Early the whole of the next day, endeavoring to look preoccupied, I
haunted the lobbies and vicinity of the most expensive hotels, unable to
do any other thing, but ashamed of myself that I had not returned to
my former task of seeking employment, although still reassured by
possession of two louis and some silver, I dined well at a one-franc
coachman's restaurant, where my elegance created not the slightest
surprise, and I felt that I might live in this way indefinitely.
However, dreams often conclude abruptly, and two louis always do, as
I found, several days later, when, after paying the rent for my
unspeakable lodging and lending twenty francs to a poor, bad painter,
whom I knew and whose wife was ill, I found myself with the choice of
obtaining funds on my finery or not eating, either of which I was very
loath to do. It is not essential for me to tell any person that when you
seek a position it is better that you appear not too greatly in need
of it; and my former garments had prejudiced many against me, I fear,
because they had been patched by a friendly concierge. Pantaloons suffer
as terribly as do antiques from too obvious restorations; and while I
was only grateful to the good woman's needle (except upon one occasion
when she forgot to remove it), my costume had reached, at last, great
sympathies for the shade of Praxiteles, feeling the same melancholy over
original intentions so far misrepresented by renewals.
Therefore I determined to preserve my fineries to the uttermost; and
it was fortunate that I did so; because, after dining, for three nights
upon nothing but looking out of my window, the fourth morning brought me
a letter from my English friend. I had written to him, asking if he knew
of any people who wished to pay a salary to a young man who knew how to
do nothing. I place his reply in direct annexation:
"Henrietta Street, Cavendish Square, May 14.
"My dear Ansolini,--Why haven't you made some of your relatives do
something? I understand that they do not like you; neither do my own,
but after our crupper at Monte Carlo what could mine do, except provide?
If a few pounds (precious few, I fear!) be of any service to you, let
me know. In the mean time, if you are serious about a position, I
may, preposterously enough, set you in the way of it. There is an old
thundering Yankee here, whom I met in the States, and who believed me a
god because I am the nephew of my awful uncle, for whose career he
has ever had, it appears, a life-long admiration, sir! Now, by chance,
meeting this person in the street, it developed that he had need of
a man, precisely such a one as you are not: a sober, tutorish,
middle-aged, dissenting parson, to trot about the Continent tied to a
dancing bear. It is the old gentleman's cub, who is a species of Caliban
in fine linen, and who has taken a few too many liberties in the land
of the free. In fact, I believe he is much a youth of my own kind with
similar admiration for baccarat and good cellars. His father must return
at once, and has decided (the cub's native heath and friends being too
wild) to leave him in charge of a proper guide, philosopher, courier,
chaplain, and friend, if such can be found, the same required to travel
with the cub and keep him out of mischief. I thought of your letter
directly, and I have given you the most tremendous recommendation--part
of it quite true, I suspect, though I am not a judge of learning. I
explained, however, that you are a master of languages, of elegant
though subdued deportment, and I extolled at length your saintly habits.
Altogether, I fear there may have been too much of the virtuoso in my
interpretation of you; few would have recognized from it the gentleman
who closed a table at Monte Carlo and afterwards was closed himself in
the handsome and spectacular fashion I remember with both delight and
regret. Briefly, I lied like a master. He almost had me in the matter of
your age; it was important that you should be middle-aged. I swore that
you were at least thirty-eight, but, owing to exemplary habits, looked
very much younger. The cub himself is twenty-four.
"Hence, if you are really serious and determined not to appeal to your
people, call at once upon Mr. Lambert R. Poor, of the Hotel d'Iena. He
is the father, and the cub is with him. The elder Yankee is primed with
my praises of you, and must engage someone at once, as he sails in a day
or two. Go--with my blessing, an air of piety, and as much age as you
can assume. When the father has departed, throw the cub into the Seine,
but preserve his pocket-book, and we shall have another go at those
infernal tables. Vale! J.G.S."
I found myself smiling--I fear miserably--over this kind letter,
especially at the wonder of my friend that I had not appealed to my
relatives. The only ones who would have liked to help me, if they had
known I needed something, were my two little nieces who were in my own
care; because my father, being but a poet, had no family, and my mother
had lost hers, even her eldest son, by marrying my father. After that
they would have nothing to do with her, nor were they asked. That
rascally old Antonio was now the head of all the Caravacioli, as was I
of my own outcast branch of our house--that is, of my two little nieces
and myself. It was partly of these poor infants I had thought when I
took what was left of my small inheritance to Monte Carlo, hoping, since
I seemed to be incapable of increasing it in any other way, that number
seventeen and black would hand me over a fortune as a waiter does wine.
Alas! Luck is not always a fool's servant, and the kind of fortune she
handed me was of that species the waiter brings you in the other bottle
of champagne, the gold of a bubbling brain, lasting an hour. After
this there is always something evil to one's head, and mine, alas! was
shaved.
Half an hour after I had read the letter, the little paper-flower
makers in the attic window across from mine may have seen me shaving
it--without pleasure--again. What else was I to do? I could not
well expect to be given the guardianship of an erring young man if I
presented myself to his parent as a gentleman who had been sitting at
the Cafe' de la Paix with his head painted. I could not wear my hat
through the interview. I could not exhibit the thick five days' stubble,
to appear in contrast with the heavy fringe that had been spared;--I
could not trim the fringe to the shortness of the stubble; I should
have looked like Pierrot. I had only, then, to remain bald, and, if
I obtained the post, to shave in secret--a harmless and mournful
imposition.
It was well for me that I came to this determination. I believe it was
the appearance of maturity which my head and dining upon thoughts lent
me, as much as my friend's praises, which created my success with the
amiable Mr. Lambert R. Poor. I witness that my visit to him provided
one of the most astonishing interviews of my life. He was an instance of
those strange beings of the Western republic, at whom we are perhaps too
prone to pass from one of ourselves to another the secret smile, because
of some little imperfections of manner. It is a type which has grown
more and more familiar to us, yet never less strange: the man in costly
but severe costume, big, with a necessary great waistcoat, not noticing
the loudness of his own voice; as ignorant of the thousand tiny things
which we observe and feel as he would be careless of them (except for
his wife) if he knew. We laugh at him, sometimes even to his face, and
he does not perceive it. We are a little afraid that he is too large
to see it; hence too large for us to comprehend, and in spite of our
laughter we are always conscious of a force--yes, of a presence! We jeer
slyly, but we respect, fear a little, and would trust.
Such was my patron. He met me with a kind greeting, looked at me very
earnestly, but smiling as if he understood my good intentions, as one
understands the friendliness of a capering poodle, yet in such a way
that I could not feel resentment, for I could see that he looked at
almost everyone in the same fashion.
My friend had done wonders for me; and I made the best account of myself
that I could, so that within half an hour it was arranged that I
should take charge of his son, with an honourarium which gave me great
rejoicing for my nieces and my accumulated appetite.
"I think I can pick men," he said, "and I think that you are the man I
want. You're old enough and you've seen enough, and you know enough to
keep one fool boy in order for six months."
So frankly he spoke of his son, yet not without affection and
confidence. Before I left, he sent for the youth himself, Lambert R.
Poor, Jr.,--not at all a Caliban, but a most excellent-appearing, tall
gentleman, of astonishingly meek countenance. He gave me a sad, slow
look from his blue eyes at first; then with a brightening smile he
gently shook my hand, murmuring that he was very glad in the prospect
of knowing me better; after which the parent defined before him, with
singular elaboration, my duties. I was to correct all things in his
behaviour which I considered improper or absurd. I was to dictate the
line of travel, to have a restraining influence upon expenditures; in
brief, to control the young man as a governess does a child.
To all of his parent's instructions Poor Jr. returned a dutiful nod and
expressed perfect acquiescence. The following day the elder sailed from
Cherbourg, and I took up my quarters with the son.