"There's going to be a free fight," he opined.
There was another retort from the woman, still calm
but a little higher.
" Hysterics ?" asked Leon of his wife. " Is that the
stage direction ? "
"How should I know?" returned Elvira, somewhat
tartly.
"Oh, woman, woman! "said Leon, beginning to open
the guitar-case. "It is one of the burdens of my life,
Monsieur Stubbs; they support each other; they always
pretend there is no system ; they say it's nature. Even
Madame Berthelini, who is a dramatic artist! "
"You are heartless, Leon," said Elvira; "that wo-
man is in trouble."
"And the man, my angel ? " inquired Berthelini, pass-
ing the ribbon of his guitar. ' 'And the man, m' amour ? "
" He is a man," she answered.
' ' You hear that ? " said Leon to Stubbs. " It is not too
late for you. Mark the intonation. And now," he con-
tinued, " what are we to give them ? "
"Are you going to sing ? " asked Stubbs.
" I am a troubadour," replied Leon. " I claim a wel-
come by and for my art. If I were a banker could 1 do
as much ?"
"Well, you wouldn't need, you know," answered the
undergraduate.
"Egad," said Leon, "but that's true. Elvira, that
is true."
"Of course it is," she replied. " Did you not know
it?"
"My dear," answered Leon, impressively, "I know
nothing but what is agreeable. Even my knowledge
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of life is a work of art superiorly composed. But what
are we to give them ? It should be something appro-
priate."
Visions of " Let dogs delight " passed through the un-
dergraduate's mind; but it occurred to him that the po-
etry was English and that he did not know the air.
Hence he contributed no suggestion.
"Something about our houselessness," said Elvira.
"I have it," cried Leon. And he broke forth into a
song of Pierre Dupont's :
Savez-vous oil glte
Mai, ce joli mois ?
Elvira joined in ; so did Stubbs, with a good ear and
voice, but an imperfect acquaintance with the music.
Leon and the guitar were equal to the situation. The
actor dispensed his throat-notes with prodigality and
enthusiasm ; and, as he looked up to heaven in his he-
roic way, tossing the black ringlets, it seemed to him
that the very stars contributed a dumb applause to his
efforts, and the universe lent him its silence for a chorus.
That is one of the best features of the heavenly bodies,
that they belong to everybody in particular; and a man
like Leon, a chronic Endymion who managed to get
along without encouragement, is always the world's
centre for himself.
He alone and it is to be noted, he was the worst
singer of the three took the music seriously to heart,
and judged the serenade from a high artistic point of
view. Elvira, on the other hand, was preoccupied about
their reception; and, as for Stubbs, he considered the
whole affair in the light of a broad joke.
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PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR
" Know you the lair of May, the lovely month ? " went
the three voices in the turnip-field.
The inhabitants were plainly fluttered ; the light moved
to and fro, strengthening in one window, paling in an-
other; and then the door was thrown open, and a man
in a blouse appeared on the threshold carrying a lamp.
He was a powerful young fellow, with bewildered hair
and beard, wearing his neck open; his blouse was
stained with oil-colours in a harlequinesque disorder;
and there was something rural in the droop and baggi-
ness of his belted trousers.
From immediately behind him, and indeed over his
shoulder, a woman's face looked out into the darkness ;
it was pale and a little weary, although still young; it
wore a dwindling, disappearing prettiness, soon to be
quite gone, and the expression was both gentle and sour,
and reminded one faintly of the taste of certain drugs.
For all that, it was not a face to dislike ; when the pret-
tiness had vanished, it seemed as if a certain pale beauty
might step in to take its place; and as both the mildness
and the asperity were characters of youth, it might be
hoped that, with years, both would merge into a con-
stant, brave, and not unkindly temper.
" What is all this ? " cried the man.
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CHAPTER VI
LEON had his hat in his hand at once. He came for-
ward with his customary grace ; it was a moment which
would have earned him a round of cheering on the
stage. Elvira and Stubbs advanced behind him, like a
couple of Admetus's sheep following the god Apollo.
' ' Sir, " said Leon, ' ' the hour is unpardonably late, and
our little serenade has the air of an impertinence. Believe
me, sir, it is an appeal. Monsieur is an artist, I perceive.
We are here three artists benighted and without shelter,
one a woman a delicate woman in evening dress
in an interesting situation. This will not fail to touch
the woman's heart of Madame, whom I perceive indis-
tinctly behind Monsieur her husband, and whose face
speaks eloquently of a well-regulated mind. Ah ! Mon-
sieur, Madame one generous movement, and you make
three people happy ! Two or three hours beside your
fire I ask it of Monsieur in the name of Art I ask it
of Madame by the sanctity of womanhood. "
The two, as by a tacit consent, drew back from the
door.
"Come in," said the man.
"Entrez, Madame," said the woman.
The door opened directly upon the kitchen of the
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PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR
house, which was to all appearance the only sitting-
room. The furniture was both plain and scanty; but
there were one or two landscapes on the wall hand-
somely framed, as if they had already visited the com-
mittee rooms of an exhibition and been thence extruded.
Leon walked up to the pictures and represented the part
of a connoisseur before each in turn, with his usual dra-
matic insight and force. The master of the house, as
if irresistibly attracted, followed him from canvas to
canvas with the lamp. Elvira was led directly to the
fire, where she proceeded to warm herself, while Stubbs
stood in the middle of the floor and followed the pro-
ceedings of Leon with mild astonishment in his eyes.
"You should see them by daylight," said the artist.
"I promise myself that pleasure," said Leon. "You
possess, sir, if you will permit me an observation, the
art of composition to a T."
"You are very good," returned the other. "But
should you not draw nearer to the fire ? "
" With all my heart," said Leon.
And the whole party soon gathered at the table over
a hasty and not an elegant cold supper, washed down
with the least of small wines. Nobody liked the meal,
but nobody complained; they put a good face upon it,
one and all, and made a great clattering of knives and
forks. To see Leon eating a single cold sausage was to
see a triumph ; by the time he had done he had got
through as much pantomime as would have sufficed for
a baron of beef, and he had the relaxed expression of
the over-eaten.
As Elvira had naturally taken a place by the side of
Leon, and Stubbs as naturally, although 1 believe un-
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NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS
consciously, by the side of Elvira, the host and hostess
were left together. Yet it was to be noted that they
never addressed a word to each other, nor so much as
suffered their eyes to meet. The interrupted skirmish
still survived in ill feeling; and the instant the guests
departed it would break forth again as bitterly as ever.
The talk wandered from this to that subject for with
one accord the party had declared it was too late to go
to bed ; but those two never relaxed towards each other;
Goneril and Regan in a sisterly tiff were not more bent
on enmity.
It chanced that Elvira was so much tired by all the
little excitements of the night, that for once she laid
aside her company manners, which were both easy and
correct, and in the most natural manner in the world
leaned her head on Leon's shoulder. At the same time,
fatigue suggesting tenderness, she locked the fingers of
her right hand into those of her husband's left ; and, half-
closing her eyes, dozed off into a golden borderland be-
tween sleep and waking. But all the time she was not
unaware of what was passing, and saw the painter's wife
studying her with looks between contempt and envy.
It occurred to Leon that his constitution demanded
the use of some tobacco; and he undid his fingers from
Elvira's in order to roll a cigarette. It was gently done,
and he took care that his indulgence should in no other
way disturb his wife's position. But it seemed to catch
the eye of the painter's wife with a special significancy.
She looked straight before her for an instant, and then,
with a swift and stealthy movement, took hold of her
husband's hand below the table. Alas! she might have
spared herself the dexterity. For the poor fellow was so
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PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR
overcome by this caress that he stopped with his mouth
open in the middle of a word, and by the expression of
his face plainly declared to all the company that his
thoughts had been diverted into softer channels.
If it had not been rather amiable, it would have been
absurdly droll. His wife at once withdrew her touch ;
but it was plain she had to exert some force. There-
upon the young man coloured and looked for a moment
beautiful.
Leon and Elvira both observed the by-play, and a shock
passed from one to the other; for they were inveterate
match-makers, especially between those who were al-
ready married.
"I beg your pardon," said Leon, suddenly. "I see
no use in pretending. Before we came in here we heard
sounds indicating if I may so express myself an im-
perfect harmony."
"Sir " began the man.
But the woman was beforehand.
"It is quite true," she said. "I see no cause to be
ashamed. If my husband is mad I shall at least do my
utmost to prevent the consequences. Picture to your-
self, Monsieur and Madame," she went on, for she passed
Stubbs over, "that this wretched person a dauber, an
incompetent, not fit to be a sign-painter receives this
morning an admirable offer from an uncle an uncle of
my own, my mother's brother, and tenderly beloved
of a clerkship with nearly a hundred and fifty pounds a
year, and that he picture to yourself ! he refused it !
Why ? For the sake of Art, he says. Look at his art,
I say look at it ! Is it fit to be seen ? Ask him is it
fit to be sold ? And it is for this, Monsieur and Madame,
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NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS
that he condemns me to the most deplorable existence,
without luxuries, without comforts, in a vile suburb of
a country town. O non! " she cried, " non je ne me
tairai pas c'est plus fort que moi! I take these gentle-
men and this lady for judges is this kind ? is it de-
cent ? is it manly ? Do I not deserve better at his hands
after having married him and" (a visible hitch)
" done everything in the world to please him ?"
I doubt if there were ever a more embarrassed com-
pany at a table; everyone looked like a fool; and the
husband like the biggest.
" The art of Monsieur, however," said Elvira, break-
ing the silence, "is not wanting in distinction."
" It has this distinction," said the wife, "that nobody
will buy it."
"I should have supposed a clerkship " began
Stubbs.
"Art is Art, " swept in Leon. "I salute Art. It is the
beautiful, the divine; it is the spirit of the world, and the
pride of life. But " And the actor paused.
"A clerkship " began Stubbs.
" I'll tell you what it is," said the painter. " I am an
artist, and as this gentleman says, Art is this and the
other; but of course, if my wife is going to make my life
a piece of perdition all day long, I prefer to go and drown
myself out of hand."
"Go!" said his wife. "I should like to see you!"
" I was going to say," resumed Stubbs, "that a fellow
may be a clerk and paint almost as much as he likes.
I know a fellow in a bank who makes capital water-
colour sketches; he even sold one for seven-and-six."
To both the women this seemed a plank of safety;
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PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR
each hopefully interrogated the countenance of her lord;
even Elvira, an artist herself! but indeed there must
be something permanently mercantile in the female
nature. The two men exchanged a glance ; it was
tragic; not otherwise might two philosophers salute, as
at the end of a laborious life each recognised that he was
still a mystery to his disciples.
Leon arose.
"Art is Art," he repeated, sadly. "It is not water-
colour sketches, nor practising on a piano. It is a life
to be lived."
"And in the meantime people starve!" observed the
woman of the house. "If that's a life, it is not one
for me."
' ' I'll tell you what, " burst forth Leon ; ' ' you, Madame,
go into another room and talk it over with my wife;
and I'll stay here and talk it over with your husband.
It may come to nothing, but let's try."
" I am very willing," replied the young woman; and
she proceeded to light a candle. "This way, if you
please." And she led Elvira upstairs into a bedroom.
"The fact is," said she, sitting down, "that my hus-
band cannot paint."
"No more can mine act," replied Elvira.
"I should have thought he could," returned the other;
"he seems clever."
" He is so, and the best of men besides," said Elvira;
"but he cannot act."
"At least he is not a sheer humbug like mine; he can
at least sing."
"You mistake Leon," returned his wife, warmly.
"He does not even pretend to sing; he has too fine a
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NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS
taste ; he does so for a living. And, believe me, neither
of the men are humbugs. They are people with a mission
which they cannot carry out."
" Humbug or not," replied the other, "you came very
near passing the night in the fields; and, for my part,
I live in terror of starvation. I should think it was a
man's mission to think twice about his wife. But it
appears not. Nothing is their mission but to play the
fool. Oh! " she broke out, "is it not something dreary
to think of that man of mine ? If he could only do it,
who would care? But no not he no more than
I can ! "
" Have you any children ? " asked Elvira,
"No; but then I may."
"Children change so much," said Elvira, with a sigh.
And just then from the room below there flew up a
sudden snapping chord on the guitar; one followed after
another; then the voice of Leon joined in; and there
was an air being played and sung that stopped the
speech of the two women. The wife of the painter
stood like a person transfixed; Elvira, looking into her
eyes, could see all manner of beautiful memories and
kind thoughts that were passing in and out of her soul
with every note; it was a piece of her youth that went
before her; a green French plain, the smell of apple-
flowers, the far and shining ringlets of a river, and the
words and presence of love.
" Leon has hit the nail," thought Elvira to herself, " I
wonder how."
The how was plain enough. Leon had asked the
painter if there were no air connected with courtship
and pleasant times; and having learned what he wished,
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PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR
and allowed an interval to pass, he had soared forth
into
O mon amante,
O mon desir,
Sachons cueillir
L'heure charmantef
" Pardon me, Madame," said the painter's wife, "your
husband sings admirably well."
"He sings that with some feeling," replied Elvira,
critically, although she was a little moved herself, for the
song cut both ways in the upper chamber; "but it is as
an actor and not as a musician."
" Life is very sad," said the other; " it so wastes away
under one's fingers."
"I have not found it so," replied Elvira. "I think the
good parts of it last and grow greater every day."
" Frankly, how would you advise me?"
"Frankly, I would let my husband do what he wished.
He is obviously a very loving painter; you have not yet
tried him as a clerk. And you know if it were only
as the possible father of your children it is as well to
keep him at his best."
" He is an excellent fellow," said the wife.
They kept it up till sunrise with music and all man-
ner of good-fellowship; and at sunrise, while the sky
was still temperate and clear, they separated on the
threshold with a thousand excellent wishes for each
other's welfare. Castel-le-Gachis was beginning to send
up its smoke against the golden East; and the church
bell was ringing six.
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NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS
"My guitar is a familiar spirit," said Leon, as he and
Elvira took the nearest way toward the inn; "it resus-
citated a Commissary, created an English tourist, and
reconciled a man and wife."
Stubbs, on his part, went off into the morning with
reflections of his own.
"They are all mad," thought he, "all mad but
wonderfully decent"
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