"No matter. I renounce my claim in favour of mademoiselle."
The proprietress dipped the pen in the inkpot: "Mademoiselle goes to
the Maison Séverin, n'est ce pas?"
"What?" cried Pariset. "The Maison Séverin? It is at the Maison Séverin
you have taken a flat, mademoiselle? Why, that is my address, too! What
storey are you on?"
"The fourth."
"And I! Listen, an idea, a compromise. If you would be so generous,
might you not lend her to me now and then?"
"But everything arranges itself," repeated the fat woman, joyously.
"Mademoiselle and monsieur can share her to perfection. Marceline, you
would render service in two little appartements on the same floor?"
"That is worth more money," said Marceline; and proceeded to estimate
the suggestion at a monstrous figure.
However, her views were modified at last. The fat woman made entries in
a tattered book. Suzanne heard the gentleman give his name as "monsieur
Henri Pariset." Pariset did not hear the lady give her name, because
the proprietress, of course, knew it already. Far from suspecting each
other's identity, the Challenger and the Challenged exchanged cheerful
smiles. Then Marceline was prevailed upon to fetch her box forthwith,
and the elated journalist and the charming girl who thirsted for his
blood bore their domestic gaily to the rue Baba together.
"How things happen!" said Pariset, as they went along.
"N'est ce pas?" said she. "All the same, my flat cannot be got ready by
the morning now."
"I don't see why not; my own share of her this evening will be slight.
Let her put my babies to bed at once, and then you can have all you
want of her. As to my dinner, I will eat at a restaurant."
"Ah, mais non, if it is not your custom!" said Suzanne. "She can manage
your dinner all right--she will have no cooking to do for me. I am at
a pension de famille till to-morrow."
And as they reached the house, the concierge remarked, by way of
welcome: "It is not unfortunate that you have returned, monsieur. Your
twins have been disturbing the whole district."
"But they are adorable, your twins!" exclaimed Suzanne, with genuine
admiration, for now they were tranquil and beamed. "I cannot pretend
to know whether they are big or small for four years old, but they are
darlings."
"Not bad," said Pariset, who thought the world of them himself.
"Well, then, when Marceline has tucked them up she shall come to you
straightway, and it is agreed that you are to monopolise her as long as
you like."
Half an hour passed.
"Monsieur!" cried Marceline, reappearing.
"Eh, bien--you cannot find the children's night-gowns?"
"Si, si. The little ones sleep. But the compliments of mademoiselle,
and would monsieur be so amiable as to lend her the feather-brush from
his broom-cupboard?"
"Take all she wants. How goes it opposite?"
"There is enough for two persons to do!"
"I don't doubt it," said Pariset. "Inquire of mademoiselle whether I
can be of any assistance."
But on second thoughts he was prompted to put the question himself.
In a long blue apron, with her sleeves rolled up, she told him that he
couldn't. And he took off his coat and got to work. What a sweeping and
a polishing there was! Nine o'clock had struck when he began to hang
the curtains, and the dinner at the pension de famille was a thing of
the past.
"Evidently, mademoiselle," he said, from the top of a step-ladder, "you
also will have to dine out this evening. What do you say to leaving
Marceline to put the finishing touches now, and taking nourishment in
my company?"
"Monsieur," returned Suzanne, "you dizzy me with your neighbourly
kindness. If you can turn round without risking your neck, however, you
will note that Marceline is absent. She is engaged in improvising a
meal for us, and I beg you to accept my invitation."
"Enchanted. Only, as you are still somewhat at sixes and sevens here,
may I propose that you invite me to my own flat, instead of yours?"
So it befell that the bouillon, brought hot in a can from the little
greengrocer's across the road, was served at Pariset's table. And
Marceline's omelette, created while the cutlets were frizzling on the
grille, proved to be delicious.
"Our bonne," remarked the widower, complacently, "might be worse, hein?"
"I was thinking the same thing," assented Suzanne. "It seems to me that
we have done very well for ourselves."
"You smoke a cigarette?"
"It is one of my consolations."
"I hope that I may be privileged to see you console yourself here
often."
"And if you ever have leisure to call upon me cor _le feeve o'clock_,
monsieur, I shall be charmed. You can hardly excuse yourself on the
plea that my address is too remote."
"Believe me," said Pariset, "I warmly felicitate myself on the address;
if I may say so, I am daring to foresee a friendship. And it would be
very welcome, for I lead a lonely life."
"I, too," she sighed. "I am a painter, I am a communist, but all the
same, I am alone."
"Ah, you are a painter, and communist, hein? We shall have subjects to
talk about."
"You are surprised?"
"I am, above all, surprised to hear that you are alone. It is difficult
to realise how that can be."
"It is true, I assure you. Only to-day I had the strongest need of a
man's arm to render me a service, and I could think of no one to ask."
"There are a couple of arms here," announced Pariset, displaying them
in an heroic gesture.
"And doughty deeds they have just accomplished for me!" she laughed.
"No, but seriously----" he urged.
"Oh, seriously, the service that I speak of is far too big for even the
best of new friends."
"You are wrong. Without having heard it, I venture to pronounce it just
the right size."
"How sincere you are! And how I appreciate your earnestness!" she
exclaimed. "But it is out of the question."
"I have not yet proved myself worthy of your confidence," he regretted
sentimentally. "I understand."
"If you imagine it is _that_"--deep reproach was in her gaze--"I must
explain. Have you heard of a journalist called 'Valentin Vance'?"
"Yes."
"Well, I sent him a challenge to-day, and he answered that I must find
a deputy."
Pariset sat dumfounded. Twice he essayed to articulate, without
producing so much as a mono-syllable.
At last he stuttered:
"You are mademoiselle Suzanne Duvivier? I had no idea."
"How stupid of me. You have read his article?"
"Well--er--I have still not had time to read it very attentively. But I
have heard a good deal about it."
"Ah! Then you do not wonder at my resentment?" she cried. And, though
the twins forbade her to jeopardise his life, she hoped to hear him
gallantly offer to fight monsieur Vance.
This was just what Pariset could not do. After his boasted avidity
to execute the service, he must wear an air of funking it. His
embarrassment was intense; constraint fell upon them both. Disillusion
clouded her eyes. She had begun to like him so much, it grieved her to
see him turn tail.
After some very painful seconds he faltered:
"You are disappointed in me?"
"Disappointed?"
"Oh, yes. I seem to you a braggart who has backed out of his boast. Yet
I assure you I am not to blame. You seek the one service in the world
that I am utterly unable to perform."
"Monsieur," replied the girl coldly, "your parental duties are so
obviously paramount that it is unnecessary to remind me of them."
"Oh, as to that, one does not expect more than a scratch in a duel,
so it is not from parental reasons that I say it can't be done. The
reasons are physical. I cannot meet monsieur Vance because ... I shall
sink lower in your esteem with every word ... I cannot meet him because
... enfin, Valentin Vance is I!"
"You?" She had started to her feet.
"My pen name."
The silence was awful. She leant on the back of the chair for support.
Then, with a dignity that he felt to be superb, she said:
"Monsieur, as a tenant I thank you for your co-operation; as a
communist, I ask permission to retire."
"Ah, I implore you to listen!" raved Pariset.
"It is strange," she added, more spontaneously, "that, since you found
me so hideous on the lecture platform, you put yourself out to be so
agreeable to me at the registry office."
"I? I find you hideous?" vociferated Pariset. "It was not I who wrote
it; not a single word was mine, believe me! My bonne flounced off
last night, and the twins kept me at home. I entrusted the job to a
dunderheaded confrère. Ah, mon Dieu, 'since I found you hideous'! The
spirituality of your face is an inspiration. I admire you with all
my heart. Yes, I shall confess it, with all my heart! I love you! Do
not condemn me for a column that I did not perpetrate--be merciful,
be tender! I will write others that you shall approve. You shall
instruct me--I will gather wisdom from your lips. Yes, at your feet,
on our hearth, I will learn from you. I will become a disciple of
communism--the mouthpiece of your Cause; I will consecrate my pen to
your service. My pen shall annihilate your opponents, though my sword
could not chasten monsieur Vance." His arms entreated her. "Suzanne----"
"The appartement of mademoiselle is completely ready!" proclaimed
Marceline. She rushed in, and out again, triumphant.
"It appears to me I shall not need it long," smiled Suzanne,
surrendering to his embrace.