Monsieur De Camors | Page 6

at the
majestic appearance of the young cavalier who approached him. He
made a movement to rush forward; a smile covered his good-natured
face, but it ended in a grimace. Evidently he had been forgotten.
Camors, now not more than a couple of feet from him, was passing on,
and his handsome countenance gave not the slightest sign of emotion.
Suddenly, without changing a single line of his face, he drew rein, took
the cigar from his lips, and said, in a tranquil voice:
"Hello! You have no longer a wolf head!"
"Ha! Then you know me?" cried Lescande.
"Know you? Why not?"
"I thought--I was afraid--on account of my beard--"
"Bah! your beard does not change you--except that it becomes you. But
what are you doing here?"
"Doing here! Why, my dear friend, I am at home here. Dismount, I
pray you, and come into my house."

"Well, why not?" replied Camors, with the same voice and manner of
supreme indifference; and, throwing his bridle to the servant who
followed him, he passed through the gardengate, led, supported,
caressed by the trembling hand of Lescande.
The garden was small, but beautifully tended and full of rare plants. At
the end, a small villa, in the Italian style, showed its graceful porch.
"Ah, that is pretty!" exclaimed Camors, at last.
"And you recognize my plan, Number Three, do you not?" asked
Lescande, eagerly.
"Your plan Number Three? Ah, yes, perfectly," replied Camors,
absently. "And your pretty little cousin--is she within?"
"She is there, my dear friend," answered Lescande, in a low voice--and
he pointed to the closed shutters of a large window of a balcony
surmounting the veranda. "She is there; and this is our son."
Camors let his hand pass listlessly over the child's hair. "The deuce!" he
said; "but you have not wasted time. And you are happy, my good
fellow?"
"So happy, my dear friend, that I am sometimes uneasy, for the good
God is too kind to me. It is true, though, I had to work very hard. For
instance, I passed two years in Spain--in the mountains of that infernal
country. There I built a fairy palace for the Marquis of Buena-Vista, a
great nobleman, who had seen my plan at the Exhibition and was
delighted with it. This was the beginning of my fortune; but you must
not imagine that my profession alone has enriched me so quickly. I
made some successful speculations--some unheard of chances in lands;
and, I beg you to believe, honestly, too. Still, I am not a millionaire; but
you know I had nothing, and my wife less; now, my house paid for, we
have ten thousand francs' income left. It is not a fortune for us, living in
this style; but I still work and keep good courage, and my Juliette is
happy in her paradise!"

"She wears no more soiled cuffs, then?" said Camors.
"I warrant she does not! Indeed, she has a slight tendency to
luxury--like all women, you know. But I am delighted to see you
remember so well our college follies. I also, through all my distractions,
never forgot you a moment. I even had a foolish idea of asking you to
my wedding, only I did not dare. You are so brilliant, so petted, with
your establishment and your racers. My wife knows you very well; in
fact, we have talked of you a hundred thousand times. Since she
patronizes the turf and subscribes for 'The Sport', she says to me, 'Your
friend's horse has won again'; and in our family circle we rejoice over
your triumphs."
A flush tinged the cheek of Camors as he answered, quietly, "You are
really too good."
They walked a moment in silence over the gravel path bordered by
grass, before Lescande spoke again.
"And yourself, dear friend, I hope that you also are happy."
"I--happy!" Camors seemed a little astonished. "My happiness is simple
enough, but I believe it is unclouded. I rise in the morning, ride to the
Bois, thence to the club, go to the Bois again, and then back to the club.
If there is a first representation at any theatre, I wish to see it. Thus, last
evening they gave a new piece which was really exquisite. There was a
song in it, beginning:
'He was a woodpecker, A little woodpecker, A young woodpecker--'
and the chorus imitated the cry of the woodpecker! Well, it was
charming, and the whole of Paris will sing that song with delight for a
year. I also shall do like the whole of Paris, and I shall be happy."
"Good heavens! my friend," laughed Lescande, "and that suffices you
for happiness?"
"That and--the principles of 'eighty-nine," replied Camors, lighting a

fresh cigar from the old one.
Here their dialogue was