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Night after night of the performances he climbed the stairs of the opera and sat, an attentive listener to the orchestra, with one ear inclined to the stage, and a quizzical expression on his wrinkled face. Then he would go home, and pat Minesse, and fondle the violin. "Ah, Minesse, dose new player! Not one bit can dey play. Such tones, Minesse, such tones!
"Minesse," he said with a catch in his voice that strongly resembled a sob, "Minesse, we mus' go hongry sometime. Ah, mon pauvre violon! Ah, mon Dieu, dey put us h'out, an' dey will not have us. Nev' min', we will sing anyhow." And drawing his bow across the strings, he sang in his thin, quavering voice, "Salut demeure, chaste et pure."
Hastily doing a toilet, he descended the stairs to find M'sieu Fortier nervously pacing the hall floor. "I come fo' bring back you' money, yaas. I cannot sleep, I cannot eat, I only cry, and t'ink, and weesh fo' mon violon; and Minesse, an' de ol' woman too, dey mope an' look bad too, all for mon violon. I try fo' to use dat money, but eet burn an' sting lak blood money.
M'sieu Fortier turned back into the room, after bowing his visitors out with old-time French courtliness, and turning to the sleepy white cat, said with a dry sob: "Minesse, dere's only me an' you now." About six days later, Courcey's morning dreams were disturbed by the announcement of a visitor.
"Minesse," he said one day to the white cat, he told all his troubles to her; it was of no use to talk to Ma'am Jeanne, she was too deaf to understand, "Minesse, we are gettin' po'. You' pere git h'old, an' hees han's dey go no mo' rapidement, an' dere be no mo' soirees dese day. Minesse, eef la saison don' hurry up, we shall eat ver' lil' meat." And Minesse curled her tail and purred.
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