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The wine was passed and drunk by turns from two broken tumblers and two tin cups, the only vessels available for both the wine and coffee, and healths were merrily pledged. Cleofonte swore an undying friendship for Philidor. Were they not both great artists of different mtiers, but each great in his own profession? The world should know it. He, Cleofonte, would proclaim it.
In grave doubt as to his own immediate course, he hurried to the lodge, where he found Hermia sitting wide-eyed upon her couch, fearfully awaiting him. "What on earth has happened, Philidor?" she asked. "Oh, nothing," he laughed. "Our host is abroad with a shotgun. Clarissa objects, and is so much of an ass that she can't hold her tongue about it." She smiled and got to her feet.
Yvonne made toast, Philidor cut the ham, the Signora made vegetable soup, and Stella hurried back and forth from the wagon, bringing the slender supply of dishes and utensils. When all was ready they sat and ate as though they had never eaten before and were never to eat again.
Let Fate look after the rest " "You, Philidor. Oh " She buried her head in her arms still quivering, but he only held her hand more tightly. "Don't child. I did not mean to frighten you. I would not hurt you for anything in the world. I thought you needed me " At that she straightened quickly, turned a flushed face toward him and he saw that she was shaking, not with sobs, but with merriment.
He stopped, awakened suddenly to the fact that the lady of his dreams was before him. "O Monsieur Philidor!" she laughed. "Well met, upon my word! Have you waited for me long?" "Olga!" "The same flushed with victory over the passing years, joyous, too, at the sight of you. I counted on finding you here." "I'm delighted but how " "I know your habits, my dear. You always loved to prowl.
It was rather before the usual hour of the cafe's filling, that a number of English officers, among whom was Trevanion, entered the "salon" of the "Philidor;" having determined not to attract any unusual attention, they broke into little knots and parties of threes and fours, and dispersed through the room, where they either sipped their coffee or played at dominoes, then, as now, the staple resource of a French cafe.
The cap, the earrings, the mole upon his cheek everything was as like as possible. Si, Monsieur Philidor was a great artist a very great artist. He, Cleofonte Fabiani, said so. But when Philidor took the sketch from his pad and presented it to Cleofonte with his compliments, the athlete's delight knew no bounds.
Yvonne that's my name Yvonne Deschamps, compagnon de voyage of the Philidor aforesaid." "No," he protested. "Why not?" He shook his head. "I don't like the idea," he said thoughtfully. "But I insist." He looked down at her for a moment, measuring her with his eye, and then smiled and shrugged a shoulder with an air of accepting the inevitable. And then as the thought came to him.
But whatever her performance lacked in artistry it made up in noise, her drum and cymbals awaking such a din that existence was unbearable within ten feet of them. Philidor went on with his portraits and was so absorbed that for at least twenty minutes he neither saw nor heard what was going on about him.
It isn't my fault if I stumbled into the climacteric of your interesting romance. I wouldn't willingly have done it for worlds. But I couldn't help seeing, could I? And Olga was so self-possessed! Only a woman terribly disconcerted could be quite so self-possessed as Olga was. And then the next day you went away. Flight is confession, Philidor." "H m," said Markham.
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