No More Learning

In other respects the Cafe de Bon-Bon might be said to differ little
from the usual restaurants of the period. A fireplace yawned opposite
the door. On the right of the fireplace an open cupboard displayed a
formidable array of labelled bottles.

It was here, about twelve o'clock one night during the severe winter
the comments of his neighbours upon his singular propensity--that Pierre
Bon-Bon, I say, having turned them all out of his house, locked the door
upon them with an oath, and betook himself in no very pacific mood to
the comforts of a leather-bottomed arm-chair, and a fire of blazing
fagots.

It was one of those terrific nights which are only met with once or
twice during a century. It snowed fiercely, and the house tottered to
its centre with the floods of wind that, rushing through the crannies
in the wall, and pouring impetuously down the chimney, shook awfully the
curtains of the philosopher's bed, and disorganized the economy of his
pate-pans and papers. The huge folio sign that swung without, exposed to
the fury of the tempest, creaked ominously, and gave out a moaning sound
from its stanchions of solid oak.

It was in no placid temper, I say, that the metaphysician drew up his
chair to its customary station by the hearth. Many circumstances of a
perplexing nature had occurred during the day, to disturb the serenity
of his meditations. In attempting des oeufs a la Princesse, he had
unfortunately perpetrated an omelette a la Reine; the discovery of a
principle in ethics had been frustrated by the overturning of a stew;
and last, not least, he had been thwarted in one of those admirable
bargains which he at all times took such especial delight in bringing
to a successful termination. But in the chafing of his mind at these
unaccountable vicissitudes, there did not fail to be mingled some degree
of that nervous anxiety which the fury of a boisterous night is so well
calculated to produce. Whistling to his more immediate vicinity the
large black water-dog we have spoken of before, and settling himself
uneasily in his chair, he could not help casting a wary and unquiet eye
toward those distant recesses of the apartment whose inexorable shadows
not even the red firelight itself could more than partially succeed in
overcoming. Having completed a scrutiny whose exact purpose was perhaps
unintelligible to himself, he drew close to his seat a small table
covered with books and papers, and soon became absorbed in the task
of retouching a voluminous manuscript, intended for publication on the
morrow.

He had been thus occupied for some minutes when "I am in no hurry,
Monsieur Bon-Bon," suddenly whispered a whining voice in the apartment.

"The devil!
" ejaculated our hero, starting to his feet, overturning the
table at his side, and staring around him in astonishment.

"Very true," calmly replied the voice.

"Very true! --what is very true? --how came you here? " vociferated the
metaphysician, as his eye fell upon something which lay stretched at
full length upon the bed.

"I was saying," said the intruder, without attending to the
interrogatives,--"I was saying that I am not at all pushed for
time--that the business upon which I took the liberty of calling, is of
no pressing importance--in short, that I can very well wait until you
have finished your Exposition. "

"My Exposition! --there now! --how do you know? --how came you to
understand that I was writing an Exposition? --good God! "

"Hush! " replied the figure, in a shrill undertone; and, arising quickly
from the bed, he made a single step toward our hero, while an iron lamp
that depended over-head swung convulsively back from his approach.

The philosopher's amazement did not prevent a narrow scrutiny of the
stranger's dress and appearance. The outlines of his figure, exceedingly
lean, but much above the common height, were rendered minutely distinct,
by means of a faded suit of black cloth which fitted tight to the skin,
but was otherwise cut very much in the style of a century ago.