“I don’t see him no more; he vas a goot man;” and he added, softly, lowering his voice, “I tink he vas in love mit Madame de Bréville! Ya, I tink so.”
“Have you heard from the Count?” I asked.
“Ah! you don’t hear about him, no? He was suicided. He vent and shooted hisself. It vas in all de papers. He vas a fine gentleman, too, de Count. And so, monsieur, it is only Louis who stays; may be I be better off if I do, vhat you tink? May be it vill be a goot place again some day?”
In the Bois one sunny morning a little girl in a velvet dress came running to me as fast as her chubby legs could carry her and screaming: “Monsieur, monsieur, my mamma wishes to speak to you; she is just over there in the carriage,” and she pointed with a majestic sweep of her little hand to a landau waiting under the shade of the acacias.
It was Lucille, happily married to one none of us had ever seen.
There are many bars in Paris with barmaids who speak perfect English and a clientèle of demi-mondaines who do not.
Many of these places have grown to be miniature Maximes and quite a few of them keep a chasseur in gilt buttons. They are frequented by the idling jeunesse with more “louis” than brains, who occupy late in the afternoon the high stools and pay accordingly for the flattering bons mots of certain powdered and bediamonded ladies who in years are old enough to be their grandmothers. The fortunes of the callow youths tumble eventually either into the hands of these well-seasoned adventuresses or into the pocket of the card-sharps who patronize many of these bars. Beside these there are many eminently respectable looking old gentlemen who, with unhappy homes and no clubs to go to, prefer passing a restful hour steeped in an atmosphere of mixed drinks, perfume and expensive toilettes. Here Mimi la Duchesse strolls in at five o’clock with her French bulldog, “Mignon,” wearing all the diamonds around his neck that the fair Mimi has not room for on her fingers. Later in the winter, when creditors are pressing and Mimi’s debts have run into several hundred thousands of francs, there will be a very chic catalog issued announcing an absolute auction of her effects, together with her private hotel.
It will contain several full-page photogravures upon hand-made deckle-edged paper of her residence, with a frontispiece showing the interior of the “Great Hall” paneled in Spanish leather, its fireplace taken from a famous château of the time of François I., and hanging over the carved shelf a celebrated Madonna, under whose sad eyes have been played nightly so many heavy games of baccarat. Turning another page you will discover the view looking south through the conservatory filled with rare exotic plants and orchids. Another page shows the salon, rich in carved ivory and cloisonne and art nouveau, none of which Mimi knew anything about except that they were expensive and that many of them accompanied the bonbons. Then the dainty boudoir is depicted, paneled in teakwood and lapis-lazuli. Finally her superb jewels are illustrated: priceless strings of pearls; rings of weighty emeralds and pigeon-blood rubies; a gold toilet-set studded with sapphires; and something to adorn Mimi’s neck, composed mostly of diamonds, with a miniature automobile in rubies, pendent from a display of jeweled fruits upheld by two caryatids in diamonds and emeralds. Besides all these, are three ruby collars that Mignon as yet had never worn.
