Little Journeys to the Homes of the Great | Page 4

would-bes who supplied unconscious
entertainment by an excess of boasting. Women, unless accompanied
by a certified male escort, were not desired under any circumstances.
And so matters stood when the "two Stensons" (the average Frenchman
could not say Stevenson) were respectively Exalted Ruler and Chief
Councilor of Siron's.
At that time one must remember that the chambermaid and the landlady
might be allowed to mince across the stage, but men took the leading
parts in life. The cousins had been away on a three-days' tramping tour
through the forest. When they returned they were informed that
something terrible had occurred--a woman had arrived: an American
woman with a daughter aged, say, fourteen, and a son twelve. They had
paid a month in advance and were duly installed by Siron. Siron was
summoned and threatened with deposition. The poor man shrugged his
shoulders in hopeless despair. Mon Dieu! how could he help it--the
"Stensons" were not at hand to look after their duties--the woman had
paid for accommodations, and money in an art colony was none too
common! But Bailley Bodmer--had he, too, been derelict? Bailley
appeared, his boasted courage limp, his prowess pricked.
He asked to have a man pointed out--any two or three men--and he
would see that the early stage should not go away empty. But a woman,
a woman in half-mourning, was different, and besides, this was a
different woman. She was an American, of course, but probably against
her will. Her name was Osbourne and she was from San Francisco. She
spoke good French and was an artist. One of the Stevensons sneezed;
the other took a lofty and supercilious attitude of indifference. It was
tacitly admitted that the woman should be allowed to remain, her
presence being a reminder to Siron of remissness, and to Bailley of
cowardice.
So the matter rested, the Siron Club being in temporary disgrace, the
unpleasant feature too distasteful even to discuss. As the days passed,
however, it was discovered that Mrs. Osbourne did not make any
demands upon the Club. She kept her own counsel, rose early and
worked late, and her son and daughter were very well behaved and

inclined to be industrious in their studies and sketching.
It was discovered one day that Robert Louis had gotten lunch from the
Siron kitchen and was leading the Osbourne family on a little excursion
to the wood back of Rosa Bonheur's. Self-appointed scouts who
happened to be sketching over that way came back and reported that
Mrs. Osbourne was seen painting, while Robert Louis sat on a rock
near by and told pirate tales to Lloyd, the twelve-year-old boy. A week
later Robert Louis had one of his "bad spells," and he told Bob to send
for Mrs. Osbourne. Nobody laughed after this. It was silently and
unanimously voted that Mrs. Osbourne was a good fellow, and soon
she was enjoying all the benefits of the Siron Club. When a frivolous
member suggested that it be called the Siren Club he was met with an
oppressive stillness and black looks.
Mrs. Osbourne was educated, amiable, witty and wise. She evidently
knew humanity, and was on good terms with sorrow, although sorrow
never subdued her; what her history was nobody sought to inquire.
When she sketched, Robert Louis told pirate tales to Lloyd.
The Siron Club took on a degree of sanity that it had not known before.
Little entertainments were given now and then, where Mrs. Osbourne
read to the company from an unknown American poet, Joaquin Miller
by name, and Bob expounded Walt Whitman.
The Americans as a people evidently were not wholly bad--at least
there was hope for them. Bob began to tire of Barbizon, and finally
went back to Edinburgh alone. Arriving there he had to explain why
Robert Louis did not come too.
Robert Louis had met an American woman, and they seemed to like
each other. The parents of Robert Louis did not laugh: they were
grieved. Their son, who had always kept himself clear from feminine
entanglements, was madly, insanely, in love with a woman, the mother
of two grown-up children, and a married woman and an American at
that--it was too much!

Just how they expostulated and how much will never be known. They
declined to go over to France to see her, and they declined to have her
come to see them: a thing Mrs. Osbourne probably would not have
done--at that time, anyway.
But there was a comfort in this: their son was in much better health,
and several of his articles had been accepted by the great London
magazines.
So three months went by, when suddenly and without notice Robert
Louis appeared at home, and in good spirits. As for Mrs. Osbourne, she
had sailed for America with her two children.