Part 55 (1/2)
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 pa.s.s 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!”