Tales of Two Countries
He stooped and buried his face in the curtain. The stiff, wrinkly
oil-painting must be hard and cold to cry into. The little body shrank
together; he drew his green leg close up under him, and stood like a
stork upon the red one.
No one on the other side of the curtain must hear that he was crying.
Therefore he did not sob like a child, but fought as a man fights
against a broken heart.
When the attack was over, he blew his nose with his fingers, and wiped
them on his tights. With the dirty curtain he had dabbled the tears all
over his face until it was streaked with black; and in this guise, and
dry-eyed, he gazed for a moment over the fair.
Then: “Maman m’a pris mon sou”--and he set off again.
The backsweep of the wave leaves the beach dry for an instant while
the next wave is gathering. Thus sorrow swept in heavy surges over the
little childish heart.
His dress was so ludicrous, his body so meagre, his weeping was so
wofully bitter, and his suffering so great and man-like----But at home
at the hotel--the Pavillon Henri Quatre, where the Queens of France
condescended to be brought to bed there the condor sat and slept upon
its perch.
And it dreamed its dream--its only dream--its dream about the snow-peaks
of Peru and the mighty wing-strokes over the deep valleys; and then it
forgot its rope.
It uplifted its ragged pinions vigorously, and struck two sturdy
strokes. Then the rope drew taut, and it fell back where it was wont to
fall--it wrenched its claw, and the dream vanished.----Next morning the
aristocratic English family was much concerned, and the landlord himself
felt annoyed, for the condor lay dead upon the grass.
TWO FRIENDS.
No one could understand where he got his money from. But the person who
marvelled most at the dashing and luxurious life led by Alphonse was his
quondam friend and partner.
After they dissolved partnership, most of the custom and the best
connection passed by degrees into Charles’s hands. This was not because
he in any way sought to run counter to his former partner; on the
contrary, it arose simply from the fact that Charles was the more
capable man of the two. And as Alphonse had now to work on his own
account, it was soon clear to any one who observed him closely, that
in spite of his promptitude, his amiability and his prepossessing
appearance, he was not fitted to be at the head of an independent
business.
And there was one person who _did_ observe him closely. Charles followed
him step by step with his sharp eyes; every blunder, every extravagance,
every loss he knew all to a nicety, and he wondered that Alphonse could
keep going so long.--They had as good as grown up together. Their
mothers were cousins; the families had lived near each other in the
same street; and in a city like Paris proximity is as important as
relationship in promoting close intercourse. Moreover, the boys went to
the same school.
Thenceforth, as they grew up to manhood, they were inseparable. Mutual
adaptation overcame the great differences which originally marked their
characters, until at last their idiosyncrasies fitted into each
other like the artfully-carved pieces of wood which compose the
picture-puzzles of our childhood.
The relation between them was really a beautiful one, such as does
not often arise between two young men; for they did not understand
friendship as binding the one to bear everything at the hands of
the other, but seemed rather to vie with each other in mutual
considerateness.
If, however, Alphonse in his relation to Charles showed any high degree
of considerateness, he him self was ignorant of it; and if any one had
told him of it he would doubtless have laughed loudly at such a mistaken
compliment.
For as life on the whole appeared to him very simple and
straightforward, the idea that his friendship should in any way fetter
him was the last thing that could enter his head. That Charles was his
best friend seemed to him as entirely natural as that he himself danced
best, rode best, was the best shot, and that the whole world was ordered
entirely to his mind.
Alphonse was in the highest degree a spoilt child of fortune; he
acquired everything without effort; existence fitted him like an elegant
dress, and he wore it with such unconstrained amiability that people
forgot to envy him.
And then he was so handsome. He was tall and slim, with brown hair and
big open eyes; his complexion was clear and smooth, and his teeth shone
when he laughed. He was quite conscious of his beauty, but, as everybody
had petted him from his earliest days, his vanity was of a cheerful,
good-natured sort, which, after all, was not so offensive. He was
exceedingly fond of his friend. He amused himself and sometimes others
by teasing him and making fun of him; but he knew Charles’s face so
thoroughly that he saw at once when the jest was going too far. Then
he would resume his natural, kindly tone, until he made the serious and
somewhat melancholy Charles laugh till he was ill.
From his boyhood Charles had admired Alphonse beyond measure. He himself
was small and insignificant, quiet and shy. His friend’s brilliant
qualities cast a lustre over him as well, and gave a certain impetus to
his life.
His mother often said: “This friendship between the boys is a real
blessing for my poor Charles, for without it he would certainly have
been a melancholy creature.”
When Alphonse was on all occasions preferred to him, Charles rejoiced;
he was proud of his friend. He wrote his exercises, prompted him at
examination, pleaded his cause with the masters, and fought for him with
the boys.
At the commercial academy it was the same story. Charles worked for
Alphonse, and Alphonse rewarded him with his inexhaustible amiability
and unfailing good-humor.
When subsequently, as quite young men, they were placed in the same
banker’s office, it happened one day that the principal said to Charles:
“From the first of May I will raise your salary.”
“I thank you,” answered Charles, “both on my own and on my friend’s
behalf.”
“Monsieur Alphonse’s salary remains unaltered,” replied the chief, and
went on writing.
Charles never forgot that morning. It was the first time he had been
preferred or distinguished before his friend. And it was his commercial
capacity, the quality which, as a young man of business, he valued most,
that had procured him this preference; and it was the head of the firm,
the great financier, who had himself accorded him such recognition.
The experience was so strange to him that it seemed like an injustice to
his friend. He told Alphonse nothing of the occurrence; on the contrary,
he proposed that they should apply for two vacant places in the Crédit
Lyonnais.
Alphonse was quite willing, for he loved change, and the splendid
new banking establishment on the, Boulevard seemed to him far more
attractive than the dark offices in the Rue Bergère. So they removed to
the Crédit Lyonnais on the first of May. But as they were in the chief’s
office taking their leave, the old banker said to Charles, when Alphonse
had gone out (Alphonse always took precedence of Charles), “Sentiment
won’t do for a business man.”
From that day forward a change went on in Charles. He not only worked as
industriously and conscientiously as before, but developed such energy
and such an amazing faculty for labor as soon attracted to him the
attention of his superiors. That he was far ahead of his friend in
business capacity was soon manifest; but every time he received a new
mark of recognition he had a struggle with himself. For a long time,
every advancement brought with it a certain qualm of conscience; and yet
he worked on with restless ardor.
One day Alphonse said, in his light, frank way: “You are really a smart
fellow, Charlie! You’re getting ahead of everybody, young and old--not
to mention me. I’m quite proud of you!”
Charles felt ashamed. He had been thinking that Alphonse must feel
wounded at being left on one side, and now he learned that his friend
not only did not grudge him his advancement, but was even proud of him.
By degrees his conscience was lulled to rest, and his solid worth was
more and more appreciated--
But if he was in reality the more capable, how came it that he was
so entirely ignored in society, while Alphonse remained everybody’s
darling? The very promotions and marks of appreciation which he had won
for himself by hard work, were accorded him in a dry, business manner;
while every one, from the directors to the messengers, had a friendly
word or a merry greeting for Alphonse.
In the different offices and departments of the bank they intrigued
to obtain possession of Monsieur Alphonse; for a breath of life and
freshness followed ever in the wake of his handsome person and joyous
nature. Charles, on the other hand, had often remarked that his
colleagues regarded him as a dry person, who thought only of business
and of himself.
The truth was that he had a heart of rare sensitiveness, with no faculty
for giving it expression.
Charles was one of those small, black Frenchmen whose beard begins right
under the eyes; his complexion was yellowish and his hair stiff and
splintery. His eyes did not dilate when he was pleased and animated, but
they flashed around and glittered. When he laughed the corners of his
mouth turned upward, and many a time, when his heart was full of joy
and good-will, he had seen people draw back, half-frightened by his
forbidding exterior. Alphonse alone knew him so well that he never
seemed to see his ugliness; every one else misunderstood him. He became
suspicious, and retired more and more within himself.
In an insensible crescendo the thought grew in him: Why should he never
attain anything of that which he most longed for--intimate and cordial
intercourse and friendliness which should answer to the warmth pent up
within him? Why should everyone smile to Alphonse with out-stretched
hands, while he must content himself with stiff bows and cold glances!
Alphonse knew nothing of all this. He was joyous and healthy, charmed
with life and content with his daily work. He had been placed in the
easiest and most interesting branch of the business, and, with his quick
brain and his knack of making himself agreeable, he filled his place
satisfactorily.
His social circle was very large--every one set store by his
acquaintance, and he was at least as popular among women as among men.
For a time Charles accompanied Alphonse into society, until he was
seized by a misgiving that he was invited for his friend’s sake alone,
when he at once drew back.
When Charles proposed that they should set up in business together,
Alphonse had answered: “It is too good of you to choose me. You could
easily find a much better partner.”
Charles had imagined that their altered relations and closer association
in work would draw Alphonse out of the circles which Charles could not
now endure, and unite them more closely. For he had conceived a vague
dread of losing his friend.
He did not himself know, nor would it have been easy to decide, whether
he was jealous of all the people who flocked around Alphonse and drew
him to them, or whether he envied his friend’s popularity.--They began
their business prudently and energetically, and got on well.
It was generally held that each formed an admirable complement to the
other. Charles represented the solid, confidence-inspiring element,
while the handsome and elegant Alphonse imparted to the firm a certain
lustre which was far from being without value.
Every one who came into the counting-house at once remarked his handsome
figure, and thus it seemed quite natural that all should address
themselves to him.