He answered that, since I was so pressing, he would!
"Listen," he resumed, after a sip.
* * * * *
I am not in a position to say whether the young lady humoured the
Editor by rejoicing, but she obeyed him by going forth. Her portrait
was duly published, _La Volx_ professed ignorance of her
whereabouts from the moment that she left the rue Louis-le-Grand, and a
prize of two thousand francs was to reward the first stranger who said
to her, "Pardon, you are mademoiselle Girard!" In every issue the
Public were urged towards more strenuous efforts to discover her, and
all Paris bought the paper, with amusement, to learn if she was found
yet.
At the beginning of the week, misgivings were ingeniously hinted as to
her fate. On the tenth day the Editor printed a letter (which he had
written himself), hotly condemning him for exposing a poor girl to
danger. It was signed "An Indignant Parent," and teemed with the most
stimulating suggestions. Copies of _La Voix_ were as prevalent as
gingerbread pigs at a fair. When a fortnight had passed, the prize was
increased to three thousand francs, and many young men resigned less
promising occupations, such as authorship and the fine arts, in order
to devote themselves exclusively to the search.
Personally, I had something else to do. I am an author, as you may have
divined by the rhythm of my impromptu phrases, but it happened at that
time that a play of mine had been accepted at the Grand Guignol,
subject to an additional thrill being introduced, and I preferred
pondering for a thrill in my garret to hunting for a pin in a haystack,
Enfin, I completed the drama to the Management's satisfaction, and
received a comely little cheque in payment. It was the first cheque
that I had seen for years! I danced with joy, I paid for a shampoo, I
committed no end of follies.
How good is life when one is rich--immediately one joins the optimists!
I feared the future no longer; I was hungry, and I let my appetite do
as it liked with me. I lodged in Montmartre, and it was my custom to
eat at the unpretentious Bel Avenir, when I ate at all; but that
morning my mood demanded something resplendent. Rumours had reached me
of a certain Café Eclatant, where for one-franc-fifty one might
breakfast on five epicurean courses amid palms and plush. I said I
would go the pace, I adventured the Café Eclatant.
The interior realised my most sanguine expectations. The room would
have done no discredit to the Grand Boulevard. I was so much
exhilarated, that I ordered a half bottle of barsac, though I noted
that here it cost ten sous more than at the Bel Avenir, and I prepared
to enjoy the unwonted extravagance of my repast to the concluding
crumb.
Monsieur, there are events in life of which it is difficult to speak
without bitterness. When I recall the disappointment of that déjeuner
at the Café Eclatant, my heart swells with rage. The soup was slush,
the fish tasted like washing, the meat was rags. Dessert consisted of
wizened grapes; the one thing fit to eat was the cheese.
As I meditated on the sum I had squandered, I could have cried with
mortification, and, to make matters more pathetic still, I was as
hungry as ever. I sat seeking some caustic epigram to wither the dame-
de-comptoir; and presently the door opened and another victim entered.
Her face was pale and interesting. I saw, by her hesitation, that the
place was strange to her. An accomplice of the chief brigand pounced on
her immediately, and bore her to a table opposite. The misguided girl
was about to waste one-franc-fifty. I felt that I owed a duty to her in
this crisis. The moment called for instant action; before she could
decide between slush and hors d'oeuvres, I pulled an envelope from my
pocket, scribbled a warning, and expressed it to her by the robber who
had brought my bill.