BÄADER

I was sitting in the shadow of Mme. Poulard's delightful inn at St. Michel

when I first saw Bäader. Dinner had been served, and I had helped to pay

for my portion by tacking a sketch on the wall behind the chair of the

hostess. This high valuation was not intended as a special compliment to

me, the wall being already covered with similar souvenirs from the

sketch-books of half the painters in Europe.

Bäader, he pronounced it Bayder, had at that moment arrived in answer to a

telegram from the governor, who the night before, in a moment of

desperation, had telegraphed the proprietor of his hotel in Paris, "Send

me a courier at once who knows Normandy and speaks English." The

bare-headed man who, hat in hand, was at this moment bowing so

obsequiously to the governor, was the person who had arrived in response.

He was short and thick-set, and perfectly bald on the top of his head in a

small spot, friar-fashion. He glistened with perspiration that collected

near the hat-line, and escaped in two streams, drowning locks of black

hair covering each temple, stranding them like wet grass on his

cheek-bones below. His full face was clean-shaven, smug, and persuasive,

and framed two shoe-button eyes that, while sharp and alert, lacked

neither humor nor tenderness.

He wore a pair of new green kid gloves, was dressed in a brown cloth coat

bound with a braid of several different shades, showing different dates of

repair, and surmounted by a velvet collar of the same date as the coat.

His trousers were of a nondescript gray, and flapped about a pair of

brand-new gaiters, evidently purchased for the occasion, and, from the

numerous positions assumed while he talked, evidently one size too small.

His hat--the judicious use of which added such warmth, color, and

picturesqueness to his style of delivery, now pressed to his chest, now

raised aloft, now debased to the cobbles--had once had some dignity and

proportions. Continual maltreatment had long since taken all the gay and

frolicsome curl out of its brim, while the crown had so often collapsed

that the scars of ill-usage were visible upon it. And yet at a distance

this relic of a former fashion, as handled by Bäader,--it was so

continually in his grasp and so seldom on his head, that you could never

say it was worn,--this hat, brushed, polished, and finally slicked by its

owner to a state slightly confusing as to whether it were made of polished

iron or silk, was really a very gay and attractive affair.

It was easy to see that the person before me had spared neither skill,

time, nor expense to make as favorable an impression on his possible

employers as lay in his power.

"At the moment of the arrival of ze dépêche télégraphique," Bäader

continued, "I was in ze office of monsieur ze propriétaire. It was at ze

conclusion of some arrangement commercial, when mon ami ze propriétaire

say to me: 'Bäader, it is ze abandoned season in Paris. Why not arrange

for ze gentlemen in Normandy? The number of francs a day will be at

least'"--here Bäader scrutinized carefully the governor's face--'"at least

to ze amount of ten'--is it not so, messieurs? Of course," noting a slight

contraction of the eyebrows, "if ze service was of long time, and to ze

most far-away point, some abatement could be posseeble. If, par exemple,

it was to St. Malo, St. Servan, Paramé, Cancale spéciale, Dieppe petite,

Dinard, and ze others, the sum of nine francs would be quite sufficient."

The governor had never heard Dieppe called "petite" nor Cancale

"spéciale," and said so, lifting his eyebrows inquiringly. Bäader did not

waver. "But if messieurs pretend a much smaller route and of few days, say

to St. Michel, Paramé, and Cancale,"--here the governor's brow relaxed

again,--"then it was imposseeble,--if messieurs will pardon,--quite

imposseeble for less zan ten francs."

So the price was agreed upon, and the hat, now with a decided metallic

sheen, once more swept the cobblestones of the courtyard. The ceremony

being over, its owner then drew off the green kid gloves, folded them flat

on his knee, guided them into the inside pocket of the brown coat with the

assorted bindings as carefully as if they had been his letter of credit,

and declared himself at our service.

It was when he had been installed as custodian not only of our hand

luggage, but to a certain extent of our bank accounts and persons for some

days, that he urged upon the governor the advisability of our at once

proceeding to Cancale, or Cancale spéciale, as he insisted on calling it.

I immediately added my own voice to his pleadings, arguing that Cancale

must certainly be on the sea. That, from my recollection of numerous

water-colors and black-and-whites labeled in the catalogue, "Coast near

Cancale," and the like, I was sure there must be the customary fish-girls,

with shrimp-nets carried gracefully over one shoulder, to say nothing of

brawny-chested fishermen with flat, rimless caps, having the usual little

round button on top.

The governor, however, was obdurate. He had a way of being obdurate when

anything irritated him, and Bäader began to be one of these things.

Cancale might be all very well for me, but how about the hotel for him,

who had nothing to do, no pictures to paint? He had passed that time in

his life when he could sleep under a boat with water pouring down the back

of his neck through a tarpaulin full of holes.

"The hotel, messieurs! Imagine! Is it posseeble that monsieur imagine for

one moment that Bäader would arrange such annoyances? I remember ze hotel

quite easily. It is not like, of course, ze Grand Hôtel of Paris, but it

is simple, clean, ze cuisine superb, and ze apartment fine and hospitable.

Remembare it is Bäader."

"And the baths?" broke out the governor savagely.

Bäader's face was a study; a pained, deprecating expression passed over it

as he uncovered his head, his glazed headpiece glistening in the sun.

"Baths, monsieur--and ze water of ze sea everywhere?"

These assurances of future comfort were not overburdened with details, but

they served to satisfy and calm the governor, I pleading, meanwhile, that

Bäader had always proved himself a man of resource, quite ready when

required with either a meal or an answer.

So we started for Cancale.

On the way our courier grew more and more enthusiastic. We were traveling

in a four-seated carriage, Bäader on the box, pointing out to us in

English, after furtive conversations with the driver in French, the

principal points of interest. With many flourishes he led us to Paramé,

one of those Normandy cities which consist of a huge hotel with enormous

piazzas, a beach ten miles from the sea, and a small so-called

fishing-village as a sort of marine attachment. To give a realistic touch,

a lone boat is always being tarred somewhere down at the end of one of its

toy streets, two or three donkey-carts and donkeys add an air of

picturesqueness, and the usual number of children with red pails and

shovels dig in the sand of the roadside. All the fish that are sold come

from the next town. It was too early in the season when we reached there

for girls in sabots and white caps, the tide from Paris not having set in.

The governor hailed it with delight. "Why the devil didn't you tell me

about this place before? Here we have been fooling away our time."

"But it is only Paramé, monsieur," with an accent on the "only" and a

lifting of the hands. "Cancale spéciale will charm you; ze coast it is so

immediately flat, and ze life of ze sea charmante. Nevare at Paramé,

always at Cancale." So we drove on. The governor pacified but

anxious--only succumbing at my argument that Bäader knew all Normandy

thoroughly, and that an old courier like him certainly could be trusted to

select a hotel.

* * * * *

You all know the sudden dip from the rich, flat country of Normandy down

the steep cliffs to the sea. Cancale is like the rest of it. The town

itself stands on the brink of a swoop to the sands; the fishing-village

proper, where the sea packs it solid in a great half-moon, with a light

burning on one end that on clear nights can be seen as far as Mme.

Poulard's cozy dining-room at St. Michel.

One glimpse of this sea-burst tumbled me out of the carriage, sketch-trap

in hand. Bäader and the governor kept on. If the latter noticed the

discrepancy between Bäader's description of the country and the actual

topography, no word fell from him at the moment of departure.

From my aerie, as I worked under my white umbrella below the cliff, I

could distinctly make out our traveling-carriage several hundred feet

below and a mile away, crawling along a road of white tape with a green

selvage of trees, the governor's glazed trunk flashing behind, Bäader's

silk hat burning in front. Then the little insect stopped at a white spot

backed by dots of green; a small speck broke away, and was swallowed up

for a few minutes in the white dot,--doubtless Bäader to parley for

rooms,--and then to my astonishment the whole insect turned and began

crawling back again, growing larger every minute. All this occurred before

I had half finished my outline or opened my color-box. Instantly the truth

dawned upon me,--the governor was going back to Paramé. An hour, perhaps,

had elapsed when Bäader, with uncovered head and beaded with perspiration,

the two locks of hair hanging limp and straight, stood before me.

"What was the matter with the governor, Bäader? No hotel after all?"

"On the contraire, pardonnez-moi, monsieur, a most excellent hotel, simple

and quite of ze people, and with many patrons. Even at ze moment of

arrival a most distinguished artist, a painter of ze Salon, was with his

cognac upon a table at ze entrance."

"No bath, perhaps," I remarked casually, still absorbed in my work, and

with my mind at rest, now that Bäader remained with me.

"On the contraire, monsieur, les bains are most excellent--primitive, of

course, simple, and quite of ze people. But, monsieur le gouverneur is no

more young. When one is no more young,"--with a deprecating

shrug,--"parbleu, it is imposseeble to enjoy everything. Monsieur le

gouverneur, I do assure you, make ze conclusion most regretfully to return

to Paramé."

I learned the next morning that he evinced every desire to drown Bäader in

the surf for bringing him to such an inn, and was restrained only by the

knowledge that I should miss his protection during my one night in

Cancale.

"Moreover, it is ze grande fête to-night--ze fête of ze République. Zare

are fireworks and illumination and music by ze municipality. It is simple,

but quite of ze people. It is for zis reason that I made ze effort special

with monsieur le gouverneur to remain with you. Ah! it is you, monsieur,

who are so robust, so enthusiastic, so appreciative."

Here Bäader put on his hat, and I closed my sketch-trap.

"But monsieur has not yet dined," he said as we walked, "nor even at his

hotel arrived. Ze inn of Mme. Flamand is so very far away, and ze ascent

up ze cliffs difficile. If monsieur will be so good, zare is a café near

by where it is quite posseeble to dine."

Relieved of the governor's constant watchfulness Bäader became himself. He

bustled about the restaurant, called for "Cancale spéciale," a variety of

oysters apparently entirely unknown to the landlord, and interviewed the

_chef_ himself. In a few moments a table was spread in a corner of the

porch overlooking a garden gay with hollyhocks, and a dinner was ordered

of broiled chicken, French rolls, some radishes, half a dozen apricots,

and a fragment of cheese. When it was over,--Bäader had been served in an

adjoining apartment,--there remained not the amount mentioned in a former

out-of-door feast, but sufficient to pack at least one basket,--in this

case a paper box,--the drumsticks being stowed below, dunnaged by two

rolls, and battened down with fragments of cheese and three apricots.

"What's this for, Bäader? Have you not had enough to eat?"

Bäader's face wore its blandest smile. "On ze contraire, I have made for

myself a most excellent repast; but if monsieur will consider--ze dinner

is a prix fixe, and monsieur can eat it all, or it shall remain for ze

propriétaire. Zis, if monsieur will for one moment attend, will be stupid

extraordinaire. I have made ze investigation, and discover zat ze post

départ from Cancale in one hour. How simple zen to affeex ze stamps,--only

five sous,--and in ze morning, even before Mme. Bäader is out of ze bed,

it is in Paris--a souvenir from Cancale. How charmante ze surprise!"

I discovered afterward that since he had joined us Bäader's own domestic

larder had been almost daily enriched with crumbs like these from Dives's

table.

The _fête,_ despite Bäader's assurances, lacked one necessary feature.

There was no music. The band was away with the boats, the triangle

probably cooking, the French horn and clarinet hauling seines.

But Bäader, not to be outdone by any _contretemps_, started off to find an

old blind fellow who played an accordeon, collecting five francs of me in

advance for his pay, under the plea that it was quite horrible that the

young people could not dance. "While one is young, monsieur, music is ze

life of ze heart."

He brought the old man back, and with a certain care and tenderness set

him down on a stone bench, the sightless eyes of the poor peasant turning

up to the stars as he swayed the primitive instrument back and forth. The

young girls clung to Bäader's arm, and blessed him for his goodness. I

forgave him his duplicity, his delight in their happiness was so genuine.

Perhaps it was even better than a _fête_.

When, later in the evening, we arrived at Mme. Flamand's, we found her in

the doorway, her brown face smiling, her white cap and apron in full

relief under the glare of an old-fashioned ship's light, which hung from a

rafter of the porch. Bäader inscribed my name in a much-thumbed,

ink--stained register, which looked like a neglected ship's log, and then

added his own. This, by the by, Bäader never neglected. Neither did he

neglect a certain little ceremony always connected with it.

After it was all over and "Moritz Bäader Courrier et Interprète" was duly

inscribed,--and in justice it must be confessed it was always clearly

written with a flourish at the end that lent it additional

dignity,--Bäader would pause for a moment, carefully balance the pen,

trying it first on his thumb-nail, and then place two little dots of ink

over the first _a_, saying, with a certain wave of his hand, as he did so,

"For ze honor of my families, monsieur." This peculiarity gained for him

from the governor the sobriquet of "old fly-specks."

The inn of Mme. Flamand, although less pretentious than many others that

had sheltered us, was clean and comfortable, the lower deck and

companionway were freshly sanded,--the whole house had a decidedly

nautical air about it,--and the captain's state-room on the upper deck, a

second-floor room, was large and well-lighted, although the ceiling might

have been a trifle too low for the governor, and the bed a few inches too

short.

I ascended to the upper deck, preceded by the hostess carrying the ship's

lantern, now that the last guest had been housed for the night. Bäader

followed with a brass candlestick and a tallow dip about the size of a

lead pencil. With the swinging open of the bedroom door, I made a mental

inventory of all the conveniences: bed, two pillows, plenty of windows,

washstand, towels. Then the all-important question recurred to me, Where

had they hidden the portable tub?

I opened the door of the locker, looked behind a sea-chest, then out of

one window, expecting to see the green-painted luxury hanging by a hook or

drying on a convenient roof. In some surprise I said:--

"And the bath, Bäader?"

"Does monsieur expect to bathe at ze night?" inquired Bäader with a

lifting of his eyebrows, his face expressing a certain alarm for my

safety.

"No, certainly not; but to-morrow, when I get up."

"Ah, to-morrow!" with a sigh of relief. "I do assure you, monsieur, zat it

will be complete. At ze moment of ze déflexion of monsieur le gouverneur

zare was not ze time. Of course it is imposseeble in Cancale to have ze

grand bain of Paris, but then zare is still something,--a bath quite

spécial, simple, and of ze people. Remember, monsieur, it is Bäader."

And so, with a cheery "Bon soir" from madame, and a profound bow from

Bäader, I fell asleep.

The next morning I was awakened by a rumbling in the lower hold, as if the

cargo was being shifted. Then came a noise like the moving of heavy

barrels on the upper deck forward of the companionway. The next instant my

door was burst open, and in stalked two brawny, big-armed fish-girls,

yarn-stockinged to their knees, and with white sabots and caps. They were

trundling the lower half of a huge hogshead.

"Pour le bain, monsieur," they both called out, bursting into laughter, as

they rolled the mammoth tub behind my bed, grounded it with a revolving

whirl, as a juggler would spin a plate, and disappeared, slamming the door

behind them, their merriment growing fainter as they dropped down the

companionway.

I peered over the head-board, and discovered the larger half of an

enormous storage-barrel used for packing fish, with fresh saw-marks

indenting its upper rim. Then I shouted for Bäader.

Before anybody answered, there came another onslaught, and in burst the

same girls, carrying a great iron beach-kettle filled with water. This,

with renewed fits of laughter, they dashed into the tub, and in a flash

were off again, their wooden sabots clattering down the steps.

There was no mistaking the indications; Bäader's bath had arrived.

I climbed up, and, dropping in with both feet, avoiding the splinters and

the nails, sat on the sawed edge, ready for total immersion. Before I

could adjust myself to its conditions there came another rush along the

companionway, accompanied by the same clatter of sabots and splashing of

water. There was no time to reach the bed, and it was equally evident that

I could not vault out and throw myself against the door. So I simply

ducked down, held on, and shouted, in French, Normandy patois, English:--

"Don't come in! Don't open the door! Leave the water outside!" and the

like. I might as well have ruined my throat on a Cancale lugger driving

before a gale. In burst the door, and in swept the Amazons, letting go

another kettleful, this time over my upper half, my lower half being

squeezed down into the tub.

When the girls had emptied the contents of this last kettle over the

edge, and caught sight of my face,--they evidently thought I was still

behind the head-board,--both gave one prolonged shriek that literally

roused the house. The brawnier of the two,--a magnificent creature, with

her corsets outside of her dress,--after holding her sides with laughter

until I thought she would suffocate, sank upon the sea-chest, from which

her companion rescued her just as Mme. Flamand and Bäader opened the door.

All this time my chin was resting on the jagged rim of the tub, and my

teeth were chattering.

"Bäader, where in thunder have you been? Drag that chest against that door

quick, and come in. Is this what you call a bath?"

"Monsieur, if you will pardon. I arouse myself at ze daylight; I rely upon

Mme. Flamand that ze Englishman who is dead had left one behind; I search

everywhere. Zen I make inquiry of ze mother of ze two demoiselles who have

just gone. She was much insulted; she make ze bad face. She say with much

indignation: 'Monsieur, since I was a baby ze water has not touched my

body.' At ze supreme moment, when all hope was gone, I discover near ze

house of ze same madame this grand arrangement. Immediately I am on fire,

and say to myself, 'Bäader, all is not lost. Even if zare was still ze

bath of ze Englishman, it would not compare.' In ze quickness of an eye I

bring a saw, and ze demoiselles are on zare knees making ze arrangement,

one part big, one small. I say to myself, 'Bäader, monsieur is an artist,

and of enthusiasm, and will appreciate zis utensile agréable of ze

fisherman.' If monsieur will consider, it is, of course, not ze grand bain

of Paris, but it is simple, and quite of ze people."

* * * * *

Some two months later, the governor and I happened to be strolling through

the flower-market of the Madeleine. He had been selecting plants for the

windows of his apartment, and needed a reliable man to arrange them in

suitable boxes.

"That fellow Bäader lives down here somewhere; perhaps he might know of

some one," he said, consulting his notebook. "Yes; No. 21 Rue Chambord.

Let us look him up."

In five minutes we stood before a small, two-story house, with its door

and wide basement-window protected by an awning. Beneath this, upon low

shelves, was arranged a collection of wicker baskets, containing the

several varieties of oysters from Normandy and Brittany coasts greatly

beloved by Parisian epicures of Paris. On the top of each lid lay a tin

sign bearing the name of the exact locality from which each toothsome

bivalve was supposed to be shipped. These signs were all of one size.

The governor is a great lover of oysters, especially his own Chesapeakes,

and his eye ran rapidly over the tempting exhibit as he read aloud,

perhaps, unconsciously, to himself, the several labels: "Dinard, Paramé,

Dieppe petite, Cancale spéciale." Then a new light seemed to break in upon

him.

"Dieppe petite, Cancale spéciale,"--here his face was a study,--"why,

that's what Bäader always called Cancale. By thunder! I believe that's

where that fellow got his names. I don't believe the rascal was ever in

Normandy in his life until I took him. Here, landlord!" A small

shop-keeper, wearing an apron, ran out smiling, uncovering the baskets as

he approached. "Do you happen to know a courier by the name of Bäader?"

"Never as courier, messieurs--always as commissionaire; he sells wood and

charcoal to ze hotels. See! zare is his sign."

"Where does he live?"

"Upstairs."