"I am simply telling the truth. However, I've seen very little of him for five years; he may have mended his ways."

"No," said Adhemar; "Dodichet is just the same; I have happened to meet him several times, and I have been sorry to see that our old friend has not grown any more sensible. He was in a position to succeed, for he's not a fool, and he inherited some money from his parents; but he thinks of nothing but enjoying life, of making _bonnes blagues_, as he expresses it; and they don't always succeed; some of them have cost him dear. I believe that he is almost ruined now; and, unfortunately, he hasn't yet decided upon any profession."

"Poor Dodichet!" said Lucien; "he must be very unhappy, then."

"He, unhappy! oh! he'll never be that. He laughs at everything, everything is _couleur de rose_ with him; and he is convinced that he will have a fine house, horses and carriages, and a hundred thousand francs a year, some day. He has a very happy disposition."

"Why, here he is, on my word!" cried Philemon; "yes, it's really he--he has remembered our appointment. Well, he has a better memory than I supposed."

Another person had, in fact, entered the cafe. It was a man of twenty-six or twenty-seven years, of medium height, well set up, with dark brown hair, a slightly flushed face, sharp eyes, turned-up nose, and a huge mouth--everything, in short, which denotes a jovial companion. His costume was a little eccentric: his trousers were unconscionably full in the legs and very tight at the hips; his waistcoat was of Scotch plaid with enormous squares, and his coat was so short that it barely covered half of his posterior. On his head was a gray hat of an indescribable shape, but remotely resembling a snail's sh.e.l.l. Lastly, he carried in his hand a light cane with an ivory head, which head he was forever stuffing into his mouth or his nose, and at times he scratched his ear with it. Such was Monsieur Fanfan Dodichet, who, on entering the cafe, swung his cane in such a way as to strike a newspaper out of the hands of an old habitue of the place, who was reading it as he sipped his gla.s.s of beer.

The old gentleman looked up and cast an angry glance at the person who had torn his newspaper into strips; and Dodichet, instead of apologizing for his awkwardness, laughed in his face, and remarked:

"They'll bring you the _Tintamarre_; it's much more entertaining. I am sure that you were bored by what you were reading; I saw that when I came in, and I said to myself: 'There's a man who longs to change his paper; I'll give him an opportunity.'"

Without waiting for a reply, Dodichet examined all the occupied tables; and discovering at last the persons he sought, shouted, as if he were in his own house:

"Ah! there they are! those are they! O happy fate!"

Then he began to sing:

"'Les montagnards, les montagnards, Les montagnards sont reunis!'"

"For heaven's sake, hold your tongue, Dodichet!" said Dubotte, affecting not to see the hand which the new-comer held out to him; "you will compromise us. The idea of singing like that in a cafe! What do you look like, anyway? These people will be giving you a sou!"

"Well! if everybody here gives me a sou, that will make a very tidy little sum; but our handsome blond is always afraid of compromising himself! He is truly superb, this Dubotte!--Do you know, Dubotte, you make me think of the sun, on my word! I can't look at you without squinting. But aren't we all here? Good-evening, messieurs! I haven't forgotten our appointment of five years ago, you see. That surprises you, doesn't it? well, it surprises me too, on my honor! Ah! there's Lucien, dear old Lucien, whom I haven't seen, I believe, since our agreement.--Give us your hand, Lucien--

"'Cette main, cette main si jolie!'"

"Good G.o.d! is he going to sing again? I'm going away, then."

"No, Phbus, don't be alarmed, I won't sing any more--not to please you, but because I want to talk with Adhemar and Lucien.--Ah!

Adhemar--there's a friend that is a friend; you can always find him when you want him. But Dubotte! his scent tells him when anyone's going to ask a favor of him, and he runs away like a stag. I said, like a stag; the simile is a little _risquee_ perhaps, as our friend is married; but, never mind! I have said it, and I won't take it back."

"Oh! I'm not offended, Dodichet. When a man has a wife like mine, he is above such jests."

"You're content with your wife, eh? so much the better, I'm glad of it.--But I say, messieurs, is that all you're going to take? For my part, the weather makes me thirsty."

"Very well! order some beer."

"Beer! oh, no! that's too vulgar; punch, rather."

"Who ever heard of drinking punch just before dinner?"

"Why not? all hours are alike to good fellows!--Punch, waiter! rum punch--and see that it's good; say it's for a connoisseur.--Won't you have a gla.s.s of punch, too, my dear Lucien? it warms you up and makes you lively!"

"No, thanks; I won't take anything; I don't need anything."

"Oh! yes, you do; pardieu! you'll take some punch with us; just remember that it is I who invite you!"

"But I'll answer for it that it won't be he who will pay," said Adhemar, in an undertone.

However, when the punch was brought, they all concluded to partake.

Dodichet immediately poured out a second gla.s.s for himself, humming:

"'J'en veux gouter encore, pour en etre certain.'"

But Adhemar silenced him by saying:

"Messieurs, we four, born at Troyes----"

"The home of hashed veal," said Dodichet.

"Oh! Dodichet, you are not going to keep interrupting Adhemar, are you?"

"Not I; I simply desired to confirm his statement that we were all born at Troyes.--Go on, Adhemar."

"Five years ago, we four happened to meet in this same cafe. I was then twenty-four years old, and I had been in Paris for some time; but Philemon Dubotte and Lucien had just arrived, and Dodichet had run through the inheritance of only one of his uncles. We were old schoolfellows. Do you know what we said when we met here?"

"Perfectly. Each one of us declared: 'I intend to succeed; to make a name and station for myself; and I ask only five years to do it in.'"

"Exactly; and we agreed then to meet again here at the end of five years, in order to find out whether we had succeeded and had reached our respective goals."

"Very good."

"Now, let each of us in turn tell where he stands, and whether he has arrived at the goal which he had in view.--Begin, Philemon."

"Oh, yes! it's Dubotte's place to begin, because he's the dean in years.

Go on, fascinating blond."

"Dean in years! I'm not so sure of that."

"Pshaw! between ourselves, there's no use in prevaricating; we all knew one another's ages at school."

"True; but we're not at school now."

"Ha! ha! that's good, that is; it ought to be framed. Dubotte, you are well over thirty-one."

"Not very much; only three months."

"That makes you thirty-one and a quarter."

"You're at least twenty-eight yourself, Dodichet."

"I don't conceal my age: I am twenty-seven and a half, Adhemar twenty-nine, and Lucien twenty-six; he's the youngest of the lot. So far, so good. I move that Phbus proceed."

"All right.--Messieurs, I have no reason to complain of destiny. Having obtained a position in the Interior Department, where my a.s.siduity, my zeal, and my fine handwriting procured me rapid promotion, I soon married; I found a very attractive young lady, who had a good-sized dowry; I was introduced to her; she liked me and declared that she would be happy to marry a man employed in the Interior Department. Our nuptials were celebrated. I have every reason to congratulate myself: my wife adores me, she sees only through my eyes. My emoluments are respectable; I am able to live pleasantly; so that I might fairly say that I have arrived, that my position is a.s.sured; but no, messieurs, I have not yet reached the height to which I aspire. For I am ambitious: I want to be a sub-prefect, or at least the head of a bureau; but I hope to arrive before long. _Dixi._"

"Heard and noted. Now it is Adhemar's turn."