' A part on which I have lavished all the
wealth of my invention--she finds it beneath her, she said she would
'break her contract rather than play it.' Well, Blondette is the trump-card
of his season--he would throw over the whole of the Academy sooner
than lose Blondette. Since she objects to figuring in _Patatras,
Patatras_ is waste-paper to him. Alas! who would be an author? I
would rather shovel coke, or cut corns for a living. He himself
admitted that there was no fault to find with the revue, but, 'You know
well, monsieur, that we must humour Blondette!' I asked him if he would
try to bring her to her senses, but it seems that there have been a
dozen discussions already--he is sick of the subject. Now it is
settled--our manuscript will be banged back at us and we may rip!"
"Oh, my mother!" moaned Pitou. "Oh, the peacock and the deer!"
"What's that you say?" asked Lajeunie. "Are you positive that you
haven't got a cigarette anywhere?"
"I am positive that I have nothing," proclaimed Pitou vehemently,
"nothing in life but a broken heart! Oh, you did quite right to come to
me, but now leave me--leave me to perish. I have no words, I am
stricken. The next time you see me it will be in the Morgue. Mon Dieu,
that beautiful wretch, that creature without conscience, or a note in
her voice--by a shrug of her elegant shoulders she condemns me to the
Seine!"
"Ah, do not give way!" exclaimed Tricotrin, leaping out of bed.
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