The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1903-11-27
The UnmaSking Of Theodore

Lost Youth" had black hair, which
stood straight up from his forehead to
the exact height of ten centimetres; he
mad rope of black mustache, the left
half of which curled upward like the tail
of certain impolite animal, while the
right half curled downward with a
dragged droop, and his cheeks and chin
were invariably covered with a blue
! black stubble that made you wonder if
his shaving consisted of a snip and a
promise with blunt scissors. Also he
was tall and lean, and folded tightly
! into rusty black frock coat that reach
ed to his heels. Altogether Theodore was
a most melancholy sort of man, a sort
of thrice-starved Paganini.
At the Noctambules. in the Rue
Champollion, where he sang seven
nights in the week, he was a great IA
vorite, for his songs, fashioned with a
| certain negligee of weary sentiment,
went straight to the Wintry bosonS of
the charmers of the Quarter, filling
happy, nesting spring, when mimosa
and Violets crowned the young head of
awakening love. OH it was very beau
tiful to steep oneself in the soft syrup
he distilled from faded flowers and
blighted blossoms!
He would drift on to the little stage
with the detached air of an Intellectual
angel, announce the subject of his
chanson in a pathetic voice, wave his
black-gloved hands, and proceed to
QIdW LEAFS 1lOi1 SfCAJ NCAAidAA CyC.
No, he was not cheerful, but he was
draw. His greatest effort was a cynical
I trif1e called "a Ballade of Lost Illu-
sions." In it he told you all about his
early beliefs, his rosebud faiths" how
one by one they were nipped by the
frost of adversely; how Love was born
in the nest of his heart. and discovering
that it possessed wings, flew away with
sad little sigh and a sad
little fuetter: how he found
! he no his IL
lusions and live; so-he revealed in the
envoi-he lived by selling them, by sing
ing you bit of his heart for two francs
night Then, without bow or congo
of any sort, he would drift over to where
the patron sat with one eye on the door
and one on the walters. dreamily re-
ceive his two francs in full view of his
admirers, and moon away into the night
like a bereaved god.
Theodore was a mystery. He drank
with no one, he spoke to no one but the
patron. he had no camarade.- 1t was
popularity supposed that his hotel was
one of the arches of the Pont de la
Concorde, and that he had so chosen In
order to be near the wall and wash of
the Seine, with it's beauty of the grave
and its burden of suicides It was
known that many futile attempts had
been made to probe his mystery. 1t
was known, too, that Toto lie Tondeur
and Bastien Biribi had followed him
like sleuth hounds one memorable
night. They tracked him to the forti-
ficatiOns of st. Mande, where at the
Vincennes end of the Boulevard Soult
he had stood. arms folded, on the edge
of the ditch for two full hours, gazing
at a watery moon; that he had
marched them back all the way to the
Porte Maillot; that he had led them
gently UP to the terrace of the Sacre
Occur at Montmatre; and that, when
dawn was slowly creeping in, he had
sought one of the quais, rolled a stone
into position. and with it for pillow
composed himself to rest, first saying
to his footsore crackers as ne faced
them YEARLY, mo. messieurs, do not
live here"
The mystery might have remained
yelled forever but for a chance mo-
ment of forgetfulness. Theodore ap-
peared at the Noctambules one night
without his gloves. Bastien Biribi was
the first to note the omission
'Voyez. mon vieux." he whispered to
Toto. Theodore has lost more than his
youth
Heinz" said Toto.
Where are the gloves of yester-
year2" said Bastien, parodying.
" Gre noInP' exclaimed Toto. us the
day of judgment come? And look he
continued, Took at the wedding fngeri
ring. by a thousand Censors, the
ring of conjugal bondager'
Hal" said Bastien, I'VE march, we
march. we go to read the riddlei"
All unconscious of impending dis
aster, Theodore announced his very
newest dirge. a trihe in which he shed
the tears of a moment over "The Lit
Tie Loves of Long Ago" He intoned
1t in mastery fashion.
Light did We come. light did We go.
As summers rose. as winters snow
/ o little loves of long ago.
Your. grave within my heart is made.
Dealn Iald you deep with cunning shade
! y little loves that Powered to fadeI
What cared the world? It had its. wine.
SOY nps 10 bite, soft eyes TO shine
y httle loves that once were mine!
Not vain your life. your death. All! moi
MY little loves of long ago.
| When he had finished there were only
five dry eyes in the cabaret of the Noe
tambules- The patron permitted the
eye that watched the door to Bay hur-
ried tribute; the other was compelled
to survey the gareons. The remaining