"Ah! _fouchtra!_ you're a smart one! how you run on!"

"Now it's all over, ain't we going to have a gla.s.s of wine at the nearest wine-shop, to refresh us?"

"My boys, here's a hundred sous for each of you. Go and refresh yourselves all you choose; I am going to take the cab and go home. Do you prefer to ride back?"

"No, no! Riding makes us sick; eh, Piedmontese?"

"Yes, yes, I prefer to walk."

"But don't forget, my boys, to bring that coat and gray hat back to Madame Louchard."

"Don't you be afraid; we're just going to have a little fun with our hundred sous."

"Have all the fun you can, my boys. Good-day!"

"Say, Monsieur Cherami, you're satisfied with us, ain't you? We did what you wanted us to."

"Yes, my friends, I am very well satisfied.--But G.o.d preserve me from ever having you as seconds again!" added Cherami, as he drove away.

LV

CHERAMI CHANGES HIS TACTICS

On the day after the duel, Cherami, concealing under his coat the sword which had been loaned to him the day before, betook himself to the count's abode and asked the concierge how his master was. The concierge replied, with a profound sigh:

"Would you believe, monsieur, that, in spite of his years--for although monsieur le comte dresses like a young man, it's easy to see that he isn't one; his valet tells me he's past sixty--well, in spite of his years, he fought a duel yesterday."

"A man fights a duel when the occasion arises; there's no prescribed term for that."

"No, monsieur; no, a man doesn't fight--and with swords, above all--when his wrist is no longer firm; and it seems that Monsieur de la Beriniere's opponent was a great, tall rascal--a professional--one of those fellows who pa.s.s their time fighting. A fine profession!"

Cherami pushed the sword still farther under his coat, stared at the concierge as if he would swallow him, and said in a sharp tone:

"Your reflections tire me; I am going up to the count's apartments."

"But, monsieur, you can't go up; monsieur le comte is very badly wounded, so it seems. He is forbidden to read or talk."

"I don't mean to speak to him, but to his valet, who isn't so much of an a.s.s as you, I trust."

And Cherami rapidly ascended the stairs, opened the door of the reception-room by turning the k.n.o.b, and found there the valet, who knew him. He handed him the sword, saying:

"Here, my friend, is a sword which your master loaned to the person with whom he fought yesterday, and which that person requested me to return to him, and at the same time to inquire as to his condition. Is the count's wound dangerous?"

"No, monsieur. The surgeon said that it wasn't mortal, and that monsieur would recover."

"Ah! so much the better! I am very glad to hear that."

"But it may take a long time; he'll have to be very careful. Monsieur has lost a great deal of blood; he is very weak, and, between ourselves, he's no longer young."

"Between ourselves, and between all the rest of the world, too."

"He is forbidden to speak or to receive visits to-day."

"And I have no intention of asking to be admitted; I simply wanted to know how he was; he will get well, that's the main point. What does it matter whether it's a long recovery or not? The count is rich; he can coddle himself in bed as long as it's necessary."

"True, monsieur; but, still, this wound comes at a very bad time; for--I can safely tell you; it's no longer a secret--my master's on the point of being married."

"Married!"

"Yes, it's a fact; and to a young lady, a very pretty one."

"Well, my boy, to marry, at your master's age, is much more dangerous than a sword-thrust--especially when the bride is young and pretty--aggravating circ.u.mstances!"

"Ha! ha! I fancy monsieur is right."

"Good-morning! I will call again to inquire."

"And now," said Cherami to himself, "if I knew where Gustave is, I would tell him that his rival is on his back. I think I will go to his house to inquire. He has separate apartments; and, at a pinch, if the concierge can't tell me anything, I will brave once more the uncle's winning countenance."

Gustave's concierge knew that he was not in Paris, but he knew no more than that. Cherami decided to make his way once more into the banker's private office; he was always sure to find him at his desk in the morning.

Monsieur Grandcourt frowned when he recognized his visitor. But Cherami was even more carefully dressed than on the occasion of his last visit.

With the thousand francs he had received from Gustave, and by virtue of his newly-adopted system of economy, Beau Arthur had reached the point where he was no longer an ex-beau, and had almost recovered his former air of distinction.

He saluted the banker with the ease of manner which was natural to him, but to which his dress imparted additional charm. Monsieur Grandcourt replied with a cool nod. As he did not leave his armchair, Cherami took a seat and began by making himself comfortable. The two men looked at each other for several minutes without speaking: the banker retaining his scowling expression, Cherami smiling as if he were at the Theatre du Palais-Royal, listening to Arnal.

"How are you this morning, my dear Monsieur Grandcourt?" began Cherami, lolling back in his chair.

"Very well, I thank you, monsieur. Is it to inquire for my health that you come to my office to-day?"

"Oh! if I should say _yes_, you wouldn't believe me."

"True. But I remember that my nephew told me that you wished to find employment. You appear, however, monsieur, to be more fortunately placed than you were when I first saw you?"

"It is a fact, monsieur, that my condition has improved somewhat. But that does not interfere with my seeking a--suitable place. I am beginning to tire of doing nothing. I am really desirous to have something to occupy my time."

"That desire comes a little late!"

"You know the proverb: better late than never. And then, after all, I am only forty-eight; I am not an old man. You are fully as old as that, and yet you work!"

"But I have always worked, monsieur; it's a habit with me, a necessity.

I didn't have to make a study of it--a study which is often repellent when one begins it late in life."

"Have you any place to offer me, monsieur?"