The Yellow Sign & Other Stories by Robert W. Chambers

Author:Robert W. Chambers [Chambers, Robert W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: horror, fantasy, Weird Fiction, Lovecraftian, Cthulhu Mythos, Short Stories, Classics
Goodreads: 1080102
Publisher: Chaosium
Published: 2000-07-31T23:00:00+00:00

The Street of Our Lady of the Fields

“Et tous les jours passés la tristesse Nous sont comptés comme les jours heureux!”

I THE STREET is not fashionable neither is it shabby. It is a pariah among streets—a street without a Quarter. It is generally understood to lie outside the pale of the aristocratic Avenue de l’Observatoire. The students of the Montparnasse Quarter consider it swell and will have none of it. The Latin Quarter, from the Luxembourg, its northern frontier, sneers at its respectability and regards with disfavor the correctly-costumed students who haunt it. Few strangers go into it. At times, however, the Latin Quarter students use it as a thoroughfare between the rue de Rennes and the Bullier, but except for that and the weekly afternoon visits of parents and guardians of the Convent near the rue Vavin, the street of Our Lady of the Fields is as quiet as a Passy boulevard. Perhaps the most respectable portion lies between the rue de la Grande Chaumière and the rue Vavin, at least this was the conclusion arrived at by the Reverend Joel Byram, as he rambled through it with Hastings in charge. To Hastings the street looked pleasant in the bright June weather, and he had begun to hope for its selection when the Reverend Byram shied violently at the cross on the Convent opposite.

“Jesuits,” he muttered. “Well,”saidHastingswearily,“Iimaginewewon’tfindanything better. You say yourself that vice is triumphant in Paris, and it seems to me that in every street we find Jesuits or something worse.”

After a moment he repeated, “Or something worse, which of course I would not notice except for your kindness in warning me.” Dr. Byram sucked in his lips and looked about him. He was impressed by the evident respectability of the surroundings. Then, frowning at the Convent he took Hastings’ arm and shuffled across the street to an iron gateway which bore the number 201 bis painted in white on a blue ground. Below this was a notice printed in English:

1. For porter please oppress once.

2. For Servant please oppress twice.

3. For Parlor please oppress thrice.

Hastings touched the electric button three times and they were ushered through the garden and into the parlor by a trim maid. The dining-room door, just beyond, was open, and from the table in plain view, a stout woman hastily arose and came toward them. Hastings caught a glimpse of a young man with a big head and several snuffy old gentlemen at breakfast, before the door closed and the stout woman waddled into the room, bringing with her an aroma of coffee and a black poodle.

“It ees a plaisir to you receive!” she cried; “Monsieur is Anglish? No? Americain? Of course. My pension it ees for Americains surtout. Here all spik Angleesh, c’est à dire, ze personelle; ze sairvants do spik, plus ou moins, a little. I am happy to have you comme pensionaires—”

“Madame,” began Dr. Byram, but was cut short again. “Ah, yess, I know, ah! mon Dieu! you do not spik Frainch but you have come to lairne! My husband does spik Frainch wiss le pensionaires.

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