Part 10 (1/2)

and when he is drunk, too!”

”If he was sober, madame, he probably wouldn't take the risk.”

”But some day this neighbor of yours will break his neck.”

”So I have often told him. The day after, when he has his window mended, he swears that it shall never happen again. The concierge has already threatened to warn him out if he doesn't enter by his door, and doesn't come home earlier.”

At that moment we heard someone storming and swearing on the landing.

Monsieur Pettermann, having entered his room, had succeeded in opening his door, which was fastened only by a spring lock.

”Perhaps he wants a light,” said Marguerite; ”it very seldom happens that he asks me for anything; but he may have seen that we haven't gone to bed here.”

We heard a knock at the door, and a hoa.r.s.e voice stuttered:

”I say, neighbor, haven't you g--g--gone to bed, n--n--neighbor? What would you s--s--say if I should ask you to l--l--light my little c--c--candle-end?”

I was curious to see neighbor Pettermann, and before Ernest had had time to drop Marguerite's hand, I opened the door.

The tailor was still young, with a frank, honest face; but the habit of drinking too much had made his nose purple and swollen, and his dress was marked by a lack of order which also betrayed his intemperance.

On seeing me, he opened his eyes and said:

”h.e.l.lo! have I made a mistake? This is funny. Ain't this my neighbor's door, or has she moved?”

”No, monsieur,” said Ernest, ”but don't shout so loud; she is sick. What do you want?”

”Ah! she is sick, is she, poor little woman!” And Monsieur Pettermann walked toward the bed, saying: ”Are you sick, my little woman? What's the matter with you?”

Ernest stopped the tailor, who was reeking with liquor; and he, always very polite, although tipsy, fearing that he had done something wrong, stepped back to the armchair in which the midwife was seated, and sank upon her lap, saying:

”I beg pardon, that's so; it's none of my business. Ah! prout!”

”Will you get up?” cried the nurse, striking the tailor in the back. He turned about, stammering:

”Ah! I was sitting on one of the fair s.e.x, although I hadn't a suspicion of it.--Excuse me, my little woman, I didn't do it on purpose, I swear.”

”Give me your candle and let me light it for you,” said Ernest; ”for that is what you want, I have no doubt.”

”Yes, neighbor, if you would be so kind. I couldn't use my flint because I scratched my right hand a little, while getting into my room.”

Not until then did we notice that the poor fellow's right hand was covered with blood, two of his fingers being badly cut. The girl pointed to a closet in which there were some rags, with which Ernest hastily bandaged the tailor's hand. He made no objection, but said:

”Oh, mon Dieu! it's nothing at all, a trifle. I don't know what was the matter to-night, but I broke two panes instead of one.”

”But Monsieur Pettermann, don't you ever propose to give up your habit of going into your room through the window?”

”What would you have me do? I lose my key--these keys slip out of your pocket without your knowing it, and besides, I believe my pocket has a hole in it. But I promise you that I'll look after it now, especially as it is going to be hard for me to sew it up.”

”Here's your candle.”