San-Cravate; or, The Messengers; Little Streams Part 21

"He was an inspector at the Market."

"The devil! that's a good place; why did he lose it?"

"Oh! they put up a dirty game on him--stuffed fish and chickens in his pockets, and then said he stole 'em--a low-down trick, I say! One day, when he had a salmon in one pocket and a turkey in another, they had the cheek to arrest him and dismiss him for it."

"Couldn't the man tell when he had fish about him?" said Bastringuette.

"Apparently not; there's so much of it at the Market that you walk on it."

"All the same, his innocence looks to me almighty muddy! What does he do now?"

"He sells tickets for the _Belle-en-Cuisse_ ball, on Rue des Martyrs, near the barrier. But when there's no ball, he's _smoked_, and that's the case to-day."

"I say, old boy, won't you have a drink with us?" said Sans-Cravate, raising his gla.s.s toward Laboussole, who accepted the invitation as soon as he understood it, and brought his gla.s.s to the messengers' table, saying:

"I never refuse a drink of wine."

Bastringuette made an angry gesture, and muttered between her teeth:

"What a stupid fool that Sans-Cravate is! As if we wanted that old fossil! But as soon as he has a shiner or two, he's for treating everybody he sees; so he don't keep 'em long!"

Paul seemed no better pleased than Bastringuette to be at the same table with the ex-inspector, and he moved his chair away from that gentleman's, who thereupon seized the opportunity to move close to the table; and drawing toward him the dish of rabbit, in which only the head remained, he began to lap it with his tongue, humming:

"'When a man knows how to love and please, What other blessing does he need?'"

"Well, I think we'll have a little dessert," said Sans-Cravate; "we mustn't stop at rabbit stew.--Come, Bastringuette, what do you want for dessert?"

"Sausage with garlic," replied the girl.

"Agreed!--Here, waiter! four sausages with garlic, and see that they're spiced in the good old style--no, five, for Laboussole will take care of one--eh, old boy?"

"I never refused a sausage," replied that individual, continuing his perquisitions into every cavity of the rabbit's head.

"Good G.o.d! you're eating the eyes!" cried Jean Ficelle, who was watching Laboussole at work.

"I'd eat yours, if you was stewed. I'm very fond of that tidbit."

The sausages were brought. Each guest took one, except Paul, who declared that he was not hungry. Whereupon Jean Ficelle a.s.sumed his bantering air, and remarked:

"They ain't sweet enough for him."

And Bastringuette added:

"Perhaps his skirt cutter don't like the taste of garlic!"

"I say, comrade, you don't keep up your end!" cried Sans-Cravate, forcing Paul to let him fill his gla.s.s. "Don't you enjoy being with your friends?"

"There's no doubt about it," said Jean Ficelle; "Paul's acting d.a.m.ned queer. Anyone would say that it made him sore to be at the wine shop with us."

"Why do you attribute such thoughts to me?" rejoined Paul; "am I any different from you two? What am I but a messenger, like you? As for the wine shop, as I come here very seldom, it's not surprising that I don't seem so much at home as you."

"You say you don't come to the wine shop often?" cried Laboussole, eating his sausage with great zest. "You make a mistake, young man; the wine shop's the only place where one can enjoy life. It's the rendezvous of good company. I'd like never to leave it, myself!"

Paul made no reply, but turned his back on Laboussole, while Jean added maliciously:

"_Dame!_ a man don't go to the wine shop when he can play the swell! and I'm told that friend Paul has been seen now and then in a fine rig, with a hat instead of a cap."

"Oho!" cried Sans-Cravate, emptying his gla.s.s; "how's that, comrade, do you play the swell now and then?"

"It's all a mistake," murmured Paul, evidently annoyed by the question.

"I've got good eyes, myself," said Laboussole, tilting his remnant of a hat over one ear. "Yes, I saw our friend, not more than a week ago, in the Marais, and he was dressed a good deal like a wholesale grocer."

"Aha! aha!" said Bastringuette, fastening her great black eyes on Paul's face; "are you a prince disguised as a messenger? It seems to me that I've heard some such fairy tale as that. If that's so, and you want to make my fortune, don't be bashful--I'll accept."

"I am nothing more than I appear to be," replied Paul, with a sigh; "but I have good eyes, too, and I saw monsieur in front of a game of chance under Pont d'Austerlitz."

The ex-inspector was evidently embarra.s.sed, and tried to pull his hat over his eyes; he glanced at Jean Ficelle and rejoined in a hoa.r.s.e voice:

"That may be! What is there surprising in that? A man goes out for a stroll, and stops in front of any show he sees. That's the way we sail down the river of life."

"Come, let's drink and sing!" cried Sans-Cravate. "What's the odds how a man's dressed, or where he walks? Ain't we our own masters? ain't liberty as much for one man as another?"

"That's my opinion," replied Laboussole, holding out his gla.s.s, the contents of which he swallowed with the facility of an Englishman drinking champagne. "You're what I call a man, you are, Sans-Cravate!

and I'm your friend from this minute."

"I don't doubt it!" muttered Bastringuette; "he's anybody's friend who'll treat him--eh, Paul? Well, Cupid, why don't you answer, instead of looking at the floor like a girl? Don't you know it's indecent not to look at a woman when she speaks to you?"

Paul seemed not to hear, and made no reply. As for Sans-Cravate, the frequent b.u.mpers he had drunk were beginning to excite his brain and becloud his eyes. He did not notice the glances that his mistress bestowed upon her vis-a-vis; but Jean Ficelle, who saw everything, smiled malignantly as he muttered between his teeth, though loudly enough for Sans-Cravate to hear:

"What infernal traitors women are! If I had a mistress, I'd never take her into company, unless there was n.o.body else there."

"Well," observed the shabbily clad guest, attacking the sausage Paul had refused, "business don't seem to be very bad, my friends, for your life is watered with wine."

"I had a good evening," said Sans-Cravate; "fifteen francs for one errand!"

"Peste! is it a duke and peer that you work for, my friend?"

"No; but a young man who lives well! _Bigre!_ that's the kind of a spark I like. He's open-handed, I tell you!"

"He ain't like mine," said Jean Ficelle; "he flung me a paltry two-franc piece for trotting about more than two hours."

"Mine gave me even less than that," said Paul; "and yet I had to wait a long while in several places."

"Ah! my patron's the boy for me," continued Sans-Cravate; "he's a jolly fellow, and a good one, too! He enjoys himself and wants other people to do the same. Yes, he's a good fellow; let's drink to the health of Monsieur Albert Vermoncey."

"That's the talk! Here's to him!"