to re-assert himself by an exercise of authority. He had
been out-argued, but he was still the Maire. And so,
turning from his interlocutor, he briefly but kindly recom-
mended Leon to go back instanter to his concert.
" It is already growing late," he added.
Leon did not wait to be told twice. He returned to
the Cafe of the Triumphs of the Plough with all expe-
dition. Alas ! the audience had melted away during
his absence ; Elvira was sitting in a very disconsolate
attitude on the guitar-box ; she had watched the com-
pany dispersing by twos and threes, and the prolonged
spectacle had somewhat overwhelmed her spirits. Each
man, she reflected, retired with a certain proportion of
her earnings in his pockets, and she saw to-night's
board and to-morrow's railway expenses, and finally
even to-morrow's dinner, walk one after another out of
the cafe door and disappear into the night.
"What was it?" she asked, languidly.
But Leon did not answer. He was looking round
him on the scene of defeat. Scarce a score of listeners
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PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR
remained, and these of the least promising sort. The
minute hand of the clock was already climbing upward
towards eleven.
"It's a lost battle," said he, and then taking up the
money-box he turned it out. "Three francs seventy-
five!" he cried, "as against four of board and six of
railway fares, and no time for the tombola! Elvira, this
is Waterloo." And he sat down and passed both hands
desperately among his curls. ' ' O Fichu Commissaire ! "
he cried, "Fichu Commissaire! "
" Let us get the things together and be off," returned
Elvira. "We might try another song, but there is not
six halfpence in the room."
' ' Six halfpence ? " cried Leon, ' ' six hundred thousand
devils ! There is not a human creature in the town
nothing but pigs and dogs and commissaries! Pray
heaven, we get safe to bed ! "
"Don't imagine things!" exclaimed Elvira, with a
shudder.
And with that they set to work on their preparations.
The tobacco-jar, the -cigarette-holder, the three papers
of shirt-studs, which were to have been the prizes of the
tombola had the tombola come off, were made into a
bundle with the music ; the guitar was stowed into the
fat guitar-case; and Elvira having thrown a thin shawl
about her neck and shoulders, the pair issued from the
cafe and set off for the Black Head.
As they crossed the market-place the church bell rang
out eleven. It was a dark, mild night, and there was no
one in the streets.
"It is all very fine," said Leon: "but I have a pre-
sentiment. The night is not yet done."
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CHAPTER HI
THE Black Head presented not a single chink of light
upon the street, and the carriage gate was closed.
"This is unprecedented," observed Leon. "An inn
closed by five minutes after eleven! And there were
several commercial travellers in the cafe up to a late
hour. Elvira, my heart misgives me. Let us ring the
bell."
The bell had a potent note; and being swung under
the arch it filled the house from top to bottom with
surly, clanging reverberations. The sound accentuated
the conventual appearance of the building; a wintry
sentiment, a thought of prayer and mortification, took
hold upon Elvira's mind ; and as for Leon, he seemed to
be reading the stage directions for a lugubrious fifth act.
"This is your fault," said Elvira: "this is what comes
of fancying things ! "
Again Leon pulled the bell-rope; again the solemn
tocsin awoke the echoes of the inn ; and ere they had
died away, a light glimmered in the carriage entrance,
and a powerful voice was heard upraised and tremulous
with wrath.
"What's all this ? " cried the tragic host through the
spars of the gate. "Hard upon twelve, and you come
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PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR
clamouring like Prussians at the door of a respectable
hotel? Oh!" he cried, "I know you now! Common
singers! People in trouble with the police! And you
present yourselves at midnight like lords and ladies ?
Be off with you! "
"You will permit me to remind you," said Leon, in
thrilling tones, "that I am a guest in your house, that
I am properly inscribed, and that I have deposited bag-
gage to the value of four hundred francs."
"You cannot get in at this hour," returned the man.
"This is no thieves' tavern, for mohocks and night rakes
and organ-grinders."
" Brute! " cried Elvira, for the organ-grinders touched
her home.
"Then I demand my baggage," said Leon, with una-
bated dignity.
"I know nothing of your baggage," replied the land-
lord.
"You detain my baggage? You dare to detain my
baggage ? " cried the singer.
"Who are you ? " returned the landlord. " It is dark
I cannot recognise you."
' ' Very well, then you detain my baggage, " concluded
Leon. " You shall smart for this. I will weary out your
life with persecutions; I will drag you from court to
court ; if there is justice to be had in France, it shall be
rendered between you and me. And I will make you a
by-word I will put you in a song a scurrilous song
an indecent song a popular song which the boys
shall sing to you in the street, and come and howl
through these spars at midnight!"
He had gone on raising his voice at every phrase, for
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NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS
all the while the landlord was very placidly retiring; and
now, when the last glimmer of light had vanished from
the arch, and the last footstep died away in the interior,
Leon turned to his wife with a heroic countenance.
"Elvira," said he, "I have now a duty in life. I shall
destroy that man as Eugene Sue destroyed the concierge.
Let us come at once to the Gendarmerie and begin our
vengeance."
He picked up the guitar-case, which had been propped
against the wall, and they set forth through the silent
and ill-lighted town with burning hearts.
The Gendarmerie was concealed beside the telegraph
office at the bottom of a vast court, which was partly
laid out in gardens ; and here all the shepherds of the
public lay locked in grateful sleep. It took a deal of
knocking to waken one; and he, when he came at last
to the door, could find no other remark but that "it
was none of his business." Leon reasoned with him,
threatened him, besought him; here, he said, was Ma-
dame Berthelini in evening dress a delicate woman
in an interesting condition the last was thrown
in, I fancy, for effect; and to all this the man-at-arms
made the same answer:
"It is none of my business," said he.
"Very well," said Leon, "then we shall go to the
Commissary." Thither they went; the office was closed
and dark ; but the house was close by, and Leon was
soon swinging the bell like a madman. The Commis-
sary's wife appeared at a window. She was a thread-
paper creature, and informed them that the Commissary
had not yet come home.
" Is he at the Maire's ?" demanded Leon.
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PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR
She thought that was not unlikely.
"Where is the Maire's house ?" he asked.
And she gave him some rather vague information on
that point.
"Stay you here, Elvira," said Leon, "lest I should
miss him by the way. If, when I return, I find you
here no longer, I shall follow at once to the Black
Head."
And he set out to find the Maire's. It took him some
ten minutes wandering among blind lanes, and when
he arrived it was already half an hour past midnight. A
long white garden wall overhung by some thick chest-
nuts, a door with a letter-box, and an iron bell-pull,
that was all that could be seen of the Maire's domicile.
Leon took the bell-pull in both hands, and danced furi-
ously upon the sidewalk. The bell itself was just upon
the other side of the wall, it responded to his activity,
and scattered an alarming clangour far and wide into the
night.
A window was thrown open in a house across the
street, and a voice inquired the cause of this untimely
uproar.
"I wish the Maire," said Leon.
"He has been in bed this hour," returned the voice.
" He must get up again," retorted Leon, and he was
for tackling the bell-pull once more.
"You will never make him hear," responded the
voice. "The garden is of great extent, the house is at
the farther end, and both the Maire and his housekeeper
are deaf."
"Aha! " said Leon, pausing. "The Maire is deaf, is
he ? That explains." And he thought of the evening's
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NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS
concert with a momentary feeling of relief. " Ah! " he
continued, "and so the Maire is deaf, and the garden
vast, and the house at the far end ?"
"And you might ring all night," added the voice,
"and be none the better for it. You would only keeo
me awake."
"Thank you, neighbour," replied the singer. "You
shall sleep."
And he made off again at his best pace for the Com-
missary's. Elvira was still walking to and fro before
the door.
" He has not come ? " asked Leon.
"Not he," she replied.
"Good," returned Leon. "I am sure our man's in-
side. Let me see the guitar-case. I shall lay this siege
in form, Elvira; 1 am angry; I am indignant; I am trucu-
lently inclined; but I thank my Maker I have still a sense
of fun. The unjust judge shall be importuned in a sere-
nade, Elvira. Set him up and set him up."
He had the case opened by this time, struck a few
chords, and fell into an attitude which was irresistibly
Spanish.
"Now," he continued, "feel your voice. Are you
ready ? Follow me ! "
The guitar twanged, and the two voices upraised, in
harmony and with a startling loudness, the chorus of a
song of old Beranger's :
" Commissaire ! Commissaire !
Colin bat sa menagfcre."
The stones of Castel-le-Gachis thrilled at this auda-
cious innovation. Hitherto had the night been sacred to
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PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR
repose and nightcaps; and now what was this ? Win-
dow after window was opened ; matches scratched, and
candles began to flicker; swollen sleepy faces peered
forth into the starlight. There were two figures before
the Commissary's house, each bolt upright, with head
thrown back and eyes interrogating the starry heavens;
the guitar wailed, shouted, and reverberated like half an
orchestra ; and the voices, with a crisp and spirited de-
livery, hurled the appropriate burden at the Commis-
sary's window. All the echoes repeated the function-
ary's name. It was more like an entr'acte in a farce of
Moliere's than a passage of real life in Castel-le-Gachis.
The Commissary, if he was not the first, was not the
last of the neighbours to yield to the influence of music,
and furiously throw open the window of his bedroom.
He was beside himself with rage. He leaned far over
the window-sill, raving and gesticulating; the tassel of
his white nightcap danced like a thing of life ; he opened
his mouth to dimensions hitherto unprecedented, and yet
his voice, instead of escaping from it in a roar, came forth
shrill and choked and tottering. A little more serenad-
ing, and it was clear he would be better acquainted with
the apoplexy.
I scorn to reproduce his language; he touched upon
too many serious topics by the way for a quiet story-
teller. Although he was known for a man who was
prompt with his tongue, and had a power of strong ex-
pression at command, he excelled himself so remark-
ably this night, that one maiden lady, who had got out
of bed like the rest to hear the serenade, was obliged
to shut her window at the second clause. Even what
she had heard disquieted her conscience; and next day
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NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS
she said she scarcely reckoned as a maiden lady any
longer.
Leon tried to explain his predicament, but he received
nothing but threats of arrest by way of answer.
" If I come down to you! " cried the Commissary.
' ' Aye, " said Leon, " do ! "
"I will not!" cried the Commissary.
"You dare not! " answered Leon.
At that the Commissary closed his window.
"All is over," said the singer. "The serenade was
perhaps ill-judged. These boors have no sense of hu-
mour."
"Let us get away from here," said Elvira, with a
shiver. "All these people looking it is so rude and so
brutal." And then giving way once more to passion
"Brutes! "she cried aloud to the candle-lit spectators
' ' brutes ! brutes ! brutes ! "
"Sauve qui peut," said Leon. "You have done it
now!"
And taking the guitar in one hand and the case in the
other, he led the way with something too precipitate to
be merely called precipitation from the scene of this
absurd adventure.
366
CHAPTER IV
To the west of Castel-le-Gachis four rows of venerable
lime-trees formed, in this starry night, a twilit avenue
with two side aisles of pitch darkness. Here and there
stone benches were disposed between the trunks. There
was not a breath of wind ; a heavy atmosphere of per-
fume hung about the alleys; and every leaf stood stock-
still upon its twig. Hither, after vainly knocking at an
inn or two, the Berthelinis came at length to pass the
night. After an amiable contention, Leon insisted on
giving his coat to Elvira, and they sat down together on
the first bench in silence. Leon made a cigarette, which
he smoked to an end, looking up into the trees, and,
beyond them, at the constellations, of which he tried
vainly to recall the names. The silence was broken by
the church bell; it rang the four quarters on a light and
tinkling measure; then followed a single deep stroke
that died slowly away with a thrill; and stillness re-
sumed its empire.
"One," said Leon. " Four hours till daylight. It is
warm ; it is starry ; I have matches and tobacco. Do
not let us exaggerate, Elvira the experience is posi-
tively charming. I feel a glow within me; I am born
again. This is the poetry of life. Think of Cooper's
novels, my dear."
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NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS
" Leon," she said, fiercely, "how can you talk such
wicked, infamous nonsense ? To pass all night out of
doors it is like a nightmare ! We shall die."
"You suffer yourself to be led away," he replied,
soothingly. " It is not unpleasant here ; only you brood.
Come, now, let us repeat a scene. Shall we try Alceste
and Celimene ? No ? Or a passage from the ' Two
Orphans ? ' Come, now, it will occupy your mind ; I
will play up to you as I never have played before; I feel
art moving in my bones."
" Hold your tongue," she cried, " or you will drive
me mad! Will nothing solemnise you not even this
hideous situation ? "
"Oh, hideous!" objected Leon. "Hideous is not
the word. Why, where would you be ? ' Dites, la
jeune belle, ou voulez-vouz aller ?' " he carolled. "Well,
now," he went on, opening the guitar-case, "there's
another idea for you sing. Sing ' Dites, la jeune belle ! '
It will compose your spirits, Elvira, I am sure."
And without waiting an answer he began to strum
the symphony. The first chords awoke a young man
who was lying asleep upon a neighbouring bench.
"Hullo!" cried the young man, "who are you?"
" Under which king, Bezonian ? " declaimed the artist.
"Speak or die!"
Or if it was not exactly that, it was something to much
the same purpose from a French tragedy.
The young man drew near in the twilight. He was
a tall, powerful, gentlemanly fellow, with a somewhat
puffy face, dressed in a gray tweed suit, with a deer-
stalker hat of the same material ; and as he now came
forward he carried a knapsack slung upon one arm.
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PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR
" Are you camping out here, too ?" he asked, with a
strong English accent. " I'm not sorry for company."
Leon explained their misadventure ; and the other told
them that he was a Cambridge undergraduate on a walk-
ing tour, that he had run short of money, could no longer
pay for his night's lodging, had already been camping
out for two nights, and feared he should require to con-
tinue the same manoeuvre for at least two nights more.
"Luckily, it's jolly weather," he concluded.
"You hear that, Elvira," said Leon. "Madame Ber-
thelini," he went on, "is ridiculously affected by this
trifling occurrence. For my part, I find it romantic and
far from uncomfortable; or at least," he added, shifting
on the stone bench, "not quite so uncomfortable as
might have been expected. But pray be seated."
"Yes," returned the undergraduate, sitting down,
"it's rather nice than otherwise when once you're used
to it; only it's devilish difficult to get washed. I like
the fresh air and these stars and things."
" Aha! " said Leon, " Monsieur is an artist."
" An artist ? " returned the other, with a blank stare.
4 'Not if I know it!"
" Pardon me," said the actor. " What you said this
moment about the orbs of heaven
"Oh, nonsense! " cried the Englishman. "A fellow
may admire the stars and be anything he likes."
"You have an artist's nature, however, Mr. I
beg your pardon ; may I, without indiscretion, inquire
your name ? " asked Leon.
"My name is Stubbs," replied the Englishman.
"1 thank you," returned Leon. " Mine is Berthelini
Leon Berthelini, ex-artist of the theatres of Montrouge,
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NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS
Belleville, and Montmartre. Humble as you see me, I have
created with applause more than one important role. The
Press were unanimous in praise of my Howling Devil of
the Mountains, in the piece of the same name. Madame,
whom I now present to you, is herself an artist, and I must
not omit to state, a better artist than her husband. She also
is a creator ; she created nearly twenty successful songs
at one of the principal Parisian music-halls. But, to con-
tinue, I was saying you had an artist's nature, Monsieur
Stubbs, and you must permit me to be a judge in such
a question. I trust you will not falsify your instincts;
let me beseech you to follow the career of an artist."
' ' Thank you, " returned Stubbs, with a chuckle. "I'm
going to be a banker."
' ' No, " said Leon, ' ' do not say so. Not that. A man
with such a nature as yours should not derogate so far.
What are a few privations here and there, so long as you
are working for a high and noble goal ? "
" This fellow's mad, " thought Stubbs ; ' ' but the wo-
man's rather pretty, and he's not bad fun for himself, if
you come to that." What he said was different. "I
thought you said you were an actor ? "
"I certainly did so," replied Leon. "I am one, or,
alas! I was."
" And so you want me to be an actor, do you ? " con-
tinued the undergraduate. "Why, man, I could never
so much as learn the stuff ; my memory's like a sieve ;
and as for acting, I've no more idea than a cat."
"The stage is not the only course," said Leon. " Be
a sculptor, be a dancer, be a poet or a novelist ; follow
your heart, in short, and do some thorough work before
you die."
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PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR
" And do you call these things art ? " inquired Stubbs.
"Why, certainly!" returned Leon. "Are they not
all branches ? "
"Oh! I didn't know," replied the Englishman. "I
thought an artist meant a fellow who painted."
The singer stared at him in some surprise.
"It is the difference of language," he said at last.
' ' This Tower of Babel, when shall we have paid for it ? If
I could speak English you would follow me more readily. "
" Between you and me, I don't believe I should," re-
plied the other. "You seem to have thought a devil
of a lot about this business. For my part, I admire the
stars, and like to have them shining it's so cheery
but hang me if I had an idea it had anything to do with
art! It's not in my line, you see. I'm not intellectual;
I have no end of trouble to scrape through my exams.,
I can tell you! But I'm not a bad sort at bottom," he
added, seeing his interlocutor looked distressed even in
the dim starshine, ' ' and I rather like the play, and music,
and guitars, and things."
Leon had a perception that the understanding was in-
complete. He changed the subject.
" And so you travel on foot ? " he continued. " How
romantic ! How courageous ! And how are you pleased
with my land ? How does the scenery affect you among
these wild hills of ours ? "
" Well, the fact is," began Stubbs he was about to
say that he didn't care for scenery, which was not at all
true, being, on the contrary, only an athletic undergrad-
uate pretension ; but he had begun to suspect that Ber-
thelini liked a different sort of meat, and substituted
something else "The fact is, I think it jolly. They
NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS
told me it was no good up here; even the guide-book
said so; but I don't know what they meant. I think
it is deuced pretty upon my word, I do."
At this moment, in the most unexpected manner, El-
vira burst into tears.
" My voice! " she cried. " Leon, if I stay here longer
I shall lose my voice!"
"You shall not stay another moment," cried the actor.
" If I have to beat in a door, if I have to burn the town,
I shall find you shelter."
With that, he replaced the guitar, and comforting her
with some caresses, drew her arm through his.
"Monsieur Stubbs," said he, taking off his hat, "the
reception I offer you is rather problematical ; but let me
beseech you to give us the pleasure of your society.
You are a little embarrassed for the moment ; you must,
indeed, permit me to advance what may be necessary.
I ask it as a favour; we must not part so soon after hav-
ing met so strangely."
"Oh, come, you know," said Stubbs, "I can't let a
fellow like you " And there he paused, feeling some-
how or other on a wrong tack.
" I do not wish to employ menaces," continued Leon,
with a smile; " but if you refuse, indeed I shall not take
it kindly."
" I don't quite see my way out of it," thought the un-
dergraduate ; and then, after a pause, he said, aloud and
ungraciously enough, "All right. I I'm very much
obliged, of course." And he proceeded to follow them,
thinking in his heart, " But it's bad form, all the same,
to force an obligation on a fellow."
372
CHAPTER V
LEON strode ahead as if he knew exactly where he
was going ; the sobs of Madame were still faintly audi-
ble, and no one uttered a word. A dog barked furiously
in a court-yard as they went by; then the church clock
struck two, and many domestic clocks followed or pre-
ceded it in piping tones. And just then Berthelini spied
a light. It burned in a small house on the outskirts of
the town, and thither the party now directed their steps.
"It is always a chance," said Leon.
The house in question stood back from the street be-
hind an open space, part garden, part turnip field; and
several outhouses stood forward from either wing at
right angles to the front. One of these had recently
undergone some change. An enormous window, look-
ing towards the north, had been effected in the wall and
roof, and Leon began to hope it was a studio.
"If it's only a painter," he said, with a chuckle, "ten
to one we get as good a welcome as we want."
"I thought painters were principally poor," said
Stubbs.
"Ah," cried Leon, "you do not know the world as I
do. The poorer the better for us."
And the trio advanced into the turnip field.
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NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS
The light was in the ground floor; as one window
was brightly illuminated and two others more faintly,
it might be supposed that there was a single lamp in
one corner of a large apartment; and a certain tremu-
lousness and temporary dwindling showed that a live
fire contributed to the effect. The sound of a voice now
became audible; and the trespassers paused to listen. It
was pitched in a high, angry key, but had still a good,
full, and masculine note in it. The utterance was voluble,
too voluble even to be quite distinct ; a stream of words,
rising and falling, with ever and again a phrase thrown
out by itself, as if the speaker reckoned on its virtue.
Suddenly another voice joined in. This time it was
a woman's; and if the man were angry, the woman was
incensed to the degree of fury. There was that abso-
lutely blank composure known to suffering males; that
colourless unnatural speech which shows a spirit accu-
rately balanced between homicide and hysterics; the
tone in which the best of women sometimes utter words
worse than death to those most dear to them. If Ab-
stract Bones-and-Sepulchre were to be endowed with
the gift of speech, thus, and not otherwise, would it dis-
course. Leon was a brave man, and I fear he was some-
what sceptically given (he had been educated in a Papis-
tical country), but the habit of childhood prevailed, and
he crossed himself devoutly. He had met several wo-
men in his career. It was obvious that his instinct had
not deceived him, for the male voice broke forth instantly
in a towering passion.
The undergraduate, who had not understood the sig-
nificance of the woman's contribution, pricked up his
ears at the change upon the man.
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