Short Story

Lake County Press, Issue 2392, 7 September 1911, Page 7

Short Story

HIS CATHERINE

1 Monsieur, the Alsatian who owns the dog with the queer name is downstairs.’ * What does he want ?’ I He wants to see you. My wife has told him over and over again that you were dressing for the rehearsal of Psudolphc’s Vacations and must not be disturbed, bat. he will not listen to her. Ho says he must stay until he has seen you, or something terrible will happen.’ * Something terrible will happen ?’ *At least, that is what wo think wo can, make out of his jargon.’ ‘ Ah! poor Apinzelher ; let him come

Apinzelher was my shoemaker, and served in the same capacity that artistic phalanx, consisting of Murgor, Pbiloxcno Boyer, A. Darjou, Buhot, Lambert-Thiboust, all of whom are now dead, and many others rich and celebrated to-day. Proud of working for artists, this good Apinzelher waited with angelic patience for the final settlement of Lis bills until we should have made our fortunes, in the meantime contenting himself with what meagre payments we made him on account.

Never daring to present a bill himself he relegated this duty to his dog, which he called the ‘ Marshal,’ a black sheep-dog with won derfully intelligent eyes which had a truly human look. Apinzelher would take him to the debtor’s door, put his finger to his lips, and the animal, which knew what that meant would sit down on his haunches, with his head and chest well up, and open his mouth, iuto which his master would insert, the bill. Tnen Apinzelher would rap or ring at tho door and quick, quick, rush down the stairs to the floor below.

This strangest of marshals was always warmly welcomed. It was impossible to avoid laughing at the sight of him, ami one could not but be touched at the master’s di--cretion and the dog's intelligence. Then would follow a search through drawers and pockets, and we always managed somehow to bring to light two or three francs for the shoemaker and a lump of sugar for the Marshal ; then, if we were to lean a little way over the banisters, we could hear a ‘Very gradevul to you, sir!’ from the Al-atian’s lips as he hastened to credit the amount on the bill. But this mode of payment did not, as you may well suppose, enrich him. and all this while he was in love with Catherine Sandalbeir, a child of Saverno like himself. This young girl, on being left an or phan had come to Paris to seek a servant's place. Then it was that his native village seemed gloomy and desolate to poor Apiuzelher, until one day ho gathered his traps together and made straight for the C.tpi tal !

The first year was a desperate one ; finally he obtained a situation with a fashionable shoemaker, who, taking advantage of his poverty and timidity, so overworked him that lie fell ill and had to leave his place for the hospital, where he was obliged to stav three months. It was there he made the acquaintance of Muger, who occupied a neighboring bod. The authr of ‘Bohemian Life ’ interested himself in the poor fellow and obtained for him bis artistic but sadly uuromunerative patronage.

On the day that one of Apinzelher’s customers (who is now among the earth's ex alted) made up his mind, as he steppe I on the first rung of the ladder that was to lead to his presert fortune, to settle all the debts of his Bohemian youth, the marshal-dog brought back 250 francs in bank notes to his master.

Apinzelher, forgetting in his joy that he owed his landlord three months’ rent, bought a bed,’ a wardrobe, six chairs, a table and some cooking utensi’s and ran straightway to Catherine. To tell her of his good fortune and beg her to give her mistress a week’s notice was the affair of a minute, for in such haste was he to be married that he wished to buy the banns at once. But it so happened that on his way to carry out tids intention it crossed his mind that the new furniture about to be brought home would but make more apparent the dinginess of the room. If be Uta not buy the tanns cow be could treat himself to a now wall paper. The wall paper entailed the r ecessity of a coat of paint for the base-board, and the scrubbing and varnishing of doors and windows; and as one extravagance leads to another, he determined to paint his rt ior in. sqaares, and subjected the room which served as boh kitchen and workshop to a most exhaustive cleaning. Who rubbed his hands in delight at ail this?

The landlord, to be sure, as he saw his rooms furnished up like new, an I the arrears of rent guaranteed hy the furniture : and very careful was ho not to gi o sign of life while the work of decoration was going on. But what an awakening was to come !

One Sunday morning, after having listen 'd to the third announcement of Ids banns, and having definitely set the following Saturday for his wedding-day, Apinzelher was sitting in one of the new chairs ia the middle of the • nuptial ’ chamber. His honest face shone with an express.'ion of artless admiration and unmixed happiness, when three sharp knocks atthe door drew him from his ecstasy. He opened the door and found himself iu the presence of his corceirge, who hand'd him a document which had been left for him the night before. What became of the poor follow when he saw that it was an order to pay within twentyfour hours the amount due for rout, or the furniture would bo seized and sold to the landlord’s profit, and he him-o f turned into the street!

He clasped his head in his two hands and thought be must be going mad ! Where in the world should ho fiud such a sum—two hundred and fifty francs, and his vyedding expenses in addition ? Alas ; the fruitless trips and visits the poor wretch made that day ! Finally as a last resort he sought me out.

‘ Wait!’ I said to him, ‘ I have an idea ! lam going to a rehearsal of Pandolphe’s Vacations which we play to-night for the first time.’ (in those days Montingy did not close on the evening of dress-rehearsal days.) ‘lf the piece is a groat success, as we hope it will be, ATontingy will be in good humor, and if he ia satisfied with me I will risk asking him for an advance, a big advance, on next month’s salary. Como with me. I will hide you ia the depths of a baignoire, where you can hear the rehearsal and toll me what you think of it. Tnen wait for mo to-night at the stage door after the play. I shall probably have something to give you. Ah 1 sapristi ! and your dog ! What shall we do with him ?’

‘ Oh! don’t vorry aboud him. He’ll stay at the goncierge’s door dill I gome oud. He vill not stir, I’ll answer for it.’ The rehearsal was admirable, and we all counted on a veritable triumph for tho evening. As for me, I was hurredly undressing, having just time to dine, when Apinzelher, whom I had completely forgotten, appeared before me.

‘ Well,’ I said, ‘ splendid, wasn’t it ? /What did yon think of us r" ‘I dink, zir, that you vill notings have for me this evening. That play is no goot at all. You take a rascal's part. There vill be no money for me !’ My conviction was too profound to bo shaken by the croakings of this bird of illomen, whom I soundly rated for hia obtuseness.

The poor boy was in despair at my displeasure, and humbly asked me when my irritation was somewhat calmed, if I still wished him to come back in the evening. ‘Why, of course! I will confound you first, and pay you afterward. IStick to your

sbot'B, Apiuzelhor, ami don’t meddle wit.li plays, You know nothing at all about them.’

He was right, nevertheless. Neither the piece nor its interpreters obtained the success which we had hoped for. Might it be accounted for on the around that the public of that period, accustomed as it was to shedding tears at Mmo. Sand's plays, did not take kindly to laughing with her? Certain it is, at any rate, that, the humor in which the piece abounds did not so much as raise a smile. The wit, bright fancy and originality of Pandolphe’s Vaca'ions seemed to pass entirely unperceived tty the spectators. I can stiil ceo Mmo. Sand as she was that night in Montigny’s bidden box on (hostage, her fine face turned t nviml the audience, to whom she was invisible, following with an attentive eye the impressions produced on the different faces ; taking notes and encouraging and stimulating ns to such a point that we finally played to her alone. I can hear her now'saying to tisb tween the second and third acts;

‘ My friends, I am delighted with you ! We will have supper at Provost’s after the performance!’ Provost was the great Maguery’s successor. This invitation put new heart in us for t lie last act, which wo carried off with extraordinary spirit. The piece over, we prepare! to follow’ out the programme arranged fa - us by Mine. Sand ; and as we were leaving tho restaurant I discovered Apiuzelln r and his dog standing flattened up against the concierge's door. ‘Ah ! there you aro 1’ he exclaimed as ho saw me. ‘May I Lobe?’ ‘Not for mu-h my boy; not for much, I’m afraid !’ ‘ Ach ! mein Gott!’ sighed the poor fellow, repressing a sigh that tilled bis eyes with tears. ‘ Have you bad any dinner, Apinzelher r’ ‘ No, sir.’ 1 Did you have any breakfast!' ‘No more than dinner sir.’ ‘ Well, you’ll have supper - (hat I'll answer for, though I can’t see just bow I am to manage it.’ ‘ Id’s no use veeding me, sir, if you can't bay me. Id vould be vood vasted!’ be answered in the muffled tones peculiar to despair. * Gome now, do nothing foolish ; sit down on these steps, or walk up and down the boulevard without losing sight of that window. I will call to you fr. ru there when I have news for you. Give me your word that you will wait until daylight, if necessary,’ and leaving him to tho watchful care of bis dog, I hurried over to Provost’s, where I found the company alteady assembled and at table.

1 seated myself between Figeac and Brassino and opposite to Mine. Sind, who had Montigno on her right and Rose Cberi on her left.

‘ What has kept you so lute, my boy r’ (Since.the first performance of Victorina's Marriage George Sand has honored mo with a particular friendliness and familiarity of addre-s ) 1 Never mind, you can *alg» double mouthfuls now to make up for lost time.’ 1 obeyed, all the while thinking of that unhappy man in suspense out there in the boulevard. From time to time I looked tit Alontigny. The director was laughing, but it w'as an artificial laugh, which widened bis lips without clearing the frown f.tom his brow. Although I deeply esteemed this excellent roan I was at the same time in deadly fear of him, and the thought of sddressing my supplication to him literally paralyzM my tongue ; but I bad made a promts’ and needs must fulfil it, so I drank quantifies of champagne to give myself courage. The first conversation turned upon the piece we had just been playing, and Mmo. Sand r pealed m substance ‘-to us all the theories she hj is so marvellously develop ’d in the profit - e to P.m-lolplio's Vacations. Then we arrived at that delicious moment esp dally beloved by her, when the stomach, occupied in harmonious digestion, leaves the mind tr e to op>-ii its wings and fly to the land of tan y and imagination. George Sand put in practise those linos of Victor Hugo : ‘ Everyone one has something in his soul, And each man is a book that God himself has written, Win never falls such book within my bands Volume where breathes a thought, a tomb shall seal it— I read there -’ Willi her bead leaning on the back of her chair, her great, soft, dreamy eyes fixed on the narrator, she turned the leaves of ail of us, one after another.

Bres-ant, the irresistible charmer, had ju-t given us u Rus-ian uneed let Dupuis, with no less humor, had nlahd to os his de ut ia tragedy at the Erancais; Noma amused her greatly with an aceoii-.’ of lit- • Manual on the Art,of Dotting Rid or Botes ;’ Le-neur, with less facile elocution, scittercd jests, sallies and apt remarks around him. ‘ And you, my boy, whose tongue is usually so loos,. 1 !v hung, have you by chance swal-

lowed ii that you keep so unwonted a silence: questioned George Sand, turning toward mi ‘ Come, have yon nothing to tell us E

Exeir.td hy the champagne and positively resolved to bum ray ships at ore e. I aro-e. ‘ Oh I yes, madamc : but first permit mo to fake this bjttle of wino, this slice of ham, this chicken wing uni this loaf of bread, forgotten on the sideboard, and send them down to a poor wretch who is shivering below on the boulevard, waiting for the supper which I have promised him.’ And without further preliminary, I enveloped the food in my napkin, which I tied together hy the corners ; then taking possession of all the others’ napkins 1 made a rope of them and run to the window, which I opened. ‘ Apinzelher, are you there?’ ‘ Ye , Mesier Lavondaino.’ Then softly letting down my bundle, I said :

‘ Here is your supper first; oat it while you wait for the rest!’

Then retiming to the table, and paying no heed to the astonishment of my auditors, 1 commenced my Alsatian’s story. Something iu the occasion seemed to inspire me. Words came readily to toy tongue. I was so pone trated with my subject that I acted and felt as though I really lived all the situations the poor fellow had gone through ; and 1 did my best to ennoble and poetize them. On that evening, at least. I can truly say I was a comedian! With marvellous ease I went from gentle to severe, from pathetic to mirthful, from the wildest romanticism to the most brutal realism. Catherine Apinzelher, his customers, his dog, all figured in their turn ; and finally I drew a moving picture of the Seine tossing on its breast the body of this unfortunate wight driven to death by poverty and love —if I did not succeed in giving him at once the 200 francs 1 owed him.

‘ Ah! but he interests mo greatly, tho honest follow ! You must pay him imuw ■ diately,’ cried George Sand. ‘ Alas ! Madame, I haven’t a cent, and as I have already heavily anticipated on next month’s salary, I dare not ask tho director for more.’

‘ Truly, am I so hard, so pitiless then f* growled Montigny, more moved than ho cared to show. ‘ Step around to the desk tomorrow,’ he continued in his gruffest tone. * To-morrow, to-morrow !’ spoke up George Sand. ‘ And why not to-night, since the case is so urgent ? Oomo, ladies, gentlemen, let us put our hearts in our hands and our hands in our pockets ; and you, Lsfontaino, take that bowl and make a tour of the table. Come this way first and let mo start you olf; here are two louis at any rate for your Alsatian.’

Montigny put in as much, and so did Rose Cheri. Maurice Sand and all my comrades generously offered up their louis, and a blessed rain of gold pieces in my bowl was tho result. I took the whole without counting, and, wrapping it tightly in ray handkerchief, I called again.

‘ ApitZ'.liter ! Apa.zc her!’ ‘ Medcr Lavoudaine 1’ > Catch this! Now you are paid, my good fellow. Good-night!’ At least ton minutes had pa-sed and the Alsatian and his affairs had gone lioiu our minds ; »It it all at once his voice rung out in the silence of the night: “ M osier Lavoudaine ! Mesior Luvumlaino! ‘ What do you want ?’ ‘There’s too much money, them’s more than the sum. i’ll prittg it back.’ ‘No, no! Let him keep it l’ trisy all cried its they gathered together, laughing at the window. ‘ It’s the interest, Apinzelher !’ ‘ And something over, for a weddingdress for Catherine!’ added George Sand. ‘Hurrah for agdors, one and all! shouted the honest follow as he tool; ids rapid way home, followed by his dog, whoso joyous barks wo could hear tor some time itt the distance. I kissed Eigcac and Brassiue full on the cheek, I gave Rose Chert’s hand a respectful salute, and kneeling at the feet of George Sand I said: ' Ah! Madame, Madame, what a happy, what a delightful evening i owe you!’ ‘ And you shall owe me many more of them, my boy. .lust now, while watching and listening to you, an idea canto to me of a part I will" wri'o for you, and a fiuo one it will be, I can tell you !’

And, in fact, two years after that uovorto be forgotten evening of Pandolphe» Vacations, I created tho part of ‘ ilaminin. —G. Lyons.