Part 22 (1/2)
”Where?”
”At the Louvre. He admitted me, gave me the pa.s.s-word, gave me”--
”Look there!”
”By Heaven!--there he is himself.”
”Would you speak with him?”
”Why, really, I should not object.”
Maurevel carefully opened the window; Besme was pa.s.sing at the moment with twenty soldiers.
”_Guise and Lorraine!_” said Maurevel.
Besme turned round, and perceiving that he himself was addressed, came under the window.
”Oh, is it you, Monsir de Maurefel?”
”Yes, 'tis I; what are you looking for?”
”I am looking for de hostelry of de _Belle etoile_, to find a Monsir Gogonnas.”
”Here I am, Monsieur de Besme,” said the young man.
”Goot, goot; are you ready?”
”Yes--to do what?”
”Vatefer Monsieur de Maurefel may dell you, for he is a goot Gatolic.”
”Do you hear?” inquired Maurevel.
”Yes,” replied Coconnas, ”but, Monsieur de Besme, where are you going?”
”I?” asked Monsieur de Besme, with a laugh.
”Yes, you.”
”I am going to fire off a leedle wort at the admiral.”
”Fire off two, if need be,” said Maurevel, ”and this time, if he gets up at the first, do not let him get up at the second.”
”Haf no vear, Monsir de Maurefel, haf no vear, und meanvile get dis yoong mahn on de right drack.”
”Don't worry about me: the Coconnas are regular bloodhounds, and I am a chip off the old block.”[2]
”Atieu.”
”Go on!”