Part 9 (1/2)
He was, however, much applauded at the end of each verse. When he had finished, he was asked if he were _quite_ sure there wasn't any more of it, and they expressed a deep regret; and then each student, straddling on his little thick-set chair as on a horse, and clasping the back of it in both hands, galloped round Little Billee's throne quite seriously--the strangest procession he had ever seen. It made him laugh till he cried, so that he couldn't eat or drink.
Then he served more punch and cake all round; and just as he was going to begin himself, Papelard said:
”Say, you others, I find that the Englishman has something of truly distinguished in the voice, something of sympathetic, of touching--something of _je ne sais quoi_!”
Bouchardy: ”Yes, yes--something of _je ne sais quoi_! That's the very phrase--n'est-ce pas, vous autres, that is a good phrase that Papelard has just invented to describe the voice of the Englishman. He is very intelligent, Papelard.”
Chorus: ”Perfect, perfect; he has the genius of characterization, Papelard. Dites donc, l'Anglais! once more that beautiful song--hein?
Nous vous en prions tous.”
Little Billee willingly sang it again, with even greater applause, and again they galloped, but the other way round and faster, so that Little Billee became quite hysterical, and laughed till his sides ached.
Then Dubosc: ”I find there is something of very capitous and exciting in English music--of very stimulating. And you, Bouchardy?”
Bouchardy: ”Oh, me! It is above all the _words_ that I admire; they have something of pa.s.sionate, of romantic--'ze-ese gla-aves, zese gla-aves--zey do not belong to me.' I don't know what that means, but I love that sort of--of--of--_je ne sais quoi_, in short! Just _once_ more, l'Anglais; only _once_, the _four_ couplets.”
So he sang it a third time, all four verses, while they leisurely ate and drank and smoked and looked at each other, nodding solemn commendation of certain phrases in the song: ”Tres bien!” ”Tres bien!”
”Ah! voila qui est bien reussi!” ”epatant, ca!” ”Tres fin!” etc., etc.
For, stimulated by success, and rising to the occasion, he did his very utmost to surpa.s.s himself in emphasis of gesture and accent and histrionic drollery--heedless of the fact that not one of his listeners had the slightest notion what his song was about.
It was a sorry performance.
And it was not till he had sung it four times that he discovered the whole thing was an elaborate impromptu farce, of which he was the b.u.t.t, and that of all his royal spread not a crumb or a drop was left for himself.
It was the old fable of the fox and the crow! And to do him justice, he laughed as heartily as any one, as if he thoroughly enjoyed the joke--and when you take jokes in that way people soon leave off poking fun at you. It is almost as good as being very big, like Taffy, and having a choleric blue eye!
Such was Little Billee's first experience of Carrel's studio, where he spent many happy mornings and made many good friends.
No more popular student had ever worked there within the memory of the grayest graybeards; none more amiable, more genial, more cheerful, self-respecting, considerate, and polite, and certainly none with greater gifts for art.
Carrel would devote at least fifteen minutes to him, and invited him often to his own private studio. And often, on the fourth and fifth day of the week, a group of admiring students would be gathered by his easel watching him as he worked.
”C'est un rude lapin, l'Anglais! au moins il sait son orthographe en peinture, ce coco-la!”
Such was the verdict on Little Billee at Carrel's studio; and I can conceive no loftier praise.
Young as she was (seventeen or eighteen, or thereabouts), and also tender (like Little Billee), Trilby had singularly clear and quick perceptions in all matters that concerned her tastes, fancies, or affections, and thoroughly knew her own mind, and never lost much time in making it up.
On the occasion of her first visit to the studio in the Place St.
Anatole des Arts, it took her just five minutes to decide that it was quite the nicest, homeliest, genialest, jolliest studio in the whole quartier latin, or out of it, and its three inhabitants, individually and collectively, were more to her taste than any one else she had ever met.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”THE FOX AND THE CROW”]
In the first place, they were English, and she loved to hear her mother-tongue and speak it. It awoke all manner of tender recollections, sweet reminiscences of her childhood, her parents, her old home--such a home as it was--or, rather, such homes; for there had been many flittings from one poor nest to another. The O'Ferralls had been as birds on the bough.