The Trespasser, Volume 3

eavy temperament. He had not been friendly to him at night, and he was surprised at the morning visit. The hour was such that Gaston must ask him to breakfast. The two were soon at the

the outer darkness,-to young artists' eyes, the sordid moneymaking world,-and had there been lost; from a great artist

's history, had read his speech in the Commons, had seen paragraphs speculating as to where he was; and now he, Salem Meyerbeer, would tell them what the wild fellow was doing. The Bullier, the cafes in the Latin Quarter, apartments in a humble street, dining for one- franc-fifty, supping with

uld h

POLITICIAN,

r that he

PIAN CHANGE HI

S SPOTS?"

only had to do with ruining a girl's na

ly one of the students said to Bagshot, a yo

s was splendid to-day: a regular rich gold with a sweet stain of red like a leaf of maize i

in my tarp

oor buffer

dy," put in a young

jaw hardened, but

you know

The Comte Ploa

at concern my painting

ot's

you are pa

t me come and see your canvas some day soon, Mr. Bagshot? I remember your picture 'A Passion in the Desert,' at

ting eyes were not to be sneered out of sight. The Frenchman, an envious, disappointed artist, had had in his mind a bloodless duel, to

rows of his

ew not what, sprang to his feet, snatching up a knife; but Gaston was on him like a hawk, pinioning his arm

to the landlord, "from

ot up and were eyeing each other. As to the immediate outcome of the quarrel, there could be no doubt. The Eng

from thi

man got up raging, and made for the door; but this time he was met by the landlord, who gave him his hat, and

wn and began talking of the Englishman's picture again as if nothin

way to force things to his liking, if possible; and he wanted to hear about the woman-why, he did not ask himself. The new arrival, Fancourt b

nothing to go on with. I spent my last sou in visiting the menagerie. There I got an idea. I went to her, told her how I was fixed, and begged her to give

le for the devil," sai

agshot, hurriedly, and the

n the table towards Gaston; and then a y

oug, and what

er," answered Bagshot quickly

presently forgot it for many a day, and then remembered it

e table, Meyerbeer wen

oug, anyway?" Bags

r another pape

a low voice, eagerly

wo hundred and fifty f

gar

dred,

his feet, light

man, do you? Well, I'm hard up; I don't mind gossip among ou

urt, so he departed with Gaston, who courteously dismissed him, to his astonis

partments, and cheer

se; and afterwards dinner with me at the Cafe Blanche. I want a blow-out of lions an

l do this every year. Six months in England, and three months on the Continent,-in your France, if you like,-and th

oiselle Victorine,-passing just below Gaston. He looked down, interested, at the supple, lithe creature making for the cages of lions in the amphitheatre. The figure struck him as familiar. Presently the girl turned, throwing a glance round t

ul of household goods and her father in the grasp of the Law: to-day, Mademoiselle

membered the look in her face when he bade her go

eople of this sort: Mademoiselle Cerise, Madame Juliette, Mad

imaux in Labrador, and took a girl's hand in his; when among the flowers at Peppingham he heard De

of a kind, and an occupation that sent his blood bounding. A dompteur! He had tamed moose, and young mountain lions, and a catamount, and had had mad hours with pumas and arctic bears; and he could understand how even he might easily pass from M.P. to dompteur. It was not intellectual, but it was power of a kind; and it was decent, and healthy, and infinitely better than playing the Jew in business,

of her, Jacques?"

eu, she is wonderful

hing splendid in it: she, herself, was a noble animal; and she seemed entirely in place where she was. The lions were fond of her, and she of them; but the first part of her performance had shown that they could be capricious. A lion's love is but a lion's love after all-and hers likewise, no doubt! The three seemed as one in their beauty, the woman superbly superior. Meyerbeer, in a far corner, was still on the

ame on. Then she spoke softly to him, and made that peculiar purr, soft and rich. Now he responded, walked round her, coming closer, till his body made a half-circle about her, and his head was at her knees. She dropped her hand on it. Great

ired of being introduced to princes. What could it mean to her? And for the young bloods, whose greatest regret was that they could not send forth a daughter of joy into the Champs Elysee in her carriage, she had ever sent them about their business. She had no corner of pardon for them. She kissed her lions, she hugged the lion's

ying her, the dompteuse! Accident had let him render her a service, not unimportant, once at Versailles, and he had been so courteous and considerate afterwards, that she had let him see her occasionally, but never yet alone. He soon saw that an amour was impossible. At last he spoke of marriage. She shook her head. She ought to have been grateful, but s

he chain, and the loveless hand of man, for three months that were burned into her brain-no more! If e

had become as good a friend as such a man could be. She even visited his wife occasionally, and gave gifts to hi

d then a deep flush swept slowly up her face and burned into her splendid hair. Me

e, here's somethi

had a change of temper, and, possibly fretting under inaction, growled. At once she summoned him to get into the chariot. He hesitated, but did so. She put the reins in his paws and took her place behind. Then a robe of purple and ermine was thrown over her shoulders by

rl threw one swift glance; but her face was well control

dre

kable hands. Presently the manager himself came, and said that Mademoiselle Victorine

eeting if possible. There was something in it, he was s

Thither Gaston went, accompanied by the manager, who, however, left him at the door, nodding good-naturedly to Victorine, and inwardly praying that here was no danger to his

nchwoman, who was always with Victorine, vigila

n her cheek. Gaston shook her hand cordi

ringly. "Yes, t

e sit down. This is my dear keeper," she said, touching the woman's shoulde

modestly touched Gasto

once to my dear Mad

cheeril

upon my word!" Pres

f him?" She sighed a

gne three months

ved a hand towar

he answered, not meetin

n artist's model; sicke

ed a travelling menageri

in br

," he said admiring

sful dompteuse

nt. Jacques arrived, and suddenly remembered Andree-stammered, was put at his ease, and dropped into talk with Annette. Gaston fell into reminiscences of wild game, and talked

ould not be interviewed. Besides, she had a visitor. Yes, Meyerbeer knew it-Mr. Gaston Belward; but that did not matter. The manager thought it

a tiger, and a bear,-and they gambolled round her playfully, sometimes quarrelling with each other, but brought up smartly by her voice and a little whip, whi

out his handkerchief, and stanched the blood. She wrapped the handkerchief quickly round her hand, and then, recovering herself, ordered the animals back into their cages. They trotted away, and the attendant locked them up.

n with whom would be an honour; to take his place in his kingdom. He had had no minute's doubt of that. It was nec

ager and Meyerbeer passed her. Meyerbeer heard it, and saw the look in the faces of both: in hers

en men that evening, but none knew. He would ask Ian Belward. What a fool not to have thought of him at first. He knew all the gossip of Paris, and was always communicative-b

ontparnasse, Meyerbeer was not far behind. The journalis

e motioned the other to a chair, and

k a qu

that's penance. Aren'

. I've got th

, whatever it is, I'll be bound. What a nice m

outh is good enough. Well, w

ws where your insolence may run! You may ask

r flushe

ng it in," he

London club. "The question isn't person

It stopped, and came out of his mouth on one long, straight whiff. Then the painter brought hi

is

Zoug-

one solitary q

t's

t is the story? Who is the woman-for yo

, then, whether y

es

emoiselle Victori

upon Paris while I was away. Now, st

he did not wish to speak of Gaston at

oare-and

you tell me

, who is Z

nd

d you'd

ell you if I knew

ll you'll

ug-Zoug alone. He's a man of influence; and he's possessed

did the same, saying:

that bundle of cigarettes, and hunt Zoug-Zoug els

urious. The treatmen

ith an oath, as he shook his fist at the closed door. Ian

ee, surely not Andree! Yet I wasn't called Zoug-Zoug before that

out two or three, put them in a row against a div

et, begad, you had solid virtues; and I wish, for your sake, I had been a different kind o

illustrated newspapers. In one was a portrait. He

oiselle Victorine! That would be amusing. I'd go to-morrow and see, if I we