"Chamoureau stood there like an utter idiot; he mumbled a lot of words that had no sort of connection with one another, and ended by saying that it was proper for him to adopt a different demeanor, as he was going to be married."

"Aha! he is going to be married! and to whom?"

"Can't you guess?"

"Some wealthy retired groceress?"

"No, no! he would do much better to marry a groceress. The drivelling idiot! he is going to marry the lovely brunette, Madame Sainte-Suzanne."

"Thelenie! is it possible?"

"It's a fact; he told me under the seal of secrecy; he tells everybody--under the same seal."

"But it was your duty to impress it upon him that he is doing an insane thing, that this marriage will make him very unhappy, that all the men with any good looks in Paris have known Madame Sainte-Suzanne intimately."

"I was careful to do nothing of the kind; he would have believed that I said it from envy, from spite; and then, d'ye see, I am not sorry to see him do this crazy thing. If Chamoureau were a good fellow, if he had shown himself in prosperity a man of heart, devoted to his friends, then I would have done my utmost to prevent him from tying himself to that lady. But as he did nothing of the kind, as he is nothing better than an a.s.s, a selfish fool overflowing with vanity, who pretended to mourn for his wife in order to make himself interesting, why, let him roll in the muck, let him swallow with his eyes closed all the lies his lovely Thelenie tells him; let him roll there till he falls into a ditch, into which that lady will not fail to push him! it will be a good thing!

There's no harm done if fools are punished from time to time. I never pity the discomfiture of those people who are insolent in prosperity.--Now I am ready; let us go; that is to say, let us go to the Cafe Anglais to breakfast--just a cutlet; I shall save myself for the _matelote_--and then to the station."

The two friends breakfasted together. But Edmond gave Freluchon hardly time to eat; he said to him every minute:

"Let us go; you have eaten enough; if you eat any more, you won't do honor to the _matelote_."

"I a.s.sure you that I shall; the journey, you know, and the country air; and then we shall not dine as soon as we arrive.--Garcon! a cup of chocolate."

"Great heaven! he is going to drink chocolate too! Why, it will make you ill!"

"On the contrary, it will do me good; it's a habit which I learned from a little Spanish dancer, who danced the _yota_, _bolera_, et cetera, at the Folies-Nouvelles, and who quivered so when she looked at her feet.

Ah! my dear fellow, such a quivering!"

"That is no reason for drinking chocolate! I have known English women, but I don't eat plum-pudding!"

"Well! you make a mistake; you should always adopt the tastes of your lady friends; then you end by eating everything."

At last Edmond succeeded in dragging Freluchon from the cafe; but the little man, as a precautionary measure, put in his pocket the rolls that he had not had time to eat. They arrived at the station, only to find that they had three-quarters of an hour to wait for the train.

"You see, I should have had plenty of time to soak my rolls in my chocolate!" cried Freluchon as they paced the floor of the waiting room. "Oh! these lovers! how unpleasant they are at table!--I say! they sell cake here; I am going to fill my pockets in case of accidents.--If this fellow Edmond were only amiable! I do whatever he wants, I follow him to a place where I don't know a cat, and he doesn't say a word, he looks as dismal as a night cap! Are you going to be like this all the way to Ch.e.l.les?"

"Oh! Freluchon, if you knew what I feel when I think that I am going to see that fascinating girl again! It seems to me that when I am with her, I shall not dare to say a word."

"Well! that will be lovely! You will give them a very pretty idea of your intelligence!"

"A man ceases to have any when he is in love!"

"In that case, I have an excellent reason for never falling in love.

_Fichtre!_ I don't propose to lose my intelligence; it's a thing that can't be replaced."

"Do you think she'll be glad to see me?"

"What a question! It's as if you should ask me if I know how many times I blew my nose yesterday."

"If they should receive me coldly--with that frigid courtesy that means: 'Monsieur, you are welcome this once--it's all right--but you will gratify us by not coming again' ----"

"Why, you would say to them: 'Mesdames, you will be the losers; I improve rapidly on acquaintance' ----"

"Ah! there's the bell, the signal for the train; let's hurry."

"Hurry! what an extraordinary man! What's the use of hurrying? there's always room in the cars; as the saying goes: 'When there's no more room, there is still some.' "

The two friends took their seats, and the train started. Freluchon scrutinized their travelling companions. Two elderly women, a child, and three men, two of whom instantly began to smoke, in the teeth of the regulations, deeming it perfectly natural to gratify a brutish taste at the risk of setting the carriage on fire and roasting a considerable number of travellers. What vile cads such people are!

Freluchon admired the landscape, as much as one can admire it from a railway train. The country was very pretty through Raincy; but Edmond looked at nothing, saw nothing. Whenever the train stopped, he wanted to alight, thinking that they had arrived; Freluchon was obliged to hold him back by the coat, saying:

"We are not at Ch.e.l.les; do you mean to go the rest of the way on foot?"

At last they reached the Ch.e.l.les station. The two friends alighted and Edmond asked a peasant woman:

"Which way to Ch.e.l.les, if you please?"

"To your left, up the hill."

"And the _matelote_ country, madame?" asked Freluchon.

"To your right, monsieur; follow the main road, take the first road to the left, cross the bridge, and you're in Gournay."

"Infinitely obliged. I will go in that direction, Edmond, while you go to Ch.e.l.les; you will find me at the best restaurant, cabaret or grill-room in Gournay. It is now one o'clock; I trust that I shall see you again by four; three hours to pay your respects is a very generous allowance. I am going to try to find a shepherdess of the Florian type; if it come to the worst I will be content with a bather of the Courbet type.--Bah! he isn't listening; he's already on his way; he continues to be amiable!"

Agathe was at the piano, singing and accompanying herself. Honorine, seated by the window, was working at embroidery, glancing frequently in the direction of the Tower.

Several days had pa.s.sed since the adventure of the cow; they had seen neither Paul nor his dog, and Madame Dalmont had just observed:

"I am sure that that gentleman was sorely annoyed to be obliged to walk home with us; that was why he ran away without listening, I think, to my invitation to him to rest a moment."

"Why, yes, he did listen, because he answered: 'I must continue my walk.' --Ah! the dog is more agreeable than his master!"

And the two friends had relapsed into silence.

Poucette entered the salon.

"Mesdames, here's a fine young man who wants to know if he can have the honor of seeing you."

"A young man--did he give his name?"

"Monsieur Edmond Didier."

"Edmond Didier! Oh! my dear friend, that's the young man, who--the young man, who--you know--who took so much trouble to help you to buy this house."

"Yes, yes; I remember very well; but that's no reason why you should blush so. Why, you are all confused. Come, come, Agathe, control yourself.--Show the gentleman in, Poucette."