HELAS! ALPHONSE

Taranaki Daily News, 22 November 1930, Page 1 (Supplement)

HELAS! ALPHONSE

A MINOR TRAGEDY

(By

‘Inimicus.")

At the corner of the Rue de la Republiquc in that celebrated town Touremy stands the office of "Ire Courier.” As the home of a journal undistinguished fei magnanimity it has been the scene of many tragedies, but on a certain charming spring morning, citizens in the vicinity were shocked by sights and sounds more horrible than usual. Leaning from an upper window, his eyes aflame with passion and his lips smiling unpleasantly, a young man was assaulting th© Mayor's cat—an innocent animal not at all practised in sudden evasions. The. villain in question was no other than the famous Alphonse Thibaudin.

To appreciate the full terror of the moment would be possible only to a native Touremian, but it may be mentioned that this Thibaudin had hitherto been ,of most excellent reputation, that he was a journalist of promise, and that he bade fair, indeed, to become the pride of his fellow burghers. As Monsieur le Cure sometimes put it—-‘‘Thi-baudin, -what a man! Of such grace, of such wit.” And a scholar: “Why, he has made ‘Le Courier’ the voice of France. Truly a gift from God.” All of -which was echoed by every town worthy.

There was, of course, no lack of suggestions as to the reason of Thibaudin’s crime.

“Pouf! it is obvious,” murmured Latroupe the butcher. “A mere spring madness, a bubbling of the blood common to the best of us, men and cows.”

“Not at all, Monsieur Latroupe,” objected the municipal sexton. “For a butcher of long standing your anatomy is lamentable. The poor youth is far gone in asthma and this lust for slaughter is his last struggle for life. Scon, alas! w© will lay him in the churchyard.' Humph! a lot of fuss over a plain attack of brain-fever.” ’■

. Assuming his most authoritative expression the schoolmaster Caiseau began to deliver a physiological lecture when he caught the eye of th© widow Notiere. ‘(Do you nofc think it probable,” she smiled, “that our good Alphonse is in love?’

Now the widow Notiere was no debutante i i matters of the heart, and she was also nearly correct. If Alphonse Thibaudin were not in love he had at least recently engaged himself to. marry the Wealthy Eulalie Poge; if he secretly thought the said Eulalie about as adorable as a fat Siamese that was no reason why he should not attempt to wreathe her in the. romance of a delicate, chanson; if the chanson exhibited a strange reluctance to become as lyrical as all young chansons' must; if, in. fact, Alphonse was moved to cry, “Th© shades of a thousand grocers applaud me”— •well, death to the Mayor’s cat! And that was why the name of Thibaudin fell in anger and sorrow on a certain charming spring morning.

Did the story end there? Did Alphonse, hi-s ardour sated by violence, accept the unbeautiful Eulalie in all her nakedness? The Thibaudins were of sterner stuff. It is true that Alphonse affected a Byronie brow and a marked air of weary sophistication; it is true that he sang prettily when requested and even performed in the local dramatic society;, it is true that his contributions to. the “voice of France” consisted largely of anaemic feuilletons couched in a stylo of shallow irony. And the rare words, sb succulent, so appetising, each bearing the mark of the man replete.

But he also had traditions. On occasions he would diffidently recall the fate of an ancestor who had been slain while guarding tlie provision waggons at Crecy or of another here suspected to have perished at the royal Happily dead, their courage persisted; they hovered in spirit around the head of their most estimable descendant and inspired him, on an evening only thrice removed from the contretemps of the Mayor’s cat, to make a, final struggle for romance.

The night was perfect, one of those glorious affairs'that belong exclusively to the South of France. Borrowing a friendly car, Alphonse drove majestically to the Poge mansion. Was Eulalie at hoiiie?—but yes, where else would a respectable/girl be? Would she condescend, to accompany her - Alphonse on a small excursion? —yes again,'though why Alphonse should prefer the indifferent upholstery of a cheap automobile to the magnificent Cushions of the Poge salon, Eulalie could not imagine. Still, at her last confession she had. been bidden to remember the virtue of char-/ ity, so if Alphonse would wait, but a moment ,he should have his desire. >

Seated beside him, Eulalie thought they might drive to the new cabaret at Montpellier or to the theatre-at Lodeye. Not that she would bo amused. How v. as that possible after she had suffered the. tortures from an abominable road or caught pneumonia through exposure. 'Alphonse remained tactful though his soul shrieked to hipi to curse theatres with, startling length and vocabulary. But he merely explained the evils of crowds as compared with the beautiful solitude of the country. Let them proceed to Pares and, there watch, .the moon rise over the sea. Enchanting, superb! Eulalie sighed.

From the hill of Pares the road' to Avignon winds mysteriously up the valley of the Lemaine. To Alphonse it seemed a symbol of life—dangerous, unknown, rich in adventure. He. said so. "Chere Eulalie, before you lies the path we must soon travel, together. Perils, yeg—happiness, doubtless—th© end, that rests with God. Darling, the way ■will be difficult but we dare not drift apart.” Eulalie. did not reply. , .

Then Alphonse became . aiigry. He forgot that Eulalie possessed fifty million francs, he forgot that he had never considered her better than the cheapen ••bonne.” Ho grew ironical; lie grew scathing. Marry her!-he would rather jump from the car and throw himself over the cliff. Speak to her!-let h l3 tongue be torn out if he ever did so again. With a supreme gesture of renunciation he held out a trembling han to receive back his ring. Eulalie slept. Helas! Alphonse.