Page:The Bohemians of the Latin Quarter.djvu/35

an excellent piece under the circumstances because it lasts long. I attacked the fragment of it entitled ‘The Elephant’s March’ with copious verbal explanations, to which the young pork-butcher listened with amazement, the elephant being an incomprehensible animal to him, unknown as it is in his trade. ‘I begin,’ said I, ‘by warning you that we are in C minor, a key with three flats. I do not spare flats to give you pleasure. How many avaricious composers would you not meet in life who would only put in one or two at most. But see what a picture. The elephants slowly advance, one, all white, at the head of them bearing under a magnificent dais the corpse of the Indian maiden. The sun flames on the horizon; it is hot, very hot. Here, to convey this idea, I pass into the major key as you would have been the first to advise me. However, the moon rises, and I return to the minor, it was self-evident. Do you now mark the hoarse voice of the tigers in the jungle? do you also hear the Indian poet singing in verses of thirty-two feet the virtues of the young deceased? It would be the oboë in a European orchestra that would be entrusted with this discourse. Here an uncle of the young girl blows his nose loudly; unfortunately the exact note, which is found in the scale of the bassoon, does not exist on the piano. The elephants still advance, pan, pan, pan. But is not someone knocking at the door?’ I went and opened it. Murger at last. But the situation was not so difficult as might have been believed, for Espérance Blanchon was in such a little hurry to leave us that he would not go away at all, and even asked leave to sleep on our sofa.

“The next day I had to resume my brushes to again earn commercially a little festival that was in preparation. The same thing happened the following days. Only my model gave me a great deal of work and trouble, for