And so I kept an eye on them and saw that all went right,
Until at last came Julot home, half crazy with delight.
And when he'd kissed them both, says he: "I've had my fill this time.
I'm on the honest now, I am; I'm all fed up with crime.
You mark my words, the page I turn is going to be clean,
I swear it on the head of her, my little Angeline."

And so, to finish up my tale, this morning as I strolled
Along the boulevard I heard a voice I knew of old.
I saw a rosy little man with walrus-like mustache . . .
I stopped, I stared. . . . By all the gods! 'twas Julot the ~apache~.
"I'm in the garden way," he said, "and doing mighty well;
I've half an acre under glass, and heaps of truck to sell.
Come out and see. Oh come, my friend, on Sunday, wet or shine . . .
Say! -- ~it's the First Communion of that little girl of mine.~"




II




~Chez Moi~, Montparnasse,
~The same evening~.

To-day is an anniversary. A year ago to-day I kicked over an office stool
and came to Paris thinking to make a living by my pen. I was twenty then,
and in my pocket I had twenty pounds. Of that, my ten ~sous~