Part 140 (2/2)
”Oh! yes, and you have the letter in your hand.”--”Precisely.”
”I must not say that it has been read and copied?”
”Pardieu! it is precisely on account of this letter reaching its destination intact that you will receive a recompense.”
”The letter contains a secret, then?”
”In such times as the present there are secrets in everything, my dear Bonhomet.”
And Chicot, with this sententious reply, again fastened the silk under the wax of the seal by making use of the same means as he had done before; he then fastened the wax so artistically that the most experienced eye would not have been able to have detected the slightest crack.
He then replaced the letter in the pocket of the dead man, had the linen, which had been steeped in the oil and wine, applied to his wound by way of a cataplasm, put on again the safety coat of mail next to his skin, his s.h.i.+rt over his coat of mail, picked up his sword, wiped it, thrust it into the scabbard, and withdrew.
He returned again, however, saying:
”If, after all, the story which I have invented does not seem satisfactory to you, you can accuse the captain of having thrust his own sword through his body.”
”A suicide?”
”Well, that don't compromise any one, you understand.”
”But they won't bury this ill-starred fellow in holy ground.”
”Pooh,” said Chicot, ”will that be giving him much pleasure?”
”Why, yes, I should think so.”
”In that case, do as you like, my dear Bonhomet; adieu.”
Then, returning a second time, he said:
”By-the-by, I pay, since he is no more.” And Chicot threw three golden crowns on the table, and then, placing his fore-finger on his lips, in token of silence, he departed.
CHAPTER Lx.x.xII.
THE HUSBAND AND THE LOVER.
It was with no inconsiderable emotion that Chicot again recognized La Rue des Augustins, so quiet and deserted, the angle formed by the block of houses which preceded his own, and lastly, his own dear house itself, with its triangular roof, its worm-eaten balcony, and its gutters ornamented with waterspouts.
He had been so terribly afraid that he should find nothing but an empty s.p.a.ce in the place of the house, and had so strongly suspected that he should see the street blackened by the smoke of a conflagration, that the street and the house appeared to him miracles of neatness, loveliness, and splendor.
Chicot had concealed the key of his beloved house in the hollow of a stone which served as the base of one of the columns by which his balcony was supported. At the period we are now writing about, any kind of key belonging to a chest or piece of furniture equaled in weight and size the very largest keys of our houses of the present day; the door keys, therefore, following the natural proportions, were equal in size to the keys of our modern cities.
Chicot had consequently calculated the difficulty which his pocket would have in accommodating the heavy key, and he accordingly determined to hide it in the spot we have indicated.
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