TheProjectGutenbergEBookofTheAzureRose,byReginaldWrightKauffman

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Title:TheAzureRoseANovel

Author:ReginaldWrightKauffman

ReleaseDate:December29,2011[EBook#38436]

Language:English

***STARTOFTHISPROJECTGUTENBERGEBOOKTHEAZUREROSE***

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Frontcoverofthebook

TheAzureRoseANovel

BY

REGINALDWRIGHTKAUFFMANAuthorofJim,TheHouseofBondage,

TheMarkofTheBeast,OurNavyatWork,etc.

NEWYORK

THEMACAULAYCOMPANY

Copyright,1919BYTHEMACAULAYCO.

CartaretmeetsTheGirlOh!shecried.IhadjustcomeinandIthoughtIthoughtitwasmyroom.

ForMyFriendandSecretary,

LANCE-CORPORALARNOLDROBSON,No.10864,CCompany,SixthBattalion,

YorkshireRegimentTheGreenHowardsWho,LeadingHisSquad,DiedforHisCountryAtSuvlaBay,Gallipoli,21stAugust,1915,

AgedTwenty.

PREFACE

AnovelaboutParisthatisnotaboutthewarrequiresevennow,Iamtold,somewordofexplanation.Mineisbrief:

Thisstorywasconceivedbeforethewarbegan.Icametothetaskofputtingitintoitsfinalshapeafternine months passed between the Western Front and a Paris war-torn and war-darkened, bothphysicallyandspiritually.Yet,thoughIhadfoundtheoldfamiliarplaces,andtheeveryoungandeverfamiliarpeople,woundedandsad,IdidnotlonghavetoseekfortheParisianbraveryinpainandtheParisiansmileshining,rainbowlike,throughthetears.NothingcanconquerFranceandnothingcanlastinglyhurtParis.Theyare,asafamouswitsaidofourownsodifferentBoston,astateofmind.Had the German succeeded in the Autumn of 1914 or the Spring of 1918, France would haveremained,andParis.WhatusedtohappenintheLandofLoveandtheCityofLightswillhappenthereagainandbealwayshappening,sothatmystoryisatoncearetrospectandaprophecy.

Realizing these things, Ihave found it apleasure tomake thisbook.Abookwithoutproblemsandwithout horrors, its sole purpose is to give to the reader some of that pleasurewhichwent to itsmaking.Warscomeandgo;butforeverymantheDoorOppositestandsopenbesidetheSeine,thehurdy-gurdyplaysAnnieLaurie in theStreetof theValleyofGraceandaLadyof theRose iswaiting.

R.W.K.

Columbia,Penna.,ChristmasDay,1918.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGEI. INWHICH,IFNOTLOVE,ATLEASTANGER,LAUGHSATLOCKSMITHS 13II. PROVIDINGTHEGENTLEREADERWITHACARDOFADMISSIONTOTHENESTOFTHETWO

DOVES 36III. INWHICHAFOOLANDHISMONEYARESOONPARTED 49IV. ADAMSELINDISTRESS 64V. WHICHTELLSHOWCARTARETRETURNEDTOTHERUEDUVAL-DE-GRCE,ANDWHATHE

FOUNDTHERE 84VI. CARTARETSETSUPHOUSEKEEPING 102VII. OFDOMESTICECONOMY,OFDAY-DREAMS,ANDOFAFARCOUNTRYANDITSSOVEREIGN

LADY 118VIII. CHIEFLYCONCERNINGSTRAWBERRIES 144IX. BEINGTHETRUEREPORTOFACHAPERONEDDJEUNER 154X. ANACCOUNTOFANEMPTYPURSEANDAFULLHEART,INTHECOURSEOFWHICHTHE

AUTHORBARELYESCAPESTELLINGAVERYOLDSTORY 169XI. TELLSHOWCARTARETSFORTUNETURNEDTWICEINAFEWHOURSANDHOWHEFOUND

ONETHINGANDLOSTANOTHER 192XII. NARRATINGHOWCARTARETBEGANHISQUESTOFTHEROSE 206XIII. FURTHERADVENTURESOFANAMATEURBOTANIST 222XIV. SOMETHINGOROTHERABOUTTRADITIONS 253XV. INWHICHCARTARETTAKESPARTINTHEREVIVALOFANANCIENTCUSTOM 273XVI. ANDLAST 300

OUTOFASHES

ParisasIknewherInthedayserethis

Paris,whenIthrewherManyacarelesskiss

Parisofmypleasure,Brightofeyeandbrow,

TownofsquanderedtreasureWheresthatParisnow?

Songhadshunnedhertraces,Carewasonhertrack:

AllmyyounggirlsfacesPaleinfoldsofblack!

Halftheheartswerebroken,Allthemirthwasfled;

Scarceavowwasspoken,Saveabovethedead....

Oh,buttheresaspiritSorrowcannotkill!

EvennowIhearitSwearthegreatIWill!

Paris,atyourportalTapstheancienttruth,

Laughingandimmortal:Never-conqueredYouth!

R.W.K.

THEAZUREROSE

CHAPTERI

INWHICH,IFNOTLOVE,ATLEASTANGER,LAUGHSATLOCKSMITHS

Jeneconnaispointlanaturedesanges,parcequejenesuisquhomme;ilnyaquelesthologiensquilaconnaissent.Voltaire:DictionnairePhilosophique.

Hedidnotknowwhyheheadedtowardhisownroomitcouldholdnothingthatheguessedoftowelcomehim,exceptfurthertokensofthedejectionandmiseryhecarriedinhisheartbutthitherhewent,and,ashedrewnearer,hisstepquickened.BythetimethatheenteredtherueduValdeGrce,hewasmovingatsomethingcloseuponarun.

Hehurrieduptherisingstairsandintothedarkhall,and,ashedidso,waspossessedbythesensethatsomebodyhadashurriedlyascendedjustaheadofhim.Thedoortohisroomwasneverlocked,andnowheflungitwide.

The lastof theafterglowhadallbut faded from the sky, andonly the faintest twilight, a rose-pinktwilight,cameintothestudio.Rose-pink:hethoughtofthatatonceandthought,too,thatthesesky-roseshadasweeterscentthantherosesofearth,fortherewasaboutthisonce-familiarplaceanodormoredelicateandtenderthananyhehadeverknownbefore.Itwasdim,illusive;itwaslikeamusicalpoeminanunknowntongue,andyet,unlikeFrenchscentsandhot-houseflowers,itsubtlysuggestedopen spaces and mountain-peaks. Cartaret had a quick vision of sunlight upon snow-crests. Hewondered how such a perfume could find its way through the narrow, dirty streets of the LatinQuarterandintohispoorroom.

Andthen,inthedimlight,hesawafigurestandingthere.

Cartaretstoppedshort.

Anhouragohehadlefttheplaceempty.Now,whenhesowantedsolitude,ithadbeeninvaded.Therewasanintruder.Itwasyes,theLordhavemercyonhim,itwasagirl!

Whosthere?demandedCartaret.

HewassostartledthatheaskedthequestioninEnglishandwithhisnativeAmericanaccent.Thenextmoment, hewasmore startledwhen the strange girl answered him in English, though an Englishoddlyprecise.

ItisI,shesaid.

ItisI,waswhatshesaidfirst,and,asshesaidit,Cartaretnotedthathervoicewasawonderfullysoft contralto. What she next said was uttered as he further discovered himself to her by aninvoluntarymovementthatbroughthimwithintherearwindowsshaftofafterglow.Itwas:

Whatareyoudoinghere?

Shespokewithpatentamazement,andtherewere,betweenthewords,fourperceptiblepauses.

Whatwashedoingthere?Whatwasshe?Whatlighttherewascamefrombehindher:hecouldnotat

allmakeoutherfeatures;hehadonlyhervoicetogobyonlyhervoiceandhermannerofregalpossessionand with neither was he acquainted. Good Heavens, hadnt he a right to comeunannounced into theoneplace inParis thathemight still callhisown? It surelywas hisown.Helookeddistractedlyabouthim.

Ithought,saidCartaret,thatthiswasmyroom.

His glance, bewildered as it was, nevertheless assured him that he had not been mistaken. Hisaccustomedeyedetectedeverythingthatthetwilightmighthidefromtheeyeofastranger.

Herewas all his student-litter. Herewere the good photographs of good pictures, bought second-hand;thebadcopiesofgoodpictures,madebyCartarethimselfduringlongmorningsintheLouvre,whereimpudenttourists,staringathiswork,joltedhiselbowandcranedtheirnecksbesidehischeek;there were the plaster-casts on bracketscasts of antiques more mutilated than the antiquesthemselves;andhere,too,weretherowsoflostendeavorsintheshapeofdiscardedcanvasesbankedontheflooralongthewallsandsometimesjuttingfaroutintotheroom.Twoorthreechairswerescatteredabout,onewithabrokenlegherememberedthepartyatwhichitwasbroken;acrossfromthe fire-placewasCartaretsbed that a tarnishedOriental cover (made inLyons) convertedbydayintoadivan;andclosebeside the rearwindow, flankedby the tableonwhichhemixedhiscolors,stood, almost at the elbowof this imperious intruder,Cartarets owneaselwith a virgin canvas inposition,waiting to receive thesuccessor to thatpicturewhichhehadsold fora songa fewhoursago.

Whatwashedoinghere,indeed!Helikedthat.

Andshewasstillatit:

Howdareyouthinkso?shepersisted.

The slight pauses betweenherwords lent themmoreweight than, even in his ears, theyotherwisewouldhavepossessed.Shecameastepnearer,andCartaretsawthatshewasbreathingquicklyandthatthebitoflaceaboveherheartroseandfellirregularly.

Howdareyou?sherepeated.

Shewascloseenoughnow forhim todecide that shewasquite themost strikinggirlhehadeverseen.Herfigure,withoutatouchofexaggeration,wasfullandyetlithe:itmovedwiththegraceoftheathlete.Herskinwasrosyandwhitetheroseofhealthandtheclearcreamofsaneliving.

Itwas,however,hermannerthathadledCartaretfirsttodoubthisownsenses,andthentodoubthers.Thisgirlspokelikeaqueenresentinganext-to-impossiblefamiliarity.Hehadhalfamindtoleavetheplaceandallowhertodiscoverherownmistake,thenatureofwhichhisroomranthelengthoftheoldhouseandhalf itswidth,beingseparatedfromasimilarroombyonlyadarkanddraughtyhallwaynow suddenly revealed itself to him. He seriously considered leaving her alone to theadventofherhumiliation.

Thenhe lookedatheragain.Herhair, insharpcontrast to the tintofher face,wasashiningblue-black; though her features were almost classical in their regularity, her mouth was generous andsensitive, and,under evenblackbrowsand through long, curling lashes,her eyes shone frankandblue.Cartaretdecidedtoremain.

Youareanartist?heinquired.

Leavethisroom!Shestampedalittlefoot.Leavethisroominstantly!

Cartaretstoopedtooneofthecanvasesthatwerepiledagainstthewallnearesthim.Heturneditsfacetoher.

Andthisissomeofyourwork?heasked.

Hehadmeanttobeonlylightandamusing,butwhenhesawtheeffectofhisaction,hecursedhimselfforaheavy-wittedfool:thegirlglancedfirstatthepictureandthenwildlyabouther.Shehadatlastrealizedhermistake.

Oh!shecried.Herdelicatehandswenttoherface.IhadjustcomeinandIthoughtIthoughtitwasmyroom!

He registered a memorandum to kick himself as soon as she had gone. He moved awkwardlyforward,stillbetweenherandthedoor.

Itsallright,hesaid.Everybodydropsinhereatonetimeoranother,andIneverlockmydoor.

Butyoudonotunderstand!Shewasstillspeakingthroughherunjeweledfingers:Sir,wemovedintothishouseonlythismorning.Iwentoutforthefirsttimetenminutessince.Mymaiddidnotwantme togo,but Iwoulddo it.Our roomIunderstandnow thatour room is theotherone: theoneacrossthehallway.ButIcamebackhurriedly,alittlefrightenedbythestreets,andIturnedOh-h!sheended,ImustgoImustgoimmediately!

Shedroppedherhandsanddartedforward,turningtoherright.Cartaretlosthishead:heturnedtohisright.Eachsawthemistakeandsoughttheleft;thendartedtotherightagain.

Letmepass!commandedthegirl.

Cartaret,inwardlycondemninghisstupidity,suddenlybacked.Hebackedintothehalfopendoor;itshutbehindhimwithasharpsnap.

Imnotdancing,hesaid.Iknowitlookslikeit,butImnottruly.

Thenstandasideandletmepass.

Hestoodaside.

Certainly,saidhe;thatiswhatIwastryingtodo.

Withherheadhigh,shewalkedbyhimtothedoorandturnedtheknob:thedoorwouldnotopen.

Than the scorn that she turned upon him then, he had never seen anythingmoremagnificentormorebeautiful.Whatisthis?sheasked.

Hedidnotknow.

Itsprobablystuck,hesuggested.Shewasbeginningtoterrifyhim.Ifyoullallowme

Hebenttotheknob,hishandjustbrushinghers,whichwasquicklywithdrawn.Hepulled:thedoorwouldnotgive.Hetooktheknobinbothhandsandraisedit:nosuccess.Heboreallhisweightdown

upontheknob:thedoorremainedshut.

Helookedupatherattemptingthesmileofapology,buthereyes,assoonastheyencounteredhis,wereraised toacalmregardof thepanelabovehishead.Cartaretsgazereturnedto thedoorand,presently,encounteredtheolddeadlatchthatantedatedhistenancyandthathehadneveronceused:itwasadeadlatchofatypeantiquatedevenintheLatinQuarter,toughandenduring;yearsagoithadbeenpushedbackandheldopenbyasmallcatch;theknobwherebyitwasoriginallyworkedfrominsidetheroomhadbeenbrokenoff;andnowthecatchhadslipped,thespring-bolthadshothomeand,theknobbeingbroken,thegirlandCartaretwereasmuchprisonersintheroomasifthelockhadbeenontheothersideofthedoor.

TheAmericanbrokeintoanervouslaugh.

Whatnow?askedthegirl,hereyeshard.

Werecaught,saidCartaret.

Shecouldonlyrepeattheword:

Caught?

Yes. Imsorry. Itwasmystupidity; I suppose I jolted thedoor ratherhardwhen Ibumped into it,doingthattangojustnow.Anyhow,thisoldlockssprungintoactionandwerefastenedin.

Thegirllookedathimsharply.Adifficultredclimbedhercheeks.

Openthatdoor,sheordered.

ButIcantnotrightaway.Illhavetotryto

Openthatdoorinstantly.

But I tell you I cant. Dont you see? He pointed to the offending deadlatch. In embarrassedsentences,heexplainedthesituation.

Shedidnotappeartolisten.Shehadtheairofonewhohasprejudgedacase.

Youaretryingtokeepmeinthisroom,shesaid.

Hertonewassteady,andhereyeswerebrave;butitwasevidentthatshequitebelievedherstatement.

Cartaretcoloredinhisturn.

Nonsense,saidhe.

Thenopenthedoor.

Itellyouthelockhasslipped.

Ifthatisso,useyourkey.

Ihaventanykey,protestedCartaret.AndevenifIhad

Youhavenokeytoyourownroom?Sheraisedhereyesscornfully.Iunderstoodyoutosayvery

positivelythatIwastrespassinginyourroom.

GreatScott!criedCartaret.Ofcourseitsmyroom.Youmakemewishitwasnt,butitis.Itismyroom,butyoucanseeforyourselftheresnokeyholetotheconfoundedlockonthissideofthedoor,andneverwas.Lookhere.Againhepointedtothedeadlatch:Ifyoullonlycomealittlenearerandlook

Thankyou,shesaid.Ishall remainwhereIam.Shehadputherhandamongthe laceoverherbreast;nowthehand,withdrawn,heldanunsheathedknife.Andifyoucomeonestepnearertome,shecalmlyconcluded,Iwillkillyou.

Itwasthesoledream-touchneededtoperfecthissenseoftheentireepisodesunreality.Inhispoorroom,aprincess thathehadnever seenbeforethat, surely,hewasnot seeingnow!some royalfigureoutofalostHellenictragedy;herbreastvisiblycumberedbytheheavyairofmodernParis,herwonderfuleyesburningwiththecoldfireofresolution,shetoldhimthatshewouldkillhimifheapproachedher.Andshewoulddoit;shewouldkillhimwithlesscompunctionthanshewouldfeelincrushinganoffendingmoth!

Cartarethadinstinctivelyjumpedatthefirstflashoftheweapon.Nowhislaughterreturned.Avisioncouldnotbeimpededbyasprunglock.

Butyourenothere,hesaid.

Shedidnotshiftbysomuchasahairbreadthherpositionofdefense,yet,eversoslightly,hereyeswidened.

AndImnot,either,hepersisted.Dontyousee?Thingslikethisdonthappen.OneofusisasleepanddreamingandImustbethatone.

Plainlyshedidnotfollowhim,buthislaughterhadbeensoboyishlyinnocentastomakeherpatentlydoubtfulofherownassumption.Hecrowdedthatadvantage.

Honestly,hesaid,Ididntmeananyharm

Youatleastplaceyourselfinastrangeposition,thegirlinterrupted,thoughthehandthatheldtheknifewasloweredtoherside.

Butifyoureallydoubtme,hecontinued,anddontwanttowaituntilIpickthislock,letmecallfromthewindowandgetsomebodyinthestreettosenduptheconcierge.

Thestreet?Sheevidentlydidnotlikethisidea.No,notthestreet.Whydoyounotringforhim?

Cartaretsgestureincludedthefourwallsoftheroom:

Theresnobell.

Stillalittlesuspiciousofhim,herblueeyesscannedtheroomtoconfirmhisstatement.

Thenwhynotcallhimfromthewindowintheback?

Becausehisquartersareatthefrontofthehouse,andhewouldnthear.

Wouldnoonehear?

Theresnobodyinthegardenatthistimeofday.Youhadreallybetterletmecalltothefirstpersonthatgoesalongthestreet.Somebodyisalwaysgoingalong,youknow.

Hemadetwostridestowardthefrontwindow.

Comeback!

Heturnedtofindherwithherfacescarlet.Shehadraisedtheknife.

Breakthelock,shesaid.

Butthatwilltaketime.

Breakthelock.

Allright;onlywhydontyouwantmetocallforhelp?

Andhumiliatemestillfurther?Onesmallfoot,casedinanabsurdlylightpatent-leatherslipperwithaflashingbuckle, tappedthefloorangrily.Ihavebeenfoolish,andyourfollyhasmadememorefoolish,butIwillnothaveitknowntoalltheworldhowfoolishIhavebeen.Breakthelockatoncenowimmediately.

Cartaretdivinedthatthiswaseminentlyatimeforsilence:shewasalive,shewasreal,andshewashuman. He opened a drawer in the table, dived under the divan, plunged behind a curtain in onecorner,andat last foundashakyhammerandanickedchiselwithwhichhe returned to the lockeddoor.

Imnotmuchofacarpenter,hesaid,bywayofpreparatoryapology.

Thegirlsaidnothing.

He was angry at himself for having appeared to such heavy disadvantage. Consequently, he wasunsteady.Hisfirstblowmissed.Hisstrengthturnedtomereviolence,andheshoweredfutileblowsuponthebuttof thechisel.Thenamisdirectedblowhit the thumbofhis lefthand.Hesworesoftlyand,havingsworn,heardherlaugh.

He looked up: the knife had disappeared.Hewas pleased at the change tomerriment that her facediscovered;but,ashelooked,herealizedthathermirthwaslaunchedagainsthisefforts,andhewaspleasednolonger.Hisragedirecteditselffromhimtoher.

Imsorryyoudontapprove,hesaidsulkily.Formypart,Iamquitewillingtostop,Iassureyou.

If an imperious personmay be said to have tossed her head, then it should here be said that thisimperiouspersonnowtossedhers.

Now,shallIgotothewindowandyellintothestreet?hesavagelyinquired.

Herhigh-tiltedchin,hercrimsonedcheeksandthestudiouslymanagedlackofexpressioninhereyeswereproofsthatshehadheardhim.Nevertheless,shepersistedinherdisregardofhissuggestion.

Cartaretsmoodbecamemoreugly.Heresolvedtomakeherpayattention.

Illdoit,hesaid,andturnedawayfromthedoor.

Thatbroughttheanswer.Shelookedathiminangryhorror.

Andmakeus the laughing-stockof theneighborhood?shecried.Is itnotenough thatyouhaveshutmeinhere,thatyouhaveinsultedme,that

Insultedyou?Hestoodwiththehammerinonehandandthechiselintheother,aratherunromanticfigureofprotest.Ineverdidanythingofthesort.

Hemade a flourish and dropped the hammer.When he picked it up, he saw that she stood there,lookingoverhisbenthead,witheyessternlykeptserene;buthesawalsothathercheeksremainedaglowandthatherbreathcameshort.

Ineverdidanythingofthesort,hewenton.HowcouldI?

Howcouldyou?Sheclenchedherhands.

Idontmeanthat.Hecouldhavebittenouthis tongue.Heflounderedinamarshofconfusion.ImeanImeanOh,IdontknowwhatImean,exceptthatIbegyoutobelieveIamincapableoftheimpudenceyoucharge!Icameinhereandfoundthemostbeautifulwoman

Sherecoiled.

Youspeaksotome?

Itwasout:hehadtogoaheadnow.Hedidnotatallrecognizehimself:thiswasnotAmerican;itwaswhollyGallic.

Icanthelpit,hesaid,youare.

Gotowork,saidthegirl.

ButIwantyoutounderstand

Twotears,twindiamondsofmortification,shoneinherblueeyes.

You have humiliated me, and mortified me, and insulted me! she persisted. Her white throatswallowedthechagrin,andangerreturnedtotakeitsplace.Ifyouarewhatyoupretendtobe,youwillgobacktoyourworkofopeningthatdoor.IfIwerethestrongmanthatyouare,Ishouldhavebrokenitopenlongago.

Shehadahandsomeferocity.Cartaretputonebroadshouldertothedoorandbothhandstotheknob.Therewasatremendouswrenchingandsplitting:thedoorswungopen.Heturnedandbowed.

Itsopen,hesaid.

Tohis amazement, hermoodhad entirely changed.Whether his actionhad served as proof of hisdeclaredsincerity,orwhetherherbriefreflectiononhiswordshaditselfservedhimthisgoodturn,hecouldnotguess;buthesawnowthathereyeshadsoftenedandthatherunderlipquivered.

Goodafternoon,saidCartaret.

Good-by,saidshe.

Shemovedtowardthedoor,thenstopped.

Ihope thatyouwillpardonme,shesaid,andshespokeas if shewerenotaccustomed toaskingpardon. I have been too quick and very foolish.Youmust know that I am new to Parisnew toFrancenewtocitiesandthatIhaveheardstrangestoriesofParisiansandofthemenofthelargetowns.

Cartaretwasmorethanmollified,buthetookagripuponhisemotionsandresolvedtopursuethisadvantage.

Atleast,hesaid,youshouldhaveseenthatIwasyourownsort.

Myownmyownsort?Shedidnotseemtocomprehend.

Well, of your own class, then. This girl had an impish faculty for making him say things thatsoundedpriggish:YoushouldhaveseenIwasofyourownclass.

Againhereyeswidened.Thenshetossedherheadandlaughedalittlesilverylaugh.

Hefanciedthelaughdisdainful,andthoughtsothemorewhensheseemedtodetecthissuspicionandtriedtoallayitbyanalterationoftone.

Imeanexactlythat,hesaid.

Shebitherredlip,andCartaretnotedthatherteethwereevenandwhite.

Forgiveme,shebegged.

Sheputoutherhandsofranklythathewouldhaveforgivenheranything.Hetookthehandand,asitnestledsofterthananysatininhis,hefelthishearthammerinhisbreast.

Forgiveme,shewasrepeating.

Ihopeyoullforgiveme,hemuttered.Atanyrate,youcantforgetme:youllhavetoremembermeasthegreatestbooryouevermet.

Sheshookherhead.

ItwasIthatwasfoolish.

Oh,butitwasnt!I

He stopped, for her eyes had fallen from his and rested on their clasped hands. He released herinstantly.

Good-by,shesaidagain.

GoodButsurelyImtoseeyouonceinawhile!

Idonotknow.

Why,wereneighbors!Youcantmeanthatyouwontletme

Idonotknow,shesaid.Good-by.

Shewentout,drawing-totheshattereddoorbehindher.

Cartaretleanedagainstthepanelandlistenedshamelessly.

Heheardhercrossthehallandopenthedoortotheoppositeroom;heheardhersuspiciouslygreetedbyanothervoiceavoicethathegladlyrecognizedasfeminineandinalanguagethatwaswhollyunfamiliartohim:alanguagethatsoundedsomehowOriental.Thenheheardtheotherdoorshut,andheturnedtothecomfortlessgloomofhisownquarters.

Hesatdownon thebed.Hehad forgottena riotousdinner thatwas tohavebeenhis finalParisianfolly,forgottenhispoverty,forgottenhisdayofdisappointmentandhisdesiretogobacktoOhioandthelaw.Herememberedonlytheeventsofthelastquarter-hourandthegirlthathadmadethemwhattheywere.

Ashesatthere,thereseemedtocomeagainintothesilentroomtheperfumehehadnoticedwhenhereturned. It seemed to float inon the twilight, still dimlypinkbehind the roofsof thegrayhousesalong the BoulMiche: subtle, haunting, an odor more delicate and tender than any he had everknownbefore.

Heraisedhishead.Hesawsomethingwhitelyingonthefloorlyingwhere,afewmomentssince,hehadstood.Hewentforwardandpickeditup.

ItwasaflowerlikearoseawhiterosebutunlikeanyroseofwhichCartarethadanyknowledge.Itwassmall,butperfect, itspurepetalsgathered tightagainst itsheart,andfromitsheartcametheperfumethathadseemedtohimlikeamusicalpoeminanunknowntongue.

ForasecondtimeCartarethadthatquickvisionofthesunlightuponsnow-crestsandthevirginsheenofunattainablemountaintops....

CHAPTERII

PROVIDINGTHEGENTLEREADERWITHACARDOFADMISSIONTOTHENESTOFTHETWODOVES

Danscesquestionsdecrdit,ilfauttoujoursfrapperlimagination.Lidedegnie,cestdeprendredanslapochedesgenslargentquinyestpasencore.Zola:LArgent.

UntiljustbeforetheappearanceofCharlieCartaretsrosyvision,thishadbeenadayofdarknessandwet. Raina dull, hopeless, February rainfell with implacable monotony. It descended in finespray,asif toolazytohurry,yettoospitefultostop.ItmadeallParismiserable;but,asisthewaywithParisianrains,itwasagreatdealwetterontheLeftBankoftheSeinethanontheRight.

NorainnoteveninthosehappytimesbeforethegreatwareverwashedtheLeftBankclean,andthisoneonlymadeitamarsh.AcurtainoffogfellsheerbetweentheIsledelaCitandtheQuaidesAugustins;thetwintowersofSt.Sulpicestaggeredupintoapalloffogandwerelostinit.Thegrayhouseshunchedtheirshoulders, loweredtheirheads,drewtheirmansardhatsandgabledcapsovertheirnosesandstood like rowsofpatienthorsesat acabstandunder thegraydownpour.Nowandagainarealcabscuttledalongthestreets,itsskinnybeastclop-cloppingoverthewoodenpaving,orslippingamongthecobbledways, itsdriverhiddenunderamountainouspileofwoolengreat-coatandrubbercape.Eventhetaxislackedtheproudairwithwhichtheyhabituallysplashpedestrians,andsuchpedestriansasbusinessforcedupontheearlyafternoonthoroughfareswentwithheadsbowedlikethehousesandumbrellasleveledlikeflying-jibs.

InfrontofthelittleCafDesDeuxColombes,thetwomarble-toppedtableswhichoccupieditsscantfrontageontherueJacobweredesertedbyallsavetheirfouriron-backedchairswithwetseatsandtheirtwinwater-bottlesintowhich,withmathematicalprecision,waterdroppedfromapairofholesin thesaggingcanvasoverhead. Inside,however, therewere lightedgas-jets, theproprietorand theproprietor swifepresumablythepairofdovesforwhomtheCafwasnamedandamanthatwastryingtolooklikeacustomer.

Gaston Franois Louis Pasbeaucoup had an apron tied about hismiddle, and, standing before theintended patrons table, leaned what weight he hadit was not muchupon his finger-tips. Hismustache was fierce enough to grace the upper lip of a deputy from the Bouches-du-Rhne andgenerous enough to sparemany a contribution to theplat-du-jour; but hismustachewas the onlylargethingabouthimalwaysexceptingMadamehiswife,whowaseversomewhereabouthimandwho was just now, two hundred and twenty pounds of evidence to the good food of the DeuxColombes,stuffedintoawirecageatoneendofthebar,andbulgingoutofit,hereyebrowsmeetingoverherpug-noseandtheheapofhairleapingfromherheadnearlytotheceiling,whileherlipsandfingerswerebusyaddingthebillsfromdjeuner.

It would greatly pleasure me to accommodate monsieur, Pasbeaucoup was whispering, butmonsieurmustknowthatalready

Thesentenceended inadeprecatingglanceover thespeaker sshoulder in thegeneraldirectionofmightyMadame.

Already?Alreadywhatthen?demandedtheintendingcustomer.

He was lounging on the wall-seat behind his table, and he had an aristocratic air surprisingly atvariancewith his garments. His black jacket shone too highly at the elbows, and its short sleevesbetrayed an unnecessary length of red wrist. His black boots gasped for repair; a soft black hat,pushedtothebackofhisblackhair,stilldrippedfromanunprotectedvoyagealongtherainystreet,andhisneckcloth,whichwasalsolongandsoftandblack,showedaspotortwonotputtherebyitsmakers.Thesewerepatentlymattersbeyond theirowner scommandandbeneath thedignityofhisattention.Againstthemonewascompelledtosetamannertrulylofty,whichwasenhancedbyapairofburning,deep-placedeyes,athinwhitefaceand,sproutingfromeithersideofhislowerjaw,nearthechin,twowispsofebonwhisker.Hefrownedmajestically,andhesmokedacaporalcigaretteasifitwereaHavanacigar.

Alreadywhat? he loudly repeated. If it is possible! I patronize your cabbage of a caf for fiveyears,andnowyouputmeoffwithyouralreadys!

Pasbeaucoup,hisfingersstillrestingonthetable,dancedinembarrassmentandrolledhiseyesinamannerthatplainlyenoughwarnedmonsieurnottolethisvoicereachthecagedlady.

Iwasbutabouttosaythatmonsieuralreadyowesusthetriflingsumof

Sixtyfrancs,twenty-five!

Thetonethatannouncedthesefatefulnumeralswassotremendousacontraltoastobereallybass.ItcamefromthewirecageandbelongedtoMadame.

Pasbeaucoupsankintothenearestchair.Hespreadouthishandsinagesturethateloquentlysaid:

Nowyouvedoneit!Icantshieldyouanylonger!

Thedebtor,albeithewasstillayoungman,didnotappearundulyimpressed.Thetablewasacrosshisknees,butheroseasfarasitwouldpermitandremovedhishatwithaflourishthatsentasprayofwaterdirectlyoverMadamesmonumentofhair.Disregardingtheblatantfactthatshewasquitethemost remarkable feature of the room, he vowed that he had not observed her upon entering,wasdesolatedbecauseofhisoversightandravishednowtohavethepleasureofoncemorebeholdingherinallheraccustomedgraceandcharm.

Madameshruggedhershouldershigherthanthewallsofthecage.

Sixtyfrancs,twenty-five,shesaid,withoutlookingupfromhertask.

Ah,yes:hislittleaccount.Monsieurrecalledthat:therewasalittleaccount;but,sotrulyashisnamewas Seraphin and his passion Art, what a marvelous headMadame had for figures. It was of anexactitudemagnificent!

Whenhepaused,Madamesaid:

Sixtyfrancs,twenty-five.

Butsurely,MadameSeraphinDieudonnwaspolitelyamazed;hedidnotdesiretocreditherwithanimpoliteness,andyetsheseemedtoimplythat,unlesshepaidthisabsurdlylittlesum,theremightbesomedelayinservinghiminthissoexcellentestablishment.

Cesta,saidMadame.Thedelaywillbeentire.

Incomprehensible!Seraphinputabonyhandtohisheart.DoyounotknowalltheworldoftheQuartierknowsthatIhave,Madame,butthreedaysworkmoreuponmymagnumopusaweekattheutmostandthatthenitcansellfornotasoulessthanfifteenthousandfrancs?

Madamesfaceneverchangedexpressionwhenshetalked;italwaysseemedsetattheonlyanglethatwouldbalancehermonumentofhair.Shenowsaid:

WhatalltheworldoftheQuartierknowsisthatyourlastmagnumopusyousoldtothatsimpletonFourgetintherueSt.AndrdesArts;thatevenfromhimyoucouldsqueezebutahundredfrancsforit;andthathehasnotyetbeenabletofindacustomer.

AtfirstSeraphinseemedslowtocreditthescornthatMadamewasatsuchpainstoreveal.Hemadeonevaliantefforttooverlookit,andfailed;thenhemadeaneffortnolessvalianttomeetherwiththeridiculousmajestyinwhichhehabituallydrapedhimself.Itwasasif,unabletomakeherbelieveinhim,heatleastwantedhertobelievethathislongstrugglewithpovertyandanindifferentpublichadservedonlytoincreasehisconfidenceinhisowngeniusandtorearbetweenhimandtheworldawallthroughwhichthearrowsofthescornfulcouldhardlypass.Butthisattemptsucceedednomorethanitspredecessor:ashehalfstood,halfbentbeforethislandladyofafifth-ratecaf,atardypinkcreptup his white face and painted the skin over his cheek-bones; his eyelids fluttered, and his mouthworked.Themanwashungry.

Madeleine!whisperedPasbeaucoup,compassionforthedebtoralmostovercomingfearofthewife.

Seraphinwethislips.

Madamehebegan.

Sixtyfrancs,twenty-five,saidMadame.Cayest!

Asshesaidit,thedooroftheDeuxColombesopenedandanotherpatron,atonceevidentlyamorewelcomepatron,presentedhimself.Hewasaplumplittlemanwithhandsthatwerethinlyatcontrastwiththerestofhim.Hewasfairlywelldressed,butfarbetterfed,andsocontentedwithhislotastohavenoeyefortheevidentlotofSeraphin.HewasMauriceHoudon,whohaddecidedsomedaytobeagreatcomposerandwhomeanwhileoverchargedafewEnglishandAmericanpupilsforlessonsonthepianoandborrowedmoneyfromanythatwouldtrusthim.HestormedDieudonn, leanedovertheinterveningtableandembracedhim.

My dear friend! he cried, his arms outflung, his fingers rattling rapid arpeggios upon invisiblepianos.Youareindeedwellfound.Ihavenewssuchnews!Hethrustbackhisheadandwarbledalaughworthyofthemad-sceneinLucia.Listenwell.AgainheembracedtheunresistingSeraphin.Thisnightwedinehere;wemakeacollationasymposium:wefeedbothourbodiesandoursouls.I shall sit at the head of the table in the little roomon the first floor, and youwill sit at the foot.ArmandGarnierwillreadhisnewpoem;Devigneswillsingmylatestsong;PhilippeVarachonandyouwilldiscourseonyourarts;andIperhapsIshallletyoupersuademetoplaythefuguethatIgotowrite for thedeathof thePresident: it isallbut readyagainst theday thatapresidentchooses todie.

ButSeraphinsthoughtswerefixedonthefoodforthebody.

Youmakenojestwithme,Maurice?

Jestwithyou?Ijestwithyou?No,myfriend.IdonotjestwhenIinviteaguesttodinewithme.

Icomprehend,saidDieudonn;butwhoistobethehost?

At that question,Pasbeaucoup rose fromhis chair, andMadame, hiswife, tried to thrust her nose,whichwastooshorttoreach,throughthebarsofhercage.Thecomposerstruckachordonhisbreastandbowed.

True:thehost,saidhe.Ihadforgotten.Ihavefoundaveritablepatronofmyart.Hehashadtheroomabovemine for twoyears, and I didnotoncebefore suspect him.He is anAmericanof theUnitedStates.

Madamescontraltoshookherprisonbars:

ThereisnoAmericanthatcanappreciateart.

True,Madame, admittedHoudon, bowingprofoundly; there is noAmerican that can appreciateart,andthereisnoAmericanmillionairethatcanhelppatronizingit.

Eh,heisamillionaire,then,thisAmerican?demandedMadame,audiblymollified.

Hehasthathonor.

Andhisname?Madamewantedtomakeamemorandumofthatname.

Houdonstruckanotherchord.Itwasasifheweresoundingafanfarefortheentranceofhishero.

Charles Cartaret. He pronounced the first name in the French fashion and the second nameCartarette.

Seraphinsreplytothisannouncementratherspoileditseffect.Helaughed,andhislaughterwashighandmocking.

Cartaret!hecried.CharlieCartaret!ButIknowhimwell.

Eh?ThecomposerwasreproachfulAndyouneverpresentedhimtome?

Itneverhappenedthatyouwereby.

Myfaith!WhyshouldIbe?AmInotHoudon?Youshouldhavebroughthimtome.Isitthatyouatthesametimeconsideryourselfmyfriendanddonotbringtomeyourmillionaire?

Seraphinslaughterwaxed.

Butheisnotmymillionaire:heisyourmillionaireonly.Iknowwellthatheisaspoorasweare.

Themusiciansimaginarymelodyceased:onecouldalmosthearitcease.HegazedatSeraphinashemighthavegazedatamadman.

Butthatroomrentsforahundredfrancsamonth!

Heisindebtforit.

AndhisnameisthatofarichAmericanwellknown.

Anunclewhodoesnotlikehim.

Andhehasofferedtoprovidethiscollation.

Seraphinshrugged.

M.Cartaretscredit,saidhe,withaglanceatMadame,seemstobebetterthanmine.Itellyouheisonlyayoungart-student,enoughgenteel,and therelationofamanenoughrich,but forhimselfpoof!heisoneofus.

CHAPTERIII

INWHICHAFOOLANDHISMONEYARESOONPARTED

Moneysthestillsweet-singingnightingale.Herrick:Hesperides.

SeraphinDieudonntoldthetruth:atthatmomentCharlieCartaretforallthis,remember,precededthecomingoftheVisionatthatmomentCartaretwasseatedinhisroomintherueduVal-de-Grce,wonderinghowhewastofindhisnextmonthsrent.Histroublewasthathehadjustsoldapicture,forthefirsttimeinhislife,and,havingsoldit,hehadrashlyengagedtocelebratethatgoodfortunebyafeastwhichwouldleavehimwithonlyenoughtobuymealsfortheensuingthreeweeks.

Hewasaratherfine-looking,upstandingyoungfellowofatypeessentiallyAmerican.Inthedays,notlongdistant,whenthegoalattheotherendofthegridironhadbeentheonlygoalofhisambition,hehadputhardmusclesonhishardyframe;laterhehadlearnedtoshootinArizona;andheevennowwouldhavelookedmoreathomealongBroadwayorHalstedStreetthanhedidintherueSt.JacquesortheBoulevardSt.Michel.Hewastow-hairedandbrown-eyedandclean-shaven;hewasgenerallyhopeful,whichisanotherwayofsayingthathewasstilluponthefloweredslopeoftwenty-five.

Cartaret had inherited his excellent constitution, but his family all suffered from one disease: thediseaseoftoomuchmoneyonthewrongsideofthehouse.WhenoilwasfoundinOhio,itwasfoundinlandbelongingtohisfather sbrother,butCharliesfatherremainedapoorlawyertotheendofhisdays.UncleJackhadchildrenofhisownandadeservedreputationforholdingontohispennies.Hesent his niece to a finishing-school,where she could be properly prepared for that state of life towhichithadnotpleasedHeaventocallher,andhesenthisnephewtocollege.Whentheformerchildwasfinished,hefoundheraplaceascompanion toanancientwidowinToledoanddismissedherfromhis thoughts;whenCharliewas throughwith collegewhich is to say,when the facultywasthroughwithhimforendeavoringtoplantafraternityinaplotofacademicsoilthatforbadetheseedof Greek-letter societieshe asked him what he intended to do nowand asked it in a tone thatplainlymeant:

Whatfurtherdisgraceareyouplanningtobringuponourname?

Charlierepliedthathewantedtobeanartist.

Imighthaveguessedit,saidhisuncle.Howlongllittake?

YoungCartaret,knowingsomethingaboutart,hadnottheslightestidea.

Well,saidtheby-productofpetroleum,ifyouvegottobeanartist,beoneasfarawayfromNewYorkasyoucan.TheysayParisisthebestplacetolearnthebusiness.

Itisoneofthebestplaces,saidCharlie.

TheelderCartaretwroteacheck.

Take a boat to-morrow, he ordered. Ill pay your board and tuition for two years: thats timeenoughtolearnanybusiness.Aftertwoyearsyoullhavetomakeoutforyourself.

SoCharlie hadworked hard for twoyears.That period ended aweek ago, andhis uncles checksended with it. He had stayed on and hoped. To-day he had carried a picture through the rain toSeraphinsbenefactor,thedealerFourget;andthesoft-heartedFourgethadboughtit.Cartaret,onhisreturn,metHoudoninthelowerhallandbeforetheAmericanwaswellawareofit,hewaspledgedtothefeastofwhichMauricewasbraggingtoDieudonn.

Charliedugintohispocketandfishedoutallthatwasinit:amatteroftwohundredandtenfrancs.Hecountedittwiceover.

Nouse,hesaid.Icantmakeitanylarger.IwonderifIoughttotakeasmallerroom.

Certainlytherewasmoreroomherethanhewanted,buthehadgrowntolovetheplace:even then,whenhehadstill tosee it in therose-pink twilightof romance, in theafterglowthatwasadawneven then,before the apparitionof the strangeLadyhe loved it ashis sort ofmanmust love thescenesofthosestruggleswhichhavelefthimpoor.Itsfrontwindowsopeneduponthestreetfullofstudent-lifeandgossip,itsrearwindowslookedonalittlegardenthatwasprettywiththeconciergesflowersallSummerlongandmerrywiththelaughteroftheconciergeschildrenoneveryfairdaythewholeyearround.Thelightwasgoodenough,thelocationexcellent; theservicewasnoworsethantheserviceinanysimilarhouseinParis.

ButIhavebeenafool,saidCartaret.

He lookedagainathismoney,and thenhe lookedagainabout theroom.Thedifferencebetweenafoolandameredilettanteinfollyisthis:thatthelatterknowshisfollyasheindulgesit,whereastheformerrecognizesit,ifever,onlytoolate.

IfIdbeenabletostudyforonlyoneyearmore,hesaid.

Itwasthewailofretrospectionthat,soonerorlater,everyman,eachinhisownwayandaccordingtohischancesandhischaracterforseizingthem,isboundtoutter.Itwaswhatweallsayandwhat,insaying,weeachthinkunique.Happyhethatsaysit,andmeansit,intimetoprofit!

Yes, saidCartaret, Ive been a fool.But Iwont be a quitter, he added. Ill go and order thatdinner.

ThusCharlesCartaretintheafternoon.

Hehadputonabattered,broad-brimmedhatofsoftblackfelt,whichwaspicturesquelyoutofplaceabovehisAmericanfeatures,andastillmorebatteredEnglishrain-coat,whichdidnotatallbelongwiththehat,and,thusfortifiedagainsttherain,hehurriedintothehall.Asheclosedthedoorofhisstudiobehindhim,hefanciedthatheheardasoundfromtheroomacrossfromhisown,andsostoodlistening,hishandupontheknob.

Thatsqueer,hereflected.Ithoughtthatroomwasstilltolet.

Helistenedamomentlonger,butthesound,ifsoundtherehadbeen,wasnotrepeated,sohepulledhishat-brimoverhiseyesanddescendedtothestreet.

Therainhadlessened,butthefogheldon,andthethoroughfareswerewetanddismal.Cartaretcutdown the rue du Val-de-Grce to the Avenue de Luxembourg and through the gardens with theirdripping statues and around the museum, whence he crossed to the sheltered way between thosebookstalls that cling like ivy to thewalls of theOdon, and so, by the steep descent of the rue deTournonandtheruedeSeine,cametotherueJacobandtheCafDesDeuxColombes.

Seraphin and Maurice were still there. They received him as their separate natures dictated, theformerwitharestraineddignity,thelatterwiththedignityofamonarchsosecureofhistitlethathecan afford to condescend to an air of democracy. Seraphin bowed; Maurice embraced and,

embracing,tappedthediatonicscalealongCartaretsvertebr.Pasbeaucoup,intremblingobediencetoacrypticnodfromthecagedMadame,hoveredinthebackground.

Ihavecome,saidCartaret,whoseFrenchwastheeasyandinaccurateFrenchoftheAmericanart-student,toorderthatdinner.HehalfturnedtoPasbeaucoup,butHoudonwasbeforehim.

Itisdone,announcedthemusician,asifannouncingafavorperformed.Ihaverelievedyouofthattedium.Wearetobeginwithanhors-doeuvreofanchoviesand

Madame had again nodded, this time less cryptically and more violently, at her husband, andPasbeaucoup,betweentwinterrors,timidlysuggested:

MonsieurCartaret comprehends that it is onlybecauseof the sohigh cost of necessities that it isnecessaryforustorequest

Hestoppedthere,butthevoicefromthecageboomedcourageously:

Thepaymentinadvance!

Acustomoftheestablishment,explainedHoudongrandly,butshootingavenomousglanceinthedirectionofMadame.

Seraphincamequietlyfrombehindhistableand,slippingathinarmthroughCartarets,drewhim,tothespeechlessamazementoftheotherparticipantsinthisscene,towardthefarthestcornerofthecaf.

Myfriend,hewhispered,youmustnotdoit.

Eh?saidCartaret.Whynot?Itsaqueerthingtobeasked,butwhyshouldntIdoit?

Seraphinhesitated.Then,regainingtheconquestoverself,heputhislipssoclosetotheAmericansearthattheFrenchmanswaggingwispsofwhiskertickledhisauditor scheek.

ThisHoudonisbutapleasantcoquin,heconfided.Hewillsuckfromyouthelastsousworthofyourblood.

Cartaretsmiledgrimly.

Hewontgetafortunebyit,hesaid.

ThatiswhyIdonotwishhimtodoit:Iknowwellthatyoucannotaffordtheselittledissipations.Idonotwish to seemy friend swindledby false friendship.Houdon is agoodboy,but,Nameof aName,hehastheconscienceofapig!

All right, said Cartaret suddenly, for Seraphin was appealing to a sense of economy still freshenoughtobesensitive,sincehesorderedthedinner,welllethimpayforit.

Alas,declaredDieudonn,sadlyshakinghislonghair,poorMauricehasnotthemoney.

Oh!AgleamofgratitudelightedCartaretsblueeyesThenyouareproposingthatyoudoit?

Myfriend,inquiredSeraphin,flingingouthisarmsasamanflingsouthisarmstoinviteasearchofhispockets,youknowme:howcanI?

Cartaretblushedathisineptitude.HeknewDieudonnwellenoughtohavebeenawareofhispoverty

and liked himwell enough to be tender toward it. But, he nevertheless pardonably inquired, ifthatsthewaythethingstands,whostopay?Oneoftheotherguests?

Weareallofthesamefinancialability.

ThenIdontsee

NordoI.AndSeraphinshighresolutionclatteredsuddenlyabouthisearsafterall,thedinnerhasbeenordered,andIamveryhungry.Myfriend,heconcludedwithahappyreturnofhisdignity,at least I havedoneyou this service:youwill buy thedinner, butyouwill notbothbuy it andbedeceived.

Cartaretturned,withasmilenolongergrim,totheothers.

Seraphin,hesaid,haspersuadedme.Madame,laddition,ifyouplease.

Pasbeaucoup trotted to the cage,bringingback toCartaret the long slipofpaper thatMadamehadreadyforhim.Cartaretglancedatonlythetotaland,thoughheflushedalittle,paidwithoutcomment.

Andnow,suggestedHoudon,nowletusplayalittlegameofdominoes.

Seraphin, from themusicians shoulder, frownedhard atCartaret, butCartaretwas in nomood toheedthewarning.Hewasangryathimselfforhisextravaganceanddecidedthat,havingbeensuchafoolastoflingawayagreatdealofhismoney,hemightnowaswellbeagreaterfoolandflingitallaway.Besides,hemightbeabletowinfromHoudon,and,evenifHoudoncouldnotpay,therewouldbethesatisfactionofrevenge.Sohesatdownatoneof themarble-toppedtablesandbegan,withagreat clatter, to shuffle the dominoes that obsequious Pasbeaucoup hurriedly fetched. Within twohours, Seraphin was head over ears in the musicians debt, and the American was paying intoHoudons palm all but about ten francs of the money that he had so recently earned. He rosesmilingly.

Youdonotgo?inquiredHoudon.

Cartaretnodded.

Butthedinner?

Dontyouworry;IllbebackforthatIdontknowwhenIllgetanother.

Then permitme, Houdon condescended, to order a bock. For the three of us. He generouslyincludedthehungrySeraphin.Come,weshalldrinktoyourbetterfortunenexttime.

ButCartaretexcusedhimself.Hesaid thathehadanengagementwithadealer,whichwasnot true,andwhichwasunderstoodtobefalse,andhewentintothestreet.

Thelastoftherain,unnoticedduringCartaretsfeveredplay,hadpassed,andaredFebruarysunwassetting across the Seine, behind the higher ground that lies between LEtoile and the Place duTrocadero.TheriverwashiddenbythepointoflandthatendsintheQuaiDOrsay,but,asCartaretcrossedthebroadruedeVaugirard,hecouldseethegoldenafterglowand,silhouettedagainstit,thehighfilamentsoftheEiffelTower.

Whatanasshehadbeen,hebitterlyreflected,ashepassedagainthroughtheLuxembourgGardens,

wherenowthestatuesglistenedinthefadinglightofthedyingafternoon.Whatamadass!Ifasinglestrokeofalmostpatheticallysmallgoodluckmadesuchafoolofhim,itwasaswellthathisuncleandnothisfatherhadcomeintoafortune.

HisthoughtwentbackwithanewtendernesstohisfatherandtohisownandhissisterCorasearlylife in thatsmallOhio town.Hehadhated thedull routineandnarrowconventionalityof theplace.Therethemostdaringromanceofyouthhadbeentowalkwiththedaughterofaneighboralongtheshadedstreets in theSummerevenings,and tohangover thegate to the frontyardof thehouse inwhich she lived, tremblingly hinting at a delicious tenderness, which one never dared moreadequatelytoexpress,untilathreateningparentalvoicecalledthegirltoshelter.Hislife,sincethosedays,hadbeenmorestirring,andsometimesmoretoberegretted;buthehadloveditandthoughtitabsurdsentimentonCorasparttoinsistthattheirtinyincomegotokeepingupthelittlepropertythe three-storybrickhouseandwide frontandback-yardalongMainStreetwhichhadbeen theirhome.Yetnowhefelt,andwashalfashamedoffeeling,astrongdesiretogobackthere,apullathisheartstringsforareturntoallthathewasoncesoanxioustoquitforever.

HewonderedifitcouldbepossiblethathewastiredofParis.Heevenwonderedifitwerepossiblethathecouldnotbeasuccessfulartisthehadneverwantedtobearichonewhetherthesensiblecoursewouldnotbetogohomeandstudylawwhiletherewasyettime....

Andthen

Then,intherose-pinktwilight,thebeginningoftheDreamWonderful:thatscentoftherosesfromthe sky; thatquickmemoryof sunlightupon snow-crests; that first revelationof thecelestialLadytransfiguringtheearthlycommonplaceofhisroom!

CHAPTERIV

ADAMSELINDISTRESS

...AdowneTheypraydhimsit,andgavehimfortofeed.

Spenser:FaerieQueene.

CharlieCartaretwouldhavetoldyouindeed,hefrequentlydidtellhisfriendsthatthemerefactofa man being an artist was no proof that he lacked in the uncommon sense commonly known ascommon.Cartaretwasquite insistentupon this and, as evidence in favorofhis contention,hewasaccustomedtopointtoC.Cartaret,Esq.He,saidCartaret,wasatonceanartistandapracticalman:itwaswhollyimpossible,forinstance,toimaginehimcapableofanysillyromance.

Nevertheless,whenleftaloneinhisroombythedepartureoftheLadyonthatFebruaryevening,hesat for a long time with the strange rose between his fingers and a strange look in his eyes. HeregardedtheroseuntilthelastrayoflighthadaltogetherfadedfromtheWest.OnlythendidherecallthathehadinvitedsundrypersonstodinewithhimattheCafDesDeuxColombes,andwhenhehadmadereadytogotothem,therosewasstillinhisreluctanthand.

Cartaret lookedabouthimstealthily.Hehadbeen in the room for somehours andhe shouldhavebeenthoroughlyawarethathewasaloneinit;buthelooked,asallguiltymendo,torightandlefttomakesure.Then,likeanaughtychild,heturnedhisbacktothestreet-window.

Hestoodthusabareinstant,yetinthatinstanthishandfirstraisedsomethingtowardhislips,andthenbestowed that same something somewhere inside his waistcoat, a considerable distance from hisheart, but directly over the rib beneath which ill-informed people believe the heart to be. Thisaccomplished, he exhibited a rigorously practical face to the room and swaggered out of it,ostentatiouslyhummingamisogynisticdrinking-song:

Theresnothing,friend,twixtyouandmeExceptthebestofcompany.

(Theresjustonebocktwixtyouandme,andIllcatchupfullsoon!)

Whatwomanslipscomparetothis:Thissturdyseidelsfrothykiss

ArmandGarnier,oneof themen thatwere todinewithCartaret to-night,hadwritten thewordsofwhichthis isafree translation,andHoudonhadcomposedtheairhecomposedit impromptuforDevignesoveranabsinthe,afterlaboringuponitinsecretforanentireweekbutCartaret,whenhereached thenote that stood for the lastwordheregiven,came toanabrupt stop;hewas facing thedooroftheroomoppositehisown.Hecontinuedfacingitforquiteaminute,butheheardnothing.

M. Refrogn, he said, when he thrust his head into the concierges box downstairs, iferifanybodyshouldinquireformethisevening,youwillpleasetellthemthatIamdiningattheCafDesDeuxColombes.

Nothingcouldbeseenintheconciergesbox,butfromitcameagruntthatmighthavebeeneitherassentordissent.

Yes,saidCartaret,intherueJacob.

Againtheambiguousgrunt.

Exactly, Cartaret agreed; the Caf Des Deux Colombes, in the rue Jacob, close by the rueBonaparte.Youyourequitesureyouwontforget?

Thegruntchangedtoanuglychuckle,and,afterthechuckle,anuglyvoicesaid:

Monsieurexpectssomethingunusual:heexpectsaneveningvisitor?

Confound it, no! snappedCartaret.Hehadbeenwildlyhoping thatperhapsTheGirlmightneedsomeaidordirection thateveningandmightseek itofhim.Notatall,hepursued,butyousee

Howthen?inquiredthevoice.

Cartaretshandwenttohispocketanddrewforthoneofthefewfranc-piecesthatremainedthere.

Just,please,rememberwhatIvesaid,herequested.

Inthedarknessoftheboxintowhichitwasextended,hishandwasgraspedbyalargerandrougherhand,andthefrancwasdeftlyextracted.

Merci,monsieur.

Abarely appreciable softening of the tone encouragedCartaret.He balanced himself from foot tofootandasked:

Thosepeopletheones,youunderstand,thathaverentedtheroomoppositemine?

Refrognunderstoodbuttruly.

Wellinshort,whoarethey,monsieur?

Whoknows?askedRefrogninthedarkness.Cartaretcouldfeelhimshrug.

Iratherthoughtyoumight,heventured.

Thedarknesswassilent;agoodconciergeanswersquestions,notgeneralstatements.

Wheredontyouknowwheretheycomefrom?

Therewasspeechoncemore.Refrogn,itsaid,neitherknewnorcared.IntherueduValdeGrcepeoplecontinuallycameandwentallmannerofpeoplefromallmannerofplacessolongastheypaid their rent, itwasnoconcernofRefrogns.Forall the information thathepossessed, the twopeople of whom monsieur inquired might be natives of Cochin-China. Mademoiselle evidentlywanted to be an artist, as scores of other young women, and Madame, her guardian and solecompanion,evidentlywantedMademoiselle tobenothingatall.Therewerebut twoof them, thankGod!TheyoungerspokemuchFrenchwithanaccentterrible;theelderunderstoodFrench,butspokeonlysomepigofalanguagethatnocivilizedmancouldcomprehend.ThatwasallthatRefrognhad

totell.

Cartaretwentontowardthesceneofhisdinner-party.Hewishedhedidnothavetogo.Ontheotherhand,hewassurehehadthrownRefrognafranctonopurpose:theLadyoftheRosewaslittlelikelyto seek him! He found the evening cold and his rain-coat inadequate. He began humming thedrinking-songagain.

Theyweresingingitoutright,inafullchorus,whenheenteredthelittleroomonthefirstflooroftheCafDesDeuxColombes.The tablewasalready spread, the feast already started.Theunventilatedroomwasfloodedwithlightandfullofthesteamofhotviands.

MauriceHoudon,hisredcheeksshining,hisblackmustachestifflywaxed,satattheheadofthetableashehadpromisedtodo,performingthehonorswitharegalgraceandplayingimaginarythemeswitheveryflourishofaddresstoeveryguest:adifferent themeforeach.Onhisrightwasavacantplace, thesoleapparent reference to thehostof theevening;onhis left,ArmandGarnier, thepoet,very thin and cadaverous,with longdank locks and tangledbeard, his skinwaxen, his lantern-jawemittingnowords,butworkinglustilyuponthefood.NexttoCartaretsplacebobbedthepear-shapedDevignes, leadingthechorus,asbecametheonlyprofessionalsingerinthecompany.Acrossfromhimwas PhilippeVarachon, the sculptor,whose nose always remindedCartaret of an antique andlonglostbitofstatuary,badlydamagedinexhumation;andatthefootSeraphinwasseated,thefirsttonoteCartaretsarrivalandtheonlyonetoapologizefornothavingdelayedthedinner.

Hegotupimmediately,andhiswhiskerstickledtheAmericanscheekwiththewhisper:

Itwasreadytoserve,andMadamesworethatitwouldperish.Myfaith,whatwouldyou?

Pasbeaucoup was darting among the guests, wiping fresh plates with a napkin and his drippingforeheadwithhisbarehand.Cartaretfeltcertainthatthelittlemanwouldsoonconfusethefunctionsofthetwo.

Ah-h-h!criedHoudon.Herosefromhisplaceandendeavoredtorestoreorderbybeatingwithafork upon an empty tumbler, as an orchestral conductor taps his batonat the same time noddingfiercelyatPasbeaucouptorefillthetumblerwithredwine.Hewasthesolememberofthecompanynot long known to their host, but he said: Messieurs, I have the happiness to present to you ourdistinguishedAmericanfellow-student,M.CharlesCartarette.Beseatedamongus,M.Cartarette,hegraciouslyadded;praybeseated.

Cartaretsatdownintheplacekindlyreservedforhim,andtheinterruptionofhisappearancewassopolitelyforgottenthathewishedhehadnotbeensuchafoolastomakeit.Thesongwasresumed.ItwasnotuntilthesaladwasservedandPasbeaucouphadretiredbelow-stairstoassistinpreparingthecoffee,thatHoudonturnedagaintoCartaretandexecutedwhatwasclearlytobetheCartarettheme.

Wehaddespairedofyourarrival,Monsieur,saidhe.

Cartaretsaidhehadobservedsignsofsomethingofthesort.

Truly, noddedHoudon.His tongue rolled a ball of salad into his cheek and out of the track ofspeech.Doubtlessyouhadtheonelivingexcuse,however.

Idontfollowyou,saidCartaret.

Houdonleered.Hisfingersperformedonthetable-clothsomethingthatmighthavebeenthemotifofIsolde.

Ihaveheard,saidhe,yourAmericanproverbthattherearebuttwoadequateexcusesfortardinessatdinnerdeathandaladyandIamcharmed,monsieur,toobservethatyouarealtogetheralive.

IfCartarets glance indicated that hewould like to throttle the composer,Cartarets glance did notmisinterpret.

Wewontdiscussthat,ifyouplease,saidhe.

ButHoudonwas incapable of understanding such glances in such a connection.He tapped for theattentionofhisorchestraandgotit.

Messieurs, he announced, our good friend of the America of the North has been having anadventure.

EverybodylookedatCartaretandeverybodysmiled.

Delicious,squeakedVarachonthroughhisbrokennose.

Superb,trilledthepear-shapedsingerDevignes.

Garnier slantern-jawswentoneating.SeraphinDieudonncaughtCartaretsglanceimploringlyandthenshifted,inineffectualwarning,toHoudon.

Butthatwasonlywhatwastobeexpected,mychildren,themusiciancontinued.WhatcanwepoorFrenchmenlookforwhenablondHerculesofanAmericancomes,richandhandsome,toourdearParis?Onlyto-dayIobserved,rentinganabodeinthehousethatMonsieurandIhavethehonortoshare, a youngmademoiselle, themost gracious and beautiful, accompanied by a tuteur, themostferocious;andInotedwellthattheywenttoinhabittheroombutacrossthelandingfromthatofM.Cartarette.Beholdall!AtonceIsaidtomyself:Alas,howlongwillitbebeforethisconfiding

He stopped short and looked at Cartaret, for Cartaret had grasped the performing hand of thecomposerand,inasteadygrip,forceditquietlytothetable.

Itellyou,saidCartaret,gently,thatIdontcaretohaveyoutalkinthisstrain.

Howthen?blusteredtheamazedmusician.

Ifyougoon,Cartaretwarnedhim,youwillhavetogoonfromthefloor;Illknockyouthere.

Maurice!criedSeraphin,risingfromhischair.

Messieurs!pipedDevignes.

Varachon growled at Houdon, and Garnier reached for a water-bottle as the handiest weapon ofdefense.Houdon andCartaretwere facing each other, erect, eachwaiting for the other tomake afurthermove,theformerred,thelatterwhite,withanger.Therefollowedthatflashingpauseofquietwhichistheprecursorofbattle.

Thebattle,however,wasnotforthcoming.Instead, throughthesilence, therecamearoarofvoicesthatdivertedtheattentionofeventhechiefcombatants.Itwasaroarofvoicesfromthecafbelow:a

heavyrumblethatwasunmistakablyMadamesandaclatterofunintelligibleshrieksanddemandsthatwerefemininebutunclassifiable.Nowonevoiceshoutedandnexttheother.Thenthetwojoinedinamightyexplosion,andlittlePasbeaucoupwasshotupthestairsandamongthedinersasifhewerethefirstrockfromthecraterofanemptyingvolcano.

Hestaggeredagainstthetableandjoltedthewater-bottleoutofthepoetshand.

NameofaName!hegasped.Sheisaveritabletigress,thatwomanthere!

They had no time then to inquirewhom he referred to, though they knew that, however justly hemightthinkit,hewouldnever,eveninterrorlikethepresent,saysuchathingofhiswife.Thewordswerenosoonerfreeofhislipsthanalargerrockwasvomitedfromthevolcano,andastilllarger,thelargestrockofthethree,cameimmediatelyafter.

Everybodywas afoot now. They saw that Pasbeaucoup cowered against thewall in a fear terriblebecauseitwasgreaterthanhisfearforMadame;theysawthatMadame,whowasthethirdrock,wasclinging to theapron-stringsof anotherwoman,whowas rocknumber two, and they saw that thisotherwomanwasastockyfigure,whocarriedinherhandacurious,widehead-dress,andwhoworeaparti-coloredapron thatbeganoverheramplebreastsandendedbybrushingagainstherequallyampleboots,andablackskirtofsimplestuffandextravagantpuffs,surmountedbyashort-skirtedblouseorbasqueofthesamematerial.Herfacewasroundandwrinkledlikealastwinter sappleonthekitchen-shelf;buthereyesshonered,herhandsbeattheairvigorously,andfromherlipspoureda lusty torrent of sounds thatmight have been protestations, appeals or curses, yetwere certainly,consideredaswords,nothingthatanyonepresenthadeverheardbefore.

She ran forward; Madame ran forward. The stranger shouldered Madame; Madame dragged herback.Thestrangercriedoutmoreofheralienphrases;MadameshoutedFrenchdenunciations.TheGallic diners formed a grinning circle, eager to lose no detail of the sort of wrangle that aFrenchmanlovesbesttowatch:awranglebetweenwomen.

Cartaretmadehiswaythrough theringandputhishandon thestranger sshoulder.Sheseemedtounderstand,andrelapsedintoquiet,attentivebutalert.

Now,saidCartaret,oneatatime,please.Madame,whatisthetrouble?

Trouble?roaredMadame.Herfacedidnotchangeexpression,butsheheldherarmsakimbo,pug-noseandstrongchinpokeddefiantlyatthestrangeinterloper.Youmaywellsayit,trouble!

Sheputherpositionstronglyandatlength.Shehadbeeninthecaisse,withnooneoftheworldinthecaf,when,cryingbarbarousthreatsincomprehensible,thisshe-bandit,thisthisanarchiste infme,hadburst in from the street, disrupting thepeaceof theDeuxColombes and endangering itswell-knownquietreputationwiththepolice.

Thatwasthegistofit.Whenitwasdelivered,Cartaretfacedthestranger.

Andyou,Madame?heasked,inFrench.

Thestrangerstrodeforwardasapugiliststepsfromhiscornerfortheroundthatheexpectstowinthefightforhim.Sheclappedherwidehead-dressuponherhead,whereitsettleditselfwitharakishtilt.

Holypipe!criedHoudon.InthatIrecognizeher.Itistheferocioustuteur!

Cartaretsinterestbecametense.

Whatdidyouwanthere?heurged,stillspeakingFrench.

Thestrangersaid,twiceover,somethingthatsoundedlikeKar-kar-tay.

Sheismad,squeakedVarachon.

Sheisworse;sheisGerman,vowedMadame.

Cartaretraisedhishandtosilencethesecontentions.

Doyouunderstandme?heurged.

Thewidehead-dressflappedavehementassent.

Butyoucantanswer?

Thehead-dressflutteredanegative,andthemouthmumbledanegativeinaFrenchsothick,hesitantandbrokenastobeinfinitelylessexpressivethantheshakeofthehead.

CartaretrememberedwhattheconciergeRefrognhadtoldhim.Tothecircleofcuriouspeopleheexplained:

ShecanunderstandalittleFrench,butshecannotspeakit.

Madame snorted. Why then does she come to this place so respectable if she cannot talk like aChristian?

Because,saidCartaret,sheevidentlythoughtshewouldbeintelligentlytreated.

Itwascleartohimthatshewouldnothavecomehadherneednotbeendesperate.Hemadeanotherefforttodiscoverhernationality.

WhoofyouspeakssomethingbesidesFrench?heaskedofthecompany.

NotMadame;notSeraphinorHoudon:theywereardentParisiansandofcourseknewnolanguagebuttheirown.AsforGarnier,asaFrenchpoetandanativeofthepure-tonguedTours,hewouldnothavesoiledhislipswithanyotherspeechhadheknownanother.Varachon,itturnedout,wasfromtheJura,andhadpickedupalittleSwiss-GermanduringayouthfulliaisonatPontarlier.Hetrieditnow,butthestrangeronlyshookherhead-dressathim.

SheknowsnoGerman,saidVarachon.

SuchGerman!sniffedHoudon.

Chut!Thisprovesratherthatsheknowsittoowell,grumbledMadame.Shebutwishestoconcealit;probablysheisaGermanspy.

Devignes said he knew Italian, and he did seem to know a sort of Opera-Italian, but it, too, wasuseless.

Cartarethadaninspiration.

Spanish!hesuggested.DoesanyoneknowanySpanish?

Pasbeaucoupdid;heknewtwoorthreephraseschieflyrelatingtopricesonthemenuoftheDeuxColombesbuttohimalsotheawfulwomanonlyshookherheadinignorance.

CartarettookuptheFrenchagain.

Canyounottellmewhatyouwanthere?hepleaded.

Kar-kar-tay,saidthestranger.

Ah!criedSeraphin,clappinghishands.DoesnotHoudonsaythatshemakesherabodeinthesamehousethatyoumakeyours?Sheseeksyou,monsieur.Kar-kar-tay,itishermannerofendeavoringtosayCartarette.

Atthesoundofthatname,thestrangernoddedhard.

Oui,oui!shecried.

SheunderstoodthatherchiefinquisitorwasCartaret,anditwasindeedCartaretthatshesought.Sheflungherselfonherkneestohim.Whenhehurriedlyraisedher,shecaughtattheskirtofhiscoatandnearlypulleditfromhiminanattempttodraghimtothestairs.

CartaretlookedsharplyatHoudon.Themusicianhavingbeensorecentlysavedfromthewrathofhishost, was momentarily discreet: he hid his smile behind one of the thin bands that contrasted sosharplywithhisplumpcheeks.

Messieurs,saidCartaret,Iamgoingwiththislady.

Theyalledgedforward.

AndIamgoingalone,addedtheAmerican.Iwishyougood-night.

Youwillbeknifedinthestreet,saidMadame.Hertoneimplied:Anditwillserveyouright.

Noneoftheothersseemedtomindhisgoing;thewrangleover,theywerereadyfortheircoffeeandliqueurs.Houdonwasfranklyrelieved.OnlySeraphinprotested.

Andyouwillleaveyourdinnerunfinished?hecried.

Cartaretwastakinghishatandrain-coatfromtherowofpegsonthewallwhere,amongtheotherguests,hehadhungthemwhenheentered.HenoddedhisanswertoSeraphinsquery.

Leaveyourdinner?saidSeraphin.ButmyGod,itispaidfor!

Good-night,saidCartaret,andwasplungeddownthestairsbythestrangely-garbedwomantuggingathishand.

CHAPTERV

WHICHTELLSHOWCARTARETRETURNEDTOTHERUEDUVAL-DE-GRCE,ANDWHATHEFOUNDTHERE

Latimiditestungrandpchcontrelamour.AnatoleFrance:LaRotisseriedelaReinePdauque.

Ifthatstrangeoldwomanintherakishhead-dresswasinahurry,Cartaret,youmaybesure,wasinnomoodfortarryingbytheway.HelefttheCafdesDeuxColombes,picturingTheGirloftheRosedesperatelyill,andhewasresolvednotonlytobethefirsttocometoheraid,buttohavenoneoftherestaurantssuspiciouscompanyforacompanion.Then,nosoonerhadhepassedthroughtheemptyroomontheground-floorofMme.PasbeaucoupsestablishmentandgoneafewstepstowardtheruedeSeine,thanhebegantofearthatperhapsthehousetowhichhewasapparentlybeingconductedTheGirlshouseandhisownhad takenfire;or that thecauseof theduennasmissionwassomelikemisfortunewhichwould be better remedied, so far asTheGirls interestswere concerned, ifthereweremorerescuersthanone.

What is the matter? he begged his guide to inform him, as they hurried through the darkenedstreets.

Hisguideliftedbothhandstoherface.

Ismademoiselleill?

Theduennashookherheadinanemphaticnegative.

Theplaceisntonfire?Histonewasoneofpetition,asif,shouldheprayhardenough,shemightavert thecatastrophehenowdreaded;or as if, by touchingher sympathies,hecould release somehiddenspringofintelligiblespeech.

Theoldwoman,however,onlyshookherheadagainandhurriedon.Cartaretwasgladtofindthatshepossessedanagilityimpossibleforacity-bredwomanofherapparentage,andhewasstillmorerelievedwhentheyreachedtheirlodging-houseanddiscovereditinapparentlythesameconditionasthatinwhichhehadleftit.

Their ascent of the stairs was like a racea race ending in a dead-heat. At the landing, Cartaretturned,ofcourse, towardhisneighbor sdoor; tohisamazement, theoldwomanpulledhim tohisown.

Heopeneditandstruckamatch:theroomwasempty.Heheldthematchuntilitburnthisfingers.

Theoldwomanpushedhimtowardhistable,onwhichstoodabatteredlamp.Shepointedtothelamp.

Butyourmistress?askedCartaret.

Theduennapointedtothelamp.

ShallIlightit?

Shenodded.

Helitthelamp.Theflamegrewuntilitilluminatedasmallcircleaboutthetable.

Nowwhat?Cartaretinquired.

Againthatoddgesturetowardthenoseandmouth.

Idontunderstand,saidCartaret.

Shepickedupthelampandmadeasiftosearchthefloorforsomething.Thensheheldoutthelamptohim.

OhitbegantodawnonCartaretyouvelostsomething?

Oui,oui!

Hetookthelamp,andtheybothfellontheirknees.Togethertheybeganaminuteinspectionofthedustyfloor.Cartaretsmindwasmoreeasynow:atleasthisLadysufferednophysicaldistress.

Its likea sortof religiousceremony,muttered theAmerican, as, footby foot, theycrawledandgropedoverthegrimyboards....

Wasitmoneyyoulost?heinquired.

No,itwasnotmoney.

Thesearchcontinued.Cartaretcrawledunderthedivan,whiletheduennaheldthecoverhightoadmitthelight.Heblackenedhishandsinthefire-placeandtransferredalittleofthesoottohisfewextraclothesthathungbehindthecornercurtainbutonlyalittle;mostofthesootpreferredhishands.

Ineverknewbeforethattheroomwassolarge,hegasped.

Theyhadcoveredtwo-thirdsofthefloor-spacewhenanewthoughtstruckhim.Stillcrouchingonhisknees,heoncemoretriedhiscompanion.

I cant find it, he said; but Id give a gooddeal to knowwhat Im looking for.Whatwereyoudoinginherewhenyoulostit,anyway?

Sheshookherhead,withherhandonherbreast.Thenshepointedtothedoorandnodded.

Youmeanyourmistresslostit?

Oui.

Well,then,letsgether.ShecantellmewhatImafter.

Hehalfrose;butthewomanseizedhisarm.Shebrokeintoloudsounds,patentlyprotestations.

Nonsense,saidCartaret.Whynot?Comeon;Illknockatherdoor.

Theduennawouldnothavehermistressdisturbed.Theancientvoicerosetoashriek.

ButIsayyes.

Theshriekgrewlouder.Withamazingstrength,theoldwomanforcedhisunsuspectingbodybacktoitsformerposition;shecameneartojoltingthelampfromhishand.

ItwasthenthatCartaretheardalessernoisebehindthem:avoice,thelowsweetvoiceofTheRose-Lady,asked,intheduennasstrangetongue,aquestionfromthedoorway.Cartaretturnedhishead.

She was standing there in the dim light, a sort of kimono gathered about her, her sandaled feetpeepingfromitslowerfolds,thelovelyarmthatheldthecuriousdressing-gowninplacebaretotheelbow.Shewassmilingat theanswer thatherguardianhadalreadygivenher;Cartaret thoughtherevenmorebeautifulthanwhenhehadseenherbefore.

Theduennahadscuttledforwardonherkneesand,amidaseriesofcries,waspressingthehemofthekimonotoherlips.TheGirlsfreehandwasraisingthepetitioner.

IamsorrythatyouhavebeendisturbedbyChitta,shewassaying.

Cartaretunderstood then thathewasaddressed.Moreover,hebecameconscious thathewasbynomeansathisbestonhisknees,withhisclothesevenmorerumpledthanusual,hishandsblackand,probably,hisfacenobetter.Hescrambledtohisfeet.

Itsbeennotrouble,hesaidawkwardly.

Ishouldsaythatithadbeenagooddeal,saidtheGirl.Chittaissoverysuperstitious.Didyoufindit?

No,saidCartaret.AtleastIdontthinkso.

TheGirlpuckeredherprettybrow.

Imean,explainedCartaret,comingnearer,butthankfulthathehadleftthelamponthefloorbehindhim,whence its lightwould least revealhis soiledhandsand faceImean that Ihavent the leastideawhatIwaslookingfor.

TheGirlburstintoripplinglaughter.

Not the least,pursued theemboldenedAmerican.Yousee, I leftwordwithRefrognthats theconciergethat Iwasdiningwithsomefriendsat theDeuxColombesthatsacafwhenIwentout;andIsupposesheImeanyouryourmaid, isnt it?madehimunderstandthatsheImeanyourmaidagainwantedmeyouknow,Idontgenerally leaveword;but this timeI thought thatperhapsyouImeansheor,anyhow,Ihadanidea

He knew that he was making a fool of himself, so he was glad when she came serenely to hisassistanceandgallantlyshiftedthedifficultytoherownshoulders.

ItwastoobadofChittatotakeyouawayfromyourdinner.

Chittahadslunkintotheshadows,butCartaretcoulddescryherglaringathim.

Thatwasofnoconsequence,hesaid;hehadforgottenwhatthedinnercosthim.

But, sir, fora reasonofsogreatanabsurdity!Sheputonehandon the tableand leanedon it.Imusttellyouthatthereisinmycountryasuperstition

Shehesitated.Cartaret,hisheartleaping,leanedforward.

Whatisyourcountry,mademoiselle?heasked.

Shedidnotseemtohearthat.Shewenton:

It is really a superstition somuch absurd that I am slow to speak to you of it. They believe, ourpeasants, that it brings good luckwhen they take itwith them across our borders; that only it canensuretheirreturn,andthat,ifitislost,theywillnevercomebacktotheirhome-land.Herblueeyesmethisgaze.They,sir,lovetheirhome-land.

Cartaret was certain that the land which could produce this presence, at once so human and sospiritual,waswellworthloving.Hewantedtosayso,butanotherglanceatherserenefacecheckedanyimpulsethatmightseemimpertinent.

I,too,lovemycountry,althoughIamnotsuperstitious,theGirlpursued,soIhadbroughtitwithmefrommycountry.IbroughtitwithmetoParis,andIlostit.Wegoearlytosleep,thepeopleofmyrace;IhadnotmisseditwhenIwenttobed;butthenChittamissedit;andItoldherthatIthoughtthatIhadperhapsdroppedithere.SheranbeforeIcouldrecallherandIfellstraightwayasleep.Shetellsmethatshehadseenyougoout,sir,andthatshewenttotheconcierge,asyousupposed,todiscoverwhereyouhadgone,forshethought,shesays,thatyourdoorwaslocked.ThecornersoftheGirlsmouthquiveredinasmile.Itrust thatshewouldnothavetrespassedwhenyouweregone,evenifyour doorwas open.Until I heard her shriek but now, I had no idea that shewould pursue you. Iregretforyoursakethatshedisturbedyou,butIalsoregretforhersakethatitwasnotfound.

Cartaret had guessed the answer to his question before he asked it. His cheeks burned for theconsequences,butheputthequery:

Whatwaslost?heinquired.

Ah,IthoughtthatIhadsaidit:aflower.

Aarose?

Thehandthatheldherkimonopressedalittleclosertoherbreast.

Thenyouhavefoundit?

Mountain-peaksandglaciersinthesun:Cartaret,beingapracticalman,wasdistinctlyawareofnotwantinghertoknowthepresentwhereaboutsofthatflower.Hefencedfortime.

Wasitarose?herepeated.

Yes,shesaid,theAzureRose.

What?Perhaps,afterall,hewaswrong.Iveneverheardofabluerose.

Itisnotblue,shesaid;wecallittheazureroseasyou,sir,wouldsaytheroseofazure,ortheroseofheaven.Wecallittheazurerosebecauseitgrowsonlyinourownland,wherethemountainsareblue,andonlyhigh,highuponthosemountains,neartotheblueofthesky.Itisawhiterose.

Yes.Ofcourse,saidCartaret.Awhiterose.

Hestooduncertainlybeforeher.Forareasonthathewouldhavehesitatedlongtodefine,hehatedtopartwiththatrose;forareasonconcerningwhichhewasquiteclear,hedidnotwanttoproduceitthereandthen.

Youhaveit?askedTheGirl.

Erdoyouwantit?counteredCartaret.

Ashadeofimpatiencecrossedherface.Shetriedtomasterit.

Igatherfromyourspeechthatyou,sir,areAmerican,notEnglish.YouarethefirstAmericanthateverIhavemet,andIdonotseemwelltounderstandthemotivesofallthatyousay,althoughIdounderstandperfectlythewords.YouaskdoIwantthisrose.ButofcourseIwantit!HaveInotaskedforit?IwantitbecauseChittawillbedistressedifweloseit,butalsoIwantitformyself,towhomitbelongs,sinceitisasouveniralreadydeartome.

Herfacewasalight.Cartaretlookedatit;thenhisglancefell.

Imsorry,hesaid.Ididntmeantooffendyou.Imforeverputtingmyfootinthings.

Youhavetroddenonmyrose?Hervoicediscoveredherdismay.

No, no! I wouldntI couldnt. I meant that I was always making mistakes. This afternoon, forinstanceAndnow

Totherescueofhisembarrassmentcamethethoughtthatindeedheobviouslycouldnottreadontherose,unlesshewereacontortionist,becausetherosewas

Among the smudges of black, his cheeks burned a hot red.He thrust a handbetweenhis shirt andwaistcoatandproducedthecovetedflower:asnow-roseinthecenterofhisgrimypalm.

Againtheperfume,subtle,haunting.Againthepuremountain-peaks.Againthemusicofapoeminatongueunknown....

Atfirsthedidnotdaretolookather;hekepthisgazelowered.Hadhelooked,hewouldhaveseenher wide eyes startle, then change to amusement, and then to a doubting tenderness. He felt herdelicatefingerstouchhispalmandhethrilledatthetouchassherecapturedherrose.Hedidnotseethat,inwelcometothereturnedprodigal,shestartedtoraisetoherownlipsthosepetals,gatheredsotight against the flower s heart, which he had lately kissed. When at last he glanced up, she hadrecoveredherpoiseandwasagainlookinglikesomesculpturedArtemisthathadwanderedintohislonelyroomfromthegardensoftheLuxembourg.

Thenhesawamuchmoreprosaicthing.Hesawthehandthatheldtheroseandsawitdiscolored.

Willyoueverforgiveme?hecried.Youvebeenleaningonmytable,andImixmypaintsonit!

Thespeechwasnotpreciselypellucid,butshefollowedhiseyestothehandandunderstood.

Thefaultwasmine,shesaid.

Cartaretwas searching among the tubes andbottles on the table.He searched so nervously that heknockedsomeofthemtothefloor.

Ifyoulljustwaitaminute.Hefoundthebottlehewanted.Andifyoudontmindtheturpentine....Itsmellsterribly,butitwillevaporatesoon,anditcleansyouupbeforeyouknowit.

He lifted one of the rags that lay about, and then another. He discarded both asmuch too soiled,hesitated,rantothecurtainedcornerandreturnedwithacleantowel.

Shehadhiddentheflower.Sheextendedherhand.

Doyoumind?heasked.

DoIobject?No.Youarekind.

Hetookthesmudgedhandtookitwithahandthattrembledandbenthissmudgedfacesoclosetoitthatshemusthavefelthisbreathbeatingonit,hotandquick.Hemadetwodabswiththeendofthetowel.

Chitta,whomtheyhadbothsadlyneglected,pounceduponthemfromher lairamongtheshadows.Sheseizedthehandand,jabberingfiftywordsinthetimefortwo,pushedCartaretfromhiswork.

Imnotgoingtohurtanybody,saidCartaret.Do,please,getaway.

TheGirllaughed.

Chittatrustsnoforeigners,sheexplained.

ShespoketoChitta,butChitta,gloweringatCartaret,shookherheadandgrumbled.

Idonotanymoredesiretoorderherabout,saidTheGirltoCartaret.AlreadythiseveningIhavewoundedherfeelings,Ifear.Shesaysshewillallownonebutherselftoministertome.You,sir,willforgiveher?Afterall,itisherduty.

Cartaret inwardlycursedChittasfidelity.Whathesaidwas:Ofcourse.Heknewthat justherehemightsaysomethinggallant,andthathewouldthinkofthatsomethinganhourhence;buthecouldnotthinkofitnow.

TheGirltouchedtheturpentinebottle.

Andmaywetakeittoourroom?

Eh?Oh,certainly,saidCartaret.

Sheheldoutherhand,thepalmlowered.

Good-night,shesaid.

Cartaretsheartbounded: this timeshehadnotsaidGood-by.Heseizedthehand.Chittagrowled,andhereleaseditwithaconventionalhandshake.

TheGirlsmiled.

Ah,yes,shesaid;thisafternoonitpuzzledme,butnowIrecollect:youAmericans,sir,shakeoneshand,doyounot?

Shewasgone,andgloweringChittawithher,beforehecouldanswer.

Cartaretstoodwhereshehadlefthim,hisbrowsknitted.HeheardChittadouble-lockthedoortotheirrooms.Hewasthinkingthoughtsthathisbrainwasnotaccustomedto.Itwassometimebeforetheybecamemorefamiliar.Thenhegasped:

Iwonderifmyfaceisdirty!

Hetookthelampandsoughtthesolemirrorthathisroomboasted.Hisfacewasdirty.

Damn!saidCartaret.

Downinthenarrowstreet,anuncertainchoruswassinging:

Theresnothing,friend,twixtyouandmeExceptthebestofcompany.

(Theresjustonebocktwixtyouandme,andIllcatchupfullsoon!)

Whatwomanslipscomparetothis:Thissturdyseidelsfrothykiss

Hisguestswerecomingtoseekhim.Theyhadrememberedhimatlast.

Cartaretsmind,however,wasbusywithothermatters.HehadnotthoughtofthegallantthingthathemighthavesaidtoTheGirl,buthehadthoughtofsomethingequallysurprising.

Geewhiz!hecried.Iunderstandnowitsprobablythecustomofhercountry:sheexpectedmetokissherhand.KissherhandandImissedthechance!

CHAPTERVI

CARTARETSETSUPHOUSEKEEPING

Quedefemmesilyadansunefemme!Etcestbienheureux.Dumas,Fils:LaDameAuxPerles.

Cartaret did not see the Lady of the Rose next day, though his work suffered sadly through theworker sjumpingfrombeforehiseaselattheslightestsoundonthelanding,runningtohisdoor,andsometimeshimselfgoingtothehallandstandingthereformanyminutes,trying,andnotsucceeding,to look as if he had just come in, orwere just going out, on business of the first importance.Heconcluded,forthehundredthtime,thathewasafool;butheperseveredinhisfolly.HeaskedhimselfwhyheshouldfeelsuchanoddinterestinanunknowngirlpracticallyaloneinParis;buthefoundnosatisfactoryanswer.Hedeclaredthatitwasmadnessinhimtosupposethatshecouldwantevertoseehimagain,andmadnesstosupposethatapennilessfailurehadanythingtogainbyseeingher;buthecontinuedtotry.

Onthenightfollowingthefirstdayofhiswatch,Cartaretwenttobeddisappointedandsleptheavily.Onthesecondnighthewenttobedworried,anddreamedofscalingaterriblemountaininquestofaflower, and of falling into a hideous chasm just as the flower turned into a beautiful woman andsmiledathim.Onthethirdnight,hesurrenderedtoacutealarmandbelievedthathedidnotsleepatall.

Themorningofthefourthdayfoundhimknockingonthepanelofthatmagicdooropposite.Chittaopenedthedooracrack,growled,andshutitinhisface.

Iwonder,reflectedCartaret,whatwouldbethebestmeansofkillingthisoldwoman.Iwonderifthehyenawouldeatcandysentherbymail.

Hehadbeenwatching,allthepreviousday,fortheLadyoftheRosetogoout,andshedidnotleaveherroom.NowitoccurredtohimtowatchforChittasexitonaforageforayandtorenewhisattackduringherabsence.Thisheaccomplished.Fromafrontwindow,hehadnosoonerseentheduennaswingintotherueduValdeGrce,withherhead-dressbobbingandashopping-netonherarm,thanhewasagainknockingatthedooracrossthelanding.

Heknewnow,didCartaret,that,onwhateverlandingoflifehehadlived,therewasalwaysthatdooropposite,thehandleofwhichhehadneverdaredtoturn,thekeytowhichhehadneveryetfound.Heknew,on thismorningaclear,windymorning, forMarchhad come in like a lionthat, for thedoorofeveryheartintheworld,orhighorlow,orcruelortender,thereisaheartoppositewithadoornotinaccessible.

Thepaleyellowsunsangofit:MarvelousDoorOpposite!itseemedtosinghow,whentheypassthatportal,thecommonplacebecomestheunusualandrealityisturnedintoromance.Leadbecomessilverthen,andcoppergold.MagicalDoorOpposite!Allthepossibilitiesoflifeaye,andwhatisbetter,alllifesimpossibilitiesarebehindyou,andalllifesfearsandhopesbefore.Allouryoungdreams,ourmatureambitions,ouroldregrets,curlinincensefromourbrainsandstruggletopassthatkeyhole.Unhappyheforwhomthedoorneveropens;moreunhappy,often,heforwhomitdoesopen;butmostunhappyhewhoneverseesthatitisthere:theDooracrosstheLanding.

Cartaret knocked as if hewere knocking at the gate of Paradise, and, perhaps again as if hewereknockingatthegateofParadise,hegotnoanswer.Heknockedasecondtimeandheardtherustleofawomansskirt.

Whois there?ShespokeinFrenchnow,buthewouldhaveknownhervoicehadshetalkedthelanguageofGrandStreet.

Cartaret,heanswered.

Sheopenedthedoor.ArayoflightbeatitswaythroughagrimywindowinthehalltowelcomeherCartaretwassurethatnolighthadpassedthatwindowforyearsandyearsandrestedonthebeautyofherpureface,hercalmeyes,herblue-blackhair.

Goodmorning,saidtheLadyoftheRose.

Itsoundedwonderfultohim.WhenherepliedGoodmorningandcouldthinkofnothingelsetosaythephrasesoundedlessremarkable.

Shewaitedamoment.Shelookedalittledoubtful.Shesaid:

YouperhapswantedChitta?

Werehereyeslaughing?Herlipswereserious,buthewasuncertainofhereyes.

Certainlynot,saidhe.

Oh,youwantedme?

Yes!saidCartaret,andblushedatthevehemenceofthemonosyllable.

Why?

Forwhat,indeed,hadhecomethere?Hevividlyrealizedthatheshouldhavepreparedsomeexcuse;but,havingpreparednone,hecouldofferonlythetruthorsomuchofitasseemedexpedient.

Iwantedtoseeifyouwereallright,hesaid.

Butcertainly,shesmiled.Ithankyou,sir;but,yes,Iamallright.

Shesaidnomore;Cartaretfeltasifhecouldneverspeakagain.However,speakhemust.

Well,youknow,hesaid,Ihadntseenyouanywhereabout,andIwasratherworried.

Chittatakesofmethebestcare.

Yes,but,yousee,IdidntknowandIOh,yes:Iwantedtoseewhetherthatturpentineworked.

The turpentine!All suspicionofamusement fledhereyes: shewascontrite.Icomprehend.HowcarelessofChittanotatoncetohavereturnedittoyou.

Turpentine!Whatanectarforromance!Cartaretmadeafacethatcouldnothavebeenworsehadheswallowed some of the liquid. He tried to protest, but she did not heed him. Instead, she left himstanding there while she went to hunt for that accursed bottle. In five minutes she had found it,returnedit,thankedhimandsenthimbacktohisownroom,nofurtheradvancedinheracquaintance

thanwhenheknockedatherdoor.

Shehadlaughedathim.Hereturnedfiercelytohiswork,convincedthatshehadbeenlaughingathimallthewhile.Verywell:whatdidhecare?Hewouldforgether.

HeconcentratedallhisthoughtsupontheideaofforgettingtheLadyoftheRose.Inordertoassisthispurpose,hesetanewcanvasonhiseaselandfelltoworktomakeaportraitofherassheshouldbeandwasnot.Thecontrastwouldhelphim,andtheplanwascheap,becauseitneedednomodel.Bythenextafternoonhehadcompletedtheportraitofabeautifulwomanwithawhiteroseatherthroat.Itwasquitehisbestpieceofwork,andanexcellentlikenessofthegirlintheroomopposite.

Hesawthatitwasalikenessandthoughtofpaintingitout,butitwouldbeapitytodestroyhisbestwork, so hemerely put it aside.He decided to paint a purely imaginative figure.He squeezed outsomepaints,almostathaphazard,andbeganpaintinginthatmood.Afterforty-eighthoursofthissortofthing,hehadproducedanotherpictureofthesamewomaninanotherpose.

Inmorewaysthanone,Cartaretspositionwasgrowingdesperate.Hismoneywasalmostgone.Hemust paint something that Fourget, or some equally kind-hearted dealer,would buy, and these twoportraitshewouldnotofferforsale.

Tellinghimselfthatitwasonlytoendhisobsession,hetriedtwiceagaintoseetheLadyoftheRose,whowasnowgoingoutdailytosomemaster sclass,andeachtimehegainednothingbyhisattempt.First,shewouldnotanswerhisknock,thoughhecouldhearhermovingaboutandknewthatshemusthaveheardhimcrossingthehallfromhisownroomandbeawareofhercaller sidentity.Onthenextoccasion, he waited for her at the corner of the Boul Miche when he knew that she would bereturningfromtheclass,andwasgreetedbynothingsaveaformalbow.Sohehadtoforcehimselftopot-boilersbysheerdetermination,andfinally turnedoutsomething that thenseemedpoorenoughforFourgettolike.

Houdoncameinandfoundhimputtingonthefinishingtouches.Theplumpmusician,frightenedbyhisimpudence,hadstoppedbelowathisownroomonthenightofthedinnerwhentherevelersatlastcame to seek their host. Now it appeared that hewas anxious to apologize. He advancedwith thedignity befitting a monarch kindly disposed, and his gesturing hands beat the score of the kettle-drumsforthemarchofthepriestsinAda.

MyverydearCartarette!criedHoudon.Ah,butitisgoodagaintoseeyou!Isoregrettedmyselfnot to ascendwith our friends to call upon you the evening of our little collation.He sought todismiss thesubjectwitha runon the invisiblepianoand thewords:But Iwasslightly indisposed:withoutdoubtourgoodcomrades informedyou that Iwasslightly indisposed. Iamverysensitive,andthesecommunionsofhighthoughtaretoomuchformydelicatenerves.

His good comrades had told Cartaret that Houdon was very drunk; but Cartaret decided that tocontinue his quarrel would be an insult to its cause. After all, he reflected, this was Houdonsconception of an apology. Cartaret looked at the composer, who was a walking symbol of goodfeedingandironnerves,andreplied:

Dontbothertomentionit.

HoudonseizedbothofCartaretshandsandpressedthemfondly.

Myfriend,saidHoudonmagnanimously,weshallpermitourselvestosaynomoreaboutit.What

singsyoursublimepoet,HenriWadsworthLongchap?Ishallallowthedecomposedpasttoburyherdead.OrdoImistake:wasitWhitman,hein?

HegesturedhiswaytoCartaretseasel,muchasiftheairwerewaterandhewereswimmingthere.HepraisedextravagantlythepicturethatCartaretnowknewtobebad.Finallyhebegantopotteraboutthe roomwithapretenseof admiring theplaceand lookingat itsothercanvases,but all thewhileconveying the feeling that he was apprising the financial status of its occupant. Cartaret saw himdrawingnearerandnearertothetwocanvasesthat,theirfacestowardthewall,borethelikenessoftheLadyoftheRose.

Iamjustgoingout,saidCartaret.Hehurriedtohisvisitorandtookthefellowsarm.ImusttakethatpictureontheeaseltotherueSt.AndrdesArts.Willyoucomealong?

Houdonseemedsuspiciousofthissuddenfriendliness.Hecastacuriousglanceatthecanvaseshehadbeenabouttoexamine,buthischoicewasobviouslyHobsons.

Gladly,heflourished.TomycheramiFourget,isit?ButIknowhimwell.Perhapsmyinfluencemayassistyou.

Perhaps,saidCartaret.Hedoubtedit,buthehopedthatsomethingwouldassisthim.

He held the picture, still wet of course, exposed for all the world of the Quarter to see, hurriedHoudonpastthelandingandcouldhaveswornthatthecomposer seyeslingeredatthesacreddoor.

Butitisaninfamy,saidHoudon,whentheyhadwalkedasfardowntheBoulMicheastheMuseClunyitisaninfamytosellatoncesuchasuperbworktosuchalittlecowofadealer.Whythen?

BecauseImust,saidCartaret.

Houdonlaughedandwaggedhishead.

No,no, saidhe; youdeceiveothers:notHoudon. Iknowwell thedisguisedprince.Comehelookedup anddown theBoulevardSt.Germainbefore he ventured to cross ittrust your friendHoudon,mydearCartarette.

Iamquitehonestwithyou.

Bah!Haveyourownway, then.Pursueyour fancyof self-support fora time. It isnoble, that.Butthink not that I am deceived. Me, Houdon: I know. Name of an oil-well, you should send thismasterpiecetotheSalon!

ButjustatthecorneroftherueSt.AndrdesArts,thegreatcomposerthoughtthathesawaheadofhimafriendwithwhomhehadapressingengagementoffiveminutes.HeexcusedhimselfwithsuchawealthofdetailthatCartaretwasconvincedoftheslightnessoftheFourgetacquaintanceship,whichHoudonhadnotagainreferredto.

Ishallbefinishedandwaitingatthiscornerlongereyoureturn,vowedHoudon.Go,myfriend,andif that littledealerpaysyouonethirdofwhatyourpicture isworth,myfaith,hewillbankrupthimself.

SoCartaretwentonalone,andwaspresentlygladthathewasunaccompanied.

ForFourgetwouldnotbuythepicture.Itwasasillysketchofaprettyboypullingtotattersthepetalsof a rose, and the gray-haired dealer, although he had kindly eyes under his bristling eyebrows,behindhisglisteningspectacles,shookhishead.

Iamsorry,hesaid:somanyofthesehopefulyoungfellowsbroughthimtheirlovedwork,andhehadsooften,butneveruntruthfully,tosaythathewassorry.Iamverysorry,butthisisnottherealyou,monsieur.Thevaluesyouknowbetterthanthat.Thecompositionitisunworthyofyou,M.Cartarette.

Cartaretwasinnomoodtotryelsewhere.HewantedtoflingthethingintotheSeine.HecertainlydidnotwantHoudontoseehimreturnwithit.MightheleaveitwithFourget?Perhapssomecustomermightseeandcareforit?

No,Fourgethadhisreputationtosustain;buttherewasthatrascalLepoittevinacrossthestreet

Cartaretwenttotherascal,amostamiableman,whowouldbuynomorethanwouldFourget.Hewaswilling, however, to have the picture left there on the bare chance of picking up a saleand acommissionandthereCartaretleftit.

HoudonwormedthetruthoutofhimaseasilyasifCartarethadcomebackcarryingthepictureunderhis arm: the young American was too disconsolate to hide his chagrin. Houdon was at firstincredulousandthenovercome;heaskedhisdearfriendtopurchasebrandyforthetwoofthemattheCafPantheon:suchtreatmentofaveritablemasterpiecewastoomuchforhissensitivenerves.

Withsomedifficulty,Cartaretgotridofthecomposer.OnabenchintheLuxembourgGardens,hetookaccountofhisresources.Theywereshockinglyslenderand,iftheyweretolasthimanytimeatall,hemustexercisethemoststringenteconomy.Hemustbuynomorebrandyformusicalgeniuses.Indeed,hemustbuynomorecafdinnersforhimself....

Itstruckhim,asahappythought,thathemightsavealittleifhelivedonsuchcoldsolidsashecouldbuyat thefruit-standandptisseriesandsuch liquidsashemightwarmina tin-cupoverhis lamp.BettermenthanhewashadlivedthusintheQuarter,andCartaret,asthethoughttookshape,ratherenjoyedtheprospect:itmadehimfeelasifhewereanothermartyrtoArt,orasifthoughhewasnot clear as to the logicof thishewere anothermartyr toLove.Heconsideredgoing toPre laChaiseandputtingvioletsonthetombofHloiseandAbelard;buthedecidedthathecouldnotaffordthetram-fare,andhewasalreadytootiredtowalk,sohemadehisscantypurchasesinstead,andhadratheragoodtimedoingit.

HepassedChittaonhiswayupthestairstohisroom,withhisarmsfullofedibles,andhethoughtthatshefrowneddisapproval.Hesupposedshewouldtellhermistressscornfully,andhehopedthathermistresswouldunderstandandpityhim.

Hegotaboardandnailedit to thesillofoneof therearwindows.Onthathestoredhisfoodand,contemplatingit,feltlikeasuccessfulhousekeeper.

CHAPTERVII

OFDOMESTICECONOMY,OFDAY-DREAMS,ANDOFAFARCOUNTRYANDITSSOVEREIGNLADY

Lindiscrtiondundecesamisofficieuxquine sauraientgarder indite lanouvelle susceptibledevouscauserunchagrin.Murger:ScnesdelaViedeBohme.

YouwouldhavesaidthatitbehoovedamaninCharlieCartaretssituationtodevotehiseveningstoaconsiderationofitsdifficultiesandhisdaystohardwork;butCartaret,thoughhedid,asyouwillsee,trytowork,devotedthefirsteveningofhisnewrgimetothoughtsthat,iftheyaffectedhissituationatall,tendedonlytocomplicateit.Hethought,ashehadsomuchoflate,andashewastothinksomuchmoreinthefuture,oftheLadyoftheRose.

Whowasshe?Whencedidshecome?Whatwasthisnativelandofhersthatsheprofessedtolovesowell?And, if shedid love it sowell,whyhad she left it and come toPariswith a companion thatappearedtobesomestrangecompromisebetweenguardianandservant?

Hewonderedifsheweresomerevolutionaryexile:Pariswasalwaysfullofrevolutionaryexiles.Hewondered ifshewerea rightfulheiress,dispossessedofa foreign title.Perhapsshewas the lovelypretender to a throne. In that mysterious home of hers, she must have possessed some exaltedposition, or the right to it, forChitta had kneeled to her on the dusty floor of this studio, and theLadysmanner,henowrecalled,wasthemannerofoneaccustomedtocommand.HerbeautywasofatypethathehadreadofasIrishthebeautyoffairskin,hairblackandeyesofdeepestblue;butthespeechwastheEnglishofawomanborntoanothertongue.

Whatwashernativespeech?BothherFrenchandherEnglishwereinnocentofalienaccenthehadheardatleastaphraseortwooftheformeryetbothhadaprecisionthatbetrayedthemasnotherownandbothhadaforeign-bornconstruction.Herfrequentuseofthewordsirinaddressinghimwassufficientlypeculiar.Sheemployedthewordnotasonethatspeaksfrequentlytoasuperior,butratherasifshewereusedtoit inaformallanguage,oragradeof life, inwhichitwasacommoncourtesy.ItwassomethingmoreusualthantheFrenchmonsieur,evenmoreusualthantheSpanishseor.

Cartaret leaned from awindow.The airwas still keen, but the nightwas clear. The rue duVal deGrcewasdeserted,itshousesdarkandsilent.Overhead,inthenarrowribbonofindigosky,hungapallidmoon:adiskofyellowglass.

Whatindeedwasshe,thisLadyoftheRose?Hepicturedashersadistantcountryofdeepvalleysfullofclamoringstreamsandhighmountainswherewhiterosesgrew.Hepicturedherasthatcountryss