Assuming
that I had no interest in the matter, I studied the pictures
behind the bar. Presently, having reduced the woman to a state
of comparative silence, he approached me.
"M'sieur," he said, "I regret that this has happened. Because you
are a foreigner and because you know not our language, that woman
would make an overcharge; but she forgot she had me to deal with.
I am on guard! See her! She is now quelled! I have given her a
lesson she will not soon forget. M'sieur, the correct amount of
the bill is two-francs-ten. Give it to her and let us begone!"
I still have that guide's name and address in my possession. At
parting he pressed his card on me and asked me to keep it; and I
did keep it. I shall be glad to loan it to any American who may
be thinking of going to Paris. With the card in his pocket, he
will know exactly where this guide lives; and then, when he is in
need of a guide he can carefully go elsewhere and hire a guide.
I almost failed to mention that before we parted he tried to induce
us to buy something. He took us miles out of our way to a pottery
and urged us to invest in its wares. This is the main purpose of
every guide: to see that you buy something and afterward to collect
his commission from the shopkeeper for having brought you to the
shop. If you engage your guide through the porter at your hotel
you will find that he steers you to the shops the hotel people
have already recommended to you; but if you break the porter's
heart by hiring your guide outside, independently, the guide steers
you to the shops that are on his own private list.
Only once I saw a guide temporarily stumped, and that was in Venice.
The skies were leaky that day and the weather was raw; and one
of the ladies of the party wore pumps and silk stockings. For the
protection of her ankles she decided to buy a pair of cloth gaiters;
and, stating her intention, she started to go into a shop that
dealt in those articles. The guide hesitated a moment only, then
threw himself in her path. The shops hereabout were not to be
trusted - the proprietors, without exception, were rogues and
extortioners. If madame would have patience for a few brief moments
he would guarantee that she got what she wanted at an honest price.
He seemed so desirous of protecting her that she consented to wait.
In a minute, on a pretext, he excused himself and dived into one
of the crooked ways that thread through all parts of Venice and
make it possible for one who knows their windings to reach any
part of the city without using the canals. Two of us secretly
followed him. Beyond the first turning he dived into a shoe shop.
Emerging after a while he hurried back and led the lady to that
same shop, and stood by, smiling softly, while she was fitted with
gaiters. Until now evidently gaiters had not been on his list,
but he had taken steps to remedy this; and, though his commission
on a pair of sixty-cent gaiters could not have been very large
yet, as some philosopher has so truly said, every little bit added
to what you have makes just a modicum more. Indeed, the guide
never overlooks the smallest bet. His whole mentality is focused
on getting you inside a shop. Once you are there, he stations
himself close behind you, reenforcing the combined importunities
of the shopkeeper and his assembled staff with gentle suggestions.
The depths of self-abasement to which a shopkeeper in Europe will
descend in an effort to sell his goods surpasses the power of
description. The London tradesman goes pretty far in this direction.
Often he goes as far as the sidewalk, clinging to the hem of your
garment and begging you to return for one more look. But the
Continentals are still worse.
A Parisian shopkeeper would sell you the bones of his revered
grandmother if you wanted them and he had them in stock; and he
would have them in stock too, because, as I have stated once before,
a true Parisian never throws away anything he can save. I heard
of just one single instance where a customer desirous of having
an article and willing to pay the price failed to get it; and that,
I would say, stands without a parallel in the annals of commerce
and barter.
An American lady visiting her daughter, an art student in the Latin
Quartier, was walking alone when she saw in a shop window a lace
blouse she fancied. She went inside and by signs, since she knew
no French, indicated that she wished to look at that blouse. The
woman in charge shook her head, declining even to take the garment
out of the window. Convinced now, womanlike, that this particular
blouse was the blouse she desired above all other blouses the
American woman opened her purse and indicated that she was prepared
to buy at the shopwoman's own valuation, without the privilege of
examination. The shopwoman showed deep pain at having to refuse
the proposition, but refuse it she did; and the would-be buyer
went home angry and perplexed and told her daughter what had
happened.
"It certainly is strange," the daughter said. "I thought
everything in Paris, except possibly Napoleon's tomb, was for sale.
This thing will repay investigation. Wait until I pin my hat
on. Does my nose need powdering?"
Her mother led her back to the shop of the blouse and then the
puzzle was revealed.
