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His name suggests an English reading of a Spanish name, Foa, and more than once in his life there are indications of friends in Spain about whom we know nothing. Daniel Foe went to Spain in the time of danger to his life, for taking part in the rebellion of the Duke of Monmouth, and when he came back he wrote himself De Foe.
He plays admirably." And he spoke sincerely. Audrey, however, was a little disappointed because Monsieur Foa did not assert that Musa was the most marvellous genius he had ever listened to. "I am very, very content to have heard him," said Monsieur Foa. "Do you think he will succeed in Paris?" "Ah! Madame! There is the Press. There are the snobs.... In fine...." "I suppose if he had money?"
"I will leave this roll here and this bag," producing her old handbag which she had concealed under her coat. And she thought: "All this is really very simple." At the other address which she had found in the telephone book a house in the Rue d'Aumale she said to an aged concierge: "Monsieur Foa which floor?"
An aged and repellent Jew came into sight. He raised Madame Foa's hand to his odious lips and kissed it, and Audrey wondered how Madame Foa could tolerate the formality. "Well, Monsieur Xavier?" Xavier shrugged his round shoulders. "Do not say," said he, in a hoarse voice to the company, "do not say that I have not done my best on this occasion."
It was on a certain morning, many years ago, that I who write these lines Eugenie Foa, friend to all the boys and girls who love to read of glorious and heroic deeds was resting upon one of the seats near to the shade-giving walls of the Soldiers' Home. As I sat there, several of the old soldiers placed themselves on the adjoining seat.
Whereupon Madame Foa said with much sympathy that she hoped it was so, and Foa said: "You create illusions for yourself, on purpose." Dauphin bore him down with wavy gestures and warm cries of "No! No! No!" And he appealed to Audrey as-a woman incapable of illusions. And Audrey agreed with Dauphin. And while she was agreeing she kept saying to herself: "Why do I pretend to agree with him?
He lifted his eyes heavenward, and as he did so his passing glance embraced Audrey, and she violently hated him. "Winnie," said she, "I think we ought to be getting back to our seats." "But," cried Madame Foa, "we are going round with Dauphin to the artists' room. You do not come with us, Madame Moncreiff?"
This fluttered person soon perceived that she had been mistaken in supposing that the room was full. The clanging sound kept recurring, the dog kept barking, and new guests continually poured into the room, thereby proving that it was not full. All comers were introduced to Audrey, whose head was a dizzy riot of strange names. Then at last a girl sang, and was applauded. Madame Foa played for her.
Foa seemed to be exhibiting the majestic Oriental, nicknamed Miquette, as the final arbiter, whose word settled problems like a sword, and Miquette seemed to be trying to bear the high rôle with negligent modesty. "But, yes, he has! But, yes, he has!" Dauphin protested, sweeping all Miquettes politely away.
"You invited him to play at your flat on Friday night, Monsieur." Monsieur Foa gave a sudden enchanting smile: "Yes, Madame. I hear much good of him from my friend Dauphin, much good. And we long to hear him play. It appears he is a great artist." "He has had an accident," said Audrey. Monsier Foa's face grew serious. "It is nothing a few days. The elbow a trifle. He cannot play next Friday.
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