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Updated: May 8, 2025
"Young man " said he. "My name," said Andrew, "is Lackaday." "And you don't like people to be familiar and take liberties." Andrew met the ironical glance. "That is so," said he quietly. "Then, Mr. Lackaday " "You can omit the 'Mr.," said Andrew, "if you care to do so." "You're more English than I thought," smiled Horatio Bakkus. "I'm proud that you should say so," replied Andrew.
Elodie, who found his handwriting difficult to read at the best of times, and undecipherable in hard pencil on thin paper, handed the letter over to the faithful Bakkus, who read it aloud with a running commentary of ironic humour. This Andrew did not know till long afterwards. In a few weeks he got the command of his battalion. Bakkus wrote: "How you'll be able to put up with us now I know not.
Now Andrew, though death on facts and serious argument, remained dumb and bewildered in a passage-at-arms about apparently nothing at all; and while Bakkus and Elodie enjoyed themselves prodigiously, he gaped at them, wondering what the deuce they found to laugh at. He was for ever warning Elodie not to put a too literal interpretation on Bakkus's sayings.
How infinite in faculty! in form and moving, how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals!" "What the devil do you mean?" asked Andrew. Bakkus waved a hand towards the drawing. "If only I had your application," said he, "I should make a great name as an illustrator of Hamlet."
That was the way of Bakkus. An idea was but a toy which he tired of like a child and impatiently broke to bits. Only a week before he had come to Andrew: "My dear fellow, I've got a song. I'm going to write it, set it and sing it myself. It begins: I crept into the halls of sleep And watched the dreams go by. I'll give you the accompaniment in a day or two and we'll try it on the dog.
You see, we originally sat: Elodie on my right hand, then Bakkus facing straight down the terrace, then Lackaday, then myself.
"The next time I want to give you a happy day I'll take you to the Young Men's Christian Association," said Bakkus witheringly. "Let us see the race," said Andrew. They paid a franc apiece for a stand on a bench and watched as much of the race as they could see.
"My friend," said Bakkus, "now is the time to make a bold bid for a sure fortune. There is a horse called Goffredo who is quoted in the sacred inner ring of those that know at 8 to 1. I have information withheld from this boor rabble, that he will win, and that he will come out at about 15 to 1.
Bakkus wore a sun-stained brown and white check suit and an old grey bowler hat and carried a pair of racing-glasses slung across his shoulders, all of which transformed his aspect from that, in evening dress, of the broken old tragedian to that of the bookmaker's tout rejected of honest bookmaking men.
"We'll begin rehearsals then as soon as possible," he replied with a smile. A few days afterwards, Bakkus, who had been absent from Paris, entered the salon, with his usual unceremoniousness, and beheld an odd spectacle.
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