"I wish to see Monsieur Bahuchet."

"Master Bahuchet is not here."

"Oh! he has gone out; at what hour will he return, if you please?"

"He won't return at all, thank G.o.d! I say that he is not here, which means that Maitre Bourdinard has dismissed him, discharged him, kicked him out, in short; and he well deserved it!"

"Oho!--But he had a friend, whom I do not see here!"

"Oh, yes! his friend Plumard; another fine subject--a worthy pendant to Bahuchet! Those fellows fought all day long, but they became reconciled at night in order to raise the devil all over the city. But when one of the master's clients, a certain Chevalier de Pa.s.sedix, came here and told him the story of an orange-colored costume that those two scamps sold him, Maitre Bourdinard's eyes were opened, and he turned the two little clerks out of doors--Plumard with Bahuchet, supporting each other!"

"In that case, monsieur, please give me this Monsieur Bahuchet's address, so that I may know where to find him; I must speak with him."

"His address, young woman--the address of a Bahuchet! Do you suppose such gentry have an address? Do they live anywhere? In wine shops and gambling h.e.l.ls and bawdy houses--that's where they live! But, frankly, I don't advise you to go there to look for him; and if the fellow owes you money, you will do well to make a cross on it."

Unable to obtain any information concerning him she sought, Miretta returned to report to her mistress the unsatisfactory result of her visit to the solicitor's office.

"More delay!" muttered Valentine, smiling bitterly; "one would say that destiny takes pleasure in multiplying obstacles to r.e.t.a.r.d what I wish to do! But nothing will tire out my perseverance.--Miretta, you must find this Bahuchet; the fellow can have no reason for hiding, for he must now be in quest of another place. Search Paris for him; disguise yourself, if necessary; conceal your pretty face beneath an ample cap, and go to those dens which Monsieur Bahuchet frequents.--Who knows? while looking for him, perhaps you will find someone in whom you are interested."

Miretta shook her head, as if to say that she had ceased to hope; but she prepared, none the less, to obey the marchioness.

L

THE APPLE-GREEN CHEVALIER

It was eleven o'clock in the morning; the weather was dry and cold; the wind was from the north; and they who were obliged to go abroad on business walked rapidly, and sometimes took the risk of running, in order to return the sooner to their homes.

However, in that sharp atmosphere, which is not uncommon toward the end of December, two young men were crossing Pont-Neuf very slowly, noses in air, looking from side to side, stopping before the most trivial objects, scrutinizing with a curious eye even the dogs that pa.s.sed, and which they sometimes seemed inclined to follow; in a word, these two individuals sauntered along like people with nothing better to do, albeit their garments were ill calculated to protect them from the inclement weather.

Their short-clothes, which were threadbare through long service, displayed here and there an occasional rent which had been awkwardly patched with material of a different color; their jackets, which took the place of doublets, were too long for them, lacked several b.u.t.tons, and were worn through at the elbows; and lastly, the caps which covered their heads were entirely shapeless, and did not even conceal the tips of their ears.

In these two companions in idling and evil fortune the reader will already have recognized the two clerks whom Maitre Bourdinard had dismissed from his employment.

"Do you know that it's terribly cold this morning, Bahuchet?"

"Pardieu! do I know it? I feel it quite as keenly as you; except on the head, however, as I have hair to protect me, whereas you--naught!--You must regret your plaster at this moment; you were wrong to take it off, Plumard, for it made a sort of little skullcap for you."

"Do you propose to begin your wretched jests again, Bahuchet? I give you warning that I am in no mood to put up with them!"

"Come, come! let us not quarrel, my dear fellow; that won't give us a breakfast, and that is what we must have. My stomach has a shockingly hollow ring, and fasting doesn't warm one's blood."

"No, indeed--far from it!"

"I thought that you would go to see your uncle the clothes dealer, Plumard. What the devil! if he should give you nothing but a cloak to carry you through the winter,--and that would be the least he could do for his nephew,--you might try to get a cloak large enough to make each of us one."

"I went to my uncle's this morning, while you were still asleep in that dram shop where we pa.s.sed the night. But he received me so unkindly that I have no desire to go there again. He called me vagabond, good-for-nothing, robber--all on account of that miserable orange-colored suit that we consumed together, and for which he arrested that long-legged Chevalier Pa.s.sedix!--Oh! he has that episode on his stomach!"

"What a fuss to make over a few faded duds! What's the use of having uncles if they let you freeze to death?"

"Holy forks! how hungry I am!"

"Rascally solicitor, to turn us into the street!"

"It's all the fault of that lanky, ill-built Gascon, who went to him and told him the story of the orange costume!"

"And all the offices are supplied with clerks--no place to be found!"

"If we could only find some other business!"

"It's all one to me; I would take anything that was open!"

"Even if it was a cook's place?"

"Pardieu! I would take it, I would turn cook with all my heart! Can you imagine a more alluring trade at this moment? To stand in front of a nice hot oven and smell the odor of a number of saucepans from which you always select the choicest bits?"

"Yes, I agree that that would be more agreeable than walking on Pont-Neuf in such weather as this! But as it isn't probable that we can find places even as scullions, I think that, in order to avoid starvation, we had best allow ourselves to be kidnapped by a sergeant in the king's service, and decide to serve our country as best we can!"

"What do you say, Plumard? Enlist--go into the army--carry a musket!

Nay, nay! by all the devils, that is not my vocation! Though I should have to take another turn in my saddle girth and drink nothing but water, I propose to retain my liberty."

"Oh, well! don't be so disturbed, my poor Bahuchet! you won't be enlisted. Indeed, you know very well that, even if you wanted to go for a soldier, they wouldn't take you! you're too small! you haven't the build!"

Bahuchet bit his lips and elevated his nose, as he rejoined, with a mocking smile:

"If they don't want short men in the army, I fancy they don't care much about having bald-headed ones either."

"You are an a.s.s, my boy; as a soldier never goes bareheaded, either in battle or on parade, he is ent.i.tled to have no hair if he pleases."

"You lie; it's part of the uniform; soldiers have their hair dressed--they wear pigtails."

"I have some hair at the back of my head, to make a pigtail if need be."

"Oh! that would be very pretty! a pigtail hanging from a pate as bald as one's knee!"

"It would be quite as pretty as a dwarf in uniform, whose sword dragged on the ground!"

"Plumard, I believe that you are pining for a drubbing!"

"No; but I am pining to administer one; that will warm me."

"Indeed!--Well, I don't choose to receive one.--Look you, dear boy, it is hunger that embitters our dispositions and makes us quarrelsome. The proverb is very true: when there's no hay in the manger, the donkeys fight."

"So you liken us to donkeys, eh?"