Then one morning I arose and we had no more money—well, just a few sous, enough to buy a crust or so for déjeûner. She took it as she went on her way to the bedside of the dying Môme. She was a brave little soul, and usually made a valiant effort to cheer me, but this morning she could not conceal her dejection. She kissed me good-bye with tears coursing down her cheeks. Then I was alone. Never had the sky seemed so grey, so hopeless.
“I fear I’m beaten,” I said. “I’ve made a hard fight and I’ve been found wanting. I am supposed to be a capable writing man. I’m a fraud. I can’t earn my salt with my pen. The other was only an accident. It’s a good thing to know oneself at one’s true value. I might have gone on till the end of the chapter, lulled in my fatuous vanity. I’m humble now; I’m crushed.”
I sat there gazing at the dreary roofs.
“Well, I’ve had enough. Here’s where I throw up the sponge. I’m going to spend the rest of my life planting cabbages in New Jersey. If it was only for myself I’d never give in. I’ve got just enough mule spirit to fight on till I’m hurt, but I can’t let others get hurt too. Already I’ve gone too far. I’ve been a bit of a brute. But it’s all over. I’ve lost, I’ve lost.”
I threw myself back on my bed, unstrung, morbid, desperate. Then suddenly I sprang up, for there came a knocking at the door.
CHAPTER III
THE DAWN
It was the postman, not the usual bearer of dejected manuscripts; another, older, more distinguished.
“Registered letter, Monsieur.”
Wonderingly I signed for it. The man lingered, but I had no offering for the great god Pourboire. I regarded the letter curiously. It was from MacWaddy & Wedge, the last people to whom I had sent Tom, Dick and Harry. All I knew of them was that they were a new firm who had adopted the advertising methods of the Yankees, to the horror of the old and crusted British publisher. In consequence they had done well, and were disposed to take risks where new writers were concerned.
Well, what was in the letter? Like a man who stands before a closed door, which may open on Hell or Heaven, I hesitated. Then in fear and trembling I broke the seal. This is what I read: