Bohemianism -- Fiction; Love stories; Paris (France) -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
For ten minutes Alexander conversed with the girl, who from time to time
broke out in a joyous burst of laughter, and ended by casting towards
Rodolphe a smiling glance which said plainly enough, "Come, your
advocate has won the cause."
"Come," said Alexander, "the victory is ours, the little one is no doubt
far from cruel, but put on an air of simplicity to begin with."
"You have no need to recommend me to do that."
"Then give me some tobacco," said Alexander, "and go and sit down beside
her."
"Good heavens," said the young girl when Rodolphe had taken his place by
her side, "how funny you friend is, his voice is like a trumpet."
"That is because he is a musician."
Two hours later Rodolphe and his companion halted in front of a house
in the Rue St. Denis.
"It is here that I live," said the girl.
"Well, my dear Louise, when and where shall I see you again?"
"At your place at eight o'clock tomorrow evening."
"For sure?"
"Here is my pledge," replied Louise, holding up her rosy cheek to
Rodolphe's, who eagerly tasted this ripe fruit of youth and health.
Rodolphe went home perfectly intoxicated.
"Ah!" said he, striding up and down his room, "it can't go off like
that, I must write some verses."
The next morning his porter found in his room some thirty sheets of
paper, at the top of which stretched in solitary majesty of line--
"Ah; love, oh! love, fair prince of youth."
That morning, contrary to his habits, Rodolphe had risen very early, and
although he had slept very little, he got up at once.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, "today is the great day. But then twelve hours to
wait. How shall I fill up these twelve eternities?"
And as his glance fell on his desk he seemed to see his pen wriggle as
though intending to say to him "Work."
"Ah! yes, work indeed! A fig for prose. I won't stop here, it reeks of
ink."
He went off and settled himself in a cafe where he was sure not to meet
any friends.
"They would see that I am in love," he thought, "and shape my ideal for
me in advance."
After a very brief repast he was off to the railway station, and got
into a train. Half an hour later he was in the woods of Ville d'Avray.
Rodolphe strolled about all day, let loose amongst rejuvenated nature,
and only returned to Paris at nightfall.
After having put the temple which was to receive his idol in nature,
Rodolphe arrayed himself for the occasion, greatly regretting not being
able to dress in white.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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