“A thousand if you are so disposed, Monsieur.”
“You have scored a triumph of sorts to-night, but don’t let it give you a swollen head.”
“It will not, Monsieur, I can assure you,” was the answer.
“That is well; preserve the business head as well as the artistic instinct. This profession is full of ups and downs. Look at Bauquel! In spite of his considerable earnings, he is always in debt, always in the hands of money-lenders. He earns easily, he spends more easily. In five years he will be ousted from his position by younger and more talented rivals, and he will be penniless. He will probably come to me to borrow a sovereign.”
“And you will let him have it, I am sure, Monsieur,” said Nello warmly. “You have a very kind heart.”
“Of course I shall let him have it. But, at the same time, I shall take advantage of the opportunity to say, ‘here it is, friend Bauquel. But why did you not save in the fat years, instead of spending your money on a miserable claque, in order to spoil my show? And you know, moreover, you were absolutely in the wrong.’”
Nello could not refrain from smiling. Paul Degraux was very human. He could not forgive Bauquel for his cavalier treatment.
“I am a frugal Italian, Monsieur. I shall never waste my money.”
Paul Degraux swelled out his broad chest. “You will get on, my young friend. Look at me! Twenty or twenty-five years ago I was playing in a small orchestra with Gay at a few shillings a week—I have no doubt Gay has told you of that little episode. I know he is a very garrulous person—a dear good chap, but garrulous. Well, Gay is there and I am here. Why?”