The novels, romances, and memoirs of Alphonse Daudet (14 page)

It is the Abbe Germane, the Abbe Germane, without his cassock, in short trousers, his neckband floating down over his waistcoat. A single hand has sufficed him to lift the suicide from the stool; with the other hand he still holds his decanter, which he has just filled at the fountain in the court.

The Abb6 Germane stops smiling as he sees Little What's-His-Name's wild face and tearful eyes, and repeats, only this time in a gentle and almost tender voice:

" What an odd idea, my dear Daniel, to try the trapeze at this hour! "

Little What's-His-Name is quite red and abashed,

"I am not trying the trapeze, sir; I want to die,"

"What! You want to die? Are you very unhappy?"

" Oh ! " answers Little What 's-His-Name, with big burning tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Daniel, you must come with me," says the Abbe.

Little What 's-His-Name makes a gesture that he cannot, and points to the iron ring with the cravat. The Abbe Germane takes him by the hand. " Here, come up to my room; if you want to kill yourself, very well, you may do it up there; there is a fire, and it is comfortable."

But Little What's-His-Name resists. "Let me die, sir. You have no right to prevent me from dying."

A flash of anger gleams in the priest's eyes.

"Ah, that's it, is it?" said he. And taking hold of Little What 's-His-Name roughly by the waist, he carries him off under his arm like a bundle, in spite of his resistance and prayers.

Here we are now in the Abbe Germane's room ; a large fire burns in the fireplace; near the fire there is a table with a lighted lamp, some pipes, and piles of papers covered with a scrawling hand.

Little What's-His-Name is seated in the chimney-corner. He is much excited and talks a great deal; he tells the story of his life, his misfortunes, and why he wanted to put an end to everything. The Abbe listens with a smile; then, when the boy has talked and cried his fill, and has relieved his poor sick heart, the kind man takes his hands and says to him very quietly:

"All this is nothing, my boy, and you would have been a great fool to put yourself to death for so little. Your story is very simple; they have discharged you from the school, which, by the way, is great luck for you. Well, you must go, and go at once without waiting out your week.

You are not a cook, the deuce take it! Don't bother about your journey and your debts; I will attend to all that. I will lend you the money you wanted to borrow from that scoundrel. We shall arrange all that to-morrow. Not a word more now! I need to work, and you need to sleep. Only, I do not want you to return to your dreadful dormitory, for you would be cold and frightened there; you must lie down in my bed; there were nice clean sheets put on this morning. I shall write all night, and if I grow sleepy I shall stretch myself on the sofa. Good-night; don't speak any more."

Little What 's-His-Name goes to bed, and makes no further opposition. All that is happening makes the effect of a dream upon him. How many events in one day! After having been so near death, how strange to find himself in a soft bed, in a warm, quiet room !

How comfortable Little What's-His-Name is! From time to time as he opens his eyes, he sees, in the dim light of the shaded lamp, the good Abbe Germane, smoking, and plying his pen quickly and noiselessly from top to bottom of the blank sheets of paper.

I was wakened the next morning by the Abb6, who tapped me on the shoulder. I had forgotten everything in my sleep, and this made my rescuer laugh a great deal.

" Come, my boy," said he, "the bell is ringing; make haste. Nobody will have noticed anything; go and take charge of the boys as usual, and at

the recess at lunch-time I shall expect you here for a talk."

My memory suddenly returned. I tried to thank him, but the good Abbe positively put me out of the door.

I need not say whether the study-hour seemed long to me. The boys were not yet in the court before I was already knocking at the Abbe's door. I found him before his desk, the drawers of which were wide open, occupied in counting gold pieces that he was carefully laying down in little piles.

He turned his head at the noise I made in entering, and then set to work again, without speaking; when he had finished he shut his drawers, and beckoned to me with a kind smile,

" All this is for you," said he. " I have counted up your expenses. This is for your journey, this is for the porter, this is for the Cafe Barbette, and this is for the boy who lent you ten francs. I had put this money aside to provide a substitute for my younger brother, but he will not be drawn for six years, and we shall see each other again before then."

I wanted to speak, but this singular man would not allow me time for it.

" Now, my boy, say good-bye to everybody ; there is the bell ringing for my class, and when I come back from it I don't want to find you here any longer. The air of this Bastille is not good for you. Go straight to Paris, work hard, pray to God, smoke a pipe, and try to be a man. Do you hear? try to be a man. For, you see, my little

Daniel, you are but a child yet, and I am even afraid lest you may be a child all your life."

Thereupon he opened his arms to me with a divine smile; but I threw myself at his feet, sobbing. He lifted me up, and kissed me on both cheeks.

The bell rang for the last time.

" There now, I am late," said he, getting together his books and copy books in haste. As he was about to leave the room he turned again toward me.

" I, too, have a brother in Paris, a very good fellow who is a priest, and you might go and see him. But, in the crazy state you are in, you would only forget his address." And without saying anything further, he began to stride down the stairs. His cassock floated behind him; in his right hand he carried his cap, and, under his left arm a big bundle of books and papers. Kind Abbe Germane ! Before going, I cast a last look about the room; I surveyed for the last time the large library, the little table, the half-extinguished fire, the armchair where I had cried so long, the bed where I had slept so well; and thinking of that mysterious existence in which I could divine so much courage and hidden kindness, so much devotion and resignation, I could not help blushing at my own baseness, and took an oath that I should always remember the Abbe Germane.

Meanwhile the time was passing: I had my trunk to pack, my debts to pay, and my place to engage in the stage.

Just as I was leaving I caught sight of several old black pipes on a corner of the mantelpiece. I took the oldest, blackest, and shortest, and put it in my pocket as a relic ; then I went downstairs. Below, the door of the old gymnasium was still half open. I could not help looking in as I passed, and what I saw made me shudder.

I saw the great, gloomy, cold hall, the polished iron ring, and my violet cravat tied in a slip-noose, waving in the draught of air above the overturned stool.

CHAPTER XIII.

M, VIOT'S keys.

As I was hurrying out of the schoolhouse, still moved by the horrible sight I had just seen, the porter's lodge opened abruptly, and I heard some one calling me:

" Monsieur Eyssette ! Monsieur Eyssette ! "

It was the proprietor of the Cafe Barbette and his worthy friend M. Cassagne, looking scared and almost insolent.

The owner of the caf6 spoke first.

" Is it true that you are going away, Monsieur Eyssette? "

"Yes, Monsieur Barbette," I answered calmly; " I am going to-day."

M. Barbette gave a bound, and M. Cassagne another; but M. Barbette's bound was much greater than M. Cassagne's, because I owed him much more money.

"What! to-day?"

" To-day; and I am going out in haste to engage my seat in the stage."

I thought they were going to spring at my throat.

" And my money? " said M. Barbette.

"And mine?" shrieked M. Cassagne.

Without answering, I entered the lodge, and gravely drawing out by handfuls the Abb6 Ger-mane's beautiful gold pieces, I began to count out on the end of the table what I owed them both.

This was most unforeseen. The two scowling faces smoothed themselves out as if by magic. When they had pocketed their money, being a little ashamed of the fears they had shown me, and very happy to be paid, they overflowed in compliments, condolences, and protestations of friendship.

"Are you really leaving us, Monsieur Eyssette? Oh ! What a pity! What a loss to the school! "

Then followed ohs! and ahs! regrets, sighs, handshakes, and suppressed tears.

The evening before, I might have been taken in by this semblance of affection; but now I was rough-shod in matters of sentiment.

The few minutes passed in the arbor had taught me to know mankind, — at least, I thought so,— and the more affable these low fellows appeared, the more disgust they inspired in me. Therefore, cutting short their ridiculous effusions, I left the school, and went at once to engage my seat in the blessed stage that was to carry me far from all these monsters.

Returning from the stage-coach office, I passed in front of the Cafe Barbette, but I did not go in; the place was hateful to me. Only, impelled by I know not what unhealthy curiosity, I looked in through the dirty window-panes. The cafe was full of people; it was the day for playing pool.

Through the pipe-smoke I could see the bright tufts of the shakoes and the shining sword-belts hanging on the pegs. The noble fellows were there all told, none but the fencing-master was missing.

I looked for a moment at those coarse red faces, multiplied in the mirrors, at the absinthe dancing in the glasses, and the decanters of brandy, notched on the edges, and the thought that I had lived in that sty made me blush. I could see again Little What 's-His-Name moving round the billiard-table, marking the points, paying for the punch, humiliated, despised, degenerating day by day, — either chewing the end of a pipe or humming a barrack-room ballad. This vision terrified me still more than that I had had in the hall of the gymnasium, when I saw my little violet cravat floating in the air. I fled.

Now, as I was on my way to the school, followed by the stage porter who was to carry my trunk, I saw the fencing-master briskly approaching the square, a cane in his hand, and his felt hat cocked over one ear, as he watched the reflection of his fine moustache in his beautiful patent-leather boots. From a distance I looked at him with admiration, saying to myself: " What a pity that such a handsome man should have such an ugly soul! " He, on his side, had caught sight of me, and came toward me with a kind, loyal smile, and his two arms wide open. Oh ! that arbor !

" I was searching for you," said he. " What is it I hear? You—"

He stopped short. My look froze the lying phrases on his lips. And in this steady, direct glance, face to face, the wretch must have read many things, for suddenly he turned pale, stammered, and lost countenance. But it was only for a moment; he recovered his florid manner immediately, looked straight into my eyes with eyes cold and glittering as steel, and thrusting his hands deep into his pockets with an air of resolution, he left me, muttering that those who were not satisfied would only have to come and tell him so.

Go, ruffian!

When I reached the school the boys were at recitation. We went up to my attic; the porter hoisted the trunk on his shoulders and went downstairs with it. I stayed a few moments longer in that glacial room, looking at the bare dirty walls, the black slashed desk, and through the narrow window, at the plane-trees in the court that showed their snow-covered tops. And in my heart I said good-bye to all.

Just then I heard a voice of thunder scolding in the recitation-room. It was the Abbe Germane's voice. It warmed my heart and brought a few refreshing tears to my eyes.

After this, I went slowly downstairs, looking attentively about me, as if to carry away in my eyes the complete image of these places that I was never to see again. It was thus I traversed the long corridors with the high, grated windows, where the black eyes had appeared to me for the first time. God bless you, dear black eyes! I

passed also in front of the principal's study, with its mysterious double door; then, a few steps farther on, in front of M. Viot's study. There I stopped suddenly. Oh, joy and delight! The keys, the terrible keys were hanging in the lock, and the wind stirred them gently. I looked at them with a kind of religious terror; then, all at once, a thought of revenge overtook me. Treacherously, and with a sacrilegious hand, I extracted the bunch from the lock, and hiding it under my overcoat rushed downstairs at full speed.

In the court of the intermediates there was a very deep well. I flew straight to it. At that hour the court was deserted; the fairy in spectacles had not yet raised her curtain. Everything favored my crime. Then, drawing the keys from under my coat, those wretched keys that had made me suffer so much, I threw them with all my might into the well. Clink, clank, clink! I heard them tumbling down, rebounding against the sides, and falling heavily into the water, which closed over them ; and then, having committed the crime, I went smiling away.

In the vestibule, as I left the school, the last person I met was M. Viot, but a M. Viot without his keys, haggard and wild, running right and left. When he passed me, for a moment he looked at me with anguish. The poor man wanted to ask me if I had not seen them, but he did not dare. At this moment the porter bent over the top of the staircase and shouted : " Monsieur Viot, I cannot find them." I heard the owner of the keys

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say: " O my God ! " in a low voice, and then he started off like a madman in pursuit.

I should have been glad to enjoy this spectacle a little longer, but the horn of the stage sounded from the parade ground, and I did not want to have it go without me.

And now farewell forever, great smoky school-house, built of old iron and black stones; farewell, bad boys; farewell, harsh discipline ! Little What 's-His-Name is taking flight, and will come back no more. And you. Marquis de Boucoyran, you may consider yourself lucky; he is going away without running you through with that famous thrust, so long meditated with the noble fellows of the Caf(6 Barbette.