cleaned satins of +Touquet that the brides' mothers and the lady guests cut such imposing +figures when they were photographed after the wedding breakfasts; it +was even Touquet who sometimes supplied a gown to one or another of the +humble actresses at the Theatre Montmartre, and received a couple of +free tickets in addition to his fee. I tell you that Touquet was not a +person to be sneezed at, though he had passed the first flush of youth, +and was never an Adonis. + +Besides, who was she, this little Lisette, who had the impudence to +flout him? A girl in a florist's, if you can believe me, with no +particular beauty herself, and not a son by way of dot! And yet--one +must confess it--she turned a head as swiftly as she made a +"buttonhole"; and Pomponnet, the pastrycook, was paying court to her, +too--to say nothing of the homage of messieurs Tricotrin, the poet, and +Goujaud, the painter, and Lajeunie, the novelist. You would never have +guessed that her wages were only twenty francs a week, as you watched +her waltz with Tricotrin at the ball on Saturday evening, or as you saw +her enter Pomponnet's shop, when the shutters were drawn, to feast on +his strawberry tarts. Her costumes were the cynosure of the boulevard +Rochechouart! + +And they were all due to Touquet, Touquet the infatuated, who lent the +fine feathers to her for the sake of a glance, or a pressure of the +hand--and wept on his counter afterwards while he wondered whose arms +might be embracing her in the costumes that he had cleaned and pressed +with so much care. Often he swore that his folly should end--that she +should be affianced to him, or go shabby; but, lo! in a day or two she +would make her appearance again, to coax for the loan of a smart +blouse, or "that hat with the giant rose and the ostrich plume"--and +Touquet would be as weak as ever. + +Judge, then, of his despair when he heard that she had agreed to marry +Pomponnet! She told him the news with the air of an amiable gossip when +she came to return a ball-dress that she had borrowed. + +"Enfin," she said--perched on the counter, and swinging her remorseless +feet--"it is arranged; I desert the flowers for the pastry, and become +the mistress of a shop. I shall have to beg from my good friend +monsieur Touquet no more--not at all! I shall be his client, like the +rest. It will be better, hein?" + +Touquet groaned. "You know well, Lisette," he answered, "that it has +been a joy to me to place the stock at your disposal, even though it +was to make you more attractive in the eyes of other men. Everything +here that you have worn possesses a charm to me. I fondle the garments +when you bring them back; I take them down from the pegs and dream over +them. Truly! There is no limit to my weakness, for often when a client +proposes to hire a frock that you have had, I cannot bear that she +should profane it, and I say that it is engaged." + +"You dear, kind monsieur Touquet," murmured the coquette; "how +agreeable you are!" + +"I have always hoped for the day when the stock would be all your own, +Lisette. And by-and-by we might have removed to a better position-- +even down the hill. Who knows? We might have opened a business in the +Madeleine quarter. That would suit you better than a little cake-shop +up a side street? And I would have risked it for you--I know how you +incline to fashion. When I have taken you to a theatre, did you choose +the Montmartre--where we might have gone for nothing--or the Moncey? +Not you!--that might do for other girls. _You_ have always +demanded the theatres of the Grand Boulevard; a cup of coffee at the +Cafe de la Paix is more to your taste than a bottle of beer and +hard-boiled eggs at The Nimble Rabbit. Heaven knows I trust you will be +happy, but I cannot persuade myself that this Pomponnet shares your +ambitions; with his slum and his stale pastry he is quite content." + +"It is not stale," she said. + +"Well, we will pass his pastry--though, word of honour, I bought some +there last week that might have been baked before the Commune; but to +recur to his soul, is it an affinity?" + +"Affinities are always hard up," she pouted. + +"Zut!" exclaimed Touquet; "now your mind is running on that monsieur +Tricotrin--by 'affinities' I do not mean hungry poets. Why not have +entrusted your happiness to _me_? I adore you, I have told you a +thousand times that I adore you. Lisette, consider before it is too +late! You cannot love this--this obscure baker?" + +She gave a shrug. "It is a fact that devotion has not robbed me of my +appetite," she confessed. "But what would you have? His business goes +far better than you imagine--I have seen his books; and anyhow, my +sentiment for you is friendship, and no more." + +"To the devil with friendship!" cried the unhappy wardrobe-dealer; "did +I dress you like the Empress Josephine for friendship?" + +"Do not mock yourself of it," she said reprovingly; "remember that +'Friendship is a beautiful flower, of which esteem is the stem.'" And, +having thrown the adage to him, coupled with a glance that drove him to +distraction, the little flirt jumped off the counter and was gone. + +Much more reluctantly she contemplated parting with him whom the +costumier had described as a "hungry poet"; but matrimony did not enter +the poet's scheme of things, nor for that matter had she ever regarded +him as a possible parti. Yet a woman may give her fancy where her +reason refuses to follow, and when she imparted her news to Tricotrin +there was no smile on her lips. + +"We shall not go to balls any more, old dear," she said. "Monsieur +Pomponnet has proposed marriage to me--and I settle down." + +"Heartless girl," exclaimed the young man, with tears in his eyes. "So +much for woman's constancy!" + +"Mon Dieu," she faltered, "did you then love me, Gustave--really?" + +"I do not know," said Tricotrin, "but since I am to lose you, I prefer +to think so. Ah, do not grieve for me--fortunately, there is always the +Seine! And first I shall pour my misery into song; and in years to +come, fair daughters at your side will read the deathless poem, little +dreaming that the Lisette I sang to is their mother. Some time--long +after I am in my grave, when France has honoured me at last--you may +stand before a statue that bears my name, and think, 'He loved me, and +I broke his heart!'" + +"Oh," she whimpered, "rather than break your heart I--I might break the +engagement! I might consider again, Gustave." + +"No, no," returned Tricotrin, "I will not reproach myself with the +thought that I have marred your life; I will leave you free. Besides, +as I say, I am not certain that I should want you so much but for the +fact that I have lost you. After all, you will not appreciate the poem +that immortalises you, and if I lived, many of your remarks about it +would doubtless infuriate me." + +"Why shall I not appreciate it? Am I so stupid?" + +"It is not that you are stupid, my Soul," he explained; "it is that I +am transcendentally clever. To understand the virtues of my work one +must have sipped from all the flowers of Literature. 'There is to be +found in it Racine, Voltaire, Flaubert, Renan--and always Gustave +Tricotrin,' as Lemaitre has written. He wrote, '--and always Anatole +France,' but I paraphrase him slightly. So you are going to marry +Pomponnet? Mon Dieu, when I have any sous in my pocket, I will ruin +myself, for the rapture of regretting you among the pastry!" + +"I thought," she said, a little mortified, "that you were going to +drown yourself?" + +"Am I not to write my Lament to you? I must eat while I write it--why +not pastry? Also, when I am penniless and starving, you may sometimes, +in your prosperity--And yet, perhaps, it is too much to ask?" + +"Give you tick, do you mean, dear? But yes, Gustave; how can you doubt +that I will do that? In memory of--" + +"In memory of the love that has been, you will permit me to run up a +small score for cakes, will you not, Lisette?" + +"I will, indeed!" she promised. "But, but--Oh, it's quite true, I +should never understand you! A minute ago you made me think of you in +the Morgue, and now you make me think of you in the cake-shop. What are +you laughing at?" + +"I laugh, like Figaro," said Tricotrin, "that I may not be obliged to +weep. When are you going to throw yourself away, my little Lisette? Has +my accursed rival induced you to fix a date?' + +"We are to be married in a fortnight's time," she said. "And if you +could undertake to be sensible, I would ask Alphonse to invite you to +the breakfast." + +"In a fortnight's time hunger and a hopeless passion will probably have +made an end of me," replied the poet; "however, if I survive, the +breakfast will certainly be welcome. Where is it to be held? I can +recommend a restaurant that is especially fine at such affairs, and +most moderate. 'Photographs of the party are taken gratuitously in the +Jardin d'Acclimatation, and pianos are at the disposal of the ladies'; +I quote from the menu--I study it in the window every time I pass. +There are wedding breakfasts from six to twelve francs per head. At six +francs, the party have their choice of two soups and three hors +d'oeuvres. Then comes 'poisson'--I fear it may be whiting--filet de +boeuf with tomates farcies, bouchees a la Reine, chicken, pigeons, +salad, two vegetables, an ice, assorted fruits, and biscuits. The wines +are madeira, a bottle of macon to each person, a bottle of bordeaux +among four persons, and a bottle of champagne among ten persons. Also +coffee and liqueurs. At six francs a head! It is good, hein? At seven +francs there is a bottle of champagne among every eight persons-- +Pomponnet will, of course, do as he thinks best. At eight francs, a +bottle is provided for every six persons. I have too much delicacy to +make suggestions, but should he be willing to soar to twelve francs a +head, I might eat enough to last a week--and of such quality! The soups +would then be bisque d'ecrevisse and consomme Rachel. Rissoles de foies +gras would appear. Asparagus 'in branches,' and compote of peaches +flavoured with maraschino would be included. Also, in the twelve-franc +breakfast, the champagne begins to have a human name on the label!" + +Now, it is not certain how much of this information Lisette repeated to +Pomponnet, but Pomponnet, having a will of his own, refused to +entertain monsieur Tricotrin at any price at all. More-over, he found +it unconventional that she should desire the poet's company, +considering the attentions that he had paid her; and she was forced to +listen, with an air of humility which she was far from feeling, to a +lecture on the responsibilities of her new position. + +"I am not a jealous man," said the pastrycook, who was as jealous a man +as ever baked a pie; "but it would be discreet that you dropped this +acquaintance now that we are engaged. I know well that you have never +taken the addresses of such a fellow seriously, and that it is only in +the goodness of your heart you wish to present him with a blow-out. +Nevertheless, the betrothal of a man in my circumstances is much +remarked; all the daughters of the hairdresser next door have had their +hopes of me--indeed, there is scarcely a neighbour who is not chagrined +at the turn events have taken--and the world would be only too glad of +an excuse to call me 'fool.' Pomponnet's wife must be above suspicion. +You will remember that a little lightness of conduct which might be +forgiven in the employee of the florist would be unseemly in my +fiancee. No more conversation with monsieur Tricotrin, Lisette! Some +dignity--some coldness in the bow when you pass him. The boulevard will +observe it, it will be approved." + +"You, of course, know best, my dear Alphonse," she returned meekly; "I +am only an inexperienced girl, and I am thankful to have your advice to +guide me. But let me say that never, never has there been any +'lightness of conduct,' to distress you. Monsieur Tricotrin and I have +been merely friends. If I have gone to a ball with him sometimes--and I +acknowledge that has happened--it has been because nobody more to my +taste has offered to take me." She had ground her little teeth under +the infliction of his homily, and it was only by dint of thinking hard +of his profits that she abstained from retorting that he might marry +all the daughters of the hairdresser and go to Uganda. + +However, during the next week or so, she did not chance to meet the +poet on the boulevard; and since she wished to conquer her tenderness +for him, one cannot doubt that all would have been well but for the +Editor of _L'Echo de la Butte._ By a freak of fate, the Editor of +_L'Echo de la Butte_ was moved to invite monsieur Tricotrin to an +affair of ceremony two days previous to the wedding. What followed? +Naturally Tricotrin must present himself in evening dress. Naturally, +also, he must go to Touquet's to hire the suit. + +"Regard," said the costumier, "here is a suit that I have just +acquired. Monsieur will observe that it is of the most distinguished +cut--quite in the latest fashion. I will whisper to monsieur that it +comes to me through the valet of the Comte de St.-Nom-la-Breteche- +Foret-de-Marly." + +"Mon Dieu!" said Tricotrin, "let me try it on!" And he was so gratified +by his appearance in it that he barely winced at the thought of the +expense. "I am improving my position," he soliloquised; "if I have not +precisely inherited the mantle of Victor Hugo, I have, at any rate, +hired the dress-suit of the Comte de St.-Nom-la-Breteche-Foret-de- +Marly!" + +Never had a more impressive spectacle been witnessed in Montmartre than +Tricotrin's departure from his latest lodging shortly after six +o'clock. Wearing a shirt of Pitou's, Flamant's patent-leather boots, +and a white tie contributed by Goujaud, the young man sallied forth +with the deportment of the Count himself. Only one thing more did he +desire, a flower for his buttonhole--and Lisette remained in her +situation until the morrow! What more natural, finally, than that he +should hie him to the florist's? + +It was the first time that she had seen her lover in evening dress, and +sentiment overpowered her as he entered. + +"Thou!" she murmured, paling. + +On the poet, too, the influence of the clothes was very strong; attired +like a jeune premier, he craved with all the dramatic instinct of his +nature for a love scene; and, instead of fulfilling his intention to +beg for a rosebud at cost price, he gazed at her soulfully and breathed +"Lisette!" + +"So we have met again!" she said. + +"The world is small," returned the poet, ignoring the fact that he had +come to the shop. "And am I yet remembered?" + +"It is not likely I should forget you in a few days," she said, more +practically; "I didn't forget about the breakfast, either, but Alphonse +put his foot down." + +"Pig!" said the poet. "And yet it may be better so! How could I eat in +such an hour?" + +"However, you are not disconsolate this evening?" she suggested. "Mais +vrai! what a swell you are!" + +"Flute! some fashionable assembly that will bore me beyond endurance," +he sighed. "With you alone, Lisette, have I known true happiness--the +train rides on summer nights that were joyous because we loved; the +simple meals that were sweetened by your smile!" + +"Ah, Gustave!" she said. "Wait, I must give you a flower for your +coat!" + +"I shall keep it all my life!" vowed Tricotrin. "Tell me, little one--I +dare not stay now, because my host lives a long way off--but this +evening, could you not meet me once again? For the last time, to say +farewell? I have nearly two francs fifty, and we might go to supper, if +you agree." + +It was arranged before he took leave of her that she should meet him +outside the _debit_ at the corner of the rue de Sontay at eleven +o'clock, and sup with him there, in a locality where she was unlikely +to be recognised. Rash enough, this conduct, for a young woman who was +to be married to another man on the next day but one! But a greater +imprudence was to follow. They supped, they sentimentalised, and when +they parted in the Champs Elysees and the moonshine, she gave him from +her bosom a little rose-coloured envelope that contained nothing less +than a lock of her hair. + +The poet placed it tenderly in his waistcoat pocket; and, after he had +wept, and quoted poetry to the stars, forgot it. He began to wish that +he had not mixed his liquors quite so impartially; and, on the morrow, +when he woke, he was mindful of nothing more grievous than a splitting +headache. + +Now Touquet, who could not sleep of nights because the pastrycook was +going to marry Lisette, made a practice of examining the pockets of all +garments returned to him, with an eye to stray sous; and when he +proceeded to examine the pockets of the dress-suit returned by monsieur +Tricotrin, what befell but that he drew forth a rose-tinted envelope +containing a tress of hair, and inscribed, "To Gustave, from Lisette. +Adieu." + +And the Editor who invited monsieur Tricotrin had never heard of +Lisette; never heard of Pomponnet; did not know that such a person as +Touquet existed; yet the editorial caprice had manipulated destinies. +How powerful are Editors! How complicated is life! + +But a truce to philosophy--let us deal with the emotions of the soul! +The shop reeled before Touquet. All the good and the bad in his +character battled tumultuously. In one moment he aspired to be generous +and restore to Lisette the evidence of her guilt; in the next he sank +to the base thought of displaying it to Pomponnet and breaking off the +match. The discovery fired his brain. No longer was he a nonentity, the +odd man out--chance had transformed him to the master of the situation. +Full well he knew that there would be no nuptials next day were +Pomponnet aware of his fiancee's perfidy; it needed but to go to him +and say, "Monsieur, my sense of duty compels me to inform you--." How +easy it would be! He laughed hysterically. + +But Lisette would never pardon such a meanness--she would always +despise and hate him! He would have torn her from his rival's arms, it +was true, yet his own would still be empty. "Ah, Lisette, Lisette!" +groaned the wretched man; and, swept to evil by the force of passion, +he cudgelled his mind to devise some piece of trickery, some diabolical +artifice, by which the incriminating token might be placed in the +pastrycook's hands as if by accident. + +And while he pondered--his "whole soul a chaos"--in that hour Pomponnet +entered to hire a dress-suit for his wedding! + +Touquet raised his head, blanched to the lips. + +"Regard," he said, with a forced calm terrible to behold; "here is a +suit that I have just acquired. Monsieur will observe that it is of the +most distinguished cut--quite in the latest fashion. I will whisper to +monsieur that it comes to me through the valet of the Comte de St. Nom- +la-Breteche-Foret-de-Marly." And, unseen by the guileless bridegroom, +he slipped the damning proof into a pocket of the trousers, where his +knowledge of the pastrycook's attitudes assured him that it was even +more certain to be found than in the waistcoat. + +"Mon Dieu!" said the other, duly impressed by the suit's pedigree; "let +me try it on.... The coat is rather tight," he complained, "but it has +undeniably an air." + +"No more than one client has worn it," gasped the wardrobe dealer +haggardly: _"monsieur Gustave Tricotrin, the poet, who hired it last +night!_ The suit is practically new; I have no other in the +establishment to compare with it. Listen, monsieur Pomponnet! To an old +client like yourself, I will be liberal; wear it this evening for an +hour in your home--if you find it not to your figure, there will be +time to make another selection before the ceremony to-morrow. You shall +have this on trial, I will make no extra charge." + +Such munificence was bound to have its effect, and five minutes later +Touquet's plot had progressed. But the tension had been frightful; the +door had scarcely closed when he sank into a chair, trembling in every +limb, and for the rest of the day he attended to his business like one +moving in a trance. + +Meanwhile, the unsuspecting Pomponnet reviewed the arrangement with +considerable satisfaction; and when he came to attire himself, after +the cake-shop was shut, his reflected image pleased him so well that he +was tempted to stroll abroad. He decided to call on his betrothed, and +to exhibit himself a little on the boulevard. Accordingly, he put some +money in the pocket of the waistcoat, oiled his silk hat, to give it an +additional lustre, and sallied forth in high good-humour. + +"How splendid you look, my dear Alphonse!" exclaimed Lisette, little +dreaming it was the same suit that she had approved on Tricotrin the +previous evening. + +Her innocent admiration was agreeable to Pomponnet; he patted her on +the cheek. + +"In truth," he said carelessly, "I had forgotten that I had it on! But I +was so impatient for to-morrow, my pet angel, that I could not remain +alone and I had to come to see you." + +They were talking on her doorstep, for she had no apartment in which it +would have been _convenable_ to entertain him, and it appeared to +him that the terrace of a cafe would be more congenial. + +"Run upstairs and make your toilette, my loving duck," he suggested, +"and I shall take you out for a tasse. While you are getting ready, I +will smoke a cigar." And he drew his cigar-case from the breast-pocket +of the coat, and took a match-box from the pocket where he had put his +cash. + +It was a balmy evening, sweet with the odour of spring, and the streets +were full of life. As he promenaded with her on the boulevard, +Pomponnet did not fail to remark the attention commanded by his +costume. He strutted proudly, and when they reached the cafe and took +their seats, he gave his order with the authority of the President. + +"Ah!" he remarked, "it is good here, hein?" And then, stretching his +legs, he thrust both his hands into the pockets of his trousers. +"_Comment?_" he murmured. "What have I found?... Now is not this +amusing--I swear it is a billet-doux!" He bent, chuckling, to the +light--and bounded in his chair with an oath that turned a dozen heads +towards them. "Traitress," roared Pomponnet, "miserable traitress! It +is _your_ name! It is your _writing_! It is your _hair_! +Do not deny it; give me your head--it matches to a shade! Jezebel, last +night you met monsieur Tricotrin--you have deceived me!" + +Lisette, who had jumped as high as he in recognising the envelope, sat +like one paralysed now. Her tongue refused to move. For an instant, the +catastrophe seemed to her of supernatural agency--it was as if a +miracle had happened, as she saw her fiance produce her lover's +keepsake. All she could stammer at last was: + +"Let us go away--pay for the coffee!" + +"I will not pay," shouted monsieur Pomponnet. "Pay for it yourself, +jade--I have done with you!" And, leaving her spellbound at the table, +he strode from the terrace like a madman before the waiters could stop +him. + +Oh, of course, he was well known at the cafe, and they did not detain +Lisette, but it was a most ignominious position for a young woman. And +there was no wedding next day, and everybody knew why. The little +coquette, who had mocked suitors by the dozen, was jilted almost on the +threshold of the Mairie. She smacked Tricotrin's face in the morning, +but her humiliation was so acute that it demanded the salve of +immediate marriage; and at the moment she could think of no one better +than Touquet. + +So Touquet won her after all. And though by this time she may guess how +he accomplished it, he will tell you--word of honour!--that never, +never has he had occasion for regret. + + + +THE SUICIDES IN THE RUE SOMBRE + +Having bought the rope, Tournicquot wondered where he should hang +himself. The lath-and-plaster ceiling of his room might decline to +support him, and while the streets were populous a lamp-post was out of +the question. As he hesitated on the kerb, he reflected that a pan of +charcoal would have been more convenient after all; but the coil of +rope in the doorway of a shop had lured his fancy, and now it would be +laughable to throw it away. + +Tournicquot was much averse from being laughed at in private life-- +perhaps because Fate had willed that he should be laughed at so much in +his public capacity. Could he have had his way, indeed, Tournicquot +would have been a great tragedian, instead of a little droll, whose +portraits, with a bright red nose and a scarlet wig, grimaced on the +hoardings; and he resolved that, at any rate, the element of humour +should not mar his suicide. + +As to the motive for his death, it was as romantic as his heart +desired. He adored "La Belle Lucerce," the fascinating Snake Charmer, +and somewhere in the background the artiste had a husband. Little the +audience suspected the passion that devoured their grotesque comedian +while he cut his capers and turned love to ridicule; little they +divined the pathos of a situation which condemned him behind the scenes +to whisper the most sentimental assurances of devotion when disfigured +by a flaming wig and a nose that was daubed vermilion! How nearly it +has been said, One half of the world does not know how the other half +loves! + +But such incongruities would distress Tournicquot no more--to-day he +was to die; he had worn his chessboard trousers and his little green +coat for the last time! For the last time had the relentless virtue of +Lucrece driven him to despair! When he was discovered inanimate, +hanging to a beam, nothing comic about him, perhaps the world would +admit that his soul had been solemn, though his "line of business" had +been funny; perhaps Lucrece would even drop warm tears on his tomb! + +It was early in the evening. Dusk was gathering over Paris, the promise +of dinner was in the breeze. The white glare of electric globes began +to flood the streets; and before the cafes, waiters bustled among the +tables, bearing the vermouth and absinthe of the hour. Instinctively +shunning the more frequented thoroughfares, Tournicquot crossed the +boulevard des Batignolles, and wandered, lost in reverie, along the +melancholy continuation of the rue de Rome until he perceived that he +had reached a neighbourhood unknown to him--that he stood at the corner +of a street which bore the name "Rue Sombre." Opposite, one of the +houses was being rebuilt, and as he gazed at it--this skeleton of a +home in which the workmen's hammers were silenced for the night-- +Tournicquot recognised that his journey was at an end. Here, he could +not doubt that he would find the last, grim hospitality that he sought. +The house had no door to bar his entrance, but--as if in omen--above +the gap where a door had been, the sinister number "13" was still to be +discerned. He cast a glance over his shoulder, and, grasping the rope +with a firm hand, crept inside. + +It was dark within, so dark that at first he could discern nothing but +the gleam of bare walls. He stole along the passage, and, mounting a +flight of steps, on which his feet sprung mournful echoes, proceeded +stealthily towards an apartment on the first floor. At this point the +darkness became impenetrable, for the _volets_ had been closed, +and in order to make his arrangements, it was necessary that he should +have a light. He paused, fumbling in his pocket; and then, with his +next step, blundered against a body, which swung from the contact, like +a human being suspended in mid-air. + +Tournicquot leapt backwards in terror. A cold sweat bespangled him, and +for some seconds he shook so violently that he was unable to strike a +match. At last, when he accomplished it, he beheld a man, apparently +dead, hanging by a rope in the doorway. + +"Ah, mon Dieu!" gasped Tournicquot. And the thudding of his heart +seemed to resound through the deserted house. + +Humanity impelled him to rescue the poor wretch, if it was still to be +done. Shuddering, he whipped out his knife, and sawed at the cord +desperately. The cord was stout, and the blade of the knife but small; +an eternity seemed to pass while he sawed in the darkness. Presently +one of the strands gave way. He set his teeth and pressed harder, and +harder yet. Suddenly the rope yielded and the body fell to the ground. +Tournicquot threw himself beside it, tearing open the collar, and using +frantic efforts to restore animation. There was no result. He +persevered, but the body lay perfectly inert. He began to reflect that +it was his duty to inform the police of the discovery, and he asked +himself how he should account for his presence on the scene. Just as he +was considering this, he felt the stir of life. As if by a miracle the +man groaned. + +"Courage, my poor fellow!" panted Tournicquot. "Courage--all is well!" + +The man groaned again; and after an appalling silence, during which +Tournicquot began to tremble for his fate anew, asked feebly, "Where am +I?" + +"You would have hanged yourself," explained Tournicquot. "Thanks to +Heaven, I arrived in time to save your life!" + +In the darkness they could not see each other, but he felt for the +man's hand and pressed it warmly. To his consternation, he received, +for response, a thump in the chest. + +"Morbleu, what an infernal cheek!" croaked the man. "So you have cut me +down? You meddlesome idiot, by what right did you poke your nose into +my affairs, hein?" + +Dismay held Tournicquot dumb. + +"Hein?" wheezed the man; "what concern was it of yours, if you please? +Never in my life before have I met with such a piece of presumption!" + +"My poor friend," stammered Tournicquot, "you do not know what you say +--you are not yourself! By-and-by you will be grateful, you will fall on +your knees and bless me." + +"By-and-by I shall punch you in the eye," returned the man, "just as +soon as I am feeling better! What have you done to my collar, too? I +declare you have played the devil with me!" His annoyance rose. "Who +are you, and what are you doing here, anyhow? You are a trespasser--I +shall give you in charge." + +"Come, come," said Tournicquot, conciliatingly, "if your misfortunes +are more than you can bear, I regret that I was obliged to save you; +but, after all, there is no need to make such a grievance of it--you +can hang yourself another day." + +"And why should I be put to the trouble twice?" grumbled the other. "Do +you figure yourself that it is agreeable to hang? I passed a very bad +time, I can assure you. If you had experienced it, you would not talk +so lightly about 'another day.' The more I think of your impudent +interference, the more it vexes me. And how dark it is! Get up and +light the candle--it gives me the hump here." + +"I have no candle, I have no candle," babbled Tournicquot; "I do not +carry candles in my pocket." + +"There is a bit on the mantelpiece," replied the man angrily; "I saw it +when I came in. Go and feel for it--hunt about! Do not keep me lying +here in the dark--the least you can do is to make me as comfortable as +you can." + +Tournicquot, not a little perturbed by the threat of assault, groped +obediently; but the room appeared to be of the dimensions of a park, +and he arrived at the candle stump only after a prolonged excursion. +The flame revealed to him a man of about his own age, who leant against +the wall regarding him with indignant eyes. Revealed also was the coil +of rope that the comedian had brought for his own use; and the man +pointed to it. + +"What is that? It was not here just now." + +"It belongs to me," admitted Tournicquot, nervously. + +"I see that it belongs to you. Why do you visit an empty house with a +coil of rope, hein? I should like to understand that ... Upon my life, +you were here on the same business as myself! Now if this does not pass +all forbearance! You come to commit suicide, and yet you have the +effrontery to put a stop to mine!" + +"Well," exclaimed Tournicquot, "I obeyed an impulse of pity! It is true +that I came to destroy myself, for I am the most miserable of men; but +I was so much affected by the sight of your sufferings that temporarily +I forgot my own." + +"That is a lie, for I was not suffering--I was not conscious when you +came in. However, you have some pretty moments in front of you, so we +will say no more! When you feel yourself drop, it will be diabolical, I +promise you; the hair stands erect on the head, and each spot of blood +in the veins congeals to a separate icicle! It is true that the drop +itself is swift, but the clutch of the rope, as you kick in the air, is +hardly less atrocious. Do not be encouraged by the delusion that the +matter is instantaneous. Time mocks you, and a second holds the +sensations of a quarter of an hour. What has forced you to it? We need +not stand on ceremony with each other, hein?" + +"I have resolved to die because life is torture," said Tournicquot, on +whom these details had made an unfavourable impression. + +"The same with me! A woman, of course?" + +"Yes," sighed Tournicquot, "a woman!" + +"Is there no other remedy? Cannot you desert her?" + +"Desert her? I pine for her embrace!" + +"Hein?" + +"She will not have anything to do with me." + +"_Comment?_ Then it is love with you?" + +"What else? An eternal passion!" + +"Oh, mon Dieu, I took it for granted you were married! But this is +droll. _You_ would die because you cannot get hold of a woman, and +_I_ because I cannot get rid of one. We should talk, we two. Can +you give me a cigarette?" + +"With pleasure, monsieur," responded Tournicquot, producing a packet. +"I, also, will take one--my last!" + +"If I expressed myself hastily just now," said his companion, +refastening his collar, "I shall apologise--no doubt your interference +was well meant, though I do not pretend to approve it. Let us dismiss +the incident; you have behaved tactlessly, and I, on my side, have +perhaps resented your error with too much warmth. Well, it is finished! +While the candle burns, let us exchange more amicable views. Is my +cravat straight? It astonishes me to hear that love can drive a man to +such despair. I, too, have loved, but never to the length of the rope. +There are plenty of women in Paris--if one has no heart, there is +always another. I am far from proposing to frustrate your project, +holding as I do that a man's suicide is an intimate matter in which +'rescue' is a name given by busybodies to a gross impertinence; but as +you have not begun the job, I will confess that I think you are being +rash." + +"I have considered," replied Tournicquot, "I have considered +attentively. There is no alternative, I assure you." + +"I would make another attempt to persuade the lady--I swear I would +make another attempt! You are not a bad-looking fellow. What is her +objection to you?" + +"It is not that she objects to me--on the contrary. But she is a woman +of high principle, and she has a husband who is devoted to her--she +will not break his heart. It is like that." + +"Young?" + +"No more than thirty." + +"And beautiful?" + +"With a beauty like an angel's! She has a dimple in her right cheek +when she smiles that drives one to distraction." + +"Myself, I have no weakness for dimples; but every man to his taste-- +there is no arguing about these things. What a combination--young, +lovely, virtuous! And I make you a bet the oaf of a husband does not +appreciate her! Is it not always so? Now _I_--but of course I +married foolishly, I married an artiste. If I had my time again I would +choose in preference any sempstress. The artistes are for applause, +for bouquets, for little dinners, but not for marriage." + +"I cannot agree with you," said Tournicquot, with some hauteur, "Your +experience may have been unfortunate, but the theatre contains women +quite as noble as any other sphere. In proof of it, the lady I adore is +an artiste herself!" + +"Really--is it so? Would it be indiscreet to ask her name?" + +"There are things that one does not tell." + +"But as a matter of interest? There is nothing derogatory to her in +what you say--quite the reverse." + +"True! Well, the reason for reticence is removed. She is known as 'La +Belle Lucrece.'" + +"_Hein?"_ ejaculated the other, jumping. + +"What ails you?" + +"She is my wife!" + +"Your wife? Impossible!" + +"I tell you I am married to her--she is 'madame Beguinet.'" + +"Mon Dieu!" faltered Tournicquot, aghast; "what have I done!" + +"So?... You are her lover?" + +"Never has she encouraged me--recall what I said! There are no grounds +for jealousy--am I not about to die because she spurns me? I swear to +you--" + +"You mistake my emotion--why should I be jealous? Not at all--I am only +amazed. She thinks I am devoted to her? Ho, ho! Not at all! You see my +'devotion' by the fact that I am about to hang myself rather than live +with her. And _you_, you cannot bear to live because you adore +her! Actually, you adore her! Is it not inexplicable? Oh, there is +certainly the finger of Providence in this meeting!... Wait, we must +discuss--we should come to each other's aid!... Give me another +cigarette." + +Some seconds passed while they smoked in silent meditation. + +"Listen," resumed monsieur Beguinet; "in order to clear up this +complication, a perfect candour is required on both sides. Alors, as to +your views, is it that you aspire to marry madame? I do not wish to +appear exigent, but in the position that I occupy you will realise that +it is my duty to make the most favourable arrangements for her that I +can. Now open your heart to me; speak frankly!" + +"It is difficult for me to express myself without restraint to you, +monsieur," said Tournicquot, "because circumstances cause me to regard +you as a grievance. To answer you with all the delicacy possible, I +will say that if I had cut you down five minutes later, life would be a +fairer thing to me." + +"Good," said monsieur Beguinet, "we make progress! Your income? Does it +suffice to support her in the style to which she is accustomed? What +may your occupation be?" + +"I am in madame's own profession--I, too, am an artiste." + +"So much the more congenial! I foresee a joyous union. Come, we go +famously! Your line of business--snakes, ventriloquism, performing- +rabbits, what is it?" + +"My name is 'Tournicquot,'" responded the comedian, with dignity. "All +is said!" + +"A-ah! Is it so? Now I understand why your voice has been puzzling me! +Monsieur Tournicquot, I am enchanted to make your acquaintance. I +declare the matter arranges itself! I shall tell you what we will do. +Hitherto I have had no choice between residing with madame and +committing suicide, because my affairs have not prospered, and--though +my pride has revolted--her salary has been essential for my +maintenance. Now the happy medium jumps to the eyes; for you, for me, +for her the bright sunshine streams! I shall efface myself; I shall go +to a distant spot--say, Monte Carlo--and you shall make me a snug +allowance. Have no misgiving; crown her with blossoms, lead her to the +altar, and rest tranquil--I shall never reappear. Do not figure +yourself that I shall enter like the villain at the Amibigu and menace +the blissful home. Not at all! I myself may even re-marry, who knows? +Indeed, should you offer me an allowance adequate for a family man, I +will undertake to re-marry--I have always inclined towards speculation. +That will shut my mouth, hein? I could threaten nothing, even if I had +a base nature, for I, also, shall have committed bigamy. Suicide, +bigamy, I would commit _anything_ rather than live with Lucrece!" + +"But madame's consent must be gained," demurred Tournicquot; "you +overlook the fact that madame must consent. It is a fact that I do not +understand why she should have any consideration for you, but if she +continues to harp upon her 'duty,' what then?" + +"Do you not tell me that her only objection to your suit has been her +fear that she would break my heart? What an hallucination! I shall +approach the subject with tact, with the utmost delicacy. I shall +intimate to her that to ensure her happiness I am willing to sacrifice +myself. Should she hesitate, I shall demand to sacrifice myself! Rest +assured that if she regards you with the favour that you believe, your +troubles are at an end--the barrier removes itself, and you join +hands.... The candle is going out! Shall we depart?" + +"I perceive no reason why we should remain; In truth, we might have got +out of it sooner." + +"You are right! a cafe will be more cheerful. Suppose we take a bottle +of wine together; how does it strike you? If you insist, I will be your +guest; if not--" + +"Ah, monsieur, you will allow me the pleasure," murmured Tournicquot. + +"Well, well," said Beguinet, "you must have your way!... Your rope you +have no use for, hein--we shall leave it?" + +"But certainly! Why should I burden myself?" + +"The occasion has passed, true. Good! Come, my comrade, let us +descend!" + +Who shall read the future? Awhile ago they had been strangers, neither +intending to quit the house alive; now the pair issued from it +jauntily, arm in arm. Both were in high spirits, and by the time the +lamps of a cafe gave them welcome, and the wine gurgled gaily into the +glasses, they pledged each other with a sentiment no less than +fraternal. + +"How I rejoice that I have met you!" exclaimed Beguinet. "To your +marriage, mon vieux; to your joy! Fill up, again a glass!--there are +plenty of bottles in the cellar. Mon Dieu, you are my preserver--I must +embrace you. Never till now have I felt such affection for a man. This +evening all was black to me; I despaired, my heart was as heavy as a +cannon-ball--and suddenly the world is bright. Roses bloom before my +feet, and the little larks are singing in the sky. I dance, I skip. How +beautiful, how sublime is friendship!--better than riches, than youth, +than the love of woman: riches melt, youth flies, woman snores. But +friendship is--Again a glass! It goes well, this wine. + +"Let us have a lobster! I swear I have an appetite; they make one +peckish, these suicides, n'est-ce pas? I shall not be formal--if you +consider it your treat, you shall pay. A lobster and another bottle! At +your expense, or mine?" + +"Ah, the bill all in one!" declared Tourniequot. + +"Well, well," said Beguinet, "you must have your way! What a happy man +I am! Already I feel twenty years younger. You would not believe what I +have suffered. My agonies would fill a book. Really. By nature I am +domesticated; but my home is impossible--I shudder when I enter it. It +is only in a restaurant that I see a clean table-cloth. Absolutely. I +pig. All Lucrece thinks about is frivolity." + +"No, no," protested Tournicquot; "to that I cannot agree." + +"What do you know? You 'cannot agree'! You have seen her when she is +laced in her stage costume, when she prinks and prattles, with the +paint, and the powder, and her best corset on. It is I who am 'behind +the scenes,' mon ami, not you. I see her dirty peignoir and her curl +rags. At four o'clock in the afternoon. Every day. You 'cannot agree'!" + +"Curl rags?" faltered Tournicquot. + +"But certainly! I tell you I am of a gentle disposition, I am most +tolerant of women's failings; it says much that I would have hanged +myself rather than remain with a woman. Her untidiness is not all; her +toilette at home revolts my sensibilities, but--well, one cannot have +everything, and her salary is substantial; I have closed my eyes to the +curl rags. However, snakes are more serious." + +"Snakes?" ejaculated Tournicquot. + +"Naturally! The beasts must live, do they not support us? But +'Everything in its place' is my own motto; the motto of my wife--'All +over the place.' Her serpents have shortened my life, word of honour!-- +they wander where they will. I never lay my head beside those curl rags +of hers without anticipating a cobra-decapello under the bolster. It is +not everybody's money. Lucrece has no objection to them; well, it is +very courageous--very fortunate, since snakes are her profession--but +_I_, I was not brought up to snakes; I am not at my ease in a +Zoological Gardens." + +"It is natural." + +"Is it not? I desire to explain myself to you, you understand; are we +not as brothers? Oh, I realise well that when one loves a woman one +always thinks that the faults are the husband's: believe me I have had +much to justify my attitude. Snakes, dirt, furies, what a menage!" + +"Furies?" gasped Tournicquot. + +"I am an honest man," affirmed Beguinet draining another bumper; "I +shall not say to you 'I have no blemish, I am perfect,' Not at all. +Without doubt, I have occasionally expressed myself to Lucrece with +more candour than courtesy. Such things happen. But"--he refilled his +glass, and sighed pathetically--"but to every citizen, whatever his +position--whether his affairs may have prospered or not--his wife owes +respect. Hein? She should not throw the ragout at him. She should not +menace him with snakes." He wept. "My friend, you will admit that it is +not _gentil_ to coerce a husband with deadly reptiles?" + +Tournicquot had turned very pale. He signed to the waiter for the bill, +and when it was discharged, sat regarding his companion with round +eyes, At last, clearing his throat, he said nervously: + +"After all, do you know--now one comes to think it over--I am not sure, +upon my honour, that our arrangement is feasible?" + +"What?" exclaimed Beguinet, with a violent start. "Not feasible? How is +that, pray? Because I have opened my heart to you, do you back out? Oh, +what treachery! Never will I believe you could be capable of it!" + +"However, it is a fact. On consideration, I shall not rob you of her." + +"Base fellow! You take advantage of my confidence. A contract is a +contract!" + +"No," stammered Tournicquot, "I shall be a man and live my love down. +Monsieur, I have the honour to wish you 'Good-night.'" + +"He, stop!" cried Beguinet, infuriated. "What then is to become of +_me_? Insolent poltroon--you have even destroyed my rope!" + + + +THE CONSPIRACY FOR CLAUDINE + +"Once," remarked Tricotrin, pitching his pen in the air, "there were +four suitors for the Most Beautiful of her Sex. The first young man was +a musician, and he shut himself in his garret to compose a divine +melody, to be dedicated to her. The second lover was a chemist, who +experimented day and night to discover a unique perfume that she alone +might use. The third, who was a floriculturist, aspired constantly +among his bulbs to create a silver rose, that should immortalise the +lady's name." + +"And the fourth," inquired Pitou, "what did the fourth suitor do?" + +"The fourth suitor waited for her every afternoon in the sunshine, +while the others were at work, and married her with great eclat. The +moral of which is that, instead of cracking my head to make a sonnet to +Claudine, I shall be wise to put on my hat and go to meet her." + +"I rejoice that the denoument is arrived at," Pitou returned, "but it +would be even more absorbing if I had previously heard of Claudine." + +"Miserable dullard!" cried the poet; "do you tell me that you have not +previously heard of Claudine? She is the only woman I have ever loved." + +"A--ah," rejoined Pitou; "certainly, I have heard of her a thousand +times--only she has never been called 'Claudine' before." + +"Let us keep to the point," said Tricotrin. "Claudine represents the +devotion of a lifetime. I think seriously of writing a tragedy for her +to appear in." + +"I shall undertake to weep copiously at it if you present me with a +pass," affirmed Pitou. "She is an actress, then, this Claudine? At what +theatre is she blazing--the Montmartre?" + +"How often I find occasion to lament that your imagination is no larger +than the quartier! Claudine is not of Montmartre at all, at all. My +poor friend, have you never heard that there are theatres on the Grand +Boulevard?" + +"Ah, so you betake yourself to haunts of fashion? Now I begin to +understand why you have become so prodigal with the blacking; for some +time I have had the intention of reproaching you with your shoes--our +finances are not equal to such lustre." + +"Ah, when one truly loves, money is no object!" said Tricotrin. +"However, if it is time misspent to write a sonnet to her, it is even +more unprofitable to pass the evening justifying one's shoes." And, +picking up his hat, the poet ran down the stairs, and made his way as +fast as his legs would carry him to the Comedie Moderne. + +He arrived at the stage-door with no more than three minutes to spare, +and disposing himself in a graceful attitude, waited for mademoiselle +Claudine Hilairet to come out. It might have been observed that his +confidence deserted him while he waited, for although it was perfectly +true that he adored her, he had omitted to add that the passion was not +mutual. He was conscious that the lady might resent his presence on the +door-step; and, in fact, when she appeared, she said nothing more +tender than-- + +"Mon Dieu, again you! What do you want?" + +"How can you ask?" sighed the poet. "I came to walk home with you lest +an electric train should knock you down at one of the crossings. What a +magnificent performance you have given this evening! Superb!" + +"Were you in the theatre?" + +"In spirit. My spirit, which no official can exclude, is present every +night, though sordid considerations force me to remain corporally in my +attic. Transported by admiration, I even burst into frantic applause +there. How perfect is the sympathy between our souls!" + +"Listen, my little one," she said. "I am sorry for your relatives, if +you have any--your condition must be a great grief to them. But, all +the same, I cannot have you dangling after me and talking this bosh. +What do you suppose can come of it?" + +"Fame shall come of it," averred the poet, "fame for us both! Do not +figure yourself that I am a dreamer. Not at all! I am practical, a man +of affairs. Are you content with your position in the Comedie Moderne? +No, you are not. You occupy a subordinate position; you play the role +of a waiting-maid, which is quite unworthy of your genius, and +understudy the ingenue, who is a portly matron in robust health. The +opportunity to distinguish yourself appears to you as remote as Mars. +Do I romance, or is it true?" + +"It is true," she said. "Well?" + +"Well, I propose to alter all this--I! I have the intention of writing +a great tragedy, and when it is accepted, I shall stipulate that you, +and you alone, shall thrill Paris as my heroine. When the work of my +brain has raised you to the pinnacle for which you were born, when the +theatre echoes with our names, I shall fall at your feet, and you will +murmur, 'Gustave--I love thee!'" + +"Why does not your mother do something?" she asked. "Is there nobody to +place you where you might be cured? A tragedy? Imbecile, I am +comedienne to the finger-tips! What should I do with your tragedy, even +if it were at the Francais itself?" + +"You are right," said Tricotrin; "I shall turn out a brilliant comedy +instead. And when the work of my brain has raised you to the pinnacle +for which you were born, when the theatre echoes with our names--" + +She interrupted him by a peal of laughter which disconcerted him hardly +less than her annoyance. + +"It is impossible to be angry with you long," she declared, "you are +too comic. Also, as a friend, I do not object to you violently. Come, I +advise you to be content with what you can have, instead of crying for +the moon!" + +"Well, I am not unwilling to make shift with it in the meantime," +returned Tricotrin; "but friendship is a poor substitute for the +heavens--and we shall see what we shall see. Tell me now, they mean to +revive _La Curieuse_ at the Comedie, I hear--what part in it have +you been assigned?" "Ah," exclaimed mademoiselle Hilairet, "is it not +always the same thing? I dust the same decayed furniture with the same +feather brush, and I say 'Yes,' and 'No,' and 'Here is a letter, +madame.' That is all." + +"I swear it is infamous!" cried the poet. "It amazes me that they fail +to perceive that your gifts are buried. One would suppose that managers +would know better than to condemn a great artiste to perform such +ignominious roles. The critics also! Why do not the critics call +attention to an outrage which continues year by year? It appears to me +that I shall have to use my influence with the Press." And so serious +was the tone in which he made this boast, that the fair Claudine began +to wonder if she had after all underrated the position of her out-at- +elbows gallant. + +"Your influence?" she questioned, with an eager smile. "Have you +influence with the critics, then?" + +"We shall see what we shall see," repeated Tricotrin, significantly. "I +am not unknown in Paris, and I have your cause at heart--I may make a +star of you yet. But while we are on the subject of astronomy, one +question! When my services have transformed you to a star, shall I +still be compelled to cry for the moon?" + +Mademoiselle Hilairet's tones quivered with emotion--as she murmured +how grateful to him she would be, and it was understood, when he took +leave of her, that if he indeed accomplished his design, his suit would +be no longer hopeless. + +The poet pressed her hand ardently, and turned homeward in high +feather; and it was not until he had trudged a mile or so that the +rapture in his soul began to subside under the remembrance that he had +been talking through his hat. + +"In fact," he admitted to Pitou when the garret was reached, "my +imagination took wings unto itself; I am committed to a task beside +which the labours of Hercules were child's play. The question now +arises how this thing, of which I spoke so confidently, is to be +effected. What do you suggest?" + +"I suggest that you allow me to sleep," replied Pitou, "for I shall +feel less hungry then." + +"Your suggestion will not advance us," demurred Tricotrin. "We shall, +on the contrary, examine the situation in all its bearings. Listen! +Claudine is to enact the waiting-maid in _La Curieuse,_ which will +be revived at the Comedie Moderne in a fortnight's time; she will dust +the Empire furniture, and say 'Yes' and 'No' with all the intellect and +animation for which those monosyllables provide an opening. Have you +grasped the synopsis so far? Good! On the strength of this performance, +it has to be stated by the foremost dramatic critic in Paris that she +is an actress of genius. Now, how is it to be done? How shall we induce +Labaregue to write of her with an outburst of enthusiasm in _La +Voix_?" + +"Labaregue?" faltered Pitou. "I declare the audacity of your notion +wakes me up!" + +"Capital," said Tricotrin, "we are making progress already! Yes, we +must have Labaregue--it has never been my custom to do things by +halves. Dramatically, of course, I should hold a compromising paper of +Labaregue's. I should say, 'Monsieur, the price of this document is an +act of justice to mademoiselle Claudine Hilairet. It is agreed? Good! +Sit down--you will write from my dictation!'" + +"However--" said Pitou. + +"However--I anticipate your objection--I do not hold such a paper. +Therefore, that scene is cut. Well, let us find another! Where is your +fertility of resource? Mon Dieu! why should I speak to him at all?" + +"I do not figure myself that you will speak to him, you will never get +the chance." + +"Precisely my own suspicion. What follows? Instead of wasting my time +seeking an interview which would not be granted--" + +"And which would lead to nothing even if it were granted!" + +"And which would lead to nothing even if it were granted, as you point +out; instead of doing this, it is evident that I must write Labaregue's +criticism myself!" + +"Hein?" ejaculated Pitou, sitting up in bed. + +"I confess that I do not perceive yet how it is to be managed, but +obviously it is the only course. _I_ must write what is to be +said, and _La Voix_ must believe that it has been written by +Labaregue. Come, we are getting on famously--we have now decided what +we are to avoid!" + +"By D'Artagnan, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis," cried Pitou, "this will be +the doughtiest adventure in which we have engaged!" + +"You are right, it is an adventure worthy of our steel ... pens! We +shall enlighten the public, crown an artiste, and win her heart by way +of reward--that is to say, _I_ shall win her heart by way of +reward. What your own share of the booty will be I do not recognize, +but I promise you, at least, a generous half of the dangers." + +"My comrade," murmured Pitou; "ever loyal! But do you not think that +_La Voix_ will smell a rat? What about the handwriting?" + +"It is a weak point which had already presented itself to me. Could I +have constructed the situation to my liking, Labaregue would have the +custom to type-write his notices; however, as he is so inconsiderate as +to knock them off in the Cafe de l'Europe, he has not that custom, and +we must adapt ourselves to the circumstances that exist. The +probability is that a criticism delivered by the accredited messenger, +and signed with the familiar 'J.L.' will be passed without question; +the difference in the handwriting may be attributed to an amanuensis. +When the great man writes his next notice, I shall make it my business +to be taking a bock in the Cafe de l'Europe, in order that I may +observe closely what happens. There is to be a repetition generale at +the Vaudeville on Monday night--on Monday night, therefore, I hope to +advise you of our plan of campaign. Now do not speak to me any more--I +am about to compose a eulogy on Claudine, for which Labaregue will, in +due course, receive the credit." + +The poet fell asleep at last, murmuring dithyrambic phrases; and if you +suppose that in the soberness of daylight he renounced his harebrained +project, it is certain that you have never lived with Tricotrin in +Montmartre. + +No, indeed, he did not renounce it. On Monday night--or rather in the +small hours of Tuesday morning--he awoke Pitou with enthusiasm. + +"Mon vieux," he exclaimed, "the evening has been well spent! I have +observed, and I have reflected. When he quitted the Vaudeville, +Labaregue entered the Cafe de l'Europe, seated himself at his favourite +table, and wrote without cessation for half an hour. When his critique +was finished, he placed it in an envelope, and commanded his supper. +All this time I, sipping a bock leisurely, accorded to his actions a +scrutiny worthy of the secret police. Presently a lad from the office +of _La Voix_ appeared; he approached Labaregue, received the +envelope, and departed. At this point, my bock was finished; I paid for +it and sauntered out, keeping the boy well in view. His route to the +office lay through a dozen streets which were all deserted at so late +an hour; but I remarked one that was even more forbidding than the +rest--a mere alley that seemed positively to have been designed for our +purpose. Our course is clear--we shall attack him in the rue des +Cendres." + +"Really?" inquired Pitou, somewhat startled. + +"But really! We will not shed his blood; we will make him turn out his +pockets, and then, disgusted by the smallness of the swag, toss it back +to him with a flip on the ear. Needless to say that when he escapes, he +will be the bearer of _my_ criticism, not of Labaregue's. He will +have been too frightened to remark the exchange." + +"It is not bad, your plan." + +"It is an inspiration. But to render it absolutely safe, we must have +an accomplice." + +"Why, is he so powerful, your boy?" + +"No, mon ami, the boy is not so powerful, but the alley has two ends--I +do not desire to be arrested while I am giving a lifelike +representation of an apache. I think we will admit Lajeunie to our +scheme--as a novelist he should appreciate the situation. If Lajeunie +keeps guard at one end of the alley, while you stand at the other, I +can do the business without risk of being interrupted and removed to +gaol." + +"It is true. As a danger signal, I shall whistle the first bars of my +Fugue." + +"Good! And we will arrange a signal with Lajeunie also. Mon Dieu! will +not Claudine be amazed next day? I shall not breathe a word to her in +the meantime; I shall let her open _La Voix_ without expectation; +and then--ah, what joy will be hers! 'The success of the evening was +made by the actress who took the role of the maidservant, and who had +perhaps six words to utter. But with what vivacity, with what esprit +were they delivered! Every gesture, every sparkle of the eyes, +betokened the comedienne. For myself, I ceased to regard the fatuous +ingenue, I forgot the presence of the famous leading lady; I watched +absorbed the facial play of this maidservant, whose brains and beauty, +I predict, will speedily bring Paris to her feet'!" + +"Is that what you mean to write?" + +"I shall improve upon it. I am constantly improving--that is why the +notice is still unfinished. It hampers me that I must compose in the +strain of Labaregue himself, instead of allowing my eloquence to soar. +By the way, we had better speak to Lajeunie on the subject soon, lest +he should pretend that he has another engagement for that night; he is +a good boy, Lajeunie, but he always pretends that he has engagements in +fashionable circles." + +The pair went to him the following day, and when they had climbed to +his garret, found the young literary man in bed. + +"It shocks me," said Pitou, "to perceive that you rise so late, +Lajeunie; why are you not dashing off chapters of a romance?" + +"Mon Dieu!" replied Lajeunie, "I was making studies among the beau +monde until a late hour last night at a reception; and, to complete my +fatigue, it was impossible to get a cab when I left." + +"Naturally; it happens to everybody when he lacks a cab-fare," said +Tricotrin. "Now tell me, have you any invitation from a duchess for +next Thursday evening?" + +"Thursday, Thursday?" repeated Lajeunie thoughtfully. "No, I believe +that I am free for Thursday." + +"Now, that is fortunate!" exclaimed Tricotrin. "Well, we want you to +join us on that evening, my friend." + +"Indeed, we should be most disappointed if you could not," put in +Pitou. + +"Certainly; I shall have much pleasure," said Lajeunie. "Is it a +supper?" + +"No," said Tricotrin, "it is a robbery. I shall explain. Doubtless you +know the name of 'mademoiselle Claudine Hilairet'?" + +"I have never heard it in my life. Is she in Society?" + +"Society? She is in the Comedie Moderne. She is a great actress, but-- +like us all--unrecognised." + +"My heart bleeds for her. Another comrade!" + +"I was sure I could depend upon your sympathy. Well, on Thursday night +they will revive _La Curieuse_ at the Comedie, and I myself +propose to write Labaregue's critique of the performance. Do you +tumble?" + +"It is a gallant action. Yes, I grasp the climax, but at present I do +not perceive how the plot is to be constructed." + +"Labaregue's notices are dispatched by messenger," began Pitou. + +"From the Cafe de l'Europe," added Tricotrin. + +"So much I know," said Lajeunie. + +"I shall attack the messenger, and make a slight exchange of +manuscripts," Tricotrin went on. + +"A blunder!" proclaimed Lajeunie; "you show a lack of invention. Now be +guided by me, because I am a novelist and I understand these things. +The messenger is an escaped convict, and you say to him, 'I know your +secret. You do my bidding, or you go back to the galleys; I shall give +you three minutes to decide!' You stand before him, stern, dominant, +inexorable--your watch in your hand." + +"It is at the pawn-shop." + +"Well, well, of course it is; since when have you joined the realists? +Somebody else's watch--or a clock. Are there no clocks in Paris? You +say, 'I shall give you until the clock strikes the hour.' That is even +more literary--you obtain the solemn note of the clock to mark the +crisis." + +"But there is no convict," demurred Tricotrin; "there are clocks, but +there is no convict." + +"No convict? The messenger is not a convict?" + +"Not at all--he is an apple-cheeked boy." + +"Oh, it is a rotten plot," said Lajeunie; "I shall not collaborate in +it!" + +"Consider!" cried Tricotrin; "do not throw away the chance of a +lifetime, think what I offer you--you shall hang about the end of a +dark alley, and whistle if anybody comes. How literary again is that! +You may develop it into a novel that will make you celebrated. Pitou +will be at the other end. I and the apple-cheeked boy who is to die-- +that is to say, to be duped--will occupy the centre of the stage--I +mean the middle of the alley. And on the morrow, when all Paris rings +with the fame of Claudine Hilairet, I, who adore her, shall have won +her heart!" + +"Humph," said Lajeunie. "Well, since the synopsis has a happy ending, I +consent. But I make one condition--I must wear a crepe mask. Without a +crepe mask I perceive no thrill in my role." + +"Madness!" objected Pitou. "Now listen to _me_--I am serious-minded, +and do not commit follies, like you fellows. Crepe masks are not being +worn this season. Believe me, if you loiter at a street corner with a +crepe mask on, some passer-by will regard you, he may even wonder what +you are doing there. It might ruin the whole job." + +"Pitou is right," announced Tricotrin, after profound consideration. + +"Well, then," said Lajeunie, "_you_ must wear a crepe mask! Put it +on when you attack the boy. I have always had a passion for crepe +masks, and this is the first opportunity that I find to gratify it. I +insist that somebody wears a crepe mask, or I wash my hands of the +conspiracy." + +"Agreed! In the alley it will do no harm; indeed it will prevent the +boy identifying me. Good, on Thursday night then! In the meantime we +shall rehearse the crime assiduously, and you and Pitou can practise +your whistles." + +With what diligence did the poet write each day now! How lovingly he +selected his superlatives! Never in the history of the Press had such +ardent care been lavished on a criticism--truly it was not until +Thursday afternoon that he was satisfied that he could do no more. He +put the pages in his pocket, and, too impatient even to be hungry, +roamed about the quartier, reciting to himself the most hyperbolic of +his periods. + +And dusk gathered over Paris, and the lights sprang out, and the tense +hours crept away. + +It was precisely half-past eleven when the three conspirators arrived +at the doors of the Comedie Moderne, and lingered near by until the +audience poured forth. Labaregue was among the first to appear. He +paused on the steps to take a cigarette, and stepped briskly into the +noise and glitter of the Boulevard. The young men followed, exchanging +feverish glances. Soon the glow of the Cafe de l'Europe was visible. +The critic entered, made a sign to a waiter, and seated himself gravely +at a table. + +Many persons gazed at him with interest. To those who did not know, +habitues whispered, "There is Labaregue--see, he comes to write his +criticism on the revival of _La Curieuse_!" Labaregue affected +unconsciousness of all this, but secretly he lapped it up. Occasionally +he passed his hand across his brow with a gesture profoundly +intellectual. + +Few there remarked that at brief intervals three shabby young men +strolled in, who betrayed no knowledge of one another, and merely +called for bocks. None suspected that these humble customers plotted to +consign the celebrity's criticism to the flames. + +Without a sign of recognition, taciturn and impassive, the three young +men waited, their eyes bent upon the critic's movements. + +By-and-by Labaregue thrust his "copy" into an envelope that was +provided. Some moments afterwards one of the young men asked another +waiter for the materials to write a letter. The paper he crumpled in +his pocket; in the envelope he placed the forged critique. + +A quarter of an hour passed. Then a youth of about sixteen hurried in +and made his way to Labaregue's table. At this instant Lajeunie rose +and left. As the youth received the "copy," Tricotrin also sauntered +out. When the youth again reached the door, it was just swinging behind +Pitou. + +The conspirators were now in the right order--Lajeunie pressing +forward, Tricotrin keeping pace with the boy, Pitou a few yards in the +rear. + +The boy proceeded swiftly. It was late, and even the Boulevard showed +few pedestrians now; in the side streets the quietude was unbroken. +Tricotrin whipped on his mask at the opening of the passage. When the +messenger was half-way through it, the attack was made suddenly, with +determination. + +"Fat one," exclaimed the poet, "I starve--give me five francs!" + +"_Comment?_" stammered the youth, jumping; "I haven't five francs, +I!" + +"Give me all you have--empty your pockets, let me see! If you obey, I +shall not harm you; if you resist, you are a dead boy!" + +The youth produced, with trepidation, a sou, half a cigarette, a piece +of string, a murderous clasp knife, a young lady's photograph, and +Labaregue's notice. The next moment the exchange of manuscripts had +been deftly accomplished. + +"Devil take your rubbish," cried the apache; "I want none of it--there! +Be off, or I shall shoot you for wasting my time." + +The whole affair had occupied less than a minute; and the three +adventurers skipped to Montmartre rejoicing. + +And how glorious was their jubilation in the hour when they opened +_La Voix_ and read Tricotrin's pronouncement over the initials +"J.L."! There it was, printed word for word--the leading lady was +dismissed with a line, the ingenue received a sneer, and for the rest, +the column was a panegyric of the waiting-maid! The triumph of the +waiting-maid was unprecedented and supreme. Certainly, when Labaregue +saw the paper, he flung round to the office furious. + +But _La Voix_ did not desire people to know that it had been taken +in; so the matter was hushed up, and Labaregue went about pretending +that he actually thought all those fine things of the waiting-maid. + +The only misfortune was that when Tricotrin called victoriously upon +Claudine, to clasp her in his arms, he found her in hysterics on the +sofa--and it transpired that she had not represented the waiting-maid +after all. On the contrary, she had at the last moment been promoted to +the part of the ingenue, while the waiting-maid had been played by a +little actress whom she much disliked. + +"It is cruel, it is monstrous, it is heartrending!" gasped Tricotrin, +when he grasped the enormity of his failure; "but, light of my life, +why should you blame _me_ for this villainy of Labaregue's?" + +"I do not know," she said; "however, you bore me, you and your +'influence with the Press.' Get out!" + + + +THE DOLL IN THE PINK SILK DRESS + +How can I write the fourth Act with this ridiculous thing posed among +my papers? What thing? It is a doll in a pink silk dress--an elaborate +doll that walks, and talks, and warbles snatches from the operas. A +terrible lot it cost! Why does an old dramatist keep a doll on his +study table? I do not keep it there. It came in a box from the +Boulevard an hour ago, and I took it from its wrappings to admire its +accomplishments again--and ever since it has been reminding me that +women are strange beings. + +Yes, women are strange, and this toy sets me thinking of one woman in +particular: that woman who sued, supplicated for my help, and then, +when she had all my interest--Confound the doll; here is the incident, +just as it happened! + +It happened when all Paris flocked to see my plays and "Paul de +Varenne" was a name to conjure with. Fashions change. To-day I am a +little out of the running, perhaps; younger men have shot forward. In +those days I was still supreme, I was master of the Stage. + +Listen! It was a spring morning, and I was lolling at my study window, +scenting the lilac in the air. Maximin, my secretary, came in and said: + +"Mademoiselle Jeanne Laurent asks if she can see you, monsieur." + +"Who is mademoiselle Jeanne Laurent?" I inquired. + +"She is an actress begging for an engagement, monsieur." + +"I regret that I am exceedingly busy. Tell her to write." + +"The lady has already written a thousand times," he mentioned, going. +"'Jeanne Laurent' has been one of the most constant contributors to our +waste-paper basket." + +"Then tell her that I regret I can do nothing for her. Mon Dieu! is it +imagined that I have no other occupation than to interview nonentities? +By the way, how is it you have bothered me about her, why this unusual +embassy? I suppose she is pretty, hein?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"And young?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +I wavered. Let us say my sympathy was stirred. But perhaps the lilac +was responsible--lilac and a pretty girl seem to me a natural +combination, like coffee and a cigarette. "Send her in!" I said. + +I sat at the table and picked up a pen. + +"Monsieur de Varenne--" She paused nervously on the threshold. + +Maximin was a fool, she was not "pretty"; she was either plain, or +beautiful. To my mind, she had beauty, and if she hadn't been an +actress come to pester me for a part I should have foreseen a very +pleasant quarter of an hour. "I can spare you only a moment, +mademoiselle," I said, ruffling blank paper. + +"It is most kind of you to spare me that." + +I liked her voice too. "Be seated," I said more graciously. + +"Monsieur, I have come to implore you to do something for me. I am +breaking my heart in the profession for want of a helping hand. Will +you be generous and give me a chance?" + +"My dear mademoiselle--er--Laurent," I said, "I sympathise with your +difficulties, and I thoroughly understand them, but I have no +engagement to offer you--I am not a manager." + +She smiled bitterly. "You are de Varenne--a word from you would 'make' +me!" + +I was wondering what her age was. About eight-and-twenty, I thought, +but alternately she looked much younger and much older. + +"You exaggerate my influence--like every other artist that I consent to +see. Hundreds have sat in that chair and cried that I could 'make' +them. It is all bosh. Be reasonable! I cannot 'make' anybody." + +"You could cast me for a part in Paris. You are 'not a manager,' but +any manager will engage a woman that you recommend. Oh, I know that +hundreds appeal to you, I know that I am only one of a crowd; but, +monsieur, think what it means to me! Without help, I shall go on +knocking at the stage doors of Paris and never get inside; I shall go +on writing to the Paris managers and never get an answer. Without help +I shall go on eating my heart out in the provinces till I am old and +tired and done for!" + +Her earnestness touched me. I had heard the same tale so often that I +was sick of hearing it, but this woman's earnestness touched me. If I +had had a small part vacant, I would have tried her in it. + +"Again," I said, "as a dramatist I fully understand the difficulties of +an actress's career; but you, as an actress, do not understand a +dramatist's. There is no piece of mine going into rehearsal now, +therefore I have no opening for you, myself; and it is impossible for +me to write to a manager or a brother author, advising him to +entrust a part, even the humblest, to a lady of whose capabilities I +know nothing." + +"I am not applying for a humble part," she answered quietly. + +"Hein?" + +"My line is lead." + +I stared at her pale face, speechless; the audacity of the reply took +my breath away. + +"You are mad," I said, rising. + +"I sound so to you, monsieur?" + +"Stark, staring mad. You bewail that you are at the foot of the ladder, +and at the same instant you stipulate that I shall lift you at a bound +to the top. Either you are a lunatic, or you are an amateur." + +She, too, rose--resigned to her dismissal, it seemed. Then, suddenly, +with a gesture that was a veritable abandonment of despair, she +laughed. + +"That's it, I am an amateur!" she rejoined passionately. "I will tell +you the kind of 'amateur' I am, monsieur de Varenne! I was learning my +business in a fit-up when I was six years old--yes, I was playing parts +on the road when happier children were playing games in nurseries. I +was thrust on for lead when I was a gawk of fifteen, and had to wrestle +with half a dozen roles in a week, and was beaten if I failed to make +my points. I have supered to stars, not to earn the few francs I got +by it, for by that time the fit-ups paid me better, but that I might +observe, and improve my method. I have waited in the rain, for hours, +at the doors of the milliners and modistes, that I might note how great +ladies stepped from their carriages and spoke to their footmen--and when +I snatched a lesson from their aristocratic tones I was in heaven, though +my feet ached and the rain soaked my wretched clothes. I have played good +women and bad women, beggars and queens, ingenues and hags. I was born +and bred on the stage, have suffered and starved on it. It is my life and +my destiny." She sobbed. "An 'amateur'!" + +I could not let her go like that. She interested me strongly; somehow I +believed in her. I strode to and fro, considering. + +"Sit down again," I said. "I will do this for you: I will go to the +country to see your performance. When is your next show?" + +"I have nothing in view." + +"Bigre! Well, the next time you are playing, write to me." + +"You will have forgotten all about me," she urged feverishly, "or your +interest will have faded, or Fate will prevent your coming." + +"Why do you say so?" + +"Something tells me. You will help me now, or you will never help me-- +my chance is to-day! Monsieur, I entreat you--" + +"To-day I can do nothing at all, because I have not seen you act." + +"I could recite to you." + +"Zut!" + +"I could rehearse on trial." + +"And if you made a mess of it? A nice fool I should look, after +fighting to get you in!" + +A servant interrupted us to tell me that my old friend de Lavardens was +downstairs. And now I did a foolish thing. When I intimated to +mademoiselle Jeanne Laurent that our interview must conclude, she +begged so hard to be allowed to speak to me again after my visitor +went, that I consented to her waiting. Why? I had already said all that +I had to say, and infinitely more than I had contemplated. Perhaps she +impressed me more powerfully than I realised; perhaps it was sheer +compassion, for she had an invincible instinct that if I sent her away +at this juncture, she would never hear from me any more. I had her +shown into the next room, and received General de Lavardens in the +study. + +Since his retirement from the Army, de Lavardens had lived in his +chateau at St. Wandrille, in the neighbourhood of Caudebec-en-Caux, and +we had met infrequently of late. But we had been at college together; I +had entered on my military service in the same regiment as he; and we +had once been comrades. I was glad to see him. + +"How are you, my dear fellow? I didn't know you were in Paris." + +"I have been here twenty-four hours," he said. "I have looked you up at +the first opportunity. Now am I a nuisance? Be frank! I told the +servant that if you were at work you weren't to be disturbed. Don't +humbug about it; if I am in the way, say so!" + +"You are not in the way a bit," I declared. "Put your hat and cane +down. What's the news? How is Georges?" + +"Georges" was Captain de Lavardens, his son, a young man with good +looks, and brains, an officer for whom people predicted a brilliant +future. + +"Georges is all right," he said hesitatingly. "He is dining with me +to-night. I want you to come, too, if you can. Are you free?" + +"To-night? Yes, certainly; I shall be delighted." + +"That was one of the reasons I came round--to ask you to join us." He +glanced towards the table again. "Are you sure you are not in a hurry +to get back to that?" + +"Have a cigar, and don't be a fool. What have you got to say for +yourself? Why are you on the spree here?" + +"I came up to see Georges," he said. "As a matter of fact, my dear +chap, I am devilish worried." + +"Not about Georges?" I asked, surprised. + +He grunted. "About Georges." + +"Really? I'm very sorry." + +"Yes. I wanted to talk to you about it. You may be able to give me a +tip. Georges--the boy I hoped so much for"--his gruff voice quivered-- +"is infatuated with an actress." + +"Georges?" + +"What do you say to that?" + +"Are you certain it is true?" + +"True? He makes no secret of it. That isn't all. The idiot wants to +marry her!" + +"Georges wants to marry an actress?" + +"Voila!" + +"My dear old friend!" I stammered. + +"Isn't it amazing? One thinks one knows the character of one's own son, +hein? And then, suddenly, a boy--a boy? A man! Georges will soon be +thirty--a man one is proud of, who is distinguishing himself in his +profession, he loses his head about some creature of the theatre and +proposes to mar his whole career." + +"As for that, it might not mar it," I said. + +"We are not in England, in France gentlemen do not choose their wives +from the stage! I can speak freely to you; you move among these people +because your writing has taken you among them, but you are not of their +breed," + +"Have you reasoned with him?" + +"Reasoned? Yes." + +"What did he say?" + +"Prepare to be amused. He said that 'unfortunately, the lady did not +love him'!" + +"What? Then there is no danger?" + +"Do you mean to say that it takes you in? You may be sure her +'reluctance' is policy, she thinks it wise to disguise her eagerness to +hook him. He told me plainly that he would not rest till he had won +her. It is a nice position! The honour of the family is safe only till +this adventuress consents, _consents_ to accept his hand! What can +I do? I can retard the marriage by refusing my permission, but I cannot +prevent it, if he summons me.... Of course, if I could arrange matters +with her, I would do it like a shot--at any price!" + +"Who is she?" + +"A nobody; he tells me she is quite obscure, I don't suppose you have +ever heard of her. But I thought you might make inquiries for me, that +you might ascertain whether she is the sort of woman we could settle +with?" + +"I will do all I can, you may depend. Where is she--in Paris?" + +"Yes, just now." + +"What's her name?" + +"Jeanne Laurent." + +My mouth fell open: "Hein?" + +"Do you know her?" + +"She is there!" + +"What?" + +"In the next room. She just called on business." + +"Mon Dieu! That's queer!" + +"It's lucky. It was the first time I had ever met her." + +"What's she like?" + +"Have you never seen her? You shall do so in a minute. She came to beg +me to advance her professionally, she wants my help. This ought to save +you some money, my friend. We'll have her in! I shall tell her who you +are." + +"How shall I talk to her?" + +"Leave it to me." + +I crossed the landing, and opened the salon door. The room was littered +with the illustrated journals, but she was not diverting herself with +any of them--she was sitting before a copy of _La Joconde_, +striving to reproduce on her own face the enigma of the smile: I had +discovered an actress who never missed an opportunity. + +"Please come here." + +She followed me back, and my friend stood scowling at her. + +"This gentleman is General de Lavardens," I said. + +She bowed--slightly, perfectly. That bow acknowledged de Lavardens' +presence, and rebuked the manner of my introduction, with all the +dignity of the patricians whom she had studied in the rain. + +"Mademoiselle, when my servant announced that the General was +downstairs you heard the name. You did not tell me that you knew his +son." + +"Dame, non, monsieur!" she murmured. + +"And when you implored me to assist you, you did not tell me that you +aspired to a marriage that would compel you to leave the stage. I never +waste my influence. Good-morning!" + +"I do not aspire to the marriage," she faltered, pale as death. + +"Rubbish, I know all about it. Of course, it is your aim to marry him +sooner or later, and of course he will make it a condition that you +cease to act. Well, I have no time to help a woman who is playing the +fool! That's all about it. I needn't detain you." + +"I have refused to marry him," she gasped. "On my honour! You can ask +him. It is a fact." + +"But you see him still," broke in de Lavardens wrathfully; "he is with +you every day! That is a fact, too, isn't it? If your refusal is +sincere, why are you not consistent? why do you want him at your side?" + +"Because, monsieur," she answered, "I am weak enough to miss him when +he goes." + +"Ah! you admit it. You profess to be in love with him?" + +"No, monsieur," she dissented thoughtfully, "I am not in love with him +--and my refusal has been quite sincere, incredible as it may seem that +a woman like myself rejects a man like him. I could never make a +marriage that would mean death to my ambition. I could not sacrifice my +art--the stage is too dear to me for that. So it is evident that I am +not in love with him, for when a woman loves, the man is dearer to her +than all else." + +De Lavardens grunted. I knew his grunts: there was some apology in this +one. + +"The position is not fair to my son," he demurred. "You show good sense +in what you say--you are an artist, you are quite right to devote +yourself to your career; but you reject and encourage him at the same +time. If he married you it would be disastrous--to you, and to him; you +would ruin his life, and spoil your own. Enfin, give him a chance to +forget you! Send him away. What do you want to keep seeing him for?" + +She sighed. "It is wrong of me, I own!" + +"It is highly unnatural," said I. + +"No, monsieur; it is far from being unnatural, and I will tell you why +--he is the only man I have ever known, in all my vagabond life, who +realised that a struggling actress might have the soul of a +gentlewoman. Before I met him, I had never heard a man speak to me with +courtesy, excepting on the stage; I had never known a man to take my +hand respectfully when he was not performing behind the footlights.... +I met him first in the country; I was playing the Queen in _Ruy +Blas_, and the manager brought him to me in the wings. In everything +he said and did he was different from others. We were friends for +months before he told me that he loved me. His friendship has been the +gift of God, to brighten my miserable lot. Never to see him any more +would be awful to me!" + +I perceived that if she was not in love with him she was so dangerously +near to it that a trifle might turn the scale. De Lavardens had the +same thought. His glance at me was apprehensive. + +"However, you acknowledge that you are behaving badly!" I exclaimed. +"It is all right for _you_, friendship is enough for you, and you +pursue your career. But for _him_, it is different; he seeks your +love, and he neglects his duties. For him to spend his life sighing for +you would be monstrous, and for him to marry you would be fatal. If you +like him so much, be just to him, set him free! Tell him that he is not +to visit you any more." + +"He does not visit me; he has never been inside my lodging." + +"Well, that he is not to write there--that there are to be no more +dinners, drives, bouquets!" + +"And I do not let him squander money on me. I am not that kind of +woman." + +"We do not accuse you, mademoiselle. On the contrary, we appeal to your +good heart. Be considerate, be brave! Say good-bye to him!" + +"You are asking me to suffer cruelly," she moaned. + +"It is for your friend's benefit. Also, the more you suffer, the better +you will act. Every actress should suffer." + +"Monsieur, I have served my apprenticeship to pain." + +"There are other things than friendship--you have your prospects to +think about." + +"What prospects?" she flashed back. + +"Well, I cannot speak definitely to-day, as you know; but you would not +find me unappreciative." + +De Lavardens grunted again--emotionally, this time. I checked him with +a frown. + +"What use would it be for me to refuse to see him?" she objected +chokily. "When I am playing anywhere, _he_ can always see +_me_. I cannot kill his love by denying myself his companionship. +Besides, he would not accept the dismissal. One night, when I left the +theatre, I should find him waiting there again." + +This was unpalatably true. + +"If a clever woman desires to dismiss a man, she can dismiss him +thoroughly, especially a clever actress," I said. "You could talk to +him in such a fashion that he would have no wish to meet you again. +Such things have been done." + +"What? You want me to teach him to despise me?" + +"Much better if he did!" + +"To turn his esteem to scorn, hein?" + +"It would be a generous action." + +"To falsify and degrade myself?" + +"For your hero's good!" + +"I will not do it!" she flamed. "You demand too much. What have +_you_ done for _me_ that I should sacrifice myself to please +you? I entreat your help, and you give me empty phrases; I cry that I +despair this morning, and you answer that by-and-by, some time, in the +vague future, you will remember that I exist. I shall not do this for +you--I keep my friend!" + +"Your rhetoric has no weight with me," I said. "I do not pretend that I +have a claim on you. In such circumstances a noble woman would take the +course I suggest, not for my sake, not for the sake of General de +Lavardens, but for the sake of the man himself. You will 'keep your +friend'? Bien! But you will do so because you are indifferent to his +welfare and too selfish to release him." + +She covered her face. There were tears on it. The General and I +exchanged glances again. + +I went on: + +"You charge me with giving you only empty phrases. That is undeserved. +I said all that was possible, and I meant what I said. I could not +pledge myself to put you into anything without knowing what you are +capable of doing; but, if you retain my good will, I repeat that I will +attend your next performance." + +"And then?" she queried. + +"Then--if I think well of it--you shall have a good part." + +"Lead?" + +"Bigre! I cannot say that. A good part, in Paris!" + +"It is a promise?" + +"Emphatically--if I think well of your performance." + +"Of my next--the very next part I play?" + +"Of the very next part you play." + +She paused, reflecting. The pause lasted so long that it began to seem +to my suspense as if none of us would ever speak again. I took a +cigarette, and offered the box, in silence, to de Lavardens. He shook +his head without turning it to me, his gaze was riveted on the woman. + +"All right," she groaned, "I agree!" + +"Ah! good girl!" + +"All you require is that Captain de Lavardens shall no longer seek me +for his wife. Is that it?" + +"That's it." + +"Very well. I know what would repel him--it shall be done to-night. +But you, gentlemen, will have to make the opportunity for me; you will +have to bring him to my place--both of you. You can find some reason +for proposing it? Tonight at nine o'clock. He knows the address." + +She moved weakly to the door. + +De Lavardens took three strides and grasped her hands. "Mademoiselle," +he stuttered, "I have no words to speak my gratitude. I am a father, +and I love my son, but--mon Dieu! if--if things had been different, +upon my soul, I should have been proud to call you my daughter-in-law!" + +Oh, how she could bow, that woman--the eloquence of her ill-fed form! + +"Au revoir, gentlemen," she said. + +Phew! We dropped into chairs. + +"Paul," he grunted at me, "we have been a pair of brutes!" + +"I know it. But you feel much relieved?" + +"I feel another man. What is she going to say to him? I wish it were +over. _I_ should find it devilish difficult to propose going to +see her, you know! It will have to be _your_ suggestion. And +supposing he won't take us?" + +"He will take us right enough," I declared, "and rejoice at the chance. +Hourra! hourra! hourra!" I sprang up and clapped him on the back. "My +friend, if that woman had thrown herself away on Georges it might have +been a national calamity." + +"What?" he roared, purpling. + +"Oh, no slight to Georges! I think--I think--I am afraid to say what I +think, I am afraid to think it!" I paced the room, struggling to +control myself. "Only, once in a blue moon, Jules, there is a woman +born of the People with a gift that is a blessing, and a curse--and her +genius makes an epoch, and her name makes theatrical history. And if a +lover of the stage like me discovers such a woman, you stodgy old +soldier, and blazes her genius in his work, he feels like Cheops, +Chephrenus, and Asychis rearing the Pyramids for immortality!" + +My excitement startled him. "You believe she is a genius? Really?" + +"I dare not believe," I panted. "I refuse to let myself believe, for I +have never seen blue moons. But--but--I wonder!" + +We dined at Voisin's. It had been arranged that he should make some +allusion to the courtship; and I said to Georges, "I hope you don't +mind your father having mentioned the subject to me--we are old +friends, you know?" The topic was led up to very easily. It was +apparent that Georges thought the world of her. I admired the way he +spoke. It was quiet and earnest. As I feigned partial sympathy with his +matrimonial hopes, I own that I felt a Judas. + +"I, too, am an artist," I said. "To me social distinctions naturally +seem somewhat less important than they do to your father." + +"Indeed, monsieur," he answered gravely, "mademoiselle Laurent is +worthy of homage. If she were willing to accept me, every man who knew +her character would think me fortunate. Her education has not qualified +her to debate with professors, and she has no knowledge of society +small-talk, but she is intelligent, and refined, and good." + +It was child's play. A sudden notion, over the liqueurs: "Take us to +see her! Come along, mon ami!" Astonishment (amateurish); persuasion +(masterly); Georges's diffidence to intrude, but his obvious delight at +the thought of the favourable impression she would create. He had +"never called there yet--it would be very unconventional at such an +hour?" "Zut, among artists! My card will be a passport, I assure you." +Poor fellow, the trap made short work of him! At half-past eight we +were all rattling to the left bank in a cab. + +The cab stopped before a dilapidated house in an unsavoury street. I +knew that the aspect of her home went to his heart. "Mademoiselle +Laurent has won no prize in her profession," he observed, "and she is +an honest girl." Well said! + +In the dim passage a neglected child directed us to the fourth floor. +On the fourth floor a slattern, who replied at last to our persistent +tapping, told us shortly that mademoiselle was out. I realised that we +had committed the error of being before our time; and the woman, +evidently unprepared for our visit, did not suggest our going in. It +seemed bad stage-management. + +"Will it be long before mademoiselle is back?" I inquired, annoyed. + +"Mais non." + +"We will wait," I said, and we were admitted sulkily to a room, of +which the conspicuous features were a malodorous lamp, and a brandy- +bottle. I had taken the old drab for a landlady rather the worse for +liquor, but, more amiably, she remarked now: "It's a pity Jeanne didn't +know you were coming." + +At the familiar "Jeanne" I saw Georges start. + +"Mademoiselle is a friend of yours?" I asked, dismayed. + +"A friend? She is my daughter." She sat down. + +By design the girl was out! The thought flashed on me. It flashed on me +that she had plotted for her lover to learn what a mother-in-law he +would have. The revelation must appal him. I stole a look--his face was +blanched. The General drew a deep breath, and nodded to himself. The +nod said plainly, "He is saved. Thank God!" + +"Will you take a little drop while you are waiting, gentlemen?" + +"Nothing for us, thank you." + +She drank alone, and seemed to forget that we were present. None of us +spoke. I began to wonder if we need remain. Then, drinking, she grew +garrulous. It was of Jeanne she talked. She gave us her maternal views, +and incidentally betrayed infamies of her own career. I am a man of the +world, but I shuddered at that woman. The suitor who could have risked +making her child his wife would have been demented, or sublime. And +while she maundered on, gulping from her glass, and chuckling at her +jests, the ghastliness of it was that, in the gutter face before us, I +could trace a likeness to Jeanne; I think Georges must have traced it, +too. The menace of heredity was horrible. We were listening to Jeanne +wrecked, Jeanne thirty years older--Jeanne as she might become! + +Ciel! To choose a bride with this blood in her--a bride from the dregs! + +"Let us go, Georges," I murmured. "Courage! You will forget her. We'll +be off." + +He was livid. I saw that he could bear no more. + +But the creature overheard, and in those bleary eyes intelligence +awoke. + +"What? Hold on!" she stammered. "Is one of you the toff that wants to +marry her? Ah!... I've been letting on finely, haven't I? It was a +plant, was it? You've come here ferreting and spying?" She turned +towards me in a fury: "You!" + +Certainly I had made a comment from time to time, but I could not see +why she should single me out for her attack. She lurched towards me +savagely. Her face was thrust into mine. And then, so low that only I +could hear, and like another woman, she breathed a question: + +"Can I act?" + +Jeanne herself! Every nerve in me jumped. The next instant she was back +in her part, railing at Georges. + +I took a card from my case, and scribbled six words. + +"When your daughter comes in, give her that!" I said. I had scribbled: +"I write you a star role!" + +She gathered the message at a glance, and I swear that the moroseness +of her gaze was not lightened by so much as a gleam. She was +representing a character; the actress sustained the character even +while she read words that were to raise her from privation to renown. + +"Not that I care if I _have_ queered her chance," she snarled. "A +good job, too, the selfish cat! I've got nothing to thank her for. +Serve her right if you do give her the go-by, my Jackanapes, _I_ +don't blame you!" + +"Madame Laurent," Georges answered sternly, and his answer vibrated +through the room, "I have never admired, pitied, or loved Jeanne so +much as now that I know that she has been--motherless." + +All three of us stood stone-still. The first to move was she. I saw +what was going to happen. She burst out crying. + +"It's I, Jeanne!--I love you! I thought I loved the theatre best--I was +wrong." Instinctively she let my card fall to the ground. "Forgive me-- +I did it for your sake, too. It was cruel, I am ashamed. Oh, my own, if +my love will not disgrace you, take me for your wife! In all the world +there is no woman who will love you better--in all my heart there is no +room for anything but you!" + +They were in each other's arms. De Lavardens, whom the proclamation of +identity had electrified, dragged me outside. The big fool was +blubbering with sentiment. + +"This is frightful," he grunted. + +"Atrocious!" said I. + +"But she is a woman in a million." + +"She is a great actress," I said reverently. + +"I could never approve the marriage," he faltered. "What do you think?" + +"Out of the question! I have no sympathy with either of them." + +"You humbug! Why, there is a tear running down your nose!" + +"There are two running down yours," I snapped; "a General should know +better." + +And why has the doll in the pink silk dress recalled this to me? Well, +you see, to-morrow will be New Year's Day and the doll is a gift for my +godchild--and the name of my godchild's mother is "Jeanne de +Lavardens." Oh, I have nothing to say against her as a mother, the +children idolise her! I admit that she has conquered the General, and +that Georges is the proudest husband in France. But when I think of the +parts I could have written for her, of the lustre the stage has lost, +when I reflect that, just to be divinely happy, the woman deliberately +declined a worldwide fame--Morbleu! I can never forgive her for it, +never--the darling! + + + +THE LAST EFFECT + +Jean Bourjac was old and lazy. Why should he work any more? In his +little cottage he was content enough. If the place was not precisely +gay, could he not reach Paris for a small sum? And if he had no +neighbours to chat with across the wall, weren't there his flowers to +tend in the garden? Occasionally--because one cannot shake off the +interests of a lifetime--he indulged in an evening at the Folies- +Bergere, or Olympia, curious to witness some Illusion that had made a +hit. + +At such times old Bourjac would chuckle and wag his head sagely, for he +saw no Illusions now to compare with those invented by himself when he +was in the business. + +And there were many persons who admitted that he had been supreme in +his line. At the Folies-Bergere he was often recognised and addressed +as "Maitre." + +One summer evening, when old Bourjac sat reading _Le Journal_, +Margot, the housekeeper, who had grown deaf and ancient in his service, +announced a stranger. + +She was a girl with a delicate oval face, and eyes like an angel's. + +"Monsieur Bourjac," she began, as if reciting a speech that she had +studied, "I have come out here to beg a favour of you. I thirst for a +career behind the footlights. Alas! I cannot sing, or dance, or act. +There is only one chance for me--to possess an Illusion that shall take +Paris by storm. I am told that there is nothing produced to-day fit to +hold a candle to the former 'Miracles Bourjac.' Will you help me? Will +you design for me the most wonderful Illusion of your life?" + +"Mademoiselle," said Bourjac, with a shrug, "I have retired." + +"I implore you!" she urged. "But I have not finished; I am poor, I am +employed at a milliner's, I could not pay down a single franc. My offer +is a share of my salary as a star. I am mad for the stage. It is not +the money that I crave for, but the applause. I would not grudge you +even half my salary! Oh, monsieur, it is in your power to lift me from +despair into paradise. Say you consent." + +Bourjac mused. Her offer was very funny; if she had been of the +ordinary type, he would have sent her packing, with a few commercial +home-truths. Excitement had brought a flush to the oval face, her +glorious eyes awoke in him emotions which he had believed extinct. She +was so captivating that he cast about him for phrases to prolong the +interview. Though he could not agree, he didn't want her to go yet. + +And when she did rise at last, he murmured, "Well, well, see me again +and we will talk about it. I have no wish to be hard, you understand." + +Her name was Laure. She was in love with a conjurer, a common, flashy +fellow, who gave his mediocre exhibitions of legerdemain at such places +as Le Jardin Exterieur, and had recently come to lodge at her mother's. +She aspired to marry him, but did not dare to expect it. Her homage was +very palpable, and monsieur Eugene Legrand, who had no matrimonial +intentions, would often wish that the old woman did not keep such a +sharp eye upon her. + +Needless to say, Bourjac's semi-promise sent her home enraptured. She +had gone to him on impulse, without giving her courage time to take +flight; now, in looking back, she wondered at her audacity, and that +she had gained so much as she had. "I have no wish to be hard," he had +said. Oh, the old rascal admired her hugely! If she coaxed enough, he +would end by giving in. What thumping luck! She determined to call upon +him again on Sunday, and to look her best. + +Bourjac, however, did not succumb on Sunday. Fascinating as he found +her, he squirmed at the prospect of the task demanded of him. His +workshop in the garden had been closed so long that rats had begun to +regard it as their playroom; the more he contemplated resuming his +profession, the less inclined he felt to do it. + +She paid him many visits and he became deeply infatuated with her; yet +he continued to maintain that he was past such an undertaking--that she +had applied to him too late. + +Then, one day, after she had flown into a passion, and wept, and been +mollified, he said hesitatingly: + +"I confess that an idea for an Illusion has occurred to me, but I do +not pledge myself to execute it. I should call it 'A Life.' An empty +cabinet is examined; it is supported by four columns--there is no stage +trap, no obscurity, no black velvet curtain concealed in the dark, to +screen the operations; the cabinet is raised high above the ground, and +the lights are full up. You understand?" Some of the inventor's +enthusiasm had crept into his voice. "You understand?" + +"Go on," she said, holding her breath. + +"Listen. The door of the cabinet is slammed, and in letters of fire +there appears on it, 'Scene I.' Instantly it flies open again and +discloses a baby. The baby moves, it wails--in fine, it is alive. Slam! +Letters of fire, 'Scene II.' Instantly the baby has vanished; in its +place is a beautiful girl--you! You smile triumphantly at your +reflection in a mirror, your path is strewn with roses, the world is at +your feet. Slam! 'Scene III.' In a moment twenty years have passed; +your hair is grey, you are matronly, stout, your face is no longer +oval; yet unmistakably it is you yourself, the same woman. Slam! 'Scene +IV.' You are enfeebled, a crone, toothless, tottering on a stick. Once +more! It is the last effect--the door flies open and reveals a +skeleton." + +"You can make this?" she questioned. + +"I could make it if I chose," he answered. + +"Will you?" + +"It depends." + +"On what?" + +"On you!" + +"Take any share you want," she cried. "I will sign anything you like! +After all, would not the success be due to you?" + +"So you begin to see that?" said the old man drily. "But, I repeat, it +depends! In spite of everything, you may think my terms too high." + +"What do you want me to do?" she stammered. + +"Marry me!" said Bourjac. + +He did not inquire if she had any affection for him; he knew that if +she said "Yes" it would be a lie. But he adored this girl, who, of a +truth, had nothing but her beauty to recommend her, and he persuaded +himself that his devotion would evoke tenderness in her by degrees. She +found the price high indeed. Not only was she young enough to be his +granddaughter--she had given her fancy to another man. Immediately she +could not consent. When she took leave of him, it was understood that +she would think the offer over; and she went home and let Legrand hear +that Bourjac had proposed for her hand. If, by any chance, the news +piqued Legrand into doing likewise--? + +But Legrand said nothing to the point. Though he was a little chagrined +by the intelligence, it never even entered his mind to attempt to cut +the inventor out. How should it? She was certainly an attractive girl, +but as to marrying her--He thought Bourjac a fool. As for himself, if +he married at all, it would be an artist who was drawing a big salary +and who would be able to provide him with some of the good things of +life. "I pray you will be very happy, mademoiselle," he said, putting +on a sentimental air. + +So, after she had cried with mortification, Laure promised to be old +Bourjac's wife. + +A few weeks later they were married; and in that lonely little cottage +she would have been bored to death but for the tawdry future that she +foresaw. The man's dream of awakening her tenderness was speedily +dispelled; he had been accepted as the means to an end, and he was held +fast to the compact. She grudged him every hour in which he idled by +her side. Driven from her arms by her impatience, old Bourjac would +toil patiently in the workroom: planning, failing--surmounting +obstacles atom by atom, for the sake of a woman whose sole interest in +his existence was his progress with the Illusion that was to gratify +her vanity. + +He worshipped her still. If he had not worshipped her, he would sooner +or later have renounced the scheme as impracticable; only his love for +her supported him in the teeth of the impediments that arose. Of these +she heard nothing. For one reason, her interest was so purely selfish +that she had not even wished to learn how the cabinet was to be +constructed. "All those figures gave her a headache," she declared. For +another, when early in the winter he had owned himself at a deadlock, +she had sneered at him as a duffer who was unable to fulfil his boasts. +Old Bourjac never forgot that--his reputation was very dear to him--he +did not speak to her of his difficulties again. + +But they often talked of the success she was to achieve. She liked to +go into a corner of the parlour and rehearse the entrance that she +would make to acknowledge the applause. "It will be the great moment," +she would say, "when I reappear as myself and bow." + +"No, it will be expected; that will not surprise anybody," Bourjac +would insist. "The climax, the last effect, will be the skeleton!" + +It was the skeleton that caused him the most anxious thought of all. In +order to compass it, he almost feared that he would be compelled to +sacrifice one of the preceding scenes. The babe, the girl, the matron, +the crone, for all these his mechanism provided; but the skeleton, the +"last effect," baffled his ingenuity. Laure began to think his task +eternal. + +Ever since the wedding, she had dilated proudly to her mother and +Legrand on her approaching debut, and it angered her that she could +never say when the debut was to be. Now that there need be no question +of his marrying her, Legrand's manner towards her had become more +marked. She went to the house often. One afternoon, when she rang, the +door was opened by him; he explained that the old woman was out +marketing. + +Laure waited in the kitchen, and the conjurer sat on the table, talking +to her. + +"How goes the Illusion?" he asked. + +"Oh, big!" she said. "It's going to knock them, I can tell you!" Her +laugh was rather derisive. "It's a rum world; the shop-girl will become +an artist, with a show that draws all Paris. We expect to open at the +Folies-Bergere." She knew that Legrand could never aspire to an +engagement at the Folies-Bergere as long as he lived. + +"I hope you will make a hit," he said, understanding her resentment +perfectly. + +"You did not foresee me a star turn, hein?" + +He gave a shrug. "How could I foresee? If you had not married Bourjac, +of course it would not have happened?" + +"I suppose not," she murmured. She was sorry he realised that; she +would have liked him to feel that she might have had the Illusion +anyhow, and been a woman worth his winning. + +"Indeed," added Legrand pensively, rolling a cigarette, "you have done +a great deal to obtain a success. It is not every girl who would go to +such lengths." + +"What?" She coloured indignantly. + +"I mean it is not every girl who would break the heart of a man who +loved her." + +They looked in each other's eyes for a moment. Then she turned her head +scornfully away. + +"Why do you talk rot to me? Do you take me for a kid?" + +He decided that a pained silence would be most effective. + +"If you cared about me, why didn't you say so?" she flashed, putting +the very question he had hoped for. + +"Because my position prevented it," he sighed. "I could not propose, a +poor devil like me! Do I lodge in an attic from choice? But you are the +only woman I ever wanted for my wife." + +After a pause, she said softly, "I never knew you cared." + +"I shall never care for anybody else," he answered. And then her mother +came in with the vegetables. + +It is easy to believe what one wishes, and she wished to believe +Legrand's protestations. She began to pity herself profoundly, feeling +that she had thrown away the substance for the shadow. In the +sentimentality to which she yielded, even the prospect of being a star +turn failed to console her; and during the next few weeks she invented +reasons for visiting at her mother's more frequently than ever. + +After these visits, Legrand used to smirk to himself in his attic. He +reflected that the turn would, probably, earn a substantial salary for +a long time to come. If he persuaded her to run away with him when the +show had been produced, it would be no bad stroke of business for him! +Accordingly, in their conversations, he advised her to insist on the +Illusion being her absolute property. + +"One can never tell what may occur," he would say. "If the managers +arranged with Bourjac, not with you, you would always be dependent on +your husband's whims for your engagements." And, affecting +unconsciousness of his real meaning, the woman would reply, "That's +true; yes, I suppose it would be best--yes, I shall have all the +engagements made with _me_." + +But by degrees even such pretences were dropped between them; they +spoke plainly. He had the audacity to declare that it tortured him to +think of her in old Bourjac's house--old Bourjac who plodded all day to +minister to her caprice! She, no less shameless, acknowledged that her +loneliness there was almost unendurable. So Legrand used to call upon +her, to cheer her solitude, and while Bourjac laboured in the workroom, +the lovers lolled in the parlour, and talked of the future they would +enjoy together when his job was done. + +"See, monsieur--your luncheon!" mumbled Margot, carrying a tray into +the workroom on his busiest days. + +"And madame, has madame her luncheon?" shouted Bourjac. Margot was very +deaf indeed. + +"Madame entertains monsieur Legrand again," returned the housekeeper, +who was not blind as well. + +Bourjac understood the hint, and more than once he remonstrated with +his wife. But she looked in his eyes and laughed suspicion out of him +for the time: "Eugene was an old friend, whom she had known from +childhood! Enfin, if Jean objected, she would certainly tell him not to +come so often. It was very ridiculous, however!" + +And afterwards she said to Legrand, "We must put up with him in the +meanwhile; be patient, darling! We shall not have to worry about what +he thinks much longer." + +Then, as if to incense her more, Bourjac was attacked by rheumatism +before the winter finished; he could move only with the greatest +difficulty, and took to his bed. Day after day he lay there, and she +fumed at the sight of him, passive under the blankets, while his work +was at a standstill. + +More than ever the dullness got on her nerves now, especially as +Legrand had avoided the house altogether since the complaint about the +frequency of his visits. He was about to leave Paris to fulfil some +engagements in the provinces. It occurred to her that it would be a +delightful change to accompany him for a week. She had formerly had an +aunt living in Rouen, and she told Bourjac that she had been invited to +stay with her for a few days. + +Bourjac made no objection. Only, as she hummed gaily over her packing, +he turned his old face to the wall to hide his tears. + +Her luggage was dispatched in advance, and by Legrand's counsel, it was +labelled at the last minute with an assumed name. If he could have done +so without appearing indifferent to her society, Legrand would have +dissuaded her from indulging in the trip, for he had resolved now to be +most circumspect until the Illusion was inalienably her own. As it was, +he took all the precautions possible. They would travel separately; he +was to depart in the evening, and Laure would follow by the next train. +When she arrived, he would be awaiting her. + +With the removal of her trunk, her spirits rose higher still. But the +day passed slowly. At dusk she sauntered about the sitting-room, +wishing that it were time for her to start. She had not seen Legrand +since the previous afternoon, when they had met at a cafe to settle the +final details. When the clock struck again, she reckoned that he must +be nearly at his destination; perhaps he was there already, pacing the +room as she paced this one? She laughed. Not a tinge of remorse +discoloured the pleasure of her outlook--her "au revoir" to her husband +was quite careless. The average woman who sins longs to tear out her +conscience for marring moments which would otherwise be perfect. This +woman had absolutely no conscience. + +The shortest route to the station was by the garden gate; as she raised +the latch, she was amazed to see Legrand hurriedly approaching. + +"Thank goodness, I have caught you!" he exclaimed--"I nearly went round +to the front." + +"What has happened?" + +"Nothing serious; I am not going, that is all--they have changed my +date. The matter has been uncertain all day, or I would have let you +know earlier. It is lucky I was in time to prevent your starting." + +She was dumb with disappointment. + +"It is a nuisance about your luggage," he went on; "we must telegraph +about it. Don't look so down in the mouth--we shall have our trip next +week instead." + +"What am I to say to Jean--he will think it so strange? I have said +good-bye to him." + +"Oh, you can find an excuse--you 'missed your train.' Come out for half +an hour, and we can talk." His glance fell on the workroom. "Is that +fastened up?" + +"I don't know. Do you want to see what he has done?" + +"I may as well." He had never had an opportunity before--Bourjac had +always been in there. + +"No, it isn't locked," she said; "come on then! Wait till I have shut +it after us before you strike a match--Margot might see the light." + +A rat darted across their feet as they lit the lamp, and he dropped the +matchbox. "Ugh!" + +"The beastly things!" she shivered, "Make haste!" + +On the floor stood a cabinet that was not unlike a gloomy wardrobe in +its outward aspect. Legrand examined it curiously. + +"Too massive," he remarked. "It will cost a fortune for carriage--and +where are the columns I heard of?" He stepped inside and sounded the +walls. "Humph, of course I see his idea. The fake is a very old one, +but it is always effective." Really, he knew nothing about it, but as +he was a conjurer, she accepted him as an authority. + +"Show me! Is there room for us both?" she said, getting in after him. +And as she got in, the door slammed. + +Instantaneously they were in darkness, black as pitch, jammed close +together. Their four hands flew all over the door at once, but they +could touch no handle. The next moment, some revolving apparatus that +had been set in motion, flung them off their feet. Round and round it +swirled, striking against their bodies and their faces. They grovelled +to escape it, but in that awful darkness their efforts were futile; +they could not even see its shape. + +"Stop it!" she gasped. + +"I don't know how," he panted. + +After a few seconds the whir grew fainter, the gyrations stopped +automatically. She wiped the blood from her face, and burst into +hysterical weeping. The man, cursing horribly, rapped to find the +spring that she must have pressed as she entered. It seemed to them +both that there could be no spot he did not rap a thousand times, but +the door never budged. + +His curses ceased; he crouched by her, snorting with fear. + +"What shall we do?" she muttered. + +He did not answer her. + +"Eugene, let us stamp! Perhaps the spring is in the floor." + +Still he paid no heed--he was husbanding his breath. When a minute had +passed, she felt his chest distend, and a scream broke from him-- +"_Help!_" + +"Mon Dieu!" She clutched him, panic-stricken. "We mustn't be found +here, it would ruin everything. Feel for the spring! Eugene, feel for +the spring, don't call!" + +"_Help!_" + +"Don't you understand? Jean will guess--it will be the end of my hopes, +I shall have no career!" + +"I have myself to think about!" he whimpered. And pushing away her +arms, he screamed again and again. But there was no one to hear him, no +neighbours, no one passing in the fields--none but old Bourjac, and +deaf Margot, beyond earshot, in the house. + +The cabinet was, of course, ventilated, and the danger was, not +suffocation, but that they would be jammed here while they slowly +starved to death. Soon her terror of the fate grew all-powerful in the +woman, and, though she loathed him for having been the first to call, +she, too, shrieked constantly for help now. By turns, Legrand would +yell, distraught, and heave himself helplessly against the door--they +were so huddled that he could bring no force to bear upon it. + +In their black, pent prison, like a coffin on end the night held a +hundred hours. The matchbox lay outside, where it had fallen, and +though they could hear his watch ticking in his pocket, they were +unable to look at it. After the watch stopped, they lost their sense of +time altogether; they disputed what day of the week it was. + + * * * * * + +Their voices had been worn to whispers now; they croaked for help. + +In the workroom, the rats missed the remains of old Bourjac's +luncheons; the rats squeaked ravenously.... As she strove to scream, +with the voice that was barely audible, she felt that she could resign +herself to death were she but alone. She could not stir a limb nor draw +a breath apart from the man. She craved at last less ardently for life +than for space--the relief of escaping, even for a single moment, from +the oppression of contact. It became horrible, the contact, as +revolting as if she had never loved him. The ceaseless contact maddened +her. The quaking of his body, the clamminess of his flesh, the smell of +his person, poisoning the darkness, seemed to her the eternities of +Hell. + + * * * * * + +Bourjac lay awaiting his wife's return for more than a fortnight. Then +he sent for her mother, and learnt that the "aunt in Rouen" had been +buried nearly three years. + +The old man was silent. + +"It is a coincidence," added the visitor hesitatingly, "that monsieur +Legrand has also disappeared. People are always ringing my bell to +inquire where he is." + +As soon as he was able to rise, Bourjac left for Paris; and, as the +shortest route to the station was by the garden gate, he passed the +workroom on his way. He nodded, thinking of the time that he had wasted +there, but he did not go inside--he was too impatient to find Laure, +and, incidentally, to shoot Legrand. + +Though his quest failed, he never went back to the cottage; he could +not have borne to live in it now. He tried to let it, but the little +house was not everybody's money, and it stood empty for many years; +indeed, before it was reoccupied Bourjac was dead and forgotten. + +When the new owners planned their renovations, they had the curiosity +to open a mildewed cabinet in an outhouse, and uttered a cry of dismay. +Not until then was the "last effect" attained; but there were two +skeletons, instead of one. + + + +AN INVITATION TO DINNER + +The creators of Eau d'Enfer invited designs for a poster calling the +attention of the world to their liqueur's incomparable qualities. It +occurred to Theodose Goujaud that this was a first-class opportunity to +demonstrate his genius. + +For an article with such a glistening name it was obvious that a poster +must be flamboyant--one could not advertise a "Water of Hell" by a +picture of a village maiden plucking cowslips--and Goujaud passed +wakeful nights devising a sketch worthy of the subject. He decided at +last upon a radiant brunette sharing a bottle of the liqueur with his +Satanic Majesty while she sat on his knee. + +But where was the girl to be found? Though his acquaintance with the +models of Paris was extensive, he could think of none with a face to +satisfy him. One girl's arms wreathed themselves before his mind, +another girl's feet were desirable, but the face, which was of supreme +importance, eluded his most frenzied search. + +"Mon Dieu," groaned Goujaud, "here I am projecting a poster that would +conquer Paris, and my scheme is frustrated by the fact that Nature +fails to produce women equal to the heights of my art! It is such +misfortunes as this that support the Morgue." + +"I recommend you to travel," said Tricotrin; "a tour in the East might +yield your heart's desire." + +"It's a valuable suggestion," rejoined Goujaud; "I should like a couple +of new shirts also, but I lack the money to acquire them." + +"Well," said Tricotrin, "the Ball of the Willing Hand is nearer. Try +that!" + +Goujaud looked puzzled. "The Ball of the Willing Hand?" he repeated; "I +do not know any Ball of the Willing Hand." + +"Is it possible?" cried the poet; "where do you live? Why, the Willing +Hand, my recluse, is the most fascinating resort in Paris. I have been +familiar with it for fully a week. It is a bal de barriere where the +criminal classes enjoy their brief leisure. Every Saturday night they +frisk. The Cut-throats' Quadrille is a particularly sprightly measure, +and the damsels there are often striking." + +"And their escorts, too--if one of the willing hands planted a knife in +my back, there would be no sprightliness about _me!_" + +"In the interests of art one must submit to a little annoyance. Come, +if you are conscientious I will introduce you to the place, and give +you a few hints. For example, the company have a prejudice against +collars, and, assuming for a moment that you possessed more than a +franc, you would do well to leave the surplus at home." + +Goujaud expanded his chest. + +"As a matter of fact," he announced languidly, "I possess five hundred +francs." And so dignified was his air that Tricotrin came near to +believing him. + +"You possess five hundred francs? You? How? No, such things do not +occur! Besides, you mentioned a moment since that you were short of +shirts." + +"It is true that I am short of shirts, but, nevertheless, I have five +hundred francs in my pocket. It is like this. My father, who is not +artistic, has always desired to see me renounce my profession and sink +to commerce. Well, I was at the point of yielding--man cannot live by +hope alone, and my pictures were strangely unappreciated. Then, while +consent trembled on my lips, up popped this Eau d'Enfer! I saw my +opportunity, I recognised that, of all men in Paris, I was the best +qualified to execute the poster. You may divine the sequel? I addressed +my father with burning eloquence, I persuaded him to supply me with the +means to wield my brush for a few months longer. If my poster succeeds, +I become a celebrity. If it fails, I become a petrole merchant. This +summer decides my fate. In the meanwhile I am a capitalist; but it +would be madness for me to purchase shirts, for I shall require every +son to support existence until the poster is acclaimed." + +"You have a practical head!" exclaimed Tricotrin admiringly; "I foresee +that you will go far. Let us trust that the Willing Hand will prove the +ante-chamber to your immortality." + +"I have no faith in your Willing Hand," demurred the painter; "the +criminal classes are not keen on sitting for their portraits--the +process has unpleasant associations to them. Think again! I can spare +half an hour this morning. Evolve a further inspiration on the +subject!" + +"Do you imagine I have nothing to do but to provide you with a model? +My time is fully occupied; I am engaged upon a mystical play, which is +to be called _The Spinster's Prayer or the Goblin Child's Mother_, +and take Paris by storm. A propos--yes, now I come to think of it, +there is something in _Comoedia_ there that might suit you." + +"My preserver!" returned Goujaud. "What is it?" + +Tricotrin picked the paper up and read: + +WANTED: A HUNDRED LADIES FOR THE STAGE.--Beauty more essential than +talent. No dilapidations need apply. _Agence_ Lavalette, rue Baba, +Thursday, 12 to 5. + +"Mon Dieu! Now you are beginning to talk," said Goujaud. "A hundred! +One among them should be suitable, hein? But, all the same--" He +hesitated. "'Twelve to five'! It will be a shade monotonous standing on +a doorstep from twelve to five, especially if the rain streams." + +"Do you expect a Cleopatra to call at your attic, or to send an eighty +horse-power automobile, that you may cast your eye over her? Anyhow, +there may be a cafe opposite; you can order a bock on the terrace, and +make it last." + +"You are right. I shall go and inspect the spot at once. A hundred +beauties! I declare the advertisement might have been framed to meet my +wants. How fortunate that you chanced to see it! To-morrow evening you +shall hear the result--dine with me at the Bel Avenir at eight o'clock. +For one occasion I undertake to go a buster, I should be lacking in +gratitude if I neglected to stuff you to the brim." + +"Oh, my dear chap!" said Tricotrin. "The invitation is a godsend, I +have not viewed the inside of a restaurant for a week. While our pal +Pitou is banqueting with his progenitors in Chartres, _I_ have +even exhausted my influence with the fishmonger--I did not so much as +see my way to a nocturnal herring in the garret. Mind you are not late. +I shall come prepared to do justice to your hospitality, I promise +you." + +"Right, cocky!" said the artist. And he set forth, in high spirits, to +investigate the rue Baba. + +He was gratified to discover a cafe in convenient proximity to the +office. And twelve o'clock had not sounded next day when he took a seat +at one of the little white-topped tables, his gaze bent attentively +upon the agent's step. + +For the earliest arrival he had not long to wait. A dumpy girl with an +enormous nose approached, swinging her _sac a main_. She cast a +complacent glance at the name on the door, opened the bag, whipped out +a powder-puff, and vanished. + +"Morbleu!" thought the painter. "If she is a fair sample, I have +squandered the price of a bock!" He remained in a state of depression +for two or three minutes, and then the girl reappeared, evidently in a +very bad temper. + +"Ah!" he mused, rubbing his hands. "Monsieur Lavalette is plainly a +person of his word. No beauty, no engagement! This is going to be all +right, Where is the next applicant? A sip to Venus!" + +Venus, however, did not irradiate the street yet. The second young +woman was too short in the back, and at sight of her features he shook +his head despondently. "No good, my dear," he said to himself. "Little +as you suspect it, there is a disappointment for you inside, word of +honour! Within three minutes, I shall behold you again." + +And, sure enough, she made her exit promptly, looking as angry as the +other. + +"I am becoming a dramatic prophet!" soliloquised Goujaud; "if I had +nothing more vital to do, I might win drinks, betting on their chances, +with the proprietor of the cafe. However, I grow impatient for the bevy +of beauty--it is a long time on the road." + +As if in obedience to his demand, girls now began to trip into the rue +Baba so rapidly that he was kept busy regarding them. By twos, and +threes, and in quartettes they tripped--tall girls, little girls, plain +girls, pretty girls, girls shabby, and girls chic. But though many of +them would have made agreeable partners at a dance, there was none who +possessed the necessary qualifications for The Girl on Satan's Knee. He +rolled a cigarette, and blew a pessimistic puff. "Another day lost!" +groaned Goujaud. "All is over, I feel it. Posterity will never praise +my poster, the clutch of Commerce is upon me--already the smell of the +petrole is in my nostrils!" + +And scarcely had he said it when his senses reeled. + +For, stepping from a cab, disdainfully, imperially, was his Ideal. Her +hair, revealing the lobes of the daintiest ears that ever listened to +confessions of love, had the gleam of purple grapes. Her eyes were a +mystery, her mouth was a flower, her neck was an intoxication. So +violently was the artist affected that, during several moments, he +forgot his motive for being there. To be privileged merely to +contemplate her was an ecstasy. While he sat transfixed with +admiration, her dainty foot graced the agent's step, and she entered. + +Goujaud caught his breath, and rose. The cab had been discharged. Dared +he speak to her when she came out? It would be a different thing +altogether from speaking to the kind of girl that he had foreseen. But +to miss such a model for lack of nerve, that would be the regret of a +lifetime! Now the prospect of the poster overwhelmed him, and he felt +that he would risk any rebuff, commit any madness to induce her to +"sit." + +The estimate that he had, by this time, formed of monsieur Lavalette's +taste convinced him that her return would not be yet. He sauntered to +and fro, composing a preliminary and winning phrase. What was his +surprise, after a very few seconds, to see that she had come out +already, and was hastening away! + +He overtook her in a dozen strides, and with a bow that was eloquent of +his homage, exclaimed: + +"Mademoiselle!" + +"Hein?" she said, turning. "Oh, it's all right--there are too many +people there; I've changed my mind, I shan't wait." + +He understood that she took him for a minion of the agent's, and he +hesitated whether to correct her mistake immediately. However, candour +seemed the better course. + +"I do not bring a message from monsieur Lavalette, mademoiselle," he +explained. + +"No?" + +"No." + +"What then?" + +"I have ventured to address you on my own account--on a matter of the +most urgent importance." + +"I have no small change," she said curtly, making to pass. + +"Mademoiselle!" His outraged dignity was superb. "You mistake me first +for an office-boy, and then for a beggar. I am a man of means, though +my costume may be unconventional. My name is Theodosc Goujaud." + +Her bow intimated that the name was not significant; but her exquisite +eyes had softened at the reference to his means. + +"For weeks I have been seeking a face for a picture that I have +conceived," he went on; "a face of such peculiar beauty that I +despaired of finding it! I had the joy to see you enter the agency, and +I waited, trembling with the prayer that I might persuade you to come +to my aid. Mademoiselle, will you do me the honour to allow me to +reproduce the magic of your features on my canvas? I entreat it of you +in the sacred name of Art!" + +During this appeal, the lady's demeanour had softened more still. A +faint smile hovered on her lips; her gaze was half gratified, half +amused. + +"Oh, you're a painter?" she said; "you want me to sit to you for the +Salon? I don't know, I'm sure." + +"It is not precisely for the Salon," he acknowledged. "But I am +absorbed by the scheme--it will be the crown of my career. I will +explain. It is a long story. If--if we could sit down?" + +"Where?" + +"There appears to be a cafe close to the agency," said Goujaud timidly. + +"Oh!" She dismissed the cafe's pretensions with her eyebrows. + +"You are right," he stammered. "Now that I look at it again, I see that +it is quite a common place. Well, will you permit me to walk a little +way with you?" + +"We will go to breakfast at Armenonville, if you like," she said +graciously, "where you can explain to me at your leisure." It seemed +to Goujaud that his heart dropped into his stomach and turned to a +cannon-ball there. Armenonville? What would such a breakfast cost? +Perhaps a couple of louis? Never in his life had he contemplated +breakfasting at Armenonville. + +She smiled, as if taking his consent for granted. Her loveliness and +air of fashion confused him dreadfully. And if he made excuses, there +would be no poster! Oh, he must seize the chance at any price! + +"Oh course--I shall be enchanted," he mumbled. And before he half +realised that the unprecedented thing had happened they were rattling +away, side by side in a fiacre. + +It was astounding, it was breathless, it was an episode out of a novel! +But Goujaud felt too sick, in thinking of the appalling expense, to +enjoy his sudden glory. Accustomed to a couple of louis providing meals +for three weeks, he was stupefied by the imminence of scattering the +sum in a brief half-hour. Even the cab fare weighed upon him; he not +infrequently envied the occupants of omnibuses. + +It was clear that the lady herself was no stranger to the restaurant. +While he blinked bewildered on the threshold, she was referring to her +"pet table," and calling a waiter "Jules." The menu was a fresh +embarrassment to the bohemian, but she, and the deferential waiter, +relieved him of that speedily, and in five minutes an epicurean +luncheon had been ordered, and he was gulping champagne. + +It revived his spirits. Since he had tumbled into the adventure of his +life, by all means let him savour the full flavour of it! His +companion's smiles had become more frequent, her eyes were more +transcendental still. + +"How funnily things happen!" she remarked presently. "I had not the +least idea of calling on Lavalette when I got up this morning. If I had +not had a tiff with somebody, and decided to go on the stage to spite +him, I should never have met you." + +"Oh, you are not on the stage yet, then?" + +"No. But I have often thought about it, and the quarrel determined me. +So I jumped into a cab, drove off, and then--well, there was such a +crowd of girls there, and they looked so vulgar; I changed my mind." + +"Can an angel quarrel?" demanded Goujaud sentimentally. "I cannot +imagine you saying an angry word to anyone." + +"Oh!" she laughed. "Can't I, though! I'm a regular demon when I'm +cross. People shouldn't vex me." + +"Certainly not," he agreed. "And no one but a brute would do so. +Besides, some women are attractive even in a rage. On the whole, I +think I should like to see you in a rage with _me_, providing +always that you 'made it up' as nicely as I should wish." + +"Do you fancy that I could?" she asked, looking at the table-cloth. + +"My head swims, in fancying!" + +Her laughter rippled again, and her fascination was so intense that the +poor fellow could scarcely taste a mouthful of his unique repast. "Talk +to me," she commanded, "sensibly I mean! Where do you live?" + +"I am living in the rue Ravignan." + +"The rue Ravignan? Where is that?" + +"Montmartre." + +"Oh, really?" She seemed chilled. "It is not a very nice quarter in the +daytime, is it?" + +"My studio suits me," murmured Goujaud, perceiving his fall in her +esteem. "For that reason I am reluctant to remove. An artist becomes +very much attached to his studio. And what do I care for fashion, I? +You may judge by my coat!" + +"You're eccentric, aren't you?" + +"Hitherto I have lived only for Art. But now I begin to realise that +there may be something more potent and absorbing still." + +"What is that?" + +"Love!" added Goujaud, feeling himself the embodiment of all the heroes +of romance. + +"Oh?" Her glance mocked, encouraged. "I am dying to hear about your +picture, though! What is the subject?" + +"It is not exactly what you mean by a 'picture.'" He fiddled with his +glass. "It is, in fact, a poster that I project." + +"A poster?" she exclaimed. "And you ask _me_ to--oh, no, I +couldn't possibly!" + +"Mademoiselle!" + +"I really don't think I could. A poster? Ah, no!" + +"To save me!" he implored. "Because my whole life depends on your +decision!" + +"How can a poster matter so much to you? The proposal is absurd." She +regarded her peche Melba with a frown. + +"If you think of becoming an actress, remember what a splendid +advertisement it would be!" he urged feverishly. + +"Oh, flute!" But she had wavered at that. + +"All Paris would flock to your debut. They would go saying, 'Can she be +as beautiful as her portrait?' And they would come back saying, 'She is +lovelier still!' Let me give you some more wine." + +"No more; I'll have coffee, and a grand marnier--red." + +"Doubtless the more expensive colour!" reflected Goujaud. But the time +had passed for dwelling on minor troubles. "Listen," he resumed; "I +shall tell you my history. You will then realise to what an abyss of +despair your refusal will plunge me--to what effulgent heights I may be +raised by your consent. You cannot be marble! My father--" + +"Indeed, I am not marble," she put in. "I am instinct with sensibility +--it is my great weakness." + +"So much the better. Be weak to _me_. My father--" + +"Oh, let us get out of this first!" she suggested, "You can talk to me +as we drive." + +And the attentive Jules presented the discreetly folded bill. + +For fully thirty seconds the Pavilion d'Armenonville swirled round the +unfortunate painter so violently that he felt as if he were on a +roundabout at a fair. He feared that the siren must hear the pounding +of his heart. To think that he had dreaded paying two louis! Two louis? +Why, it would have been a bagatelle! Speechlessly he laid a fortune on +the salver. With a culminating burst of recklessness he waved four +francs towards Jules, and remarked that that personage eyed the tip +with cold displeasure. "What a lucrative career, a waiter's!" moaned +the artist; "he turns up his nose at four francs!" + +Well, he had speculated too heavily to accept defeat now! Bracing +himself for the effort, Goujaud besought the lady's help with such a +flood of blandishment during the drive that more than once she seemed +at the point of yielding. Only one difficult detail had he withheld-- +that he wished to pose her on the knee of Mephistopheles--and to +propitiate her further, before breaking the news, he stopped the cab at +a florist's. + +She was so good-humoured and tractable after the florist had pillaged +him that he could scarcely be callous when she showed him that she had +split her glove. But, to this day, he protests that, until the glove-shop +had been entered, it never occurred to him that it would be +necessary to present her with more than one pair. As they came out-- +Goujaud moving beside her like a man in a trance--she gave a faint +start. + +"Mon Dieu!" she muttered. "There's my friend--he has seen us--I must +speak to him, or he will think I am doing wrong. Wait a minute!" And a +dandy, with a monocle, was, indeed, casting very supercilious glances +at the painter. + +At eight o'clock that evening, monsieur Tricotrin, with a prodigious +appetite, sat in the Cafe du Bel Avenir, awaiting the arrival of his +host. When impatience was mastering him, there arrived, instead, a +petit bleu. The impecunious poet took it from the proprietress, paling, +and read: + +"I discovered my Ideal--she ruined, and then deserted me! To-morrow +there will be a painter the less, and a petrole merchant the more. +Pardon my non-appearance--I am spending my last sous on this message." + +"Monsieur will give his order now?" inquired the proprietress. + +"Er--thank you, I do not dine to-night," said Tricotrin. + + + +THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS + +In the summer of the memorable year ----, but the date doesn't matter, +Robichon and Quinquart both paid court to mademoiselle Brouette, +Mademoiselle Brouette was a captivating actress, Robichon and Quinquart +were the most comic of comedians, and all three were members of the +Theatre Supreme. + +Robichon was such an idol of the public's that they used to laugh +before he uttered the first word of his role; and Quinquart was so +vastly popular that his silence threw the audience into convulsions. + +Professional rivalry apart, the two were good friends, although they +were suitors for the same lady, and this was doubtless due to the fact +that the lady favoured the robust Robichon no more than she favoured +the skinny Quinquart. She flirted with them equally, she approved them +equally--and at last, when each of them had plagued her beyond +endurance, she promised in a pet that she would marry the one that was +the better actor. Tiens! Not a player on the stage, not a critic on +the Press could quite make up his mind which the better actor was. Only +Suzanne Brouette could have said anything so tantalising. + +"But how shall we decide the point, Suzanne?" stammered Robichon +helplessly. "Whose pronouncement will you accept?" + +"How can the question be settled?" queried Quinquart, dismayed. "Who +shall be the judge?" + +"Paris shall be the judge," affirmed Suzanne. "We are the servants of +the public--I will take the public's word!" + +Of course she was as pretty as a picture, or she couldn't have done +these things. + +Then poor Quinquart withdrew, plunged in reverie. So did Robichon. +Quinquart reflected that she had been talking through her expensive +hat. Robichon was of the same opinion. The public lauded them both, was +no less generous to one than to the other--to wait for the judgment of +Paris appeared equivalent to postponing the matter _sine die_. No +way out presented itself to Quinquart. None occurred to Robichon. + +"Mon vieux," said the latter, as they sat on the terrace of their +favourite cafe a day or two before the annual vacation, "let us discuss +this amicably. Have a cigarette! You are an actor, therefore you +consider yourself more talented than I. I, too, am an actor, therefore +I regard you as less gifted than myself. So much for our artistic +standpoints! But we are also men of the world, and it must be obvious +to both of us that we might go on being funny until we reached our +death-beds without demonstrating the supremacy of either. Enfin, our +only hope lies in versatility--the conqueror must distinguish himself +in a solemn part!" He viewed the other with complacence, for the quaint +Quinquart had been designed for a droll by Nature. + +"Right!" said Quinquart. He contemplated his colleague with +satisfaction, for it was impossible to fancy the fat Robichon in +tragedy. + +"I perceive only one drawback to the plan," continued Robichon, "the +Management will never consent to accord us a chance. Is it not always +so in the theatre? One succeeds in a certain line of business and one +must be resigned to play that line as long as one lives. If my earliest +success had been scored as a villain of melodrama, it would be believed +that I was competent to enact nothing but villains of melodrama; it +happened that I made a hit as a comedian, wherefore nobody will credit +that I am capable of anything but being comic." + +"Same here!" concurred Quinquart. "Well, then, what do you propose?" + +Robichon mused. "Since we shall not be allowed to do ourselves justice +on the stage, we must find an opportunity off it!" + +"A private performance? Good! Yet, if it is a private performance, how +is Paris to be the judge?" + +"Ah," murmured Robichon, "that is certainly a stumbling-block." + +They sipped their aperitifs moodily. Many heads were turned towards the +little table where they sat. "There are Quinquart and Robichon, how +amusing they always are!" said passers-by, little guessing the anxiety +at the laughter-makers' hearts. + +"What's to be done?" sighed Quinquart at last. + +Robichon shrugged his fat shoulders, with a frown. + +Both were too absorbed to notice that, after a glance of recognition, +one of the pedestrians had paused, and was still regarding them +irresolutely. He was a tall, burly man, habited in rusty black, and the +next moment, as if finding courage, he stepped forward and spoke: + +"Gentlemen, I ask pardon for the liberty I take--impulse urges me to +seek your professional advice! I am in a position to pay a moderate +fee. Will you permit me to explain myself?" + +"Monsieur," returned Robichon, "we are in deep consideration of our +latest parts. We shall be pleased to give you our attention at some +other time." + +"Alas!" persisted the newcomer, "with me time presses. I, too, am +considering my latest part--and it will be the only speaking part I +have ever played, though I have been 'appearing' for twenty years." + +"What? You have been a super for twenty years?" said Quinquart, with a +grimace. + +"No, monsieur," replied the stranger grimly. "I have been the public +executioner; and I am going to lecture on the horrors of the post I +have resigned." + +The two comedians stared at him aghast. Across the sunlit terrace +seemed to have fallen the black shadow of the guillotine. + +"I am Jacques Roux," the man went on, "I am 'trying it on the dog' at +Appeville-sous-Bois next week, and I have what you gentlemen call +'stage fright'--I, who never knew what nervousness meant before! Is it +not queer? As often as I rehearse walking on to the platform, I feel +myself to be all arms and legs--I don't know what to do with them. +Formerly, I scarcely remembered my arms and legs; but, of course, my +attention used to be engaged by the other fellow's head. Well, it +struck me that you might consent to give me a few hints in deportment. +Probably one lesson would suffice." + +"Sit down," said Robichon. "Why did you abandon your official +position?" + +"Because I awakened to the truth," Roux answered. "I no longer agree +with capital punishment: it is a crime that should be abolished." + +"The scruples of conscience, hein?" + +"That is it." + +"Fine!" said Robichon. "What dramatic lines such a lecture might +contain! And of what is it to consist?" + +"It is to consist of the history of my life--my youth, my poverty, my +experiences as Executioner, and my remorse." + +"Magnificent!" said Robichon. "The spectres of your victims pursue you +even to the platform. Your voice fails you, your eyes start from your +head in terror. You gasp for mercy--and imagination splashes your +outstretched hands with gore. The audience thrill, women swoon, strong +men are breathless with emotion." Suddenly he smote the table with his +big fist, and little Quinquart nearly fell off his chair, for he +divined the inspiration of his rival. "Listen!" cried Robichon, "are +you known at Appeville-sous-Bois?" + +"My name is known, yes." + +"Bah! I mean are you known personally, have you acquaintances there?" + +"Oh, no. But why?" + +"There will be nobody to recognize you?" + +"It is very unlikely in such a place." + +"What do you estimate that your profits will amount to?" + +"It is only a small hall, and the prices are very cheap. Perhaps two +hundred and fifty francs." + +"And you are nervous, you would like to postpone your debut?" + +"I should not be sorry, I admit. But, again, why?" + +"I will tell you why--I offer you five hundred francs to let me take +your place!" + +"Monsieur!" + +"Is it a bargain?" + +"I do not understand!" + +"I have a whim to figure in a solemn part. You can explain next day +that you missed your train--that you were ill, there are a dozen +explanations that can be made; you will not be supposed to know that I +personated you--the responsibility for that is mine. What do you say?" + +"It is worth double the money," demurred the man. + +"Not a bit of it! All the Press will shout the story of my practical +joke--Paris will be astounded that I, Robichon, lectured as Jacques +Roux and curdled an audience's blood. Millions will speak of your +intended lecture tour who otherwise would never have heard of it. I am +giving you the grandest advertisement, and paying you for it, besides. +Enfin, I will throw a deportment lesson in! Is it agreed?" + +"Agreed, monsieur!" said Roux. + +Oh, the trepidation of Quinquart! Who could eclipse Robichon if his +performance of the part equalled his conception of it? At the theatre +that evening Quinquart followed Suzanne about the wings pathetically. +He was garbed like a buffoon, but he felt like Romeo. The throng that +applauded his capers were far from suspecting the romantic longings +under his magenta wig. For the first time in his life he was thankful +that the author hadn't given him more to do. + +And, oh, the excitement of Robichon! He was to put his powers to a +tremendous test, and if he made the effect that he anticipated he had +no fear of Quinquart's going one better. Suzanne, to whom he whispered +his project proudly, announced an intention of being present to "see +the fun." Quinquart also promised to be there. Robichon sat up all +night preparing his lecture. + +If you wish to know whether Suzanne rejoiced at the prospect of his +winning her, history is not definite on the point; but some chroniclers +assert that at this period she made more than usual of Quinquart, who +had developed a hump as big as the Pantheon. + +And they all went to Appeville-sous-Bois. + +Though no one in the town was likely to know the features of the +Executioner, it was to be remembered that people there might know the +actor's, and Robichon had made up to resemble Roux as closely as +possible. Arriving at the humble hall, he was greeted by the lessee, +heard that a "good house" was expected, and smoked a cigarette in the +retiring-room while the audience assembled. + +At eight o'clock the lessee reappeared. + +"All is ready, monsieur Roux," he said. + +Robichon rose. + +He saw Suzanne and Quinquart in the third row, and was tempted to wink +at them. + +"Ladies and gentlemen--" + +All eyes were riveted on him as he began; even the voice of the +"Executioner" exercised a morbid fascination over the crowd. The men +nudged their neighbours appreciatively, and women gazed at him, half +horrified, half charmed. + +The opening of his address was quiet enough--there was even a humorous +element in it, as he narrated imaginary experiences of his boyhood. +People tittered, and then glanced at one another with an apologetic +air, as if shocked at such a monster's daring to amuse them. Suzanne +whispered to Quinquart: "Too cheerful; he hasn't struck the right +note." Quinquart whispered back gloomily: "Wait; he may be playing for +the contrast!" + +And Quinquart's assumption was correct. Gradually the cheerfulness +faded from the speaker's voice, the humorous incidents were past. +Gruesome, hideous, grew the anecdotes, The hall shivered. Necks were +craned, and white faces twitched suspensively. He dwelt on the agonies +of the Condemned, he recited crimes in detail, he mirrored the last +moments before the blade fell. He shrieked his remorse, his lacerating +remorse. "I am a murderer," he sobbed; and in the hall one might have +heard a pin drop. + +There was no applause when he finished--that set the seal on his +success; he bowed and withdrew amid tense silence. Still none moved in +the hall, until, with a rush, the representatives of the Press sped +forth to proclaim Jacques Roux an unparalleled sensation. + +The triumph of Robichon! How generous were the congratulations of +Quinquart, and how sweet the admiring tributes of Suzanne! And there +was another compliment to come--nothing less than a card from the +marquis de Thevenin, requesting an interview at his home. + +"Ah!" exclaimed Robichon, enravished, "an invitation from a noble! That +proves the effect I made, hein?" + +"Who may he be?" inquired Quinquart. "I never heard of the marquis de +Thevenin!" + +"It is immaterial whether you have heard of him," replied Robichon. "He +is a marquis, and he desires to converse with me! It is an honour that +one must appreciate. I shall assuredly go." + +And, being a bit of a snob, he sought a fiacre in high feather. + +The drive was short, and when the cab stopped he was distinctly taken +aback to perceive the unpretentious aspect of the nobleman's abode. It +was, indeed, nothing better than a lodging. A peasant admitted him, and +the room to which he was ushered boasted no warmer hospitality than a +couple of candles and a decanter of wine. However, the sconces were +massive silver. Monsieur le marquis, he was informed, had been suddenly +compelled to summon his physician, and begged that monsieur Roux would +allow him a few minutes' grace. + +Robichon ardently admired the candlesticks, but began to think he might +have supped more cozily with Suzanne. + +It was a long time before the door opened. + +The marquis de Thevenin was old--so old that he seemed to be falling to +pieces as he tottered forward. His skin was yellow and shrivelled, his +mouth sunken, his hair sparse and grey; and from this weird face peered +strange eyes--the eyes of a fanatic. + +"Monsieur, I owe you many apologies for my delay," he wheezed. "My +unaccustomed exertion this evening fatigued me, and on my return from +the hall I found it necessary to see my doctor. Your lecture was +wonderful, monsieur Roux--most interesting and instructive; I shall +never forget it." + +Robichon bowed his acknowledgments. + +"Sit down, monsieur Roux, do not stand! Let me offer you some wine. I +am forbidden to touch it myself. I am a poor host, but my age must be +my excuse." + +"To be the guest of monsieur le marquis," murmured Robichon, "is a +privilege, an honour, which--er--" + +"Ah," sighed the Marquis. "I shall very soon be in the Republic where +all men are really equals and the only masters are the worms. My reason +for requesting you to come was to speak of your unfortunate +experiences--of a certain unfortunate experience in particular. You +referred in your lecture to the execution of one called 'Victor +Lesueur.' He died game, hein?" + +"As plucky a soul as I ever dispatched!" said Robichon, savouring the +burgundy. + +"Ah! Not a tremor? He strode to the guillotine like a man?" + +"Like a hero!" said Robichon, who knew nothing about him. + +"That was fine," said the Marquis; "that was as it should be! You have +never known a prisoner to die more bravely?" There was a note of pride +in his voice that was unmistakable. + +"I shall always recall his courage with respect," declared Robichon, +mystified. + +"Did you respect it at the time?" + +"Pardon, monsieur le marquis?" + +"I inquire if you respected it at the time; did you spare him all +needless suffering?" + +"There is no suffering," said Robichon. "So swift is the knife that--" +The host made a gesture of impatience. "I refer to mental suffering. +Cannot you realise the emotions of an innocent man condemned to a +shameful death!" + +"Innocent! As for that, they all say that they are innocent." + +"I do not doubt it. Victor, however, spoke the truth. I know it. He was +my son." + +"Your son?" faltered Robichon, aghast. + +"My only son--the only soul I loved on earth. Yes; he was innocent, +monsieur Roux. And it was you who butchered him--he died by your +hands." + +"I--I was but the instrument of the law," stammered Robichon. "I was +not responsible for his fate, myself." + +"You have given a masterly lecture, monsieur Roux," said the Marquis +musingly; "I find myself in agreement with all that you said in it-- +you are his murderer,' I hope the wine is to your taste, monsieur Roux? +Do not spare it!" + +"The wine?" gasped the actor. He started to his feet, trembling--he +understood. + +"It is poisoned," said the old man calmly, "In an hour you will be +dead." + +"Great Heavens!" moaned Robichon. Already he was conscious of a strange +sensation--his blood was chilled, his limbs were weighted, there were +shadows before his eyes. + +"Ah, I have no fear of you!" continued the other; "I am feeble, I could +not defend myself; but your violence would avail you nothing. Fight, or +faint, as you please--you are doomed." + +For some seconds they stared at each other dumbly--the actor paralysed +by terror, the host wearing the smile of a lunatic. And then the +"lunatic" slowly peeled court-plaster from his teeth, and removed +features, and lifted a wig. + + * * * * * + +And when the whole story was published, a delighted Paris awarded the +palm to Quinquart without a dissentient voice, for while Robichon had +duped an audience, Quinquart had duped Robichon himself. + +Robichon bought the silver candlesticks, which had been hired for the +occasion, and he presented them to Quinquart and Suzanne on their +wedding-day. + + + +THE FAIRY POODLE + +They were called the "Two Children" because they were so unpractical; +even in bohemia, where practicality is the last virtue to flourish, +their improvidence was surprising; but really they were not children at +all--they had been married for three years, though to watch their +billing and cooing, you would have supposed them to be bride and +bridegroom. + +Julian and Juliette had fallen in love and run to the Mairie as +joyously as if chateaubriands were to be gathered from the boughs in +the Jardin des Buttes-Chaumont; and since then their home had been the +studio under the slates, where they were often penniless. Indeed, if it +had not been for the intermittent mercies of madame Cochard, the +concierge, they would have starved under the slates. However, they were +sure that the pictures which Julien painted would some day make him +celebrated, and that the fairy-tales which Juliette weaved would some +day be as famous as Hans Andersen's. So they laughed, and painted and +scribbled, and spent their money on bonbons, instead of saving it for +bread; and when they had no dinner, they would kiss each other, and say +"There is a good time coming," And they were called the "Two Children," +as you know. + +But even the patience of madame Cochard was taxed when Juliette brought +back the poodle. + +She found him--a strayed, muddy, unhappy little poodle--in the rue de +Rivoli one wet afternoon in November, and what more natural than that +she should immediately bear him home, and propose to give him a bath, +and adopt him? It was the most natural thing in the world, since she +was Juliette, yet this madame Cochard, who objected to a dog on her +stairs as violently as if it were a tiger, was furious. + +"Is it not enough," she cried, "that you are the worst tenants in the +house, you two--that you are always behindhand with your rent, and that +I must fill your mouths out of my own purse? Is a concierge an Angel +from Heaven, do you think, that you expect her to provide also for lost +dogs?" + +"Dear, kind madame Cochard," cooed Juliette, "you will learn to love +the little creature as if it were your own child! See how trustfully he +regards you!" + +"It is a fact," added Julien; "he seems to take to her already! It is +astonishing how quickly a dog recognises a good heart." + +"Good heart, or not," exclaimed the concierge, "it is to be understood +that I do not consent to this outrage. The poodle shall not remain!" + +"Be discreet," urged Juliette. "I entreat you to be discreet, for your +own sake; if you must have the whole truth, he is a fairy poodle!" + +"What do you say?" ejaculated madame Cochard. + +"He is a fairy poodle, and if we treat him ungenerously, we shall +suffer. Remember the history of the Lodgers, the Concierge, and the +Pug!" + +"I have never heard of such a history," returned madame Cochard; "and I +do not believe that there ever was one." + +"She has never heard the history of the Lodgers, the Concierge, and the +Pug!" cried Juliette. "Oh, then listen, madame! Once upon a time there +were two lodgers, a young man and his wife, and they were so poor that +often they depended on the tenderness of the concierge to supply them +with a dinner." + +"Did they also throw away their good money on bonbons and flowers?" +asked madame Cochard, trying her utmost to look severe. + +"It is possible," admitted Juliette, who was perched on the table, with +the dirty little animal in her lap, "for though they are our hero and +heroine, I cannot pretend that they were very wise. Well, this +concierge, who suffered badly from lumbago and stairs, had sometimes a +bit of temper, so you may figure yourself what a fuss she raised when +the poor lodgers brought home a friendless pug to add to their +embarrassments. However--" + +"There is no 'however,'" persisted madame Cochard; "she raises a fuss, +and that is all about it!" + +"Pardon, dear madame," put in Julien, "you confuse the cases; we are +now concerned with the veracious history of the pug, not the uncertain +future of the poodle." + +"Quite so," said Juliette. "She raised a terrible fuss and declared +that the pug should go, but finally she melted to it and made it +welcome. And then, what do you suppose happened? Why, it turned out to +be an enchanted prince, who rewarded them all with wealth and +happiness. The young man's pictures were immediately accepted by the +Salon--did I mention that he was an artist? The young woman's stories-- +did I tell you that she wrote stories?--became so much the fashion that +her head swam with joy; and the concierge--the dear, kind concierge-- +was changed into a beautiful princess, and never had to walk up any +stairs again as long as she lived. Thus we see that one should never +forbid lodgers to adopt a dog!" + +"Thus we see that they do well to call you a pair of 'children,'" +replied madame Cochard, "that is what we see! Well, well, keep the dog, +since you are so much bent on it; only I warn you that if it gives me +trouble, it will be sausages in no time! I advise you to wash it +without delay, for a more deplorable little beast I never saw." + +Julien and Juliette set to work with delight, and after he was bathed +and dry, the alteration in the dog was quite astonishing. Although he +did not precisely turn into a prince, he turned into a poodle of the +most fashionable aspect. Obviously an aristocrat among poodles, a +poodle of high estate. The metamorphosis was so striking that a new +fear assailed his rescuers, the fear that it might be dishonest of them +to retain him--probably some great lady was disconsolate at his loss! + +Sure enough! A few days later, when Sanquereau called upon them, he +said: + +"By the way, did I not hear that you had found a poodle, my children? +Doubtless it is the poodle for which they advertise. See!" And he +produced a copy of a journal in which "a handsome reward" was promised +for the restoration of an animal which resembled their protege to a +tuft. + +The description was too accurate for the Children to deceive +themselves, and that afternoon Juliette carried the dog to a +magnificent house which was nothing less than the residence of the +comtesse de Grand Ecusson. + +She was left standing in a noble hall while a flunkey bore the dog +away. Then another flunkey bade her follow him upstairs; and in a salon +which was finer than anything that Juliette had ever met with outside +the pages of a novel, the Countess was reclining on a couch with the +poodle in her arms. + +"I am so grateful to you for the recovery of my darling," said the +great lady; "my distress has been insupportable. Ah, naughty, naughty +Racine!" She made a pretence of chastising the poodle on the nose. + +"I can understand it, madame," said Juliette, much embarrassed. + +"Where did you find him? And has he been well fed, well taken care of? +I hope he has not been sleeping in a draught?" + +"Oh, indeed, madame, he has been nourished like a beloved child. +Doubtless, not so delicately as with madame, but--" + +"It was most kind of you," said the lady. "I count myself blessed that +my little Racine fell into such good hands. Now as to the reward, what +sum would you think sufficient?" + +Juliette looked shy. "I thank you, madame, but we could not accept +anything," she faltered. + +"What?" exclaimed the Countess, raising her eyebrows in surprise, "you +cannot accept anything? How is that?" + +"Well," said Juliette, "it would be base to accept money for a simple +act of honesty. It is true that we did not wish to part with the dog-- +we had grown to love him--but, as to our receiving payment for giving +him up, that is impossible." + +The Countess laughed merrily. "What a funny child you are! And, who are +'we'--you and your parents?" + +"Oh no," said Juliette; "my parents are in Heaven, madame; but I am +married." + +"Your husband must be in heaven, too!" said the Countess, who was a +charming woman. + +"Ah," demurred Juliette, "but although I have a warm heart, I have also +a healthy appetite, and he is not rich; he is a painter." + +"I must go to see his pictures some day," replied the comtesse de Grand +Ecusson. "Give me the address--and believe that I am extremely grateful +to you!" + +It need not be said that Juliette skipped home on air after this +interview. The hint of such patronage opened the gates of paradise to +her, and the prospect was equally dazzling to Julien. For fully a week +they talked of nothing but a visit from the comtesse de Grand Ecusson, +having no suspicion that fine ladies often forgot their pretty promises +as quickly as they made them. + +And the week, and a fortnight, and a month passed, and at last the +expectation faded; they ceased to indulge their fancies of a carriage- +and-pair dashing into the street with a Lady Bountiful. And what was +much more serious, madame Cochard ceased to indulge their follies. The +truth was that she had never pardoned the girl for refusing to accept +the proffered reward; the delicacy that prompted the refusal was beyond +her comprehension, and now that the pair were in arrears with their +rent again, she put no bridle on her tongue. "It appears to me that it +would have been more honourable to accept money for a poodle than to +owe money to a landlord," she grunted. "It must be perfectly understood +that if the sum is not forthcoming on the first of January, you will +have to get out. I have received my instructions, and I shall obey +them. On the first day of January, my children, you pay, or you go! Le +bon Dieu alone knows what will become of you, but that is no affair of +mine. I expect you will die like the babes in the wood, for you are no +more fit to make a living than a cow is fit to fly." + +"Dear madame Cochard," they answered, peacefully, "why distress +yourself about us? The first of January is more than a week distant; in +a week we may sell a picture, or some fairy tales--in a week many +things may happen!" And they sunned themselves on the boulevard the +same afternoon with as much serenity as if they had been millionaires. + +Nevertheless, they did not sell a picture or some fairy tales in the +week that followed--and the first of January dawned with relentless +punctuality, as we all remember. + +In the early morning, when madame Cochard made her ascent to the attic +--her arms folded inexorably, the glare of a creditor in her eye--she +found that Juliette had already been out. (If you can believe me, she +had been out to waste her last two francs on an absurd tie for Julien!) + +"Eh bien," demanded the concierge sternly, "where is your husband? I am +here, as arranged, for the rent; no doubt he has it ready on the +mantelpiece for me?" + +"He is not in," answered Juliette coaxingly, "and I am sorry to say we +have had disappointments. The fact is there is something wrong with the +construction of a story of which I had immense hopes--it needs letting +out at the waist, and a tuck put in at the hem. When I have made the +alterations, I am sure it will fit some journal elegantly." + +"All this passes forbearance!" exclaimed madame Cochard. "Well, you +have thoroughly understood, and all is said--you will vacate your +lodging by evening! So much grace I give you; but at six o'clock you +depart promptly, or you will be ejected! And do not reckon on me to +send any meal up here during the day, for you will not get so much as a +crust. What is it that you have been buying there?" + +"It is a little gift for Julien; I rose early to choose it before he +woke, and surprise him; but when I returned he was out." + +"A gift?" cried the concierge. "You have no money to buy food, and you +buy a gift for your husband! What for?" + +"What for?" repeated Juliette wonderingly. "Why, because it is New +Year's Day! And that reminds me--I wish you the compliments of the +season, madame; may you enjoy many happy years!" + +"Kind words pay no bills," snapped the concierge. "I have been lenient +far too long--I have my own reputation to consider with the landlord. +By six o'clock, bear in mind!" And then, to complete her resentment, +what should happen but that Julien entered bearing a bouquet! + +To see Julien present Juliette with the roses, and to watch Juliette +enchant Julien with the preposterous tie, was as charming a little +comedy of improvidence as you would be likely to meet with in a +lifetime. + +"Mon Dieu!" gasped madame Cochard, purple with indignation, "it is, +indeed, well that you are leaving here, monsieur--a madhouse is the +fitting address for you! You have nothing to eat and you buy roses for +your wife! What for?" + +"What for?" echoed Julien, astonished. "Why, because it is New Year's +Day! And I take the opportunity to wish you the compliments of the +season, madame--may your future be as bright as Juliette's eyes!" + +"By six o'clock!" reiterated the concierge, who was so exasperated that +she could barely articulate. "By six o'clock you will be out of the +place!" And to relieve her feelings, she slammed the door with such +violence that half a dozen canvases fell to the floor. + +"Well, this is a nice thing," remarked Julien, when she had gone. "It +looks to me, mignonne, as if we shall sleep in the Bois, with the moon +for an eiderdown." + +"At least you shall have a comfy pillow, sweetheart," cried Juliette, +drawing his head to her breast. + +"My angel, there is none so soft in the Elysee, And as we have nothing +for dejeuner in the cupboard, I propose that we breakfast now on +kisses." + +"Ah, Julien!" whispered the girl, as she folded him in her arms. + +"Ah, Juliette!" It was as if they had been married that morning. + +"And yet," continued the young man, releasing her at last, "to own the +truth, your kisses are not satisfying as a menu; they are the choicest +of hors d'oeuvres--they leave one hungry for more." + +They were still making love when Sanquereau burst in to wish them a +Happy New Year. + +"How goes it, my children?" he cried. "You look like a honeymoon, I +swear! Am I in the way, or may I breakfast with you?" + +"You are not in the way, mon vieux," returned Julien; "but I shall not +invite you to breakfast with me, because my repast consists of +Juliette's lips." + +"Mon Dieu!" said Sanquereau. "So you are broke? Well, in my chequered +career I have breakfasted on much worse fare than yours." + +At this reply, Juliette blushed with all the bashfulness of a bride, +and Julien endeavoured to assume the air of a man of the world. + +"Tell me," he said; "we are in difficulties about the rent--have you by +chance a louis that you could lend me?" + +Sanquereau turned out his pockets, like the good fellow he was, but he +could produce no more than a sou. "What a bother!" he cried. "I would +lend you a louis if I had it as readily as a cigarette-paper, but you +see how I am situated. On my honour, it rends my heart to have to +refuse." + +"You are a gallant comrade," said Julien, much touched. "Come back and +sup with us this evening, and we will open the New Year with a +festivity!" + +"Hein? But there will be no supper," faltered Juliette. + +"That's true," said Julien; "there will be no supper--I was forgetting. +Still--who knows? There is plenty of time; I shall have an idea. +Perhaps I may be able to borrow something from Tricotrin." + +"I shall be enchanted," responded Sanquereau; "depend on my arrival! If +I am not mistaken, I recognize Tricotrin's voice on the stairs." + +His ears had not deceived him; Tricotrin appeared with Pitou at this +very moment. + +"Greeting, my children!" they cried. "How wags the world? May the New +Year bring you laurels and lucre!" + +"To you also, dear Gustave and Nicolas," cried the Children. "May your +poems and your music ignite the Seine, and may Sanquereau rise to +eminence and make statues of you both!" + +"In the meantime," added Sanquereau, "can either of you put your hands +on a few francs? There is a fine opening for them here." + +"A difference of opinion exists between ourselves and the landlord," +Julien explained; "we consider that he should wait for his rent, and he +holds a different view. If you could lend us fifteen francs, we might +effect a compromise." + +The poet and the composer displayed the lining of their pockets as +freely as the sculptor had done, but their capital proved to be a sou +less than his own. Tears sprang to their eyes as they confessed their +inability to be of use, "We are in despair," they groaned. + +"My good, kind friends," exclaimed Julien, "your sympathy is a noble +gift in itself! Join us in a little supper this evening in celebration +of the date." + +"We shall be delighted," declared Tricotrin and Pitou. + +"But--but--" stammered Juliette again, "where is it to come from, this +supper--and where shall we be by supper-time?" + +"Well, our address is on the lap of the gods," admitted Julien, "but +while there is life there is hope. Possibly I may obtain a loan from +Lajeunie." + +Not many minutes had passed before Lajeunie also paid a visit to the +attic, "Aha," cried the unsuccessful novelist, as he perceived the +company, "well met! My children, my brothers, may your rewards equal +your deserts this year--may France do honour to your genius!" + +"And may Lajeunie be crowned the New Balzac," shouted the assembly; +"may his abode be in the Champs Elysees, and his name in the mouth of +all the world!" + +But, extraordinary as it appears, Lajeunie proved to be as impecunious +as the rest there; and he was so much distressed that Julien, deeply +moved, said: + +"Come back to supper, Lajeunie, we will drink toasts to the Muses!" And +now there were four guests invited to the impracticable supper, and +when the Children were left alone they clapped their hands at the +prospect. + +"How merry we shall be!" Julien exclaimed; "and awhile ago we talked of +passing the night in the Bois! It only shows you that one can never +tell what an hour may bring forth." + +"Yes, yes," assented Juliette blithely. "And as for the supper--" + +"We shall not require it till nine o'clock at the earliest." + +"And now it is no more than midday. Why, there is an eternity for +things to arrange themselves!" + +"Just so. The sky may rain truffles in such an interval," said the +painter. And they drew their chairs closer to the fire, and pretended +to each other that they were not hungry. + +The hours crept past, and the sunshine waned, and snow began to flutter +over Paris. But no truffles fell. By degrees the fire burnt low, and +died. To beg for more fuel was impossible, and Juliette shivered a +little. + +"You are cold, sweetheart," sighed Julien. "I will fetch a blanket from +the bed and wrap you in it." + +"No," she murmured, "wrap me in your arms--it will be better." + +Darker and darker grew the garret, and faster and faster fell the snow. + +"I have a fancy," said Juliette, breaking a long silence, "that it is +the hour in which a fairy should appear to us. Let us look to see if +she is coming!" + +They peered from the window, but in the twilight no fairy was to be +discerned; only an "old clo'" man was visible, trudging on his round. + +"I declare," cried Julien, "he is the next best thing to your fairy! I +will sell my summer suit and my velvet jacket. What do I want of a +velvet jacket? Coffee and eggs will be much more cheerful." + +"And I," vowed Juliette, "can spare my best hat easily--indeed, it is +an encumbrance. If we make madame Cochard a small peace-offering she +may allow us to remain until the morning." + +"What a grand idea! We shall provide ourselves with a night's shelter +and the means to entertain our friends as well Hasten to collect our +wardrobe, mignonette, while I crack my throat to make him hear. He, +he!" + +At the repeated cries the "old clo'" man lifted his gaze to the fifth- +floor window at last, and in a few minutes Julien and Juliette were +kneeling on the boards above a pile of garments, which they raised one +by one for his inspection. + +"Regard, monsieur," said Julien, "this elegant summer suit! It is +almost as good as new. I begin to hesitate to part with it. What shall +we say for this elegant summer suit?" + +The dealer fingered it disdainfully. "Show me boots," he suggested; "we +can do business in boots." + +"Alas!" replied Julien, "the only boots that I possess are on my feet. +We will again admire the suit. What do you estimate it at--ten francs?" + +"Are you insane? are you a lunatic?" returned the dealer. "To a +reckless man it might be worth ten sous. Let us talk of boots!" + +"I cannot go barefoot," expostulated Julien. "Juliette, my Heart, do +you happen to possess a second pair of boots?" + +Juliette shook her head forlornly. "But I have a hat with daisies in +it," she said. "Observe, monsieur, the delicate tints of the buds! How +like to nature, how exquisite they are! They make one dream of +courtship in the woods. I will take five francs for it." + +"From me I swear you will not take them!" said the "old clo'" man. +"Boots," he pleaded; "for the love of God, boots!" + +"Morbleu, what a passion for boots you have!" moaned the unhappy +painter; "they obsess you, they warp your judgment. Can you think of +nothing in the world but boots? Look, we come to the gem of the +exhibition--a velvet jacket! A jacket like this confers an air of +greatness, one could not feel the pinch of poverty in such a jacket. It +is, I confess, a little white at the elbows, but such high lights are +very effective. And observe the texture--as soft as a darling's cheek!" + +The other turned it about with indifferent hands, and the Children +began to realise that he would prove no substitute for a fairy after +all. Then, while they watched him with sinking hearts, the door was +suddenly opened, and the concierge tottered on the threshold. + +"Monsieur, madame!" she panted, with such respect that they stared at +each other. + +"Eh bien?" + +"A visitor!" She leant against the wall, overwhelmed. + +"Who is it?" + +"Madame, la comtesse de Grand Ecusson!" + +Actually! The Countess had kept her word after all, and now she rustled +in, before the "old clo'" man could be banished. White as a virgin +canvas, Julien staggered forward to receive her, a pair of trousers, +which he was too agitated to remember, dangling under his arm. "Madame, +this honour!" he stammered; and, making a piteous effort to disguise +his beggary, "One's wardrobe accumulates so that, really, in a small +menage, one has no room to--" + +"I have suffered from the inconvenience myself, monsieur," said the +Countess graciously. "Your charming wife was so kind as to invite me to +view your work; and see--my little Racine has come to wish his +preservers a Happy New Year!" + +And, on the honour of an historian, he brought one! Before they left +she had given a commission for his portrait at a thousand francs, and +purchased two landscapes, for which a thousand francs more would be +paid on the morrow. When Sanquereau, and Lajeunie, and Tricotrin, and +Pitou arrived, expecting the worst, they were amazed to discover the +Children waltzing round the attic to the music of their own voices. + +What _hurras_ rang out when the explanation was forthcoming; what +loans were promised to the guests, and what a gay quadrille was danced! +It was not until the last figure had concluded that Julien and Juliette +recognised that, although they would be wealthy in the morning, they +were still penniless that night. + +"Helas! but we have no supper after all," groaned Julien. + +"Pardon, it is here, monsieur!" shouted madame Cochard, who entered +behind a kingly feast. "_Comment_, shall the artist honoured by +madame la comtesse de Grand Ecusson have no supper? Pot-au-feu, +monsieur; leg of mutton, monsieur; little tarts, monsieur; dessert, +monsieur; and for each person a bottle of good wine!" + +And the justice that was done to it, and the laughter that pealed under +the slates! The Children didn't forget that it was all due to the dog. +Juliette raised her glass radiantly. + +"Gentlemen," she cried, "I ask you to drink to the Fairy Poodle!" + + + +LITTLE-FLOWER-OF-THE-WOOD + +Janiaud used to lie abed all day, and drink absinthe all night. When +he contrived to write his poetry is a mystery. But he did write it, and +he might have written other things, too, if he had had the will. It was +often said that his paramount duty was to publish a history of modern +Paris, for the man was an encyclopaedia of unsuspected facts. Since he +can never publish it now, however, I am free to tell the story of the +Cafe du Bon Vieux Temps as he told it to an English editor and me one +night on the terrace of the cafe itself. It befell thus: + +When we entered that shabby little Montmartre restaurant, Janiaud +chanced to be seated, at a table in a corner, sipping his favourite +stimulant. He was deplorably dirty and suggested a scarecrow, and the +English editor looked nervous when I offered an introduction. Still, +Janiaud was Janiaud. The offer was accepted, and Janiaud discoursed in +his native tongue. At midnight the Editor ordered supper. Being +unfamiliar with the Cafe du Bon Vieux Temps in those days, I said that +I would drink beer. Janiaud smiled sardonically, and the waiter +surprised us with the information that beer could not be supplied. + +"What?" + +"After midnight, nothing but champagne," he answered. + +"Really? Well, let us go somewhere else," I proposed. + +But the Editor would not hear of that. He had a princely soul, and, +besides, he was "doing Paris." + +"All the same, what does it mean?" he inquired of Janiaud. + +Janiaud blew smoke rings. "It is the rule. During the evening the +bock-drinker is welcomed here as elsewhere; but at midnight--well, you will +see what you will see!" + +And we saw very soon. The bourgeoisie of Montmartre had straggled out +while we talked, and in a little while the restaurant was crowded with +a rackety crew who had driven up in cabs. Everybody but ourselves was +in evening-dress. Where the coppers had been counted carefully, gold +was scattered. A space was cleared for dancing, and mademoiselle Nan +Joliquette obliged the company with her latest comic song. + +The Editor was interested. "It is a queer change, though! Has it always +been like this?" + +"Ask Janiaud," I said; _I_ don't know." + +"Oh, not at all," replied Janiaud; "no, indeed, it was not always like +this! It used to be as quiet at midnight as at any other hour. But it +became celebrated as a supper-place; and now it is quite the thing for +the ardent spirits, with money, to come and kick up their heels here +until five in the morning." + +"Curious, how such customs originate," remarked the Editor. "Here we +have a restaurant which is out of the way, which is the reverse of +luxurious, and which, for all that, seems to be a gold mine to the +proprietor. Look at him! Look at his white waistcoat and his massive +watch-chain, his air of prosperity." + +"How did he come to rake it in like this, Janiaud--you know +everything?" I said. + +The poet stroked his beard, and glanced at his empty glass. The Editor +raised a bottle. + +"I cannot talk on Clicquot," demurred Janiaud. "If you insist, I will +take another absinthe--they will allow it, in the circumstances. Sst, +Adolphe!" The waiter whisked over to us. "Monsieur pays for champagne, +but I prefer absinthe. There is no law against that, hein?" + +Adolphe smiled tolerantly. + +"Shall we sit outside?" suggested the Editor. "What do you think? It's +getting rather riotous in here, isn't it?" + +So we moved on to the terrace, and waited while Janiaud prepared his +poison. + +"It is a coincidence that you have asked me for the history of the Bon +Vieux Temps tonight," he began, after a gulp; "if you had asked for it +two days earlier, the climax would have been missing. The story +completed itself yesterday, and I happened to be here and saw the end. + +"Listen: Dupont--the proprietor whom monsieur has just admired--used to +be chef to a family on the boulevard Haussmann. He had a very fair +salary, and probably he would have remained in the situation till now +but for the fact that he fell in love with the parlourmaid. She was a +sprightly little flirt, with ambitions, and she accepted him only on +condition that they should withdraw from domestic service and start a +business of their own. Dupont was of a cautious temperament; he would +have preferred that they should jog along with some family in the +capacities of chef and housekeeper. Still, he consented; and, with what +they had saved between them, they took over this little restaurant-- +where monsieur the Editor has treated me with such regal magnificence. +It was not they who christened it--it was called the Cafe du Bon Vieux +Temps already; how it obtained its name is also very interesting, but I +have always avoided digressions in my work--that is one of the first +principles of the literary art." + +He swallowed some more absinthe. + +"They took the establishment over, and they conducted it on the lines +of their predecessor--they provided a dejeuner at one franc fifty, and +a dinner at two francs. These are side-shows of the Bon Vieux Temps to-day, +but, in the period of which I speak, they were all that it had to +say for itself--they were its foundation-stone, and its cupola. When I +had two francs to spare, I used to dine here myself. + +"Well, the profits were not dazzling. And after marriage the little +parlourmaid developed extravagant tastes. She had a passion for +theatres. I, Janiaud, have nothing to say against theatres, excepting +that the managers have never put on my dramas, but in the wife of a +struggling restaurateur a craze for playgoing is not to be encouraged. +Monsieur will agree? Also, madame had a fondness for dress. She did +little behind the counter but display new ribbons and trinkets. She was +very stupid at giving change--and always made the mistake on the wrong +side for Dupont. At last he had to employ a cousin of his own as dame- +de-comptoir. The expenses had increased, and the returns remained the +same. In fine, Dupont was in difficulties; the Bon Vieux Temps was on +its last legs. + +"Listen: There was at that time a dancer called 'Little-Flower-of-the- +Wood'; she was very chic, very popular. She had her appartement in the +avenue Wagram, she drove to the stage-doors in her coupe, her +photographs were sold like confetti at a carnival. Well, one afternoon, +when Dupont's reflections were oscillating between the bankruptcy court +and the Morgue, he was stupefied to receive a message from her--she +bade him reserve a table for herself and some friends for supper that +night! + +"Dupont could scarcely credit his ears. He told his wife that a +practical joker must be larking with him. He declared that he would +take no notice of the message, that he was not such an ass to be duped +by it. Finally, he proposed to telegraph to Little-Flower-of-the-Wood, +inquiring if it was genuine. + +"Monsieur, as an editor, will have observed that a woman who is +incapable in the daily affairs of life, may reveal astounding force in +an emergency? It was so in this case. Madame put her foot down; she +showed unsuspected commercial aptitude. She firmly forbade Dupont to do +anything of the sort! + +"'What?' she exclaimed. 'You will telegraph to her, inquiring? Never in +this life! You might as well advise her frankly not to come. What would +such a question mean? That you do not think the place is good enough +for her! Well, if _you_ do not think so, neither will _she_-- +she will decide that she had a foolish impulse and stay away! + +"'Mon Dieu! do you dream that a woman accustomed to the Cafe de Paris +would choose to sup in an obscure little restaurant like ours?' said +Dupont, fuming. 'Do you dream that I am going to buy partridges, and +peaches, and wines, and heaven knows what other delicacies, in the +dark? Do you dream that I am going to ruin myself while every instinct +in me protests? It would be the act of a madman!' + +"'My little cabbage,' returned madame, 'we are so near to ruin as we +are, that a step nearer is of small importance. If Little-Flower-of- +the-Wood should come, it might be the turning-point in our fortunes-- +people would hear of it, the Bon Vieux Temps might become renowned. +Yes, we shall buy partridges, and peaches--and bonbons, and flowers +also, and we shall hire a piano! And if our good angel should indeed +send her to us, I swear she shall pass as pleasant an evening as if she +had gone to Maxim's or the Abbaye! + +"Bien! She convinced him. For the rest of the day the place was in a +state of frenzy. Never before had such a repast been seen in its +kitchen, never before had he cooked with such loving care, even when he +had been preparing a dinner of ceremony on the boulevard Haussmann. +Madame herself ran out to arrange for the piano. The floor was swept. +The waiter was put into a clean shirt. Dupont shed tears of excitement +in his saucepans. + +"He served the two-franc dinner that evening with eyes that watched +nothing but the clock. All his consciousness now was absorbed by the +question whether the dancer would come or not. The dinner passed +somehow--it is to be assumed that the customers grumbled, but in his +suspense Dupont regarded them with indifference. The hours crept by. It +was a quarter to twelve--twelve o'clock. He trembled behind the +counter as if with ague. Now it was time that she was here! His face +was blanched, his teeth chattered in his head. What if he had been +hoaxed after all? Half-past twelve! The sweat ran down him. Terror +gripped his heart. A vision of all the partridges wasted convulsed his +soul. Hark! a carriage stopped. He tottered forward. The door opened-- +she had come! + +"Women are strange. Little-Flower-of-the-Wood, who yawned her pretty +head off at Armenonville, was enraptured with the Bon Vieux Temps. The +rest of the party took their tone from her, and everything was +pronounced 'fun,' the coarse linen, the dirty ceiling, the admiring +stares of the bock-drinkers. The lady herself declared that she had +'never enjoyed a supper so much in her life,' and the waiter--it was +not Adolphe then--was dumfounded by a louis tip. + +"Figure yourself the exultation of madame! 'Ah,' she chuckled, when +they shut up shop at sunrise, 'what did I tell you, my little cabbage?' +Monsieur, as an editor, will have observed that a woman who reveals +astounding force in an emergency may triumph pettily when the emergency +is over? + +"'It remains to be seen whether they will come any more, however,' said +Dupont. 'Let us go to bed. Mon Dieu, how sleepy I am!' It was the first +occasion that the Bon Vieux Temps had been open after two o'clock in +the morning. + +"It was the first occasion, and for some days they feared it might be +the last. But no, the dancer came again! A few eccentrics who came with +her flattered themselves on having made a 'discovery.' They boasted of +it. Gradually the name of the Bon Vieux Temps became known. By the time +that Little-Flower-of-the-Wood had had enough, there was a supper +clientele without her. Folly is infectious, and in Paris there are +always people catching a fresh craze. Dupont began to put up his +prices, and levied a charge on the waiter for the privilege of waiting +at supper. The rest of the history is more grave ... _Comment_, +monsieur? Since you insist--again an absinthe!" + +Janiaud paused, and ran his dirty fingers through his hair. + +"This man can talk!" said the Editor, in an undertone. + +"Gentlemen," resumed the poet, "two years passed. Little-Flower-of-the- +Wood was on the Italian Riviera. The Italian Riviera was awake again +after the heat of the summer--the little town that had dozed for many +months began to stir. Almost every day now she saw new faces on the +promenade; the sky was gentler, the sea was fairer. And she sat +loathing it all, craving to escape from it to the bleak streets of +Paris. + +"Two winters before, she had been told, 'Your lungs will stand no more +of the pranks you have been playing. You must go South, and keep early +hours, or--' The shrug said the rest. And she had sold some of her +diamonds and obeyed. Of course, it was an awful nuisance, but she must +put up with it for a winter in order to get well. As soon as she was +well, she would go back, and take another engagement. She had promised +herself to be dancing again by May. + +"But when May had come, she was no better. And travelling was +expensive, and all places were alike to her since she was forbidden to +return to Paris. She, had disposed of more jewellery, and looked forward +to the autumn. And in the autumn she had looked forward to the spring. +So it had gone on. + +"At first, while letters came to her sometimes, telling her how she was +missed, the banishment had been alleviated; later, in her loneliness, +it had grown frightful. Monsieur, her soul--that little soul that +pleasure had held dumb--cried out, under misfortune, like a homeless +child for its mother. Her longing took her by the throat, and the +doctor had difficulty in dissuading her from going to meet death by the +first train. She did not suspect that she was doomed in any case; he +thought it kinder to deceive her. He had preached 'Patience, +mademoiselle, a little patience!' And she had wrung her hands, but +yielded--sustained by the hope of a future that she was never to know. + +"By this time the last of her jewels was sold, and most of the money +had been spent. The fact alarmed her when she dwelt upon it, but she +did not dwell upon it very often--in the career of Little-Flower-of- +the-Wood, so many financial crises had been righted at the last moment. +No, although there was nobody now to whom she could turn for help, it +was not anxiety that bowed her; the thoughts by which she was stricken, +as she sauntered feebly on the eternal promenade, were that in Paris +they no longer talked of her, and that her prettiness had passed away. +She was forgotten, ugly! The tragedy of her exile was that. + +"Now it was that she found out the truth--she learnt that there was no +chance of her recovering. She made no reproaches for the lies that had +been told her; she recognized that they had been well meant. All she +said was, 'I am glad that it is not too late; I may see Paris still +before the curtain tumbles--I shall go at once.' + +"Not many months of life remained to her, but they were more numerous +than her louis. It was an unfamiliar Paris that she returned to! She +had quitted the Paris of the frivolous and feted; she came back to the +Paris of the outcast poor. The world that she had remembered gave her +no welcome--she peered through its shut windows, friendless in the +streets. + +"Gentlemen, last night all the customers had gone from the little Cafe +du Bon Vieux Temps but a woman in a shabby opera-cloak--a woman with +tragic eyes, and half a lung. She sat fingering her glass of beer +absently, though the clock over the desk pointed to a quarter to +midnight, and at midnight beer-drinkers are no longer desired in the +Bon Vieux Temps. But she was a stranger; it was concluded that she +didn't know. + +"Adolphe approached to enlighten her; 'Madame wishes to order supper?' +he asked. + +"The stranger shook her head. + +"'Madame will have champagne?' + +"'Don't bother me!' said the woman. + +"Adolphe nodded toward the bock contemptuously. 'After midnight, only +champagne is served here,' he said; 'it is the rule of the house,' + +"'A fig for the rule!' scoffed the woman; 'I am going to stop.' + +"Adolphe retired and sought the _patron_, and Dupont advanced to +her with dignity. + +"'Madame is plainly ignorant of our arrangements,' he began; 'at twelve +o'clock one cannot remain here for the cost of a bock--the restaurant +becomes very gay,' + +"'So I believe,' she said; 'I want to see the gaiety,' + +"'It also becomes expensive. I will explain. During the evening we +serve a dinner at two francs for our clients in the neighbourhood--and +until twelve o'clock one may order bocks, or what one wishes, at +strictly moderate prices. But at twelve o'clock there is a change; we +have quite a different class of trade. The world that amuses itself +arrives here to sup and to dance. As a supper-house, the Bori Vieux +Temps is known to all Paris.' + +"'One lives and learns!' said the woman, ironically; 'but I--know more +about the Bon Vieux Temps than you seem to think. I can tell you the +history of its success.' + +"'Madame?' Dupont regarded her with haughty eyes. + +"'Three years ago, monsieur, there was no "different class of trade" at +twelve o'clock, and no champagne. The dinners at two francs for your +clients in the neighbourhood were all that you aspired to. You did the +cooking yourself in those days, and you did not sport a white waistcoat +and a gold watch-chain.' + +"'These things have nothing to do with it. You will comply with the +rule, or you must go. All is said!' "'One night Little-Flower-of-the- +Wood had a whim to sup here,' continued the woman as if he had not +spoken. 'She had passed the place in her carriage and fancied its name, +or its flowerpot--or she wanted to do something new. Anyhow, she had +the whim! I see you have the telephone behind the desk, monsieur--your +little restaurant was not on the telephone when she wished to reserve a +table that night; she had to reserve it by a messenger.' + +"'Well, well?' said Dupont, impatiently. + +"'But you were a shrewd man; you saw your luck and leapt at it--and +when she entered with her party, you received her like a queen. You had +even hired a piano, you said, in case Little-Flower-of-the-Wood might +wish to play. I notice that a piano is in the corner now--no doubt you +soon saved the money to buy one.' + +"'How do you know all this, you?' Dupont's gaze was curious. + +"'Her freak pleased her, and she came again and again--and others came, +just to see her here. Then you recognized that your clients from the +neighbourhood were out of place among the spendthrifts, who yielded +more profit in a night than all the two-franc dinners in a month; you +said, "At twelve o'clock there shall be no more bocks, only champagne!" +I had made your restaurant famous--and you introduced the great rule +that you now command me to obey.' + +"'You? You are Little-Flower-of-the-Wood?' + +"'Yes, it was I who did it for you,' she said quietly. 'And the +restaurant flourished after Little-Flower-of-the-Wood had faded. Well, +to-night I want to spend an hour here again, for the sake of what I +used to be. Time brings changes, you understand, and I cannot conform +with the great rule.' She opened the opera-cloak, trembling, and he saw +that beneath it Little-Flower-of-the-Wood was in rags. + +"'I am very poor and ill,' she went on. 'I have been away in the South +for more than two years; they told me I ought to stop there, but I had +to see Paris once more! What does it matter? I shall finish here a +little sooner, that is all. I lodge close by, in a garret. The garret +is very dirty, but I hear the muisc from the Bal Tabarin across the +way. I like that--I persuade myself I am living the happy life I used +to have. When I am tossing sleepless, I hear the noise and laughter of +the crowd coming out, and blow kisses to them in the dark. You see, +although one is forgotten, one cannot forget. I pray that their +laughter will come up to me right at the end, before I die.' + +"'You cannot afford to enter Tabarin's?' faltered Dupont; 'you are so +stony as that?' + +"'So stony as that!' she said. 'And I repeat that to-night I want to +pass an hour in the midst of the life I loved. Monsieur, remember how +you came to make your rule! Break it for me once! Let me stay here +to-night for a bock!' + +"Dupont is a restaurateur, but he is also a man. He took both her +hands, and the waiters were astonished to perceive that the +_patron_ was crying. + +"'My child,' he stammered, 'you will sup here as my guest.' + +"Adolphe set before her champagne that she sipped feverishly, and a +supper that she was too ill to eat. And cabs came rattling from the +Boulevard with boisterous men and women who no longer recalled her +name--and with other 'Little-Flowers-of-the-Wood,' who had sprung up +since her day. + +"The woman who used to reign there sat among them looking back, until +the last jest was bandied, and the last bottle was drained. Then she +bade her host 'good-bye,' and crawled home--to the garret where she +'heard the music of the ball'; the garret where she 'prayed that the +laughter would come up to her right at the end, before she died.'" + +Janiaud finished the absinthe, and lurched to his feet. "That's all." + +"Great Scott," said the Editor, "I wish he could write in English! But +--but it's very pitiable, she may starve there; something ought to be +done.... Can you tell us where she is living, monsieur?" + +The poet shrugged his shoulders. "Is there no satisfying you? You asked +me for the history of the Bon Vieux Temps, and there are things that +even I do not know. However, I have done my best. I cannot say where +the lady is living, but I can tell you where she was born." He pointed, +with a drunken laugh, to his glass: "There!" + + + +A MIRACLE IN MONTMARTRE + +Lajeunie, the luckless novelist, went to Pitou, the unrecognized +composer, saying, "I have a superb scenario for a revue. Let us join +forces! I promise you we shall make a fortune; we shall exchange our +attics for first floors of fashion, and be wealthy enough to wear sable +overcoats and Panama hats at the same time." In ordinary circumstances, +of course, Pitou would have collaborated only with Tricotrin, but +Tricotrin was just then engrossed by a tragedy in blank verse and seven +acts, and he said to them, "Make a fortune together by all means, my +comrades; I should be unreasonable if I raised objections to having +rich friends." + +Accordingly the pair worked like heroes of biography, and, after +vicissitudes innumerable, _Patatras_ was practically accepted at +La Coupole. The manager even hinted that Fifi Blondette might be seen +in the leading part. La Coupole, and Blondette! Pitou and Lajeunie +could scarcely credit their ears. To be sure, she was no actress, and +her voice was rather unpleasant, and she would probably want everything +rewritten fifteen times before it satisfied her; but she was a +beautiful woman and all Paris paid to look at her when she graced a +stage; and she had just ruined Prince Czernowitz, which gave her name +an additional value. "Upon my word," gasped Pitou, "our luck seems as +incredible, my dear Lajeunie, as the plot of any of your novels! Come +and have a drink!" + +"I feel like Rodolphe at the end of _La Vie de Boheme_," he +confided to Tricotrin in their garret one winter's night, as they went +supper-less to their beds. "Now that the days of privation are past, I +recall them with something like regret. The shock of the laundress's +totals, the meagre dinners at the Bel Avenir, these things have a +fascination now that I part from them. I do not wish to sound +ungrateful, but I cannot help wondering if my millions will impair the +taste of life to me." + +"To me they will make it taste much better," said Tricotrin, "for I +shall have somebody to borrow money from, and I shall get enough +blankets. _Brrr_! how cold I am! Besides, you need not lose touch +with Montmartre because you are celebrated--you can invite us all to +your magnificent abode. Also, you can dine at the Bel Avenir still, if +sentiment pulls you that way." + +"I shall certainly dine there," averred Pitou. "And I shall buy a house +for my parents, with a peacock and some deer on the lawn. At the same +time, a triumph is not without its pathos. I see my return to the Bel +Avenir, the old affections in my heart, the old greetings on my lips-- +and I see the fellows constrained and formal in my presence. I see +madame apologising for the cuisine, instead of reminding me that my +credit is exhausted, and the waiter polishing my glass, instead of +indicating the cheapest item on the menu. Such changes hurt!" He was +much moved. "A fortune is not everything," he sighed, forgetting that +his pockets were as empty as his stomach. "Poverty yielded joys which I +no longer know." + +The poet embraced him with emotion. "I rejoice to find that Fame has +not spoilt your nature," he cried; and he, too, forgot the empty +pockets, and that the contract from La Coupole had yet to come. "Yes, +we had hard times together, you and I, and I am still a nobody, but we +shall be chums as long as we live. I feel that you can unbosom yourself +to me, the poor bohemian, more freely than to any Immortal with whom +you hobnob in scenes of splendour." + +"Oh indeed, indeed!" assented Pitou, weeping. "You are as dear to me +now as in the days of our struggles; I should curse my affluence if it +made you doubt that! Good-night, my brother; God bless you." + +He lay between the ragged sheets; and half an hour crept by. + +"Gustave!" + +"Well?" said Tricotrin, looking towards the other bed. "Not asleep +yet?" + +"I cannot sleep--hunger is gnawing at me." + +"Ah, what a relentless realist is this hunger," complained the poet, +"how it destroys one's illusions!" + +"Is there nothing to eat in the cupboard?" + +"Not a crumb--I am ravenous myself. But I recall a broken cigarette in +my waistcoat pocket; let us cut it in halves!" + +They strove, shivering, to appease their pangs by slow whiffs of a +Caporal, and while they supped in this unsatisfactory fashion, there +came an impetuous knocking at the street door. + +"It must be that La Coupole has sent you a sack of gold to go on with!" +Tricotrin opined. "Put your head out and see." + +"It is Lajeunie," announced the composer, withdrawing from the window +with chattering teeth. "What the devil can he want? I suppose I must go +down and let him in." + +"Perhaps we can get some more cigarettes from him," said Tricotrin; "it +might have been worse." + +But when the novelist appeared, the first thing he stammered was, "Give +me a cigarette, one of you fellows, or I shall die!" + +"Well, then, dictate your last wishes to us!" returned Pitou. "Do you +come here under the impression that the house is a tobacconist's? What +is the matter with you, what is up?" "For three hours," snuffled +Lajeunie, who looked half frozen and kept shuddering violently, "for +three hours I have been pacing the streets, questioning whether I +should break the news to you to-night or not. In one moment I told +myself that it would be better to withhold it till the morning; in the +next I felt that you had a right to hear it without delay. Hour after +hour, in the snow, I turned the matter over in my mind, and--" + +"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Pitou, "is this an interminable serial at so much +a column? Come to the point!" + +Lajeunie beat his breast. "I am distracted," he faltered, "I am no +longer master of myself. Listen! It occurred to me this evening that I +might do worse than pay a visit to La Coupole and inquire if a date was +fixed yet for the rehearsals to begin. Well, I went! For a long time I +could obtain no interview, I could obtain no appointment--the messenger +came back with evasive answers. I am naturally quick at smelling a rat +--I have the detective's instinct--and I felt that there was something +wrong. My heart began to fail me." + +"For mercy's sake," groaned his unhappy collaborator, "explode the bomb +and bury my fragments! Enough of these literary introductions. Did you +see the manager, or didn't you?" + +"I did see the miscreant, the bandit-king, I saw him in the street. For +I was not to be put off--I waited till he came out. Well, my friend, to +compress the tragedy into one act, our hope is shattered-- +_Patatras_ is again refused!" + +"Oh, heavens!" moaned Pitou, and fell back upon the mattress as white +as death. + +"What explanation did he make?" cried Tricotrin; "what is the reason?" + +"The reason is that Blondette is an imbecile--she finds the part +'unworthy of her talents.' A part on which I have lavished all the +wealth of my invention--she finds it beneath her, she said she would +'break her contract rather than play it.' Well, Blondette is the trump-card +of his season--he would throw over the whole of the Academy sooner +than lose Blondette. Since she objects to figuring in _Patatras, +Patatras_ is waste-paper to him. Alas! who would be an author? I +would rather shovel coke, or cut corns for a living. He himself +admitted that there was no fault to find with the revue, but, 'You know +well, monsieur, that we must humour Blondette!' I asked him if he would +try to bring her to her senses, but it seems that there have been a +dozen discussions already--he is sick of the subject. Now it is +settled--our manuscript will be banged back at us and we may rip!" + +"Oh, my mother!" moaned Pitou. "Oh, the peacock and the deer!" + +"What's that you say?" asked Lajeunie. "Are you positive that you +haven't got a cigarette anywhere?" + +"I am positive that I have nothing," proclaimed Pitou vehemently, +"nothing in life but a broken heart! Oh, you did quite right to come to +me, but now leave me--leave me to perish. I have no words, I am +stricken. The next time you see me it will be in the Morgue. Mon Dieu, +that beautiful wretch, that creature without conscience, or a note in +her voice--by a shrug of her elegant shoulders she condemns me to the +Seine!" + +"Ah, do not give way!" exclaimed Tricotrin, leaping out of bed. +"Courage, my poor fellow, courage! Are there not other managers in +Paris?" + +"There are--and _Patatras_ has been refused by them. La Coupole +was our last chance, and it has collapsed. We have no more to expect-- +it is all over. Is it not so, Lajeunie?" + +"All over," sobbed Lajeunie, bowing his head on the washhand-stand. +"_Patatras_ is dead!" + +Then for some seconds the only sound to be heard in the attic was the +laboured breathing of the three young men's despair. + +At last Tricotrin, drawing himself upright in his tattered nightshirt, +said, with a gesture of dignity, "Well, the case may justify me--in the +present situation it appears to me that I have the right to use my +influence with Blondette!" + +A signal from Mars could not have caused a more profound sensation. +Pitou and Lajeunie regarded him with open mouths. "Your influence?" +echoed Pitou: "your influence? I was not aware that you had ever met +her." + +"No," rejoined the poet darkly; "I have not met her. But there are +circumstances in my life which entitle me to demand a service of this +triumphant woman. Do not question me, my friends--what I shall say to +her must remain a secret even from you. I declare, however, that nobody +has a stronger claim on her than Gustave Tricotrin, the poor penny-a- +liner whom she does not know!" + +The sudden intervention--to say nothing of its literary flavour--so +excited the collaborators that they nearly wrung his hands off: and +Lajeunie, who recognised a promising beginning for another serial, was +athirst for further hints. + +"She has perhaps committed a murder, that fair fiend?" he inquired +rapturously. + +"Perhaps," replied Tricotrin. + +"In that case she dare refuse you nothing." + +"Why not, since I have never heard of it?" + +"I was only jesting," said the novelist. "In sober earnest, I +conjecture that you are married to her, like Athos to Miladi. As you +stand there, with that grave air, you strongly resemble Athos." + +"Nevertheless, Athos did not marry a woman to whom he had not spoken, +and I repeat that I have never spoken to Blondette in my life." + +"Well," said Lajeunie, "I have too much respect for your wishes to show +any curiosity. Besides, by an expert the mystery is to be divined-- +before the story opens, you rendered her some silent aid, and your name +will remind her of a great heroism?" + +"I have never rendered her any aid at all," demurred Tricotrin, "and +there is not the slightest reason to suppose that she has ever heard my +name. But again, I have an incontestable right to demand a service of +her, and for the sake of the affection I bear you both, I shall go and +do it." + +"When Tricotrin thinks that he is living in _The Three Musketeers_ +it is useless to try to pump him," said Pitou; "let us content +ourselves with what we are told! Is it not enough? Our fate is in +Blondette's hands, and he is in a position to ask a favour of her. What +more can we want?" + +But he could not resist putting a question on his own account after +Lajeunie had skipped downstairs. + +"Gustave, why did you never mention to me that you knew Blondette?" + +"Morbleu! how often must I say that I do _not_ know her?" + +"Well--how shall I express it?--that some episode in your career gave +you a claim on her consideration?" + +"Because, by doing so, I should have both violated a confidence, and +re-opened a wound which still burns," said Tricotrin, more like Athos +than ever. "Only the urgency of your need, my comrade, could induce me +to take the course that I project. Now let me sleep, for to-morrow I +must have all my wits!" + +It was, however, five o'clock already, and before either of them had +slept long, the street was clattering with feet on their way to the +laundries, and vendors of delicacies were bawling suggestions for +appetising breakfasts. + +"Not only do the shouts of these monsters disturb my slumber, but they +taunt my starvation!" yawned the poet. "Yet, now I come to think of it, +I have an appointment with a man who has sworn to lend me a franc, so +perhaps I had better get up before he is likely to have spent it. I +shall call upon Blondette in the afternoon, when she returns from her +drive. What is your own programme?" + +"My first attempt will be at a cremerie in the rue St. Rustique, where +I am inclined to think I may get credit for milk and a roll if I +swagger." + +"Capital," said Tricotrin; "things are looking up with us both! And if +I raise the franc, there will be ten sous for you to squander on a +recherche luncheon. Meet me in the place Dancourt in an hour's time. So +long!" + +Never had mademoiselle Blondette looked more captivating than when her +carriage brought her back that day. She wore--but why particularise? +Suffice it, that she had just been photographed. As she stepped to the +pavement she was surprised by the obeisance of a shabby young man, who +said in courtly tones, "Mademoiselle, may I beg the honour of an +interview? I came from La Coupole." Having bestowed a glance of +annoyance on him, she invited him to ascend the stairs, and a minute +later Tricotrin was privileged to watch her take off her hat before the +mirror. + +"Well?" she inquired, "what's the trouble there now; what do they +want?" + +"So far as I know, mademoiselle," returned the intruder deferentially, +"they want nothing but your beauty and your genius; but I myself want +infinitely more--I want your attention and your pity. Let me explain +without delay that I do not represent the Management, and that when I +said I came from La Coupole I should have added that I did not come +from the interior." + +"Ca, par exemple!" she said sharply. "Who are you, then?" + +"I am Tricotrin, mademoiselle--Gustave Tricotrin, at your feet. I have +two comrades, the parents of _Patatras_; you have refused to play +in it, and I fear they will destroy themselves. I come to beg you to +save their lives." + +"Monsieur," exclaimed the lady, and her eyes were brilliant with +temper, "all that I have to say about _Patatras_ I have said! The +part gave me the hump." + +"And yet," continued the suppliant firmly, "I hope to induce you to +accept it. I am an author myself, and I assure you that it teems with +opportunities that you may have overlooked in a casual reading." + +"It is stupid!" + +"As you would play it, I predict that it would make an epoch." + +"And the music is no good." + +"If I may venture to differ from you, the music is haunting--the +composer is my lifelong friend." + +"I appreciate the argument," she said, with fine irony. "But you will +scarcely expect me to play a part that I don't like in order to please +you!" + +"Frankly, that is just what I do expect," replied the poet. "I think +you will consent for my sake." + +"Oh, really? For _your_ sake? Would you mind mentioning why, +before you go?" + +"Because, mademoiselle," said Tricotrin, folding his arms, "in years +gone by, you ruined me!" + +"Mon Dieu!" she gasped, and she did not doubt that she was in the +presence of a lunatic. + +"Do not rush to the bell!" he begged. "If it will allay your panic, I +will open the door and address you from the landing. I am not insane, I +solemnly assert that I am one of the men who have had the honour of +being ruined by you." "I have never seen you in my life before!" "I +know it. I even admit that I attach no blame to you in the matter. +Nevertheless, you cost me two thousand five hundred and forty-three +francs, and--as you may judge by my costume--I do not own the Credit +Lyonnais. If you will deign to hear my story, I guarantee that it will +convince you. Do you permit me to proceed?" + +The beauty nodded wonderingly, and the shabby young man continued in +the following words: + +"As I have said, I am an author; I shall 'live' by my poetry, but I +exist by my prose--in fact, I turn my pen to whatever promises a +dinner, be it a sonnet to the Spring, or a testimonial to a hair +restorer. One summer, when dinners had been even more elusive than +usual, I conceived the idea of calling attention to my talents by means +of an advertisement. In reply, I received a note bidding me be on the +third step of the Madeleine at four o'clock the following day, and my +correspondent proved to be a gentleman whose elegant apparel proclaimed +him a Parisian of the Boulevard. + +"'You are monsieur Gustave Tricotrin?' he inquired. + +"'I have that misfortune, monsieur,' said I. We adjourned to a cafe, +and after a preliminary chat, from which he deduced that I was a person +of discretion, he made me a proposal. + +"He said, 'Monsieur Tricotrin, it is evident that you and I were +designed to improve each other's condition; _your_ dilemma is +that, being unknown, you cannot dispose of your stories--_mine_ is +that, being known so well, I am asked for more stories than I can +possibly write, I suggest that you shall write some for me. _I_ +will sign them, they will be paid for in accordance with my usual +terms, and you shall receive a generous share of the swag. I need not +impress upon you that I am speaking in the strictest confidence, and +that you must never breathe a word about our partnership, even to the +wife of your bosom.' + +"'Monsieur,' I returned, 'I have no wife to breathe to, and my bosom is +unsurpassed as a receptacle for secrets,' + +"'Good,' he said. 'Well, without beating about the bush, I will tell +you who I am.' He then uttered a name that made me jump, and before we +parted it was arranged that I should supply him with a tale immediately +as a specimen of my abilities. + +"This tale, which I accomplished the same evening, pleased him so well +that he forthwith gave me an order for two more. I can create a plot +almost as rapidly as a debt, and before long I had delivered +manuscripts to him in such wholesale quantities that if I had been paid +cash for them, I should have been in a position to paint the Butte the +richest shade of red. It was his custom, however, to make excuses and +payments on account, and as we were capital friends by now, I never +demurred. + +"Well, things went on in this fashion until one day he hinted to me +that I had provided him with enough manuscripts to last him for two +years; his study was lumbered with evidence of my talent, and his +market, after all, was not unlimited. He owed me then close upon three +thousand francs, and it was agreed that he should wipe the debt out by +weekly instalments. Enfin, I was content enough--I foresaw an ample +income for two years to come, and renewed leisure to win immortality by +my epics. I trust that my narrative does not fatigue you, +mademoiselle?" + +"What has it all to do with me, however?" asked the lady. + +"You shall hear. Though the heroine comes on late, she brings the house +down when she enters. For a few weeks my patron fulfilled his compact +with tolerable punctuality, but I never failed to notice when we met +that he was a prey to some terrible grief. At last, when he had reduced +the sum to two thousand five hundred and forty-three francs--the +figures will be found graven on my heart--he confided in me, he made me +a strange request; he exclaimed: + +"'Tricotrin, I am the most miserable of men!' + +"'Poor fellow!' I responded. 'It is, of course, a woman?' + +"'Precisely,' he answered. 'I adore her. Her beauty is incomparable, +her fascinations are unparalleled, her intelligence is unique. She has +only one blemish--she is mercenary.' + +"'After all, perfection would be tedious,' I said. + +"'You are a man of sensibility, you understand!' he cried. 'Her tastes +have been a considerable strain on my resources, and in consequence my +affairs have become involved. Now that I am in difficulties, she is +giving me the chuck. I have implored and besought, I have worn myself +out in appeals, but her firmness is as striking as her other gifts. +There remains only one chance for me--a letter so impassioned that it +shall awake her pity. _I_, as I tell you, am exhausted; I can no +longer plead, no longer phrase, I am a wreck! Will you, as a friend, as +a poet, compose such a letter and give it to me to copy?' + +"Could I hesitate? I drove my pen for him till daybreak. All the +yearnings of my own nature, all the romance of my fiery youth, I poured +out in this appeal to a siren whom I had never seen, and whose name I +did not know. I was distraught, pathetic, humorous, and sublime by +turns. Subtle gleams of wit flashed artistically across the lurid +landscape of despair. I reminded her of scenes of happiness--vaguely, +because I had no details to elaborate; the reminiscences, however, were +so touching that I came near to believing in them. Mindful of her +solitary blemish, I referred to 'embarrassments now almost at an end'; +and so profoundly did I affect myself, that while I wrote that I was +weeping, it was really true. Well, when I saw the gentleman again he +embraced me like a brother. 'Your letter was a masterpiece,' he told +me; 'it has done the trick!' + +"Mademoiselle, I do not wish to say who he was, and as you have known +many celebrities, and had many love-letters, you may not guess. But the +woman was you! And if I had been a better business man, I should have +written less movingly, for I recognised, even during my inspiration, +that it was against my interests to reunite him to you. I was an +artist; I thrilled your heart, I restored you to his arms--and you had +the two thousand five hundred and forty-three francs that would +otherwise have come to me! Never could I extract another sou from him!" + +As Tricotrin concluded his painful history, mademoiselle Blondette +seemed so much amused that he feared she had entirely missed its +pathos. But his misgiving was relieved when she spoke. + +"It seems to me I have been expensive to you, monsieur," she said; "and +you have certainly had nothing for your money. Since this revue--which +I own that I have merely glanced at--is the apple of your eye, I +promise to read it with more attention." + + * * * * * + +A month later _Patatras_ was produced at La Coupole after all, and +no one applauded its performance more enthusiastically than the poet, +who subsequently went to supper arm-in-arm with its creators. + +"Mon vieux," said the elated pair, "we will not ask again by what means +you accomplished this miracle, but let it teach you a lesson! Tonight's +experience proves that nothing is beyond your power if you resolve to +succeed!" + +"It proves," replied Tricotrin, "that Blondette's first impression was +correct, for, between ourselves, my children, _Patatras_ is no +shakes." + +Nevertheless, Lajeunie and Pitou wore laurels in Montmartre; and one is +happy to say that their fees raised the young collaborators from +privation to prosperity--thanks to Blondette's attractions--for nearly +three weeks. + + + +THE DANGER OF BEING A TWIN + +My Confessions must begin when I was four years old and recovering +from swollen glands. As I grew well, my twin-brother, Gregoire, who was +some minutes younger, was put to bed with the same complaint. + +"What a misfortune," exclaimed our mother, "that Silvestre is no sooner +convalescent than Gregoire falls ill!" + +The doctor answered: "It astonishes me, madame Lapalme, that you were +not prepared for it--since the children are twins, the thing was to be +foreseen; when the elder throws the malady off, the younger naturally +contracts it. Among twins it is nearly always so." + +And it always proved to be so with Gregoire and me. No sooner did I +throw off whooping-cough than Gregoire began to whoop, though I was at +home at Vernon and he was staying with our grandmother at Tours. If I +had to be taken to a dentist, Gregoire would soon afterwards be howling +with toothache; as often as I indulged in the pleasures of the table +Gregoire had a bilious attack. The influence I exercised upon him was +so remarkable that once when my bicycle ran away with me and broke my +arm, our mother consulted three medical men as to whether Gregoire's +bicycle was bound to run away with him too. Indeed, my brother was +distinctly apprehensive of it himself. + +Of course, the medical men explained that he was susceptible to any +abnormal physical or mental condition of mine, not to the vagaries of +my bicycle. "As an example, madame, if the elder of two twins were +killed in a railway accident, it would be no reason for thinking that +an accident must befall a train by which the younger travelled. What +sympathy can there be between locomotives? But if the elder were to die +by his own hand, there is a strong probability that the younger would +commit suicide also." + +However, I have not died by my own hand, so Gregoire has had nothing to +reproach me for on that score. As to other grounds--well, there is much +to be said on both sides! + +To speak truly, that beautiful devotion for which twins are so +celebrated in drama and romance has never existed between my brother +and myself. Nor was this my fault. I was of a highly sensitive +disposition, and from my earliest years it was impressed upon me that +Gregoire regarded me in the light of a grievance, I could not help +having illnesses, yet he would upbraid me for taking them. Then, too, +he was always our mother's favourite, and instead of there being +caresses and condolence for me when I was indisposed, there was nothing +but grief for the indisposition that I was about to cause Gregoire. +This wounded me. + +Again at college. I shall not pretend that I was a bookworm, or that I +shared Gregoire's ambitions; on the contrary, the world beyond the +walls looked such a jolly place to me that the mere sight of a +classroom would sometimes fill me with abhorrence. But, mon Dieu! if +other fellows were wild occasionally, they accepted the penalties, and +the affair was finished; on me rested a responsibility--my wildness was +communicated to Gregoire. Scarcely had I resigned myself to dull +routine again when Gregoire, the industrious, would find himself unable +to study a page, and commit freaks for which he rebuked me most +sternly. I swear that my chief remembrance of my college days is +Gregoire addressing pompous homilies to me, in this fashion, when he +was in disgrace with the authorities: + +"I ask you to remember, Silvestre, that you have not only your own +welfare to consider--you have mine! I am here to qualify myself for an +earnest career. Be good enough not to put obstacles in my path. Your +levity impels me to distractions which I condemn even while I yield to +them. I perceive a weakness in your nature that fills me with +misgivings for my future; if you do not learn to resist temptation, to +what errors may I not be driven later on--to what outbreaks of +frivolity will you not condemn me when we are men?" + +Well, it is no part of my confession to whitewash myself his misgivings +were realised! So far as I had any serious aspirations at all, I +aspired to be a painter, and, after combating my family's objections, I +entered an art school in Paris. Gregoire, on the other hand, was +destined for the law. During the next few years we met infrequently, +but that my brother continued to be affected by any unusual conditions +of my body and mind I knew by his letters, which seldom failed to +contain expostulations and entreaties. If he could have had his way, +indeed, I believe he would have shut me in a monastery. + +Upon my word, I was not without consideration for him, but what would +you have? I think some sympathy was due to me also. Regard the +situation with my eyes! I was young, popular, an artist; my life was no +more frivolous than the lives of others of my set; yet, in lieu of +being free, like them, to call the tune and dance the measure, I was +burdened with a heavier responsibility than weighs upon the shoulders +of any paterfamilias. Let me but drink a bottle too much, and Gregoire, +the grave, would subsequently manifest all the symptoms of +intoxication. Let me but lose my head about a petticoat, and Gregoire, +the righteous, would soon be running after a girl instead of attending +to his work. I had a conscience--thoughts of the trouble that I was +brewing for Gregoire would come between me and the petticoat and rob it +of its charms; his abominable susceptibility to my caprices marred half +my pleasures for me. Once when I sat distrait, bowed by such +reflections, a woman exclaimed, "What's the matter with you? One would +think you had a family!" "Well," I said, "I have a twin!" And I went +away. She was a pretty woman, too! + +Do you suppose that Maitre Lapalme--he was Maitre Lapalme by then, this +egregious Gregoire--do you suppose that he wrote to bless me for my +sacrifice? Not at all! Of my heroisms he knew nothing--he was conscious +only of my lapses. To read his letters one would have imagined that I +was a reprobate, a creature without honour or remorse. I quote from +one of them--it is a specimen of them all. Can you blame me if I had no +love for this correspondent? + +MY BROTHER, + +THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF OUR BIRTH:-- + +Your attention is directed to my preceding communications on this +subject. I desire to protest against the revelry from which you +recovered either on the 15th or 16th inst. On the afternoon of the +latter date, while engaged in a conference of the first magnitude, I +was seized with an overwhelming desire to dance a quadrille at a public +ball. I found it impossible to concentrate my attention on the case +concerning which I was consulted; I could no longer express myself with +lucidity. Outwardly sedate, reliable, I sat at my desk dizzied by such +visions as pursued St. Anthony to his cell. No sooner was I free than I +fled from Vernon, dined in Paris, bought a false beard, and plunged +wildly into the vortex of a dancing-hall. Scoundrel! This is past +pardon! My sensibilities revolt, and my prudence shudders. Who shall +say but that one night I may be recognised? Who can foretell to what +blackmail you may expose me? I, Maitre Lapalme, forbid your +profligacies, which devolve upon me; I forbid--etc. + +Such admissions my brother sent to me in a disguised hand, and +unsigned; perhaps he feared that his blackmailer might prove to be +myself! Typewriting was not yet general in France. + +Our mother still lived at Vernon, where she contemplated her favourite +son's success with the profoundest pride. Occasionally I spent a few +days with her; sometimes even more, for she always pressed me to +remain. I think she pressed me to remain, not from any pleasure in my +society, but because she knew that while I was at home I could commit +no actions that would corrupt Gregoire. One summer, when I visited her, +I met mademoiselle Leuillet. + +Mademoiselle Leuillet was the daughter of a widower, a neighbour. I +remembered that when our servant first announced her, I thought, "What +a nuisance; how bored I am going to be!" And then she came in, and in +an instant I was spellbound. + +I am tempted to describe Berthe Leuillet to you as she entered our +salon that afternoon in a white frock, with a basket of roses in her +little hands, but I know very well that no description of a girl ever +painted her to anybody yet. Suffice it that she was beautiful as an +angel, that her voice was like the music of the spheres--more than all, +that one felt all the time, "How good she is, how good, how good!" + +I suppose the impression that she made upon me was plainly to be seen, +for when she had gone, my mother remarked, "You did not say much. Are +you always so silent in girls' company?" "No," I answered; "I do not +often meet such girls." + +But afterwards I often met Berthe Leuillet. + +Never since I was a boy had I stayed at Vernon for so long as now; +never had I repented so bitterly as now the error of my ways. I loved, +and it seemed to me sometimes that my attachment was reciprocated, yet +my position forbade me to go to monsieur Leuillet and ask boldly for +his daughter's hand. While I had remained obscure, painters of my +acquaintance, whose talent was no more remarkable than my own, had +raised themselves from bohemia into prosperity. I abused myself, I +acknowledged that I was an idler, a good-for-nothing, I declared that +the punishment that had overtaken me was no more than I deserved. And +then--well, then I owned to Berthe that I loved her! + +Deliberately, of course, I should not have done this before seeking her +father's permission, but it happened in the hour of our "good-bye", and +I was suffering too deeply to subdue the impulse. I owned that I loved +her--and when I left for Paris we were secretly engaged. + +Mon Dieu! Now I worked indeed! To win this girl for my own, to show +myself worthy of her innocent faith, supplied me with the most powerful +incentive in life. In the quarter they regarded me first with ridicule, +then with wonder, and, finally, with respect. For my enthusiasm did not +fade. "He has turned over a new leaf," they said, "he means to be +famous!" It was understood. No more excursions for Silvestre, no more +junketings and recklessness! In the morning as soon as the sky was +light I was at my easel; in the evening I studied, I sketched, I wrote +to Berthe, and re-read her letters. I was another man--my ideal of +happiness was now a wife and home. + +For a year I lived this new life. I progressed. Men--men whose approval +was a cachet--began to speak of me as one with a future. In the Salon a +picture of mine made something of a stir. How I rejoiced, how grateful +and sanguine I was! All Paris sang "Berthe" to me; the criticisms in +the papers, the felicitations of my friends, the praise of the public, +all meant Berthe--Berthe with her arms about me, Berthe on my breast. + +I said that it was not too soon for me to speak now; I had proved my +mettle, and, though I foresaw that her father would ask more before he +gave his consent, I was, at least, justified in avowing myself. I +telegraphed to my mother to expect me; I packed my portmanteau with +trembling hands, and threw myself into a cab. On the way to the +station, I noticed the window of a florist; I bade the driver stop, and +ran in to bear off some lilies for Berthe. The shop was so full of +wonderful flowers that, once among them, I found some difficulty in +making my choice. Hence I missed the train--and returned to my studio, +incensed by the delay. A letter for me had just been delivered. It told +me that on the previous morning Berthe had married my brother. + +I could have welcomed a pistol-shot--my world rocked. Berthe lost, +false, Gregoire's wife, I reiterated it, I said it over and over, I +was stricken by it--and yet I could not realise that actually it had +happened. It seemed too treacherous, too horrible to be true. + +Oh, I made certain of it later, believe me!--I was no hero of a "great +serial," to accept such intelligence without proof. I assured myself of +her perfidy, and burnt her love-letters one by one; tore her +photographs into shreds--strove also to tear her image from my heart. +Ah, that mocked me, that I could not tear! A year before I should have +rushed to the cafes for forgetfulness, but now, as the shock subsided, +I turned feverishly to work. I told myself that she had wrecked my +peace, my faith in women, that I hated and despised her; but I swore +that she should not have the triumph of wrecking my career, too. I said +that my art still remained to me--that I would find oblivion in my art. + +Brave words! But one does not recover from such blows so easily. + +For months I persisted, denying myself the smallest respite, clinging +to a resolution which proved vainer daily. Were art to be mastered by +dogged endeavour, I should have conquered; but alas! though I could +compel myself to paint, I could not compel myself to paint well. It was +the perception of this fact that shattered me at last. I had fought +temptation for half a year, worked with my teeth clenched, worked +against nature, worked while my pulses beat and clamoured for the +draughts of dissipation, which promised a speedier release. I had wooed +art, not as art's lover, but as a tortured soul may turn to one woman +in the desperate hope of subduing his passion for another--and art +would yield nothing to a suitor who approached like that; I recognised +that my work had been wasted, that the struggle had been useless--I +broke down! + +I need say little of the months that followed--it would be a record of +degradations, and remorse; alternately, I fell, and was ashamed. There +were days when I never left the house, when I was repulsive to myself; +I shuddered at the horrors that I had committed. No saint has loved +virtue better than I did during those long, sick days of self-disgust; +no man was ever more sure of defying such hideous temptations if they +recurred. As my lassitude passed, I would take up my brushes and feel +confident for an hour, or for a week. And then temptation would creep +on me once more--humming in my ears, and tingling in my veins. And +temptation had lost its loathsomeness now--it looked again attractive. +It was a siren, it dizzied my conscience, and stupefied my common +sense. Back to the mire! + +One afternoon when I returned to my rooms, from which I had been absent +since the previous day, I heard from the concierge that a visitor +awaited me. I climbed the stairs without anticipation. My thoughts were +sluggish, my limbs leaden, my eyes heavy and bloodshot. Twilight had +gathered, and as I entered I discerned merely the figure of a woman. +Then she advanced--and all Hell seemed to leap flaring to my heart. My +visitor was Berthe. + +I think nearly a minute must have passed while we looked speechlessly +in each other's face--hers convulsed by entreaty, mine dark with hate. + +"Have you no word for me?" she whispered. + +"Permit me to offer my congratulations on your marriage, madame," I +said; "I have had no earlier opportunity." + +"Forgive me," she gasped. "I have come to beseech your forgiveness! Can +you not forget the wrong I did you?" + +"Do I look as if I had forgotten?" + +"I was inconstant, cruel, I cannot excuse myself. But, O Silvestre, in +the name of the love you once bore me, have pity on us! Reform, abjure +your evil courses! Do not, I implore you, condemn my husband to this +abyss of depravity, do not wreck my married life!" Now I understood +what had procured me the honour of a visit from this woman, and I +triumphed devilishly that I was the elder twin. + +"Madame," I answered, "I think that I owe you no explanations, but I +shall say this: the evil courses that you deplore were adopted, not +vindictively, but in the effort to numb the agony that you had made me +suffer. You but reap as you have sown." + +"Reform!" she sobbed. She sank on her knees before me. "Silvestre, in +mercy to us, reform!" + +"I will never reform," I said inflexibly. "I will grow more abandoned +day by day--my past faults shall shine as merits compared with the +atrocities that are to come. False girl, monster of selfishness, you +are dragging me to the gutter, and your only grief is that _he_ +must share my shame! You have blackened my soul, and you have no regret +but that my iniquities must react on _him!_ By the shock that +stunned him in the first flush of your honeymoon, you know what I +experienced when I received the news of your deceit; by the anguish of +repentance that overtakes him after each of his orgies, which revolt +you, you know that I was capable of being a nobler man. The degradation +that you behold is your own work. You have made me bad, and you must +bear the consequences--you cannot make me good now to save your +husband!" + +Humbled and despairing, she left me. + +I repeat that it is no part of my confession to palliate my guilt. The +sight of her had served merely to inflame my resentment--and it was at +this stage that I began deliberately to contemplate revenge. + +But not the one that I had threatened. Ah, no! I bethought myself of a +vengeance more complete than that. What, after all, were these +escapades of his that were followed by contrition, that saw him again +and again a penitent at her feet? There should be no more of such +trifles; she should be tortured with the torture that she had dealt to +me--I would make him _adore another woman_ with all his heart and +brain! + +It was difficult, for first I must adore, and tire of another woman +myself--as my own passion faded, his would be born. I swore, however, +that I would compass it, that I would worship some woman for a year-- +two years, as long as possible. He would be at peace in the meantime, +but the longer my enslavement lasted, the longer Berthe would suffer +when her punishment began. + +For some weeks now I worked again, to provide myself with money. I +bought new clothes and made myself presentable. When my appearance +accorded better with my plan, I paraded Paris, seeking the woman to +adore. + +You may think Paris is full of adorable women? Well, so contrary is +human nature, that never had I felt such indifference towards the sex +as during that tedious quest--never had a pair of brilliant eyes, or a +well-turned neck appealed to me so little. After a month, my search +seemed hopeless; I had viewed women by the thousand, but not one with +whom I could persuade myself that I might fall violently in love. + +How true it is that only the unforeseen comes to pass! There was a +model, one Louise, whose fortune was her back, and who had long bored +me by an evident tenderness. One day, this Louise, usually so +constrained in my presence, appeared in high spirits, and mentioned +that she was going to be married. + +The change in her demeanour interested me; for the first time, I +perceived that the attractions of Louise were not limited to her back. +A little piqued, I invited her to dine with me. If she had said "yes," +doubtless that would have been the end of my interest; but she refused. +Before I parted from her, I made an appointment for her to sit to me +the next morning. + +"So you are going to be married, Louise?" I said carelessly, as I set +the palette. + +"In truth!" she answered. + +"No regrets?" + +"What regrets could I have? He is a very pretty boy, and well-to-do, +believe me!" + +"And _I_ am not a pretty boy, nor well-to-do, hein?" + +"Ah, zut!" she laughed, "you do not care for me." + +"Is it so?" I said. "What would you say if I told you that I did care?" + +"I should say that you told me too late, monsieur," she replied, with a +shrug, "Are you ready for me to pose?" And this changed woman turned +her peerless back on me without a scruple. + +A little mortified, I attended strictly to business for the rest of the +morning. But I found myself, on the following day, waiting for her with +impatience. + +"And when is the event to take place?" I inquired, more eagerly than I +chose to acknowledge. This was by no means the sort of enchantress that +I had been seeking, you understand. + +"In the spring," she said. "Look at the ring he has given to me, +monsieur; is it not beautiful?" + +I remarked that Louise's hands were very well shaped; and, indeed, +happiness had brought a certain charm to her face. + +"Do you know, Louise, that I am sorry that you are going to marry?" I +exclaimed. + +"Oh, get out!" she laughed, pushing me away. "It is no good your +talking nonsense to me now, don't flatter yourself!" + +Pouchin, the sculptor, happened to come in at that moment. "Sapristi!" +he shouted; "what changes are to be seen! The nose of our brave +Silvestre is out of joint now that we are affianced, hein?" + +She joined in his laughter against me, and I picked up my brush again +in a vile humour. + +Well, as I have said, she was not the kind of woman that I had +contemplated, but these things arrange themselves--I became seriously +enamoured of her. And, recognising that Fate works with her own +instruments, I did not struggle. For months I was at Louise's heels; I +was the sport of her whims, and her slights, sometimes even of her +insults. I actually made her an offer of marriage, at which she snapped +her white fingers with a grimace--and the more she flouted me, the more +fascinated I grew. In that rapturous hour when her insolent eyes +softened to sentiment, when her mocking mouth melted to a kiss, I was +in Paradise. My ecstasy was so supreme that I forgot to triumph at my +approaching vengeance. + +So I married Louise; and yesterday was the twentieth anniversary of our +wedding. Berthe? To speak the truth, my plot against her was frustrated +by an accident. You see, before I could communicate my passion to +Gregoire I had to recover from it, and--this invincible Louise!--I have +not recovered from it yet. There are days when she turns her remarkable +back on me now--generally when I am idle--but, mon Dieu! the moments +when she turns her lips are worth working for. Therefore, Berthe has +been all the time quite happy with the good Gregoire--and, since I +possess Louise, upon my word of honour I do not mind! + + + +HERCULES AND APHRODITE + +Mademoiselle Clairette used to say that if a danseuse could not throw +a glance to the conductor of the band without the juggler being +jealous, the Variety Profession was coming to a pretty pass. She also +remarked that for a girl to entrust her life's happiness to a jealous +man would be an act of lunacy. And then "Little Flouflou, the Juggling +Genius," who was dying to marry her, would suffer tortures. He tried +hard to conquer his failing, but it must be owned that Clairette's +glances were very expressive, and that she distributed them +indiscriminately. At Chartres, one night, he was so upset that he +missed the umbrella, and the cigar, and the hat one after another, and +instead of condoling with him when he came off the stage, all she said +was "Butter-fingers!" + +"Promise to be my wife," he would entreat: "it is not knowing where I +am that gives me the pip. If you consented, I should be as right as +rain--your word is better to me than any Management's contract. I trust +you--it is only myself that I doubt; every time you look at a man I +wonder, 'Am I up to that chap's mark? is my turn as clever as his? +isn't it likely he will cut me out with her?' If you only belonged to +me I should never be jealous again as long as I lived. Straight!" + +And Clairette would answer firmly, "Poor boy, you couldn't help it--you +are made like that. There'd be ructions every week; I should be for +ever in hot water. I like you very much, Flouflou, but I'm not going to +play the giddy goat. Chuck it!" + +Nevertheless, he continued to worship her--from her tawdry tiara to her +tinselled shoes--and everybody was sure that it would be a match one +day. That is to say, everybody was sure of it until the Strong Man had +joined the troupe. + +Hercule was advertised as "The Great Paris Star." Holding himself very +erect, he strutted, in his latticed foot-gear, with stiff little steps, +and inflated lungs, to the footlights, and tore chains to pieces as +easily as other persons tear bills. He lay down and supported a posse +of mere mortals, and a van-load of "properties" on his chest, and +regained his feet with a skip and a smirk. He--but his achievements are +well known. Preceding these feats of force, was a feature of his +entertainment which Hercule enjoyed inordinately. He stood on a +pedestal and struck attitudes to show the splendour of his physique. +Wearing only a girdle of tiger-skin, and bathed in limelight, he felt +himself to be as glorious as a god. The applause was a nightly +intoxication to him. He lived for it. All day he looked forward to the +moment when he could mount the pedestal again and make his biceps jump, +and exhibit the magnificence of his highly developed back to hundreds +of wondering eyes. No woman was ever vainer of her form than was +Hercule of his. No woman ever contemplated her charms more tenderly +than Hercule regarded his muscles. The latter half of his "turn" was +fatiguing, but to posture in the limelight, while the audience stared +open-mouthed and admired his nakedness, that was fine, it was dominion, +it was bliss. + +Hercule had never experienced a great passion--the passion of vanity +excepted--never waited in the rain at a street corner for a coquette +who did not come, nor sighed, like the juggler, under the window of a +girl who flouted his declarations. He had but permitted homage to be +rendered to him. So when he fell in love with Clairette, he didn't know +what to make of it. + +For Clairette, sprightly as she was, did not encourage Hercule. He at +once attracted and repelled her. When he rent chains, and poised +prodigious weights above his head, she thrilled at his prowess, but the +next time he attitudinised in the tiger-skin she turned up her nose. +She recognised something feminine in the giant. Instinct told her that +by disposition the Strong Man was less manly than Little Flouflou, whom +he could have swung like an Indian club. + +No, Hercule didn't know what to make of it. It was a new and painful +thing to find himself the victim instead of the conqueror. For once in +his career, he hung about the wings wistfully, seeking a sign of +approval. For once he displayed his majestic figure on the pedestal +blankly conscious of being viewed by a woman whom he failed to impress. + +"What do you think of my turn?" he questioned at last. + +"Oh, I have seen worse," was all she granted. + +The giant winced. + +"I am the strongest man in the world," he proclaimed. + +"I have never met a Strong Man who wasn't!" said she. + +"But there is someone stronger than I am," he owned humbly. (Hercule +humble!) "Do you know what you have done to me, Clairette? You have +made a fool of me, my dear." + +"Don't be so cheeky," she returned. "Who gave you leave to call me +'Clairette,' and 'my dear'? A little more politeness, if you please, +monsieur!" And she cut the conversation short as unceremoniously as if +he had been a super. + +Those who have seen Hercule only in his "act"--who think of him superb, +supreme--may find It difficult to credit the statement, but, honestly, +the Great Star used to trot at her heels like a poodle. And she was not +a beauty by any means, with her impudent nose, and her mouth that was +too big to defy criticism. Perhaps it was her carriage that fascinated +him, the grace of her slender figure, which he could have snapped as a +child snaps jumbles. Perhaps it was those eyes which unwittingly +promised more than she gave. Perhaps, above all, it was her +indifference. Yes, on consideration, it must have been her indifferent +air, the novelty of being scorned, that made him a slave. + +But, of course, she was more flattered by his bondage than she showed. +Every night he planted himself in the prompt-entrance to watch her +dance and clap his powerful hands in adulation. She could not be +insensible to the compliment, though her smiles were oftenest for +Flouflou, who planted himself, adulating, on the opposite side. +_Adagio! Allegretto! Vivace!_ Unperceived by the audience, the +gaze of the two men would meet across the stage with misgiving. Each +feared the other's attentions to her, each wished with all his heart +that the other would get the sack; they glared at each other horribly. +And, meanwhile, the orchestra played its sweetest, and Clairette +pirouetted her best, and the Public, approving the obvious, saw nothing +of the intensity of the situation. + +Imagine the emotions of the little juggler, jealous by temperament, +jealous even without cause, now that he beheld a giant laying siege to +her affections! + +And then, on a certain evening, Clairette threw but two smiles to +Flouflou, and three to Hercule. + +The truth is that she did not attach so much significance to the smiles +as did the opponents who counted them. But that accident was momentous. +The Strong Man made her a burning offer of marriage within half an +hour; and next, the juggler made her furious reproaches. + +Now she had rejected the Strong Man--and, coming when they did, the +juggler's reproaches had a totally different effect from the one that +he had intended. So far from exciting her sympathy towards him, they +accentuated her compassion for Hercule. How stricken he had been by her +refusal! She could not help remembering his despair as he sat huddled +on a hamper, a giant that she had crushed. Flouflou was a thankless +little pig, she reflected, for, as a matter of fact, he had had a good +deal to do with her decision. She had deserved a better reward than to +be abused by him! + +Yes, her sentiments towards Hercule were newly tender, and an event of +the next night intensified them. It was Hercule's custom, in every town +that the Constellation visited, to issue a challenge. He pledged +himself to present a "Purse of Gold"--it contained a ten-franc piece-- +to any eight men who vanquished him in a tug-of-war. The spectacle was +always an immense success--the eight yokels straining, and tumbling +over one another, while Hercule, wearing a masterful smile, kept his +ten francs intact. A tug-of-war had been arranged for the night +following, and by every law of prudence, Hercule should have abstained +from the bottle during the day. + +But he did not. His misery sent discretion headlong to the winds. Every +time that he groaned for the danseuse he took another drink, and when +the time came for him to go to the show, the giant was as drunk as a +lord. The force of habit enabled him to fulfil some of his stereotyped +performance, he emerged from that without disgrace; but when the eight +brawny competitors lumbered on to the boards, his heart sank. The other +artists winked at one another appreciatively, and the manager hopped +with apprehension. + +Sure enough, the hero's legs made strange trips to-night. The sixteen +arms pulled him, not only over the chalk line, but all over the stage. +They played havoc with him. And then the manager had to go on and make +a speech, besides, because the "Purse of Gold" aroused dissatisfaction. +The fiasco was hideous. + +"Ah, Clairette," moaned the Strong Man, pitifully, "it was all through +you!" + +Elsewhere a Strong Man had put forth that plea, and the other lady had +been inexorable. But Clairette faltered. + +"Through me?" she murmured, with emotion. + +"I'm no boozer," muttered Hercule, whom the disaster had sobered. "If I +took too much today, it was because I had got such a hump." + +"But why be mashed on me, Hercule?" she said; "why not think of me as a +pal?" + +"You're talking silly," grunted Hercule. + +"Perhaps so," she confessed. "But I'm awfully sorry the turn went so +rotten." + +"Don't kid!" + +"Why should I kid about it?" + +"If you really meant it, you would take back what you said yesterday." + +"Oh!" The gesture was dismayed. "You see! What's the good of gassing? +As soon as I ask anything of you, you dry up. Bah! I daresay you will +guy me just as much as all the rest, I know you!" + +"If you weren't in trouble, I'd give you a thick ear for that," she +said. "You ungrateful brute!" She turned haughtily away, + +"Clairette!" + +"Oh, rats!" + +"Don't get the needle! I'm off my rocker to-night." + +"Ah! That's all right, cully!" Her hand was swift. "I've been there +myself." + +"Clairette!" He caught her close. + +"Here, what are you at?" she cried. "Drop it!" + +"Clairette! Say 'yes.' I'm loony about you. There's a duck! I'll be a +daisy of a husband. Won't you?" + +"Oh, I--I don't know," she stammered. + +And thus were they betrothed. + +To express what Flouflou felt would be but to harrow the reader's +sensibilities. What he said, rendered into English, was: "I'd rather +you had given me the go-by for any cove in the crowd than that swine!" + +They were in the ladies' dressing-room. "The Two Bonbons" had not +finished their duet, and he was alone with her for a moment. She was +pinning a switch into her back hair, in front of the scrap of looking- +glass against the mildewed wall. + +"You don't do yourself any good with me Flouflou, by calling Hercule +names," she replied icily. + +"So he is!" + +"Oh, you are jealous of him," she retorted. + +"Of course I am jealous of him," owned Flouflou; "you can't rile me by +saying that. Didn't I love you first? And a lump better than _he_ +does." + +"Now you're talking through your hat!" + +"You usedn't to take any truck of him, yourself, at the beginning. He +only got round you because he was drunk and queered his business. I +have been drunk, too--you didn't say you'd marry _me_. It's not in +him to love any girl for long--he's too sweet on himself." + +"Look here," she exclaimed. "I've had enough. Hook it! And don't you +speak to me any more. Understand?" She put the hairpins aside, and +began to whitewash her hands and arms. + +"That's the straight tip," said Flouflou, brokenly; "I'm off. Well, I +wish you luck, old dear!" + +"Running him down to me like that! A dirty trick, I call it." + +"I never meant to, straight; I--Sorry, Clairette." He lingered at the +door. "I suppose I shall have to say 'madame' soon?" + +"Footle," she murmured, moved. + +"You've not got your knife into me, have you, Clairette? I didn't mean +to be a beast. I'd have gone to hell for you, that's all, and I wish I +was dead." + +"Silly kid!" she faltered, blinking. And then "The Two Bonbons" came +back to doff their costumes, and he was turned out. + +Never had Hercule been so puffed up. His knowledge of the juggler's +sufferings made the victory more rapturous still. No longer did +Flouflou stand opposite-prompt to watch Clairette's dance; no longer +did he loiter about the passages after the curtain was down, on the +chance of being permitted to escort her to her doorstep. Such +privileges were the Strong Man's alone. She was affianced to him! At +the swelling thought, his chest became Brobdingnagian. His bounce in +company was now colossal; and it afforded the troupe a popular +entertainment to see him drop to servility in her presence. Her frown +was sufficient to reduce him to a cringe. They called him the "Quick- +change artist." + +But Hercule scarcely minded cringing to her; at all events he scarcely +minded it in a tete-a-tete; she was unique. He would have run to her +whistle, and fawned at her kick. She had agreed to marry him in a few +weeks' time, and his head swam at the prospect. Visions of the future +dazzled him. When he saw her to her home after the performance, he used +to talk of the joint engagements they would get by-and-by--"not in +snide shows like this, but in first-class halls"--and of how +tremendously happy they were going to be. And then Clairette would +stifle a sigh and say, "Oh, yes, of course!" and try to persuade +herself that she had no regrets. + +Meanwhile the Constellation had not been playing to such good business +as the manager had anticipated. He had done a bold thing in obtaining +Hercule--who, if not so famous as the posters pretended, was at least a +couple of rungs above the other humble mountebanks--and the box-office +ought to have yielded better results. Monsieur Blond was anxious. He +asked himself what the Public wanted. Simultaneously he pondered the +idea of a further attraction, and perspired at the thought of further +expense. + +At this time the "Living Statuary" turn was the latest craze in the +variety halls of fashion, and one day poor Blond, casting an expert eye +on his danseuse, questioned why she should not be billed, a town or two +ahead, as "Aphrodite, the Animated Statue, Direct from Paris." + +To question was to act. The weather was mild, and, though Clairette +experienced pangs of modesty when she learnt that the Statue's +"costume" was to be applied with a sponge, she could not assert that +she would be in danger of taking a chill. Besides, her salary was to be +raised a trifle. + +Blond rehearsed her assiduously (madame Blond in attendance), and, to +his joy, she displayed a remarkable gift for adopting the poses, As +"The Bather" she promised to be entrancing, and, until she wobbled, her +"Nymph at the Fountain" was a pure delight. Moreover, thanks to her +accomplishments as a dancer, she did not wobble very badly. + +All the same, when the date of her debut arrived, she was extremely +nervous. Elated by his inspiration. Blond had for once been prodigal +with the printing and on her way to the stage door, it seemed to her +that the name of "Aphrodite" flamed from every hoarding in the place. +Hercule met her with encouraging words, but the ordeal was not one that +she wished to discuss with him, and he took leave of her very much +afraid that she would break down. + +What was his astonishment to hear her greeted with salvos of applause! +Blond's enterprise had undoubtedly done the trick. The little hall +rocked with enthusiasm, and, cloaked in a voluminous garment, +"Aphrodite" had to bow her acknowledgments again and again. When the +time came for Hercule's own postures, they fell, by comparison, quite +flat. + +"Ciel!" she babbled, on the homeward walk; "who would have supposed +that I should go so strong? If I knock them like this next week too, I +shall make Blond spring a bit more!" She looked towards her lover for +congratulations; so far he had been rather unsatisfactory. + +"Oh, well," he mumbled, "it was a very good audience, you know, I never +saw a more generous house--you can't expect to catch on like it +anywhere else." + +His tone puzzled her. Though she was quite alive to the weaknesses of +her profession, she could not believe that her triumph could give +umbrage to her fiance. Hercule, her adorer, to be annoyed because she +had received more "hands" than _he_ had? Oh, it was mean of her to +fancy such a thing! + +But she was conscious that he had never wished her "pleasant dreams" so +briefly as he did that night, and the Strong Man, on his side, was +conscious of a strange depression. He could not shake it off. The next +evening, too, he felt it. Wherever he went, he heard praises of her +proportions. The dancing girl had, in fact, proved to be beautifully +formed, and it could not be disputed that "Aphrodite" had wiped +"Hercules" out. Her success was repeated in every town. Morosely now +did he make his biceps jump, and exhibit the splendours of his back-- +his poses commanded no more than half the admiration evoked by hers. +His muscles had been eclipsed by her graces. Her body had outvied his +own! + +Oh, she was dear to him, but he was an "artiste"! There are trials that +an artiste cannot bear. He hesitated to refer to the subject, but when +he nursed her on his lap, he thought what a great fool the Public was +to prefer this ordinary woman to a marvellous man. He derived less +rapture from nursing her. He eyed her critically. His devotion was +cankered by resentment. + +And each evening the resentment deepened. And each evening it forced +him to the wings against his will. He stood watching, though every +burst of approval wrung his heart. Soured, and sexless, he watched her. +An intense jealousy of the slim nude figure posturing in the limelight +took possession of him. It had robbed him of his plaudits! He grew to +hate it, to loathe the white loveliness that had dethroned him. It was +no longer the figure of a mistress that he viewed, but the figure of a +rival. If he had dared, he would have hissed her. + +Finally, he found it impossible to address her with civility. And +Clairette married Flouflou, after all. + +"Clairette," said Flouflou on the day they were engaged, "if you don't +chuck the Statuary turn, I know that one night I shall massacre the +audience! Won't you give it up for me, peach?" + +"So you are beginning your ructions already?" laughed Clairette, "I +told you what a handful you would be. Oh, well then, just as you like, +old dear!--in this business a girl may meet with a worse kind of +jealousy than yours." + + + +"PARDON, YOU ARE MADEMOISELLE GIRARD!" + +A newsvendor passed along the terrace of the Cafe d'Harcourt bawling +_La Voix Parisienne_. The Frenchman at my table made a gesture of +aversion. Our eyes met; I said: + +"You do not like _La Voix?_" + +He answered with intensity: + +"I loathe it." + +"What's its offence?" + +The wastrel frowned; he fiddled with his frayed and filthy collar. + +"You revive painful associations; you ask me for a humiliating story," +he murmured--and regarded his empty glass. + +I can take a hint as well as most people. + +He prepared his poison reflectively, + +"I will tell you all," he said. + +One autumn the Editor of _La Voix_ announced to the assistant-editor: +"I have a great idea for booming the paper." + +The assistant-editor gazed at him respectfully. "I propose to prove, in +the public interest, the difficulty of tracing a missing person. I +shall instruct a member of the staff to disappear. I shall publish his +description, and his portrait; and I shall offer a prize to the first +stranger who identifies him." + +The assistant-editor had tact and he did not reply that the idea had +already been worked in London with a disappearing lady. He replied: + +"What an original scheme!" + +"It might be even more effective that the disappearing person should be +a lady," added the chief, like one inspired. + +"That," cried the assistant-editor, "is the top brick of genius!" + +So the Editor reviewed the brief list of his lady contributors, and +sent for mademoiselle Girard. + +His choice fell upon mademoiselle Girard for two reasons. First, she +was not facially remarkable--a smudgy portrait of her would look much +like a smudgy portrait of anybody else. Second, she was not widely +known in Paris, being at the beginning of her career; in fact she was +so inexperienced that hitherto she had been entrusted only with +criticism. + +However, the young woman had all her buttons on; and after he had +talked to her, she said cheerfully: + +"Without a chaperon I should be conspicuous, and without a fat purse I +should be handicapped. So it is understood that I am to provide myself +with a suitable companion, and to draw upon the office for expenses?" + +"Mademoiselle," returned the Editor, "the purpose of the paper is to +portray a drama of life, not to emulate an opera bouffe. I shall +explain more fully. Please figure to yourself that you are a young girl +in an unhappy home. Let us suppose that a stepmother is at fault. You +feel that you can submit to her oppression no longer--you resolve to be +free, or to end your troubles in the Seine. Weeping, you pack your +modest handbag; you cast a last, lingering look at the oil painting of +your own dear mother who is with the Angels in the drawing-room; that +is to say, of your own dear mother in the drawing-room, who is with the +Angels. It still hangs there--your father has insisted on it. Unheard, +you steal from the house; the mysterious city of Paris stretches before +your friendless feet. Can you engage a chaperon? Can you draw upon an +office for expenses? The idea is laughable. You have saved, at a +liberal computation, forty francs; it is necessary for you to find +employment without delay. But what happens? Your father is distracted +by your loss, the thought of the perils that beset you frenzies him; he +invokes the aid of the police. Well, the object of our experiment is to +demonstrate that, in spite of an advertised reward, in spite of a +published portrait, in spite of the Public's zeal itself, you will be +passed on the boulevards and in the slums by myriads of unsuspecting +eyes for weeks." + +The girl inquired, much less blithely: + +"How long is this experiment to continue?" + +"It will continue until you are identified, of course. The longer the +period, the more triumphant our demonstration." + +"And I am to have no more than forty francs to exist on all the time? +Monsieur, the job does not call to me." + +"You are young and you fail to grasp the value of your opportunity," +said the Editor, with paternal tolerance. "From such an assignment you +will derive experiences that will be of the highest benefit to your +future. Rejoice, my child! Very soon I shall give you final +instructions." + + * * * * * + +The Frenchman lifted his glass, which was again empty. + +"I trust my voice does not begin to grate upon you?" he asked +solicitously. "Much talking affects my uvula." + +I made a trite inquiry. + +He answered that, since I was so pressing, he would! + +"Listen," he resumed, after a sip. + + * * * * * + +I am not in a position to say whether the young lady humoured the +Editor by rejoicing, but she obeyed him by going forth. Her portrait +was duly published, _La Volx_ professed ignorance of her +whereabouts from the moment that she left the rue Louis-le-Grand, and a +prize of two thousand francs was to reward the first stranger who said +to her, "Pardon, you are mademoiselle Girard!" In every issue the +Public were urged towards more strenuous efforts to discover her, and +all Paris bought the paper, with amusement, to learn if she was found +yet. + +At the beginning of the week, misgivings were ingeniously hinted as to +her fate. On the tenth day the Editor printed a letter (which he had +written himself), hotly condemning him for exposing a poor girl to +danger. It was signed "An Indignant Parent," and teemed with the most +stimulating suggestions. Copies of _La Voix_ were as prevalent as +gingerbread pigs at a fair. When a fortnight had passed, the prize was +increased to three thousand francs, and many young men resigned less +promising occupations, such as authorship and the fine arts, in order +to devote themselves exclusively to the search. + +Personally, I had something else to do. I am an author, as you may have +divined by the rhythm of my impromptu phrases, but it happened at that +time that a play of mine had been accepted at the Grand Guignol, +subject to an additional thrill being introduced, and I preferred +pondering for a thrill in my garret to hunting for a pin in a haystack, + +Enfin, I completed the drama to the Management's satisfaction, and +received a comely little cheque in payment. It was the first cheque +that I had seen for years! I danced with joy, I paid for a shampoo, I +committed no end of follies. + +How good is life when one is rich--immediately one joins the optimists! +I feared the future no longer; I was hungry, and I let my appetite do +as it liked with me. I lodged in Montmartre, and it was my custom to +eat at the unpretentious Bel Avenir, when I ate at all; but that +morning my mood demanded something resplendent. Rumours had reached me +of a certain Cafe Eclatant, where for one-franc-fifty one might +breakfast on five epicurean courses amid palms and plush. I said I +would go the pace, I adventured the Cafe Eclatant. + +The interior realised my most sanguine expectations. The room would +have done no discredit to the Grand Boulevard. I was so much +exhilarated, that I ordered a half bottle of barsac, though I noted +that here it cost ten sous more than at the Bel Avenir, and I prepared +to enjoy the unwonted extravagance of my repast to the concluding +crumb. + +Monsieur, there are events in life of which it is difficult to speak +without bitterness. When I recall the disappointment of that dejeuner +at the Cafe Eclatant, my heart swells with rage. The soup was slush, +the fish tasted like washing, the meat was rags. Dessert consisted of +wizened grapes; the one thing fit to eat was the cheese. + +As I meditated on the sum I had squandered, I could have cried with +mortification, and, to make matters more pathetic still, I was as +hungry as ever. I sat seeking some caustic epigram to wither the dame- +de-comptoir; and presently the door opened and another victim entered. +Her face was pale and interesting. I saw, by her hesitation, that the +place was strange to her. An accomplice of the chief brigand pounced on +her immediately, and bore her to a table opposite. The misguided girl +was about to waste one-franc-fifty. I felt that I owed a duty to her in +this crisis. The moment called for instant action; before she could +decide between slush and hors d'oeuvres, I pulled an envelope from my +pocket, scribbled a warning, and expressed it to her by the robber who +had brought my bill. + +I had written, "The dejeuner is dreadful. Escape!" + +It reached her in the nick of time. She read the wrong side of the +envelope first, and was evidently puzzled. Then she turned it over. A +look of surprise, a look of thankfulness, rendered her still more +fascinating. I perceived that she was inventing an excuse--that she +pretended to have forgotten something. She rose hastily and went out. +My barsac was finished--shocking bad tipple it was for the money!--and +now I, too, got up and left. When I issued into the street, I found her +waiting for me. + +"I think you are the knight to whom my gratitude is due, monsieur?" she +murmured graciously. + +"Mademoiselle, you magnify the importance of my service," said I. + +"It was a gallant deed," she insisted. "You have saved me from a great +misfortune--perhaps greater than you understand. My finances are at +their lowest ebb, and to have beggared myself for an impossible meal +would have been no joke. Thanks to you, I may still breakfast +satisfactorily somewhere else. Is it treating you like Baedeker's Guide +to the Continent if I ask you to recommend a restaurant?" + +"Upon my word, I doubt if you can do better than the Bel Avenir," I +said. "A moment ago I was lacerated with regret that I had not gone +there. But there is a silver lining to every hash-house, and my choice +of the Eclatant has procured me the glory of your greeting." + +She averted her gaze with a faint smile. She had certainly charm. +Admiration and hunger prompted me to further recklessness. I said: +"This five-course swindle has left me ravenous, and I am bound for the +Avenir myself. May I beg for the rapture of your company there?" + +"Monsieur, you overwhelm me with chivalries," she replied; "I shall be +enchanted." And, five minutes later, the Incognita and I were polishing +off smoked herring and potato salad, like people who had no time to +lose. + +"Do you generally come here?" she asked, when we had leisure. + +"Infrequently--no oftener than I have a franc in my pocket. But details +of my fasts would form a poor recital, and I make a capital listener." + +"You also make a capital luncheon," she remarked. + +"Do not prevaricate," I said severely. "I am consumed with impatience +to hear the history of your life. Be merciful and communicative." + +"Well, I am young, fair, accomplished, and of an amiable disposition," +she began, leaning her elbows on the table. + +"These things are obvious. Come to confidences! What is your +profession?" + +"By profession I am a clairvoyante and palmist," she announced. + +I gave her my hand at once, and I was in two minds about giving her my +heart. "Proceed," I told her; "reveal my destiny!" + +Her air was profoundly mystical. + +"In the days of your youth," she proclaimed, "your line of authorship +is crossed by many rejections." + +"Oh, I am an author, hein? That's a fine thing in guesses!" + +"It is written!" she affirmed, still scrutinising my palm. "Your +dramatic lines are--er--countless; some of them are good. I see danger; +you should beware of--I cannot distinguish!" she clasped her brow and +shivered. "Ah, I have it! You should beware of hackneyed situations." + +"So the Drama is 'written,' too, is it?" + +"It is written, and I discern that it is already accepted," she said. +"For at the juncture where the Eclatant is eclipsed by the Cafe du Bel +Avenir, there is a distinct manifestation of cash." + +"Marvellous!" I exclaimed. "And will the sybil explain why she surmised +that I was a dramatic author?" + +"Even so!" she boasted. "You wrote your message to me on an envelope +from the Dramatic Authors' Society, What do you think of my palmistry?" + +"I cannot say that I think it is your career. You are more likely an +author yourself, or an actress, or a journalist. Perhaps you are +mademoiselle Girard. Mon Dieu! What a piece of luck for me if I found +mademoiselle Girard!" + +"And what a piece of luck for her!" + +"Why for her?" + +"Well, she cannot be having a rollicking time. It would not break her +heart to be found, one may be certain." + +"In that case," I said, "she has only to give some one the tip." + +"Oh, that would be dishonourable--she has a duty to fulfil to _La +Voix_, she must wait till she is identified. And, remember, there +must be no half measures--the young man must have the intuition to say +firmly, 'Pardon, you are mademoiselle Girard!'" + +Her earnest gaze met mine for an instant. + +"As a matter of fact," I said, "I do not see how anyone can be expected +to identify her in the street. The portrait shows her without a hat, +and a hat makes a tremendous difference." + +She sighed. + +"What is your trouble?" I asked. + +"Man!" + +"Man? Tell me his address, that I may slay him." + +"The whole sex. Its impenetrable stupidity. If mademoiselle Girard is +ever recognised it will be by a woman. Man has no instinct." + +"May one inquire the cause of these flattering reflections?" + +Her laughter pealed. + +"Let us talk of something else!" she commanded. "When does your play +come out, monsieur Thibaud Hippolyte Duboc? You see I learnt your name, +too." + +"You have all the advantages," I complained. "Will you take a second +cup of coffee, mademoiselle--er--?" + +"No, thank you, monsieur," she said. + +"Well, will you take a liqueur, mademoiselle--er--?" + +"Mademoiselle Er will not take a liqueur either," she pouted. + +"Well, will you take a walk?" + +In the end we took an omnibus, and then we proceeded to the Buttes- +Chaumont--and very agreeable I found it there. We chose a seat in the +shade, and I began to feel that I had known her all my life. More +precisely, perhaps, I began to feel that I wished to know her all my +life. A little breeze was whispering through the boughs, and she lifted +her face to it gratefully. + +"How delicious," she said. "I should like to take off my hat." + +"Do, then!" + +"Shall I?" + +"Why not?" + +She pulled the pins out slowly, and laid the hat aside, and raised her +eyes to me, smiling. + +"Well?" she murmured. + +"You are beautiful." + +"Is that all?" + +"What more would you have me say?" + +The glare of sunshine mellowed while we talked; clocks struck unheeded +by me. It amazed me at last, to discover how long she had held me +captive. Still, I knew nothing of her affairs, excepting that she was +hard up--that, by comparison, I was temporarily prosperous. I did not +even know where she meant to go when we moved, nor did it appear +necessary to inquire yet, for the sentiment in her tones assured me +that she would dismiss me with no heartless haste. + +Two men came strolling past the bench, and one of them stared at her so +impudently that I burned with indignation. After looking duels at him, +I turned to her, to deprecate his rudeness. Judge of my dismay when I +perceived that she was shuddering with emotion! Jealousy blackened the +gardens to me. + +"Who is that man?" I exclaimed. + +"I don't know," she faltered. + +"You don't know? But you are trembling?" + +"Am I?" + +"I ask you who he is? How he dared to look at you like that?" + +"Am I responsible for the way a loafer looks?" + +"You are responsible for your agitation; I ask you to explain it!" + +"And by what right, after all?" + +"By what right? Wretched, false-hearted girl! Has our communion for +hours given me no rights? Am I a Frenchman or a flounder? Answer; you +are condemning me to tortures! Why did you tremble under that man's +eyes?" + +"I was afraid," she stammered. + +"Afraid?" + +"Afraid that he had recognised me." + +"Mon Dieu! Of what are you guilty?" + +"I am not guilty." + +"Of what are you accused?" + +"I can tell you nothing," she gasped. + +"You shall tell me all!" I swore. "In the name of my love I demand it +of you. Speak! Why did you fear his recognition?" + +Her head drooped pitifully. + +"Because I wanted _you_ to recognise me first!" + +For a tense moment I gazed at her bewildered. In the next, I cursed +myself for a fool--I blushed for my suspicions, my obtuseness--I sought +dizzily the words, the prescribed words that I must speak. + +"Pardon," I shouted, "you are mademoiselle Girard!" + +She sobbed. + +"What have I done?" + +"You have done a great and generous thing! I am humbled before you. I +bless you. I don't know how I could have been such a dolt as not to +guess!" + +"Oh, how I wish you had guessed! You have been so kind to me, I longed +for you to guess! And now I have betrayed a trust. I have been a bad +journalist." + +"You have been a good friend. Courage! No one will ever hear what has +happened. And, anyhow, it is all the same to the paper whether the +prize is paid to me, or to somebody else." + +"Yes," she admitted. "That is true. Oh, when that man turned round and +looked at me, I thought your chance had gone! I made sure it was all +over! Well"--she forced a smile--"it is no use my being sorry, is it? +Mademoiselle Girard is 'found'!" + +"But you must not be sorry," I said. "Come, a disagreeable job is +finished! And you have the additional satisfaction of knowing the money +goes to a fellow you don't altogether dislike. What do I have to do +about it, hein?" + +"You must telegraph to _La Voix_ at once that you have identified +me. Then, in the morning you should go to the office. I can depend upon +you, can't I? You will never give me away to a living soul?" + +"Word of honour!" I vowed. "What do you take me for? Do tell me you +don't regret! There's a dear. Tell me you don't regret." + +She threw back her head dauntlessly. + +"No," she said, "I don't regret. Only, in justice to me, remember that +I was treacherous in order to do a turn to you, not to escape my own +discomforts. To be candid, I believe that I wish we had met in two or +three weeks' time, instead of to-day!" + +"Why that?" + +"In two or three weeks' time the prize was to be raised to five +thousand francs, to keep up the excitement." + +"Ciel!" I cried. "Five thousand francs? Do you know that positively?" + +"Oh, yes!" She nodded. "It is arranged." + +Five thousand francs would have been a fortune to me. + +Neither of us spoke for some seconds. Then, continuing my thoughts +aloud, I said: + +"After all, why should I telegraph at once? What is to prevent +_my_ waiting the two or three weeks?" + +"Oh, to allow you to do that would be scandalous of me," she demurred; +"I should be actually swindling _La Voix_." + +"_La Voix_ will obtain a magnificent advertisement for its outlay, +which is all that it desires," I argued; "the boom will be worth five +thousand francs to _La Voix_, there is no question of swindling. +Five thousand francs is a sum with which one might--" + +"It can't be done," she persisted. + +"To a man in my position," I said, "five thousand francs--" + +"It is impossible for another reason! As I told you, I am at the end of +my resources. I rose this morning, praying that I should be identified. +My landlady has turned me out, and I have no more than the price of one +meal to go on with." + +"You goose!" I laughed. "And if I were going to net five thousand +francs by your tip three weeks hence, don't you suppose it would be +good enough for me to pay your expenses in the meanwhile?" + +She was silent again. I understood that her conscience was a more +formidable drawback than her penury. + +Monsieur, I said that you had asked me for a humiliating story--that I +had poignant memories connected with _La Voix_. Here is one of +them: I set myself to override her scruples--to render this girl false +to her employers. + +Many men might have done so without remorse. But not a man like me; I +am naturally high-minded, of the most sensitive honour. Even when I +conquered at last, I could not triumph. Far from it. I blamed the force +of circumstances furiously for compelling me to sacrifice my principles +to my purse. I am no adventurer, hein? + +Enfin, the problem now was, where was I to hide her? Her portmanteau +she had deposited at a railway station. Should we have it removed to +another bedroom, or to a pension de famille? Both plans were open to +objections--a bedroom would necessitate her still challenging discovery +in restaurants; and at a pension de famille she would run risks on the +premises. A pretty kettle of fish if someone spotted her while I was +holding for the rise! + +We debated the point exhaustively. And, having yielded, she displayed +keen intelligence in arranging for the best. Finally she declared: + +"Of the two things, a pension de famille is to be preferred. Install me +there as your sister! Remember that people picture me a wanderer and +alone; therefore, a lady who is introduced by her brother is in small +danger of being recognized as mademoiselle Girard." + +She was right, I perceived it. We found an excellent house, where I was +unknown. I presented her as "mademoiselle Henriette Delafosse, my +sister." And, to be on the safe side, I engaged a private sitting-room +for her, explaining that she was somewhat neurasthenic. + +Good! I waited breathless now for every edition of _La Voix_, +thinking that her price might advance even sooner. But she closed at +three thousand francs daily. Girard stood firm, but there was no upward +tendency. Every afternoon I called on her. She talked about that +conscience of hers again sometimes, and it did not prove quite so +delightful as I had expected, when I paid a visit. Especially when I +paid a bill as well. + +Monsieur, my disposition is most liberal. But when I had been mulcted +in the second bill, I confess that I became a trifle downcast. I had +prepared myself to nourish the girl wholesomely, as befitted the +circumstances, but I had said nothing of vin superieur, and I noted +that she had been asking for it as if it were cider in Normandy. The +list of extras in those bills gave me the jumps, and the charges made +for scented soap were nothing short of an outrage. + +Well, there was but one more week to bear now, and during the week I +allowed her to revel. This, though I was approaching embarrassments +_re_ the rent of my own attic! + +How strange is life! Who shall foretell the future? I had wrestled with +my self-respect, I had nursed an investment which promised stupendous +profits were I capable of carrying my scheme to a callous conclusion. +But could I do it? Did I claim the prize, which had already cost me so +much? Monsieur, you are a man of the world, a judge of character: I ask +you, did I claim the prize, or did I not? + +He threw himself back in the chair, and toyed significantly with his +empty glass. + +I regarded him, his irresolute mouth, his receding chin, his +unquenchable thirst for absinthe. I regarded him and I paid him no +compliments. I said: + +"You claimed the prize." + +"You have made a bloomer," he answered. "I did not claim it. The prize +was claimed by the wife of a piano-tuner, who had discovered +mademoiselle Girard employed in the artificial flower department of the +Printemps. I read the bloodcurdling news at nine o'clock on a Friday +evening; and at 9:15, when I hurled myself, panic-stricken, into the +pension de famille, the impostor who had tricked me out of three weeks' +board and lodging had already done a bolt. I have never had the joy of +meeting her since." + + + +HOW TRICOTKIN SAW LONDON + +One day Tricotrin had eighty francs, and he said to Pitou, who was no +less prosperous, "Good-bye to follies, for we have arrived at an epoch +in our careers! Do not let us waste our substance on trivial pleasures, +or paying the landlord--let us make it a provision for our future!" + +"I rejoice to hear you speak for once like a business-man," returned +Pitou. "Do you recommend gilt-edged securities, or an investment in +land?" + +"I would suggest, rather, that we apply our riches to some educational +purpose, such as travel," explained the poet, producing a railway +company's handbill. "By this means we shall enlarge our minds, and +somebody has pretended that 'knowledge is power'--it must have been the +principal of a school. It is not for nothing that we have l'Entente +Cordiale--you may now spend a Sunday in London at about the cost of one +of Madeleine's hats." + +"These London Sunday baits may be a plot of the English Government to +exterminate us; I have read that none but English people can survive a +Sunday in London." + +"No, it is not that, for we are offered the choice of a town called +'Eastbourne,' Listen, they tell me that in London the price of +cigarettes is so much lower than with us that, to a bold smuggler, the +trip is a veritable economy. Matches too! Matches are so cheap in +England that the practice of stealing them from cafe tables has not +been introduced." + +"Well, your synopsis will be considered, and reported on in due +course," announced the composer, after a pause; "but at the moment of +going to press we would rather buy a hat for Madeleine." + +And as Madeleine also thought that this would be better for him, it was +decided that Tricotrin should set forth alone. + +His departure for a foreign country was a solemn event. A small party +of the Montmartrois had marched with him to the station, and more than +once, in view of their anxious faces, the young man acknowledged +mentally that he was committed to a harebrained scheme. "Heaven +protect thee, my comrade!" faltered Pitou. "Is thy vocabulary safely in +thy pocket? Remember that 'un bock' is 'glass of beer.'" + +"Here is a small packet of chocolate," murmured Lajeunie, embracing +him; "in England, nothing to eat can be obtained on Sunday, and +chocolate is very sustaining." + +"And listen!" shouted Sanquereau; "on no account take off thy hat to +strangers, nor laugh in the streets; the first is 'mad' over there, and +the second is 'immoral.' May le bon Dieu have thee in His keeping! We +count the hours till thy return!" + +Then the train sped out into the night, and the poet realised that home +and friends were left behind. + +He would have been less than a poet if, in the first few minutes, the +pathos of the situation had not gripped him by the throat. Vague, +elusive fancies stirred his brain; he remembered the franc that he owed +at the Cafe du Bel Avenir, and wondered if madame would speak gently of +him were he lost at sea. Tender memories of past loves dimmed his eyes, +and he reflected how poignant it would be to perish before the papers +would give him any obituary notices. Regarding his fellow passengers, +he lamented that none of them was a beautiful girl, for it was an +occasion on which woman's sympathy would have been sweet; indeed he +proceeded to invent some of the things that they might have said to +each other. Inwardly he was still resenting the faces of his travelling +companions when the train reached Dieppe. + +"It is material for my biography," he soliloquised, as he crept down +the gangway. "Few who saw the young man step firmly on to the good +ship's deck conjectured the emotions that tore his heart; few +recognised him to be Tricotrin, whose work was at that date practically +unknown.'" But as a matter of fact he did arouse conjectures of a kind, +for when the boat moved from the quay, he could not resist the +opportunity to murmur, "My France, farewell!" with an appropriate +gesture. + +His repose during the night was fitful, and when Victoria was reached +at last, he was conscious of some bodily fatigue. However, his mind was +never slow to receive impressions, and at the sight of the scaffolding, +he whipped out his note-book on the platform. He wrote, "The English +are extraordinarily prompt of action. One day it was discerned that la +gare Victoria was capable of improvement--no sooner was the fact +detected than an army of contractors was feverishly enlarging it." +Pleased that his journey was already yielding such good results, the +poet lit a Caporal, and sauntered through the yard. + +Though the sky promised a fine Sunday, his view of London at this early +hour was not inspiriting. He loitered blankly, debating which way to +wander. Presently the outlook brightened--he observed a very dainty +pair of shoes and ankles coming through the station doors. Fearing that +the face might be unworthy of them, he did not venture to raise his +gaze until the girl had nearly reached the gate, but when he took the +risk, he was rewarded by the discovery that her features were as +piquant as her feet. + +She came towards him slowly, and now he remarked that she had a grudge +against Fate; her pretty lips were compressed, her beautiful eyes +gloomy with grievance, the fairness of her brow was darkened by a +frown. "Well," mused Tricotrin, "though the object of my visit is +educational, the exigencies of my situation clearly compel me to ask +this young lady to direct me somewhere. Can I summon up enough English +before she has passed?" + +It was a trying moment, for already she was nearly abreast of him. +Forgetful of Sanquereau's instructions, as well as of most of the +phrases that had been committed to memory, the poet swept off his hat, +and stammered, "Mees, I beg your pardon!" + +She turned the aggrieved eyes to him inquiringly. Although she had +paused, she made no answer. Was his accent so atrocious as all that? +For a second they regarded each other dumbly, while a blush of +embarrassment mantled the young man's cheeks. Then, with a little +gesture of apology, the girl said in French-- + +"I do not speak English, monsieur." + +"Oh, le bon Dieu be praised!" cried Tricotrin, for all the world as if +he had been back on the boulevard Rochechouart. "I was dazed with +travel, or I should have recognized you were a Frenchwoman. Did you, +too, leave Paris last night, mademoiselle?" + +"Ah, no," said the girl pensively. "I have been in London for months. I +hoped to meet a friend who wrote that she would arrive this morning, +but,"--she sighed--"she has not come!" + +"She will arrive to-night instead, no doubt; I should have no anxiety. +You may be certain she will arrive to-night, and this contretemps will +be forgotten." + +She pouted. "I was looking forward so much to seeing her! To a stranger +who cannot speak the language, London is as triste as a tomb. Today, I +was to have had a companion, and now--" + +"Indeed, I sympathise with you," replied Tricotrin. "But is it really +so--London is what you say? You alarm me. I am here absolutely alone. +Where, then, shall I go this morning?" + +"There are churches," she said, after some reflection. + +"And besides?" + +"W-e-ll, there are other churches." + +"Of course, such things can be seen in Paris also," demurred Tricotrin. +"It is not essential to go abroad to say one's prayers. If I may take +the liberty of applying to you, in which direction would you recommend +me to turn my steps? For example, where is Soho--is it too far for a +walk?" + +"No, monsieur, it is not very far--it is the quarter in which I lodge." + +"And do you return there now?" he asked eagerly. + +"What else is there for me to do? My friend has not come, and--" + +"Mademoiselle," exclaimed the poet, "I entreat you to have mercy on a +compatriot! Permit me, at least, to seek Soho in your company--do not, +I implore you, leave me homeless and helpless in a strange land! I +notice an eccentric vehicle which instinct whispers is an English +'hansom.' For years I have aspired to drive in an English hansom once. +It is in your power to fulfil my dream with effulgence. Will you +consent to instruct the acrobat who is performing with a whip, and to +take a seat in the English hansom beside me?" + +"Monsieur," responded the pretty girl graciously, "I shall be charmed;" +and, romantic as the incident appears, the next minute they were +driving along Victoria Street together. + +"The good kind fairies have certainly taken me under their wings," +declared Tricotrin, as he admired his companion's profile. "It was +worth enduring the pangs of exile, to meet with such kindness as you +have shown me." + +"I am afraid you will speedily pronounce the fairies fickle," said she, +"for our drive will soon be over, and you will find Soho no fairyland." + +"How comes it that your place of residence is so unsuitable to you, +mademoiselle?" + +"I lodge in the neighbourhood of the coiffeur's where I am employed, +monsieur--where I handle the tails and transformations. Our specialty +is artificial eyelashes; the attachment is quite invisible--and the +result absolutely ravishing! No," she added hurriedly; "I am not +wearing a pair myself, these are quite natural, word of honour! But we +undertake to impart to any eyes the gaze soulful, or the twinkle +coquettish, as the customer desires--as an artist, I assure you that +these expressions are due, less to the eyes themselves than to the +shade, and especially the curve, of the lashes. Many a woman has +entered our saloon entirely insignificant, and turned the heads of all +the men in the street when she left." + +"You interest me profoundly," said Tricotrin, "At the same time, I +shall never know in future whether I am inspired by a woman's eyes, or +the skill of her coiffeur. I say 'in future.' I entertain no doubt as +to the source of my sensations now." + +She rewarded him for this by a glance that dizzied him, and soon +afterwards the hansom came to a standstill amid an overpowering odour +of cheese. + +"We have arrived!" she proclaimed; "so it is now that we part, +monsieur. For me there is the little lodging--for you the enormous +London. It is Soho--wander where you will! There are restaurants +hereabouts where one may find coffee and rolls at a modest price. +Accept my thanks for your escort, and let us say bonjour." + +"Are the restaurants so unsavoury that you decline to honour them?" he +questioned. + +"_Comment?"_ + +"Will you not bear me company? Or, better still, will you not let me +command a coffee-pot for two to be sent to your apartment, and invite +me to rest after my voyage?" + +She hesitated. "My apartment is very humble," she said, "and--well, I +have never done a thing like that! It would not be correct. What would +you think of me if I consented?" + +"I will think all that you would have me think," vowed Tricotrin. +"Come, take pity on me! Ask me in, and afterwards we will admire the +sights of London together. Where can the coffee-pot be ordered?" + +"As for that," she said, "there is no necessity--I have a little +breakfast for two already prepared. Enfin, it is understood--we are to +be good comrades, and nothing more? Will you give yourself the trouble +of entering, monsieur?" + +The bedroom to which they mounted was shabby, but far from +unattractive. The mantelshelf was brightened with flowers, a piano was +squeezed into a corner, and Tricotrin had scarcely put aside his hat +when he was greeted by the odour of coffee as excellent as was ever +served in the Cafe de la Regence. + +"If this is London," he cried, "I have no fault to find with it! I own +it is abominably selfish of me, but I cannot bring myself to regret +that your friend failed to arrive this morning; indeed, I shudder to +think what would have become of me if we had not met. Will you mention +the name that is to figure in my benisons?" + +"My name is Rosalie Durand, monsieur." + +"And mine is Gustave Tricotrin, mademoiselle--always your slave. I do +not doubt that in Paris, at this moment, there are men who picture me +tramping the pavement, desolate. Not one of them but would envy me from +his heart if he could see my situation!" + +"It might have fallen out worse, I admit," said the girl. "My own day +was at the point of being dull to tears--and here I am chattering as if +I hadn't a grief in the world! Let me persuade you to take another +croissant!" + +"Fervently I wish that appearances were not deceptive!" said Tricotrin, +who required little persuasion. "Is it indiscreet to inquire to what +griefs you allude? Upon my word, your position appears a very pretty +one! Where do those dainty shoes pinch you?" + +"They are not easy on foreign soil, monsieur. When I reflect that you +go back to-night, that to-morrow you will be again in Paris, I could +gnash my teeth with jealousy." + +"But, ma foi!" returned Tricotrin, "to a girl of brains, like yourself, +Paris is always open. Are there no customers for eyelashes in France? +Why condemn yourself to gnash with jealousy when there is a living to +be earned at home?" + +"There are several reasons," she said; "for one thing, I am an +extravagant little hussy and haven't saved enough for a ticket." + +"I have heard no reason yet! At the moment my pocket is nicely lined-- +you might return with me this evening," + +"Are you mad by any chance?" she laughed. + +"It seems to me the natural course." + +"Well, I should not be free to go like that, even if I took your money. +I am a business woman, you see, who does not sacrifice her interests to +her sentiment. What is your own career, monsieur Tricotrin?" + +"I am a poet, And when I am back in Paris I shall write verse about +you. It shall be an impression of London--the great city as it reveals +itself to a stranger whose eyes are dazzled by the girl he loves." + +"Forbidden ground!" she cried, admonishing him with a finger. "No +dazzle!" + +"I apologise," said Tricotrin; "you shall find me a poet of my word. +Why, I declare," he exclaimed, glancing from the window, "it has begun +to rain!" + +"Well, fortunately, we have plenty of time; there is all day for our +excursion and we can wait for the weather to improve. If you do not +object to smoking while I sing, monsieur, I propose a little music to +go on with." + +And it turned out that this singular assistant of a hairdresser had a +very sympathetic voice, and no contemptible repertoire. Although the +sky had now broken its promise shamefully and the downpour continued, +Tricotrin found nothing to complain of. By midday one would have said +that they had been comrades for years. By luncheon both had ceased even +to regard the rain. And before evening approached, they had confided to +each other their histories from the day of their birth. + +Ascertaining that the basement boasted a smudgy servant girl, who was +to be dispatched for entrees and sauterne, Tricotrin drew up the menu +of a magnificent dinner as the climax. It was conceded that at this +repast he should be the host; and having placed him on oath behind a +screen, Rosalie proceeded to make an elaborate toilette in honour of +his entertainment. + +Determined, as he had said, to prove himself a poet of his word, the +young man remained behind the screen as motionless as a waxwork, but +the temptation to peep was tremendous, and at the whispering of a silk +petticoat he was unable to repress a groan. + +"What ails you?" she demanded, the whispering suspended. + +"I merely expire with impatience to meet you again." + +"Monsieur, I am hastening to the trysting-place, And my costume will be +suitable to the occasion, believe me!" + +"In that case, if you are not quick, you will have to wear crape. +However, proceed, I can suffer with the best of them.... Are you +certain that I can be of no assistance? I feel selfish, idling here +like this. Besides, since I am able to see--" + +"See?" she screamed. + +"--see no reason why you should refuse my aid, my plight is worse +still. What are you doing now?" + +"My hair," she announced. + +"Surely it would not be improper for me to view a head of hair?" + +"Perhaps not, monsieur; but my head is on my shoulders--which makes a +difference." + +"Mademoiselle," sighed Tricotrin, "never have I known a young lady +whose head was on her shoulders more tightly. May I crave one +indulgence? My imprisonment would be less painful for a cigarette, and +I cannot reach the matches--will you consent to pass them round the +screen?" + +"It is against the rules. But I will consent to throw them over the +top. Catch! Why don't you say 'thank you'?" + +"Because your unjust suspicion killed me; I now need nothing but +immortelles, and at dinner I will compose my epitaph. If I am not +mistaken, I already smell the soup on the stairs." + +And the soup had scarcely entered when his guest presented herself. +Paquin and the Fairy Godmother would have approved her gown; as to her +coiffure, if her employer could have seen it, he would have wanted to +put her in his window. Tricotrin gave her his arm with stupefaction. +"Upon my word," he faltered, "you awe me. I am now overwhelmed with +embarrassment that I had the temerity to tease you while you dressed. +And what shall I say of the host who is churl enough to welcome you in +such a shabby coat?" + +The cork went pop, their tongues went nineteen to the dozen, and the +time went so rapidly that a little clock on the chest of drawers became +a positive killjoy. + +"By all the laws of dramatic effect," remarked the poet, as they +trifled with the almonds and raisins, "you will now divulge that the +fashionable lady before me is no 'Rosalie Durand,' of a hairdresser's +shop, but madame la comtesse de Thrilling Mystery. Every novel reader +would be aware that at this stage you will demand some dangerous +service of me, and that I shall forthwith risk my life and win your +love." + +"Bien sur! That is how it ought to be," she agreed. + +"Is it impossible?" + +"That I can be a countess?" + +"Well, we will waive the 'countess'; and for that matter I will not +insist on risking my life; but what about the love?" + +"Without the rest," she demurred, "the situation would be too +commonplace. When I can tell you that I am a countess I will say also +that I love you; to-night I am Rosalie Durand, a friend. By the way, +now I come to think of it, I shall be all that you have seen in +London!" + +"Why, I declare, so you will!" exclaimed Tricotrin. "Really this is a +nice thing! I come to England for the benefit of my education--and when +it is almost time for me to return, I find that I have spent the whole +of the day in a room." + +"But you have, at least, had a unique experience in it?" she queried +with a whimsical smile. + +"Well, yes; my journey has certainly yielded an adventure that none of +my acquaintances would credit! Do you laugh at me?" + +"Far from it; by-and-by I may even spare a tear for you--if you do not +spoil the day by being clumsy at the end." + +"Ah, Rosalie," cried the susceptible poet, "how can I bear the parting? +What is France without you? I am no longer a Frenchman--my true home is +now England! My heart will hunger for it, my thoughts will stretch +themselves to it across the sea; banished to Montmartre, I shall mourn +daily for the white cliffs of Albion, for Soho, and for you!" + +"I, too, shall remember," she murmured. "But perhaps one of these days +you will come to England again?" + +"If the fare could be paid with devotion, I would come every Sunday, +but how can I hope to amass enough money? Such things do not happen +twice. No, I will not deceive myself--this is our farewell. See!" He +rose, and turned the little clock with its face to the wall. "When that +clock strikes, I must go to catch my train--in the meantime we will +ignore the march of time. Farewells, tears, regrets, let us forget that +they exist--let us drink the last glass together gaily, mignonne!" + +They pledged each other with brave smiles, hand in hand. And now their +chatter became fast and furious, to drown the clock's impatient tick. + +The clockwork wheezed and whirred. + +"'Tis going to part us," shouted Tricotrin; "laugh, laugh, Beloved, so +that we may not hear!" + +"Kiss me," she cried; "while the hour sounds, you shall hold me in your +arms!" + +"Heaven," gasped the young man, as the too brief embrace concluded, +"how I wish it had been striking midnight!" + +The next moment came the separation. He descended the stairs; at the +window she waved her hand to him. And in the darkness of an "English +hansom" the poet covered his face and wept. + + * * * * * + +"From our hearts we rejoice to have thee safely back!" they chorused in +Montmartre. "And what didst thou see in London?" + +"Oh, mon Dieu, what noble sights!" exclaimed Tricotrin. "The Lor' Maire +blazes with jewels like the Shah of Persia; and compared with +Peeccadeelly, the Champs Elysees are no wider than a hatband. Vive +l'Entente! Positively my brain whirls with all the splendours of London +I have seen!" + + + +THE INFIDELITY OF MONSIEUR NOULENS + +Whenever they talk of him, whom I will call "Noulens"--of his novels, +his method, the eccentricities of his talent--someone is sure to say, +"But what comrades, he and his wife!"--you are certain to hear it. And +as often as I hear it myself, I think of what he told me that evening +--I remember the shock I had. + +At the beginning, I had expected little. When I went in, his wife said, +"I fear he will be poor company; he has to write a short story for +_La Voix,_ and cannot find a theme--he has been beating his brains +all day." So far, from anticipating emotions, I had proposed dining +there another night instead, but she would not allow me to leave. +"Something you say may suggest a theme to him," she declared, "and he +can write or dictate the story in an hour, when you have gone." + +So I stayed, and after dinner he lay on the sofa, bewailing the fate +that had made him an author. The salon communicated with his study, and +through the open door he had the invitation of his writing-table--the +little sheaf of paper that she had put in readiness for him, the +lighted lamp, the pile of cigarettes. I knew that she hoped the view +would stimulate him, but it was soon apparent that he had ceased to +think of a story altogether. He spoke of one of the latest murders in +Paris, one sensational enough for the Paris Press to report a murder +prominently--of a conference at the Universite des Annales, of the +artistry of Esther Lekain, of everything except his work. Then, in the +hall, the telephone bell rang, and madame Noulens rose to receive the +message. "Allo! Allo!" + +She did not come back. There was a pause, and presently he murmured: + +"I wonder if a stranger has been moved to telephone a plot to me?" + +"What?" I said. + +"It sounds mad, hein? But it once happened--on just such a night as +this, when my mind was just as blank. Really! Out of the silence a +woman told me a beautiful story. Of course, I never used it, nor do I +know if she made use of it herself; but I have never forgotten. For +years I could not hear a telephone bell without trembling. Even now, +when I am working late, I find myself hoping for her voice." + +"The story was so wonderful as that?" + +He threw a glance into the study, as if to assure himself that his wife +had not entered it from the hall. + +"Can you believe that a man may learn to love--tenderly and truly love +--a woman he has never met?" he asked me. + +"I don't think I understand you." + +"There has been only one woman in my life who was all in all to me," he +said--"and I never saw her." + +How was I to answer? I looked at him. + +"After all, what is there incredible in it?" he demanded. "Do we give +our love to a face, or to a temperament? I swear to you that I could +not have known that woman's temperament more intimately if we had made +our confidences in each other's arms. I knew everything of her, except +the trifles which a stranger learns in the moment of being presented-- +her height, her complexion, her name, whether she was married or +single. No, those things I never knew. But her tastes, her sympathies, +her soul, these, the secret truths of the woman, were as familiar to me +as to herself." + +He hesitated. + +"I am in a difficulty. If I seem to disparage my wife, I shall be a +cad; if I let you think we have been as happy together as people +imagine, you will not understand the importance of what I am going to +tell you. I will say this: before our honeymoon was over, I bored her +fearfully. While we were engaged, I had talked to her of my illusions +about herself; when we were married, I talked to her of my convictions +about my art. The change appalled her. She was chilled, crushed, +dumfounded. I looked to her to share my interests. For response, she +yawned--and wept. + +"Oh, her tears! her hourly tears! the tears that drowned my love! + +"The philosopher is made, not born; in the first few years I rebelled +furiously. I wanted a companion, a confidant, and I had never felt so +desperately alone. + +"We had a flat in the rue de Sontay then, and the telephone was in my +workroom. One night late, as I sat brooding there, the bell startled +me; and a voice--a woman's voice, said: + +"'I am so lonely; I want to talk to you before I sleep.' + +"I cannot describe the strangeness of that appeal, reaching me so +suddenly out of the distance. I knew that it was a mistake, of course, +but it was as if, away in the city, some nameless soul had echoed the +cry in my own heart. I obeyed an impulse; I said: + +"'I, too, am very lonely--I believe I have been waiting for you.' + +"There was a pause, and then she asked, dismayed: + +"'Who are you?' + +"'Not the man you thought,' I told her. 'But a very wistful one.' + +"I heard soft laughter, 'How absurd!' she murmured. + +"'Be merciful,' I went on; 'we are both sad, and Fate clearly intends +us to console each other. It cannot compromise you, for I do not even +know who you are. Stay and talk to me for five minutes.' + +"'What do you ask me to talk about?' + +"'Oh, the subject to interest us both--yourself.' + +"After a moment she answered, 'I am shaking my head.' + +"'It is very unfeeling of you,' I said. 'And I have not even the +compensation of seeing you do it.' + +"Imagine another pause, and then her voice in my ear again: + +"'I will tell you what I can do for you--I can tell you a story.' + +"'The truth would please me more,' I owned. 'Still, if my choice must +be made between your story and your silence, I certainly choose the +story.' + +"'I applaud your taste,' she said. 'Are you comfortable--are you +sitting down?' + +"I sat down, smiling. 'Madame--' + +"She did not reply. + +"Then, 'Mademoiselle--' + +"Again no answer. + +"'Well, say at least if I have your permission to smoke while I listen +to you?' + +"She laughed: 'You carry courtesy far!' + +"'How far?' I asked quickly. + +"But she would not even hint from what neighbourhood she was speaking +to me. 'Attend!' she commanded--and began: + +"'It is a story of two lovers,' she said, 'Paul and Rosamonde. They +were to have married, but Rosamonde died too soon. When she was dying, +she gave him a curl of the beautiful brown hair that he used to kiss. +"Au revoir, dear love," she whispered; "it will be very stupid in +Heaven until you come. Remember that I am waiting for you and be +faithful. If your love for me fades, you will see that curl of mine +fade too." + +"'Every day through the winter Paul strewed flowers on her tomb, and +sobbed. And in the spring he strewed flowers and sighed. And in the +summer he paid that flowers might be strewn there for him. Sometimes, +when he looked at the dead girl's hair, he thought that it was paler +than it had been, but, as he looked at it seldom now, he could easily +persuade himself that he was mistaken. + +"'Then he met a woman who made him happy again; and the wind chased the +withered flowers from Rosamonde's grave and left it bare. One day +Paul's wife found a little packet that lay forgotten in his desk. She +opened it jealously, before he could prevent her. Paul feared that the +sight would give her pain, and watched her with anxious eyes. But in a +moment she was laughing. "What an idiot I am," she exclaimed--"I was +afraid that it was the hair of some girl you had loved!" The curl was +snow-white.' + +"Her fantastic tale," continued Noulens, "which was told with an +earnestness that I cannot reproduce, impressed me very much. I did not +offer any criticism, I did not pay her any compliment; I said simply: + +"'Who are you?' + +"'That,' she warned me, 'is a question that you must not ask. Well, are +you still bored?' + +"'No.' + +"'Interested, a little?' + +"'Very much so.' + +"'I, too, am feeling happier than I did. And now, bonsoir!' + +"'Wait,' I begged. 'Tell me when I shall speak to you again.' + +"She hesitated; and I assure you that I had never waited for a woman's +answer with more suspense while I held her hand, than I waited for the +answer of this woman whom I could not see. 'To-morrow?' I urged. 'In +the morning?' + +"'In the morning it would be difficult.' + +"'The afternoon?' + +"'In the afternoon it would be impossible,' + +"'Then the evening--at the same hour?' + +"'Perhaps,' she faltered--'if I am free.' + +"'My number,' I told her, 'is five-four-two, one-nine. Can you write it +now?' + +"'I have written it.' + +"'Please repeat, so that there may be no mistake.' + +"'Five-four-two, one-nine. Correct?' + +"'Correct. I am grateful.' + +"'Good-night.' + +"'Good-night. Sleep well.' + +"You may suppose that on the morrow I remembered the incident with a +smile, that I ridiculed the emotion it had roused in me? You would be +wrong. I recalled it more and more curiously: I found myself looking +forward to the appointment with an eagerness that was astonishing. We +had talked for about twenty minutes, hidden from each other--half +Paris, perhaps, dividing us; I had nothing more tangible to expect this +evening. Yet I experienced all the sensations of a man who waits for an +interview, for an embrace. What did it mean? I was bewildered. The +possibility of love at first sight I understood; but might the spirit +also recognise an affinity by telephone? + +"There is a phrase in feuilletons that had always irritated me--'To his +impatience it seemed that the clock had stopped.' It had always struck +me as absurd. Since that evening I have never condemned the phrase, for +honestly, I thought more than once that the clock had stopped. By-and-by, +to increase the tension, my wife, who seldom entered my workroom, +opened the door. She found me idle, and was moved to converse with me. +Mon Dieu! Now that the hour approached at last, my wife was present, +with the air of having settled herself for the night! + +"The hands of the clock moved on--and always faster now. If she +remained till the bell rang, what was I to do? To answer that I had +'someone with me' would be intelligible to the lady, but it would sound +suspicious to my wife. To answer that I was 'busy' would sound innocent +to my wife, but it would be insulting to the lady. To disregard the +bell altogether would be to let my wife go to the telephone herself! I +tell you I perspired. + +"Under Providence, our cook rescued me. There came a timid knock, and +then the figure of the cook, her eyes inflamed, her head swathed in +some extraordinary garment. She had a raging toothache--would madame +have the kindness to give her a little cognac? The ailments of the cook +always arouse in human nature more solicitude than the ailments of any +other servant. My wife's sympathy was active--I was saved! + +"The door had scarcely closed when _tr-rr-r-ng_ the signal came. + +"'Good-evening,' from the voice. 'So you are here to meet me.' + +"'Good-evening,' I said. 'I would willingly go further to meet you,' + +"'Be thankful that the rendez-vous was your flat--listen to the rain! +Come, own that you congratulated yourself when it began! "Luckily I can +be gallant without getting wet," you thought. Really, I am most +considerate--you keep a dry skin, you waste no time in reaching me, and +you need not even trouble to change your coat.' + +"'It sounds very cosy,' I admitted, 'but there is one drawback to it +all--I do not see you.' + +"'That may be more considerate of me still! I may be reluctant to +banish your illusions. Isn't it probable that I am elderly--or, at +least plain? I may even be a lady novelist, with ink on her fingers. +By-the-bye, monsieur, I have been rereading one of your books since +last night.' + +"'Oh, you know my name now? I am gratified to have become more than a +telephonic address to you. May I ask if we have ever met?' + +"'We never spoke till last night, but I have seen you often,' + +"'You, at any rate, can have no illusions to be banished. What a +relief! I have endeavoured to talk as if I had a romantic bearing; now +that you know how I look, I can be myself.' + +"'I await your next words with terror,' she said. 'What shock is in +store for me? Speak gently.' + +"'Well, speaking gently, I am very glad that you were put on to the +wrong number last night. At the same time, I feel a constraint, a +difficulty; I cannot talk to you frankly, cannot be serious--it is as +if I showed my face while you were masked.' + +"'Yes, it is true--I understand,' she said. 'And even if I were to +swear that I was not unworthy of your frankness, you would still be +doubtful of me, I suppose?' + +"'Madame--' + +"'Oh, it is natural! I know very well how I must appear to you,' she +exclaimed; 'a coquette, with a new pastime--a vulgar coquette, besides, +who tries to pique your interest by an air of mystery. Believe me, +monsieur, I am forbidden to unmask. Think lightly of me if you must--I +have no right to complain--but believe as much as that! I do not give +you my name, simply because I may not.' + +"'Madame,' I replied, 'so far from wishing to force your confidences, I +assure you that I will never inquire who you are, never try to find +out.' + +"'And you will talk frankly, unconstrainedly, all the same?' + +"'Ah, you are too illogical to be elderly and plain,' I demurred. 'You +resolve to remain a stranger to me, and I bow to your decision; but, on +the other hand, a man makes confidences only to his friends.' + +"There was a long pause; and when I heard the voice again, it trembled: + +"'Adieu, monsieur.' + +"'Adieu, madame,' I said. + +"No sooner had she gone than I would have given almost anything to +bring her back. For a long while I sat praying that she would ring +again. I watched the telephone as if it had been her window, the door +of her home--something that could yield her to my view. During the next +few days I grudged every minute that I was absent from the room--I took +my meals in it. Never had I had the air of working so indefatigably, +and in truth I did not write a line, 'I suppose you have begun a new +romance?' said my wife. In my soul I feared that I had finished it!" + +Noulens sighed; he clasped his hands on his head. The dark hair, the +thin, restless fingers were all that I could see of him where I sat. +Some seconds passed; I wondered whether there would be time for me to +hear the rest before his wife returned. + + * * * * * + +"In my soul I feared that I had finished it," he repeated. +"Extraordinary as it appears, I was in love with a woman I had never +seen. Each time that bell sounded, my heart seemed to try to choke me. +It had been my grievance, since we had the telephone installed, that we +heard nothing of it excepting that we had to make another payment for +its use; but now, by a maddening coincidence, everybody that I had ever +met took to ringing me up about trifles and agitating me twenty times a +day. + +"At last, one night--when expectation was almost dead--she called to me +again. Oh, but her voice was humble! My friend, it is piteous when we +love a woman, to hear her humbled. I longed to take her hands, to fold +my arms about her. I abased myself, that she might regain her pride. +She heard how I had missed and sorrowed for her; I owned that she was +dear to me. + +"And then began a companionship--strange as you may find the word-- +which was the sweetest my life has held. We talked together daily. This +woman, whose whereabouts, whose face, whose name were all unknown to +me, became the confidant of my disappointments and my hopes. If I +worked well, my thoughts would be, 'Tonight I shall have good news to +give her;' if I worked ill--'Never mind, by-and-by she will encourage +me!' There was not a page in my next novel that I did not read to her; +never a doubt beset me in which I did not turn for her sympathy and +advice. + +"'Well, how have you got on?' + +"'Oh, I am so troubled this evening, dear!' + +"'Poor fellow! Tell me all about it. I tried to come to you sooner, but +I couldn't get away.' + +"Like that! We talked as if she were really with me. My life was no +longer desolate--the indifference in my home no longer grieved me. All +the interest, the love, the inspiration I had hungered for, was given +to me now by a woman who remained invisible." + +Noulens paused again. In the pause I got up to light a cigarette, and-- +I shall never forget it--I saw the bowed figure of his wife beyond the +study door! It was only a glimpse I had, but the glimpse was enough to +make my heart stand still--she leant over the table, her face hidden by +her hand. + +I tried to warn, to signal to him--he did not see me. I felt that I +could do nothing, nothing at all, without doubling her humiliation by +the knowledge that I had witnessed it. If he would only look at me! + +"Listen," he went on rapidly. "I was happy, I was young again--and +there was a night when she said to me, 'It is for the last time.' + +"Six words! But for a moment I had no breath, no life, to answer them. + +"'Speak!' she cried out. 'You are frightening me!' + +"'What has happened?' I stammered. 'Trust me, I implore you!' + +"I heard her sobbing--and minutes seemed to pass. It was horrible. I +thought my heart would burst while I shuddered at her sobs--the sobbing +of a woman I could not reach. + +"'I can tell you nothing,' she said, when she was calmer; 'only that we +are speaking together for the last time.' + +"'But why--why? Is it that you are leaving France?' + +"'I cannot tell you,' she repeated. 'I have had to swear that to +myself.' + +"Oh, I raved to her! I was desperate. I tried to wring her name from +her then--I besought her to confess where she was hidden. The space +between us frenzied me. It was frightful, it was like a nightmare, that +struggle to tear the truth from a woman whom I could not clasp or see. + +"'My dear,' she said, 'there are some things that are beyond human +power. They are not merely difficult, or unwise, or mad--they are +impossible. _You_ have begged the impossible of _me_. You +will never hear me again, it is far from likely we shall ever meet--and +if one day we do, you will not even know that it is I. But I love you. +I should like to think that you believe it, for I love you very dearly. +Now say good-bye to me. My arms are round your neck, dear heart--I +kiss you on the lips.' + +"It was the end. She was lost. A moment before, I had felt her presence +in my senses; now I stood in an empty room, mocked by a futile +apparatus. My friend, if you have ever yearned to see a woman whose +whereabouts you did not know--ever exhausted yourself tramping some +district in the hope of finding her--you may realise what I feel; for +remember that by comparison your task was easy--I am even ignorant of +this woman's arrondissement and appearance. She left me helpless. The +telephone had given her--the telephone had taken her away. All that +remained to me was the mechanism on a table." + + * * * * * + +Noulens turned on the couch at last--and, turning, he could not fail to +see his wife. I was spellbound. + +"'Mechanism on a table,' he repeated, with a prodigious yawn of relief. +'That is all, my own.'" + +"Good!" said madame Noulens cheerily. She bustled in, fluttering pages +of shorthand. "But, old angel, the tale of Paul and Rosamonde is thrown +away--it is an extravagance, telling two stories for the price of one!" + +"My treasure, thou knowest I invented it months ago and couldn't make +it long enough for it to be of any use." + +"True. Well, we will be liberal, then--we will include it." She noticed +my amazement. "What ails our friend?" + +Noulens gave a guffaw. "I fear our friend did not recognize that I was +dictating to you. By-the-bye, it was fortunate someone rang us up just +now--that started my plot for me! Who was it?" + +"It was _La Voix_" she laughed, "inquiring if the story would be +done in time!" + + * * * * * + +Yes, indeed, they are comrades!--you are certain to hear it. And as +often as I hear it myself, I think of what he told me that evening--I +remember how he took me in. + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Chair on The Boulevard, by Leonard Merrick + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHAIR ON THE BOULEVARD *** + +***** This file should be named 9928.txt or 9928.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/9/9/2/9928/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Ginny Brewer, Tom Allen and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: A Chair on The Boulevard + +Author: Leonard Merrick + +Release Date: February, 2006 [EBook #9928] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on November 1, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHAIR ON THE BOULEVARD *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Ginny Brewer, Tom Allen +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + +A CHAIR ON THE BOULEVARD + + + +By LEONARD MERRICK + + + + +WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY A. NEIL LYONS + +1921 + + + + + +CONTENTS + + I THE TRAGEDY OF A COMIC SONG + + II TRICOTRIN ENTERTAINS + + III THE FATAL FLOROZONDE + + IV THE OPPORTUNITY OF PETITPAS + + V THE CAFE OF THE BROKEN HEART + + VI THE DRESS CLOTHES OF MONSIEUR POMPONNET + + VII THE SUICIDES IN THE RUE SOMBRE + + VIII THE CONSPIRACY FOR CLAUDINE + + IX THE DOLL IN THE PINK SILK DRESS + + X THE LAST EFFECT + + XI AN INVITATION TO DINNER + + XII THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS + + XIII THE FAIRY POODLE + + XIV LITTLE-FLOWER-OF-THE-WOOD + + XV A MIRACLE IN MONTMARTRE + + XVI THE DANGER OF BEING A TWIN + + XVII HERCULES AND APHRODITE + + XVIII "PARDON, YOU ARE MADEMOISELLE GIRARD!" + + XIX HOW TRICOTRIN SAW LONDON + + XX THE INFIDELITY OF MONSIEUR NOULENS + + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +These disjointed thoughts about one of Leonard Merrick's most +articulate books must begin with a personal confession. + +For many years I walked about this earth avoiding the works of Leonard +Merrick, as other men might have avoided an onion. This insane aversion +was created in my mind chiefly by admirers of what is called the +"cheerful" note in fiction. Such people are completely agreed in +pronouncing Mr. Merrick to be a pessimistic writer. I hate pessimistic +writers. + +Years ago, when I was of an age when the mind responds acutely to +exterior impressions, some well-meaning uncle, or other fool, gave me a +pessimistic book to read. This was a work of fiction which the British +Public had hailed as a masterpiece of humour. It represented, with an +utter fury of pessimism, the spiritual inadequacies of--but why go into +details. + +Now, I have to confess that for a long time I did Mr. Merrick the +extraordinary injustice of believing him to be the author of that +popular masterpiece. + +The mistake, though intellectually unpardonable, may perhaps be +condoned on other grounds. By virtue of that process of thought which +we call the "association of ideas," I naturally connected Mr. Merrick +with this work of super-pessimism; my friends being so confirmed in +their belief that he was a super-pessimist. + +But by virtue of a fortunate accident, I at last got the truth about +Mr. Merrick. This event arose from the action of a right-minded +butcher, who, having exhausted his stock of _The Pigeon-Fancier's +Gazette_, sent me my weekly supply of dog-bones wrapped about with +Leonard Merrick. + +These dog-bones happened to reach my house at a moment when no other +kind of literary nutriment was to be had. Having nothing better to read +I read the dog-bone wrappers. Thus, by dog-bones, was I brought to +Merrick: the most jolly, amusing, and optimistic of all spiritual +friends. + +The book to which these utterances are prefixed is to my mind one of +the few _really_ amusing books which have been published in +England during my lifetime. But, then, I think that all of Mr. +Merrick's books are amusing: even his "earnest" books, such as _The +Actor-Manager, When Love Flies out o' the Window_, or _The +Position of Peggy Harper_. + +It is, of course, true that such novels as these are unlikely to be +found congenial by those persons who derive entertainment from fiction +like my uncle's present. On the other hand, there are people in the +world with a capacity for being amused by psychological inquiry. To +such people I would say: "Don't miss Merrick." The extraordinary +cheerfulness of Mr. Merrick's philosophy is a fact which will impress +itself upon all folk who are able to take a really cheerful view of +life. + +All of Mr. Merrick's sermons--I do not hesitate to call his novels +"sermons," because no decent novel can be anything else--all his +sermons, I say, point to this conclusion: that people who go out +deliberately to look for happiness, to kick for it, and fight for it, +or who try to buy it with money, will miss happiness; this being a +state of heart--a mere outgrowth, more often to be found by a careless +and self-forgetful vagrant than by the deliberate and self-conscious +seeker. A cheerful doctrine this. Not only cheerful, but self-evidently +true. How right it is, and how cheerful it is, to think that while +philosophers and clergymen strut about this world looking out, and +smelling out, for its prime experiences, more careless and less +celebrated men are continually finding such things, without effort, +without care, in irregular and unconsecrated places. + +In novel after novel, Mr. Merrick has preached the same good-humoured, +cheerful doctrine: the doctrine of anti-fat. He asks us to believe--he +_makes_ us believe--that a man (or woman) is not merely virtuous, +but merely sane, who exchanges the fats of fulfilment for the little +lean pleasures of honourable hope and high endeavour. Oh wise, oh witty +Mr. Merrick! + +Mr. Merrick has not, to my knowledge, written one novel in which his +hero is represented as having achieved complacency. Mr. Merrick's +heroes all undergo the very human experience of "hitting a snag." They +are none of them represented as _enjoying_ this experience; but +none of them whimper and none of them "rat." + +If anybody could prove to me that Mr. Merrick had ever invented a hero +who submitted tamely to tame success, to fat prosperity; or who had +stepped, were it ever so lightly, into the dirty morass of accepted +comfort, then would I cheerfully admit to anybody that Leonard Merrick +is a Pessimistic Writer. But until this proof be forthcoming, I stick +to my opinion: I stick to the conviction that Mr. Merrick is the +gayest, cheer fullest, and most courageous of living humorists. + +This opinion is a general opinion, applicable to Mr. Merrick's general +work. This morning, however, I am asked to narrow my field of view: to +contemplate not so much Mr. Merrick at large as Mr. Merrick in +particular: to look at Mr. Merrick in his relationship to this one +particular book: _A Chair on the Boulevard_. + +Now, if I say, as I have said, that Mr. Merrick is cheerful in his +capacity of solemn novelist, what am I to say of Mr. Merrick in his +lighter aspect, that of a writer of _feuilletons?_ Addressing +myself to an imaginary audience of Magazine Enthusiasts, I ask them to +tell me whether, judged even by comparison with their favourite +fiction, some of the stories to be found in this volume are not +exquisitely amusing? + +The first story in the book--that which Mr. Merrick calls "The Tragedy +of a Comic Song"--is in my view the funniest story of this century: +but I don't ask or expect the Magazine Enthusiast to share this view or +to endorse that judgment. "The Tragedy of a Comic Song" is essentially +one of those productions in which the reader is expected to +collaborate. The author has deliberately contrived certain voids of +narrative; and his reader is expected to populate these anecdotal +wastes. This is asking more than it is fair to ask of a Magazine +Enthusiast. No genuine Magazine reader cares for the elusive or +allusive style in fiction. "The Tragedy of a Comic Song" won't do for +Bouverie Street, however well and completely it may do for me. + +But there are other stories in this book. There is that screaming farce +called "The Suicides in the Rue Sombre." Now, then, you Magazine +zealots, speak up and tell me truly: is there anything too difficult +for you in this? If so, the psychology of what is called "public taste" +becomes a subject not suited to public discussion. + +The foregoing remarks and considerations apply equally to such stories +as "The Dress Clothes of M. Pomponnet" and "Tricotrin Entertains." +There are other stories which delight me, as, for example, "Little- +Flower-of-the-Wood": but this jerks us back again to the essential Mr. +Merrick: he who demands collaboration. + +There are, again, other stories, and yet others; but to write down all +their titles here would be merely to transcribe the index page of the +book. Neither the reader nor I can afford to waste our time like that. + +I have said nothing about the technical qualities of Mr. Merrick's +work. I don't intend to do so. It has long been a conceit of mine to +believe that professional vendors of letterpress should reserve their +mutual discussions of technique for technical occasions, such as those +when men of like mind and occupation sit at table, with a bottle +between them. + +I am convinced that Mr. Merrick is a very great and gifted man, deeply +skilled in his profession. I can bring forth arguments and proofs to +support this conviction; but I fail utterly to see why I should do so. +To people who have a sense of that which is sincere and fresh in +fiction, these facts will be apparent. To them my arguments and +illustrations would be profitless. As for those honest persons to whom +the excellencies of Merrick are not apparent, I can only think that +nothing which I or any other man could say would render them obvious. +"Happiness is in ourselves," as the Vicar remarked to the donkey who +was pulling the lawn-mower. + +Good luck, Leonard Merrick, and good cheer! I shout my greeting to you +across the ripples of that inky lake which is our common fishery. + +A. NEIL LYONS. + + + +A CHAIR ON THE BOULEVARD + + + +THE TRAGEDY OF A COMIC SONG + +I like to monopolise a table in a restaurant, unless a friend is with +me, so I resented the young man's presence. Besides, he had a +melancholy face. If it hadn't been for the piano-organ, I don't suppose +I should have spoken to him. As the organ that was afflicting Lisle +Street began to volley a comic song of a day that was dead, he started. + +"That tune!" he murmured in French. If I did not deceive myself, tears +sprang to his eyes. + +I was curious. Certainly, on both sides of the Channel, we had long ago +had more than enough of the tune--no self-respecting organ-grinder +rattled it now. That the young Frenchman should wince at the tune I +understood. But that he should weep! + +I smiled sympathetically. "We suffered from it over here as well," I +remarked. + +"I did not know," he said, in English that reproved my French, "it was +sung in London also--'Partant pour le Moulin'?" + +"Under another name," I told him, "it was an epidemic." + +Clearly, the organ had stirred distressing memories in him, for though +we fell to chatting, I could see that he neither talked nor dined with +any relish. As luck would have it, too, the instrument of torture +resumed its repertoire well within hearing, and when "Partant pour le +Moulin" was reached again, he clasped his head. + +"You find it so painful?" I inquired. + +"Painful?" he exclaimed. "Monsieur, it is my 'istory, that comic tune! +It is to me romance, tragedy, ruin. Will you hear? Wait! I shall range +my ideas. Listen:" + + * * * * * + +It is Paris, at Montmartre--we are before the door of a laundress. A +girl approaches. Her gaze is troubled, she frowns a little. What ails +her? I shall tell you: the laundress has refused to deliver her washing +until her bill is paid. And the girl cannot pay it--not till Saturday-- +and she has need of things to put on. It is a moment of anxiety. + +She opens the door. Some minutes pass. The girl reappears, holding +under her arm a little parcel. Good! she has triumphed. In coming out +she sees a young man, pale, abstracted, who stands before the shop. He +does not attempt to enter. He stands motionless, regarding the window +with an air forlorn. + +"Ah," she says to herself, "here is another customer who cannot pay his +bill!" + +But wait a little. After 'alf an hour what happens? She sees the young +man again! This time he stands before a modest restaurant. Does he go +in? No, again no! He regards the window sorrowfully. He sighs. The +dejection of his attitude would melt a stone. + +"Poor boy," she thought; "he cannot pay for a dinner either!" + +The affair is not finished. How the summer day is beautiful--she will +do some footing! Figure yourself that once more she perceives the young +man. Now it is before the mont-de-piete, the pawnbroker's. She watches +him attentively. Here, at least, he will enter, she does not doubt. She +is wrong. It is the same thing--he regards, he laments, he turns away! + +"Oh, mon Dieu," she said. "Nothing remains to him to pawn even!" + +It is too strong! She addressed him: + +"Monsieur!" + +But, when she has said "Monsieur," there is the question how she shall +continue. Now the young man regards the girl instead of the +pawnbroker's. Her features are pretty--or "pretty well"; her costume +has been made by herself, but it is not bad; and she has chic--above +all she has chic. He asks: + +"What can I have the pleasure to do for you?" + +Remark that she is bohemian, and he also. + +The conversation was like this: + +"Monsieur, three times this morning I have seen you. It was impossible +that I resist speaking. You have grief?" + +"Frightful!" he said. + +"Perhaps," she added timidly, "you have hunger also?" + +"A hunger insupportable, mademoiselle!" + +"I myself am extremely hard up, monsieur, but will you permit that I +offer you what I can?" + +"Angel!" the young man exclaimed. "There must be wings under your coat. +But I beg of you not to fly yet. I shall tell you the reason of my +grief. If you will do me the honour to seat yourself at the cafe +opposite, we shall be able to talk more pleasantly." + +This appeared strange enough, this invitation from a young man who she +had supposed was starving; but wait a little! Her amazement increased +when, to pay for the wine he had ordered, her companion threw on to the +table a bank-note with a gesture absolutely careless. + +She was in danger of distrusting her eyes. + +"Is it a dream?" she cried. "Is it a vision from the _Thousand and +One Nights_, or is it really a bank-note?" + +"Mademoiselle, it is the mess of pottage," the young man answered +gloomily. "It is the cause of my sadness: for that miserable money, and +more that is to come, I have sold my birthright." + +She was on a ship--no, what is it, your expression?--"at sea"! + +"I am a poet," he explained; "but perhaps you may not know my work; I +am not celebrated. I am Tricotrin, mademoiselle--Gustave Tricotrin, at +your feet! For years I have written, aided by ambition, and an uncle +who manufactures silk in Lyons. Well, the time is arrived when he is +monstrous, this uncle. He says to me, 'Gustave, this cannot last--you +make no living, you make nothing but debts. (My tragedies he ignores.) +Either you must be a poet who makes money, or you must be a partner who +makes silk,' How could I defy him?--he holds the purse. It was +unavoidable that I stooped. He has given me a sum to satisfy my +creditors, and Monday I depart for Lyons. In the meantime, I take +tender farewells of the familiar scenes I shall perhaps never behold +again." + +"How I have been mistaken!" she exclaimed. And then: "But the hunger +you confessed?" + +"Of the soul, mademoiselle," said the poet--"the most bitter!" + +"And you have no difficulties with the laundress?" + +"None," he groaned. "But in the bright days of poverty that have fled +for ever, I have had many difficulties with her. This morning I +reconstituted the situation--I imagined myself without a sou, and +without a collar." + +"The little restaurant," she questioned, "where I saw you dining on the +odour?" + +"I figured fondly to myself that I was ravenous and that I dared not +enter. It was sublime." + +"The mont-de-piete?" + +"There imagination restored to me the vanished moments when I have +mounted with suspense, and my least deplorable suit of clothes." His +emotion was profound. "It is my youth to which I am bidding adieu!" he +cried. "It is more than that--it is my aspirations and my renown!" + +"But you have said that you have no renown," she reminded him. + +"So much the more painful," said the young man; "the hussy we could not +win is always the fairest--I part from renown even more despairingly +than from youth." + +She felt an amusement, an interest. But soon it was the turn of him to +feel an interest--the interest that had consequences so important, so +'eart-breaking, so _fatales_! He had demanded of her, most +naturally, her history, and this she related to him in a style +dramatic. Myself, I have not the style dramatic, though I avow to you I +admire that. + +"We are in a provincial town," she said to the young man, "we are in +Rouen--the workroom of a modiste. Have no embarrassment, monsieur +Tricotrin, you, at least, are invisible to the girls who sew! They sew +all day and talk little--already they are _tristes_, resigned. +Among them sits one who is different--one passionate, ambitious--a girl +who burns to be _divette_, singer, who is devoured by longings for +applause, fashion, wealth. She has made the acquaintance of a little +pastrycook. He has become fascinated, they are affianced. In a month +she will be married." + +The young man, Tricotrin, well understood that the girl she described +was herself. + +"What does she consider while she sits sewing?" she continued. "That +the pastrycook loves her, that he is generous, that she will do her +most to be to him a good wife? Not at all. Far from that! She +considers, on the contrary, that she was a fool to promise him; she +considers how she shall escape--from him, from Rouen, from her ennui-- +she seeks to fly to Paris. Alas! she has no money, not a franc. And she +sews--always she sews in the dull room--and her spirit rebels." + +"Good!" said the poet. "It is a capital first instalment." + +"The time goes on. There remains only a week to the marriage morning. +The little home is prepared, the little pastrycook is full of joy. +_Alors_, one evening they go out; for her the sole attraction in +the town is the hall of varieties. Yes, it is third class, it is not +great things; however, it is the only one in Rouen. He purchases two +tickets. What a misfortune--it is the last temptation to her! They +stroll back; she takes his arm--under the moon, under the stars; but +she sees only the lamps of Paris!--she sees only that he can say +nothing she cares to hear!" + +"Ah, unhappy man!" murmured the poet. + +"They sit at a cafe table, and he talks, the fiance, of the bliss that +is to come to them. She attends to not a word, not a syllable. While +she smiles, she questions herself, frenzied, how she can escape. She +has commanded a _sirop_. As she lifts her glass to the syphon, her +gaze falls on the ring she wears--the ring of their betrothal. 'To the +future, cher ange!' says the fiance. 'To the future, vieux cheri!' she +says. And she laughs in her heart--for she resolves to sell the ring!" + +Tricotrin had become absolutely enthralled. + +"She obtained for the ring forty-five francs the next day--and for the +little pastrycook all is finished. She wrote him a letter--'Good-bye.' +He has lost his reason. Mad with despair, he has flung himself before +an electric car, and is killed.... It is strange," she added to the +poet, who regarded her with consternation, "that I did not think sooner +of the ring that was always on my finger, n'est-ce-pas? It may be that +never before had I felt so furious an impulse to desert him. It may be +also--that there was no ring and no pastrycook!" And she broke into +peals of laughter. + +"Ah, mon Dieu," exclaimed the young man, "but you are enchanting! Let +us go to breakfast--you are the kindred soul I have looked for all my +life. By-the-bye, I may as well know your name?" + +Then, monsieur, this poor girl who had trembled before her laundress, +she told him a name which was going, in a while, to crowd the +Ambassadeurs and be famous through all Paris--a name which was to mean +caprices, folly, extravagance the most wilful and reckless. She +answered--and it said nothing yet--"My name is Paulette Fleury." + + * * * * * + +The piano-organ stopped short, as if it knew the Frenchman had reached +a crisis in his narrative. He folded his arms and nodded impressively. + +"Voila! Monsieur, I 'ave introduced you to Paulette Fleury! It was her +beginning." + +He offered me a cigarette, and frowned, lost in thought, at the lady +who was chopping bread behind the counter. + +"Listen," he resumed. + + * * * * * + +They have breakfasted; they have fed the sparrows around their chairs, +and they have strolled under the green trees in the sunshine. She was +singing then at a little cafe-concert the most obscure. It is arranged, +before they part, that in the evening he shall go to applaud her. + +He had a friend, young also, a composer, named Nicolas Pitou. I cannot +express to you the devotion that existed between them. Pitou was +employed at a publisher's, but the publisher paid him not much better +than his art. The comrades have shared everything: the loans from the +mont-de-piete, the attic, and the dreams. In Montmartre it was said +"Tricotrin and Pitou" as one says "Orestes and Pylades." It is +beautiful such affection, hein? Listen! + +Tricotrin has recounted to his friend his meeting with Paulette, and +when the hour for the concert is arrived, Pitou accompanied him. The +musician, however, was, perhaps, the more sedate. He has gone with +little expectation; his interest was not high. + +What a surprise he has had! He has found her an actress--an artist to +the ends of the fingers. Tricotrin was astonished also. The two +friends, the poet and the composer, said "Mon Dieu!" They regarded the +one the other. They said "Mon Dieu!" again. Soon Pitou has requested of +Tricotrin an introduction. It is agreed. Tricotrin has presented his +friend, and invited the _chanteuse_ to drink a bock--a glass of +beer.... A propos, you take a liqueur, monsieur, yes? What liqueur you +take? Sst, garcon!... Well, you conjecture, no doubt, what I shall say? +Before the bock was finished, they were in love with her--both! + +At the door of her lodging, Paulette has given to each a pressure of +the hand, and said gently, "Till to-morrow." + +"I worship her!" Tricotrin told Pitou. + +"I have found my ideal!" Pitou answered Tricotrin. + +It is superb, such friendship, hein? + +In the mind of the poet who had accomplished tragedies majestic--in the +mind of the composer, the most classical in Montmartre--there had been +born a new ambition: it was to write a comic song for Paulette Fleury! + +It appears to you droll, perhaps? Monsieur, to her lover, the humblest +_divette_ is more than Patti. In all the world there can be no joy +so thrilling as to hear the music of one's brain sung by the woman one +adores--unless it be to hear the woman one adores give forth one's +verse. I believe it has been accepted as a fact, this; nevertheless it +is true. + +Yes, already the idea had come to them, and Paulette was well pleased +when they told her of it. Oh, she knew they loved her, both, and with +both she coquetted. But with their intention she did not coquet; as to +that she was in earnest. Every day they discussed it with enthusiasm-- +they were to write a song that should make for her a furore. + +What happened? I shall tell you. Monday, when Tricotrin was to depart +for Lyons, he informed his uncle that he will not go. No less than +that! His uncle was furious--I do not blame him--but naturally +Tricotrin has argued, "If I am to create for Paulette her great chance, +I must remain in Paris to study Paulette! I cannot create in an +atmosphere of commerce. I require the Montmartrois, the boulevards, the +inspiration of her presence." Isn't it? + +And Pitou--whose very soul had been enraptured in his leisure by a +fugue he was composing--Pitou would have no more of it. He allowed the +fugue to grow dusty, while day and night he thought always of refrains +that ran "_Zim-la-zim-la zim-boum-boum!_" Constantly they +conferred, the comrades. They told the one the other how they loved +her; and then they beat their heads, and besought of Providence a fine +idea for the comic song. + +It was their thought supreme. The silk manufacturer has washed his +'ands of Tricotrin, but he has not cared--there remained to him still +one of the bank-notes. As for Pitou, who neglected everything except to +find his melody for Paulette, the publisher has given him the sack. +Their acquaintances ridiculed the sacrifices made for her. But, +monsieur, when a man loves truly, to make a sacrifice for the woman is +to make a present to himself. + +Nevertheless I avow to you that they fretted because of her coquetry. +One hour it seemed that Pitou had gained her heart; the next her +encouragement has been all to Tricotrin. Sometimes they have said to +her: + +"Paulette, it is true we are as Orestes and Pylades, but there can be +only one King of Eden at the time. Is it Orestes, or Pylades that you +mean to crown?" + +Then she would laugh and reply: + +"How can I say? I like you both so much I can never make up my mind +which to like best." + +It was not satisfactory. + +And always she added. "In the meantime, where is the song?" + +Ah, the song, that song, how they have sought it!--on the Butte, and in +the Bois, and round the Halles. Often they have tramped Paris till +daybreak, meditating the great chance for Paulette. And at last the +poet has discovered it: for each verse a different phase of life, but +through it all, the pursuit of gaiety, the fever of the dance--the +gaiety of youth, the gaiety of dotage, the gaiety of despair! It should +be the song of the pleasure-seekers--the voices of Paris when the lamps +are lit. + +Monsieur, if we sat 'ere in the restaurant until it closed, I could not +describe to you how passionately Tricotrin, the devoted Tricotrin, +worked for her. He has studied her without cease; he has studied her +attitudes, her expressions. He has taken his lyric as if it were +material and cut it to her figure; he has taken it as if it were +plaster, and moulded it upon her mannerisms. There was not a +_moue_ that she made, not a pretty trick that she had, not a word +that she liked to sing for which he did not provide an opportunity. At +the last line, when the pen fell from his fingers, he shouted to Pitou, +"Comrade, be brave--I have won her!" + +And Pitou? Monsieur, if we sat 'ere till they prepared the tables for +dejeuner to-morrow, I could not describe to you how passionately Pitou, +the devoted Pitou, worked that she might have a grand popularity by his +music. At dawn, when he has found that _strepitoso_ passage, which +is the hurrying of the feet, he wakened the poet and cried, "Mon ami, I +pity you--she is mine!" It was the souls of two men when it was +finished, that comic song they made for her! It was the song the organ +has ground out--"Partant pour le Moulin." + +And then they rehearsed it, the three of them, over and over, inventing +always new effects. And then the night for the song is arrived. It has +rained all day, and they have walked together in the rain--the singer, +and the men who loved her, both--to the little cafe-concert where she +would appear. + +They tremble in the room, among the crowd, Pitou and Tricotrin; they +are agitated. There are others who sing--it says nothing to them. In +the room, in the Future, there is only Paulette! + +It is very hot in the cafe-concert, and there is too much noise. At +last they ask her: "Is she nervous?" She shakes her head: "Mais non!" +She smiles to them. + +Attend! It is her turn. Ouf; but it is hot in the cafe-concert, and +there is too much noise! She mounts the platform. The audience are +careless; it continues, the jingle of the glasses, the hum of talk. She +begins. Beneath the table Tricotrin has gripped the hand of Pitou. + +Wait! Regard the crowd that look at her! The glasses are silent, now, +hein? The talk has stopped. To a great actress is come her chance. +There is _not_ too much noise in the cafe-concert! + +But, when she finished! What an uproar! Never will she forget it. A +thousand times she has told the story, how it was written--the song-- +and how it made her famous. Before two weeks she was the attraction of +the Ambassadeurs, and all Paris has raved of Paulette Fleury. + +Tricotrin and Pitou were mad with joy. Certainly Paris did not rave of +Pitou nor Tricotrin--there have not been many that remembered who wrote +the song; and it earned no money for them, either, because it was hers +--the gift of their love. Still, they were enraptured. To both of them +she owed equally, and more than ever it was a question which would be +the happy man. + +Listen! When they are gone to call on her one afternoon she was not at +'ome. What had happened? I shall tell you. There was a noodle, rich-- +what you call a "Johnnie in the Stalls"--who became infatuated with her +at the Ambassadeurs. He whistled "Partant pour le Moulin" all the days, +and went to hear it all the nights. Well, she was not at 'ome because +she had married him. Absolutely they were married! Her lovers have been +told it at the door. + +What a moment! Figure yourself what they have suffered, both! They had +worshipped her, they had made sacrifices for her, they had created for +her her grand success; and, as a consequence of that song, she was the +wife of the "Johnnie in the Stalls"! + + * * * * * + +Far down the street, but yet distinct, the organ revived the tune +again. My Frenchman shuddered, and got up. + +"I cannot support it," he murmured. "You understand? The associations +are too pathetic." + +"They must be harrowing," I said. "Before you go, there is one thing I +should like to ask you, if I may. Have I had the honour of meeting +monsieur Tricotrin, or monsieur Pitou?" + +He stroked his hat, and gazed at me in sad surprise. "Ah, but neither, +monsieur," he groaned. "The associations are much more 'arrowing than +that--I was the 'Johnnie in the Stalls'!" + + + +TRICOTRIN ENTERTAINS + +One night when Pitou went home, an unaccustomed perfume floated to +meet him on the stairs. He climbed them in amazement. + +"If we lived in an age of miracles I should conclude that Tricotrin was +smoking a cigar," he said to himself. "What can it be?" + +The pair occupied a garret in the rue des Trois Freres at this time, +where their window, in sore need of repairs, commanded an unrivalled +view of the dirty steps descending to the passage des Abbesses. +To-night, behold Tricotrin pacing the garret with dignity, between +his lips an Havannah that could have cost no less than a franc. The +composer rubbed his eyes. + +"Have they made you an Academician?" he stammered. "Or has your uncle, +the silk manufacturer, died and left you his business?" + +"My friend," replied the poet, "prepare yourself forthwith for 'a New +and Powerful Serial of the Most Absorbing Interest'! I am no longer the +young man who went out this evening--I am a celebrity." + +"I thought," said the composer, "that it couldn't be you when I saw the +cigar." + +"Figure yourself," continued Tricotrin, "that at nine o'clock I was +wandering on the Grand Boulevard with a thirst that could have consumed +a brewery. I might mention that I had also empty pockets, but--" + +"It would be to pad the powerful Serial shamelessly," said Pitou: +"there are things that one takes for granted." + +"At the corner of the place de l'Opera a fellow passed me whom I knew +and yet did not know; I could not recall where it was we had met. I +turned and followed him, racking my brains the while. Suddenly I +remembered--" + +"Pardon me," interrupted the composer, "but I have read _Bel-Ami_ +myself. Oh, it is quite evident that you are a celebrity--you have +already forgotten how to be original!" + +"There is a resemblance, it is true," admitted Tricotrin. "However, +Maupassant had no copyright in the place de l'Opera. I say that I +remembered the man; I had known him when he was in the advertisement +business in Lyons. Well, we have supped together; he is in a position +to do me a service--he will ask an editor to publish an Interview with +me!" + +"An Interview?" exclaimed Pitou. "You are to be Interviewed? Ah, no, my +poor friend, too much meat has unhinged your reason! Go to sleep--you +will be hungry and sane again to-morrow." + +"It will startle some of them, hein? 'Gustave Tricotrin at Home'--in +the illustrated edition of _Le Demi-Mot?_" + +"Illustrated?" gasped Pitou. He looked round the attic. "Did I +understand you to say 'illustrated'?" + +"Well, well," said Tricotrin, "we shall move the beds! And, when the +concierge nods, perhaps we can borrow the palm from the portals. With a +palm and an amiable photographer, an air of splendour is easily arrived +at. I should like a screen--we will raise one from a studio in the rue +Ravignan. Mon Dieu! with a palm and a screen I foresee the most opulent +effects. 'A Corner of the Study'--we can put the screen in front of the +washhand-stand, and litter the table with manuscripts--you will admit +that we have a sufficiency of manuscripts?--no one will know that they +have all been rejected. Also, a painter in the rue Ravignan might lend +us a few of his failures--'Before you go, let me show you my pictures,' +said monsieur Tricotrin: 'I am an ardent collector'!" + +In Montmartre the sight of two "types" shifting household gods makes +no sensation--the sails of the remaining windmills still revolve. On +the day that it had its likeness taken, the attic was temporarily +transformed. At least a score of unappreciated masterpieces concealed +the dilapidation of the walls; the broken window was decorated with an +Eastern fabric that had been a cherished "property" of half the +ateliers in Paris; the poet himself--with the palm drooping gracefully +above his head--mused in a massive chair, in which Solomon had been +pronouncing judgment until 12:15, when the poet had called for it. The +appearance of exhaustion observed by admirers of the poet's portrait +was due to the chair's appalling weight. As he staggered under it up +the steps of the passage des Abbesses, the young man had feared he +would expire on the threshold of his fame. + +However, the photographer proved as resourceful as could be desired, +and perhaps the most striking feature of the illustration was the +spaciousness of the apartment in which monsieur Tricotrin was presented +to readers of _Le Demi-Mot._ The name of the thoroughfare was not +obtruded. + +With what pride was that issue of the journal regarded in the rue des +Trois Freres! + +"Aha!" cried Tricotrin, who in moments persuaded himself that he +really occupied such noble quarters, "those who repudiated me in the +days of my struggles will be a little repentant now, hein? Stone Heart +will discover that I was not wrong in relying on my genius!" + +"I assume," said Pitou, "that 'Stone Heart' is your newest pet-name for +the silk-manufacturing uncle?" + +"You catch my meaning precisely. I propose to send a copy of the paper +to Lyons, with the Interview artistically bordered by laurels; I cannot +draw laurels myself, but there are plenty of persons who can. We will +find someone to do it when we palter with starvation at the Cafe du Bel +Avenir this evening--or perhaps we had better fast at the Lucullus +Junior, instead; there is occasionally some ink in the bottle there. I +shall put the address in the margin--my uncle will not know where it +is, and on the grounds of euphony I have no fault to find with it. It +would not surprise me if I received an affectionate letter and a +bank-note in reply--the perversity of human nature delights in generosities +to the prosperous." + +"It is a fact," said Pitou. "That human nature!" + +"Who knows?--he may even renew the allowance that he used to make me!" + +"Upon my word, more unlikely things have happened," Pitou conceded. + +"Mon Dieu, Nicolas, we shall again have enough to eat!" + +"Ah, visionary!" exclaimed Pitou; "are there no bounds to your +imagination?" + +Now, the perversity to which the poet referred did inspire monsieur +Rigaud, of Lyons, to loosen his purse-strings. He wrote that he +rejoiced to learn that Gustave was beginning to make his way, and +enclosed a present of two hundred and fifty francs. More, after an +avuncular preamble which the poet skipped--having a literary hatred of +digression in the works of others--he even hinted that the allowance +might be resumed. + +What a banquet there was in bohemia! How the glasses jingled afterwards +in La Lune Rousse, and oh, the beautiful hats that Germaine and +Marcelle displayed on the next fine Sunday! Even when the last ripples +of the splash were stilled, the comrades swaggered gallantly on the +boulevard Rochechouart, for by any post might not the first instalment +of that allowance arrive? + +Weeks passed; and Tricotrin began to say, "It looks to me as if we +needed another Interview!" + +And then came a letter which was no less cordial than its predecessor, +but which stunned the unfortunate recipient like a warrant for his +execution. Monsieur Rigaud stated that business would bring him to +Paris on the following evening and that he anticipated the pleasure of +visiting his nephew; he trusted that his dear Gustave would meet him at +the station. The poet and composer stared at each other with bloodless +faces. + +"You must call at his hotel instead," faltered Pitou at last. + +"But you may be sure he will wish to see my elegant abode." + +"'It is in the hands of the decorators. How unfortunate!'" + +"He would propose to offer them suggestions; he is a born suggester." + +"'Fever is raging in the house--a most infectious fever'; we will ask a +medical student to give us one." + +"It would not explain my lodging in a slum meanwhile." + +"Well, let us admit that there is nothing to be done; you will have to +own up!" + +"Are you insane? It is improvident youths like you, who come to lament +their wasted lives. If I could receive him this once as he expects to +be received, we cannot doubt that it would mean an income of two +thousand francs to me. Prosperity dangles before us--shall I fail to +clutch it? Mon Dieu, what a catastrophe, his coming to Paris! Why +cannot he conduct his business in Lyons? Is there not enough money in +the city of Lyons to satisfy him? O grasper! what greed! Nicolas, my +more than brother, if it were night when I took him to a sumptuous +apartment, he might not notice the name of the street--I could talk +brilliantly as we turned the corner. Also I could scintillate as I led +him away. He would never know that it was not the rue des Trois +Freres." + +"You are right," agreed Pitou; "but which is the pauper in our social +circle whose sumptuous apartment you propose to acquire?" + +"One must consider," said Tricotrin. "Obviously, I am compelled to +entertain in somebody's; fortunately, I have two days to find it in. I +shall now go forth!" + +It was a genial morning, and the first person he accosted in the rue +Ravignan was Goujaud, painting in the patch of garden before the +studios. "Tell me, Goujaud," exclaimed the poet, "have you any gilded +acquaintance who would permit me the use of his apartment for two hours +to-morrow evening?" + +Goujaud reflected for some seconds, with his head to one side. "I have +never done anything so fine as this before," he observed; "regard the +atmosphere of it!" + +"It is execrable!" replied Tricotrin, and went next door to Flamant. +"My old one," he explained, "I have urgent need of a regal apartment +for two hours to-morrow--have you a wealthy friend who would +accommodate me?" + +"You may beautify your bedroom with all my possessions," returned +Flamant heartily. "I have a stuffed parrot that is most decorative, but +I have not a friend that is wealthy." + +"You express yourself like a First Course for the Foreigner," said +Tricotrin, much annoyed. "Devil take your stuffed parrot!" + +The heat of the sun increased towards midday, and drops began to +trickle under the young man's hat. By four o'clock he had called upon +sixty-two persons, exclusive of Sanquereau, whom he had been unable to +wake. He bethought himself of Lajeunie, the novelist; but Lajeunie +could offer him nothing more serviceable than a pass for the Elysee- +Montmartre. "Now how is it possible that I spend my life among such +imbeciles?" groaned the unhappy poet; "one offers me a parrot, and +another a pass for a dancing-hall! Can I assure my uncle, who is a +married man, and produces silk in vast quantities, that I reside in a +dancing-hall? Besides, we know those passes--they are available only +for ladies." + +"It is true that you could not get in by it," assented Lajeunie, "but I +give it to you freely. Take it, my poor fellow! Though it may appear +inadequate to the occasion, who knows but what it will prove to be the +basis of a fortune?" + +"You are as crazy as the stories you write," said Tricotrin, "Still, it +can go in my pocket." And he made, exhausted, for a bench in the place +Dancourt, where he apostrophised his fate. + +Thus occupied, he fell asleep; and presently a young woman sauntered +from the sidewalk across the square. In the shady little place Dancourt +is the little white Theatre Montmartre, and she first perused the +play-bill, and then contemplated the sleeping poet. It may have been that +she found something attractive in his bearing, or it may have been that +ragamuffins sprawled elsewhere; but, having determined to wait awhile, +she selected the bench on which he reposed, and forthwith woke him. + +"Now this is nice!" he exclaimed, realising his lapse with a start. + +"Oh, monsieur!" said she, blushing. + +"Pardon; I referred to my having dozed when every moment is of +consequence," he explained. "And yet," he went on ruefully, "upon my +soul, I cannot conjecture where I shall go next!" + +Her response was so sympathetic that it tempted him to remain a little +longer, and in five minutes she was recounting her own perplexities. It +transpired that she was a lady's-maid with a holiday, and the problem +before her was whether to spend her money on a theatre, or on a ball. + +"Now that is a question which is disposed of instantly," said +Tricotrin, "You shall spend your money on a theatre, and go to a ball +as well." And out fluttered the pink pass presented to him by Lajeunie. + +The girl's tongue was as lively as her gratitude. She was, she told +him, maid to the famous Colette Aubray, who had gone unattended that +afternoon to visit the owner of a villa in the country, where she would +stay until the next day but one. "So you see, monsieur, we poor +servants are left alone in the flat to amuse ourselves as best we can!" + +"Mon Dieu!" ejaculated Tricotrin, and added mentally, "It was decidedly +the good kind fairies that pointed to this bench!" + +He proceeded to pay the young woman such ardent attentions that she +assumed he meant to accompany her to the ball, and her disappointment +was extreme when he had to own that the state of his finances forbade +it. "All I can suggest, my dear Leonie," he concluded, "is that I shall +be your escort when you leave. It is abominable that you must have +other partners in the meantime, but I feel that you will be constant to +me in your thoughts. I shall have much to tell you--I shall whisper a +secret in your ear; for, incredible as it may sound, my sweet child, +you alone in Paris have the power to save me!" + +"Oh, monsieur!" faltered the admiring lady's-maid, "it has always been +my great ambition to save a young man, especially a young man who used +such lovely language. I am sure, by the way you talk, that you must be +a poet!" + +"Extraordinary," mused Tricotrin, "that all the world recognises me as +a poet, excepting when it reads my poetry!" And this led him to reflect +that he must sell some of it, in order to provide refreshment for +Leonie before he begged her aid. Accordingly, he arranged to meet her +when the ball finished, and limped back to the attic, where he made up +a choice assortment of his wares. + +He had resolved to try the office of _Le Demi-Mot;_ but his +reception there was cold. "You should not presume on our good nature," +demurred the Editor; "only last month we had an article on you, saying +that you were highly talented, and now you ask us to publish your work +besides. There must be a limit to such things." + +He examined the collection, nevertheless, with a depreciatory +countenance, and offered ten francs for three of the finest specimens. +"From _Le Demi-Mot_ I would counsel you to accept low terms," he +said, with engaging interest, "on account of the prestige you, derive +from appearing in it." + +"In truth it is a noble thing, prestige," admitted Tricotrin; "but, +monsieur, I have never known a man able to make a meal of it when he +was starving, or to warm himself before it when he was without a fire. +Still--though it is a jumble-sale price--let them go!" + +"Payment will be made in due course," said the Editor, and became +immersed in correspondence. + +Tricotrin paled to the lips, and the next five minutes were terrible; +indeed, he did not doubt that he would have to limp elsewhere. At last +he cried, "Well, let us say seven francs, cash! Seven francs in one's +fist are worth ten in due course." And thus the bargain was concluded. + +"It was well for Hercules that none of his labours was the extraction +of payment from an editor!" panted the poet on the doorstep. But he was +now enabled to fete the lady's-maid in grand style, and--not to be +outdone in generosity--she placed mademoiselle Aubray's flat at his +disposal directly he asked for it. + +"You have accomplished a miracle!" averred Pitou, in the small hours, +when he heard the news. + +Tricotrin waved a careless hand. "To a man of resource all things are +possible!" he murmured. + +The next evening the silk manufacturer was warmly embraced on the +platform, and not a little surprised to learn that his nephew expected +a visit at once. However, the young man's consternation was so profound +when objections were made that, in the end, they were withdrawn. +Tricotrin directed the driver after monsieur Rigaud was in the cab, +and, on their reaching the courtyard, there was Leonie, all frills, +ready to carry the handbag. + +"Your servant?" inquired monsieur Rigaud, with some disapproval, as +they went upstairs; "she is rather fancifully dressed, hein?" + +"Is it so?" answered Tricotrin. "Perhaps a bachelor is not sufficiently +observant in these matters. Still, she is an attentive domestic. Take +off your things, my dear uncle, and make yourself at home. What joy it +gives me to see you here!" + +"Mon Dieu," exclaimed the silk manufacturer, looking about him, "you +have a place fit for a prince! It must have cost a pretty penny." + +"Between ourselves," said Tricotrin, "I often reproach myself for what +I spent on it; I could make very good use to-day of some of the money I +squandered." + +"What curtains!" murmured monsieur Rigaud, fingering the silk +enraptured. "The quality is superb! What may they have charged you for +these curtains?" + +"It was years ago--upon my word I do not remember," drawled Tricotrin, +who had no idea whether he ought to say five hundred francs, or five +thousand. "Also, you must not think I have bought everything you see-- +many of the pictures and bronzes are presents from admirers of my work. +It is gratifying, hein?" + +"I--I--To confess the truth, we had not heard of your triumphs," +admitted monsieur Rigaud; "I did not dream you were so successful." + +"Ah, it is in a very modest way," Tricotrin replied. "I am not a +millionaire, I assure you! On the contrary, it is often difficult to +make both ends meet--although," he added hurriedly, "I live with the +utmost economy, my uncle. The days of my thoughtlessness are past. A +man should save, a man should provide for the future." + +At this moment he was astonished to see Leonie open the door and +announce that dinner was served. She had been even better than her +word. + +"Dinner?" cried monsieur Rigaud. "Ah, now I understand why you were so +dejected when I would not come!" + +"Bah, it will be a very simple meal," said his nephew, "but after a +journey one must eat. Let us go in." He was turning the wrong way, but +Leonie's eye saved him. + +"Come," he proceeded, taking his seat, "some soup--some good soup! What +will you drink, my uncle?" + +"On the sideboard I see champagne," chuckled monsieur Rigaud; "you +treat the old man well, you rogue!" + +"Hah," said Tricotrin, who had not observed it, "the cellar, I own, is +an extravagance of mine! Alone, I drink only mineral waters, or a +little claret, much diluted; but to my dearest friends I must give the +dearest wines. Leonie, champagne!" It was a capital dinner, and the +cigars and cigarettes that Leonie put on the table with the coffee were +of the highest excellence. Agreeable conversation whiled away some +hours, and Tricotrin began to look for his uncle to get up. But it was +raining smartly, and monsieur Rigaud was reluctant to bestir himself. +Another hour lagged by, and at last Tricotrin faltered: + +"I fear I must beg you to excuse me for leaving you, my uncle; it is +most annoying, but I am compelled to go out. The fact is, I have +consented to collaborate with Capus, and he is so eccentric, this dear +Alfred--we shall be at work all night." + +"Go, my good Gustave," said his uncle readily; "and, as I am very +tired, if you have no objection, I will occupy your bed." + +Tricotrin's jaw dropped, and it was by a supreme effort that he +stammered how pleased the arrangement would make him. To intensify the +fix, Leonie and the cook had disappeared--doubtless to the mansarde in +which they slept--and he was left to cope with the catastrophe alone. +However, having switched on the lights, he conducted the elderly +gentleman to an enticing apartment. He wished him an affectionate +"good-night," and after promising to wake him early, made for home, +leaving the manufacturer sleepily surveying the room's imperial +splendour. + +"What magnificence!" soliloquised monsieur Rigaud. "What toilet +articles!" He got into bed. "What a coverlet--there must be twenty +thousand francs on top of me!" + +He had not slumbered under them long when he was aroused by such a +commotion that he feared for the action of his heart. Blinking in the +glare, he perceived Leonie in scanty attire, distracted on her knees-- +and, by the bedside, a beautiful lady in a travelling cloak, raging +with the air of a lioness. + +"Go away!" quavered the manufacturer. "What is the meaning of this +intrusion?" + +"Intrusion?" raved the lady. "That is what you will explain, monsieur! +How comes it that you are in my bed?" + +"Yours?" ejaculated monsieur Rigaud. "What is it you say? You are +making a grave error, for which you will apologise, madame!" + +"Ah, hold me back," pleaded the lady, throwing up her eyes, "hold me +back or I shall assault him!" She flung to Leonie. "Wretched girl, you +shall pay for this! Not content with lavishing my champagne and my +friend's cigars on your lover, you must put him to recuperate in my +room!" + +"Oh!" gasped the manufacturer, and hid his head under the priceless +coverlet. "Such an imputation is unpardonable," he roared, reappearing. +"I am monsieur Rigaud, of Lyons; the flat belongs to my nephew, +monsieur Tricotrin; I request you to retire!" + +"Imbecile!" screamed the lady; "the flat belongs to _me_--Colette +Aubray. And your presence may ruin me--I expect a visitor on most +important business! He has not my self-control; if he finds you here he +will most certainly send you a challenge. He is the best swordsman in +Paris! I advise you to believe me, for you have just five minutes to +save your life!" + +"Monsieur," wailed Leonie, "you have been deceived!" And, between her +sobs, she confessed the circumstances, which he heard with the greatest +difficulty, owing to the chattering of his teeth. + +The rain was descending in cataracts when monsieur Rigaud got outside, +but though the trams and the trains had both stopped running, and cabs +were as dear as radium, his fury was so tempestuous that nothing could +deter him from reaching the poet's real abode. His attack on the front +door warned Tricotrin and Pitou what had happened, and they raised +themselves, blanched, from their pillows, to receive his curses. It was +impossible to reason with him, and he launched the most frightful +denunciation at his nephew for an hour, when the abatement of the +downpour permitted him to depart. More, at noon, who should arrive but +Leonie in tears! She had been dismissed from her employment, and came +to beg the poet to intercede for her. + +"What calamities!" groaned Tricotrin. "How fruitless are man's noblest +endeavours without the favouring breeze! I shall drown myself at eight +o'clock. However, I will readily plead for you first, if your mistress +will receive me." + +By the maid's advice he presented himself late in the day, and when he +had cooled his heels in the salon for some time, a lady entered, who +was of such ravishing appearance that his head swam. + +"Monsieur Tricotrin?" she inquired haughtily. "I have heard your name +from your uncle, monsieur. Are you here to visit my servant?" + +"Mademoiselle," he faltered, "I am here to throw myself on your mercy. +At eight o'clock I have decided to commit suicide, for I am ruined. The +only hope left me is to win your pardon before I die." + +"I suppose your uncle has disowned you?" she said. "Naturally! It was a +pretty situation to put him in. How would you care to be in it +yourself?" + +"Alas, mademoiselle," sighed Tricotrin, "there are situations to which +a poor poet may not aspire!" + +After regarding him silently she exclaimed, "I cannot understand what a +boy with eyes like yours saw in Leonie?" + +"Merely good nature and a means to an end, believe me! If you would +ease my last moments, reinstate her in your service. Do not let me +drown with the knowledge that another is suffering for my fault! +Mademoiselle, I entreat you--take her back!" + +"And why should I ease your last moments?" she demurred. + +"Because I have no right to ask it; because I have no defence for my +sin towards you; because you would be justified in trampling on me--and +to pardon would be sublime!" + +"You are very eloquent for my maid," returned the lady. + +He shook his head. "Ah, no--I fear I am pleading for myself. For, if +you reinstate the girl, it will prove that you forgive the man--and I +want your forgiveness so much!" He fell at her feet. + +"Does your engagement for eight o'clock press, monsieur?" murmured the +lady, smiling. "If you could dine here again to-night, I might relent +by degrees." + +"And she is adorable!" he told Pitou. "I passed the most delicious +evening of my life!" "It is fortunate," observed Pitou, "for that, and +your uncle's undying enmity, are all you have obtained by your +imposture. Remember that the evening cost two thousand francs a year!" + +"Ah, misanthrope," cried Tricotrin radiantly, "there must be a crumpled +roseleaf in every Eden!" + + + +THE FATAL FLOROZONDE + +Before Pitou, the composer, left for the Hague, he called on Theophile +de Fronsac, the poet. _La Voix Parisienne_ had lately appointed de +Fronsac to its staff, on condition that he contributed no poetry. + +"Good-evening," said de Fronsac. "Mon Dieu! what shall I write about?" + +"Write about my music," said Pitou, whose compositions had been +rejected in every arrondissement of Paris. + +"Let us talk sanely," demurred de Fronsac. "My causerie is half a +column short. Tell me something interesting." + +"Woman!" replied Pitou. + +De Fronsac flicked his cigarette ash. "You remind me," he said, "how +much I need a love affair; my sensibilities should be stimulated. To +continue to write with fervour I require to adore again." + +"It is very easy to adore," observed Pitou. + +"Not at forty," lamented the other; "especially to a man in Class A. +Don't forget, my young friend, that I have loved and been loved +persistently for twenty-three years. I cannot adore a repetition, and +it is impossible for me to discover a new type." + +"All of which I understand," said Pitou, "excepting 'Class A.'" + +"There are three kinds of men," explained the poet. "Class A are the +men to whom women inevitably surrender. Class B consists of those whom +they trust by instinct and confide in on the second day; these men +acquire an extensive knowledge of the sex--but they always fall short +of winning the women for themselves. Class C women think of merely as +'the others'--they do not count; eventually they marry, and try to +persuade their wives that they were devils of fellows when they were +young. However, such reflections will not assist me to finish my +causerie, for I wrote them all last week." + +"Talking of women," remarked Pitou, "a little blonde has come to live +opposite our lodging. So far we have only bowed from our windows, but I +have christened her 'Lynette,' and Tricotrin has made a poem about her. +It is pathetic. The last verse--the others are not written yet--goes: + + "'O window I watched in the days that are dead, + Are you watched by a lover to-day? + Are glimpses caught now of another blonde head + By a youth who lives over the way? + Does _she_ repeat words that Lynette's lips have said-- + And does _he_ say what _I_ used to say?'" + +"What is the answer?" asked de Fronsac. "Is it a conundrum? In any case +it is a poor substitute for a half a column of prose in _La Voix_. +How on earth am I to arrive at the bottom of the page? If I am short in +my copy, I shall be short in my rent; if I am short in my rent, I shall +be put out of doors; if I am put out of doors, I shall die of exposure. +And much good it will do me that they erect a statue to me in the next +generation! Upon my word, I would stand a dinner--at the two-franc +place where you may eat all you can hold--if you could give me a +subject." + +"It happens," said Pitou, "that I can give you a very strange one. As I +am going to a foreign land, I have been to the country to bid farewell +to my parents; I came across an extraordinary girl." + +"One who disliked presents?" inquired de Fronsac. + +"I am not jesting. She is a dancer in a travelling circus. The flare +and the drum wooed me one night, and I went in. As a circus, well, you +may imagine--a tent in a fair. My fauteuil was a plank, and the +orchestra surpassed the worst tortures of the Inquisition. And then, +after the decrepit horses, and a mangy lion, a girl came into the ring, +with the most marvellous eyes I have ever seen in a human face. They +are green eyes, with golden lights in them." + +"Really?" murmured the poet. "I have never been loved by a girl who had +green eyes with golden lights in them." + +"I am glad you have never been loved by this one," returned the +composer gravely; "she has a curious history. All her lovers, without +exception, have committed suicide." + +"What?" said de Fronsac, staring. + +"It is very queer. One of them had just inherited a hundred thousand +francs--he hanged himself. Another, an author from Italy, took poison, +while all Rome was reading his novel. To be infatuated by her is +harmless enough, but to win her is invariably fatal within a few weeks. +Some time ago she attached herself to one of the troupe, and soon +afterwards he discovered she was deceiving him. He resolved to shoot +her. He pointed a pistol at her breast. She simply laughed--and +_looked at him_. He turned the pistol on himself, and blew his +brains out!" + +De Fronsac had already written: "Here is the extraordinary history of a +girl whom I discovered in a fair." The next moment: + +"But you repeat a rumour," he objected. "_La Voix Parisienne_ has +a reputation; odd as the fact may appear to you, people read it. If +this is published in _La Voix_ it will attract attention. Soon she +will be promoted from a tent in a fair to a stage in Paris. Well, what +happens? You tell me she is beautiful, so she will have hundreds of +admirers. Among the hundreds there will be one she favours. And then? +Unless he committed suicide in a few weeks, the paper would be proved a +liar. I should not be able to sleep of nights for fear he would not +kill himself." + +"My dear," exclaimed Pitou with emotion, "would I add to your +anxieties? Rather than you should be disturbed by anybody's living, let +us dismiss the subject, and the dinner, and talk of my new Symphony. On +the other hand, I fail to see that the paper's reputation is your +affair--it is not your wife; and I am more than usually empty to-day." + +"Your argument is sound," said de Fronsac. "Besides, the Editor refuses +my poetry." And he wrote without cessation for ten minutes. + +The two-franc table-d'hote excelled itself that evening, and Pitou did +ample justice to the menu. + +Behold how capricious is the jade, Fame! The poet whose verses had left +him obscure, accomplished in ten minutes a paragraph that fascinated +all Paris. On the morrow people pointed it out to one another; the +morning after, other journals referred to it; in the afternoon the +Editor of _La Voix Parisienne_ was importuned with questions. No +one believed the story to be true, but not a soul could help wondering +if it might be so. + +When a day or two had passed, Pitou received from de Fronsac a note +which ran: + +"Send to me at once, I entreat thee, the name of that girl, and say +where she can be found. The managers of three variety theatres of the +first class have sought me out and are eager to engage her." + +"Decidedly," said Pitou, "I have mistaken my vocation--I ought to have +been a novelist!" And he replied: + +"The girl whose eyes suggested the story to me is called on the +programmes 'Florozonde.' For the rest, I know nothing, except that thou +didst offer a dinner and I was hungry." + +However, when he had written this, he destroyed it. + +"Though I am unappreciated myself, and shall probably conclude in the +Morgue," he mused, "that is no excuse for my withholding prosperity +from others. Doubtless the poor girl would rejoice to appear at three +variety theatres of the first class, or even at one of them." He +answered simply: + +"Her name is 'Florozonde'; she will be found in a circus at Chartres"-- +and nearly suffocated with laughter. + +Then a little later the papers announced that Mlle. Florozonde--whose +love by a strange series of coincidences had always proved fatal--would +be seen at La Coupole. Posters bearing the name of "Florozonde"--yellow +on black--invaded the boulevards. Her portrait caused crowds to +assemble, and "That girl who, they say, deals death, that Florozonde!" +was to be heard as constantly as ragtime. + +By now Pitou was at the Hague, his necessities having driven him into +the employment of a Parisian who had opened a shop there for the sale +of music and French pianos. When he read the Paris papers, Pitou +trembled so violently that the onlookers thought he must have ague. +Hilarity struggled with envy in his breast. "Ma foi!" he would say to +himself, "it seems that my destiny is to create successes for others. +Here am I, exiled, and condemned to play cadenzas all day in a piano +warehouse, while she whom I invented, dances jubilant in Paris. I do +not doubt that she breakfasts at Armenonville, and dines at +Paillard's." + +And it was a fact that Florozonde was the fashion. As regards her eyes, +at any rate, the young man had not exaggerated more than was to be +forgiven in an artist; her eyes were superb, supernatural; and now that +the spangled finery of a fair was replaced by the most triumphant of +audacities--now that a circus band had been exchanged for the orchestra +of La Coupole--she danced as she had not danced before. You say that a +gorgeous costume cannot improve a woman's dancing? Let a woman realise +that you improve her appearance, and you improve everything that she +can do! + +Nevertheless one does not pretend that it was owing to her talent, or +her costume, or the weird melody proposed by the chef d'orchestre, that +she became the rage. Not at all. That was due to her reputation. +Sceptics might smile and murmur the French for "Rats!" but, again, +nobody could say positively that the tragedies had not occurred. And +above all, there were the eyes--it was conceded that a woman with eyes +like that _ought_ to be abnormal. La Coupole was thronged every +night, and the stage doorkeeper grew rich, so numerous were the daring +spirits, coquetting with death, who tendered notes inviting the Fatal +One to supper. + +Somehow the suppers were rather dreary. The cause may have been that +the guest was handicapped by circumstances--to be good company without +discarding the fatal air was extremely difficult; also the cause may +have been that the daring spirits felt their courage forsake them in a +tete-a-tete; but it is certain that once when Florozonde drove home in +the small hours to the tattered aunt who lived on her, she exclaimed +violently that, "All this silly fake was giving her the hump, and that +she wished she were 'on the road' again, with a jolly good fellow who +was not afraid of her!" + +Then the tattered aunt cooed to her, reminding her that little +ducklings had run to her already roasted, and adding that she (the +tattered aunt) had never heard of equal luck in all the years she had +been in the show business. + +"Ah, zut!" cried Florozonde. "It does not please me to be treated as if +I had scarlet fever. If I lean towards a man, he turns pale." + +"Life is good," said her aunt philosophically, "and men have no wish to +die for the sake of an embrace--remember your reputation! II faut +souffrir pour etre fatale. Look at your salary, sweetie--and you have +had nothing to do but hold your tongue! Ah, was anything ever heard +like it? A miracle of le bon Dieu!" + +"It was monsieur de Fronsac, the journalist, who started it," said +Florozonde. "I supposed he had made it up, to give me a lift; but, ma +foi, I think _he_ half believes it, too! What can have put it in +his head? I have a mind to ask him the next time he comes behind." + +"What a madness!" exclaimed the old woman; "you might queer your pitch! +Never, never perform a trick with a confederate when you can work +alone; that is one of the first rules of life. If he thinks it is true, +so much the better. Now get to bed, lovey, and think of pleasant +things--what did you have for supper?" + +Florozonde was correct in her surmise--de Fronsac did half believe it, +and de Fronsac was accordingly much perturbed. Consider his dilemma! +The nature of his pursuits had demanded a love affair, and he had +endeavoured conscientiously to comply, for the man was nothing if not +an artist. But, as he had said to Pitou, he had loved so much, and so +many, that the thing was practically impossible for him, He was like +the pastrycook's boy who is habituated and bilious. Then suddenly a new +type, which he had despaired of finding, was displayed. His curiosity +awoke; and, fascinated in the first instance by her ghastly reputation, +he was fascinated gradually by her physical charms. Again he found +himself enslaved by a woman--and the woman, who owed her fame to his +services, was clearly appreciative. But he had a strong objection to +committing suicide. + +His eagerness for her love was only equalled by his dread of what might +happen if she gave it to him. Alternately he yearned, and shuddered, On +Monday he cried, "Idiot, to be frightened by such blague!" and on +Tuesday he told himself, "All the same, there may be something in it!" +It was thus tortured that he paid his respects to Florozonde at the +theatre on the evening after she complained to her aunt. She was in her +dressing-room, making ready to go. + +"You have danced divinely," he said to her. "There is no longer a +programme at La Coupole--there is only 'Florozonde.'" + +She smiled the mysterious smile that she was cultivating. "What have +you been doing with yourself, monsieur? I have not seen you all the +week." + +De Fronsac sighed expressively. "At my age one has the wisdom to avoid +temptation." + +"May it not be rather unkind to temptation?" she suggested, raising her +marvellous eyes. + +De Fronsac drew a step back. "Also I have had a great deal to do," he +added formally; "I am a busy man. For example, much as I should like to +converse with you now.--" But his resolution forsook him and he was +unable to say that he had looked in only for a minute. + +"Much as you would like to converse with me--?" questioned Florozonde. + +"I ought, by rights, to be seated at my desk," he concluded lamely. + +"I am pleased that you are not seated at your desk," she said. + +"Because?" murmured de Fronsac, with unspeakable emotions. + +"Because I have never thanked you enough for your interest in me, and I +want to tell you that I remember." She gave him her hand. He held it, +battling with terror. + +"Mademoiselle," he returned tremulously, "when I wrote the causerie you +refer to, my interest in you was purely the interest of a journalist, +so for that I do not deserve your thanks. But since I have had the +honour to meet you I have experienced an interest altogether different; +the interest of a man, of a--a--" Here his teeth chattered, and he +paused. + +"Of a what?" she asked softly, with a dreamy air. + +"Of a friend," he muttered. A gust of fear had made the "friend" an +iceberg. But her clasp tightened. + +"I am glad," she said. "Ah, you have been good to me, monsieur! And if, +in spite of everything, I am sometimes sad, I am, at least, never +ungrateful." + +"You are sad?" faltered the vacillating victim. "Why?" + +Her bosom rose. "Is success all a woman wants?" + +"Ah!" exclaimed de Fronsac, in an impassioned quaver, "is that not +life? To all of us there is the unattainable--to you, to me!" + +"To you?" she murmured. Her eyes were transcendental. Admiration and +alarm tore him in halves. + +"In truth," he gasped, "I am the most miserable of men! What is genius, +what is fame, when one is lonely and unloved?" + +She moved impetuously closer--so close that the perfume of her hair +intoxicated him. His heart seemed to knock against his ribs, and he +felt the perspiration burst out on his brow. For an instant he +hesitated--on the edge of his grave, he thought. Then he dropped her +hand, and backed from her. "But why should I bore you with my griefs?" +he stammered. "Au revoir, mademoiselle!" + +Outside the stage door he gave thanks for his self-control. Also, pale +with the crisis, he registered an oath not to approach her again. + +Meanwhile the expatriated Pitou had remained disconsolate. Though the +people at the Hague spoke French, they said foreign things to him in +it. He missed Montmartre--the interests of home. While he waxed +eloquent to customers on the tone of pianos, or the excellence of rival +composers' melodies, he was envying Florozonde in Paris. Florozonde, +whom he had created, obsessed the young man. In the evening he read +about her at Van der Pyl's; on Sundays, when the train carried him to +drink beer at Scheveningen, he read about her in the Kurhaus. And then +the unexpected happened. In this way: + +Pitou was discharged. + +Few things could have surprised him more, and, to tell the truth, few +things could have troubled him less. "It is better to starve in Paris +than grow fat in Holland," he observed. He jingled his capital in his +trouser-pocket, in fancy savoured his dinner cooking at the Cafe du Bel +Avenir, and sped from the piano shop as if it had been on fire. + +The clock pointed to a quarter to six as Nicolas Pitou, composer, +emerged from the gare du Nord, and lightly swinging the valise that +contained his wardrobe, proceeded to the rue des Trois Freres. Never +had it looked dirtier, or sweeter. He threw himself on Tricotrin's +neck; embraced the concierge--which took her breath away, since she was +ill-favoured and most disagreeable; fared sumptuously for one franc +fifty at the Cafe du Bel Avenir--where he narrated adventures abroad +that surpassed de Rougemont's; and went to La Coupole. + +And there, jostled by the crowd, the poor fellow looked across the +theatre at the triumphant woman he had invented--and fell in love with +her. + +One would have said there was more than the width of a theatre between +them--one would have said the distance was interminable. Who in the +audience could suspect that Florozonde would have been unknown but for +a boy in the Promenoir? + +Yes, he fell in love--with her beauty, her grace--perhaps also with the +circumstances. The theatre rang with plaudits; the curtain hid her; and +he went out, dizzy with romance. He could not hope to speak to her +to-night, but he was curious to see her when she left. He decided that on +the morrow he would call upon de Fronsac, whom she doubtless knew now, +and ask him for an introduction. Promising himself this, he reached the +stage door--where de Fronsac, with trembling limbs, stood giving thanks +for his self-control. + +"My friend!" cried Pitou enthusiastically, "how rejoiced I am to meet +you!" and nearly wrung his hand off. + +"Aie! Gently!" expostulated de Fronsac, writhing. "Aie, aie! I did not +know you loved me so much. So you are back from Sweden, hein?" + +"Yes. I have not been there, but why should we argue about geography? +What were you doing as I came up--reciting your poems? By the way, I +have a favour to ask; I want you to introduce me to Florozonde." + +"Never!" answered the poet firmly; "I have too much affection for you-- +I have just resolved not to see her again myself. Besides, I thought +you knew her in the circus?" + +"I never spoke to her there--I simply admired her from the plank. Come, +take me inside, and present me!" + +"It is impossible," persisted de Fronsac; "I tell you I will not +venture near her any more. Also, she is coming out--that is her coupe +that you see waiting." + +She came out as he spoke, and, affecting not to recognise him, moved +rapidly towards the carriage. But this would not do for Pitou at all. +"Mademoiselle!" he exclaimed, sweeping his hat nearly to the pavement. + +"Yes, well?" she said sharply, turning. + +"I have just begged my friend de Fronsac to present me to you, and he +feared you might not pardon his presumption. May I implore you to +pardon mine?" + +She smiled. There was the instant in which neither the man nor the +woman knows who will speak next, nor what is to be said--the instant on +which destinies hang. Pitou seized it. + +"Mademoiselle, I returned to France only this evening. All the journey +my thought was--to see you as soon as I arrived!" + +"Your friend," she said, with a scornful glance towards de Fronsac, who +sauntered gracefully away, "would warn you that you are rash." + +"I am not afraid of his warning." + +"Are you not afraid of _me_?" + +"Afraid only that you will banish me too soon." + +"Mon Dieu! then you must be the bravest man in Paris," she said. + +"At any rate I am the luckiest for the moment." + +It was a delightful change to Florozonde to meet a man who was not +alarmed by her; and it pleased her to show de Fronsac that his +cowardice had not left her inconsolable. She laughed loud enough for +him to hear. + +"I ought not to be affording you the luck," she answered. "I have +friends waiting for me at the Cafe de Paris." "I expected some such +blow," said Pitou. "And how can I suppose you will disappoint your +friends in order to sup with me at the Cafe du Bel Avenir instead?" + +"The Cafe du--?" She was puzzled. + +"Bel Avenir." + +"I do not know it." + +"Nor would your coachman. We should walk there--and our supper would +cost three francs, wine included." + +"Is it an invitation?" + +"It is a prayer." + +"Who are you?" + +"My name is Nicolas Pitou," + +"Of Paris?" + +"Of bohemia." + +"What do you do in it?" + +"Hunger, and make music." + +"Unsuccessful?" + +"Not to-night!" + +"Take me to the Bel Avenir," she said, and sent the carriage away. + +De Fronsac, looking back as they departed, was distressed to see the +young man risking his life. + +At the Bel Avenir their entrance made a sensation. She removed her +cloak, and Pitou arranged it over two chairs. Then she threw her gloves +out of the way, in the bread-basket; and the waiter and the +proprietress, and all the family, did homage to her toilette. + +"Who would have supposed?" she smiled, and her smile forgot to be +mysterious. + +"That the restaurant would be so proud?" + +"That I should be supping with you in it! Tell me, you had no hope of +this on your journey? It was true about your journey, hein?" + +"Ah, really! No, how could I hope? I went round after your dance simply +to see you closer; and then I met de Fronsac, and then--" + +"And then you were very cheeky. Answer! Why do I interest you? Because +of what they say of me?" + +"Not altogether." + +"What else?" + +"Because you are so beautiful. Answer! Why did you come to supper with +me? To annoy some other fellow?" + +"Not altogether." + +"What else?" + +"Because you were not frightened of me. Are you sure you are not +frightened? Oh, remember, remember your horrible fate if I should like +you too much!" + +"It would be a thumping advertisement for you," said Pitou. "Let me +urge you to try to secure it." + +"Reckless boy!" she laughed, "Pour out some more wine. Ah, it is good, +this! it is like old times. The strings of onions on the dear, dirty +walls, and the serviettes that are so nice and damp! It was in +restaurants like this, if my salary was paid, I used to sup on fete +days." + +"And if it was not paid?" + +"I supped in imagination. My dear, I have had a cigarette for a supper, +and the grass for a bed. I have tramped by the caravan while the stars +faded, and breakfasted on the drum in the tent. And you--on a bench in +the Champs Elysees, hein?" + +"It has occurred." + +"And you watched the sun rise, and made music, and wished _you_ +could rise, too? I must hear your music some day. You shall write me a +dance. Is it agreed?" + +"The contract is already stamped," said Pitou. + +"I am glad I met you--it is the best supper I have had in Paris. Why +are you calculating the expenses on the back of the bill of fare?" + +"I am not. I am composing your dance," said Pitou. "Don't speak for a +minute, it will be sublime! Also it will be a souvenir when you have +gone." + +But she did not go for a long while. It was late when they left the +Cafe du Bel Avenir, still talking--and there was always more to say. By +this time Pitou did not merely love her beauty--he adored the woman. As +for Florozonde, she no longer merely loved his courage--she approved +the man. + +Listen: he was young, fervid, and an artist; his proposal was made +before they reached her doorstep, and she consented! + +Their attachment was the talk of the town, and everybody waited to hear +that Pitou had killed himself. His name was widely known at last. But +weeks and months went by; Florozonde's protracted season came to an +end; and still he looked radiantly well. Pitou was the most unpopular +man in Paris. + +In the rue Dauphine, one day, he met de Fronsac. + +"So you are still alive!" snarled the poet. + +"Never better," declared Pitou. "It turns out," he added +confidentially, "there was nothing in that story--it was all fudge." + +"Evidently! I must congratulate you," said de Fronsac, looking +bomb-shells. + + + +THE OPPORTUNITY OF PETITPAS + +In Bordeaux, on the 21st of December, monsieur Petitpas, a clerk with +bohemian yearnings, packed his portmanteau for a week's holiday. In +Paris, on the same date, monsieur Tricotrin, poet and pauper, was +commissioned by the Editor of _Le Demi-Mot_ to convert a rough +translation into literary French. These two disparate incidents were +destined by Fate--always mysterious in her workings--to be united in a +narrative for the present volume. + +Three evenings later the poet's concierge climbed the stairs and rapped +peremptorily at the door. + +"Well?" cried Tricotrin, raising bloodshot eyes from the manuscript; +"who disturbs me now? Come in!" + +"I have come in," panted madame Dubois, who had not waited for his +invitation, "and I am here to tell you, monsieur, that you cannot be +allowed to groan in this agonised fashion. Your lamentations can be +heard even in the basement." + +"Is it in my agreement, madame, that I shall not groan if I am so +disposed?" inquired the poet haughtily. + +"There are things tacitly understood. It is enough that you are in +arrears with your rent, without your doing your best to drive away the +other tenants. For two days they have all complained that it would be +less disturbing to reside in a hospital." + +"Well, they have my permission to remove there," said Tricotrin. "Now +that the matter is settled, let me get on with my work!" And with the +groan of a soul in Hades, he perused another line. + +"There you go again!" expostulated the woman angrily, "It is not to be +endured, monsieur. What is the matter with you, for goodness' sake?" + +"With me, madame, there is nothing the matter; the fault lies with an +infernal Spanish novel. A misguided editor has commissioned me to +rewrite it from a translation made by a foreigner. How can I avoid +groans when I read his rot? Miranda exclaims, 'May heaven confound you, +bandit!' And the fiance of the ingenue addresses her as 'Angel of this +house!'" + +"Well, at least groan quietly," begged the concierge; "do not bellow +your sufferings to the cellar." + +"To oblige you I will be as Spartan as I can," agreed Tricotrin. "Now I +have lost my place in the masterpiece. Ah, here we are! 'I feel she +brings bad tidings--she wears a disastrous mien.' It is sprightly +dialogue! If the hundred and fifty francs were not essential to keep a +roof over my head, I would send the Editor a challenge for offering me +the job." + +Perspiration bespangled the young man's brow as he continued his task. +When another hour had worn by he thirsted to do the foreign translator +a bodily injury, and so intense was his exasperation that, by way of +interlude, he placed the manuscript on the floor and jumped on it. But +the climax was reached in Chapter XXVII; under the provocation of the +love scene in Chapter XXVII frenzy mastered him, and with a yell of +torture he hurled the whole novel through the window, and burst into +hysterical tears. + +The novel, which was of considerable bulk, descended on the landlord, +who was just approaching the house to collect his dues. + +"What does it mean," gasped monsieur Gouge, when he had recovered his +equilibrium, and his hat; "what does it mean that I cannot approach my +own property without being assaulted with a ton of paper? Who has dared +to throw such a thing from a window?" + +"Monsieur," stammered the concierge, "I do not doubt that it was the +top-floor poet; he has been behaving like a lunatic for days." + +"Aha, the top-floor poet?" snorted monsieur Gouge. "I shall soon +dispose of _him_!" And Tricotrin's tears were scarcely dried when +_bang_ came another knock at his door. + +"So, monsieur," exclaimed the landlord, with fine satire, "your poems +are of small account, it appears, since you use them as missiles? The +value you put upon your scribbling does not encourage me to wait for my +rent!" + +"Mine?" faltered Tricotrin, casting an indignant glance at the muddy +manuscript restored to him; "you accuse _me_ of having perpetrated +that atrocity? Oh, this is too much! I have a reputation to preserve, +monsieur, and I swear by all the Immortals that it was no work of +mine." + +"Did you not throw it?" + +"Throw it? Yes, assuredly I threw it. But I did not write it." + +"Morbleu! what do I care who wrote it?" roared monsieur Gouge, purple +with spleen. "Does its authorship improve the condition of my hat? My +grievance is its arrival on my head, not its literary quality. Let me +tell you that you expose yourself to actions at law, pitching weights +like this from a respectable house into a public street." + +"I should plead insanity," said Tricotrin; "twenty-seven chapters of +that novel, translated into a Spaniard's French, would suffice to +people an asylum. Nevertheless, if it arrived on your hat, I owe you an +apology." + +"You also owe me two hundred francs!" shouted the other, "and I have +shown you more patience than you deserve. Well, my folly is finished! +You settle up, or you get out, right off!" + +"Have you reflected that it is Christmas Eve--do we live in a +melodrama, that I should wander homeless on Christmas Eve? Seriously, +you cannot expect a man of taste to lend himself to so hackneyed a +situation? Besides, I share this apartment with the composer monsieur +Nicolas Pitou. Consider how poignant he would find the room's +associations if he returned to dwell here alone!" + +"Monsieur Pitou will not be admitted when he returns--there is not a +pin to choose between the pair of you. You hand me the two hundred +francs, or you go this minute--and I shall detain your wardrobe till +you pay. Where is it?" + +"It is divided between my person and a shelf at the pawnbroker's," +explained the poet; "but I have a soiled collar in the left-hand corner +drawer. However, I can offer you more valuable security for this +trifling debt than you would dare to ask; the bureau is full of pearls +--metrical, but beyond price. I beg your tenderest care of them, +especially my tragedy in seven acts. Do not play jinks with the +contents of that bureau, or Posterity will gibbet you and the name of +'Gouge' will one day be execrated throughout France. Garbage, +farewell!" + +"Here, take your shaving paper with you!" cried monsieur Gouge, +flinging the Spanish novel down the stairs. And the next moment the man +of letters stood dejected on the pavement, with the fatal manuscript +under his arm. + +"Ah, Miranda, Miranda, thou little knowest what mischief thou hast +done!" he murmured, unconsciously plagiarising. "She brought bad +tidings indeed, with her disastrous mien," he added. "What is to become +of me now?" + +The moon, to which he had naturally addressed this query, made no +answer; and, fingering the sou in his trouser-pocket, he trudged in the +direction of the rue Ravignan. "The situation would look well in +print," he reflected, "but the load under my arm should, dramatically, +be a bundle of my own poems. Doubtless the matter will be put right by +my biographer. I wonder if I can get half a bed from Goujaud?" + +Encouraged by the thought of the painter's hospitality, he proceeded to +the studio; but he was informed in sour tones that monsieur Goujaud +would not sleep there that night. + +"So much the better," he remarked, "for I can have all his bed, instead +of half of it! Believe me, I shall put you to no trouble, madame." + +"I believe it fully," answered the woman, "for you will not come +inside--not monsieur Goujaud, nor you, nor any other of his vagabond +friends. So, there!" + +"Ah, is that how the wind blows--the fellow has not paid his rent?" +said Tricotrin. "How disgraceful of him, to be sure! Fortunately +Sanquereau lives in the next house." + +He pulled the bell there forthwith, and the peal had scarcely sounded +when Sanquereau rushed to the door, crying, "Welcome, my Beautiful!" + +"Mon Dieu, what worthless acquaintances I possess!" moaned the unhappy +poet. "Since you are expecting your Beautiful I need not go into +details." + +"What on earth did you want?" muttered Sanquereau, crestfallen. + +"I came to tell you the latest Stop Press news--Goujaud's landlord has +turned him out and I have no bed to lie on. Au revoir!" + +After another apostrophe to the heavens, "That inane moon, which makes +no response, is beginning to get on my nerves," he soliloquised. "Let +me see now! There is certainly master Criqueboeuf, but it is a long +journey to the quartier Latin, and when I get there his social +engagements may annoy me as keenly as Sanquereau's. It appears to me I +am likely to try the open-air cure to-night. In the meanwhile I may as +well find Miranda a seat and think things over." + +Accordingly he bent his steps to the place Dancourt, and having +deposited the incubus beside him, stretched his limbs on a bench +beneath a tree. His attitude, and his luxuriant locks, to say nothing +of his melancholy aspect, rendered him a noticeable figure in the +little square, and monsieur Petitpas, from Bordeaux, under the awning +of the cafe opposite, stood regarding him with enthusiasm. + +"Upon my word of honour," mused Petitpas, rubbing his hands, "I believe +I see a Genius in the dumps! At last I behold the Paris of my dreams. +If I have read my Murger to any purpose, I am on the verge of an epoch. +What a delightful adventure!" + +Taking out his Marylands, Petitpas sauntered towards the bench with a +great show of carelessness, and made a pretence of feeling in his +pockets for a match. "Tschut!" he exclaimed; then, affecting to observe +Tricotrin for the first time, "May I beg you to oblige me with a light, +monsieur?" he asked deferentially. A puff of wind provided an excuse +for sitting down to guard the flame; and the next moment the Genius had +accepted a cigarette, and acknowledged that the weather was mild for +the time of year. + +Excitement thrilled Petitpas. How often, after business hours, he had +perused his well-thumbed copy of _La Vie de Boheme_ and in fancy +consorted with the gay descendants of Rodolphe and Marcel; how often he +had regretted secretly that he, himself, did not woo a Muse and jest at +want in a garret, instead of totting up figures, and eating three meals +a day in comfort! And now positively one of the fascinating beings of +his imagination lolled by his side! The little clerk on a holiday +longed to play the generous comrade. In his purse he had a couple of +louis, designed for sight-seeing, and, with a rush of emotion, he +pictured himself squandering five or six francs in half an hour and +startling the artist by his prodigality. + +"If I am not mistaken, I have the honour to address an author, +monsieur?" he ventured. + +"Your instincts have not misled you," replied the poet; "I am +Tricotrin, monsieur--Gustave Tricotrin. The name, however, is to be +found, as yet, on no statues." + +"My own name," said the clerk, "is Adolphe Petitpas. I am a stranger in +Paris, and I count myself fortunate indeed to have made monsieur +Tricotrin's acquaintance so soon." + +"He expresses himself with some discretion, this person," reflected +Tricotrin. "And his cigarette was certainly providential!" + +"To meet an author has always been an ambition of mine," Petitpas +continued; "I dare to say that I have the artistic temperament, though +circumstances have condemned me to commercial pursuits. You have no +idea how enviable the literary life appears to me, monsieur!" + +"Its privileges are perhaps more monotonous than you suppose," drawled +the homeless poet. "Also, I had to work for many years before I +attained my present position." + +"This noble book, for instance," began the clerk, laying a reverent +hand on the abominable manuscript. + +"Hein?" exclaimed its victim, starting. + +"To have written this noble book must be a joy compared with which my +own prosperity is valueless." + +"The damned thing is no work of mine," cried Tricotrin; "and if we are +to avoid a quarrel, I will ask you not to accuse me of it! A joy, +indeed? In that block of drivel you view the cause of my deepest +misfortunes." + +"A thousand apologies!" stammered his companion; "my inference was +hasty. But what you say interests me beyond words. This manuscript, of +seeming innocence, is the cause of misfortunes? May I crave an enormous +favour; may I beg you to regard me as a friend and give me your +confidence?" + +"I see no reason why I should refuse it," answered Tricotrin, on whom +the boast of "prosperity" had made a deep impression. "You must know, +then, that this ineptitude, inflicted on me by an eccentric editor for +translation, drove me to madness, and not an hour ago I cast it from my +window in disgust. It is a novel entirely devoid of taste and tact, and +it had the clumsiness to alight on my landlord's head. Being a man of +small nature, he retaliated by demanding his rent." + +"Which it was not convenient to pay?" interrupted Petitpas, all the +pages of _La Vie de Boheme_ playing leapfrog through his brain. + +"I regret to bore you by so trite a situation. 'Which it was not +convenient to pay'! Indeed, I was not responsible for all of it, for I +occupied the room with a composer named Pitou. Well, you can construct +the next scene without a collaborator; the landlord has a speech, and +the tragedy is entitled 'Tricotrin in Quest of a Home.'" + +"What of the composer?" inquired the delighted clerk; "what has become +of monsieur Pitou?" + +"Monsieur Pitou was not on in that Act. The part of Pitou will attain +prominence when he returns and finds himself locked out." + +"But, my dear monsieur Tricotrin, in such an extremity you should have +sought the services of a friend." + +"I had that inspiration myself; I sought a painter called Goujaud. And +observe how careless is Reality in the matter of coincidences! I learnt +from his concierge that precisely the same thing had befallen monsieur +Goujaud. He, too, is Christmassing alfresco." + +"Mon Dieu," faltered the clerk, "how it rejoices me that I have met +you! All my life I have looked forward to encountering a genius in such +a fix." + +"Alas!" sighed Tricotrin, with a pensive smile, "to the genius the fix +is less spicy. Without a supper--" + +"Without a supper!" crowed Petitpas. + +"Without a bed--" + +"Without a bed!" babbled Petitpas, enravished. + +"With nothing but a pen and the sacred fire, one may be forgiven +sadness." + +"Not so, not so," shouted Petitpas, smacking him on the back. "You are +omitting _me_ from your list of assets! Listen, I am staying at an +hotel. You cannot decline to accord me the honour of welcoming you +there as my guest for the night. Hang the expense! I am no longer in +business, I am a bohemian, like yourself; some supper, a bed, and a +little breakfast will not ruin me. What do you say, monsieur?" + +"I say, drop the 'monsieur,' old chap," responded Tricotrin. "Your +suggestions for the tragedy are cordially accepted. I have never known +a collaborator to improve a plot so much. And understand this: I feel +more earnestly than I speak; henceforth we are pals, you and I." + +"Brothers!" cried Petitpas, in ecstasy. "You shall hear all about a +novel that I have projected for years. I should like to have your +opinion of it." + +"I shall be enchanted," said Tricotrin, his jaw dropping. + +"You must introduce me to your circle--the painters, and the models, +and the actresses. Your friends shall be _my_ friends in future." + +"Don't doubt it! When I tell them what a brick you are, they will be +proud to know you." + +"No ceremony, mind!" + +"Not a bit. You shall be another chum. Already I feel as if we had been +confidants in our cradles." + +"It is the same with me. How true it is that kindred spirits recognise +each other in an instant. What is environment? Bah! A man may be a +bohemian and an artist although his occupations are commercial?" + +"Perfectly! I nearly pined amid commercial occupations myself." + +"What an extraordinary coincidence! Ah, that is the last bond between +us! You can realise my most complex moods, you can penetrate to the +most distant suburbs of my soul! Gustave, if I had been free to choose +my career, I should have become a famous man." "My poor Adolphe! +Still, prosperity is not an unmixed evil. You must seek compensation in +your wealth," murmured the poet, who began to think that one might pay +too high a price for a bed. + +"Oh--er--to be sure!" said the little clerk, reminded that he was +pledged to a larger outlay than he had originally proposed. "That is to +say, I am not precisely 'wealthy.'" He saw his pocket-money during the +trip much curtailed, and rather wished that his impulse had been less +expansive. + +"A snug income is no stigma, whether one derives it from Parnassus or +the Bourse," continued Tricotrin. "Hold! Who is that I see, slouching +over there? As I live, it's Pitou, the composer, whose dilemma I told +you of!" + +"Another?" quavered the clerk, dismayed. + +"He, Nicolas! Turn your symphonic gaze this way! 'Tis I, Gustave!" + +"Ah, mon vieux!" exclaimed the young musician joyfully; "I was +wondering what your fate might be. I have only just come from the +house. Madame Dubois refused me admission; she informed me that you had +been firing Spanish novels at Gouge's head. Why Spanish? Is the Spanish +variety deadlier? So the villain has had the effrontery to turn us +out?" + +"Let me make your affinities known to each other," said Tricotrin. "My +brother Nicolas--my brother Adolphe. Brother Adolphe has received a +scenario of the tragedy already, and he has a knack of inventing +brilliant 'curtains.'" + +Behind Pitou's back he winked at Petitpas, as if to say, "He little +suspects what a surprise you have in store for him!" + +"Oh--er--I am grieved to hear of your trouble, monsieur Pitou," said +Petitpas feebly. + +"What? 'Grieved'? Come, that isn't all about it!" cried Tricotrin, who +attributed his restraint to nothing but diffidence. In an undertone he +added, "Don't be nervous, dear boy. Your invitation won't offend him in +the least!" + +Petitpas breathed heavily. He aspired to prove himself a true bohemian, +but his heart quailed at the thought of such expense. Two suppers, two +beds, and two little breakfasts as a supplement to his bill would be no +joke. It was with a very poor grace that he stammered at last, "I hope +you will allow me to suggest a way out, monsieur Pitou? A room at my +hotel seems to dispose of the difficulty." + +"Hem?" exclaimed Pitou. "Is that room a mirage, or are you serious?" + +"'Serious'?" echoed Tricotrin. "He is as serious as an English +adaptation of a French farce." He went on, under his breath, "You +mustn't judge him by his manner, I can see that he has turned a little +shy. Believe me, he is the King of Trumps." + +"Well, upon my word I shall be delighted, monsieur," responded Pitou. +"It was evidently the good kind fairies that led me to the place +Dancourt. I would ask you to step over the way and have a bock, but my +finances forbid." + +"Your finances need cause no drought--Adolphe will be paymaster!" +declared Tricotrin gaily, shouldering his manuscript. "Come, let us +adjourn and give the Reveillon its due!" + +Petitpas suppressed a moan. "By all means," he assented; "I was about +to propose it myself. I am a real bohemian, you know, and think nothing +of ordering several bocks at once." + +"Are you sure he is all you say?" whispered Pitou to Tricotrin, with +misgiving. + +"A shade embarrassed, that is all," pronounced the poet. And then, as +the trio moved arm-in-arm toward the cafe, a second solitary figure +emerged from the obscurity of the square. + +"Bless my soul!" ejaculated Tricotrin; "am I mistaken, or--Look, look, +Adolphe! I would bet ten to one in sonnets that it is Goujaud, the +painter, whose plight I mentioned to you!" + +"Yet another?" gasped Petitpas, panic-stricken. + +"Sst! He, Goujaud! Come here, you vagrant, and be entertaining!" + +"Well met, you fellows!" sighed Goujaud. "Where are you off to?" + +"We are going to give Miranda a drink," said the poet; "she is drier +than ever. Let there be no strangers--my brother Adolphe, my brother +Theodose! What is your secret woe, Theo? Your face is as long as this +Spaniard's novel, Adolphe, have you a recipe in your pocket for the +hump?" + +"Perhaps monsieur Goujaud will join us in a glass of beer?" said +Petitpas very coldly. + +"There are more unlikely things than that!" affirmed the painter; and +when the cafe was entered, he swallowed his bock like one who has a +void to fill. "The fact is," he confided to the group, "I was about to +celebrate the Reveillon on a bench. That insolent landlord of mine has +kicked me out." + +"And you will not get inside," said Tricotrin, "'not you, nor I, nor +any other of your vagabond friends. So there!' I had the privilege of +conversing with your concierge earlier in the evening." + +"Ah, then, you know all about it. Well, now that I have run across you, +you can give me a shakedown in your attic. Good business!" + +"I discern only one drawback to the scheme," said Pitou; "we haven't +any attic. It must be something in the air--all the landlords seem to +have the same complaint." + +"But if you decide in the bench's favour, after all, you may pillow +your curls on Miranda," put in Tricotrin. "She would be exhilarating +company for him, Adolphe, hein? What do you think?" He murmured aside, +"Give him a dig in the ribs and say, 'You silly ass, _I_ can fix +you up all right!' That's the way we issue invitations in Montmartre." + +The clerk's countenance was livid; his tongue stuck to his front teeth. +At last, wrenching the words out, he groaned, "If monsieur Goujaud will +accept my hospitality, I shall be charmed!" He was not without a hope +that his frigid bearing would beget a refusal. + +"Ah, my dear old chap!" shouted Goujaud without an instant's +hesitation, "consider it done!" And now there were to be three suppers, +three beds, and three little breakfasts, distorting the account! + +Petitpas sipped his bock faintly, affecting not to notice that his +guests' glasses had been emptied. With all his soul he repented the +impulse that had led to his predicament. Amid the throes of his mental +arithmetic he recognised that he had been deceived in himself, that he +had no abiding passion for bohemia. How much more pleasing than to +board and lodge this disreputable collection would have been the daily +round of amusements that he had planned! Even now--he caught his +breath--even now it was not too late; he might pay for the drinks and +escape! Why shouldn't he run away? + +"Gentlemen," cried Petitpas, "I shall go and fetch a cab for us all. +Make yourselves comfortable till I come back!" + +When the cafe closed, messieurs Tricotrin, Goujaud, and Pitou crept +forlornly across the square and disposed themselves for slumber on the +bench. + +"Well, there is this to be said," yawned the poet, "if the little +bounder had kept his word, it would have been an extraordinary +conclusion to our adventures--as persons of literary discretion, we can +hardly regret that a story did not end so improbably.... My children, +Miranda, good-night--and a Merry Christmas!" + + + +THE CAFE OF THE BROKEN HEART + +On the last day of the year, towards the dinner-hour, a young and +attractive woman, whose costume proclaimed her a widow, entered the +Cafe of the Broken Heart. That modest restaurant is situated near the +Cemetery of Mont-martre. The lady, quoting from an announcement over +the window, requested the proprietor to conduct her to the "Apartment +reserved for Those Desirous of Weeping Alone." + +The proprietor's shoulders became apologetic. "A thousand regrets, +madame," he murmured; "the Weeping Alone apartment is at present +occupied." + +This visibly annoyed the customer. + +"It is the second anniversary of my bereavement," she complained, "and +already I have wept here twice. The woe of an habituee should find a +welcome!" + +Her reproof, still more her air of being well-to-do, had an effect on +Brochat. He looked at his wife, and his wife said hesitatingly: + +"Perhaps the young man would consent to oblige madame if you asked him +nicely. After all, he engaged the room for seven o'clock, and it is not +yet half-past six." + +"That is true," said Brochat. "Alors, I shall see what can be arranged! +I beg that madame will put herself to the trouble of sitting down while +I make the biggest endeavours." + +But he returned after a few minutes to declare that the young man's +sorrow was so profound that no reply could be extracted from him. + +The lady showed signs of temper. "Has this person the monopoly of +sorrowing on your premises?" she demanded. "Whom does he lament? Surely +the loss of a husband should give me prior claim?" + +"I cannot rightly say whom the gentleman laments," stammered Brochat; +"the circumstances are, in fact, somewhat unusual. I would mention, +however, that the apartment is a spacious one, as madame doubtless +recalls, and no further mourners are expected for half an hour. If in +the meantime madame would be so amiable as to weep in the young man's +presence, I can assure her that she would find him too stricken to +stare." + +The widow considered. "Well," she said, after the pause, "if you can +guarantee his abstraction, so be it! It is a matter of conscience with +me to behave in precisely the same way each year, and, rather than miss +my meditations there altogether, I am willing to make the best of him." + +Brochat, having taken her order for refreshments--for which he always +charged slightly higher prices on the first floor--preceded her up the +stairs. The single gas-flame that had been kindled in the room was very +low, and the lady received but a momentary impression of a man's figure +bowed over a white table. She chose a chair at once with her back +towards him, and resting her brow on her forefinger, disposed herself +for desolation. + +It may have been that the stranger's proximity told on her nerves, or +it may have been that Time had done something to heal the wound. +Whatever the cause, the frame of mind that she invited was slow in +arriving, and when the bouillon and biscottes appeared she was not +averse from trifling with them. Meanwhile, for any sound that he had +made, the young man might have been as defunct as Henri IV; but as she +took her second sip, a groan of such violence escaped him that she +nearly upset her cup. + +His abandonment of despair seemed to reflect upon her own +insensibility; and, partly to raise herself in his esteem, the lady a +moment later uttered a long-drawn, wistful sigh. No sooner had she done +so, however, than she deeply regretted the indiscretion, for it +stimulated the young man to a howl positively harrowing. + +An impatient movement of her graceful shoulders protested against these +demonstrations, but as she had her back to him, she could not tell +whether he observed her. Stealing a glance, she discovered that his +face was buried in his hands, and that the white table seemed to be +laid for ten covers. Scrutiny revealed ten bottles of wine around it, +the neck of each bottle embellished with a large crape bow. Curiosity +now held the lady wide-eyed, and, as luck would have it, the young man, +at this moment, raised his head. + +"I trust that my agony does not disturb you, madame?" he inquired, +meeting her gaze with some embarrassment. + +"I must confess, monsieur," said she, "that you have been carrying it +rather far." + +He accepted the rebuke humbly. "If you divined the intensity of my +sufferings, you would be lenient," he murmured. "Nevertheless, it was +dishonest of me to moan so bitterly before seven o'clock, when my claim +to the room legally begins. I entreat your pardon." + +"It is accorded freely," said the lady, mollified by his penitence. +"She would be a poor mourner who quarrelled with the affliction of +another." + +Again she indulged in a plaintive sigh, and this time the young man's +response was tactfully harmonious. + +"Life is a vale of tears, madame," he remarked, with more solicitude +than originality. + +"You may indeed say so, monsieur," she assented. "To have lost one who +was beloved--" + +"It must be a heavy blow; I can imagine it!" + +He had made a curious answer. She stared at him, perplexed. + +"You can 'imagine' it?" + +"Very well." + +"But you yourself have experienced such a loss, monsieur?" faltered the +widow nervously. Had trouble unhinged his brain? + +"No," said the young man; "to speak by the clock, my own loss has not +yet occurred." + +A brief silence fell, during which she cast uneasy glances towards the +door. + +He added, as if anxious that she should do him justice: "But I would +not have you consider my lamentations premature." + +"How true it is," breathed the lady, "that in this world no human soul +can wholly comprehend another!" + +"Mine is a very painful history," he warned her, taking the hint; "yet +if it will serve to divert your mind from your own misfortune, I shall +be honoured to confide it to you. Stay, the tenth invitation, which an +accident prevented my dispatching, would explain the circumstances +tersely: but I much fear that the room is too dark for you to decipher +all the subtleties. Have I your permission to turn up the gas?" + +"Do so, by all means, monsieur," said the lady graciously. And the +light displayed to her, first, as personable a young man as she could +have desired to see; second, an imposing card, which was inscribed as +follows: + + MONSIEUR ACHILLE FLAMANT, ARTIST, + + Forewarns you of the + + DEATH OF HIS CAREER + + The Interment will take place at the + Cafe of the Broken Heart + on December 31st. + + _Valedictory N.B.--A sympathetic costume + Victuals will be appreciated. + 7 p.m._ + +"I would call your attention to the border of cypress, and to the tomb +in the corner," said the young man, with melancholy pride. "You may +also look favourably on the figure with the shovel, which, of course, +depicts me in the act of burying my hopes. It is a symbolic touch that +no hope is visible." + +"It is a very artistic production altogether," said the widow, +dissembling her astonishment. "So you are a painter, monsieur Flamant?" + +"Again speaking by the clock, I am a painter," he concurred; "but at +midnight I shall no longer be in a position to say so--in the morning I +am pledged to the life commercial. You will not marvel at my misery +when I inform you that the existence of Achille Flamant, the artist, +will terminate in five hours and twenty odd minutes!" + +"Well, I am commercial myself," she said. "I am madame Aurore, the +Beauty Specialist, of the rue Baba. Do not think me wanting in the +finer emotions, but I assure you that a lucrative establishment is not +a calamity." + +"Madame Aurore," demurred the painter, with a bow, "your own business +is but a sister art. In your atelier, the saffron of a bad complexion +blooms to the fairness of a rose, and the bunch of a lumpy figure is +modelled to the grace of Galatea. With me it will be a different pair +of shoes; I shall be condemned to perch on a stool in the office of a +wine-merchant, and invoice vintages which my thirty francs a week will +not allow me to drink. No comparison can be drawn between your lot and +my little." + +"Certainly I should not like to perch," she confessed. + +"Would you rejoice at the thirty francs a week?" + +"Well, and the thirty francs a week are also poignant. But you may +rise, monsieur; who shall foretell the future? Once I had to make both +ends meet with less to coax them than the salary you mention. Even when +my poor husband was taken from me--heigho!" she raised a miniature +handkerchief delicately to her eyes--"when I was left alone in the +world, monsieur, my affairs were greatly involved--I had practically +nothing but my resolve to succeed." + +"And the witchery of your personal attractions, madame," said the +painter politely. + +"Ah!" A pensive smile rewarded him. "The business was still in its +infancy, monsieur; yet to-day I have the smartest clientele in Paris. I +might remove to the rue de la Paix to-morrow if I pleased. But, I say, +why should I do that? I say, why a reckless rental for the sake of a +fashionable address, when the fashionable men and women come to me +where I am?" + +"You show profound judgment, madame," said Flamant. "Why, indeed!" + +"And you, too, will show good judgment, I am convinced," continued +madame Aurore, regarding him with approval. "You have an air of +intellect. If your eyebrows were elongated a fraction towards the +temples--an improvement that might be effected easily enough by regular +use of my Persian Pomade--you would acquire the appearance of a born +conqueror." + +"Alas," sighed Flamant, "my finances forbid my profiting by the tip!" + +"Monsieur, you wrong me," murmured the specialist reproachfully. "I was +speaking with no professional intent. On the contrary, if you will +permit me, I shall take joy in forwarding a pot to you gratis." + +"Is it possible?" cried Flamant: "you would really do this for me? You +feel for my sufferings so much?" + +"Indeed, I regret that I cannot persuade you to reduce the sufferings," +she replied. "But tell me why you have selected the vocation of a +wine-merchant's clerk." + +"Fate, not I, has determined my cul-de-sac in life," rejoined her +companion. "It is like this: my father, who lacks an artistic soul, +consented to my becoming a painter only upon the understanding that I +should gain the Prix de Rome and pursue my studies in Italy free of any +expense to him. This being arranged, he agreed to make me a minute +allowance in the meanwhile. By a concatenation of catastrophes upon +which it is unnecessary to dwell, the Beaux-Arts did not accord the +prize to me; and, at the end of last year, my parent reminded me of our +compact, with a vigour which nothing but the relationship prevents my +describing as 'inhuman'. He insisted that I must bid farewell to +aspiration and renounce the brush of an artist for the quill of a +clerk! Distraught, I flung myself upon my knees. I implored him to +reconsider. My tribulation would have moved a rock--it even moved his +heart!" + +"He showed you mercy?" + +"He allowed me a respite." + +"It was for twelve months?" + +"Precisely. What rapid intuitions you have!--if I could remain in +Paris, we should become great friends. He allowed me twelve months' +respite. If, at the end of that time, Art was still inadequate to +supply my board and lodging, it was covenanted that, without any more +ado, I should resign myself to clerical employment at Nantes. The +merchant there is a friend of the family, and had offered to +demonstrate his friendship by paying me too little to live on. Enfin, +Fame has continued coy. The year expires to-night. I have begged a few +comrades to attend a valedictory dinner--and at the stroke of midnight, +despairing I depart!" + +"Is there a train?" + +"I do not depart from Paris till after breakfast to-morrow; but at +midnight I depart from myself, I depart psychologically--the Achille +Flamant of the Hitherto will be no more." + +"I understand," said madame Aurore, moved. "As you say, in my own way I +am an artist, too, there is a bond between us. Poor fellow, it is +indeed a crisis in your life!... Who put the crape bows on the +bottles? they are badly tied. Shall I tie them properly for you?" + +"It would be a sweet service," said Flamant, "and I should be grateful. +How gentle you are to me--pomade, bows, nothing is too much for you!" + +"You must give me your Nantes address," she said, "and I will post the +pot without fail." + +"I shall always keep it," he vowed--"not the pomade, but the pot--as a +souvenir. Will you write a few lines to me at the same time?" + +Her gaze was averted; she toyed with her spoon. "The directions will be +on the label," she said timidly. + +"It was not of my eyebrows I was thinking," murmured the man. + +"What should I say? The latest quotation for artificial lashes, or a +development in dimple culture, would hardly be engrossing to you." + +"I am inclined to believe that anything that concerned you would +engross me." + +"It would be so unconventional," she objected dreamily. + +"To send a brief message of encouragement? Have we not talked like +confidants?" + +"That is queerer still." + +"I admit it. Just now I was unaware of your existence, and suddenly you +dominate my thoughts. How do you work these miracles, madame? Do you +know that I have an enormous favour to crave of you?" + +"What, another one?" + +"Actually! Is it not audacious of me? Yet for a man on the verge of +parting from his identity, I venture to hope that you will strain a +point." + +"The circumstances are in the man's favour," she owned. "Nevertheless, +much depends on what the point is." + +"Well, I ask nothing less than that you accept the invitation on the +card that you examined; I beg you to soothe my last hours by remaining +to dine." + +"Oh, but really," she exclaimed. "I am afraid--" + +"You cannot urge that you are required at your atelier so late. And as +to any social engagement, I do not hesitate to affirm that my +approaching death in life puts forth the stronger claim." + +"On me? When all is said, a new acquaintance!" + +"What is Time?" demanded the painter. And she was not prepared with a +reply. + +"Your comrades will be strangers to me," she argued. + +"It is a fact that now I wish they were not coming," acknowledged the +host; "but they are young men of the loftiest genius, and some day it +may provide a piquant anecdote to relate how you met them all in the +period of their obscurity." + +"My friend," she said, hurt, "if I consented, it would not be to garner +anecdotes." + +"Ah, a million regrets!" he cried; "I spoke foolishly." + +"It was tactless." + +"Yes--I am a man. Do you forgive?" + +"Yes--I am a woman. Well, I must take my bonnet off!" + +"Oh, you are not a woman, but an angel! What beautiful hair you have! +And your hands, how I should love to paint them!" + +"I have painted them, myself--with many preparations. My hands have +known labour, believe me; they have washed up plates and dishes, and +often the dishes had provided little to eat." + +"Poor girl! One would never suspect that you had struggled like that." + +"How feelingly you say it! There have been few to show me sympathy. Oh, +I assure you, my life has been a hard one; it is a hard one now, in +spite of my success. Constantly, when customers moan before my mirrors, +I envy them, if they did but know it. I think: 'Yes, you have a double +chin, and your eyes have lost their fire, and nasty curly little veins +are spoiling the pallor of your nose; but you have the affection of +husband and child, while _I_ have nothing but fees.' What is my +destiny? To hear great-grandmothers grumble because I cannot give them +back their girlhood for a thousand francs! To devote myself to making +other women beloved, while _I_ remain loveless in my shop!" + +"Honestly, my heart aches for you. If I might presume to advise, I +would say, 'Do not allow the business to absorb your youth--you were +meant to be worshipped.' And yet, while I recommend it, I hate to think +of another man worshipping you." + +"Why should you care, my dear? But there is no likelihood of that; I am +far too busy to seek worshippers. A propos an idea has just occurred to +me which might be advantageous to us both. If you could inform your +father that you would be able to earn rather more next year by +remaining in Paris than by going to Nantes, would it be satisfactory?" + +"Satisfactory?" ejaculated Flamant. "It would be ecstatic! But how +shall I acquire such information?" + +"Would you like to paint a couple of portraits of me?" + +"I should like to paint a thousand." + +"My establishment is not a picture-gallery. Listen. I offer you a +commission for two portraits: one, present day, let us say, moderately +attractive--" + +"I decline to libel you." + +"O, flatterer! The other, depicting my faded aspect before I discovered +the priceless secrets of the treatment that I practise in the rue Baba. +I shall hang them both in the reception-room. I must look at least a +decade older in the 'Before' than in the 'After,' and it must, of +course, present the appearance of having been painted some years ago. +That can be faked?" + +"Perfectly." + +"You accept?" "I embrace your feet. You have saved my life; you have +preserved my hopefulness, you have restored my youth!" + +"It is my profession to preserve and restore." + +"Ah, mon Dieu!" gasped Flamant in a paroxysm of adoration. "Aurore, I +can no longer refrain from avowing that--" + +At this instant the door opened, and there entered solemnly nine young +men, garbed in such habiliments of woe as had never before been seen +perambulating, even on the figures of undertakers. The foremost bore a +wreath of immortelles, which he laid in devout silence on the dinner-table. + +"Permit me," said Flamant, recovering himself by a stupendous effort: +"monsieur Tricotrin, the poet--madame Aurore." + +"Enchanted!" said the poet, in lugubrious tones. "I have a heavy cold, +thank you, owing to my having passed the early hours of Christmas Day +on a bench, in default of a bed. It is superfluous to inquire as to the +health of madame." + +"Monsieur Goujaud, a colleague." + +"Overjoyed!" responded Goujaud, with a violent sneeze. + +"Goujaud was with me," said Tricotrin. + +"Monsieur Pitou, the composer." + +"I ab hodoured. I trust badabe is dot dervous of gerbs? There is +nothing to fear," said Pitou. + +"So was Pitou!" added Tricotrin. + +"Monsieur Sanquereau, the sculptor; monsieur Lajeunie, the novelist," +continued the host. But before he could present the rest of the +company, Brochat was respectfully intimating to the widow that her +position in the Weeping Alone apartment was now untenable. He was +immediately commanded to lay another cover. + +"Madame and comrades," declaimed Tricotrin, unrolling a voluminous +manuscript, as they took their seats around the pot-au-feu, "I have +composed for this piteous occasion a brief poem!" + +"I must beseech your pardon," stammered Flamant, rising in deep +confusion; "I have nine apologies to tender. Gentlemen, this touching +wreath for the tomb of my career finds the tomb unready. These +affecting garments which you have hired at, I fear, ruinous expense, +should be exchanged for bunting; that immortal poem with which our +friend would favour us has been suddenly deprived of all its point." + +"Explain! explain!" volleyed from nine throats. + +"I shall still read it," insisted Tricotrin, "it is good." + +"The lady--nay, the goddess--whom you behold, has showered commissions, +and for one year more I shall still be in your midst. Brothers in art, +brothers in heart, I ask you to charge your glasses, and let your +voices ring. The toast is, 'Madame Aurore and her gift of the New +Year!'" + +"Madame Aurore and her gift of the New Year!" shrieked the nine young +men, springing to their feet. + +"In a year much may happen," said the lady tremulously. + +And when they had all sat down again, Flamant was thrilled to find her +hand in his beneath the table. + + + +THE DRESS CLOTHES OF MONSIEUR POMPONNET + +It was thanks to Touquet that she was able to look so chic--the little +baggage!--yet of all her suitors Touquet was the one she favoured +least. He was the costumier at the corner of the rue des Martyrs, and +made a very fair thing of the second-hand clothes. It was to Touquet's +that the tradesmen of the quarter turned as a matter of course to hire +dress-suits for their nuptials; it was in the well-cleaned satins of +Touquet that the brides' mothers and the lady guests cut such imposing +figures when they were photographed after the wedding breakfasts; it +was even Touquet who sometimes supplied a gown to one or another of the +humble actresses at the Theatre Montmartre, and received a couple of +free tickets in addition to his fee. I tell you that Touquet was not a +person to be sneezed at, though he had passed the first flush of youth, +and was never an Adonis. + +Besides, who was she, this little Lisette, who had the impudence to +flout him? A girl in a florist's, if you can believe me, with no +particular beauty herself, and not a son by way of dot! And yet--one +must confess it--she turned a head as swiftly as she made a +"buttonhole"; and Pomponnet, the pastrycook, was paying court to her, +too--to say nothing of the homage of messieurs Tricotrin, the poet, and +Goujaud, the painter, and Lajeunie, the novelist. You would never have +guessed that her wages were only twenty francs a week, as you watched +her waltz with Tricotrin at the ball on Saturday evening, or as you saw +her enter Pomponnet's shop, when the shutters were drawn, to feast on +his strawberry tarts. Her costumes were the cynosure of the boulevard +Rochechouart! + +And they were all due to Touquet, Touquet the infatuated, who lent the +fine feathers to her for the sake of a glance, or a pressure of the +hand--and wept on his counter afterwards while he wondered whose arms +might be embracing her in the costumes that he had cleaned and pressed +with so much care. Often he swore that his folly should end--that she +should be affianced to him, or go shabby; but, lo! in a day or two she +would make her appearance again, to coax for the loan of a smart +blouse, or "that hat with the giant rose and the ostrich plume"--and +Touquet would be as weak as ever. + +Judge, then, of his despair when he heard that she had agreed to marry +Pomponnet! She told him the news with the air of an amiable gossip when +she came to return a ball-dress that she had borrowed. + +"Enfin," she said--perched on the counter, and swinging her remorseless +feet--"it is arranged; I desert the flowers for the pastry, and become +the mistress of a shop. I shall have to beg from my good friend +monsieur Touquet no more--not at all! I shall be his client, like the +rest. It will be better, hein?" + +Touquet groaned. "You know well, Lisette," he answered, "that it has +been a joy to me to place the stock at your disposal, even though it +was to make you more attractive in the eyes of other men. Everything +here that you have worn possesses a charm to me. I fondle the garments +when you bring them back; I take them down from the pegs and dream over +them. Truly! There is no limit to my weakness, for often when a client +proposes to hire a frock that you have had, I cannot bear that she +should profane it, and I say that it is engaged." + +"You dear, kind monsieur Touquet," murmured the coquette; "how +agreeable you are!" + +"I have always hoped for the day when the stock would be all your own, +Lisette. And by-and-by we might have removed to a better position-- +even down the hill. Who knows? We might have opened a business in the +Madeleine quarter. That would suit you better than a little cake-shop +up a side street? And I would have risked it for you--I know how you +incline to fashion. When I have taken you to a theatre, did you choose +the Montmartre--where we might have gone for nothing--or the Moncey? +Not you!--that might do for other girls. _You_ have always +demanded the theatres of the Grand Boulevard; a cup of coffee at the +Cafe de la Paix is more to your taste than a bottle of beer and +hard-boiled eggs at The Nimble Rabbit. Heaven knows I trust you will be +happy, but I cannot persuade myself that this Pomponnet shares your +ambitions; with his slum and his stale pastry he is quite content." + +"It is not stale," she said. + +"Well, we will pass his pastry--though, word of honour, I bought some +there last week that might have been baked before the Commune; but to +recur to his soul, is it an affinity?" + +"Affinities are always hard up," she pouted. + +"Zut!" exclaimed Touquet; "now your mind is running on that monsieur +Tricotrin--by 'affinities' I do not mean hungry poets. Why not have +entrusted your happiness to _me_? I adore you, I have told you a +thousand times that I adore you. Lisette, consider before it is too +late! You cannot love this--this obscure baker?" + +She gave a shrug. "It is a fact that devotion has not robbed me of my +appetite," she confessed. "But what would you have? His business goes +far better than you imagine--I have seen his books; and anyhow, my +sentiment for you is friendship, and no more." + +"To the devil with friendship!" cried the unhappy wardrobe-dealer; "did +I dress you like the Empress Josephine for friendship?" + +"Do not mock yourself of it," she said reprovingly; "remember that +'Friendship is a beautiful flower, of which esteem is the stem.'" And, +having thrown the adage to him, coupled with a glance that drove him to +distraction, the little flirt jumped off the counter and was gone. + +Much more reluctantly she contemplated parting with him whom the +costumier had described as a "hungry poet"; but matrimony did not enter +the poet's scheme of things, nor for that matter had she ever regarded +him as a possible parti. Yet a woman may give her fancy where her +reason refuses to follow, and when she imparted her news to Tricotrin +there was no smile on her lips. + +"We shall not go to balls any more, old dear," she said. "Monsieur +Pomponnet has proposed marriage to me--and I settle down." + +"Heartless girl," exclaimed the young man, with tears in his eyes. "So +much for woman's constancy!" + +"Mon Dieu," she faltered, "did you then love me, Gustave--really?" + +"I do not know," said Tricotrin, "but since I am to lose you, I prefer +to think so. Ah, do not grieve for me--fortunately, there is always the +Seine! And first I shall pour my misery into song; and in years to +come, fair daughters at your side will read the deathless poem, little +dreaming that the Lisette I sang to is their mother. Some time--long +after I am in my grave, when France has honoured me at last--you may +stand before a statue that bears my name, and think, 'He loved me, and +I broke his heart!'" + +"Oh," she whimpered, "rather than break your heart I--I might break the +engagement! I might consider again, Gustave." + +"No, no," returned Tricotrin, "I will not reproach myself with the +thought that I have marred your life; I will leave you free. Besides, +as I say, I am not certain that I should want you so much but for the +fact that I have lost you. After all, you will not appreciate the poem +that immortalises you, and if I lived, many of your remarks about it +would doubtless infuriate me." + +"Why shall I not appreciate it? Am I so stupid?" + +"It is not that you are stupid, my Soul," he explained; "it is that I +am transcendentally clever. To understand the virtues of my work one +must have sipped from all the flowers of Literature. 'There is to be +found in it Racine, Voltaire, Flaubert, Renan--and always Gustave +Tricotrin,' as Lemaitre has written. He wrote, '--and always Anatole +France,' but I paraphrase him slightly. So you are going to marry +Pomponnet? Mon Dieu, when I have any sous in my pocket, I will ruin +myself, for the rapture of regretting you among the pastry!" + +"I thought," she said, a little mortified, "that you were going to +drown yourself?" + +"Am I not to write my Lament to you? I must eat while I write it--why +not pastry? Also, when I am penniless and starving, you may sometimes, +in your prosperity--And yet, perhaps, it is too much to ask?" + +"Give you tick, do you mean, dear? But yes, Gustave; how can you doubt +that I will do that? In memory of--" + +"In memory of the love that has been, you will permit me to run up a +small score for cakes, will you not, Lisette?" + +"I will, indeed!" she promised. "But, but--Oh, it's quite true, I +should never understand you! A minute ago you made me think of you in +the Morgue, and now you make me think of you in the cake-shop. What are +you laughing at?" + +"I laugh, like Figaro," said Tricotrin, "that I may not be obliged to +weep. When are you going to throw yourself away, my little Lisette? Has +my accursed rival induced you to fix a date?' + +"We are to be married in a fortnight's time," she said. "And if you +could undertake to be sensible, I would ask Alphonse to invite you to +the breakfast." + +"In a fortnight's time hunger and a hopeless passion will probably have +made an end of me," replied the poet; "however, if I survive, the +breakfast will certainly be welcome. Where is it to be held? I can +recommend a restaurant that is especially fine at such affairs, and +most moderate. 'Photographs of the party are taken gratuitously in the +Jardin d'Acclimatation, and pianos are at the disposal of the ladies'; +I quote from the menu--I study it in the window every time I pass. +There are wedding breakfasts from six to twelve francs per head. At six +francs, the party have their choice of two soups and three hors +d'oeuvres. Then comes 'poisson'--I fear it may be whiting--filet de +boeuf with tomates farcies, bouchees a la Reine, chicken, pigeons, +salad, two vegetables, an ice, assorted fruits, and biscuits. The wines +are madeira, a bottle of macon to each person, a bottle of bordeaux +among four persons, and a bottle of champagne among ten persons. Also +coffee and liqueurs. At six francs a head! It is good, hein? At seven +francs there is a bottle of champagne among every eight persons-- +Pomponnet will, of course, do as he thinks best. At eight francs, a +bottle is provided for every six persons. I have too much delicacy to +make suggestions, but should he be willing to soar to twelve francs a +head, I might eat enough to last a week--and of such quality! The soups +would then be bisque d'ecrevisse and consomme Rachel. Rissoles de foies +gras would appear. Asparagus 'in branches,' and compote of peaches +flavoured with maraschino would be included. Also, in the twelve-franc +breakfast, the champagne begins to have a human name on the label!" + +Now, it is not certain how much of this information Lisette repeated to +Pomponnet, but Pomponnet, having a will of his own, refused to +entertain monsieur Tricotrin at any price at all. More-over, he found +it unconventional that she should desire the poet's company, +considering the attentions that he had paid her; and she was forced to +listen, with an air of humility which she was far from feeling, to a +lecture on the responsibilities of her new position. + +"I am not a jealous man," said the pastrycook, who was as jealous a man +as ever baked a pie; "but it would be discreet that you dropped this +acquaintance now that we are engaged. I know well that you have never +taken the addresses of such a fellow seriously, and that it is only in +the goodness of your heart you wish to present him with a blow-out. +Nevertheless, the betrothal of a man in my circumstances is much +remarked; all the daughters of the hairdresser next door have had their +hopes of me--indeed, there is scarcely a neighbour who is not chagrined +at the turn events have taken--and the world would be only too glad of +an excuse to call me 'fool.' Pomponnet's wife must be above suspicion. +You will remember that a little lightness of conduct which might be +forgiven in the employee of the florist would be unseemly in my +fiancee. No more conversation with monsieur Tricotrin, Lisette! Some +dignity--some coldness in the bow when you pass him. The boulevard will +observe it, it will be approved." + +"You, of course, know best, my dear Alphonse," she returned meekly; "I +am only an inexperienced girl, and I am thankful to have your advice to +guide me. But let me say that never, never has there been any +'lightness of conduct,' to distress you. Monsieur Tricotrin and I have +been merely friends. If I have gone to a ball with him sometimes--and I +acknowledge that has happened--it has been because nobody more to my +taste has offered to take me." She had ground her little teeth under +the infliction of his homily, and it was only by dint of thinking hard +of his profits that she abstained from retorting that he might marry +all the daughters of the hairdresser and go to Uganda. + +However, during the next week or so, she did not chance to meet the +poet on the boulevard; and since she wished to conquer her tenderness +for him, one cannot doubt that all would have been well but for the +Editor of _L'Echo de la Butte._ By a freak of fate, the Editor of +_L'Echo de la Butte_ was moved to invite monsieur Tricotrin to an +affair of ceremony two days previous to the wedding. What followed? +Naturally Tricotrin must present himself in evening dress. Naturally, +also, he must go to Touquet's to hire the suit. + +"Regard," said the costumier, "here is a suit that I have just +acquired. Monsieur will observe that it is of the most distinguished +cut--quite in the latest fashion. I will whisper to monsieur that it +comes to me through the valet of the Comte de St.-Nom-la-Breteche- +Foret-de-Marly." + +"Mon Dieu!" said Tricotrin, "let me try it on!" And he was so gratified +by his appearance in it that he barely winced at the thought of the +expense. "I am improving my position," he soliloquised; "if I have not +precisely inherited the mantle of Victor Hugo, I have, at any rate, +hired the dress-suit of the Comte de St.-Nom-la-Breteche-Foret-de- +Marly!" + +Never had a more impressive spectacle been witnessed in Montmartre than +Tricotrin's departure from his latest lodging shortly after six +o'clock. Wearing a shirt of Pitou's, Flamant's patent-leather boots, +and a white tie contributed by Goujaud, the young man sallied forth +with the deportment of the Count himself. Only one thing more did he +desire, a flower for his buttonhole--and Lisette remained in her +situation until the morrow! What more natural, finally, than that he +should hie him to the florist's? + +It was the first time that she had seen her lover in evening dress, and +sentiment overpowered her as he entered. + +"Thou!" she murmured, paling. + +On the poet, too, the influence of the clothes was very strong; attired +like a jeune premier, he craved with all the dramatic instinct of his +nature for a love scene; and, instead of fulfilling his intention to +beg for a rosebud at cost price, he gazed at her soulfully and breathed +"Lisette!" + +"So we have met again!" she said. + +"The world is small," returned the poet, ignoring the fact that he had +come to the shop. "And am I yet remembered?" + +"It is not likely I should forget you in a few days," she said, more +practically; "I didn't forget about the breakfast, either, but Alphonse +put his foot down." + +"Pig!" said the poet. "And yet it may be better so! How could I eat in +such an hour?" + +"However, you are not disconsolate this evening?" she suggested. "Mais +vrai! what a swell you are!" + +"Flute! some fashionable assembly that will bore me beyond endurance," +he sighed. "With you alone, Lisette, have I known true happiness--the +train rides on summer nights that were joyous because we loved; the +simple meals that were sweetened by your smile!" + +"Ah, Gustave!" she said. "Wait, I must give you a flower for your +coat!" + +"I shall keep it all my life!" vowed Tricotrin. "Tell me, little one--I +dare not stay now, because my host lives a long way off--but this +evening, could you not meet me once again? For the last time, to say +farewell? I have nearly two francs fifty, and we might go to supper, if +you agree." + +It was arranged before he took leave of her that she should meet him +outside the _debit_ at the corner of the rue de Sontay at eleven +o'clock, and sup with him there, in a locality where she was unlikely +to be recognised. Rash enough, this conduct, for a young woman who was +to be married to another man on the next day but one! But a greater +imprudence was to follow. They supped, they sentimentalised, and when +they parted in the Champs Elysees and the moonshine, she gave him from +her bosom a little rose-coloured envelope that contained nothing less +than a lock of her hair. + +The poet placed it tenderly in his waistcoat pocket; and, after he had +wept, and quoted poetry to the stars, forgot it. He began to wish that +he had not mixed his liquors quite so impartially; and, on the morrow, +when he woke, he was mindful of nothing more grievous than a splitting +headache. + +Now Touquet, who could not sleep of nights because the pastrycook was +going to marry Lisette, made a practice of examining the pockets of all +garments returned to him, with an eye to stray sous; and when he +proceeded to examine the pockets of the dress-suit returned by monsieur +Tricotrin, what befell but that he drew forth a rose-tinted envelope +containing a tress of hair, and inscribed, "To Gustave, from Lisette. +Adieu." + +And the Editor who invited monsieur Tricotrin had never heard of +Lisette; never heard of Pomponnet; did not know that such a person as +Touquet existed; yet the editorial caprice had manipulated destinies. +How powerful are Editors! How complicated is life! + +But a truce to philosophy--let us deal with the emotions of the soul! +The shop reeled before Touquet. All the good and the bad in his +character battled tumultuously. In one moment he aspired to be generous +and restore to Lisette the evidence of her guilt; in the next he sank +to the base thought of displaying it to Pomponnet and breaking off the +match. The discovery fired his brain. No longer was he a nonentity, the +odd man out--chance had transformed him to the master of the situation. +Full well he knew that there would be no nuptials next day were +Pomponnet aware of his fiancee's perfidy; it needed but to go to him +and say, "Monsieur, my sense of duty compels me to inform you--." How +easy it would be! He laughed hysterically. + +But Lisette would never pardon such a meanness--she would always +despise and hate him! He would have torn her from his rival's arms, it +was true, yet his own would still be empty. "Ah, Lisette, Lisette!" +groaned the wretched man; and, swept to evil by the force of passion, +he cudgelled his mind to devise some piece of trickery, some diabolical +artifice, by which the incriminating token might be placed in the +pastrycook's hands as if by accident. + +And while he pondered--his "whole soul a chaos"--in that hour Pomponnet +entered to hire a dress-suit for his wedding! + +Touquet raised his head, blanched to the lips. + +"Regard," he said, with a forced calm terrible to behold; "here is a +suit that I have just acquired. Monsieur will observe that it is of the +most distinguished cut--quite in the latest fashion. I will whisper to +monsieur that it comes to me through the valet of the Comte de St. Nom- +la-Breteche-Foret-de-Marly." And, unseen by the guileless bridegroom, +he slipped the damning proof into a pocket of the trousers, where his +knowledge of the pastrycook's attitudes assured him that it was even +more certain to be found than in the waistcoat. + +"Mon Dieu!" said the other, duly impressed by the suit's pedigree; "let +me try it on.... The coat is rather tight," he complained, "but it has +undeniably an air." + +"No more than one client has worn it," gasped the wardrobe dealer +haggardly: _"monsieur Gustave Tricotrin, the poet, who hired it last +night!_ The suit is practically new; I have no other in the +establishment to compare with it. Listen, monsieur Pomponnet! To an old +client like yourself, I will be liberal; wear it this evening for an +hour in your home--if you find it not to your figure, there will be +time to make another selection before the ceremony to-morrow. You shall +have this on trial, I will make no extra charge." + +Such munificence was bound to have its effect, and five minutes later +Touquet's plot had progressed. But the tension had been frightful; the +door had scarcely closed when he sank into a chair, trembling in every +limb, and for the rest of the day he attended to his business like one +moving in a trance. + +Meanwhile, the unsuspecting Pomponnet reviewed the arrangement with +considerable satisfaction; and when he came to attire himself, after +the cake-shop was shut, his reflected image pleased him so well that he +was tempted to stroll abroad. He decided to call on his betrothed, and +to exhibit himself a little on the boulevard. Accordingly, he put some +money in the pocket of the waistcoat, oiled his silk hat, to give it an +additional lustre, and sallied forth in high good-humour. + +"How splendid you look, my dear Alphonse!" exclaimed Lisette, little +dreaming it was the same suit that she had approved on Tricotrin the +previous evening. + +Her innocent admiration was agreeable to Pomponnet; he patted her on +the cheek. + +"In truth," he said carelessly, "I had forgotten that I had it on! But I +was so impatient for to-morrow, my pet angel, that I could not remain +alone and I had to come to see you." + +They were talking on her doorstep, for she had no apartment in which it +would have been _convenable_ to entertain him, and it appeared to +him that the terrace of a cafe would be more congenial. + +"Run upstairs and make your toilette, my loving duck," he suggested, +"and I shall take you out for a tasse. While you are getting ready, I +will smoke a cigar." And he drew his cigar-case from the breast-pocket +of the coat, and took a match-box from the pocket where he had put his +cash. + +It was a balmy evening, sweet with the odour of spring, and the streets +were full of life. As he promenaded with her on the boulevard, +Pomponnet did not fail to remark the attention commanded by his +costume. He strutted proudly, and when they reached the cafe and took +their seats, he gave his order with the authority of the President. + +"Ah!" he remarked, "it is good here, hein?" And then, stretching his +legs, he thrust both his hands into the pockets of his trousers. +"_Comment?_" he murmured. "What have I found?... Now is not this +amusing--I swear it is a billet-doux!" He bent, chuckling, to the +light--and bounded in his chair with an oath that turned a dozen heads +towards them. "Traitress," roared Pomponnet, "miserable traitress! It +is _your_ name! It is your _writing_! It is your _hair_! +Do not deny it; give me your head--it matches to a shade! Jezebel, last +night you met monsieur Tricotrin--you have deceived me!" + +Lisette, who had jumped as high as he in recognising the envelope, sat +like one paralysed now. Her tongue refused to move. For an instant, the +catastrophe seemed to her of supernatural agency--it was as if a +miracle had happened, as she saw her fiance produce her lover's +keepsake. All she could stammer at last was: + +"Let us go away--pay for the coffee!" + +"I will not pay," shouted monsieur Pomponnet. "Pay for it yourself, +jade--I have done with you!" And, leaving her spellbound at the table, +he strode from the terrace like a madman before the waiters could stop +him. + +Oh, of course, he was well known at the cafe, and they did not detain +Lisette, but it was a most ignominious position for a young woman. And +there was no wedding next day, and everybody knew why. The little +coquette, who had mocked suitors by the dozen, was jilted almost on the +threshold of the Mairie. She smacked Tricotrin's face in the morning, +but her humiliation was so acute that it demanded the salve of +immediate marriage; and at the moment she could think of no one better +than Touquet. + +So Touquet won her after all. And though by this time she may guess how +he accomplished it, he will tell you--word of honour!--that never, +never has he had occasion for regret. + + + +THE SUICIDES IN THE RUE SOMBRE + +Having bought the rope, Tournicquot wondered where he should hang +himself. The lath-and-plaster ceiling of his room might decline to +support him, and while the streets were populous a lamp-post was out of +the question. As he hesitated on the kerb, he reflected that a pan of +charcoal would have been more convenient after all; but the coil of +rope in the doorway of a shop had lured his fancy, and now it would be +laughable to throw it away. + +Tournicquot was much averse from being laughed at in private life-- +perhaps because Fate had willed that he should be laughed at so much in +his public capacity. Could he have had his way, indeed, Tournicquot +would have been a great tragedian, instead of a little droll, whose +portraits, with a bright red nose and a scarlet wig, grimaced on the +hoardings; and he resolved that, at any rate, the element of humour +should not mar his suicide. + +As to the motive for his death, it was as romantic as his heart +desired. He adored "La Belle Lucerce," the fascinating Snake Charmer, +and somewhere in the background the artiste had a husband. Little the +audience suspected the passion that devoured their grotesque comedian +while he cut his capers and turned love to ridicule; little they +divined the pathos of a situation which condemned him behind the scenes +to whisper the most sentimental assurances of devotion when disfigured +by a flaming wig and a nose that was daubed vermilion! How nearly it +has been said, One half of the world does not know how the other half +loves! + +But such incongruities would distress Tournicquot no more--to-day he +was to die; he had worn his chessboard trousers and his little green +coat for the last time! For the last time had the relentless virtue of +Lucrece driven him to despair! When he was discovered inanimate, +hanging to a beam, nothing comic about him, perhaps the world would +admit that his soul had been solemn, though his "line of business" had +been funny; perhaps Lucrece would even drop warm tears on his tomb! + +It was early in the evening. Dusk was gathering over Paris, the promise +of dinner was in the breeze. The white glare of electric globes began +to flood the streets; and before the cafes, waiters bustled among the +tables, bearing the vermouth and absinthe of the hour. Instinctively +shunning the more frequented thoroughfares, Tournicquot crossed the +boulevard des Batignolles, and wandered, lost in reverie, along the +melancholy continuation of the rue de Rome until he perceived that he +had reached a neighbourhood unknown to him--that he stood at the corner +of a street which bore the name "Rue Sombre." Opposite, one of the +houses was being rebuilt, and as he gazed at it--this skeleton of a +home in which the workmen's hammers were silenced for the night-- +Tournicquot recognised that his journey was at an end. Here, he could +not doubt that he would find the last, grim hospitality that he sought. +The house had no door to bar his entrance, but--as if in omen--above +the gap where a door had been, the sinister number "13" was still to be +discerned. He cast a glance over his shoulder, and, grasping the rope +with a firm hand, crept inside. + +It was dark within, so dark that at first he could discern nothing but +the gleam of bare walls. He stole along the passage, and, mounting a +flight of steps, on which his feet sprung mournful echoes, proceeded +stealthily towards an apartment on the first floor. At this point the +darkness became impenetrable, for the _volets_ had been closed, +and in order to make his arrangements, it was necessary that he should +have a light. He paused, fumbling in his pocket; and then, with his +next step, blundered against a body, which swung from the contact, like +a human being suspended in mid-air. + +Tournicquot leapt backwards in terror. A cold sweat bespangled him, and +for some seconds he shook so violently that he was unable to strike a +match. At last, when he accomplished it, he beheld a man, apparently +dead, hanging by a rope in the doorway. + +"Ah, mon Dieu!" gasped Tournicquot. And the thudding of his heart +seemed to resound through the deserted house. + +Humanity impelled him to rescue the poor wretch, if it was still to be +done. Shuddering, he whipped out his knife, and sawed at the cord +desperately. The cord was stout, and the blade of the knife but small; +an eternity seemed to pass while he sawed in the darkness. Presently +one of the strands gave way. He set his teeth and pressed harder, and +harder yet. Suddenly the rope yielded and the body fell to the ground. +Tournicquot threw himself beside it, tearing open the collar, and using +frantic efforts to restore animation. There was no result. He +persevered, but the body lay perfectly inert. He began to reflect that +it was his duty to inform the police of the discovery, and he asked +himself how he should account for his presence on the scene. Just as he +was considering this, he felt the stir of life. As if by a miracle the +man groaned. + +"Courage, my poor fellow!" panted Tournicquot. "Courage--all is well!" + +The man groaned again; and after an appalling silence, during which +Tournicquot began to tremble for his fate anew, asked feebly, "Where am +I?" + +"You would have hanged yourself," explained Tournicquot. "Thanks to +Heaven, I arrived in time to save your life!" + +In the darkness they could not see each other, but he felt for the +man's hand and pressed it warmly. To his consternation, he received, +for response, a thump in the chest. + +"Morbleu, what an infernal cheek!" croaked the man. "So you have cut me +down? You meddlesome idiot, by what right did you poke your nose into +my affairs, hein?" + +Dismay held Tournicquot dumb. + +"Hein?" wheezed the man; "what concern was it of yours, if you please? +Never in my life before have I met with such a piece of presumption!" + +"My poor friend," stammered Tournicquot, "you do not know what you say +--you are not yourself! By-and-by you will be grateful, you will fall on +your knees and bless me." + +"By-and-by I shall punch you in the eye," returned the man, "just as +soon as I am feeling better! What have you done to my collar, too? I +declare you have played the devil with me!" His annoyance rose. "Who +are you, and what are you doing here, anyhow? You are a trespasser--I +shall give you in charge." + +"Come, come," said Tournicquot, conciliatingly, "if your misfortunes +are more than you can bear, I regret that I was obliged to save you; +but, after all, there is no need to make such a grievance of it--you +can hang yourself another day." + +"And why should I be put to the trouble twice?" grumbled the other. "Do +you figure yourself that it is agreeable to hang? I passed a very bad +time, I can assure you. If you had experienced it, you would not talk +so lightly about 'another day.' The more I think of your impudent +interference, the more it vexes me. And how dark it is! Get up and +light the candle--it gives me the hump here." + +"I have no candle, I have no candle," babbled Tournicquot; "I do not +carry candles in my pocket." + +"There is a bit on the mantelpiece," replied the man angrily; "I saw it +when I came in. Go and feel for it--hunt about! Do not keep me lying +here in the dark--the least you can do is to make me as comfortable as +you can." + +Tournicquot, not a little perturbed by the threat of assault, groped +obediently; but the room appeared to be of the dimensions of a park, +and he arrived at the candle stump only after a prolonged excursion. +The flame revealed to him a man of about his own age, who leant against +the wall regarding him with indignant eyes. Revealed also was the coil +of rope that the comedian had brought for his own use; and the man +pointed to it. + +"What is that? It was not here just now." + +"It belongs to me," admitted Tournicquot, nervously. + +"I see that it belongs to you. Why do you visit an empty house with a +coil of rope, hein? I should like to understand that ... Upon my life, +you were here on the same business as myself! Now if this does not pass +all forbearance! You come to commit suicide, and yet you have the +effrontery to put a stop to mine!" + +"Well," exclaimed Tournicquot, "I obeyed an impulse of pity! It is true +that I came to destroy myself, for I am the most miserable of men; but +I was so much affected by the sight of your sufferings that temporarily +I forgot my own." + +"That is a lie, for I was not suffering--I was not conscious when you +came in. However, you have some pretty moments in front of you, so we +will say no more! When you feel yourself drop, it will be diabolical, I +promise you; the hair stands erect on the head, and each spot of blood +in the veins congeals to a separate icicle! It is true that the drop +itself is swift, but the clutch of the rope, as you kick in the air, is +hardly less atrocious. Do not be encouraged by the delusion that the +matter is instantaneous. Time mocks you, and a second holds the +sensations of a quarter of an hour. What has forced you to it? We need +not stand on ceremony with each other, hein?" + +"I have resolved to die because life is torture," said Tournicquot, on +whom these details had made an unfavourable impression. + +"The same with me! A woman, of course?" + +"Yes," sighed Tournicquot, "a woman!" + +"Is there no other remedy? Cannot you desert her?" + +"Desert her? I pine for her embrace!" + +"Hein?" + +"She will not have anything to do with me." + +"_Comment?_ Then it is love with you?" + +"What else? An eternal passion!" + +"Oh, mon Dieu, I took it for granted you were married! But this is +droll. _You_ would die because you cannot get hold of a woman, and +_I_ because I cannot get rid of one. We should talk, we two. Can +you give me a cigarette?" + +"With pleasure, monsieur," responded Tournicquot, producing a packet. +"I, also, will take one--my last!" + +"If I expressed myself hastily just now," said his companion, +refastening his collar, "I shall apologise--no doubt your interference +was well meant, though I do not pretend to approve it. Let us dismiss +the incident; you have behaved tactlessly, and I, on my side, have +perhaps resented your error with too much warmth. Well, it is finished! +While the candle burns, let us exchange more amicable views. Is my +cravat straight? It astonishes me to hear that love can drive a man to +such despair. I, too, have loved, but never to the length of the rope. +There are plenty of women in Paris--if one has no heart, there is +always another. I am far from proposing to frustrate your project, +holding as I do that a man's suicide is an intimate matter in which +'rescue' is a name given by busybodies to a gross impertinence; but as +you have not begun the job, I will confess that I think you are being +rash." + +"I have considered," replied Tournicquot, "I have considered +attentively. There is no alternative, I assure you." + +"I would make another attempt to persuade the lady--I swear I would +make another attempt! You are not a bad-looking fellow. What is her +objection to you?" + +"It is not that she objects to me--on the contrary. But she is a woman +of high principle, and she has a husband who is devoted to her--she +will not break his heart. It is like that." + +"Young?" + +"No more than thirty." + +"And beautiful?" + +"With a beauty like an angel's! She has a dimple in her right cheek +when she smiles that drives one to distraction." + +"Myself, I have no weakness for dimples; but every man to his taste-- +there is no arguing about these things. What a combination--young, +lovely, virtuous! And I make you a bet the oaf of a husband does not +appreciate her! Is it not always so? Now _I_--but of course I +married foolishly, I married an artiste. If I had my time again I would +choose in preference any sempstress. The artistes are for applause, +for bouquets, for little dinners, but not for marriage." + +"I cannot agree with you," said Tournicquot, with some hauteur, "Your +experience may have been unfortunate, but the theatre contains women +quite as noble as any other sphere. In proof of it, the lady I adore is +an artiste herself!" + +"Really--is it so? Would it be indiscreet to ask her name?" + +"There are things that one does not tell." + +"But as a matter of interest? There is nothing derogatory to her in +what you say--quite the reverse." + +"True! Well, the reason for reticence is removed. She is known as 'La +Belle Lucrece.'" + +"_Hein?"_ ejaculated the other, jumping. + +"What ails you?" + +"She is my wife!" + +"Your wife? Impossible!" + +"I tell you I am married to her--she is 'madame Beguinet.'" + +"Mon Dieu!" faltered Tournicquot, aghast; "what have I done!" + +"So?... You are her lover?" + +"Never has she encouraged me--recall what I said! There are no grounds +for jealousy--am I not about to die because she spurns me? I swear to +you--" + +"You mistake my emotion--why should I be jealous? Not at all--I am only +amazed. She thinks I am devoted to her? Ho, ho! Not at all! You see my +'devotion' by the fact that I am about to hang myself rather than live +with her. And _you_, you cannot bear to live because you adore +her! Actually, you adore her! Is it not inexplicable? Oh, there is +certainly the finger of Providence in this meeting!... Wait, we must +discuss--we should come to each other's aid!... Give me another +cigarette." + +Some seconds passed while they smoked in silent meditation. + +"Listen," resumed monsieur Beguinet; "in order to clear up this +complication, a perfect candour is required on both sides. Alors, as to +your views, is it that you aspire to marry madame? I do not wish to +appear exigent, but in the position that I occupy you will realise that +it is my duty to make the most favourable arrangements for her that I +can. Now open your heart to me; speak frankly!" + +"It is difficult for me to express myself without restraint to you, +monsieur," said Tournicquot, "because circumstances cause me to regard +you as a grievance. To answer you with all the delicacy possible, I +will say that if I had cut you down five minutes later, life would be a +fairer thing to me." + +"Good," said monsieur Beguinet, "we make progress! Your income? Does it +suffice to support her in the style to which she is accustomed? What +may your occupation be?" + +"I am in madame's own profession--I, too, am an artiste." + +"So much the more congenial! I foresee a joyous union. Come, we go +famously! Your line of business--snakes, ventriloquism, performing- +rabbits, what is it?" + +"My name is 'Tournicquot,'" responded the comedian, with dignity. "All +is said!" + +"A-ah! Is it so? Now I understand why your voice has been puzzling me! +Monsieur Tournicquot, I am enchanted to make your acquaintance. I +declare the matter arranges itself! I shall tell you what we will do. +Hitherto I have had no choice between residing with madame and +committing suicide, because my affairs have not prospered, and--though +my pride has revolted--her salary has been essential for my +maintenance. Now the happy medium jumps to the eyes; for you, for me, +for her the bright sunshine streams! I shall efface myself; I shall go +to a distant spot--say, Monte Carlo--and you shall make me a snug +allowance. Have no misgiving; crown her with blossoms, lead her to the +altar, and rest tranquil--I shall never reappear. Do not figure +yourself that I shall enter like the villain at the Amibigu and menace +the blissful home. Not at all! I myself may even re-marry, who knows? +Indeed, should you offer me an allowance adequate for a family man, I +will undertake to re-marry--I have always inclined towards speculation. +That will shut my mouth, hein? I could threaten nothing, even if I had +a base nature, for I, also, shall have committed bigamy. Suicide, +bigamy, I would commit _anything_ rather than live with Lucrece!" + +"But madame's consent must be gained," demurred Tournicquot; "you +overlook the fact that madame must consent. It is a fact that I do not +understand why she should have any consideration for you, but if she +continues to harp upon her 'duty,' what then?" + +"Do you not tell me that her only objection to your suit has been her +fear that she would break my heart? What an hallucination! I shall +approach the subject with tact, with the utmost delicacy. I shall +intimate to her that to ensure her happiness I am willing to sacrifice +myself. Should she hesitate, I shall demand to sacrifice myself! Rest +assured that if she regards you with the favour that you believe, your +troubles are at an end--the barrier removes itself, and you join +hands.... The candle is going out! Shall we depart?" + +"I perceive no reason why we should remain; In truth, we might have got +out of it sooner." + +"You are right! a cafe will be more cheerful. Suppose we take a bottle +of wine together; how does it strike you? If you insist, I will be your +guest; if not--" + +"Ah, monsieur, you will allow me the pleasure," murmured Tournicquot. + +"Well, well," said Beguinet, "you must have your way!... Your rope you +have no use for, hein--we shall leave it?" + +"But certainly! Why should I burden myself?" + +"The occasion has passed, true. Good! Come, my comrade, let us +descend!" + +Who shall read the future? Awhile ago they had been strangers, neither +intending to quit the house alive; now the pair issued from it +jauntily, arm in arm. Both were in high spirits, and by the time the +lamps of a cafe gave them welcome, and the wine gurgled gaily into the +glasses, they pledged each other with a sentiment no less than +fraternal. + +"How I rejoice that I have met you!" exclaimed Beguinet. "To your +marriage, mon vieux; to your joy! Fill up, again a glass!--there are +plenty of bottles in the cellar. Mon Dieu, you are my preserver--I must +embrace you. Never till now have I felt such affection for a man. This +evening all was black to me; I despaired, my heart was as heavy as a +cannon-ball--and suddenly the world is bright. Roses bloom before my +feet, and the little larks are singing in the sky. I dance, I skip. How +beautiful, how sublime is friendship!--better than riches, than youth, +than the love of woman: riches melt, youth flies, woman snores. But +friendship is--Again a glass! It goes well, this wine. + +"Let us have a lobster! I swear I have an appetite; they make one +peckish, these suicides, n'est-ce pas? I shall not be formal--if you +consider it your treat, you shall pay. A lobster and another bottle! At +your expense, or mine?" + +"Ah, the bill all in one!" declared Tourniequot. + +"Well, well," said Beguinet, "you must have your way! What a happy man +I am! Already I feel twenty years younger. You would not believe what I +have suffered. My agonies would fill a book. Really. By nature I am +domesticated; but my home is impossible--I shudder when I enter it. It +is only in a restaurant that I see a clean table-cloth. Absolutely. I +pig. All Lucrece thinks about is frivolity." + +"No, no," protested Tournicquot; "to that I cannot agree." + +"What do you know? You 'cannot agree'! You have seen her when she is +laced in her stage costume, when she prinks and prattles, with the +paint, and the powder, and her best corset on. It is I who am 'behind +the scenes,' mon ami, not you. I see her dirty peignoir and her curl +rags. At four o'clock in the afternoon. Every day. You 'cannot agree'!" + +"Curl rags?" faltered Tournicquot. + +"But certainly! I tell you I am of a gentle disposition, I am most +tolerant of women's failings; it says much that I would have hanged +myself rather than remain with a woman. Her untidiness is not all; her +toilette at home revolts my sensibilities, but--well, one cannot have +everything, and her salary is substantial; I have closed my eyes to the +curl rags. However, snakes are more serious." + +"Snakes?" ejaculated Tournicquot. + +"Naturally! The beasts must live, do they not support us? But +'Everything in its place' is my own motto; the motto of my wife--'All +over the place.' Her serpents have shortened my life, word of honour!-- +they wander where they will. I never lay my head beside those curl rags +of hers without anticipating a cobra-decapello under the bolster. It is +not everybody's money. Lucrece has no objection to them; well, it is +very courageous--very fortunate, since snakes are her profession--but +_I_, I was not brought up to snakes; I am not at my ease in a +Zooelogical Gardens." + +"It is natural." + +"Is it not? I desire to explain myself to you, you understand; are we +not as brothers? Oh, I realise well that when one loves a woman one +always thinks that the faults are the husband's: believe me I have had +much to justify my attitude. Snakes, dirt, furies, what a menage!" + +"Furies?" gasped Tournicquot. + +"I am an honest man," affirmed Beguinet draining another bumper; "I +shall not say to you 'I have no blemish, I am perfect,' Not at all. +Without doubt, I have occasionally expressed myself to Lucrece with +more candour than courtesy. Such things happen. But"--he refilled his +glass, and sighed pathetically--"but to every citizen, whatever his +position--whether his affairs may have prospered or not--his wife owes +respect. Hein? She should not throw the ragout at him. She should not +menace him with snakes." He wept. "My friend, you will admit that it is +not _gentil_ to coerce a husband with deadly reptiles?" + +Tournicquot had turned very pale. He signed to the waiter for the bill, +and when it was discharged, sat regarding his companion with round +eyes, At last, clearing his throat, he said nervously: + +"After all, do you know--now one comes to think it over--I am not sure, +upon my honour, that our arrangement is feasible?" + +"What?" exclaimed Beguinet, with a violent start. "Not feasible? How is +that, pray? Because I have opened my heart to you, do you back out? Oh, +what treachery! Never will I believe you could be capable of it!" + +"However, it is a fact. On consideration, I shall not rob you of her." + +"Base fellow! You take advantage of my confidence. A contract is a +contract!" + +"No," stammered Tournicquot, "I shall be a man and live my love down. +Monsieur, I have the honour to wish you 'Good-night.'" + +"He, stop!" cried Beguinet, infuriated. "What then is to become of +_me_? Insolent poltroon--you have even destroyed my rope!" + + + +THE CONSPIRACY FOR CLAUDINE + +"Once," remarked Tricotrin, pitching his pen in the air, "there were +four suitors for the Most Beautiful of her Sex. The first young man was +a musician, and he shut himself in his garret to compose a divine +melody, to be dedicated to her. The second lover was a chemist, who +experimented day and night to discover a unique perfume that she alone +might use. The third, who was a floriculturist, aspired constantly +among his bulbs to create a silver rose, that should immortalise the +lady's name." + +"And the fourth," inquired Pitou, "what did the fourth suitor do?" + +"The fourth suitor waited for her every afternoon in the sunshine, +while the others were at work, and married her with great eclat. The +moral of which is that, instead of cracking my head to make a sonnet to +Claudine, I shall be wise to put on my hat and go to meet her." + +"I rejoice that the denoument is arrived at," Pitou returned, "but it +would be even more absorbing if I had previously heard of Claudine." + +"Miserable dullard!" cried the poet; "do you tell me that you have not +previously heard of Claudine? She is the only woman I have ever loved." + +"A--ah," rejoined Pitou; "certainly, I have heard of her a thousand +times--only she has never been called 'Claudine' before." + +"Let us keep to the point," said Tricotrin. "Claudine represents the +devotion of a lifetime. I think seriously of writing a tragedy for her +to appear in." + +"I shall undertake to weep copiously at it if you present me with a +pass," affirmed Pitou. "She is an actress, then, this Claudine? At what +theatre is she blazing--the Montmartre?" + +"How often I find occasion to lament that your imagination is no larger +than the quartier! Claudine is not of Montmartre at all, at all. My +poor friend, have you never heard that there are theatres on the Grand +Boulevard?" + +"Ah, so you betake yourself to haunts of fashion? Now I begin to +understand why you have become so prodigal with the blacking; for some +time I have had the intention of reproaching you with your shoes--our +finances are not equal to such lustre." + +"Ah, when one truly loves, money is no object!" said Tricotrin. +"However, if it is time misspent to write a sonnet to her, it is even +more unprofitable to pass the evening justifying one's shoes." And, +picking up his hat, the poet ran down the stairs, and made his way as +fast as his legs would carry him to the Comedie Moderne. + +He arrived at the stage-door with no more than three minutes to spare, +and disposing himself in a graceful attitude, waited for mademoiselle +Claudine Hilairet to come out. It might have been observed that his +confidence deserted him while he waited, for although it was perfectly +true that he adored her, he had omitted to add that the passion was not +mutual. He was conscious that the lady might resent his presence on the +door-step; and, in fact, when she appeared, she said nothing more +tender than-- + +"Mon Dieu, again you! What do you want?" + +"How can you ask?" sighed the poet. "I came to walk home with you lest +an electric train should knock you down at one of the crossings. What a +magnificent performance you have given this evening! Superb!" + +"Were you in the theatre?" + +"In spirit. My spirit, which no official can exclude, is present every +night, though sordid considerations force me to remain corporally in my +attic. Transported by admiration, I even burst into frantic applause +there. How perfect is the sympathy between our souls!" + +"Listen, my little one," she said. "I am sorry for your relatives, if +you have any--your condition must be a great grief to them. But, all +the same, I cannot have you dangling after me and talking this bosh. +What do you suppose can come of it?" + +"Fame shall come of it," averred the poet, "fame for us both! Do not +figure yourself that I am a dreamer. Not at all! I am practical, a man +of affairs. Are you content with your position in the Comedie Moderne? +No, you are not. You occupy a subordinate position; you play the role +of a waiting-maid, which is quite unworthy of your genius, and +understudy the ingenue, who is a portly matron in robust health. The +opportunity to distinguish yourself appears to you as remote as Mars. +Do I romance, or is it true?" + +"It is true," she said. "Well?" + +"Well, I propose to alter all this--I! I have the intention of writing +a great tragedy, and when it is accepted, I shall stipulate that you, +and you alone, shall thrill Paris as my heroine. When the work of my +brain has raised you to the pinnacle for which you were born, when the +theatre echoes with our names, I shall fall at your feet, and you will +murmur, 'Gustave--I love thee!'" + +"Why does not your mother do something?" she asked. "Is there nobody to +place you where you might be cured? A tragedy? Imbecile, I am +comedienne to the finger-tips! What should I do with your tragedy, even +if it were at the Francais itself?" + +"You are right," said Tricotrin; "I shall turn out a brilliant comedy +instead. And when the work of my brain has raised you to the pinnacle +for which you were born, when the theatre echoes with our names--" + +She interrupted him by a peal of laughter which disconcerted him hardly +less than her annoyance. + +"It is impossible to be angry with you long," she declared, "you are +too comic. Also, as a friend, I do not object to you violently. Come, I +advise you to be content with what you can have, instead of crying for +the moon!" + +"Well, I am not unwilling to make shift with it in the meantime," +returned Tricotrin; "but friendship is a poor substitute for the +heavens--and we shall see what we shall see. Tell me now, they mean to +revive _La Curieuse_ at the Comedie, I hear--what part in it have +you been assigned?" "Ah," exclaimed mademoiselle Hilairet, "is it not +always the same thing? I dust the same decayed furniture with the same +feather brush, and I say 'Yes,' and 'No,' and 'Here is a letter, +madame.' That is all." + +"I swear it is infamous!" cried the poet. "It amazes me that they fail +to perceive that your gifts are buried. One would suppose that managers +would know better than to condemn a great artiste to perform such +ignominious roles. The critics also! Why do not the critics call +attention to an outrage which continues year by year? It appears to me +that I shall have to use my influence with the Press." And so serious +was the tone in which he made this boast, that the fair Claudine began +to wonder if she had after all underrated the position of her out-at- +elbows gallant. + +"Your influence?" she questioned, with an eager smile. "Have you +influence with the critics, then?" + +"We shall see what we shall see," repeated Tricotrin, significantly. "I +am not unknown in Paris, and I have your cause at heart--I may make a +star of you yet. But while we are on the subject of astronomy, one +question! When my services have transformed you to a star, shall I +still be compelled to cry for the moon?" + +Mademoiselle Hilairet's tones quivered with emotion--as she murmured +how grateful to him she would be, and it was understood, when he took +leave of her, that if he indeed accomplished his design, his suit would +be no longer hopeless. + +The poet pressed her hand ardently, and turned homeward in high +feather; and it was not until he had trudged a mile or so that the +rapture in his soul began to subside under the remembrance that he had +been talking through his hat. + +"In fact," he admitted to Pitou when the garret was reached, "my +imagination took wings unto itself; I am committed to a task beside +which the labours of Hercules were child's play. The question now +arises how this thing, of which I spoke so confidently, is to be +effected. What do you suggest?" + +"I suggest that you allow me to sleep," replied Pitou, "for I shall +feel less hungry then." + +"Your suggestion will not advance us," demurred Tricotrin. "We shall, +on the contrary, examine the situation in all its bearings. Listen! +Claudine is to enact the waiting-maid in _La Curieuse,_ which will +be revived at the Comedie Moderne in a fortnight's time; she will dust +the Empire furniture, and say 'Yes' and 'No' with all the intellect and +animation for which those monosyllables provide an opening. Have you +grasped the synopsis so far? Good! On the strength of this performance, +it has to be stated by the foremost dramatic critic in Paris that she +is an actress of genius. Now, how is it to be done? How shall we induce +Labaregue to write of her with an outburst of enthusiasm in _La +Voix_?" + +"Labaregue?" faltered Pitou. "I declare the audacity of your notion +wakes me up!" + +"Capital," said Tricotrin, "we are making progress already! Yes, we +must have Labaregue--it has never been my custom to do things by +halves. Dramatically, of course, I should hold a compromising paper of +Labaregue's. I should say, 'Monsieur, the price of this document is an +act of justice to mademoiselle Claudine Hilairet. It is agreed? Good! +Sit down--you will write from my dictation!'" + +"However--" said Pitou. + +"However--I anticipate your objection--I do not hold such a paper. +Therefore, that scene is cut. Well, let us find another! Where is your +fertility of resource? Mon Dieu! why should I speak to him at all?" + +"I do not figure myself that you will speak to him, you will never get +the chance." + +"Precisely my own suspicion. What follows? Instead of wasting my time +seeking an interview which would not be granted--" + +"And which would lead to nothing even if it were granted!" + +"And which would lead to nothing even if it were granted, as you point +out; instead of doing this, it is evident that I must write Labaregue's +criticism myself!" + +"Hein?" ejaculated Pitou, sitting up in bed. + +"I confess that I do not perceive yet how it is to be managed, but +obviously it is the only course. _I_ must write what is to be +said, and _La Voix_ must believe that it has been written by +Labaregue. Come, we are getting on famously--we have now decided what +we are to avoid!" + +"By D'Artagnan, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis," cried Pitou, "this will be +the doughtiest adventure in which we have engaged!" + +"You are right, it is an adventure worthy of our steel ... pens! We +shall enlighten the public, crown an artiste, and win her heart by way +of reward--that is to say, _I_ shall win her heart by way of +reward. What your own share of the booty will be I do not recognize, +but I promise you, at least, a generous half of the dangers." + +"My comrade," murmured Pitou; "ever loyal! But do you not think that +_La Voix_ will smell a rat? What about the handwriting?" + +"It is a weak point which had already presented itself to me. Could I +have constructed the situation to my liking, Labaregue would have the +custom to type-write his notices; however, as he is so inconsiderate as +to knock them off in the Cafe de l'Europe, he has not that custom, and +we must adapt ourselves to the circumstances that exist. The +probability is that a criticism delivered by the accredited messenger, +and signed with the familiar 'J.L.' will be passed without question; +the difference in the handwriting may be attributed to an amanuensis. +When the great man writes his next notice, I shall make it my business +to be taking a bock in the Cafe de l'Europe, in order that I may +observe closely what happens. There is to be a repetition generale at +the Vaudeville on Monday night--on Monday night, therefore, I hope to +advise you of our plan of campaign. Now do not speak to me any more--I +am about to compose a eulogy on Claudine, for which Labaregue will, in +due course, receive the credit." + +The poet fell asleep at last, murmuring dithyrambic phrases; and if you +suppose that in the soberness of daylight he renounced his harebrained +project, it is certain that you have never lived with Tricotrin in +Montmartre. + +No, indeed, he did not renounce it. On Monday night--or rather in the +small hours of Tuesday morning--he awoke Pitou with enthusiasm. + +"Mon vieux," he exclaimed, "the evening has been well spent! I have +observed, and I have reflected. When he quitted the Vaudeville, +Labaregue entered the Cafe de l'Europe, seated himself at his favourite +table, and wrote without cessation for half an hour. When his critique +was finished, he placed it in an envelope, and commanded his supper. +All this time I, sipping a bock leisurely, accorded to his actions a +scrutiny worthy of the secret police. Presently a lad from the office +of _La Voix_ appeared; he approached Labaregue, received the +envelope, and departed. At this point, my bock was finished; I paid for +it and sauntered out, keeping the boy well in view. His route to the +office lay through a dozen streets which were all deserted at so late +an hour; but I remarked one that was even more forbidding than the +rest--a mere alley that seemed positively to have been designed for our +purpose. Our course is clear--we shall attack him in the rue des +Cendres." + +"Really?" inquired Pitou, somewhat startled. + +"But really! We will not shed his blood; we will make him turn out his +pockets, and then, disgusted by the smallness of the swag, toss it back +to him with a flip on the ear. Needless to say that when he escapes, he +will be the bearer of _my_ criticism, not of Labaregue's. He will +have been too frightened to remark the exchange." + +"It is not bad, your plan." + +"It is an inspiration. But to render it absolutely safe, we must have +an accomplice." + +"Why, is he so powerful, your boy?" + +"No, mon ami, the boy is not so powerful, but the alley has two ends--I +do not desire to be arrested while I am giving a lifelike +representation of an apache. I think we will admit Lajeunie to our +scheme--as a novelist he should appreciate the situation. If Lajeunie +keeps guard at one end of the alley, while you stand at the other, I +can do the business without risk of being interrupted and removed to +gaol." + +"It is true. As a danger signal, I shall whistle the first bars of my +Fugue." + +"Good! And we will arrange a signal with Lajeunie also. Mon Dieu! will +not Claudine be amazed next day? I shall not breathe a word to her in +the meantime; I shall let her open _La Voix_ without expectation; +and then--ah, what joy will be hers! 'The success of the evening was +made by the actress who took the role of the maidservant, and who had +perhaps six words to utter. But with what vivacity, with what esprit +were they delivered! Every gesture, every sparkle of the eyes, +betokened the comedienne. For myself, I ceased to regard the fatuous +ingenue, I forgot the presence of the famous leading lady; I watched +absorbed the facial play of this maidservant, whose brains and beauty, +I predict, will speedily bring Paris to her feet'!" + +"Is that what you mean to write?" + +"I shall improve upon it. I am constantly improving--that is why the +notice is still unfinished. It hampers me that I must compose in the +strain of Labaregue himself, instead of allowing my eloquence to soar. +By the way, we had better speak to Lajeunie on the subject soon, lest +he should pretend that he has another engagement for that night; he is +a good boy, Lajeunie, but he always pretends that he has engagements in +fashionable circles." + +The pair went to him the following day, and when they had climbed to +his garret, found the young literary man in bed. + +"It shocks me," said Pitou, "to perceive that you rise so late, +Lajeunie; why are you not dashing off chapters of a romance?" + +"Mon Dieu!" replied Lajeunie, "I was making studies among the beau +monde until a late hour last night at a reception; and, to complete my +fatigue, it was impossible to get a cab when I left." + +"Naturally; it happens to everybody when he lacks a cab-fare," said +Tricotrin. "Now tell me, have you any invitation from a duchess for +next Thursday evening?" + +"Thursday, Thursday?" repeated Lajeunie thoughtfully. "No, I believe +that I am free for Thursday." + +"Now, that is fortunate!" exclaimed Tricotrin. "Well, we want you to +join us on that evening, my friend." + +"Indeed, we should be most disappointed if you could not," put in +Pitou. + +"Certainly; I shall have much pleasure," said Lajeunie. "Is it a +supper?" + +"No," said Tricotrin, "it is a robbery. I shall explain. Doubtless you +know the name of 'mademoiselle Claudine Hilairet'?" + +"I have never heard it in my life. Is she in Society?" + +"Society? She is in the Comedie Moderne. She is a great actress, but-- +like us all--unrecognised." + +"My heart bleeds for her. Another comrade!" + +"I was sure I could depend upon your sympathy. Well, on Thursday night +they will revive _La Curieuse_ at the Comedie, and I myself +propose to write Labaregue's critique of the performance. Do you +tumble?" + +"It is a gallant action. Yes, I grasp the climax, but at present I do +not perceive how the plot is to be constructed." + +"Labaregue's notices are dispatched by messenger," began Pitou. + +"From the Cafe de l'Europe," added Tricotrin. + +"So much I know," said Lajeunie. + +"I shall attack the messenger, and make a slight exchange of +manuscripts," Tricotrin went on. + +"A blunder!" proclaimed Lajeunie; "you show a lack of invention. Now be +guided by me, because I am a novelist and I understand these things. +The messenger is an escaped convict, and you say to him, 'I know your +secret. You do my bidding, or you go back to the galleys; I shall give +you three minutes to decide!' You stand before him, stern, dominant, +inexorable--your watch in your hand." + +"It is at the pawn-shop." + +"Well, well, of course it is; since when have you joined the realists? +Somebody else's watch--or a clock. Are there no clocks in Paris? You +say, 'I shall give you until the clock strikes the hour.' That is even +more literary--you obtain the solemn note of the clock to mark the +crisis." + +"But there is no convict," demurred Tricotrin; "there are clocks, but +there is no convict." + +"No convict? The messenger is not a convict?" + +"Not at all--he is an apple-cheeked boy." + +"Oh, it is a rotten plot," said Lajeunie; "I shall not collaborate in +it!" + +"Consider!" cried Tricotrin; "do not throw away the chance of a +lifetime, think what I offer you--you shall hang about the end of a +dark alley, and whistle if anybody comes. How literary again is that! +You may develop it into a novel that will make you celebrated. Pitou +will be at the other end. I and the apple-cheeked boy who is to die-- +that is to say, to be duped--will occupy the centre of the stage--I +mean the middle of the alley. And on the morrow, when all Paris rings +with the fame of Claudine Hilairet, I, who adore her, shall have won +her heart!" + +"Humph," said Lajeunie. "Well, since the synopsis has a happy ending, I +consent. But I make one condition--I must wear a crepe mask. Without a +crepe mask I perceive no thrill in my role." + +"Madness!" objected Pitou. "Now listen to _me_--I am serious-minded, +and do not commit follies, like you fellows. Crepe masks are not being +worn this season. Believe me, if you loiter at a street corner with a +crepe mask on, some passer-by will regard you, he may even wonder what +you are doing there. It might ruin the whole job." + +"Pitou is right," announced Tricotrin, after profound consideration. + +"Well, then," said Lajeunie, "_you_ must wear a crepe mask! Put it +on when you attack the boy. I have always had a passion for crepe +masks, and this is the first opportunity that I find to gratify it. I +insist that somebody wears a crepe mask, or I wash my hands of the +conspiracy." + +"Agreed! In the alley it will do no harm; indeed it will prevent the +boy identifying me. Good, on Thursday night then! In the meantime we +shall rehearse the crime assiduously, and you and Pitou can practise +your whistles." + +With what diligence did the poet write each day now! How lovingly he +selected his superlatives! Never in the history of the Press had such +ardent care been lavished on a criticism--truly it was not until +Thursday afternoon that he was satisfied that he could do no more. He +put the pages in his pocket, and, too impatient even to be hungry, +roamed about the quartier, reciting to himself the most hyperbolic of +his periods. + +And dusk gathered over Paris, and the lights sprang out, and the tense +hours crept away. + +It was precisely half-past eleven when the three conspirators arrived +at the doors of the Comedie Moderne, and lingered near by until the +audience poured forth. Labaregue was among the first to appear. He +paused on the steps to take a cigarette, and stepped briskly into the +noise and glitter of the Boulevard. The young men followed, exchanging +feverish glances. Soon the glow of the Cafe de l'Europe was visible. +The critic entered, made a sign to a waiter, and seated himself gravely +at a table. + +Many persons gazed at him with interest. To those who did not know, +habitues whispered, "There is Labaregue--see, he comes to write his +criticism on the revival of _La Curieuse_!" Labaregue affected +unconsciousness of all this, but secretly he lapped it up. Occasionally +he passed his hand across his brow with a gesture profoundly +intellectual. + +Few there remarked that at brief intervals three shabby young men +strolled in, who betrayed no knowledge of one another, and merely +called for bocks. None suspected that these humble customers plotted to +consign the celebrity's criticism to the flames. + +Without a sign of recognition, taciturn and impassive, the three young +men waited, their eyes bent upon the critic's movements. + +By-and-by Labaregue thrust his "copy" into an envelope that was +provided. Some moments afterwards one of the young men asked another +waiter for the materials to write a letter. The paper he crumpled in +his pocket; in the envelope he placed the forged critique. + +A quarter of an hour passed. Then a youth of about sixteen hurried in +and made his way to Labaregue's table. At this instant Lajeunie rose +and left. As the youth received the "copy," Tricotrin also sauntered +out. When the youth again reached the door, it was just swinging behind +Pitou. + +The conspirators were now in the right order--Lajeunie pressing +forward, Tricotrin keeping pace with the boy, Pitou a few yards in the +rear. + +The boy proceeded swiftly. It was late, and even the Boulevard showed +few pedestrians now; in the side streets the quietude was unbroken. +Tricotrin whipped on his mask at the opening of the passage. When the +messenger was half-way through it, the attack was made suddenly, with +determination. + +"Fat one," exclaimed the poet, "I starve--give me five francs!" + +"_Comment?_" stammered the youth, jumping; "I haven't five francs, +I!" + +"Give me all you have--empty your pockets, let me see! If you obey, I +shall not harm you; if you resist, you are a dead boy!" + +The youth produced, with trepidation, a sou, half a cigarette, a piece +of string, a murderous clasp knife, a young lady's photograph, and +Labaregue's notice. The next moment the exchange of manuscripts had +been deftly accomplished. + +"Devil take your rubbish," cried the apache; "I want none of it--there! +Be off, or I shall shoot you for wasting my time." + +The whole affair had occupied less than a minute; and the three +adventurers skipped to Montmartre rejoicing. + +And how glorious was their jubilation in the hour when they opened +_La Voix_ and read Tricotrin's pronouncement over the initials +"J.L."! There it was, printed word for word--the leading lady was +dismissed with a line, the ingenue received a sneer, and for the rest, +the column was a panegyric of the waiting-maid! The triumph of the +waiting-maid was unprecedented and supreme. Certainly, when Labaregue +saw the paper, he flung round to the office furious. + +But _La Voix_ did not desire people to know that it had been taken +in; so the matter was hushed up, and Labaregue went about pretending +that he actually thought all those fine things of the waiting-maid. + +The only misfortune was that when Tricotrin called victoriously upon +Claudine, to clasp her in his arms, he found her in hysterics on the +sofa--and it transpired that she had not represented the waiting-maid +after all. On the contrary, she had at the last moment been promoted to +the part of the ingenue, while the waiting-maid had been played by a +little actress whom she much disliked. + +"It is cruel, it is monstrous, it is heartrending!" gasped Tricotrin, +when he grasped the enormity of his failure; "but, light of my life, +why should you blame _me_ for this villainy of Labaregue's?" + +"I do not know," she said; "however, you bore me, you and your +'influence with the Press.' Get out!" + + + +THE DOLL IN THE PINK SILK DRESS + +How can I write the fourth Act with this ridiculous thing posed among +my papers? What thing? It is a doll in a pink silk dress--an elaborate +doll that walks, and talks, and warbles snatches from the operas. A +terrible lot it cost! Why does an old dramatist keep a doll on his +study table? I do not keep it there. It came in a box from the +Boulevard an hour ago, and I took it from its wrappings to admire its +accomplishments again--and ever since it has been reminding me that +women are strange beings. + +Yes, women are strange, and this toy sets me thinking of one woman in +particular: that woman who sued, supplicated for my help, and then, +when she had all my interest--Confound the doll; here is the incident, +just as it happened! + +It happened when all Paris flocked to see my plays and "Paul de +Varenne" was a name to conjure with. Fashions change. To-day I am a +little out of the running, perhaps; younger men have shot forward. In +those days I was still supreme, I was master of the Stage. + +Listen! It was a spring morning, and I was lolling at my study window, +scenting the lilac in the air. Maximin, my secretary, came in and said: + +"Mademoiselle Jeanne Laurent asks if she can see you, monsieur." + +"Who is mademoiselle Jeanne Laurent?" I inquired. + +"She is an actress begging for an engagement, monsieur." + +"I regret that I am exceedingly busy. Tell her to write." + +"The lady has already written a thousand times," he mentioned, going. +"'Jeanne Laurent' has been one of the most constant contributors to our +waste-paper basket." + +"Then tell her that I regret I can do nothing for her. Mon Dieu! is it +imagined that I have no other occupation than to interview nonentities? +By the way, how is it you have bothered me about her, why this unusual +embassy? I suppose she is pretty, hein?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"And young?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +I wavered. Let us say my sympathy was stirred. But perhaps the lilac +was responsible--lilac and a pretty girl seem to me a natural +combination, like coffee and a cigarette. "Send her in!" I said. + +I sat at the table and picked up a pen. + +"Monsieur de Varenne--" She paused nervously on the threshold. + +Maximin was a fool, she was not "pretty"; she was either plain, or +beautiful. To my mind, she had beauty, and if she hadn't been an +actress come to pester me for a part I should have foreseen a very +pleasant quarter of an hour. "I can spare you only a moment, +mademoiselle," I said, ruffling blank paper. + +"It is most kind of you to spare me that." + +I liked her voice too. "Be seated," I said more graciously. + +"Monsieur, I have come to implore you to do something for me. I am +breaking my heart in the profession for want of a helping hand. Will +you be generous and give me a chance?" + +"My dear mademoiselle--er--Laurent," I said, "I sympathise with your +difficulties, and I thoroughly understand them, but I have no +engagement to offer you--I am not a manager." + +She smiled bitterly. "You are de Varenne--a word from you would 'make' +me!" + +I was wondering what her age was. About eight-and-twenty, I thought, +but alternately she looked much younger and much older. + +"You exaggerate my influence--like every other artist that I consent to +see. Hundreds have sat in that chair and cried that I could 'make' +them. It is all bosh. Be reasonable! I cannot 'make' anybody." + +"You could cast me for a part in Paris. You are 'not a manager,' but +any manager will engage a woman that you recommend. Oh, I know that +hundreds appeal to you, I know that I am only one of a crowd; but, +monsieur, think what it means to me! Without help, I shall go on +knocking at the stage doors of Paris and never get inside; I shall go +on writing to the Paris managers and never get an answer. Without help +I shall go on eating my heart out in the provinces till I am old and +tired and done for!" + +Her earnestness touched me. I had heard the same tale so often that I +was sick of hearing it, but this woman's earnestness touched me. If I +had had a small part vacant, I would have tried her in it. + +"Again," I said, "as a dramatist I fully understand the difficulties of +an actress's career; but you, as an actress, do not understand a +dramatist's. There is no piece of mine going into rehearsal now, +therefore I have no opening for you, myself; and it is impossible for +me to write to a manager or a brother author, advising him to +entrust a part, even the humblest, to a lady of whose capabilities I +know nothing." + +"I am not applying for a humble part," she answered quietly. + +"Hein?" + +"My line is lead." + +I stared at her pale face, speechless; the audacity of the reply took +my breath away. + +"You are mad," I said, rising. + +"I sound so to you, monsieur?" + +"Stark, staring mad. You bewail that you are at the foot of the ladder, +and at the same instant you stipulate that I shall lift you at a bound +to the top. Either you are a lunatic, or you are an amateur." + +She, too, rose--resigned to her dismissal, it seemed. Then, suddenly, +with a gesture that was a veritable abandonment of despair, she +laughed. + +"That's it, I am an amateur!" she rejoined passionately. "I will tell +you the kind of 'amateur' I am, monsieur de Varenne! I was learning my +business in a fit-up when I was six years old--yes, I was playing parts +on the road when happier children were playing games in nurseries. I +was thrust on for lead when I was a gawk of fifteen, and had to wrestle +with half a dozen roles in a week, and was beaten if I failed to make +my points. I have supered to stars, not to earn the few francs I got +by it, for by that time the fit-ups paid me better, but that I might +observe, and improve my method. I have waited in the rain, for hours, +at the doors of the milliners and modistes, that I might note how great +ladies stepped from their carriages and spoke to their footmen--and when +I snatched a lesson from their aristocratic tones I was in heaven, though +my feet ached and the rain soaked my wretched clothes. I have played good +women and bad women, beggars and queens, ingenues and hags. I was born +and bred on the stage, have suffered and starved on it. It is my life and +my destiny." She sobbed. "An 'amateur'!" + +I could not let her go like that. She interested me strongly; somehow I +believed in her. I strode to and fro, considering. + +"Sit down again," I said. "I will do this for you: I will go to the +country to see your performance. When is your next show?" + +"I have nothing in view." + +"Bigre! Well, the next time you are playing, write to me." + +"You will have forgotten all about me," she urged feverishly, "or your +interest will have faded, or Fate will prevent your coming." + +"Why do you say so?" + +"Something tells me. You will help me now, or you will never help me-- +my chance is to-day! Monsieur, I entreat you--" + +"To-day I can do nothing at all, because I have not seen you act." + +"I could recite to you." + +"Zut!" + +"I could rehearse on trial." + +"And if you made a mess of it? A nice fool I should look, after +fighting to get you in!" + +A servant interrupted us to tell me that my old friend de Lavardens was +downstairs. And now I did a foolish thing. When I intimated to +mademoiselle Jeanne Laurent that our interview must conclude, she +begged so hard to be allowed to speak to me again after my visitor +went, that I consented to her waiting. Why? I had already said all that +I had to say, and infinitely more than I had contemplated. Perhaps she +impressed me more powerfully than I realised; perhaps it was sheer +compassion, for she had an invincible instinct that if I sent her away +at this juncture, she would never hear from me any more. I had her +shown into the next room, and received General de Lavardens in the +study. + +Since his retirement from the Army, de Lavardens had lived in his +chateau at St. Wandrille, in the neighbourhood of Caudebec-en-Caux, and +we had met infrequently of late. But we had been at college together; I +had entered on my military service in the same regiment as he; and we +had once been comrades. I was glad to see him. + +"How are you, my dear fellow? I didn't know you were in Paris." + +"I have been here twenty-four hours," he said. "I have looked you up at +the first opportunity. Now am I a nuisance? Be frank! I told the +servant that if you were at work you weren't to be disturbed. Don't +humbug about it; if I am in the way, say so!" + +"You are not in the way a bit," I declared. "Put your hat and cane +down. What's the news? How is Georges?" + +"Georges" was Captain de Lavardens, his son, a young man with good +looks, and brains, an officer for whom people predicted a brilliant +future. + +"Georges is all right," he said hesitatingly. "He is dining with me +to-night. I want you to come, too, if you can. Are you free?" + +"To-night? Yes, certainly; I shall be delighted." + +"That was one of the reasons I came round--to ask you to join us." He +glanced towards the table again. "Are you sure you are not in a hurry +to get back to that?" + +"Have a cigar, and don't be a fool. What have you got to say for +yourself? Why are you on the spree here?" + +"I came up to see Georges," he said. "As a matter of fact, my dear +chap, I am devilish worried." + +"Not about Georges?" I asked, surprised. + +He grunted. "About Georges." + +"Really? I'm very sorry." + +"Yes. I wanted to talk to you about it. You may be able to give me a +tip. Georges--the boy I hoped so much for"--his gruff voice quivered-- +"is infatuated with an actress." + +"Georges?" + +"What do you say to that?" + +"Are you certain it is true?" + +"True? He makes no secret of it. That isn't all. The idiot wants to +marry her!" + +"Georges wants to marry an actress?" + +"Voila!" + +"My dear old friend!" I stammered. + +"Isn't it amazing? One thinks one knows the character of one's own son, +hein? And then, suddenly, a boy--a boy? A man! Georges will soon be +thirty--a man one is proud of, who is distinguishing himself in his +profession, he loses his head about some creature of the theatre and +proposes to mar his whole career." + +"As for that, it might not mar it," I said. + +"We are not in England, in France gentlemen do not choose their wives +from the stage! I can speak freely to you; you move among these people +because your writing has taken you among them, but you are not of their +breed," + +"Have you reasoned with him?" + +"Reasoned? Yes." + +"What did he say?" + +"Prepare to be amused. He said that 'unfortunately, the lady did not +love him'!" + +"What? Then there is no danger?" + +"Do you mean to say that it takes you in? You may be sure her +'reluctance' is policy, she thinks it wise to disguise her eagerness to +hook him. He told me plainly that he would not rest till he had won +her. It is a nice position! The honour of the family is safe only till +this adventuress consents, _consents_ to accept his hand! What can +I do? I can retard the marriage by refusing my permission, but I cannot +prevent it, if he summons me.... Of course, if I could arrange matters +with her, I would do it like a shot--at any price!" + +"Who is she?" + +"A nobody; he tells me she is quite obscure, I don't suppose you have +ever heard of her. But I thought you might make inquiries for me, that +you might ascertain whether she is the sort of woman we could settle +with?" + +"I will do all I can, you may depend. Where is she--in Paris?" + +"Yes, just now." + +"What's her name?" + +"Jeanne Laurent." + +My mouth fell open: "Hein?" + +"Do you know her?" + +"She is there!" + +"What?" + +"In the next room. She just called on business." + +"Mon Dieu! That's queer!" + +"It's lucky. It was the first time I had ever met her." + +"What's she like?" + +"Have you never seen her? You shall do so in a minute. She came to beg +me to advance her professionally, she wants my help. This ought to save +you some money, my friend. We'll have her in! I shall tell her who you +are." + +"How shall I talk to her?" + +"Leave it to me." + +I crossed the landing, and opened the salon door. The room was littered +with the illustrated journals, but she was not diverting herself with +any of them--she was sitting before a copy of _La Joconde_, +striving to reproduce on her own face the enigma of the smile: I had +discovered an actress who never missed an opportunity. + +"Please come here." + +She followed me back, and my friend stood scowling at her. + +"This gentleman is General de Lavardens," I said. + +She bowed--slightly, perfectly. That bow acknowledged de Lavardens' +presence, and rebuked the manner of my introduction, with all the +dignity of the patricians whom she had studied in the rain. + +"Mademoiselle, when my servant announced that the General was +downstairs you heard the name. You did not tell me that you knew his +son." + +"Dame, non, monsieur!" she murmured. + +"And when you implored me to assist you, you did not tell me that you +aspired to a marriage that would compel you to leave the stage. I never +waste my influence. Good-morning!" + +"I do not aspire to the marriage," she faltered, pale as death. + +"Rubbish, I know all about it. Of course, it is your aim to marry him +sooner or later, and of course he will make it a condition that you +cease to act. Well, I have no time to help a woman who is playing the +fool! That's all about it. I needn't detain you." + +"I have refused to marry him," she gasped. "On my honour! You can ask +him. It is a fact." + +"But you see him still," broke in de Lavardens wrathfully; "he is with +you every day! That is a fact, too, isn't it? If your refusal is +sincere, why are you not consistent? why do you want him at your side?" + +"Because, monsieur," she answered, "I am weak enough to miss him when +he goes." + +"Ah! you admit it. You profess to be in love with him?" + +"No, monsieur," she dissented thoughtfully, "I am not in love with him +--and my refusal has been quite sincere, incredible as it may seem that +a woman like myself rejects a man like him. I could never make a +marriage that would mean death to my ambition. I could not sacrifice my +art--the stage is too dear to me for that. So it is evident that I am +not in love with him, for when a woman loves, the man is dearer to her +than all else." + +De Lavardens grunted. I knew his grunts: there was some apology in this +one. + +"The position is not fair to my son," he demurred. "You show good sense +in what you say--you are an artist, you are quite right to devote +yourself to your career; but you reject and encourage him at the same +time. If he married you it would be disastrous--to you, and to him; you +would ruin his life, and spoil your own. Enfin, give him a chance to +forget you! Send him away. What do you want to keep seeing him for?" + +She sighed. "It is wrong of me, I own!" + +"It is highly unnatural," said I. + +"No, monsieur; it is far from being unnatural, and I will tell you why +--he is the only man I have ever known, in all my vagabond life, who +realised that a struggling actress might have the soul of a +gentlewoman. Before I met him, I had never heard a man speak to me with +courtesy, excepting on the stage; I had never known a man to take my +hand respectfully when he was not performing behind the footlights.... +I met him first in the country; I was playing the Queen in _Ruy +Blas_, and the manager brought him to me in the wings. In everything +he said and did he was different from others. We were friends for +months before he told me that he loved me. His friendship has been the +gift of God, to brighten my miserable lot. Never to see him any more +would be awful to me!" + +I perceived that if she was not in love with him she was so dangerously +near to it that a trifle might turn the scale. De Lavardens had the +same thought. His glance at me was apprehensive. + +"However, you acknowledge that you are behaving badly!" I exclaimed. +"It is all right for _you_, friendship is enough for you, and you +pursue your career. But for _him_, it is different; he seeks your +love, and he neglects his duties. For him to spend his life sighing for +you would be monstrous, and for him to marry you would be fatal. If you +like him so much, be just to him, set him free! Tell him that he is not +to visit you any more." + +"He does not visit me; he has never been inside my lodging." + +"Well, that he is not to write there--that there are to be no more +dinners, drives, bouquets!" + +"And I do not let him squander money on me. I am not that kind of +woman." + +"We do not accuse you, mademoiselle. On the contrary, we appeal to your +good heart. Be considerate, be brave! Say good-bye to him!" + +"You are asking me to suffer cruelly," she moaned. + +"It is for your friend's benefit. Also, the more you suffer, the better +you will act. Every actress should suffer." + +"Monsieur, I have served my apprenticeship to pain." + +"There are other things than friendship--you have your prospects to +think about." + +"What prospects?" she flashed back. + +"Well, I cannot speak definitely to-day, as you know; but you would not +find me unappreciative." + +De Lavardens grunted again--emotionally, this time. I checked him with +a frown. + +"What use would it be for me to refuse to see him?" she objected +chokily. "When I am playing anywhere, _he_ can always see +_me_. I cannot kill his love by denying myself his companionship. +Besides, he would not accept the dismissal. One night, when I left the +theatre, I should find him waiting there again." + +This was unpalatably true. + +"If a clever woman desires to dismiss a man, she can dismiss him +thoroughly, especially a clever actress," I said. "You could talk to +him in such a fashion that he would have no wish to meet you again. +Such things have been done." + +"What? You want me to teach him to despise me?" + +"Much better if he did!" + +"To turn his esteem to scorn, hein?" + +"It would be a generous action." + +"To falsify and degrade myself?" + +"For your hero's good!" + +"I will not do it!" she flamed. "You demand too much. What have +_you_ done for _me_ that I should sacrifice myself to please +you? I entreat your help, and you give me empty phrases; I cry that I +despair this morning, and you answer that by-and-by, some time, in the +vague future, you will remember that I exist. I shall not do this for +you--I keep my friend!" + +"Your rhetoric has no weight with me," I said. "I do not pretend that I +have a claim on you. In such circumstances a noble woman would take the +course I suggest, not for my sake, not for the sake of General de +Lavardens, but for the sake of the man himself. You will 'keep your +friend'? Bien! But you will do so because you are indifferent to his +welfare and too selfish to release him." + +She covered her face. There were tears on it. The General and I +exchanged glances again. + +I went on: + +"You charge me with giving you only empty phrases. That is undeserved. +I said all that was possible, and I meant what I said. I could not +pledge myself to put you into anything without knowing what you are +capable of doing; but, if you retain my good will, I repeat that I will +attend your next performance." + +"And then?" she queried. + +"Then--if I think well of it--you shall have a good part." + +"Lead?" + +"Bigre! I cannot say that. A good part, in Paris!" + +"It is a promise?" + +"Emphatically--if I think well of your performance." + +"Of my next--the very next part I play?" + +"Of the very next part you play." + +She paused, reflecting. The pause lasted so long that it began to seem +to my suspense as if none of us would ever speak again. I took a +cigarette, and offered the box, in silence, to de Lavardens. He shook +his head without turning it to me, his gaze was riveted on the woman. + +"All right," she groaned, "I agree!" + +"Ah! good girl!" + +"All you require is that Captain de Lavardens shall no longer seek me +for his wife. Is that it?" + +"That's it." + +"Very well. I know what would repel him--it shall be done to-night. +But you, gentlemen, will have to make the opportunity for me; you will +have to bring him to my place--both of you. You can find some reason +for proposing it? Tonight at nine o'clock. He knows the address." + +She moved weakly to the door. + +De Lavardens took three strides and grasped her hands. "Mademoiselle," +he stuttered, "I have no words to speak my gratitude. I am a father, +and I love my son, but--mon Dieu! if--if things had been different, +upon my soul, I should have been proud to call you my daughter-in-law!" + +Oh, how she could bow, that woman--the eloquence of her ill-fed form! + +"Au revoir, gentlemen," she said. + +Phew! We dropped into chairs. + +"Paul," he grunted at me, "we have been a pair of brutes!" + +"I know it. But you feel much relieved?" + +"I feel another man. What is she going to say to him? I wish it were +over. _I_ should find it devilish difficult to propose going to +see her, you know! It will have to be _your_ suggestion. And +supposing he won't take us?" + +"He will take us right enough," I declared, "and rejoice at the chance. +Hourra! hourra! hourra!" I sprang up and clapped him on the back. "My +friend, if that woman had thrown herself away on Georges it might have +been a national calamity." + +"What?" he roared, purpling. + +"Oh, no slight to Georges! I think--I think--I am afraid to say what I +think, I am afraid to think it!" I paced the room, struggling to +control myself. "Only, once in a blue moon, Jules, there is a woman +born of the People with a gift that is a blessing, and a curse--and her +genius makes an epoch, and her name makes theatrical history. And if a +lover of the stage like me discovers such a woman, you stodgy old +soldier, and blazes her genius in his work, he feels like Cheops, +Chephrenus, and Asychis rearing the Pyramids for immortality!" + +My excitement startled him. "You believe she is a genius? Really?" + +"I dare not believe," I panted. "I refuse to let myself believe, for I +have never seen blue moons. But--but--I wonder!" + +We dined at Voisin's. It had been arranged that he should make some +allusion to the courtship; and I said to Georges, "I hope you don't +mind your father having mentioned the subject to me--we are old +friends, you know?" The topic was led up to very easily. It was +apparent that Georges thought the world of her. I admired the way he +spoke. It was quiet and earnest. As I feigned partial sympathy with his +matrimonial hopes, I own that I felt a Judas. + +"I, too, am an artist," I said. "To me social distinctions naturally +seem somewhat less important than they do to your father." + +"Indeed, monsieur," he answered gravely, "mademoiselle Laurent is +worthy of homage. If she were willing to accept me, every man who knew +her character would think me fortunate. Her education has not qualified +her to debate with professors, and she has no knowledge of society +small-talk, but she is intelligent, and refined, and good." + +It was child's play. A sudden notion, over the liqueurs: "Take us to +see her! Come along, mon ami!" Astonishment (amateurish); persuasion +(masterly); Georges's diffidence to intrude, but his obvious delight at +the thought of the favourable impression she would create. He had +"never called there yet--it would be very unconventional at such an +hour?" "Zut, among artists! My card will be a passport, I assure you." +Poor fellow, the trap made short work of him! At half-past eight we +were all rattling to the left bank in a cab. + +The cab stopped before a dilapidated house in an unsavoury street. I +knew that the aspect of her home went to his heart. "Mademoiselle +Laurent has won no prize in her profession," he observed, "and she is +an honest girl." Well said! + +In the dim passage a neglected child directed us to the fourth floor. +On the fourth floor a slattern, who replied at last to our persistent +tapping, told us shortly that mademoiselle was out. I realised that we +had committed the error of being before our time; and the woman, +evidently unprepared for our visit, did not suggest our going in. It +seemed bad stage-management. + +"Will it be long before mademoiselle is back?" I inquired, annoyed. + +"Mais non." + +"We will wait," I said, and we were admitted sulkily to a room, of +which the conspicuous features were a malodorous lamp, and a brandy- +bottle. I had taken the old drab for a landlady rather the worse for +liquor, but, more amiably, she remarked now: "It's a pity Jeanne didn't +know you were coming." + +At the familiar "Jeanne" I saw Georges start. + +"Mademoiselle is a friend of yours?" I asked, dismayed. + +"A friend? She is my daughter." She sat down. + +By design the girl was out! The thought flashed on me. It flashed on me +that she had plotted for her lover to learn what a mother-in-law he +would have. The revelation must appal him. I stole a look--his face was +blanched. The General drew a deep breath, and nodded to himself. The +nod said plainly, "He is saved. Thank God!" + +"Will you take a little drop while you are waiting, gentlemen?" + +"Nothing for us, thank you." + +She drank alone, and seemed to forget that we were present. None of us +spoke. I began to wonder if we need remain. Then, drinking, she grew +garrulous. It was of Jeanne she talked. She gave us her maternal views, +and incidentally betrayed infamies of her own career. I am a man of the +world, but I shuddered at that woman. The suitor who could have risked +making her child his wife would have been demented, or sublime. And +while she maundered on, gulping from her glass, and chuckling at her +jests, the ghastliness of it was that, in the gutter face before us, I +could trace a likeness to Jeanne; I think Georges must have traced it, +too. The menace of heredity was horrible. We were listening to Jeanne +wrecked, Jeanne thirty years older--Jeanne as she might become! + +Ciel! To choose a bride with this blood in her--a bride from the dregs! + +"Let us go, Georges," I murmured. "Courage! You will forget her. We'll +be off." + +He was livid. I saw that he could bear no more. + +But the creature overheard, and in those bleary eyes intelligence +awoke. + +"What? Hold on!" she stammered. "Is one of you the toff that wants to +marry her? Ah!... I've been letting on finely, haven't I? It was a +plant, was it? You've come here ferreting and spying?" She turned +towards me in a fury: "You!" + +Certainly I had made a comment from time to time, but I could not see +why she should single me out for her attack. She lurched towards me +savagely. Her face was thrust into mine. And then, so low that only I +could hear, and like another woman, she breathed a question: + +"Can I act?" + +Jeanne herself! Every nerve in me jumped. The next instant she was back +in her part, railing at Georges. + +I took a card from my case, and scribbled six words. + +"When your daughter comes in, give her that!" I said. I had scribbled: +"I write you a star role!" + +She gathered the message at a glance, and I swear that the moroseness +of her gaze was not lightened by so much as a gleam. She was +representing a character; the actress sustained the character even +while she read words that were to raise her from privation to renown. + +"Not that I care if I _have_ queered her chance," she snarled. "A +good job, too, the selfish cat! I've got nothing to thank her for. +Serve her right if you do give her the go-by, my Jackanapes, _I_ +don't blame you!" + +"Madame Laurent," Georges answered sternly, and his answer vibrated +through the room, "I have never admired, pitied, or loved Jeanne so +much as now that I know that she has been--motherless." + +All three of us stood stone-still. The first to move was she. I saw +what was going to happen. She burst out crying. + +"It's I, Jeanne!--I love you! I thought I loved the theatre best--I was +wrong." Instinctively she let my card fall to the ground. "Forgive me-- +I did it for your sake, too. It was cruel, I am ashamed. Oh, my own, if +my love will not disgrace you, take me for your wife! In all the world +there is no woman who will love you better--in all my heart there is no +room for anything but you!" + +They were in each other's arms. De Lavardens, whom the proclamation of +identity had electrified, dragged me outside. The big fool was +blubbering with sentiment. + +"This is frightful," he grunted. + +"Atrocious!" said I. + +"But she is a woman in a million." + +"She is a great actress," I said reverently. + +"I could never approve the marriage," he faltered. "What do you think?" + +"Out of the question! I have no sympathy with either of them." + +"You humbug! Why, there is a tear running down your nose!" + +"There are two running down yours," I snapped; "a General should know +better." + +And why has the doll in the pink silk dress recalled this to me? Well, +you see, to-morrow will be New Year's Day and the doll is a gift for my +godchild--and the name of my godchild's mother is "Jeanne de +Lavardens." Oh, I have nothing to say against her as a mother, the +children idolise her! I admit that she has conquered the General, and +that Georges is the proudest husband in France. But when I think of the +parts I could have written for her, of the lustre the stage has lost, +when I reflect that, just to be divinely happy, the woman deliberately +declined a worldwide fame--Morbleu! I can never forgive her for it, +never--the darling! + + + +THE LAST EFFECT + +Jean Bourjac was old and lazy. Why should he work any more? In his +little cottage he was content enough. If the place was not precisely +gay, could he not reach Paris for a small sum? And if he had no +neighbours to chat with across the wall, weren't there his flowers to +tend in the garden? Occasionally--because one cannot shake off the +interests of a lifetime--he indulged in an evening at the Folies- +Bergere, or Olympia, curious to witness some Illusion that had made a +hit. + +At such times old Bourjac would chuckle and wag his head sagely, for he +saw no Illusions now to compare with those invented by himself when he +was in the business. + +And there were many persons who admitted that he had been supreme in +his line. At the Folies-Bergere he was often recognised and addressed +as "Maitre." + +One summer evening, when old Bourjac sat reading _Le Journal_, +Margot, the housekeeper, who had grown deaf and ancient in his service, +announced a stranger. + +She was a girl with a delicate oval face, and eyes like an angel's. + +"Monsieur Bourjac," she began, as if reciting a speech that she had +studied, "I have come out here to beg a favour of you. I thirst for a +career behind the footlights. Alas! I cannot sing, or dance, or act. +There is only one chance for me--to possess an Illusion that shall take +Paris by storm. I am told that there is nothing produced to-day fit to +hold a candle to the former 'Miracles Bourjac.' Will you help me? Will +you design for me the most wonderful Illusion of your life?" + +"Mademoiselle," said Bourjac, with a shrug, "I have retired." + +"I implore you!" she urged. "But I have not finished; I am poor, I am +employed at a milliner's, I could not pay down a single franc. My offer +is a share of my salary as a star. I am mad for the stage. It is not +the money that I crave for, but the applause. I would not grudge you +even half my salary! Oh, monsieur, it is in your power to lift me from +despair into paradise. Say you consent." + +Bourjac mused. Her offer was very funny; if she had been of the +ordinary type, he would have sent her packing, with a few commercial +home-truths. Excitement had brought a flush to the oval face, her +glorious eyes awoke in him emotions which he had believed extinct. She +was so captivating that he cast about him for phrases to prolong the +interview. Though he could not agree, he didn't want her to go yet. + +And when she did rise at last, he murmured, "Well, well, see me again +and we will talk about it. I have no wish to be hard, you understand." + +Her name was Laure. She was in love with a conjurer, a common, flashy +fellow, who gave his mediocre exhibitions of legerdemain at such places +as Le Jardin Exterieur, and had recently come to lodge at her mother's. +She aspired to marry him, but did not dare to expect it. Her homage was +very palpable, and monsieur Eugene Legrand, who had no matrimonial +intentions, would often wish that the old woman did not keep such a +sharp eye upon her. + +Needless to say, Bourjac's semi-promise sent her home enraptured. She +had gone to him on impulse, without giving her courage time to take +flight; now, in looking back, she wondered at her audacity, and that +she had gained so much as she had. "I have no wish to be hard," he had +said. Oh, the old rascal admired her hugely! If she coaxed enough, he +would end by giving in. What thumping luck! She determined to call upon +him again on Sunday, and to look her best. + +Bourjac, however, did not succumb on Sunday. Fascinating as he found +her, he squirmed at the prospect of the task demanded of him. His +workshop in the garden had been closed so long that rats had begun to +regard it as their playroom; the more he contemplated resuming his +profession, the less inclined he felt to do it. + +She paid him many visits and he became deeply infatuated with her; yet +he continued to maintain that he was past such an undertaking--that she +had applied to him too late. + +Then, one day, after she had flown into a passion, and wept, and been +mollified, he said hesitatingly: + +"I confess that an idea for an Illusion has occurred to me, but I do +not pledge myself to execute it. I should call it 'A Life.' An empty +cabinet is examined; it is supported by four columns--there is no stage +trap, no obscurity, no black velvet curtain concealed in the dark, to +screen the operations; the cabinet is raised high above the ground, and +the lights are full up. You understand?" Some of the inventor's +enthusiasm had crept into his voice. "You understand?" + +"Go on," she said, holding her breath. + +"Listen. The door of the cabinet is slammed, and in letters of fire +there appears on it, 'Scene I.' Instantly it flies open again and +discloses a baby. The baby moves, it wails--in fine, it is alive. Slam! +Letters of fire, 'Scene II.' Instantly the baby has vanished; in its +place is a beautiful girl--you! You smile triumphantly at your +reflection in a mirror, your path is strewn with roses, the world is at +your feet. Slam! 'Scene III.' In a moment twenty years have passed; +your hair is grey, you are matronly, stout, your face is no longer +oval; yet unmistakably it is you yourself, the same woman. Slam! 'Scene +IV.' You are enfeebled, a crone, toothless, tottering on a stick. Once +more! It is the last effect--the door flies open and reveals a +skeleton." + +"You can make this?" she questioned. + +"I could make it if I chose," he answered. + +"Will you?" + +"It depends." + +"On what?" + +"On you!" + +"Take any share you want," she cried. "I will sign anything you like! +After all, would not the success be due to you?" + +"So you begin to see that?" said the old man drily. "But, I repeat, it +depends! In spite of everything, you may think my terms too high." + +"What do you want me to do?" she stammered. + +"Marry me!" said Bourjac. + +He did not inquire if she had any affection for him; he knew that if +she said "Yes" it would be a lie. But he adored this girl, who, of a +truth, had nothing but her beauty to recommend her, and he persuaded +himself that his devotion would evoke tenderness in her by degrees. She +found the price high indeed. Not only was she young enough to be his +granddaughter--she had given her fancy to another man. Immediately she +could not consent. When she took leave of him, it was understood that +she would think the offer over; and she went home and let Legrand hear +that Bourjac had proposed for her hand. If, by any chance, the news +piqued Legrand into doing likewise--? + +But Legrand said nothing to the point. Though he was a little chagrined +by the intelligence, it never even entered his mind to attempt to cut +the inventor out. How should it? She was certainly an attractive girl, +but as to marrying her--He thought Bourjac a fool. As for himself, if +he married at all, it would be an artist who was drawing a big salary +and who would be able to provide him with some of the good things of +life. "I pray you will be very happy, mademoiselle," he said, putting +on a sentimental air. + +So, after she had cried with mortification, Laure promised to be old +Bourjac's wife. + +A few weeks later they were married; and in that lonely little cottage +she would have been bored to death but for the tawdry future that she +foresaw. The man's dream of awakening her tenderness was speedily +dispelled; he had been accepted as the means to an end, and he was held +fast to the compact. She grudged him every hour in which he idled by +her side. Driven from her arms by her impatience, old Bourjac would +toil patiently in the workroom: planning, failing--surmounting +obstacles atom by atom, for the sake of a woman whose sole interest in +his existence was his progress with the Illusion that was to gratify +her vanity. + +He worshipped her still. If he had not worshipped her, he would sooner +or later have renounced the scheme as impracticable; only his love for +her supported him in the teeth of the impediments that arose. Of these +she heard nothing. For one reason, her interest was so purely selfish +that she had not even wished to learn how the cabinet was to be +constructed. "All those figures gave her a headache," she declared. For +another, when early in the winter he had owned himself at a deadlock, +she had sneered at him as a duffer who was unable to fulfil his boasts. +Old Bourjac never forgot that--his reputation was very dear to him--he +did not speak to her of his difficulties again. + +But they often talked of the success she was to achieve. She liked to +go into a corner of the parlour and rehearse the entrance that she +would make to acknowledge the applause. "It will be the great moment," +she would say, "when I reappear as myself and bow." + +"No, it will be expected; that will not surprise anybody," Bourjac +would insist. "The climax, the last effect, will be the skeleton!" + +It was the skeleton that caused him the most anxious thought of all. In +order to compass it, he almost feared that he would be compelled to +sacrifice one of the preceding scenes. The babe, the girl, the matron, +the crone, for all these his mechanism provided; but the skeleton, the +"last effect," baffled his ingenuity. Laure began to think his task +eternal. + +Ever since the wedding, she had dilated proudly to her mother and +Legrand on her approaching debut, and it angered her that she could +never say when the debut was to be. Now that there need be no question +of his marrying her, Legrand's manner towards her had become more +marked. She went to the house often. One afternoon, when she rang, the +door was opened by him; he explained that the old woman was out +marketing. + +Laure waited in the kitchen, and the conjurer sat on the table, talking +to her. + +"How goes the Illusion?" he asked. + +"Oh, big!" she said. "It's going to knock them, I can tell you!" Her +laugh was rather derisive. "It's a rum world; the shop-girl will become +an artist, with a show that draws all Paris. We expect to open at the +Folies-Bergere." She knew that Legrand could never aspire to an +engagement at the Folies-Bergere as long as he lived. + +"I hope you will make a hit," he said, understanding her resentment +perfectly. + +"You did not foresee me a star turn, hein?" + +He gave a shrug. "How could I foresee? If you had not married Bourjac, +of course it would not have happened?" + +"I suppose not," she murmured. She was sorry he realised that; she +would have liked him to feel that she might have had the Illusion +anyhow, and been a woman worth his winning. + +"Indeed," added Legrand pensively, rolling a cigarette, "you have done +a great deal to obtain a success. It is not every girl who would go to +such lengths." + +"What?" She coloured indignantly. + +"I mean it is not every girl who would break the heart of a man who +loved her." + +They looked in each other's eyes for a moment. Then she turned her head +scornfully away. + +"Why do you talk rot to me? Do you take me for a kid?" + +He decided that a pained silence would be most effective. + +"If you cared about me, why didn't you say so?" she flashed, putting +the very question he had hoped for. + +"Because my position prevented it," he sighed. "I could not propose, a +poor devil like me! Do I lodge in an attic from choice? But you are the +only woman I ever wanted for my wife." + +After a pause, she said softly, "I never knew you cared." + +"I shall never care for anybody else," he answered. And then her mother +came in with the vegetables. + +It is easy to believe what one wishes, and she wished to believe +Legrand's protestations. She began to pity herself profoundly, feeling +that she had thrown away the substance for the shadow. In the +sentimentality to which she yielded, even the prospect of being a star +turn failed to console her; and during the next few weeks she invented +reasons for visiting at her mother's more frequently than ever. + +After these visits, Legrand used to smirk to himself in his attic. He +reflected that the turn would, probably, earn a substantial salary for +a long time to come. If he persuaded her to run away with him when the +show had been produced, it would be no bad stroke of business for him! +Accordingly, in their conversations, he advised her to insist on the +Illusion being her absolute property. + +"One can never tell what may occur," he would say. "If the managers +arranged with Bourjac, not with you, you would always be dependent on +your husband's whims for your engagements." And, affecting +unconsciousness of his real meaning, the woman would reply, "That's +true; yes, I suppose it would be best--yes, I shall have all the +engagements made with _me_." + +But by degrees even such pretences were dropped between them; they +spoke plainly. He had the audacity to declare that it tortured him to +think of her in old Bourjac's house--old Bourjac who plodded all day to +minister to her caprice! She, no less shameless, acknowledged that her +loneliness there was almost unendurable. So Legrand used to call upon +her, to cheer her solitude, and while Bourjac laboured in the workroom, +the lovers lolled in the parlour, and talked of the future they would +enjoy together when his job was done. + +"See, monsieur--your luncheon!" mumbled Margot, carrying a tray into +the workroom on his busiest days. + +"And madame, has madame her luncheon?" shouted Bourjac. Margot was very +deaf indeed. + +"Madame entertains monsieur Legrand again," returned the housekeeper, +who was not blind as well. + +Bourjac understood the hint, and more than once he remonstrated with +his wife. But she looked in his eyes and laughed suspicion out of him +for the time: "Eugene was an old friend, whom she had known from +childhood! Enfin, if Jean objected, she would certainly tell him not to +come so often. It was very ridiculous, however!" + +And afterwards she said to Legrand, "We must put up with him in the +meanwhile; be patient, darling! We shall not have to worry about what +he thinks much longer." + +Then, as if to incense her more, Bourjac was attacked by rheumatism +before the winter finished; he could move only with the greatest +difficulty, and took to his bed. Day after day he lay there, and she +fumed at the sight of him, passive under the blankets, while his work +was at a standstill. + +More than ever the dullness got on her nerves now, especially as +Legrand had avoided the house altogether since the complaint about the +frequency of his visits. He was about to leave Paris to fulfil some +engagements in the provinces. It occurred to her that it would be a +delightful change to accompany him for a week. She had formerly had an +aunt living in Rouen, and she told Bourjac that she had been invited to +stay with her for a few days. + +Bourjac made no objection. Only, as she hummed gaily over her packing, +he turned his old face to the wall to hide his tears. + +Her luggage was dispatched in advance, and by Legrand's counsel, it was +labelled at the last minute with an assumed name. If he could have done +so without appearing indifferent to her society, Legrand would have +dissuaded her from indulging in the trip, for he had resolved now to be +most circumspect until the Illusion was inalienably her own. As it was, +he took all the precautions possible. They would travel separately; he +was to depart in the evening, and Laure would follow by the next train. +When she arrived, he would be awaiting her. + +With the removal of her trunk, her spirits rose higher still. But the +day passed slowly. At dusk she sauntered about the sitting-room, +wishing that it were time for her to start. She had not seen Legrand +since the previous afternoon, when they had met at a cafe to settle the +final details. When the clock struck again, she reckoned that he must +be nearly at his destination; perhaps he was there already, pacing the +room as she paced this one? She laughed. Not a tinge of remorse +discoloured the pleasure of her outlook--her "au revoir" to her husband +was quite careless. The average woman who sins longs to tear out her +conscience for marring moments which would otherwise be perfect. This +woman had absolutely no conscience. + +The shortest route to the station was by the garden gate; as she raised +the latch, she was amazed to see Legrand hurriedly approaching. + +"Thank goodness, I have caught you!" he exclaimed--"I nearly went round +to the front." + +"What has happened?" + +"Nothing serious; I am not going, that is all--they have changed my +date. The matter has been uncertain all day, or I would have let you +know earlier. It is lucky I was in time to prevent your starting." + +She was dumb with disappointment. + +"It is a nuisance about your luggage," he went on; "we must telegraph +about it. Don't look so down in the mouth--we shall have our trip next +week instead." + +"What am I to say to Jean--he will think it so strange? I have said +good-bye to him." + +"Oh, you can find an excuse--you 'missed your train.' Come out for half +an hour, and we can talk." His glance fell on the workroom. "Is that +fastened up?" + +"I don't know. Do you want to see what he has done?" + +"I may as well." He had never had an opportunity before--Bourjac had +always been in there. + +"No, it isn't locked," she said; "come on then! Wait till I have shut +it after us before you strike a match--Margot might see the light." + +A rat darted across their feet as they lit the lamp, and he dropped the +matchbox. "Ugh!" + +"The beastly things!" she shivered, "Make haste!" + +On the floor stood a cabinet that was not unlike a gloomy wardrobe in +its outward aspect. Legrand examined it curiously. + +"Too massive," he remarked. "It will cost a fortune for carriage--and +where are the columns I heard of?" He stepped inside and sounded the +walls. "Humph, of course I see his idea. The fake is a very old one, +but it is always effective." Really, he knew nothing about it, but as +he was a conjurer, she accepted him as an authority. + +"Show me! Is there room for us both?" she said, getting in after him. +And as she got in, the door slammed. + +Instantaneously they were in darkness, black as pitch, jammed close +together. Their four hands flew all over the door at once, but they +could touch no handle. The next moment, some revolving apparatus that +had been set in motion, flung them off their feet. Round and round it +swirled, striking against their bodies and their faces. They grovelled +to escape it, but in that awful darkness their efforts were futile; +they could not even see its shape. + +"Stop it!" she gasped. + +"I don't know how," he panted. + +After a few seconds the whir grew fainter, the gyrations stopped +automatically. She wiped the blood from her face, and burst into +hysterical weeping. The man, cursing horribly, rapped to find the +spring that she must have pressed as she entered. It seemed to them +both that there could be no spot he did not rap a thousand times, but +the door never budged. + +His curses ceased; he crouched by her, snorting with fear. + +"What shall we do?" she muttered. + +He did not answer her. + +"Eugene, let us stamp! Perhaps the spring is in the floor." + +Still he paid no heed--he was husbanding his breath. When a minute had +passed, she felt his chest distend, and a scream broke from him-- +"_Help!_" + +"Mon Dieu!" She clutched him, panic-stricken. "We mustn't be found +here, it would ruin everything. Feel for the spring! Eugene, feel for +the spring, don't call!" + +"_Help!_" + +"Don't you understand? Jean will guess--it will be the end of my hopes, +I shall have no career!" + +"I have myself to think about!" he whimpered. And pushing away her +arms, he screamed again and again. But there was no one to hear him, no +neighbours, no one passing in the fields--none but old Bourjac, and +deaf Margot, beyond earshot, in the house. + +The cabinet was, of course, ventilated, and the danger was, not +suffocation, but that they would be jammed here while they slowly +starved to death. Soon her terror of the fate grew all-powerful in the +woman, and, though she loathed him for having been the first to call, +she, too, shrieked constantly for help now. By turns, Legrand would +yell, distraught, and heave himself helplessly against the door--they +were so huddled that he could bring no force to bear upon it. + +In their black, pent prison, like a coffin on end the night held a +hundred hours. The matchbox lay outside, where it had fallen, and +though they could hear his watch ticking in his pocket, they were +unable to look at it. After the watch stopped, they lost their sense of +time altogether; they disputed what day of the week it was. + + * * * * * + +Their voices had been worn to whispers now; they croaked for help. + +In the workroom, the rats missed the remains of old Bourjac's +luncheons; the rats squeaked ravenously.... As she strove to scream, +with the voice that was barely audible, she felt that she could resign +herself to death were she but alone. She could not stir a limb nor draw +a breath apart from the man. She craved at last less ardently for life +than for space--the relief of escaping, even for a single moment, from +the oppression of contact. It became horrible, the contact, as +revolting as if she had never loved him. The ceaseless contact maddened +her. The quaking of his body, the clamminess of his flesh, the smell of +his person, poisoning the darkness, seemed to her the eternities of +Hell. + + * * * * * + +Bourjac lay awaiting his wife's return for more than a fortnight. Then +he sent for her mother, and learnt that the "aunt in Rouen" had been +buried nearly three years. + +The old man was silent. + +"It is a coincidence," added the visitor hesitatingly, "that monsieur +Legrand has also disappeared. People are always ringing my bell to +inquire where he is." + +As soon as he was able to rise, Bourjac left for Paris; and, as the +shortest route to the station was by the garden gate, he passed the +workroom on his way. He nodded, thinking of the time that he had wasted +there, but he did not go inside--he was too impatient to find Laure, +and, incidentally, to shoot Legrand. + +Though his quest failed, he never went back to the cottage; he could +not have borne to live in it now. He tried to let it, but the little +house was not everybody's money, and it stood empty for many years; +indeed, before it was reoccupied Bourjac was dead and forgotten. + +When the new owners planned their renovations, they had the curiosity +to open a mildewed cabinet in an outhouse, and uttered a cry of dismay. +Not until then was the "last effect" attained; but there were two +skeletons, instead of one. + + + +AN INVITATION TO DINNER + +The creators of Eau d'Enfer invited designs for a poster calling the +attention of the world to their liqueur's incomparable qualities. It +occurred to Theodose Goujaud that this was a first-class opportunity to +demonstrate his genius. + +For an article with such a glistening name it was obvious that a poster +must be flamboyant--one could not advertise a "Water of Hell" by a +picture of a village maiden plucking cowslips--and Goujaud passed +wakeful nights devising a sketch worthy of the subject. He decided at +last upon a radiant brunette sharing a bottle of the liqueur with his +Satanic Majesty while she sat on his knee. + +But where was the girl to be found? Though his acquaintance with the +models of Paris was extensive, he could think of none with a face to +satisfy him. One girl's arms wreathed themselves before his mind, +another girl's feet were desirable, but the face, which was of supreme +importance, eluded his most frenzied search. + +"Mon Dieu," groaned Goujaud, "here I am projecting a poster that would +conquer Paris, and my scheme is frustrated by the fact that Nature +fails to produce women equal to the heights of my art! It is such +misfortunes as this that support the Morgue." + +"I recommend you to travel," said Tricotrin; "a tour in the East might +yield your heart's desire." + +"It's a valuable suggestion," rejoined Goujaud; "I should like a couple +of new shirts also, but I lack the money to acquire them." + +"Well," said Tricotrin, "the Ball of the Willing Hand is nearer. Try +that!" + +Goujaud looked puzzled. "The Ball of the Willing Hand?" he repeated; "I +do not know any Ball of the Willing Hand." + +"Is it possible?" cried the poet; "where do you live? Why, the Willing +Hand, my recluse, is the most fascinating resort in Paris. I have been +familiar with it for fully a week. It is a bal de barriere where the +criminal classes enjoy their brief leisure. Every Saturday night they +frisk. The Cut-throats' Quadrille is a particularly sprightly measure, +and the damsels there are often striking." + +"And their escorts, too--if one of the willing hands planted a knife in +my back, there would be no sprightliness about _me!_" + +"In the interests of art one must submit to a little annoyance. Come, +if you are conscientious I will introduce you to the place, and give +you a few hints. For example, the company have a prejudice against +collars, and, assuming for a moment that you possessed more than a +franc, you would do well to leave the surplus at home." + +Goujaud expanded his chest. + +"As a matter of fact," he announced languidly, "I possess five hundred +francs." And so dignified was his air that Tricotrin came near to +believing him. + +"You possess five hundred francs? You? How? No, such things do not +occur! Besides, you mentioned a moment since that you were short of +shirts." + +"It is true that I am short of shirts, but, nevertheless, I have five +hundred francs in my pocket. It is like this. My father, who is not +artistic, has always desired to see me renounce my profession and sink +to commerce. Well, I was at the point of yielding--man cannot live by +hope alone, and my pictures were strangely unappreciated. Then, while +consent trembled on my lips, up popped this Eau d'Enfer! I saw my +opportunity, I recognised that, of all men in Paris, I was the best +qualified to execute the poster. You may divine the sequel? I addressed +my father with burning eloquence, I persuaded him to supply me with the +means to wield my brush for a few months longer. If my poster succeeds, +I become a celebrity. If it fails, I become a petrole merchant. This +summer decides my fate. In the meanwhile I am a capitalist; but it +would be madness for me to purchase shirts, for I shall require every +son to support existence until the poster is acclaimed." + +"You have a practical head!" exclaimed Tricotrin admiringly; "I foresee +that you will go far. Let us trust that the Willing Hand will prove the +ante-chamber to your immortality." + +"I have no faith in your Willing Hand," demurred the painter; "the +criminal classes are not keen on sitting for their portraits--the +process has unpleasant associations to them. Think again! I can spare +half an hour this morning. Evolve a further inspiration on the +subject!" + +"Do you imagine I have nothing to do but to provide you with a model? +My time is fully occupied; I am engaged upon a mystical play, which is +to be called _The Spinster's Prayer or the Goblin Child's Mother_, +and take Paris by storm. A propos--yes, now I come to think of it, +there is something in _Comoedia_ there that might suit you." + +"My preserver!" returned Goujaud. "What is it?" + +Tricotrin picked the paper up and read: + +WANTED: A HUNDRED LADIES FOR THE STAGE.--Beauty more essential than +talent. No dilapidations need apply. _Agence_ Lavalette, rue Baba, +Thursday, 12 to 5. + +"Mon Dieu! Now you are beginning to talk," said Goujaud. "A hundred! +One among them should be suitable, hein? But, all the same--" He +hesitated. "'Twelve to five'! It will be a shade monotonous standing on +a doorstep from twelve to five, especially if the rain streams." + +"Do you expect a Cleopatra to call at your attic, or to send an eighty +horse-power automobile, that you may cast your eye over her? Anyhow, +there may be a cafe opposite; you can order a bock on the terrace, and +make it last." + +"You are right. I shall go and inspect the spot at once. A hundred +beauties! I declare the advertisement might have been framed to meet my +wants. How fortunate that you chanced to see it! To-morrow evening you +shall hear the result--dine with me at the Bel Avenir at eight o'clock. +For one occasion I undertake to go a buster, I should be lacking in +gratitude if I neglected to stuff you to the brim." + +"Oh, my dear chap!" said Tricotrin. "The invitation is a godsend, I +have not viewed the inside of a restaurant for a week. While our pal +Pitou is banqueting with his progenitors in Chartres, _I_ have +even exhausted my influence with the fishmonger--I did not so much as +see my way to a nocturnal herring in the garret. Mind you are not late. +I shall come prepared to do justice to your hospitality, I promise +you." + +"Right, cocky!" said the artist. And he set forth, in high spirits, to +investigate the rue Baba. + +He was gratified to discover a cafe in convenient proximity to the +office. And twelve o'clock had not sounded next day when he took a seat +at one of the little white-topped tables, his gaze bent attentively +upon the agent's step. + +For the earliest arrival he had not long to wait. A dumpy girl with an +enormous nose approached, swinging her _sac a main_. She cast a +complacent glance at the name on the door, opened the bag, whipped out +a powder-puff, and vanished. + +"Morbleu!" thought the painter. "If she is a fair sample, I have +squandered the price of a bock!" He remained in a state of depression +for two or three minutes, and then the girl reappeared, evidently in a +very bad temper. + +"Ah!" he mused, rubbing his hands. "Monsieur Lavalette is plainly a +person of his word. No beauty, no engagement! This is going to be all +right, Where is the next applicant? A sip to Venus!" + +Venus, however, did not irradiate the street yet. The second young +woman was too short in the back, and at sight of her features he shook +his head despondently. "No good, my dear," he said to himself. "Little +as you suspect it, there is a disappointment for you inside, word of +honour! Within three minutes, I shall behold you again." + +And, sure enough, she made her exit promptly, looking as angry as the +other. + +"I am becoming a dramatic prophet!" soliloquised Goujaud; "if I had +nothing more vital to do, I might win drinks, betting on their chances, +with the proprietor of the cafe. However, I grow impatient for the bevy +of beauty--it is a long time on the road." + +As if in obedience to his demand, girls now began to trip into the rue +Baba so rapidly that he was kept busy regarding them. By twos, and +threes, and in quartettes they tripped--tall girls, little girls, plain +girls, pretty girls, girls shabby, and girls chic. But though many of +them would have made agreeable partners at a dance, there was none who +possessed the necessary qualifications for The Girl on Satan's Knee. He +rolled a cigarette, and blew a pessimistic puff. "Another day lost!" +groaned Goujaud. "All is over, I feel it. Posterity will never praise +my poster, the clutch of Commerce is upon me--already the smell of the +petrole is in my nostrils!" + +And scarcely had he said it when his senses reeled. + +For, stepping from a cab, disdainfully, imperially, was his Ideal. Her +hair, revealing the lobes of the daintiest ears that ever listened to +confessions of love, had the gleam of purple grapes. Her eyes were a +mystery, her mouth was a flower, her neck was an intoxication. So +violently was the artist affected that, during several moments, he +forgot his motive for being there. To be privileged merely to +contemplate her was an ecstasy. While he sat transfixed with +admiration, her dainty foot graced the agent's step, and she entered. + +Goujaud caught his breath, and rose. The cab had been discharged. Dared +he speak to her when she came out? It would be a different thing +altogether from speaking to the kind of girl that he had foreseen. But +to miss such a model for lack of nerve, that would be the regret of a +lifetime! Now the prospect of the poster overwhelmed him, and he felt +that he would risk any rebuff, commit any madness to induce her to +"sit." + +The estimate that he had, by this time, formed of monsieur Lavalette's +taste convinced him that her return would not be yet. He sauntered to +and fro, composing a preliminary and winning phrase. What was his +surprise, after a very few seconds, to see that she had come out +already, and was hastening away! + +He overtook her in a dozen strides, and with a bow that was eloquent of +his homage, exclaimed: + +"Mademoiselle!" + +"Hein?" she said, turning. "Oh, it's all right--there are too many +people there; I've changed my mind, I shan't wait." + +He understood that she took him for a minion of the agent's, and he +hesitated whether to correct her mistake immediately. However, candour +seemed the better course. + +"I do not bring a message from monsieur Lavalette, mademoiselle," he +explained. + +"No?" + +"No." + +"What then?" + +"I have ventured to address you on my own account--on a matter of the +most urgent importance." + +"I have no small change," she said curtly, making to pass. + +"Mademoiselle!" His outraged dignity was superb. "You mistake me first +for an office-boy, and then for a beggar. I am a man of means, though +my costume may be unconventional. My name is Theodosc Goujaud." + +Her bow intimated that the name was not significant; but her exquisite +eyes had softened at the reference to his means. + +"For weeks I have been seeking a face for a picture that I have +conceived," he went on; "a face of such peculiar beauty that I +despaired of finding it! I had the joy to see you enter the agency, and +I waited, trembling with the prayer that I might persuade you to come +to my aid. Mademoiselle, will you do me the honour to allow me to +reproduce the magic of your features on my canvas? I entreat it of you +in the sacred name of Art!" + +During this appeal, the lady's demeanour had softened more still. A +faint smile hovered on her lips; her gaze was half gratified, half +amused. + +"Oh, you're a painter?" she said; "you want me to sit to you for the +Salon? I don't know, I'm sure." + +"It is not precisely for the Salon," he acknowledged. "But I am +absorbed by the scheme--it will be the crown of my career. I will +explain. It is a long story. If--if we could sit down?" + +"Where?" + +"There appears to be a cafe close to the agency," said Goujaud timidly. + +"Oh!" She dismissed the cafe's pretensions with her eyebrows. + +"You are right," he stammered. "Now that I look at it again, I see that +it is quite a common place. Well, will you permit me to walk a little +way with you?" + +"We will go to breakfast at Armenonville, if you like," she said +graciously, "where you can explain to me at your leisure." It seemed +to Goujaud that his heart dropped into his stomach and turned to a +cannon-ball there. Armenonville? What would such a breakfast cost? +Perhaps a couple of louis? Never in his life had he contemplated +breakfasting at Armenonville. + +She smiled, as if taking his consent for granted. Her loveliness and +air of fashion confused him dreadfully. And if he made excuses, there +would be no poster! Oh, he must seize the chance at any price! + +"Oh course--I shall be enchanted," he mumbled. And before he half +realised that the unprecedented thing had happened they were rattling +away, side by side in a fiacre. + +It was astounding, it was breathless, it was an episode out of a novel! +But Goujaud felt too sick, in thinking of the appalling expense, to +enjoy his sudden glory. Accustomed to a couple of louis providing meals +for three weeks, he was stupefied by the imminence of scattering the +sum in a brief half-hour. Even the cab fare weighed upon him; he not +infrequently envied the occupants of omnibuses. + +It was clear that the lady herself was no stranger to the restaurant. +While he blinked bewildered on the threshold, she was referring to her +"pet table," and calling a waiter "Jules." The menu was a fresh +embarrassment to the bohemian, but she, and the deferential waiter, +relieved him of that speedily, and in five minutes an epicurean +luncheon had been ordered, and he was gulping champagne. + +It revived his spirits. Since he had tumbled into the adventure of his +life, by all means let him savour the full flavour of it! His +companion's smiles had become more frequent, her eyes were more +transcendental still. + +"How funnily things happen!" she remarked presently. "I had not the +least idea of calling on Lavalette when I got up this morning. If I had +not had a tiff with somebody, and decided to go on the stage to spite +him, I should never have met you." + +"Oh, you are not on the stage yet, then?" + +"No. But I have often thought about it, and the quarrel determined me. +So I jumped into a cab, drove off, and then--well, there was such a +crowd of girls there, and they looked so vulgar; I changed my mind." + +"Can an angel quarrel?" demanded Goujaud sentimentally. "I cannot +imagine you saying an angry word to anyone." + +"Oh!" she laughed. "Can't I, though! I'm a regular demon when I'm +cross. People shouldn't vex me." + +"Certainly not," he agreed. "And no one but a brute would do so. +Besides, some women are attractive even in a rage. On the whole, I +think I should like to see you in a rage with _me_, providing +always that you 'made it up' as nicely as I should wish." + +"Do you fancy that I could?" she asked, looking at the table-cloth. + +"My head swims, in fancying!" + +Her laughter rippled again, and her fascination was so intense that the +poor fellow could scarcely taste a mouthful of his unique repast. "Talk +to me," she commanded, "sensibly I mean! Where do you live?" + +"I am living in the rue Ravignan." + +"The rue Ravignan? Where is that?" + +"Montmartre." + +"Oh, really?" She seemed chilled. "It is not a very nice quarter in the +daytime, is it?" + +"My studio suits me," murmured Goujaud, perceiving his fall in her +esteem. "For that reason I am reluctant to remove. An artist becomes +very much attached to his studio. And what do I care for fashion, I? +You may judge by my coat!" + +"You're eccentric, aren't you?" + +"Hitherto I have lived only for Art. But now I begin to realise that +there may be something more potent and absorbing still." + +"What is that?" + +"Love!" added Goujaud, feeling himself the embodiment of all the heroes +of romance. + +"Oh?" Her glance mocked, encouraged. "I am dying to hear about your +picture, though! What is the subject?" + +"It is not exactly what you mean by a 'picture.'" He fiddled with his +glass. "It is, in fact, a poster that I project." + +"A poster?" she exclaimed. "And you ask _me_ to--oh, no, I +couldn't possibly!" + +"Mademoiselle!" + +"I really don't think I could. A poster? Ah, no!" + +"To save me!" he implored. "Because my whole life depends on your +decision!" + +"How can a poster matter so much to you? The proposal is absurd." She +regarded her peche Melba with a frown. + +"If you think of becoming an actress, remember what a splendid +advertisement it would be!" he urged feverishly. + +"Oh, flute!" But she had wavered at that. + +"All Paris would flock to your debut. They would go saying, 'Can she be +as beautiful as her portrait?' And they would come back saying, 'She is +lovelier still!' Let me give you some more wine." + +"No more; I'll have coffee, and a grand marnier--red." + +"Doubtless the more expensive colour!" reflected Goujaud. But the time +had passed for dwelling on minor troubles. "Listen," he resumed; "I +shall tell you my history. You will then realise to what an abyss of +despair your refusal will plunge me--to what effulgent heights I may be +raised by your consent. You cannot be marble! My father--" + +"Indeed, I am not marble," she put in. "I am instinct with sensibility +--it is my great weakness." + +"So much the better. Be weak to _me_. My father--" + +"Oh, let us get out of this first!" she suggested, "You can talk to me +as we drive." + +And the attentive Jules presented the discreetly folded bill. + +For fully thirty seconds the Pavilion d'Armenonville swirled round the +unfortunate painter so violently that he felt as if he were on a +roundabout at a fair. He feared that the siren must hear the pounding +of his heart. To think that he had dreaded paying two louis! Two louis? +Why, it would have been a bagatelle! Speechlessly he laid a fortune on +the salver. With a culminating burst of recklessness he waved four +francs towards Jules, and remarked that that personage eyed the tip +with cold displeasure. "What a lucrative career, a waiter's!" moaned +the artist; "he turns up his nose at four francs!" + +Well, he had speculated too heavily to accept defeat now! Bracing +himself for the effort, Goujaud besought the lady's help with such a +flood of blandishment during the drive that more than once she seemed +at the point of yielding. Only one difficult detail had he withheld-- +that he wished to pose her on the knee of Mephistopheles--and to +propitiate her further, before breaking the news, he stopped the cab at +a florist's. + +She was so good-humoured and tractable after the florist had pillaged +him that he could scarcely be callous when she showed him that she had +split her glove. But, to this day, he protests that, until the glove-shop +had been entered, it never occurred to him that it would be +necessary to present her with more than one pair. As they came out-- +Goujaud moving beside her like a man in a trance--she gave a faint +start. + +"Mon Dieu!" she muttered. "There's my friend--he has seen us--I must +speak to him, or he will think I am doing wrong. Wait a minute!" And a +dandy, with a monocle, was, indeed, casting very supercilious glances +at the painter. + +At eight o'clock that evening, monsieur Tricotrin, with a prodigious +appetite, sat in the Cafe du Bel Avenir, awaiting the arrival of his +host. When impatience was mastering him, there arrived, instead, a +petit bleu. The impecunious poet took it from the proprietress, paling, +and read: + +"I discovered my Ideal--she ruined, and then deserted me! To-morrow +there will be a painter the less, and a petrole merchant the more. +Pardon my non-appearance--I am spending my last sous on this message." + +"Monsieur will give his order now?" inquired the proprietress. + +"Er--thank you, I do not dine to-night," said Tricotrin. + + + +THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS + +In the summer of the memorable year ----, but the date doesn't matter, +Robichon and Quinquart both paid court to mademoiselle Brouette, +Mademoiselle Brouette was a captivating actress, Robichon and Quinquart +were the most comic of comedians, and all three were members of the +Theatre Supreme. + +Robichon was such an idol of the public's that they used to laugh +before he uttered the first word of his role; and Quinquart was so +vastly popular that his silence threw the audience into convulsions. + +Professional rivalry apart, the two were good friends, although they +were suitors for the same lady, and this was doubtless due to the fact +that the lady favoured the robust Robichon no more than she favoured +the skinny Quinquart. She flirted with them equally, she approved them +equally--and at last, when each of them had plagued her beyond +endurance, she promised in a pet that she would marry the one that was +the better actor. Tiens! Not a player on the stage, not a critic on +the Press could quite make up his mind which the better actor was. Only +Suzanne Brouette could have said anything so tantalising. + +"But how shall we decide the point, Suzanne?" stammered Robichon +helplessly. "Whose pronouncement will you accept?" + +"How can the question be settled?" queried Quinquart, dismayed. "Who +shall be the judge?" + +"Paris shall be the judge," affirmed Suzanne. "We are the servants of +the public--I will take the public's word!" + +Of course she was as pretty as a picture, or she couldn't have done +these things. + +Then poor Quinquart withdrew, plunged in reverie. So did Robichon. +Quinquart reflected that she had been talking through her expensive +hat. Robichon was of the same opinion. The public lauded them both, was +no less generous to one than to the other--to wait for the judgment of +Paris appeared equivalent to postponing the matter _sine die_. No +way out presented itself to Quinquart. None occurred to Robichon. + +"Mon vieux," said the latter, as they sat on the terrace of their +favourite cafe a day or two before the annual vacation, "let us discuss +this amicably. Have a cigarette! You are an actor, therefore you +consider yourself more talented than I. I, too, am an actor, therefore +I regard you as less gifted than myself. So much for our artistic +standpoints! But we are also men of the world, and it must be obvious +to both of us that we might go on being funny until we reached our +death-beds without demonstrating the supremacy of either. Enfin, our +only hope lies in versatility--the conqueror must distinguish himself +in a solemn part!" He viewed the other with complacence, for the quaint +Quinquart had been designed for a droll by Nature. + +"Right!" said Quinquart. He contemplated his colleague with +satisfaction, for it was impossible to fancy the fat Robichon in +tragedy. + +"I perceive only one drawback to the plan," continued Robichon, "the +Management will never consent to accord us a chance. Is it not always +so in the theatre? One succeeds in a certain line of business and one +must be resigned to play that line as long as one lives. If my earliest +success had been scored as a villain of melodrama, it would be believed +that I was competent to enact nothing but villains of melodrama; it +happened that I made a hit as a comedian, wherefore nobody will credit +that I am capable of anything but being comic." + +"Same here!" concurred Quinquart. "Well, then, what do you propose?" + +Robichon mused. "Since we shall not be allowed to do ourselves justice +on the stage, we must find an opportunity off it!" + +"A private performance? Good! Yet, if it is a private performance, how +is Paris to be the judge?" + +"Ah," murmured Robichon, "that is certainly a stumbling-block." + +They sipped their aperitifs moodily. Many heads were turned towards the +little table where they sat. "There are Quinquart and Robichon, how +amusing they always are!" said passers-by, little guessing the anxiety +at the laughter-makers' hearts. + +"What's to be done?" sighed Quinquart at last. + +Robichon shrugged his fat shoulders, with a frown. + +Both were too absorbed to notice that, after a glance of recognition, +one of the pedestrians had paused, and was still regarding them +irresolutely. He was a tall, burly man, habited in rusty black, and the +next moment, as if finding courage, he stepped forward and spoke: + +"Gentlemen, I ask pardon for the liberty I take--impulse urges me to +seek your professional advice! I am in a position to pay a moderate +fee. Will you permit me to explain myself?" + +"Monsieur," returned Robichon, "we are in deep consideration of our +latest parts. We shall be pleased to give you our attention at some +other time." + +"Alas!" persisted the newcomer, "with me time presses. I, too, am +considering my latest part--and it will be the only speaking part I +have ever played, though I have been 'appearing' for twenty years." + +"What? You have been a super for twenty years?" said Quinquart, with a +grimace. + +"No, monsieur," replied the stranger grimly. "I have been the public +executioner; and I am going to lecture on the horrors of the post I +have resigned." + +The two comedians stared at him aghast. Across the sunlit terrace +seemed to have fallen the black shadow of the guillotine. + +"I am Jacques Roux," the man went on, "I am 'trying it on the dog' at +Appeville-sous-Bois next week, and I have what you gentlemen call +'stage fright'--I, who never knew what nervousness meant before! Is it +not queer? As often as I rehearse walking on to the platform, I feel +myself to be all arms and legs--I don't know what to do with them. +Formerly, I scarcely remembered my arms and legs; but, of course, my +attention used to be engaged by the other fellow's head. Well, it +struck me that you might consent to give me a few hints in deportment. +Probably one lesson would suffice." + +"Sit down," said Robichon. "Why did you abandon your official +position?" + +"Because I awakened to the truth," Roux answered. "I no longer agree +with capital punishment: it is a crime that should be abolished." + +"The scruples of conscience, hein?" + +"That is it." + +"Fine!" said Robichon. "What dramatic lines such a lecture might +contain! And of what is it to consist?" + +"It is to consist of the history of my life--my youth, my poverty, my +experiences as Executioner, and my remorse." + +"Magnificent!" said Robichon. "The spectres of your victims pursue you +even to the platform. Your voice fails you, your eyes start from your +head in terror. You gasp for mercy--and imagination splashes your +outstretched hands with gore. The audience thrill, women swoon, strong +men are breathless with emotion." Suddenly he smote the table with his +big fist, and little Quinquart nearly fell off his chair, for he +divined the inspiration of his rival. "Listen!" cried Robichon, "are +you known at Appeville-sous-Bois?" + +"My name is known, yes." + +"Bah! I mean are you known personally, have you acquaintances there?" + +"Oh, no. But why?" + +"There will be nobody to recognize you?" + +"It is very unlikely in such a place." + +"What do you estimate that your profits will amount to?" + +"It is only a small hall, and the prices are very cheap. Perhaps two +hundred and fifty francs." + +"And you are nervous, you would like to postpone your debut?" + +"I should not be sorry, I admit. But, again, why?" + +"I will tell you why--I offer you five hundred francs to let me take +your place!" + +"Monsieur!" + +"Is it a bargain?" + +"I do not understand!" + +"I have a whim to figure in a solemn part. You can explain next day +that you missed your train--that you were ill, there are a dozen +explanations that can be made; you will not be supposed to know that I +personated you--the responsibility for that is mine. What do you say?" + +"It is worth double the money," demurred the man. + +"Not a bit of it! All the Press will shout the story of my practical +joke--Paris will be astounded that I, Robichon, lectured as Jacques +Roux and curdled an audience's blood. Millions will speak of your +intended lecture tour who otherwise would never have heard of it. I am +giving you the grandest advertisement, and paying you for it, besides. +Enfin, I will throw a deportment lesson in! Is it agreed?" + +"Agreed, monsieur!" said Roux. + +Oh, the trepidation of Quinquart! Who could eclipse Robichon if his +performance of the part equalled his conception of it? At the theatre +that evening Quinquart followed Suzanne about the wings pathetically. +He was garbed like a buffoon, but he felt like Romeo. The throng that +applauded his capers were far from suspecting the romantic longings +under his magenta wig. For the first time in his life he was thankful +that the author hadn't given him more to do. + +And, oh, the excitement of Robichon! He was to put his powers to a +tremendous test, and if he made the effect that he anticipated he had +no fear of Quinquart's going one better. Suzanne, to whom he whispered +his project proudly, announced an intention of being present to "see +the fun." Quinquart also promised to be there. Robichon sat up all +night preparing his lecture. + +If you wish to know whether Suzanne rejoiced at the prospect of his +winning her, history is not definite on the point; but some chroniclers +assert that at this period she made more than usual of Quinquart, who +had developed a hump as big as the Pantheon. + +And they all went to Appeville-sous-Bois. + +Though no one in the town was likely to know the features of the +Executioner, it was to be remembered that people there might know the +actor's, and Robichon had made up to resemble Roux as closely as +possible. Arriving at the humble hall, he was greeted by the lessee, +heard that a "good house" was expected, and smoked a cigarette in the +retiring-room while the audience assembled. + +At eight o'clock the lessee reappeared. + +"All is ready, monsieur Roux," he said. + +Robichon rose. + +He saw Suzanne and Quinquart in the third row, and was tempted to wink +at them. + +"Ladies and gentlemen--" + +All eyes were riveted on him as he began; even the voice of the +"Executioner" exercised a morbid fascination over the crowd. The men +nudged their neighbours appreciatively, and women gazed at him, half +horrified, half charmed. + +The opening of his address was quiet enough--there was even a humorous +element in it, as he narrated imaginary experiences of his boyhood. +People tittered, and then glanced at one another with an apologetic +air, as if shocked at such a monster's daring to amuse them. Suzanne +whispered to Quinquart: "Too cheerful; he hasn't struck the right +note." Quinquart whispered back gloomily: "Wait; he may be playing for +the contrast!" + +And Quinquart's assumption was correct. Gradually the cheerfulness +faded from the speaker's voice, the humorous incidents were past. +Gruesome, hideous, grew the anecdotes, The hall shivered. Necks were +craned, and white faces twitched suspensively. He dwelt on the agonies +of the Condemned, he recited crimes in detail, he mirrored the last +moments before the blade fell. He shrieked his remorse, his lacerating +remorse. "I am a murderer," he sobbed; and in the hall one might have +heard a pin drop. + +There was no applause when he finished--that set the seal on his +success; he bowed and withdrew amid tense silence. Still none moved in +the hall, until, with a rush, the representatives of the Press sped +forth to proclaim Jacques Roux an unparalleled sensation. + +The triumph of Robichon! How generous were the congratulations of +Quinquart, and how sweet the admiring tributes of Suzanne! And there +was another compliment to come--nothing less than a card from the +marquis de Thevenin, requesting an interview at his home. + +"Ah!" exclaimed Robichon, enravished, "an invitation from a noble! That +proves the effect I made, hein?" + +"Who may he be?" inquired Quinquart. "I never heard of the marquis de +Thevenin!" + +"It is immaterial whether you have heard of him," replied Robichon. "He +is a marquis, and he desires to converse with me! It is an honour that +one must appreciate. I shall assuredly go." + +And, being a bit of a snob, he sought a fiacre in high feather. + +The drive was short, and when the cab stopped he was distinctly taken +aback to perceive the unpretentious aspect of the nobleman's abode. It +was, indeed, nothing better than a lodging. A peasant admitted him, and +the room to which he was ushered boasted no warmer hospitality than a +couple of candles and a decanter of wine. However, the sconces were +massive silver. Monsieur le marquis, he was informed, had been suddenly +compelled to summon his physician, and begged that monsieur Roux would +allow him a few minutes' grace. + +Robichon ardently admired the candlesticks, but began to think he might +have supped more cozily with Suzanne. + +It was a long time before the door opened. + +The marquis de Thevenin was old--so old that he seemed to be falling to +pieces as he tottered forward. His skin was yellow and shrivelled, his +mouth sunken, his hair sparse and grey; and from this weird face peered +strange eyes--the eyes of a fanatic. + +"Monsieur, I owe you many apologies for my delay," he wheezed. "My +unaccustomed exertion this evening fatigued me, and on my return from +the hall I found it necessary to see my doctor. Your lecture was +wonderful, monsieur Roux--most interesting and instructive; I shall +never forget it." + +Robichon bowed his acknowledgments. + +"Sit down, monsieur Roux, do not stand! Let me offer you some wine. I +am forbidden to touch it myself. I am a poor host, but my age must be +my excuse." + +"To be the guest of monsieur le marquis," murmured Robichon, "is a +privilege, an honour, which--er--" + +"Ah," sighed the Marquis. "I shall very soon be in the Republic where +all men are really equals and the only masters are the worms. My reason +for requesting you to come was to speak of your unfortunate +experiences--of a certain unfortunate experience in particular. You +referred in your lecture to the execution of one called 'Victor +Lesueur.' He died game, hein?" + +"As plucky a soul as I ever dispatched!" said Robichon, savouring the +burgundy. + +"Ah! Not a tremor? He strode to the guillotine like a man?" + +"Like a hero!" said Robichon, who knew nothing about him. + +"That was fine," said the Marquis; "that was as it should be! You have +never known a prisoner to die more bravely?" There was a note of pride +in his voice that was unmistakable. + +"I shall always recall his courage with respect," declared Robichon, +mystified. + +"Did you respect it at the time?" + +"Pardon, monsieur le marquis?" + +"I inquire if you respected it at the time; did you spare him all +needless suffering?" + +"There is no suffering," said Robichon. "So swift is the knife that--" +The host made a gesture of impatience. "I refer to mental suffering. +Cannot you realise the emotions of an innocent man condemned to a +shameful death!" + +"Innocent! As for that, they all say that they are innocent." + +"I do not doubt it. Victor, however, spoke the truth. I know it. He was +my son." + +"Your son?" faltered Robichon, aghast. + +"My only son--the only soul I loved on earth. Yes; he was innocent, +monsieur Roux. And it was you who butchered him--he died by your +hands." + +"I--I was but the instrument of the law," stammered Robichon. "I was +not responsible for his fate, myself." + +"You have given a masterly lecture, monsieur Roux," said the Marquis +musingly; "I find myself in agreement with all that you said in it-- +you are his murderer,' I hope the wine is to your taste, monsieur Roux? +Do not spare it!" + +"The wine?" gasped the actor. He started to his feet, trembling--he +understood. + +"It is poisoned," said the old man calmly, "In an hour you will be +dead." + +"Great Heavens!" moaned Robichon. Already he was conscious of a strange +sensation--his blood was chilled, his limbs were weighted, there were +shadows before his eyes. + +"Ah, I have no fear of you!" continued the other; "I am feeble, I could +not defend myself; but your violence would avail you nothing. Fight, or +faint, as you please--you are doomed." + +For some seconds they stared at each other dumbly--the actor paralysed +by terror, the host wearing the smile of a lunatic. And then the +"lunatic" slowly peeled court-plaster from his teeth, and removed +features, and lifted a wig. + + * * * * * + +And when the whole story was published, a delighted Paris awarded the +palm to Quinquart without a dissentient voice, for while Robichon had +duped an audience, Quinquart had duped Robichon himself. + +Robichon bought the silver candlesticks, which had been hired for the +occasion, and he presented them to Quinquart and Suzanne on their +wedding-day. + + + +THE FAIRY POODLE + +They were called the "Two Children" because they were so unpractical; +even in bohemia, where practicality is the last virtue to flourish, +their improvidence was surprising; but really they were not children at +all--they had been married for three years, though to watch their +billing and cooing, you would have supposed them to be bride and +bridegroom. + +Julian and Juliette had fallen in love and run to the Mairie as +joyously as if chateaubriands were to be gathered from the boughs in +the Jardin des Buttes-Chaumont; and since then their home had been the +studio under the slates, where they were often penniless. Indeed, if it +had not been for the intermittent mercies of madame Cochard, the +concierge, they would have starved under the slates. However, they were +sure that the pictures which Julien painted would some day make him +celebrated, and that the fairy-tales which Juliette weaved would some +day be as famous as Hans Andersen's. So they laughed, and painted and +scribbled, and spent their money on bonbons, instead of saving it for +bread; and when they had no dinner, they would kiss each other, and say +"There is a good time coming," And they were called the "Two Children," +as you know. + +But even the patience of madame Cochard was taxed when Juliette brought +back the poodle. + +She found him--a strayed, muddy, unhappy little poodle--in the rue de +Rivoli one wet afternoon in November, and what more natural than that +she should immediately bear him home, and propose to give him a bath, +and adopt him? It was the most natural thing in the world, since she +was Juliette, yet this madame Cochard, who objected to a dog on her +stairs as violently as if it were a tiger, was furious. + +"Is it not enough," she cried, "that you are the worst tenants in the +house, you two--that you are always behindhand with your rent, and that +I must fill your mouths out of my own purse? Is a concierge an Angel +from Heaven, do you think, that you expect her to provide also for lost +dogs?" + +"Dear, kind madame Cochard," cooed Juliette, "you will learn to love +the little creature as if it were your own child! See how trustfully he +regards you!" + +"It is a fact," added Julien; "he seems to take to her already! It is +astonishing how quickly a dog recognises a good heart." + +"Good heart, or not," exclaimed the concierge, "it is to be understood +that I do not consent to this outrage. The poodle shall not remain!" + +"Be discreet," urged Juliette. "I entreat you to be discreet, for your +own sake; if you must have the whole truth, he is a fairy poodle!" + +"What do you say?" ejaculated madame Cochard. + +"He is a fairy poodle, and if we treat him ungenerously, we shall +suffer. Remember the history of the Lodgers, the Concierge, and the +Pug!" + +"I have never heard of such a history," returned madame Cochard; "and I +do not believe that there ever was one." + +"She has never heard the history of the Lodgers, the Concierge, and the +Pug!" cried Juliette. "Oh, then listen, madame! Once upon a time there +were two lodgers, a young man and his wife, and they were so poor that +often they depended on the tenderness of the concierge to supply them +with a dinner." + +"Did they also throw away their good money on bonbons and flowers?" +asked madame Cochard, trying her utmost to look severe. + +"It is possible," admitted Juliette, who was perched on the table, with +the dirty little animal in her lap, "for though they are our hero and +heroine, I cannot pretend that they were very wise. Well, this +concierge, who suffered badly from lumbago and stairs, had sometimes a +bit of temper, so you may figure yourself what a fuss she raised when +the poor lodgers brought home a friendless pug to add to their +embarrassments. However--" + +"There is no 'however,'" persisted madame Cochard; "she raises a fuss, +and that is all about it!" + +"Pardon, dear madame," put in Julien, "you confuse the cases; we are +now concerned with the veracious history of the pug, not the uncertain +future of the poodle." + +"Quite so," said Juliette. "She raised a terrible fuss and declared +that the pug should go, but finally she melted to it and made it +welcome. And then, what do you suppose happened? Why, it turned out to +be an enchanted prince, who rewarded them all with wealth and +happiness. The young man's pictures were immediately accepted by the +Salon--did I mention that he was an artist? The young woman's stories-- +did I tell you that she wrote stories?--became so much the fashion that +her head swam with joy; and the concierge--the dear, kind concierge-- +was changed into a beautiful princess, and never had to walk up any +stairs again as long as she lived. Thus we see that one should never +forbid lodgers to adopt a dog!" + +"Thus we see that they do well to call you a pair of 'children,'" +replied madame Cochard, "that is what we see! Well, well, keep the dog, +since you are so much bent on it; only I warn you that if it gives me +trouble, it will be sausages in no time! I advise you to wash it +without delay, for a more deplorable little beast I never saw." + +Julien and Juliette set to work with delight, and after he was bathed +and dry, the alteration in the dog was quite astonishing. Although he +did not precisely turn into a prince, he turned into a poodle of the +most fashionable aspect. Obviously an aristocrat among poodles, a +poodle of high estate. The metamorphosis was so striking that a new +fear assailed his rescuers, the fear that it might be dishonest of them +to retain him--probably some great lady was disconsolate at his loss! + +Sure enough! A few days later, when Sanquereau called upon them, he +said: + +"By the way, did I not hear that you had found a poodle, my children? +Doubtless it is the poodle for which they advertise. See!" And he +produced a copy of a journal in which "a handsome reward" was promised +for the restoration of an animal which resembled their protege to a +tuft. + +The description was too accurate for the Children to deceive +themselves, and that afternoon Juliette carried the dog to a +magnificent house which was nothing less than the residence of the +comtesse de Grand Ecusson. + +She was left standing in a noble hall while a flunkey bore the dog +away. Then another flunkey bade her follow him upstairs; and in a salon +which was finer than anything that Juliette had ever met with outside +the pages of a novel, the Countess was reclining on a couch with the +poodle in her arms. + +"I am so grateful to you for the recovery of my darling," said the +great lady; "my distress has been insupportable. Ah, naughty, naughty +Racine!" She made a pretence of chastising the poodle on the nose. + +"I can understand it, madame," said Juliette, much embarrassed. + +"Where did you find him? And has he been well fed, well taken care of? +I hope he has not been sleeping in a draught?" + +"Oh, indeed, madame, he has been nourished like a beloved child. +Doubtless, not so delicately as with madame, but--" + +"It was most kind of you," said the lady. "I count myself blessed that +my little Racine fell into such good hands. Now as to the reward, what +sum would you think sufficient?" + +Juliette looked shy. "I thank you, madame, but we could not accept +anything," she faltered. + +"What?" exclaimed the Countess, raising her eyebrows in surprise, "you +cannot accept anything? How is that?" + +"Well," said Juliette, "it would be base to accept money for a simple +act of honesty. It is true that we did not wish to part with the dog-- +we had grown to love him--but, as to our receiving payment for giving +him up, that is impossible." + +The Countess laughed merrily. "What a funny child you are! And, who are +'we'--you and your parents?" + +"Oh no," said Juliette; "my parents are in Heaven, madame; but I am +married." + +"Your husband must be in heaven, too!" said the Countess, who was a +charming woman. + +"Ah," demurred Juliette, "but although I have a warm heart, I have also +a healthy appetite, and he is not rich; he is a painter." + +"I must go to see his pictures some day," replied the comtesse de Grand +Ecusson. "Give me the address--and believe that I am extremely grateful +to you!" + +It need not be said that Juliette skipped home on air after this +interview. The hint of such patronage opened the gates of paradise to +her, and the prospect was equally dazzling to Julien. For fully a week +they talked of nothing but a visit from the comtesse de Grand Ecusson, +having no suspicion that fine ladies often forgot their pretty promises +as quickly as they made them. + +And the week, and a fortnight, and a month passed, and at last the +expectation faded; they ceased to indulge their fancies of a carriage- +and-pair dashing into the street with a Lady Bountiful. And what was +much more serious, madame Cochard ceased to indulge their follies. The +truth was that she had never pardoned the girl for refusing to accept +the proffered reward; the delicacy that prompted the refusal was beyond +her comprehension, and now that the pair were in arrears with their +rent again, she put no bridle on her tongue. "It appears to me that it +would have been more honourable to accept money for a poodle than to +owe money to a landlord," she grunted. "It must be perfectly understood +that if the sum is not forthcoming on the first of January, you will +have to get out. I have received my instructions, and I shall obey +them. On the first day of January, my children, you pay, or you go! Le +bon Dieu alone knows what will become of you, but that is no affair of +mine. I expect you will die like the babes in the wood, for you are no +more fit to make a living than a cow is fit to fly." + +"Dear madame Cochard," they answered, peacefully, "why distress +yourself about us? The first of January is more than a week distant; in +a week we may sell a picture, or some fairy tales--in a week many +things may happen!" And they sunned themselves on the boulevard the +same afternoon with as much serenity as if they had been millionaires. + +Nevertheless, they did not sell a picture or some fairy tales in the +week that followed--and the first of January dawned with relentless +punctuality, as we all remember. + +In the early morning, when madame Cochard made her ascent to the attic +--her arms folded inexorably, the glare of a creditor in her eye--she +found that Juliette had already been out. (If you can believe me, she +had been out to waste her last two francs on an absurd tie for Julien!) + +"Eh bien," demanded the concierge sternly, "where is your husband? I am +here, as arranged, for the rent; no doubt he has it ready on the +mantelpiece for me?" + +"He is not in," answered Juliette coaxingly, "and I am sorry to say we +have had disappointments. The fact is there is something wrong with the +construction of a story of which I had immense hopes--it needs letting +out at the waist, and a tuck put in at the hem. When I have made the +alterations, I am sure it will fit some journal elegantly." + +"All this passes forbearance!" exclaimed madame Cochard. "Well, you +have thoroughly understood, and all is said--you will vacate your +lodging by evening! So much grace I give you; but at six o'clock you +depart promptly, or you will be ejected! And do not reckon on me to +send any meal up here during the day, for you will not get so much as a +crust. What is it that you have been buying there?" + +"It is a little gift for Julien; I rose early to choose it before he +woke, and surprise him; but when I returned he was out." + +"A gift?" cried the concierge. "You have no money to buy food, and you +buy a gift for your husband! What for?" + +"What for?" repeated Juliette wonderingly. "Why, because it is New +Year's Day! And that reminds me--I wish you the compliments of the +season, madame; may you enjoy many happy years!" + +"Kind words pay no bills," snapped the concierge. "I have been lenient +far too long--I have my own reputation to consider with the landlord. +By six o'clock, bear in mind!" And then, to complete her resentment, +what should happen but that Julien entered bearing a bouquet! + +To see Julien present Juliette with the roses, and to watch Juliette +enchant Julien with the preposterous tie, was as charming a little +comedy of improvidence as you would be likely to meet with in a +lifetime. + +"Mon Dieu!" gasped madame Cochard, purple with indignation, "it is, +indeed, well that you are leaving here, monsieur--a madhouse is the +fitting address for you! You have nothing to eat and you buy roses for +your wife! What for?" + +"What for?" echoed Julien, astonished. "Why, because it is New Year's +Day! And I take the opportunity to wish you the compliments of the +season, madame--may your future be as bright as Juliette's eyes!" + +"By six o'clock!" reiterated the concierge, who was so exasperated that +she could barely articulate. "By six o'clock you will be out of the +place!" And to relieve her feelings, she slammed the door with such +violence that half a dozen canvases fell to the floor. + +"Well, this is a nice thing," remarked Julien, when she had gone. "It +looks to me, mignonne, as if we shall sleep in the Bois, with the moon +for an eiderdown." + +"At least you shall have a comfy pillow, sweetheart," cried Juliette, +drawing his head to her breast. + +"My angel, there is none so soft in the Elysee, And as we have nothing +for dejeuner in the cupboard, I propose that we breakfast now on +kisses." + +"Ah, Julien!" whispered the girl, as she folded him in her arms. + +"Ah, Juliette!" It was as if they had been married that morning. + +"And yet," continued the young man, releasing her at last, "to own the +truth, your kisses are not satisfying as a menu; they are the choicest +of hors d'oeuvres--they leave one hungry for more." + +They were still making love when Sanquereau burst in to wish them a +Happy New Year. + +"How goes it, my children?" he cried. "You look like a honeymoon, I +swear! Am I in the way, or may I breakfast with you?" + +"You are not in the way, mon vieux," returned Julien; "but I shall not +invite you to breakfast with me, because my repast consists of +Juliette's lips." + +"Mon Dieu!" said Sanquereau. "So you are broke? Well, in my chequered +career I have breakfasted on much worse fare than yours." + +At this reply, Juliette blushed with all the bashfulness of a bride, +and Julien endeavoured to assume the air of a man of the world. + +"Tell me," he said; "we are in difficulties about the rent--have you by +chance a louis that you could lend me?" + +Sanquereau turned out his pockets, like the good fellow he was, but he +could produce no more than a sou. "What a bother!" he cried. "I would +lend you a louis if I had it as readily as a cigarette-paper, but you +see how I am situated. On my honour, it rends my heart to have to +refuse." + +"You are a gallant comrade," said Julien, much touched. "Come back and +sup with us this evening, and we will open the New Year with a +festivity!" + +"Hein? But there will be no supper," faltered Juliette. + +"That's true," said Julien; "there will be no supper--I was forgetting. +Still--who knows? There is plenty of time; I shall have an idea. +Perhaps I may be able to borrow something from Tricotrin." + +"I shall be enchanted," responded Sanquereau; "depend on my arrival! If +I am not mistaken, I recognize Tricotrin's voice on the stairs." + +His ears had not deceived him; Tricotrin appeared with Pitou at this +very moment. + +"Greeting, my children!" they cried. "How wags the world? May the New +Year bring you laurels and lucre!" + +"To you also, dear Gustave and Nicolas," cried the Children. "May your +poems and your music ignite the Seine, and may Sanquereau rise to +eminence and make statues of you both!" + +"In the meantime," added Sanquereau, "can either of you put your hands +on a few francs? There is a fine opening for them here." + +"A difference of opinion exists between ourselves and the landlord," +Julien explained; "we consider that he should wait for his rent, and he +holds a different view. If you could lend us fifteen francs, we might +effect a compromise." + +The poet and the composer displayed the lining of their pockets as +freely as the sculptor had done, but their capital proved to be a sou +less than his own. Tears sprang to their eyes as they confessed their +inability to be of use, "We are in despair," they groaned. + +"My good, kind friends," exclaimed Julien, "your sympathy is a noble +gift in itself! Join us in a little supper this evening in celebration +of the date." + +"We shall be delighted," declared Tricotrin and Pitou. + +"But--but--" stammered Juliette again, "where is it to come from, this +supper--and where shall we be by supper-time?" + +"Well, our address is on the lap of the gods," admitted Julien, "but +while there is life there is hope. Possibly I may obtain a loan from +Lajeunie." + +Not many minutes had passed before Lajeunie also paid a visit to the +attic, "Aha," cried the unsuccessful novelist, as he perceived the +company, "well met! My children, my brothers, may your rewards equal +your deserts this year--may France do honour to your genius!" + +"And may Lajeunie be crowned the New Balzac," shouted the assembly; +"may his abode be in the Champs Elysees, and his name in the mouth of +all the world!" + +But, extraordinary as it appears, Lajeunie proved to be as impecunious +as the rest there; and he was so much distressed that Julien, deeply +moved, said: + +"Come back to supper, Lajeunie, we will drink toasts to the Muses!" And +now there were four guests invited to the impracticable supper, and +when the Children were left alone they clapped their hands at the +prospect. + +"How merry we shall be!" Julien exclaimed; "and awhile ago we talked of +passing the night in the Bois! It only shows you that one can never +tell what an hour may bring forth." + +"Yes, yes," assented Juliette blithely. "And as for the supper--" + +"We shall not require it till nine o'clock at the earliest." + +"And now it is no more than midday. Why, there is an eternity for +things to arrange themselves!" + +"Just so. The sky may rain truffles in such an interval," said the +painter. And they drew their chairs closer to the fire, and pretended +to each other that they were not hungry. + +The hours crept past, and the sunshine waned, and snow began to flutter +over Paris. But no truffles fell. By degrees the fire burnt low, and +died. To beg for more fuel was impossible, and Juliette shivered a +little. + +"You are cold, sweetheart," sighed Julien. "I will fetch a blanket from +the bed and wrap you in it." + +"No," she murmured, "wrap me in your arms--it will be better." + +Darker and darker grew the garret, and faster and faster fell the snow. + +"I have a fancy," said Juliette, breaking a long silence, "that it is +the hour in which a fairy should appear to us. Let us look to see if +she is coming!" + +They peered from the window, but in the twilight no fairy was to be +discerned; only an "old clo'" man was visible, trudging on his round. + +"I declare," cried Julien, "he is the next best thing to your fairy! I +will sell my summer suit and my velvet jacket. What do I want of a +velvet jacket? Coffee and eggs will be much more cheerful." + +"And I," vowed Juliette, "can spare my best hat easily--indeed, it is +an encumbrance. If we make madame Cochard a small peace-offering she +may allow us to remain until the morning." + +"What a grand idea! We shall provide ourselves with a night's shelter +and the means to entertain our friends as well Hasten to collect our +wardrobe, mignonette, while I crack my throat to make him hear. He, +he!" + +At the repeated cries the "old clo'" man lifted his gaze to the fifth- +floor window at last, and in a few minutes Julien and Juliette were +kneeling on the boards above a pile of garments, which they raised one +by one for his inspection. + +"Regard, monsieur," said Julien, "this elegant summer suit! It is +almost as good as new. I begin to hesitate to part with it. What shall +we say for this elegant summer suit?" + +The dealer fingered it disdainfully. "Show me boots," he suggested; "we +can do business in boots." + +"Alas!" replied Julien, "the only boots that I possess are on my feet. +We will again admire the suit. What do you estimate it at--ten francs?" + +"Are you insane? are you a lunatic?" returned the dealer. "To a +reckless man it might be worth ten sous. Let us talk of boots!" + +"I cannot go barefoot," expostulated Julien. "Juliette, my Heart, do +you happen to possess a second pair of boots?" + +Juliette shook her head forlornly. "But I have a hat with daisies in +it," she said. "Observe, monsieur, the delicate tints of the buds! How +like to nature, how exquisite they are! They make one dream of +courtship in the woods. I will take five francs for it." + +"From me I swear you will not take them!" said the "old clo'" man. +"Boots," he pleaded; "for the love of God, boots!" + +"Morbleu, what a passion for boots you have!" moaned the unhappy +painter; "they obsess you, they warp your judgment. Can you think of +nothing in the world but boots? Look, we come to the gem of the +exhibition--a velvet jacket! A jacket like this confers an air of +greatness, one could not feel the pinch of poverty in such a jacket. It +is, I confess, a little white at the elbows, but such high lights are +very effective. And observe the texture--as soft as a darling's cheek!" + +The other turned it about with indifferent hands, and the Children +began to realise that he would prove no substitute for a fairy after +all. Then, while they watched him with sinking hearts, the door was +suddenly opened, and the concierge tottered on the threshold. + +"Monsieur, madame!" she panted, with such respect that they stared at +each other. + +"Eh bien?" + +"A visitor!" She leant against the wall, overwhelmed. + +"Who is it?" + +"Madame, la comtesse de Grand Ecusson!" + +Actually! The Countess had kept her word after all, and now she rustled +in, before the "old clo'" man could be banished. White as a virgin +canvas, Julien staggered forward to receive her, a pair of trousers, +which he was too agitated to remember, dangling under his arm. "Madame, +this honour!" he stammered; and, making a piteous effort to disguise +his beggary, "One's wardrobe accumulates so that, really, in a small +menage, one has no room to--" + +"I have suffered from the inconvenience myself, monsieur," said the +Countess graciously. "Your charming wife was so kind as to invite me to +view your work; and see--my little Racine has come to wish his +preservers a Happy New Year!" + +And, on the honour of an historian, he brought one! Before they left +she had given a commission for his portrait at a thousand francs, and +purchased two landscapes, for which a thousand francs more would be +paid on the morrow. When Sanquereau, and Lajeunie, and Tricotrin, and +Pitou arrived, expecting the worst, they were amazed to discover the +Children waltzing round the attic to the music of their own voices. + +What _hurras_ rang out when the explanation was forthcoming; what +loans were promised to the guests, and what a gay quadrille was danced! +It was not until the last figure had concluded that Julien and Juliette +recognised that, although they would be wealthy in the morning, they +were still penniless that night. + +"Helas! but we have no supper after all," groaned Julien. + +"Pardon, it is here, monsieur!" shouted madame Cochard, who entered +behind a kingly feast. "_Comment_, shall the artist honoured by +madame la comtesse de Grand Ecusson have no supper? Pot-au-feu, +monsieur; leg of mutton, monsieur; little tarts, monsieur; dessert, +monsieur; and for each person a bottle of good wine!" + +And the justice that was done to it, and the laughter that pealed under +the slates! The Children didn't forget that it was all due to the dog. +Juliette raised her glass radiantly. + +"Gentlemen," she cried, "I ask you to drink to the Fairy Poodle!" + + + +LITTLE-FLOWER-OF-THE-WOOD + +Janiaud used to lie abed all day, and drink absinthe all night. When +he contrived to write his poetry is a mystery. But he did write it, and +he might have written other things, too, if he had had the will. It was +often said that his paramount duty was to publish a history of modern +Paris, for the man was an encyclopaedia of unsuspected facts. Since he +can never publish it now, however, I am free to tell the story of the +Cafe du Bon Vieux Temps as he told it to an English editor and me one +night on the terrace of the cafe itself. It befell thus: + +When we entered that shabby little Montmartre restaurant, Janiaud +chanced to be seated, at a table in a corner, sipping his favourite +stimulant. He was deplorably dirty and suggested a scarecrow, and the +English editor looked nervous when I offered an introduction. Still, +Janiaud was Janiaud. The offer was accepted, and Janiaud discoursed in +his native tongue. At midnight the Editor ordered supper. Being +unfamiliar with the Cafe du Bon Vieux Temps in those days, I said that +I would drink beer. Janiaud smiled sardonically, and the waiter +surprised us with the information that beer could not be supplied. + +"What?" + +"After midnight, nothing but champagne," he answered. + +"Really? Well, let us go somewhere else," I proposed. + +But the Editor would not hear of that. He had a princely soul, and, +besides, he was "doing Paris." + +"All the same, what does it mean?" he inquired of Janiaud. + +Janiaud blew smoke rings. "It is the rule. During the evening the +bock-drinker is welcomed here as elsewhere; but at midnight--well, you will +see what you will see!" + +And we saw very soon. The bourgeoisie of Montmartre had straggled out +while we talked, and in a little while the restaurant was crowded with +a rackety crew who had driven up in cabs. Everybody but ourselves was +in evening-dress. Where the coppers had been counted carefully, gold +was scattered. A space was cleared for dancing, and mademoiselle Nan +Joliquette obliged the company with her latest comic song. + +The Editor was interested. "It is a queer change, though! Has it always +been like this?" + +"Ask Janiaud," I said; _I_ don't know." + +"Oh, not at all," replied Janiaud; "no, indeed, it was not always like +this! It used to be as quiet at midnight as at any other hour. But it +became celebrated as a supper-place; and now it is quite the thing for +the ardent spirits, with money, to come and kick up their heels here +until five in the morning." + +"Curious, how such customs originate," remarked the Editor. "Here we +have a restaurant which is out of the way, which is the reverse of +luxurious, and which, for all that, seems to be a gold mine to the +proprietor. Look at him! Look at his white waistcoat and his massive +watch-chain, his air of prosperity." + +"How did he come to rake it in like this, Janiaud--you know +everything?" I said. + +The poet stroked his beard, and glanced at his empty glass. The Editor +raised a bottle. + +"I cannot talk on Clicquot," demurred Janiaud. "If you insist, I will +take another absinthe--they will allow it, in the circumstances. Sst, +Adolphe!" The waiter whisked over to us. "Monsieur pays for champagne, +but I prefer absinthe. There is no law against that, hein?" + +Adolphe smiled tolerantly. + +"Shall we sit outside?" suggested the Editor. "What do you think? It's +getting rather riotous in here, isn't it?" + +So we moved on to the terrace, and waited while Janiaud prepared his +poison. + +"It is a coincidence that you have asked me for the history of the Bon +Vieux Temps tonight," he began, after a gulp; "if you had asked for it +two days earlier, the climax would have been missing. The story +completed itself yesterday, and I happened to be here and saw the end. + +"Listen: Dupont--the proprietor whom monsieur has just admired--used to +be chef to a family on the boulevard Haussmann. He had a very fair +salary, and probably he would have remained in the situation till now +but for the fact that he fell in love with the parlourmaid. She was a +sprightly little flirt, with ambitions, and she accepted him only on +condition that they should withdraw from domestic service and start a +business of their own. Dupont was of a cautious temperament; he would +have preferred that they should jog along with some family in the +capacities of chef and housekeeper. Still, he consented; and, with what +they had saved between them, they took over this little restaurant-- +where monsieur the Editor has treated me with such regal magnificence. +It was not they who christened it--it was called the Cafe du Bon Vieux +Temps already; how it obtained its name is also very interesting, but I +have always avoided digressions in my work--that is one of the first +principles of the literary art." + +He swallowed some more absinthe. + +"They took the establishment over, and they conducted it on the lines +of their predecessor--they provided a dejeuner at one franc fifty, and +a dinner at two francs. These are side-shows of the Bon Vieux Temps to-day, +but, in the period of which I speak, they were all that it had to +say for itself--they were its foundation-stone, and its cupola. When I +had two francs to spare, I used to dine here myself. + +"Well, the profits were not dazzling. And after marriage the little +parlourmaid developed extravagant tastes. She had a passion for +theatres. I, Janiaud, have nothing to say against theatres, excepting +that the managers have never put on my dramas, but in the wife of a +struggling restaurateur a craze for playgoing is not to be encouraged. +Monsieur will agree? Also, madame had a fondness for dress. She did +little behind the counter but display new ribbons and trinkets. She was +very stupid at giving change--and always made the mistake on the wrong +side for Dupont. At last he had to employ a cousin of his own as dame- +de-comptoir. The expenses had increased, and the returns remained the +same. In fine, Dupont was in difficulties; the Bon Vieux Temps was on +its last legs. + +"Listen: There was at that time a dancer called 'Little-Flower-of-the- +Wood'; she was very chic, very popular. She had her appartement in the +avenue Wagram, she drove to the stage-doors in her coupe, her +photographs were sold like confetti at a carnival. Well, one afternoon, +when Dupont's reflections were oscillating between the bankruptcy court +and the Morgue, he was stupefied to receive a message from her--she +bade him reserve a table for herself and some friends for supper that +night! + +"Dupont could scarcely credit his ears. He told his wife that a +practical joker must be larking with him. He declared that he would +take no notice of the message, that he was not such an ass to be duped +by it. Finally, he proposed to telegraph to Little-Flower-of-the-Wood, +inquiring if it was genuine. + +"Monsieur, as an editor, will have observed that a woman who is +incapable in the daily affairs of life, may reveal astounding force in +an emergency? It was so in this case. Madame put her foot down; she +showed unsuspected commercial aptitude. She firmly forbade Dupont to do +anything of the sort! + +"'What?' she exclaimed. 'You will telegraph to her, inquiring? Never in +this life! You might as well advise her frankly not to come. What would +such a question mean? That you do not think the place is good enough +for her! Well, if _you_ do not think so, neither will _she_-- +she will decide that she had a foolish impulse and stay away! + +"'Mon Dieu! do you dream that a woman accustomed to the Cafe de Paris +would choose to sup in an obscure little restaurant like ours?' said +Dupont, fuming. 'Do you dream that I am going to buy partridges, and +peaches, and wines, and heaven knows what other delicacies, in the +dark? Do you dream that I am going to ruin myself while every instinct +in me protests? It would be the act of a madman!' + +"'My little cabbage,' returned madame, 'we are so near to ruin as we +are, that a step nearer is of small importance. If Little-Flower-of- +the-Wood should come, it might be the turning-point in our fortunes-- +people would hear of it, the Bon Vieux Temps might become renowned. +Yes, we shall buy partridges, and peaches--and bonbons, and flowers +also, and we shall hire a piano! And if our good angel should indeed +send her to us, I swear she shall pass as pleasant an evening as if she +had gone to Maxim's or the Abbaye! + +"Bien! She convinced him. For the rest of the day the place was in a +state of frenzy. Never before had such a repast been seen in its +kitchen, never before had he cooked with such loving care, even when he +had been preparing a dinner of ceremony on the boulevard Haussmann. +Madame herself ran out to arrange for the piano. The floor was swept. +The waiter was put into a clean shirt. Dupont shed tears of excitement +in his saucepans. + +"He served the two-franc dinner that evening with eyes that watched +nothing but the clock. All his consciousness now was absorbed by the +question whether the dancer would come or not. The dinner passed +somehow--it is to be assumed that the customers grumbled, but in his +suspense Dupont regarded them with indifference. The hours crept by. It +was a quarter to twelve--twelve o'clock. He trembled behind the +counter as if with ague. Now it was time that she was here! His face +was blanched, his teeth chattered in his head. What if he had been +hoaxed after all? Half-past twelve! The sweat ran down him. Terror +gripped his heart. A vision of all the partridges wasted convulsed his +soul. Hark! a carriage stopped. He tottered forward. The door opened-- +she had come! + +"Women are strange. Little-Flower-of-the-Wood, who yawned her pretty +head off at Armenonville, was enraptured with the Bon Vieux Temps. The +rest of the party took their tone from her, and everything was +pronounced 'fun,' the coarse linen, the dirty ceiling, the admiring +stares of the bock-drinkers. The lady herself declared that she had +'never enjoyed a supper so much in her life,' and the waiter--it was +not Adolphe then--was dumfounded by a louis tip. + +"Figure yourself the exultation of madame! 'Ah,' she chuckled, when +they shut up shop at sunrise, 'what did I tell you, my little cabbage?' +Monsieur, as an editor, will have observed that a woman who reveals +astounding force in an emergency may triumph pettily when the emergency +is over? + +"'It remains to be seen whether they will come any more, however,' said +Dupont. 'Let us go to bed. Mon Dieu, how sleepy I am!' It was the first +occasion that the Bon Vieux Temps had been open after two o'clock in +the morning. + +"It was the first occasion, and for some days they feared it might be +the last. But no, the dancer came again! A few eccentrics who came with +her flattered themselves on having made a 'discovery.' They boasted of +it. Gradually the name of the Bon Vieux Temps became known. By the time +that Little-Flower-of-the-Wood had had enough, there was a supper +clientele without her. Folly is infectious, and in Paris there are +always people catching a fresh craze. Dupont began to put up his +prices, and levied a charge on the waiter for the privilege of waiting +at supper. The rest of the history is more grave ... _Comment_, +monsieur? Since you insist--again an absinthe!" + +Janiaud paused, and ran his dirty fingers through his hair. + +"This man can talk!" said the Editor, in an undertone. + +"Gentlemen," resumed the poet, "two years passed. Little-Flower-of-the- +Wood was on the Italian Riviera. The Italian Riviera was awake again +after the heat of the summer--the little town that had dozed for many +months began to stir. Almost every day now she saw new faces on the +promenade; the sky was gentler, the sea was fairer. And she sat +loathing it all, craving to escape from it to the bleak streets of +Paris. + +"Two winters before, she had been told, 'Your lungs will stand no more +of the pranks you have been playing. You must go South, and keep early +hours, or--' The shrug said the rest. And she had sold some of her +diamonds and obeyed. Of course, it was an awful nuisance, but she must +put up with it for a winter in order to get well. As soon as she was +well, she would go back, and take another engagement. She had promised +herself to be dancing again by May. + +"But when May had come, she was no better. And travelling was +expensive, and all places were alike to her since she was forbidden to +return to Paris. She, had disposed of more jewellery, and looked forward +to the autumn. And in the autumn she had looked forward to the spring. +So it had gone on. + +"At first, while letters came to her sometimes, telling her how she was +missed, the banishment had been alleviated; later, in her loneliness, +it had grown frightful. Monsieur, her soul--that little soul that +pleasure had held dumb--cried out, under misfortune, like a homeless +child for its mother. Her longing took her by the throat, and the +doctor had difficulty in dissuading her from going to meet death by the +first train. She did not suspect that she was doomed in any case; he +thought it kinder to deceive her. He had preached 'Patience, +mademoiselle, a little patience!' And she had wrung her hands, but +yielded--sustained by the hope of a future that she was never to know. + +"By this time the last of her jewels was sold, and most of the money +had been spent. The fact alarmed her when she dwelt upon it, but she +did not dwell upon it very often--in the career of Little-Flower-of- +the-Wood, so many financial crises had been righted at the last moment. +No, although there was nobody now to whom she could turn for help, it +was not anxiety that bowed her; the thoughts by which she was stricken, +as she sauntered feebly on the eternal promenade, were that in Paris +they no longer talked of her, and that her prettiness had passed away. +She was forgotten, ugly! The tragedy of her exile was that. + +"Now it was that she found out the truth--she learnt that there was no +chance of her recovering. She made no reproaches for the lies that had +been told her; she recognized that they had been well meant. All she +said was, 'I am glad that it is not too late; I may see Paris still +before the curtain tumbles--I shall go at once.' + +"Not many months of life remained to her, but they were more numerous +than her louis. It was an unfamiliar Paris that she returned to! She +had quitted the Paris of the frivolous and feted; she came back to the +Paris of the outcast poor. The world that she had remembered gave her +no welcome--she peered through its shut windows, friendless in the +streets. + +"Gentlemen, last night all the customers had gone from the little Cafe +du Bon Vieux Temps but a woman in a shabby opera-cloak--a woman with +tragic eyes, and half a lung. She sat fingering her glass of beer +absently, though the clock over the desk pointed to a quarter to +midnight, and at midnight beer-drinkers are no longer desired in the +Bon Vieux Temps. But she was a stranger; it was concluded that she +didn't know. + +"Adolphe approached to enlighten her; 'Madame wishes to order supper?' +he asked. + +"The stranger shook her head. + +"'Madame will have champagne?' + +"'Don't bother me!' said the woman. + +"Adolphe nodded toward the bock contemptuously. 'After midnight, only +champagne is served here,' he said; 'it is the rule of the house,' + +"'A fig for the rule!' scoffed the woman; 'I am going to stop.' + +"Adolphe retired and sought the _patron_, and Dupont advanced to +her with dignity. + +"'Madame is plainly ignorant of our arrangements,' he began; 'at twelve +o'clock one cannot remain here for the cost of a bock--the restaurant +becomes very gay,' + +"'So I believe,' she said; 'I want to see the gaiety,' + +"'It also becomes expensive. I will explain. During the evening we +serve a dinner at two francs for our clients in the neighbourhood--and +until twelve o'clock one may order bocks, or what one wishes, at +strictly moderate prices. But at twelve o'clock there is a change; we +have quite a different class of trade. The world that amuses itself +arrives here to sup and to dance. As a supper-house, the Bori Vieux +Temps is known to all Paris.' + +"'One lives and learns!' said the woman, ironically; 'but I--know more +about the Bon Vieux Temps than you seem to think. I can tell you the +history of its success.' + +"'Madame?' Dupont regarded her with haughty eyes. + +"'Three years ago, monsieur, there was no "different class of trade" at +twelve o'clock, and no champagne. The dinners at two francs for your +clients in the neighbourhood were all that you aspired to. You did the +cooking yourself in those days, and you did not sport a white waistcoat +and a gold watch-chain.' + +"'These things have nothing to do with it. You will comply with the +rule, or you must go. All is said!' "'One night Little-Flower-of-the- +Wood had a whim to sup here,' continued the woman as if he had not +spoken. 'She had passed the place in her carriage and fancied its name, +or its flowerpot--or she wanted to do something new. Anyhow, she had +the whim! I see you have the telephone behind the desk, monsieur--your +little restaurant was not on the telephone when she wished to reserve a +table that night; she had to reserve it by a messenger.' + +"'Well, well?' said Dupont, impatiently. + +"'But you were a shrewd man; you saw your luck and leapt at it--and +when she entered with her party, you received her like a queen. You had +even hired a piano, you said, in case Little-Flower-of-the-Wood might +wish to play. I notice that a piano is in the corner now--no doubt you +soon saved the money to buy one.' + +"'How do you know all this, you?' Dupont's gaze was curious. + +"'Her freak pleased her, and she came again and again--and others came, +just to see her here. Then you recognized that your clients from the +neighbourhood were out of place among the spendthrifts, who yielded +more profit in a night than all the two-franc dinners in a month; you +said, "At twelve o'clock there shall be no more bocks, only champagne!" +I had made your restaurant famous--and you introduced the great rule +that you now command me to obey.' + +"'You? You are Little-Flower-of-the-Wood?' + +"'Yes, it was I who did it for you,' she said quietly. 'And the +restaurant flourished after Little-Flower-of-the-Wood had faded. Well, +to-night I want to spend an hour here again, for the sake of what I +used to be. Time brings changes, you understand, and I cannot conform +with the great rule.' She opened the opera-cloak, trembling, and he saw +that beneath it Little-Flower-of-the-Wood was in rags. + +"'I am very poor and ill,' she went on. 'I have been away in the South +for more than two years; they told me I ought to stop there, but I had +to see Paris once more! What does it matter? I shall finish here a +little sooner, that is all. I lodge close by, in a garret. The garret +is very dirty, but I hear the muisc from the Bal Tabarin across the +way. I like that--I persuade myself I am living the happy life I used +to have. When I am tossing sleepless, I hear the noise and laughter of +the crowd coming out, and blow kisses to them in the dark. You see, +although one is forgotten, one cannot forget. I pray that their +laughter will come up to me right at the end, before I die.' + +"'You cannot afford to enter Tabarin's?' faltered Dupont; 'you are so +stony as that?' + +"'So stony as that!' she said. 'And I repeat that to-night I want to +pass an hour in the midst of the life I loved. Monsieur, remember how +you came to make your rule! Break it for me once! Let me stay here +to-night for a bock!' + +"Dupont is a restaurateur, but he is also a man. He took both her +hands, and the waiters were astonished to perceive that the +_patron_ was crying. + +"'My child,' he stammered, 'you will sup here as my guest.' + +"Adolphe set before her champagne that she sipped feverishly, and a +supper that she was too ill to eat. And cabs came rattling from the +Boulevard with boisterous men and women who no longer recalled her +name--and with other 'Little-Flowers-of-the-Wood,' who had sprung up +since her day. + +"The woman who used to reign there sat among them looking back, until +the last jest was bandied, and the last bottle was drained. Then she +bade her host 'good-bye,' and crawled home--to the garret where she +'heard the music of the ball'; the garret where she 'prayed that the +laughter would come up to her right at the end, before she died.'" + +Janiaud finished the absinthe, and lurched to his feet. "That's all." + +"Great Scott," said the Editor, "I wish he could write in English! But +--but it's very pitiable, she may starve there; something ought to be +done.... Can you tell us where she is living, monsieur?" + +The poet shrugged his shoulders. "Is there no satisfying you? You asked +me for the history of the Bon Vieux Temps, and there are things that +even I do not know. However, I have done my best. I cannot say where +the lady is living, but I can tell you where she was born." He pointed, +with a drunken laugh, to his glass: "There!" + + + +A MIRACLE IN MONTMARTRE + +Lajeunie, the luckless novelist, went to Pitou, the unrecognized +composer, saying, "I have a superb scenario for a revue. Let us join +forces! I promise you we shall make a fortune; we shall exchange our +attics for first floors of fashion, and be wealthy enough to wear sable +overcoats and Panama hats at the same time." In ordinary circumstances, +of course, Pitou would have collaborated only with Tricotrin, but +Tricotrin was just then engrossed by a tragedy in blank verse and seven +acts, and he said to them, "Make a fortune together by all means, my +comrades; I should be unreasonable if I raised objections to having +rich friends." + +Accordingly the pair worked like heroes of biography, and, after +vicissitudes innumerable, _Patatras_ was practically accepted at +La Coupole. The manager even hinted that Fifi Blondette might be seen +in the leading part. La Coupole, and Blondette! Pitou and Lajeunie +could scarcely credit their ears. To be sure, she was no actress, and +her voice was rather unpleasant, and she would probably want everything +rewritten fifteen times before it satisfied her; but she was a +beautiful woman and all Paris paid to look at her when she graced a +stage; and she had just ruined Prince Czernowitz, which gave her name +an additional value. "Upon my word," gasped Pitou, "our luck seems as +incredible, my dear Lajeunie, as the plot of any of your novels! Come +and have a drink!" + +"I feel like Rodolphe at the end of _La Vie de Boheme_," he +confided to Tricotrin in their garret one winter's night, as they went +supper-less to their beds. "Now that the days of privation are past, I +recall them with something like regret. The shock of the laundress's +totals, the meagre dinners at the Bel Avenir, these things have a +fascination now that I part from them. I do not wish to sound +ungrateful, but I cannot help wondering if my millions will impair the +taste of life to me." + +"To me they will make it taste much better," said Tricotrin, "for I +shall have somebody to borrow money from, and I shall get enough +blankets. _Brrr_! how cold I am! Besides, you need not lose touch +with Montmartre because you are celebrated--you can invite us all to +your magnificent abode. Also, you can dine at the Bel Avenir still, if +sentiment pulls you that way." + +"I shall certainly dine there," averred Pitou. "And I shall buy a house +for my parents, with a peacock and some deer on the lawn. At the same +time, a triumph is not without its pathos. I see my return to the Bel +Avenir, the old affections in my heart, the old greetings on my lips-- +and I see the fellows constrained and formal in my presence. I see +madame apologising for the cuisine, instead of reminding me that my +credit is exhausted, and the waiter polishing my glass, instead of +indicating the cheapest item on the menu. Such changes hurt!" He was +much moved. "A fortune is not everything," he sighed, forgetting that +his pockets were as empty as his stomach. "Poverty yielded joys which I +no longer know." + +The poet embraced him with emotion. "I rejoice to find that Fame has +not spoilt your nature," he cried; and he, too, forgot the empty +pockets, and that the contract from La Coupole had yet to come. "Yes, +we had hard times together, you and I, and I am still a nobody, but we +shall be chums as long as we live. I feel that you can unbosom yourself +to me, the poor bohemian, more freely than to any Immortal with whom +you hobnob in scenes of splendour." + +"Oh indeed, indeed!" assented Pitou, weeping. "You are as dear to me +now as in the days of our struggles; I should curse my affluence if it +made you doubt that! Good-night, my brother; God bless you." + +He lay between the ragged sheets; and half an hour crept by. + +"Gustave!" + +"Well?" said Tricotrin, looking towards the other bed. "Not asleep +yet?" + +"I cannot sleep--hunger is gnawing at me." + +"Ah, what a relentless realist is this hunger," complained the poet, +"how it destroys one's illusions!" + +"Is there nothing to eat in the cupboard?" + +"Not a crumb--I am ravenous myself. But I recall a broken cigarette in +my waistcoat pocket; let us cut it in halves!" + +They strove, shivering, to appease their pangs by slow whiffs of a +Caporal, and while they supped in this unsatisfactory fashion, there +came an impetuous knocking at the street door. + +"It must be that La Coupole has sent you a sack of gold to go on with!" +Tricotrin opined. "Put your head out and see." + +"It is Lajeunie," announced the composer, withdrawing from the window +with chattering teeth. "What the devil can he want? I suppose I must go +down and let him in." + +"Perhaps we can get some more cigarettes from him," said Tricotrin; "it +might have been worse." + +But when the novelist appeared, the first thing he stammered was, "Give +me a cigarette, one of you fellows, or I shall die!" + +"Well, then, dictate your last wishes to us!" returned Pitou. "Do you +come here under the impression that the house is a tobacconist's? What +is the matter with you, what is up?" "For three hours," snuffled +Lajeunie, who looked half frozen and kept shuddering violently, "for +three hours I have been pacing the streets, questioning whether I +should break the news to you to-night or not. In one moment I told +myself that it would be better to withhold it till the morning; in the +next I felt that you had a right to hear it without delay. Hour after +hour, in the snow, I turned the matter over in my mind, and--" + +"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Pitou, "is this an interminable serial at so much +a column? Come to the point!" + +Lajeunie beat his breast. "I am distracted," he faltered, "I am no +longer master of myself. Listen! It occurred to me this evening that I +might do worse than pay a visit to La Coupole and inquire if a date was +fixed yet for the rehearsals to begin. Well, I went! For a long time I +could obtain no interview, I could obtain no appointment--the messenger +came back with evasive answers. I am naturally quick at smelling a rat +--I have the detective's instinct--and I felt that there was something +wrong. My heart began to fail me." + +"For mercy's sake," groaned his unhappy collaborator, "explode the bomb +and bury my fragments! Enough of these literary introductions. Did you +see the manager, or didn't you?" + +"I did see the miscreant, the bandit-king, I saw him in the street. For +I was not to be put off--I waited till he came out. Well, my friend, to +compress the tragedy into one act, our hope is shattered-- +_Patatras_ is again refused!" + +"Oh, heavens!" moaned Pitou, and fell back upon the mattress as white +as death. + +"What explanation did he make?" cried Tricotrin; "what is the reason?" + +"The reason is that Blondette is an imbecile--she finds the part +'unworthy of her talents.' A part on which I have lavished all the +wealth of my invention--she finds it beneath her, she said she would +'break her contract rather than play it.' Well, Blondette is the trump-card +of his season--he would throw over the whole of the Academy sooner +than lose Blondette. Since she objects to figuring in _Patatras, +Patatras_ is waste-paper to him. Alas! who would be an author? I +would rather shovel coke, or cut corns for a living. He himself +admitted that there was no fault to find with the revue, but, 'You know +well, monsieur, that we must humour Blondette!' I asked him if he would +try to bring her to her senses, but it seems that there have been a +dozen discussions already--he is sick of the subject. Now it is +settled--our manuscript will be banged back at us and we may rip!" + +"Oh, my mother!" moaned Pitou. "Oh, the peacock and the deer!" + +"What's that you say?" asked Lajeunie. "Are you positive that you +haven't got a cigarette anywhere?" + +"I am positive that I have nothing," proclaimed Pitou vehemently, +"nothing in life but a broken heart! Oh, you did quite right to come to +me, but now leave me--leave me to perish. I have no words, I am +stricken. The next time you see me it will be in the Morgue. Mon Dieu, +that beautiful wretch, that creature without conscience, or a note in +her voice--by a shrug of her elegant shoulders she condemns me to the +Seine!" + +"Ah, do not give way!" exclaimed Tricotrin, leaping out of bed. +"Courage, my poor fellow, courage! Are there not other managers in +Paris?" + +"There are--and _Patatras_ has been refused by them. La Coupole +was our last chance, and it has collapsed. We have no more to expect-- +it is all over. Is it not so, Lajeunie?" + +"All over," sobbed Lajeunie, bowing his head on the washhand-stand. +"_Patatras_ is dead!" + +Then for some seconds the only sound to be heard in the attic was the +laboured breathing of the three young men's despair. + +At last Tricotrin, drawing himself upright in his tattered nightshirt, +said, with a gesture of dignity, "Well, the case may justify me--in the +present situation it appears to me that I have the right to use my +influence with Blondette!" + +A signal from Mars could not have caused a more profound sensation. +Pitou and Lajeunie regarded him with open mouths. "Your influence?" +echoed Pitou: "your influence? I was not aware that you had ever met +her." + +"No," rejoined the poet darkly; "I have not met her. But there are +circumstances in my life which entitle me to demand a service of this +triumphant woman. Do not question me, my friends--what I shall say to +her must remain a secret even from you. I declare, however, that nobody +has a stronger claim on her than Gustave Tricotrin, the poor penny-a- +liner whom she does not know!" + +The sudden intervention--to say nothing of its literary flavour--so +excited the collaborators that they nearly wrung his hands off: and +Lajeunie, who recognised a promising beginning for another serial, was +athirst for further hints. + +"She has perhaps committed a murder, that fair fiend?" he inquired +rapturously. + +"Perhaps," replied Tricotrin. + +"In that case she dare refuse you nothing." + +"Why not, since I have never heard of it?" + +"I was only jesting," said the novelist. "In sober earnest, I +conjecture that you are married to her, like Athos to Miladi. As you +stand there, with that grave air, you strongly resemble Athos." + +"Nevertheless, Athos did not marry a woman to whom he had not spoken, +and I repeat that I have never spoken to Blondette in my life." + +"Well," said Lajeunie, "I have too much respect for your wishes to show +any curiosity. Besides, by an expert the mystery is to be divined-- +before the story opens, you rendered her some silent aid, and your name +will remind her of a great heroism?" + +"I have never rendered her any aid at all," demurred Tricotrin, "and +there is not the slightest reason to suppose that she has ever heard my +name. But again, I have an incontestable right to demand a service of +her, and for the sake of the affection I bear you both, I shall go and +do it." + +"When Tricotrin thinks that he is living in _The Three Musketeers_ +it is useless to try to pump him," said Pitou; "let us content +ourselves with what we are told! Is it not enough? Our fate is in +Blondette's hands, and he is in a position to ask a favour of her. What +more can we want?" + +But he could not resist putting a question on his own account after +Lajeunie had skipped downstairs. + +"Gustave, why did you never mention to me that you knew Blondette?" + +"Morbleu! how often must I say that I do _not_ know her?" + +"Well--how shall I express it?--that some episode in your career gave +you a claim on her consideration?" + +"Because, by doing so, I should have both violated a confidence, and +re-opened a wound which still burns," said Tricotrin, more like Athos +than ever. "Only the urgency of your need, my comrade, could induce me +to take the course that I project. Now let me sleep, for to-morrow I +must have all my wits!" + +It was, however, five o'clock already, and before either of them had +slept long, the street was clattering with feet on their way to the +laundries, and vendors of delicacies were bawling suggestions for +appetising breakfasts. + +"Not only do the shouts of these monsters disturb my slumber, but they +taunt my starvation!" yawned the poet. "Yet, now I come to think of it, +I have an appointment with a man who has sworn to lend me a franc, so +perhaps I had better get up before he is likely to have spent it. I +shall call upon Blondette in the afternoon, when she returns from her +drive. What is your own programme?" + +"My first attempt will be at a cremerie in the rue St. Rustique, where +I am inclined to think I may get credit for milk and a roll if I +swagger." + +"Capital," said Tricotrin; "things are looking up with us both! And if +I raise the franc, there will be ten sous for you to squander on a +recherche luncheon. Meet me in the place Dancourt in an hour's time. So +long!" + +Never had mademoiselle Blondette looked more captivating than when her +carriage brought her back that day. She wore--but why particularise? +Suffice it, that she had just been photographed. As she stepped to the +pavement she was surprised by the obeisance of a shabby young man, who +said in courtly tones, "Mademoiselle, may I beg the honour of an +interview? I came from La Coupole." Having bestowed a glance of +annoyance on him, she invited him to ascend the stairs, and a minute +later Tricotrin was privileged to watch her take off her hat before the +mirror. + +"Well?" she inquired, "what's the trouble there now; what do they +want?" + +"So far as I know, mademoiselle," returned the intruder deferentially, +"they want nothing but your beauty and your genius; but I myself want +infinitely more--I want your attention and your pity. Let me explain +without delay that I do not represent the Management, and that when I +said I came from La Coupole I should have added that I did not come +from the interior." + +"Ca, par exemple!" she said sharply. "Who are you, then?" + +"I am Tricotrin, mademoiselle--Gustave Tricotrin, at your feet. I have +two comrades, the parents of _Patatras_; you have refused to play +in it, and I fear they will destroy themselves. I come to beg you to +save their lives." + +"Monsieur," exclaimed the lady, and her eyes were brilliant with +temper, "all that I have to say about _Patatras_ I have said! The +part gave me the hump." + +"And yet," continued the suppliant firmly, "I hope to induce you to +accept it. I am an author myself, and I assure you that it teems with +opportunities that you may have overlooked in a casual reading." + +"It is stupid!" + +"As you would play it, I predict that it would make an epoch." + +"And the music is no good." + +"If I may venture to differ from you, the music is haunting--the +composer is my lifelong friend." + +"I appreciate the argument," she said, with fine irony. "But you will +scarcely expect me to play a part that I don't like in order to please +you!" + +"Frankly, that is just what I do expect," replied the poet. "I think +you will consent for my sake." + +"Oh, really? For _your_ sake? Would you mind mentioning why, +before you go?" + +"Because, mademoiselle," said Tricotrin, folding his arms, "in years +gone by, you ruined me!" + +"Mon Dieu!" she gasped, and she did not doubt that she was in the +presence of a lunatic. + +"Do not rush to the bell!" he begged. "If it will allay your panic, I +will open the door and address you from the landing. I am not insane, I +solemnly assert that I am one of the men who have had the honour of +being ruined by you." "I have never seen you in my life before!" "I +know it. I even admit that I attach no blame to you in the matter. +Nevertheless, you cost me two thousand five hundred and forty-three +francs, and--as you may judge by my costume--I do not own the Credit +Lyonnais. If you will deign to hear my story, I guarantee that it will +convince you. Do you permit me to proceed?" + +The beauty nodded wonderingly, and the shabby young man continued in +the following words: + +"As I have said, I am an author; I shall 'live' by my poetry, but I +exist by my prose--in fact, I turn my pen to whatever promises a +dinner, be it a sonnet to the Spring, or a testimonial to a hair +restorer. One summer, when dinners had been even more elusive than +usual, I conceived the idea of calling attention to my talents by means +of an advertisement. In reply, I received a note bidding me be on the +third step of the Madeleine at four o'clock the following day, and my +correspondent proved to be a gentleman whose elegant apparel proclaimed +him a Parisian of the Boulevard. + +"'You are monsieur Gustave Tricotrin?' he inquired. + +"'I have that misfortune, monsieur,' said I. We adjourned to a cafe, +and after a preliminary chat, from which he deduced that I was a person +of discretion, he made me a proposal. + +"He said, 'Monsieur Tricotrin, it is evident that you and I were +designed to improve each other's condition; _your_ dilemma is +that, being unknown, you cannot dispose of your stories--_mine_ is +that, being known so well, I am asked for more stories than I can +possibly write, I suggest that you shall write some for me. _I_ +will sign them, they will be paid for in accordance with my usual +terms, and you shall receive a generous share of the swag. I need not +impress upon you that I am speaking in the strictest confidence, and +that you must never breathe a word about our partnership, even to the +wife of your bosom.' + +"'Monsieur,' I returned, 'I have no wife to breathe to, and my bosom is +unsurpassed as a receptacle for secrets,' + +"'Good,' he said. 'Well, without beating about the bush, I will tell +you who I am.' He then uttered a name that made me jump, and before we +parted it was arranged that I should supply him with a tale immediately +as a specimen of my abilities. + +"This tale, which I accomplished the same evening, pleased him so well +that he forthwith gave me an order for two more. I can create a plot +almost as rapidly as a debt, and before long I had delivered +manuscripts to him in such wholesale quantities that if I had been paid +cash for them, I should have been in a position to paint the Butte the +richest shade of red. It was his custom, however, to make excuses and +payments on account, and as we were capital friends by now, I never +demurred. + +"Well, things went on in this fashion until one day he hinted to me +that I had provided him with enough manuscripts to last him for two +years; his study was lumbered with evidence of my talent, and his +market, after all, was not unlimited. He owed me then close upon three +thousand francs, and it was agreed that he should wipe the debt out by +weekly instalments. Enfin, I was content enough--I foresaw an ample +income for two years to come, and renewed leisure to win immortality by +my epics. I trust that my narrative does not fatigue you, +mademoiselle?" + +"What has it all to do with me, however?" asked the lady. + +"You shall hear. Though the heroine comes on late, she brings the house +down when she enters. For a few weeks my patron fulfilled his compact +with tolerable punctuality, but I never failed to notice when we met +that he was a prey to some terrible grief. At last, when he had reduced +the sum to two thousand five hundred and forty-three francs--the +figures will be found graven on my heart--he confided in me, he made me +a strange request; he exclaimed: + +"'Tricotrin, I am the most miserable of men!' + +"'Poor fellow!' I responded. 'It is, of course, a woman?' + +"'Precisely,' he answered. 'I adore her. Her beauty is incomparable, +her fascinations are unparalleled, her intelligence is unique. She has +only one blemish--she is mercenary.' + +"'After all, perfection would be tedious,' I said. + +"'You are a man of sensibility, you understand!' he cried. 'Her tastes +have been a considerable strain on my resources, and in consequence my +affairs have become involved. Now that I am in difficulties, she is +giving me the chuck. I have implored and besought, I have worn myself +out in appeals, but her firmness is as striking as her other gifts. +There remains only one chance for me--a letter so impassioned that it +shall awake her pity. _I_, as I tell you, am exhausted; I can no +longer plead, no longer phrase, I am a wreck! Will you, as a friend, as +a poet, compose such a letter and give it to me to copy?' + +"Could I hesitate? I drove my pen for him till daybreak. All the +yearnings of my own nature, all the romance of my fiery youth, I poured +out in this appeal to a siren whom I had never seen, and whose name I +did not know. I was distraught, pathetic, humorous, and sublime by +turns. Subtle gleams of wit flashed artistically across the lurid +landscape of despair. I reminded her of scenes of happiness--vaguely, +because I had no details to elaborate; the reminiscences, however, were +so touching that I came near to believing in them. Mindful of her +solitary blemish, I referred to 'embarrassments now almost at an end'; +and so profoundly did I affect myself, that while I wrote that I was +weeping, it was really true. Well, when I saw the gentleman again he +embraced me like a brother. 'Your letter was a masterpiece,' he told +me; 'it has done the trick!' + +"Mademoiselle, I do not wish to say who he was, and as you have known +many celebrities, and had many love-letters, you may not guess. But the +woman was you! And if I had been a better business man, I should have +written less movingly, for I recognised, even during my inspiration, +that it was against my interests to reunite him to you. I was an +artist; I thrilled your heart, I restored you to his arms--and you had +the two thousand five hundred and forty-three francs that would +otherwise have come to me! Never could I extract another sou from him!" + +As Tricotrin concluded his painful history, mademoiselle Blondette +seemed so much amused that he feared she had entirely missed its +pathos. But his misgiving was relieved when she spoke. + +"It seems to me I have been expensive to you, monsieur," she said; "and +you have certainly had nothing for your money. Since this revue--which +I own that I have merely glanced at--is the apple of your eye, I +promise to read it with more attention." + + * * * * * + +A month later _Patatras_ was produced at La Coupole after all, and +no one applauded its performance more enthusiastically than the poet, +who subsequently went to supper arm-in-arm with its creators. + +"Mon vieux," said the elated pair, "we will not ask again by what means +you accomplished this miracle, but let it teach you a lesson! Tonight's +experience proves that nothing is beyond your power if you resolve to +succeed!" + +"It proves," replied Tricotrin, "that Blondette's first impression was +correct, for, between ourselves, my children, _Patatras_ is no +shakes." + +Nevertheless, Lajeunie and Pitou wore laurels in Montmartre; and one is +happy to say that their fees raised the young collaborators from +privation to prosperity--thanks to Blondette's attractions--for nearly +three weeks. + + + +THE DANGER OF BEING A TWIN + +My Confessions must begin when I was four years old and recovering +from swollen glands. As I grew well, my twin-brother, Gregoire, who was +some minutes younger, was put to bed with the same complaint. + +"What a misfortune," exclaimed our mother, "that Silvestre is no sooner +convalescent than Gregoire falls ill!" + +The doctor answered: "It astonishes me, madame Lapalme, that you were +not prepared for it--since the children are twins, the thing was to be +foreseen; when the elder throws the malady off, the younger naturally +contracts it. Among twins it is nearly always so." + +And it always proved to be so with Gregoire and me. No sooner did I +throw off whooping-cough than Gregoire began to whoop, though I was at +home at Vernon and he was staying with our grandmother at Tours. If I +had to be taken to a dentist, Gregoire would soon afterwards be howling +with toothache; as often as I indulged in the pleasures of the table +Gregoire had a bilious attack. The influence I exercised upon him was +so remarkable that once when my bicycle ran away with me and broke my +arm, our mother consulted three medical men as to whether Gregoire's +bicycle was bound to run away with him too. Indeed, my brother was +distinctly apprehensive of it himself. + +Of course, the medical men explained that he was susceptible to any +abnormal physical or mental condition of mine, not to the vagaries of +my bicycle. "As an example, madame, if the elder of two twins were +killed in a railway accident, it would be no reason for thinking that +an accident must befall a train by which the younger travelled. What +sympathy can there be between locomotives? But if the elder were to die +by his own hand, there is a strong probability that the younger would +commit suicide also." + +However, I have not died by my own hand, so Gregoire has had nothing to +reproach me for on that score. As to other grounds--well, there is much +to be said on both sides! + +To speak truly, that beautiful devotion for which twins are so +celebrated in drama and romance has never existed between my brother +and myself. Nor was this my fault. I was of a highly sensitive +disposition, and from my earliest years it was impressed upon me that +Gregoire regarded me in the light of a grievance, I could not help +having illnesses, yet he would upbraid me for taking them. Then, too, +he was always our mother's favourite, and instead of there being +caresses and condolence for me when I was indisposed, there was nothing +but grief for the indisposition that I was about to cause Gregoire. +This wounded me. + +Again at college. I shall not pretend that I was a bookworm, or that I +shared Gregoire's ambitions; on the contrary, the world beyond the +walls looked such a jolly place to me that the mere sight of a +classroom would sometimes fill me with abhorrence. But, mon Dieu! if +other fellows were wild occasionally, they accepted the penalties, and +the affair was finished; on me rested a responsibility--my wildness was +communicated to Gregoire. Scarcely had I resigned myself to dull +routine again when Gregoire, the industrious, would find himself unable +to study a page, and commit freaks for which he rebuked me most +sternly. I swear that my chief remembrance of my college days is +Gregoire addressing pompous homilies to me, in this fashion, when he +was in disgrace with the authorities: + +"I ask you to remember, Silvestre, that you have not only your own +welfare to consider--you have mine! I am here to qualify myself for an +earnest career. Be good enough not to put obstacles in my path. Your +levity impels me to distractions which I condemn even while I yield to +them. I perceive a weakness in your nature that fills me with +misgivings for my future; if you do not learn to resist temptation, to +what errors may I not be driven later on--to what outbreaks of +frivolity will you not condemn me when we are men?" + +Well, it is no part of my confession to whitewash myself his misgivings +were realised! So far as I had any serious aspirations at all, I +aspired to be a painter, and, after combating my family's objections, I +entered an art school in Paris. Gregoire, on the other hand, was +destined for the law. During the next few years we met infrequently, +but that my brother continued to be affected by any unusual conditions +of my body and mind I knew by his letters, which seldom failed to +contain expostulations and entreaties. If he could have had his way, +indeed, I believe he would have shut me in a monastery. + +Upon my word, I was not without consideration for him, but what would +you have? I think some sympathy was due to me also. Regard the +situation with my eyes! I was young, popular, an artist; my life was no +more frivolous than the lives of others of my set; yet, in lieu of +being free, like them, to call the tune and dance the measure, I was +burdened with a heavier responsibility than weighs upon the shoulders +of any paterfamilias. Let me but drink a bottle too much, and Gregoire, +the grave, would subsequently manifest all the symptoms of +intoxication. Let me but lose my head about a petticoat, and Gregoire, +the righteous, would soon be running after a girl instead of attending +to his work. I had a conscience--thoughts of the trouble that I was +brewing for Gregoire would come between me and the petticoat and rob it +of its charms; his abominable susceptibility to my caprices marred half +my pleasures for me. Once when I sat distrait, bowed by such +reflections, a woman exclaimed, "What's the matter with you? One would +think you had a family!" "Well," I said, "I have a twin!" And I went +away. She was a pretty woman, too! + +Do you suppose that Maitre Lapalme--he was Maitre Lapalme by then, this +egregious Gregoire--do you suppose that he wrote to bless me for my +sacrifice? Not at all! Of my heroisms he knew nothing--he was conscious +only of my lapses. To read his letters one would have imagined that I +was a reprobate, a creature without honour or remorse. I quote from +one of them--it is a specimen of them all. Can you blame me if I had no +love for this correspondent? + +MY BROTHER, + +THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF OUR BIRTH:-- + +Your attention is directed to my preceding communications on this +subject. I desire to protest against the revelry from which you +recovered either on the 15th or 16th inst. On the afternoon of the +latter date, while engaged in a conference of the first magnitude, I +was seized with an overwhelming desire to dance a quadrille at a public +ball. I found it impossible to concentrate my attention on the case +concerning which I was consulted; I could no longer express myself with +lucidity. Outwardly sedate, reliable, I sat at my desk dizzied by such +visions as pursued St. Anthony to his cell. No sooner was I free than I +fled from Vernon, dined in Paris, bought a false beard, and plunged +wildly into the vortex of a dancing-hall. Scoundrel! This is past +pardon! My sensibilities revolt, and my prudence shudders. Who shall +say but that one night I may be recognised? Who can foretell to what +blackmail you may expose me? I, Maitre Lapalme, forbid your +profligacies, which devolve upon me; I forbid--etc. + +Such admissions my brother sent to me in a disguised hand, and +unsigned; perhaps he feared that his blackmailer might prove to be +myself! Typewriting was not yet general in France. + +Our mother still lived at Vernon, where she contemplated her favourite +son's success with the profoundest pride. Occasionally I spent a few +days with her; sometimes even more, for she always pressed me to +remain. I think she pressed me to remain, not from any pleasure in my +society, but because she knew that while I was at home I could commit +no actions that would corrupt Gregoire. One summer, when I visited her, +I met mademoiselle Leuillet. + +Mademoiselle Leuillet was the daughter of a widower, a neighbour. I +remembered that when our servant first announced her, I thought, "What +a nuisance; how bored I am going to be!" And then she came in, and in +an instant I was spellbound. + +I am tempted to describe Berthe Leuillet to you as she entered our +salon that afternoon in a white frock, with a basket of roses in her +little hands, but I know very well that no description of a girl ever +painted her to anybody yet. Suffice it that she was beautiful as an +angel, that her voice was like the music of the spheres--more than all, +that one felt all the time, "How good she is, how good, how good!" + +I suppose the impression that she made upon me was plainly to be seen, +for when she had gone, my mother remarked, "You did not say much. Are +you always so silent in girls' company?" "No," I answered; "I do not +often meet such girls." + +But afterwards I often met Berthe Leuillet. + +Never since I was a boy had I stayed at Vernon for so long as now; +never had I repented so bitterly as now the error of my ways. I loved, +and it seemed to me sometimes that my attachment was reciprocated, yet +my position forbade me to go to monsieur Leuillet and ask boldly for +his daughter's hand. While I had remained obscure, painters of my +acquaintance, whose talent was no more remarkable than my own, had +raised themselves from bohemia into prosperity. I abused myself, I +acknowledged that I was an idler, a good-for-nothing, I declared that +the punishment that had overtaken me was no more than I deserved. And +then--well, then I owned to Berthe that I loved her! + +Deliberately, of course, I should not have done this before seeking her +father's permission, but it happened in the hour of our "good-bye", and +I was suffering too deeply to subdue the impulse. I owned that I loved +her--and when I left for Paris we were secretly engaged. + +Mon Dieu! Now I worked indeed! To win this girl for my own, to show +myself worthy of her innocent faith, supplied me with the most powerful +incentive in life. In the quarter they regarded me first with ridicule, +then with wonder, and, finally, with respect. For my enthusiasm did not +fade. "He has turned over a new leaf," they said, "he means to be +famous!" It was understood. No more excursions for Silvestre, no more +junketings and recklessness! In the morning as soon as the sky was +light I was at my easel; in the evening I studied, I sketched, I wrote +to Berthe, and re-read her letters. I was another man--my ideal of +happiness was now a wife and home. + +For a year I lived this new life. I progressed. Men--men whose approval +was a cachet--began to speak of me as one with a future. In the Salon a +picture of mine made something of a stir. How I rejoiced, how grateful +and sanguine I was! All Paris sang "Berthe" to me; the criticisms in +the papers, the felicitations of my friends, the praise of the public, +all meant Berthe--Berthe with her arms about me, Berthe on my breast. + +I said that it was not too soon for me to speak now; I had proved my +mettle, and, though I foresaw that her father would ask more before he +gave his consent, I was, at least, justified in avowing myself. I +telegraphed to my mother to expect me; I packed my portmanteau with +trembling hands, and threw myself into a cab. On the way to the +station, I noticed the window of a florist; I bade the driver stop, and +ran in to bear off some lilies for Berthe. The shop was so full of +wonderful flowers that, once among them, I found some difficulty in +making my choice. Hence I missed the train--and returned to my studio, +incensed by the delay. A letter for me had just been delivered. It told +me that on the previous morning Berthe had married my brother. + +I could have welcomed a pistol-shot--my world rocked. Berthe lost, +false, Gregoire's wife, I reiterated it, I said it over and over, I +was stricken by it--and yet I could not realise that actually it had +happened. It seemed too treacherous, too horrible to be true. + +Oh, I made certain of it later, believe me!--I was no hero of a "great +serial," to accept such intelligence without proof. I assured myself of +her perfidy, and burnt her love-letters one by one; tore her +photographs into shreds--strove also to tear her image from my heart. +Ah, that mocked me, that I could not tear! A year before I should have +rushed to the cafes for forgetfulness, but now, as the shock subsided, +I turned feverishly to work. I told myself that she had wrecked my +peace, my faith in women, that I hated and despised her; but I swore +that she should not have the triumph of wrecking my career, too. I said +that my art still remained to me--that I would find oblivion in my art. + +Brave words! But one does not recover from such blows so easily. + +For months I persisted, denying myself the smallest respite, clinging +to a resolution which proved vainer daily. Were art to be mastered by +dogged endeavour, I should have conquered; but alas! though I could +compel myself to paint, I could not compel myself to paint well. It was +the perception of this fact that shattered me at last. I had fought +temptation for half a year, worked with my teeth clenched, worked +against nature, worked while my pulses beat and clamoured for the +draughts of dissipation, which promised a speedier release. I had wooed +art, not as art's lover, but as a tortured soul may turn to one woman +in the desperate hope of subduing his passion for another--and art +would yield nothing to a suitor who approached like that; I recognised +that my work had been wasted, that the struggle had been useless--I +broke down! + +I need say little of the months that followed--it would be a record of +degradations, and remorse; alternately, I fell, and was ashamed. There +were days when I never left the house, when I was repulsive to myself; +I shuddered at the horrors that I had committed. No saint has loved +virtue better than I did during those long, sick days of self-disgust; +no man was ever more sure of defying such hideous temptations if they +recurred. As my lassitude passed, I would take up my brushes and feel +confident for an hour, or for a week. And then temptation would creep +on me once more--humming in my ears, and tingling in my veins. And +temptation had lost its loathsomeness now--it looked again attractive. +It was a siren, it dizzied my conscience, and stupefied my common +sense. Back to the mire! + +One afternoon when I returned to my rooms, from which I had been absent +since the previous day, I heard from the concierge that a visitor +awaited me. I climbed the stairs without anticipation. My thoughts were +sluggish, my limbs leaden, my eyes heavy and bloodshot. Twilight had +gathered, and as I entered I discerned merely the figure of a woman. +Then she advanced--and all Hell seemed to leap flaring to my heart. My +visitor was Berthe. + +I think nearly a minute must have passed while we looked speechlessly +in each other's face--hers convulsed by entreaty, mine dark with hate. + +"Have you no word for me?" she whispered. + +"Permit me to offer my congratulations on your marriage, madame," I +said; "I have had no earlier opportunity." + +"Forgive me," she gasped. "I have come to beseech your forgiveness! Can +you not forget the wrong I did you?" + +"Do I look as if I had forgotten?" + +"I was inconstant, cruel, I cannot excuse myself. But, O Silvestre, in +the name of the love you once bore me, have pity on us! Reform, abjure +your evil courses! Do not, I implore you, condemn my husband to this +abyss of depravity, do not wreck my married life!" Now I understood +what had procured me the honour of a visit from this woman, and I +triumphed devilishly that I was the elder twin. + +"Madame," I answered, "I think that I owe you no explanations, but I +shall say this: the evil courses that you deplore were adopted, not +vindictively, but in the effort to numb the agony that you had made me +suffer. You but reap as you have sown." + +"Reform!" she sobbed. She sank on her knees before me. "Silvestre, in +mercy to us, reform!" + +"I will never reform," I said inflexibly. "I will grow more abandoned +day by day--my past faults shall shine as merits compared with the +atrocities that are to come. False girl, monster of selfishness, you +are dragging me to the gutter, and your only grief is that _he_ +must share my shame! You have blackened my soul, and you have no regret +but that my iniquities must react on _him!_ By the shock that +stunned him in the first flush of your honeymoon, you know what I +experienced when I received the news of your deceit; by the anguish of +repentance that overtakes him after each of his orgies, which revolt +you, you know that I was capable of being a nobler man. The degradation +that you behold is your own work. You have made me bad, and you must +bear the consequences--you cannot make me good now to save your +husband!" + +Humbled and despairing, she left me. + +I repeat that it is no part of my confession to palliate my guilt. The +sight of her had served merely to inflame my resentment--and it was at +this stage that I began deliberately to contemplate revenge. + +But not the one that I had threatened. Ah, no! I bethought myself of a +vengeance more complete than that. What, after all, were these +escapades of his that were followed by contrition, that saw him again +and again a penitent at her feet? There should be no more of such +trifles; she should be tortured with the torture that she had dealt to +me--I would make him _adore another woman_ with all his heart and +brain! + +It was difficult, for first I must adore, and tire of another woman +myself--as my own passion faded, his would be born. I swore, however, +that I would compass it, that I would worship some woman for a year-- +two years, as long as possible. He would be at peace in the meantime, +but the longer my enslavement lasted, the longer Berthe would suffer +when her punishment began. + +For some weeks now I worked again, to provide myself with money. I +bought new clothes and made myself presentable. When my appearance +accorded better with my plan, I paraded Paris, seeking the woman to +adore. + +You may think Paris is full of adorable women? Well, so contrary is +human nature, that never had I felt such indifference towards the sex +as during that tedious quest--never had a pair of brilliant eyes, or a +well-turned neck appealed to me so little. After a month, my search +seemed hopeless; I had viewed women by the thousand, but not one with +whom I could persuade myself that I might fall violently in love. + +How true it is that only the unforeseen comes to pass! There was a +model, one Louise, whose fortune was her back, and who had long bored +me by an evident tenderness. One day, this Louise, usually so +constrained in my presence, appeared in high spirits, and mentioned +that she was going to be married. + +The change in her demeanour interested me; for the first time, I +perceived that the attractions of Louise were not limited to her back. +A little piqued, I invited her to dine with me. If she had said "yes," +doubtless that would have been the end of my interest; but she refused. +Before I parted from her, I made an appointment for her to sit to me +the next morning. + +"So you are going to be married, Louise?" I said carelessly, as I set +the palette. + +"In truth!" she answered. + +"No regrets?" + +"What regrets could I have? He is a very pretty boy, and well-to-do, +believe me!" + +"And _I_ am not a pretty boy, nor well-to-do, hein?" + +"Ah, zut!" she laughed, "you do not care for me." + +"Is it so?" I said. "What would you say if I told you that I did care?" + +"I should say that you told me too late, monsieur," she replied, with a +shrug, "Are you ready for me to pose?" And this changed woman turned +her peerless back on me without a scruple. + +A little mortified, I attended strictly to business for the rest of the +morning. But I found myself, on the following day, waiting for her with +impatience. + +"And when is the event to take place?" I inquired, more eagerly than I +chose to acknowledge. This was by no means the sort of enchantress that +I had been seeking, you understand. + +"In the spring," she said. "Look at the ring he has given to me, +monsieur; is it not beautiful?" + +I remarked that Louise's hands were very well shaped; and, indeed, +happiness had brought a certain charm to her face. + +"Do you know, Louise, that I am sorry that you are going to marry?" I +exclaimed. + +"Oh, get out!" she laughed, pushing me away. "It is no good your +talking nonsense to me now, don't flatter yourself!" + +Pouchin, the sculptor, happened to come in at that moment. "Sapristi!" +he shouted; "what changes are to be seen! The nose of our brave +Silvestre is out of joint now that we are affianced, hein?" + +She joined in his laughter against me, and I picked up my brush again +in a vile humour. + +Well, as I have said, she was not the kind of woman that I had +contemplated, but these things arrange themselves--I became seriously +enamoured of her. And, recognising that Fate works with her own +instruments, I did not struggle. For months I was at Louise's heels; I +was the sport of her whims, and her slights, sometimes even of her +insults. I actually made her an offer of marriage, at which she snapped +her white fingers with a grimace--and the more she flouted me, the more +fascinated I grew. In that rapturous hour when her insolent eyes +softened to sentiment, when her mocking mouth melted to a kiss, I was +in Paradise. My ecstasy was so supreme that I forgot to triumph at my +approaching vengeance. + +So I married Louise; and yesterday was the twentieth anniversary of our +wedding. Berthe? To speak the truth, my plot against her was frustrated +by an accident. You see, before I could communicate my passion to +Gregoire I had to recover from it, and--this invincible Louise!--I have +not recovered from it yet. There are days when she turns her remarkable +back on me now--generally when I am idle--but, mon Dieu! the moments +when she turns her lips are worth working for. Therefore, Berthe has +been all the time quite happy with the good Gregoire--and, since I +possess Louise, upon my word of honour I do not mind! + + + +HERCULES AND APHRODITE + +Mademoiselle Clairette used to say that if a danseuse could not throw +a glance to the conductor of the band without the juggler being +jealous, the Variety Profession was coming to a pretty pass. She also +remarked that for a girl to entrust her life's happiness to a jealous +man would be an act of lunacy. And then "Little Flouflou, the Juggling +Genius," who was dying to marry her, would suffer tortures. He tried +hard to conquer his failing, but it must be owned that Clairette's +glances were very expressive, and that she distributed them +indiscriminately. At Chartres, one night, he was so upset that he +missed the umbrella, and the cigar, and the hat one after another, and +instead of condoling with him when he came off the stage, all she said +was "Butter-fingers!" + +"Promise to be my wife," he would entreat: "it is not knowing where I +am that gives me the pip. If you consented, I should be as right as +rain--your word is better to me than any Management's contract. I trust +you--it is only myself that I doubt; every time you look at a man I +wonder, 'Am I up to that chap's mark? is my turn as clever as his? +isn't it likely he will cut me out with her?' If you only belonged to +me I should never be jealous again as long as I lived. Straight!" + +And Clairette would answer firmly, "Poor boy, you couldn't help it--you +are made like that. There'd be ructions every week; I should be for +ever in hot water. I like you very much, Flouflou, but I'm not going to +play the giddy goat. Chuck it!" + +Nevertheless, he continued to worship her--from her tawdry tiara to her +tinselled shoes--and everybody was sure that it would be a match one +day. That is to say, everybody was sure of it until the Strong Man had +joined the troupe. + +Hercule was advertised as "The Great Paris Star." Holding himself very +erect, he strutted, in his latticed foot-gear, with stiff little steps, +and inflated lungs, to the footlights, and tore chains to pieces as +easily as other persons tear bills. He lay down and supported a posse +of mere mortals, and a van-load of "properties" on his chest, and +regained his feet with a skip and a smirk. He--but his achievements are +well known. Preceding these feats of force, was a feature of his +entertainment which Hercule enjoyed inordinately. He stood on a +pedestal and struck attitudes to show the splendour of his physique. +Wearing only a girdle of tiger-skin, and bathed in limelight, he felt +himself to be as glorious as a god. The applause was a nightly +intoxication to him. He lived for it. All day he looked forward to the +moment when he could mount the pedestal again and make his biceps jump, +and exhibit the magnificence of his highly developed back to hundreds +of wondering eyes. No woman was ever vainer of her form than was +Hercule of his. No woman ever contemplated her charms more tenderly +than Hercule regarded his muscles. The latter half of his "turn" was +fatiguing, but to posture in the limelight, while the audience stared +open-mouthed and admired his nakedness, that was fine, it was dominion, +it was bliss. + +Hercule had never experienced a great passion--the passion of vanity +excepted--never waited in the rain at a street corner for a coquette +who did not come, nor sighed, like the juggler, under the window of a +girl who flouted his declarations. He had but permitted homage to be +rendered to him. So when he fell in love with Clairette, he didn't know +what to make of it. + +For Clairette, sprightly as she was, did not encourage Hercule. He at +once attracted and repelled her. When he rent chains, and poised +prodigious weights above his head, she thrilled at his prowess, but the +next time he attitudinised in the tiger-skin she turned up her nose. +She recognised something feminine in the giant. Instinct told her that +by disposition the Strong Man was less manly than Little Flouflou, whom +he could have swung like an Indian club. + +No, Hercule didn't know what to make of it. It was a new and painful +thing to find himself the victim instead of the conqueror. For once in +his career, he hung about the wings wistfully, seeking a sign of +approval. For once he displayed his majestic figure on the pedestal +blankly conscious of being viewed by a woman whom he failed to impress. + +"What do you think of my turn?" he questioned at last. + +"Oh, I have seen worse," was all she granted. + +The giant winced. + +"I am the strongest man in the world," he proclaimed. + +"I have never met a Strong Man who wasn't!" said she. + +"But there is someone stronger than I am," he owned humbly. (Hercule +humble!) "Do you know what you have done to me, Clairette? You have +made a fool of me, my dear." + +"Don't be so cheeky," she returned. "Who gave you leave to call me +'Clairette,' and 'my dear'? A little more politeness, if you please, +monsieur!" And she cut the conversation short as unceremoniously as if +he had been a super. + +Those who have seen Hercule only in his "act"--who think of him superb, +supreme--may find It difficult to credit the statement, but, honestly, +the Great Star used to trot at her heels like a poodle. And she was not +a beauty by any means, with her impudent nose, and her mouth that was +too big to defy criticism. Perhaps it was her carriage that fascinated +him, the grace of her slender figure, which he could have snapped as a +child snaps jumbles. Perhaps it was those eyes which unwittingly +promised more than she gave. Perhaps, above all, it was her +indifference. Yes, on consideration, it must have been her indifferent +air, the novelty of being scorned, that made him a slave. + +But, of course, she was more flattered by his bondage than she showed. +Every night he planted himself in the prompt-entrance to watch her +dance and clap his powerful hands in adulation. She could not be +insensible to the compliment, though her smiles were oftenest for +Flouflou, who planted himself, adulating, on the opposite side. +_Adagio! Allegretto! Vivace!_ Unperceived by the audience, the +gaze of the two men would meet across the stage with misgiving. Each +feared the other's attentions to her, each wished with all his heart +that the other would get the sack; they glared at each other horribly. +And, meanwhile, the orchestra played its sweetest, and Clairette +pirouetted her best, and the Public, approving the obvious, saw nothing +of the intensity of the situation. + +Imagine the emotions of the little juggler, jealous by temperament, +jealous even without cause, now that he beheld a giant laying siege to +her affections! + +And then, on a certain evening, Clairette threw but two smiles to +Flouflou, and three to Hercule. + +The truth is that she did not attach so much significance to the smiles +as did the opponents who counted them. But that accident was momentous. +The Strong Man made her a burning offer of marriage within half an +hour; and next, the juggler made her furious reproaches. + +Now she had rejected the Strong Man--and, coming when they did, the +juggler's reproaches had a totally different effect from the one that +he had intended. So far from exciting her sympathy towards him, they +accentuated her compassion for Hercule. How stricken he had been by her +refusal! She could not help remembering his despair as he sat huddled +on a hamper, a giant that she had crushed. Flouflou was a thankless +little pig, she reflected, for, as a matter of fact, he had had a good +deal to do with her decision. She had deserved a better reward than to +be abused by him! + +Yes, her sentiments towards Hercule were newly tender, and an event of +the next night intensified them. It was Hercule's custom, in every town +that the Constellation visited, to issue a challenge. He pledged +himself to present a "Purse of Gold"--it contained a ten-franc piece-- +to any eight men who vanquished him in a tug-of-war. The spectacle was +always an immense success--the eight yokels straining, and tumbling +over one another, while Hercule, wearing a masterful smile, kept his +ten francs intact. A tug-of-war had been arranged for the night +following, and by every law of prudence, Hercule should have abstained +from the bottle during the day. + +But he did not. His misery sent discretion headlong to the winds. Every +time that he groaned for the danseuse he took another drink, and when +the time came for him to go to the show, the giant was as drunk as a +lord. The force of habit enabled him to fulfil some of his stereotyped +performance, he emerged from that without disgrace; but when the eight +brawny competitors lumbered on to the boards, his heart sank. The other +artists winked at one another appreciatively, and the manager hopped +with apprehension. + +Sure enough, the hero's legs made strange trips to-night. The sixteen +arms pulled him, not only over the chalk line, but all over the stage. +They played havoc with him. And then the manager had to go on and make +a speech, besides, because the "Purse of Gold" aroused dissatisfaction. +The fiasco was hideous. + +"Ah, Clairette," moaned the Strong Man, pitifully, "it was all through +you!" + +Elsewhere a Strong Man had put forth that plea, and the other lady had +been inexorable. But Clairette faltered. + +"Through me?" she murmured, with emotion. + +"I'm no boozer," muttered Hercule, whom the disaster had sobered. "If I +took too much today, it was because I had got such a hump." + +"But why be mashed on me, Hercule?" she said; "why not think of me as a +pal?" + +"You're talking silly," grunted Hercule. + +"Perhaps so," she confessed. "But I'm awfully sorry the turn went so +rotten." + +"Don't kid!" + +"Why should I kid about it?" + +"If you really meant it, you would take back what you said yesterday." + +"Oh!" The gesture was dismayed. "You see! What's the good of gassing? +As soon as I ask anything of you, you dry up. Bah! I daresay you will +guy me just as much as all the rest, I know you!" + +"If you weren't in trouble, I'd give you a thick ear for that," she +said. "You ungrateful brute!" She turned haughtily away, + +"Clairette!" + +"Oh, rats!" + +"Don't get the needle! I'm off my rocker to-night." + +"Ah! That's all right, cully!" Her hand was swift. "I've been there +myself." + +"Clairette!" He caught her close. + +"Here, what are you at?" she cried. "Drop it!" + +"Clairette! Say 'yes.' I'm loony about you. There's a duck! I'll be a +daisy of a husband. Won't you?" + +"Oh, I--I don't know," she stammered. + +And thus were they betrothed. + +To express what Flouflou felt would be but to harrow the reader's +sensibilities. What he said, rendered into English, was: "I'd rather +you had given me the go-by for any cove in the crowd than that swine!" + +They were in the ladies' dressing-room. "The Two Bonbons" had not +finished their duet, and he was alone with her for a moment. She was +pinning a switch into her back hair, in front of the scrap of looking- +glass against the mildewed wall. + +"You don't do yourself any good with me Flouflou, by calling Hercule +names," she replied icily. + +"So he is!" + +"Oh, you are jealous of him," she retorted. + +"Of course I am jealous of him," owned Flouflou; "you can't rile me by +saying that. Didn't I love you first? And a lump better than _he_ +does." + +"Now you're talking through your hat!" + +"You usedn't to take any truck of him, yourself, at the beginning. He +only got round you because he was drunk and queered his business. I +have been drunk, too--you didn't say you'd marry _me_. It's not in +him to love any girl for long--he's too sweet on himself." + +"Look here," she exclaimed. "I've had enough. Hook it! And don't you +speak to me any more. Understand?" She put the hairpins aside, and +began to whitewash her hands and arms. + +"That's the straight tip," said Flouflou, brokenly; "I'm off. Well, I +wish you luck, old dear!" + +"Running him down to me like that! A dirty trick, I call it." + +"I never meant to, straight; I--Sorry, Clairette." He lingered at the +door. "I suppose I shall have to say 'madame' soon?" + +"Footle," she murmured, moved. + +"You've not got your knife into me, have you, Clairette? I didn't mean +to be a beast. I'd have gone to hell for you, that's all, and I wish I +was dead." + +"Silly kid!" she faltered, blinking. And then "The Two Bonbons" came +back to doff their costumes, and he was turned out. + +Never had Hercule been so puffed up. His knowledge of the juggler's +sufferings made the victory more rapturous still. No longer did +Flouflou stand opposite-prompt to watch Clairette's dance; no longer +did he loiter about the passages after the curtain was down, on the +chance of being permitted to escort her to her doorstep. Such +privileges were the Strong Man's alone. She was affianced to him! At +the swelling thought, his chest became Brobdingnagian. His bounce in +company was now colossal; and it afforded the troupe a popular +entertainment to see him drop to servility in her presence. Her frown +was sufficient to reduce him to a cringe. They called him the "Quick- +change artist." + +But Hercule scarcely minded cringing to her; at all events he scarcely +minded it in a tete-a-tete; she was unique. He would have run to her +whistle, and fawned at her kick. She had agreed to marry him in a few +weeks' time, and his head swam at the prospect. Visions of the future +dazzled him. When he saw her to her home after the performance, he used +to talk of the joint engagements they would get by-and-by--"not in +snide shows like this, but in first-class halls"--and of how +tremendously happy they were going to be. And then Clairette would +stifle a sigh and say, "Oh, yes, of course!" and try to persuade +herself that she had no regrets. + +Meanwhile the Constellation had not been playing to such good business +as the manager had anticipated. He had done a bold thing in obtaining +Hercule--who, if not so famous as the posters pretended, was at least a +couple of rungs above the other humble mountebanks--and the box-office +ought to have yielded better results. Monsieur Blond was anxious. He +asked himself what the Public wanted. Simultaneously he pondered the +idea of a further attraction, and perspired at the thought of further +expense. + +At this time the "Living Statuary" turn was the latest craze in the +variety halls of fashion, and one day poor Blond, casting an expert eye +on his danseuse, questioned why she should not be billed, a town or two +ahead, as "Aphrodite, the Animated Statue, Direct from Paris." + +To question was to act. The weather was mild, and, though Clairette +experienced pangs of modesty when she learnt that the Statue's +"costume" was to be applied with a sponge, she could not assert that +she would be in danger of taking a chill. Besides, her salary was to be +raised a trifle. + +Blond rehearsed her assiduously (madame Blond in attendance), and, to +his joy, she displayed a remarkable gift for adopting the poses, As +"The Bather" she promised to be entrancing, and, until she wobbled, her +"Nymph at the Fountain" was a pure delight. Moreover, thanks to her +accomplishments as a dancer, she did not wobble very badly. + +All the same, when the date of her debut arrived, she was extremely +nervous. Elated by his inspiration. Blond had for once been prodigal +with the printing and on her way to the stage door, it seemed to her +that the name of "Aphrodite" flamed from every hoarding in the place. +Hercule met her with encouraging words, but the ordeal was not one that +she wished to discuss with him, and he took leave of her very much +afraid that she would break down. + +What was his astonishment to hear her greeted with salvos of applause! +Blond's enterprise had undoubtedly done the trick. The little hall +rocked with enthusiasm, and, cloaked in a voluminous garment, +"Aphrodite" had to bow her acknowledgments again and again. When the +time came for Hercule's own postures, they fell, by comparison, quite +flat. + +"Ciel!" she babbled, on the homeward walk; "who would have supposed +that I should go so strong? If I knock them like this next week too, I +shall make Blond spring a bit more!" She looked towards her lover for +congratulations; so far he had been rather unsatisfactory. + +"Oh, well," he mumbled, "it was a very good audience, you know, I never +saw a more generous house--you can't expect to catch on like it +anywhere else." + +His tone puzzled her. Though she was quite alive to the weaknesses of +her profession, she could not believe that her triumph could give +umbrage to her fiance. Hercule, her adorer, to be annoyed because she +had received more "hands" than _he_ had? Oh, it was mean of her to +fancy such a thing! + +But she was conscious that he had never wished her "pleasant dreams" so +briefly as he did that night, and the Strong Man, on his side, was +conscious of a strange depression. He could not shake it off. The next +evening, too, he felt it. Wherever he went, he heard praises of her +proportions. The dancing girl had, in fact, proved to be beautifully +formed, and it could not be disputed that "Aphrodite" had wiped +"Hercules" out. Her success was repeated in every town. Morosely now +did he make his biceps jump, and exhibit the splendours of his back-- +his poses commanded no more than half the admiration evoked by hers. +His muscles had been eclipsed by her graces. Her body had outvied his +own! + +Oh, she was dear to him, but he was an "artiste"! There are trials that +an artiste cannot bear. He hesitated to refer to the subject, but when +he nursed her on his lap, he thought what a great fool the Public was +to prefer this ordinary woman to a marvellous man. He derived less +rapture from nursing her. He eyed her critically. His devotion was +cankered by resentment. + +And each evening the resentment deepened. And each evening it forced +him to the wings against his will. He stood watching, though every +burst of approval wrung his heart. Soured, and sexless, he watched her. +An intense jealousy of the slim nude figure posturing in the limelight +took possession of him. It had robbed him of his plaudits! He grew to +hate it, to loathe the white loveliness that had dethroned him. It was +no longer the figure of a mistress that he viewed, but the figure of a +rival. If he had dared, he would have hissed her. + +Finally, he found it impossible to address her with civility. And +Clairette married Flouflou, after all. + +"Clairette," said Flouflou on the day they were engaged, "if you don't +chuck the Statuary turn, I know that one night I shall massacre the +audience! Won't you give it up for me, peach?" + +"So you are beginning your ructions already?" laughed Clairette, "I +told you what a handful you would be. Oh, well then, just as you like, +old dear!--in this business a girl may meet with a worse kind of +jealousy than yours." + + + +"PARDON, YOU ARE MADEMOISELLE GIRARD!" + +A newsvendor passed along the terrace of the Cafe d'Harcourt bawling +_La Voix Parisienne_. The Frenchman at my table made a gesture of +aversion. Our eyes met; I said: + +"You do not like _La Voix?_" + +He answered with intensity: + +"I loathe it." + +"What's its offence?" + +The wastrel frowned; he fiddled with his frayed and filthy collar. + +"You revive painful associations; you ask me for a humiliating story," +he murmured--and regarded his empty glass. + +I can take a hint as well as most people. + +He prepared his poison reflectively, + +"I will tell you all," he said. + +One autumn the Editor of _La Voix_ announced to the assistant-editor: +"I have a great idea for booming the paper." + +The assistant-editor gazed at him respectfully. "I propose to prove, in +the public interest, the difficulty of tracing a missing person. I +shall instruct a member of the staff to disappear. I shall publish his +description, and his portrait; and I shall offer a prize to the first +stranger who identifies him." + +The assistant-editor had tact and he did not reply that the idea had +already been worked in London with a disappearing lady. He replied: + +"What an original scheme!" + +"It might be even more effective that the disappearing person should be +a lady," added the chief, like one inspired. + +"That," cried the assistant-editor, "is the top brick of genius!" + +So the Editor reviewed the brief list of his lady contributors, and +sent for mademoiselle Girard. + +His choice fell upon mademoiselle Girard for two reasons. First, she +was not facially remarkable--a smudgy portrait of her would look much +like a smudgy portrait of anybody else. Second, she was not widely +known in Paris, being at the beginning of her career; in fact she was +so inexperienced that hitherto she had been entrusted only with +criticism. + +However, the young woman had all her buttons on; and after he had +talked to her, she said cheerfully: + +"Without a chaperon I should be conspicuous, and without a fat purse I +should be handicapped. So it is understood that I am to provide myself +with a suitable companion, and to draw upon the office for expenses?" + +"Mademoiselle," returned the Editor, "the purpose of the paper is to +portray a drama of life, not to emulate an opera bouffe. I shall +explain more fully. Please figure to yourself that you are a young girl +in an unhappy home. Let us suppose that a stepmother is at fault. You +feel that you can submit to her oppression no longer--you resolve to be +free, or to end your troubles in the Seine. Weeping, you pack your +modest handbag; you cast a last, lingering look at the oil painting of +your own dear mother who is with the Angels in the drawing-room; that +is to say, of your own dear mother in the drawing-room, who is with the +Angels. It still hangs there--your father has insisted on it. Unheard, +you steal from the house; the mysterious city of Paris stretches before +your friendless feet. Can you engage a chaperon? Can you draw upon an +office for expenses? The idea is laughable. You have saved, at a +liberal computation, forty francs; it is necessary for you to find +employment without delay. But what happens? Your father is distracted +by your loss, the thought of the perils that beset you frenzies him; he +invokes the aid of the police. Well, the object of our experiment is to +demonstrate that, in spite of an advertised reward, in spite of a +published portrait, in spite of the Public's zeal itself, you will be +passed on the boulevards and in the slums by myriads of unsuspecting +eyes for weeks." + +The girl inquired, much less blithely: + +"How long is this experiment to continue?" + +"It will continue until you are identified, of course. The longer the +period, the more triumphant our demonstration." + +"And I am to have no more than forty francs to exist on all the time? +Monsieur, the job does not call to me." + +"You are young and you fail to grasp the value of your opportunity," +said the Editor, with paternal tolerance. "From such an assignment you +will derive experiences that will be of the highest benefit to your +future. Rejoice, my child! Very soon I shall give you final +instructions." + + * * * * * + +The Frenchman lifted his glass, which was again empty. + +"I trust my voice does not begin to grate upon you?" he asked +solicitously. "Much talking affects my uvula." + +I made a trite inquiry. + +He answered that, since I was so pressing, he would! + +"Listen," he resumed, after a sip. + + * * * * * + +I am not in a position to say whether the young lady humoured the +Editor by rejoicing, but she obeyed him by going forth. Her portrait +was duly published, _La Volx_ professed ignorance of her +whereabouts from the moment that she left the rue Louis-le-Grand, and a +prize of two thousand francs was to reward the first stranger who said +to her, "Pardon, you are mademoiselle Girard!" In every issue the +Public were urged towards more strenuous efforts to discover her, and +all Paris bought the paper, with amusement, to learn if she was found +yet. + +At the beginning of the week, misgivings were ingeniously hinted as to +her fate. On the tenth day the Editor printed a letter (which he had +written himself), hotly condemning him for exposing a poor girl to +danger. It was signed "An Indignant Parent," and teemed with the most +stimulating suggestions. Copies of _La Voix_ were as prevalent as +gingerbread pigs at a fair. When a fortnight had passed, the prize was +increased to three thousand francs, and many young men resigned less +promising occupations, such as authorship and the fine arts, in order +to devote themselves exclusively to the search. + +Personally, I had something else to do. I am an author, as you may have +divined by the rhythm of my impromptu phrases, but it happened at that +time that a play of mine had been accepted at the Grand Guignol, +subject to an additional thrill being introduced, and I preferred +pondering for a thrill in my garret to hunting for a pin in a haystack, + +Enfin, I completed the drama to the Management's satisfaction, and +received a comely little cheque in payment. It was the first cheque +that I had seen for years! I danced with joy, I paid for a shampoo, I +committed no end of follies. + +How good is life when one is rich--immediately one joins the optimists! +I feared the future no longer; I was hungry, and I let my appetite do +as it liked with me. I lodged in Montmartre, and it was my custom to +eat at the unpretentious Bel Avenir, when I ate at all; but that +morning my mood demanded something resplendent. Rumours had reached me +of a certain Cafe Eclatant, where for one-franc-fifty one might +breakfast on five epicurean courses amid palms and plush. I said I +would go the pace, I adventured the Cafe Eclatant. + +The interior realised my most sanguine expectations. The room would +have done no discredit to the Grand Boulevard. I was so much +exhilarated, that I ordered a half bottle of barsac, though I noted +that here it cost ten sous more than at the Bel Avenir, and I prepared +to enjoy the unwonted extravagance of my repast to the concluding +crumb. + +Monsieur, there are events in life of which it is difficult to speak +without bitterness. When I recall the disappointment of that dejeuner +at the Cafe Eclatant, my heart swells with rage. The soup was slush, +the fish tasted like washing, the meat was rags. Dessert consisted of +wizened grapes; the one thing fit to eat was the cheese. + +As I meditated on the sum I had squandered, I could have cried with +mortification, and, to make matters more pathetic still, I was as +hungry as ever. I sat seeking some caustic epigram to wither the dame- +de-comptoir; and presently the door opened and another victim entered. +Her face was pale and interesting. I saw, by her hesitation, that the +place was strange to her. An accomplice of the chief brigand pounced on +her immediately, and bore her to a table opposite. The misguided girl +was about to waste one-franc-fifty. I felt that I owed a duty to her in +this crisis. The moment called for instant action; before she could +decide between slush and hors d'oeuvres, I pulled an envelope from my +pocket, scribbled a warning, and expressed it to her by the robber who +had brought my bill. + +I had written, "The dejeuner is dreadful. Escape!" + +It reached her in the nick of time. She read the wrong side of the +envelope first, and was evidently puzzled. Then she turned it over. A +look of surprise, a look of thankfulness, rendered her still more +fascinating. I perceived that she was inventing an excuse--that she +pretended to have forgotten something. She rose hastily and went out. +My barsac was finished--shocking bad tipple it was for the money!--and +now I, too, got up and left. When I issued into the street, I found her +waiting for me. + +"I think you are the knight to whom my gratitude is due, monsieur?" she +murmured graciously. + +"Mademoiselle, you magnify the importance of my service," said I. + +"It was a gallant deed," she insisted. "You have saved me from a great +misfortune--perhaps greater than you understand. My finances are at +their lowest ebb, and to have beggared myself for an impossible meal +would have been no joke. Thanks to you, I may still breakfast +satisfactorily somewhere else. Is it treating you like Baedeker's Guide +to the Continent if I ask you to recommend a restaurant?" + +"Upon my word, I doubt if you can do better than the Bel Avenir," I +said. "A moment ago I was lacerated with regret that I had not gone +there. But there is a silver lining to every hash-house, and my choice +of the Eclatant has procured me the glory of your greeting." + +She averted her gaze with a faint smile. She had certainly charm. +Admiration and hunger prompted me to further recklessness. I said: +"This five-course swindle has left me ravenous, and I am bound for the +Avenir myself. May I beg for the rapture of your company there?" + +"Monsieur, you overwhelm me with chivalries," she replied; "I shall be +enchanted." And, five minutes later, the Incognita and I were polishing +off smoked herring and potato salad, like people who had no time to +lose. + +"Do you generally come here?" she asked, when we had leisure. + +"Infrequently--no oftener than I have a franc in my pocket. But details +of my fasts would form a poor recital, and I make a capital listener." + +"You also make a capital luncheon," she remarked. + +"Do not prevaricate," I said severely. "I am consumed with impatience +to hear the history of your life. Be merciful and communicative." + +"Well, I am young, fair, accomplished, and of an amiable disposition," +she began, leaning her elbows on the table. + +"These things are obvious. Come to confidences! What is your +profession?" + +"By profession I am a clairvoyante and palmist," she announced. + +I gave her my hand at once, and I was in two minds about giving her my +heart. "Proceed," I told her; "reveal my destiny!" + +Her air was profoundly mystical. + +"In the days of your youth," she proclaimed, "your line of authorship +is crossed by many rejections." + +"Oh, I am an author, hein? That's a fine thing in guesses!" + +"It is written!" she affirmed, still scrutinising my palm. "Your +dramatic lines are--er--countless; some of them are good. I see danger; +you should beware of--I cannot distinguish!" she clasped her brow and +shivered. "Ah, I have it! You should beware of hackneyed situations." + +"So the Drama is 'written,' too, is it?" + +"It is written, and I discern that it is already accepted," she said. +"For at the juncture where the Eclatant is eclipsed by the Cafe du Bel +Avenir, there is a distinct manifestation of cash." + +"Marvellous!" I exclaimed. "And will the sybil explain why she surmised +that I was a dramatic author?" + +"Even so!" she boasted. "You wrote your message to me on an envelope +from the Dramatic Authors' Society, What do you think of my palmistry?" + +"I cannot say that I think it is your career. You are more likely an +author yourself, or an actress, or a journalist. Perhaps you are +mademoiselle Girard. Mon Dieu! What a piece of luck for me if I found +mademoiselle Girard!" + +"And what a piece of luck for her!" + +"Why for her?" + +"Well, she cannot be having a rollicking time. It would not break her +heart to be found, one may be certain." + +"In that case," I said, "she has only to give some one the tip." + +"Oh, that would be dishonourable--she has a duty to fulfil to _La +Voix_, she must wait till she is identified. And, remember, there +must be no half measures--the young man must have the intuition to say +firmly, 'Pardon, you are mademoiselle Girard!'" + +Her earnest gaze met mine for an instant. + +"As a matter of fact," I said, "I do not see how anyone can be expected +to identify her in the street. The portrait shows her without a hat, +and a hat makes a tremendous difference." + +She sighed. + +"What is your trouble?" I asked. + +"Man!" + +"Man? Tell me his address, that I may slay him." + +"The whole sex. Its impenetrable stupidity. If mademoiselle Girard is +ever recognised it will be by a woman. Man has no instinct." + +"May one inquire the cause of these flattering reflections?" + +Her laughter pealed. + +"Let us talk of something else!" she commanded. "When does your play +come out, monsieur Thibaud Hippolyte Duboc? You see I learnt your name, +too." + +"You have all the advantages," I complained. "Will you take a second +cup of coffee, mademoiselle--er--?" + +"No, thank you, monsieur," she said. + +"Well, will you take a liqueur, mademoiselle--er--?" + +"Mademoiselle Er will not take a liqueur either," she pouted. + +"Well, will you take a walk?" + +In the end we took an omnibus, and then we proceeded to the Buttes- +Chaumont--and very agreeable I found it there. We chose a seat in the +shade, and I began to feel that I had known her all my life. More +precisely, perhaps, I began to feel that I wished to know her all my +life. A little breeze was whispering through the boughs, and she lifted +her face to it gratefully. + +"How delicious," she said. "I should like to take off my hat." + +"Do, then!" + +"Shall I?" + +"Why not?" + +She pulled the pins out slowly, and laid the hat aside, and raised her +eyes to me, smiling. + +"Well?" she murmured. + +"You are beautiful." + +"Is that all?" + +"What more would you have me say?" + +The glare of sunshine mellowed while we talked; clocks struck unheeded +by me. It amazed me at last, to discover how long she had held me +captive. Still, I knew nothing of her affairs, excepting that she was +hard up--that, by comparison, I was temporarily prosperous. I did not +even know where she meant to go when we moved, nor did it appear +necessary to inquire yet, for the sentiment in her tones assured me +that she would dismiss me with no heartless haste. + +Two men came strolling past the bench, and one of them stared at her so +impudently that I burned with indignation. After looking duels at him, +I turned to her, to deprecate his rudeness. Judge of my dismay when I +perceived that she was shuddering with emotion! Jealousy blackened the +gardens to me. + +"Who is that man?" I exclaimed. + +"I don't know," she faltered. + +"You don't know? But you are trembling?" + +"Am I?" + +"I ask you who he is? How he dared to look at you like that?" + +"Am I responsible for the way a loafer looks?" + +"You are responsible for your agitation; I ask you to explain it!" + +"And by what right, after all?" + +"By what right? Wretched, false-hearted girl! Has our communion for +hours given me no rights? Am I a Frenchman or a flounder? Answer; you +are condemning me to tortures! Why did you tremble under that man's +eyes?" + +"I was afraid," she stammered. + +"Afraid?" + +"Afraid that he had recognised me." + +"Mon Dieu! Of what are you guilty?" + +"I am not guilty." + +"Of what are you accused?" + +"I can tell you nothing," she gasped. + +"You shall tell me all!" I swore. "In the name of my love I demand it +of you. Speak! Why did you fear his recognition?" + +Her head drooped pitifully. + +"Because I wanted _you_ to recognise me first!" + +For a tense moment I gazed at her bewildered. In the next, I cursed +myself for a fool--I blushed for my suspicions, my obtuseness--I sought +dizzily the words, the prescribed words that I must speak. + +"Pardon," I shouted, "you are mademoiselle Girard!" + +She sobbed. + +"What have I done?" + +"You have done a great and generous thing! I am humbled before you. I +bless you. I don't know how I could have been such a dolt as not to +guess!" + +"Oh, how I wish you had guessed! You have been so kind to me, I longed +for you to guess! And now I have betrayed a trust. I have been a bad +journalist." + +"You have been a good friend. Courage! No one will ever hear what has +happened. And, anyhow, it is all the same to the paper whether the +prize is paid to me, or to somebody else." + +"Yes," she admitted. "That is true. Oh, when that man turned round and +looked at me, I thought your chance had gone! I made sure it was all +over! Well"--she forced a smile--"it is no use my being sorry, is it? +Mademoiselle Girard is 'found'!" + +"But you must not be sorry," I said. "Come, a disagreeable job is +finished! And you have the additional satisfaction of knowing the money +goes to a fellow you don't altogether dislike. What do I have to do +about it, hein?" + +"You must telegraph to _La Voix_ at once that you have identified +me. Then, in the morning you should go to the office. I can depend upon +you, can't I? You will never give me away to a living soul?" + +"Word of honour!" I vowed. "What do you take me for? Do tell me you +don't regret! There's a dear. Tell me you don't regret." + +She threw back her head dauntlessly. + +"No," she said, "I don't regret. Only, in justice to me, remember that +I was treacherous in order to do a turn to you, not to escape my own +discomforts. To be candid, I believe that I wish we had met in two or +three weeks' time, instead of to-day!" + +"Why that?" + +"In two or three weeks' time the prize was to be raised to five +thousand francs, to keep up the excitement." + +"Ciel!" I cried. "Five thousand francs? Do you know that positively?" + +"Oh, yes!" She nodded. "It is arranged." + +Five thousand francs would have been a fortune to me. + +Neither of us spoke for some seconds. Then, continuing my thoughts +aloud, I said: + +"After all, why should I telegraph at once? What is to prevent +_my_ waiting the two or three weeks?" + +"Oh, to allow you to do that would be scandalous of me," she demurred; +"I should be actually swindling _La Voix_." + +"_La Voix_ will obtain a magnificent advertisement for its outlay, +which is all that it desires," I argued; "the boom will be worth five +thousand francs to _La Voix_, there is no question of swindling. +Five thousand francs is a sum with which one might--" + +"It can't be done," she persisted. + +"To a man in my position," I said, "five thousand francs--" + +"It is impossible for another reason! As I told you, I am at the end of +my resources. I rose this morning, praying that I should be identified. +My landlady has turned me out, and I have no more than the price of one +meal to go on with." + +"You goose!" I laughed. "And if I were going to net five thousand +francs by your tip three weeks hence, don't you suppose it would be +good enough for me to pay your expenses in the meanwhile?" + +She was silent again. I understood that her conscience was a more +formidable drawback than her penury. + +Monsieur, I said that you had asked me for a humiliating story--that I +had poignant memories connected with _La Voix_. Here is one of +them: I set myself to override her scruples--to render this girl false +to her employers. + +Many men might have done so without remorse. But not a man like me; I +am naturally high-minded, of the most sensitive honour. Even when I +conquered at last, I could not triumph. Far from it. I blamed the force +of circumstances furiously for compelling me to sacrifice my principles +to my purse. I am no adventurer, hein? + +Enfin, the problem now was, where was I to hide her? Her portmanteau +she had deposited at a railway station. Should we have it removed to +another bedroom, or to a pension de famille? Both plans were open to +objections--a bedroom would necessitate her still challenging discovery +in restaurants; and at a pension de famille she would run risks on the +premises. A pretty kettle of fish if someone spotted her while I was +holding for the rise! + +We debated the point exhaustively. And, having yielded, she displayed +keen intelligence in arranging for the best. Finally she declared: + +"Of the two things, a pension de famille is to be preferred. Install me +there as your sister! Remember that people picture me a wanderer and +alone; therefore, a lady who is introduced by her brother is in small +danger of being recognized as mademoiselle Girard." + +She was right, I perceived it. We found an excellent house, where I was +unknown. I presented her as "mademoiselle Henriette Delafosse, my +sister." And, to be on the safe side, I engaged a private sitting-room +for her, explaining that she was somewhat neurasthenic. + +Good! I waited breathless now for every edition of _La Voix_, +thinking that her price might advance even sooner. But she closed at +three thousand francs daily. Girard stood firm, but there was no upward +tendency. Every afternoon I called on her. She talked about that +conscience of hers again sometimes, and it did not prove quite so +delightful as I had expected, when I paid a visit. Especially when I +paid a bill as well. + +Monsieur, my disposition is most liberal. But when I had been mulcted +in the second bill, I confess that I became a trifle downcast. I had +prepared myself to nourish the girl wholesomely, as befitted the +circumstances, but I had said nothing of vin superieur, and I noted +that she had been asking for it as if it were cider in Normandy. The +list of extras in those bills gave me the jumps, and the charges made +for scented soap were nothing short of an outrage. + +Well, there was but one more week to bear now, and during the week I +allowed her to revel. This, though I was approaching embarrassments +_re_ the rent of my own attic! + +How strange is life! Who shall foretell the future? I had wrestled with +my self-respect, I had nursed an investment which promised stupendous +profits were I capable of carrying my scheme to a callous conclusion. +But could I do it? Did I claim the prize, which had already cost me so +much? Monsieur, you are a man of the world, a judge of character: I ask +you, did I claim the prize, or did I not? + +He threw himself back in the chair, and toyed significantly with his +empty glass. + +I regarded him, his irresolute mouth, his receding chin, his +unquenchable thirst for absinthe. I regarded him and I paid him no +compliments. I said: + +"You claimed the prize." + +"You have made a bloomer," he answered. "I did not claim it. The prize +was claimed by the wife of a piano-tuner, who had discovered +mademoiselle Girard employed in the artificial flower department of the +Printemps. I read the bloodcurdling news at nine o'clock on a Friday +evening; and at 9:15, when I hurled myself, panic-stricken, into the +pension de famille, the impostor who had tricked me out of three weeks' +board and lodging had already done a bolt. I have never had the joy of +meeting her since." + + + +HOW TRICOTKIN SAW LONDON + +One day Tricotrin had eighty francs, and he said to Pitou, who was no +less prosperous, "Good-bye to follies, for we have arrived at an epoch +in our careers! Do not let us waste our substance on trivial pleasures, +or paying the landlord--let us make it a provision for our future!" + +"I rejoice to hear you speak for once like a business-man," returned +Pitou. "Do you recommend gilt-edged securities, or an investment in +land?" + +"I would suggest, rather, that we apply our riches to some educational +purpose, such as travel," explained the poet, producing a railway +company's handbill. "By this means we shall enlarge our minds, and +somebody has pretended that 'knowledge is power'--it must have been the +principal of a school. It is not for nothing that we have l'Entente +Cordiale--you may now spend a Sunday in London at about the cost of one +of Madeleine's hats." + +"These London Sunday baits may be a plot of the English Government to +exterminate us; I have read that none but English people can survive a +Sunday in London." + +"No, it is not that, for we are offered the choice of a town called +'Eastbourne,' Listen, they tell me that in London the price of +cigarettes is so much lower than with us that, to a bold smuggler, the +trip is a veritable economy. Matches too! Matches are so cheap in +England that the practice of stealing them from cafe tables has not +been introduced." + +"Well, your synopsis will be considered, and reported on in due +course," announced the composer, after a pause; "but at the moment of +going to press we would rather buy a hat for Madeleine." + +And as Madeleine also thought that this would be better for him, it was +decided that Tricotrin should set forth alone. + +His departure for a foreign country was a solemn event. A small party +of the Montmartrois had marched with him to the station, and more than +once, in view of their anxious faces, the young man acknowledged +mentally that he was committed to a harebrained scheme. "Heaven +protect thee, my comrade!" faltered Pitou. "Is thy vocabulary safely in +thy pocket? Remember that 'un bock' is 'glass of beer.'" + +"Here is a small packet of chocolate," murmured Lajeunie, embracing +him; "in England, nothing to eat can be obtained on Sunday, and +chocolate is very sustaining." + +"And listen!" shouted Sanquereau; "on no account take off thy hat to +strangers, nor laugh in the streets; the first is 'mad' over there, and +the second is 'immoral.' May le bon Dieu have thee in His keeping! We +count the hours till thy return!" + +Then the train sped out into the night, and the poet realised that home +and friends were left behind. + +He would have been less than a poet if, in the first few minutes, the +pathos of the situation had not gripped him by the throat. Vague, +elusive fancies stirred his brain; he remembered the franc that he owed +at the Cafe du Bel Avenir, and wondered if madame would speak gently of +him were he lost at sea. Tender memories of past loves dimmed his eyes, +and he reflected how poignant it would be to perish before the papers +would give him any obituary notices. Regarding his fellow passengers, +he lamented that none of them was a beautiful girl, for it was an +occasion on which woman's sympathy would have been sweet; indeed he +proceeded to invent some of the things that they might have said to +each other. Inwardly he was still resenting the faces of his travelling +companions when the train reached Dieppe. + +"It is material for my biography," he soliloquised, as he crept down +the gangway. "Few who saw the young man step firmly on to the good +ship's deck conjectured the emotions that tore his heart; few +recognised him to be Tricotrin, whose work was at that date practically +unknown.'" But as a matter of fact he did arouse conjectures of a kind, +for when the boat moved from the quay, he could not resist the +opportunity to murmur, "My France, farewell!" with an appropriate +gesture. + +His repose during the night was fitful, and when Victoria was reached +at last, he was conscious of some bodily fatigue. However, his mind was +never slow to receive impressions, and at the sight of the scaffolding, +he whipped out his note-book on the platform. He wrote, "The English +are extraordinarily prompt of action. One day it was discerned that la +gare Victoria was capable of improvement--no sooner was the fact +detected than an army of contractors was feverishly enlarging it." +Pleased that his journey was already yielding such good results, the +poet lit a Caporal, and sauntered through the yard. + +Though the sky promised a fine Sunday, his view of London at this early +hour was not inspiriting. He loitered blankly, debating which way to +wander. Presently the outlook brightened--he observed a very dainty +pair of shoes and ankles coming through the station doors. Fearing that +the face might be unworthy of them, he did not venture to raise his +gaze until the girl had nearly reached the gate, but when he took the +risk, he was rewarded by the discovery that her features were as +piquant as her feet. + +She came towards him slowly, and now he remarked that she had a grudge +against Fate; her pretty lips were compressed, her beautiful eyes +gloomy with grievance, the fairness of her brow was darkened by a +frown. "Well," mused Tricotrin, "though the object of my visit is +educational, the exigencies of my situation clearly compel me to ask +this young lady to direct me somewhere. Can I summon up enough English +before she has passed?" + +It was a trying moment, for already she was nearly abreast of him. +Forgetful of Sanquereau's instructions, as well as of most of the +phrases that had been committed to memory, the poet swept off his hat, +and stammered, "Mees, I beg your pardon!" + +She turned the aggrieved eyes to him inquiringly. Although she had +paused, she made no answer. Was his accent so atrocious as all that? +For a second they regarded each other dumbly, while a blush of +embarrassment mantled the young man's cheeks. Then, with a little +gesture of apology, the girl said in French-- + +"I do not speak English, monsieur." + +"Oh, le bon Dieu be praised!" cried Tricotrin, for all the world as if +he had been back on the boulevard Rochechouart. "I was dazed with +travel, or I should have recognized you were a Frenchwoman. Did you, +too, leave Paris last night, mademoiselle?" + +"Ah, no," said the girl pensively. "I have been in London for months. I +hoped to meet a friend who wrote that she would arrive this morning, +but,"--she sighed--"she has not come!" + +"She will arrive to-night instead, no doubt; I should have no anxiety. +You may be certain she will arrive to-night, and this contretemps will +be forgotten." + +She pouted. "I was looking forward so much to seeing her! To a stranger +who cannot speak the language, London is as triste as a tomb. Today, I +was to have had a companion, and now--" + +"Indeed, I sympathise with you," replied Tricotrin. "But is it really +so--London is what you say? You alarm me. I am here absolutely alone. +Where, then, shall I go this morning?" + +"There are churches," she said, after some reflection. + +"And besides?" + +"W-e-ll, there are other churches." + +"Of course, such things can be seen in Paris also," demurred Tricotrin. +"It is not essential to go abroad to say one's prayers. If I may take +the liberty of applying to you, in which direction would you recommend +me to turn my steps? For example, where is Soho--is it too far for a +walk?" + +"No, monsieur, it is not very far--it is the quarter in which I lodge." + +"And do you return there now?" he asked eagerly. + +"What else is there for me to do? My friend has not come, and--" + +"Mademoiselle," exclaimed the poet, "I entreat you to have mercy on a +compatriot! Permit me, at least, to seek Soho in your company--do not, +I implore you, leave me homeless and helpless in a strange land! I +notice an eccentric vehicle which instinct whispers is an English +'hansom.' For years I have aspired to drive in an English hansom once. +It is in your power to fulfil my dream with effulgence. Will you +consent to instruct the acrobat who is performing with a whip, and to +take a seat in the English hansom beside me?" + +"Monsieur," responded the pretty girl graciously, "I shall be charmed;" +and, romantic as the incident appears, the next minute they were +driving along Victoria Street together. + +"The good kind fairies have certainly taken me under their wings," +declared Tricotrin, as he admired his companion's profile. "It was +worth enduring the pangs of exile, to meet with such kindness as you +have shown me." + +"I am afraid you will speedily pronounce the fairies fickle," said she, +"for our drive will soon be over, and you will find Soho no fairyland." + +"How comes it that your place of residence is so unsuitable to you, +mademoiselle?" + +"I lodge in the neighbourhood of the coiffeur's where I am employed, +monsieur--where I handle the tails and transformations. Our specialty +is artificial eyelashes; the attachment is quite invisible--and the +result absolutely ravishing! No," she added hurriedly; "I am not +wearing a pair myself, these are quite natural, word of honour! But we +undertake to impart to any eyes the gaze soulful, or the twinkle +coquettish, as the customer desires--as an artist, I assure you that +these expressions are due, less to the eyes themselves than to the +shade, and especially the curve, of the lashes. Many a woman has +entered our saloon entirely insignificant, and turned the heads of all +the men in the street when she left." + +"You interest me profoundly," said Tricotrin, "At the same time, I +shall never know in future whether I am inspired by a woman's eyes, or +the skill of her coiffeur. I say 'in future.' I entertain no doubt as +to the source of my sensations now." + +She rewarded him for this by a glance that dizzied him, and soon +afterwards the hansom came to a standstill amid an overpowering odour +of cheese. + +"We have arrived!" she proclaimed; "so it is now that we part, +monsieur. For me there is the little lodging--for you the enormous +London. It is Soho--wander where you will! There are restaurants +hereabouts where one may find coffee and rolls at a modest price. +Accept my thanks for your escort, and let us say bonjour." + +"Are the restaurants so unsavoury that you decline to honour them?" he +questioned. + +"_Comment?"_ + +"Will you not bear me company? Or, better still, will you not let me +command a coffee-pot for two to be sent to your apartment, and invite +me to rest after my voyage?" + +She hesitated. "My apartment is very humble," she said, "and--well, I +have never done a thing like that! It would not be correct. What would +you think of me if I consented?" + +"I will think all that you would have me think," vowed Tricotrin. +"Come, take pity on me! Ask me in, and afterwards we will admire the +sights of London together. Where can the coffee-pot be ordered?" + +"As for that," she said, "there is no necessity--I have a little +breakfast for two already prepared. Enfin, it is understood--we are to +be good comrades, and nothing more? Will you give yourself the trouble +of entering, monsieur?" + +The bedroom to which they mounted was shabby, but far from +unattractive. The mantelshelf was brightened with flowers, a piano was +squeezed into a corner, and Tricotrin had scarcely put aside his hat +when he was greeted by the odour of coffee as excellent as was ever +served in the Cafe de la Regence. + +"If this is London," he cried, "I have no fault to find with it! I own +it is abominably selfish of me, but I cannot bring myself to regret +that your friend failed to arrive this morning; indeed, I shudder to +think what would have become of me if we had not met. Will you mention +the name that is to figure in my benisons?" + +"My name is Rosalie Durand, monsieur." + +"And mine is Gustave Tricotrin, mademoiselle--always your slave. I do +not doubt that in Paris, at this moment, there are men who picture me +tramping the pavement, desolate. Not one of them but would envy me from +his heart if he could see my situation!" + +"It might have fallen out worse, I admit," said the girl. "My own day +was at the point of being dull to tears--and here I am chattering as if +I hadn't a grief in the world! Let me persuade you to take another +croissant!" + +"Fervently I wish that appearances were not deceptive!" said Tricotrin, +who required little persuasion. "Is it indiscreet to inquire to what +griefs you allude? Upon my word, your position appears a very pretty +one! Where do those dainty shoes pinch you?" + +"They are not easy on foreign soil, monsieur. When I reflect that you +go back to-night, that to-morrow you will be again in Paris, I could +gnash my teeth with jealousy." + +"But, ma foi!" returned Tricotrin, "to a girl of brains, like yourself, +Paris is always open. Are there no customers for eyelashes in France? +Why condemn yourself to gnash with jealousy when there is a living to +be earned at home?" + +"There are several reasons," she said; "for one thing, I am an +extravagant little hussy and haven't saved enough for a ticket." + +"I have heard no reason yet! At the moment my pocket is nicely lined-- +you might return with me this evening," + +"Are you mad by any chance?" she laughed. + +"It seems to me the natural course." + +"Well, I should not be free to go like that, even if I took your money. +I am a business woman, you see, who does not sacrifice her interests to +her sentiment. What is your own career, monsieur Tricotrin?" + +"I am a poet, And when I am back in Paris I shall write verse about +you. It shall be an impression of London--the great city as it reveals +itself to a stranger whose eyes are dazzled by the girl he loves." + +"Forbidden ground!" she cried, admonishing him with a finger. "No +dazzle!" + +"I apologise," said Tricotrin; "you shall find me a poet of my word. +Why, I declare," he exclaimed, glancing from the window, "it has begun +to rain!" + +"Well, fortunately, we have plenty of time; there is all day for our +excursion and we can wait for the weather to improve. If you do not +object to smoking while I sing, monsieur, I propose a little music to +go on with." + +And it turned out that this singular assistant of a hairdresser had a +very sympathetic voice, and no contemptible repertoire. Although the +sky had now broken its promise shamefully and the downpour continued, +Tricotrin found nothing to complain of. By midday one would have said +that they had been comrades for years. By luncheon both had ceased even +to regard the rain. And before evening approached, they had confided to +each other their histories from the day of their birth. + +Ascertaining that the basement boasted a smudgy servant girl, who was +to be dispatched for entrees and sauterne, Tricotrin drew up the menu +of a magnificent dinner as the climax. It was conceded that at this +repast he should be the host; and having placed him on oath behind a +screen, Rosalie proceeded to make an elaborate toilette in honour of +his entertainment. + +Determined, as he had said, to prove himself a poet of his word, the +young man remained behind the screen as motionless as a waxwork, but +the temptation to peep was tremendous, and at the whispering of a silk +petticoat he was unable to repress a groan. + +"What ails you?" she demanded, the whispering suspended. + +"I merely expire with impatience to meet you again." + +"Monsieur, I am hastening to the trysting-place, And my costume will be +suitable to the occasion, believe me!" + +"In that case, if you are not quick, you will have to wear crape. +However, proceed, I can suffer with the best of them.... Are you +certain that I can be of no assistance? I feel selfish, idling here +like this. Besides, since I am able to see--" + +"See?" she screamed. + +"--see no reason why you should refuse my aid, my plight is worse +still. What are you doing now?" + +"My hair," she announced. + +"Surely it would not be improper for me to view a head of hair?" + +"Perhaps not, monsieur; but my head is on my shoulders--which makes a +difference." + +"Mademoiselle," sighed Tricotrin, "never have I known a young lady +whose head was on her shoulders more tightly. May I crave one +indulgence? My imprisonment would be less painful for a cigarette, and +I cannot reach the matches--will you consent to pass them round the +screen?" + +"It is against the rules. But I will consent to throw them over the +top. Catch! Why don't you say 'thank you'?" + +"Because your unjust suspicion killed me; I now need nothing but +immortelles, and at dinner I will compose my epitaph. If I am not +mistaken, I already smell the soup on the stairs." + +And the soup had scarcely entered when his guest presented herself. +Paquin and the Fairy Godmother would have approved her gown; as to her +coiffure, if her employer could have seen it, he would have wanted to +put her in his window. Tricotrin gave her his arm with stupefaction. +"Upon my word," he faltered, "you awe me. I am now overwhelmed with +embarrassment that I had the temerity to tease you while you dressed. +And what shall I say of the host who is churl enough to welcome you in +such a shabby coat?" + +The cork went pop, their tongues went nineteen to the dozen, and the +time went so rapidly that a little clock on the chest of drawers became +a positive killjoy. + +"By all the laws of dramatic effect," remarked the poet, as they +trifled with the almonds and raisins, "you will now divulge that the +fashionable lady before me is no 'Rosalie Durand,' of a hairdresser's +shop, but madame la comtesse de Thrilling Mystery. Every novel reader +would be aware that at this stage you will demand some dangerous +service of me, and that I shall forthwith risk my life and win your +love." + +"Bien sur! That is how it ought to be," she agreed. + +"Is it impossible?" + +"That I can be a countess?" + +"Well, we will waive the 'countess'; and for that matter I will not +insist on risking my life; but what about the love?" + +"Without the rest," she demurred, "the situation would be too +commonplace. When I can tell you that I am a countess I will say also +that I love you; to-night I am Rosalie Durand, a friend. By the way, +now I come to think of it, I shall be all that you have seen in +London!" + +"Why, I declare, so you will!" exclaimed Tricotrin. "Really this is a +nice thing! I come to England for the benefit of my education--and when +it is almost time for me to return, I find that I have spent the whole +of the day in a room." + +"But you have, at least, had a unique experience in it?" she queried +with a whimsical smile. + +"Well, yes; my journey has certainly yielded an adventure that none of +my acquaintances would credit! Do you laugh at me?" + +"Far from it; by-and-by I may even spare a tear for you--if you do not +spoil the day by being clumsy at the end." + +"Ah, Rosalie," cried the susceptible poet, "how can I bear the parting? +What is France without you? I am no longer a Frenchman--my true home is +now England! My heart will hunger for it, my thoughts will stretch +themselves to it across the sea; banished to Montmartre, I shall mourn +daily for the white cliffs of Albion, for Soho, and for you!" + +"I, too, shall remember," she murmured. "But perhaps one of these days +you will come to England again?" + +"If the fare could be paid with devotion, I would come every Sunday, +but how can I hope to amass enough money? Such things do not happen +twice. No, I will not deceive myself--this is our farewell. See!" He +rose, and turned the little clock with its face to the wall. "When that +clock strikes, I must go to catch my train--in the meantime we will +ignore the march of time. Farewells, tears, regrets, let us forget that +they exist--let us drink the last glass together gaily, mignonne!" + +They pledged each other with brave smiles, hand in hand. And now their +chatter became fast and furious, to drown the clock's impatient tick. + +The clockwork wheezed and whirred. + +"'Tis going to part us," shouted Tricotrin; "laugh, laugh, Beloved, so +that we may not hear!" + +"Kiss me," she cried; "while the hour sounds, you shall hold me in your +arms!" + +"Heaven," gasped the young man, as the too brief embrace concluded, +"how I wish it had been striking midnight!" + +The next moment came the separation. He descended the stairs; at the +window she waved her hand to him. And in the darkness of an "English +hansom" the poet covered his face and wept. + + * * * * * + +"From our hearts we rejoice to have thee safely back!" they chorused in +Montmartre. "And what didst thou see in London?" + +"Oh, mon Dieu, what noble sights!" exclaimed Tricotrin. "The Lor' Maire +blazes with jewels like the Shah of Persia; and compared with +Peeccadeelly, the Champs Elysees are no wider than a hatband. Vive +l'Entente! Positively my brain whirls with all the splendours of London +I have seen!" + + + +THE INFIDELITY OF MONSIEUR NOULENS + +Whenever they talk of him, whom I will call "Noulens"--of his novels, +his method, the eccentricities of his talent--someone is sure to say, +"But what comrades, he and his wife!"--you are certain to hear it. And +as often as I hear it myself, I think of what he told me that evening +--I remember the shock I had. + +At the beginning, I had expected little. When I went in, his wife said, +"I fear he will be poor company; he has to write a short story for +_La Voix,_ and cannot find a theme--he has been beating his brains +all day." So far, from anticipating emotions, I had proposed dining +there another night instead, but she would not allow me to leave. +"Something you say may suggest a theme to him," she declared, "and he +can write or dictate the story in an hour, when you have gone." + +So I stayed, and after dinner he lay on the sofa, bewailing the fate +that had made him an author. The salon communicated with his study, and +through the open door he had the invitation of his writing-table--the +little sheaf of paper that she had put in readiness for him, the +lighted lamp, the pile of cigarettes. I knew that she hoped the view +would stimulate him, but it was soon apparent that he had ceased to +think of a story altogether. He spoke of one of the latest murders in +Paris, one sensational enough for the Paris Press to report a murder +prominently--of a conference at the Universite des Annales, of the +artistry of Esther Lekain, of everything except his work. Then, in the +hall, the telephone bell rang, and madame Noulens rose to receive the +message. "Allo! Allo!" + +She did not come back. There was a pause, and presently he murmured: + +"I wonder if a stranger has been moved to telephone a plot to me?" + +"What?" I said. + +"It sounds mad, hein? But it once happened--on just such a night as +this, when my mind was just as blank. Really! Out of the silence a +woman told me a beautiful story. Of course, I never used it, nor do I +know if she made use of it herself; but I have never forgotten. For +years I could not hear a telephone bell without trembling. Even now, +when I am working late, I find myself hoping for her voice." + +"The story was so wonderful as that?" + +He threw a glance into the study, as if to assure himself that his wife +had not entered it from the hall. + +"Can you believe that a man may learn to love--tenderly and truly love +--a woman he has never met?" he asked me. + +"I don't think I understand you." + +"There has been only one woman in my life who was all in all to me," he +said--"and I never saw her." + +How was I to answer? I looked at him. + +"After all, what is there incredible in it?" he demanded. "Do we give +our love to a face, or to a temperament? I swear to you that I could +not have known that woman's temperament more intimately if we had made +our confidences in each other's arms. I knew everything of her, except +the trifles which a stranger learns in the moment of being presented-- +her height, her complexion, her name, whether she was married or +single. No, those things I never knew. But her tastes, her sympathies, +her soul, these, the secret truths of the woman, were as familiar to me +as to herself." + +He hesitated. + +"I am in a difficulty. If I seem to disparage my wife, I shall be a +cad; if I let you think we have been as happy together as people +imagine, you will not understand the importance of what I am going to +tell you. I will say this: before our honeymoon was over, I bored her +fearfully. While we were engaged, I had talked to her of my illusions +about herself; when we were married, I talked to her of my convictions +about my art. The change appalled her. She was chilled, crushed, +dumfounded. I looked to her to share my interests. For response, she +yawned--and wept. + +"Oh, her tears! her hourly tears! the tears that drowned my love! + +"The philosopher is made, not born; in the first few years I rebelled +furiously. I wanted a companion, a confidant, and I had never felt so +desperately alone. + +"We had a flat in the rue de Sontay then, and the telephone was in my +workroom. One night late, as I sat brooding there, the bell startled +me; and a voice--a woman's voice, said: + +"'I am so lonely; I want to talk to you before I sleep.' + +"I cannot describe the strangeness of that appeal, reaching me so +suddenly out of the distance. I knew that it was a mistake, of course, +but it was as if, away in the city, some nameless soul had echoed the +cry in my own heart. I obeyed an impulse; I said: + +"'I, too, am very lonely--I believe I have been waiting for you.' + +"There was a pause, and then she asked, dismayed: + +"'Who are you?' + +"'Not the man you thought,' I told her. 'But a very wistful one.' + +"I heard soft laughter, 'How absurd!' she murmured. + +"'Be merciful,' I went on; 'we are both sad, and Fate clearly intends +us to console each other. It cannot compromise you, for I do not even +know who you are. Stay and talk to me for five minutes.' + +"'What do you ask me to talk about?' + +"'Oh, the subject to interest us both--yourself.' + +"After a moment she answered, 'I am shaking my head.' + +"'It is very unfeeling of you,' I said. 'And I have not even the +compensation of seeing you do it.' + +"Imagine another pause, and then her voice in my ear again: + +"'I will tell you what I can do for you--I can tell you a story.' + +"'The truth would please me more,' I owned. 'Still, if my choice must +be made between your story and your silence, I certainly choose the +story.' + +"'I applaud your taste,' she said. 'Are you comfortable--are you +sitting down?' + +"I sat down, smiling. 'Madame--' + +"She did not reply. + +"Then, 'Mademoiselle--' + +"Again no answer. + +"'Well, say at least if I have your permission to smoke while I listen +to you?' + +"She laughed: 'You carry courtesy far!' + +"'How far?' I asked quickly. + +"But she would not even hint from what neighbourhood she was speaking +to me. 'Attend!' she commanded--and began: + +"'It is a story of two lovers,' she said, 'Paul and Rosamonde. They +were to have married, but Rosamonde died too soon. When she was dying, +she gave him a curl of the beautiful brown hair that he used to kiss. +"Au revoir, dear love," she whispered; "it will be very stupid in +Heaven until you come. Remember that I am waiting for you and be +faithful. If your love for me fades, you will see that curl of mine +fade too." + +"'Every day through the winter Paul strewed flowers on her tomb, and +sobbed. And in the spring he strewed flowers and sighed. And in the +summer he paid that flowers might be strewn there for him. Sometimes, +when he looked at the dead girl's hair, he thought that it was paler +than it had been, but, as he looked at it seldom now, he could easily +persuade himself that he was mistaken. + +"'Then he met a woman who made him happy again; and the wind chased the +withered flowers from Rosamonde's grave and left it bare. One day +Paul's wife found a little packet that lay forgotten in his desk. She +opened it jealously, before he could prevent her. Paul feared that the +sight would give her pain, and watched her with anxious eyes. But in a +moment she was laughing. "What an idiot I am," she exclaimed--"I was +afraid that it was the hair of some girl you had loved!" The curl was +snow-white.' + +"Her fantastic tale," continued Noulens, "which was told with an +earnestness that I cannot reproduce, impressed me very much. I did not +offer any criticism, I did not pay her any compliment; I said simply: + +"'Who are you?' + +"'That,' she warned me, 'is a question that you must not ask. Well, are +you still bored?' + +"'No.' + +"'Interested, a little?' + +"'Very much so.' + +"'I, too, am feeling happier than I did. And now, bonsoir!' + +"'Wait,' I begged. 'Tell me when I shall speak to you again.' + +"She hesitated; and I assure you that I had never waited for a woman's +answer with more suspense while I held her hand, than I waited for the +answer of this woman whom I could not see. 'To-morrow?' I urged. 'In +the morning?' + +"'In the morning it would be difficult.' + +"'The afternoon?' + +"'In the afternoon it would be impossible,' + +"'Then the evening--at the same hour?' + +"'Perhaps,' she faltered--'if I am free.' + +"'My number,' I told her, 'is five-four-two, one-nine. Can you write it +now?' + +"'I have written it.' + +"'Please repeat, so that there may be no mistake.' + +"'Five-four-two, one-nine. Correct?' + +"'Correct. I am grateful.' + +"'Good-night.' + +"'Good-night. Sleep well.' + +"You may suppose that on the morrow I remembered the incident with a +smile, that I ridiculed the emotion it had roused in me? You would be +wrong. I recalled it more and more curiously: I found myself looking +forward to the appointment with an eagerness that was astonishing. We +had talked for about twenty minutes, hidden from each other--half +Paris, perhaps, dividing us; I had nothing more tangible to expect this +evening. Yet I experienced all the sensations of a man who waits for an +interview, for an embrace. What did it mean? I was bewildered. The +possibility of love at first sight I understood; but might the spirit +also recognise an affinity by telephone? + +"There is a phrase in feuilletons that had always irritated me--'To his +impatience it seemed that the clock had stopped.' It had always struck +me as absurd. Since that evening I have never condemned the phrase, for +honestly, I thought more than once that the clock had stopped. By-and-by, +to increase the tension, my wife, who seldom entered my workroom, +opened the door. She found me idle, and was moved to converse with me. +Mon Dieu! Now that the hour approached at last, my wife was present, +with the air of having settled herself for the night! + +"The hands of the clock moved on--and always faster now. If she +remained till the bell rang, what was I to do? To answer that I had +'someone with me' would be intelligible to the lady, but it would sound +suspicious to my wife. To answer that I was 'busy' would sound innocent +to my wife, but it would be insulting to the lady. To disregard the +bell altogether would be to let my wife go to the telephone herself! I +tell you I perspired. + +"Under Providence, our cook rescued me. There came a timid knock, and +then the figure of the cook, her eyes inflamed, her head swathed in +some extraordinary garment. She had a raging toothache--would madame +have the kindness to give her a little cognac? The ailments of the cook +always arouse in human nature more solicitude than the ailments of any +other servant. My wife's sympathy was active--I was saved! + +"The door had scarcely closed when _tr-rr-r-ng_ the signal came. + +"'Good-evening,' from the voice. 'So you are here to meet me.' + +"'Good-evening,' I said. 'I would willingly go further to meet you,' + +"'Be thankful that the rendez-vous was your flat--listen to the rain! +Come, own that you congratulated yourself when it began! "Luckily I can +be gallant without getting wet," you thought. Really, I am most +considerate--you keep a dry skin, you waste no time in reaching me, and +you need not even trouble to change your coat.' + +"'It sounds very cosy,' I admitted, 'but there is one drawback to it +all--I do not see you.' + +"'That may be more considerate of me still! I may be reluctant to +banish your illusions. Isn't it probable that I am elderly--or, at +least plain? I may even be a lady novelist, with ink on her fingers. +By-the-bye, monsieur, I have been rereading one of your books since +last night.' + +"'Oh, you know my name now? I am gratified to have become more than a +telephonic address to you. May I ask if we have ever met?' + +"'We never spoke till last night, but I have seen you often,' + +"'You, at any rate, can have no illusions to be banished. What a +relief! I have endeavoured to talk as if I had a romantic bearing; now +that you know how I look, I can be myself.' + +"'I await your next words with terror,' she said. 'What shock is in +store for me? Speak gently.' + +"'Well, speaking gently, I am very glad that you were put on to the +wrong number last night. At the same time, I feel a constraint, a +difficulty; I cannot talk to you frankly, cannot be serious--it is as +if I showed my face while you were masked.' + +"'Yes, it is true--I understand,' she said. 'And even if I were to +swear that I was not unworthy of your frankness, you would still be +doubtful of me, I suppose?' + +"'Madame--' + +"'Oh, it is natural! I know very well how I must appear to you,' she +exclaimed; 'a coquette, with a new pastime--a vulgar coquette, besides, +who tries to pique your interest by an air of mystery. Believe me, +monsieur, I am forbidden to unmask. Think lightly of me if you must--I +have no right to complain--but believe as much as that! I do not give +you my name, simply because I may not.' + +"'Madame,' I replied, 'so far from wishing to force your confidences, I +assure you that I will never inquire who you are, never try to find +out.' + +"'And you will talk frankly, unconstrainedly, all the same?' + +"'Ah, you are too illogical to be elderly and plain,' I demurred. 'You +resolve to remain a stranger to me, and I bow to your decision; but, on +the other hand, a man makes confidences only to his friends.' + +"There was a long pause; and when I heard the voice again, it trembled: + +"'Adieu, monsieur.' + +"'Adieu, madame,' I said. + +"No sooner had she gone than I would have given almost anything to +bring her back. For a long while I sat praying that she would ring +again. I watched the telephone as if it had been her window, the door +of her home--something that could yield her to my view. During the next +few days I grudged every minute that I was absent from the room--I took +my meals in it. Never had I had the air of working so indefatigably, +and in truth I did not write a line, 'I suppose you have begun a new +romance?' said my wife. In my soul I feared that I had finished it!" + +Noulens sighed; he clasped his hands on his head. The dark hair, the +thin, restless fingers were all that I could see of him where I sat. +Some seconds passed; I wondered whether there would be time for me to +hear the rest before his wife returned. + + * * * * * + +"In my soul I feared that I had finished it," he repeated. +"Extraordinary as it appears, I was in love with a woman I had never +seen. Each time that bell sounded, my heart seemed to try to choke me. +It had been my grievance, since we had the telephone installed, that we +heard nothing of it excepting that we had to make another payment for +its use; but now, by a maddening coincidence, everybody that I had ever +met took to ringing me up about trifles and agitating me twenty times a +day. + +"At last, one night--when expectation was almost dead--she called to me +again. Oh, but her voice was humble! My friend, it is piteous when we +love a woman, to hear her humbled. I longed to take her hands, to fold +my arms about her. I abased myself, that she might regain her pride. +She heard how I had missed and sorrowed for her; I owned that she was +dear to me. + +"And then began a companionship--strange as you may find the word-- +which was the sweetest my life has held. We talked together daily. This +woman, whose whereabouts, whose face, whose name were all unknown to +me, became the confidant of my disappointments and my hopes. If I +worked well, my thoughts would be, 'Tonight I shall have good news to +give her;' if I worked ill--'Never mind, by-and-by she will encourage +me!' There was not a page in my next novel that I did not read to her; +never a doubt beset me in which I did not turn for her sympathy and +advice. + +"'Well, how have you got on?' + +"'Oh, I am so troubled this evening, dear!' + +"'Poor fellow! Tell me all about it. I tried to come to you sooner, but +I couldn't get away.' + +"Like that! We talked as if she were really with me. My life was no +longer desolate--the indifference in my home no longer grieved me. All +the interest, the love, the inspiration I had hungered for, was given +to me now by a woman who remained invisible." + +Noulens paused again. In the pause I got up to light a cigarette, and-- +I shall never forget it--I saw the bowed figure of his wife beyond the +study door! It was only a glimpse I had, but the glimpse was enough to +make my heart stand still--she leant over the table, her face hidden by +her hand. + +I tried to warn, to signal to him--he did not see me. I felt that I +could do nothing, nothing at all, without doubling her humiliation by +the knowledge that I had witnessed it. If he would only look at me! + +"Listen," he went on rapidly. "I was happy, I was young again--and +there was a night when she said to me, 'It is for the last time.' + +"Six words! But for a moment I had no breath, no life, to answer them. + +"'Speak!' she cried out. 'You are frightening me!' + +"'What has happened?' I stammered. 'Trust me, I implore you!' + +"I heard her sobbing--and minutes seemed to pass. It was horrible. I +thought my heart would burst while I shuddered at her sobs--the sobbing +of a woman I could not reach. + +"'I can tell you nothing,' she said, when she was calmer; 'only that we +are speaking together for the last time.' + +"'But why--why? Is it that you are leaving France?' + +"'I cannot tell you,' she repeated. 'I have had to swear that to +myself.' + +"Oh, I raved to her! I was desperate. I tried to wring her name from +her then--I besought her to confess where she was hidden. The space +between us frenzied me. It was frightful, it was like a nightmare, that +struggle to tear the truth from a woman whom I could not clasp or see. + +"'My dear,' she said, 'there are some things that are beyond human +power. They are not merely difficult, or unwise, or mad--they are +impossible. _You_ have begged the impossible of _me_. You +will never hear me again, it is far from likely we shall ever meet--and +if one day we do, you will not even know that it is I. But I love you. +I should like to think that you believe it, for I love you very dearly. +Now say good-bye to me. My arms are round your neck, dear heart--I +kiss you on the lips.' + +"It was the end. She was lost. A moment before, I had felt her presence +in my senses; now I stood in an empty room, mocked by a futile +apparatus. My friend, if you have ever yearned to see a woman whose +whereabouts you did not know--ever exhausted yourself tramping some +district in the hope of finding her--you may realise what I feel; for +remember that by comparison your task was easy--I am even ignorant of +this woman's arrondissement and appearance. She left me helpless. The +telephone had given her--the telephone had taken her away. All that +remained to me was the mechanism on a table." + + * * * * * + +Noulens turned on the couch at last--and, turning, he could not fail to +see his wife. I was spellbound. + +"'Mechanism on a table,' he repeated, with a prodigious yawn of relief. +'That is all, my own.'" + +"Good!" said madame Noulens cheerily. She bustled in, fluttering pages +of shorthand. "But, old angel, the tale of Paul and Rosamonde is thrown +away--it is an extravagance, telling two stories for the price of one!" + +"My treasure, thou knowest I invented it months ago and couldn't make +it long enough for it to be of any use." + +"True. Well, we will be liberal, then--we will include it." She noticed +my amazement. "What ails our friend?" + +Noulens gave a guffaw. "I fear our friend did not recognize that I was +dictating to you. By-the-bye, it was fortunate someone rang us up just +now--that started my plot for me! Who was it?" + +"It was _La Voix_" she laughed, "inquiring if the story would be +done in time!" + + * * * * * + +Yes, indeed, they are comrades!--you are certain to hear it. And as +often as I hear it myself, I think of what he told me that evening--I +remember how he took me in. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Chair on The Boulevard, by Leonard Merrick + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHAIR ON THE BOULEVARD *** + +This file should be named 7chbd10.txt or 7chbd10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7chbd11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7chbd10a.txt + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Ginny Brewer, Tom Allen +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: A Chair on The Boulevard + +Author: Leonard Merrick + +Release Date: February, 2006 [EBook #9928] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on November 1, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHAIR ON THE BOULEVARD *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Ginny Brewer, Tom Allen +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + +A CHAIR ON THE BOULEVARD + + + +By LEONARD MERRICK + + + + +WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY A. NEIL LYONS + +1921 + + + + + +CONTENTS + + I THE TRAGEDY OF A COMIC SONG + + II TRICOTRIN ENTERTAINS + + III THE FATAL FLOROZONDE + + IV THE OPPORTUNITY OF PETITPAS + + V THE CAFÉ OF THE BROKEN HEART + + VI THE DRESS CLOTHES OF MONSIEUR POMPONNET + + VII THE SUICIDES IN THE RUE SOMBRE + + VIII THE CONSPIRACY FOR CLAUDINE + + IX THE DOLL IN THE PINK SILK DRESS + + X THE LAST EFFECT + + XI AN INVITATION TO DINNER + + XII THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS + + XIII THE FAIRY POODLE + + XIV LITTLE-FLOWER-OF-THE-WOOD + + XV A MIRACLE IN MONTMARTRE + + XVI THE DANGER OF BEING A TWIN + + XVII HERCULES AND APHRODITE + + XVIII "PARDON, YOU ARE MADEMOISELLE GIRARD!" + + XIX HOW TRICOTRIN SAW LONDON + + XX THE INFIDELITY OF MONSIEUR NOULENS + + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +These disjointed thoughts about one of Leonard Merrick's most +articulate books must begin with a personal confession. + +For many years I walked about this earth avoiding the works of Leonard +Merrick, as other men might have avoided an onion. This insane aversion +was created in my mind chiefly by admirers of what is called the +"cheerful" note in fiction. Such people are completely agreed in +pronouncing Mr. Merrick to be a pessimistic writer. I hate pessimistic +writers. + +Years ago, when I was of an age when the mind responds acutely to +exterior impressions, some well-meaning uncle, or other fool, gave me a +pessimistic book to read. This was a work of fiction which the British +Public had hailed as a masterpiece of humour. It represented, with an +utter fury of pessimism, the spiritual inadequacies of--but why go into +details. + +Now, I have to confess that for a long time I did Mr. Merrick the +extraordinary injustice of believing him to be the author of that +popular masterpiece. + +The mistake, though intellectually unpardonable, may perhaps be +condoned on other grounds. By virtue of that process of thought which +we call the "association of ideas," I naturally connected Mr. Merrick +with this work of super-pessimism; my friends being so confirmed in +their belief that he was a super-pessimist. + +But by virtue of a fortunate accident, I at last got the truth about +Mr. Merrick. This event arose from the action of a right-minded +butcher, who, having exhausted his stock of _The Pigeon-Fancier's +Gazette_, sent me my weekly supply of dog-bones wrapped about with +Leonard Merrick. + +These dog-bones happened to reach my house at a moment when no other +kind of literary nutriment was to be had. Having nothing better to read +I read the dog-bone wrappers. Thus, by dog-bones, was I brought to +Merrick: the most jolly, amusing, and optimistic of all spiritual +friends. + +The book to which these utterances are prefixed is to my mind one of +the few _really_ amusing books which have been published in +England during my lifetime. But, then, I think that all of Mr. +Merrick's books are amusing: even his "earnest" books, such as _The +Actor-Manager, When Love Flies out o' the Window_, or _The +Position of Peggy Harper_. + +It is, of course, true that such novels as these are unlikely to be +found congenial by those persons who derive entertainment from fiction +like my uncle's present. On the other hand, there are people in the +world with a capacity for being amused by psychological inquiry. To +such people I would say: "Don't miss Merrick." The extraordinary +cheerfulness of Mr. Merrick's philosophy is a fact which will impress +itself upon all folk who are able to take a really cheerful view of +life. + +All of Mr. Merrick's sermons--I do not hesitate to call his novels +"sermons," because no decent novel can be anything else--all his +sermons, I say, point to this conclusion: that people who go out +deliberately to look for happiness, to kick for it, and fight for it, +or who try to buy it with money, will miss happiness; this being a +state of heart--a mere outgrowth, more often to be found by a careless +and self-forgetful vagrant than by the deliberate and self-conscious +seeker. A cheerful doctrine this. Not only cheerful, but self-evidently +true. How right it is, and how cheerful it is, to think that while +philosophers and clergymen strut about this world looking out, and +smelling out, for its prime experiences, more careless and less +celebrated men are continually finding such things, without effort, +without care, in irregular and unconsecrated places. + +In novel after novel, Mr. Merrick has preached the same good-humoured, +cheerful doctrine: the doctrine of anti-fat. He asks us to believe--he +_makes_ us believe--that a man (or woman) is not merely virtuous, +but merely sane, who exchanges the fats of fulfilment for the little +lean pleasures of honourable hope and high endeavour. Oh wise, oh witty +Mr. Merrick! + +Mr. Merrick has not, to my knowledge, written one novel in which his +hero is represented as having achieved complacency. Mr. Merrick's +heroes all undergo the very human experience of "hitting a snag." They +are none of them represented as _enjoying_ this experience; but +none of them whimper and none of them "rat." + +If anybody could prove to me that Mr. Merrick had ever invented a hero +who submitted tamely to tame success, to fat prosperity; or who had +stepped, were it ever so lightly, into the dirty morass of accepted +comfort, then would I cheerfully admit to anybody that Leonard Merrick +is a Pessimistic Writer. But until this proof be forthcoming, I stick +to my opinion: I stick to the conviction that Mr. Merrick is the +gayest, cheer fullest, and most courageous of living humorists. + +This opinion is a general opinion, applicable to Mr. Merrick's general +work. This morning, however, I am asked to narrow my field of view: to +contemplate not so much Mr. Merrick at large as Mr. Merrick in +particular: to look at Mr. Merrick in his relationship to this one +particular book: _A Chair on the Boulevard_. + +Now, if I say, as I have said, that Mr. Merrick is cheerful in his +capacity of solemn novelist, what am I to say of Mr. Merrick in his +lighter aspect, that of a writer of _feuilletons?_ Addressing +myself to an imaginary audience of Magazine Enthusiasts, I ask them to +tell me whether, judged even by comparison with their favourite +fiction, some of the stories to be found in this volume are not +exquisitely amusing? + +The first story in the book--that which Mr. Merrick calls "The Tragedy +of a Comic Song"--is in my view the funniest story of this century: +but I don't ask or expect the Magazine Enthusiast to share this view or +to endorse that judgment. "The Tragedy of a Comic Song" is essentially +one of those productions in which the reader is expected to +collaborate. The author has deliberately contrived certain voids of +narrative; and his reader is expected to populate these anecdotal +wastes. This is asking more than it is fair to ask of a Magazine +Enthusiast. No genuine Magazine reader cares for the elusive or +allusive style in fiction. "The Tragedy of a Comic Song" won't do for +Bouverie Street, however well and completely it may do for me. + +But there are other stories in this book. There is that screaming farce +called "The Suicides in the Rue Sombre." Now, then, you Magazine +zealots, speak up and tell me truly: is there anything too difficult +for you in this? If so, the psychology of what is called "public taste" +becomes a subject not suited to public discussion. + +The foregoing remarks and considerations apply equally to such stories +as "The Dress Clothes of M. Pomponnet" and "Tricotrin Entertains." +There are other stories which delight me, as, for example, "Little- +Flower-of-the-Wood": but this jerks us back again to the essential Mr. +Merrick: he who demands collaboration. + +There are, again, other stories, and yet others; but to write down all +their titles here would be merely to transcribe the index page of the +book. Neither the reader nor I can afford to waste our time like that. + +I have said nothing about the technical qualities of Mr. Merrick's +work. I don't intend to do so. It has long been a conceit of mine to +believe that professional vendors of letterpress should reserve their +mutual discussions of technique for technical occasions, such as those +when men of like mind and occupation sit at table, with a bottle +between them. + +I am convinced that Mr. Merrick is a very great and gifted man, deeply +skilled in his profession. I can bring forth arguments and proofs to +support this conviction; but I fail utterly to see why I should do so. +To people who have a sense of that which is sincere and fresh in +fiction, these facts will be apparent. To them my arguments and +illustrations would be profitless. As for those honest persons to whom +the excellencies of Merrick are not apparent, I can only think that +nothing which I or any other man could say would render them obvious. +"Happiness is in ourselves," as the Vicar remarked to the donkey who +was pulling the lawn-mower. + +Good luck, Leonard Merrick, and good cheer! I shout my greeting to you +across the ripples of that inky lake which is our common fishery. + +A. NEIL LYONS. + + + +A CHAIR ON THE BOULEVARD + + + +THE TRAGEDY OF A COMIC SONG + +I like to monopolise a table in a restaurant, unless a friend is with +me, so I resented the young man's presence. Besides, he had a +melancholy face. If it hadn't been for the piano-organ, I don't suppose +I should have spoken to him. As the organ that was afflicting Lisle +Street began to volley a comic song of a day that was dead, he started. + +"That tune!" he murmured in French. If I did not deceive myself, tears +sprang to his eyes. + +I was curious. Certainly, on both sides of the Channel, we had long ago +had more than enough of the tune--no self-respecting organ-grinder +rattled it now. That the young Frenchman should wince at the tune I +understood. But that he should weep! + +I smiled sympathetically. "We suffered from it over here as well," I +remarked. + +"I did not know," he said, in English that reproved my French, "it was +sung in London also--'Partant pour le Moulin'?" + +"Under another name," I told him, "it was an epidemic." + +Clearly, the organ had stirred distressing memories in him, for though +we fell to chatting, I could see that he neither talked nor dined with +any relish. As luck would have it, too, the instrument of torture +resumed its répertoire well within hearing, and when "Partant pour le +Moulin" was reached again, he clasped his head. + +"You find it so painful?" I inquired. + +"Painful?" he exclaimed. "Monsieur, it is my 'istory, that comic tune! +It is to me romance, tragedy, ruin. Will you hear? Wait! I shall range +my ideas. Listen:" + + * * * * * + +It is Paris, at Montmartre--we are before the door of a laundress. A +girl approaches. Her gaze is troubled, she frowns a little. What ails +her? I shall tell you: the laundress has refused to deliver her washing +until her bill is paid. And the girl cannot pay it--not till Saturday-- +and she has need of things to put on. It is a moment of anxiety. + +She opens the door. Some minutes pass. The girl reappears, holding +under her arm a little parcel. Good! she has triumphed. In coming out +she sees a young man, pale, abstracted, who stands before the shop. He +does not attempt to enter. He stands motionless, regarding the window +with an air forlorn. + +"Ah," she says to herself, "here is another customer who cannot pay his +bill!" + +But wait a little. After 'alf an hour what happens? She sees the young +man again! This time he stands before a modest restaurant. Does he go +in? No, again no! He regards the window sorrowfully. He sighs. The +dejection of his attitude would melt a stone. + +"Poor boy," she thought; "he cannot pay for a dinner either!" + +The affair is not finished. How the summer day is beautiful--she will +do some footing! Figure yourself that once more she perceives the young +man. Now it is before the mont-de-piété, the pawnbroker's. She watches +him attentively. Here, at least, he will enter, she does not doubt. She +is wrong. It is the same thing--he regards, he laments, he turns away! + +"Oh, mon Dieu," she said. "Nothing remains to him to pawn even!" + +It is too strong! She addressed him: + +"Monsieur!" + +But, when she has said "Monsieur," there is the question how she shall +continue. Now the young man regards the girl instead of the +pawnbroker's. Her features are pretty--or "pretty well"; her costume +has been made by herself, but it is not bad; and she has chic--above +all she has chic. He asks: + +"What can I have the pleasure to do for you?" + +Remark that she is bohemian, and he also. + +The conversation was like this: + +"Monsieur, three times this morning I have seen you. It was impossible +that I resist speaking. You have grief?" + +"Frightful!" he said. + +"Perhaps," she added timidly, "you have hunger also?" + +"A hunger insupportable, mademoiselle!" + +"I myself am extremely hard up, monsieur, but will you permit that I +offer you what I can?" + +"Angel!" the young man exclaimed. "There must be wings under your coat. +But I beg of you not to fly yet. I shall tell you the reason of my +grief. If you will do me the honour to seat yourself at the café +opposite, we shall be able to talk more pleasantly." + +This appeared strange enough, this invitation from a young man who she +had supposed was starving; but wait a little! Her amazement increased +when, to pay for the wine he had ordered, her companion threw on to the +table a bank-note with a gesture absolutely careless. + +She was in danger of distrusting her eyes. + +"Is it a dream?" she cried. "Is it a vision from the _Thousand and +One Nights_, or is it really a bank-note?" + +"Mademoiselle, it is the mess of pottage," the young man answered +gloomily. "It is the cause of my sadness: for that miserable money, and +more that is to come, I have sold my birthright." + +She was on a ship--no, what is it, your expression?--"at sea"! + +"I am a poet," he explained; "but perhaps you may not know my work; I +am not celebrated. I am Tricotrin, mademoiselle--Gustave Tricotrin, at +your feet! For years I have written, aided by ambition, and an uncle +who manufactures silk in Lyons. Well, the time is arrived when he is +monstrous, this uncle. He says to me, 'Gustave, this cannot last--you +make no living, you make nothing but debts. (My tragedies he ignores.) +Either you must be a poet who makes money, or you must be a partner who +makes silk,' How could I defy him?--he holds the purse. It was +unavoidable that I stooped. He has given me a sum to satisfy my +creditors, and Monday I depart for Lyons. In the meantime, I take +tender farewells of the familiar scenes I shall perhaps never behold +again." + +"How I have been mistaken!" she exclaimed. And then: "But the hunger +you confessed?" + +"Of the soul, mademoiselle," said the poet--"the most bitter!" + +"And you have no difficulties with the laundress?" + +"None," he groaned. "But in the bright days of poverty that have fled +for ever, I have had many difficulties with her. This morning I +reconstituted the situation--I imagined myself without a sou, and +without a collar." + +"The little restaurant," she questioned, "where I saw you dining on the +odour?" + +"I figured fondly to myself that I was ravenous and that I dared not +enter. It was sublime." + +"The mont-de-piété?" + +"There imagination restored to me the vanished moments when I have +mounted with suspense, and my least deplorable suit of clothes." His +emotion was profound. "It is my youth to which I am bidding adieu!" he +cried. "It is more than that--it is my aspirations and my renown!" + +"But you have said that you have no renown," she reminded him. + +"So much the more painful," said the young man; "the hussy we could not +win is always the fairest--I part from renown even more despairingly +than from youth." + +She felt an amusement, an interest. But soon it was the turn of him to +feel an interest--the interest that had consequences so important, so +'eart-breaking, so _fatales_! He had demanded of her, most +naturally, her history, and this she related to him in a style +dramatic. Myself, I have not the style dramatic, though I avow to you I +admire that. + +"We are in a provincial town," she said to the young man, "we are in +Rouen--the workroom of a modiste. Have no embarrassment, monsieur +Tricotrin, you, at least, are invisible to the girls who sew! They sew +all day and talk little--already they are _tristes_, resigned. +Among them sits one who is different--one passionate, ambitious--a girl +who burns to be _divette_, singer, who is devoured by longings for +applause, fashion, wealth. She has made the acquaintance of a little +pastrycook. He has become fascinated, they are affianced. In a month +she will be married." + +The young man, Tricotrin, well understood that the girl she described +was herself. + +"What does she consider while she sits sewing?" she continued. "That +the pastrycook loves her, that he is generous, that she will do her +most to be to him a good wife? Not at all. Far from that! She +considers, on the contrary, that she was a fool to promise him; she +considers how she shall escape--from him, from Rouen, from her ennui-- +she seeks to fly to Paris. Alas! she has no money, not a franc. And she +sews--always she sews in the dull room--and her spirit rebels." + +"Good!" said the poet. "It is a capital first instalment." + +"The time goes on. There remains only a week to the marriage morning. +The little home is prepared, the little pastrycook is full of joy. +_Alors_, one evening they go out; for her the sole attraction in +the town is the hall of varieties. Yes, it is third class, it is not +great things; however, it is the only one in Rouen. He purchases two +tickets. What a misfortune--it is the last temptation to her! They +stroll back; she takes his arm--under the moon, under the stars; but +she sees only the lamps of Paris!--she sees only that he can say +nothing she cares to hear!" + +"Ah, unhappy man!" murmured the poet. + +"They sit at a café table, and he talks, the fiancé, of the bliss that +is to come to them. She attends to not a word, not a syllable. While +she smiles, she questions herself, frenzied, how she can escape. She +has commanded a _sirop_. As she lifts her glass to the syphon, her +gaze falls on the ring she wears--the ring of their betrothal. 'To the +future, cher ange!' says the fiancé. 'To the future, vieux chéri!' she +says. And she laughs in her heart--for she resolves to sell the ring!" + +Tricotrin had become absolutely enthralled. + +"She obtained for the ring forty-five francs the next day--and for the +little pastrycook all is finished. She wrote him a letter--'Good-bye.' +He has lost his reason. Mad with despair, he has flung himself before +an electric car, and is killed.... It is strange," she added to the +poet, who regarded her with consternation, "that I did not think sooner +of the ring that was always on my finger, n'est-ce-pas? It may be that +never before had I felt so furious an impulse to desert him. It may be +also--that there was no ring and no pastrycook!" And she broke into +peals of laughter. + +"Ah, mon Dieu," exclaimed the young man, "but you are enchanting! Let +us go to breakfast--you are the kindred soul I have looked for all my +life. By-the-bye, I may as well know your name?" + +Then, monsieur, this poor girl who had trembled before her laundress, +she told him a name which was going, in a while, to crowd the +Ambassadeurs and be famous through all Paris--a name which was to mean +caprices, folly, extravagance the most wilful and reckless. She +answered--and it said nothing yet--"My name is Paulette Fleury." + + * * * * * + +The piano-organ stopped short, as if it knew the Frenchman had reached +a crisis in his narrative. He folded his arms and nodded impressively. + +"Voilà! Monsieur, I 'ave introduced you to Paulette Fleury! It was her +beginning." + +He offered me a cigarette, and frowned, lost in thought, at the lady +who was chopping bread behind the counter. + +"Listen," he resumed. + + * * * * * + +They have breakfasted; they have fed the sparrows around their chairs, +and they have strolled under the green trees in the sunshine. She was +singing then at a little café-concert the most obscure. It is arranged, +before they part, that in the evening he shall go to applaud her. + +He had a friend, young also, a composer, named Nicolas Pitou. I cannot +express to you the devotion that existed between them. Pitou was +employed at a publisher's, but the publisher paid him not much better +than his art. The comrades have shared everything: the loans from the +mont-de-piété, the attic, and the dreams. In Montmartre it was said +"Tricotrin and Pitou" as one says "Orestes and Pylades." It is +beautiful such affection, hein? Listen! + +Tricotrin has recounted to his friend his meeting with Paulette, and +when the hour for the concert is arrived, Pitou accompanied him. The +musician, however, was, perhaps, the more sedate. He has gone with +little expectation; his interest was not high. + +What a surprise he has had! He has found her an actress--an artist to +the ends of the fingers. Tricotrin was astonished also. The two +friends, the poet and the composer, said "Mon Dieu!" They regarded the +one the other. They said "Mon Dieu!" again. Soon Pitou has requested of +Tricotrin an introduction. It is agreed. Tricotrin has presented his +friend, and invited the _chanteuse_ to drink a bock--a glass of +beer.... A propos, you take a liqueur, monsieur, yes? What liqueur you +take? Sst, garçon!... Well, you conjecture, no doubt, what I shall say? +Before the bock was finished, they were in love with her--both! + +At the door of her lodging, Paulette has given to each a pressure of +the hand, and said gently, "Till to-morrow." + +"I worship her!" Tricotrin told Pitou. + +"I have found my ideal!" Pitou answered Tricotrin. + +It is superb, such friendship, hein? + +In the mind of the poet who had accomplished tragedies majestic--in the +mind of the composer, the most classical in Montmartre--there had been +born a new ambition: it was to write a comic song for Paulette Fleury! + +It appears to you droll, perhaps? Monsieur, to her lover, the humblest +_divette_ is more than Patti. In all the world there can be no joy +so thrilling as to hear the music of one's brain sung by the woman one +adores--unless it be to hear the woman one adores give forth one's +verse. I believe it has been accepted as a fact, this; nevertheless it +is true. + +Yes, already the idea had come to them, and Paulette was well pleased +when they told her of it. Oh, she knew they loved her, both, and with +both she coquetted. But with their intention she did not coquet; as to +that she was in earnest. Every day they discussed it with enthusiasm-- +they were to write a song that should make for her a furore. + +What happened? I shall tell you. Monday, when Tricotrin was to depart +for Lyons, he informed his uncle that he will not go. No less than +that! His uncle was furious--I do not blame him--but naturally +Tricotrin has argued, "If I am to create for Paulette her great chance, +I must remain in Paris to study Paulette! I cannot create in an +atmosphere of commerce. I require the Montmartrois, the boulevards, the +inspiration of her presence." Isn't it? + +And Pitou--whose very soul had been enraptured in his leisure by a +fugue he was composing--Pitou would have no more of it. He allowed the +fugue to grow dusty, while day and night he thought always of refrains +that ran "_Zim-la-zim-la zim-boum-boum!_" Constantly they +conferred, the comrades. They told the one the other how they loved +her; and then they beat their heads, and besought of Providence a fine +idea for the comic song. + +It was their thought supreme. The silk manufacturer has washed his +'ands of Tricotrin, but he has not cared--there remained to him still +one of the bank-notes. As for Pitou, who neglected everything except to +find his melody for Paulette, the publisher has given him the sack. +Their acquaintances ridiculed the sacrifices made for her. But, +monsieur, when a man loves truly, to make a sacrifice for the woman is +to make a present to himself. + +Nevertheless I avow to you that they fretted because of her coquetry. +One hour it seemed that Pitou had gained her heart; the next her +encouragement has been all to Tricotrin. Sometimes they have said to +her: + +"Paulette, it is true we are as Orestes and Pylades, but there can be +only one King of Eden at the time. Is it Orestes, or Pylades that you +mean to crown?" + +Then she would laugh and reply: + +"How can I say? I like you both so much I can never make up my mind +which to like best." + +It was not satisfactory. + +And always she added. "In the meantime, where is the song?" + +Ah, the song, that song, how they have sought it!--on the Butte, and in +the Bois, and round the Halles. Often they have tramped Paris till +daybreak, meditating the great chance for Paulette. And at last the +poet has discovered it: for each verse a different phase of life, but +through it all, the pursuit of gaiety, the fever of the dance--the +gaiety of youth, the gaiety of dotage, the gaiety of despair! It should +be the song of the pleasure-seekers--the voices of Paris when the lamps +are lit. + +Monsieur, if we sat 'ere in the restaurant until it closed, I could not +describe to you how passionately Tricotrin, the devoted Tricotrin, +worked for her. He has studied her without cease; he has studied her +attitudes, her expressions. He has taken his lyric as if it were +material and cut it to her figure; he has taken it as if it were +plaster, and moulded it upon her mannerisms. There was not a +_moue_ that she made, not a pretty trick that she had, not a word +that she liked to sing for which he did not provide an opportunity. At +the last line, when the pen fell from his fingers, he shouted to Pitou, +"Comrade, be brave--I have won her!" + +And Pitou? Monsieur, if we sat 'ere till they prepared the tables for +déjeuner to-morrow, I could not describe to you how passionately Pitou, +the devoted Pitou, worked that she might have a grand popularity by his +music. At dawn, when he has found that _strepitoso_ passage, which +is the hurrying of the feet, he wakened the poet and cried, "Mon ami, I +pity you--she is mine!" It was the souls of two men when it was +finished, that comic song they made for her! It was the song the organ +has ground out--"Partant pour le Moulin." + +And then they rehearsed it, the three of them, over and over, inventing +always new effects. And then the night for the song is arrived. It has +rained all day, and they have walked together in the rain--the singer, +and the men who loved her, both--to the little café-concert where she +would appear. + +They tremble in the room, among the crowd, Pitou and Tricotrin; they +are agitated. There are others who sing--it says nothing to them. In +the room, in the Future, there is only Paulette! + +It is very hot in the café-concert, and there is too much noise. At +last they ask her: "Is she nervous?" She shakes her head: "Mais non!" +She smiles to them. + +Attend! It is her turn. Ouf; but it is hot in the café-concert, and +there is too much noise! She mounts the platform. The audience are +careless; it continues, the jingle of the glasses, the hum of talk. She +begins. Beneath the table Tricotrin has gripped the hand of Pitou. + +Wait! Regard the crowd that look at her! The glasses are silent, now, +hein? The talk has stopped. To a great actress is come her chance. +There is _not_ too much noise in the café-concert! + +But, when she finished! What an uproar! Never will she forget it. A +thousand times she has told the story, how it was written--the song-- +and how it made her famous. Before two weeks she was the attraction of +the Ambassadeurs, and all Paris has raved of Paulette Fleury. + +Tricotrin and Pitou were mad with joy. Certainly Paris did not rave of +Pitou nor Tricotrin--there have not been many that remembered who wrote +the song; and it earned no money for them, either, because it was hers +--the gift of their love. Still, they were enraptured. To both of them +she owed equally, and more than ever it was a question which would be +the happy man. + +Listen! When they are gone to call on her one afternoon she was not at +'ome. What had happened? I shall tell you. There was a noodle, rich-- +what you call a "Johnnie in the Stalls"--who became infatuated with her +at the Ambassadeurs. He whistled "Partant pour le Moulin" all the days, +and went to hear it all the nights. Well, she was not at 'ome because +she had married him. Absolutely they were married! Her lovers have been +told it at the door. + +What a moment! Figure yourself what they have suffered, both! They had +worshipped her, they had made sacrifices for her, they had created for +her her grand success; and, as a consequence of that song, she was the +wife of the "Johnnie in the Stalls"! + + * * * * * + +Far down the street, but yet distinct, the organ revived the tune +again. My Frenchman shuddered, and got up. + +"I cannot support it," he murmured. "You understand? The associations +are too pathetic." + +"They must be harrowing," I said. "Before you go, there is one thing I +should like to ask you, if I may. Have I had the honour of meeting +monsieur Tricotrin, or monsieur Pitou?" + +He stroked his hat, and gazed at me in sad surprise. "Ah, but neither, +monsieur," he groaned. "The associations are much more 'arrowing than +that--I was the 'Johnnie in the Stalls'!" + + + +TRICOTRIN ENTERTAINS + +One night when Pitou went home, an unaccustomed perfume floated to +meet him on the stairs. He climbed them in amazement. + +"If we lived in an age of miracles I should conclude that Tricotrin was +smoking a cigar," he said to himself. "What can it be?" + +The pair occupied a garret in the rue des Trois Frères at this time, +where their window, in sore need of repairs, commanded an unrivalled +view of the dirty steps descending to the passage des Abbesses. +To-night, behold Tricotrin pacing the garret with dignity, between +his lips an Havannah that could have cost no less than a franc. The +composer rubbed his eyes. + +"Have they made you an Academician?" he stammered. "Or has your uncle, +the silk manufacturer, died and left you his business?" + +"My friend," replied the poet, "prepare yourself forthwith for 'a New +and Powerful Serial of the Most Absorbing Interest'! I am no longer the +young man who went out this evening--I am a celebrity." + +"I thought," said the composer, "that it couldn't be you when I saw the +cigar." + +"Figure yourself," continued Tricotrin, "that at nine o'clock I was +wandering on the Grand Boulevard with a thirst that could have consumed +a brewery. I might mention that I had also empty pockets, but--" + +"It would be to pad the powerful Serial shamelessly," said Pitou: +"there are things that one takes for granted." + +"At the corner of the place de l'Opera a fellow passed me whom I knew +and yet did not know; I could not recall where it was we had met. I +turned and followed him, racking my brains the while. Suddenly I +remembered--" + +"Pardon me," interrupted the composer, "but I have read _Bel-Ami_ +myself. Oh, it is quite evident that you are a celebrity--you have +already forgotten how to be original!" + +"There is a resemblance, it is true," admitted Tricotrin. "However, +Maupassant had no copyright in the place de l'Opera. I say that I +remembered the man; I had known him when he was in the advertisement +business in Lyons. Well, we have supped together; he is in a position +to do me a service--he will ask an editor to publish an Interview with +me!" + +"An Interview?" exclaimed Pitou. "You are to be Interviewed? Ah, no, my +poor friend, too much meat has unhinged your reason! Go to sleep--you +will be hungry and sane again to-morrow." + +"It will startle some of them, hein? 'Gustave Tricotrin at Home'--in +the illustrated edition of _Le Demi-Mot?_" + +"Illustrated?" gasped Pitou. He looked round the attic. "Did I +understand you to say 'illustrated'?" + +"Well, well," said Tricotrin, "we shall move the beds! And, when the +concierge nods, perhaps we can borrow the palm from the portals. With a +palm and an amiable photographer, an air of splendour is easily arrived +at. I should like a screen--we will raise one from a studio in the rue +Ravignan. Mon Dieu! with a palm and a screen I foresee the most opulent +effects. 'A Corner of the Study'--we can put the screen in front of the +washhand-stand, and litter the table with manuscripts--you will admit +that we have a sufficiency of manuscripts?--no one will know that they +have all been rejected. Also, a painter in the rue Ravignan might lend +us a few of his failures--'Before you go, let me show you my pictures,' +said monsieur Tricotrin: 'I am an ardent collector'!" + +In Montmartre the sight of two "types" shifting household gods makes +no sensation--the sails of the remaining windmills still revolve. On +the day that it had its likeness taken, the attic was temporarily +transformed. At least a score of unappreciated masterpieces concealed +the dilapidation of the walls; the broken window was decorated with an +Eastern fabric that had been a cherished "property" of half the +ateliers in Paris; the poet himself--with the palm drooping gracefully +above his head--mused in a massive chair, in which Solomon had been +pronouncing judgment until 12:15, when the poet had called for it. The +appearance of exhaustion observed by admirers of the poet's portrait +was due to the chair's appalling weight. As he staggered under it up +the steps of the passage des Abbesses, the young man had feared he +would expire on the threshold of his fame. + +However, the photographer proved as resourceful as could be desired, +and perhaps the most striking feature of the illustration was the +spaciousness of the apartment in which monsieur Tricotrin was presented +to readers of _Le Demi-Mot._ The name of the thoroughfare was not +obtruded. + +With what pride was that issue of the journal regarded in the rue des +Trois Frères! + +"Aha!" cried Tricotrin, who in moments persuaded himself that he +really occupied such noble quarters, "those who repudiated me in the +days of my struggles will be a little repentant now, hein? Stone Heart +will discover that I was not wrong in relying on my genius!" + +"I assume," said Pitou, "that 'Stone Heart' is your newest pet-name for +the silk-manufacturing uncle?" + +"You catch my meaning precisely. I propose to send a copy of the paper +to Lyons, with the Interview artistically bordered by laurels; I cannot +draw laurels myself, but there are plenty of persons who can. We will +find someone to do it when we palter with starvation at the Café du Bel +Avenir this evening--or perhaps we had better fast at the Lucullus +Junior, instead; there is occasionally some ink in the bottle there. I +shall put the address in the margin--my uncle will not know where it +is, and on the grounds of euphony I have no fault to find with it. It +would not surprise me if I received an affectionate letter and a +bank-note in reply--the perversity of human nature delights in generosities +to the prosperous." + +"It is a fact," said Pitou. "That human nature!" + +"Who knows?--he may even renew the allowance that he used to make me!" + +"Upon my word, more unlikely things have happened," Pitou conceded. + +"Mon Dieu, Nicolas, we shall again have enough to eat!" + +"Ah, visionary!" exclaimed Pitou; "are there no bounds to your +imagination?" + +Now, the perversity to which the poet referred did inspire monsieur +Rigaud, of Lyons, to loosen his purse-strings. He wrote that he +rejoiced to learn that Gustave was beginning to make his way, and +enclosed a present of two hundred and fifty francs. More, after an +avuncular preamble which the poet skipped--having a literary hatred of +digression in the works of others--he even hinted that the allowance +might be resumed. + +What a banquet there was in bohemia! How the glasses jingled afterwards +in La Lune Rousse, and oh, the beautiful hats that Germaine and +Marcelle displayed on the next fine Sunday! Even when the last ripples +of the splash were stilled, the comrades swaggered gallantly on the +boulevard Rochechouart, for by any post might not the first instalment +of that allowance arrive? + +Weeks passed; and Tricotrin began to say, "It looks to me as if we +needed another Interview!" + +And then came a letter which was no less cordial than its predecessor, +but which stunned the unfortunate recipient like a warrant for his +execution. Monsieur Rigaud stated that business would bring him to +Paris on the following evening and that he anticipated the pleasure of +visiting his nephew; he trusted that his dear Gustave would meet him at +the station. The poet and composer stared at each other with bloodless +faces. + +"You must call at his hotel instead," faltered Pitou at last. + +"But you may be sure he will wish to see my elegant abode." + +"'It is in the hands of the decorators. How unfortunate!'" + +"He would propose to offer them suggestions; he is a born suggester." + +"'Fever is raging in the house--a most infectious fever'; we will ask a +medical student to give us one." + +"It would not explain my lodging in a slum meanwhile." + +"Well, let us admit that there is nothing to be done; you will have to +own up!" + +"Are you insane? It is improvident youths like you, who come to lament +their wasted lives. If I could receive him this once as he expects to +be received, we cannot doubt that it would mean an income of two +thousand francs to me. Prosperity dangles before us--shall I fail to +clutch it? Mon Dieu, what a catastrophe, his coming to Paris! Why +cannot he conduct his business in Lyons? Is there not enough money in +the city of Lyons to satisfy him? O grasper! what greed! Nicolas, my +more than brother, if it were night when I took him to a sumptuous +apartment, he might not notice the name of the street--I could talk +brilliantly as we turned the corner. Also I could scintillate as I led +him away. He would never know that it was not the rue des Trois +Frères." + +"You are right," agreed Pitou; "but which is the pauper in our social +circle whose sumptuous apartment you propose to acquire?" + +"One must consider," said Tricotrin. "Obviously, I am compelled to +entertain in somebody's; fortunately, I have two days to find it in. I +shall now go forth!" + +It was a genial morning, and the first person he accosted in the rue +Ravignan was Goujaud, painting in the patch of garden before the +studios. "Tell me, Goujaud," exclaimed the poet, "have you any gilded +acquaintance who would permit me the use of his apartment for two hours +to-morrow evening?" + +Goujaud reflected for some seconds, with his head to one side. "I have +never done anything so fine as this before," he observed; "regard the +atmosphere of it!" + +"It is execrable!" replied Tricotrin, and went next door to Flamant. +"My old one," he explained, "I have urgent need of a regal apartment +for two hours to-morrow--have you a wealthy friend who would +accommodate me?" + +"You may beautify your bedroom with all my possessions," returned +Flamant heartily. "I have a stuffed parrot that is most decorative, but +I have not a friend that is wealthy." + +"You express yourself like a First Course for the Foreigner," said +Tricotrin, much annoyed. "Devil take your stuffed parrot!" + +The heat of the sun increased towards midday, and drops began to +trickle under the young man's hat. By four o'clock he had called upon +sixty-two persons, exclusive of Sanquereau, whom he had been unable to +wake. He bethought himself of Lajeunie, the novelist; but Lajeunie +could offer him nothing more serviceable than a pass for the Elysée- +Montmartre. "Now how is it possible that I spend my life among such +imbeciles?" groaned the unhappy poet; "one offers me a parrot, and +another a pass for a dancing-hall! Can I assure my uncle, who is a +married man, and produces silk in vast quantities, that I reside in a +dancing-hall? Besides, we know those passes--they are available only +for ladies." + +"It is true that you could not get in by it," assented Lajeunie, "but I +give it to you freely. Take it, my poor fellow! Though it may appear +inadequate to the occasion, who knows but what it will prove to be the +basis of a fortune?" + +"You are as crazy as the stories you write," said Tricotrin, "Still, it +can go in my pocket." And he made, exhausted, for a bench in the place +Dancourt, where he apostrophised his fate. + +Thus occupied, he fell asleep; and presently a young woman sauntered +from the sidewalk across the square. In the shady little place Dancourt +is the little white Theatre Montmartre, and she first perused the +play-bill, and then contemplated the sleeping poet. It may have been that +she found something attractive in his bearing, or it may have been that +ragamuffins sprawled elsewhere; but, having determined to wait awhile, +she selected the bench on which he reposed, and forthwith woke him. + +"Now this is nice!" he exclaimed, realising his lapse with a start. + +"Oh, monsieur!" said she, blushing. + +"Pardon; I referred to my having dozed when every moment is of +consequence," he explained. "And yet," he went on ruefully, "upon my +soul, I cannot conjecture where I shall go next!" + +Her response was so sympathetic that it tempted him to remain a little +longer, and in five minutes she was recounting her own perplexities. It +transpired that she was a lady's-maid with a holiday, and the problem +before her was whether to spend her money on a theatre, or on a ball. + +"Now that is a question which is disposed of instantly," said +Tricotrin, "You shall spend your money on a theatre, and go to a ball +as well." And out fluttered the pink pass presented to him by Lajeunie. + +The girl's tongue was as lively as her gratitude. She was, she told +him, maid to the famous Colette Aubray, who had gone unattended that +afternoon to visit the owner of a villa in the country, where she would +stay until the next day but one. "So you see, monsieur, we poor +servants are left alone in the flat to amuse ourselves as best we can!" + +"Mon Dieu!" ejaculated Tricotrin, and added mentally, "It was decidedly +the good kind fairies that pointed to this bench!" + +He proceeded to pay the young woman such ardent attentions that she +assumed he meant to accompany her to the ball, and her disappointment +was extreme when he had to own that the state of his finances forbade +it. "All I can suggest, my dear Léonie," he concluded, "is that I shall +be your escort when you leave. It is abominable that you must have +other partners in the meantime, but I feel that you will be constant to +me in your thoughts. I shall have much to tell you--I shall whisper a +secret in your ear; for, incredible as it may sound, my sweet child, +you alone in Paris have the power to save me!" + +"Oh, monsieur!" faltered the admiring lady's-maid, "it has always been +my great ambition to save a young man, especially a young man who used +such lovely language. I am sure, by the way you talk, that you must be +a poet!" + +"Extraordinary," mused Tricotrin, "that all the world recognises me as +a poet, excepting when it reads my poetry!" And this led him to reflect +that he must sell some of it, in order to provide refreshment for +Léonie before he begged her aid. Accordingly, he arranged to meet her +when the ball finished, and limped back to the attic, where he made up +a choice assortment of his wares. + +He had resolved to try the office of _Le Demi-Mot;_ but his +reception there was cold. "You should not presume on our good nature," +demurred the Editor; "only last month we had an article on you, saying +that you were highly talented, and now you ask us to publish your work +besides. There must be a limit to such things." + +He examined the collection, nevertheless, with a depreciatory +countenance, and offered ten francs for three of the finest specimens. +"From _Le Demi-Mot_ I would counsel you to accept low terms," he +said, with engaging interest, "on account of the prestige you, derive +from appearing in it." + +"In truth it is a noble thing, prestige," admitted Tricotrin; "but, +monsieur, I have never known a man able to make a meal of it when he +was starving, or to warm himself before it when he was without a fire. +Still--though it is a jumble-sale price--let them go!" + +"Payment will be made in due course," said the Editor, and became +immersed in correspondence. + +Tricotrin paled to the lips, and the next five minutes were terrible; +indeed, he did not doubt that he would have to limp elsewhere. At last +he cried, "Well, let us say seven francs, cash! Seven francs in one's +fist are worth ten in due course." And thus the bargain was concluded. + +"It was well for Hercules that none of his labours was the extraction +of payment from an editor!" panted the poet on the doorstep. But he was +now enabled to fête the lady's-maid in grand style, and--not to be +outdone in generosity--she placed mademoiselle Aubray's flat at his +disposal directly he asked for it. + +"You have accomplished a miracle!" averred Pitou, in the small hours, +when he heard the news. + +Tricotrin waved a careless hand. "To a man of resource all things are +possible!" he murmured. + +The next evening the silk manufacturer was warmly embraced on the +platform, and not a little surprised to learn that his nephew expected +a visit at once. However, the young man's consternation was so profound +when objections were made that, in the end, they were withdrawn. +Tricotrin directed the driver after monsieur Rigaud was in the cab, +and, on their reaching the courtyard, there was Léonie, all frills, +ready to carry the handbag. + +"Your servant?" inquired monsieur Rigaud, with some disapproval, as +they went upstairs; "she is rather fancifully dressed, hein?" + +"Is it so?" answered Tricotrin. "Perhaps a bachelor is not sufficiently +observant in these matters. Still, she is an attentive domestic. Take +off your things, my dear uncle, and make yourself at home. What joy it +gives me to see you here!" + +"Mon Dieu," exclaimed the silk manufacturer, looking about him, "you +have a place fit for a prince! It must have cost a pretty penny." + +"Between ourselves," said Tricotrin, "I often reproach myself for what +I spent on it; I could make very good use to-day of some of the money I +squandered." + +"What curtains!" murmured monsieur Rigaud, fingering the silk +enraptured. "The quality is superb! What may they have charged you for +these curtains?" + +"It was years ago--upon my word I do not remember," drawled Tricotrin, +who had no idea whether he ought to say five hundred francs, or five +thousand. "Also, you must not think I have bought everything you see-- +many of the pictures and bronzes are presents from admirers of my work. +It is gratifying, hein?" + +"I--I--To confess the truth, we had not heard of your triumphs," +admitted monsieur Rigaud; "I did not dream you were so successful." + +"Ah, it is in a very modest way," Tricotrin replied. "I am not a +millionaire, I assure you! On the contrary, it is often difficult to +make both ends meet--although," he added hurriedly, "I live with the +utmost economy, my uncle. The days of my thoughtlessness are past. A +man should save, a man should provide for the future." + +At this moment he was astonished to see Léonie open the door and +announce that dinner was served. She had been even better than her +word. + +"Dinner?" cried monsieur Rigaud. "Ah, now I understand why you were so +dejected when I would not come!" + +"Bah, it will be a very simple meal," said his nephew, "but after a +journey one must eat. Let us go in." He was turning the wrong way, but +Léonie's eye saved him. + +"Come," he proceeded, taking his seat, "some soup--some good soup! What +will you drink, my uncle?" + +"On the sideboard I see champagne," chuckled monsieur Rigaud; "you +treat the old man well, you rogue!" + +"Hah," said Tricotrin, who had not observed it, "the cellar, I own, is +an extravagance of mine! Alone, I drink only mineral waters, or a +little claret, much diluted; but to my dearest friends I must give the +dearest wines. Léonie, champagne!" It was a capital dinner, and the +cigars and cigarettes that Léonie put on the table with the coffee were +of the highest excellence. Agreeable conversation whiled away some +hours, and Tricotrin began to look for his uncle to get up. But it was +raining smartly, and monsieur Rigaud was reluctant to bestir himself. +Another hour lagged by, and at last Tricotrin faltered: + +"I fear I must beg you to excuse me for leaving you, my uncle; it is +most annoying, but I am compelled to go out. The fact is, I have +consented to collaborate with Capus, and he is so eccentric, this dear +Alfred--we shall be at work all night." + +"Go, my good Gustave," said his uncle readily; "and, as I am very +tired, if you have no objection, I will occupy your bed." + +Tricotrin's jaw dropped, and it was by a supreme effort that he +stammered how pleased the arrangement would make him. To intensify the +fix, Leonie and the cook had disappeared--doubtless to the mansarde in +which they slept--and he was left to cope with the catastrophe alone. +However, having switched on the lights, he conducted the elderly +gentleman to an enticing apartment. He wished him an affectionate +"good-night," and after promising to wake him early, made for home, +leaving the manufacturer sleepily surveying the room's imperial +splendour. + +"What magnificence!" soliloquised monsieur Rigaud. "What toilet +articles!" He got into bed. "What a coverlet--there must be twenty +thousand francs on top of me!" + +He had not slumbered under them long when he was aroused by such a +commotion that he feared for the action of his heart. Blinking in the +glare, he perceived Léonie in scanty attire, distracted on her knees-- +and, by the bedside, a beautiful lady in a travelling cloak, raging +with the air of a lioness. + +"Go away!" quavered the manufacturer. "What is the meaning of this +intrusion?" + +"Intrusion?" raved the lady. "That is what you will explain, monsieur! +How comes it that you are in my bed?" + +"Yours?" ejaculated monsieur Rigaud. "What is it you say? You are +making a grave error, for which you will apologise, madame!" + +"Ah, hold me back," pleaded the lady, throwing up her eyes, "hold me +back or I shall assault him!" She flung to Leonie. "Wretched girl, you +shall pay for this! Not content with lavishing my champagne and my +friend's cigars on your lover, you must put him to recuperate in my +room!" + +"Oh!" gasped the manufacturer, and hid his head under the priceless +coverlet. "Such an imputation is unpardonable," he roared, reappearing. +"I am monsieur Rigaud, of Lyons; the flat belongs to my nephew, +monsieur Tricotrin; I request you to retire!" + +"Imbecile!" screamed the lady; "the flat belongs to _me_--Colette +Aubray. And your presence may ruin me--I expect a visitor on most +important business! He has not my self-control; if he finds you here he +will most certainly send you a challenge. He is the best swordsman in +Paris! I advise you to believe me, for you have just five minutes to +save your life!" + +"Monsieur," wailed Léonie, "you have been deceived!" And, between her +sobs, she confessed the circumstances, which he heard with the greatest +difficulty, owing to the chattering of his teeth. + +The rain was descending in cataracts when monsieur Rigaud got outside, +but though the trams and the trains had both stopped running, and cabs +were as dear as radium, his fury was so tempestuous that nothing could +deter him from reaching the poet's real abode. His attack on the front +door warned Tricotrin and Pitou what had happened, and they raised +themselves, blanched, from their pillows, to receive his curses. It was +impossible to reason with him, and he launched the most frightful +denunciation at his nephew for an hour, when the abatement of the +downpour permitted him to depart. More, at noon, who should arrive but +Leonie in tears! She had been dismissed from her employment, and came +to beg the poet to intercede for her. + +"What calamities!" groaned Tricotrin. "How fruitless are man's noblest +endeavours without the favouring breeze! I shall drown myself at eight +o'clock. However, I will readily plead for you first, if your mistress +will receive me." + +By the maid's advice he presented himself late in the day, and when he +had cooled his heels in the salon for some time, a lady entered, who +was of such ravishing appearance that his head swam. + +"Monsieur Tricotrin?" she inquired haughtily. "I have heard your name +from your uncle, monsieur. Are you here to visit my servant?" + +"Mademoiselle," he faltered, "I am here to throw myself on your mercy. +At eight o'clock I have decided to commit suicide, for I am ruined. The +only hope left me is to win your pardon before I die." + +"I suppose your uncle has disowned you?" she said. "Naturally! It was a +pretty situation to put him in. How would you care to be in it +yourself?" + +"Alas, mademoiselle," sighed Tricotrin, "there are situations to which +a poor poet may not aspire!" + +After regarding him silently she exclaimed, "I cannot understand what a +boy with eyes like yours saw in Léonie?" + +"Merely good nature and a means to an end, believe me! If you would +ease my last moments, reinstate her in your service. Do not let me +drown with the knowledge that another is suffering for my fault! +Mademoiselle, I entreat you--take her back!" + +"And why should I ease your last moments?" she demurred. + +"Because I have no right to ask it; because I have no defence for my +sin towards you; because you would be justified in trampling on me--and +to pardon would be sublime!" + +"You are very eloquent for my maid," returned the lady. + +He shook his head. "Ah, no--I fear I am pleading for myself. For, if +you reinstate the girl, it will prove that you forgive the man--and I +want your forgiveness so much!" He fell at her feet. + +"Does your engagement for eight o'clock press, monsieur?" murmured the +lady, smiling. "If you could dine here again to-night, I might relent +by degrees." + +"And she is adorable!" he told Pitou. "I passed the most delicious +evening of my life!" "It is fortunate," observed Pitou, "for that, and +your uncle's undying enmity, are all you have obtained by your +imposture. Remember that the evening cost two thousand francs a year!" + +"Ah, misanthrope," cried Tricotrin radiantly, "there must be a crumpled +roseleaf in every Eden!" + + + +THE FATAL FLOROZONDE + +Before Pitou, the composer, left for the Hague, he called on Théophile +de Fronsac, the poet. _La Voix Parisienne_ had lately appointed de +Fronsac to its staff, on condition that he contributed no poetry. + +"Good-evening," said de Fronsac. "Mon Dieu! what shall I write about?" + +"Write about my music," said Pitou, whose compositions had been +rejected in every arrondissement of Paris. + +"Let us talk sanely," demurred de Fronsac. "My causerie is half a +column short. Tell me something interesting." + +"Woman!" replied Pitou. + +De Fronsac flicked his cigarette ash. "You remind me," he said, "how +much I need a love affair; my sensibilities should be stimulated. To +continue to write with fervour I require to adore again." + +"It is very easy to adore," observed Pitou. + +"Not at forty," lamented the other; "especially to a man in Class A. +Don't forget, my young friend, that I have loved and been loved +persistently for twenty-three years. I cannot adore a repetition, and +it is impossible for me to discover a new type." + +"All of which I understand," said Pitou, "excepting 'Class A.'" + +"There are three kinds of men," explained the poet. "Class A are the +men to whom women inevitably surrender. Class B consists of those whom +they trust by instinct and confide in on the second day; these men +acquire an extensive knowledge of the sex--but they always fall short +of winning the women for themselves. Class C women think of merely as +'the others'--they do not count; eventually they marry, and try to +persuade their wives that they were devils of fellows when they were +young. However, such reflections will not assist me to finish my +causerie, for I wrote them all last week." + +"Talking of women," remarked Pitou, "a little blonde has come to live +opposite our lodging. So far we have only bowed from our windows, but I +have christened her 'Lynette,' and Tricotrin has made a poem about her. +It is pathetic. The last verse--the others are not written yet--goes: + + "'O window I watched in the days that are dead, + Are you watched by a lover to-day? + Are glimpses caught now of another blonde head + By a youth who lives over the way? + Does _she_ repeat words that Lynette's lips have said-- + And does _he_ say what _I_ used to say?'" + +"What is the answer?" asked de Fronsac. "Is it a conundrum? In any case +it is a poor substitute for a half a column of prose in _La Voix_. +How on earth am I to arrive at the bottom of the page? If I am short in +my copy, I shall be short in my rent; if I am short in my rent, I shall +be put out of doors; if I am put out of doors, I shall die of exposure. +And much good it will do me that they erect a statue to me in the next +generation! Upon my word, I would stand a dinner--at the two-franc +place where you may eat all you can hold--if you could give me a +subject." + +"It happens," said Pitou, "that I can give you a very strange one. As I +am going to a foreign land, I have been to the country to bid farewell +to my parents; I came across an extraordinary girl." + +"One who disliked presents?" inquired de Fronsac. + +"I am not jesting. She is a dancer in a travelling circus. The flare +and the drum wooed me one night, and I went in. As a circus, well, you +may imagine--a tent in a fair. My fauteuil was a plank, and the +orchestra surpassed the worst tortures of the Inquisition. And then, +after the decrepit horses, and a mangy lion, a girl came into the ring, +with the most marvellous eyes I have ever seen in a human face. They +are green eyes, with golden lights in them." + +"Really?" murmured the poet. "I have never been loved by a girl who had +green eyes with golden lights in them." + +"I am glad you have never been loved by this one," returned the +composer gravely; "she has a curious history. All her lovers, without +exception, have committed suicide." + +"What?" said de Fronsac, staring. + +"It is very queer. One of them had just inherited a hundred thousand +francs--he hanged himself. Another, an author from Italy, took poison, +while all Rome was reading his novel. To be infatuated by her is +harmless enough, but to win her is invariably fatal within a few weeks. +Some time ago she attached herself to one of the troupe, and soon +afterwards he discovered she was deceiving him. He resolved to shoot +her. He pointed a pistol at her breast. She simply laughed--and +_looked at him_. He turned the pistol on himself, and blew his +brains out!" + +De Fronsac had already written: "Here is the extraordinary history of a +girl whom I discovered in a fair." The next moment: + +"But you repeat a rumour," he objected. "_La Voix Parisienne_ has +a reputation; odd as the fact may appear to you, people read it. If +this is published in _La Voix_ it will attract attention. Soon she +will be promoted from a tent in a fair to a stage in Paris. Well, what +happens? You tell me she is beautiful, so she will have hundreds of +admirers. Among the hundreds there will be one she favours. And then? +Unless he committed suicide in a few weeks, the paper would be proved a +liar. I should not be able to sleep of nights for fear he would not +kill himself." + +"My dear," exclaimed Pitou with emotion, "would I add to your +anxieties? Rather than you should be disturbed by anybody's living, let +us dismiss the subject, and the dinner, and talk of my new Symphony. On +the other hand, I fail to see that the paper's reputation is your +affair--it is not your wife; and I am more than usually empty to-day." + +"Your argument is sound," said de Fronsac. "Besides, the Editor refuses +my poetry." And he wrote without cessation for ten minutes. + +The two-franc table-d'hôte excelled itself that evening, and Pitou did +ample justice to the menu. + +Behold how capricious is the jade, Fame! The poet whose verses had left +him obscure, accomplished in ten minutes a paragraph that fascinated +all Paris. On the morrow people pointed it out to one another; the +morning after, other journals referred to it; in the afternoon the +Editor of _La Voix Parisienne_ was importuned with questions. No +one believed the story to be true, but not a soul could help wondering +if it might be so. + +When a day or two had passed, Pitou received from de Fronsac a note +which ran: + +"Send to me at once, I entreat thee, the name of that girl, and say +where she can be found. The managers of three variety theatres of the +first class have sought me out and are eager to engage her." + +"Decidedly," said Pitou, "I have mistaken my vocation--I ought to have +been a novelist!" And he replied: + +"The girl whose eyes suggested the story to me is called on the +programmes 'Florozonde.' For the rest, I know nothing, except that thou +didst offer a dinner and I was hungry." + +However, when he had written this, he destroyed it. + +"Though I am unappreciated myself, and shall probably conclude in the +Morgue," he mused, "that is no excuse for my withholding prosperity +from others. Doubtless the poor girl would rejoice to appear at three +variety theatres of the first class, or even at one of them." He +answered simply: + +"Her name is 'Florozonde'; she will be found in a circus at Chartres"-- +and nearly suffocated with laughter. + +Then a little later the papers announced that Mlle. Florozonde--whose +love by a strange series of coincidences had always proved fatal--would +be seen at La Coupole. Posters bearing the name of "Florozonde"--yellow +on black--invaded the boulevards. Her portrait caused crowds to +assemble, and "That girl who, they say, deals death, that Florozonde!" +was to be heard as constantly as ragtime. + +By now Pitou was at the Hague, his necessities having driven him into +the employment of a Parisian who had opened a shop there for the sale +of music and French pianos. When he read the Paris papers, Pitou +trembled so violently that the onlookers thought he must have ague. +Hilarity struggled with envy in his breast. "Ma foi!" he would say to +himself, "it seems that my destiny is to create successes for others. +Here am I, exiled, and condemned to play cadenzas all day in a piano +warehouse, while she whom I invented, dances jubilant in Paris. I do +not doubt that she breakfasts at Armenonville, and dines at +Paillard's." + +And it was a fact that Florozonde was the fashion. As regards her eyes, +at any rate, the young man had not exaggerated more than was to be +forgiven in an artist; her eyes were superb, supernatural; and now that +the spangled finery of a fair was replaced by the most triumphant of +audacities--now that a circus band had been exchanged for the orchestra +of La Coupole--she danced as she had not danced before. You say that a +gorgeous costume cannot improve a woman's dancing? Let a woman realise +that you improve her appearance, and you improve everything that she +can do! + +Nevertheless one does not pretend that it was owing to her talent, or +her costume, or the weird melody proposed by the chef d'orchestre, that +she became the rage. Not at all. That was due to her reputation. +Sceptics might smile and murmur the French for "Rats!" but, again, +nobody could say positively that the tragedies had not occurred. And +above all, there were the eyes--it was conceded that a woman with eyes +like that _ought_ to be abnormal. La Coupole was thronged every +night, and the stage doorkeeper grew rich, so numerous were the daring +spirits, coquetting with death, who tendered notes inviting the Fatal +One to supper. + +Somehow the suppers were rather dreary. The cause may have been that +the guest was handicapped by circumstances--to be good company without +discarding the fatal air was extremely difficult; also the cause may +have been that the daring spirits felt their courage forsake them in a +tête-à-tête; but it is certain that once when Florozonde drove home in +the small hours to the tattered aunt who lived on her, she exclaimed +violently that, "All this silly fake was giving her the hump, and that +she wished she were 'on the road' again, with a jolly good fellow who +was not afraid of her!" + +Then the tattered aunt cooed to her, reminding her that little +ducklings had run to her already roasted, and adding that she (the +tattered aunt) had never heard of equal luck in all the years she had +been in the show business. + +"Ah, zut!" cried Florozonde. "It does not please me to be treated as if +I had scarlet fever. If I lean towards a man, he turns pale." + +"Life is good," said her aunt philosophically, "and men have no wish to +die for the sake of an embrace--remember your reputation! II faut +souffrir pour être fatale. Look at your salary, sweetie--and you have +had nothing to do but hold your tongue! Ah, was anything ever heard +like it? A miracle of le bon Dieu!" + +"It was monsieur de Fronsac, the journalist, who started it," said +Florozonde. "I supposed he had made it up, to give me a lift; but, ma +foi, I think _he_ half believes it, too! What can have put it in +his head? I have a mind to ask him the next time he comes behind." + +"What a madness!" exclaimed the old woman; "you might queer your pitch! +Never, never perform a trick with a confederate when you can work +alone; that is one of the first rules of life. If he thinks it is true, +so much the better. Now get to bed, lovey, and think of pleasant +things--what did you have for supper?" + +Florozonde was correct in her surmise--de Fronsac did half believe it, +and de Fronsac was accordingly much perturbed. Consider his dilemma! +The nature of his pursuits had demanded a love affair, and he had +endeavoured conscientiously to comply, for the man was nothing if not +an artist. But, as he had said to Pitou, he had loved so much, and so +many, that the thing was practically impossible for him, He was like +the pastrycook's boy who is habituated and bilious. Then suddenly a new +type, which he had despaired of finding, was displayed. His curiosity +awoke; and, fascinated in the first instance by her ghastly reputation, +he was fascinated gradually by her physical charms. Again he found +himself enslaved by a woman--and the woman, who owed her fame to his +services, was clearly appreciative. But he had a strong objection to +committing suicide. + +His eagerness for her love was only equalled by his dread of what might +happen if she gave it to him. Alternately he yearned, and shuddered, On +Monday he cried, "Idiot, to be frightened by such blague!" and on +Tuesday he told himself, "All the same, there may be something in it!" +It was thus tortured that he paid his respects to Florozonde at the +theatre on the evening after she complained to her aunt. She was in her +dressing-room, making ready to go. + +"You have danced divinely," he said to her. "There is no longer a +programme at La Coupole--there is only 'Florozonde.'" + +She smiled the mysterious smile that she was cultivating. "What have +you been doing with yourself, monsieur? I have not seen you all the +week." + +De Fronsac sighed expressively. "At my age one has the wisdom to avoid +temptation." + +"May it not be rather unkind to temptation?" she suggested, raising her +marvellous eyes. + +De Fronsac drew a step back. "Also I have had a great deal to do," he +added formally; "I am a busy man. For example, much as I should like to +converse with you now.--" But his resolution forsook him and he was +unable to say that he had looked in only for a minute. + +"Much as you would like to converse with me--?" questioned Florozonde. + +"I ought, by rights, to be seated at my desk," he concluded lamely. + +"I am pleased that you are not seated at your desk," she said. + +"Because?" murmured de Fronsac, with unspeakable emotions. + +"Because I have never thanked you enough for your interest in me, and I +want to tell you that I remember." She gave him her hand. He held it, +battling with terror. + +"Mademoiselle," he returned tremulously, "when I wrote the causerie you +refer to, my interest in you was purely the interest of a journalist, +so for that I do not deserve your thanks. But since I have had the +honour to meet you I have experienced an interest altogether different; +the interest of a man, of a--a--" Here his teeth chattered, and he +paused. + +"Of a what?" she asked softly, with a dreamy air. + +"Of a friend," he muttered. A gust of fear had made the "friend" an +iceberg. But her clasp tightened. + +"I am glad," she said. "Ah, you have been good to me, monsieur! And if, +in spite of everything, I am sometimes sad, I am, at least, never +ungrateful." + +"You are sad?" faltered the vacillating victim. "Why?" + +Her bosom rose. "Is success all a woman wants?" + +"Ah!" exclaimed de Fronsac, in an impassioned quaver, "is that not +life? To all of us there is the unattainable--to you, to me!" + +"To you?" she murmured. Her eyes were transcendental. Admiration and +alarm tore him in halves. + +"In truth," he gasped, "I am the most miserable of men! What is genius, +what is fame, when one is lonely and unloved?" + +She moved impetuously closer--so close that the perfume of her hair +intoxicated him. His heart seemed to knock against his ribs, and he +felt the perspiration burst out on his brow. For an instant he +hesitated--on the edge of his grave, he thought. Then he dropped her +hand, and backed from her. "But why should I bore you with my griefs?" +he stammered. "Au revoir, mademoiselle!" + +Outside the stage door he gave thanks for his self-control. Also, pale +with the crisis, he registered an oath not to approach her again. + +Meanwhile the expatriated Pitou had remained disconsolate. Though the +people at the Hague spoke French, they said foreign things to him in +it. He missed Montmartre--the interests of home. While he waxed +eloquent to customers on the tone of pianos, or the excellence of rival +composers' melodies, he was envying Florozonde in Paris. Florozonde, +whom he had created, obsessed the young man. In the evening he read +about her at Van der Pyl's; on Sundays, when the train carried him to +drink beer at Scheveningen, he read about her in the Kurhaus. And then +the unexpected happened. In this way: + +Pitou was discharged. + +Few things could have surprised him more, and, to tell the truth, few +things could have troubled him less. "It is better to starve in Paris +than grow fat in Holland," he observed. He jingled his capital in his +trouser-pocket, in fancy savoured his dinner cooking at the Café du Bel +Avenir, and sped from the piano shop as if it had been on fire. + +The clock pointed to a quarter to six as Nicolas Pitou, composer, +emerged from the gare du Nord, and lightly swinging the valise that +contained his wardrobe, proceeded to the rue des Trois Frères. Never +had it looked dirtier, or sweeter. He threw himself on Tricotrin's +neck; embraced the concierge--which took her breath away, since she was +ill-favoured and most disagreeable; fared sumptuously for one franc +fifty at the Café du Bel Avenir--where he narrated adventures abroad +that surpassed de Rougemont's; and went to La Coupole. + +And there, jostled by the crowd, the poor fellow looked across the +theatre at the triumphant woman he had invented--and fell in love with +her. + +One would have said there was more than the width of a theatre between +them--one would have said the distance was interminable. Who in the +audience could suspect that Florozonde would have been unknown but for +a boy in the Promenoir? + +Yes, he fell in love--with her beauty, her grace--perhaps also with the +circumstances. The theatre rang with plaudits; the curtain hid her; and +he went out, dizzy with romance. He could not hope to speak to her +to-night, but he was curious to see her when she left. He decided that on +the morrow he would call upon de Fronsac, whom she doubtless knew now, +and ask him for an introduction. Promising himself this, he reached the +stage door--where de Fronsac, with trembling limbs, stood giving thanks +for his self-control. + +"My friend!" cried Pitou enthusiastically, "how rejoiced I am to meet +you!" and nearly wrung his hand off. + +"Aïe! Gently!" expostulated de Fronsac, writhing. "Aïe, aïe! I did not +know you loved me so much. So you are back from Sweden, hein?" + +"Yes. I have not been there, but why should we argue about geography? +What were you doing as I came up--reciting your poems? By the way, I +have a favour to ask; I want you to introduce me to Florozonde." + +"Never!" answered the poet firmly; "I have too much affection for you-- +I have just resolved not to see her again myself. Besides, I thought +you knew her in the circus?" + +"I never spoke to her there--I simply admired her from the plank. Come, +take me inside, and present me!" + +"It is impossible," persisted de Fronsac; "I tell you I will not +venture near her any more. Also, she is coming out--that is her coupé +that you see waiting." + +She came out as he spoke, and, affecting not to recognise him, moved +rapidly towards the carriage. But this would not do for Pitou at all. +"Mademoiselle!" he exclaimed, sweeping his hat nearly to the pavement. + +"Yes, well?" she said sharply, turning. + +"I have just begged my friend de Fronsac to present me to you, and he +feared you might not pardon his presumption. May I implore you to +pardon mine?" + +She smiled. There was the instant in which neither the man nor the +woman knows who will speak next, nor what is to be said--the instant on +which destinies hang. Pitou seized it. + +"Mademoiselle, I returned to France only this evening. All the journey +my thought was--to see you as soon as I arrived!" + +"Your friend," she said, with a scornful glance towards de Fronsac, who +sauntered gracefully away, "would warn you that you are rash." + +"I am not afraid of his warning." + +"Are you not afraid of _me_?" + +"Afraid only that you will banish me too soon." + +"Mon Dieu! then you must be the bravest man in Paris," she said. + +"At any rate I am the luckiest for the moment." + +It was a delightful change to Florozonde to meet a man who was not +alarmed by her; and it pleased her to show de Fronsac that his +cowardice had not left her inconsolable. She laughed loud enough for +him to hear. + +"I ought not to be affording you the luck," she answered. "I have +friends waiting for me at the Café de Paris." "I expected some such +blow," said Pitou. "And how can I suppose you will disappoint your +friends in order to sup with me at the Café du Bel Avenir instead?" + +"The Café du--?" She was puzzled. + +"Bel Avenir." + +"I do not know it." + +"Nor would your coachman. We should walk there--and our supper would +cost three francs, wine included." + +"Is it an invitation?" + +"It is a prayer." + +"Who are you?" + +"My name is Nicolas Pitou," + +"Of Paris?" + +"Of bohemia." + +"What do you do in it?" + +"Hunger, and make music." + +"Unsuccessful?" + +"Not to-night!" + +"Take me to the Bel Avenir," she said, and sent the carriage away. + +De Fronsac, looking back as they departed, was distressed to see the +young man risking his life. + +At the Bel Avenir their entrance made a sensation. She removed her +cloak, and Pitou arranged it over two chairs. Then she threw her gloves +out of the way, in the bread-basket; and the waiter and the +proprietress, and all the family, did homage to her toilette. + +"Who would have supposed?" she smiled, and her smile forgot to be +mysterious. + +"That the restaurant would be so proud?" + +"That I should be supping with you in it! Tell me, you had no hope of +this on your journey? It was true about your journey, hein?" + +"Ah, really! No, how could I hope? I went round after your dance simply +to see you closer; and then I met de Fronsac, and then--" + +"And then you were very cheeky. Answer! Why do I interest you? Because +of what they say of me?" + +"Not altogether." + +"What else?" + +"Because you are so beautiful. Answer! Why did you come to supper with +me? To annoy some other fellow?" + +"Not altogether." + +"What else?" + +"Because you were not frightened of me. Are you sure you are not +frightened? Oh, remember, remember your horrible fate if I should like +you too much!" + +"It would be a thumping advertisement for you," said Pitou. "Let me +urge you to try to secure it." + +"Reckless boy!" she laughed, "Pour out some more wine. Ah, it is good, +this! it is like old times. The strings of onions on the dear, dirty +walls, and the serviettes that are so nice and damp! It was in +restaurants like this, if my salary was paid, I used to sup on fête +days." + +"And if it was not paid?" + +"I supped in imagination. My dear, I have had a cigarette for a supper, +and the grass for a bed. I have tramped by the caravan while the stars +faded, and breakfasted on the drum in the tent. And you--on a bench in +the Champs Elysées, hein?" + +"It has occurred." + +"And you watched the sun rise, and made music, and wished _you_ +could rise, too? I must hear your music some day. You shall write me a +dance. Is it agreed?" + +"The contract is already stamped," said Pitou. + +"I am glad I met you--it is the best supper I have had in Paris. Why +are you calculating the expenses on the back of the bill of fare?" + +"I am not. I am composing your dance," said Pitou. "Don't speak for a +minute, it will be sublime! Also it will be a souvenir when you have +gone." + +But she did not go for a long while. It was late when they left the +Café du Bel Avenir, still talking--and there was always more to say. By +this time Pitou did not merely love her beauty--he adored the woman. As +for Florozonde, she no longer merely loved his courage--she approved +the man. + +Listen: he was young, fervid, and an artist; his proposal was made +before they reached her doorstep, and she consented! + +Their attachment was the talk of the town, and everybody waited to hear +that Pitou had killed himself. His name was widely known at last. But +weeks and months went by; Florozonde's protracted season came to an +end; and still he looked radiantly well. Pitou was the most unpopular +man in Paris. + +In the rue Dauphine, one day, he met de Fronsac. + +"So you are still alive!" snarled the poet. + +"Never better," declared Pitou. "It turns out," he added +confidentially, "there was nothing in that story--it was all fudge." + +"Evidently! I must congratulate you," said de Fronsac, looking +bomb-shells. + + + +THE OPPORTUNITY OF PETITPAS + +In Bordeaux, on the 21st of December, monsieur Petitpas, a clerk with +bohemian yearnings, packed his portmanteau for a week's holiday. In +Paris, on the same date, monsieur Tricotrin, poet and pauper, was +commissioned by the Editor of _Le Demi-Mot_ to convert a rough +translation into literary French. These two disparate incidents were +destined by Fate--always mysterious in her workings--to be united in a +narrative for the present volume. + +Three evenings later the poet's concierge climbed the stairs and rapped +peremptorily at the door. + +"Well?" cried Tricotrin, raising bloodshot eyes from the manuscript; +"who disturbs me now? Come in!" + +"I have come in," panted madame Dubois, who had not waited for his +invitation, "and I am here to tell you, monsieur, that you cannot be +allowed to groan in this agonised fashion. Your lamentations can be +heard even in the basement." + +"Is it in my agreement, madame, that I shall not groan if I am so +disposed?" inquired the poet haughtily. + +"There are things tacitly understood. It is enough that you are in +arrears with your rent, without your doing your best to drive away the +other tenants. For two days they have all complained that it would be +less disturbing to reside in a hospital." + +"Well, they have my permission to remove there," said Tricotrin. "Now +that the matter is settled, let me get on with my work!" And with the +groan of a soul in Hades, he perused another line. + +"There you go again!" expostulated the woman angrily, "It is not to be +endured, monsieur. What is the matter with you, for goodness' sake?" + +"With me, madame, there is nothing the matter; the fault lies with an +infernal Spanish novel. A misguided editor has commissioned me to +rewrite it from a translation made by a foreigner. How can I avoid +groans when I read his rot? Miranda exclaims, 'May heaven confound you, +bandit!' And the fiancé of the ingénue addresses her as 'Angel of this +house!'" + +"Well, at least groan quietly," begged the concierge; "do not bellow +your sufferings to the cellar." + +"To oblige you I will be as Spartan as I can," agreed Tricotrin. "Now I +have lost my place in the masterpiece. Ah, here we are! 'I feel she +brings bad tidings--she wears a disastrous mien.' It is sprightly +dialogue! If the hundred and fifty francs were not essential to keep a +roof over my head, I would send the Editor a challenge for offering me +the job." + +Perspiration bespangled the young man's brow as he continued his task. +When another hour had worn by he thirsted to do the foreign translator +a bodily injury, and so intense was his exasperation that, by way of +interlude, he placed the manuscript on the floor and jumped on it. But +the climax was reached in Chapter XXVII; under the provocation of the +love scene in Chapter XXVII frenzy mastered him, and with a yell of +torture he hurled the whole novel through the window, and burst into +hysterical tears. + +The novel, which was of considerable bulk, descended on the landlord, +who was just approaching the house to collect his dues. + +"What does it mean," gasped monsieur Gouge, when he had recovered his +equilibrium, and his hat; "what does it mean that I cannot approach my +own property without being assaulted with a ton of paper? Who has dared +to throw such a thing from a window?" + +"Monsieur," stammered the concierge, "I do not doubt that it was the +top-floor poet; he has been behaving like a lunatic for days." + +"Aha, the top-floor poet?" snorted monsieur Gouge. "I shall soon +dispose of _him_!" And Tricotrin's tears were scarcely dried when +_bang_ came another knock at his door. + +"So, monsieur," exclaimed the landlord, with fine satire, "your poems +are of small account, it appears, since you use them as missiles? The +value you put upon your scribbling does not encourage me to wait for my +rent!" + +"Mine?" faltered Tricotrin, casting an indignant glance at the muddy +manuscript restored to him; "you accuse _me_ of having perpetrated +that atrocity? Oh, this is too much! I have a reputation to preserve, +monsieur, and I swear by all the Immortals that it was no work of +mine." + +"Did you not throw it?" + +"Throw it? Yes, assuredly I threw it. But I did not write it." + +"Morbleu! what do I care who wrote it?" roared monsieur Gouge, purple +with spleen. "Does its authorship improve the condition of my hat? My +grievance is its arrival on my head, not its literary quality. Let me +tell you that you expose yourself to actions at law, pitching weights +like this from a respectable house into a public street." + +"I should plead insanity," said Tricotrin; "twenty-seven chapters of +that novel, translated into a Spaniard's French, would suffice to +people an asylum. Nevertheless, if it arrived on your hat, I owe you an +apology." + +"You also owe me two hundred francs!" shouted the other, "and I have +shown you more patience than you deserve. Well, my folly is finished! +You settle up, or you get out, right off!" + +"Have you reflected that it is Christmas Eve--do we live in a +melodrama, that I should wander homeless on Christmas Eve? Seriously, +you cannot expect a man of taste to lend himself to so hackneyed a +situation? Besides, I share this apartment with the composer monsieur +Nicolas Pitou. Consider how poignant he would find the room's +associations if he returned to dwell here alone!" + +"Monsieur Pitou will not be admitted when he returns--there is not a +pin to choose between the pair of you. You hand me the two hundred +francs, or you go this minute--and I shall detain your wardrobe till +you pay. Where is it?" + +"It is divided between my person and a shelf at the pawnbroker's," +explained the poet; "but I have a soiled collar in the left-hand corner +drawer. However, I can offer you more valuable security for this +trifling debt than you would dare to ask; the bureau is full of pearls +--metrical, but beyond price. I beg your tenderest care of them, +especially my tragedy in seven acts. Do not play jinks with the +contents of that bureau, or Posterity will gibbet you and the name of +'Gouge' will one day be execrated throughout France. Garbage, +farewell!" + +"Here, take your shaving paper with you!" cried monsieur Gouge, +flinging the Spanish novel down the stairs. And the next moment the man +of letters stood dejected on the pavement, with the fatal manuscript +under his arm. + +"Ah, Miranda, Miranda, thou little knowest what mischief thou hast +done!" he murmured, unconsciously plagiarising. "She brought bad +tidings indeed, with her disastrous mien," he added. "What is to become +of me now?" + +The moon, to which he had naturally addressed this query, made no +answer; and, fingering the sou in his trouser-pocket, he trudged in the +direction of the rue Ravignan. "The situation would look well in +print," he reflected, "but the load under my arm should, dramatically, +be a bundle of my own poems. Doubtless the matter will be put right by +my biographer. I wonder if I can get half a bed from Goujaud?" + +Encouraged by the thought of the painter's hospitality, he proceeded to +the studio; but he was informed in sour tones that monsieur Goujaud +would not sleep there that night. + +"So much the better," he remarked, "for I can have all his bed, instead +of half of it! Believe me, I shall put you to no trouble, madame." + +"I believe it fully," answered the woman, "for you will not come +inside--not monsieur Goujaud, nor you, nor any other of his vagabond +friends. So, there!" + +"Ah, is that how the wind blows--the fellow has not paid his rent?" +said Tricotrin. "How disgraceful of him, to be sure! Fortunately +Sanquereau lives in the next house." + +He pulled the bell there forthwith, and the peal had scarcely sounded +when Sanquereau rushed to the door, crying, "Welcome, my Beautiful!" + +"Mon Dieu, what worthless acquaintances I possess!" moaned the unhappy +poet. "Since you are expecting your Beautiful I need not go into +details." + +"What on earth did you want?" muttered Sanquereau, crestfallen. + +"I came to tell you the latest Stop Press news--Goujaud's landlord has +turned him out and I have no bed to lie on. Au revoir!" + +After another apostrophe to the heavens, "That inane moon, which makes +no response, is beginning to get on my nerves," he soliloquised. "Let +me see now! There is certainly master Criqueboeuf, but it is a long +journey to the quartier Latin, and when I get there his social +engagements may annoy me as keenly as Sanquereau's. It appears to me I +am likely to try the open-air cure to-night. In the meanwhile I may as +well find Miranda a seat and think things over." + +Accordingly he bent his steps to the place Dancourt, and having +deposited the incubus beside him, stretched his limbs on a bench +beneath a tree. His attitude, and his luxuriant locks, to say nothing +of his melancholy aspect, rendered him a noticeable figure in the +little square, and monsieur Petitpas, from Bordeaux, under the awning +of the café opposite, stood regarding him with enthusiasm. + +"Upon my word of honour," mused Petitpas, rubbing his hands, "I believe +I see a Genius in the dumps! At last I behold the Paris of my dreams. +If I have read my Murger to any purpose, I am on the verge of an epoch. +What a delightful adventure!" + +Taking out his Marylands, Petitpas sauntered towards the bench with a +great show of carelessness, and made a pretence of feeling in his +pockets for a match. "Tschut!" he exclaimed; then, affecting to observe +Tricotrin for the first time, "May I beg you to oblige me with a light, +monsieur?" he asked deferentially. A puff of wind provided an excuse +for sitting down to guard the flame; and the next moment the Genius had +accepted a cigarette, and acknowledged that the weather was mild for +the time of year. + +Excitement thrilled Petitpas. How often, after business hours, he had +perused his well-thumbed copy of _La Vie de Bohème_ and in fancy +consorted with the gay descendants of Rodolphe and Marcel; how often he +had regretted secretly that he, himself, did not woo a Muse and jest at +want in a garret, instead of totting up figures, and eating three meals +a day in comfort! And now positively one of the fascinating beings of +his imagination lolled by his side! The little clerk on a holiday +longed to play the generous comrade. In his purse he had a couple of +louis, designed for sight-seeing, and, with a rush of emotion, he +pictured himself squandering five or six francs in half an hour and +startling the artist by his prodigality. + +"If I am not mistaken, I have the honour to address an author, +monsieur?" he ventured. + +"Your instincts have not misled you," replied the poet; "I am +Tricotrin, monsieur--Gustave Tricotrin. The name, however, is to be +found, as yet, on no statues." + +"My own name," said the clerk, "is Adolphe Petitpas. I am a stranger in +Paris, and I count myself fortunate indeed to have made monsieur +Tricotrin's acquaintance so soon." + +"He expresses himself with some discretion, this person," reflected +Tricotrin. "And his cigarette was certainly providential!" + +"To meet an author has always been an ambition of mine," Petitpas +continued; "I dare to say that I have the artistic temperament, though +circumstances have condemned me to commercial pursuits. You have no +idea how enviable the literary life appears to me, monsieur!" + +"Its privileges are perhaps more monotonous than you suppose," drawled +the homeless poet. "Also, I had to work for many years before I +attained my present position." + +"This noble book, for instance," began the clerk, laying a reverent +hand on the abominable manuscript. + +"Hein?" exclaimed its victim, starting. + +"To have written this noble book must be a joy compared with which my +own prosperity is valueless." + +"The damned thing is no work of mine," cried Tricotrin; "and if we are +to avoid a quarrel, I will ask you not to accuse me of it! A joy, +indeed? In that block of drivel you view the cause of my deepest +misfortunes." + +"A thousand apologies!" stammered his companion; "my inference was +hasty. But what you say interests me beyond words. This manuscript, of +seeming innocence, is the cause of misfortunes? May I crave an enormous +favour; may I beg you to regard me as a friend and give me your +confidence?" + +"I see no reason why I should refuse it," answered Tricotrin, on whom +the boast of "prosperity" had made a deep impression. "You must know, +then, that this ineptitude, inflicted on me by an eccentric editor for +translation, drove me to madness, and not an hour ago I cast it from my +window in disgust. It is a novel entirely devoid of taste and tact, and +it had the clumsiness to alight on my landlord's head. Being a man of +small nature, he retaliated by demanding his rent." + +"Which it was not convenient to pay?" interrupted Petitpas, all the +pages of _La Vie de Bohème_ playing leapfrog through his brain. + +"I regret to bore you by so trite a situation. 'Which it was not +convenient to pay'! Indeed, I was not responsible for all of it, for I +occupied the room with a composer named Pitou. Well, you can construct +the next scene without a collaborator; the landlord has a speech, and +the tragedy is entitled 'Tricotrin in Quest of a Home.'" + +"What of the composer?" inquired the delighted clerk; "what has become +of monsieur Pitou?" + +"Monsieur Pitou was not on in that Act. The part of Pitou will attain +prominence when he returns and finds himself locked out." + +"But, my dear monsieur Tricotrin, in such an extremity you should have +sought the services of a friend." + +"I had that inspiration myself; I sought a painter called Goujaud. And +observe how careless is Reality in the matter of coincidences! I learnt +from his concierge that precisely the same thing had befallen monsieur +Goujaud. He, too, is Christmassing alfresco." + +"Mon Dieu," faltered the clerk, "how it rejoices me that I have met +you! All my life I have looked forward to encountering a genius in such +a fix." + +"Alas!" sighed Tricotrin, with a pensive smile, "to the genius the fix +is less spicy. Without a supper--" + +"Without a supper!" crowed Petitpas. + +"Without a bed--" + +"Without a bed!" babbled Petitpas, enravished. + +"With nothing but a pen and the sacred fire, one may be forgiven +sadness." + +"Not so, not so," shouted Petitpas, smacking him on the back. "You are +omitting _me_ from your list of assets! Listen, I am staying at an +hotel. You cannot decline to accord me the honour of welcoming you +there as my guest for the night. Hang the expense! I am no longer in +business, I am a bohemian, like yourself; some supper, a bed, and a +little breakfast will not ruin me. What do you say, monsieur?" + +"I say, drop the 'monsieur,' old chap," responded Tricotrin. "Your +suggestions for the tragedy are cordially accepted. I have never known +a collaborator to improve a plot so much. And understand this: I feel +more earnestly than I speak; henceforth we are pals, you and I." + +"Brothers!" cried Petitpas, in ecstasy. "You shall hear all about a +novel that I have projected for years. I should like to have your +opinion of it." + +"I shall be enchanted," said Tricotrin, his jaw dropping. + +"You must introduce me to your circle--the painters, and the models, +and the actresses. Your friends shall be _my_ friends in future." + +"Don't doubt it! When I tell them what a brick you are, they will be +proud to know you." + +"No ceremony, mind!" + +"Not a bit. You shall be another chum. Already I feel as if we had been +confidants in our cradles." + +"It is the same with me. How true it is that kindred spirits recognise +each other in an instant. What is environment? Bah! A man may be a +bohemian and an artist although his occupations are commercial?" + +"Perfectly! I nearly pined amid commercial occupations myself." + +"What an extraordinary coincidence! Ah, that is the last bond between +us! You can realise my most complex moods, you can penetrate to the +most distant suburbs of my soul! Gustave, if I had been free to choose +my career, I should have become a famous man." "My poor Adolphe! +Still, prosperity is not an unmixed evil. You must seek compensation in +your wealth," murmured the poet, who began to think that one might pay +too high a price for a bed. + +"Oh--er--to be sure!" said the little clerk, reminded that he was +pledged to a larger outlay than he had originally proposed. "That is to +say, I am not precisely 'wealthy.'" He saw his pocket-money during the +trip much curtailed, and rather wished that his impulse had been less +expansive. + +"A snug income is no stigma, whether one derives it from Parnassus or +the Bourse," continued Tricotrin. "Hold! Who is that I see, slouching +over there? As I live, it's Pitou, the composer, whose dilemma I told +you of!" + +"Another?" quavered the clerk, dismayed. + +"Hé, Nicolas! Turn your symphonic gaze this way! 'Tis I, Gustave!" + +"Ah, mon vieux!" exclaimed the young musician joyfully; "I was +wondering what your fate might be. I have only just come from the +house. Madame Dubois refused me admission; she informed me that you had +been firing Spanish novels at Gouge's head. Why Spanish? Is the Spanish +variety deadlier? So the villain has had the effrontery to turn us +out?" + +"Let me make your affinities known to each other," said Tricotrin. "My +brother Nicolas--my brother Adolphe. Brother Adolphe has received a +scenario of the tragedy already, and he has a knack of inventing +brilliant 'curtains.'" + +Behind Pitou's back he winked at Petitpas, as if to say, "He little +suspects what a surprise you have in store for him!" + +"Oh--er--I am grieved to hear of your trouble, monsieur Pitou," said +Petitpas feebly. + +"What? 'Grieved'? Come, that isn't all about it!" cried Tricotrin, who +attributed his restraint to nothing but diffidence. In an undertone he +added, "Don't be nervous, dear boy. Your invitation won't offend him in +the least!" + +Petitpas breathed heavily. He aspired to prove himself a true bohemian, +but his heart quailed at the thought of such expense. Two suppers, two +beds, and two little breakfasts as a supplement to his bill would be no +joke. It was with a very poor grace that he stammered at last, "I hope +you will allow me to suggest a way out, monsieur Pitou? A room at my +hotel seems to dispose of the difficulty." + +"Hem?" exclaimed Pitou. "Is that room a mirage, or are you serious?" + +"'Serious'?" echoed Tricotrin. "He is as serious as an English +adaptation of a French farce." He went on, under his breath, "You +mustn't judge him by his manner, I can see that he has turned a little +shy. Believe me, he is the King of Trumps." + +"Well, upon my word I shall be delighted, monsieur," responded Pitou. +"It was evidently the good kind fairies that led me to the place +Dancourt. I would ask you to step over the way and have a bock, but my +finances forbid." + +"Your finances need cause no drought--Adolphe will be paymaster!" +declared Tricotrin gaily, shouldering his manuscript. "Come, let us +adjourn and give the Réveillon its due!" + +Petitpas suppressed a moan. "By all means," he assented; "I was about +to propose it myself. I am a real bohemian, you know, and think nothing +of ordering several bocks at once." + +"Are you sure he is all you say?" whispered Pitou to Tricotrin, with +misgiving. + +"A shade embarrassed, that is all," pronounced the poet. And then, as +the trio moved arm-in-arm toward the café, a second solitary figure +emerged from the obscurity of the square. + +"Bless my soul!" ejaculated Tricotrin; "am I mistaken, or--Look, look, +Adolphe! I would bet ten to one in sonnets that it is Goujaud, the +painter, whose plight I mentioned to you!" + +"Yet another?" gasped Petitpas, panic-stricken. + +"Sst! Hé, Goujaud! Come here, you vagrant, and be entertaining!" + +"Well met, you fellows!" sighed Goujaud. "Where are you off to?" + +"We are going to give Miranda a drink," said the poet; "she is drier +than ever. Let there be no strangers--my brother Adolphe, my brother +Théodose! What is your secret woe, Théo? Your face is as long as this +Spaniard's novel, Adolphe, have you a recipe in your pocket for the +hump?" + +"Perhaps monsieur Goujaud will join us in a glass of beer?" said +Petitpas very coldly. + +"There are more unlikely things than that!" affirmed the painter; and +when the café was entered, he swallowed his bock like one who has a +void to fill. "The fact is," he confided to the group, "I was about to +celebrate the Réveillon on a bench. That insolent landlord of mine has +kicked me out." + +"And you will not get inside," said Tricotrin, "'not you, nor I, nor +any other of your vagabond friends. So there!' I had the privilege of +conversing with your concierge earlier in the evening." + +"Ah, then, you know all about it. Well, now that I have run across you, +you can give me a shakedown in your attic. Good business!" + +"I discern only one drawback to the scheme," said Pitou; "we haven't +any attic. It must be something in the air--all the landlords seem to +have the same complaint." + +"But if you decide in the bench's favour, after all, you may pillow +your curls on Miranda," put in Tricotrin. "She would be exhilarating +company for him, Adolphe, hein? What do you think?" He murmured aside, +"Give him a dig in the ribs and say, 'You silly ass, _I_ can fix +you up all right!' That's the way we issue invitations in Montmartre." + +The clerk's countenance was livid; his tongue stuck to his front teeth. +At last, wrenching the words out, he groaned, "If monsieur Goujaud will +accept my hospitality, I shall be charmed!" He was not without a hope +that his frigid bearing would beget a refusal. + +"Ah, my dear old chap!" shouted Goujaud without an instant's +hesitation, "consider it done!" And now there were to be three suppers, +three beds, and three little breakfasts, distorting the account! + +Petitpas sipped his bock faintly, affecting not to notice that his +guests' glasses had been emptied. With all his soul he repented the +impulse that had led to his predicament. Amid the throes of his mental +arithmetic he recognised that he had been deceived in himself, that he +had no abiding passion for bohemia. How much more pleasing than to +board and lodge this disreputable collection would have been the daily +round of amusements that he had planned! Even now--he caught his +breath--even now it was not too late; he might pay for the drinks and +escape! Why shouldn't he run away? + +"Gentlemen," cried Petitpas, "I shall go and fetch a cab for us all. +Make yourselves comfortable till I come back!" + +When the café closed, messieurs Tricotrin, Goujaud, and Pitou crept +forlornly across the square and disposed themselves for slumber on the +bench. + +"Well, there is this to be said," yawned the poet, "if the little +bounder had kept his word, it would have been an extraordinary +conclusion to our adventures--as persons of literary discretion, we can +hardly regret that a story did not end so improbably.... My children, +Miranda, good-night--and a Merry Christmas!" + + + +THE CAFÉ OF THE BROKEN HEART + +On the last day of the year, towards the dinner-hour, a young and +attractive woman, whose costume proclaimed her a widow, entered the +Café of the Broken Heart. That modest restaurant is situated near the +Cemetery of Mont-martre. The lady, quoting from an announcement over +the window, requested the proprietor to conduct her to the "Apartment +reserved for Those Desirous of Weeping Alone." + +The proprietor's shoulders became apologetic. "A thousand regrets, +madame," he murmured; "the Weeping Alone apartment is at present +occupied." + +This visibly annoyed the customer. + +"It is the second anniversary of my bereavement," she complained, "and +already I have wept here twice. The woe of an habituée should find a +welcome!" + +Her reproof, still more her air of being well-to-do, had an effect on +Brochat. He looked at his wife, and his wife said hesitatingly: + +"Perhaps the young man would consent to oblige madame if you asked him +nicely. After all, he engaged the room for seven o'clock, and it is not +yet half-past six." + +"That is true," said Brochat. "Alors, I shall see what can be arranged! +I beg that madame will put herself to the trouble of sitting down while +I make the biggest endeavours." + +But he returned after a few minutes to declare that the young man's +sorrow was so profound that no reply could be extracted from him. + +The lady showed signs of temper. "Has this person the monopoly of +sorrowing on your premises?" she demanded. "Whom does he lament? Surely +the loss of a husband should give me prior claim?" + +"I cannot rightly say whom the gentleman laments," stammered Brochat; +"the circumstances are, in fact, somewhat unusual. I would mention, +however, that the apartment is a spacious one, as madame doubtless +recalls, and no further mourners are expected for half an hour. If in +the meantime madame would be so amiable as to weep in the young man's +presence, I can assure her that she would find him too stricken to +stare." + +The widow considered. "Well," she said, after the pause, "if you can +guarantee his abstraction, so be it! It is a matter of conscience with +me to behave in precisely the same way each year, and, rather than miss +my meditations there altogether, I am willing to make the best of him." + +Brochat, having taken her order for refreshments--for which he always +charged slightly higher prices on the first floor--preceded her up the +stairs. The single gas-flame that had been kindled in the room was very +low, and the lady received but a momentary impression of a man's figure +bowed over a white table. She chose a chair at once with her back +towards him, and resting her brow on her forefinger, disposed herself +for desolation. + +It may have been that the stranger's proximity told on her nerves, or +it may have been that Time had done something to heal the wound. +Whatever the cause, the frame of mind that she invited was slow in +arriving, and when the bouillon and biscottes appeared she was not +averse from trifling with them. Meanwhile, for any sound that he had +made, the young man might have been as defunct as Henri IV; but as she +took her second sip, a groan of such violence escaped him that she +nearly upset her cup. + +His abandonment of despair seemed to reflect upon her own +insensibility; and, partly to raise herself in his esteem, the lady a +moment later uttered a long-drawn, wistful sigh. No sooner had she done +so, however, than she deeply regretted the indiscretion, for it +stimulated the young man to a howl positively harrowing. + +An impatient movement of her graceful shoulders protested against these +demonstrations, but as she had her back to him, she could not tell +whether he observed her. Stealing a glance, she discovered that his +face was buried in his hands, and that the white table seemed to be +laid for ten covers. Scrutiny revealed ten bottles of wine around it, +the neck of each bottle embellished with a large crape bow. Curiosity +now held the lady wide-eyed, and, as luck would have it, the young man, +at this moment, raised his head. + +"I trust that my agony does not disturb you, madame?" he inquired, +meeting her gaze with some embarrassment. + +"I must confess, monsieur," said she, "that you have been carrying it +rather far." + +He accepted the rebuke humbly. "If you divined the intensity of my +sufferings, you would be lenient," he murmured. "Nevertheless, it was +dishonest of me to moan so bitterly before seven o'clock, when my claim +to the room legally begins. I entreat your pardon." + +"It is accorded freely," said the lady, mollified by his penitence. +"She would be a poor mourner who quarrelled with the affliction of +another." + +Again she indulged in a plaintive sigh, and this time the young man's +response was tactfully harmonious. + +"Life is a vale of tears, madame," he remarked, with more solicitude +than originality. + +"You may indeed say so, monsieur," she assented. "To have lost one who +was beloved--" + +"It must be a heavy blow; I can imagine it!" + +He had made a curious answer. She stared at him, perplexed. + +"You can 'imagine' it?" + +"Very well." + +"But you yourself have experienced such a loss, monsieur?" faltered the +widow nervously. Had trouble unhinged his brain? + +"No," said the young man; "to speak by the clock, my own loss has not +yet occurred." + +A brief silence fell, during which she cast uneasy glances towards the +door. + +He added, as if anxious that she should do him justice: "But I would +not have you consider my lamentations premature." + +"How true it is," breathed the lady, "that in this world no human soul +can wholly comprehend another!" + +"Mine is a very painful history," he warned her, taking the hint; "yet +if it will serve to divert your mind from your own misfortune, I shall +be honoured to confide it to you. Stay, the tenth invitation, which an +accident prevented my dispatching, would explain the circumstances +tersely: but I much fear that the room is too dark for you to decipher +all the subtleties. Have I your permission to turn up the gas?" + +"Do so, by all means, monsieur," said the lady graciously. And the +light displayed to her, first, as personable a young man as she could +have desired to see; second, an imposing card, which was inscribed as +follows: + + MONSIEUR ACHILLE FLAMANT, ARTIST, + + Forewarns you of the + + DEATH OF HIS CAREER + + The Interment will take place at the + Café of the Broken Heart + on December 31st. + + _Valedictory N.B.--A sympathetic costume + Victuals will be appreciated. + 7 p.m._ + +"I would call your attention to the border of cypress, and to the tomb +in the corner," said the young man, with melancholy pride. "You may +also look favourably on the figure with the shovel, which, of course, +depicts me in the act of burying my hopes. It is a symbolic touch that +no hope is visible." + +"It is a very artistic production altogether," said the widow, +dissembling her astonishment. "So you are a painter, monsieur Flamant?" + +"Again speaking by the clock, I am a painter," he concurred; "but at +midnight I shall no longer be in a position to say so--in the morning I +am pledged to the life commercial. You will not marvel at my misery +when I inform you that the existence of Achille Flamant, the artist, +will terminate in five hours and twenty odd minutes!" + +"Well, I am commercial myself," she said. "I am madame Aurore, the +Beauty Specialist, of the rue Baba. Do not think me wanting in the +finer emotions, but I assure you that a lucrative establishment is not +a calamity." + +"Madame Aurore," demurred the painter, with a bow, "your own business +is but a sister art. In your atelier, the saffron of a bad complexion +blooms to the fairness of a rose, and the bunch of a lumpy figure is +modelled to the grace of Galatea. With me it will be a different pair +of shoes; I shall be condemned to perch on a stool in the office of a +wine-merchant, and invoice vintages which my thirty francs a week will +not allow me to drink. No comparison can be drawn between your lot and +my little." + +"Certainly I should not like to perch," she confessed. + +"Would you rejoice at the thirty francs a week?" + +"Well, and the thirty francs a week are also poignant. But you may +rise, monsieur; who shall foretell the future? Once I had to make both +ends meet with less to coax them than the salary you mention. Even when +my poor husband was taken from me--heigho!" she raised a miniature +handkerchief delicately to her eyes--"when I was left alone in the +world, monsieur, my affairs were greatly involved--I had practically +nothing but my resolve to succeed." + +"And the witchery of your personal attractions, madame," said the +painter politely. + +"Ah!" A pensive smile rewarded him. "The business was still in its +infancy, monsieur; yet to-day I have the smartest clientèle in Paris. I +might remove to the rue de la Paix to-morrow if I pleased. But, I say, +why should I do that? I say, why a reckless rental for the sake of a +fashionable address, when the fashionable men and women come to me +where I am?" + +"You show profound judgment, madame," said Flamant. "Why, indeed!" + +"And you, too, will show good judgment, I am convinced," continued +madame Aurore, regarding him with approval. "You have an air of +intellect. If your eyebrows were elongated a fraction towards the +temples--an improvement that might be effected easily enough by regular +use of my Persian Pomade--you would acquire the appearance of a born +conqueror." + +"Alas," sighed Flamant, "my finances forbid my profiting by the tip!" + +"Monsieur, you wrong me," murmured the specialist reproachfully. "I was +speaking with no professional intent. On the contrary, if you will +permit me, I shall take joy in forwarding a pot to you gratis." + +"Is it possible?" cried Flamant: "you would really do this for me? You +feel for my sufferings so much?" + +"Indeed, I regret that I cannot persuade you to reduce the sufferings," +she replied. "But tell me why you have selected the vocation of a +wine-merchant's clerk." + +"Fate, not I, has determined my cul-de-sac in life," rejoined her +companion. "It is like this: my father, who lacks an artistic soul, +consented to my becoming a painter only upon the understanding that I +should gain the Prix de Rome and pursue my studies in Italy free of any +expense to him. This being arranged, he agreed to make me a minute +allowance in the meanwhile. By a concatenation of catastrophes upon +which it is unnecessary to dwell, the Beaux-Arts did not accord the +prize to me; and, at the end of last year, my parent reminded me of our +compact, with a vigour which nothing but the relationship prevents my +describing as 'inhuman'. He insisted that I must bid farewell to +aspiration and renounce the brush of an artist for the quill of a +clerk! Distraught, I flung myself upon my knees. I implored him to +reconsider. My tribulation would have moved a rock--it even moved his +heart!" + +"He showed you mercy?" + +"He allowed me a respite." + +"It was for twelve months?" + +"Precisely. What rapid intuitions you have!--if I could remain in +Paris, we should become great friends. He allowed me twelve months' +respite. If, at the end of that time, Art was still inadequate to +supply my board and lodging, it was covenanted that, without any more +ado, I should resign myself to clerical employment at Nantes. The +merchant there is a friend of the family, and had offered to +demonstrate his friendship by paying me too little to live on. Enfin, +Fame has continued coy. The year expires to-night. I have begged a few +comrades to attend a valedictory dinner--and at the stroke of midnight, +despairing I depart!" + +"Is there a train?" + +"I do not depart from Paris till after breakfast to-morrow; but at +midnight I depart from myself, I depart psychologically--the Achille +Flamant of the Hitherto will be no more." + +"I understand," said madame Aurore, moved. "As you say, in my own way I +am an artist, too, there is a bond between us. Poor fellow, it is +indeed a crisis in your life!... Who put the crape bows on the +bottles? they are badly tied. Shall I tie them properly for you?" + +"It would be a sweet service," said Flamant, "and I should be grateful. +How gentle you are to me--pomade, bows, nothing is too much for you!" + +"You must give me your Nantes address," she said, "and I will post the +pot without fail." + +"I shall always keep it," he vowed--"not the pomade, but the pot--as a +souvenir. Will you write a few lines to me at the same time?" + +Her gaze was averted; she toyed with her spoon. "The directions will be +on the label," she said timidly. + +"It was not of my eyebrows I was thinking," murmured the man. + +"What should I say? The latest quotation for artificial lashes, or a +development in dimple culture, would hardly be engrossing to you." + +"I am inclined to believe that anything that concerned you would +engross me." + +"It would be so unconventional," she objected dreamily. + +"To send a brief message of encouragement? Have we not talked like +confidants?" + +"That is queerer still." + +"I admit it. Just now I was unaware of your existence, and suddenly you +dominate my thoughts. How do you work these miracles, madame? Do you +know that I have an enormous favour to crave of you?" + +"What, another one?" + +"Actually! Is it not audacious of me? Yet for a man on the verge of +parting from his identity, I venture to hope that you will strain a +point." + +"The circumstances are in the man's favour," she owned. "Nevertheless, +much depends on what the point is." + +"Well, I ask nothing less than that you accept the invitation on the +card that you examined; I beg you to soothe my last hours by remaining +to dine." + +"Oh, but really," she exclaimed. "I am afraid--" + +"You cannot urge that you are required at your atelier so late. And as +to any social engagement, I do not hesitate to affirm that my +approaching death in life puts forth the stronger claim." + +"On me? When all is said, a new acquaintance!" + +"What is Time?" demanded the painter. And she was not prepared with a +reply. + +"Your comrades will be strangers to me," she argued. + +"It is a fact that now I wish they were not coming," acknowledged the +host; "but they are young men of the loftiest genius, and some day it +may provide a piquant anecdote to relate how you met them all in the +period of their obscurity." + +"My friend," she said, hurt, "if I consented, it would not be to garner +anecdotes." + +"Ah, a million regrets!" he cried; "I spoke foolishly." + +"It was tactless." + +"Yes--I am a man. Do you forgive?" + +"Yes--I am a woman. Well, I must take my bonnet off!" + +"Oh, you are not a woman, but an angel! What beautiful hair you have! +And your hands, how I should love to paint them!" + +"I have painted them, myself--with many preparations. My hands have +known labour, believe me; they have washed up plates and dishes, and +often the dishes had provided little to eat." + +"Poor girl! One would never suspect that you had struggled like that." + +"How feelingly you say it! There have been few to show me sympathy. Oh, +I assure you, my life has been a hard one; it is a hard one now, in +spite of my success. Constantly, when customers moan before my mirrors, +I envy them, if they did but know it. I think: 'Yes, you have a double +chin, and your eyes have lost their fire, and nasty curly little veins +are spoiling the pallor of your nose; but you have the affection of +husband and child, while _I_ have nothing but fees.' What is my +destiny? To hear great-grandmothers grumble because I cannot give them +back their girlhood for a thousand francs! To devote myself to making +other women beloved, while _I_ remain loveless in my shop!" + +"Honestly, my heart aches for you. If I might presume to advise, I +would say, 'Do not allow the business to absorb your youth--you were +meant to be worshipped.' And yet, while I recommend it, I hate to think +of another man worshipping you." + +"Why should you care, my dear? But there is no likelihood of that; I am +far too busy to seek worshippers. A propos an idea has just occurred to +me which might be advantageous to us both. If you could inform your +father that you would be able to earn rather more next year by +remaining in Paris than by going to Nantes, would it be satisfactory?" + +"Satisfactory?" ejaculated Flamant. "It would be ecstatic! But how +shall I acquire such information?" + +"Would you like to paint a couple of portraits of me?" + +"I should like to paint a thousand." + +"My establishment is not a picture-gallery. Listen. I offer you a +commission for two portraits: one, present day, let us say, moderately +attractive--" + +"I decline to libel you." + +"O, flatterer! The other, depicting my faded aspect before I discovered +the priceless secrets of the treatment that I practise in the rue Baba. +I shall hang them both in the reception-room. I must look at least a +decade older in the 'Before' than in the 'After,' and it must, of +course, present the appearance of having been painted some years ago. +That can be faked?" + +"Perfectly." + +"You accept?" "I embrace your feet. You have saved my life; you have +preserved my hopefulness, you have restored my youth!" + +"It is my profession to preserve and restore." + +"Ah, mon Dieu!" gasped Flamant in a paroxysm of adoration. "Aurore, I +can no longer refrain from avowing that--" + +At this instant the door opened, and there entered solemnly nine young +men, garbed in such habiliments of woe as had never before been seen +perambulating, even on the figures of undertakers. The foremost bore a +wreath of immortelles, which he laid in devout silence on the dinner-table. + +"Permit me," said Flamant, recovering himself by a stupendous effort: +"monsieur Tricotrin, the poet--madame Aurore." + +"Enchanted!" said the poet, in lugubrious tones. "I have a heavy cold, +thank you, owing to my having passed the early hours of Christmas Day +on a bench, in default of a bed. It is superfluous to inquire as to the +health of madame." + +"Monsieur Goujaud, a colleague." + +"Overjoyed!" responded Goujaud, with a violent sneeze. + +"Goujaud was with me," said Tricotrin. + +"Monsieur Pitou, the composer." + +"I ab hodoured. I trust badabe is dot dervous of gerbs? There is +nothing to fear," said Pitou. + +"So was Pitou!" added Tricotrin. + +"Monsieur Sanquereau, the sculptor; monsieur Lajeunie, the novelist," +continued the host. But before he could present the rest of the +company, Brochat was respectfully intimating to the widow that her +position in the Weeping Alone apartment was now untenable. He was +immediately commanded to lay another cover. + +"Madame and comrades," declaimed Tricotrin, unrolling a voluminous +manuscript, as they took their seats around the pot-au-feu, "I have +composed for this piteous occasion a brief poem!" + +"I must beseech your pardon," stammered Flamant, rising in deep +confusion; "I have nine apologies to tender. Gentlemen, this touching +wreath for the tomb of my career finds the tomb unready. These +affecting garments which you have hired at, I fear, ruinous expense, +should be exchanged for bunting; that immortal poem with which our +friend would favour us has been suddenly deprived of all its point." + +"Explain! explain!" volleyed from nine throats. + +"I shall still read it," insisted Tricotrin, "it is good." + +"The lady--nay, the goddess--whom you behold, has showered commissions, +and for one year more I shall still be in your midst. Brothers in art, +brothers in heart, I ask you to charge your glasses, and let your +voices ring. The toast is, 'Madame Aurore and her gift of the New +Year!'" + +"Madame Aurore and her gift of the New Year!" shrieked the nine young +men, springing to their feet. + +"In a year much may happen," said the lady tremulously. + +And when they had all sat down again, Flamant was thrilled to find her +hand in his beneath the table. + + + +THE DRESS CLOTHES OF MONSIEUR POMPONNET + +It was thanks to Touquet that she was able to look so chic--the little +baggage!--yet of all her suitors Touquet was the one she favoured +least. He was the costumier at the corner of the rue des Martyrs, and +made a very fair thing of the second-hand clothes. It was to Touquet's +that the tradesmen of the quarter turned as a matter of course to hire +dress-suits for their nuptials; it was in the well-cleaned satins of +Touquet that the brides' mothers and the lady guests cut such imposing +figures when they were photographed after the wedding breakfasts; it +was even Touquet who sometimes supplied a gown to one or another of the +humble actresses at the Théâtre Montmartre, and received a couple of +free tickets in addition to his fee. I tell you that Touquet was not a +person to be sneezed at, though he had passed the first flush of youth, +and was never an Adonis. + +Besides, who was she, this little Lisette, who had the impudence to +flout him? A girl in a florist's, if you can believe me, with no +particular beauty herself, and not a son by way of dot! And yet--one +must confess it--she turned a head as swiftly as she made a +"buttonhole"; and Pomponnet, the pastrycook, was paying court to her, +too--to say nothing of the homage of messieurs Tricotrin, the poet, and +Goujaud, the painter, and Lajeunie, the novelist. You would never have +guessed that her wages were only twenty francs a week, as you watched +her waltz with Tricotrin at the ball on Saturday evening, or as you saw +her enter Pomponnet's shop, when the shutters were drawn, to feast on +his strawberry tarts. Her costumes were the cynosure of the boulevard +Rochechouart! + +And they were all due to Touquet, Touquet the infatuated, who lent the +fine feathers to her for the sake of a glance, or a pressure of the +hand--and wept on his counter afterwards while he wondered whose arms +might be embracing her in the costumes that he had cleaned and pressed +with so much care. Often he swore that his folly should end--that she +should be affianced to him, or go shabby; but, lo! in a day or two she +would make her appearance again, to coax for the loan of a smart +blouse, or "that hat with the giant rose and the ostrich plume"--and +Touquet would be as weak as ever. + +Judge, then, of his despair when he heard that she had agreed to marry +Pomponnet! She told him the news with the air of an amiable gossip when +she came to return a ball-dress that she had borrowed. + +"Enfin," she said--perched on the counter, and swinging her remorseless +feet--"it is arranged; I desert the flowers for the pastry, and become +the mistress of a shop. I shall have to beg from my good friend +monsieur Touquet no more--not at all! I shall be his client, like the +rest. It will be better, hein?" + +Touquet groaned. "You know well, Lisette," he answered, "that it has +been a joy to me to place the stock at your disposal, even though it +was to make you more attractive in the eyes of other men. Everything +here that you have worn possesses a charm to me. I fondle the garments +when you bring them back; I take them down from the pegs and dream over +them. Truly! There is no limit to my weakness, for often when a client +proposes to hire a frock that you have had, I cannot bear that she +should profane it, and I say that it is engaged." + +"You dear, kind monsieur Touquet," murmured the coquette; "how +agreeable you are!" + +"I have always hoped for the day when the stock would be all your own, +Lisette. And by-and-by we might have removed to a better position-- +even down the hill. Who knows? We might have opened a business in the +Madeleine quarter. That would suit you better than a little cake-shop +up a side street? And I would have risked it for you--I know how you +incline to fashion. When I have taken you to a theatre, did you choose +the Montmartre--where we might have gone for nothing--or the Moncey? +Not you!--that might do for other girls. _You_ have always +demanded the theatres of the Grand Boulevard; a cup of coffee at the +Café de la Paix is more to your taste than a bottle of beer and +hard-boiled eggs at The Nimble Rabbit. Heaven knows I trust you will be +happy, but I cannot persuade myself that this Pomponnet shares your +ambitions; with his slum and his stale pastry he is quite content." + +"It is not stale," she said. + +"Well, we will pass his pastry--though, word of honour, I bought some +there last week that might have been baked before the Commune; but to +recur to his soul, is it an affinity?" + +"Affinities are always hard up," she pouted. + +"Zut!" exclaimed Touquet; "now your mind is running on that monsieur +Tricotrin--by 'affinities' I do not mean hungry poets. Why not have +entrusted your happiness to _me_? I adore you, I have told you a +thousand times that I adore you. Lisette, consider before it is too +late! You cannot love this--this obscure baker?" + +She gave a shrug. "It is a fact that devotion has not robbed me of my +appetite," she confessed. "But what would you have? His business goes +far better than you imagine--I have seen his books; and anyhow, my +sentiment for you is friendship, and no more." + +"To the devil with friendship!" cried the unhappy wardrobe-dealer; "did +I dress you like the Empress Joséphine for friendship?" + +"Do not mock yourself of it," she said reprovingly; "remember that +'Friendship is a beautiful flower, of which esteem is the stem.'" And, +having thrown the adage to him, coupled with a glance that drove him to +distraction, the little flirt jumped off the counter and was gone. + +Much more reluctantly she contemplated parting with him whom the +costumier had described as a "hungry poet"; but matrimony did not enter +the poet's scheme of things, nor for that matter had she ever regarded +him as a possible parti. Yet a woman may give her fancy where her +reason refuses to follow, and when she imparted her news to Tricotrin +there was no smile on her lips. + +"We shall not go to balls any more, old dear," she said. "Monsieur +Pomponnet has proposed marriage to me--and I settle down." + +"Heartless girl," exclaimed the young man, with tears in his eyes. "So +much for woman's constancy!" + +"Mon Dieu," she faltered, "did you then love me, Gustave--really?" + +"I do not know," said Tricotrin, "but since I am to lose you, I prefer +to think so. Ah, do not grieve for me--fortunately, there is always the +Seine! And first I shall pour my misery into song; and in years to +come, fair daughters at your side will read the deathless poem, little +dreaming that the Lisette I sang to is their mother. Some time--long +after I am in my grave, when France has honoured me at last--you may +stand before a statue that bears my name, and think, 'He loved me, and +I broke his heart!'" + +"Oh," she whimpered, "rather than break your heart I--I might break the +engagement! I might consider again, Gustave." + +"No, no," returned Tricotrin, "I will not reproach myself with the +thought that I have marred your life; I will leave you free. Besides, +as I say, I am not certain that I should want you so much but for the +fact that I have lost you. After all, you will not appreciate the poem +that immortalises you, and if I lived, many of your remarks about it +would doubtless infuriate me." + +"Why shall I not appreciate it? Am I so stupid?" + +"It is not that you are stupid, my Soul," he explained; "it is that I +am transcendentally clever. To understand the virtues of my work one +must have sipped from all the flowers of Literature. 'There is to be +found in it Racine, Voltaire, Flaubert, Renan--and always Gustave +Tricotrin,' as Lemaître has written. He wrote, '--and always Anatole +France,' but I paraphrase him slightly. So you are going to marry +Pomponnet? Mon Dieu, when I have any sous in my pocket, I will ruin +myself, for the rapture of regretting you among the pastry!" + +"I thought," she said, a little mortified, "that you were going to +drown yourself?" + +"Am I not to write my Lament to you? I must eat while I write it--why +not pastry? Also, when I am penniless and starving, you may sometimes, +in your prosperity--And yet, perhaps, it is too much to ask?" + +"Give you tick, do you mean, dear? But yes, Gustave; how can you doubt +that I will do that? In memory of--" + +"In memory of the love that has been, you will permit me to run up a +small score for cakes, will you not, Lisette?" + +"I will, indeed!" she promised. "But, but--Oh, it's quite true, I +should never understand you! A minute ago you made me think of you in +the Morgue, and now you make me think of you in the cake-shop. What are +you laughing at?" + +"I laugh, like Figaro," said Tricotrin, "that I may not be obliged to +weep. When are you going to throw yourself away, my little Lisette? Has +my accursed rival induced you to fix a date?' + +"We are to be married in a fortnight's time," she said. "And if you +could undertake to be sensible, I would ask Alphonse to invite you to +the breakfast." + +"In a fortnight's time hunger and a hopeless passion will probably have +made an end of me," replied the poet; "however, if I survive, the +breakfast will certainly be welcome. Where is it to be held? I can +recommend a restaurant that is especially fine at such affairs, and +most moderate. 'Photographs of the party are taken gratuitously in the +Jardin d'Acclimatation, and pianos are at the disposal of the ladies'; +I quote from the menu--I study it in the window every time I pass. +There are wedding breakfasts from six to twelve francs per head. At six +francs, the party have their choice of two soups and three hors +d'oeuvres. Then comes 'poisson'--I fear it may be whiting--filet de +boeuf with tomates farcies, bouchées à la Reine, chicken, pigeons, +salad, two vegetables, an ice, assorted fruits, and biscuits. The wines +are madeira, a bottle of mâcon to each person, a bottle of bordeaux +among four persons, and a bottle of champagne among ten persons. Also +coffee and liqueurs. At six francs a head! It is good, hein? At seven +francs there is a bottle of champagne among every eight persons-- +Pomponnet will, of course, do as he thinks best. At eight francs, a +bottle is provided for every six persons. I have too much delicacy to +make suggestions, but should he be willing to soar to twelve francs a +head, I might eat enough to last a week--and of such quality! The soups +would then be bisque d'écrevisse and consommé Rachel. Rissoles de foies +gras would appear. Asparagus 'in branches,' and compote of peaches +flavoured with maraschino would be included. Also, in the twelve-franc +breakfast, the champagne begins to have a human name on the label!" + +Now, it is not certain how much of this information Lisette repeated to +Pomponnet, but Pomponnet, having a will of his own, refused to +entertain monsieur Tricotrin at any price at all. More-over, he found +it unconventional that she should desire the poet's company, +considering the attentions that he had paid her; and she was forced to +listen, with an air of humility which she was far from feeling, to a +lecture on the responsibilities of her new position. + +"I am not a jealous man," said the pastrycook, who was as jealous a man +as ever baked a pie; "but it would be discreet that you dropped this +acquaintance now that we are engaged. I know well that you have never +taken the addresses of such a fellow seriously, and that it is only in +the goodness of your heart you wish to present him with a blow-out. +Nevertheless, the betrothal of a man in my circumstances is much +remarked; all the daughters of the hairdresser next door have had their +hopes of me--indeed, there is scarcely a neighbour who is not chagrined +at the turn events have taken--and the world would be only too glad of +an excuse to call me 'fool.' Pomponnet's wife must be above suspicion. +You will remember that a little lightness of conduct which might be +forgiven in the employée of the florist would be unseemly in my +fiancée. No more conversation with monsieur Tricotrin, Lisette! Some +dignity--some coldness in the bow when you pass him. The boulevard will +observe it, it will be approved." + +"You, of course, know best, my dear Alphonse," she returned meekly; "I +am only an inexperienced girl, and I am thankful to have your advice to +guide me. But let me say that never, never has there been any +'lightness of conduct,' to distress you. Monsieur Tricotrin and I have +been merely friends. If I have gone to a ball with him sometimes--and I +acknowledge that has happened--it has been because nobody more to my +taste has offered to take me." She had ground her little teeth under +the infliction of his homily, and it was only by dint of thinking hard +of his profits that she abstained from retorting that he might marry +all the daughters of the hairdresser and go to Uganda. + +However, during the next week or so, she did not chance to meet the +poet on the boulevard; and since she wished to conquer her tenderness +for him, one cannot doubt that all would have been well but for the +Editor of _L'Echo de la Butte._ By a freak of fate, the Editor of +_L'Echo de la Butte_ was moved to invite monsieur Tricotrin to an +affair of ceremony two days previous to the wedding. What followed? +Naturally Tricotrin must present himself in evening dress. Naturally, +also, he must go to Touquet's to hire the suit. + +"Regard," said the costumier, "here is a suit that I have just +acquired. Monsieur will observe that it is of the most distinguished +cut--quite in the latest fashion. I will whisper to monsieur that it +comes to me through the valet of the Comte de St.-Nom-la-Bretèche- +Forêt-de-Marly." + +"Mon Dieu!" said Tricotrin, "let me try it on!" And he was so gratified +by his appearance in it that he barely winced at the thought of the +expense. "I am improving my position," he soliloquised; "if I have not +precisely inherited the mantle of Victor Hugo, I have, at any rate, +hired the dress-suit of the Comte de St.-Nom-la-Bretèche-Forêt-de- +Marly!" + +Never had a more impressive spectacle been witnessed in Montmartre than +Tricotrin's departure from his latest lodging shortly after six +o'clock. Wearing a shirt of Pitou's, Flamant's patent-leather boots, +and a white tie contributed by Goujaud, the young man sallied forth +with the deportment of the Count himself. Only one thing more did he +desire, a flower for his buttonhole--and Lisette remained in her +situation until the morrow! What more natural, finally, than that he +should hie him to the florist's? + +It was the first time that she had seen her lover in evening dress, and +sentiment overpowered her as he entered. + +"Thou!" she murmured, paling. + +On the poet, too, the influence of the clothes was very strong; attired +like a jeune premier, he craved with all the dramatic instinct of his +nature for a love scene; and, instead of fulfilling his intention to +beg for a rosebud at cost price, he gazed at her soulfully and breathed +"Lisette!" + +"So we have met again!" she said. + +"The world is small," returned the poet, ignoring the fact that he had +come to the shop. "And am I yet remembered?" + +"It is not likely I should forget you in a few days," she said, more +practically; "I didn't forget about the breakfast, either, but Alphonse +put his foot down." + +"Pig!" said the poet. "And yet it may be better so! How could I eat in +such an hour?" + +"However, you are not disconsolate this evening?" she suggested. "Mais +vrai! what a swell you are!" + +"Flûte! some fashionable assembly that will bore me beyond endurance," +he sighed. "With you alone, Lisette, have I known true happiness--the +train rides on summer nights that were joyous because we loved; the +simple meals that were sweetened by your smile!" + +"Ah, Gustave!" she said. "Wait, I must give you a flower for your +coat!" + +"I shall keep it all my life!" vowed Tricotrin. "Tell me, little one--I +dare not stay now, because my host lives a long way off--but this +evening, could you not meet me once again? For the last time, to say +farewell? I have nearly two francs fifty, and we might go to supper, if +you agree." + +It was arranged before he took leave of her that she should meet him +outside the _débit_ at the corner of the rue de Sontay at eleven +o'clock, and sup with him there, in a locality where she was unlikely +to be recognised. Rash enough, this conduct, for a young woman who was +to be married to another man on the next day but one! But a greater +imprudence was to follow. They supped, they sentimentalised, and when +they parted in the Champs Elysées and the moonshine, she gave him from +her bosom a little rose-coloured envelope that contained nothing less +than a lock of her hair. + +The poet placed it tenderly in his waistcoat pocket; and, after he had +wept, and quoted poetry to the stars, forgot it. He began to wish that +he had not mixed his liquors quite so impartially; and, on the morrow, +when he woke, he was mindful of nothing more grievous than a splitting +headache. + +Now Touquet, who could not sleep of nights because the pastrycook was +going to marry Lisette, made a practice of examining the pockets of all +garments returned to him, with an eye to stray sous; and when he +proceeded to examine the pockets of the dress-suit returned by monsieur +Tricotrin, what befell but that he drew forth a rose-tinted envelope +containing a tress of hair, and inscribed, "To Gustave, from Lisette. +Adieu." + +And the Editor who invited monsieur Tricotrin had never heard of +Lisette; never heard of Pomponnet; did not know that such a person as +Touquet existed; yet the editorial caprice had manipulated destinies. +How powerful are Editors! How complicated is life! + +But a truce to philosophy--let us deal with the emotions of the soul! +The shop reeled before Touquet. All the good and the bad in his +character battled tumultuously. In one moment he aspired to be generous +and restore to Lisette the evidence of her guilt; in the next he sank +to the base thought of displaying it to Pomponnet and breaking off the +match. The discovery fired his brain. No longer was he a nonentity, the +odd man out--chance had transformed him to the master of the situation. +Full well he knew that there would be no nuptials next day were +Pomponnet aware of his fiancée's perfidy; it needed but to go to him +and say, "Monsieur, my sense of duty compels me to inform you--." How +easy it would be! He laughed hysterically. + +But Lisette would never pardon such a meanness--she would always +despise and hate him! He would have torn her from his rival's arms, it +was true, yet his own would still be empty. "Ah, Lisette, Lisette!" +groaned the wretched man; and, swept to evil by the force of passion, +he cudgelled his mind to devise some piece of trickery, some diabolical +artifice, by which the incriminating token might be placed in the +pastrycook's hands as if by accident. + +And while he pondered--his "whole soul a chaos"--in that hour Pomponnet +entered to hire a dress-suit for his wedding! + +Touquet raised his head, blanched to the lips. + +"Regard," he said, with a forced calm terrible to behold; "here is a +suit that I have just acquired. Monsieur will observe that it is of the +most distinguished cut--quite in the latest fashion. I will whisper to +monsieur that it comes to me through the valet of the Comte de St. Nom- +la-Bretéche-Forét-de-Marly." And, unseen by the guileless bridegroom, +he slipped the damning proof into a pocket of the trousers, where his +knowledge of the pastrycook's attitudes assured him that it was even +more certain to be found than in the waistcoat. + +"Mon Dieu!" said the other, duly impressed by the suit's pedigree; "let +me try it on.... The coat is rather tight," he complained, "but it has +undeniably an air." + +"No more than one client has worn it," gasped the wardrobe dealer +haggardly: _"monsieur Gustave Tricotrin, the poet, who hired it last +night!_ The suit is practically new; I have no other in the +establishment to compare with it. Listen, monsieur Pomponnet! To an old +client like yourself, I will be liberal; wear it this evening for an +hour in your home--if you find it not to your figure, there will be +time to make another selection before the ceremony to-morrow. You shall +have this on trial, I will make no extra charge." + +Such munificence was bound to have its effect, and five minutes later +Touquet's plot had progressed. But the tension had been frightful; the +door had scarcely closed when he sank into a chair, trembling in every +limb, and for the rest of the day he attended to his business like one +moving in a trance. + +Meanwhile, the unsuspecting Pomponnet reviewed the arrangement with +considerable satisfaction; and when he came to attire himself, after +the cake-shop was shut, his reflected image pleased him so well that he +was tempted to stroll abroad. He decided to call on his betrothed, and +to exhibit himself a little on the boulevard. Accordingly, he put some +money in the pocket of the waistcoat, oiled his silk hat, to give it an +additional lustre, and sallied forth in high good-humour. + +"How splendid you look, my dear Alphonse!" exclaimed Lisette, little +dreaming it was the same suit that she had approved on Tricotrin the +previous evening. + +Her innocent admiration was agreeable to Pomponnet; he patted her on +the cheek. + +"In truth," he said carelessly, "I had forgotten that I had it on! But I +was so impatient for to-morrow, my pet angel, that I could not remain +alone and I had to come to see you." + +They were talking on her doorstep, for she had no apartment in which it +would have been _convenable_ to entertain him, and it appeared to +him that the terrace of a café would be more congenial. + +"Run upstairs and make your toilette, my loving duck," he suggested, +"and I shall take you out for a tasse. While you are getting ready, I +will smoke a cigar." And he drew his cigar-case from the breast-pocket +of the coat, and took a match-box from the pocket where he had put his +cash. + +It was a balmy evening, sweet with the odour of spring, and the streets +were full of life. As he promenaded with her on the boulevard, +Pomponnet did not fail to remark the attention commanded by his +costume. He strutted proudly, and when they reached the café and took +their seats, he gave his order with the authority of the President. + +"Ah!" he remarked, "it is good here, hein?" And then, stretching his +legs, he thrust both his hands into the pockets of his trousers. +"_Comment?_" he murmured. "What have I found?... Now is not this +amusing--I swear it is a billet-doux!" He bent, chuckling, to the +light--and bounded in his chair with an oath that turned a dozen heads +towards them. "Traitress," roared Pomponnet, "miserable traitress! It +is _your_ name! It is your _writing_! It is your _hair_! +Do not deny it; give me your head--it matches to a shade! Jezebel, last +night you met monsieur Tricotrin--you have deceived me!" + +Lisette, who had jumped as high as he in recognising the envelope, sat +like one paralysed now. Her tongue refused to move. For an instant, the +catastrophe seemed to her of supernatural agency--it was as if a +miracle had happened, as she saw her fiancé produce her lover's +keepsake. All she could stammer at last was: + +"Let us go away--pay for the coffee!" + +"I will not pay," shouted monsieur Pomponnet. "Pay for it yourself, +jade--I have done with you!" And, leaving her spellbound at the table, +he strode from the terrace like a madman before the waiters could stop +him. + +Oh, of course, he was well known at the café, and they did not detain +Lisette, but it was a most ignominious position for a young woman. And +there was no wedding next day, and everybody knew why. The little +coquette, who had mocked suitors by the dozen, was jilted almost on the +threshold of the Mairie. She smacked Tricotrin's face in the morning, +but her humiliation was so acute that it demanded the salve of +immediate marriage; and at the moment she could think of no one better +than Touquet. + +So Touquet won her after all. And though by this time she may guess how +he accomplished it, he will tell you--word of honour!--that never, +never has he had occasion for regret. + + + +THE SUICIDES IN THE RUE SOMBRE + +Having bought the rope, Tournicquot wondered where he should hang +himself. The lath-and-plaster ceiling of his room might decline to +support him, and while the streets were populous a lamp-post was out of +the question. As he hesitated on the kerb, he reflected that a pan of +charcoal would have been more convenient after all; but the coil of +rope in the doorway of a shop had lured his fancy, and now it would be +laughable to throw it away. + +Tournicquot was much averse from being laughed at in private life-- +perhaps because Fate had willed that he should be laughed at so much in +his public capacity. Could he have had his way, indeed, Tournicquot +would have been a great tragedian, instead of a little droll, whose +portraits, with a bright red nose and a scarlet wig, grimaced on the +hoardings; and he resolved that, at any rate, the element of humour +should not mar his suicide. + +As to the motive for his death, it was as romantic as his heart +desired. He adored "La Belle Lucèrce," the fascinating Snake Charmer, +and somewhere in the background the artiste had a husband. Little the +audience suspected the passion that devoured their grotesque comedian +while he cut his capers and turned love to ridicule; little they +divined the pathos of a situation which condemned him behind the scenes +to whisper the most sentimental assurances of devotion when disfigured +by a flaming wig and a nose that was daubed vermilion! How nearly it +has been said, One half of the world does not know how the other half +loves! + +But such incongruities would distress Tournicquot no more--to-day he +was to die; he had worn his chessboard trousers and his little green +coat for the last time! For the last time had the relentless virtue of +Lucrèce driven him to despair! When he was discovered inanimate, +hanging to a beam, nothing comic about him, perhaps the world would +admit that his soul had been solemn, though his "line of business" had +been funny; perhaps Lucrèce would even drop warm tears on his tomb! + +It was early in the evening. Dusk was gathering over Paris, the promise +of dinner was in the breeze. The white glare of electric globes began +to flood the streets; and before the cafés, waiters bustled among the +tables, bearing the vermouth and absinthe of the hour. Instinctively +shunning the more frequented thoroughfares, Tournicquot crossed the +boulevard des Batignolles, and wandered, lost in reverie, along the +melancholy continuation of the rue de Rome until he perceived that he +had reached a neighbourhood unknown to him--that he stood at the corner +of a street which bore the name "Rue Sombre." Opposite, one of the +houses was being rebuilt, and as he gazed at it--this skeleton of a +home in which the workmen's hammers were silenced for the night-- +Tournicquot recognised that his journey was at an end. Here, he could +not doubt that he would find the last, grim hospitality that he sought. +The house had no door to bar his entrance, but--as if in omen--above +the gap where a door had been, the sinister number "13" was still to be +discerned. He cast a glance over his shoulder, and, grasping the rope +with a firm hand, crept inside. + +It was dark within, so dark that at first he could discern nothing but +the gleam of bare walls. He stole along the passage, and, mounting a +flight of steps, on which his feet sprung mournful echoes, proceeded +stealthily towards an apartment on the first floor. At this point the +darkness became impenetrable, for the _volets_ had been closed, +and in order to make his arrangements, it was necessary that he should +have a light. He paused, fumbling in his pocket; and then, with his +next step, blundered against a body, which swung from the contact, like +a human being suspended in mid-air. + +Tournicquot leapt backwards in terror. A cold sweat bespangled him, and +for some seconds he shook so violently that he was unable to strike a +match. At last, when he accomplished it, he beheld a man, apparently +dead, hanging by a rope in the doorway. + +"Ah, mon Dieu!" gasped Tournicquot. And the thudding of his heart +seemed to resound through the deserted house. + +Humanity impelled him to rescue the poor wretch, if it was still to be +done. Shuddering, he whipped out his knife, and sawed at the cord +desperately. The cord was stout, and the blade of the knife but small; +an eternity seemed to pass while he sawed in the darkness. Presently +one of the strands gave way. He set his teeth and pressed harder, and +harder yet. Suddenly the rope yielded and the body fell to the ground. +Tournicquot threw himself beside it, tearing open the collar, and using +frantic efforts to restore animation. There was no result. He +persevered, but the body lay perfectly inert. He began to reflect that +it was his duty to inform the police of the discovery, and he asked +himself how he should account for his presence on the scene. Just as he +was considering this, he felt the stir of life. As if by a miracle the +man groaned. + +"Courage, my poor fellow!" panted Tournicquot. "Courage--all is well!" + +The man groaned again; and after an appalling silence, during which +Tournicquot began to tremble for his fate anew, asked feebly, "Where am +I?" + +"You would have hanged yourself," explained Tournicquot. "Thanks to +Heaven, I arrived in time to save your life!" + +In the darkness they could not see each other, but he felt for the +man's hand and pressed it warmly. To his consternation, he received, +for response, a thump in the chest. + +"Morbleu, what an infernal cheek!" croaked the man. "So you have cut me +down? You meddlesome idiot, by what right did you poke your nose into +my affairs, hein?" + +Dismay held Tournicquot dumb. + +"Hein?" wheezed the man; "what concern was it of yours, if you please? +Never in my life before have I met with such a piece of presumption!" + +"My poor friend," stammered Tournicquot, "you do not know what you say +--you are not yourself! By-and-by you will be grateful, you will fall on +your knees and bless me." + +"By-and-by I shall punch you in the eye," returned the man, "just as +soon as I am feeling better! What have you done to my collar, too? I +declare you have played the devil with me!" His annoyance rose. "Who +are you, and what are you doing here, anyhow? You are a trespasser--I +shall give you in charge." + +"Come, come," said Tournicquot, conciliatingly, "if your misfortunes +are more than you can bear, I regret that I was obliged to save you; +but, after all, there is no need to make such a grievance of it--you +can hang yourself another day." + +"And why should I be put to the trouble twice?" grumbled the other. "Do +you figure yourself that it is agreeable to hang? I passed a very bad +time, I can assure you. If you had experienced it, you would not talk +so lightly about 'another day.' The more I think of your impudent +interference, the more it vexes me. And how dark it is! Get up and +light the candle--it gives me the hump here." + +"I have no candle, I have no candle," babbled Tournicquot; "I do not +carry candles in my pocket." + +"There is a bit on the mantelpiece," replied the man angrily; "I saw it +when I came in. Go and feel for it--hunt about! Do not keep me lying +here in the dark--the least you can do is to make me as comfortable as +you can." + +Tournicquot, not a little perturbed by the threat of assault, groped +obediently; but the room appeared to be of the dimensions of a park, +and he arrived at the candle stump only after a prolonged excursion. +The flame revealed to him a man of about his own age, who leant against +the wall regarding him with indignant eyes. Revealed also was the coil +of rope that the comedian had brought for his own use; and the man +pointed to it. + +"What is that? It was not here just now." + +"It belongs to me," admitted Tournicquot, nervously. + +"I see that it belongs to you. Why do you visit an empty house with a +coil of rope, hein? I should like to understand that ... Upon my life, +you were here on the same business as myself! Now if this does not pass +all forbearance! You come to commit suicide, and yet you have the +effrontery to put a stop to mine!" + +"Well," exclaimed Tournicquot, "I obeyed an impulse of pity! It is true +that I came to destroy myself, for I am the most miserable of men; but +I was so much affected by the sight of your sufferings that temporarily +I forgot my own." + +"That is a lie, for I was not suffering--I was not conscious when you +came in. However, you have some pretty moments in front of you, so we +will say no more! When you feel yourself drop, it will be diabolical, I +promise you; the hair stands erect on the head, and each spot of blood +in the veins congeals to a separate icicle! It is true that the drop +itself is swift, but the clutch of the rope, as you kick in the air, is +hardly less atrocious. Do not be encouraged by the delusion that the +matter is instantaneous. Time mocks you, and a second holds the +sensations of a quarter of an hour. What has forced you to it? We need +not stand on ceremony with each other, hein?" + +"I have resolved to die because life is torture," said Tournicquot, on +whom these details had made an unfavourable impression. + +"The same with me! A woman, of course?" + +"Yes," sighed Tournicquot, "a woman!" + +"Is there no other remedy? Cannot you desert her?" + +"Desert her? I pine for her embrace!" + +"Hein?" + +"She will not have anything to do with me." + +"_Comment?_ Then it is love with you?" + +"What else? An eternal passion!" + +"Oh, mon Dieu, I took it for granted you were married! But this is +droll. _You_ would die because you cannot get hold of a woman, and +_I_ because I cannot get rid of one. We should talk, we two. Can +you give me a cigarette?" + +"With pleasure, monsieur," responded Tournicquot, producing a packet. +"I, also, will take one--my last!" + +"If I expressed myself hastily just now," said his companion, +refastening his collar, "I shall apologise--no doubt your interference +was well meant, though I do not pretend to approve it. Let us dismiss +the incident; you have behaved tactlessly, and I, on my side, have +perhaps resented your error with too much warmth. Well, it is finished! +While the candle burns, let us exchange more amicable views. Is my +cravat straight? It astonishes me to hear that love can drive a man to +such despair. I, too, have loved, but never to the length of the rope. +There are plenty of women in Paris--if one has no heart, there is +always another. I am far from proposing to frustrate your project, +holding as I do that a man's suicide is an intimate matter in which +'rescue' is a name given by busybodies to a gross impertinence; but as +you have not begun the job, I will confess that I think you are being +rash." + +"I have considered," replied Tournicquot, "I have considered +attentively. There is no alternative, I assure you." + +"I would make another attempt to persuade the lady--I swear I would +make another attempt! You are not a bad-looking fellow. What is her +objection to you?" + +"It is not that she objects to me--on the contrary. But she is a woman +of high principle, and she has a husband who is devoted to her--she +will not break his heart. It is like that." + +"Young?" + +"No more than thirty." + +"And beautiful?" + +"With a beauty like an angel's! She has a dimple in her right cheek +when she smiles that drives one to distraction." + +"Myself, I have no weakness for dimples; but every man to his taste-- +there is no arguing about these things. What a combination--young, +lovely, virtuous! And I make you a bet the oaf of a husband does not +appreciate her! Is it not always so? Now _I_--but of course I +married foolishly, I married an artiste. If I had my time again I would +choose in preference any sempstress. The artistes are for applause, +for bouquets, for little dinners, but not for marriage." + +"I cannot agree with you," said Tournicquot, with some hauteur, "Your +experience may have been unfortunate, but the theatre contains women +quite as noble as any other sphere. In proof of it, the lady I adore is +an artiste herself!" + +"Really--is it so? Would it be indiscreet to ask her name?" + +"There are things that one does not tell." + +"But as a matter of interest? There is nothing derogatory to her in +what you say--quite the reverse." + +"True! Well, the reason for reticence is removed. She is known as 'La +Belle Lucrèce.'" + +"_Hein?"_ ejaculated the other, jumping. + +"What ails you?" + +"She is my wife!" + +"Your wife? Impossible!" + +"I tell you I am married to her--she is 'madame Béguinet.'" + +"Mon Dieu!" faltered Tournicquot, aghast; "what have I done!" + +"So?... You are her lover?" + +"Never has she encouraged me--recall what I said! There are no grounds +for jealousy--am I not about to die because she spurns me? I swear to +you--" + +"You mistake my emotion--why should I be jealous? Not at all--I am only +amazed. She thinks I am devoted to her? Ho, ho! Not at all! You see my +'devotion' by the fact that I am about to hang myself rather than live +with her. And _you_, you cannot bear to live because you adore +her! Actually, you adore her! Is it not inexplicable? Oh, there is +certainly the finger of Providence in this meeting!... Wait, we must +discuss--we should come to each other's aid!... Give me another +cigarette." + +Some seconds passed while they smoked in silent meditation. + +"Listen," resumed monsieur Béguinet; "in order to clear up this +complication, a perfect candour is required on both sides. Alors, as to +your views, is it that you aspire to marry madame? I do not wish to +appear exigent, but in the position that I occupy you will realise that +it is my duty to make the most favourable arrangements for her that I +can. Now open your heart to me; speak frankly!" + +"It is difficult for me to express myself without restraint to you, +monsieur," said Tournicquot, "because circumstances cause me to regard +you as a grievance. To answer you with all the delicacy possible, I +will say that if I had cut you down five minutes later, life would be a +fairer thing to me." + +"Good," said monsieur Béguinet, "we make progress! Your income? Does it +suffice to support her in the style to which she is accustomed? What +may your occupation be?" + +"I am in madame's own profession--I, too, am an artiste." + +"So much the more congenial! I foresee a joyous union. Come, we go +famously! Your line of business--snakes, ventriloquism, performing- +rabbits, what is it?" + +"My name is 'Tournicquot,'" responded the comedian, with dignity. "All +is said!" + +"A-ah! Is it so? Now I understand why your voice has been puzzling me! +Monsieur Tournicquot, I am enchanted to make your acquaintance. I +declare the matter arranges itself! I shall tell you what we will do. +Hitherto I have had no choice between residing with madame and +committing suicide, because my affairs have not prospered, and--though +my pride has revolted--her salary has been essential for my +maintenance. Now the happy medium jumps to the eyes; for you, for me, +for her the bright sunshine streams! I shall efface myself; I shall go +to a distant spot--say, Monte Carlo--and you shall make me a snug +allowance. Have no misgiving; crown her with blossoms, lead her to the +altar, and rest tranquil--I shall never reappear. Do not figure +yourself that I shall enter like the villain at the Amibigu and menace +the blissful home. Not at all! I myself may even re-marry, who knows? +Indeed, should you offer me an allowance adequate for a family man, I +will undertake to re-marry--I have always inclined towards speculation. +That will shut my mouth, hein? I could threaten nothing, even if I had +a base nature, for I, also, shall have committed bigamy. Suicide, +bigamy, I would commit _anything_ rather than live with Lucrèce!" + +"But madame's consent must be gained," demurred Tournicquot; "you +overlook the fact that madame must consent. It is a fact that I do not +understand why she should have any consideration for you, but if she +continues to harp upon her 'duty,' what then?" + +"Do you not tell me that her only objection to your suit has been her +fear that she would break my heart? What an hallucination! I shall +approach the subject with tact, with the utmost delicacy. I shall +intimate to her that to ensure her happiness I am willing to sacrifice +myself. Should she hesitate, I shall demand to sacrifice myself! Rest +assured that if she regards you with the favour that you believe, your +troubles are at an end--the barrier removes itself, and you join +hands.... The candle is going out! Shall we depart?" + +"I perceive no reason why we should remain; In truth, we might have got +out of it sooner." + +"You are right! a café will be more cheerful. Suppose we take a bottle +of wine together; how does it strike you? If you insist, I will be your +guest; if not--" + +"Ah, monsieur, you will allow me the pleasure," murmured Tournicquot. + +"Well, well," said Beguinet, "you must have your way!... Your rope you +have no use for, hein--we shall leave it?" + +"But certainly! Why should I burden myself?" + +"The occasion has passed, true. Good! Come, my comrade, let us +descend!" + +Who shall read the future? Awhile ago they had been strangers, neither +intending to quit the house alive; now the pair issued from it +jauntily, arm in arm. Both were in high spirits, and by the time the +lamps of a café gave them welcome, and the wine gurgled gaily into the +glasses, they pledged each other with a sentiment no less than +fraternal. + +"How I rejoice that I have met you!" exclaimed Béguinet. "To your +marriage, mon vieux; to your joy! Fill up, again a glass!--there are +plenty of bottles in the cellar. Mon Dieu, you are my preserver--I must +embrace you. Never till now have I felt such affection for a man. This +evening all was black to me; I despaired, my heart was as heavy as a +cannon-ball--and suddenly the world is bright. Roses bloom before my +feet, and the little larks are singing in the sky. I dance, I skip. How +beautiful, how sublime is friendship!--better than riches, than youth, +than the love of woman: riches melt, youth flies, woman snores. But +friendship is--Again a glass! It goes well, this wine. + +"Let us have a lobster! I swear I have an appetite; they make one +peckish, these suicides, n'est-ce pas? I shall not be formal--if you +consider it your treat, you shall pay. A lobster and another bottle! At +your expense, or mine?" + +"Ah, the bill all in one!" declared Tourniequot. + +"Well, well," said Béguinet, "you must have your way! What a happy man +I am! Already I feel twenty years younger. You would not believe what I +have suffered. My agonies would fill a book. Really. By nature I am +domesticated; but my home is impossible--I shudder when I enter it. It +is only in a restaurant that I see a clean table-cloth. Absolutely. I +pig. All Lucrèce thinks about is frivolity." + +"No, no," protested Tournicquot; "to that I cannot agree." + +"What do you know? You 'cannot agree'! You have seen her when she is +laced in her stage costume, when she prinks and prattles, with the +paint, and the powder, and her best corset on. It is I who am 'behind +the scenes,' mon ami, not you. I see her dirty peignoir and her curl +rags. At four o'clock in the afternoon. Every day. You 'cannot agree'!" + +"Curl rags?" faltered Tournicquot. + +"But certainly! I tell you I am of a gentle disposition, I am most +tolerant of women's failings; it says much that I would have hanged +myself rather than remain with a woman. Her untidiness is not all; her +toilette at home revolts my sensibilities, but--well, one cannot have +everything, and her salary is substantial; I have closed my eyes to the +curl rags. However, snakes are more serious." + +"Snakes?" ejaculated Tournicquot. + +"Naturally! The beasts must live, do they not support us? But +'Everything in its place' is my own motto; the motto of my wife--'All +over the place.' Her serpents have shortened my life, word of honour!-- +they wander where they will. I never lay my head beside those curl rags +of hers without anticipating a cobra-decapello under the bolster. It is +not everybody's money. Lucrèce has no objection to them; well, it is +very courageous--very fortunate, since snakes are her profession--but +_I_, I was not brought up to snakes; I am not at my ease in a +Zoölogical Gardens." + +"It is natural." + +"Is it not? I desire to explain myself to you, you understand; are we +not as brothers? Oh, I realise well that when one loves a woman one +always thinks that the faults are the husband's: believe me I have had +much to justify my attitude. Snakes, dirt, furies, what a ménage!" + +"Furies?" gasped Tournicquot. + +"I am an honest man," affirmed Béguinet draining another bumper; "I +shall not say to you 'I have no blemish, I am perfect,' Not at all. +Without doubt, I have occasionally expressed myself to Lucrèce with +more candour than courtesy. Such things happen. But"--he refilled his +glass, and sighed pathetically--"but to every citizen, whatever his +position--whether his affairs may have prospered or not--his wife owes +respect. Hein? She should not throw the ragoút at him. She should not +menace him with snakes." He wept. "My friend, you will admit that it is +not _gentil_ to coerce a husband with deadly reptiles?" + +Tournicquot had turned very pale. He signed to the waiter for the bill, +and when it was discharged, sat regarding his companion with round +eyes, At last, clearing his throat, he said nervously: + +"After all, do you know--now one comes to think it over--I am not sure, +upon my honour, that our arrangement is feasible?" + +"What?" exclaimed Béguinet, with a violent start. "Not feasible? How is +that, pray? Because I have opened my heart to you, do you back out? Oh, +what treachery! Never will I believe you could be capable of it!" + +"However, it is a fact. On consideration, I shall not rob you of her." + +"Base fellow! You take advantage of my confidence. A contract is a +contract!" + +"No," stammered Tournicquot, "I shall be a man and live my love down. +Monsieur, I have the honour to wish you 'Good-night.'" + +"Hé, stop!" cried Béguinet, infuriated. "What then is to become of +_me_? Insolent poltroon--you have even destroyed my rope!" + + + +THE CONSPIRACY FOR CLAUDINE + +"Once," remarked Tricotrin, pitching his pen in the air, "there were +four suitors for the Most Beautiful of her Sex. The first young man was +a musician, and he shut himself in his garret to compose a divine +melody, to be dedicated to her. The second lover was a chemist, who +experimented day and night to discover a unique perfume that she alone +might use. The third, who was a floriculturist, aspired constantly +among his bulbs to create a silver rose, that should immortalise the +lady's name." + +"And the fourth," inquired Pitou, "what did the fourth suitor do?" + +"The fourth suitor waited for her every afternoon in the sunshine, +while the others were at work, and married her with great éclat. The +moral of which is that, instead of cracking my head to make a sonnet to +Claudine, I shall be wise to put on my hat and go to meet her." + +"I rejoice that the dénoûment is arrived at," Pitou returned, "but it +would be even more absorbing if I had previously heard of Claudine." + +"Miserable dullard!" cried the poet; "do you tell me that you have not +previously heard of Claudine? She is the only woman I have ever loved." + +"A--ah," rejoined Pitou; "certainly, I have heard of her a thousand +times--only she has never been called 'Claudine' before." + +"Let us keep to the point," said Tricotrin. "Claudine represents the +devotion of a lifetime. I think seriously of writing a tragedy for her +to appear in." + +"I shall undertake to weep copiously at it if you present me with a +pass," affirmed Pitou. "She is an actress, then, this Claudine? At what +theatre is she blazing--the Montmartre?" + +"How often I find occasion to lament that your imagination is no larger +than the quartier! Claudine is not of Montmartre at all, at all. My +poor friend, have you never heard that there are theatres on the Grand +Boulevard?" + +"Ah, so you betake yourself to haunts of fashion? Now I begin to +understand why you have become so prodigal with the blacking; for some +time I have had the intention of reproaching you with your shoes--our +finances are not equal to such lustre." + +"Ah, when one truly loves, money is no object!" said Tricotrin. +"However, if it is time misspent to write a sonnet to her, it is even +more unprofitable to pass the evening justifying one's shoes." And, +picking up his hat, the poet ran down the stairs, and made his way as +fast as his legs would carry him to the Comédie Moderne. + +He arrived at the stage-door with no more than three minutes to spare, +and disposing himself in a graceful attitude, waited for mademoiselle +Claudine Hilairet to come out. It might have been observed that his +confidence deserted him while he waited, for although it was perfectly +true that he adored her, he had omitted to add that the passion was not +mutual. He was conscious that the lady might resent his presence on the +door-step; and, in fact, when she appeared, she said nothing more +tender than-- + +"Mon Dieu, again you! What do you want?" + +"How can you ask?" sighed the poet. "I came to walk home with you lest +an electric train should knock you down at one of the crossings. What a +magnificent performance you have given this evening! Superb!" + +"Were you in the theatre?" + +"In spirit. My spirit, which no official can exclude, is present every +night, though sordid considerations force me to remain corporally in my +attic. Transported by admiration, I even burst into frantic applause +there. How perfect is the sympathy between our souls!" + +"Listen, my little one," she said. "I am sorry for your relatives, if +you have any--your condition must be a great grief to them. But, all +the same, I cannot have you dangling after me and talking this bosh. +What do you suppose can come of it?" + +"Fame shall come of it," averred the poet, "fame for us both! Do not +figure yourself that I am a dreamer. Not at all! I am practical, a man +of affairs. Are you content with your position in the Comédie Moderne? +No, you are not. You occupy a subordinate position; you play the rôle +of a waiting-maid, which is quite unworthy of your genius, and +understudy the ingénue, who is a portly matron in robust health. The +opportunity to distinguish yourself appears to you as remote as Mars. +Do I romance, or is it true?" + +"It is true," she said. "Well?" + +"Well, I propose to alter all this--I! I have the intention of writing +a great tragedy, and when it is accepted, I shall stipulate that you, +and you alone, shall thrill Paris as my heroine. When the work of my +brain has raised you to the pinnacle for which you were born, when the +theatre echoes with our names, I shall fall at your feet, and you will +murmur, 'Gustave--I love thee!'" + +"Why does not your mother do something?" she asked. "Is there nobody to +place you where you might be cured? A tragedy? Imbecile, I am +comédienne to the finger-tips! What should I do with your tragedy, even +if it were at the Français itself?" + +"You are right," said Tricotrin; "I shall turn out a brilliant comedy +instead. And when the work of my brain has raised you to the pinnacle +for which you were born, when the theatre echoes with our names--" + +She interrupted him by a peal of laughter which disconcerted him hardly +less than her annoyance. + +"It is impossible to be angry with you long," she declared, "you are +too comic. Also, as a friend, I do not object to you violently. Come, I +advise you to be content with what you can have, instead of crying for +the moon!" + +"Well, I am not unwilling to make shift with it in the meantime," +returned Tricotrin; "but friendship is a poor substitute for the +heavens--and we shall see what we shall see. Tell me now, they mean to +revive _La Curieuse_ at the Comédie, I hear--what part in it have +you been assigned?" "Ah," exclaimed mademoiselle Hilairet, "is it not +always the same thing? I dust the same decayed furniture with the same +feather brush, and I say 'Yes,' and 'No,' and 'Here is a letter, +madame.' That is all." + +"I swear it is infamous!" cried the poet. "It amazes me that they fail +to perceive that your gifts are buried. One would suppose that managers +would know better than to condemn a great artiste to perform such +ignominious roles. The critics also! Why do not the critics call +attention to an outrage which continues year by year? It appears to me +that I shall have to use my influence with the Press." And so serious +was the tone in which he made this boast, that the fair Claudine began +to wonder if she had after all underrated the position of her out-at- +elbows gallant. + +"Your influence?" she questioned, with an eager smile. "Have you +influence with the critics, then?" + +"We shall see what we shall see," repeated Tricotrin, significantly. "I +am not unknown in Paris, and I have your cause at heart--I may make a +star of you yet. But while we are on the subject of astronomy, one +question! When my services have transformed you to a star, shall I +still be compelled to cry for the moon?" + +Mademoiselle Hilairet's tones quivered with emotion--as she murmured +how grateful to him she would be, and it was understood, when he took +leave of her, that if he indeed accomplished his design, his suit would +be no longer hopeless. + +The poet pressed her hand ardently, and turned homeward in high +feather; and it was not until he had trudged a mile or so that the +rapture in his soul began to subside under the remembrance that he had +been talking through his hat. + +"In fact," he admitted to Pitou when the garret was reached, "my +imagination took wings unto itself; I am committed to a task beside +which the labours of Hercules were child's play. The question now +arises how this thing, of which I spoke so confidently, is to be +effected. What do you suggest?" + +"I suggest that you allow me to sleep," replied Pitou, "for I shall +feel less hungry then." + +"Your suggestion will not advance us," demurred Tricotrin. "We shall, +on the contrary, examine the situation in all its bearings. Listen! +Claudine is to enact the waiting-maid in _La Curieuse,_ which will +be revived at the Comédie Moderne in a fortnight's time; she will dust +the Empire furniture, and say 'Yes' and 'No' with all the intellect and +animation for which those monosyllables provide an opening. Have you +grasped the synopsis so far? Good! On the strength of this performance, +it has to be stated by the foremost dramatic critic in Paris that she +is an actress of genius. Now, how is it to be done? How shall we induce +Labaregue to write of her with an outburst of enthusiasm in _La +Voix_?" + +"Labaregue?" faltered Pitou. "I declare the audacity of your notion +wakes me up!" + +"Capital," said Tricotrin, "we are making progress already! Yes, we +must have Labaregue--it has never been my custom to do things by +halves. Dramatically, of course, I should hold a compromising paper of +Labaregue's. I should say, 'Monsieur, the price of this document is an +act of justice to mademoiselle Claudine Hilairet. It is agreed? Good! +Sit down--you will write from my dictation!'" + +"However--" said Pitou. + +"However--I anticipate your objection--I do not hold such a paper. +Therefore, that scene is cut. Well, let us find another! Where is your +fertility of resource? Mon Dieu! why should I speak to him at all?" + +"I do not figure myself that you will speak to him, you will never get +the chance." + +"Precisely my own suspicion. What follows? Instead of wasting my time +seeking an interview which would not be granted--" + +"And which would lead to nothing even if it were granted!" + +"And which would lead to nothing even if it were granted, as you point +out; instead of doing this, it is evident that I must write Labaregue's +criticism myself!" + +"Hein?" ejaculated Pitou, sitting up in bed. + +"I confess that I do not perceive yet how it is to be managed, but +obviously it is the only course. _I_ must write what is to be +said, and _La Voix_ must believe that it has been written by +Labaregue. Come, we are getting on famously--we have now decided what +we are to avoid!" + +"By D'Artagnan, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis," cried Pitou, "this will be +the doughtiest adventure in which we have engaged!" + +"You are right, it is an adventure worthy of our steel ... pens! We +shall enlighten the public, crown an artiste, and win her heart by way +of reward--that is to say, _I_ shall win her heart by way of +reward. What your own share of the booty will be I do not recognize, +but I promise you, at least, a generous half of the dangers." + +"My comrade," murmured Pitou; "ever loyal! But do you not think that +_La Voix_ will smell a rat? What about the handwriting?" + +"It is a weak point which had already presented itself to me. Could I +have constructed the situation to my liking, Labaregue would have the +custom to type-write his notices; however, as he is so inconsiderate as +to knock them off in the Café de l'Europe, he has not that custom, and +we must adapt ourselves to the circumstances that exist. The +probability is that a criticism delivered by the accredited messenger, +and signed with the familiar 'J.L.' will be passed without question; +the difference in the handwriting may be attributed to an amanuensis. +When the great man writes his next notice, I shall make it my business +to be taking a bock in the Café de l'Europe, in order that I may +observe closely what happens. There is to be a répétition générale at +the Vaudeville on Monday night--on Monday night, therefore, I hope to +advise you of our plan of campaign. Now do not speak to me any more--I +am about to compose a eulogy on Claudine, for which Labaregue will, in +due course, receive the credit." + +The poet fell asleep at last, murmuring dithyrambic phrases; and if you +suppose that in the soberness of daylight he renounced his harebrained +project, it is certain that you have never lived with Tricotrin in +Montmartre. + +No, indeed, he did not renounce it. On Monday night--or rather in the +small hours of Tuesday morning--he awoke Pitou with enthusiasm. + +"Mon vieux," he exclaimed, "the evening has been well spent! I have +observed, and I have reflected. When he quitted the Vaudeville, +Labaregue entered the Café de l'Europe, seated himself at his favourite +table, and wrote without cessation for half an hour. When his critique +was finished, he placed it in an envelope, and commanded his supper. +All this time I, sipping a bock leisurely, accorded to his actions a +scrutiny worthy of the secret police. Presently a lad from the office +of _La Voix_ appeared; he approached Labaregue, received the +envelope, and departed. At this point, my bock was finished; I paid for +it and sauntered out, keeping the boy well in view. His route to the +office lay through a dozen streets which were all deserted at so late +an hour; but I remarked one that was even more forbidding than the +rest--a mere alley that seemed positively to have been designed for our +purpose. Our course is clear--we shall attack him in the rue des +Cendres." + +"Really?" inquired Pitou, somewhat startled. + +"But really! We will not shed his blood; we will make him turn out his +pockets, and then, disgusted by the smallness of the swag, toss it back +to him with a flip on the ear. Needless to say that when he escapes, he +will be the bearer of _my_ criticism, not of Labaregue's. He will +have been too frightened to remark the exchange." + +"It is not bad, your plan." + +"It is an inspiration. But to render it absolutely safe, we must have +an accomplice." + +"Why, is he so powerful, your boy?" + +"No, mon ami, the boy is not so powerful, but the alley has two ends--I +do not desire to be arrested while I am giving a lifelike +representation of an apache. I think we will admit Lajeunie to our +scheme--as a novelist he should appreciate the situation. If Lajeunie +keeps guard at one end of the alley, while you stand at the other, I +can do the business without risk of being interrupted and removed to +gaol." + +"It is true. As a danger signal, I shall whistle the first bars of my +Fugue." + +"Good! And we will arrange a signal with Lajeunie also. Mon Dieu! will +not Claudine be amazed next day? I shall not breathe a word to her in +the meantime; I shall let her open _La Voix_ without expectation; +and then--ah, what joy will be hers! 'The success of the evening was +made by the actress who took the role of the maidservant, and who had +perhaps six words to utter. But with what vivacity, with what esprit +were they delivered! Every gesture, every sparkle of the eyes, +betokened the comedienne. For myself, I ceased to regard the fatuous +ingénue, I forgot the presence of the famous leading lady; I watched +absorbed the facial play of this maidservant, whose brains and beauty, +I predict, will speedily bring Paris to her feet'!" + +"Is that what you mean to write?" + +"I shall improve upon it. I am constantly improving--that is why the +notice is still unfinished. It hampers me that I must compose in the +strain of Labaregue himself, instead of allowing my eloquence to soar. +By the way, we had better speak to Lajeunie on the subject soon, lest +he should pretend that he has another engagement for that night; he is +a good boy, Lajeunie, but he always pretends that he has engagements in +fashionable circles." + +The pair went to him the following day, and when they had climbed to +his garret, found the young literary man in bed. + +"It shocks me," said Pitou, "to perceive that you rise so late, +Lajeunie; why are you not dashing off chapters of a romance?" + +"Mon Dieu!" replied Lajeunie, "I was making studies among the beau +monde until a late hour last night at a reception; and, to complete my +fatigue, it was impossible to get a cab when I left." + +"Naturally; it happens to everybody when he lacks a cab-fare," said +Tricotrin. "Now tell me, have you any invitation from a duchess for +next Thursday evening?" + +"Thursday, Thursday?" repeated Lajeunie thoughtfully. "No, I believe +that I am free for Thursday." + +"Now, that is fortunate!" exclaimed Tricotrin. "Well, we want you to +join us on that evening, my friend." + +"Indeed, we should be most disappointed if you could not," put in +Pitou. + +"Certainly; I shall have much pleasure," said Lajeunie. "Is it a +supper?" + +"No," said Tricotrin, "it is a robbery. I shall explain. Doubtless you +know the name of 'mademoiselle Claudine Hilairet'?" + +"I have never heard it in my life. Is she in Society?" + +"Society? She is in the Comédie Moderne. She is a great actress, but-- +like us all--unrecognised." + +"My heart bleeds for her. Another comrade!" + +"I was sure I could depend upon your sympathy. Well, on Thursday night +they will revive _La Curieuse_ at the Comédie, and I myself +propose to write Labaregue's critique of the performance. Do you +tumble?" + +"It is a gallant action. Yes, I grasp the climax, but at present I do +not perceive how the plot is to be constructed." + +"Labaregue's notices are dispatched by messenger," began Pitou. + +"From the Café de l'Europe," added Tricotrin. + +"So much I know," said Lajeunie. + +"I shall attack the messenger, and make a slight exchange of +manuscripts," Tricotrin went on. + +"A blunder!" proclaimed Lajeunie; "you show a lack of invention. Now be +guided by me, because I am a novelist and I understand these things. +The messenger is an escaped convict, and you say to him, 'I know your +secret. You do my bidding, or you go back to the galleys; I shall give +you three minutes to decide!' You stand before him, stern, dominant, +inexorable--your watch in your hand." + +"It is at the pawn-shop." + +"Well, well, of course it is; since when have you joined the realists? +Somebody else's watch--or a clock. Are there no clocks in Paris? You +say, 'I shall give you until the clock strikes the hour.' That is even +more literary--you obtain the solemn note of the clock to mark the +crisis." + +"But there is no convict," demurred Tricotrin; "there are clocks, but +there is no convict." + +"No convict? The messenger is not a convict?" + +"Not at all--he is an apple-cheeked boy." + +"Oh, it is a rotten plot," said Lajeunie; "I shall not collaborate in +it!" + +"Consider!" cried Tricotrin; "do not throw away the chance of a +lifetime, think what I offer you--you shall hang about the end of a +dark alley, and whistle if anybody comes. How literary again is that! +You may develop it into a novel that will make you celebrated. Pitou +will be at the other end. I and the apple-cheeked boy who is to die-- +that is to say, to be duped--will occupy the centre of the stage--I +mean the middle of the alley. And on the morrow, when all Paris rings +with the fame of Claudine Hilairet, I, who adore her, shall have won +her heart!" + +"Humph," said Lajeunie. "Well, since the synopsis has a happy ending, I +consent. But I make one condition--I must wear a crêpe mask. Without a +crêpe mask I perceive no thrill in my rôle." + +"Madness!" objected Pitou. "Now listen to _me_--I am serious-minded, +and do not commit follies, like you fellows. Crêpe masks are not being +worn this season. Believe me, if you loiter at a street corner with a +crêpe mask on, some passer-by will regard you, he may even wonder what +you are doing there. It might ruin the whole job." + +"Pitou is right," announced Tricotrin, after profound consideration. + +"Well, then," said Lajeunie, "_you_ must wear a crêpe mask! Put it +on when you attack the boy. I have always had a passion for crêpe +masks, and this is the first opportunity that I find to gratify it. I +insist that somebody wears a crêpe mask, or I wash my hands of the +conspiracy." + +"Agreed! In the alley it will do no harm; indeed it will prevent the +boy identifying me. Good, on Thursday night then! In the meantime we +shall rehearse the crime assiduously, and you and Pitou can practise +your whistles." + +With what diligence did the poet write each day now! How lovingly he +selected his superlatives! Never in the history of the Press had such +ardent care been lavished on a criticism--truly it was not until +Thursday afternoon that he was satisfied that he could do no more. He +put the pages in his pocket, and, too impatient even to be hungry, +roamed about the quartier, reciting to himself the most hyperbolic of +his periods. + +And dusk gathered over Paris, and the lights sprang out, and the tense +hours crept away. + +It was precisely half-past eleven when the three conspirators arrived +at the doors of the Comédie Moderne, and lingered near by until the +audience poured forth. Labaregue was among the first to appear. He +paused on the steps to take a cigarette, and stepped briskly into the +noise and glitter of the Boulevard. The young men followed, exchanging +feverish glances. Soon the glow of the Café de l'Europe was visible. +The critic entered, made a sign to a waiter, and seated himself gravely +at a table. + +Many persons gazed at him with interest. To those who did not know, +habitués whispered, "There is Labaregue--see, he comes to write his +criticism on the revival of _La Curieuse_!" Labaregue affected +unconsciousness of all this, but secretly he lapped it up. Occasionally +he passed his hand across his brow with a gesture profoundly +intellectual. + +Few there remarked that at brief intervals three shabby young men +strolled in, who betrayed no knowledge of one another, and merely +called for bocks. None suspected that these humble customers plotted to +consign the celebrity's criticism to the flames. + +Without a sign of recognition, taciturn and impassive, the three young +men waited, their eyes bent upon the critic's movements. + +By-and-by Labaregue thrust his "copy" into an envelope that was +provided. Some moments afterwards one of the young men asked another +waiter for the materials to write a letter. The paper he crumpled in +his pocket; in the envelope he placed the forged critique. + +A quarter of an hour passed. Then a youth of about sixteen hurried in +and made his way to Labaregue's table. At this instant Lajeunie rose +and left. As the youth received the "copy," Tricotrin also sauntered +out. When the youth again reached the door, it was just swinging behind +Pitou. + +The conspirators were now in the right order--Lajeunie pressing +forward, Tricotrin keeping pace with the boy, Pitou a few yards in the +rear. + +The boy proceeded swiftly. It was late, and even the Boulevard showed +few pedestrians now; in the side streets the quietude was unbroken. +Tricotrin whipped on his mask at the opening of the passage. When the +messenger was half-way through it, the attack was made suddenly, with +determination. + +"Fat one," exclaimed the poet, "I starve--give me five francs!" + +"_Comment?_" stammered the youth, jumping; "I haven't five francs, +I!" + +"Give me all you have--empty your pockets, let me see! If you obey, I +shall not harm you; if you resist, you are a dead boy!" + +The youth produced, with trepidation, a sou, half a cigarette, a piece +of string, a murderous clasp knife, a young lady's photograph, and +Labaregue's notice. The next moment the exchange of manuscripts had +been deftly accomplished. + +"Devil take your rubbish," cried the apache; "I want none of it--there! +Be off, or I shall shoot you for wasting my time." + +The whole affair had occupied less than a minute; and the three +adventurers skipped to Montmartre rejoicing. + +And how glorious was their jubilation in the hour when they opened +_La Voix_ and read Tricotrin's pronouncement over the initials +"J.L."! There it was, printed word for word--the leading lady was +dismissed with a line, the ingénue received a sneer, and for the rest, +the column was a panegyric of the waiting-maid! The triumph of the +waiting-maid was unprecedented and supreme. Certainly, when Labaregue +saw the paper, he flung round to the office furious. + +But _La Voix_ did not desire people to know that it had been taken +in; so the matter was hushed up, and Labaregue went about pretending +that he actually thought all those fine things of the waiting-maid. + +The only misfortune was that when Tricotrin called victoriously upon +Claudine, to clasp her in his arms, he found her in hysterics on the +sofa--and it transpired that she had not represented the waiting-maid +after all. On the contrary, she had at the last moment been promoted to +the part of the ingénue, while the waiting-maid had been played by a +little actress whom she much disliked. + +"It is cruel, it is monstrous, it is heartrending!" gasped Tricotrin, +when he grasped the enormity of his failure; "but, light of my life, +why should you blame _me_ for this villainy of Labaregue's?" + +"I do not know," she said; "however, you bore me, you and your +'influence with the Press.' Get out!" + + + +THE DOLL IN THE PINK SILK DRESS + +How can I write the fourth Act with this ridiculous thing posed among +my papers? What thing? It is a doll in a pink silk dress--an elaborate +doll that walks, and talks, and warbles snatches from the operas. A +terrible lot it cost! Why does an old dramatist keep a doll on his +study table? I do not keep it there. It came in a box from the +Boulevard an hour ago, and I took it from its wrappings to admire its +accomplishments again--and ever since it has been reminding me that +women are strange beings. + +Yes, women are strange, and this toy sets me thinking of one woman in +particular: that woman who sued, supplicated for my help, and then, +when she had all my interest--Confound the doll; here is the incident, +just as it happened! + +It happened when all Paris flocked to see my plays and "Paul de +Varenne" was a name to conjure with. Fashions change. To-day I am a +little out of the running, perhaps; younger men have shot forward. In +those days I was still supreme, I was master of the Stage. + +Listen! It was a spring morning, and I was lolling at my study window, +scenting the lilac in the air. Maximin, my secretary, came in and said: + +"Mademoiselle Jeanne Laurent asks if she can see you, monsieur." + +"Who is mademoiselle Jeanne Laurent?" I inquired. + +"She is an actress begging for an engagement, monsieur." + +"I regret that I am exceedingly busy. Tell her to write." + +"The lady has already written a thousand times," he mentioned, going. +"'Jeanne Laurent' has been one of the most constant contributors to our +waste-paper basket." + +"Then tell her that I regret I can do nothing for her. Mon Dieu! is it +imagined that I have no other occupation than to interview nonentities? +By the way, how is it you have bothered me about her, why this unusual +embassy? I suppose she is pretty, hein?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"And young?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +I wavered. Let us say my sympathy was stirred. But perhaps the lilac +was responsible--lilac and a pretty girl seem to me a natural +combination, like coffee and a cigarette. "Send her in!" I said. + +I sat at the table and picked up a pen. + +"Monsieur de Varenne--" She paused nervously on the threshold. + +Maximin was a fool, she was not "pretty"; she was either plain, or +beautiful. To my mind, she had beauty, and if she hadn't been an +actress come to pester me for a part I should have foreseen a very +pleasant quarter of an hour. "I can spare you only a moment, +mademoiselle," I said, ruffling blank paper. + +"It is most kind of you to spare me that." + +I liked her voice too. "Be seated," I said more graciously. + +"Monsieur, I have come to implore you to do something for me. I am +breaking my heart in the profession for want of a helping hand. Will +you be generous and give me a chance?" + +"My dear mademoiselle--er--Laurent," I said, "I sympathise with your +difficulties, and I thoroughly understand them, but I have no +engagement to offer you--I am not a manager." + +She smiled bitterly. "You are de Varenne--a word from you would 'make' +me!" + +I was wondering what her age was. About eight-and-twenty, I thought, +but alternately she looked much younger and much older. + +"You exaggerate my influence--like every other artist that I consent to +see. Hundreds have sat in that chair and cried that I could 'make' +them. It is all bosh. Be reasonable! I cannot 'make' anybody." + +"You could cast me for a part in Paris. You are 'not a manager,' but +any manager will engage a woman that you recommend. Oh, I know that +hundreds appeal to you, I know that I am only one of a crowd; but, +monsieur, think what it means to me! Without help, I shall go on +knocking at the stage doors of Paris and never get inside; I shall go +on writing to the Paris managers and never get an answer. Without help +I shall go on eating my heart out in the provinces till I am old and +tired and done for!" + +Her earnestness touched me. I had heard the same tale so often that I +was sick of hearing it, but this woman's earnestness touched me. If I +had had a small part vacant, I would have tried her in it. + +"Again," I said, "as a dramatist I fully understand the difficulties of +an actress's career; but you, as an actress, do not understand a +dramatist's. There is no piece of mine going into rehearsal now, +therefore I have no opening for you, myself; and it is impossible for +me to write to a manager or a brother author, advising him to +entrust a part, even the humblest, to a lady of whose capabilities I +know nothing." + +"I am not applying for a humble part," she answered quietly. + +"Hein?" + +"My line is lead." + +I stared at her pale face, speechless; the audacity of the reply took +my breath away. + +"You are mad," I said, rising. + +"I sound so to you, monsieur?" + +"Stark, staring mad. You bewail that you are at the foot of the ladder, +and at the same instant you stipulate that I shall lift you at a bound +to the top. Either you are a lunatic, or you are an amateur." + +She, too, rose--resigned to her dismissal, it seemed. Then, suddenly, +with a gesture that was a veritable abandonment of despair, she +laughed. + +"That's it, I am an amateur!" she rejoined passionately. "I will tell +you the kind of 'amateur' I am, monsieur de Varenne! I was learning my +business in a fit-up when I was six years old--yes, I was playing parts +on the road when happier children were playing games in nurseries. I +was thrust on for lead when I was a gawk of fifteen, and had to wrestle +with half a dozen roles in a week, and was beaten if I failed to make +my points. I have supered to stars, not to earn the few francs I got +by it, for by that time the fit-ups paid me better, but that I might +observe, and improve my method. I have waited in the rain, for hours, +at the doors of the milliners and modistes, that I might note how great +ladies stepped from their carriages and spoke to their footmen--and when +I snatched a lesson from their aristocratic tones I was in heaven, though +my feet ached and the rain soaked my wretched clothes. I have played good +women and bad women, beggars and queens, ingénues and hags. I was born +and bred on the stage, have suffered and starved on it. It is my life and +my destiny." She sobbed. "An 'amateur'!" + +I could not let her go like that. She interested me strongly; somehow I +believed in her. I strode to and fro, considering. + +"Sit down again," I said. "I will do this for you: I will go to the +country to see your performance. When is your next show?" + +"I have nothing in view." + +"Bigre! Well, the next time you are playing, write to me." + +"You will have forgotten all about me," she urged feverishly, "or your +interest will have faded, or Fate will prevent your coming." + +"Why do you say so?" + +"Something tells me. You will help me now, or you will never help me-- +my chance is to-day! Monsieur, I entreat you--" + +"To-day I can do nothing at all, because I have not seen you act." + +"I could recite to you." + +"Zut!" + +"I could rehearse on trial." + +"And if you made a mess of it? A nice fool I should look, after +fighting to get you in!" + +A servant interrupted us to tell me that my old friend de Lavardens was +downstairs. And now I did a foolish thing. When I intimated to +mademoiselle Jeanne Laurent that our interview must conclude, she +begged so hard to be allowed to speak to me again after my visitor +went, that I consented to her waiting. Why? I had already said all that +I had to say, and infinitely more than I had contemplated. Perhaps she +impressed me more powerfully than I realised; perhaps it was sheer +compassion, for she had an invincible instinct that if I sent her away +at this juncture, she would never hear from me any more. I had her +shown into the next room, and received General de Lavardens in the +study. + +Since his retirement from the Army, de Lavardens had lived in his +chateau at St. Wandrille, in the neighbourhood of Caudebec-en-Caux, and +we had met infrequently of late. But we had been at college together; I +had entered on my military service in the same regiment as he; and we +had once been comrades. I was glad to see him. + +"How are you, my dear fellow? I didn't know you were in Paris." + +"I have been here twenty-four hours," he said. "I have looked you up at +the first opportunity. Now am I a nuisance? Be frank! I told the +servant that if you were at work you weren't to be disturbed. Don't +humbug about it; if I am in the way, say so!" + +"You are not in the way a bit," I declared. "Put your hat and cane +down. What's the news? How is Georges?" + +"Georges" was Captain de Lavardens, his son, a young man with good +looks, and brains, an officer for whom people predicted a brilliant +future. + +"Georges is all right," he said hesitatingly. "He is dining with me +to-night. I want you to come, too, if you can. Are you free?" + +"To-night? Yes, certainly; I shall be delighted." + +"That was one of the reasons I came round--to ask you to join us." He +glanced towards the table again. "Are you sure you are not in a hurry +to get back to that?" + +"Have a cigar, and don't be a fool. What have you got to say for +yourself? Why are you on the spree here?" + +"I came up to see Georges," he said. "As a matter of fact, my dear +chap, I am devilish worried." + +"Not about Georges?" I asked, surprised. + +He grunted. "About Georges." + +"Really? I'm very sorry." + +"Yes. I wanted to talk to you about it. You may be able to give me a +tip. Georges--the boy I hoped so much for"--his gruff voice quivered-- +"is infatuated with an actress." + +"Georges?" + +"What do you say to that?" + +"Are you certain it is true?" + +"True? He makes no secret of it. That isn't all. The idiot wants to +marry her!" + +"Georges wants to marry an actress?" + +"Voilà!" + +"My dear old friend!" I stammered. + +"Isn't it amazing? One thinks one knows the character of one's own son, +hein? And then, suddenly, a boy--a boy? A man! Georges will soon be +thirty--a man one is proud of, who is distinguishing himself in his +profession, he loses his head about some creature of the theatre and +proposes to mar his whole career." + +"As for that, it might not mar it," I said. + +"We are not in England, in France gentlemen do not choose their wives +from the stage! I can speak freely to you; you move among these people +because your writing has taken you among them, but you are not of their +breed," + +"Have you reasoned with him?" + +"Reasoned? Yes." + +"What did he say?" + +"Prepare to be amused. He said that 'unfortunately, the lady did not +love him'!" + +"What? Then there is no danger?" + +"Do you mean to say that it takes you in? You may be sure her +'reluctance' is policy, she thinks it wise to disguise her eagerness to +hook him. He told me plainly that he would not rest till he had won +her. It is a nice position! The honour of the family is safe only till +this adventuress consents, _consents_ to accept his hand! What can +I do? I can retard the marriage by refusing my permission, but I cannot +prevent it, if he summons me.... Of course, if I could arrange matters +with her, I would do it like a shot--at any price!" + +"Who is she?" + +"A nobody; he tells me she is quite obscure, I don't suppose you have +ever heard of her. But I thought you might make inquiries for me, that +you might ascertain whether she is the sort of woman we could settle +with?" + +"I will do all I can, you may depend. Where is she--in Paris?" + +"Yes, just now." + +"What's her name?" + +"Jeanne Laurent." + +My mouth fell open: "Hein?" + +"Do you know her?" + +"She is there!" + +"What?" + +"In the next room. She just called on business." + +"Mon Dieu! That's queer!" + +"It's lucky. It was the first time I had ever met her." + +"What's she like?" + +"Have you never seen her? You shall do so in a minute. She came to beg +me to advance her professionally, she wants my help. This ought to save +you some money, my friend. We'll have her in! I shall tell her who you +are." + +"How shall I talk to her?" + +"Leave it to me." + +I crossed the landing, and opened the salon door. The room was littered +with the illustrated journals, but she was not diverting herself with +any of them--she was sitting before a copy of _La Joconde_, +striving to reproduce on her own face the enigma of the smile: I had +discovered an actress who never missed an opportunity. + +"Please come here." + +She followed me back, and my friend stood scowling at her. + +"This gentleman is General de Lavardens," I said. + +She bowed--slightly, perfectly. That bow acknowledged de Lavardens' +presence, and rebuked the manner of my introduction, with all the +dignity of the patricians whom she had studied in the rain. + +"Mademoiselle, when my servant announced that the General was +downstairs you heard the name. You did not tell me that you knew his +son." + +"Dame, non, monsieur!" she murmured. + +"And when you implored me to assist you, you did not tell me that you +aspired to a marriage that would compel you to leave the stage. I never +waste my influence. Good-morning!" + +"I do not aspire to the marriage," she faltered, pale as death. + +"Rubbish, I know all about it. Of course, it is your aim to marry him +sooner or later, and of course he will make it a condition that you +cease to act. Well, I have no time to help a woman who is playing the +fool! That's all about it. I needn't detain you." + +"I have refused to marry him," she gasped. "On my honour! You can ask +him. It is a fact." + +"But you see him still," broke in de Lavardens wrathfully; "he is with +you every day! That is a fact, too, isn't it? If your refusal is +sincere, why are you not consistent? why do you want him at your side?" + +"Because, monsieur," she answered, "I am weak enough to miss him when +he goes." + +"Ah! you admit it. You profess to be in love with him?" + +"No, monsieur," she dissented thoughtfully, "I am not in love with him +--and my refusal has been quite sincere, incredible as it may seem that +a woman like myself rejects a man like him. I could never make a +marriage that would mean death to my ambition. I could not sacrifice my +art--the stage is too dear to me for that. So it is evident that I am +not in love with him, for when a woman loves, the man is dearer to her +than all else." + +De Lavardens grunted. I knew his grunts: there was some apology in this +one. + +"The position is not fair to my son," he demurred. "You show good sense +in what you say--you are an artist, you are quite right to devote +yourself to your career; but you reject and encourage him at the same +time. If he married you it would be disastrous--to you, and to him; you +would ruin his life, and spoil your own. Enfin, give him a chance to +forget you! Send him away. What do you want to keep seeing him for?" + +She sighed. "It is wrong of me, I own!" + +"It is highly unnatural," said I. + +"No, monsieur; it is far from being unnatural, and I will tell you why +--he is the only man I have ever known, in all my vagabond life, who +realised that a struggling actress might have the soul of a +gentlewoman. Before I met him, I had never heard a man speak to me with +courtesy, excepting on the stage; I had never known a man to take my +hand respectfully when he was not performing behind the footlights.... +I met him first in the country; I was playing the Queen in _Ruy +Blas_, and the manager brought him to me in the wings. In everything +he said and did he was different from others. We were friends for +months before he told me that he loved me. His friendship has been the +gift of God, to brighten my miserable lot. Never to see him any more +would be awful to me!" + +I perceived that if she was not in love with him she was so dangerously +near to it that a trifle might turn the scale. De Lavardens had the +same thought. His glance at me was apprehensive. + +"However, you acknowledge that you are behaving badly!" I exclaimed. +"It is all right for _you_, friendship is enough for you, and you +pursue your career. But for _him_, it is different; he seeks your +love, and he neglects his duties. For him to spend his life sighing for +you would be monstrous, and for him to marry you would be fatal. If you +like him so much, be just to him, set him free! Tell him that he is not +to visit you any more." + +"He does not visit me; he has never been inside my lodging." + +"Well, that he is not to write there--that there are to be no more +dinners, drives, bouquets!" + +"And I do not let him squander money on me. I am not that kind of +woman." + +"We do not accuse you, mademoiselle. On the contrary, we appeal to your +good heart. Be considerate, be brave! Say good-bye to him!" + +"You are asking me to suffer cruelly," she moaned. + +"It is for your friend's benefit. Also, the more you suffer, the better +you will act. Every actress should suffer." + +"Monsieur, I have served my apprenticeship to pain." + +"There are other things than friendship--you have your prospects to +think about." + +"What prospects?" she flashed back. + +"Well, I cannot speak definitely to-day, as you know; but you would not +find me unappreciative." + +De Lavardens grunted again--emotionally, this time. I checked him with +a frown. + +"What use would it be for me to refuse to see him?" she objected +chokily. "When I am playing anywhere, _he_ can always see +_me_. I cannot kill his love by denying myself his companionship. +Besides, he would not accept the dismissal. One night, when I left the +theatre, I should find him waiting there again." + +This was unpalatably true. + +"If a clever woman desires to dismiss a man, she can dismiss him +thoroughly, especially a clever actress," I said. "You could talk to +him in such a fashion that he would have no wish to meet you again. +Such things have been done." + +"What? You want me to teach him to despise me?" + +"Much better if he did!" + +"To turn his esteem to scorn, hein?" + +"It would be a generous action." + +"To falsify and degrade myself?" + +"For your hero's good!" + +"I will not do it!" she flamed. "You demand too much. What have +_you_ done for _me_ that I should sacrifice myself to please +you? I entreat your help, and you give me empty phrases; I cry that I +despair this morning, and you answer that by-and-by, some time, in the +vague future, you will remember that I exist. I shall not do this for +you--I keep my friend!" + +"Your rhetoric has no weight with me," I said. "I do not pretend that I +have a claim on you. In such circumstances a noble woman would take the +course I suggest, not for my sake, not for the sake of General de +Lavardens, but for the sake of the man himself. You will 'keep your +friend'? Bien! But you will do so because you are indifferent to his +welfare and too selfish to release him." + +She covered her face. There were tears on it. The General and I +exchanged glances again. + +I went on: + +"You charge me with giving you only empty phrases. That is undeserved. +I said all that was possible, and I meant what I said. I could not +pledge myself to put you into anything without knowing what you are +capable of doing; but, if you retain my good will, I repeat that I will +attend your next performance." + +"And then?" she queried. + +"Then--if I think well of it--you shall have a good part." + +"Lead?" + +"Bigre! I cannot say that. A good part, in Paris!" + +"It is a promise?" + +"Emphatically--if I think well of your performance." + +"Of my next--the very next part I play?" + +"Of the very next part you play." + +She paused, reflecting. The pause lasted so long that it began to seem +to my suspense as if none of us would ever speak again. I took a +cigarette, and offered the box, in silence, to de Lavardens. He shook +his head without turning it to me, his gaze was riveted on the woman. + +"All right," she groaned, "I agree!" + +"Ah! good girl!" + +"All you require is that Captain de Lavardens shall no longer seek me +for his wife. Is that it?" + +"That's it." + +"Very well. I know what would repel him--it shall be done to-night. +But you, gentlemen, will have to make the opportunity for me; you will +have to bring him to my place--both of you. You can find some reason +for proposing it? Tonight at nine o'clock. He knows the address." + +She moved weakly to the door. + +De Lavardens took three strides and grasped her hands. "Mademoiselle," +he stuttered, "I have no words to speak my gratitude. I am a father, +and I love my son, but--mon Dieu! if--if things had been different, +upon my soul, I should have been proud to call you my daughter-in-law!" + +Oh, how she could bow, that woman--the eloquence of her ill-fed form! + +"Au revoir, gentlemen," she said. + +Phew! We dropped into chairs. + +"Paul," he grunted at me, "we have been a pair of brutes!" + +"I know it. But you feel much relieved?" + +"I feel another man. What is she going to say to him? I wish it were +over. _I_ should find it devilish difficult to propose going to +see her, you know! It will have to be _your_ suggestion. And +supposing he won't take us?" + +"He will take us right enough," I declared, "and rejoice at the chance. +Hourra! hourra! hourra!" I sprang up and clapped him on the back. "My +friend, if that woman had thrown herself away on Georges it might have +been a national calamity." + +"What?" he roared, purpling. + +"Oh, no slight to Georges! I think--I think--I am afraid to say what I +think, I am afraid to think it!" I paced the room, struggling to +control myself. "Only, once in a blue moon, Jules, there is a woman +born of the People with a gift that is a blessing, and a curse--and her +genius makes an epoch, and her name makes theatrical history. And if a +lover of the stage like me discovers such a woman, you stodgy old +soldier, and blazes her genius in his work, he feels like Cheops, +Chephrenus, and Asychis rearing the Pyramids for immortality!" + +My excitement startled him. "You believe she is a genius? Really?" + +"I dare not believe," I panted. "I refuse to let myself believe, for I +have never seen blue moons. But--but--I wonder!" + +We dined at Voisin's. It had been arranged that he should make some +allusion to the courtship; and I said to Georges, "I hope you don't +mind your father having mentioned the subject to me--we are old +friends, you know?" The topic was led up to very easily. It was +apparent that Georges thought the world of her. I admired the way he +spoke. It was quiet and earnest. As I feigned partial sympathy with his +matrimonial hopes, I own that I felt a Judas. + +"I, too, am an artist," I said. "To me social distinctions naturally +seem somewhat less important than they do to your father." + +"Indeed, monsieur," he answered gravely, "mademoiselle Laurent is +worthy of homage. If she were willing to accept me, every man who knew +her character would think me fortunate. Her education has not qualified +her to debate with professors, and she has no knowledge of society +small-talk, but she is intelligent, and refined, and good." + +It was child's play. A sudden notion, over the liqueurs: "Take us to +see her! Come along, mon ami!" Astonishment (amateurish); persuasion +(masterly); Georges's diffidence to intrude, but his obvious delight at +the thought of the favourable impression she would create. He had +"never called there yet--it would be very unconventional at such an +hour?" "Zut, among artists! My card will be a passport, I assure you." +Poor fellow, the trap made short work of him! At half-past eight we +were all rattling to the left bank in a cab. + +The cab stopped before a dilapidated house in an unsavoury street. I +knew that the aspect of her home went to his heart. "Mademoiselle +Laurent has won no prize in her profession," he observed, "and she is +an honest girl." Well said! + +In the dim passage a neglected child directed us to the fourth floor. +On the fourth floor a slattern, who replied at last to our persistent +tapping, told us shortly that mademoiselle was out. I realised that we +had committed the error of being before our time; and the woman, +evidently unprepared for our visit, did not suggest our going in. It +seemed bad stage-management. + +"Will it be long before mademoiselle is back?" I inquired, annoyed. + +"Mais non." + +"We will wait," I said, and we were admitted sulkily to a room, of +which the conspicuous features were a malodorous lamp, and a brandy- +bottle. I had taken the old drab for a landlady rather the worse for +liquor, but, more amiably, she remarked now: "It's a pity Jeanne didn't +know you were coming." + +At the familiar "Jeanne" I saw Georges start. + +"Mademoiselle is a friend of yours?" I asked, dismayed. + +"A friend? She is my daughter." She sat down. + +By design the girl was out! The thought flashed on me. It flashed on me +that she had plotted for her lover to learn what a mother-in-law he +would have. The revelation must appal him. I stole a look--his face was +blanched. The General drew a deep breath, and nodded to himself. The +nod said plainly, "He is saved. Thank God!" + +"Will you take a little drop while you are waiting, gentlemen?" + +"Nothing for us, thank you." + +She drank alone, and seemed to forget that we were present. None of us +spoke. I began to wonder if we need remain. Then, drinking, she grew +garrulous. It was of Jeanne she talked. She gave us her maternal views, +and incidentally betrayed infamies of her own career. I am a man of the +world, but I shuddered at that woman. The suitor who could have risked +making her child his wife would have been demented, or sublime. And +while she maundered on, gulping from her glass, and chuckling at her +jests, the ghastliness of it was that, in the gutter face before us, I +could trace a likeness to Jeanne; I think Georges must have traced it, +too. The menace of heredity was horrible. We were listening to Jeanne +wrecked, Jeanne thirty years older--Jeanne as she might become! + +Ciel! To choose a bride with this blood in her--a bride from the dregs! + +"Let us go, Georges," I murmured. "Courage! You will forget her. We'll +be off." + +He was livid. I saw that he could bear no more. + +But the creature overheard, and in those bleary eyes intelligence +awoke. + +"What? Hold on!" she stammered. "Is one of you the toff that wants to +marry her? Ah!... I've been letting on finely, haven't I? It was a +plant, was it? You've come here ferreting and spying?" She turned +towards me in a fury: "You!" + +Certainly I had made a comment from time to time, but I could not see +why she should single me out for her attack. She lurched towards me +savagely. Her face was thrust into mine. And then, so low that only I +could hear, and like another woman, she breathed a question: + +"Can I act?" + +Jeanne herself! Every nerve in me jumped. The next instant she was back +in her part, railing at Georges. + +I took a card from my case, and scribbled six words. + +"When your daughter comes in, give her that!" I said. I had scribbled: +"I write you a star rôle!" + +She gathered the message at a glance, and I swear that the moroseness +of her gaze was not lightened by so much as a gleam. She was +representing a character; the actress sustained the character even +while she read words that were to raise her from privation to renown. + +"Not that I care if I _have_ queered her chance," she snarled. "A +good job, too, the selfish cat! I've got nothing to thank her for. +Serve her right if you do give her the go-by, my Jackanapes, _I_ +don't blame you!" + +"Madame Laurent," Georges answered sternly, and his answer vibrated +through the room, "I have never admired, pitied, or loved Jeanne so +much as now that I know that she has been--motherless." + +All three of us stood stone-still. The first to move was she. I saw +what was going to happen. She burst out crying. + +"It's I, Jeanne!--I love you! I thought I loved the theatre best--I was +wrong." Instinctively she let my card fall to the ground. "Forgive me-- +I did it for your sake, too. It was cruel, I am ashamed. Oh, my own, if +my love will not disgrace you, take me for your wife! In all the world +there is no woman who will love you better--in all my heart there is no +room for anything but you!" + +They were in each other's arms. De Lavardens, whom the proclamation of +identity had electrified, dragged me outside. The big fool was +blubbering with sentiment. + +"This is frightful," he grunted. + +"Atrocious!" said I. + +"But she is a woman in a million." + +"She is a great actress," I said reverently. + +"I could never approve the marriage," he faltered. "What do you think?" + +"Out of the question! I have no sympathy with either of them." + +"You humbug! Why, there is a tear running down your nose!" + +"There are two running down yours," I snapped; "a General should know +better." + +And why has the doll in the pink silk dress recalled this to me? Well, +you see, to-morrow will be New Year's Day and the doll is a gift for my +godchild--and the name of my godchild's mother is "Jeanne de +Lavardens." Oh, I have nothing to say against her as a mother, the +children idolise her! I admit that she has conquered the General, and +that Georges is the proudest husband in France. But when I think of the +parts I could have written for her, of the lustre the stage has lost, +when I reflect that, just to be divinely happy, the woman deliberately +declined a worldwide fame--Morbleu! I can never forgive her for it, +never--the darling! + + + +THE LAST EFFECT + +Jean Bourjac was old and lazy. Why should he work any more? In his +little cottage he was content enough. If the place was not precisely +gay, could he not reach Paris for a small sum? And if he had no +neighbours to chat with across the wall, weren't there his flowers to +tend in the garden? Occasionally--because one cannot shake off the +interests of a lifetime--he indulged in an evening at the Folies- +Bergère, or Olympia, curious to witness some Illusion that had made a +hit. + +At such times old Bourjac would chuckle and wag his head sagely, for he +saw no Illusions now to compare with those invented by himself when he +was in the business. + +And there were many persons who admitted that he had been supreme in +his line. At the Folies-Bergère he was often recognised and addressed +as "Maître." + +One summer evening, when old Bourjac sat reading _Le Journal_, +Margot, the housekeeper, who had grown deaf and ancient in his service, +announced a stranger. + +She was a girl with a delicate oval face, and eyes like an angel's. + +"Monsieur Bourjac," she began, as if reciting a speech that she had +studied, "I have come out here to beg a favour of you. I thirst for a +career behind the footlights. Alas! I cannot sing, or dance, or act. +There is only one chance for me--to possess an Illusion that shall take +Paris by storm. I am told that there is nothing produced to-day fit to +hold a candle to the former 'Miracles Bourjac.' Will you help me? Will +you design for me the most wonderful Illusion of your life?" + +"Mademoiselle," said Bourjac, with a shrug, "I have retired." + +"I implore you!" she urged. "But I have not finished; I am poor, I am +employed at a milliner's, I could not pay down a single franc. My offer +is a share of my salary as a star. I am mad for the stage. It is not +the money that I crave for, but the applause. I would not grudge you +even half my salary! Oh, monsieur, it is in your power to lift me from +despair into paradise. Say you consent." + +Bourjac mused. Her offer was very funny; if she had been of the +ordinary type, he would have sent her packing, with a few commercial +home-truths. Excitement had brought a flush to the oval face, her +glorious eyes awoke in him emotions which he had believed extinct. She +was so captivating that he cast about him for phrases to prolong the +interview. Though he could not agree, he didn't want her to go yet. + +And when she did rise at last, he murmured, "Well, well, see me again +and we will talk about it. I have no wish to be hard, you understand." + +Her name was Laure. She was in love with a conjurer, a common, flashy +fellow, who gave his mediocre exhibitions of legerdemain at such places +as Le Jardin Extérieur, and had recently come to lodge at her mother's. +She aspired to marry him, but did not dare to expect it. Her homage was +very palpable, and monsieur Eugéne Legrand, who had no matrimonial +intentions, would often wish that the old woman did not keep such a +sharp eye upon her. + +Needless to say, Bourjac's semi-promise sent her home enraptured. She +had gone to him on impulse, without giving her courage time to take +flight; now, in looking back, she wondered at her audacity, and that +she had gained so much as she had. "I have no wish to be hard," he had +said. Oh, the old rascal admired her hugely! If she coaxed enough, he +would end by giving in. What thumping luck! She determined to call upon +him again on Sunday, and to look her best. + +Bourjac, however, did not succumb on Sunday. Fascinating as he found +her, he squirmed at the prospect of the task demanded of him. His +workshop in the garden had been closed so long that rats had begun to +regard it as their playroom; the more he contemplated resuming his +profession, the less inclined he felt to do it. + +She paid him many visits and he became deeply infatuated with her; yet +he continued to maintain that he was past such an undertaking--that she +had applied to him too late. + +Then, one day, after she had flown into a passion, and wept, and been +mollified, he said hesitatingly: + +"I confess that an idea for an Illusion has occurred to me, but I do +not pledge myself to execute it. I should call it 'A Life.' An empty +cabinet is examined; it is supported by four columns--there is no stage +trap, no obscurity, no black velvet curtain concealed in the dark, to +screen the operations; the cabinet is raised high above the ground, and +the lights are full up. You understand?" Some of the inventor's +enthusiasm had crept into his voice. "You understand?" + +"Go on," she said, holding her breath. + +"Listen. The door of the cabinet is slammed, and in letters of fire +there appears on it, 'Scene I.' Instantly it flies open again and +discloses a baby. The baby moves, it wails--in fine, it is alive. Slam! +Letters of fire, 'Scene II.' Instantly the baby has vanished; in its +place is a beautiful girl--you! You smile triumphantly at your +reflection in a mirror, your path is strewn with roses, the world is at +your feet. Slam! 'Scene III.' In a moment twenty years have passed; +your hair is grey, you are matronly, stout, your face is no longer +oval; yet unmistakably it is you yourself, the same woman. Slam! 'Scene +IV.' You are enfeebled, a crone, toothless, tottering on a stick. Once +more! It is the last effect--the door flies open and reveals a +skeleton." + +"You can make this?" she questioned. + +"I could make it if I chose," he answered. + +"Will you?" + +"It depends." + +"On what?" + +"On you!" + +"Take any share you want," she cried. "I will sign anything you like! +After all, would not the success be due to you?" + +"So you begin to see that?" said the old man drily. "But, I repeat, it +depends! In spite of everything, you may think my terms too high." + +"What do you want me to do?" she stammered. + +"Marry me!" said Bourjac. + +He did not inquire if she had any affection for him; he knew that if +she said "Yes" it would be a lie. But he adored this girl, who, of a +truth, had nothing but her beauty to recommend her, and he persuaded +himself that his devotion would evoke tenderness in her by degrees. She +found the price high indeed. Not only was she young enough to be his +granddaughter--she had given her fancy to another man. Immediately she +could not consent. When she took leave of him, it was understood that +she would think the offer over; and she went home and let Legrand hear +that Bourjac had proposed for her hand. If, by any chance, the news +piqued Legrand into doing likewise--? + +But Legrand said nothing to the point. Though he was a little chagrined +by the intelligence, it never even entered his mind to attempt to cut +the inventor out. How should it? She was certainly an attractive girl, +but as to marrying her--He thought Bourjac a fool. As for himself, if +he married at all, it would be an artist who was drawing a big salary +and who would be able to provide him with some of the good things of +life. "I pray you will be very happy, mademoiselle," he said, putting +on a sentimental air. + +So, after she had cried with mortification, Laure promised to be old +Bourjac's wife. + +A few weeks later they were married; and in that lonely little cottage +she would have been bored to death but for the tawdry future that she +foresaw. The man's dream of awakening her tenderness was speedily +dispelled; he had been accepted as the means to an end, and he was held +fast to the compact. She grudged him every hour in which he idled by +her side. Driven from her arms by her impatience, old Bourjac would +toil patiently in the workroom: planning, failing--surmounting +obstacles atom by atom, for the sake of a woman whose sole interest in +his existence was his progress with the Illusion that was to gratify +her vanity. + +He worshipped her still. If he had not worshipped her, he would sooner +or later have renounced the scheme as impracticable; only his love for +her supported him in the teeth of the impediments that arose. Of these +she heard nothing. For one reason, her interest was so purely selfish +that she had not even wished to learn how the cabinet was to be +constructed. "All those figures gave her a headache," she declared. For +another, when early in the winter he had owned himself at a deadlock, +she had sneered at him as a duffer who was unable to fulfil his boasts. +Old Bourjac never forgot that--his reputation was very dear to him--he +did not speak to her of his difficulties again. + +But they often talked of the success she was to achieve. She liked to +go into a corner of the parlour and rehearse the entrance that she +would make to acknowledge the applause. "It will be the great moment," +she would say, "when I reappear as myself and bow." + +"No, it will be expected; that will not surprise anybody," Bourjac +would insist. "The climax, the last effect, will be the skeleton!" + +It was the skeleton that caused him the most anxious thought of all. In +order to compass it, he almost feared that he would be compelled to +sacrifice one of the preceding scenes. The babe, the girl, the matron, +the crone, for all these his mechanism provided; but the skeleton, the +"last effect," baffled his ingenuity. Laure began to think his task +eternal. + +Ever since the wedding, she had dilated proudly to her mother and +Legrand on her approaching début, and it angered her that she could +never say when the début was to be. Now that there need be no question +of his marrying her, Legrand's manner towards her had become more +marked. She went to the house often. One afternoon, when she rang, the +door was opened by him; he explained that the old woman was out +marketing. + +Laure waited in the kitchen, and the conjurer sat on the table, talking +to her. + +"How goes the Illusion?" he asked. + +"Oh, big!" she said. "It's going to knock them, I can tell you!" Her +laugh was rather derisive. "It's a rum world; the shop-girl will become +an artist, with a show that draws all Paris. We expect to open at the +Folies-Bergère." She knew that Legrand could never aspire to an +engagement at the Folies-Bergère as long as he lived. + +"I hope you will make a hit," he said, understanding her resentment +perfectly. + +"You did not foresee me a star turn, hein?" + +He gave a shrug. "How could I foresee? If you had not married Bourjac, +of course it would not have happened?" + +"I suppose not," she murmured. She was sorry he realised that; she +would have liked him to feel that she might have had the Illusion +anyhow, and been a woman worth his winning. + +"Indeed," added Legrand pensively, rolling a cigarette, "you have done +a great deal to obtain a success. It is not every girl who would go to +such lengths." + +"What?" She coloured indignantly. + +"I mean it is not every girl who would break the heart of a man who +loved her." + +They looked in each other's eyes for a moment. Then she turned her head +scornfully away. + +"Why do you talk rot to me? Do you take me for a kid?" + +He decided that a pained silence would be most effective. + +"If you cared about me, why didn't you say so?" she flashed, putting +the very question he had hoped for. + +"Because my position prevented it," he sighed. "I could not propose, a +poor devil like me! Do I lodge in an attic from choice? But you are the +only woman I ever wanted for my wife." + +After a pause, she said softly, "I never knew you cared." + +"I shall never care for anybody else," he answered. And then her mother +came in with the vegetables. + +It is easy to believe what one wishes, and she wished to believe +Legrand's protestations. She began to pity herself profoundly, feeling +that she had thrown away the substance for the shadow. In the +sentimentality to which she yielded, even the prospect of being a star +turn failed to console her; and during the next few weeks she invented +reasons for visiting at her mother's more frequently than ever. + +After these visits, Legrand used to smirk to himself in his attic. He +reflected that the turn would, probably, earn a substantial salary for +a long time to come. If he persuaded her to run away with him when the +show had been produced, it would be no bad stroke of business for him! +Accordingly, in their conversations, he advised her to insist on the +Illusion being her absolute property. + +"One can never tell what may occur," he would say. "If the managers +arranged with Bourjac, not with you, you would always be dependent on +your husband's whims for your engagements." And, affecting +unconsciousness of his real meaning, the woman would reply, "That's +true; yes, I suppose it would be best--yes, I shall have all the +engagements made with _me_." + +But by degrees even such pretences were dropped between them; they +spoke plainly. He had the audacity to declare that it tortured him to +think of her in old Bourjac's house--old Bourjac who plodded all day to +minister to her caprice! She, no less shameless, acknowledged that her +loneliness there was almost unendurable. So Legrand used to call upon +her, to cheer her solitude, and while Bourjac laboured in the workroom, +the lovers lolled in the parlour, and talked of the future they would +enjoy together when his job was done. + +"See, monsieur--your luncheon!" mumbled Margot, carrying a tray into +the workroom on his busiest days. + +"And madame, has madame her luncheon?" shouted Bourjac. Margot was very +deaf indeed. + +"Madame entertains monsieur Legrand again," returned the housekeeper, +who was not blind as well. + +Bourjac understood the hint, and more than once he remonstrated with +his wife. But she looked in his eyes and laughed suspicion out of him +for the time: "Eugène was an old friend, whom she had known from +childhood! Enfin, if Jean objected, she would certainly tell him not to +come so often. It was very ridiculous, however!" + +And afterwards she said to Legrand, "We must put up with him in the +meanwhile; be patient, darling! We shall not have to worry about what +he thinks much longer." + +Then, as if to incense her more, Bourjac was attacked by rheumatism +before the winter finished; he could move only with the greatest +difficulty, and took to his bed. Day after day he lay there, and she +fumed at the sight of him, passive under the blankets, while his work +was at a standstill. + +More than ever the dullness got on her nerves now, especially as +Legrand had avoided the house altogether since the complaint about the +frequency of his visits. He was about to leave Paris to fulfil some +engagements in the provinces. It occurred to her that it would be a +delightful change to accompany him for a week. She had formerly had an +aunt living in Rouen, and she told Bourjac that she had been invited to +stay with her for a few days. + +Bourjac made no objection. Only, as she hummed gaily over her packing, +he turned his old face to the wall to hide his tears. + +Her luggage was dispatched in advance, and by Legrand's counsel, it was +labelled at the last minute with an assumed name. If he could have done +so without appearing indifferent to her society, Legrand would have +dissuaded her from indulging in the trip, for he had resolved now to be +most circumspect until the Illusion was inalienably her own. As it was, +he took all the precautions possible. They would travel separately; he +was to depart in the evening, and Laure would follow by the next train. +When she arrived, he would be awaiting her. + +With the removal of her trunk, her spirits rose higher still. But the +day passed slowly. At dusk she sauntered about the sitting-room, +wishing that it were time for her to start. She had not seen Legrand +since the previous afternoon, when they had met at a café to settle the +final details. When the clock struck again, she reckoned that he must +be nearly at his destination; perhaps he was there already, pacing the +room as she paced this one? She laughed. Not a tinge of remorse +discoloured the pleasure of her outlook--her "au revoir" to her husband +was quite careless. The average woman who sins longs to tear out her +conscience for marring moments which would otherwise be perfect. This +woman had absolutely no conscience. + +The shortest route to the station was by the garden gate; as she raised +the latch, she was amazed to see Legrand hurriedly approaching. + +"Thank goodness, I have caught you!" he exclaimed--"I nearly went round +to the front." + +"What has happened?" + +"Nothing serious; I am not going, that is all--they have changed my +date. The matter has been uncertain all day, or I would have let you +know earlier. It is lucky I was in time to prevent your starting." + +She was dumb with disappointment. + +"It is a nuisance about your luggage," he went on; "we must telegraph +about it. Don't look so down in the mouth--we shall have our trip next +week instead." + +"What am I to say to Jean--he will think it so strange? I have said +good-bye to him." + +"Oh, you can find an excuse--you 'missed your train.' Come out for half +an hour, and we can talk." His glance fell on the workroom. "Is that +fastened up?" + +"I don't know. Do you want to see what he has done?" + +"I may as well." He had never had an opportunity before--Bourjac had +always been in there. + +"No, it isn't locked," she said; "come on then! Wait till I have shut +it after us before you strike a match--Margot might see the light." + +A rat darted across their feet as they lit the lamp, and he dropped the +matchbox. "Ugh!" + +"The beastly things!" she shivered, "Make haste!" + +On the floor stood a cabinet that was not unlike a gloomy wardrobe in +its outward aspect. Legrand examined it curiously. + +"Too massive," he remarked. "It will cost a fortune for carriage--and +where are the columns I heard of?" He stepped inside and sounded the +walls. "Humph, of course I see his idea. The fake is a very old one, +but it is always effective." Really, he knew nothing about it, but as +he was a conjurer, she accepted him as an authority. + +"Show me! Is there room for us both?" she said, getting in after him. +And as she got in, the door slammed. + +Instantaneously they were in darkness, black as pitch, jammed close +together. Their four hands flew all over the door at once, but they +could touch no handle. The next moment, some revolving apparatus that +had been set in motion, flung them off their feet. Round and round it +swirled, striking against their bodies and their faces. They grovelled +to escape it, but in that awful darkness their efforts were futile; +they could not even see its shape. + +"Stop it!" she gasped. + +"I don't know how," he panted. + +After a few seconds the whir grew fainter, the gyrations stopped +automatically. She wiped the blood from her face, and burst into +hysterical weeping. The man, cursing horribly, rapped to find the +spring that she must have pressed as she entered. It seemed to them +both that there could be no spot he did not rap a thousand times, but +the door never budged. + +His curses ceased; he crouched by her, snorting with fear. + +"What shall we do?" she muttered. + +He did not answer her. + +"Eugène, let us stamp! Perhaps the spring is in the floor." + +Still he paid no heed--he was husbanding his breath. When a minute had +passed, she felt his chest distend, and a scream broke from him-- +"_Help!_" + +"Mon Dieu!" She clutched him, panic-stricken. "We mustn't be found +here, it would ruin everything. Feel for the spring! Eugène, feel for +the spring, don't call!" + +"_Help!_" + +"Don't you understand? Jean will guess--it will be the end of my hopes, +I shall have no career!" + +"I have myself to think about!" he whimpered. And pushing away her +arms, he screamed again and again. But there was no one to hear him, no +neighbours, no one passing in the fields--none but old Bourjac, and +deaf Margot, beyond earshot, in the house. + +The cabinet was, of course, ventilated, and the danger was, not +suffocation, but that they would be jammed here while they slowly +starved to death. Soon her terror of the fate grew all-powerful in the +woman, and, though she loathed him for having been the first to call, +she, too, shrieked constantly for help now. By turns, Legrand would +yell, distraught, and heave himself helplessly against the door--they +were so huddled that he could bring no force to bear upon it. + +In their black, pent prison, like a coffin on end the night held a +hundred hours. The matchbox lay outside, where it had fallen, and +though they could hear his watch ticking in his pocket, they were +unable to look at it. After the watch stopped, they lost their sense of +time altogether; they disputed what day of the week it was. + + * * * * * + +Their voices had been worn to whispers now; they croaked for help. + +In the workroom, the rats missed the remains of old Bourjac's +luncheons; the rats squeaked ravenously.... As she strove to scream, +with the voice that was barely audible, she felt that she could resign +herself to death were she but alone. She could not stir a limb nor draw +a breath apart from the man. She craved at last less ardently for life +than for space--the relief of escaping, even for a single moment, from +the oppression of contact. It became horrible, the contact, as +revolting as if she had never loved him. The ceaseless contact maddened +her. The quaking of his body, the clamminess of his flesh, the smell of +his person, poisoning the darkness, seemed to her the eternities of +Hell. + + * * * * * + +Bourjac lay awaiting his wife's return for more than a fortnight. Then +he sent for her mother, and learnt that the "aunt in Rouen" had been +buried nearly three years. + +The old man was silent. + +"It is a coincidence," added the visitor hesitatingly, "that monsieur +Legrand has also disappeared. People are always ringing my bell to +inquire where he is." + +As soon as he was able to rise, Bourjac left for Paris; and, as the +shortest route to the station was by the garden gate, he passed the +workroom on his way. He nodded, thinking of the time that he had wasted +there, but he did not go inside--he was too impatient to find Laure, +and, incidentally, to shoot Legrand. + +Though his quest failed, he never went back to the cottage; he could +not have borne to live in it now. He tried to let it, but the little +house was not everybody's money, and it stood empty for many years; +indeed, before it was reoccupied Bourjac was dead and forgotten. + +When the new owners planned their renovations, they had the curiosity +to open a mildewed cabinet in an outhouse, and uttered a cry of dismay. +Not until then was the "last effect" attained; but there were two +skeletons, instead of one. + + + +AN INVITATION TO DINNER + +The creators of Eau d'Enfer invited designs for a poster calling the +attention of the world to their liqueur's incomparable qualities. It +occurred to Théodose Goujaud that this was a first-class opportunity to +demonstrate his genius. + +For an article with such a glistening name it was obvious that a poster +must be flamboyant--one could not advertise a "Water of Hell" by a +picture of a village maiden plucking cowslips--and Goujaud passed +wakeful nights devising a sketch worthy of the subject. He decided at +last upon a radiant brunette sharing a bottle of the liqueur with his +Satanic Majesty while she sat on his knee. + +But where was the girl to be found? Though his acquaintance with the +models of Paris was extensive, he could think of none with a face to +satisfy him. One girl's arms wreathed themselves before his mind, +another girl's feet were desirable, but the face, which was of supreme +importance, eluded his most frenzied search. + +"Mon Dieu," groaned Goujaud, "here I am projecting a poster that would +conquer Paris, and my scheme is frustrated by the fact that Nature +fails to produce women equal to the heights of my art! It is such +misfortunes as this that support the Morgue." + +"I recommend you to travel," said Tricotrin; "a tour in the East might +yield your heart's desire." + +"It's a valuable suggestion," rejoined Goujaud; "I should like a couple +of new shirts also, but I lack the money to acquire them." + +"Well," said Tricotrin, "the Ball of the Willing Hand is nearer. Try +that!" + +Goujaud looked puzzled. "The Ball of the Willing Hand?" he repeated; "I +do not know any Ball of the Willing Hand." + +"Is it possible?" cried the poet; "where do you live? Why, the Willing +Hand, my recluse, is the most fascinating resort in Paris. I have been +familiar with it for fully a week. It is a bal de barrière where the +criminal classes enjoy their brief leisure. Every Saturday night they +frisk. The Cut-throats' Quadrille is a particularly sprightly measure, +and the damsels there are often striking." + +"And their escorts, too--if one of the willing hands planted a knife in +my back, there would be no sprightliness about _me!_" + +"In the interests of art one must submit to a little annoyance. Come, +if you are conscientious I will introduce you to the place, and give +you a few hints. For example, the company have a prejudice against +collars, and, assuming for a moment that you possessed more than a +franc, you would do well to leave the surplus at home." + +Goujaud expanded his chest. + +"As a matter of fact," he announced languidly, "I possess five hundred +francs." And so dignified was his air that Tricotrin came near to +believing him. + +"You possess five hundred francs? You? How? No, such things do not +occur! Besides, you mentioned a moment since that you were short of +shirts." + +"It is true that I am short of shirts, but, nevertheless, I have five +hundred francs in my pocket. It is like this. My father, who is not +artistic, has always desired to see me renounce my profession and sink +to commerce. Well, I was at the point of yielding--man cannot live by +hope alone, and my pictures were strangely unappreciated. Then, while +consent trembled on my lips, up popped this Eau d'Enfer! I saw my +opportunity, I recognised that, of all men in Paris, I was the best +qualified to execute the poster. You may divine the sequel? I addressed +my father with burning eloquence, I persuaded him to supply me with the +means to wield my brush for a few months longer. If my poster succeeds, +I become a celebrity. If it fails, I become a pétrole merchant. This +summer decides my fate. In the meanwhile I am a capitalist; but it +would be madness for me to purchase shirts, for I shall require every +son to support existence until the poster is acclaimed." + +"You have a practical head!" exclaimed Tricotrin admiringly; "I foresee +that you will go far. Let us trust that the Willing Hand will prove the +ante-chamber to your immortality." + +"I have no faith in your Willing Hand," demurred the painter; "the +criminal classes are not keen on sitting for their portraits--the +process has unpleasant associations to them. Think again! I can spare +half an hour this morning. Evolve a further inspiration on the +subject!" + +"Do you imagine I have nothing to do but to provide you with a model? +My time is fully occupied; I am engaged upon a mystical play, which is +to be called _The Spinster's Prayer or the Goblin Child's Mother_, +and take Paris by storm. A propos--yes, now I come to think of it, +there is something in _Comoedia_ there that might suit you." + +"My preserver!" returned Goujaud. "What is it?" + +Tricotrin picked the paper up and read: + +WANTED: A HUNDRED LADIES FOR THE STAGE.--Beauty more essential than +talent. No dilapidations need apply. _Agence_ Lavalette, rue Baba, +Thursday, 12 to 5. + +"Mon Dieu! Now you are beginning to talk," said Goujaud. "A hundred! +One among them should be suitable, hein? But, all the same--" He +hesitated. "'Twelve to five'! It will be a shade monotonous standing on +a doorstep from twelve to five, especially if the rain streams." + +"Do you expect a Cleopatra to call at your attic, or to send an eighty +horse-power automobile, that you may cast your eye over her? Anyhow, +there may be a café opposite; you can order a bock on the terrace, and +make it last." + +"You are right. I shall go and inspect the spot at once. A hundred +beauties! I declare the advertisement might have been framed to meet my +wants. How fortunate that you chanced to see it! To-morrow evening you +shall hear the result--dine with me at the Bel Avenir at eight o'clock. +For one occasion I undertake to go a buster, I should be lacking in +gratitude if I neglected to stuff you to the brim." + +"Oh, my dear chap!" said Tricotrin. "The invitation is a godsend, I +have not viewed the inside of a restaurant for a week. While our pal +Pitou is banqueting with his progenitors in Chartres, _I_ have +even exhausted my influence with the fishmonger--I did not so much as +see my way to a nocturnal herring in the garret. Mind you are not late. +I shall come prepared to do justice to your hospitality, I promise +you." + +"Right, cocky!" said the artist. And he set forth, in high spirits, to +investigate the rue Baba. + +He was gratified to discover a café in convenient proximity to the +office. And twelve o'clock had not sounded next day when he took a seat +at one of the little white-topped tables, his gaze bent attentively +upon the agent's step. + +For the earliest arrival he had not long to wait. A dumpy girl with an +enormous nose approached, swinging her _sac à main_. She cast a +complacent glance at the name on the door, opened the bag, whipped out +a powder-puff, and vanished. + +"Morbleu!" thought the painter. "If she is a fair sample, I have +squandered the price of a bock!" He remained in a state of depression +for two or three minutes, and then the girl reappeared, evidently in a +very bad temper. + +"Ah!" he mused, rubbing his hands. "Monsieur Lavalette is plainly a +person of his word. No beauty, no engagement! This is going to be all +right, Where is the next applicant? A sip to Venus!" + +Venus, however, did not irradiate the street yet. The second young +woman was too short in the back, and at sight of her features he shook +his head despondently. "No good, my dear," he said to himself. "Little +as you suspect it, there is a disappointment for you inside, word of +honour! Within three minutes, I shall behold you again." + +And, sure enough, she made her exit promptly, looking as angry as the +other. + +"I am becoming a dramatic prophet!" soliloquised Goujaud; "if I had +nothing more vital to do, I might win drinks, betting on their chances, +with the proprietor of the café. However, I grow impatient for the bevy +of beauty--it is a long time on the road." + +As if in obedience to his demand, girls now began to trip into the rue +Baba so rapidly that he was kept busy regarding them. By twos, and +threes, and in quartettes they tripped--tall girls, little girls, plain +girls, pretty girls, girls shabby, and girls chic. But though many of +them would have made agreeable partners at a dance, there was none who +possessed the necessary qualifications for The Girl on Satan's Knee. He +rolled a cigarette, and blew a pessimistic puff. "Another day lost!" +groaned Goujaud. "All is over, I feel it. Posterity will never praise +my poster, the clutch of Commerce is upon me--already the smell of the +pétrole is in my nostrils!" + +And scarcely had he said it when his senses reeled. + +For, stepping from a cab, disdainfully, imperially, was his Ideal. Her +hair, revealing the lobes of the daintiest ears that ever listened to +confessions of love, had the gleam of purple grapes. Her eyes were a +mystery, her mouth was a flower, her neck was an intoxication. So +violently was the artist affected that, during several moments, he +forgot his motive for being there. To be privileged merely to +contemplate her was an ecstasy. While he sat transfixed with +admiration, her dainty foot graced the agent's step, and she entered. + +Goujaud caught his breath, and rose. The cab had been discharged. Dared +he speak to her when she came out? It would be a different thing +altogether from speaking to the kind of girl that he had foreseen. But +to miss such a model for lack of nerve, that would be the regret of a +lifetime! Now the prospect of the poster overwhelmed him, and he felt +that he would risk any rebuff, commit any madness to induce her to +"sit." + +The estimate that he had, by this time, formed of monsieur Lavalette's +taste convinced him that her return would not be yet. He sauntered to +and fro, composing a preliminary and winning phrase. What was his +surprise, after a very few seconds, to see that she had come out +already, and was hastening away! + +He overtook her in a dozen strides, and with a bow that was eloquent of +his homage, exclaimed: + +"Mademoiselle!" + +"Hein?" she said, turning. "Oh, it's all right--there are too many +people there; I've changed my mind, I shan't wait." + +He understood that she took him for a minion of the agent's, and he +hesitated whether to correct her mistake immediately. However, candour +seemed the better course. + +"I do not bring a message from monsieur Lavalette, mademoiselle," he +explained. + +"No?" + +"No." + +"What then?" + +"I have ventured to address you on my own account--on a matter of the +most urgent importance." + +"I have no small change," she said curtly, making to pass. + +"Mademoiselle!" His outraged dignity was superb. "You mistake me first +for an office-boy, and then for a beggar. I am a man of means, though +my costume may be unconventional. My name is Théodosc Goujaud." + +Her bow intimated that the name was not significant; but her exquisite +eyes had softened at the reference to his means. + +"For weeks I have been seeking a face for a picture that I have +conceived," he went on; "a face of such peculiar beauty that I +despaired of finding it! I had the joy to see you enter the agency, and +I waited, trembling with the prayer that I might persuade you to come +to my aid. Mademoiselle, will you do me the honour to allow me to +reproduce the magic of your features on my canvas? I entreat it of you +in the sacred name of Art!" + +During this appeal, the lady's demeanour had softened more still. A +faint smile hovered on her lips; her gaze was half gratified, half +amused. + +"Oh, you're a painter?" she said; "you want me to sit to you for the +Salon? I don't know, I'm sure." + +"It is not precisely for the Salon," he acknowledged. "But I am +absorbed by the scheme--it will be the crown of my career. I will +explain. It is a long story. If--if we could sit down?" + +"Where?" + +"There appears to be a café close to the agency," said Goujaud timidly. + +"Oh!" She dismissed the café's pretensions with her eyebrows. + +"You are right," he stammered. "Now that I look at it again, I see that +it is quite a common place. Well, will you permit me to walk a little +way with you?" + +"We will go to breakfast at Armenonville, if you like," she said +graciously, "where you can explain to me at your leisure." It seemed +to Goujaud that his heart dropped into his stomach and turned to a +cannon-ball there. Armenonville? What would such a breakfast cost? +Perhaps a couple of louis? Never in his life had he contemplated +breakfasting at Armenonville. + +She smiled, as if taking his consent for granted. Her loveliness and +air of fashion confused him dreadfully. And if he made excuses, there +would be no poster! Oh, he must seize the chance at any price! + +"Oh course--I shall be enchanted," he mumbled. And before he half +realised that the unprecedented thing had happened they were rattling +away, side by side in a fiacre. + +It was astounding, it was breathless, it was an episode out of a novel! +But Goujaud felt too sick, in thinking of the appalling expense, to +enjoy his sudden glory. Accustomed to a couple of louis providing meals +for three weeks, he was stupefied by the imminence of scattering the +sum in a brief half-hour. Even the cab fare weighed upon him; he not +infrequently envied the occupants of omnibuses. + +It was clear that the lady herself was no stranger to the restaurant. +While he blinked bewildered on the threshold, she was referring to her +"pet table," and calling a waiter "Jules." The menu was a fresh +embarrassment to the bohemian, but she, and the deferential waiter, +relieved him of that speedily, and in five minutes an epicurean +luncheon had been ordered, and he was gulping champagne. + +It revived his spirits. Since he had tumbled into the adventure of his +life, by all means let him savour the full flavour of it! His +companion's smiles had become more frequent, her eyes were more +transcendental still. + +"How funnily things happen!" she remarked presently. "I had not the +least idea of calling on Lavalette when I got up this morning. If I had +not had a tiff with somebody, and decided to go on the stage to spite +him, I should never have met you." + +"Oh, you are not on the stage yet, then?" + +"No. But I have often thought about it, and the quarrel determined me. +So I jumped into a cab, drove off, and then--well, there was such a +crowd of girls there, and they looked so vulgar; I changed my mind." + +"Can an angel quarrel?" demanded Goujaud sentimentally. "I cannot +imagine you saying an angry word to anyone." + +"Oh!" she laughed. "Can't I, though! I'm a regular demon when I'm +cross. People shouldn't vex me." + +"Certainly not," he agreed. "And no one but a brute would do so. +Besides, some women are attractive even in a rage. On the whole, I +think I should like to see you in a rage with _me_, providing +always that you 'made it up' as nicely as I should wish." + +"Do you fancy that I could?" she asked, looking at the table-cloth. + +"My head swims, in fancying!" + +Her laughter rippled again, and her fascination was so intense that the +poor fellow could scarcely taste a mouthful of his unique repast. "Talk +to me," she commanded, "sensibly I mean! Where do you live?" + +"I am living in the rue Ravignan." + +"The rue Ravignan? Where is that?" + +"Montmartre." + +"Oh, really?" She seemed chilled. "It is not a very nice quarter in the +daytime, is it?" + +"My studio suits me," murmured Goujaud, perceiving his fall in her +esteem. "For that reason I am reluctant to remove. An artist becomes +very much attached to his studio. And what do I care for fashion, I? +You may judge by my coat!" + +"You're eccentric, aren't you?" + +"Hitherto I have lived only for Art. But now I begin to realise that +there may be something more potent and absorbing still." + +"What is that?" + +"Love!" added Goujaud, feeling himself the embodiment of all the heroes +of romance. + +"Oh?" Her glance mocked, encouraged. "I am dying to hear about your +picture, though! What is the subject?" + +"It is not exactly what you mean by a 'picture.'" He fiddled with his +glass. "It is, in fact, a poster that I project." + +"A poster?" she exclaimed. "And you ask _me_ to--oh, no, I +couldn't possibly!" + +"Mademoiselle!" + +"I really don't think I could. A poster? Ah, no!" + +"To save me!" he implored. "Because my whole life depends on your +decision!" + +"How can a poster matter so much to you? The proposal is absurd." She +regarded her pêche Melba with a frown. + +"If you think of becoming an actress, remember what a splendid +advertisement it would be!" he urged feverishly. + +"Oh, flûte!" But she had wavered at that. + +"All Paris would flock to your debut. They would go saying, 'Can she be +as beautiful as her portrait?' And they would come back saying, 'She is +lovelier still!' Let me give you some more wine." + +"No more; I'll have coffee, and a grand marnier--red." + +"Doubtless the more expensive colour!" reflected Goujaud. But the time +had passed for dwelling on minor troubles. "Listen," he resumed; "I +shall tell you my history. You will then realise to what an abyss of +despair your refusal will plunge me--to what effulgent heights I may be +raised by your consent. You cannot be marble! My father--" + +"Indeed, I am not marble," she put in. "I am instinct with sensibility +--it is my great weakness." + +"So much the better. Be weak to _me_. My father--" + +"Oh, let us get out of this first!" she suggested, "You can talk to me +as we drive." + +And the attentive Jules presented the discreetly folded bill. + +For fully thirty seconds the Pavilion d'Armenonville swirled round the +unfortunate painter so violently that he felt as if he were on a +roundabout at a fair. He feared that the siren must hear the pounding +of his heart. To think that he had dreaded paying two louis! Two louis? +Why, it would have been a bagatelle! Speechlessly he laid a fortune on +the salver. With a culminating burst of recklessness he waved four +francs towards Jules, and remarked that that personage eyed the tip +with cold displeasure. "What a lucrative career, a waiter's!" moaned +the artist; "he turns up his nose at four francs!" + +Well, he had speculated too heavily to accept defeat now! Bracing +himself for the effort, Goujaud besought the lady's help with such a +flood of blandishment during the drive that more than once she seemed +at the point of yielding. Only one difficult detail had he withheld-- +that he wished to pose her on the knee of Mephistopheles--and to +propitiate her further, before breaking the news, he stopped the cab at +a florist's. + +She was so good-humoured and tractable after the florist had pillaged +him that he could scarcely be callous when she showed him that she had +split her glove. But, to this day, he protests that, until the glove-shop +had been entered, it never occurred to him that it would be +necessary to present her with more than one pair. As they came out-- +Goujaud moving beside her like a man in a trance--she gave a faint +start. + +"Mon Dieu!" she muttered. "There's my friend--he has seen us--I must +speak to him, or he will think I am doing wrong. Wait a minute!" And a +dandy, with a monocle, was, indeed, casting very supercilious glances +at the painter. + +At eight o'clock that evening, monsieur Tricotrin, with a prodigious +appetite, sat in the Café du Bel Avenir, awaiting the arrival of his +host. When impatience was mastering him, there arrived, instead, a +petit bleu. The impecunious poet took it from the proprietress, paling, +and read: + +"I discovered my Ideal--she ruined, and then deserted me! To-morrow +there will be a painter the less, and a petrole merchant the more. +Pardon my non-appearance--I am spending my last sous on this message." + +"Monsieur will give his order now?" inquired the proprietress. + +"Er--thank you, I do not dine to-night," said Tricotrin. + + + +THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS + +In the summer of the memorable year ----, but the date doesn't matter, +Robichon and Quinquart both paid court to mademoiselle Brouette, +Mademoiselle Brouette was a captivating actress, Robichon and Quinquart +were the most comic of comedians, and all three were members of the +Théâtre Suprême. + +Robichon was such an idol of the public's that they used to laugh +before he uttered the first word of his rôle; and Quinquart was so +vastly popular that his silence threw the audience into convulsions. + +Professional rivalry apart, the two were good friends, although they +were suitors for the same lady, and this was doubtless due to the fact +that the lady favoured the robust Robichon no more than she favoured +the skinny Quinquart. She flirted with them equally, she approved them +equally--and at last, when each of them had plagued her beyond +endurance, she promised in a pet that she would marry the one that was +the better actor. Tiens! Not a player on the stage, not a critic on +the Press could quite make up his mind which the better actor was. Only +Suzanne Brouette could have said anything so tantalising. + +"But how shall we decide the point, Suzanne?" stammered Robichon +helplessly. "Whose pronouncement will you accept?" + +"How can the question be settled?" queried Quinquart, dismayed. "Who +shall be the judge?" + +"Paris shall be the judge," affirmed Suzanne. "We are the servants of +the public--I will take the public's word!" + +Of course she was as pretty as a picture, or she couldn't have done +these things. + +Then poor Quinquart withdrew, plunged in reverie. So did Robichon. +Quinquart reflected that she had been talking through her expensive +hat. Robichon was of the same opinion. The public lauded them both, was +no less generous to one than to the other--to wait for the judgment of +Paris appeared equivalent to postponing the matter _sine die_. No +way out presented itself to Quinquart. None occurred to Robichon. + +"Mon vieux," said the latter, as they sat on the terrace of their +favourite café a day or two before the annual vacation, "let us discuss +this amicably. Have a cigarette! You are an actor, therefore you +consider yourself more talented than I. I, too, am an actor, therefore +I regard you as less gifted than myself. So much for our artistic +standpoints! But we are also men of the world, and it must be obvious +to both of us that we might go on being funny until we reached our +death-beds without demonstrating the supremacy of either. Enfin, our +only hope lies in versatility--the conqueror must distinguish himself +in a solemn part!" He viewed the other with complacence, for the quaint +Quinquart had been designed for a droll by Nature. + +"Right!" said Quinquart. He contemplated his colleague with +satisfaction, for it was impossible to fancy the fat Robichon in +tragedy. + +"I perceive only one drawback to the plan," continued Robichon, "the +Management will never consent to accord us a chance. Is it not always +so in the theatre? One succeeds in a certain line of business and one +must be resigned to play that line as long as one lives. If my earliest +success had been scored as a villain of melodrama, it would be believed +that I was competent to enact nothing but villains of melodrama; it +happened that I made a hit as a comedian, wherefore nobody will credit +that I am capable of anything but being comic." + +"Same here!" concurred Quinquart. "Well, then, what do you propose?" + +Robichon mused. "Since we shall not be allowed to do ourselves justice +on the stage, we must find an opportunity off it!" + +"A private performance? Good! Yet, if it is a private performance, how +is Paris to be the judge?" + +"Ah," murmured Robichon, "that is certainly a stumbling-block." + +They sipped their apéritifs moodily. Many heads were turned towards the +little table where they sat. "There are Quinquart and Robichon, how +amusing they always are!" said passers-by, little guessing the anxiety +at the laughter-makers' hearts. + +"What's to be done?" sighed Quinquart at last. + +Robichon shrugged his fat shoulders, with a frown. + +Both were too absorbed to notice that, after a glance of recognition, +one of the pedestrians had paused, and was still regarding them +irresolutely. He was a tall, burly man, habited in rusty black, and the +next moment, as if finding courage, he stepped forward and spoke: + +"Gentlemen, I ask pardon for the liberty I take--impulse urges me to +seek your professional advice! I am in a position to pay a moderate +fee. Will you permit me to explain myself?" + +"Monsieur," returned Robichon, "we are in deep consideration of our +latest parts. We shall be pleased to give you our attention at some +other time." + +"Alas!" persisted the newcomer, "with me time presses. I, too, am +considering my latest part--and it will be the only speaking part I +have ever played, though I have been 'appearing' for twenty years." + +"What? You have been a super for twenty years?" said Quinquart, with a +grimace. + +"No, monsieur," replied the stranger grimly. "I have been the public +executioner; and I am going to lecture on the horrors of the post I +have resigned." + +The two comedians stared at him aghast. Across the sunlit terrace +seemed to have fallen the black shadow of the guillotine. + +"I am Jacques Roux," the man went on, "I am 'trying it on the dog' at +Appeville-sous-Bois next week, and I have what you gentlemen call +'stage fright'--I, who never knew what nervousness meant before! Is it +not queer? As often as I rehearse walking on to the platform, I feel +myself to be all arms and legs--I don't know what to do with them. +Formerly, I scarcely remembered my arms and legs; but, of course, my +attention used to be engaged by the other fellow's head. Well, it +struck me that you might consent to give me a few hints in deportment. +Probably one lesson would suffice." + +"Sit down," said Robichon. "Why did you abandon your official +position?" + +"Because I awakened to the truth," Roux answered. "I no longer agree +with capital punishment: it is a crime that should be abolished." + +"The scruples of conscience, hein?" + +"That is it." + +"Fine!" said Robichon. "What dramatic lines such a lecture might +contain! And of what is it to consist?" + +"It is to consist of the history of my life--my youth, my poverty, my +experiences as Executioner, and my remorse." + +"Magnificent!" said Robichon. "The spectres of your victims pursue you +even to the platform. Your voice fails you, your eyes start from your +head in terror. You gasp for mercy--and imagination splashes your +outstretched hands with gore. The audience thrill, women swoon, strong +men are breathless with emotion." Suddenly he smote the table with his +big fist, and little Quinquart nearly fell off his chair, for he +divined the inspiration of his rival. "Listen!" cried Robichon, "are +you known at Appeville-sous-Bois?" + +"My name is known, yes." + +"Bah! I mean are you known personally, have you acquaintances there?" + +"Oh, no. But why?" + +"There will be nobody to recognize you?" + +"It is very unlikely in such a place." + +"What do you estimate that your profits will amount to?" + +"It is only a small hall, and the prices are very cheap. Perhaps two +hundred and fifty francs." + +"And you are nervous, you would like to postpone your début?" + +"I should not be sorry, I admit. But, again, why?" + +"I will tell you why--I offer you five hundred francs to let me take +your place!" + +"Monsieur!" + +"Is it a bargain?" + +"I do not understand!" + +"I have a whim to figure in a solemn part. You can explain next day +that you missed your train--that you were ill, there are a dozen +explanations that can be made; you will not be supposed to know that I +personated you--the responsibility for that is mine. What do you say?" + +"It is worth double the money," demurred the man. + +"Not a bit of it! All the Press will shout the story of my practical +joke--Paris will be astounded that I, Robichon, lectured as Jacques +Roux and curdled an audience's blood. Millions will speak of your +intended lecture tour who otherwise would never have heard of it. I am +giving you the grandest advertisement, and paying you for it, besides. +Enfin, I will throw a deportment lesson in! Is it agreed?" + +"Agreed, monsieur!" said Roux. + +Oh, the trepidation of Quinquart! Who could eclipse Robichon if his +performance of the part equalled his conception of it? At the theatre +that evening Quinquart followed Suzanne about the wings pathetically. +He was garbed like a buffoon, but he felt like Romeo. The throng that +applauded his capers were far from suspecting the romantic longings +under his magenta wig. For the first time in his life he was thankful +that the author hadn't given him more to do. + +And, oh, the excitement of Robichon! He was to put his powers to a +tremendous test, and if he made the effect that he anticipated he had +no fear of Quinquart's going one better. Suzanne, to whom he whispered +his project proudly, announced an intention of being present to "see +the fun." Quinquart also promised to be there. Robichon sat up all +night preparing his lecture. + +If you wish to know whether Suzanne rejoiced at the prospect of his +winning her, history is not definite on the point; but some chroniclers +assert that at this period she made more than usual of Quinquart, who +had developed a hump as big as the Panthéon. + +And they all went to Appeville-sous-Bois. + +Though no one in the town was likely to know the features of the +Executioner, it was to be remembered that people there might know the +actor's, and Robichon had made up to resemble Roux as closely as +possible. Arriving at the humble hall, he was greeted by the lessee, +heard that a "good house" was expected, and smoked a cigarette in the +retiring-room while the audience assembled. + +At eight o'clock the lessee reappeared. + +"All is ready, monsieur Roux," he said. + +Robichon rose. + +He saw Suzanne and Quinquart in the third row, and was tempted to wink +at them. + +"Ladies and gentlemen--" + +All eyes were riveted on him as he began; even the voice of the +"Executioner" exercised a morbid fascination over the crowd. The men +nudged their neighbours appreciatively, and women gazed at him, half +horrified, half charmed. + +The opening of his address was quiet enough--there was even a humorous +element in it, as he narrated imaginary experiences of his boyhood. +People tittered, and then glanced at one another with an apologetic +air, as if shocked at such a monster's daring to amuse them. Suzanne +whispered to Quinquart: "Too cheerful; he hasn't struck the right +note." Quinquart whispered back gloomily: "Wait; he may be playing for +the contrast!" + +And Quinquart's assumption was correct. Gradually the cheerfulness +faded from the speaker's voice, the humorous incidents were past. +Gruesome, hideous, grew the anecdotes, The hall shivered. Necks were +craned, and white faces twitched suspensively. He dwelt on the agonies +of the Condemned, he recited crimes in detail, he mirrored the last +moments before the blade fell. He shrieked his remorse, his lacerating +remorse. "I am a murderer," he sobbed; and in the hall one might have +heard a pin drop. + +There was no applause when he finished--that set the seal on his +success; he bowed and withdrew amid tense silence. Still none moved in +the hall, until, with a rush, the representatives of the Press sped +forth to proclaim Jacques Roux an unparalleled sensation. + +The triumph of Robichon! How generous were the congratulations of +Quinquart, and how sweet the admiring tributes of Suzanne! And there +was another compliment to come--nothing less than a card from the +marquis de Thevenin, requesting an interview at his home. + +"Ah!" exclaimed Robichon, enravished, "an invitation from a noble! That +proves the effect I made, hein?" + +"Who may he be?" inquired Quinquart. "I never heard of the marquis de +Thevenin!" + +"It is immaterial whether you have heard of him," replied Robichon. "He +is a marquis, and he desires to converse with me! It is an honour that +one must appreciate. I shall assuredly go." + +And, being a bit of a snob, he sought a fiacre in high feather. + +The drive was short, and when the cab stopped he was distinctly taken +aback to perceive the unpretentious aspect of the nobleman's abode. It +was, indeed, nothing better than a lodging. A peasant admitted him, and +the room to which he was ushered boasted no warmer hospitality than a +couple of candles and a decanter of wine. However, the sconces were +massive silver. Monsieur le marquis, he was informed, had been suddenly +compelled to summon his physician, and begged that monsieur Roux would +allow him a few minutes' grace. + +Robichon ardently admired the candlesticks, but began to think he might +have supped more cozily with Suzanne. + +It was a long time before the door opened. + +The marquis de Thevenin was old--so old that he seemed to be falling to +pieces as he tottered forward. His skin was yellow and shrivelled, his +mouth sunken, his hair sparse and grey; and from this weird face peered +strange eyes--the eyes of a fanatic. + +"Monsieur, I owe you many apologies for my delay," he wheezed. "My +unaccustomed exertion this evening fatigued me, and on my return from +the hall I found it necessary to see my doctor. Your lecture was +wonderful, monsieur Roux--most interesting and instructive; I shall +never forget it." + +Robichon bowed his acknowledgments. + +"Sit down, monsieur Roux, do not stand! Let me offer you some wine. I +am forbidden to touch it myself. I am a poor host, but my age must be +my excuse." + +"To be the guest of monsieur le marquis," murmured Robichon, "is a +privilege, an honour, which--er--" + +"Ah," sighed the Marquis. "I shall very soon be in the Republic where +all men are really equals and the only masters are the worms. My reason +for requesting you to come was to speak of your unfortunate +experiences--of a certain unfortunate experience in particular. You +referred in your lecture to the execution of one called 'Victor +Lesueur.' He died game, hein?" + +"As plucky a soul as I ever dispatched!" said Robichon, savouring the +burgundy. + +"Ah! Not a tremor? He strode to the guillotine like a man?" + +"Like a hero!" said Robichon, who knew nothing about him. + +"That was fine," said the Marquis; "that was as it should be! You have +never known a prisoner to die more bravely?" There was a note of pride +in his voice that was unmistakable. + +"I shall always recall his courage with respect," declared Robichon, +mystified. + +"Did you respect it at the time?" + +"Pardon, monsieur le marquis?" + +"I inquire if you respected it at the time; did you spare him all +needless suffering?" + +"There is no suffering," said Robichon. "So swift is the knife that--" +The host made a gesture of impatience. "I refer to mental suffering. +Cannot you realise the emotions of an innocent man condemned to a +shameful death!" + +"Innocent! As for that, they all say that they are innocent." + +"I do not doubt it. Victor, however, spoke the truth. I know it. He was +my son." + +"Your son?" faltered Robichon, aghast. + +"My only son--the only soul I loved on earth. Yes; he was innocent, +monsieur Roux. And it was you who butchered him--he died by your +hands." + +"I--I was but the instrument of the law," stammered Robichon. "I was +not responsible for his fate, myself." + +"You have given a masterly lecture, monsieur Roux," said the Marquis +musingly; "I find myself in agreement with all that you said in it-- +you are his murderer,' I hope the wine is to your taste, monsieur Roux? +Do not spare it!" + +"The wine?" gasped the actor. He started to his feet, trembling--he +understood. + +"It is poisoned," said the old man calmly, "In an hour you will be +dead." + +"Great Heavens!" moaned Robichon. Already he was conscious of a strange +sensation--his blood was chilled, his limbs were weighted, there were +shadows before his eyes. + +"Ah, I have no fear of you!" continued the other; "I am feeble, I could +not defend myself; but your violence would avail you nothing. Fight, or +faint, as you please--you are doomed." + +For some seconds they stared at each other dumbly--the actor paralysed +by terror, the host wearing the smile of a lunatic. And then the +"lunatic" slowly peeled court-plaster from his teeth, and removed +features, and lifted a wig. + + * * * * * + +And when the whole story was published, a delighted Paris awarded the +palm to Quinquart without a dissentient voice, for while Robichon had +duped an audience, Quinquart had duped Robichon himself. + +Robichon bought the silver candlesticks, which had been hired for the +occasion, and he presented them to Quinquart and Suzanne on their +wedding-day. + + + +THE FAIRY POODLE + +They were called the "Two Children" because they were so unpractical; +even in bohemia, where practicality is the last virtue to flourish, +their improvidence was surprising; but really they were not children at +all--they had been married for three years, though to watch their +billing and cooing, you would have supposed them to be bride and +bridegroom. + +Julian and Juliette had fallen in love and run to the Mairie as +joyously as if chateaubriands were to be gathered from the boughs in +the Jardin des Buttes-Chaumont; and since then their home had been the +studio under the slates, where they were often penniless. Indeed, if it +had not been for the intermittent mercies of madame Cochard, the +concierge, they would have starved under the slates. However, they were +sure that the pictures which Julien painted would some day make him +celebrated, and that the fairy-tales which Juliette weaved would some +day be as famous as Hans Andersen's. So they laughed, and painted and +scribbled, and spent their money on bonbons, instead of saving it for +bread; and when they had no dinner, they would kiss each other, and say +"There is a good time coming," And they were called the "Two Children," +as you know. + +But even the patience of madame Cochard was taxed when Juliette brought +back the poodle. + +She found him--a strayed, muddy, unhappy little poodle--in the rue de +Rivoli one wet afternoon in November, and what more natural than that +she should immediately bear him home, and propose to give him a bath, +and adopt him? It was the most natural thing in the world, since she +was Juliette, yet this madame Cochard, who objected to a dog on her +stairs as violently as if it were a tiger, was furious. + +"Is it not enough," she cried, "that you are the worst tenants in the +house, you two--that you are always behindhand with your rent, and that +I must fill your mouths out of my own purse? Is a concierge an Angel +from Heaven, do you think, that you expect her to provide also for lost +dogs?" + +"Dear, kind madame Cochard," cooed Juliette, "you will learn to love +the little creature as if it were your own child! See how trustfully he +regards you!" + +"It is a fact," added Julien; "he seems to take to her already! It is +astonishing how quickly a dog recognises a good heart." + +"Good heart, or not," exclaimed the concierge, "it is to be understood +that I do not consent to this outrage. The poodle shall not remain!" + +"Be discreet," urged Juliette. "I entreat you to be discreet, for your +own sake; if you must have the whole truth, he is a fairy poodle!" + +"What do you say?" ejaculated madame Cochard. + +"He is a fairy poodle, and if we treat him ungenerously, we shall +suffer. Remember the history of the Lodgers, the Concierge, and the +Pug!" + +"I have never heard of such a history," returned madame Cochard; "and I +do not believe that there ever was one." + +"She has never heard the history of the Lodgers, the Concierge, and the +Pug!" cried Juliette. "Oh, then listen, madame! Once upon a time there +were two lodgers, a young man and his wife, and they were so poor that +often they depended on the tenderness of the concierge to supply them +with a dinner." + +"Did they also throw away their good money on bonbons and flowers?" +asked madame Cochard, trying her utmost to look severe. + +"It is possible," admitted Juliette, who was perched on the table, with +the dirty little animal in her lap, "for though they are our hero and +heroine, I cannot pretend that they were very wise. Well, this +concierge, who suffered badly from lumbago and stairs, had sometimes a +bit of temper, so you may figure yourself what a fuss she raised when +the poor lodgers brought home a friendless pug to add to their +embarrassments. However--" + +"There is no 'however,'" persisted madame Cochard; "she raises a fuss, +and that is all about it!" + +"Pardon, dear madame," put in Julien, "you confuse the cases; we are +now concerned with the veracious history of the pug, not the uncertain +future of the poodle." + +"Quite so," said Juliette. "She raised a terrible fuss and declared +that the pug should go, but finally she melted to it and made it +welcome. And then, what do you suppose happened? Why, it turned out to +be an enchanted prince, who rewarded them all with wealth and +happiness. The young man's pictures were immediately accepted by the +Salon--did I mention that he was an artist? The young woman's stories-- +did I tell you that she wrote stories?--became so much the fashion that +her head swam with joy; and the concierge--the dear, kind concierge-- +was changed into a beautiful princess, and never had to walk up any +stairs again as long as she lived. Thus we see that one should never +forbid lodgers to adopt a dog!" + +"Thus we see that they do well to call you a pair of 'children,'" +replied madame Cochard, "that is what we see! Well, well, keep the dog, +since you are so much bent on it; only I warn you that if it gives me +trouble, it will be sausages in no time! I advise you to wash it +without delay, for a more deplorable little beast I never saw." + +Julien and Juliette set to work with delight, and after he was bathed +and dry, the alteration in the dog was quite astonishing. Although he +did not precisely turn into a prince, he turned into a poodle of the +most fashionable aspect. Obviously an aristocrat among poodles, a +poodle of high estate. The metamorphosis was so striking that a new +fear assailed his rescuers, the fear that it might be dishonest of them +to retain him--probably some great lady was disconsolate at his loss! + +Sure enough! A few days later, when Sanquereau called upon them, he +said: + +"By the way, did I not hear that you had found a poodle, my children? +Doubtless it is the poodle for which they advertise. See!" And he +produced a copy of a journal in which "a handsome reward" was promised +for the restoration of an animal which resembled their protégé to a +tuft. + +The description was too accurate for the Children to deceive +themselves, and that afternoon Juliette carried the dog to a +magnificent house which was nothing less than the residence of the +comtesse de Grand Ecusson. + +She was left standing in a noble hall while a flunkey bore the dog +away. Then another flunkey bade her follow him upstairs; and in a salon +which was finer than anything that Juliette had ever met with outside +the pages of a novel, the Countess was reclining on a couch with the +poodle in her arms. + +"I am so grateful to you for the recovery of my darling," said the +great lady; "my distress has been insupportable. Ah, naughty, naughty +Racine!" She made a pretence of chastising the poodle on the nose. + +"I can understand it, madame," said Juliette, much embarrassed. + +"Where did you find him? And has he been well fed, well taken care of? +I hope he has not been sleeping in a draught?" + +"Oh, indeed, madame, he has been nourished like a beloved child. +Doubtless, not so delicately as with madame, but--" + +"It was most kind of you," said the lady. "I count myself blessed that +my little Racine fell into such good hands. Now as to the reward, what +sum would you think sufficient?" + +Juliette looked shy. "I thank you, madame, but we could not accept +anything," she faltered. + +"What?" exclaimed the Countess, raising her eyebrows in surprise, "you +cannot accept anything? How is that?" + +"Well," said Juliette, "it would be base to accept money for a simple +act of honesty. It is true that we did not wish to part with the dog-- +we had grown to love him--but, as to our receiving payment for giving +him up, that is impossible." + +The Countess laughed merrily. "What a funny child you are! And, who are +'we'--you and your parents?" + +"Oh no," said Juliette; "my parents are in Heaven, madame; but I am +married." + +"Your husband must be in heaven, too!" said the Countess, who was a +charming woman. + +"Ah," demurred Juliette, "but although I have a warm heart, I have also +a healthy appetite, and he is not rich; he is a painter." + +"I must go to see his pictures some day," replied the comtesse de Grand +Ecusson. "Give me the address--and believe that I am extremely grateful +to you!" + +It need not be said that Juliette skipped home on air after this +interview. The hint of such patronage opened the gates of paradise to +her, and the prospect was equally dazzling to Julien. For fully a week +they talked of nothing but a visit from the comtesse de Grand Ecusson, +having no suspicion that fine ladies often forgot their pretty promises +as quickly as they made them. + +And the week, and a fortnight, and a month passed, and at last the +expectation faded; they ceased to indulge their fancies of a carriage- +and-pair dashing into the street with a Lady Bountiful. And what was +much more serious, madame Cochard ceased to indulge their follies. The +truth was that she had never pardoned the girl for refusing to accept +the proffered reward; the delicacy that prompted the refusal was beyond +her comprehension, and now that the pair were in arrears with their +rent again, she put no bridle on her tongue. "It appears to me that it +would have been more honourable to accept money for a poodle than to +owe money to a landlord," she grunted. "It must be perfectly understood +that if the sum is not forthcoming on the first of January, you will +have to get out. I have received my instructions, and I shall obey +them. On the first day of January, my children, you pay, or you go! Le +bon Dieu alone knows what will become of you, but that is no affair of +mine. I expect you will die like the babes in the wood, for you are no +more fit to make a living than a cow is fit to fly." + +"Dear madame Cochard," they answered, peacefully, "why distress +yourself about us? The first of January is more than a week distant; in +a week we may sell a picture, or some fairy tales--in a week many +things may happen!" And they sunned themselves on the boulevard the +same afternoon with as much serenity as if they had been millionaires. + +Nevertheless, they did not sell a picture or some fairy tales in the +week that followed--and the first of January dawned with relentless +punctuality, as we all remember. + +In the early morning, when madame Cochard made her ascent to the attic +--her arms folded inexorably, the glare of a creditor in her eye--she +found that Juliette had already been out. (If you can believe me, she +had been out to waste her last two francs on an absurd tie for Julien!) + +"Eh bien," demanded the concierge sternly, "where is your husband? I am +here, as arranged, for the rent; no doubt he has it ready on the +mantelpiece for me?" + +"He is not in," answered Juliette coaxingly, "and I am sorry to say we +have had disappointments. The fact is there is something wrong with the +construction of a story of which I had immense hopes--it needs letting +out at the waist, and a tuck put in at the hem. When I have made the +alterations, I am sure it will fit some journal elegantly." + +"All this passes forbearance!" exclaimed madame Cochard. "Well, you +have thoroughly understood, and all is said--you will vacate your +lodging by evening! So much grace I give you; but at six o'clock you +depart promptly, or you will be ejected! And do not reckon on me to +send any meal up here during the day, for you will not get so much as a +crust. What is it that you have been buying there?" + +"It is a little gift for Julien; I rose early to choose it before he +woke, and surprise him; but when I returned he was out." + +"A gift?" cried the concierge. "You have no money to buy food, and you +buy a gift for your husband! What for?" + +"What for?" repeated Juliette wonderingly. "Why, because it is New +Year's Day! And that reminds me--I wish you the compliments of the +season, madame; may you enjoy many happy years!" + +"Kind words pay no bills," snapped the concierge. "I have been lenient +far too long--I have my own reputation to consider with the landlord. +By six o'clock, bear in mind!" And then, to complete her resentment, +what should happen but that Julien entered bearing a bouquet! + +To see Julien present Juliette with the roses, and to watch Juliette +enchant Julien with the preposterous tie, was as charming a little +comedy of improvidence as you would be likely to meet with in a +lifetime. + +"Mon Dieu!" gasped madame Cochard, purple with indignation, "it is, +indeed, well that you are leaving here, monsieur--a madhouse is the +fitting address for you! You have nothing to eat and you buy roses for +your wife! What for?" + +"What for?" echoed Julien, astonished. "Why, because it is New Year's +Day! And I take the opportunity to wish you the compliments of the +season, madame--may your future be as bright as Juliette's eyes!" + +"By six o'clock!" reiterated the concierge, who was so exasperated that +she could barely articulate. "By six o'clock you will be out of the +place!" And to relieve her feelings, she slammed the door with such +violence that half a dozen canvases fell to the floor. + +"Well, this is a nice thing," remarked Julien, when she had gone. "It +looks to me, mignonne, as if we shall sleep in the Bois, with the moon +for an eiderdown." + +"At least you shall have a comfy pillow, sweetheart," cried Juliette, +drawing his head to her breast. + +"My angel, there is none so soft in the Elysée, And as we have nothing +for déjeuner in the cupboard, I propose that we breakfast now on +kisses." + +"Ah, Julien!" whispered the girl, as she folded him in her arms. + +"Ah, Juliette!" It was as if they had been married that morning. + +"And yet," continued the young man, releasing her at last, "to own the +truth, your kisses are not satisfying as a menu; they are the choicest +of hors d'oeuvres--they leave one hungry for more." + +They were still making love when Sanquereau burst in to wish them a +Happy New Year. + +"How goes it, my children?" he cried. "You look like a honeymoon, I +swear! Am I in the way, or may I breakfast with you?" + +"You are not in the way, mon vieux," returned Julien; "but I shall not +invite you to breakfast with me, because my repast consists of +Juliette's lips." + +"Mon Dieu!" said Sanquereau. "So you are broke? Well, in my chequered +career I have breakfasted on much worse fare than yours." + +At this reply, Juliette blushed with all the bashfulness of a bride, +and Julien endeavoured to assume the air of a man of the world. + +"Tell me," he said; "we are in difficulties about the rent--have you by +chance a louis that you could lend me?" + +Sanquereau turned out his pockets, like the good fellow he was, but he +could produce no more than a sou. "What a bother!" he cried. "I would +lend you a louis if I had it as readily as a cigarette-paper, but you +see how I am situated. On my honour, it rends my heart to have to +refuse." + +"You are a gallant comrade," said Julien, much touched. "Come back and +sup with us this evening, and we will open the New Year with a +festivity!" + +"Hein? But there will be no supper," faltered Juliette. + +"That's true," said Julien; "there will be no supper--I was forgetting. +Still--who knows? There is plenty of time; I shall have an idea. +Perhaps I may be able to borrow something from Tricotrin." + +"I shall be enchanted," responded Sanquereau; "depend on my arrival! If +I am not mistaken, I recognize Tricotrin's voice on the stairs." + +His ears had not deceived him; Tricotrin appeared with Pitou at this +very moment. + +"Greeting, my children!" they cried. "How wags the world? May the New +Year bring you laurels and lucre!" + +"To you also, dear Gustave and Nicolas," cried the Children. "May your +poems and your music ignite the Seine, and may Sanquereau rise to +eminence and make statues of you both!" + +"In the meantime," added Sanquereau, "can either of you put your hands +on a few francs? There is a fine opening for them here." + +"A difference of opinion exists between ourselves and the landlord," +Julien explained; "we consider that he should wait for his rent, and he +holds a different view. If you could lend us fifteen francs, we might +effect a compromise." + +The poet and the composer displayed the lining of their pockets as +freely as the sculptor had done, but their capital proved to be a sou +less than his own. Tears sprang to their eyes as they confessed their +inability to be of use, "We are in despair," they groaned. + +"My good, kind friends," exclaimed Julien, "your sympathy is a noble +gift in itself! Join us in a little supper this evening in celebration +of the date." + +"We shall be delighted," declared Tricotrin and Pitou. + +"But--but--" stammered Juliette again, "where is it to come from, this +supper--and where shall we be by supper-time?" + +"Well, our address is on the lap of the gods," admitted Julien, "but +while there is life there is hope. Possibly I may obtain a loan from +Lajeunie." + +Not many minutes had passed before Lajeunie also paid a visit to the +attic, "Aha," cried the unsuccessful novelist, as he perceived the +company, "well met! My children, my brothers, may your rewards equal +your deserts this year--may France do honour to your genius!" + +"And may Lajeunie be crowned the New Balzac," shouted the assembly; +"may his abode be in the Champs Elysées, and his name in the mouth of +all the world!" + +But, extraordinary as it appears, Lajeunie proved to be as impecunious +as the rest there; and he was so much distressed that Julien, deeply +moved, said: + +"Come back to supper, Lajeunie, we will drink toasts to the Muses!" And +now there were four guests invited to the impracticable supper, and +when the Children were left alone they clapped their hands at the +prospect. + +"How merry we shall be!" Julien exclaimed; "and awhile ago we talked of +passing the night in the Bois! It only shows you that one can never +tell what an hour may bring forth." + +"Yes, yes," assented Juliette blithely. "And as for the supper--" + +"We shall not require it till nine o'clock at the earliest." + +"And now it is no more than midday. Why, there is an eternity for +things to arrange themselves!" + +"Just so. The sky may rain truffles in such an interval," said the +painter. And they drew their chairs closer to the fire, and pretended +to each other that they were not hungry. + +The hours crept past, and the sunshine waned, and snow began to flutter +over Paris. But no truffles fell. By degrees the fire burnt low, and +died. To beg for more fuel was impossible, and Juliette shivered a +little. + +"You are cold, sweetheart," sighed Julien. "I will fetch a blanket from +the bed and wrap you in it." + +"No," she murmured, "wrap me in your arms--it will be better." + +Darker and darker grew the garret, and faster and faster fell the snow. + +"I have a fancy," said Juliette, breaking a long silence, "that it is +the hour in which a fairy should appear to us. Let us look to see if +she is coming!" + +They peered from the window, but in the twilight no fairy was to be +discerned; only an "old clo'" man was visible, trudging on his round. + +"I declare," cried Julien, "he is the next best thing to your fairy! I +will sell my summer suit and my velvet jacket. What do I want of a +velvet jacket? Coffee and eggs will be much more cheerful." + +"And I," vowed Juliette, "can spare my best hat easily--indeed, it is +an encumbrance. If we make madame Cochard a small peace-offering she +may allow us to remain until the morning." + +"What a grand idea! We shall provide ourselves with a night's shelter +and the means to entertain our friends as well Hasten to collect our +wardrobe, mignonette, while I crack my throat to make him hear. Hé, +hé!" + +At the repeated cries the "old clo'" man lifted his gaze to the fifth- +floor window at last, and in a few minutes Julien and Juliette were +kneeling on the boards above a pile of garments, which they raised one +by one for his inspection. + +"Regard, monsieur," said Julien, "this elegant summer suit! It is +almost as good as new. I begin to hesitate to part with it. What shall +we say for this elegant summer suit?" + +The dealer fingered it disdainfully. "Show me boots," he suggested; "we +can do business in boots." + +"Alas!" replied Julien, "the only boots that I possess are on my feet. +We will again admire the suit. What do you estimate it at--ten francs?" + +"Are you insane? are you a lunatic?" returned the dealer. "To a +reckless man it might be worth ten sous. Let us talk of boots!" + +"I cannot go barefoot," expostulated Julien. "Juliette, my Heart, do +you happen to possess a second pair of boots?" + +Juliette shook her head forlornly. "But I have a hat with daisies in +it," she said. "Observe, monsieur, the delicate tints of the buds! How +like to nature, how exquisite they are! They make one dream of +courtship in the woods. I will take five francs for it." + +"From me I swear you will not take them!" said the "old clo'" man. +"Boots," he pleaded; "for the love of God, boots!" + +"Morbleu, what a passion for boots you have!" moaned the unhappy +painter; "they obsess you, they warp your judgment. Can you think of +nothing in the world but boots? Look, we come to the gem of the +exhibition--a velvet jacket! A jacket like this confers an air of +greatness, one could not feel the pinch of poverty in such a jacket. It +is, I confess, a little white at the elbows, but such high lights are +very effective. And observe the texture--as soft as a darling's cheek!" + +The other turned it about with indifferent hands, and the Children +began to realise that he would prove no substitute for a fairy after +all. Then, while they watched him with sinking hearts, the door was +suddenly opened, and the concierge tottered on the threshold. + +"Monsieur, madame!" she panted, with such respect that they stared at +each other. + +"Eh bien?" + +"A visitor!" She leant against the wall, overwhelmed. + +"Who is it?" + +"Madame, la comtesse de Grand Ecusson!" + +Actually! The Countess had kept her word after all, and now she rustled +in, before the "old clo'" man could be banished. White as a virgin +canvas, Julien staggered forward to receive her, a pair of trousers, +which he was too agitated to remember, dangling under his arm. "Madame, +this honour!" he stammered; and, making a piteous effort to disguise +his beggary, "One's wardrobe accumulates so that, really, in a small +ménage, one has no room to--" + +"I have suffered from the inconvenience myself, monsieur," said the +Countess graciously. "Your charming wife was so kind as to invite me to +view your work; and see--my little Racine has come to wish his +preservers a Happy New Year!" + +And, on the honour of an historian, he brought one! Before they left +she had given a commission for his portrait at a thousand francs, and +purchased two landscapes, for which a thousand francs more would be +paid on the morrow. When Sanquereau, and Lajeunie, and Tricotrin, and +Pitou arrived, expecting the worst, they were amazed to discover the +Children waltzing round the attic to the music of their own voices. + +What _hurras_ rang out when the explanation was forthcoming; what +loans were promised to the guests, and what a gay quadrille was danced! +It was not until the last figure had concluded that Julien and Juliette +recognised that, although they would be wealthy in the morning, they +were still penniless that night. + +"Hélas! but we have no supper after all," groaned Julien. + +"Pardon, it is here, monsieur!" shouted madame Cochard, who entered +behind a kingly feast. "_Comment_, shall the artist honoured by +madame la comtesse de Grand Ecusson have no supper? Pot-au-feu, +monsieur; leg of mutton, monsieur; little tarts, monsieur; dessert, +monsieur; and for each person a bottle of good wine!" + +And the justice that was done to it, and the laughter that pealed under +the slates! The Children didn't forget that it was all due to the dog. +Juliette raised her glass radiantly. + +"Gentlemen," she cried, "I ask you to drink to the Fairy Poodle!" + + + +LITTLE-FLOWER-OF-THE-WOOD + +Janiaud used to lie abed all day, and drink absinthe all night. When +he contrived to write his poetry is a mystery. But he did write it, and +he might have written other things, too, if he had had the will. It was +often said that his paramount duty was to publish a history of modern +Paris, for the man was an encyclopaedia of unsuspected facts. Since he +can never publish it now, however, I am free to tell the story of the +Café du Bon Vieux Temps as he told it to an English editor and me one +night on the terrace of the café itself. It befell thus: + +When we entered that shabby little Montmartre restaurant, Janiaud +chanced to be seated, at a table in a corner, sipping his favourite +stimulant. He was deplorably dirty and suggested a scarecrow, and the +English editor looked nervous when I offered an introduction. Still, +Janiaud was Janiaud. The offer was accepted, and Janiaud discoursed in +his native tongue. At midnight the Editor ordered supper. Being +unfamiliar with the Café du Bon Vieux Temps in those days, I said that +I would drink beer. Janiaud smiled sardonically, and the waiter +surprised us with the information that beer could not be supplied. + +"What?" + +"After midnight, nothing but champagne," he answered. + +"Really? Well, let us go somewhere else," I proposed. + +But the Editor would not hear of that. He had a princely soul, and, +besides, he was "doing Paris." + +"All the same, what does it mean?" he inquired of Janiaud. + +Janiaud blew smoke rings. "It is the rule. During the evening the +bock-drinker is welcomed here as elsewhere; but at midnight--well, you will +see what you will see!" + +And we saw very soon. The bourgeoisie of Montmartre had straggled out +while we talked, and in a little while the restaurant was crowded with +a rackety crew who had driven up in cabs. Everybody but ourselves was +in evening-dress. Where the coppers had been counted carefully, gold +was scattered. A space was cleared for dancing, and mademoiselle Nan +Joliquette obliged the company with her latest comic song. + +The Editor was interested. "It is a queer change, though! Has it always +been like this?" + +"Ask Janiaud," I said; _I_ don't know." + +"Oh, not at all," replied Janiaud; "no, indeed, it was not always like +this! It used to be as quiet at midnight as at any other hour. But it +became celebrated as a supper-place; and now it is quite the thing for +the ardent spirits, with money, to come and kick up their heels here +until five in the morning." + +"Curious, how such customs originate," remarked the Editor. "Here we +have a restaurant which is out of the way, which is the reverse of +luxurious, and which, for all that, seems to be a gold mine to the +proprietor. Look at him! Look at his white waistcoat and his massive +watch-chain, his air of prosperity." + +"How did he come to rake it in like this, Janiaud--you know +everything?" I said. + +The poet stroked his beard, and glanced at his empty glass. The Editor +raised a bottle. + +"I cannot talk on Clicquot," demurred Janiaud. "If you insist, I will +take another absinthe--they will allow it, in the circumstances. Sst, +Adolphe!" The waiter whisked over to us. "Monsieur pays for champagne, +but I prefer absinthe. There is no law against that, hein?" + +Adolphe smiled tolerantly. + +"Shall we sit outside?" suggested the Editor. "What do you think? It's +getting rather riotous in here, isn't it?" + +So we moved on to the terrace, and waited while Janiaud prepared his +poison. + +"It is a coincidence that you have asked me for the history of the Bon +Vieux Temps tonight," he began, after a gulp; "if you had asked for it +two days earlier, the climax would have been missing. The story +completed itself yesterday, and I happened to be here and saw the end. + +"Listen: Dupont--the proprietor whom monsieur has just admired--used to +be chef to a family on the boulevard Haussmann. He had a very fair +salary, and probably he would have remained in the situation till now +but for the fact that he fell in love with the parlourmaid. She was a +sprightly little flirt, with ambitions, and she accepted him only on +condition that they should withdraw from domestic service and start a +business of their own. Dupont was of a cautious temperament; he would +have preferred that they should jog along with some family in the +capacities of chef and housekeeper. Still, he consented; and, with what +they had saved between them, they took over this little restaurant-- +where monsieur the Editor has treated me with such regal magnificence. +It was not they who christened it--it was called the Café du Bon Vieux +Temps already; how it obtained its name is also very interesting, but I +have always avoided digressions in my work--that is one of the first +principles of the literary art." + +He swallowed some more absinthe. + +"They took the establishment over, and they conducted it on the lines +of their predecessor--they provided a déjeuner at one franc fifty, and +a dinner at two francs. These are side-shows of the Bon Vieux Temps to-day, +but, in the period of which I speak, they were all that it had to +say for itself--they were its foundation-stone, and its cupola. When I +had two francs to spare, I used to dine here myself. + +"Well, the profits were not dazzling. And after marriage the little +parlourmaid developed extravagant tastes. She had a passion for +theatres. I, Janiaud, have nothing to say against theatres, excepting +that the managers have never put on my dramas, but in the wife of a +struggling restaurateur a craze for playgoing is not to be encouraged. +Monsieur will agree? Also, madame had a fondness for dress. She did +little behind the counter but display new ribbons and trinkets. She was +very stupid at giving change--and always made the mistake on the wrong +side for Dupont. At last he had to employ a cousin of his own as dame- +de-comptoir. The expenses had increased, and the returns remained the +same. In fine, Dupont was in difficulties; the Bon Vieux Temps was on +its last legs. + +"Listen: There was at that time a dancer called 'Little-Flower-of-the- +Wood'; she was very chic, very popular. She had her appartement in the +avenue Wagram, she drove to the stage-doors in her coupé, her +photographs were sold like confetti at a carnival. Well, one afternoon, +when Dupont's reflections were oscillating between the bankruptcy court +and the Morgue, he was stupefied to receive a message from her--she +bade him reserve a table for herself and some friends for supper that +night! + +"Dupont could scarcely credit his ears. He told his wife that a +practical joker must be larking with him. He declared that he would +take no notice of the message, that he was not such an ass to be duped +by it. Finally, he proposed to telegraph to Little-Flower-of-the-Wood, +inquiring if it was genuine. + +"Monsieur, as an editor, will have observed that a woman who is +incapable in the daily affairs of life, may reveal astounding force in +an emergency? It was so in this case. Madame put her foot down; she +showed unsuspected commercial aptitude. She firmly forbade Dupont to do +anything of the sort! + +"'What?' she exclaimed. 'You will telegraph to her, inquiring? Never in +this life! You might as well advise her frankly not to come. What would +such a question mean? That you do not think the place is good enough +for her! Well, if _you_ do not think so, neither will _she_-- +she will decide that she had a foolish impulse and stay away! + +"'Mon Dieu! do you dream that a woman accustomed to the Café de Paris +would choose to sup in an obscure little restaurant like ours?' said +Dupont, fuming. 'Do you dream that I am going to buy partridges, and +peaches, and wines, and heaven knows what other delicacies, in the +dark? Do you dream that I am going to ruin myself while every instinct +in me protests? It would be the act of a madman!' + +"'My little cabbage,' returned madame, 'we are so near to ruin as we +are, that a step nearer is of small importance. If Little-Flower-of- +the-Wood should come, it might be the turning-point in our fortunes-- +people would hear of it, the Bon Vieux Temps might become renowned. +Yes, we shall buy partridges, and peaches--and bonbons, and flowers +also, and we shall hire a piano! And if our good angel should indeed +send her to us, I swear she shall pass as pleasant an evening as if she +had gone to Maxim's or the Abbaye! + +"Bien! She convinced him. For the rest of the day the place was in a +state of frenzy. Never before had such a repast been seen in its +kitchen, never before had he cooked with such loving care, even when he +had been preparing a dinner of ceremony on the boulevard Haussmann. +Madame herself ran out to arrange for the piano. The floor was swept. +The waiter was put into a clean shirt. Dupont shed tears of excitement +in his saucepans. + +"He served the two-franc dinner that evening with eyes that watched +nothing but the clock. All his consciousness now was absorbed by the +question whether the dancer would come or not. The dinner passed +somehow--it is to be assumed that the customers grumbled, but in his +suspense Dupont regarded them with indifference. The hours crept by. It +was a quarter to twelve--twelve o'clock. He trembled behind the +counter as if with ague. Now it was time that she was here! His face +was blanched, his teeth chattered in his head. What if he had been +hoaxed after all? Half-past twelve! The sweat ran down him. Terror +gripped his heart. A vision of all the partridges wasted convulsed his +soul. Hark! a carriage stopped. He tottered forward. The door opened-- +she had come! + +"Women are strange. Little-Flower-of-the-Wood, who yawned her pretty +head off at Armenonville, was enraptured with the Bon Vieux Temps. The +rest of the party took their tone from her, and everything was +pronounced 'fun,' the coarse linen, the dirty ceiling, the admiring +stares of the bock-drinkers. The lady herself declared that she had +'never enjoyed a supper so much in her life,' and the waiter--it was +not Adolphe then--was dumfounded by a louis tip. + +"Figure yourself the exultation of madame! 'Ah,' she chuckled, when +they shut up shop at sunrise, 'what did I tell you, my little cabbage?' +Monsieur, as an editor, will have observed that a woman who reveals +astounding force in an emergency may triumph pettily when the emergency +is over? + +"'It remains to be seen whether they will come any more, however,' said +Dupont. 'Let us go to bed. Mon Dieu, how sleepy I am!' It was the first +occasion that the Bon Vieux Temps had been open after two o'clock in +the morning. + +"It was the first occasion, and for some days they feared it might be +the last. But no, the dancer came again! A few eccentrics who came with +her flattered themselves on having made a 'discovery.' They boasted of +it. Gradually the name of the Bon Vieux Temps became known. By the time +that Little-Flower-of-the-Wood had had enough, there was a supper +clientèle without her. Folly is infectious, and in Paris there are +always people catching a fresh craze. Dupont began to put up his +prices, and levied a charge on the waiter for the privilege of waiting +at supper. The rest of the history is more grave ... _Comment_, +monsieur? Since you insist--again an absinthe!" + +Janiaud paused, and ran his dirty fingers through his hair. + +"This man can talk!" said the Editor, in an undertone. + +"Gentlemen," resumed the poet, "two years passed. Little-Flower-of-the- +Wood was on the Italian Riviera. The Italian Riviera was awake again +after the heat of the summer--the little town that had dozed for many +months began to stir. Almost every day now she saw new faces on the +promenade; the sky was gentler, the sea was fairer. And she sat +loathing it all, craving to escape from it to the bleak streets of +Paris. + +"Two winters before, she had been told, 'Your lungs will stand no more +of the pranks you have been playing. You must go South, and keep early +hours, or--' The shrug said the rest. And she had sold some of her +diamonds and obeyed. Of course, it was an awful nuisance, but she must +put up with it for a winter in order to get well. As soon as she was +well, she would go back, and take another engagement. She had promised +herself to be dancing again by May. + +"But when May had come, she was no better. And travelling was +expensive, and all places were alike to her since she was forbidden to +return to Paris. She, had disposed of more jewellery, and looked forward +to the autumn. And in the autumn she had looked forward to the spring. +So it had gone on. + +"At first, while letters came to her sometimes, telling her how she was +missed, the banishment had been alleviated; later, in her loneliness, +it had grown frightful. Monsieur, her soul--that little soul that +pleasure had held dumb--cried out, under misfortune, like a homeless +child for its mother. Her longing took her by the throat, and the +doctor had difficulty in dissuading her from going to meet death by the +first train. She did not suspect that she was doomed in any case; he +thought it kinder to deceive her. He had preached 'Patience, +mademoiselle, a little patience!' And she had wrung her hands, but +yielded--sustained by the hope of a future that she was never to know. + +"By this time the last of her jewels was sold, and most of the money +had been spent. The fact alarmed her when she dwelt upon it, but she +did not dwell upon it very often--in the career of Little-Flower-of- +the-Wood, so many financial crises had been righted at the last moment. +No, although there was nobody now to whom she could turn for help, it +was not anxiety that bowed her; the thoughts by which she was stricken, +as she sauntered feebly on the eternal promenade, were that in Paris +they no longer talked of her, and that her prettiness had passed away. +She was forgotten, ugly! The tragedy of her exile was that. + +"Now it was that she found out the truth--she learnt that there was no +chance of her recovering. She made no reproaches for the lies that had +been told her; she recognized that they had been well meant. All she +said was, 'I am glad that it is not too late; I may see Paris still +before the curtain tumbles--I shall go at once.' + +"Not many months of life remained to her, but they were more numerous +than her louis. It was an unfamiliar Paris that she returned to! She +had quitted the Paris of the frivolous and fêted; she came back to the +Paris of the outcast poor. The world that she had remembered gave her +no welcome--she peered through its shut windows, friendless in the +streets. + +"Gentlemen, last night all the customers had gone from the little Café +du Bon Vieux Temps but a woman in a shabby opera-cloak--a woman with +tragic eyes, and half a lung. She sat fingering her glass of beer +absently, though the clock over the desk pointed to a quarter to +midnight, and at midnight beer-drinkers are no longer desired in the +Bon Vieux Temps. But she was a stranger; it was concluded that she +didn't know. + +"Adolphe approached to enlighten her; 'Madame wishes to order supper?' +he asked. + +"The stranger shook her head. + +"'Madame will have champagne?' + +"'Don't bother me!' said the woman. + +"Adolphe nodded toward the bock contemptuously. 'After midnight, only +champagne is served here,' he said; 'it is the rule of the house,' + +"'A fig for the rule!' scoffed the woman; 'I am going to stop.' + +"Adolphe retired and sought the _patron_, and Dupont advanced to +her with dignity. + +"'Madame is plainly ignorant of our arrangements,' he began; 'at twelve +o'clock one cannot remain here for the cost of a bock--the restaurant +becomes very gay,' + +"'So I believe,' she said; 'I want to see the gaiety,' + +"'It also becomes expensive. I will explain. During the evening we +serve a dinner at two francs for our clients in the neighbourhood--and +until twelve o'clock one may order bocks, or what one wishes, at +strictly moderate prices. But at twelve o'clock there is a change; we +have quite a different class of trade. The world that amuses itself +arrives here to sup and to dance. As a supper-house, the Bori Vieux +Temps is known to all Paris.' + +"'One lives and learns!' said the woman, ironically; 'but I--know more +about the Bon Vieux Temps than you seem to think. I can tell you the +history of its success.' + +"'Madame?' Dupont regarded her with haughty eyes. + +"'Three years ago, monsieur, there was no "different class of trade" at +twelve o'clock, and no champagne. The dinners at two francs for your +clients in the neighbourhood were all that you aspired to. You did the +cooking yourself in those days, and you did not sport a white waistcoat +and a gold watch-chain.' + +"'These things have nothing to do with it. You will comply with the +rule, or you must go. All is said!' "'One night Little-Flower-of-the- +Wood had a whim to sup here,' continued the woman as if he had not +spoken. 'She had passed the place in her carriage and fancied its name, +or its flowerpot--or she wanted to do something new. Anyhow, she had +the whim! I see you have the telephone behind the desk, monsieur--your +little restaurant was not on the telephone when she wished to reserve a +table that night; she had to reserve it by a messenger.' + +"'Well, well?' said Dupont, impatiently. + +"'But you were a shrewd man; you saw your luck and leapt at it--and +when she entered with her party, you received her like a queen. You had +even hired a piano, you said, in case Little-Flower-of-the-Wood might +wish to play. I notice that a piano is in the corner now--no doubt you +soon saved the money to buy one.' + +"'How do you know all this, you?' Dupont's gaze was curious. + +"'Her freak pleased her, and she came again and again--and others came, +just to see her here. Then you recognized that your clients from the +neighbourhood were out of place among the spendthrifts, who yielded +more profit in a night than all the two-franc dinners in a month; you +said, "At twelve o'clock there shall be no more bocks, only champagne!" +I had made your restaurant famous--and you introduced the great rule +that you now command me to obey.' + +"'You? You are Little-Flower-of-the-Wood?' + +"'Yes, it was I who did it for you,' she said quietly. 'And the +restaurant flourished after Little-Flower-of-the-Wood had faded. Well, +to-night I want to spend an hour here again, for the sake of what I +used to be. Time brings changes, you understand, and I cannot conform +with the great rule.' She opened the opera-cloak, trembling, and he saw +that beneath it Little-Flower-of-the-Wood was in rags. + +"'I am very poor and ill,' she went on. 'I have been away in the South +for more than two years; they told me I ought to stop there, but I had +to see Paris once more! What does it matter? I shall finish here a +little sooner, that is all. I lodge close by, in a garret. The garret +is very dirty, but I hear the muisc from the Bal Tabarin across the +way. I like that--I persuade myself I am living the happy life I used +to have. When I am tossing sleepless, I hear the noise and laughter of +the crowd coming out, and blow kisses to them in the dark. You see, +although one is forgotten, one cannot forget. I pray that their +laughter will come up to me right at the end, before I die.' + +"'You cannot afford to enter Tabarin's?' faltered Dupont; 'you are so +stony as that?' + +"'So stony as that!' she said. 'And I repeat that to-night I want to +pass an hour in the midst of the life I loved. Monsieur, remember how +you came to make your rule! Break it for me once! Let me stay here +to-night for a bock!' + +"Dupont is a restaurateur, but he is also a man. He took both her +hands, and the waiters were astonished to perceive that the +_patron_ was crying. + +"'My child,' he stammered, 'you will sup here as my guest.' + +"Adolphe set before her champagne that she sipped feverishly, and a +supper that she was too ill to eat. And cabs came rattling from the +Boulevard with boisterous men and women who no longer recalled her +name--and with other 'Little-Flowers-of-the-Wood,' who had sprung up +since her day. + +"The woman who used to reign there sat among them looking back, until +the last jest was bandied, and the last bottle was drained. Then she +bade her host 'good-bye,' and crawled home--to the garret where she +'heard the music of the ball'; the garret where she 'prayed that the +laughter would come up to her right at the end, before she died.'" + +Janiaud finished the absinthe, and lurched to his feet. "That's all." + +"Great Scott," said the Editor, "I wish he could write in English! But +--but it's very pitiable, she may starve there; something ought to be +done.... Can you tell us where she is living, monsieur?" + +The poet shrugged his shoulders. "Is there no satisfying you? You asked +me for the history of the Bon Vieux Temps, and there are things that +even I do not know. However, I have done my best. I cannot say where +the lady is living, but I can tell you where she was born." He pointed, +with a drunken laugh, to his glass: "There!" + + + +A MIRACLE IN MONTMARTRE + +Lajeunie, the luckless novelist, went to Pitou, the unrecognized +composer, saying, "I have a superb scenario for a revue. Let us join +forces! I promise you we shall make a fortune; we shall exchange our +attics for first floors of fashion, and be wealthy enough to wear sable +overcoats and Panama hats at the same time." In ordinary circumstances, +of course, Pitou would have collaborated only with Tricotrin, but +Tricotrin was just then engrossed by a tragedy in blank verse and seven +acts, and he said to them, "Make a fortune together by all means, my +comrades; I should be unreasonable if I raised objections to having +rich friends." + +Accordingly the pair worked like heroes of biography, and, after +vicissitudes innumerable, _Patatras_ was practically accepted at +La Coupole. The manager even hinted that Fifi Blondette might be seen +in the leading part. La Coupole, and Blondette! Pitou and Lajeunie +could scarcely credit their ears. To be sure, she was no actress, and +her voice was rather unpleasant, and she would probably want everything +rewritten fifteen times before it satisfied her; but she was a +beautiful woman and all Paris paid to look at her when she graced a +stage; and she had just ruined Prince Czernowitz, which gave her name +an additional value. "Upon my word," gasped Pitou, "our luck seems as +incredible, my dear Lajeunie, as the plot of any of your novels! Come +and have a drink!" + +"I feel like Rodolphe at the end of _La Vie de Bohème_," he +confided to Tricotrin in their garret one winter's night, as they went +supper-less to their beds. "Now that the days of privation are past, I +recall them with something like regret. The shock of the laundress's +totals, the meagre dinners at the Bel Avenir, these things have a +fascination now that I part from them. I do not wish to sound +ungrateful, but I cannot help wondering if my millions will impair the +taste of life to me." + +"To me they will make it taste much better," said Tricotrin, "for I +shall have somebody to borrow money from, and I shall get enough +blankets. _Brrr_! how cold I am! Besides, you need not lose touch +with Montmartre because you are celebrated--you can invite us all to +your magnificent abode. Also, you can dine at the Bel Avenir still, if +sentiment pulls you that way." + +"I shall certainly dine there," averred Pitou. "And I shall buy a house +for my parents, with a peacock and some deer on the lawn. At the same +time, a triumph is not without its pathos. I see my return to the Bel +Avenir, the old affections in my heart, the old greetings on my lips-- +and I see the fellows constrained and formal in my presence. I see +madame apologising for the cuisine, instead of reminding me that my +credit is exhausted, and the waiter polishing my glass, instead of +indicating the cheapest item on the menu. Such changes hurt!" He was +much moved. "A fortune is not everything," he sighed, forgetting that +his pockets were as empty as his stomach. "Poverty yielded joys which I +no longer know." + +The poet embraced him with emotion. "I rejoice to find that Fame has +not spoilt your nature," he cried; and he, too, forgot the empty +pockets, and that the contract from La Coupole had yet to come. "Yes, +we had hard times together, you and I, and I am still a nobody, but we +shall be chums as long as we live. I feel that you can unbosom yourself +to me, the poor bohemian, more freely than to any Immortal with whom +you hobnob in scenes of splendour." + +"Oh indeed, indeed!" assented Pitou, weeping. "You are as dear to me +now as in the days of our struggles; I should curse my affluence if it +made you doubt that! Good-night, my brother; God bless you." + +He lay between the ragged sheets; and half an hour crept by. + +"Gustave!" + +"Well?" said Tricotrin, looking towards the other bed. "Not asleep +yet?" + +"I cannot sleep--hunger is gnawing at me." + +"Ah, what a relentless realist is this hunger," complained the poet, +"how it destroys one's illusions!" + +"Is there nothing to eat in the cupboard?" + +"Not a crumb--I am ravenous myself. But I recall a broken cigarette in +my waistcoat pocket; let us cut it in halves!" + +They strove, shivering, to appease their pangs by slow whiffs of a +Caporal, and while they supped in this unsatisfactory fashion, there +came an impetuous knocking at the street door. + +"It must be that La Coupole has sent you a sack of gold to go on with!" +Tricotrin opined. "Put your head out and see." + +"It is Lajeunie," announced the composer, withdrawing from the window +with chattering teeth. "What the devil can he want? I suppose I must go +down and let him in." + +"Perhaps we can get some more cigarettes from him," said Tricotrin; "it +might have been worse." + +But when the novelist appeared, the first thing he stammered was, "Give +me a cigarette, one of you fellows, or I shall die!" + +"Well, then, dictate your last wishes to us!" returned Pitou. "Do you +come here under the impression that the house is a tobacconist's? What +is the matter with you, what is up?" "For three hours," snuffled +Lajeunie, who looked half frozen and kept shuddering violently, "for +three hours I have been pacing the streets, questioning whether I +should break the news to you to-night or not. In one moment I told +myself that it would be better to withhold it till the morning; in the +next I felt that you had a right to hear it without delay. Hour after +hour, in the snow, I turned the matter over in my mind, and--" + +"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Pitou, "is this an interminable serial at so much +a column? Come to the point!" + +Lajeunie beat his breast. "I am distracted," he faltered, "I am no +longer master of myself. Listen! It occurred to me this evening that I +might do worse than pay a visit to La Coupole and inquire if a date was +fixed yet for the rehearsals to begin. Well, I went! For a long time I +could obtain no interview, I could obtain no appointment--the messenger +came back with evasive answers. I am naturally quick at smelling a rat +--I have the detective's instinct--and I felt that there was something +wrong. My heart began to fail me." + +"For mercy's sake," groaned his unhappy collaborator, "explode the bomb +and bury my fragments! Enough of these literary introductions. Did you +see the manager, or didn't you?" + +"I did see the miscreant, the bandit-king, I saw him in the street. For +I was not to be put off--I waited till he came out. Well, my friend, to +compress the tragedy into one act, our hope is shattered-- +_Patatras_ is again refused!" + +"Oh, heavens!" moaned Pitou, and fell back upon the mattress as white +as death. + +"What explanation did he make?" cried Tricotrin; "what is the reason?" + +"The reason is that Blondette is an imbecile--she finds the part +'unworthy of her talents.' A part on which I have lavished all the +wealth of my invention--she finds it beneath her, she said she would +'break her contract rather than play it.' Well, Blondette is the trump-card +of his season--he would throw over the whole of the Academy sooner +than lose Blondette. Since she objects to figuring in _Patatras, +Patatras_ is waste-paper to him. Alas! who would be an author? I +would rather shovel coke, or cut corns for a living. He himself +admitted that there was no fault to find with the revue, but, 'You know +well, monsieur, that we must humour Blondette!' I asked him if he would +try to bring her to her senses, but it seems that there have been a +dozen discussions already--he is sick of the subject. Now it is +settled--our manuscript will be banged back at us and we may rip!" + +"Oh, my mother!" moaned Pitou. "Oh, the peacock and the deer!" + +"What's that you say?" asked Lajeunie. "Are you positive that you +haven't got a cigarette anywhere?" + +"I am positive that I have nothing," proclaimed Pitou vehemently, +"nothing in life but a broken heart! Oh, you did quite right to come to +me, but now leave me--leave me to perish. I have no words, I am +stricken. The next time you see me it will be in the Morgue. Mon Dieu, +that beautiful wretch, that creature without conscience, or a note in +her voice--by a shrug of her elegant shoulders she condemns me to the +Seine!" + +"Ah, do not give way!" exclaimed Tricotrin, leaping out of bed. +"Courage, my poor fellow, courage! Are there not other managers in +Paris?" + +"There are--and _Patatras_ has been refused by them. La Coupole +was our last chance, and it has collapsed. We have no more to expect-- +it is all over. Is it not so, Lajeunie?" + +"All over," sobbed Lajeunie, bowing his head on the washhand-stand. +"_Patatras_ is dead!" + +Then for some seconds the only sound to be heard in the attic was the +laboured breathing of the three young men's despair. + +At last Tricotrin, drawing himself upright in his tattered nightshirt, +said, with a gesture of dignity, "Well, the case may justify me--in the +present situation it appears to me that I have the right to use my +influence with Blondette!" + +A signal from Mars could not have caused a more profound sensation. +Pitou and Lajeunie regarded him with open mouths. "Your influence?" +echoed Pitou: "your influence? I was not aware that you had ever met +her." + +"No," rejoined the poet darkly; "I have not met her. But there are +circumstances in my life which entitle me to demand a service of this +triumphant woman. Do not question me, my friends--what I shall say to +her must remain a secret even from you. I declare, however, that nobody +has a stronger claim on her than Gustave Tricotrin, the poor penny-a- +liner whom she does not know!" + +The sudden intervention--to say nothing of its literary flavour--so +excited the collaborators that they nearly wrung his hands off: and +Lajeunie, who recognised a promising beginning for another serial, was +athirst for further hints. + +"She has perhaps committed a murder, that fair fiend?" he inquired +rapturously. + +"Perhaps," replied Tricotrin. + +"In that case she dare refuse you nothing." + +"Why not, since I have never heard of it?" + +"I was only jesting," said the novelist. "In sober earnest, I +conjecture that you are married to her, like Athos to Miladi. As you +stand there, with that grave air, you strongly resemble Athos." + +"Nevertheless, Athos did not marry a woman to whom he had not spoken, +and I repeat that I have never spoken to Blondette in my life." + +"Well," said Lajeunie, "I have too much respect for your wishes to show +any curiosity. Besides, by an expert the mystery is to be divined-- +before the story opens, you rendered her some silent aid, and your name +will remind her of a great heroism?" + +"I have never rendered her any aid at all," demurred Tricotrin, "and +there is not the slightest reason to suppose that she has ever heard my +name. But again, I have an incontestable right to demand a service of +her, and for the sake of the affection I bear you both, I shall go and +do it." + +"When Tricotrin thinks that he is living in _The Three Musketeers_ +it is useless to try to pump him," said Pitou; "let us content +ourselves with what we are told! Is it not enough? Our fate is in +Blondette's hands, and he is in a position to ask a favour of her. What +more can we want?" + +But he could not resist putting a question on his own account after +Lajeunie had skipped downstairs. + +"Gustave, why did you never mention to me that you knew Blondette?" + +"Morbleu! how often must I say that I do _not_ know her?" + +"Well--how shall I express it?--that some episode in your career gave +you a claim on her consideration?" + +"Because, by doing so, I should have both violated a confidence, and +re-opened a wound which still burns," said Tricotrin, more like Athos +than ever. "Only the urgency of your need, my comrade, could induce me +to take the course that I project. Now let me sleep, for to-morrow I +must have all my wits!" + +It was, however, five o'clock already, and before either of them had +slept long, the street was clattering with feet on their way to the +laundries, and vendors of delicacies were bawling suggestions for +appetising breakfasts. + +"Not only do the shouts of these monsters disturb my slumber, but they +taunt my starvation!" yawned the poet. "Yet, now I come to think of it, +I have an appointment with a man who has sworn to lend me a franc, so +perhaps I had better get up before he is likely to have spent it. I +shall call upon Blondette in the afternoon, when she returns from her +drive. What is your own programme?" + +"My first attempt will be at a crèmerie in the rue St. Rustique, where +I am inclined to think I may get credit for milk and a roll if I +swagger." + +"Capital," said Tricotrin; "things are looking up with us both! And if +I raise the franc, there will be ten sous for you to squander on a +recherché luncheon. Meet me in the place Dancourt in an hour's time. So +long!" + +Never had mademoiselle Blondette looked more captivating than when her +carriage brought her back that day. She wore--but why particularise? +Suffice it, that she had just been photographed. As she stepped to the +pavement she was surprised by the obeisance of a shabby young man, who +said in courtly tones, "Mademoiselle, may I beg the honour of an +interview? I came from La Coupole." Having bestowed a glance of +annoyance on him, she invited him to ascend the stairs, and a minute +later Tricotrin was privileged to watch her take off her hat before the +mirror. + +"Well?" she inquired, "what's the trouble there now; what do they +want?" + +"So far as I know, mademoiselle," returned the intruder deferentially, +"they want nothing but your beauty and your genius; but I myself want +infinitely more--I want your attention and your pity. Let me explain +without delay that I do not represent the Management, and that when I +said I came from La Coupole I should have added that I did not come +from the interior." + +"Ça, par exemple!" she said sharply. "Who are you, then?" + +"I am Tricotrin, mademoiselle--Gustave Tricotrin, at your feet. I have +two comrades, the parents of _Patatras_; you have refused to play +in it, and I fear they will destroy themselves. I come to beg you to +save their lives." + +"Monsieur," exclaimed the lady, and her eyes were brilliant with +temper, "all that I have to say about _Patatras_ I have said! The +part gave me the hump." + +"And yet," continued the suppliant firmly, "I hope to induce you to +accept it. I am an author myself, and I assure you that it teems with +opportunities that you may have overlooked in a casual reading." + +"It is stupid!" + +"As you would play it, I predict that it would make an epoch." + +"And the music is no good." + +"If I may venture to differ from you, the music is haunting--the +composer is my lifelong friend." + +"I appreciate the argument," she said, with fine irony. "But you will +scarcely expect me to play a part that I don't like in order to please +you!" + +"Frankly, that is just what I do expect," replied the poet. "I think +you will consent for my sake." + +"Oh, really? For _your_ sake? Would you mind mentioning why, +before you go?" + +"Because, mademoiselle," said Tricotrin, folding his arms, "in years +gone by, you ruined me!" + +"Mon Dieu!" she gasped, and she did not doubt that she was in the +presence of a lunatic. + +"Do not rush to the bell!" he begged. "If it will allay your panic, I +will open the door and address you from the landing. I am not insane, I +solemnly assert that I am one of the men who have had the honour of +being ruined by you." "I have never seen you in my life before!" "I +know it. I even admit that I attach no blame to you in the matter. +Nevertheless, you cost me two thousand five hundred and forty-three +francs, and--as you may judge by my costume--I do not own the Crédit +Lyonnais. If you will deign to hear my story, I guarantee that it will +convince you. Do you permit me to proceed?" + +The beauty nodded wonderingly, and the shabby young man continued in +the following words: + +"As I have said, I am an author; I shall 'live' by my poetry, but I +exist by my prose--in fact, I turn my pen to whatever promises a +dinner, be it a sonnet to the Spring, or a testimonial to a hair +restorer. One summer, when dinners had been even more elusive than +usual, I conceived the idea of calling attention to my talents by means +of an advertisement. In reply, I received a note bidding me be on the +third step of the Madeleine at four o'clock the following day, and my +correspondent proved to be a gentleman whose elegant apparel proclaimed +him a Parisian of the Boulevard. + +"'You are monsieur Gustave Tricotrin?' he inquired. + +"'I have that misfortune, monsieur,' said I. We adjourned to a café, +and after a preliminary chat, from which he deduced that I was a person +of discretion, he made me a proposal. + +"He said, 'Monsieur Tricotrin, it is evident that you and I were +designed to improve each other's condition; _your_ dilemma is +that, being unknown, you cannot dispose of your stories--_mine_ is +that, being known so well, I am asked for more stories than I can +possibly write, I suggest that you shall write some for me. _I_ +will sign them, they will be paid for in accordance with my usual +terms, and you shall receive a generous share of the swag. I need not +impress upon you that I am speaking in the strictest confidence, and +that you must never breathe a word about our partnership, even to the +wife of your bosom.' + +"'Monsieur,' I returned, 'I have no wife to breathe to, and my bosom is +unsurpassed as a receptacle for secrets,' + +"'Good,' he said. 'Well, without beating about the bush, I will tell +you who I am.' He then uttered a name that made me jump, and before we +parted it was arranged that I should supply him with a tale immediately +as a specimen of my abilities. + +"This tale, which I accomplished the same evening, pleased him so well +that he forthwith gave me an order for two more. I can create a plot +almost as rapidly as a debt, and before long I had delivered +manuscripts to him in such wholesale quantities that if I had been paid +cash for them, I should have been in a position to paint the Butte the +richest shade of red. It was his custom, however, to make excuses and +payments on account, and as we were capital friends by now, I never +demurred. + +"Well, things went on in this fashion until one day he hinted to me +that I had provided him with enough manuscripts to last him for two +years; his study was lumbered with evidence of my talent, and his +market, after all, was not unlimited. He owed me then close upon three +thousand francs, and it was agreed that he should wipe the debt out by +weekly instalments. Enfin, I was content enough--I foresaw an ample +income for two years to come, and renewed leisure to win immortality by +my epics. I trust that my narrative does not fatigue you, +mademoiselle?" + +"What has it all to do with me, however?" asked the lady. + +"You shall hear. Though the heroine comes on late, she brings the house +down when she enters. For a few weeks my patron fulfilled his compact +with tolerable punctuality, but I never failed to notice when we met +that he was a prey to some terrible grief. At last, when he had reduced +the sum to two thousand five hundred and forty-three francs--the +figures will be found graven on my heart--he confided in me, he made me +a strange request; he exclaimed: + +"'Tricotrin, I am the most miserable of men!' + +"'Poor fellow!' I responded. 'It is, of course, a woman?' + +"'Precisely,' he answered. 'I adore her. Her beauty is incomparable, +her fascinations are unparalleled, her intelligence is unique. She has +only one blemish--she is mercenary.' + +"'After all, perfection would be tedious,' I said. + +"'You are a man of sensibility, you understand!' he cried. 'Her tastes +have been a considerable strain on my resources, and in consequence my +affairs have become involved. Now that I am in difficulties, she is +giving me the chuck. I have implored and besought, I have worn myself +out in appeals, but her firmness is as striking as her other gifts. +There remains only one chance for me--a letter so impassioned that it +shall awake her pity. _I_, as I tell you, am exhausted; I can no +longer plead, no longer phrase, I am a wreck! Will you, as a friend, as +a poet, compose such a letter and give it to me to copy?' + +"Could I hesitate? I drove my pen for him till daybreak. All the +yearnings of my own nature, all the romance of my fiery youth, I poured +out in this appeal to a siren whom I had never seen, and whose name I +did not know. I was distraught, pathetic, humorous, and sublime by +turns. Subtle gleams of wit flashed artistically across the lurid +landscape of despair. I reminded her of scenes of happiness--vaguely, +because I had no details to elaborate; the reminiscences, however, were +so touching that I came near to believing in them. Mindful of her +solitary blemish, I referred to 'embarrassments now almost at an end'; +and so profoundly did I affect myself, that while I wrote that I was +weeping, it was really true. Well, when I saw the gentleman again he +embraced me like a brother. 'Your letter was a masterpiece,' he told +me; 'it has done the trick!' + +"Mademoiselle, I do not wish to say who he was, and as you have known +many celebrities, and had many love-letters, you may not guess. But the +woman was you! And if I had been a better business man, I should have +written less movingly, for I recognised, even during my inspiration, +that it was against my interests to reunite him to you. I was an +artist; I thrilled your heart, I restored you to his arms--and you had +the two thousand five hundred and forty-three francs that would +otherwise have come to me! Never could I extract another sou from him!" + +As Tricotrin concluded his painful history, mademoiselle Blondette +seemed so much amused that he feared she had entirely missed its +pathos. But his misgiving was relieved when she spoke. + +"It seems to me I have been expensive to you, monsieur," she said; "and +you have certainly had nothing for your money. Since this revue--which +I own that I have merely glanced at--is the apple of your eye, I +promise to read it with more attention." + + * * * * * + +A month later _Patatras_ was produced at La Coupole after all, and +no one applauded its performance more enthusiastically than the poet, +who subsequently went to supper arm-in-arm with its creators. + +"Mon vieux," said the elated pair, "we will not ask again by what means +you accomplished this miracle, but let it teach you a lesson! Tonight's +experience proves that nothing is beyond your power if you resolve to +succeed!" + +"It proves," replied Tricotrin, "that Blondette's first impression was +correct, for, between ourselves, my children, _Patatras_ is no +shakes." + +Nevertheless, Lajeunie and Pitou wore laurels in Montmartre; and one is +happy to say that their fees raised the young collaborators from +privation to prosperity--thanks to Blondette's attractions--for nearly +three weeks. + + + +THE DANGER OF BEING A TWIN + +My Confessions must begin when I was four years old and recovering +from swollen glands. As I grew well, my twin-brother, Grégoire, who was +some minutes younger, was put to bed with the same complaint. + +"What a misfortune," exclaimed our mother, "that Silvestre is no sooner +convalescent than Grégoire falls ill!" + +The doctor answered: "It astonishes me, madame Lapalme, that you were +not prepared for it--since the children are twins, the thing was to be +foreseen; when the elder throws the malady off, the younger naturally +contracts it. Among twins it is nearly always so." + +And it always proved to be so with Grégoire and me. No sooner did I +throw off whooping-cough than Grégoire began to whoop, though I was at +home at Vernon and he was staying with our grandmother at Tours. If I +had to be taken to a dentist, Grégoire would soon afterwards be howling +with toothache; as often as I indulged in the pleasures of the table +Grégoire had a bilious attack. The influence I exercised upon him was +so remarkable that once when my bicycle ran away with me and broke my +arm, our mother consulted three medical men as to whether Grégoire's +bicycle was bound to run away with him too. Indeed, my brother was +distinctly apprehensive of it himself. + +Of course, the medical men explained that he was susceptible to any +abnormal physical or mental condition of mine, not to the vagaries of +my bicycle. "As an example, madame, if the elder of two twins were +killed in a railway accident, it would be no reason for thinking that +an accident must befall a train by which the younger travelled. What +sympathy can there be between locomotives? But if the elder were to die +by his own hand, there is a strong probability that the younger would +commit suicide also." + +However, I have not died by my own hand, so Grégoire has had nothing to +reproach me for on that score. As to other grounds--well, there is much +to be said on both sides! + +To speak truly, that beautiful devotion for which twins are so +celebrated in drama and romance has never existed between my brother +and myself. Nor was this my fault. I was of a highly sensitive +disposition, and from my earliest years it was impressed upon me that +Grégoire regarded me in the light of a grievance, I could not help +having illnesses, yet he would upbraid me for taking them. Then, too, +he was always our mother's favourite, and instead of there being +caresses and condolence for me when I was indisposed, there was nothing +but grief for the indisposition that I was about to cause Grégoire. +This wounded me. + +Again at college. I shall not pretend that I was a bookworm, or that I +shared Grégoire's ambitions; on the contrary, the world beyond the +walls looked such a jolly place to me that the mere sight of a +classroom would sometimes fill me with abhorrence. But, mon Dieu! if +other fellows were wild occasionally, they accepted the penalties, and +the affair was finished; on me rested a responsibility--my wildness was +communicated to Grégoire. Scarcely had I resigned myself to dull +routine again when Grégoire, the industrious, would find himself unable +to study a page, and commit freaks for which he rebuked me most +sternly. I swear that my chief remembrance of my college days is +Grégoire addressing pompous homilies to me, in this fashion, when he +was in disgrace with the authorities: + +"I ask you to remember, Silvestre, that you have not only your own +welfare to consider--you have mine! I am here to qualify myself for an +earnest career. Be good enough not to put obstacles in my path. Your +levity impels me to distractions which I condemn even while I yield to +them. I perceive a weakness in your nature that fills me with +misgivings for my future; if you do not learn to resist temptation, to +what errors may I not be driven later on--to what outbreaks of +frivolity will you not condemn me when we are men?" + +Well, it is no part of my confession to whitewash myself his misgivings +were realised! So far as I had any serious aspirations at all, I +aspired to be a painter, and, after combating my family's objections, I +entered an art school in Paris. Grégoire, on the other hand, was +destined for the law. During the next few years we met infrequently, +but that my brother continued to be affected by any unusual conditions +of my body and mind I knew by his letters, which seldom failed to +contain expostulations and entreaties. If he could have had his way, +indeed, I believe he would have shut me in a monastery. + +Upon my word, I was not without consideration for him, but what would +you have? I think some sympathy was due to me also. Regard the +situation with my eyes! I was young, popular, an artist; my life was no +more frivolous than the lives of others of my set; yet, in lieu of +being free, like them, to call the tune and dance the measure, I was +burdened with a heavier responsibility than weighs upon the shoulders +of any paterfamilias. Let me but drink a bottle too much, and Grégoire, +the grave, would subsequently manifest all the symptoms of +intoxication. Let me but lose my head about a petticoat, and Grégoire, +the righteous, would soon be running after a girl instead of attending +to his work. I had a conscience--thoughts of the trouble that I was +brewing for Grégoire would come between me and the petticoat and rob it +of its charms; his abominable susceptibility to my caprices marred half +my pleasures for me. Once when I sat distrait, bowed by such +reflections, a woman exclaimed, "What's the matter with you? One would +think you had a family!" "Well," I said, "I have a twin!" And I went +away. She was a pretty woman, too! + +Do you suppose that Maître Lapalme--he was Maître Lapalme by then, this +egregious Grégoire--do you suppose that he wrote to bless me for my +sacrifice? Not at all! Of my heroisms he knew nothing--he was conscious +only of my lapses. To read his letters one would have imagined that I +was a reprobate, a creature without honour or remorse. I quote from +one of them--it is a specimen of them all. Can you blame me if I had no +love for this correspondent? + +MY BROTHER, + +THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF OUR BIRTH:-- + +Your attention is directed to my preceding communications on this +subject. I desire to protest against the revelry from which you +recovered either on the 15th or 16th inst. On the afternoon of the +latter date, while engaged in a conference of the first magnitude, I +was seized with an overwhelming desire to dance a quadrille at a public +ball. I found it impossible to concentrate my attention on the case +concerning which I was consulted; I could no longer express myself with +lucidity. Outwardly sedate, reliable, I sat at my desk dizzied by such +visions as pursued St. Anthony to his cell. No sooner was I free than I +fled from Vernon, dined in Paris, bought a false beard, and plunged +wildly into the vortex of a dancing-hall. Scoundrel! This is past +pardon! My sensibilities revolt, and my prudence shudders. Who shall +say but that one night I may be recognised? Who can foretell to what +blackmail you may expose me? I, Maitre Lapalme, forbid your +profligacies, which devolve upon me; I forbid--etc. + +Such admissions my brother sent to me in a disguised hand, and +unsigned; perhaps he feared that his blackmailer might prove to be +myself! Typewriting was not yet general in France. + +Our mother still lived at Vernon, where she contemplated her favourite +son's success with the profoundest pride. Occasionally I spent a few +days with her; sometimes even more, for she always pressed me to +remain. I think she pressed me to remain, not from any pleasure in my +society, but because she knew that while I was at home I could commit +no actions that would corrupt Grégoire. One summer, when I visited her, +I met mademoiselle Leuillet. + +Mademoiselle Leuillet was the daughter of a widower, a neighbour. I +remembered that when our servant first announced her, I thought, "What +a nuisance; how bored I am going to be!" And then she came in, and in +an instant I was spellbound. + +I am tempted to describe Berthe Leuillet to you as she entered our +salon that afternoon in a white frock, with a basket of roses in her +little hands, but I know very well that no description of a girl ever +painted her to anybody yet. Suffice it that she was beautiful as an +angel, that her voice was like the music of the spheres--more than all, +that one felt all the time, "How good she is, how good, how good!" + +I suppose the impression that she made upon me was plainly to be seen, +for when she had gone, my mother remarked, "You did not say much. Are +you always so silent in girls' company?" "No," I answered; "I do not +often meet such girls." + +But afterwards I often met Berthe Leuillet. + +Never since I was a boy had I stayed at Vernon for so long as now; +never had I repented so bitterly as now the error of my ways. I loved, +and it seemed to me sometimes that my attachment was reciprocated, yet +my position forbade me to go to monsieur Leuillet and ask boldly for +his daughter's hand. While I had remained obscure, painters of my +acquaintance, whose talent was no more remarkable than my own, had +raised themselves from bohemia into prosperity. I abused myself, I +acknowledged that I was an idler, a good-for-nothing, I declared that +the punishment that had overtaken me was no more than I deserved. And +then--well, then I owned to Berthe that I loved her! + +Deliberately, of course, I should not have done this before seeking her +father's permission, but it happened in the hour of our "good-bye", and +I was suffering too deeply to subdue the impulse. I owned that I loved +her--and when I left for Paris we were secretly engaged. + +Mon Dieu! Now I worked indeed! To win this girl for my own, to show +myself worthy of her innocent faith, supplied me with the most powerful +incentive in life. In the quarter they regarded me first with ridicule, +then with wonder, and, finally, with respect. For my enthusiasm did not +fade. "He has turned over a new leaf," they said, "he means to be +famous!" It was understood. No more excursions for Silvestre, no more +junketings and recklessness! In the morning as soon as the sky was +light I was at my easel; in the evening I studied, I sketched, I wrote +to Berthe, and re-read her letters. I was another man--my ideal of +happiness was now a wife and home. + +For a year I lived this new life. I progressed. Men--men whose approval +was a cachet--began to speak of me as one with a future. In the Salon a +picture of mine made something of a stir. How I rejoiced, how grateful +and sanguine I was! All Paris sang "Berthe" to me; the criticisms in +the papers, the felicitations of my friends, the praise of the public, +all meant Berthe--Berthe with her arms about me, Berthe on my breast. + +I said that it was not too soon for me to speak now; I had proved my +mettle, and, though I foresaw that her father would ask more before he +gave his consent, I was, at least, justified in avowing myself. I +telegraphed to my mother to expect me; I packed my portmanteau with +trembling hands, and threw myself into a cab. On the way to the +station, I noticed the window of a florist; I bade the driver stop, and +ran in to bear off some lilies for Berthe. The shop was so full of +wonderful flowers that, once among them, I found some difficulty in +making my choice. Hence I missed the train--and returned to my studio, +incensed by the delay. A letter for me had just been delivered. It told +me that on the previous morning Berthe had married my brother. + +I could have welcomed a pistol-shot--my world rocked. Berthe lost, +false, Gregoire's wife, I reiterated it, I said it over and over, I +was stricken by it--and yet I could not realise that actually it had +happened. It seemed too treacherous, too horrible to be true. + +Oh, I made certain of it later, believe me!--I was no hero of a "great +serial," to accept such intelligence without proof. I assured myself of +her perfidy, and burnt her love-letters one by one; tore her +photographs into shreds--strove also to tear her image from my heart. +Ah, that mocked me, that I could not tear! A year before I should have +rushed to the cafés for forgetfulness, but now, as the shock subsided, +I turned feverishly to work. I told myself that she had wrecked my +peace, my faith in women, that I hated and despised her; but I swore +that she should not have the triumph of wrecking my career, too. I said +that my art still remained to me--that I would find oblivion in my art. + +Brave words! But one does not recover from such blows so easily. + +For months I persisted, denying myself the smallest respite, clinging +to a resolution which proved vainer daily. Were art to be mastered by +dogged endeavour, I should have conquered; but alas! though I could +compel myself to paint, I could not compel myself to paint well. It was +the perception of this fact that shattered me at last. I had fought +temptation for half a year, worked with my teeth clenched, worked +against nature, worked while my pulses beat and clamoured for the +draughts of dissipation, which promised a speedier release. I had wooed +art, not as art's lover, but as a tortured soul may turn to one woman +in the desperate hope of subduing his passion for another--and art +would yield nothing to a suitor who approached like that; I recognised +that my work had been wasted, that the struggle had been useless--I +broke down! + +I need say little of the months that followed--it would be a record of +degradations, and remorse; alternately, I fell, and was ashamed. There +were days when I never left the house, when I was repulsive to myself; +I shuddered at the horrors that I had committed. No saint has loved +virtue better than I did during those long, sick days of self-disgust; +no man was ever more sure of defying such hideous temptations if they +recurred. As my lassitude passed, I would take up my brushes and feel +confident for an hour, or for a week. And then temptation would creep +on me once more--humming in my ears, and tingling in my veins. And +temptation had lost its loathsomeness now--it looked again attractive. +It was a siren, it dizzied my conscience, and stupefied my common +sense. Back to the mire! + +One afternoon when I returned to my rooms, from which I had been absent +since the previous day, I heard from the concierge that a visitor +awaited me. I climbed the stairs without anticipation. My thoughts were +sluggish, my limbs leaden, my eyes heavy and bloodshot. Twilight had +gathered, and as I entered I discerned merely the figure of a woman. +Then she advanced--and all Hell seemed to leap flaring to my heart. My +visitor was Berthe. + +I think nearly a minute must have passed while we looked speechlessly +in each other's face--hers convulsed by entreaty, mine dark with hate. + +"Have you no word for me?" she whispered. + +"Permit me to offer my congratulations on your marriage, madame," I +said; "I have had no earlier opportunity." + +"Forgive me," she gasped. "I have come to beseech your forgiveness! Can +you not forget the wrong I did you?" + +"Do I look as if I had forgotten?" + +"I was inconstant, cruel, I cannot excuse myself. But, O Silvestre, in +the name of the love you once bore me, have pity on us! Reform, abjure +your evil courses! Do not, I implore you, condemn my husband to this +abyss of depravity, do not wreck my married life!" Now I understood +what had procured me the honour of a visit from this woman, and I +triumphed devilishly that I was the elder twin. + +"Madame," I answered, "I think that I owe you no explanations, but I +shall say this: the evil courses that you deplore were adopted, not +vindictively, but in the effort to numb the agony that you had made me +suffer. You but reap as you have sown." + +"Reform!" she sobbed. She sank on her knees before me. "Silvestre, in +mercy to us, reform!" + +"I will never reform," I said inflexibly. "I will grow more abandoned +day by day--my past faults shall shine as merits compared with the +atrocities that are to come. False girl, monster of selfishness, you +are dragging me to the gutter, and your only grief is that _he_ +must share my shame! You have blackened my soul, and you have no regret +but that my iniquities must react on _him!_ By the shock that +stunned him in the first flush of your honeymoon, you know what I +experienced when I received the news of your deceit; by the anguish of +repentance that overtakes him after each of his orgies, which revolt +you, you know that I was capable of being a nobler man. The degradation +that you behold is your own work. You have made me bad, and you must +bear the consequences--you cannot make me good now to save your +husband!" + +Humbled and despairing, she left me. + +I repeat that it is no part of my confession to palliate my guilt. The +sight of her had served merely to inflame my resentment--and it was at +this stage that I began deliberately to contemplate revenge. + +But not the one that I had threatened. Ah, no! I bethought myself of a +vengeance more complete than that. What, after all, were these +escapades of his that were followed by contrition, that saw him again +and again a penitent at her feet? There should be no more of such +trifles; she should be tortured with the torture that she had dealt to +me--I would make him _adore another woman_ with all his heart and +brain! + +It was difficult, for first I must adore, and tire of another woman +myself--as my own passion faded, his would be born. I swore, however, +that I would compass it, that I would worship some woman for a year-- +two years, as long as possible. He would be at peace in the meantime, +but the longer my enslavement lasted, the longer Berthe would suffer +when her punishment began. + +For some weeks now I worked again, to provide myself with money. I +bought new clothes and made myself presentable. When my appearance +accorded better with my plan, I paraded Paris, seeking the woman to +adore. + +You may think Paris is full of adorable women? Well, so contrary is +human nature, that never had I felt such indifference towards the sex +as during that tedious quest--never had a pair of brilliant eyes, or a +well-turned neck appealed to me so little. After a month, my search +seemed hopeless; I had viewed women by the thousand, but not one with +whom I could persuade myself that I might fall violently in love. + +How true it is that only the unforeseen comes to pass! There was a +model, one Louise, whose fortune was her back, and who had long bored +me by an evident tenderness. One day, this Louise, usually so +constrained in my presence, appeared in high spirits, and mentioned +that she was going to be married. + +The change in her demeanour interested me; for the first time, I +perceived that the attractions of Louise were not limited to her back. +A little piqued, I invited her to dine with me. If she had said "yes," +doubtless that would have been the end of my interest; but she refused. +Before I parted from her, I made an appointment for her to sit to me +the next morning. + +"So you are going to be married, Louise?" I said carelessly, as I set +the palette. + +"In truth!" she answered. + +"No regrets?" + +"What regrets could I have? He is a very pretty boy, and well-to-do, +believe me!" + +"And _I_ am not a pretty boy, nor well-to-do, hein?" + +"Ah, zut!" she laughed, "you do not care for me." + +"Is it so?" I said. "What would you say if I told you that I did care?" + +"I should say that you told me too late, monsieur," she replied, with a +shrug, "Are you ready for me to pose?" And this changed woman turned +her peerless back on me without a scruple. + +A little mortified, I attended strictly to business for the rest of the +morning. But I found myself, on the following day, waiting for her with +impatience. + +"And when is the event to take place?" I inquired, more eagerly than I +chose to acknowledge. This was by no means the sort of enchantress that +I had been seeking, you understand. + +"In the spring," she said. "Look at the ring he has given to me, +monsieur; is it not beautiful?" + +I remarked that Louise's hands were very well shaped; and, indeed, +happiness had brought a certain charm to her face. + +"Do you know, Louise, that I am sorry that you are going to marry?" I +exclaimed. + +"Oh, get out!" she laughed, pushing me away. "It is no good your +talking nonsense to me now, don't flatter yourself!" + +Pouchin, the sculptor, happened to come in at that moment. "Sapristi!" +he shouted; "what changes are to be seen! The nose of our brave +Silvestre is out of joint now that we are affianced, hein?" + +She joined in his laughter against me, and I picked up my brush again +in a vile humour. + +Well, as I have said, she was not the kind of woman that I had +contemplated, but these things arrange themselves--I became seriously +enamoured of her. And, recognising that Fate works with her own +instruments, I did not struggle. For months I was at Louise's heels; I +was the sport of her whims, and her slights, sometimes even of her +insults. I actually made her an offer of marriage, at which she snapped +her white fingers with a grimace--and the more she flouted me, the more +fascinated I grew. In that rapturous hour when her insolent eyes +softened to sentiment, when her mocking mouth melted to a kiss, I was +in Paradise. My ecstasy was so supreme that I forgot to triumph at my +approaching vengeance. + +So I married Louise; and yesterday was the twentieth anniversary of our +wedding. Berthe? To speak the truth, my plot against her was frustrated +by an accident. You see, before I could communicate my passion to +Grégoire I had to recover from it, and--this invincible Louise!--I have +not recovered from it yet. There are days when she turns her remarkable +back on me now--generally when I am idle--but, mon Dieu! the moments +when she turns her lips are worth working for. Therefore, Berthe has +been all the time quite happy with the good Grégoire--and, since I +possess Louise, upon my word of honour I do not mind! + + + +HERCULES AND APHRODITE + +Mademoiselle Clairette used to say that if a danseuse could not throw +a glance to the conductor of the band without the juggler being +jealous, the Variety Profession was coming to a pretty pass. She also +remarked that for a girl to entrust her life's happiness to a jealous +man would be an act of lunacy. And then "Little Flouflou, the Juggling +Genius," who was dying to marry her, would suffer tortures. He tried +hard to conquer his failing, but it must be owned that Clairette's +glances were very expressive, and that she distributed them +indiscriminately. At Chartres, one night, he was so upset that he +missed the umbrella, and the cigar, and the hat one after another, and +instead of condoling with him when he came off the stage, all she said +was "Butter-fingers!" + +"Promise to be my wife," he would entreat: "it is not knowing where I +am that gives me the pip. If you consented, I should be as right as +rain--your word is better to me than any Management's contract. I trust +you--it is only myself that I doubt; every time you look at a man I +wonder, 'Am I up to that chap's mark? is my turn as clever as his? +isn't it likely he will cut me out with her?' If you only belonged to +me I should never be jealous again as long as I lived. Straight!" + +And Clairette would answer firmly, "Poor boy, you couldn't help it--you +are made like that. There'd be ructions every week; I should be for +ever in hot water. I like you very much, Flouflou, but I'm not going to +play the giddy goat. Chuck it!" + +Nevertheless, he continued to worship her--from her tawdry tiara to her +tinselled shoes--and everybody was sure that it would be a match one +day. That is to say, everybody was sure of it until the Strong Man had +joined the troupe. + +Hercule was advertised as "The Great Paris Star." Holding himself very +erect, he strutted, in his latticed foot-gear, with stiff little steps, +and inflated lungs, to the footlights, and tore chains to pieces as +easily as other persons tear bills. He lay down and supported a posse +of mere mortals, and a van-load of "properties" on his chest, and +regained his feet with a skip and a smirk. He--but his achievements are +well known. Preceding these feats of force, was a feature of his +entertainment which Hercule enjoyed inordinately. He stood on a +pedestal and struck attitudes to show the splendour of his physique. +Wearing only a girdle of tiger-skin, and bathed in limelight, he felt +himself to be as glorious as a god. The applause was a nightly +intoxication to him. He lived for it. All day he looked forward to the +moment when he could mount the pedestal again and make his biceps jump, +and exhibit the magnificence of his highly developed back to hundreds +of wondering eyes. No woman was ever vainer of her form than was +Hercule of his. No woman ever contemplated her charms more tenderly +than Hercule regarded his muscles. The latter half of his "turn" was +fatiguing, but to posture in the limelight, while the audience stared +open-mouthed and admired his nakedness, that was fine, it was dominion, +it was bliss. + +Hercule had never experienced a great passion--the passion of vanity +excepted--never waited in the rain at a street corner for a coquette +who did not come, nor sighed, like the juggler, under the window of a +girl who flouted his declarations. He had but permitted homage to be +rendered to him. So when he fell in love with Clairette, he didn't know +what to make of it. + +For Clairette, sprightly as she was, did not encourage Hercule. He at +once attracted and repelled her. When he rent chains, and poised +prodigious weights above his head, she thrilled at his prowess, but the +next time he attitudinised in the tiger-skin she turned up her nose. +She recognised something feminine in the giant. Instinct told her that +by disposition the Strong Man was less manly than Little Flouflou, whom +he could have swung like an Indian club. + +No, Hercule didn't know what to make of it. It was a new and painful +thing to find himself the victim instead of the conqueror. For once in +his career, he hung about the wings wistfully, seeking a sign of +approval. For once he displayed his majestic figure on the pedestal +blankly conscious of being viewed by a woman whom he failed to impress. + +"What do you think of my turn?" he questioned at last. + +"Oh, I have seen worse," was all she granted. + +The giant winced. + +"I am the strongest man in the world," he proclaimed. + +"I have never met a Strong Man who wasn't!" said she. + +"But there is someone stronger than I am," he owned humbly. (Hercule +humble!) "Do you know what you have done to me, Clairette? You have +made a fool of me, my dear." + +"Don't be so cheeky," she returned. "Who gave you leave to call me +'Clairette,' and 'my dear'? A little more politeness, if you please, +monsieur!" And she cut the conversation short as unceremoniously as if +he had been a super. + +Those who have seen Hercule only in his "act"--who think of him superb, +supreme--may find It difficult to credit the statement, but, honestly, +the Great Star used to trot at her heels like a poodle. And she was not +a beauty by any means, with her impudent nose, and her mouth that was +too big to defy criticism. Perhaps it was her carriage that fascinated +him, the grace of her slender figure, which he could have snapped as a +child snaps jumbles. Perhaps it was those eyes which unwittingly +promised more than she gave. Perhaps, above all, it was her +indifference. Yes, on consideration, it must have been her indifferent +air, the novelty of being scorned, that made him a slave. + +But, of course, she was more flattered by his bondage than she showed. +Every night he planted himself in the prompt-entrance to watch her +dance and clap his powerful hands in adulation. She could not be +insensible to the compliment, though her smiles were oftenest for +Flouflou, who planted himself, adulating, on the opposite side. +_Adagio! Allegretto! Vivace!_ Unperceived by the audience, the +gaze of the two men would meet across the stage with misgiving. Each +feared the other's attentions to her, each wished with all his heart +that the other would get the sack; they glared at each other horribly. +And, meanwhile, the orchestra played its sweetest, and Clairette +pirouetted her best, and the Public, approving the obvious, saw nothing +of the intensity of the situation. + +Imagine the emotions of the little juggler, jealous by temperament, +jealous even without cause, now that he beheld a giant laying siege to +her affections! + +And then, on a certain evening, Clairette threw but two smiles to +Flouflou, and three to Hercule. + +The truth is that she did not attach so much significance to the smiles +as did the opponents who counted them. But that accident was momentous. +The Strong Man made her a burning offer of marriage within half an +hour; and next, the juggler made her furious reproaches. + +Now she had rejected the Strong Man--and, coming when they did, the +juggler's reproaches had a totally different effect from the one that +he had intended. So far from exciting her sympathy towards him, they +accentuated her compassion for Hercule. How stricken he had been by her +refusal! She could not help remembering his despair as he sat huddled +on a hamper, a giant that she had crushed. Flouflou was a thankless +little pig, she reflected, for, as a matter of fact, he had had a good +deal to do with her decision. She had deserved a better reward than to +be abused by him! + +Yes, her sentiments towards Hercule were newly tender, and an event of +the next night intensified them. It was Hercule's custom, in every town +that the Constellation visited, to issue a challenge. He pledged +himself to present a "Purse of Gold"--it contained a ten-franc piece-- +to any eight men who vanquished him in a tug-of-war. The spectacle was +always an immense success--the eight yokels straining, and tumbling +over one another, while Hercule, wearing a masterful smile, kept his +ten francs intact. A tug-of-war had been arranged for the night +following, and by every law of prudence, Hercule should have abstained +from the bottle during the day. + +But he did not. His misery sent discretion headlong to the winds. Every +time that he groaned for the danseuse he took another drink, and when +the time came for him to go to the show, the giant was as drunk as a +lord. The force of habit enabled him to fulfil some of his stereotyped +performance, he emerged from that without disgrace; but when the eight +brawny competitors lumbered on to the boards, his heart sank. The other +artists winked at one another appreciatively, and the manager hopped +with apprehension. + +Sure enough, the hero's legs made strange trips to-night. The sixteen +arms pulled him, not only over the chalk line, but all over the stage. +They played havoc with him. And then the manager had to go on and make +a speech, besides, because the "Purse of Gold" aroused dissatisfaction. +The fiasco was hideous. + +"Ah, Clairette," moaned the Strong Man, pitifully, "it was all through +you!" + +Elsewhere a Strong Man had put forth that plea, and the other lady had +been inexorable. But Clairette faltered. + +"Through me?" she murmured, with emotion. + +"I'm no boozer," muttered Hercule, whom the disaster had sobered. "If I +took too much today, it was because I had got such a hump." + +"But why be mashed on me, Hercule?" she said; "why not think of me as a +pal?" + +"You're talking silly," grunted Hercule. + +"Perhaps so," she confessed. "But I'm awfully sorry the turn went so +rotten." + +"Don't kid!" + +"Why should I kid about it?" + +"If you really meant it, you would take back what you said yesterday." + +"Oh!" The gesture was dismayed. "You see! What's the good of gassing? +As soon as I ask anything of you, you dry up. Bah! I daresay you will +guy me just as much as all the rest, I know you!" + +"If you weren't in trouble, I'd give you a thick ear for that," she +said. "You ungrateful brute!" She turned haughtily away, + +"Clairette!" + +"Oh, rats!" + +"Don't get the needle! I'm off my rocker to-night." + +"Ah! That's all right, cully!" Her hand was swift. "I've been there +myself." + +"Clairette!" He caught her close. + +"Here, what are you at?" she cried. "Drop it!" + +"Clairette! Say 'yes.' I'm loony about you. There's a duck! I'll be a +daisy of a husband. Won't you?" + +"Oh, I--I don't know," she stammered. + +And thus were they betrothed. + +To express what Flouflou felt would be but to harrow the reader's +sensibilities. What he said, rendered into English, was: "I'd rather +you had given me the go-by for any cove in the crowd than that swine!" + +They were in the ladies' dressing-room. "The Two Bonbons" had not +finished their duet, and he was alone with her for a moment. She was +pinning a switch into her back hair, in front of the scrap of looking- +glass against the mildewed wall. + +"You don't do yourself any good with me Flouflou, by calling Hercule +names," she replied icily. + +"So he is!" + +"Oh, you are jealous of him," she retorted. + +"Of course I am jealous of him," owned Flouflou; "you can't rile me by +saying that. Didn't I love you first? And a lump better than _he_ +does." + +"Now you're talking through your hat!" + +"You usedn't to take any truck of him, yourself, at the beginning. He +only got round you because he was drunk and queered his business. I +have been drunk, too--you didn't say you'd marry _me_. It's not in +him to love any girl for long--he's too sweet on himself." + +"Look here," she exclaimed. "I've had enough. Hook it! And don't you +speak to me any more. Understand?" She put the hairpins aside, and +began to whitewash her hands and arms. + +"That's the straight tip," said Flouflou, brokenly; "I'm off. Well, I +wish you luck, old dear!" + +"Running him down to me like that! A dirty trick, I call it." + +"I never meant to, straight; I--Sorry, Clairette." He lingered at the +door. "I suppose I shall have to say 'madame' soon?" + +"Footle," she murmured, moved. + +"You've not got your knife into me, have you, Clairette? I didn't mean +to be a beast. I'd have gone to hell for you, that's all, and I wish I +was dead." + +"Silly kid!" she faltered, blinking. And then "The Two Bonbons" came +back to doff their costumes, and he was turned out. + +Never had Hercule been so puffed up. His knowledge of the juggler's +sufferings made the victory more rapturous still. No longer did +Flouflou stand opposite-prompt to watch Clairette's dance; no longer +did he loiter about the passages after the curtain was down, on the +chance of being permitted to escort her to her doorstep. Such +privileges were the Strong Man's alone. She was affianced to him! At +the swelling thought, his chest became Brobdingnagian. His bounce in +company was now colossal; and it afforded the troupe a popular +entertainment to see him drop to servility in her presence. Her frown +was sufficient to reduce him to a cringe. They called him the "Quick- +change artist." + +But Hercule scarcely minded cringing to her; at all events he scarcely +minded it in a tête-à-tête; she was unique. He would have run to her +whistle, and fawned at her kick. She had agreed to marry him in a few +weeks' time, and his head swam at the prospect. Visions of the future +dazzled him. When he saw her to her home after the performance, he used +to talk of the joint engagements they would get by-and-by--"not in +snide shows like this, but in first-class halls"--and of how +tremendously happy they were going to be. And then Clairette would +stifle a sigh and say, "Oh, yes, of course!" and try to persuade +herself that she had no regrets. + +Meanwhile the Constellation had not been playing to such good business +as the manager had anticipated. He had done a bold thing in obtaining +Hercule--who, if not so famous as the posters pretended, was at least a +couple of rungs above the other humble mountebanks--and the box-office +ought to have yielded better results. Monsieur Blond was anxious. He +asked himself what the Public wanted. Simultaneously he pondered the +idea of a further attraction, and perspired at the thought of further +expense. + +At this time the "Living Statuary" turn was the latest craze in the +variety halls of fashion, and one day poor Blond, casting an expert eye +on his danseuse, questioned why she should not be billed, a town or two +ahead, as "Aphrodite, the Animated Statue, Direct from Paris." + +To question was to act. The weather was mild, and, though Clairette +experienced pangs of modesty when she learnt that the Statue's +"costume" was to be applied with a sponge, she could not assert that +she would be in danger of taking a chill. Besides, her salary was to be +raised a trifle. + +Blond rehearsed her assiduously (madame Blond in attendance), and, to +his joy, she displayed a remarkable gift for adopting the poses, As +"The Bather" she promised to be entrancing, and, until she wobbled, her +"Nymph at the Fountain" was a pure delight. Moreover, thanks to her +accomplishments as a dancer, she did not wobble very badly. + +All the same, when the date of her debut arrived, she was extremely +nervous. Elated by his inspiration. Blond had for once been prodigal +with the printing and on her way to the stage door, it seemed to her +that the name of "Aphrodite" flamed from every hoarding in the place. +Hercule met her with encouraging words, but the ordeal was not one that +she wished to discuss with him, and he took leave of her very much +afraid that she would break down. + +What was his astonishment to hear her greeted with salvos of applause! +Blond's enterprise had undoubtedly done the trick. The little hall +rocked with enthusiasm, and, cloaked in a voluminous garment, +"Aphrodite" had to bow her acknowledgments again and again. When the +time came for Hercule's own postures, they fell, by comparison, quite +flat. + +"Ciel!" she babbled, on the homeward walk; "who would have supposed +that I should go so strong? If I knock them like this next week too, I +shall make Blond spring a bit more!" She looked towards her lover for +congratulations; so far he had been rather unsatisfactory. + +"Oh, well," he mumbled, "it was a very good audience, you know, I never +saw a more generous house--you can't expect to catch on like it +anywhere else." + +His tone puzzled her. Though she was quite alive to the weaknesses of +her profession, she could not believe that her triumph could give +umbrage to her fiancé. Hercule, her adorer, to be annoyed because she +had received more "hands" than _he_ had? Oh, it was mean of her to +fancy such a thing! + +But she was conscious that he had never wished her "pleasant dreams" so +briefly as he did that night, and the Strong Man, on his side, was +conscious of a strange depression. He could not shake it off. The next +evening, too, he felt it. Wherever he went, he heard praises of her +proportions. The dancing girl had, in fact, proved to be beautifully +formed, and it could not be disputed that "Aphrodite" had wiped +"Hercules" out. Her success was repeated in every town. Morosely now +did he make his biceps jump, and exhibit the splendours of his back-- +his poses commanded no more than half the admiration evoked by hers. +His muscles had been eclipsed by her graces. Her body had outvied his +own! + +Oh, she was dear to him, but he was an "artiste"! There are trials that +an artiste cannot bear. He hesitated to refer to the subject, but when +he nursed her on his lap, he thought what a great fool the Public was +to prefer this ordinary woman to a marvellous man. He derived less +rapture from nursing her. He eyed her critically. His devotion was +cankered by resentment. + +And each evening the resentment deepened. And each evening it forced +him to the wings against his will. He stood watching, though every +burst of approval wrung his heart. Soured, and sexless, he watched her. +An intense jealousy of the slim nude figure posturing in the limelight +took possession of him. It had robbed him of his plaudits! He grew to +hate it, to loathe the white loveliness that had dethroned him. It was +no longer the figure of a mistress that he viewed, but the figure of a +rival. If he had dared, he would have hissed her. + +Finally, he found it impossible to address her with civility. And +Clairette married Flouflou, after all. + +"Clairette," said Flouflou on the day they were engaged, "if you don't +chuck the Statuary turn, I know that one night I shall massacre the +audience! Won't you give it up for me, peach?" + +"So you are beginning your ructions already?" laughed Clairette, "I +told you what a handful you would be. Oh, well then, just as you like, +old dear!--in this business a girl may meet with a worse kind of +jealousy than yours." + + + +"PARDON, YOU ARE MADEMOISELLE GIRARD!" + +A newsvendor passed along the terrace of the Café d'Harcourt bawling +_La Voix Parisienne_. The Frenchman at my table made a gesture of +aversion. Our eyes met; I said: + +"You do not like _La Voix?_" + +He answered with intensity: + +"I loathe it." + +"What's its offence?" + +The wastrel frowned; he fiddled with his frayed and filthy collar. + +"You revive painful associations; you ask me for a humiliating story," +he murmured--and regarded his empty glass. + +I can take a hint as well as most people. + +He prepared his poison reflectively, + +"I will tell you all," he said. + +One autumn the Editor of _La Voix_ announced to the assistant-editor: +"I have a great idea for booming the paper." + +The assistant-editor gazed at him respectfully. "I propose to prove, in +the public interest, the difficulty of tracing a missing person. I +shall instruct a member of the staff to disappear. I shall publish his +description, and his portrait; and I shall offer a prize to the first +stranger who identifies him." + +The assistant-editor had tact and he did not reply that the idea had +already been worked in London with a disappearing lady. He replied: + +"What an original scheme!" + +"It might be even more effective that the disappearing person should be +a lady," added the chief, like one inspired. + +"That," cried the assistant-editor, "is the top brick of genius!" + +So the Editor reviewed the brief list of his lady contributors, and +sent for mademoiselle Girard. + +His choice fell upon mademoiselle Girard for two reasons. First, she +was not facially remarkable--a smudgy portrait of her would look much +like a smudgy portrait of anybody else. Second, she was not widely +known in Paris, being at the beginning of her career; in fact she was +so inexperienced that hitherto she had been entrusted only with +criticism. + +However, the young woman had all her buttons on; and after he had +talked to her, she said cheerfully: + +"Without a chaperon I should be conspicuous, and without a fat purse I +should be handicapped. So it is understood that I am to provide myself +with a suitable companion, and to draw upon the office for expenses?" + +"Mademoiselle," returned the Editor, "the purpose of the paper is to +portray a drama of life, not to emulate an opera bouffe. I shall +explain more fully. Please figure to yourself that you are a young girl +in an unhappy home. Let us suppose that a stepmother is at fault. You +feel that you can submit to her oppression no longer--you resolve to be +free, or to end your troubles in the Seine. Weeping, you pack your +modest handbag; you cast a last, lingering look at the oil painting of +your own dear mother who is with the Angels in the drawing-room; that +is to say, of your own dear mother in the drawing-room, who is with the +Angels. It still hangs there--your father has insisted on it. Unheard, +you steal from the house; the mysterious city of Paris stretches before +your friendless feet. Can you engage a chaperon? Can you draw upon an +office for expenses? The idea is laughable. You have saved, at a +liberal computation, forty francs; it is necessary for you to find +employment without delay. But what happens? Your father is distracted +by your loss, the thought of the perils that beset you frenzies him; he +invokes the aid of the police. Well, the object of our experiment is to +demonstrate that, in spite of an advertised reward, in spite of a +published portrait, in spite of the Public's zeal itself, you will be +passed on the boulevards and in the slums by myriads of unsuspecting +eyes for weeks." + +The girl inquired, much less blithely: + +"How long is this experiment to continue?" + +"It will continue until you are identified, of course. The longer the +period, the more triumphant our demonstration." + +"And I am to have no more than forty francs to exist on all the time? +Monsieur, the job does not call to me." + +"You are young and you fail to grasp the value of your opportunity," +said the Editor, with paternal tolerance. "From such an assignment you +will derive experiences that will be of the highest benefit to your +future. Rejoice, my child! Very soon I shall give you final +instructions." + + * * * * * + +The Frenchman lifted his glass, which was again empty. + +"I trust my voice does not begin to grate upon you?" he asked +solicitously. "Much talking affects my uvula." + +I made a trite inquiry. + +He answered that, since I was so pressing, he would! + +"Listen," he resumed, after a sip. + + * * * * * + +I am not in a position to say whether the young lady humoured the +Editor by rejoicing, but she obeyed him by going forth. Her portrait +was duly published, _La Volx_ professed ignorance of her +whereabouts from the moment that she left the rue Louis-le-Grand, and a +prize of two thousand francs was to reward the first stranger who said +to her, "Pardon, you are mademoiselle Girard!" In every issue the +Public were urged towards more strenuous efforts to discover her, and +all Paris bought the paper, with amusement, to learn if she was found +yet. + +At the beginning of the week, misgivings were ingeniously hinted as to +her fate. On the tenth day the Editor printed a letter (which he had +written himself), hotly condemning him for exposing a poor girl to +danger. It was signed "An Indignant Parent," and teemed with the most +stimulating suggestions. Copies of _La Voix_ were as prevalent as +gingerbread pigs at a fair. When a fortnight had passed, the prize was +increased to three thousand francs, and many young men resigned less +promising occupations, such as authorship and the fine arts, in order +to devote themselves exclusively to the search. + +Personally, I had something else to do. I am an author, as you may have +divined by the rhythm of my impromptu phrases, but it happened at that +time that a play of mine had been accepted at the Grand Guignol, +subject to an additional thrill being introduced, and I preferred +pondering for a thrill in my garret to hunting for a pin in a haystack, + +Enfin, I completed the drama to the Management's satisfaction, and +received a comely little cheque in payment. It was the first cheque +that I had seen for years! I danced with joy, I paid for a shampoo, I +committed no end of follies. + +How good is life when one is rich--immediately one joins the optimists! +I feared the future no longer; I was hungry, and I let my appetite do +as it liked with me. I lodged in Montmartre, and it was my custom to +eat at the unpretentious Bel Avenir, when I ate at all; but that +morning my mood demanded something resplendent. Rumours had reached me +of a certain Café Eclatant, where for one-franc-fifty one might +breakfast on five epicurean courses amid palms and plush. I said I +would go the pace, I adventured the Café Eclatant. + +The interior realised my most sanguine expectations. The room would +have done no discredit to the Grand Boulevard. I was so much +exhilarated, that I ordered a half bottle of barsac, though I noted +that here it cost ten sous more than at the Bel Avenir, and I prepared +to enjoy the unwonted extravagance of my repast to the concluding +crumb. + +Monsieur, there are events in life of which it is difficult to speak +without bitterness. When I recall the disappointment of that déjeuner +at the Café Eclatant, my heart swells with rage. The soup was slush, +the fish tasted like washing, the meat was rags. Dessert consisted of +wizened grapes; the one thing fit to eat was the cheese. + +As I meditated on the sum I had squandered, I could have cried with +mortification, and, to make matters more pathetic still, I was as +hungry as ever. I sat seeking some caustic epigram to wither the dame- +de-comptoir; and presently the door opened and another victim entered. +Her face was pale and interesting. I saw, by her hesitation, that the +place was strange to her. An accomplice of the chief brigand pounced on +her immediately, and bore her to a table opposite. The misguided girl +was about to waste one-franc-fifty. I felt that I owed a duty to her in +this crisis. The moment called for instant action; before she could +decide between slush and hors d'oeuvres, I pulled an envelope from my +pocket, scribbled a warning, and expressed it to her by the robber who +had brought my bill. + +I had written, "The déjeuner is dreadful. Escape!" + +It reached her in the nick of time. She read the wrong side of the +envelope first, and was evidently puzzled. Then she turned it over. A +look of surprise, a look of thankfulness, rendered her still more +fascinating. I perceived that she was inventing an excuse--that she +pretended to have forgotten something. She rose hastily and went out. +My barsac was finished--shocking bad tipple it was for the money!--and +now I, too, got up and left. When I issued into the street, I found her +waiting for me. + +"I think you are the knight to whom my gratitude is due, monsieur?" she +murmured graciously. + +"Mademoiselle, you magnify the importance of my service," said I. + +"It was a gallant deed," she insisted. "You have saved me from a great +misfortune--perhaps greater than you understand. My finances are at +their lowest ebb, and to have beggared myself for an impossible meal +would have been no joke. Thanks to you, I may still breakfast +satisfactorily somewhere else. Is it treating you like Baedeker's Guide +to the Continent if I ask you to recommend a restaurant?" + +"Upon my word, I doubt if you can do better than the Bel Avenir," I +said. "A moment ago I was lacerated with regret that I had not gone +there. But there is a silver lining to every hash-house, and my choice +of the Eclatant has procured me the glory of your greeting." + +She averted her gaze with a faint smile. She had certainly charm. +Admiration and hunger prompted me to further recklessness. I said: +"This five-course swindle has left me ravenous, and I am bound for the +Avenir myself. May I beg for the rapture of your company there?" + +"Monsieur, you overwhelm me with chivalries," she replied; "I shall be +enchanted." And, five minutes later, the Incognita and I were polishing +off smoked herring and potato salad, like people who had no time to +lose. + +"Do you generally come here?" she asked, when we had leisure. + +"Infrequently--no oftener than I have a franc in my pocket. But details +of my fasts would form a poor recital, and I make a capital listener." + +"You also make a capital luncheon," she remarked. + +"Do not prevaricate," I said severely. "I am consumed with impatience +to hear the history of your life. Be merciful and communicative." + +"Well, I am young, fair, accomplished, and of an amiable disposition," +she began, leaning her elbows on the table. + +"These things are obvious. Come to confidences! What is your +profession?" + +"By profession I am a clairvoyante and palmist," she announced. + +I gave her my hand at once, and I was in two minds about giving her my +heart. "Proceed," I told her; "reveal my destiny!" + +Her air was profoundly mystical. + +"In the days of your youth," she proclaimed, "your line of authorship +is crossed by many rejections." + +"Oh, I am an author, hein? That's a fine thing in guesses!" + +"It is written!" she affirmed, still scrutinising my palm. "Your +dramatic lines are--er--countless; some of them are good. I see danger; +you should beware of--I cannot distinguish!" she clasped her brow and +shivered. "Ah, I have it! You should beware of hackneyed situations." + +"So the Drama is 'written,' too, is it?" + +"It is written, and I discern that it is already accepted," she said. +"For at the juncture where the Eclatant is eclipsed by the Café du Bel +Avenir, there is a distinct manifestation of cash." + +"Marvellous!" I exclaimed. "And will the sybil explain why she surmised +that I was a dramatic author?" + +"Even so!" she boasted. "You wrote your message to me on an envelope +from the Dramatic Authors' Society, What do you think of my palmistry?" + +"I cannot say that I think it is your career. You are more likely an +author yourself, or an actress, or a journalist. Perhaps you are +mademoiselle Girard. Mon Dieu! What a piece of luck for me if I found +mademoiselle Girard!" + +"And what a piece of luck for her!" + +"Why for her?" + +"Well, she cannot be having a rollicking time. It would not break her +heart to be found, one may be certain." + +"In that case," I said, "she has only to give some one the tip." + +"Oh, that would be dishonourable--she has a duty to fulfil to _La +Voix_, she must wait till she is identified. And, remember, there +must be no half measures--the young man must have the intuition to say +firmly, 'Pardon, you are mademoiselle Girard!'" + +Her earnest gaze met mine for an instant. + +"As a matter of fact," I said, "I do not see how anyone can be expected +to identify her in the street. The portrait shows her without a hat, +and a hat makes a tremendous difference." + +She sighed. + +"What is your trouble?" I asked. + +"Man!" + +"Man? Tell me his address, that I may slay him." + +"The whole sex. Its impenetrable stupidity. If mademoiselle Girard is +ever recognised it will be by a woman. Man has no instinct." + +"May one inquire the cause of these flattering reflections?" + +Her laughter pealed. + +"Let us talk of something else!" she commanded. "When does your play +come out, monsieur Thibaud Hippolyte Duboc? You see I learnt your name, +too." + +"You have all the advantages," I complained. "Will you take a second +cup of coffee, mademoiselle--er--?" + +"No, thank you, monsieur," she said. + +"Well, will you take a liqueur, mademoiselle--er--?" + +"Mademoiselle Er will not take a liqueur either," she pouted. + +"Well, will you take a walk?" + +In the end we took an omnibus, and then we proceeded to the Buttes- +Chaumont--and very agreeable I found it there. We chose a seat in the +shade, and I began to feel that I had known her all my life. More +precisely, perhaps, I began to feel that I wished to know her all my +life. A little breeze was whispering through the boughs, and she lifted +her face to it gratefully. + +"How delicious," she said. "I should like to take off my hat." + +"Do, then!" + +"Shall I?" + +"Why not?" + +She pulled the pins out slowly, and laid the hat aside, and raised her +eyes to me, smiling. + +"Well?" she murmured. + +"You are beautiful." + +"Is that all?" + +"What more would you have me say?" + +The glare of sunshine mellowed while we talked; clocks struck unheeded +by me. It amazed me at last, to discover how long she had held me +captive. Still, I knew nothing of her affairs, excepting that she was +hard up--that, by comparison, I was temporarily prosperous. I did not +even know where she meant to go when we moved, nor did it appear +necessary to inquire yet, for the sentiment in her tones assured me +that she would dismiss me with no heartless haste. + +Two men came strolling past the bench, and one of them stared at her so +impudently that I burned with indignation. After looking duels at him, +I turned to her, to deprecate his rudeness. Judge of my dismay when I +perceived that she was shuddering with emotion! Jealousy blackened the +gardens to me. + +"Who is that man?" I exclaimed. + +"I don't know," she faltered. + +"You don't know? But you are trembling?" + +"Am I?" + +"I ask you who he is? How he dared to look at you like that?" + +"Am I responsible for the way a loafer looks?" + +"You are responsible for your agitation; I ask you to explain it!" + +"And by what right, after all?" + +"By what right? Wretched, false-hearted girl! Has our communion for +hours given me no rights? Am I a Frenchman or a flounder? Answer; you +are condemning me to tortures! Why did you tremble under that man's +eyes?" + +"I was afraid," she stammered. + +"Afraid?" + +"Afraid that he had recognised me." + +"Mon Dieu! Of what are you guilty?" + +"I am not guilty." + +"Of what are you accused?" + +"I can tell you nothing," she gasped. + +"You shall tell me all!" I swore. "In the name of my love I demand it +of you. Speak! Why did you fear his recognition?" + +Her head drooped pitifully. + +"Because I wanted _you_ to recognise me first!" + +For a tense moment I gazed at her bewildered. In the next, I cursed +myself for a fool--I blushed for my suspicions, my obtuseness--I sought +dizzily the words, the prescribed words that I must speak. + +"Pardon," I shouted, "you are mademoiselle Girard!" + +She sobbed. + +"What have I done?" + +"You have done a great and generous thing! I am humbled before you. I +bless you. I don't know how I could have been such a dolt as not to +guess!" + +"Oh, how I wish you had guessed! You have been so kind to me, I longed +for you to guess! And now I have betrayed a trust. I have been a bad +journalist." + +"You have been a good friend. Courage! No one will ever hear what has +happened. And, anyhow, it is all the same to the paper whether the +prize is paid to me, or to somebody else." + +"Yes," she admitted. "That is true. Oh, when that man turned round and +looked at me, I thought your chance had gone! I made sure it was all +over! Well"--she forced a smile--"it is no use my being sorry, is it? +Mademoiselle Girard is 'found'!" + +"But you must not be sorry," I said. "Come, a disagreeable job is +finished! And you have the additional satisfaction of knowing the money +goes to a fellow you don't altogether dislike. What do I have to do +about it, hein?" + +"You must telegraph to _La Voix_ at once that you have identified +me. Then, in the morning you should go to the office. I can depend upon +you, can't I? You will never give me away to a living soul?" + +"Word of honour!" I vowed. "What do you take me for? Do tell me you +don't regret! There's a dear. Tell me you don't regret." + +She threw back her head dauntlessly. + +"No," she said, "I don't regret. Only, in justice to me, remember that +I was treacherous in order to do a turn to you, not to escape my own +discomforts. To be candid, I believe that I wish we had met in two or +three weeks' time, instead of to-day!" + +"Why that?" + +"In two or three weeks' time the prize was to be raised to five +thousand francs, to keep up the excitement." + +"Ciel!" I cried. "Five thousand francs? Do you know that positively?" + +"Oh, yes!" She nodded. "It is arranged." + +Five thousand francs would have been a fortune to me. + +Neither of us spoke for some seconds. Then, continuing my thoughts +aloud, I said: + +"After all, why should I telegraph at once? What is to prevent +_my_ waiting the two or three weeks?" + +"Oh, to allow you to do that would be scandalous of me," she demurred; +"I should be actually swindling _La Voix_." + +"_La Voix_ will obtain a magnificent advertisement for its outlay, +which is all that it desires," I argued; "the boom will be worth five +thousand francs to _La Voix_, there is no question of swindling. +Five thousand francs is a sum with which one might--" + +"It can't be done," she persisted. + +"To a man in my position," I said, "five thousand francs--" + +"It is impossible for another reason! As I told you, I am at the end of +my resources. I rose this morning, praying that I should be identified. +My landlady has turned me out, and I have no more than the price of one +meal to go on with." + +"You goose!" I laughed. "And if I were going to net five thousand +francs by your tip three weeks hence, don't you suppose it would be +good enough for me to pay your expenses in the meanwhile?" + +She was silent again. I understood that her conscience was a more +formidable drawback than her penury. + +Monsieur, I said that you had asked me for a humiliating story--that I +had poignant memories connected with _La Voix_. Here is one of +them: I set myself to override her scruples--to render this girl false +to her employers. + +Many men might have done so without remorse. But not a man like me; I +am naturally high-minded, of the most sensitive honour. Even when I +conquered at last, I could not triumph. Far from it. I blamed the force +of circumstances furiously for compelling me to sacrifice my principles +to my purse. I am no adventurer, hein? + +Enfin, the problem now was, where was I to hide her? Her portmanteau +she had deposited at a railway station. Should we have it removed to +another bedroom, or to a pension de famille? Both plans were open to +objections--a bedroom would necessitate her still challenging discovery +in restaurants; and at a pension de famille she would run risks on the +premises. A pretty kettle of fish if someone spotted her while I was +holding for the rise! + +We debated the point exhaustively. And, having yielded, she displayed +keen intelligence in arranging for the best. Finally she declared: + +"Of the two things, a pension de famille is to be preferred. Install me +there as your sister! Remember that people picture me a wanderer and +alone; therefore, a lady who is introduced by her brother is in small +danger of being recognized as mademoiselle Girard." + +She was right, I perceived it. We found an excellent house, where I was +unknown. I presented her as "mademoiselle Henriette Delafosse, my +sister." And, to be on the safe side, I engaged a private sitting-room +for her, explaining that she was somewhat neurasthenic. + +Good! I waited breathless now for every edition of _La Voix_, +thinking that her price might advance even sooner. But she closed at +three thousand francs daily. Girard stood firm, but there was no upward +tendency. Every afternoon I called on her. She talked about that +conscience of hers again sometimes, and it did not prove quite so +delightful as I had expected, when I paid a visit. Especially when I +paid a bill as well. + +Monsieur, my disposition is most liberal. But when I had been mulcted +in the second bill, I confess that I became a trifle downcast. I had +prepared myself to nourish the girl wholesomely, as befitted the +circumstances, but I had said nothing of vin supérieur, and I noted +that she had been asking for it as if it were cider in Normandy. The +list of extras in those bills gave me the jumps, and the charges made +for scented soap were nothing short of an outrage. + +Well, there was but one more week to bear now, and during the week I +allowed her to revel. This, though I was approaching embarrassments +_re_ the rent of my own attic! + +How strange is life! Who shall foretell the future? I had wrestled with +my self-respect, I had nursed an investment which promised stupendous +profits were I capable of carrying my scheme to a callous conclusion. +But could I do it? Did I claim the prize, which had already cost me so +much? Monsieur, you are a man of the world, a judge of character: I ask +you, did I claim the prize, or did I not? + +He threw himself back in the chair, and toyed significantly with his +empty glass. + +I regarded him, his irresolute mouth, his receding chin, his +unquenchable thirst for absinthe. I regarded him and I paid him no +compliments. I said: + +"You claimed the prize." + +"You have made a bloomer," he answered. "I did not claim it. The prize +was claimed by the wife of a piano-tuner, who had discovered +mademoiselle Girard employed in the artificial flower department of the +Printemps. I read the bloodcurdling news at nine o'clock on a Friday +evening; and at 9:15, when I hurled myself, panic-stricken, into the +pension de famille, the impostor who had tricked me out of three weeks' +board and lodging had already done a bolt. I have never had the joy of +meeting her since." + + + +HOW TRICOTKIN SAW LONDON + +One day Tricotrin had eighty francs, and he said to Pitou, who was no +less prosperous, "Good-bye to follies, for we have arrived at an epoch +in our careers! Do not let us waste our substance on trivial pleasures, +or paying the landlord--let us make it a provision for our future!" + +"I rejoice to hear you speak for once like a business-man," returned +Pitou. "Do you recommend gilt-edged securities, or an investment in +land?" + +"I would suggest, rather, that we apply our riches to some educational +purpose, such as travel," explained the poet, producing a railway +company's handbill. "By this means we shall enlarge our minds, and +somebody has pretended that 'knowledge is power'--it must have been the +principal of a school. It is not for nothing that we have l'Entente +Cordiale--you may now spend a Sunday in London at about the cost of one +of Madeleine's hats." + +"These London Sunday baits may be a plot of the English Government to +exterminate us; I have read that none but English people can survive a +Sunday in London." + +"No, it is not that, for we are offered the choice of a town called +'Eastbourne,' Listen, they tell me that in London the price of +cigarettes is so much lower than with us that, to a bold smuggler, the +trip is a veritable economy. Matches too! Matches are so cheap in +England that the practice of stealing them from café tables has not +been introduced." + +"Well, your synopsis will be considered, and reported on in due +course," announced the composer, after a pause; "but at the moment of +going to press we would rather buy a hat for Madeleine." + +And as Madeleine also thought that this would be better for him, it was +decided that Tricotrin should set forth alone. + +His departure for a foreign country was a solemn event. A small party +of the Montmartrois had marched with him to the station, and more than +once, in view of their anxious faces, the young man acknowledged +mentally that he was committed to a harebrained scheme. "Heaven +protect thee, my comrade!" faltered Pitou. "Is thy vocabulary safely in +thy pocket? Remember that 'un bock' is 'glass of beer.'" + +"Here is a small packet of chocolate," murmured Lajeunie, embracing +him; "in England, nothing to eat can be obtained on Sunday, and +chocolate is very sustaining." + +"And listen!" shouted Sanquereau; "on no account take off thy hat to +strangers, nor laugh in the streets; the first is 'mad' over there, and +the second is 'immoral.' May le bon Dieu have thee in His keeping! We +count the hours till thy return!" + +Then the train sped out into the night, and the poet realised that home +and friends were left behind. + +He would have been less than a poet if, in the first few minutes, the +pathos of the situation had not gripped him by the throat. Vague, +elusive fancies stirred his brain; he remembered the franc that he owed +at the Café du Bel Avenir, and wondered if madame would speak gently of +him were he lost at sea. Tender memories of past loves dimmed his eyes, +and he reflected how poignant it would be to perish before the papers +would give him any obituary notices. Regarding his fellow passengers, +he lamented that none of them was a beautiful girl, for it was an +occasion on which woman's sympathy would have been sweet; indeed he +proceeded to invent some of the things that they might have said to +each other. Inwardly he was still resenting the faces of his travelling +companions when the train reached Dieppe. + +"It is material for my biography," he soliloquised, as he crept down +the gangway. "Few who saw the young man step firmly on to the good +ship's deck conjectured the emotions that tore his heart; few +recognised him to be Tricotrin, whose work was at that date practically +unknown.'" But as a matter of fact he did arouse conjectures of a kind, +for when the boat moved from the quay, he could not resist the +opportunity to murmur, "My France, farewell!" with an appropriate +gesture. + +His repose during the night was fitful, and when Victoria was reached +at last, he was conscious of some bodily fatigue. However, his mind was +never slow to receive impressions, and at the sight of the scaffolding, +he whipped out his note-book on the platform. He wrote, "The English +are extraordinarily prompt of action. One day it was discerned that la +gare Victoria was capable of improvement--no sooner was the fact +detected than an army of contractors was feverishly enlarging it." +Pleased that his journey was already yielding such good results, the +poet lit a Caporal, and sauntered through the yard. + +Though the sky promised a fine Sunday, his view of London at this early +hour was not inspiriting. He loitered blankly, debating which way to +wander. Presently the outlook brightened--he observed a very dainty +pair of shoes and ankles coming through the station doors. Fearing that +the face might be unworthy of them, he did not venture to raise his +gaze until the girl had nearly reached the gate, but when he took the +risk, he was rewarded by the discovery that her features were as +piquant as her feet. + +She came towards him slowly, and now he remarked that she had a grudge +against Fate; her pretty lips were compressed, her beautiful eyes +gloomy with grievance, the fairness of her brow was darkened by a +frown. "Well," mused Tricotrin, "though the object of my visit is +educational, the exigencies of my situation clearly compel me to ask +this young lady to direct me somewhere. Can I summon up enough English +before she has passed?" + +It was a trying moment, for already she was nearly abreast of him. +Forgetful of Sanquereau's instructions, as well as of most of the +phrases that had been committed to memory, the poet swept off his hat, +and stammered, "Mees, I beg your pardon!" + +She turned the aggrieved eyes to him inquiringly. Although she had +paused, she made no answer. Was his accent so atrocious as all that? +For a second they regarded each other dumbly, while a blush of +embarrassment mantled the young man's cheeks. Then, with a little +gesture of apology, the girl said in French-- + +"I do not speak English, monsieur." + +"Oh, le bon Dieu be praised!" cried Tricotrin, for all the world as if +he had been back on the boulevard Rochechouart. "I was dazed with +travel, or I should have recognized you were a Frenchwoman. Did you, +too, leave Paris last night, mademoiselle?" + +"Ah, no," said the girl pensively. "I have been in London for months. I +hoped to meet a friend who wrote that she would arrive this morning, +but,"--she sighed--"she has not come!" + +"She will arrive to-night instead, no doubt; I should have no anxiety. +You may be certain she will arrive to-night, and this contretemps will +be forgotten." + +She pouted. "I was looking forward so much to seeing her! To a stranger +who cannot speak the language, London is as triste as a tomb. Today, I +was to have had a companion, and now--" + +"Indeed, I sympathise with you," replied Tricotrin. "But is it really +so--London is what you say? You alarm me. I am here absolutely alone. +Where, then, shall I go this morning?" + +"There are churches," she said, after some reflection. + +"And besides?" + +"W-e-ll, there are other churches." + +"Of course, such things can be seen in Paris also," demurred Tricotrin. +"It is not essential to go abroad to say one's prayers. If I may take +the liberty of applying to you, in which direction would you recommend +me to turn my steps? For example, where is Soho--is it too far for a +walk?" + +"No, monsieur, it is not very far--it is the quarter in which I lodge." + +"And do you return there now?" he asked eagerly. + +"What else is there for me to do? My friend has not come, and--" + +"Mademoiselle," exclaimed the poet, "I entreat you to have mercy on a +compatriot! Permit me, at least, to seek Soho in your company--do not, +I implore you, leave me homeless and helpless in a strange land! I +notice an eccentric vehicle which instinct whispers is an English +'hansom.' For years I have aspired to drive in an English hansom once. +It is in your power to fulfil my dream with effulgence. Will you +consent to instruct the acrobat who is performing with a whip, and to +take a seat in the English hansom beside me?" + +"Monsieur," responded the pretty girl graciously, "I shall be charmed;" +and, romantic as the incident appears, the next minute they were +driving along Victoria Street together. + +"The good kind fairies have certainly taken me under their wings," +declared Tricotrin, as he admired his companion's profile. "It was +worth enduring the pangs of exile, to meet with such kindness as you +have shown me." + +"I am afraid you will speedily pronounce the fairies fickle," said she, +"for our drive will soon be over, and you will find Soho no fairyland." + +"How comes it that your place of residence is so unsuitable to you, +mademoiselle?" + +"I lodge in the neighbourhood of the coiffeur's where I am employed, +monsieur--where I handle the tails and transformations. Our specialty +is artificial eyelashes; the attachment is quite invisible--and the +result absolutely ravishing! No," she added hurriedly; "I am not +wearing a pair myself, these are quite natural, word of honour! But we +undertake to impart to any eyes the gaze soulful, or the twinkle +coquettish, as the customer desires--as an artist, I assure you that +these expressions are due, less to the eyes themselves than to the +shade, and especially the curve, of the lashes. Many a woman has +entered our saloon entirely insignificant, and turned the heads of all +the men in the street when she left." + +"You interest me profoundly," said Tricotrin, "At the same time, I +shall never know in future whether I am inspired by a woman's eyes, or +the skill of her coiffeur. I say 'in future.' I entertain no doubt as +to the source of my sensations now." + +She rewarded him for this by a glance that dizzied him, and soon +afterwards the hansom came to a standstill amid an overpowering odour +of cheese. + +"We have arrived!" she proclaimed; "so it is now that we part, +monsieur. For me there is the little lodging--for you the enormous +London. It is Soho--wander where you will! There are restaurants +hereabouts where one may find coffee and rolls at a modest price. +Accept my thanks for your escort, and let us say bonjour." + +"Are the restaurants so unsavoury that you decline to honour them?" he +questioned. + +"_Comment?"_ + +"Will you not bear me company? Or, better still, will you not let me +command a coffee-pot for two to be sent to your apartment, and invite +me to rest after my voyage?" + +She hesitated. "My apartment is very humble," she said, "and--well, I +have never done a thing like that! It would not be correct. What would +you think of me if I consented?" + +"I will think all that you would have me think," vowed Tricotrin. +"Come, take pity on me! Ask me in, and afterwards we will admire the +sights of London together. Where can the coffee-pot be ordered?" + +"As for that," she said, "there is no necessity--I have a little +breakfast for two already prepared. Enfin, it is understood--we are to +be good comrades, and nothing more? Will you give yourself the trouble +of entering, monsieur?" + +The bedroom to which they mounted was shabby, but far from +unattractive. The mantelshelf was brightened with flowers, a piano was +squeezed into a corner, and Tricotrin had scarcely put aside his hat +when he was greeted by the odour of coffee as excellent as was ever +served in the Café de la Régence. + +"If this is London," he cried, "I have no fault to find with it! I own +it is abominably selfish of me, but I cannot bring myself to regret +that your friend failed to arrive this morning; indeed, I shudder to +think what would have become of me if we had not met. Will you mention +the name that is to figure in my benisons?" + +"My name is Rosalie Durand, monsieur." + +"And mine is Gustave Tricotrin, mademoiselle--always your slave. I do +not doubt that in Paris, at this moment, there are men who picture me +tramping the pavement, desolate. Not one of them but would envy me from +his heart if he could see my situation!" + +"It might have fallen out worse, I admit," said the girl. "My own day +was at the point of being dull to tears--and here I am chattering as if +I hadn't a grief in the world! Let me persuade you to take another +croissant!" + +"Fervently I wish that appearances were not deceptive!" said Tricotrin, +who required little persuasion. "Is it indiscreet to inquire to what +griefs you allude? Upon my word, your position appears a very pretty +one! Where do those dainty shoes pinch you?" + +"They are not easy on foreign soil, monsieur. When I reflect that you +go back to-night, that to-morrow you will be again in Paris, I could +gnash my teeth with jealousy." + +"But, ma foi!" returned Tricotrin, "to a girl of brains, like yourself, +Paris is always open. Are there no customers for eyelashes in France? +Why condemn yourself to gnash with jealousy when there is a living to +be earned at home?" + +"There are several reasons," she said; "for one thing, I am an +extravagant little hussy and haven't saved enough for a ticket." + +"I have heard no reason yet! At the moment my pocket is nicely lined-- +you might return with me this evening," + +"Are you mad by any chance?" she laughed. + +"It seems to me the natural course." + +"Well, I should not be free to go like that, even if I took your money. +I am a business woman, you see, who does not sacrifice her interests to +her sentiment. What is your own career, monsieur Tricotrin?" + +"I am a poet, And when I am back in Paris I shall write verse about +you. It shall be an impression of London--the great city as it reveals +itself to a stranger whose eyes are dazzled by the girl he loves." + +"Forbidden ground!" she cried, admonishing him with a finger. "No +dazzle!" + +"I apologise," said Tricotrin; "you shall find me a poet of my word. +Why, I declare," he exclaimed, glancing from the window, "it has begun +to rain!" + +"Well, fortunately, we have plenty of time; there is all day for our +excursion and we can wait for the weather to improve. If you do not +object to smoking while I sing, monsieur, I propose a little music to +go on with." + +And it turned out that this singular assistant of a hairdresser had a +very sympathetic voice, and no contemptible repertoire. Although the +sky had now broken its promise shamefully and the downpour continued, +Tricotrin found nothing to complain of. By midday one would have said +that they had been comrades for years. By luncheon both had ceased even +to regard the rain. And before evening approached, they had confided to +each other their histories from the day of their birth. + +Ascertaining that the basement boasted a smudgy servant girl, who was +to be dispatched for entrées and sauterne, Tricotrin drew up the menu +of a magnificent dinner as the climax. It was conceded that at this +repast he should be the host; and having placed him on oath behind a +screen, Rosalie proceeded to make an elaborate toilette in honour of +his entertainment. + +Determined, as he had said, to prove himself a poet of his word, the +young man remained behind the screen as motionless as a waxwork, but +the temptation to peep was tremendous, and at the whispering of a silk +petticoat he was unable to repress a groan. + +"What ails you?" she demanded, the whispering suspended. + +"I merely expire with impatience to meet you again." + +"Monsieur, I am hastening to the trysting-place, And my costume will be +suitable to the occasion, believe me!" + +"In that case, if you are not quick, you will have to wear crape. +However, proceed, I can suffer with the best of them.... Are you +certain that I can be of no assistance? I feel selfish, idling here +like this. Besides, since I am able to see--" + +"See?" she screamed. + +"--see no reason why you should refuse my aid, my plight is worse +still. What are you doing now?" + +"My hair," she announced. + +"Surely it would not be improper for me to view a head of hair?" + +"Perhaps not, monsieur; but my head is on my shoulders--which makes a +difference." + +"Mademoiselle," sighed Tricotrin, "never have I known a young lady +whose head was on her shoulders more tightly. May I crave one +indulgence? My imprisonment would be less painful for a cigarette, and +I cannot reach the matches--will you consent to pass them round the +screen?" + +"It is against the rules. But I will consent to throw them over the +top. Catch! Why don't you say 'thank you'?" + +"Because your unjust suspicion killed me; I now need nothing but +immortelles, and at dinner I will compose my epitaph. If I am not +mistaken, I already smell the soup on the stairs." + +And the soup had scarcely entered when his guest presented herself. +Paquin and the Fairy Godmother would have approved her gown; as to her +coiffure, if her employer could have seen it, he would have wanted to +put her in his window. Tricotrin gave her his arm with stupefaction. +"Upon my word," he faltered, "you awe me. I am now overwhelmed with +embarrassment that I had the temerity to tease you while you dressed. +And what shall I say of the host who is churl enough to welcome you in +such a shabby coat?" + +The cork went pop, their tongues went nineteen to the dozen, and the +time went so rapidly that a little clock on the chest of drawers became +a positive killjoy. + +"By all the laws of dramatic effect," remarked the poet, as they +trifled with the almonds and raisins, "you will now divulge that the +fashionable lady before me is no 'Rosalie Durand,' of a hairdresser's +shop, but madame la comtesse de Thrilling Mystery. Every novel reader +would be aware that at this stage you will demand some dangerous +service of me, and that I shall forthwith risk my life and win your +love." + +"Bien sûr! That is how it ought to be," she agreed. + +"Is it impossible?" + +"That I can be a countess?" + +"Well, we will waive the 'countess'; and for that matter I will not +insist on risking my life; but what about the love?" + +"Without the rest," she demurred, "the situation would be too +commonplace. When I can tell you that I am a countess I will say also +that I love you; to-night I am Rosalie Durand, a friend. By the way, +now I come to think of it, I shall be all that you have seen in +London!" + +"Why, I declare, so you will!" exclaimed Tricotrin. "Really this is a +nice thing! I come to England for the benefit of my education--and when +it is almost time for me to return, I find that I have spent the whole +of the day in a room." + +"But you have, at least, had a unique experience in it?" she queried +with a whimsical smile. + +"Well, yes; my journey has certainly yielded an adventure that none of +my acquaintances would credit! Do you laugh at me?" + +"Far from it; by-and-by I may even spare a tear for you--if you do not +spoil the day by being clumsy at the end." + +"Ah, Rosalie," cried the susceptible poet, "how can I bear the parting? +What is France without you? I am no longer a Frenchman--my true home is +now England! My heart will hunger for it, my thoughts will stretch +themselves to it across the sea; banished to Montmartre, I shall mourn +daily for the white cliffs of Albion, for Soho, and for you!" + +"I, too, shall remember," she murmured. "But perhaps one of these days +you will come to England again?" + +"If the fare could be paid with devotion, I would come every Sunday, +but how can I hope to amass enough money? Such things do not happen +twice. No, I will not deceive myself--this is our farewell. See!" He +rose, and turned the little clock with its face to the wall. "When that +clock strikes, I must go to catch my train--in the meantime we will +ignore the march of time. Farewells, tears, regrets, let us forget that +they exist--let us drink the last glass together gaily, mignonne!" + +They pledged each other with brave smiles, hand in hand. And now their +chatter became fast and furious, to drown the clock's impatient tick. + +The clockwork wheezed and whirred. + +"'Tis going to part us," shouted Tricotrin; "laugh, laugh, Beloved, so +that we may not hear!" + +"Kiss me," she cried; "while the hour sounds, you shall hold me in your +arms!" + +"Heaven," gasped the young man, as the too brief embrace concluded, +"how I wish it had been striking midnight!" + +The next moment came the separation. He descended the stairs; at the +window she waved her hand to him. And in the darkness of an "English +hansom" the poet covered his face and wept. + + * * * * * + +"From our hearts we rejoice to have thee safely back!" they chorused in +Montmartre. "And what didst thou see in London?" + +"Oh, mon Dieu, what noble sights!" exclaimed Tricotrin. "The Lor' Maire +blazes with jewels like the Shah of Persia; and compared with +Peeccadeelly, the Champs Elysées are no wider than a hatband. Vive +l'Entente! Positively my brain whirls with all the splendours of London +I have seen!" + + + +THE INFIDELITY OF MONSIEUR NOULENS + +Whenever they talk of him, whom I will call "Noulens"--of his novels, +his method, the eccentricities of his talent--someone is sure to say, +"But what comrades, he and his wife!"--you are certain to hear it. And +as often as I hear it myself, I think of what he told me that evening +--I remember the shock I had. + +At the beginning, I had expected little. When I went in, his wife said, +"I fear he will be poor company; he has to write a short story for +_La Voix,_ and cannot find a theme--he has been beating his brains +all day." So far, from anticipating emotions, I had proposed dining +there another night instead, but she would not allow me to leave. +"Something you say may suggest a theme to him," she declared, "and he +can write or dictate the story in an hour, when you have gone." + +So I stayed, and after dinner he lay on the sofa, bewailing the fate +that had made him an author. The salon communicated with his study, and +through the open door he had the invitation of his writing-table--the +little sheaf of paper that she had put in readiness for him, the +lighted lamp, the pile of cigarettes. I knew that she hoped the view +would stimulate him, but it was soon apparent that he had ceased to +think of a story altogether. He spoke of one of the latest murders in +Paris, one sensational enough for the Paris Press to report a murder +prominently--of a conference at the Université des Annales, of the +artistry of Esther Lekain, of everything except his work. Then, in the +hall, the telephone bell rang, and madame Noulens rose to receive the +message. "Allô! Allô!" + +She did not come back. There was a pause, and presently he murmured: + +"I wonder if a stranger has been moved to telephone a plot to me?" + +"What?" I said. + +"It sounds mad, hein? But it once happened--on just such a night as +this, when my mind was just as blank. Really! Out of the silence a +woman told me a beautiful story. Of course, I never used it, nor do I +know if she made use of it herself; but I have never forgotten. For +years I could not hear a telephone bell without trembling. Even now, +when I am working late, I find myself hoping for her voice." + +"The story was so wonderful as that?" + +He threw a glance into the study, as if to assure himself that his wife +had not entered it from the hall. + +"Can you believe that a man may learn to love--tenderly and truly love +--a woman he has never met?" he asked me. + +"I don't think I understand you." + +"There has been only one woman in my life who was all in all to me," he +said--"and I never saw her." + +How was I to answer? I looked at him. + +"After all, what is there incredible in it?" he demanded. "Do we give +our love to a face, or to a temperament? I swear to you that I could +not have known that woman's temperament more intimately if we had made +our confidences in each other's arms. I knew everything of her, except +the trifles which a stranger learns in the moment of being presented-- +her height, her complexion, her name, whether she was married or +single. No, those things I never knew. But her tastes, her sympathies, +her soul, these, the secret truths of the woman, were as familiar to me +as to herself." + +He hesitated. + +"I am in a difficulty. If I seem to disparage my wife, I shall be a +cad; if I let you think we have been as happy together as people +imagine, you will not understand the importance of what I am going to +tell you. I will say this: before our honeymoon was over, I bored her +fearfully. While we were engaged, I had talked to her of my illusions +about herself; when we were married, I talked to her of my convictions +about my art. The change appalled her. She was chilled, crushed, +dumfounded. I looked to her to share my interests. For response, she +yawned--and wept. + +"Oh, her tears! her hourly tears! the tears that drowned my love! + +"The philosopher is made, not born; in the first few years I rebelled +furiously. I wanted a companion, a confidant, and I had never felt so +desperately alone. + +"We had a flat in the rue de Sontay then, and the telephone was in my +workroom. One night late, as I sat brooding there, the bell startled +me; and a voice--a woman's voice, said: + +"'I am so lonely; I want to talk to you before I sleep.' + +"I cannot describe the strangeness of that appeal, reaching me so +suddenly out of the distance. I knew that it was a mistake, of course, +but it was as if, away in the city, some nameless soul had echoed the +cry in my own heart. I obeyed an impulse; I said: + +"'I, too, am very lonely--I believe I have been waiting for you.' + +"There was a pause, and then she asked, dismayed: + +"'Who are you?' + +"'Not the man you thought,' I told her. 'But a very wistful one.' + +"I heard soft laughter, 'How absurd!' she murmured. + +"'Be merciful,' I went on; 'we are both sad, and Fate clearly intends +us to console each other. It cannot compromise you, for I do not even +know who you are. Stay and talk to me for five minutes.' + +"'What do you ask me to talk about?' + +"'Oh, the subject to interest us both--yourself.' + +"After a moment she answered, 'I am shaking my head.' + +"'It is very unfeeling of you,' I said. 'And I have not even the +compensation of seeing you do it.' + +"Imagine another pause, and then her voice in my ear again: + +"'I will tell you what I can do for you--I can tell you a story.' + +"'The truth would please me more,' I owned. 'Still, if my choice must +be made between your story and your silence, I certainly choose the +story.' + +"'I applaud your taste,' she said. 'Are you comfortable--are you +sitting down?' + +"I sat down, smiling. 'Madame--' + +"She did not reply. + +"Then, 'Mademoiselle--' + +"Again no answer. + +"'Well, say at least if I have your permission to smoke while I listen +to you?' + +"She laughed: 'You carry courtesy far!' + +"'How far?' I asked quickly. + +"But she would not even hint from what neighbourhood she was speaking +to me. 'Attend!' she commanded--and began: + +"'It is a story of two lovers,' she said, 'Paul and Rosamonde. They +were to have married, but Rosamonde died too soon. When she was dying, +she gave him a curl of the beautiful brown hair that he used to kiss. +"Au revoir, dear love," she whispered; "it will be very stupid in +Heaven until you come. Remember that I am waiting for you and be +faithful. If your love for me fades, you will see that curl of mine +fade too." + +"'Every day through the winter Paul strewed flowers on her tomb, and +sobbed. And in the spring he strewed flowers and sighed. And in the +summer he paid that flowers might be strewn there for him. Sometimes, +when he looked at the dead girl's hair, he thought that it was paler +than it had been, but, as he looked at it seldom now, he could easily +persuade himself that he was mistaken. + +"'Then he met a woman who made him happy again; and the wind chased the +withered flowers from Rosamonde's grave and left it bare. One day +Paul's wife found a little packet that lay forgotten in his desk. She +opened it jealously, before he could prevent her. Paul feared that the +sight would give her pain, and watched her with anxious eyes. But in a +moment she was laughing. "What an idiot I am," she exclaimed--"I was +afraid that it was the hair of some girl you had loved!" The curl was +snow-white.' + +"Her fantastic tale," continued Noulens, "which was told with an +earnestness that I cannot reproduce, impressed me very much. I did not +offer any criticism, I did not pay her any compliment; I said simply: + +"'Who are you?' + +"'That,' she warned me, 'is a question that you must not ask. Well, are +you still bored?' + +"'No.' + +"'Interested, a little?' + +"'Very much so.' + +"'I, too, am feeling happier than I did. And now, bonsoir!' + +"'Wait,' I begged. 'Tell me when I shall speak to you again.' + +"She hesitated; and I assure you that I had never waited for a woman's +answer with more suspense while I held her hand, than I waited for the +answer of this woman whom I could not see. 'To-morrow?' I urged. 'In +the morning?' + +"'In the morning it would be difficult.' + +"'The afternoon?' + +"'In the afternoon it would be impossible,' + +"'Then the evening--at the same hour?' + +"'Perhaps,' she faltered--'if I am free.' + +"'My number,' I told her, 'is five-four-two, one-nine. Can you write it +now?' + +"'I have written it.' + +"'Please repeat, so that there may be no mistake.' + +"'Five-four-two, one-nine. Correct?' + +"'Correct. I am grateful.' + +"'Good-night.' + +"'Good-night. Sleep well.' + +"You may suppose that on the morrow I remembered the incident with a +smile, that I ridiculed the emotion it had roused in me? You would be +wrong. I recalled it more and more curiously: I found myself looking +forward to the appointment with an eagerness that was astonishing. We +had talked for about twenty minutes, hidden from each other--half +Paris, perhaps, dividing us; I had nothing more tangible to expect this +evening. Yet I experienced all the sensations of a man who waits for an +interview, for an embrace. What did it mean? I was bewildered. The +possibility of love at first sight I understood; but might the spirit +also recognise an affinity by telephone? + +"There is a phrase in feuilletons that had always irritated me--'To his +impatience it seemed that the clock had stopped.' It had always struck +me as absurd. Since that evening I have never condemned the phrase, for +honestly, I thought more than once that the clock had stopped. By-and-by, +to increase the tension, my wife, who seldom entered my workroom, +opened the door. She found me idle, and was moved to converse with me. +Mon Dieu! Now that the hour approached at last, my wife was present, +with the air of having settled herself for the night! + +"The hands of the clock moved on--and always faster now. If she +remained till the bell rang, what was I to do? To answer that I had +'someone with me' would be intelligible to the lady, but it would sound +suspicious to my wife. To answer that I was 'busy' would sound innocent +to my wife, but it would be insulting to the lady. To disregard the +bell altogether would be to let my wife go to the telephone herself! I +tell you I perspired. + +"Under Providence, our cook rescued me. There came a timid knock, and +then the figure of the cook, her eyes inflamed, her head swathed in +some extraordinary garment. She had a raging toothache--would madame +have the kindness to give her a little cognac? The ailments of the cook +always arouse in human nature more solicitude than the ailments of any +other servant. My wife's sympathy was active--I was saved! + +"The door had scarcely closed when _tr-rr-r-ng_ the signal came. + +"'Good-evening,' from the voice. 'So you are here to meet me.' + +"'Good-evening,' I said. 'I would willingly go further to meet you,' + +"'Be thankful that the rendez-vous was your flat--listen to the rain! +Come, own that you congratulated yourself when it began! "Luckily I can +be gallant without getting wet," you thought. Really, I am most +considerate--you keep a dry skin, you waste no time in reaching me, and +you need not even trouble to change your coat.' + +"'It sounds very cosy,' I admitted, 'but there is one drawback to it +all--I do not see you.' + +"'That may be more considerate of me still! I may be reluctant to +banish your illusions. Isn't it probable that I am elderly--or, at +least plain? I may even be a lady novelist, with ink on her fingers. +By-the-bye, monsieur, I have been rereading one of your books since +last night.' + +"'Oh, you know my name now? I am gratified to have become more than a +telephonic address to you. May I ask if we have ever met?' + +"'We never spoke till last night, but I have seen you often,' + +"'You, at any rate, can have no illusions to be banished. What a +relief! I have endeavoured to talk as if I had a romantic bearing; now +that you know how I look, I can be myself.' + +"'I await your next words with terror,' she said. 'What shock is in +store for me? Speak gently.' + +"'Well, speaking gently, I am very glad that you were put on to the +wrong number last night. At the same time, I feel a constraint, a +difficulty; I cannot talk to you frankly, cannot be serious--it is as +if I showed my face while you were masked.' + +"'Yes, it is true--I understand,' she said. 'And even if I were to +swear that I was not unworthy of your frankness, you would still be +doubtful of me, I suppose?' + +"'Madame--' + +"'Oh, it is natural! I know very well how I must appear to you,' she +exclaimed; 'a coquette, with a new pastime--a vulgar coquette, besides, +who tries to pique your interest by an air of mystery. Believe me, +monsieur, I am forbidden to unmask. Think lightly of me if you must--I +have no right to complain--but believe as much as that! I do not give +you my name, simply because I may not.' + +"'Madame,' I replied, 'so far from wishing to force your confidences, I +assure you that I will never inquire who you are, never try to find +out.' + +"'And you will talk frankly, unconstrainedly, all the same?' + +"'Ah, you are too illogical to be elderly and plain,' I demurred. 'You +resolve to remain a stranger to me, and I bow to your decision; but, on +the other hand, a man makes confidences only to his friends.' + +"There was a long pause; and when I heard the voice again, it trembled: + +"'Adieu, monsieur.' + +"'Adieu, madame,' I said. + +"No sooner had she gone than I would have given almost anything to +bring her back. For a long while I sat praying that she would ring +again. I watched the telephone as if it had been her window, the door +of her home--something that could yield her to my view. During the next +few days I grudged every minute that I was absent from the room--I took +my meals in it. Never had I had the air of working so indefatigably, +and in truth I did not write a line, 'I suppose you have begun a new +romance?' said my wife. In my soul I feared that I had finished it!" + +Noulens sighed; he clasped his hands on his head. The dark hair, the +thin, restless fingers were all that I could see of him where I sat. +Some seconds passed; I wondered whether there would be time for me to +hear the rest before his wife returned. + + * * * * * + +"In my soul I feared that I had finished it," he repeated. +"Extraordinary as it appears, I was in love with a woman I had never +seen. Each time that bell sounded, my heart seemed to try to choke me. +It had been my grievance, since we had the telephone installed, that we +heard nothing of it excepting that we had to make another payment for +its use; but now, by a maddening coincidence, everybody that I had ever +met took to ringing me up about trifles and agitating me twenty times a +day. + +"At last, one night--when expectation was almost dead--she called to me +again. Oh, but her voice was humble! My friend, it is piteous when we +love a woman, to hear her humbled. I longed to take her hands, to fold +my arms about her. I abased myself, that she might regain her pride. +She heard how I had missed and sorrowed for her; I owned that she was +dear to me. + +"And then began a companionship--strange as you may find the word-- +which was the sweetest my life has held. We talked together daily. This +woman, whose whereabouts, whose face, whose name were all unknown to +me, became the confidant of my disappointments and my hopes. If I +worked well, my thoughts would be, 'Tonight I shall have good news to +give her;' if I worked ill--'Never mind, by-and-by she will encourage +me!' There was not a page in my next novel that I did not read to her; +never a doubt beset me in which I did not turn for her sympathy and +advice. + +"'Well, how have you got on?' + +"'Oh, I am so troubled this evening, dear!' + +"'Poor fellow! Tell me all about it. I tried to come to you sooner, but +I couldn't get away.' + +"Like that! We talked as if she were really with me. My life was no +longer desolate--the indifference in my home no longer grieved me. All +the interest, the love, the inspiration I had hungered for, was given +to me now by a woman who remained invisible." + +Noulens paused again. In the pause I got up to light a cigarette, and-- +I shall never forget it--I saw the bowed figure of his wife beyond the +study door! It was only a glimpse I had, but the glimpse was enough to +make my heart stand still--she leant over the table, her face hidden by +her hand. + +I tried to warn, to signal to him--he did not see me. I felt that I +could do nothing, nothing at all, without doubling her humiliation by +the knowledge that I had witnessed it. If he would only look at me! + +"Listen," he went on rapidly. "I was happy, I was young again--and +there was a night when she said to me, 'It is for the last time.' + +"Six words! But for a moment I had no breath, no life, to answer them. + +"'Speak!' she cried out. 'You are frightening me!' + +"'What has happened?' I stammered. 'Trust me, I implore you!' + +"I heard her sobbing--and minutes seemed to pass. It was horrible. I +thought my heart would burst while I shuddered at her sobs--the sobbing +of a woman I could not reach. + +"'I can tell you nothing,' she said, when she was calmer; 'only that we +are speaking together for the last time.' + +"'But why--why? Is it that you are leaving France?' + +"'I cannot tell you,' she repeated. 'I have had to swear that to +myself.' + +"Oh, I raved to her! I was desperate. I tried to wring her name from +her then--I besought her to confess where she was hidden. The space +between us frenzied me. It was frightful, it was like a nightmare, that +struggle to tear the truth from a woman whom I could not clasp or see. + +"'My dear,' she said, 'there are some things that are beyond human +power. They are not merely difficult, or unwise, or mad--they are +impossible. _You_ have begged the impossible of _me_. You +will never hear me again, it is far from likely we shall ever meet--and +if one day we do, you will not even know that it is I. But I love you. +I should like to think that you believe it, for I love you very dearly. +Now say good-bye to me. My arms are round your neck, dear heart--I +kiss you on the lips.' + +"It was the end. She was lost. A moment before, I had felt her presence +in my senses; now I stood in an empty room, mocked by a futile +apparatus. My friend, if you have ever yearned to see a woman whose +whereabouts you did not know--ever exhausted yourself tramping some +district in the hope of finding her--you may realise what I feel; for +remember that by comparison your task was easy--I am even ignorant of +this woman's arrondissement and appearance. She left me helpless. The +telephone had given her--the telephone had taken her away. All that +remained to me was the mechanism on a table." + + * * * * * + +Noulens turned on the couch at last--and, turning, he could not fail to +see his wife. I was spellbound. + +"'Mechanism on a table,' he repeated, with a prodigious yawn of relief. +'That is all, my own.'" + +"Good!" said madame Noulens cheerily. She bustled in, fluttering pages +of shorthand. "But, old angel, the tale of Paul and Rosamonde is thrown +away--it is an extravagance, telling two stories for the price of one!" + +"My treasure, thou knowest I invented it months ago and couldn't make +it long enough for it to be of any use." + +"True. Well, we will be liberal, then--we will include it." She noticed +my amazement. "What ails our friend?" + +Noulens gave a guffaw. "I fear our friend did not recognize that I was +dictating to you. By-the-bye, it was fortunate someone rang us up just +now--that started my plot for me! Who was it?" + +"It was _La Voix_" she laughed, "inquiring if the story would be +done in time!" + + * * * * * + +Yes, indeed, they are comrades!--you are certain to hear it. And as +often as I hear it myself, I think of what he told me that evening--I +remember how he took me in. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Chair on The Boulevard, by Leonard Merrick + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHAIR ON THE BOULEVARD *** + +This file should be named 8chbd10.txt or 8chbd10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8chbd11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8chbd10a.txt + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Ginny Brewer, Tom Allen +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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