"I guess not," he retorted. "It's dead men's money that keeps this
place lively. I wish I'd had the chance of some anyhow; but a rolling
stone gathers no moss, they say--not even from graveyards, I suppose."
He spoke disconsolately, in a tone more befitting the back than the
front of him, and quite out of accord with the reckless revelry around
him.
"Oh! you'll make lots of money with your pictures," I said heartily.
He shook his head. "That's the chap who's going to scoop in the
dollars," he said, indicating a brawny Frenchman attired in a blanket
that girdled his loins, and black feathers that decorated his hair.
"That fellow's got the touch of Velasquez. You should see the portrait
he's doing for the Salon."
"Well, I don't see much art in his costume, anyhow," I retorted.
"Yours is an inspiration of genius."
"Yes; so prophetic, don't you know," he replied modestly. "But you
are not the only one who has complimented me. To it I owe the proudest
moment of my life--when I shook hands with a European prince." And he
laughed with returning merriment.
"Indeed!" I exclaimed. "With which?"
"Ah! I see your admiration for my rig is mounting. No; it wasn't with
the Prince of Wales--confess your admiration is going down already.
Come, you shall guess. _Je vous le donne en trois_."
After teasing me a little he told me it was the Kronprinds of Denmark.
"At the _Kunstner Karneval_ in Copenhagen," he explained briefly. His
front face had grown sad again.
"Did you study art in Copenhagen?" I inquired.
"Yes, before I joined that expedition," he said. "It was from there I
started."
"Yes, of course," I replied. "I remember now. It was a Danish
expedition. But what made you chuck up your studies so suddenly?"
"Oh! I don't know. I guess I was just about sick of most things. My
stars! Look at that little gypsy-girl dancing the can-can; isn't she
fresh? Isn't she wonderful? How awful to think she'll be used up in a
year or two!"
"I suppose there was a woman--the eternal feminine," I said, sticking
him to the point, for I was more interested in him than in the
seething saturnalia, our common sobriety amid which seemed somehow
to raise our casual acquaintanceship to the plane of confidential
friendship.
"Yes, I suppose there was a woman," he echoed in low tones. "The
eternal feminine!" And a strange unfathomable light leapt into his
eyes, which he raised slightly towards the gilded ceiling, where
countless lustres glittered.
"Deceived you, eh?" I said lightly.
His expression changed. "Deceived me, as you say," he murmured, with
a faint, sad smile, that made me conjure up a vision of a passionate
lovely face with cruel eyes.
"Won't you tell me about it?" I asked, as I tendered him a fresh
cigarette, for while we spoke his half-smoked one had been snatched
from his mouth by a beautiful Maenad, who whirled off puffing it.
"I reckon you'll be making copy out of it," he said, his smile growing
whimsical.
"If it's good enough," I replied candidly. "That's why I am here."
"What a lovely excuse! But there's nothing in my affair to make a
story of."