The miracle had happened. A week later Albert had the thousand francs
with which to purchase the earrings so much desired by his
dimple-cheeked Nonette. Though very rational in his beliefs, and having
scoffed so frequently at Biblical miracles, he experienced a secret
sense of awe and wonderment as he thought of the unexpected source of
this bounty. And it had come to him in the mysterious manner that
invariably ushers in miraculous events.
Six days after he had last visited the Princess Pampini a document,
bearing the government seal of the reign of King Louis Philippe, was
delivered to him in person. Albert’s heart was quivering with fright
when the official-looking paper was handed him. He had an innate dread
of official papers. He unfolded the contents of the sealed envelope with
trembling hands and to his amazement found an endorsed order for twelve
hundred francs. A brief note, signed by the Minister of Public
Instruction, accompanied the money order. The Minister expressed his
personal friendship and admiration for the poet.
“Marguerite! Marguerite! A letter from the king!” he cried jubilantly,
as he rushed to Marguerite who was trimming a hat.
She looked up incredulously. Albert was such a jester; one never knew
when to take him seriously.
He showed her the money order, pointing to the numerals, 1200.
“The king has sent this to me from his own treasury,” he added. “He read
my writings and likes them. And every three months he will send me an
additional twelve hundred francs.”
He threw his arms around her and kissed her.
“Now we’ll be able to move to Rue St. Honoré,” she reminded him.
“No, not yet. We must wait a little while. We must wait until I get the
remittance from my publisher. His heart will soften as soon as the
_Diet_ cancels its decree.”
“What will you do with the twelve hundred?”
“Don’t worry—I’ll know what to do with it——”
“I know, you’ll put it in the bank, you miser——”
Her countenance fell. Albert had been complaining of late of his
extravagances and regretting that he had saved nothing from his large
earnings during the past five years. He had told her that from now on he
would be very economical and lay something aside for a rainy day.
He was wistful. He was thinking of the earrings and wished to guard his
surprise.
“Will you put away all of it?”
Anger was gathering in her pretty face. Since the king had become his
friend she could not see why Albert should want to save any money after
this. She had hoped he would at least take her that evening to one of
the cafés.
“No, no, I won’t put it all away,” he said joyfully, fondling her.
“You are becoming stingy,” she said sullenly, and tried to disengage
herself from his embrace.
“You don’t call a man who tries to lay aside a few francs for a rainy
day, stingy—do you?”
Presently he was fully dressed and he dashed out of the house, the
happiest of mortals. He ran down the three flights of steps like a
little boy speeding to join his waiting playmates. And he kept running
thru the streets, seeing no one until he reached the jewelry shop.
He was soon back, with flushed face and panting, a nice little box in
his breast pocket. Marguerite was addressing the parrot when Albert
opened the door. She was telling the parrot that Albert was a great
_poète allemand_ and the sweetest lover in the world, even though he was
stingy at times. And the parrot laughed—“Ha—ha! Ha—ha! Ha—ha!”
“Close your eyes, my sweet monkey,” Albert commanded.
“You did not spend any money on a present for me, you extravagant boy!”
“Close your eyes and keep them closed until I count three!”
He kissed her and closed her eyes with the tips of his fingers.
“One—two—three!”
She opened her eyes upon a pair of sparkling earrings.
“Albert! You spendthrift!”
At seven-thirty the following evening the people seated against the
mirrored walls of the _Café des Ambassadeurs_ cast glances of
unconcealed admiration at the pretty woman on the arm of the renowned
_poète allemand_. There was pride in his keen eyes as he caught the
admiring glances and nodded almost triumphantly to his acquaintances. He
was quite exultant and carefree, with all the melody of the Song of
Songs in his heart.