great Dionysus shall come, followed by his Fauns and his Bacchantes, to
restore beauty and gladness to the world, and bring back the Golden Age.
I shall fare joyously behind his car. And who knows if in that day of
triumph mankind will be there for us to see? Who knows whether their
worn-out race will not have already fulfilled its destiny, and whether
other beings will not rise upon the ashes and ruins of what once was man
and his genius? Who knows if winged beings will not have taken
possession of the terrestrial empire? Even then the work of the good
demons will not be ended,--they will teach a winged race arts and the
joy of life."

CHAPTER XXII

WHEREIN WE ARE SHOWN THE INTERIOR OF A BRIC-A-BRAC SHOP, AND
SEE HOW PERE GUINARDON'S GUILTY HAPPINESS IS MARRED BY THE
JEALOUSY OF A LOVE-LORN DAME

Pere Guinardon (as Zephyrine had faithfully reported to Monsieur
Sariette) smuggled out the pictures, furniture, and curios stored in his
attic in the rue Princesse--his studio he called it--and used them to
stock a shop he had taken in the rue de Courcelles. Thither he went to
take up his abode, leaving Zephyrine, with whom he had lived for fifty
years, without a bed or a saucepan or a penny to call her own, except
eighteenpence the poor creature had in her purse. Pere Guinardon opened
an old picture and curiosity shop, and in it he installed the fair
Octavie.

The shop-front presented an attractive appearance: there were Flemish
angels in green copes, after the manner of Gerard David, a Salome of the
Luini school, a Saint Barbara in painted wood of French workmanship,
Limoges enamel-work, Bohemian and Venetian glass, dishes from Urbino.
There were specimens of English point-lace which, if her tale was true,
had been presented to Zephyrine, in the days of her radiant girlhood, by
the Emperor Napoleon III. Within, there were golden articles that
glinted in the shadows, while pictures of Christ, the Apostles,
high-bred dames, and nymphs also presented themselves to the gaze. There
was one canvas that was turned face to the wall so that it should only
be looked at by connoisseurs; and connoisseurs are scarce. It was a
replica of Fragonard's _Gimblette_, a brilliant painting that looked as
if it had barely had time to dry. Papa Guinardon himself remarked on the
fact. At the far end of the shop was a king-wood cabinet, the drawers of
which were full of all manner of treasures: water-colours by Baudouin,