Robert W. Chambers

“ A faint freshness was in the air. The watering carts moved up and down the street, and a clear stream bubbled over the spotless gutters of the rue de la Grande Chaumière. The sparrows were merry along the curb-stones, taking bath after bath in the water and ruffling their feathers with delight. In a walled garden across the street a pair of blackbirds whistled among the almond trees.
Hastings swallowed the lump in his throat, for the song of the birds and the ripple of water in a Paris gutter brought back to him the sunny meadows of Millbrook.
“That's a blackbird,” observed Miss Byng ”

“ Sure enough, the American colors hung limply under the nurse’s arm.
“Oh,” cried the girl, “he is charming,” and impulsively stooped to kiss him, but the infant Randall wriggled out of Hastings’ arms and his nurse pounced upon him with an angry glance at the girl.
She reddened and then bit her lips as the nurse, with eyes still fixed on her, dragged the child away and ostentatiously wiped his lips with her handkerchief.
Then she stole a look at Hastings and bit her lip again.
“What an ill-tempered woman,” he said. “In America, most nurses are flattered when people kiss their children.” ”

“ It is Monsieur Hastings.”
“Well,” said Clifford, in some astonishment.
“I want to ask you,” she continued in a low voice, “I want to ask you to—to—in case you should speak of me before him,—not to say,—not to say⸻”
“I shall not speak of you to him,” he said quietly.
“Can—can you prevent others?”
“I might if I was present. May I ask why?”
“That is not fair,” she murmured, “you know how—how he considers me,—as he considers every woman. You know how different he is from you and the rest. I have never seen a man,—such a man as Monsieur Hastings.” ”

“ The summer wind blew in their faces from the open window, and sent the soft hair dancing on the girl’s forehead.
“We have the compartment to ourselves,” said Hastings.
She leaned against the cushioned window-seat, her eyes bright and wide open, her lips parted. The wind lifted her hat, and fluttered the ribbons under her chin. With a quick movement she untied them and drawing a long hat pin from her hat, laid it down on the seat beside her. The train was flying. ”

“ And after all their silence was eloquent, for faint smiles, and glances born of their thoughts, crossed and recrossed, until lips moved and words were formed, which seemed almost superfluous. What they said was not very profound. Perhaps the most valuable jewel that fell from Hastings’ lips bore direct reference to breakfast.
“I have not yet had my chocolate,” she confessed, “but what a material man you are.”
“Valentine,” he said impulsively, “I wish,—I do wish that you would,—just for this once,—give me the whole day,—just for this once.” ”

“ Bowles rubbed his thumb across the outlines of his study to “throw in a little atmosphere,” as he said, glared at the model, pulled at his pipe and finding it out struck a match on his neighbor’s back to relight it.
“His name,” continued Laffat, hurling a bit of bread at the hat-rack, “his name is Hastings. He is a berry. He knows no more about the world,”—and here Mr. Laffat’s face spoke volumes for his own knowledge of that planet,—“than a maiden cat on its first moonlight stroll.” ”

“ Poor Cécile!”
Clifford looked so uncomfortable that she spoke more kindly.
“I like you. You know that. Everybody does. You are a spoiled child here. Everything is permitted you and every one makes allowance, but every one cannot be a victim to caprice.”
“Caprice!” he cried. “By Jove, if the girls of the Latin Quarter are not capricious⸻”
“Never mind,—never mind about that! You must not sit in judgment—you of all men. Why are you here to-night? Oh,” she cried, “I will tell you why! ”

“ Presently, he arose, and jamming his hat on his head, marched to the door.
“Heaven alone knows why any one puts up with your antics, but they all do and so do I. If I were Cécile or any of the other pretty fools after whom you have toddled and will, in all human probabilities, continue to toddle, I say, if I were Cécile I'd spank you! Now I’m going to Boulant’s, and as usual I shall make excuses for you and arrange the affair, and I don’t care a continental where you are going, but, by the skull of the studio skeleton! ”

“ While Elliott briefly outlined the projected excursion to La Roche, Hastings, delightedly ate his omelet, and returned the smiles of encouragement from Cécile and Colette and Jacqueline. Meantime Clifford in a bland whisper was telling Rowden what an ass he was. Poor Rowden looked miserable until Elliott, divining how affairs were turning, frowned on Clifford and found a moment to let Rowden know that they were all going to make the best of it. ”

“ Prevent him by force from grubbing about for worms.”
Elliott protested, but was forced to smile in the general laugh.
“You make me ill,” he asserted; “do you think this is my first trout?”
“I shall be delighted to see your first trout,” said Clifford, and dodging a fly hook, hurled with intent to hit, proceeded to sort and equip three slender rods destined to bring joy and fish to Cécile, Colette, and Jacqueline. With perfect gravity he ornamented each line with four split shot, a small hook, and a brilliant quill float.
“I shall never touch the worms,” announced Cécile with a shudder. ”

“ He always does when the gardeners take a hand. It’s a pity; he’s fond of rolling on lawns.” Then they chatted for a moment of Hastings’ prospects, and Clifford politely offered to stand his sponsor at the studio.
“You see, old tabby, I mean Dr. Byram told me about you before I met you,” explained Clifford, “and Elliott and I will be glad to do angthing we can.” Then looking at his watch again he muttered, “I have just ten minutes to catch the Versailles train; au revoir,” and started to go, but catching sight of a girl advancing by the fountain took off his hat with a confused smile.” ”

“ Well—the first time I met him in the street,—or rather, it was in the Luxembourg, I introduced him to Valentine!”
“Did he object?”
“Believe me, said Clifford, solemnly, “this rustic Hastings has no more idea that Valentine is—is—in fact is Valentine, than he has that he himself is a beautiful example of moral decency in a Quarter where morals are as rare as elephants. I heard enough in a conversation between that blackguard Loffat and the little immoral eruption, Bowles, to open my eyes. I tell you Hastings is a trump! ”

“ HE street is not fashionable, neither is it shabby. It is a pariah among streets—a street without a Quarter. It is generally understood to lie outside the pale of the aristocratic Avenue de l’Observatoire. The students of the Montparnasse Quarter consider it swell and will have none of it. The Latin Quarter, from the Luxembourg, its northern frontier, sneers at its respectability and regards with disfavor the correctly-costumed students who haunt it. ”

“ The sunlight filtered through the leafy thickets awaking to song the forest birds. Magpies in spotless black and white flirted past, alighting near by with a hop and bound and twitch of the tail. Blue and white jays with rosy breasts shrieked through the trees, and a low-sailing hawk wheeled among the fields of ripening wheat, putting to flight flocks of twittering hedge birds. ”

“ Byng.
“That garden belongs to a studio inhabited by two Americans,” continued the girl serenely, “and I often see them pass. They seem to need a great many models, mostly young and feminine⸻”
“Why, Susie !”
“Perhaps they prefer painting that kind, but I don’t see why they should invite five, with three more young gentlemen, and all get into two cabs and drive away singing. This street,” she continued, “is dull. There is nothing to see except the garden and a glimpse of the Boulevard Montparnasse through the rue de la Grande Chaumière. No one ever passes except a policeman. ”

“ Me he drives forth with hair-brushes and boots. It is a mercy if he has not set fire to something with his candle.”
Hastings hesitated for an instant, but swallowing his dislike of such a mission, walked slowly through the ivy-covered alley and across the inner garden to the studio. He knocked. Perfect silence. Then he knocked again and this time something struck the door from within with a crash.
“That,” said the concierge, “was a boot.” He fitted his duplicate key into the lock and ushered Hastings in. Clifford, in disordered evening dress, sat on the rug in the middle of the room. ”

“ In the course of events Miss Susie, forgetting to address herself exclusively to Mr, Bladen, and Hastings replying to her general question, the entente cordiale was established, and Susie and her mother extended a protectorate over what was clearly neutral territory.
“Mr. Hastings, you must not desert the pension every evening as Mr. Bladen does. Paris is an awful place for young gentlemen, and Mr. Bladen is a horrid cynic.” ”

“ Elliott looked at him with disapproval.
“You can make all the arrangements for La Roche without me,” he continued, avoiding Elliott’s eyes.
“What are you up to now?”
“Nothing,” protested Clifford.
“Don’t tell me,” replied his chum, with scorn; “fellows don’t rush off to Mignon’s when the set dine at Boulant’s. Who is it now?—but no, I won’t ask that,—what’s the use!” Then he lifted up his voice in complaint and beat upon the table with his pipe. “What’s the use of ever trying to keep track of you? What will Cécile say,—oh, yes, what will she say? ”

“ Hastings was thinking of Valentine. It was two o’clock when Elliott strolled back, and frankly admitting that he had eluded Rowden, sat down beside Colette and prepared to doze with satisfaction.
“Where are your trout?” said Colette severely.
“They still live,” murmured Elliott and went fast asleep. ”

“ He watched her until she reached the northern terrace, and then sat down on the marble seat until a hand on his shoulder and a glimmer of bayonets warned him away.
She passed on through the grove, and turning into the rue de Medici, traversed it to the Boulevard. At the corner she bought a bunch of violets and walked on along the Boulevard to the rue des Écoles. A cab was drawn up before Boulant’s and a pretty girl aided by Elliott jumped out.
“Valentine!” cried the girl, “come with us!” ”

“ Clifford gazed absently at the back of his head, murmuring, “I’m afraid, I’m afraid that man is too innocent. I say, Elliott,” he said, at last, “Hastings,—you know the chap that old Tabby Byram came around here to tell us about—the day you had to hide Colette in the armoire⸻”
“Yes, what’s up?” ”

“ He is to study art, but on no account would his parents wish him to live in the Latin Quarter if they knew of the immorality which is rife there.”
A sound like the click of a latch interrupted him and he raised his eyes, but not in time to see the maid slap the big-headed young man behind the parlor-door.
Madame coughed, cast a deadly glance behind her and then beamed on Dr. Byram.
“It ees well zat he come here. The pension more serious, il n’en existe pas, eet ees not any!” she announced with conviction.
So, as there was nothing more to add, Dr. Byram joined Hastings at the gate. ”