Part 30 (1/2)

”A strong cup of coffee for Monsieur Bobinet!” cried Gustave, following up the lead of the other two.

The fourth-floor lodger frowned and colored up, beginning to be suspicious of mischief. Seeing this, Muller hastened to apologize.

”You must pardon us, Monsieur Bobinet,” he said with the most winning amiability, ”if we are all in unusually high spirits to-night. You are not aware, perhaps, that our friend Monsieur Jules Charpentier was married this morning, and that we are here in celebration of that happy event. Allow me to introduce you to the bride.”

And turning to one of the ballet ladies, he led her forward with exceeding gravity, and presented her to Monsieur Bobinet as Madame Charpentier.

The fourth-floor lodger bowed, and went through the usual congratulations. In the meantime, some of the others had prepared a mock sofa by means of two chairs set somewhat wide apart, with a shawl thrown over the whole to conceal the s.p.a.ce between. Upon one of these chairs sat a certain young lady named Louise, and upon the other Mam'selle Josephine. As soon as it was ready, Muller, who had been only waiting for it, affected to observe for the first time that Monsieur Bobinet was still standing.

”_Mon Dieu_!” he exclaimed, ”has no one offered our visitor a chair?

Monsieur Bobinet, I beg a thousand pardons. Pray do us the favor to be seated. Your coffee will be here immediately, and these ladies on the sofa will be delighted to make room for you.”

”Oh yes, pray be seated, Monsieur Bobinet,” cried the two girls. ”We shall be charmed to make room for Monsieur Bobinet!”

More than ever confused and uncomfortable, poor Monsieur Bobinet bowed; sat down upon the treacherous s.p.a.ce between the two chairs; went through immediately; and presented the soles of his slippers to the company in the least picturesque manner imaginable. This involuntary performance was greeted with a shout of wild delight.

”Bravo, Monsieur Bobinet!”

”_Vive_ Monsieur Bobinet!”

”Three cheers for Monsieur Bobinet!”

Scarlet with rage, the fourth-floor lodger sprang to his feet and made a rush to the door; but he was hemmed in immediately. In vain he stormed; in vain he swore. We joined hands; we called for music; we danced round him; we sang; and at last, having fairly b.u.mped and thumped and hustled him till we were tired, pushed him out on the landing, and left him to his fate.

After this interlude, the mirth grew fast and furious. _Valse_ succeeded _valse_, and galop followed galop, till the orchestra declared they could play no longer, and the gentleman with the shovel and tongs collapsed in a corner of the room and went to sleep with his head in the coal-scuttle. Then the ballet-ladies were prevailed upon to favor us with a _pas de deux_; after which Muller sang a comic song with a chorus, in which everybody joined; and then the orchestra was bribed with hot brandy-and-water, and dancing commenced again. By this time the visitors began to drop away in twos and threes, and even the fair Josephine, to whom I had never ceased paying the most devoted attention, declared she could not stir another step. As for Dalrymple, he had disappeared during supper, without a word of leave-taking to any one.

Matters being at this pa.s.s, I looked at my watch, and found that it was already half-past six o'clock; so, having bade good-night, or rather good-morning, to Messieurs Jules, Gustave, and Adrien, and having, with great difficulty, discovered my own coat and hat among the miscellaneous collection in the adjoining bed-room, I prepared to escort Mademoiselle Josephine to her home.

”Going already?” said Muller, encountering us on the landing, with a roll in one hand and a Bologna sausage in the other.

”Already! Why, my dear fellow, it is nearly seven o'clock!”

”_Qu'importe_? Come up to the supper-room and have some breakfast!”

”Not for the world!”

”Well, _chacun a son gout_. I am as hungry as a hunter.”

”Can I not take you any part of your way?”

”No, thank you. I am a Quartier Latinist, _pur sang_, and lodge only a street or two off. Stay, here is my address. Come and see me--you can't think how glad I shall be!”

”Indeed, I will come---and here is my card in exchange. Good-night, Herr Muller.”

”Good-night, Marquis of Arbuthnot. Mademoiselle Josephine, _au plaisir_.”

So we shook hands and parted, and I saw my innamorata home to her residence at No. 70, Rue Aubry le Boucher, which opened upon the Marche des Innocents. She fell asleep upon my shoulder in the cab, and was only just sufficiently awake when I left her, to accept all the _marrons glaces_ that yet remained in the pockets of my paletot, and to remind me that I had promised to take her out next Sunday for a drive in the country, and a dinner at the Moulin Rouge.

The fountain in the middle of the Marche was now sparkling in the suns.h.i.+ne like a shower of diamonds, and the business of the market was already at its height. The shops in the neighboring streets were opening fast. The ”iron tongue” of St. Eustache was calling the devout to early prayer. f.a.gged as I was, I felt that a walk through the fresh air would do me good; so I dismissed the cab, and reached my lodgings just as the sleepy _concierge_ had turned out to sweep the hall, and open the establishment for the day. When I came down again two hours later, after a nap and a bath, I found a _commissionnaire_ waiting for me.

”_Tiens_!” said Madame Bousse (Madame Bousse was the wife of the _concierge_). ”_V'la_! here is M'sieur Arbuthnot.”