“Twenty-five francs,” smiled the pedlar obsequiously.
“Ultima Thule was the place of its manufacture, even Birmingham the place of my birth.”
“Fifteen francs,” cringed the bearded man.
“Get thee gone, fellow,” said Cronshaw. “May wild asses defile the grave of thy maternal grandmother.”
Imperturbably, but smiling no more, the Levantine passed with his wares to another table. Cronshaw turned to Philip.
“Have you ever been to the Cluny, the museum? There you will see Persian carpets of the most exquisite hue and of a pattern the beautiful intricacy of which delights and amazes the eye. In them you will see the mystery and the sensual beauty of the East, the roses of Hafiz and the wine-cup of Omar; but presently you will see more. You were asking just now what was the meaning of life. Go and look at those Persian carpets, and one of these days the answer will come to you.”
“You are cryptic,” said Philip.
“I am drunk,” answered Cronshaw.
XLVI
Philip did not find living in Paris as cheap as he had been led to believe and by February had spent most of the money with which he started. He was too proud to appeal to his guardian, nor did he wish Aunt Louisa to know that his circumstances were straitened, since he was certain she would make an effort to send him something from her own pocket, and he knew how little she could afford to. In three months he would attain his majority and come into possession of his small fortune. He tided over the interval by selling the few trinkets which he had inherited from his father.