Volume I Part 26 (1/2)

”Seigneur chevalier,” said the Bohemian, ”you seem to me to forget at this moment that this young man is the kinsman of the woman you love.”

”You are right, venerable old man.--Your hand, Cedrille; no quarrel between us! I drink to your health!”

”Ah! jarni!” cried the Bearnais peasant, putting his hand to his brow.

”I remember now--and it had gone entirely out of my head!”

”What, my fine fellow?”

”My cousin told me that she would look for me this evening, at dusk, to take her to Rue Saint-Jacques, to Master Hugonnet's bath keeper, whose daughter came to our a.s.sistance this morning during that infernal battle.”

”What, little cousin! pretty Miretta makes an appointment with you, and you forget it!--Mordioux! if she had said that to me! But perhaps it is not too late; let us go there.”

Pa.s.sedix tried to rise, as did Cedrille, but neither of them was able to stand on his legs, and they fell back heavily on their chairs.

Meanwhile, the Bohemian had taken from beneath his cloak a small phial filled with a reddish liquid, from which he poured into his companions'

goblets, pretended to put some into his own gla.s.s, and took it up, saying:

”Can you think of such a thing, _beaux sires_? it is too late now, a young girl cannot go out at this time of night; the fair Miretta must have abandoned her walk, and you will take her some other time.

Meanwhile, taste this _rozolio_, of which my lucky star enabled me to obtain a flask, and which I could not drink in better company!”

Pa.s.sedix hastened to drink the liqueur which had been put before him, not, however, without pausing now and then to smack his lips; Cedrille did the same, stammering:

”Ah! jarnigue! that's good! That smacks of all sorts of things; I never drank anything so sweet. What do you call this?”

”Our venerable friend has just told you,” hiccoughed Pa.s.sedix, resting his arms on the table. ”It's _ro--ro--rozo_----”

He was unable to finish the word. In a moment, his head sank on his arms and he fell asleep; Cedrille soon followed his example.

Thereupon the Bohemian rose, left the table, and walked hastily from the wine shop.

XVI

THE NIGHT

As soon as he was in the street, the pretended Bohemian walked at a gait which did not resemble that of an old man; he went hastily along Rue Saint-Honore toward the Hotel de Mongarcin. There he stopped, looked about in all directions, and listened for sounds inside the house, where some windows were still lighted; then he tried to pierce the darkness that prevailed in the street; for at that time Paris was very poorly lighted, or, rather, was not lighted at all.

Toward the beginning of the sixteenth century, the Parisians had been ordered to place lighted lanterns in front of their houses, but the order had never been strictly complied with. And even when a lantern was placed before a door, it contained only a candle; so that you can judge how much light it was likely to give and how long it would burn. From time to time, one spied a bright light in the distance, but it did not remain in one place; and when it happened to come toward you, you discovered that it was a torchbearer. In most cases, that industry was carried on by children; there was a bureau on the Estrapade, where boys were supplied with torches to provide light for persons using the streets at night.

After a few moments' reflection, our Bohemian suddenly walked on; he continued up the street, and took what seemed to him the shortest road to Rue Saint-Jacques. But, as he walked, he scrutinized carefully every woman whom he met; to be sure, his curiosity found few subjects to investigate, for it was nearly ten o'clock, which was very late at that period; so that but few people were abroad; and a woman who appeared in the street alone, at that time of night, might well expect that people would form a very poor opinion of her and treat her accordingly.

But as he drew near the fortress called the Grand Chatelet, the Bohemian stopped; he had espied a woman, alone, who was looking about her and seemed not to know which way to turn.

She made up her mind at last, and was starting toward the Pet.i.t-Pont, when a voice called to her:

”Where are you going, Miretta? You are wrong; that is not your road.”

At the first sound of that voice, Miretta--for it was she--stopped as if paralyzed by surprise; but it had no sooner ceased to speak than she cried out, with a delight which she could not hold in check: