Page:Peterson's Magazine 1842, Volume I.pdf/281

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42
THE LADY'S
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While the admirers of Chenier were preparing for him an unexpected compliment, the object of all their solicitude had comfortably ensconced himself in an armchair, by the side of a good fire (for it was the month of November,) and seemed to be given up to all the ease and happiness of a tired traveller, who has escaped from some disagreeable rencontre, and wishes to compensate himself by the demolition of a quiet, well-dressed supper. This individual seemed to have cast off all care from his mind, until he saw the master of the hotel mount to his chamber, bearing a towel upon his arm, and evidently determined upon serving him, instead of leaving that task to the waiters.

To the horror of Chenier, he saw in the manner of the hotel-keeper, that there was something mysterious. There was an air of great shrewdness in the countenance and manners of the host, and there was certainly an affectation in the constant repetition of the name of his guest. That name, it must be added, seemed to act very disagreeably upon the nerves of the traveller. "Does Monsieur Chenier wish for any thing ? Is Monsieur Chenier satisfied ? Has Monsieur Chenier any order to give ? Did Monsieur Chenier like the roast fowl ?" He who was the object of so much attention followed with an unquiet eye all the movements of his host. Through the exaggeration of politeness, he thought he could discover something like irony. He sought to penetrate the secret of this enigma, and he had not long to search for it, when, on a sudden, the serenade burst upon him like a clap of thunder, with its first awful uproar and gigantic acclamation. The fork fell from the hand of Chenier, and his face assumed the paleness of death, when the host cried out, "Monsieur Chenier did not expect such a fine reception as this, I am sure." "How did any one know of my arrival at Brussels ?" " You owe this fete to one of your Paris friends, who has just recognized you." 66 The madman ! the thief!" cried the traveller. " I left Paris to avoid him, and yet he pursues me ; and not only that, but he betakes himself to a tumult. A charivari ! a charivari ! What have I ever done to the man ?" 66 Let not Monsieur Chenier be angry," humbly said the hotel-keeper, who piqued himself upon his knowledge of Racine. 66 We can appreciate you, sir, as well in Brussels as they do in Paris. We cannot respect the incognito of a man like M. Chenier." These words, so far from appeasing the anger and the feverish excitement of the hero of the fete, seemed but to increase them still more. However, the serenade continued with increasing magnificence. If the musi cians paused but for an instant, the crowd uttered cries,

in which the stranger could not but too well recognize his name " Chenier ! Chenier ! Chenier !" " After such an exposure," said he,."there is no retreating. I must resign myself to my fate." He got up from the table, and took from his travelling trunk a brace of pistols, which, with trembling hands, he placed upon the mantel-piece. The host, who did not understand him, and who never could comprehend him, stole quietly out of the room, stupified at seeing, for the first time, a man enraged because he was honored with a serenade. "Now," said the young literary man, who had given rise to all this commotion for the purpose of paying his homage to a brother poet, 66 now, I warrant, M. Chenier

is going to make his appearance at the balcony, to harangue us and to thank us.” " I have no doubt at all of it," said Robinson, who contrived, however, to place himself in the darkest corner | he could find ; " but then we must call for him.” "Bravo ! bravo ! Chenier ; Chenier !" exclaimed the crowd as if with one voice-" forward, Chenier ! forward." "Bravo ! a crown of laurel ! we must give him a crown," said some one. The Belgians have the same ardor for giving crowns as for hearing serenades. The proposition was therefore accepted with transport, and they ran to search for a garland of laurels. "Since he does not appear for our call, you must go to the chamber of your friend," said the young author to the mountebank, " and compel him to appear at the window-once there, I can clap a crown upon his head." Robinson could not refuse to obey this command. Both, then mounted, to the chamber of the poet, and tapped lightly on the door. Chenier himself opened it. "I know the motive of your coming," he remarked , "and also the person who has urged you on to this. I am at your command, only allow me to dress myself. "There is no necessity for it-the people expect you with such a lively impatience, that they will never remark the negligence of your costume-a negligence, besides, that is quite excusable in a traveller like you !” " But, who in the world could have told you of my arrival. To whom am I indebted for these persecutions ?" "What exquisite modesty-to designate as persecutions the honors that are justly your due ! Besides, as you well know the fact, it was your friend Robinson who recognised your autograph." " Robinson ! Robinson ! my friend, too, Robinson ! I never knew Robinson-I never heard of Robinson." "Yes- I-," exclaimed the charlatan in despair, and flinging himself into the arms of the traveller66 But, Sir, I do not know who you are." "Ah ! pardon him," exclaimed the young Belgian