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Everything happens terribly fast these days. I hope you'll hear all about that to-morrow." Castanado playfully lifted a finger: "Mélanie, how is that, you pass that poss-office, when it is up-town, while you ?" The question hung unfinished maybe because Mélanie turned so red, maybe because the door-bell rang again.
"Ah ah, yes; 'Two aviateur' riceiving from General Joffre' my God! De l'Isle my God! madame," Scipion pounded his breast with the paper "they are yo' son and mine!" The company rushed to his elbows. "My faith! Castanado, there are their name'! and 'For destrugtion of their eighteenth enemy aeroplane, under circumstance' calling for exceptional coolnezz and intrepid-ity!"
Castanado had the grippe, and the manuscript was yet unread? A voice spoke his name and he found himself facing the very black dealer in second-hand books. "I was yonder at Toulouse Street," said Ovide Landry, "coming up-town, when I saw you at Conti coming down. I have another map of the old city for you. At that rate, Mr. Chester, you'll soon have as good a collection as the best."
And ad the end she's compel' to tell Mélanie yes, De l'Isle he's pay her those same kind of sentimental plaisanteries; rosebud' to pin on the heart outside, a few minute', till the negs cavalier. Castanado, she say, Beloiseau, they do the same even more. 'Ah! Mélanie say, 'but only to you! and only biccause to say any mo' they are yet af-raid!
One evening M. Castanado sat reading to his wife from a fresh number of the weekly Courier des Etats-Unis. It was not long after the incident last mentioned. Chester had become accustomed to his new lift in fortune, but as yet no further word as to the manuscript had reached him; he had only just written a second letter of inquiry after it.
Not I al-lone perceive that, but Scipion also Castanado Dubroca. Mr. Chester, my dear sir, the pewblication of that book going to be heard roun' the worl'! Tha'z going produse an epoch, that book; yet same time a bes'-seller!" Mademoiselle beamed. "Does Mr. Chester think 'twill be that? A best-seller?" Chester couldn't prophesy that of any book. "They say not even a publisher can tell."
But Chester himself interested those two and they stayed. When he said that Beloiseau's sidewalk samples had often made him covet some excuse for going in and seeing both the stock and the craftsman, "That was excuse ab-undant!" was the prompt response, and Castanado put in: "Scipion he'd rather, always, a non-buying connoisseur than a buying Philistine." "Come any day! any hour!" said Beloiseau.
"Already," said Castanado, "we chanze to have three or four. Mademoiselle has that story of her grand'mère, and Mr. Chezter he has sir, you'll not care if I tell that? Mr. Chezter has the sequal to that, and written by his uncle!" "Yes," Chester put in, "but Ovide Landry finds it was printed years ago." "Proof!" proclaimed Mme. Alexandre, "proof that 'tis good to print ag-ain!
"Ducatel's opposite neighbor," Chester remarked, "is an antique even more interesting." "Ah, yes! Castanado is antique only in that art spirit which the tourist trade is every day killing even in Royal Street." "That's the worst decay in this whole decaying quarter," the young man said.
And same time Mélanie she take very li'l' stock in that French way, by reason that, avter all, those De l'Isle, though their money's gone, are still pretty high-life. "And tha'z how it come that those Castanado' have to tell me.
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