Cherami was duly served. Meanwhile, Auguste had seated himself at another table and was writing.

Madame Duponceau's breakfast did not interfere with Cherami's enjoyment of the foie gras, which he watered with frequent draughts of Beaune, saying to his neighbor from time to time:

"Pray drink a gla.s.s of this wine; it's old and very good; there won't be any left in a moment; however, we can remedy that by ordering another.--Waiter, bring me some kind of cheese and a second bottle of this Beaune."

Auguste had ceased to write; he sealed the two letters and handed them to Cherami.

"Will you kindly take these letters, my dear monsieur? one is for my wife, Madame Monleard; the address is written on it."

"By the way, how is your good wife?"

"Very well; but allow me to finish. This other letter, without address, is for you."

"For me?"

"Yes; and you must give me your word of honor not to read it until half an hour after I have left you."

"Half an hour after you have left me?"

"Yes; will you promise?"

"If it will oblige you, I promise."

"Thanks; I rely upon your word."

"You may safely do so; I haven't thirty-six words in serious matters; but the other letter?"

"When you have read what I have written to you, you will see what I ask you to do; and I am confident that you will carry out my intentions."

"I have told you that I am entirely at your service."

"Here is my purse, for I shall not come back here. You will find enough inside to pay for whatever you may have ordered."

"Very good; I will pay, and I will put the change in the purse. It's a very pretty little thing--very dainty, and in excellent taste."

"If you like it, pray keep it in memory of--our acquaintance."

"You are really too kind. I don't stand on ceremony, myself, so I accept it."

"And now--pour me a gla.s.s of wine, so that I may drink with you."

"Ah! now you're talking!"

Cherami filled two gla.s.ses; Auguste took one of them with a firm hand, touched it to the one held by the ex-beau, muttered a few unintelligible words, and swallowed the wine at a single gulp.

"Sapristi! how fast you go! one has no time to follow you. I toss champagne off like that sometimes, but it's a miserable way to drink, as a rule. I like better to sip. Shall we have another gla.s.s, so that I may drink your health?"

"No, I haven't time. Adieu, monsieur; I rely on your promise. You will not read that letter for half an hour."

"You have my word! Are you going so soon?"

"I must."

"When shall I see you again?"

"Impossible to say. Adieu, monsieur!"

"Au revoir, rather!"

Auguste took his hat, shook hands with Cherami, pointed again to the two letters on the table, and rushed from the room.

Cherami balanced himself on the hind legs of his chair, drank another gla.s.s of wine, and ordered cigars, saying:

"As I have to stay here another half-hour, I may as well employ my time to advantage.--Waiter! coffee, brandy, and kirsch. By the way, see what time it is now by your sundials, and tell me exactly."

The waiter brought what had been ordered, and said:

"The clock in the hall has just struck two, monsieur."

"Very good; when it strikes the half-hour, you are to come and tell me; do you hear?"

"Yes, monsieur; I shall not fail. Does monsieur wish anything else?"

"No; these decanters of brandy and kirsch will help me kill time. If I want you, I'll ring.--This has been a most extraordinary day!" said Cherami to himself, as he lighted a fresh cigar. "I hardly suspected, this morning, when I was pacing the boulevards to get up an appet.i.te, that I should breakfast at Pa.s.sy, and then breakfast a second time in the Bois de Boulogne. This Monsieur Auguste Monleard is concealing some scheme or other which is not of a cheerful nature. Those two letters he left with me--one of which is for myself--there's a mystery about the whole business! This purse he gave me is a very dainty affair; let's see what there is in it. A hundred-franc note! d.a.m.nation! I have my cue! I shall have enough to pay for my breakfast.--What are these other papers?

Broker's memorandums: 'bought by order of M. Monleard; sold by order of M. Monleard.'--These are of no importance, and there's nothing else. Can it be that our young capitalist has been unlucky in speculation, and has vamosed, as they say?--It's very possible. Well! I shall know all about it before long; at least ten minutes must have pa.s.sed. Let's take a drink of kirsch. That little scamp of a Narcisse has nicked my switch all up. Children are very nice--when they're well brought up.--I can't keep my eyes off that letter. Time never dragged so with me! Suppose I ask for my bill--that's a good idea.--Waiter!"

"Did monsieur call?"

"Yes; bring me my check. Add three more kirsches--I shall drink them before I go--and, when you come back, tell me what time it is."

"Yes, monsieur."

The waiter returned with the bill, which he handed to Cherami, saying:

"It's a quarter past two, monsieur."

"Only a quarter! Sacrebleu! you make a mistake; it isn't possible that it's only a quarter past!"

"I give you my word, monsieur, that that's all it is by the clock in the hall. If you will come and look for yourself----"

"All right! Let's see the footing! seventeen francs fifty. Here, change this note for me, and, when you bring back the change, look at the clock a little more carefully."

"Why, monsieur, I can't look at it any different way from----"

"Go, boy, and don't argue. I don't like arguers."

"Such is life!" mused Cherami, resorting to the kirsch once more; "when you're with a woman who pleases you, when you're playing an exciting game of cards, time doesn't walk; it flies: _hora vita simul!_ At other times, it crawls like a tortoise; and yet, the time is sure to come when we find that it has moved altogether too fast! That simply proves that men are never satisfied with the present. Ah! what a pretty, old fairy tale that is of _Nourjahad and Cheredin_, which impressed me so when I read it--in my youth. Monsieur Nourjahad is a young, handsome, and wealthy Mussulman, who lacks nothing to make him happy, and, of course, he isn't satisfied; he complains because time doesn't go fast enough to suit him, because he is to marry his cousin at twenty-five, and to reign over a great kingdom when he is thirty. Cheredin is an old dervish, something of a sorcerer; he hears Nourjahad railing at destiny, and says to him: 'I can grant you the power to make time pa.s.s as swiftly as you wish; but, beware! it is very dangerous. You will shorten your life, if you do not moderate your desires.'--The young man is overjoyed, he accepts, and promises to use in moderation the power which is bestowed on him. But, fiddle-de-dee! When shall we ever see a man resist the desire of possessing at once what he ought not to have until later?

Nourjahad desires to be twenty-five years old, in order to marry his cousin; then thirty, in order to be sultan. Soon he desires to be a father, then to see his child grown up; then, being at war with his neighbors, he wants the decisive battle to come at once. In a word, that devil of a Nourjahad goes so fast, in the satisfaction of his desires, that he finds that he has grown thirty years older in a month; thereupon he curses the power that was placed in his hands, and Cheredin observes: 'My good friend, that is what all men would do, if they were enabled to make time move faster.'--And, touching Nourjahad with his wand, he restores his youth, and advises him to keep it as long as possible.--That is a very sensible preachment; but if, instead of making time move faster, one could make it go backward, ah! then we should look twice before doing it. A man goes through some such infernal quarter-hours in the course of his life, that he wouldn't like to repeat them."