"Our master sent for us," said the gardener, speaking slowly in order not to confuse his words; while the concierge leaned against a venerable easy-chair, in order not to fall.

"Ah! here is my household!" said Robineau.

"It doesn't seem very firm on its legs," said Alfred.

"What position do you fill here?" Robineau asked the gardener.

"What position, bourgeois? do you mean what do I do?"

"Exactly."

"I am Vincent, the gardener of the chateau--by your leave. And there's work enough, G.o.d knows! You wait till you see the garden! You wouldn't know where you were!"

"Is the garden large?"

"I should say so! It's so big that I've only been taking care of half of it for a long while, because, you see, I can't do everything."

"Why do you allow the courtyard to get all choked up with weeds, master gardener?" inquired Alfred.

"Oh! I can't do everything, monsieur; besides, the courtyard ain't the garden."

"He is right," said Robineau; "he should confine himself to his duties.--And you, behind him--what do you do on my property? Stand forward."

The concierge, forced to abandon the chair that supported him, staggered forward, and pulling out a red handkerchief filled with snuff to wipe his inflamed face, began by hiccoughing, then he commenced to laugh, and said:

"I'm the man--I'm the man as keeps you, master.--You see before you a buck who eats and drinks enough for six."

"You must not have ten servants like him, Robineau,--they'd ruin you,"

said Alfred.

"Ah! you are my concierge, are you, my man?"

"Yes, master--monseigneur, I mean; for your valet told us it amused you to be called monseigneur--and it don't make any difference to me, you know; I'll call you whatever you say--that's me!"

"I believe this knave is drunk!" said Robineau. "What is your name, concierge?"

"My name's Cunette, master, saving your presence."

"You have been drinking a good deal, Monsieur Cunette, it seems to me!"

"Always to your health, my venerable lord and master--and all ready to begin again when you say the word."

"By the way, who prepares dinner here? I don't see any cook anywhere."

"I can't do everything," muttered the gardener; "the kitchen ain't in the garden."

"Oh! it's all the same to me," stammered the concierge, clutching the easy-chair once more; "if you'd like to have me, master, I'll go into the kitchen and I'll fix you up something as if it was for myself!"

"My dear fellow," said Alfred to Robineau, "I trust that you will send Messieurs Vincent and Cunette to bed, and that they are not to do your cooking. If they are, I shall not eat a mouthful."

"This is very embarra.s.sing!" said Robineau, running to the bell-cord and pulling it violently. Francois answered the summons, carrying a broom and a feather duster.

"What are you doing, Francois?"

"I am sweeping and cleaning the dining-room, monsieur. You should have seen the dust and cobwebs there! Bless my soul! the spiders I have killed!"

"And who is attending to the dinner?"

Francois looked at Vincent, who looked at Cunette, who looked at nothing, because he could no longer see.

"Well, knaves! do you mean to answer?" cried Robineau angrily. "Do you intend to give me spiders for dinner?"

"My dear fellow," said Alfred, "you chose to come here to occupy your chateau without warning, without securing a staff of servants and having whatever was necessary done in this old house; so you must expect not to find the service well regulated at the outset.--However, as we must dine, and as you have invited Monsieur Ferulus, who certainly will not fail to come, we must try to find a cook in the vicinity, which can hardly be impossible.--Come, Monsieur Vincent, tell us--at what house hereabout do they live best?"

"Oh! bless me, monsieur, they live pretty well, everywhere; but best of all at Monsieur Cheval, the veterinary's. He has a daughter, you see, who's been in service at Clermont, at a rich merchant's house."

"Well! that's what we want to know.--Francois, go at once to Monsieur Cheval's, and ask his daughter to be good enough to come to the chateau to do the cooking; she won't refuse. Pick up provisions wherever you go; send to Talende for them, as it's only a league and a half; lastly, arrange matters so that we shall not be obliged to go to bed without candles and without sheets."

Francois went to carry out Alfred's orders, and Robineau said to the gardener and the concierge:

"Return to your work, and never come before me again in such a condition."

"We'll go and drink your health again, monseigneur," said Cunette.

"No, you have drunk quite enough."

"Never mind, bourgeois; when we're celebrating your arrival, we won't hold back and look at the others; and everybody coming here to-night to dance, too!"

"I don't want them to come to dance to-night; let them come some other time."

"But you invited all the good people who gave you such a fine concert,"

said Alfred, "and you must receive them. You have chosen to play the seigneur, so you must submit to the consequences.--Now let us inspect the chateau."

"I am going to guide my master," said Cunette.

"You'd do better by going to bed, drunkard!"

"I know my duties, monseigneur."

Robineau and his friends left the bedroom. Monsieur Cunette, who was exceedingly pig-headed in his cups, and who considered that the concierge should be present at the inspection of the chateau, followed his master, supporting himself against the walls.

They walked through long, venerable galleries, lighted by great ogive windows, through which the light found its way with difficulty, however, because the gla.s.s was coated with dust. They entered enormous rooms, all decorated in the same general style as Robineau's bedroom, where the eye could hardly reach the ceiling.

"This chateau must have been in existence in the time of King Pepin,"

said Edouard.

"It is all superb," said Robineau, who gazed in admiration at every landscape painted over the doors and mirrors.