Jean Christophe: In Paris | Page 8

last by wanting to clink glasses in the German
fashion, and, with sentimental speeches, to drink to those at home and
to Vater Rhein. Kohn saw, to his horror, that he was on the point of
singing. The people at the next table were casting ironic glances in their
direction. Kohn made some excuse on the score of pressing business,
and got up. Christophe clung to him: he wanted to know when he could
have a letter of introduction, and go and see some one, and begin
giving lessons.

"I'll see about it. To-day--this evening," said Kohn. "I'll talk about you
at once. You can be easy on that score."
Christophe insisted.
"When shall I know?"
"To-morrow ... to-morrow ... or the day after."
"Very well. I'll come back to-morrow."
"No, no!" said Kohn quickly. "I'll let you know. Don't you worry."
"Oh! it's no trouble. Quite the contrary. Eh? I've nothing else to do in
Paris in the meanwhile."
"Good God!" thought Kohn.... "No," he said aloud. "But I would rather
write to you. You wouldn't find me the next few days. Give me your
address."
Christophe dictated it.
"Good. I'll write you to-morrow."
"To-morrow?"
"To-morrow. You can count on it"
He cut short Christophe's hand-shaking and escaped.
"Ugh!" he thought. "What a bore!"
As he went into his office he told the boy that he would not be in when
"the German" came to see him. Ten minutes later he had forgotten him.
Christophe went back to his lair. He was full of gentle thoughts.
"What a good fellow! What a good fellow!" he thought. "How unjust I
was about him. And he bears me no ill-will!"

He was remorseful, and he was on the point of writing to tell Kohn how
sorry he was to have misjudged him, and to beg his forgiveness for all
the harm he had done him. The tears came to his eyes as he thought of
it. But it was harder for him to write a letter than a score of music: and
after he had cursed and cursed the pen and ink of the hotel--which were,
in fact, horrible--after he had blotted, criss-crossed, and torn up five or
six sheets of paper, he lost patience and dropped it.
The rest of the day dragged wearily: but Christophe was so worn out by
his sleepless night and his excursions in the morning that at length he
dozed off in his chair. He only woke up in the evening, and then he
went to bed: and he slept for twelve hours on end.
* * * * *
Next day from eight o'clock on he sat waiting for the promised letter.
He had no doubt of Kohn's sincerity. He did not go out, telling himself
that perhaps Kohn would come round by the hotel on his way to his
office. So as not to be out, about midday he had his lunch sent up from
the eating-house downstairs. Then he sat waiting again. He was sure
Kohn would come on his way back from lunch. He paced up and down
his room, sat down, paced up and down again, opened his door
whenever he heard footsteps on the stairs. He had no desire to go
walking about Paris to stay his anxiety. He lay down on his bed. His
thoughts went back and back to his old mother, who was thinking of
him too--she alone thought of him. He had an infinite tenderness for
her, and he was remorseful at having left her. But he did not write to
her. He was waiting until he could tell her that he had found work. In
spite of the love they had for each other, it would never have occurred
to either of them to write just to tell their love: letters were for things
more definite than that. He lay on the bed with his hands locked behind
his head, and dreamed. Although his room was away from the street,
the roar of Paris invaded the silence: the house shook. Night came
again, and brought no letter.
Came another day like unto the last.
On the third day, exasperated by his voluntary seclusion, Christophe

decided to go out. But from the impression of his first evening he was
instinctively in revolt against Paris. He had no desire to see anything:
no curiosity: he was too much taken up with the problem of his own
life to take any pleasure in watching the lives of others: and the
memories of lives past, the monuments of a city, had always left him
cold. And so, hardly had he set foot out of doors, than, although he had
made up his mind not to go near Kohn for a week, he went straight to
his office.
The boy obeyed his