Part 14 (2/2)

They say that the emigrant n.o.blemen used to hide their treasures in the days of Robespierre. Who can tell? Perhaps our arm chair belonged to an emigrant n.o.bleman, and besides, it is so hard that the idea has often occurred to me that it must be stuffed with metal. Will you dissect it?”

”This is mere comedy,” replied Rodolphe, in a tone in which severity was mingled with indulgence.

Suddenly Marcel, who had gone on rummaging in every corner of the studio, uttered a loud cry of triumph.

”We are saved!” he exclaimed. ”I was sure that there was money here.

Behold!” and he showed Rodolphe a coin as large as a crown piece, and half eaten away by rust and verdigris.

It was a Carlovingian coin of some artistic value. The legend, happily intact, showed the date of Charlemagne's reign.

”That, that's worth thirty sous,” said Rodolphe, with a contemptuous glance at his friend's find.

”Thirty sous well employed will go a great way,” replied Marcel. ”With twelve hundred men Bonaparte made ten thousand Austrians lay down their arms. Skill can replace numbers. I will go and swap the Carlovingian crown at Daddy Medicis'. Is there not anything else saleable here?

Suppose I take the plaster cast of the tibia of Jaconowski, the Russian drum major.”

”Take the tibia. But it is a nuisance, there will not be a single ornament left here.”

During Marcel's absence, Rodolphe, his mind made up that that party should be given in any case, went in search of his friend Colline, the hyperphysical philosopher, who lived hard by.

”I have come,” said he, ”to ask you to do me a favor. As host I must positively have a black swallow-tail, and I have not got one; lend me yours.”

”But,” said Colline hesitating, ”as a guest I shall want my black swallow-tail too.”

”I will allow you to come in a frock coat.”

”That won't do. You know very well I have never had a frock coat.”

”Well, then, it can be settled in another way. If needs be, you need not come to my party, and can lend me your swallow-tail.”

”That would be unpleasant. I am on the program, and must not be lacking.”

”There are plenty of other things that will be lacking,” said Rodolphe.

”Lend me your black swallow-tail, and if you will come, come as you like; in your s.h.i.+rt sleeves, you will pa.s.s for a faithful servant.”

”Oh no!” said Colline, blus.h.i.+ng. ”I will wear my great coat. But all the same, it is very unpleasant.” And as he saw Rodolphe had already seized on the famous black swallow-tail, he called out to him, ”Stop a bit.

There are some odds and ends in the pockets.”

Colline's swallow-tail deserves a word or two. In the first place it was of a decided blue, and it was from habit that Colline spoke of it as ”my black swallow-tail.” And as he was the only one of the band owning a dress coat, his friends were likewise in the habit of saying, when speaking of the philosopher's official garment, ”Colline's black swallow-tail.” In addition to this, this famous garment had a special cut, the oddest imaginable. The tails, very long, and attached to a very short waist, had two pockets, positive gulfs, in which Colline was accustomed to store some thirty of the volumes which he eternally carried about with him. This caused his friends to remark that during the time that the public libraries were closed, savants and literary men could go and refer to the skirts of Colline's swallow-tail--a library always open.

That day, extraordinary to relate, Colline's swallow-tail only contained a quarto volume of Bayle, a treatise on the hyperphysical faculties in three volumes, a volume of Condillac, two of Swedenborg and Pope's ”Essay on Man.” When he had cleared his bookcase-garment, he allowed Rodolphe to clothe himself in it.

”Hallo!” said the latter, ”the left pocket still feels very heavy; you have left something in it.”

”Ah!” exclaimed Colline, ”that is so. I forgot to empty the foreign languages pocket.”

And he took out from this two Arabic grammars, a Malay dictionary, and a stock breeder's manual in Chinese, his favorite reading.

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