. The real Latin quarter . see, monsieur, Paul does not love me ! I recall an incident that I chanced to seein passing the little shop where Margueriteworks, that only confirms the truth of herrealization. Paul had taken Margueriteback to the little shop, after their dejeunertogether, and, as I passed, he stopped atthe door with her, kissed her on bothcheeks, and left her; but before they had*3 gone a dozen paces, they ran back to em-brace again. This occurred four times,until Paul and Marguerite finally , as he watched her little heels disap-pear up the wooden stairs to her work-roo
. The real Latin quarter . see, monsieur, Paul does not love me ! I recall an incident that I chanced to seein passing the little shop where Margueriteworks, that only confirms the truth of herrealization. Paul had taken Margueriteback to the little shop, after their dejeunertogether, and, as I passed, he stopped atthe door with her, kissed her on bothcheeks, and left her; but before they had*3 gone a dozen paces, they ran back to em-brace again. This occurred four times,until Paul and Marguerite finally , as he watched her little heels disap-pear up the wooden stairs to her work-room above, Paul blew a kiss to the prettymilliner at the window next door, and,taking a long whiff of his cigarette, saun-tered off in the direction of his atelierwhistling. It is ideal, this student life with its stu-dent loves of four years, but is it right to many anhonest littlecomrade,who seldomknows anhour whenshe is awayfrom her ami?who has suf-f e re d andstarved andslaved withhim throughyears of days A MORNINGSWORK. of good and bad luck—who has encouragedhim in his work, nursed him when ill, andmade a thousand golden hours in this poetsor painters life so completely happy, thathe looks back on them in later life as never-to-be-forgotten ? He remembers the gooddinners at the little restaurant near hisstudio, where they dined among the oldcrowd. There were Lavaud the sculptorand Francine, with the figure of a goddess;Moreau, who played the cello at the opera;little Louise Dumont, who posed at Julians,and old Jacquemart, the very soul of goodfellowship, who would set them roaringwith his inimitable humor. What good dinners they were !—and howlong they sat over their coffee and cigar-ettes under the trees in front of this littlerestaurant—often ten and twelve at a time,until more tables had to be pushed togetherfor others of their good friends, who inpassing would be hailed to join them. Andhow Marguerite used to sing all throughdinner and how they would all sing, unti
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectartists, bookyear1901
