Part 23 (2/2)
Rodolphe drew the curtains of his bed and tried to retrace the path to his inheritance, but he made a mistake on the road and proudly entered into a dream in which the manager of the Theatre Francais came hat in hand to ask him for a drama for his theater, and in which he, aware of the customary practice, asked for an advance. But at the very moment when the manager appeared to be willing to comply the sleeper was again half awakened by the entry of a fresh personage, another creature of the 15th.
It was Monsieur Benoit, landlord of the lodging house in which Rodolphe was residing. Monsieur Benoit was at once the landlord, the bootmaker and the money lender of his lodgers. On this morning he exhaled a frightful odor of bad brandy and overdue rent. He carried an empty bag in his hand.
”The deuce,” thought Rodolphe, ”this is not the manager of the Theater Francais, he would have a white cravat and the bag would be full.”
”Good morning, Monsieur Rodolphe,” said Monsieur Benoit, approaching the bed.
”Monsieur Benoit! Good morning. What has given me the pleasure of this visit?”
”I have come to remind you that it is the 15th of April.”
”Already! How time flies, it is extraordinary, I must see about buying a pair of summer trousers. The 15th of April. Good heavens! I should never have thought of it but for you, Monsieur Benoit. What grat.i.tude I owe you for this!”
”You also owe me a hundred and sixty-two francs,” replied Monsieur Benoit, ”and it is time this little account was settled.”
”I am not in any absolute hurry--do not put yourself out, Monsieur Benoit. I will give you time.”
”But,” said the landlord, ”you have already put me off several times.”
”In that case let us come to a settlement, Monsieur Benoit, let us come to a settlement, it is all the same to me today as tomorrow. Besides we are all mortal. Let us come to a settlement.”
An amiable smile smoothed the landlord wrinkles and even his empty bag swelled with hope.
”What do I owe you?” asked Rodolphe.
”In the first place, we have three months' rent at twenty-five francs, that makes seventy-five francs.”
”Errors excepted,” said Rodolphe. ”And then?”
”Then three pairs of boots at twenty francs.”
”One moment, one moment, Monsieur Benoit, do not let us mix matters, this is no longer to do with the landlord but the bootmaker. I want a separate account. Accounts are a serious thing, we must not get muddled.”
”Very good,” said Monsieur Benoit, softened by the hope of at length writing ”Paid” at the foot of his accounts. ”Here is a special bill for the boots. Three pairs of boots at twenty francs, sixty francs.”
Rodolphe cast a look of pity on a pair of worn out boots.
”Alas!” he thought, ”they could not be worse if they had been worn by the Wandering Jew. Yet it was in running after Marie that they got so worn out. Go on, Monsieur Benoit.”
”We were saying sixty francs,” replied the latter. ”Then money lent, twenty seven francs.”
”Stop a bit, Monsieur Benoit. We agreed that each dog would have his kennel. It is as a friend that you lent me money. Therefore, if you please, let us quit the regions of bootmaking and enter those of confidence and friends.h.i.+p which require a separate account. How much does your friends.h.i.+p for me amount to?”
”Twenty seven francs.”
”Twenty seven francs. You have purchased a friend cheaply, Monsieur Benoit. In short, we were saying, seventy five, sixty, and twenty seven. That makes altogether---?”
<script>