Part 39 (1/2)
”And you'll do well.”
”You're very good, mesdames,” said a cook, stuffing into her basket the fowl she had just bought, which, from its odor, might have been taken for game, ”you're very good, but my master's waiting for his chocolate; he wants to go out early and I ain't lighted my fire yet.--Quick, madame, my regular number; here's thirty-six sous--please hurry up.”
The cook took her ticket and returned to her master, making figures on the way: the fowl had cost her fifty sous; by calling it eighty-six sous, she would get her ticket for nothing, which was very pleasant. To be sure, her master would eat a tainted fowl instead of a delicate bird; but one must have one's little perquisites, and what was the use of being a cordon bleu if one did not make something out of the marketing?
”The _consideres_ are very old combinations,” said a little man who had been gazing at the list for three-quarters of an hour; ”they're excellent to play by extracts.”
”See,” said another, ”notice that the 6 is a prisoner; it will soon come out.”
”The 2 has come, that brings the 20.”
”The 39 in a hundred and three drawings--it's an ingot of gold! Zeros haven't done anything for a long while.”
”That's true; I'll bet that they'll come in a _terne_ or an _ambe_.”
”How often the forties come out! If I'd followed my first idea, I'd have had an _ambe_ at Strasbourg; I must tell you that, when my wife dreams that she's had a child, the 44 comes out--that never fails. Well! she dreamed that the other night. I've got a dog that I've taught to draw numbers out of a bag; he's beginning to do it very well with his paw. He drew out 46, and I was going to put it with my wife's dream; we thought about it all day, and she wanted to put instead of it the number of her birthday which was very near; and what do you suppose?--my dog's number came out with her dream!--I wouldn't sell that beast for three hundred francs.”
”I'm shrewder than you, my dear man,” said an old candy woman; ”I've got a talisman.”
”A talisman!”
”Yes, it's a fact; a fortune-teller told me the secret.”
”What is it?” shouted all the gossips at once.
”A bit of clean parchment, with letters written on it with my blood.”
”Mon Dieu! that's worse than the play at the Ambigu.--Tell us, what do your letters say?”
”Faith! I don't know; they're Hebrew, so she said.”
”Look out, Javotte! don't trust it; it may be an invention of the devil, and then you'll go straight to h.e.l.l with your talisman.”
”Bah! I ain't afraid, and I won't let go of my little parchment. I'm a philosopher!”
”What a fool she is with her talisman!” said the gossips, when Javotte had gone. ”It beats the devil what luck it brings her! She owes everybody in the quarter, and she can't pay.--But it's almost market time, and I haven't put out my goods.”
”And I ought by now to be at the Fontaine des Innocents!”
”Bless my soul! you remind me that my children ain't up yet, and I'm sure they're squalling, the little brats! and their gruel has been on the fire ever since eight o'clock.”
”It'll be well cooked!”
”I'm off; good-day, neighbor.”
”See you soon; we shall have the list if the sun s.h.i.+nes.”
Amid this mob, pushed by one, pulled by another, deafened by them all, Edouard waited for three-quarters of an hour for his turn to come. At last he reached the desk; all that he had heard about _consideres_, prisoners and lucky numbers was running in his head; but as he had no idea what to choose, he put twenty francs on the first numbers that occurred to him, and left the office with hope in his pocket.