Trilby | Page 9

it up with his little finger as he leaned his chin on

his hand, and cough a little husky, unnatural cough--pour se donner une
contenance!
He had never heard such music as this, never dreamed such music was
possible. He was conscious, while it lasted, that he saw deeper into the
beauty, the sadness of things, the very heart of them, and their pathetic
evanescence, as with a new, inner eye--even into eternity itself, beyond
the veil--a vague cosmic vision that faded when the music was over,
but left an unfading reminiscence of its having been, and a passionate
desire to express the like some day through the plastic medium of his
own beautiful art.
When Svengali ended, he leered again on his dumbstruck audience, and
said: 'That is how I teach la betite Honorine to sing; that is how I teach
Gecko to play; that is how I teach "il bel canto"! It was lost, the bel
canto--but I found it, in a dream--I, and nobody else--I--
Svengali--I--I--I! But that is enough of music; let us play at something
else--let us play at this!' he cried, jumping up and seizing a foil and
bending it against the wall... 'Come along, Little Billee, and I will show
you something more you don't know....'
So Little Billee took off coat and waistcoat, donned mask and glove
and fencing-shoes, and they had an 'assault of arms,' as it is nobly
called in French, and in which poor Little Billee came off very badly.
The German Pole fenced wildly, but well.
Then it was the Laird's turn, and he came off badly too; so then Taffy
took up the foil, and redeemed the honour of Great Britain, as became a
British hussar and a Man of Blood. For Taffy, by long and assiduous
practice in the best school in Paris (and also by virtue of his native
aptitudes), was a match for any maitre d'armes in the whole French
army, and Svengali got 'what for.'
And when it was time to give up play and settle down to work, others
dropped in--French, English, Swiss, German, American, Greek;
curtains were drawn and shutters opened; the studio was flooded with
light--and the afternoon was healthily spent in athletic and gymnastic
exercises till dinner-time.

But Little Billee, who had had enough of fencing and gymnastics for
the day, amused himself by filling up with black and white and red-
chalk strokes the outline of Trilby's foot on the wall, lest he should
forget his fresh vision of it, which was still to him as the thing itself--an
absolute reality, born of a mere glance, a mere chance--a happy
caprice!
Durien came in and looked over his shoulder, and exclaimed: 'Tiens! le
pied de Trilby! vous avez fait ca d'apres nature?'
'Nong:'
'De memoire, alors?'
'Wee!'
'Je vous en fais mon compliment! Vous avez eu la main heureuse. Je
voudrais bien avoir fait ca, moi! C'est un petit chef-d'oeuvre que vous
avez fait la--tout bonnement, mon cher! Mais vous elaborez trop. De
grace, n'y touchez plus!'
And Little Billee was pleased, and touched it no more; for Durien was a
great sculptor and sincerity itself.
And then--well, I happen to forget what sort of day this particular day
turned into at about six of the clock.
If it was decently fine, the most of them went off to dine at the
Restaurant de la Couronne, kept by the Pere Trin (in the Rue de
Monsieur), who gave you of his best to eat and drink for twenty sols
Parisis, or one franc in the com of the empire. Good distending soups,
omelets that were only too savoury, lentils, red and white beans, meat
so dressed and sauced and seasoned that you didn't know whether it
was beef or mutton--flesh, fowl, or good red herring or even bad, for
that matter--nor very greatly cared. And just the same lettuce, radishes,
and cheese, of Gruyere or Brie as you got at the Trois Freres
Provenceaux (but not the same butter!). And to wash it all down,
generous wine in wooden brocs--that stained a lovely aesthetic blue

everything it was spilled over.
And you hobnobbed with models, male and female, students of law and
medicine, painters and sculptors, workmen and l'anchisseuses and
grisettes, and found them very good company, and most improving to
your French, if your French was of the usual British kind, and even to
some of your manners, if these were very British indeed. And the
evening was innocently wound up with billiards, cards, or dominoes at
the Cafe du Luxembourg opposite; or at the Theatre du Luxembourg, in
the Rue de Madame, to see funny farces with screamingly droll
Englishmen in them; or, still better, at the Jardin Bullier (la Closerie
des Lilas), to see the students dance the