The King in Yellow Robert W. Chambers (good books to read for beginners .TXT) đ
- Author: Robert W. Chambers
Book online «The King in Yellow Robert W. Chambers (good books to read for beginners .TXT) đ». Author Robert W. Chambers
Monday morning at Julianâs, students fought for places; students with prior claims drove away others who had been anxiously squatting on coveted tabourets since the door was opened in hopes of appropriating them at roll-call; students squabbled over palettes, brushes, portfolios, or rent the air with demands for Ciceri and bread. The former, a dirty ex-model, who had in palmier days posed as Judas, now dispensed stale bread at one sou and made enough to keep himself in cigarettes. Monsieur Julian walked in, smiled a fatherly smile and walked out. His disappearance was followed by the apparition of the clerk, a foxy creature who flitted through the battling hordes in search of prey.
Three men who had not paid dues were caught and summoned. A fourth was scented, followed, outflanked, his retreat towards the door cut off, and finally captured behind the stove. About that time, the revolution assuming an acute form, howls rose for âJules!â
Jules came, umpired two fights with a sad resignation in his big brown eyes, shook hands with everybody and melted away in the throng, leaving an atmosphere of peace and goodwill. The lions sat down with the lambs, the massiers marked the best places for themselves and friends, and, mounting the model stands, opened the roll-calls.
The word was passed, âThey begin with C this week.â
They did.
âClisson!â
Clisson jumped like a flash and marked his name on the floor in chalk before a front seat.
âCaron!â
Caron galloped away to secure his place. Bang! went an easel. âNom de Dieu!â in Frenchâ ââWhere in hâ âžșâ l are you goinâ!â in English. Crash! a paintbox fell with brushes and all on board. âDieu de Dieu deâ ââ spat! A blow, a short rush, a clinch and scuffle, and the voice of the massier, stern and reproachful:
âCochon!â
Then the roll-call was resumed.
âClifford!â
The massier paused and looked up, one finger between the leaves of the ledger.
âClifford!â
Clifford was not there. He was about three miles away in a direct line and every instant increased the distance. Not that he was walking fastâ âon the contrary, he was strolling with that leisurely gait peculiar to himself. Elliott was beside him and two bulldogs covered the rear. Elliott was reading the Gil Blas, from which he seemed to extract amusement, but deeming boisterous mirth unsuitable to Cliffordâs state of mind, subdued his amusement to a series of discreet smiles. The latter, moodily aware of this, said nothing, but leading the way into the Luxembourg Gardens installed himself upon a bench by the northern terrace and surveyed the landscape with disfavour. Elliott, according to the Luxembourg regulations, tied the two dogs and then, with an interrogative glance toward his friend, resumed the Gil Blas and the discreet smiles.
The day was perfect. The sun hung over Notre Dame, setting the city in a glitter. The tender foliage of the chestnuts cast a shadow over the terrace and flecked the paths and walks with tracery so blue that Clifford might here have found encouragement for his violent âimpressionsâ had he but looked; but as usual in this period of his career, his thoughts were anywhere except in his profession. Around about, the sparrows quarrelled and chattered their courtship songs, the big rosy pigeons sailed from tree to tree, the flies whirled in the sunbeams and the flowers exhaled a thousand perfumes which stirred Clifford with languorous wistfulness. Under this influence he spoke.
âElliott, you are a true friendâ ââ
âYou make me ill,â replied the latter, folding his paper. âItâs just as I thoughtâ âyou are tagging after some new petticoat again. And,â he continued wrathfully, âif this is what youâve kept me away from Julianâs forâ âif itâs to fill me up with the perfections of some little idiotâ ââ
âNot idiot,â remonstrated Clifford gently.
âSee here,â cried Elliott, âhave you the nerve to try to tell me that you are in love again?â
âAgain?â
âYes, again and again and again andâ âby George have you?â
âThis,â observed Clifford sadly, âis serious.â
For a moment Elliott would have laid hands on him, then he laughed from sheer helplessness. âOh, go on, go on; letâs see, thereâs ClĂ©mence and Marie Tellec and Cosette and Fifine, Colette, Marie Verdierâ ââ
âAll of whom are charming, most charming, but I never was seriousâ ââ
âSo help me, Moses,â said Elliott, solemnly, âeach and every one of those named have separately and in turn torn your heart with anguish and have also made me lose my place at Julianâs in this same manner; each and everyone, separately and in turn. Do you deny it?â
âWhat you say may be founded on factsâ âin a wayâ âbut give me the credit of being faithful to one at a timeâ ââ
âUntil the next came along.â
âBut thisâ âthis is really very different. Elliott, believe me, I am all broken up.â
Then there being nothing else to do, Elliott gnashed his teeth and listened.
âItâsâ âitâs Rue BarrĂ©e.â
âWell,â observed Elliott, with scorn, âif you are moping and moaning over that girlâ âthe girl who has given you and myself every reason to wish that the ground would open and engulf usâ âwell, go on!â
âIâm going onâ âI donât care; timidity has fledâ ââ
âYes, your native timidity.â
âIâm desperate, Elliott. Am I in love? Never, never did I feel so dâ âžșâ n miserable. I canât sleep; honestly, Iâm incapable of eating properly.â
âSame symptoms noticed in the case of Colette.â
âListen, will you?â
âHold on a moment, I know the rest by heart. Now let me ask you something. Is it your belief that Rue BarrĂ©e is a pure girl?â
âYes,â said Clifford, turning red.
âDo you love herâ ânot as you dangle and tiptoe after every pretty inanityâ âI mean, do you honestly love her?â
âYes,â said the other doggedly, âI wouldâ ââ
âHold on a moment; would you marry her?â
Clifford turned scarlet. âYes,â he muttered.
âPleasant news for your family,â growled Elliott in suppressed fury. âââDear father, I have just married a charming grisette whom Iâm sure youâll welcome with open arms, in company with her mother, a most
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