"Good, good, good," said the newcomer, crossing his arms, and remarking the ordinary number of his family increased by the abbe and the chevalier. "Not bad, Madame Denis; she sends Boniface to his office with a bit of bread and cheese, saying, 'Beware of indigestion,' and, in his absence, she gives feasts and suppers. Luckily, poor Boniface has a good nose. He comes through the Rue Montmartre; he snuffs the wind, and says, 'What is going on there at No. 5, Rue du Temps Perdu?' So he came, and here he is. Make a place for one."
And, joining the action to the word, Boniface drew a chair to the table, and sat down between the abbe and the chevalier.
"Monsieur Boniface," said Madame Denis, trying to assume a severe air, "do you not see that there are strangers here?"
"Strangers!" said Boniface, taking a dish from the table, and setting it before himself; "and who are the strangers? Are you one, Papa Brigaud? Are you one, Monsieur Raoul? You are not a stranger, you are a lodger." And, taking a knife and fork, he set to work in a manner to make up for lost time.
"Pardieu! madame," said the chevalier, "I see with pleasure that I am further advanced than I thought I was. I did not know that I had the honor of being known to Monsieur Boniface."
"It would be odd if I did not know you," said the lawyer's clerk, with his mouth full; "you have got my bedroom."
"How, Madame Denis!" said D'Harmental, "and you left me in ignorance that I had the honor to succeed in my room to the heir apparent of your family? I am no longer astonished to find my room so gayly fitted up; I recognize the cares of a mother."
"Yes, much good may it do you; but I have one bit of advice to give you. Don't look out of window too much."
"Why?" asked D'Harmental.
"Why? because you have a certain neighbor opposite you."