Year: 1868

Translated from the French for the
sunday Appeal, by Miss l. P.
/ It was in a house on Vivean street,
No 8, l believe-there ought to be a
terrace there yet, at the bottom Of the
yard on this terrace is lodging, com
posed Of one large painters studio and
three small rooms. When you reach
! there you have climbed seven stories
( but seven stories so very long that each
one is cut in two by landing place, so
that the occupants Of the terrace were
not at all wrong in saying that they
dwelt at No IA


The studio was nearly eighteen feet
high, snd thirty feet square 1t was
/ furnished with pictures without frames
and frames without pictures, with arm
chair of carved wood covered with pur-
pie velvet, and with straw chairs without
straw and without backs. On a table
were to be seen porcelain plates Of the
greatest beauty, in which two cents
worth of Brie eheere had been eaten.
You would have had some difficulty in
finding knife, but there were three
hanging up against the walls-yataghans
and daggers, with damaseene blades and
richly carved hilts.


A bed Of the time of the Renaissance,
with wreathed columns and curtains Of
scarlet and blue broeatelle, displayed to
an inquisitiye eye miserable little mat
tress the thickness of ones hand, and an
old blanket full Of rents.


On one easel were suits of velvet Of
the time of Henry III on another the
only coat of the master of the studio
black, worn, frayed, white at the seams,
limp, and with pitiable look of despair
and detection. A door opening ona for
n,idably thick wall was formerly used as
a means of communication between the
studio and one of the three apartments
forming the rest of the lodging.


But at the period when my story took
place, two friends who shared the lodg-
ing had made of the space comprised be-
tween the two doors a closet, belonging
to the studio on the side of the lodging.
A nail driven into the wall, and camp
bed placed across the door, were sufi-
eient to close it up. The camp bed was
all the furniture in this part Of the lodg-
ings, with large cat, which was asleep,
and bust of Corneille in plaster. Poor
Pierre | do not know whether it was
by accident or not, but the top Of his
seull had been taken of, and served
both as cupboard and money chest. On
the ground were several pamphlets of
every color.


The owner of the studio was painter,
that of the room an actor; all the lodge
belonged to the painter, who boarded
the actor. The painter, who had been
married ten years, had a wife who exer-
cised the most rigid tyranny over him.
She allowed him neither rest, nor gayety.
nor noise She neither pardoned nor
understood the slightest faults. Cold,
calm, impossible. she made her husband
pay dearly for the happiness of having a
/ virtuous wife. When she was not there,
/ he and the actor, whom she also inspired
with some terror, and whom she did not
/ look upon too favorably, called her Vir-
tue Also. The mania of the painter,
Rodolph Melin, was to buy everything
| cheap he came across, whatever 1t might
be, always expecting to derive enormous
profits from it at some future time, and
no longer thinking of reselling the
objects, once he had piled them up on
the terrace. At the period when our tale
commenced, he was in possession Of one
league and a quarter of stove-pipes,
which he calculated on selling advan-
tageously at the commencement of the
winter.


The actor had not the least talent. He
had read all that had been written on
comedy; he spoke necessarily of the art,
acknowledged his ineapacity, and loaded
himself with abuse after each of his nu-
merous failures. However, he relied on
time and his own perseverance.


That day he came in late he had had
a real reratioa. He had had but a very
short part, which consisted in appearing
in pastebOard euirass and saying, II ia
ended he is dead.


do not know how the thing hap
pened, but in entering on the stage he
became confused and said, Il IS dead;
he IS ended


That had caused more gayety than is
agreeable for tragic actor to cause. He
came in, then, sad and erest-fallen.


As the actor re-entered his room,
which he called ironically Beautiful
Venice, the cat came mewing to rub
against his legs. Themistoeles Pelissier
at first repulsed him with a kick, then
recalled him. Come, Joeundus, said
he, and forgive me truly it becomes
me we'll to look big with cats, as if have
not fallen below the brute He took
the cat in his arms and earessed it. Ger
tainly, when God wished to descend upon
the earth, he chose the figure of man as
the most humble and miserable form
PelisSier set the eat down and went to-
wards the corner of the apartment where
he had put his supper but the plate was
empty and so thoroughly cleaned that he
instantly recognized the rasped tongue
of Jocundus Well, you were right,
said he ; you have done we'll 1 ought
to browse grass. You have left your
paste | will eat your paste-it is quite
good enough for me. Come, do you lie
down on my bed as for me, l will lie
down on the floor on your mat. Did
they not laugh enough l thought the
hall would fall in ; and the applause, and
the stamping, and the encore. longed
to escape, to leave the stage and throw
myself from the window of my box. IT
IS DEAD; HE Is ENDED


And who will guarantee that she was
not there. When went out it seemed
to me the doorkeeper laughed. The gems
d d'armes laughed as they left the theater.
Everything laughed. The wind laughed
in the lanterns, which it swung with stri-
dent noise The hackney eOaehman
called to me to clear the ,caywith an iron
/ I ,o,,fI