Caught in the Net

  CHAPTER VII.

  IN THE STUDIO.

  Staggering like a drunken man, Paul Violaine descended the stairswhen his interview with Mascarin had been concluded. The sudden andunexpected good fortune which had fallen so opportunely at his feethad for the moment absolutely stunned him. He was now removed from aposition which had caused him to gaze with longing upon the still watersof the Seine, to one of comparative affluence. "Mascarin," said he tohimself, "has offered me an appointment bringing in twelve thousandfrancs per annum, and proposed to give me the first month's salary inadvance."

  Certainly it was enough to bewilder any man, and Paul was utterly dazed.He went over all the events that had occurred during the day--the suddenappearance of old Tantaine, with his loan of five hundred francs, andthe strange man who knew the whole history of his life, and who, withoutmaking any conditions, had offered him a valuable situation. Paul wasin no particular hurry to get back to the Hotel de Perou, for he said tohimself that Rose could wait. A feeling of restlessness had seizedupon him. He wanted to squander money, and to have the sympathy of somecompanions,--but where should he go, for he had no friends? Searchingthe records of his memory, he remembered that, when poverty had firstovertaken him, he had borrowed twenty francs from a young fellow of hisown age, named Andre. Some gold coins still jingled in his pocket, andhe could have a thousand francs for the asking. Would it not add to hisimportance if he were to go and pay this debt? Unluckily his creditorlived a long distance off in the Rue de la Tour d'Auvergne. He, however,hailed a passing cab, and was driven to Andre's address. This young manwas only a casual acquaintance, whom Paul had picked up one day in asmall wine-shop to which he used to take Rose when he first arrivedin Paris. Andre, with whose other name Paul was unacquainted, was anartist, and, in addition, was an ornamental sculptor, and executedthose wonderful decorations on the outside of houses in which buildersdelight. The trade is not a pleasant one, for it necessitates workingat dizzy heights, on scaffolds that vibrate with every footstep,and exposes you to the heat of summer and the frosts of winter. Thebusiness, however, is well paid, and Andre got a good price for hisstone figures and wreaths. But all the money he earned went in the studyof the painter's art, which was the secret desire of his soul. Hehad taken a studio, and twice his pictures had been exhibited at the_Salon_, and orders began to come in. Many of his brother artistspredicted a glorious future for him. When the cab stopped, Paul threwthe fare to the driver, and asked the clean-looking portress, who waspolishing the brasswork on the door, if M. Andre was at home.

  "He is, sir," replied the old woman, adding, with much volubility, "andyou are likely to find him in, for he has so much work; but he is such agood and quiet young man, and so regular in his habits! I don't believehe owes a penny in the world; and as for drink, why he is a perfectAnchorite. Then he has very few acquaintances,--one young lady, whoseface for a month past I have tried to see, but failed, because she wearsa veil, comes to see him, accompanied by her maid."

  "Good heavens, woman!" cried Paul impatiently, "will you tell me whereto find M. Andre?"

  "Fourth floor, first door to the right," answered the portress, angry atbeing interrupted; and as Paul ran up the stairs, she muttered, "A youngchap with no manners, taking the words out of a body's mouth like that!Next time he comes, I'll serve him out somehow."

  Paul found the door, with a card with the word "Andre" marked upon itnailed up, and rapped on the panel. He heard the sound of a piece offurniture being moved, and the jingle of rings being passed along a rod;then a clear, youthful voice answered, "Come in!"

  Paul entered, and found himself in a large, airy room, lighted by askylight, and exquisitely clean and orderly. Sketches and drawings weresuspended on the walls; there was a handsome carpet from Tunis, anda comfortable lounge; a mirror in a carved frame, which would havegladdened the heart of a connoisseur, stood upon the mantelpiece. Aneasel with a picture upon it, covered with a green baize curtain, stoodin one corner. The young painter was in the centre of his studio, brushand palette in hand. He was a dark, handsome young man, well built andproportioned, with close-cut hair, and a curling beard flowing down overhis chest. His face was full of expression, and the energy and vigorimprinted upon it formed a marked contrast to the appearance ofMascarin's _protege_. Paul noticed that he did not wear the usualpainter's blouse, but was carefully dressed in the prevailing fashion.As soon as he recognized Paul, Andre came forward with extended hand."Ah," said he, "I am pleased to see you, for I often wondered what hadbecome of you."

  Paul was offended at this familiar greeting. "I have had many worriesand disappointments," said he.

  "And Rose," said Andre, "how is she--as pretty as ever, I suppose?"

  "Yes, yes," answered Paul negligently; "but you must forgive me forhaving vanished so suddenly. I have come to repay your loan, with manythanks."

  "Pshaw!" returned the painter, "I never thought of the matter again;pray, do not inconvenience yourself."

  Again Paul felt annoyed, for he fancied that under the cloak of assumedgenerosity the painter meant to humiliate him; and the opportunity ofairing his newly-found grandeur occurred to him.

  "It was a convenience to me, certainly," said he, "but I am all rightnow, having a salary of twelve thousand francs."

  He thought that the artist would be dazzled, and that the mention ofthis sum would draw from him some exclamations of surprise and envy.Andre, however, made no reply, and Paul was obliged to wind up with thelame conclusion, "And at my age that is not so bad."

  "I should call it superb. Should I be indiscreet in asking what you aredoing?"

  The question was a most natural one, but Paul could not reply to it,as he was entirely ignorant as to what his employment was to be, and hefelt as angry as if the painter had wantonly insulted him.

  "I work for it," said he, drawing himself up with such a strangeexpression of voice and feature that Andre could not fail to notice it.

  "I work too," remarked he; "I am never idle."

  "But I have to work very hard," returned Paul, "for I have not, likeyou, a friend or protector to interest himself in me."

  Paul, who had not a particle of gratitude in his disposition, hadentirely forgotten Mascarin.

  The artist was much amused by this speech. "And where do you think thata foundling, as I am, would find a protector?"

  Paul opened his eyes. "What," said he, "are you one of those?"

  "I am; I make no secret of it, hoping that there is no occasion for meto feel shame, though there may be for grief. All my friends know this;and I am surprised that you are not aware that I am simply a foundlingfrom the Hopital de Vendome. Up to twelve years of age I was perfectlyhappy, and the master praised me for the knack I had of acquiringknowledge. I used to work in the garden by day, and in the evening Iwasted reams of paper; for I had made up my mind to be an artist. Butnothing goes easily in this world, and one day the lady superintendentconceived the idea of apprenticing me to a tanner."

  Paul, who had taken a seat on the divan in order to listen, herecommenced making a cigarette; but Andre stopped him. "Excuse me; butwill you oblige me by not smoking?"

  Paul tossed the cigarette aside, though he was a little surprised,as the painter was an inveterate smoker. "All right," said he, "butcontinue your story."

  "I will; it is a long one. I hated the tanner's business from thevery beginning. Almost the first day an awkward workman scalded me soseverely that the traces still remain." As he spoke he rolled up hisshirt sleeve, and exhibited a scar that covered nearly all one sideof his arm. "Horrified at such a commencement, I entreated the ladysuperintendent, a hideous old woman in spectacles, to apprentice me tosome other trade, but she sternly refused. She had made up her mind thatI should be a tanner."

  "That was very nasty of her," remarked Paul.

  "It was, indeed; but from that day I made up my mind, and I determinedto run away as soon as I could get a little money together. I thereforestuck steadily to the business, and by the end of the yea
r, by means ofthe strictest economy, I found myself master of thirty francs. This, Ithought, would do, and, with a bundle containing a change of linen, Istarted on foot for Paris. I was only thirteen, but I had been gifted byProvidence with plenty of that strong will called by many obstinacy. Ihad made up my mind to be a painter."

  "And you kept your vow?"

  "But with the greatest difficulty. Ah! I can close my eyes and see theplace where I slept that first night I came to Paris. I was so exhaustedthat I did not awake for twelve hours. I ordered a good breakfast; andfinding funds at a very low ebb, I started in search of work."

  Paul smiled. He, too, remembered _his_ first day in Paris. He wastwenty-two years of age, and had forty francs in his pocket.

  "I wanted to make money--for I felt I needed it--to enable me to pursuemy studies. A stout man was seated near me at breakfast, and to him Iaddressed myself.

  "'Look here,' said I, 'I am thirteen, and much stronger than I look. Ican read and write. Tell me how I can earn a living.'

  "He looked steadily at me, and in a rough voice answered, 'Go to themarket to-morrow morning, and try if one of the master masons, who areon the lookout for hands, will employ you.'"

  "And you went?"

  "I did; and was eagerly watching the head masons, when I perceived mystout friend coming toward me.

  "'I like the looks of you, my lad,' he said; 'I am an ornamentalsculptor. Do you care to learn my trade?'

  "When I heard this proposal, it seemed as if Paradise was opening beforeme, and I agreed with enthusiasm."

  "And how about your painting?"

  "That came later on. I worked hard at it in all my hours of leisure. Iattended the evening schools, and worked steadily at my art and otherbranches of education. It was a very long time before I ventured toindulge in a glass of beer. 'No, no, Andre,' I would say to myself,'beer costs six sous; lay the money by.' Finally, when I was earningfrom eighty to a hundred francs a week, I was able to give more time tothe brush."

  The recital of this life of toil and self-denial, so different from hisown selfish and idle career, was inexpressibly mortifying to Paul; buthe felt that he was called upon to say something.

  "When one has talents like yours," said he, "success follows as a matterof course."

  He rose to his feet, and affected to examine the sketches on the walls,though his attention was attracted to the covered picture on the easel.He remembered what the garrulous old portress had said about the veiledlady who sometimes visited the painter, and that there had been somedelay in admitting him when he first knocked. Then he considered, forwhom had the painter dressed himself with such care? and why had herequested him not to smoke? From all these facts Paul came to theconclusion that Andre was expecting the lady's visit, and that theveiled picture was her portrait. He therefore determined to see it;and with this end in view, he walked round the studio, admiring all thepaintings on the walls, maneuvering in such a manner as to imperceptiblydraw nearer to the easel.

  "And this," said he, suddenly extending his hand toward the cover, "is,I presume, the gem of your studio?"

  But Andre was by no means dull, and had divined Paul's intention,and grasped the young man's outstretched hand just as it touched thecurtain.

  "If I veil this picture," said he, "it is because I do not wish it to beseen."

  "Excuse me," answered Paul, trying to pass over the matter as a jest,though in reality he was boiling over with rage at the manner and toneof the painter, and considered his caution utterly ridiculous.

  "At any rate," said he to himself, "I will lengthen out my visit, andhave a glimpse of the original instead of her picture;" and, with thisamiable resolution, he sat down by the artist's table, and commenced anapparently interminable story, resolved not to attend to any hints hisfriend might throw out, who was glancing at the clock with the utmostanxiety, comparing it every now and then with his watch.

  As Paul talked on, he saw close to him on the table the photograph of ayoung lady, and, taking advantage of the artist's preoccupation, lookedat it.

  "Pretty, very pretty!" remarked he.

  At these words the painter flushed crimson, and snatching away thephotograph with some little degree of violence, thrust it between theleaves of a book.

  Andre was so evidently in a patina, that Paul rose to his feet, and fora second or two the men looked into each other's eyes as two adversariesdo when about to engage in a mortal duel. They knew but little ofeach other, and the same chance which had brought them togethermight separate them again at any moment, but each felt that the otherexercised some influence over his life.

  Andre was the first to recover himself.

  "You must excuse me; but I was wrong to leave so precious an articleabout."

  Paul bowed with the air of a man who accepts an apology which heconsiders his due; and Andre went on,--

  "I very rarely receive any one except my friends; but to-day I havebroken through my rule."

  Paul interrupted him with a magniloquent wave of the hand.

  "Believe me, sir," said he, in a voice which he endeavoured to rendercutting and sarcastic, "had it not been for the imperative duty I beforealluded to, I should not have intruded."

  And with these words he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

  "The deuce take the impudent fool!" muttered Andre. "I was stronglytempted to pitch him out of the window."

  Paul was in a furious rage for having visited the studio with the kindlydesire of humiliating the painter. He could not but feel that the tableshad been turned upon himself.

  "He shall not have it all his own way," muttered he; "for I will see thelady," and not reflecting on the meanness of his conduct, he crossed thestreet, and took up a position from which he could obtain a good view ofthe house where Andre resided. It was snowing; but Paul disregarded theinclemency of the weather in his eagerness to act the spy.

  He had waited for fully half an hour, when a cab drove up. Two womenalighted from it. The one was eminently aristocratic in appearance,while the other looked like a respectable servant. Paul drew closer;and, in spite of a thick veil, recognized the features he had seen inthe photograph.

  "Ah!" said he, "after all, Rose is more to my taste, and I will get backto her. We will pay up Loupins, and get out of his horrible den."