e
establishment--inspired by wholesome distrust--of fastening the forks
and spoons with a chain to the table, hindered me a little. I paid,
and fortified by my substantial mess, resumed my way to the Quartier
Latin.

What a picture my return home! The return of the poet, trotting up the
Rue de Tournon, with his coat collar turned up, while dancing before
his sleepy eyes are the elegant shadows of a fashionable evening party
mingling with the famished specters of the market-place. He stands
knocking his boots against the curbstone of the Hotel du Senat, to
shake off the snow, while opposite the bright lamps of a brougham
light up the front of an old mansion, and Doctor Ricord's coachman
cries out: "Gate, if you please." Life in Paris is made up of these
contrasts.

"A wasted evening," said my brother the next morning. "You have been
taken for a Wallachian prince, and have not succeeded in launching
your book. But all is not yet lost; you must make up for it when you
make your 'digestion call,' as we say in Paris."

The digestion of a glass of water, what irony. It was quite two months
before I made up my mind to pay that call. However, one day I summoned
up courage. Besides her official receptions on Wednesdays, Augustine
Brohan received more unceremoniously on Sunday afternoon. I resolutely
started off....

Even now I can recall the smallest details of that interview. But see
how all depends upon our point of view. I had told Sarcey the comical
story of my first appearance in society, and one day Sarcey repeated
it to Augustine Brohan. Well, the ungrateful Augustine--whom, it is
true, I have not seen for thirty years--swore most sincerely that she
knew nothing of me but my books. She had forgotten everything!
Everything--all that had played such an important part in my life--the
broken glasses, the Wallachian prince, the rehearsal of "Lait
d'Anesse," and the boots of the heavy dragoons.

GUY DE MAUPASSANT

Born in 1850, died in 1893; educated at Rouen; trained in
literary matters by Flaubert; wrote an unsuccessful play in
1879 and then a short story, "Boule de Suif," which
attracted marked attention, and was followed by a great
number of short and long stories, including "Mademoiselle
Fifi" in 1882, "Pierre et Jean" in 1888, and "Notre Coeur"
in 1890.

MADAME JEANNE'S LAST DAYS[12]

Jeanne did not go out any more. She hardly bestirred herself. She got
up ever