artly French, partly English.

In this noisy crowded place the two drinkers were talking together
familiarly.

The dark young man, after having listened with curiosity to the
confidences of his companion, which must have been of an extraordinary
nature, judging by the exclamations of surprise they evoked, asked:

"But what is your profession, then?"

"But I have already told you," replied the fat man. "I am a clown--a
musical clown.... I interpret comic romances.... I dress up as a
negro, I play the banjo!" This jovial individual began humming an air
which was the rage of the moment.

The dark young man interrupted with another question:

"What is your native country, Tommy?"

"Oh, I am a Belgian.... And you, Butler?"

The dark young man, who answered to the name of Butler, gave what had
to pass for an account of himself.

"I ... I'm Canadian--just come from Canada--hardly three months ago."

"As much as that?" remarked fat Tommy.

Butler seemed upset by this question.

"Yes, yes!... And I feel very anxious, because I don't know my way
about, and I don't know English very well, and I can't find work, try
as I will ... it seems no use."...

"What can you do?"

"A little of everything."

"That is to say--nothing!"

Butler said slowly:

"I can do book-keeping."

The clown burst out laughing.

"That will not take you far! There are hundreds and hundreds of
stick-in-the-muds at that job!"

"What do you want me to do, then?" asked Butler.

His plump acquaintance put a hand on his shoulder.

"There is only one career in the world--the theatre!... There is only
one profession worth following, that of artiste!... See how I have
succeeded! And without having received the least instruction, for my
parents never cared a hang for my future--I soon earned plenty money;
now, though still in the full flush of young man-hood, I am on the
point of making a fortune!"

The clown evidently fancied himself, for he was of a ripe age--no
chicken.

His companion gazed at him admiringly.

Certainly the clown looked wealthy: his thick watch-chain was gold,
English sovereigns, ostentatiously displayed, were stuffed in a
bulging purse: his appearance justified his boasts.

"I would ask nothing better than to get into a theatre," said Butler
with a simple air, "but I don't know how to do anything!"

The clown shot a shrewd glance at his companion: Butler's face was
flushed, his eyes were wandering: his wits seeme