"I," murmured the little woman--"I said--that is--no, I said nothing. I don't know why monsieur le chevalier brings me into all the fables he invents. He would do better to pay the rent he owes me!"

"What is that, Widow Cadichard? I believe that you dared to say that I invent!--Cadedis! that is too much! I, invent anything!--I suppose that you didn't tell me also just now that monsieur had asked you for a duplicate key to the street door, so that he could go in and out at night without disturbing anyone; and that he had forbidden Popelinette to sit up for him; and that it was the fashion in Spain to walk the streets at night? To which I replied that it was not so warm in France as in the beautiful land of the Andalusians.--Ah! I invented all that--sandioux! If all that I have just said was not told me by you, I hope that this egg will choke me while I speak!--Look! didn't I tell you that they were all hard? But I am an ignoramus, I don't know anything about cooking. And this one is just the same; as they all are!"

As he spoke, the Gascon took up an egg and dexterously stripped it of its sh.e.l.l; after which, he made but one mouthful of it, and was about to do as much with a second one, when the landlady angrily pounced on the plate in which the others were and put it in her lap, saying:

"Well, monsieur, have you nearly finished swallowing my eggs as if they were little tarts? Really, you don't stand on ceremony! If it wasn't for my respect for monsieur le comte, I would tell you what I think of your conduct."

"What would you tell me, alluring Cadichard?--that I am a libertine, a scatterbrain, and that I owe you for four quarters? Cadedis! that is no crime; every day, gentlemen of good family find themselves short of money; and a few days later they roll in gold and doubloons.--Isn't that so, Monsieur de Carvajal?"

"It is, in truth, a common occurrence, monsieur le chevalier."

"At this moment, I know several n.o.ble lords who are in my plight. Among others, the young Comte Leodgard de Marvejols, of whom you have heard, doubtless?"

"Yes, the name is not unknown to me."

"It is one of the oldest families of Languedoc. The old Marquis de Marvejols is very rich, but he is a little strict with his son, although he has no other child. To be sure, Leodgard did run through the fortune he got from his mother rather rapidly. He's a young buck who travels fast--a gallant of my stamp; he loves cards and wine and the ladies.--Yes, sweet Cadichard, we love the ladies; but they must not fly into a pa.s.sion when we condescend to taste a little egg in their honor.--To return to Leodgard, he has had hard luck of late! He had won a very neat little sum at cards, contrary to his custom, and was returning to his house at night, when he was attacked by Giovanni, that famous brigand, you know, who is at this moment the terror of the capital. You must have heard of him, monsieur le comte?"

"No; this is the first time that I have heard that name."

"You surprise me! Sandioux! Giovanni already has a tremendous reputation in this country. He must be very skilful with the sword to have beaten young Marvejols, who fights--almost as well as I do.--The result is that everybody is afraid of the man. But so far as I am concerned, the contrary is true; indeed, I would like very much to meet this famous robber!"

"Oh! that's because you are not afraid of being robbed!" said the little landlady, pressing her lips together spitefully.

"Always some piquant little remark, sweet Cadichard!--I overlook them, I overlook anything in the fair s.e.x!"

"And why would you like to meet this--this Giovanni, monsieur le chevalier?" asked the stranger, playing with his sword hilt.

"Why, monsieur le comte, because I flatter myself that I should be more fortunate than poor Leodgard! And that infernal knave would receive at my hand the reward of his brigandage! I would give myself the pleasure of burying six inches of Roland in his throat. Ah! sandioux! I can see from here the wry face he would make!--Does that make you laugh, Monsieur de Carvajal?"

"Why, yes, because it occurs to me, too, that in such a battle as you suggest one of the two would, in fact, be likely to cause the other to make a strange grimace."

"One of the two! Do you doubt that I should triumph?"

"I in no wise doubt your valor, monsieur le chevalier; but as for your triumph, permit me to think that it is better not to make any a.s.sertions beforehand--the most valiant are conquered sometimes; fortune is capricious to fighting men as well as to lovers."

Pa.s.sedix bit his lips and drew his eyebrows together. The hostess, who had decided to remove the sh.e.l.ls from her eggs, said to the tenant of her first floor:

"In any case, monsieur le comte, it is always prudent not to go out at night unless you are well armed; for my part, I don't dare to go to the theatre at the Hotel de Bourgogne, because it ends too late! It's half-past eight sometimes when they finish the beautiful tragedy of _Sophonisbe_, by Monsieur Mairet, which I would have liked to see, all the same!"

"_Sophonisbe!_ Faith! I prefer his last tragedy, the _Duc d'Ossone_--the verses are more sonorous, the subject more warlike.--What say you, monsieur le comte?"

"I do not go to the play."

"Where in the devil does the Spaniard go?" thought Pa.s.sedix, draping himself in his cloak; "never to the court, never to a wine shop, never to the play! He wants to make us think that he's always shut up with some petticoat!"

And the Gascon swayed to and fro on his chair and caressed his chin, as he continued:

"For my part, I am a great frequenter of the theatre."

"You go to Brioche's theatre on Pont Neuf!" laughed Madame Cadichard; "there's a show outside; that doesn't cost anything!"

"I go where I choose, madame! It seems to me that I am ent.i.tled to.

Brioche's marionettes are not to be despised, and the proof is that great crowds go there--leaders of society and idlers, _belles dames_ and _bourgeoises_. But that does not interfere with my being one of the most a.s.siduous spectators at the Hotel de Bourgogne; I know all Alexandre Hardy's plays, and I believe he has written over six hundred; he is my favorite author, and I prefer him to this Jean Mairet, who is laden with favors by the Cardinal de Richelieu, the Duc de Longueville, and the Comte de Soissons, because he has written a dozen or so of tragedies! A fine showing, forsooth, beside Hardy's six hundred plays!--Ah! cadedis! if I had ever undertaken to write, it would have been a different story!--But I prefer the sword to the pen; one must not derogate from his rank!"

At that moment, an old servant of more than sixty years, whose skin had such a dark-yellow tinge that she might at need have been pa.s.sed off as a Moor, entered the room and approached the stranger. It was Popelinette, just returned from performing her commission.

"Here are all the things you told me to get, monsieur le comte--gloves, perfumery--the nicest and daintiest I could find; and _mouches_ and paint; and here is the money that is left."

"Very good; keep that for your trouble."

"Oh! you are very kind, monseigneur! I thank you very humbly!"

"Does the fellow mean to disguise himself as a woman?" Pa.s.sedix thought, glancing furtively at Popelinette's purchases, which she had placed on a table. "Paint! _mouches!_ perfumery! Fie, fie! all those things do very well for shepherds in Arcady. I begin to conceive a very singular opinion of this Spaniard!"

"It took you a very long time to do the errand monsieur le comte gave you to do!" said the plump Cadichard to her servant. "You must try to make your legs work a little livelier when you go out."

"But, madame, I went to the best perfumer on Rue Saint-Honore, near the Couvent des Capucines; that's a long way."

"Monsieur le Chevalier Pa.s.sedix has been waiting impatiently for you; he needs your help--some b.u.t.tons to sew on his doublet."

"Again!" muttered Popelinette, with a most disrespectful gesture.

"What do you mean by that?" cried the Gascon, raising his head; "I should like to know if you are not here to wait upon the tenants? I consider your reply a little impertinent, my girl!"

"Mon Dieu! don't be angry, monsieur le chevalier; I don't refuse to do what you want; but I meant that your doublet has been patched and mended so often that the b.u.t.tons I sew on are likely not to hold, for lack of material to sew them to."

"It is easy to see, old Popelinette, that you no longer have your eyes of twenty years! otherwise, you would not abuse thus a garment which is almost new, and which owes the numerous patches that cover it solely to the sword thrusts I have received in single combats and others. But they are t.i.tles to renown, and that is why I am fond of this doublet; if I should buy a new one, within a week it would be riddled by sword thrusts as this one is; one doesn't go to the water without getting wet.--Well!

my girl, take a needle and thread and let us have done with it, for the day is advancing, and I should already be somewhere else!"

The old servant grumblingly took what she needed to repair the Gascon's doublet. For some moments, the stranger had been examining what Popelinette had brought him; at last he carefully replaced all the articles in paper and put them in his pocket one after another, as if he were preparing to take his leave.

"Yes, sandioux!" cried Pa.s.sedix, partly unb.u.t.toning his doublet so that the servant could work more conveniently; "yes, I long to pursue a certain adventure, the heroine of which surpa.s.ses the Venus of Medici!"

"Oh! monsieur le chevalier makes Venuses out of every retrousse nose he meets!" said Dame Cadichard, shrugging her shoulders.

"Do you think so, charming hostess? I should say that I have never given you reason to think that my taste was bad!"

The landlady turned her little eyes on the Gascon, like a person who does not know whether she ought to take in good or ill part what is said to her. Pa.s.sedix continued:

"By the way, I made her acquaintance in such singular fashion!--Ah! be careful, Popelinette, you are p.r.i.c.king me as if I were a pincushion!"

"Goodness! it isn't my fault, monsieur; you keep moving all the time!"

"That is my nature; I could not keep still for a moment; that is due to the heat of my blood--to the smoking lava that flows in my veins! I am a volcano! and then, the image of that Italian was well adapted to make my legs twitch!"

"Ah! your conquest is an Italian, is she, monsieur le chevalier?" said the stranger, who had taken a step or two toward the door, but who turned at that and looked at Pa.s.sedix.

"Yes, monsieur le comte; that is to say, she isn't exactly an Italian, although she wears the costume of a Milanese; she was born in Bearn, but it seems that she has lived in Milan many years. I give you my word that she is a dainty morsel, that little Miretta!"