The Argosy — page 332: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

313 A FREAK OF FORTUNE. ORDON, s'il vous plait !” In answer to the above accentuated summons, a clicking sound was heard in the adjoining sanctum of the concierge, and the street door, opening as it were by magic, closed again a few seconds later with a loud bang. “Who was that, Mourier?” asked the porters wife, who was engaged in preparing a savoury fricot, the odour of which pervaded the entire lower part of the house, for the conjugal supper. “Only the fifth floor,” replied the individual addressed, in a contemptuous tone. ‘““Has he paid his rent?” pursued Madame Cerberus. “Not he. ‘Two quarters owing, and not a stick of furniture worth seizing. If I were monsieur, he would have had his congé six months ago.” “He is a good-looking young fellow,” remarked Madame Mourier, as she poured the contents of the saucepan into a dish ready for their reception. “ Humph!” growled her husband, who might himself have suc- cessfully competed for the prize of ugliness in his arrondissement ; “can’t say I see it. A poor devil of a clerk in a notary’s office with a salary of eight hundred francs a year, and as proud as Lucifer into the bargain !” “That doesn’t prevent his having a handsome face of a own, does it?” sharply retorted his spouse. ‘‘ And he might have a worse capital to start with,” she added. “It hasn’t been of much service to him yet, apparently,” chuckled M. Mourier. “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” said madame; and the conversa- tion dropped. 3 Meanwhile, the unconscious subject of the foregoing dialogue had left the Rue Visconti—in which narrow and dingy offshoot of the Faubourg St. Germain he occupied two diminutive attics, by courtesy direction of the Pont des Arts. As he approached the bridge he slackened his pace, and took up his post by the parapet immediately facing the Institut; thereby commanding a view of everyone crossing from the opposite side of the river. He had not waited more than five minutes, before his eyes bright- ened as he beheld the slight figure of a young girl advancing towards him. After a few words of greeting he drew her arm within his, and the lovers—for such they were—disappeared through the passage leading from the quay into the Rue de Seine. cConniclooolkks (C(O) aX