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Clifford bowed to everybody on the terrace, saying, "You shall meet them all later, but now let me present you to two of the sights of Paris, Mr. Richard Elliott and Mr. Stanley Rowden." The "sights" looked amiable, and took vermouth. "You cut the studio to-day," said Elliott, suddenly turning on Clifford, who avoided his eyes. "To commune with nature?" observed Rowden.
The two strolled off with friendly intent, to seek out and ameliorate the loneliness of Cholmondeley Rowden, Esq. Gethryn tied up his brushes, closed his color box and, flinging on his hat, hurried down the stairs and into the court, nodding to several students who passed with canvas and paint-boxes tucked under their arms.
Helmsley obeyed, sitting down in a chair near the door, and smiling to himself at the evidences of slack business which the offices of Messrs. Rowden and Owlett presented. In about five minutes the boy returned, and gave him a confidential nod. "You can go in now," he said; "Mr.
Helmsley paused, considering a moment then, making up his mind that "Rowden and Owlett" would suit his purpose as well as any other equally unknown firm, he slowly climbed the steep and unwashed stair. Opening the first door at the top of the flight, he saw a small boy leaning both arms across a large desk, and watching the gyrations of two white mice in a revolving cage.
Clifford jumped up, threaded his way through the floral labyrinth, and putting an eye to the crack of the door, said, "Who the devil is it?" This graceful style of reception is indigenous to the Quarter. "It's Elliott," he said, looking back, "and Rowden too, and their bulldogs." Then he addressed them through the crack. "Sit down on the stairs; Selby and I are coming out directly."
Speeches began rather late. Elliott made one and offered a toast to "la plus jolie demoiselle de Paris," which was drunk amid great enthusiasm and responded to by Gethryn, ending with a toast to Rowden. Rowden's response was stiff, but most correct. The same could not be said of Clifford's answer to the toast, "The struggling Artist Heaven help him!"
That Colossus is too disinterested in securing partners for his friends; he is, I assure you. If you're looking for a Louis Quatorze partner, warranted genuine, go to Rhodes." "Rex ought to be here by this time," said Rowden; "look in the boxes on that side and Clifford and I will do the same on this." "No need," cried Elliott, "I see him with a white domino there in the second tier.
Mademoiselle did not think it funny, but the Baron did, and when she boxed Clifford's ears he thought it funnier still. Rowden and Elliot, who were laboriously waltzing with a twin pair of flat-footed Watteau Shepherdesses, immediately ran to his assistance; and later, with a plentiful application of cold water and still colder air, restored Mr Clifford to his usual spirits.
Meantime Clifford in a bland whisper was telling Rowden what an ass he was. Poor Rowden looked miserable until Elliott, divining how affairs were turning, frowned on Clifford and found a moment to let Rowden know that they were all going to make the best of it. "You shut up," he observed to Clifford, "it's fate, and that settles it."
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