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+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: 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
+
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