him up-stairs and opening a door, "is a
specimen of the apartments reserved for these princes of the blood."
There were four empty beds on iron legs, and, with the air of a showman,
the Frenchman twitched away a dingy quilt. "They go out in the mornings,
earn enough to make them drunk, sleep it off, and then begin again.
That's their life. There are people who think they ought to be reformed.
'Mon cher monsieur', one must face reality a little, even in this
country. It would be a hundred times better for these people to spend
their time reforming high Society. Your high Society makes all these
creatures; there's no harvest without cutting stalks. 'Selon moi'," he
continued, putting back the quilt, and dribbling cigarette smoke through
his nose, "there's no grand difference between your high Society and
these individuals here; both want pleasure, both think only of
themselves, which is very natural. One lot have had the luck, the
other--well, you see." He shrugged. "A common set! I've been robbed
here half a dozen times. If you have new shoes, a good waistcoat, an
overcoat, you want eyes in the back of your head. And they are
populated! Change your bed, and you'll run all the dangers of not
sleeping alone. 'V'la ma clientele'! The half of them don't pay me!"
He, snapped his yellow sticks of fingers. "A penny for a shave, twopence
a cut! 'Quelle vie'! Here," he continued, standing by a bed, "is a
gentleman who owes me fivepence. Here's one who was a soldier; he's done
for! All brutalised; not one with any courage left! But, believe me,
monsieur," he went on, opening another door, "when you come down to
houses of this sort you must have a vice; it's as necessary as breath is
to the lungs. No matter what, you must have a vice to give you a little
solace--'un peu de soulagement'. Ah, yes! before you judge these swine,
reflect on life! I've been through it. Monsieur, it is not nice never to
know where to get your next meal. Gentlemen who have food in their
stomachs, money in their pockets, and know where to get more, they never
think. Why should they--'pas de danger'! All these cages are the same.
Come down, and you shall see the pantry." He took Shelton through the
kitchen, which seemed the only sitting-room of the establishment, to an
inner room furnished with dirty cups and saucers, plates, and knives.
Another fire was burning there. "We always have hot water," said the
Frenchman, "and three times a we