"Oh! of course; and that is where I must go for a number? Suppose you give me one, wouldn't that amount to the same thing?"

"Why, no, monsieur; the 'bus doesn't stop here."

"The 'bus is what I want to go on."

"You can go on it or under it; it's none of our affair."

"Do you mean that one can ride underneath?"

The clerk concluded to turn his back on the stupid idiot who asked such questions. Mademoiselle Laurette, having overheard the dialogue, burst out laughing, as she said:

"I'd have sent that fellow to the deuce in short measure. What a b.o.o.by!

You must need a good stock of patience to answer all those questions!"

"Ah! mademoiselle, if you were employed in an omnibus office, you'd hear many things like that!"

"Really! do you mean to say that there are others like him in Paris?"

"There are everywhere, mademoiselle."

Meanwhile, the individual who wished to go to Place Cadet had left the office; then he halted on the square, looking about him with a confused air. He spied the stout woman sitting on a bench, between Messieurs Narcisse and Aristoloche, one of whom was trying all the time to push away the feathers that adorned the front of his hat, while the other confined his energies to persistently stuffing one of his fingers into his nose. Our friend went up to the dame and said, touching his hat:

"A ticket for Place Cadet, madame, if you please."

"Do you take me for an omnibus clerk, monsieur?" replied the dame, sourly; "can't you go to the office?"

"Pardon me, madame; I just went there, and they told me to apply on the left, in a corner."

"Well, monsieur, am I a corner, I should like to know?"

"_Dame!_ I don't know; they told me to go to the left; I don't see the office; I don't see the 'bus."

And the youth returned to the office he had just left, crying:

"Where is that place where you get tickets for Place Cadet? I can't find it; can't you come and show me the way?"

"Well, this caps the climax! If we had to act as guides for everybody who goes astray, then there would have to be a corps of messengers attached to the office.--Over yonder, I told you, monsieur; on the other side of Boulevard Saint-Denis."

"What! have I got to go all the way to Saint-Denis to get to Place Cadet?"

"La Villette! all aboard for La Villette!"

All those who were bound for that destination hurried from the office, and in the confusion jostled the youth who wished to go to Place Cadet, and who persisted in remaining in the office where he had no business, looking at everybody as if he were disposed to weep.

"Why do you stay here, monsieur," inquired Mademoiselle Laurette, "when they told you to go to the office on Boulevard Saint-Denis?"

"I don't know Boulevard Saint-Denis, mademoiselle; and I am afraid of losing my way."

"The trouble is that you ought not to have been let go out alone; some parents are very imprudent! I'll tell you what you ought to do: go to one of the messengers over by Porte Saint-Martin; take his arm and give him ten sous, and he'll take you to Place Cadet; he'll carry you even, if you're tired."

"Ten sous! oh! that's too much. You're not going to Place Cadet, are you, mademoiselle?"

"Oh! no, monsieur; we're going to the country."

"Ah! do the omnibuses take people to the country too?"

"They take you everywhere, monsieur."

"Really! I have such a longing to see the sea; do the omnibuses give transfer checks for the seash.o.r.e?"

"You have only to ask, and you'll find out."

The tall clown was on the point of returning to the clerks, but he was pushed aside by the man who had gone to get a gla.s.s of beer, and who returned to the office with a joyous air, saying:

"Ah! this time I think I haven't been long; is my La Villette 'bus coming?"

"La Villette!--it's just started, monsieur."

"Oh! that is too much. Why couldn't you make it wait?"

"They never wait, monsieur."

"When will there be another one now?"

"In about ten minutes."

"Oh! then I have time enough to get a cup of coffee--and a gla.s.s of liqueur to wash down the beer."

With that, he returned to the cafe, followed by the tall youth, who shouted to him from afar:

"Monsieur, a ticket for Place Cadet?"

IV

ONLOOKERS AND LOITERERS

A line of carriages, with white-gloved coachmen, semi-bourgeois equipages, had halted on the square in front of the restaurant; still another wedding party intending to banquet at Deffieux's.

A number of people had gathered in front of the door, to watch the bridal couple enter. Inquisitive folk abound in Paris; perhaps it would be more accurate to say that they abound everywhere. Why this general desire to see a bride, when she has not as yet performed all the duties which that t.i.tle devolves upon her? Is it simply to see whether she is pretty, and to read upon her features whether or not she is looking forward joyfully to becoming a wife? This is a simple question that we ask, but we will not undertake to answer it.

Among the persons who had halted there, some in pa.s.sing, others coming from the omnibus office, others on the way there, was a tall man, in the neighborhood of forty-five years, standing very straight, even bending back a little from the hips, with head erect, nose in air, and his hat on one side, in true roistering style.

This person, whose chestnut hair was beginning to be sprinkled with gray, had very irregular features. His eyes were small and deep-set, of a pale green shade, but full of fire and animation. His nose was crooked, slightly turned up, and might almost have been called flat. His mouth was large, but his teeth were fine, and not one was missing; so that his smile was not unattractive, especially as he was not over lavish of it. His chin retreated slightly, his cheek-bones, as a contrast, were exceedingly prominent; his complexion was high-colored and blotched, although he was thin both in body and face. With this unpromising exterior, my gentleman seemed none the less to consider himself an Apollo. He wore bushy mutton-chop whiskers, which almost met in the middle of his chin, leaving between them only a very narrow s.p.a.ce, cleanly shaven, which he often caressed with affection, and which he called his dimple. His manners denoted no less self-a.s.surance than familiarity with the world; and they would even have borne some traces of refinement, had he not adopted a sort of mincing gait not unlike that of a drum-major; but, instead of a great baton, this gentleman had a slender switch, curved at the top, which seemed to have been painted and gilded long before, but had lost a large part of its decoration. It was a very pliable switch, with which he constantly tapped his trousers-legs.