San-Cravate; or, The Messengers; Little Streams Part 32

"What are you all doing here?" he inquired.

At sight of the young man with the white eyebrows, Madame Vardeine gave a jump which shook her whole frame in a distressing way.

"There's my robber!" she cried; "that's the man I saw by my bed when I woke up; I know him by his eyebrows!"

"Mon Dieu, madame!" rejoined Varinet, calmly; "I beg that you will excuse me, but I was looking for these gentlemen; I heard them laughing, from the floor below; so I came up, found a door open, and entered your apartment with no idea where I was going."

Madame Vardeine did not seem convinced, and the concierge still held his broom in the air as if he proposed to sweep everybody out of the room.

But the arrival of Balivan restored peace. The painter rescued his friends, guaranteeing that there were no thieves among them, and they decided at last to go away with him; but before taking their leave, each of them cast a parting glance at the loft, where Elina crouched, trembling from head to foot.

"She is charming," said Albert.

"I shall see her again," said Mouillot.

"Yes, yes," added Celestin; "and everyone will receive what he deserves for his conduct this morning."

Paul made no reply, but the glance with which he met Celestin's seemed to defy him, and to show how little heed he paid to his threats.

XI

IN THE MAGISTRATE'S OFFICE

It was eight o'clock in the morning; Sans-Cravate was in his usual place, not lying on his _crochets_ this time, but seated on the end of them, with his elbows resting on his knees, and his head in his hands, looking about from time to time with a dissatisfied air. His eyes often sought out Paul's place, which was empty; then he clenched his fists, muttered some words between his teeth, and stamped on the ground impatiently.

Jean Ficelle was pacing back and forth, within a s.p.a.ce of about twenty yards; constantly pa.s.sing in front of his comrade, to whom he spoke now and then, while he took huge bites from an enormous piece of bread and from a bologna sausage, alternately.

"Well, Sans-Cravate, you don't have anything to say this morning. Did our little spree last night tie up your tongue? You ain't sick, are you?"

"No, no! I've forgotten all about it; I'm all right."

"_Pardie_, you wasn't drunk, anyway! anybody who says you was drunk lies."

"I think myself that I had a little too much."

"Not a bit of it; you think that because you got into a dispute, and that heated you up. You could have drunk a lot more. Do you know, I'm very sorry you couldn't settle your bet with Pere Cagnoux; that would have staggered the old boy. It was that snivelling Paul that spoiled it all. Hm! he was rather inclined to crawl. Refuse to fight! that's just what he did! I call him a poor cuss for friends to be seen with. Look you, a comparison: he's like a slater that's afraid to go up on the roof and is only willing to slate the ground floor."

"But he was willing to fight with the rest of you."

"Oh! yes! for what? mere brag! humbug! he knew well enough that challenging everybody was just the same as challenging n.o.body. You're the one that he insulted--and, whatever way you look at it, you're the one he owed reparation to. To refuse to drink with friends, and break their gla.s.ses! Thanks! that's too d.a.m.ned unceremonious!"

"Oh! now that my head's clear, that isn't what I bear him a grudge for.

You see yourself that he was quite right to despise that Laboussole, as he's a thief; and I blush now to think that I drank with such a cur!"

"No, no, not at all! you're all wrong! You think Laboussole's a thief, just because they arrested him as a thief!--why, that's one of the law's spiteful tricks. A man may be involved in a bad piece of business and not be a thief, for all that. I'm sure that Laboussole will come out as white as snow. Come and have a gla.s.s of beer. It's my treat."

"No, thanks; I ain't thirsty."

"Oh! you ain't hungry or thirsty to-day! Well, just as you please. But you see the little sneak don't dare to come here this morning; that proves that he has a feeling that he's in the wrong."

"That's true; it's almost nine o'clock, and Paul is almost always the first one here; he don't seem to come."

Jean Ficelle continued to walk back and forth; then stopped again in front of Sans-Cravate, saying with a mocking expression:

"_Dame!_ perhaps his time was so well occupied last night that he's resting this morning--that's what's the matter!"

Sans-Cravate sprang to his feet.

"What do you mean by that?" he cried, with a savage gesture.

"I mean--I mean----Faith! you know well enough what I mean; and I'll bet I know who he's with now."

"With Bastringuette, you mean, don't you?"

"_Dame!_ it seems to me that she didn't hesitate to show you that she preferred that popinjay to you. Women must have mighty little taste; such a fine fellow as you are! Why, you'd make three of Paul!"

"Oh! I'm not jealous of his good fortune," rejoined Sans-Cravate, struggling to appear calm; "let him go with Bastringuette, if he chooses! But last night I saw that he didn't go with her when we left the wine shop; he went away alone--and she--she waited to see if I was following her; then she went off alone, too."

"Bah! humbug! they met afterward. If we knew where Paul lived, we could go and see if he was at home. Do you know where he lives, Sans-Cravate?"

"No, I don't; he told me he lived Faubourg Montmartre way; but that's all."

"The devil! in a faubourg! it would be a nice job to find him! There's some mystery about that fellow; he's a queer fish."

"What difference does it make whether he's at home, or at her room? I don't care a hang! I'm done with Bastringuette."

"Never mind," muttered Jean Ficelle, biting into his bread; "if a mate of mine took my mistress from under my nose, it wouldn't make any difference if I didn't love her--that wouldn't be the end of it."

"And do you suppose that I won't have my revenge?" shouted Sans-Cravate, giving free vent to his anger, and clenching his fists with a threatening air.

"Good!" said Jean Ficelle, patting the other's shoulder hypocritically; "that's more like you. You're still a man. I says to myself: 'It's mighty strange that a brick like Sans-Cravate stands being put upon without doing anything'; but I see that you have a plan; bravo! you're a man!"

At that moment, a short, thin individual, dressed in black, but not well dressed, stopped in front of the two messengers, and said to them:

"You two are the men I want; you're Sans-Cravate, aren't you; and you, Jean Ficelle?"

They a.s.sented, and the man in black continued:

"Then you'll be kind enough to come and see monsieur le commissaire."

Jean Ficelle was visibly disturbed by the mention of the magistrate, while Sans-Cravate asked:

"What the devil should we go to see monsieur le commissaire for? I've never been there, and I've no business to settle with him."

"Weren't you at the Pet.i.t Bacchus wine shop last night, when a certain Laboussole was arrested there? weren't you drinking with him?"