Opening his eyes he observed through the window an apartment some twenty feet away on the other side of the courtyard. Herein sat perhaps a dozen little workgirls, plaiting and combing long switches of false hair. They were employés of a perruquier, and cheerful, light-hearted souls they appeared to be. When he sat up in bed they greeted him with the friendliest gaiety, giving thanks that their fears that he might be dead were not realized.
Wynne felt a little embarrassed having to make his toilet in these circumstances. He remained between the sheets indecisively until forced to rise by the friendly chaffery from opposite. Then he grabbed his clothes from the chair and ran the gauntlet to the corner of the room, where he might dress without being observed.
This manœuvre excited gusts of merriment, in which he found himself joining very heartily.
After all, why should one mind dressing before an audience? It was ridiculous to be super-modest over such trifles. He realized with a start that his own stock of unconventionalism was thoroughly outclassed by these simple little midinettes, and this being so, he at once conceived for them a very profound esteem.
Accordingly, with a hairbrush in one hand and his braces trailing behind him, he stepped upon the tiny balcony and said:
“Bon jour. Je pense que vous êtes très, très douce les toutes.”
The cordial reception accorded to this sentiment encouraged him to further efforts. He found, however, that his stock of French was insufficient for the needs of the occasion. After a laborious endeavour to express appreciation for their sunny broad-minded temperaments and to include a few words stating that his mission in life was to inculcate a similar breadth of mind to the hide-bound pedants who infested the world, he was compelled to stop for lack of the material to proceed.
His merry audience, in spite of having failed to understand a single word, cheered the speech very generously, and blew him a cloud of aerial kisses.
II
Wynne Rendall took his chocolate and immersed his roll therein with all the skill of a Parisian, and later, in a very rapturous frame of mind, crossed the Seine by the Pont des Arts and made his way to the Rue du Dragon. He had no difficulty in discovering the Atelier Julien, and addressing himself to a bearded and aproned old gentleman who sat on a high stool in a very small office.