Volume I Part 25 (2/2)

”That's an exaggeration, monsieur; people still go on foot when they prefer to walk.”

”They told me that there's going to be a railroad underneath Paris, so's you can take the underground and go quicker when there's too many people on top. That ain't a bad idea.--But, sapristi! the bourgeois don't seem to come back.”

Twenty minutes more had pa.s.sed, when there was a great uproar in the street; hoots and shouts of laughter, and yells from the street urchins.

The servant opened a window on that side to ascertain the cause of the tumult.

The _milord_ containing our widower had stopped in front of the house, and before he had had time to alight, a crowd had collected round the cab, because its occupant was in plain sight.

Shouts of _”a la chienlit!”_ went up on all sides. The concierge stood in his doorway, looking on with the rest. Chamoureau, having paid his driver, could hardly force his way through the crowd, which yelled at him:

”Oh! you Spaniard!”

”Just look at him! ain't he dazzling with his spangles!”

”He's a Spaniard--he's a regular sun!”

”But he'll lose his boots; he's treading on 'em!”

At last, by dint of pus.h.i.+ng this way and that, Chamoureau reached the door; he tried to enter in a hurry, but the concierge barred the way, saying with an air of importance:

”What do you want? where are you going?”

”What's that? where am I going? Why, to my rooms, parbleu!”

”You have evidently made a mistake; we don't let rooms to buffoons!”

”On my word! this is too much!--How is this, concierge? don't you recognize me--Chamoureau?”

The concierge was stupefied; he could not believe his eyes and his ears; he could not conceive that that sedate and orderly tenant, who always wept when his wife was mentioned, could come home at ten o'clock in the morning, dressed as a Spaniard.

But Chamoureau left him to digest his amazement and hurried upstairs.

The servant, who had not recognized her master, had just left the window, saying:

”It's a masker coming home from the ball! The deuce! he has made a night of it and no mistake! this is none too early to come home!”

”Do you mean to say that b.a.l.l.s last till the next forenoon?” asked the countryman.

”No, monsieur, they end at daybreak, but after that the maskers go to supper and raise the deuce at wine-shops; three-quarters of 'em get tight and don't go home till they haven't got another sou to spend, like this fellow who's just come into the house, I suppose. I'd like to know who he is. He must be a regular loose fish, to come home from the ball after ten o'clock in the morning. I'll ask the concierge who he is.”

The bell rang and the woman ran to open the door.

”This time it's monsieur, sure!” she said.

But seeing before her a man in fancy costume, she was about to prevent his entrance, as the concierge had done. But Chamoureau pushed her aside with some force.

”Are you going to make a fool of yourself like the concierge?” he cried, ”Sapristi! here I am at home at last! thank G.o.d for that!”

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