The King in Yellow

by Robert W. Chambers

  IV

  Monday morning at Julian's, students fought for places; students withprior claims drove away others who had been anxiously squatting on covetedtabourets since the door was opened in hopes of appropriating them atroll-call; students squabbled over palettes, brushes, portfolios, or rentthe 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 onesou and made enough to keep himself in cigarettes. Monsieur Julian walkedin, smiled a fatherly smile and walked out. His disappearance was followedby the apparition of the clerk, a foxy creature who flitted through thebattling hordes in search of prey.

  Three men who had not paid dues were caught and summoned. A fourth wasscented, followed, outflanked, his retreat towards the door cut off, andfinally captured behind the stove. About that time, the revolutionassuming an acute form, howls rose for "Jules!"

  Jules came, umpired two fights with a sad resignation in his big browneyes, shook hands with everybody and melted away in the throng, leaving anatmosphere of peace and good-will. The lions sat down with the lambs, themassiers marked the best places for themselves and friends, and, mountingthe model stands, opened the roll-calls.

  The word was passed, "They begin with C this week."

  They did.

  "Clisson!"

  Clisson jumped like a flash and marked his name on the floor in chalkbefore a front seat.

  "Caron!"

  Caron galloped away to secure his place. Bang! went an easel. "_Nom deDieu_!" in French,--"Where in h--l are you goin'!" in English. Crash! apaintbox fell with brushes and all on board. "_Dieu de Dieu de_--" spat! Ablow, a short rush, a clinch and scuffle, and the voice of the massier,stern and reproachful:

  "Cochon!"

  Then the roll-call was resumed.

  "Clifford!"

  The massier paused and looked up, one finger between the leaves of theledger.

  "Clifford!"

  Clifford was not there. He was about three miles away in a direct line andevery instant increased the distance. Not that he was walking fast,--onthe contrary, he was strolling with that leisurely gait peculiar tohimself. Elliott was beside him and two bulldogs covered the rear. Elliottwas reading the "Gil Blas," from which he seemed to extract amusement, butdeeming boisterous mirth unsuitable to Clifford's state of mind, subduedhis amusement to a series of discreet smiles. The latter, moodily aware ofthis, said nothing, but leading the way into the Luxembourg Gardensinstalled himself upon a bench by the northern terrace and surveyed thelandscape with disfavour. Elliott, according to the Luxembourgregulations, tied the two dogs and then, with an interrogative glancetoward his friend, resumed the "Gil Blas" and the discreet smiles.

  The day was perfect. The sun hung over Notre Dame, setting the city in aglitter. The tender foliage of the chestnuts cast a shadow over theterrace and flecked the paths and walks with tracery so blue that Cliffordmight here have found encouragement for his violent "impressions" had hebut looked; but as usual in this period of his career, his thoughts wereanywhere except in his profession. Around about, the sparrows quarrelledand chattered their courtship songs, the big rosy pigeons sailed from treeto tree, the flies whirled in the sunbeams and the flowers exhaled athousand perfumes which stirred Clifford with languorous wistfulness.Under this influence he spoke.

  "Elliott, you are a true friend--"

  "You make me ill," replied the latter, folding his paper. "It's just as Ithought,--you are tagging after some new petticoat again. And," hecontinued wrathfully, "if this is what you've kept me away from Julian'sfor,--if it's to fill me up with the perfections of some little idiot--"

  "Not idiot," remonstrated Clifford gently.

  "See here," cried Elliott, "have you the nerve to try to tell me that youare in love again?"

  "Again?"

  "Yes, again and again and again and--by George have you?"

  "This," observed Clifford sadly, "is serious."

  For a moment Elliott would have laid hands on him, then he laughed fromsheer helplessness. "Oh, go on, go on; let's see, there's Clemence andMarie Tellec and Cosette and Fifine, Colette, Marie Verdier--"

  "All of whom are charming, most charming, but I never was serious--"

  "So help me, Moses," said Elliott, solemnly, "each and every one of thosenamed have separately and in turn torn your heart with anguish and havealso made me lose my place at Julian's in this same manner; each and everyone, separately and in turn. Do you deny it?"

  "What you say may be founded on facts--in a way--but give me the credit ofbeing faithful to one at a time--"

  "Until the next came along."

  "But this,--this is really very different. Elliott, believe me, I am allbroken up."

  Then there being nothing else to do, Elliott gnashed his teeth andlistened.

  "It's--it's Rue Barree."

  "Well," observed Elliott, with scorn, "if you are moping and moaning over_that_ girl,--the girl who has given you and myself every reason to wishthat the ground would open and engulf us,--well, go on!"

  "I'm going on,--I don't care; timidity has fled--"

  "Yes, your native timidity."

  "I'm desperate, Elliott. Am I in love? Never, never did I feel so d--nmiserable. I can't sleep; honestly, I'm incapable of eating properly."

  "Same symptoms noticed in the case of Colette."

  "Listen, will you?"

  "Hold on a moment, I know the rest by heart. Now let me ask you something.Is it your belief that Rue Barree is a pure girl?"

  "Yes," said Clifford, turning red.

  "Do you love her,--not as you dangle and tiptoe after every prettyinanity--I mean, do you honestly love her?"

  "Yes," said the other doggedly, "I would--"

  "Hold on a moment; would you marry her?"

  Clifford turned scarlet. "Yes," he muttered.

  "Pleasant news for your family," growled Elliott in suppressed fury."'Dear father, I have just married a charming grisette whom I'm sureyou'll welcome with open arms, in company with her mother, a mostestimable and cleanly washlady.' Good heavens! This seems to have gone alittle further than the rest. Thank your stars, young man, that my head islevel enough for us both. Still, in this case, I have no fear. Rue Barreesat on your aspirations in a manner unmistakably final."

  "Rue Barree," began Clifford, drawing himself up, but he suddenly ceased,for there where the dappled sunlight glowed in spots of gold, along thesun-flecked path, tripped Rue Barree. Her gown was spotless, and her bigstraw hat, tipped a little from the white forehead, threw a shadow acrossher eyes.

  Elliott stood up and bowed. Clifford removed his head-covering with an airso plaintive, so appealing, so utterly humble that Rue Barree smiled.

  The smile was delicious and when Clifford, incapable of sustaining himselfon his legs from sheer astonishment, toppled slightly, she smiled again inspite of herself. A few moments later she took a chair on the terrace anddrawing a book from her music-roll, turned the pages, found the place, andthen placing it open downwards in her lap, sighed a little, smiled alittle, and looked out over the city. She had entirely forgotten FoxhallClifford.

  After a while she took up her book again, but instead of reading began toadjust a rose in her corsage. The rose was big and red. It glowed likefire there over her heart, and like fire it warmed her heart, nowfluttering under the silken petals. Rue Barree sighed again. She was veryhappy. The sky was so blue, the air so soft and perfumed, the sunshine socaressing, and her heart sang within her, sang to the rose in her breast.This is what it sang: "Out of the throng of passers-by, out of the worldof yesterday, out of the millions passing, one has turned aside to me."

  So her heart sang under his rose on her breast. Then two bigmouse-coloured pigeons came whistling by and alighted on the terrace,where they bowed and strutted and bobbed and turned until Rue Barreelaughed in delight, and looking up beheld Clifford before her. His hat wasin his hand and his face was wreathed in a series of appealing smileswhich would have touched the heart of a Ben
gal tiger.

  For an instant Rue Barree frowned, then she looked curiously at Clifford,then when she saw the resemblance between his bows and the bobbingpigeons, in spite of herself, her lips parted in the most bewitchinglaugh. Was this Rue Barree? So changed, so changed that she did not knowherself; but oh! that song in her heart which drowned all else, whichtrembled on her lips, struggling for utterance, which rippled forth in alaugh at nothing,--at a strutting pigeon,--and Mr. Clifford.

  "And you think, because I return the salute of the students in theQuarter, that you may be received in particular as a friend? I do not knowyou, Monsieur, but vanity is man's other name;--be content, MonsieurVanity, I shall be punctilious--oh, most punctilious in returning yoursalute."

  "But I beg--I implore you to let me render you that homage which has solong--"

  "Oh dear; I don't care for homage."

  "Let me only be permitted to speak to you now and then,--occasionally--veryoccasionally."

  "And if _you_, why not another?"

  "Not at all,--I will be discretion itself."

  "Discretion--why?"

  Her eyes were very clear, and Clifford winced for a moment, but only for amoment. Then the devil of recklessness seizing him, he sat down andoffered himself, soul and body, goods and chattels. And all the time heknew he was a fool and that infatuation is not love, and that each word heuttered bound him in honour from which there was no escape. And all thetime Elliott was scowling down on the fountain plaza and savagely checkingboth bulldogs from their desire to rush to Clifford's rescue,--for eventhey felt there was something wrong, as Elliott stormed within himself andgrowled maledictions.

  When Clifford finished, he finished in a glow of excitement, but RueBarree's response was long in coming and his ardour cooled while thesituation slowly assumed its just proportions. Then regret began to creepin, but he put that aside and broke out again in protestations. At thefirst word Rue Barree checked him.

  "I thank you," she said, speaking very gravely. "No man has ever beforeoffered me marriage." She turned and looked out over the city. After awhile she spoke again. "You offer me a great deal. I am alone, I havenothing, I am nothing." She turned again and looked at Paris, brilliant,fair, in the sunshine of a perfect day. He followed her eyes.

  "Oh," she murmured, "it is hard,--hard to work always--always alone withnever a friend you can have in honour, and the love that is offered meansthe streets, the boulevard--when passion is dead. I know it,--_we_ knowit,--we others who have nothing,--have no one, and who give ourselves,unquestioning--when we love,--yes, unquestioning--heart and soul, knowingthe end."

  She touched the rose at her breast. For a moment she seemed to forget him,then quietly--"I thank you, I am very grateful." She opened the book and,plucking a petal from the rose, dropped it between the leaves. Thenlooking up she said gently, "I cannot accept."