The Immortal

of the Faubourg Saint-Honoré Twenty minutes' fencing, boxing, or single-stick followed by a bath and a cold douche; then a little halt at the flower-shop, as he ca

om, where the visitors sat in fencing dress or flannel dressing-gowns, or even outside the doctor's door while awaiting the douche. From clubs, drawing-rooms, the Chamber, the Bourse, or the Palais de Justice came in the news of the day, and there it was proclaimed freely in loud tones, to the accompaniment of the clashing of swords and sticks, s

on, as well as of the lugubrious sonorities of Astier-Réhu's Academic regret 'His hour sounded upon the bell'... 'the hand of Loisillon was cold'... 'he had drained t

alk made Paul take him for one of the poor invalids who attend the establishment regularly, and whose apparition, silent as night-birds in the fencing-room where they come to be weighed, contrasts so strangely with the healthy laughter and superabundant vigour of

uttering the word 'prince.' 'He has been taking douches for some time past, and generall

he opposite side of the passage was visible La vaux. As he pulled on and buckled his long c

lf up?' said P

married in a for

does he go t

incess has started. They a

nt. 'The Princess?' he asked

e what the Duchess looks like. At the Loisillon affair she carried herself well, but never lifted her veil or spoke a word. It's a tough b

finished buckling his garters, accompanied by the sound of a douche two boxes off, and the Pr

d have an explanation face to face with the scoundrel who was stealing the fortune almost in his grasp. Suddenly he perceived that he had nothing on, reflected that his wrath was il

ed languidly for the charming young man in the usual row, he was driving rapidly to the Rue de Beaune. There he was greeted by

where my moth

irs, rummaging in his papers. The little staircase leading

ou, Paul?'

d the young man from noticing his father's extraordinary ap

?' said the son-'

elin and going on to the Fran?ais;

eed, Paul in his impatience was half inclined to ask Leonard whether he knew anything about the marriage; but he thought the next minute, 'No, he is too

, 'I have lost-

what?' ask

etty face, whose expression, on account of the bend in the nose, wa

does not matter.

lightly. There is no interruption to the flow of a man's thoughts. So the ambitious young fellow, who had quite recovered his presence of mind, carried on his reflections clearly. His thoughts were like those of Napoleon at the last hour of the battle of Waterloo: after a long day of success defeat had come with night. What was the reason? What mistake had he made? He replaced the pieces on the chessboard, and looked for the explanation of failure, but in vain. It had perhaps been rash of him to let two days pass without seeing her. But it was the most elem

uggested the piles of overdue accounts. As he felt his way in, he was greeted by a smell of fried onions filling the whole place; for his spruce little valet on nights when his master dined at the club would cook himself a tasty dish. A gleam of daylight still lingered in the studio, and Paul flung himself down on a sofa. There, as he was trying to think by what ill-luck his artfullest, cleverest d

ered the Théatre Fran?ais and gave Madame Ancelin's name at the box-office, the keenest observer would have failed to detect any absorbing preoccupation in

at regularity. She never missed a 'first night,' whether important or unimportant, nor any of the Subscribers' Tuesdays. And as she read no books but those stamped with the hall-mark of the Académie, so the actors at the Comédie were the only players to whom she listened

ll? Just look at the door-ke

difference of the house contrasted oddly with the seat where, in supreme content, leaning half out of the box, sat and cooed this good plump pink-eyed pigeon, piping away audibly, 'Look at Coquelin! Look at De-launay! What perennial youth

urned round, and felt a shiver at the sight of her son. What was the matter? What had Paul to say to her of such pressing importance as to bring him to that haunt of boredom-Paul, who never let himself be bored without a reason? Money again, no doubt, horrid money! Well, fortunately she would soon have plenty; Sammy's marriage would make them all rich. Much as she longed to go up to Paul and reassure him with the good news, which perhaps he had not heard, she was obliged to stay in her seat, look on at the play, and join as chorus

he pink-bead apron? and the ribbon ruching? Di' y' see? This

carry him off to the sofa. There, in the midst of wraps and the bustle of

early,' began Paul 'Is Sa

y. But she has come here to-nigh

e caught? Can y

ourse! You must hav

d Paul. 'And what sh

mphantly, 'Eight

on, and a wife!' He grasped her by the wrists in his

with so much cunning and skilful patience they had each been driving towards the treasure, one last stroke of the axe had brought them face to face, empty-handed! They sat silent, looking at each other, with corresponding crooks in their noses and the same fierce gleam in both pairs of grey eyes, while all around them

Princess we

at the thought that the sudden de

t her back,

ow

question, he asked, 'I

she is-- Where are you goi

Don't interfere. You a

te, and she went back to her seat on Madame Ancelin's left. Her hostess worship

What humour he has! M

boards. With the excuse that the footlights dazzled her, she was turning every moment towards the audience to look for h

unay! Di' y' see

heard of the rupture like the rest of Paris and was already tracking the game. Through the rest of the play the mother ate her heart out in misery, turning over innumerabl

ks, still watches, listens, tries to catch in the hum of the great fashionable swarm dispersing for some months a word or hint of a scene that evening in a box. Here comes the Duchess, haughty and erect in her long white and gold mantle, taking the arm of the young officer of the Papal Guard. She knows the shabby trick her friend has played her, and as the two women pass they exchange a cold expressionless glance more to be dreaded than the most vi

Coquelin, you know! and Delaunay, you know! Oh! Oh! Oh!-Astier did not reply, but followed with his wife on his arm and his collar turned up against the draught. It was raining. Madame Ancelin offered to take them home; but it was only with the conventional politeness of a 'carriage' lady afraid of tiring her horses

nal attitude is relaxed, to hear the real natural tone of voice, and to realise the actual relations of the beings thus suddenly released from trammels and sent rolling home in the light of their brougham lamps through the empty streets of Paris. In the case of the Astiers the return home was very characteristic. The moment they were alone the wife laid aside the deference and pretended interest exhibited towards the Master in society, and spoke her mind, compensating herself in so doing for the attention with which she had listened for the hundredth time to old stories which bored her to death. The husband, kindly by disposition and accustomed to think well of himse

m, least of all just now, when tormented by very differen

o violent died out of his voice, and his suspicion hesitated, at the sight of Adelaide's surprise. Meanwhile she recovered her sel

h to struggle against the intimations of instinct! There must be something out of the common, when a floor-polisher could arouse so strange an antipathy in a member of the Institute! Ah, well, the dolt was done for now! He should catch it! 'My three Charleses! Only fancy!' He wanted to inform the police at once, before going home. His wife tried to prevent

as so long that at first she thought he had had a fit of apoplexy. It was not that; but like a child that falls or hits itself, poor Crocodilus had opened his mouth so wide to let ou

bongri!' with the classical exclamations of Harpagon bewailing his casket, Justice, justice du ciel!' and other select extracts often recited to his pupils. It was as light as day

d Madame Astier; '

you, M

the terror of a scandal he suddenly quieted down, swearing finally by his mother's ashes that as soon as he got home he would pac

as he flung among the sawdust and bits of dry bark linen, clothes, boots, and even the green coat and embroidered waistcoat of the Academic full dress, carefully put away in napkins. His wrath was relieved by this operation, and diminished as he filled his trunk, till his last resentful grumblings died away when i