Part 14 (1/2)

This is in brief the origin of this fete which caused such stupefaction in the Bohemian world across the water. For about a year past, Marcel and Rodolphe had announced this sumptuous gala which was always to take place ”next Sat.u.r.day,” but painful circ.u.mstances had obliged their promise to extend over fifty-two weeks, so that they had come to pa.s.s of not being able to take a step without encountering some ironical remark from one of their friends, amongst whom there were some indiscreet enough to put forward energetic demand for its fulfillment. The matter beginning to a.s.sume the character of a plague, the two friends resolved to put an end to it by liquidating the undertaking into which they had entered. It was thus that they sent out the invitation given above.

”Now,” said Rodolphe, ”there is no drawing back. We have burnt our s.h.i.+ps, and we have before us just a week to find the hundred francs that are indispensable to do the thing properly.”

”Since we must have them, we shall,” replied Marcel.

And with the insolent confidence which they had in luck, the two friends went to sleep, convinced that their hundred francs were already on the way, the way of impossibility.

However, as on the day before that appointed for the party, nothing as of yet had turned up, Rodolphe thought perhaps, be safer to give luck a helping hand, unless he were to be discredited forever, when the time came to light up. To facilitate matters the two friends progressively modified the sumptuosity of the program they had imposed upon themselves.

And proceeding from modification to modification, after having seriously reduced the item ”cakes,” and carefully revised and pruned down the item ”liquors,” the total cost was reduced to fifteen francs.

The problem was simplified, but not yet solved.

”Come, come,” said Rodolphe, ”we must now have recourse to strong measures, we cannot cry off this time.”

”No, that is impossible,” replied Marcel.

”How long is it since I have heard the story of the Battle of Studzianka?”

”About two months.”

”Two months, good, that is a decent interval; my uncle will have no ground for grumbling. I will go tomorrow and hear his account of that engagement, that will be five francs for certain.”

”I,” said Marcel, ”will go and sell a deserted manor house to old Medicis. That will make another five francs. If I have time enough to put in three towers and a mill, it will perhaps run to ten francs, and our budget will be complete.”

And the two friends fell asleep dreaming that the Princess Belgiojoso begged them to change their reception day, in order not to rob her of her customary guests.

Awake at dawn, Marcel took a canvas and rapidly set to work to build up a deserted manor house, an article which he was in the habit of supplying to a broker of the Place de Carrousel. On his side, Rodolphe went to pay a visit to his Uncle Monetti, who shone in the story of the Retreat from Moscow, and to whom Rodolphe accorded five or six times in course of the year, when matters were really serious, the satisfaction of narrating his campaigns, in return for a small loan which the veteran stove maker did not refuse too obstinately when due enthusiasm was displayed in listening to his narrations.

About two o'clock, Marcel with hanging head and a canvas under his arm, met on the Place de Carrousel Rodolphe, who was returning from his uncle's, and whose bearing also presaged ill news.

”Well,” asked Marcel, ”did you succeed?”

”No, my uncle has gone to Versailles. And you?”

”That beast of a Medicis does not want any more ruined manor houses. He wants me to do him a Bombardment of Tangiers.”

”Our reputations are ruined forever if we do not give this party,”

murmured Rodolphe. ”What will my friend, the influential critic, think if I make him put on a white tie and yellow kids for nothing.”

And both went back to the studio, a prey to great uneasiness.

At that moment the clock of a neighbor struck four.

”We have only three hours before us,” said Rodolphe despondingly.

”But,” said Marcel, going up to his friend, ”are you quite sure, certain sure, that we have no money left anywhere hereabout? Eh?”

”Neither here, nor elsewhere. Where do you suppose it could come from?”

”If we looked under the furniture, in the stuffing of the arm chairs?