Page:Ballads of a Bohemian.djvu/48

In vain, in vain; it was very plain that I hadn’t got Lucille.
So I garbed again, and I told the Prince, and he scratched his august head;
“I suppose if she hasn’t selected you. It must be me,” he said.
So he retired; but he soon came back, and his features showed distress:
“Oh, it isn’t you and it isn’t me.”… Then we looked at the Princess.
So she retired; and we heard a scream, and she opened wide the door;
And her fingers twain were pinched to pain, but a radiant smile she wore:
“It’s here,” she cries, “our precious prize. Oh, I found it right away….”
Then I ran to her with a shout of joy, but I choked with a wild dismay.
I clutched the back of the golden throne, and the room began to reel…
What she held to me was, ah yes! a flea, but… it wasn’t my Lucille.

After all, I did not celebrate. I sat on the terrace of the Café Napolitain on the Grand Boulevard, half hypnotized by the passing crowd. And as I sat I fell into conversation with a god-like stranger who sipped some golden ambrosia. He told me he was an actor and introduced me to his beverage, which he called a “Suze-Anni.” He soon left me, but the effect of the golden liquid remained, and there came