Atlantida - Page 100/145

"'Sidi Casimir, comrade,' he affirmed. 'You come--find us. Take Sidi

Ahmed's ring and show it. Everybody at Ahaggar comrades. Bono

Ahaggar, bono.' "When I came out of the Gare de Lyon, I had the feeling of having

perpetrated an excellent joke."

The Hetman of Jitomir was completely drunk. I had had the utmost

difficulty in understanding the end of his story, because he

interjected, every other moment, couplets from Jacques Offenbach's

best score.

Dans un bois passait un jeune homme,

Un jeune homme frais et beau,

Sa main tenait une pomme,

Vous voyez d'ici le tableau.

"Who was disagreeably surprised by the fall of Sedan? It was Casimir,

poor old Casimir! Five thousand louis to pay by the fifth of

September, and not the first sou, no, not the first sou. I take my hat

and my courage and go to the Tuileries. No more Emperor there, no! But

the Empress was so kind. I found her alone--ah, people scatter quickly

under such circumstances!--alone, with a senator, M. Mérimée, the only

literary man I have ever known who was at the same time a man of the

world. 'Madame,' he was saying to her, 'you must give up all hope. M.

Thiers, whom I just met on the Pont Royal, would listen to nothing.' "'Madame,' I said in my turn, 'Your Majesty always will know where her

true friends are.' "And I kissed her hand.

"Evohé, que les déesses

Out de drôles de façons

Pour enjôler, pour enjôler, pour enjôler les gaâarçons!

"I returned to my home in the Rue de Lille. On the way I encountered

the rabble going from the Corps Législatif to the Hotel de Ville. My

mind was made up.

"'Madame,' I said to my wife, 'my pistols.' "'What is the matter?' she asked, frightened.

"'All is lost. But there is still a chance to preserve my honor. I am

going to be killed on the barricades.' "'Ah! Casimir,' she sobbed, falling into my arms. 'I have misjudged

you. Will you forgive me?' "'I forgive you, Aurelie,' I said with dignified emotion. 'I have not

always been right myself.' "I tore myself away from this mad scene. It was six o'clock. On the

Rue de Bac, I hailed a cab on its mad career.

"'Twenty francs tip,' I said to the coachman, 'if you get to the Gare

de Lyon in time for the Marseilles train, six thirty-seven.'"

The Hetman of Jitomir could say no more. He had rolled over on the

cushions and slept with clenched fists.