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M. Saval questioned him as to all the men he was going to receive, adding: "It would be an extraordinary piece of good fortune for a stranger to meet at one time so many celebrities assembled in the studio of an artist of your rank." Romantin, vanquished, replied: "If it would be agreeable to you, come."
You could see that they were almost bald; and they drank beer like men. M. Saval sat down at some distance from them and waited, for the hour for taking absinthe was at hand. A tall young man soon came in and took a seat beside him. The landlady called him M. "Romantin." The notary quivered. Was this the Romantin who had taken a medal at the last Salon? The young man made a sign to the waiter.
The door was opened brusquely. A woman appeared, her eyes flashing, and remained standing on the threshold. Romantin gazed at her with a look of terror. She waited some seconds, crossing her arms over her breast, and then in a shrill, vibrating, exasperated voice said: "Ha! you dirty scoundrel, is this the way you leave me?" Romantin made no reply. She went on: "Ha! you scoundrel!
They sat around him to listen to him; they greeted him with words of applause, and called him Scheherazade. Romantin did not return. Other guests arrived. M. Saval was presented to them so that he might begin his story over again. He declined; they forced him to relate it. They seated and tied him on one of three chairs between two women who kept constantly filling his glass.
He found that he was in no condition to do so. His clothes had disappeared. He blurted out: "Madame, I Then he remembered. What was he to do? He asked: "Did Monsieur Romantin come back?" The doorkeeper shouted: "Will you take your dirty carcass out of this, so that he at any rate may not catch you here?"
They stopped in front of a very long, low house, the first story having the appearance of an interminable conservatory. Six studios stood in a row with their fronts facing the boulevards. Romantin was the first to enter, and, ascending the stairs, he opened a door, and lighted a match and then a candle.
He had taken up a newspaper, and was reading it. M. Saval glanced sideways at him, burning with the desire to speak to him. Two young men entered, in red vests and with peaked beards, in the fashion of Henry III. They sat down opposite Romantin. The first of the pair said: "Is it for this evening?" Romantin pressed his hand. "I believe you, old chap, and everyone will be there.
And he carried off Mathilde, who kept drying her eyes with her handkerchief as she went along. Left to himself, M. Saval succeeded in putting everything around him in order. Then he lighted the wax-candles, and waited. He waited for a quarter of an hour, half an hour, an hour. Romantin did not return.
Then Romantin plunged his hand into a cupboard, and drew forth twenty empty bottles, which he fixed in the form of a crown around the hoop. He then went downstairs to borrow a ladder from the janitress, after having explained that he had made interest with the old woman by painting the portrait of her cat, exhibited on the easel.
You did a nice thing in parking me off to the country. You'll soon see the way I'll settle your jollification. Yes, I'm going to receive your friends." She grew warmer. "I'm going to slap their faces with the bottles and the wax-candles " Romantin said in a soft tone: "Mathilde " But she did not pay any attention to him; she went on: "Wait a little, my fine fellow! wait a little!"
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