croniamantal dead, paponat brought tristouse ballerinette back to the hotel, where she relapsed into nervous fainting-spells. they were in a very old building and by chance paponat discovered, wrapped up in cardboard, a bottle of water of the queen of hungary which dated from the 17th century. this remedy worked rapidly. tristouse recovered her senses and immediately went to the hospital to claim the body of croniamantal which was turned over to her without delay.
she arranged a decent burial for him and placed over his tomb a stone on which there was engraved the following epitaph:
walk lightly and your silence keep,
to leave untroubled his good sleep.
then she went back to paris with paponat who soon left her for a mannikin of the champs-élysées.
tristouse did not regret him very long. she went into mourning for croniamantal and climbed up to the montmartre, to the bird of benin's who began to pay court to her, and after he had what he desired they began to talk of croniamantal.
"i ought to make a statue to him," said the bird of benin, "for i am not only a painter but also a sculptor."
"that's right," said tristouse, "we must raise a statue to him."
"where?" asked the bird of benin; "the government will not grant us any ground. times are bad for poets."
"so they say," replied tristouse, "but perhaps it isn't true. what do you think of the meudon woods?"
"i thought of that, but i dared not say it. let's go to the meudon woods."
"a statue of what?" asked tristouse, "marble? bronze?"
"no, that's old fashioned. i must model a profound statue out of nothing, like poetry and glory."
"bravo! bravo!" cried tristouse clapping her hands, "a statue out of nothing, empty, that's lovely, and when will you make it?"
"tomorrow, if you wish; we shall go and dine, pass the night together, and in the morning we shall go to the meudon woods where i shall make this profound statue."
* * *
no sooner said, than done. they went and dined with the élite of the montmartre, returned to sleep at midnight and on the next morning at nine o'clock, after having armed himself with a pick-axe, a spade, a shovel and some boasting-chisels, they took the road for the pretty meudon woods, where they met the prince of poets, accompanied by his little friend, quite happy over the pleasant days he had spent in the city-prison.
in the clearing, the bird of benin set to work. in a few hours he had dug a trench of about a meter and a half in breadth and two in depth.
then they had lunch on the grass.
the afternoon was devoted by the bird of benin to sculpturing the interior of the monument to croniamantal.
on the following day, the sculptor came back with workingmen who fixed up an armed cement wall, six inches broad on top, and eighteen inches broad at the base, so that the empty space had the form of croniamantal, and the hole was full of his spectre.
* * *
on the next day, the bird of benin, tristouse, the prince of poets and his little friend came back to the statue which was heaped up with earth which they had gathered here and there, and at nightfall they planted a fine laurel tree, while tristouse ballerinette danced and sang:
no one loves thee thou art lying
palantila mila mima
when he was lover to the queen
he was king while she was queen
'tis true, 'tis true that i love him
croniamantal way down in the pit
can that be right
let us gather the sweet marjoram
at night.
