Bohemians of the Latin Quarter. Henri Murger

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СКАЧАТЬ the precious objects which I leave there, putting them under your protection and that of the law, which hinders you from selling them before the expiration of a year, in case you should be disposed to try to do so with the object of obtaining the sum for which you stand credited in the ledger of my honesty. I commend to your special care my piano, and also the large frame containing sixty locks of hair whose different colours run through the whole gamut of capillary shades; the scissors of love have stolen them from the forehead of the Graces."

      "Therefore, dear sir, and landlord, you may dispose of the roof under which I have dwelt. I grant you full authority, and have hereto set my hand and seal."

      "ALEXANDER SCHAUNARD"

      On finishing this letter, (which the artist had written at the desk of a friend who was a clerk in the War Office,) Monsieur Bernard indignantly crushed it in his hand, and as his glance fell on old Durand, who was waiting for the promised gratification, he roughly demanded what he was doing.

      "Waiting, sir."

      "For what?"

      "For the present, on account of the good news," stammered the porter.

      "Get out, you scoundrel! Do you presume to speak to me with your cap on?"

      "But, sir—"

      "Don't you answer me! Get out! No, stay there! We shall go up to the room of that scamp of an artist who has run off without paying."

      "What! Monsieur Schaunard?" ejaculated the porter.

      "Yes," cried the landlord with increasing fury, "and if he has carried away the smallest article, I send you off, straight off!"

      "But it can't be," murmured the poor porter, "Monsieur Schaunard has not run away. He has gone to get change to pay you, and order a cart for his furniture."

      "A cart for his furniture!" exclaimed the other, "run! I'm sure he has it here. He laid a trap to get you away from your lodge, fool that you are!"

      "Fool that I am! Heaven help me!" cried the porter, all in a tremble before the thundering wrath of his superior, who hurried him down the stairs. When they arrived in the court the porter was hailed by the young man in the white hat.

      "Come now! Am I not soon going to be in possession of my lodging? Is this the eighth of April? Did I hire a room here and pay you a deposit to bind the bargain? Yes or no?"

      "Excuse me, sir," interposed the landlord, "I am at your service. Durand, I will talk to the gentleman myself. Run up there, that scamp Schaunard has come back to pack up. If you find him, shut him in, and then come down again and run for the police."

      Old Durand vanished up the staircase.

      "Excuse me, sir," continued the landlord, with a bow to the young man now left alone with him, "to whom have I the honour of speaking?"

      "Your new tenant. I have hired a room in the sixth story of this house, and am beginning to be tired of waiting for my lodging to become vacant."

      "I am very sorry indeed," replied Monsieur Bernard, "there has been a little difficulty with one of my tenants, the one whom you are to replace."

      "Sir," cried old Durand from a window at the very top of the house, "Monsieur Schaunard is not here, but his room—stupid!—I mean he has carried nothing away, not a hair, sir!"

      "Very well, come down," replied the landlord. "Have a little patience, I beg of you," he continued to the young man. "My porter will bring down to the cellar the furniture in the room of my defaulting tenant, and you may take possession in half an hour. Beside, your furniture has not come yet."

      "But it has," answered the young man quietly.

      Monsieur Bernard looked around, and saw only the large screens which had already mystified his porter.

      "How is this?" he muttered. "I don't see anything."

      "Behold!" replied the youth, unfolding the leaves of the frame, and displaying to the view of the astonished landlord a magnificent interior of a palace, with jasper columns, bas-reliefs, and paintings of old masters.

      "But your furniture?" demanded Monsieur Bernard.

      "Here it is," replied the young man, pointing to the splendid furniture painted in the palace, which he had bought at a sale of second-hand theatrical decorations.

      "I hope you have some more serious furniture than this," said the landlord. "You know I must have security for my rent."

      "The deuce! Is a palace not sufficient security for the rent of a garret?"

      "No sir, I want real chairs and tables in solid mahogany."

      "Alas! Neither gold nor mahogany makes us happy, as for the ancient poet well says. And I can't bear mahogany; it's too common a wood. Everybody has it."

      "But surely sir, you must have some sort of furniture."

      "No, it takes up too much room. You are stuck full of chairs, and have no place to sit down."

      "But at any rate, you have a bed. What do you sleep on?"

      "On a good conscience, sir."

      "Excuse me, one more question," said the landlord, "What is your profession?"

      At this very moment the young man's porter, returning on his second trip, entered the court. Among the articles with which his truck was loaded, an easel occupied a conspicuous position.

      "Sir! Sir!!" shrieked old Durance, pointing out the easel to his landlord, "it's a painter!"

      "I was sure he was an artist!" exclaimed the landlord in his turn, the hair of his wig standing up in affright, "a painter!! And you never inquired after this person," he continued to his porter, "you didn't know what he did!"

      "He gave me five francs arrest," answered the poor fellow, "how could I suspect—"

      "When you have finished," put in the stranger—

      "Sir," replied Monsieur Bernard, mounting his spectacles with great decision, "since you have no furniture, you can't come in. The law authorizes me to refuse a tenant who brings no security."

      "And my word, then?"

      "Your word is not furniture, you must go somewhere else. Durance will give you back your earnest money."

      "Oh dear!" exclaimed the porter, in consternation, "I've put it in the Savings' Bank."

      "But consider sir," objected the young man. "I can't find another lodging in a moment! At least grant me hospitality for a day."

      "Go to a hotel!" replied Monsieur Bernard. "By the way," added he, struck with a sudden idea, "if you like, I can let you a furnished room, the one you were to occupy, which has the furniture of my defaulting tenant in it. Only you know that when rooms are let this way, you pay in advance."

      "Well," said the artist, finding he could do no better, "I should like to know what you are going to ask me for your hole."

      "It is a very comfortable lodging, and the rent СКАЧАТЬ