The Adventures of François

by S. Weir Mitchell

  *VI*

  _Of how Francois regained a lost friend, and of his adventure with thepoet Horace and another gentleman._

  Thus Francois was launched on what he was pleased to call the businessof life, and soon became expert in the transfer of property. Strange tosay, he had little pleasure in the debauchery of successful crime, andwas too good-natured to like violence. When he had enough for hismoderate wants he wandered in the country, here and there, in anaimless, drifting way. Simple things gave him pleasure. He could liein the woods or on the highway half a day, only moving to keep in thesun. He liked to watch any living creature--to see the cows feed, toobserve the birds. He had a charm for all animals. When the wagons wentby, dogs deserted them, and came to him for a touch and a word. Best ofall it was to sit beside some peasant's beehive, finding there noenmity, and smiling at the laborious lives he had no mind to imitate.Sometimes he yearned for the lost poodle, and had a pang of loneliness.That this man should have had gentle tastes, a liking for nature, aregard for some of the decencies of life, will not surprise those whoknow well the many varieties of the young criminal class; neither willthese be amazed to learn that now and then he heard mass, and crossedhimself devoutly when there was occasion. Children he fascinated; aglance of his long, odd face would make them leave nurse and toy, andsidle up to him. In the Cite these singularities made him avoided, whilehis growing strength caused him to be feared. He sought no friendsamong the thieves. "Very prudent, that," said Mme. Quatre Pattes; "themore friends, the more enemies."

  He was quick and active, and a shrewd observer; for the hard life of thestreets had sharpened his naturally ready wits, and he looked far olderthan his years. Of a Sunday in May he was walking down the Rue St.Honore, feeling a bit lonely, as was not often the case, when he sawToto. He whistled, and the poodle ran to him, and would no more of theshop or fat food he liked.

  "Toto! _Mon Dieu_!" he laughed, hugging the dog, his eyes full with thetears of joy. "Hast stolen me again! Wilt never return me? 'T is nohonest dog. _Viens donc_. Come, then, old friend." Joyous in thecompany of his comrade, who was now well grown, he strolled out into thefields, where Toto caught a rabbit--a terrible crime in those days.

  During the next two years the pair fairly prospered. Francois, as heused to relate, having risen in his profession, found a certain pleasurein good clothes, and being of a dramatic turn, could put on an air ofbourgeois sobriety, or, with a sword at his side and a bit of lace hereand there, swagger as a lesser gentleman. If things were very bad, hesold Toto and all his fine tricks for a round sum, and in a day or twowas sure to find the dog overjoyed and back again at the garret door.The pair were full of devices. There was Toto, a plated snuff-box inhis mouth, capering before some old gentle or some slow-pacing merchant;appears Francois, resistlessly smiling.

  "Has monsieur lost a snuff-box? My dog? Yes, monsieur. He is honest,and clever too."

  Monsieur, hastily searching, produces his own snuff-box--theindispensable snuff-box of the day.

  "No; thanks." And it is noted that the box he shows is of gold, andinto what pocket it falls. In the next crowd Toto knows how to make adisturbance with some fat lap-dog, and in the confusion thus created thesnuff-box changes owners.

  "If the man be sorry, I at least am made happy," says Francois; "and hehath been the better for a lesson in caution. I got what I needed, andhe what he required. Things are very even in this world." Francois hadlearned philosophy among the cures and priests of the choir-house. Ashe avoided great risks, and, as I have said, was averse to violence, hekept clear of detection, and could deceive the police of the king if byrare chance he were in peril of arrest. When the missing property wassome minor article, such as a handkerchief, it was instantly hid inToto's mouth. The dog skipped away, the outraged master was searched;the bewildered owner apologized, and the officers were shocked at such aneedless charge. Francois talked about his offended honor, and as helooked at twenty to be a strong man of full age, the affair was apt togo no further.

  Half the cleverness and thought thus devoted to an ignoble pursuit wouldhave given him success in more honest ways. But for a long while noangel chance tempted him, and it must be admitted that he enjoyed thegame he pursued, and was easily contented, not eagerly caring to find aless precarious and less risky mode of life.

  Temperament is merely a permanent mood. Francois was like the month ofJune in his dear Paris. There might be storms and changes, but hismental weather had the pleasant insurance of what was in the order ofdespotic nature. And yet to be owner of the continual sunshine ofcheerfulness has its drawbacks. It deprives a man of some of thewholesome lures of life. It dulls the spurs which goad us to resolve.It may make calamity too easy of endurance. To be too consistentlycheerful may be in itself a misfortune. It had for this vagrant all itsvalues and some of its defects. His simple, gay existence, and his flowof effervescent merriment, kept him happy and thoughtless. Most personsof this rare type like company; but Francois was an exception. He wasbetter pleased to be alone with his dog, and usually desired no othersociety. As the poodle could not talk, his master was given to makinganswer for him, and finding no one to his taste among the Crab'svillainous lodgers, kept to himself, and was satisfied. Nor did he everappear to have imagined what the larger world he knew not held of suchhuman society as would have comforted that sense of void in his heartwhich he acknowledged at times, but had no way to fill. When fortuneplayed him some sorry trick, he laughed, and unconsciously quoted LaRochefoucauld. "Toto, ah, my Toto, one can never be as cunning aseverybody." This was apropos of an incident which greatly amused him.

  He was in his favorite resort, the Palais Royal, one June morning, andwas at this time somewhat short of cash. The Crab had preached him asharp sermon on his lack of industry, and he had liked neither thesermon nor the preacher. At this moment a young fellow in fine clothescame by. Francois, producing, as usual, a gaudy snuff-box worth someten francs, politely asked of monsieur had he lost this box. Monsieurtook it in his hand. Yes, yes; he had just missed it, the gift of hisgod-father, and was much obliged. He let it fall into his pocket, andwalked away. Francois looked after him. "Toto, _nous sommes voles_--weare sold!" Then the fun of it, as usual, overcame him, and he wanderedaway to the garden of the Luxembourg, and at last threw himself on abench, and laughed as a child laughs, being for moments quiet, and thengiven over to uncontrolled mirth. Having feasted with honest comfort onall the humorous aspects of the situation, his hand chanced to fall on alittle book left by some one on the seat. He had long ceased to read,for no books fell in his way, nor could he often have afforded to buythem even had he had a keen appetite for their contents.

  FRANCOIS AND TOTO IN THE LUXEMBOURG.]

  The little vellum-bound volume opened to his touch, as if used to begenerous of what it held. It was Latin, and verse. He knew, or hadknown, more than most choir-boys needed of this tongue, and the talk ofthe choir-house was, by stringent rule, in Latin. But this book was notof a religious kind; it half puzzled his mind as he read. Unaccustomedto profane Latin verse, and yet wholly pleased, he began to murmur aloudthe rhythmic measures:

  "Poseimus, si quid vacui sub umbra Lusimus tecum, quod et hunc in annum Vivat, et plures: age, dic Latinum, Barbite, carmen.

  "It hath a fine sound, _mon ami_; and who was this Quintus?" He went onreading aloud the delicious rhythms for the joy of hearing their billowyflow. Now and then he smiled as he caught the full meaning of a line.

  The keen-faced poodle sat on the bench beside him, with a caressing headlaid against his shoulder; the sun was sweet and warm, the roses weremany. The time suited the book, and the book the man. He read on, pageafter page of the beautiful Aldine type, now and then pausing, vexed tobe so puzzled by these half-guessed beautiful riddles.

  "Toto, my dog, I would thou didst know Latin. This man he loved thecountry, and good wine, and girls; and he had friends--friends, whichyou and I h
ave not."

  Then he was lost for an hour. At last he ceased to read, and sat with afinger in the book, idly drifting on the immortal stream of golden song.

  "That must have been a merry companion, Toto. I did hear of him once inthe choir-house. He must be dead a mighty while ago. If a man is asgay as that, it must be horrid to die."

  My poor thief was one of the myriad who through the long centuries hadcome into kindly touch of the friend of Maecenas. For the first time inhis uncertain life he felt the charm of genius.

  Indulgent opportunity was for Francois always near to some fatal enmityof chance. So does fate deal with the unlucky. He saw coming swiftlytoward him a tall, strongly built man of middle age. He was richlydressed, and as he drew near he smiled.

  "Ah, monsieur," he said; "I came back in haste to reclaim my littleHorace. I missed it only when I got home. I am most fortunate."

  Francois rose. He returned the small volume, but did not speak.

  "Monsieur of course knows Horace," said the gentleman, looking him over,a little curious and more than a little interested. Too sure of his ownposition to shun any intercourse which promised amusement, he went on:"No; not know Horace? Let us sit awhile. The sun is pleasant."

  Francois, rather shy, and suspicious of a manner of man he had neverbefore encountered, sat down, saying, "I was a choir-boy once. I knowsome Latin, not much; but this sounded pleasant to the ear."

  "Yes; it is immortal music. A choir-boy, you said; and pardon me, but,_mon Dieu_, I heard you laugh as I was searching for my book. You havea fine gift that way, and there is little to laugh at nowadays inFrance."

  "Monsieur will excuse me; I am so made that I laugh at everything and atnothing. I believe I do laugh in my sleep. And just now I laughedbecause--because--"

  "Well, why did you laugh?"

  Francois glanced at the questioner. Something authoritative in his waysmade it seem needful to answer, and what this or any man thought of himhe cared little--perhaps because in his world opinions went for nothing.And still he hesitated a moment.

  "Well?" There was a note of strong surprise in the voice, as if theowner felt it to be unusual that a query he put should not evoke instantreply.

  "I laughed because I was cheated."

  "Charming, that! May I ask how? But perhaps--"

  "No," said Francois; "if it amuse monsieur, why should I care?" Hecalmly related his adventure.

  The gentleman threw himself back on the seat in an ecstasy of amusement.He was out of humor with the time and with his own world, and bored bythe incessant politics of the day; here was a pleasant diversion.

  "By St. Denis! my friend, you are like the great Chicot that was fool toKing Henry of merry memory."

  "And how, monsieur?"

  "How? He had a long face that laughed ever, long legs, and a shrewd wayof seeming more simple than he was."

  "Monsieur flatters me."

  "Ah, and a smart rogue, too. I may conclude your profession to be thatof relieving the rich of their too excessive luxuries."

  Francois was enchanted with this ingenious and unprejudiced companion,who had, like himself, a sense of the laughable aspects of life.

  "Monsieur has hit it," he said gaily; "I am a thief."

  No one had taught him to be ashamed of anything but failure in hisillegal enterprises.

  "_Tiens_! That is droll;--not that you are a thief: I have known manyin my own world. They steal a variety of things, each after his tastein theft--the money of the poor, the character of a man, a woman'shonor."

  "I scarcely comprehend," said Francois, who was puzzled.

  "They lack your honesty of confession. Could you be altogether honestif a man trusted you?"

  "I do not know. No man ever trusted me, and one must live, monsieur."

  The gentleman hesitated, and relapsed into the indifference of a tooeasy life. He had been on the point of offering this outcast a chance.

  "_Enfin_, no doubt you are right. I wish you every success. The deuce!Have you my snuff-box and my handkerchief?"

  "Both," said Francois.

  "Then don't run away. I could never catch you. Long legs must be of usein your profession. The snuff-box I will ransom. Let us say fiftyfrancs. It is worth more, but it bears my name, and there are risks."

  "Certainly," said Francois. "And the handkerchief. Monsieur is_enrhume_--has a cold; I could not deprive monsieur."

  The gentleman thanked him, paid over the money for the box, and, greatlypleased, rose, saying: "You are a dangerous acquaintance; but I trust wemay meet again. _Au revoir!_"

  Francois remained on the bench, Toto at his feet in the sun. Thismeeting affected him strangely. It had been the first touch of a worldremote from his own. He did not recognize the fact that he had giftswhich enable men to rise in life. At times he had had vague ambitions,but he was at the foot of a ladder, and the rungs above were broken ornot to be seen. These moods were brief, and as to their cause not alwaysclear to him. He was by nature social, and able to like or to love; butthe people of the Cite were dreadful, and if now and then some brokenrefugee from a higher class delighted him for a time, the eventful handof justice or what not was apt to separate them.

  As he looked after the gentleman he felt his charm and the courtesy ofhis ways as something to be desired. His own form of attractiveness,the influence of joyous laughter and frank approach, he had often andusefully tested; and perhaps this sense of his own power to please madehim intelligently apprehensive of what he had just experienced. Had heseized eagerly the half-offered help the gentleman suggested rather thanoffered, he had been wiser; but it was literally true that, being whenpossible honest as to speech, he had obeyed the moment's impulse. Abetter man than the gentleman would have gone further. He had lazilyreflected, and concluded that to help this poor devil might betroublesome, and thus the jewel opportunity lay lost at their feet.They were to meet again, and then it was to be the thief's turn.

  Now he sat in thought, kicking the ground with his boot. Out of thepast came remembrances of the asylum, and how he had been told to begood, and not to kill or to steal, or to do certain other naughty thingsless clear to him then than now. But this was a far-away time. At thechoir-house were the same moral lessons, but they who taught were theywho sinned. Since then no one had said a word of reproach to the waif;nor had this great gentleman, and yet he had left him in the rare moodof thought-filled depression.

  "Wake up, Toto," he cried; "thou art become too fat. _En avant auxchamps!_" And, followed by the poodle, he went away up the Seine, andwas gone so long that Quatre Pattes began to think he had taken tohonest courses and would return no more.

  He came back in a fortnight, the better for certain prosperous ventures.And thus the days ran on. If fortune were against him, and even diethard to get, Toto went with the Crab to some distant market after dusk,and, while she bargained, knew to steal a cutlet, and to run away withhis prize, and make for home or the next dark lane. But these devicesfailed at times, and thus Francois's life consisted of a series of upsand downs. When lucky he bought good clothes, for which he had aliking; when unlucky he pawned them, and went back to garments no onewould take in pledge.

  It was in the year 1788 that this adventure occurred. He was, as far aswas to be guessed, fully twenty-one years of age. His life ofadventure, of occasional hardships, and of incessant watchfulness hadalready given him the appearance of being a far older person.

  Always an odd-looking lad, as he grew to maturity his great length oflimb, his long face, and ears of unnatural bigness, gave him suchsingularity of aspect as made disguises impossible.

  The poodle was an added danger, and for this reason, when in pursuit ofprey, Francois was forced to leave the dog with Mother Crab. Thus timeran on with such perils as attend the life he led, but with betterfortune than could have been expected. As to these later years up to1790, Francois, in his memoirs, says little. Once--indeed, twice--heleft the Crab's house, only to be
driven back by stress of circumstance.After 1790 his account is more complete, and here it is that we take upagain the fuller story of his life.

  The turmoil of vast governmental and social changes was disturbing allranks of life. If the Revolution was nursed in the salons, as some say,it was born in the furrows of the tax-tormented peasant, and in theseething caldron of the Cite and the quarters of the starving poor.

  Francois, who cared little what ruler was on top, or who paid taxes, wasaware of the uneasy stir in his own neighborhood. Men were more savage.Murder and all violent crimes were more common. That hungry beast, themob, began to show its fangs, soon to be red with blood. The clubs ofall opinions were busy. The church was toppling to ruin, its centuriesof greedy gain at an end. Political lines were sharply drawn. Thewhite cockade and the tricolor were the badges of hostile ranks, stillmore distinctly marked by costume. The cafes were divided: some wereRoyalist, some Jacobin or neutral. Too many who were of the noble classwere flying, or, if more courageous or less forethoughtful, weregathering into bitterly opponent camps. So much of that lower Paris asfelt, yearned, hated, and was hungry, glad of any change, was pleasedamid tumult to find its chance to plunder and to kill.

  The fall of the Bastille in the preceding year had not seemed importantto Francois. He had interested himself in the purses of the vast crowdwhich looked on and was too much taken up with the event to guard thecontents of its pockets. The violence which came after was not toFrancois's taste; but these street crowds were admirable for businessuntil money became scarce, and the snuff-box and the lace handkerchiefdisappeared with armorial bearings, and with the decree of the peoplethat great dames must no more go in fine carriages.