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Then Gagniere mechanically stopped Claude in front of the Cafe Baudequin, the gas of which was still blazing away. Mahoudeau refused to go in, and went off alone, sadly ruminating, towards the Rue du Cherche-Midi. Without knowing how, Claude found himself seated at their old table, opposite Gagniere, who was silent. The cafe had not changed.
That August night was a superb one, the air was warm, the sky studded with stars. And as they went the round by way of the Quartier de l'Europe, they passed before the old Cafe Baudequin on the Boulevard des Batignolles. It had changed hands three times.
But at dessert, when they were all three alone with the coffee and liqueurs, which they had decided upon taking there, without leaving the table, they gradually became animated, and dropped into their old familiar ways, as if they had met each other at the Cafe Baudequin. 'Ah, my lads, said Irma, 'this is the only real enjoyment, to be jolly together and to snap one's fingers at other people.
But she seems to retain a weakness for painters, and every now and then drops into the Cafe Baudequin to look up old friends! Irma had now seen them, and was making gestures from afar. They could but go to her. When Gagniere, with his light hair and little beardless face, turned round, looking more grotesque than over, he did not show the least surprise at finding them there.
As they gaily said, the Cafe Baudequin was not aware of the honour they had done it on the day when they selected it to be the cradle of a revolution. Fagerolles having reinforced the group, they now numbered five, and slowly they took their way across Paris, with their tranquil look of victory.
The Cafe Baudequin was situated on the Boulevard des Batignolles, at the corner of the Rue Darcet. Without the least why or wherefore, it had been selected by the band as their meeting-place, though Gagniere alone lived in the neighbourhood.
It was indeed Gagniere, seated all alone at that table at the end of the empty cafe. He must have come from Melun for one of the Sunday concerts to which he treated himself; and then, in the evening, while astray in Paris, an old habit of his legs had led him to the Cafe Baudequin.
He, Jory, had nearly had a duel at the Cafe Baudequin on account of one of his last articles in 'The Drummer. The fact was he was giving it hot to the twopenny-halfpenny painters, the men with the usurped reputations!
It was Dubuche, whom she knew from having seen him on one occasion at the Cafe Baudequin. He was, with difficulty, elbowing his way through the crowd, and staring vaguely at the sea of heads around him.
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