CHAPTER XXI
Three weeks to a day from the time he had left Lewis in Paris, as Neltonwas serving him with breakfast, Leighton received a telegram that gavehim no inconsiderable shock. The telegram was from Le Brux.
"Come at once," it said; "your son has killed me."
Leighton steadied himself with the thought that Le Brux was still aliveenough to wire before he said:
"Nelton, I'm off for Paris at once. You have half an hour to pack andget me to Charing Cross."
Nine hours later he was taking the stairs at Le Brux's two steps at atime. As he approached the atelier, he heard sighing groans. He threwopen the door without knocking. Stretched on the couch was the giantframe, wallowing feebly like a harpooned whale at the last gasp.
"_Matre!_" cried Leighton.
The sculptor half raised himself, turned a worn face on Leighton, andthen burst into a tremendous laugh--one of those laughs that is soviolent as to be painful.
"Ha! ha! ha! Ho! ho! ho!" he roared, and fell back upon his side.
Leighton felt somebody pecking at his arm. He turned, to find the oldconcierge beside him.
"Oh, sir," she almost wept, "can't you do something? He has been likethat all day."
"Go," he said, "bring me a pail of water." He stood watching Le Bruxuntil she returned. "Now," he said, "go out and close the door afteryou."
"Don't be rough with him," sighed the fat concierge as she waddledtoward the door, drying her hands on her apron.
"Le Brux," said Leighton, "Le Brux!"
"Yes, I hear," gasped the sculptor, his eyes tight shut.
"Le Brux, where is your wound?"
"My wound? Ha! my wound! He would know where is my wound! Here, here, myold one, here!" He passed his two hands over his shaking ribs.
"Well, then," said Leighton, "take that!" and he dashed the pail ofwater over the prostrate giant.
Le Brux gasped, gulped, and then sat up on the couch. He suddenly becamevery grave. Water trickled off his chin upon his hairy chest. The soakedsmock clung to his arms and legs, accentuating the tremendous muscles."M'sieu' Letonne," he said, with alarming calm, "you have committed anunpardonable impertinence. At the same time you have unwittingly savedmy life. You have heard of men, strong men, laughing themselves todeath?"
Leighton, who had seated himself, bowed.
"Well," continued Le Brux, "I can assure you that you and your pail ofslops arrived only in time to avert a tragedy. That fact entitles itselfto recognition, and I am consequently going to tell you all that hashappened before we part--definitely."
Leighton bowed again.
"As you prophesied, your boy won his way into my foolish heart. I usedhim as a model frequently, and let him hang around me in my idlemoments. I even gave him clay to play with, and he played with it tosome effect, his great fault--and it is a very great one--being atendency to do things in miniature. I reproved him good-naturedly--forme, and he so far improved as to model a horse--the size of the palm ofyour hand."
Leighton bowed once more in recognition of the pause.
"One day," continued Le Brux, "the boy rushed in here without knocking.He had something to show me. I did not have the hardihood to rebuke him,but, remembering myself in the quality of wet nurse, I was dismayed, foron this very couch lay Cellette--Cellette _simple_, without garnishings,you understand. She was lying on her front, her chin in her hand, andreading a book. I let her read a book, when I can, for my own peace.
"Well, the boy showed me what he had to show, and that gave me time tocollect my wits. I saw him look at Cellette without a tremor, and justas I was deciding to take the moment by the horns, he did it for me.'Oh,' he said, 'are you working on her? _Mon matre_, please let mewatch!' A vile tongue, English, to understand, but it was easy to readhis eyes. I said, 'Watch away, my child,' and I continued to transmitCellette to the cloud up there in my big group. The boy stood around.When I glanced at the model, his eyes followed. When I worked, he workedwith me.
"My old one, you may believe it or not, but I felt that boy's fingersitching all the time. Finally, I chucked a great lump of clay upon thebench yonder, and I said, 'Here, go ahead; you model her, too.'Then--then--he--he said----" Le Brux showed signs of choking. Hecontrolled himself, and continued--"he said, 'I can't model anything,_Maitre_, unless I feel it first'"
"Letonne, I give you my word of honor that I kept my face. I not onlykept my face, but I said to Cellette--she hadn't so much as looked upfrom her book--I said to her, 'Cellette, this young sculptor would liketo model you, but he says he must feel you first.' Cellette lookedaround at that. You know those gamine eyes of hers that are always surethey'll never see anything new in the world? But you don't. In yearsCellette is very young--long after your time. Well, she turned thoseeyes around, looked the boy over, and said" 'Let the babe feel.' Thenshe went back to her book.
"I waved the boy to her, gravely, with a working of my fingers that wasas plain as French. It said, 'The lady says you may feel.' The boy stepsforward, and I pretend to go on with my work."
Le Brux stopped. "Excuse me, my friend," he said nervously. "Will youkindly send for another pail of water?"
Leighton glanced into the pail.
"There's enough left," he said impatiently. "Go on."
"Ah, yes," sighed Le Brux, "go on. Just like that, go on. Well, your boywent on. He felt her head, her arms, her shoulders; you could see hisfingers seeking things out. Cellette is a model born--and trained. Shestood it wonderfully until he came to the muscles of her back. You knowhow we all like to have our backs scratched, just like dogs and cats?Well, I don't suppose Cellette had ever happened on just that feelingbefore. It touched the cat chord. She began to gurgle and--and wriggle.'Keep still, please,' says the boy, very grave and earnest. And a minutelater, 'Keep still, will you?' Then he came to her ribs."
Le Brux's cheeks puffed out, and he showed other signs of distress, buthe controlled himself.
"After that," he continued, "things happened more or less at one and thesame time. Cellette giggled and squirmed. Then the boy got angry andcried, 'Will you keep still? and grabbed her by the shoulders and shookher! Shook Cellette till her little head went zig-zag-zigzag. It tookher the sixteenth part of a second to get to her feet, and when sheslapped him I myself saw stars. At the same time I saw her face, and Iyelled, 'Run, boy! Run!' For a second he stood paralyzed withwonder,--just long enough for her to get in another slap,--and then,just as she was curving her fingers, he--he ran. Her nails only took astrip out of his jacket! Oh! oh!"
"_Maitre,"_ cried Leighton, tears crawling down his cheeks, "don't youdare stop! Go on! Go _on_ Finish now while you have the strength."
"Here they passed and there," groaned Le Brux, pointing at bits of ruin,"then I yelled, 'Boy, don't go out of the door, whatever you do. She'llfollow sure, and we'll never hear the last of it.' Then the thought cameto me that he was the son of my friend. I lifted up the end of thethrone. He shot under it. I let it down quickly. I sat upon it. Ilaughed--I----"
Le Brux stopped and stared. Leighton, his feet outstretched, his headthrown back, his arms hanging limp, was laughing as he had never laughedbefore. As quick as a cat, Le Brux reached out for the pail and dashedits remaining contents in Leighton's face.
"I cannot bear an obligation," he said grimly as Leighton spluttered andchoked. "Thou savedst my life; I save thine. How is it you say inEnglish? 'One good turn deserves another!'"
"_Matre,"_ said Leighton, drying his face and then his eyes, "where isthe boy now? He's--he's not still under the throne?"
"I don't know where he is," said Le Brux. "He's not under the throne. Iremember, vaguely, it is true, but I remember letting him out. That wasthis morning. Then I wired to you. Since then I have been laughingmyself to death."
Leighton continued to wipe his eyes, but Le Brux had sobered down.
"Talk about my mighty impersonality before the nude?" he cried."Impersonality! Bah! Mine? Let me tell you that for your boy the nude inthe human form doesn'
t _exist_ any more than a nude snake, fish, dog,cat, or canary exists for you or me. He's the most natural, practical,educated human being I ever came across, and there are several thousandmothers in France that would do well to send their _jeunes filles_ tothe school that turned him out. In other words, my friend, your boy isso fresh that I have no mind to be the one to watch him wither or wakeup or do any of the things that Paris leads to. I wired for you to takehim away."
"We'll have to find him first," said Leighton. "Let's look in his room."
Together they walked down the hall. Leighton opened the door withoutknocking. He stood transfixed. Le Brux stared over his shoulder. Lewis,with his back to them, was working feverishly at the wet clay piled on aboard laid across the backs of two chairs. On Lewis's little bed layCellette, front down, her chin in her hand, and reading a book.
"Holy name of ten thousand pigs!" murmured Le Brux.
Lewis turned.
"Why, Dad!" he cried, "I _am_ glad to see you!"
Leighton's heart was in the grip he gave the boy's hand so frankly heldout.
"_Maitre_," remarked Cellette from the bed, "believe me if you can: heis still a babe."
"A babe!" cried Le Brux, catching Lewis with finger and thumb andlifting him away from the board. "I should say he is. Here!" He caughtup chunks of wet clay and hurled them at Lewis's dainty model ofCellette. He started molding with sweeps of his thumb. A gigantic, butgraceful, leg began to take form. He turned and caught Lewis again andshook him till his head rolled. "Big!" he roared, thumping his chest."Make it big--like me!"
Leighton returned to London alone.