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Merrick, Leonard, 1864-1939

"A Chair on the Boulevard"


"Gustave, why did you never mention to me that you knew Blondette?"
"Morbleu! how often must I say that I do _not_ know her?"
"Well--how shall I express it?--that some episode in your career gave
you a claim on her consideration?"
"Because, by doing so, I should have both violated a confidence, and
re-opened a wound which still burns," said Tricotrin, more like Athos
than ever. "Only the urgency of your need, my comrade, could induce me
to take the course that I project. Now let me sleep, for to-morrow I
must have all my wits!"
It was, however, five o'clock already, and before either of them had
slept long, the street was clattering with feet on their way to the
laundries, and vendors of delicacies were bawling suggestions for
appetising breakfasts.
"Not only do the shouts of these monsters disturb my slumber, but they
taunt my starvation!" yawned the poet. "Yet, now I come to think of it,
I have an appointment with a man who has sworn to lend me a franc, so
perhaps I had better get up before he is likely to have spent it. I
shall call upon Blondette in the afternoon, when she returns from her
drive. What is your own programme?"
"My first attempt will be at a cremerie in the rue St. Rustique, where
I am inclined to think I may get credit for milk and a roll if I
swagger."
"Capital," said Tricotrin; "things are looking up with us both! And if
I raise the franc, there will be ten sous for you to squander on a
recherche luncheon.


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