The Guest of Quesnay | Page 9

set in the midst of all and had
a small porch of its own with a rich curtain of climbing honeysuckle for
a screen from the rest of the courtyard.
The inn itself is gray with age, the roof sagging pleasantly here and
there; and an old wooden gallery runs the length of each wing, the
guest-chambers of the upper story opening upon it like the deck-rooms
of a steamer, with boxes of tulips and hyacinths along the gallery
railings and window ledges for the gayest of border-lines.
Beyond the great open archway, which gives entrance to the courtyard,
lies the quiet country road; passing this, my eyes followed the wide
sweep of poppy-sprinkled fields to a line of low green hills; and there
was the edge of the forest sheltering those woodland interiors which I
had long ago tried to paint, and where I should be at work to-morrow.
In the course of time, and well within the bright twilight, Amedee
spread the crisp white cloth and served me at a table on my pavilion
porch. He feigned anxiety lest I should find certain dishes (those which
he knew were most delectable) not to my taste, but was obviously so
distended with fatuous pride over the whole meal that it became a
temptation to denounce at least some trifling sauce or garnishment;
nevertheless, so much mendacity proved beyond me and I spared him
and my own conscience. This puffed-uppedness of his was to be
observed only in his expression of manner, for during the consumption
of food it was his worthy custom to practise a ceremonious, nay, a
reverential, hush, and he never offered (or approved) conversation until
he had prepared the salad. That accomplished, however, and the water
bubbling in the coffee machine, he readily favoured me with a
discourse on the decline in glory of Les Trois Pigeons.

"Monsieur, it is the automobiles; they have done it. Formerly, as when
monsieur was here, the painters came from Paris. They would come in
the spring and would stay until the autumn rains. What busy times and
what drolleries! Ah, it was gay in those days! Monsieur remembers
well. Ha, Ha! But now, I think, the automobiles have frightened away
the painters; at least they do not come any more. And the automobiles
themselves; they come sometimes for lunch, a few, but they love better
the seashore, and we are just close enough to be too far away. Those
automobiles, they love the big new hotels and the casinos with roulette.
They eat hastily, gulp down a liqueur, and pouf! off they rush for
Trouville, for Houlgate--for heaven knows where! And even the
automobiles do not come so frequently as they did. Our road used to be
the best from Lisieux to Beuzeval, but now the maps recommend
another. They pass us by, and yet yonder--only a few kilometres--is the
coast with its thousands. We are near the world but out of it, monsieur."
He poured my coffee; dropped a lump of sugar from the tongs with a
benevolent gesture--"One lump: always the same. Monsieur sees that I
remember well, ha?"--and the twilight having fallen, he lit two orange-
shaded candles and my cigar with the same match. The night was so
quiet that the candle-lights burned as steadily as flames in a globe, yet
the air was spiced with a cool fragrance, and through the honeysuckle
leaves above me I saw, as I leaned back in my wicker chair, a glimmer
of kindly stars.
"Very comfortably out of the world, Amedee," I said. "It seems to me I
have it all to myself."
"Unhappily, yes!" he exclaimed; then excused himself, chuckling. "I
should have said that we should be happier if we had many like
monsieur. But it is early in the season to despair. Then, too, our best
suite is already engaged."
"By whom?"
"Two men of science who arrive next week. One is a great man.
Madame Brossard is pleased that he is coming to Les Trois Pigeons,
but I tell her it is only natural. He comes now for the first time because

he likes the quiet, but he will come again, like monsieur, because he
has been here before. That is what I always say: 'Any one who has been
here must come again.' The problem is only to get them to come the
first time. Truly!"
"Who is the great man, Amedee?"
"Ah! A distinguished professor of science. Truly."
"What science?"
"I do not know. But he is a member of the Institute. Monsieur must
have heard of that great Professor Keredec?"
"The name is known. Who is the other?"
"A friend of his. I do not know. All the upper floor of the east wing
they have taken--the Grande Suite--those two and their
valet-de-chambre.