"Who's your sister?" cried Chamoureau.

Croque saw that he had been imprudent. To make his interlocutors forget it, he began to pretend to be in a quarrelsome mood once more.

"Never mind about that!" he said; "I'm an old soldier, I am, triple sauerkraut! I'm a bully boy who has shown his mettle, I am--in all sorts of ways, do you hear, Monsieur--Cornichon?"

"Ha! ha! very good! very pretty! we are pleased to make puns on my name, are we? Go on! The pomard makes you clever--_spirituel_."

"What! the pomard makes me spirituous--_spiritueux_! What business is it of yours? If I have been drinking pomard, it didn't belong to you; you haven't got the like of it in your cellars, you miserable Chonchon--Torchon!"

"Oh! Monsieur de--excuse me if I don't finish your name; I'm afraid you're a bit quarrelsome in your cups. Come, let's not get excited; I helped you out of your wheel-rut, and to reward me, you propose a duel.

There! there! let's be good friends."

But the more mildness Freluchon displayed, the uglier Croque became, because he thought that the other was afraid of him. He advanced upon the young man, twirling his cane and talking in a tone that seemed to proceed from the depths of his chest.

"I tell you, you're a shrimp. Yes, I have been drinking pomard--what business is it of yours, ten thousand smoked hams! I have a right to drink at Belleville's, and you haven't. I'll drink as much as I please, and I'll smash your jaw!"

"Oh! baron, baron, this is disgusting talk! surely you are anxious to return to your rut."

"What's that about a rut? I'll chuck you into it!"

But, as Croque raised his cane over Freluchon's head, the latter dealt him such a well-directed blow with his fist, that the self-styled baron fell back into the hole from which they had lifted him and lay there for some moments before he recovered his breath.

"Mon Dieu! you have killed him!" cried Chamoureau.

"If I did kill him, it would be no great loss to mankind, for this baron of yours, who swears by sauerkraut and kirschwa.s.ser, gives me rather a poor idea of the company I shall meet to-morrow at your house."

"Why, he's a very _comme il faut_ man; he's rather hot-headed, that's all."

"Oh! I have an idea that this baron is brummagem; and furthermore----"

"Mon Dieu! what am I going to do?"

"Don't be alarmed, Chamoureau, such fellows are hard to kill. Look, what did I say? he's moving a paw already."

"Let's help him to get up."

"Oh, no! not I. I don't help ingrates twice over!"

Croque raised his head, opened one eye, looked all about him, and stammered:

"_Credie!_ what a crack! It was magnificent! I've been hit before, but never anything like that; it sobered me off in an instant!"

"Well, baron, if you say so, I'll begin again."

"Thanks! oh! no, I thank you! I've had enough; I've had my reckoning.--De Belleville, give me your hand, old fellow."

When he was on his feet once more, Croque walked toward Freluchon and offered him his hand, saying:

"Young man, you're a fine fellow; you have my esteem; let's be friends."

"Ah! you're satisfied now, are you, monsieur le baron? You don't want to fight any more?"

"I am perfectly satisfied. Shake! I am very glad to have made your acquaintance."

"And I was certain that it would end like this. Bonsoir, messieurs; I am going to hunt up Edmond."

"Until to-morrow, Freluchon; we rely on you. Try to bring Monsieur Edmond; my wife has invited him too."

"Parbleu! I don't doubt it; but I don't know what he means to do. Until to-morrow."

"No ill-will, Monsieur--Merluchon?"

"Oh! not the slightest, baron."

Croque and Chamoureau walked away arm-in-arm, leaning on each other.

Freluchon soon arrived at Madame Dalmont's. Edmond was at the piano with Agathe, but Honorine was thoughtful and melancholy, for her new friend, Paul, had not come to see them.

Freluchon enlivened the company by describing what had taken place between himself and the Baron von Schtapelmerg.

"Is that the gentleman whom you thought so ugly?" Agathe asked her friend.

"Yes, and I haven't changed my opinion."

"Frankly," said Freluchon, "I have rather a poor opinion of that man, who talks about nothing but sauerkraut and kirschwa.s.ser; I never heard a genuine baron swear as he does. And then he let fall some words which--impressed me. I propose to study this baron.--Are you going to Madame de Belleville's ball to-morrow, Edmond?"

"I have no desire to."

"You make a mistake; I have an idea that it will be very interesting."

"Go there for a moment," said Honorine; "otherwise they will say that we kept you from going."

"What do I care?"

"Go," said Agathe, "if for nothing more than to satisfy yourself whether those people do say unkind things about us."

"That reason persuades me, dear Agathe, although I do not believe that anyone dares to speak ill of you. No matter; I will go to Madame de Belleville's ball."

"And I," said Freluchon, "shall go first to the dinner, yes, and to the breakfast--to everything, and try to sit next the Baron von What's-his-name at table. I will ply him with drink, and then I fancy that I shall hear some curious things."

The two young men left the ladies, and as they pa.s.sed Poucette, Freluchon, who attempted to ascertain whether the young peasant wore a hoop-skirt, received a kick on the shins from her clogs.

XVI

THE BLACK HEN