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Read Ebook: La Grande Mademoiselle 1627-1652 by Barine Arv De Meyer Franck Helene Translator
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Ebook has 820 lines and 29728 words, and 17 pages
The man shrugged his shoulders, and, instead of answering my query, said: "I should recommend monsieur to refuse to pay Jean Bouchon again--that is, supposing monsieur intends revisiting this caf?."
"I most assuredly will not pay such a noodle," I said; "and it passes my comprehension how you can keep such a fellow on your staff."
I revisited the library next day, and then walked by the Loire, that rolls in winter such a full and turbid stream, and in summer, with a reduced flood, exposes gravel and sand-banks. I wandered around the town, and endeavoured vainly to picture it, enclosed by walls and drums of towers, when on April 29th, 1429, Jeanne threw herself into the town and forced the English to retire, discomfited and perplexed.
In the evening I revisited the caf? and made my wants known as before. Then I looked at my notes, and began to arrange them.
Whilst thus engaged I observed the waiter, named Jean Bouchon, standing near the table in an expectant attitude as before. I now looked him full in the face and observed his countenance. He had puffy white cheeks, small black eyes, thick dark mutton-chop whiskers, and a broken nose. He was decidedly an ugly man, but not a man with a repulsive expression of face.
As I looked at him to see how he took this refusal, he seemed to fall back out of my range, or, to be more exact, the lines of his form and features became confused. It was much as though I had been gazing on a reflection in still water; that something had ruffled the surface, and all was broken up and obliterated. I could see him no more. I was puzzled and a bit startled, and I rapped my coffee-cup with the spoon to call the attention of a waiter. One sprang to me immediately.
"See!" said I, "Jean Bouchon has been here again; I told him that I would not pay him one sou, and he has vanished in a most perplexing manner. I do not see him in the room."
"No, he is not in the room."
"When he comes in again, send him to me. I want to have a word with him."
The waiter looked confused, and replied: "I do not think that Jean will return."
"How long has he been on your staff?"
"Oh! he has not been on our staff for some years."
"Then why does he come here and ask for payment for coffee and what else one may order?"
"He never takes payment for anything that has been consumed. He takes only the tips."
"But why do you permit him to do that?"
"We cannot help ourselves."
"He should not be allowed to enter the caf?."
"No one can keep him out."
"This is surpassing strange. He has no right to the tips. You should communicate with the police."
The waiter shook his head. "They can do nothing. Jean Bouchon died in 1869."
"Died in 1869!" I repeated.
"It is so. But he still comes here. He never pesters the old customers, the inhabitants of the town--only visitors, strangers."
"Tell me all about him."
"Monsieur must pardon me now. We have many in the place, and I have my duties."
"In that case I will drop in here to-morrow morning when you are disengaged, and I will ask you to inform me about him. What is your name?"
"At monsieur's pleasure--Alphonse."
Next morning, in place of pursuing the traces of the Maid of Orl?ans, I went to the caf? to hunt up Jean Bouchon. I found Alphonse with a duster wiping down the tables. I invited him to a table and made him sit down opposite me. I will give his story in substance, only where advisable recording his exact words.
But in the caf? where served Jean Bouchon the sum did not reach the weekly total that might have been anticipated; and after this deficit had been noted for a couple of months the waiters were convinced that there was something wrong, somewhere or somehow. Either the common box was tampered with, or one of them did not put in his tips received. A watch was set, and it was discovered that Jean Bouchon was the defaulter. When he had received a gratuity, he went to the box, and pretended to put in the coin, but no sound followed, as would have been the case had one been dropped in.
"Jean Bouchon was buried," continued Alphonse; "and we waiters attended the funeral and held white kerchiefs to our eyes. Our head waiter even put a lemon into his, that by squeezing it he might draw tears from his eyes. We all subscribed for the interment, that it should be dignified--majestic as becomes a waiter."
"And do you mean to tell me that Jean Bouchon has haunted this caf? ever since?"
"Ever since 1869," replied Alphonse.
"And there is no way of getting rid of him?"
"But it is true," replied Alphonse.
Next day I left Orl?ans. I gave up the notion of writing the life of Joan of Arc, as I found that there was absolutely no new material to be gleaned on her history--in fact, she had been thrashed out.
Years passed, and I had almost forgotten about Jean Bouchon, when, the other day, I was in Orl?ans once more, on my way south, and at once the whole story recurred to me.
I went that evening to the same caf?. It had been smartened up since I was there before. There was more plate glass, more gilding; electric light had been introduced, there were more mirrors, and there were also ornaments that had not been in the caf? before.
I called for caf?-cognac and looked at a journal, but turned my eyes on one side occasionally, on the look-out for Jean Bouchon. But he did not put in an appearance. I waited for a quarter of an hour in expectation, but saw no sign of him.
Presently I summoned a waiter, and when he came up I inquired: "But where is Jean Bouchon?"
"Monsieur asks after Jean Bouchon?" The man looked surprised.
"Yes, I have seen him here previously. Where is he at present?"
"Monsieur has seen Jean Bouchon? Monsieur perhaps knew him. He died in 1869."
"I know that he died in 1869, but I made his acquaintance in 1874. I saw him then thrice, and he accepted some small gratuities of me."
"Monsieur tipped Jean Bouchon?"
"Yes, and Jean Bouchon accepted my tips."
"Yes, and what I want to know is how you have rid yourselves of Jean Bouchon, for that you have cleared the place of him is evident, or he would have been pestering me this evening." The man looked disconcerted and irresolute.
"Hold," said I; "is Alphonse here?"
"No, monsieur, Alphonse has left two or three years ago. And monsieur saw Jean Bouchon in 1874. I was not then here. I have been here only six years."
"But you can in all probability inform me of the manner of getting quit of Jean."
"Monsieur! I am very busy this evening, there are so many gentlemen come in."
"I will give you five francs if you will tell me all--all--succinctly about Jean Bouchon."
"Will monsieur be so good as to come here to-morrow during the morning? and then I place myself at the disposition of monsieur."
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