"Yes, but if he calls, do not come—wait until I call."—"I will, M. Chicot."
"Good! now send away every one else from your inn, and in ten minutes let us be as free and as solitary here as if we came to fast on Good Friday."
"In ten minutes, M. Chicot, there shall not be a soul in the hotel excepting your humble servant."
"Go, Bonhomet; you are not changed, I see."
"Oh! mon Dieu! mon Dieu!" said Bonhomet, as he retired, "what is about to take place in my poor house?"
As he went, he met Borromée returning from the cellar with his bottles.
We do not know how Bonhomet managed, but when the ten minutes had expired, the last customer was crossing the threshold of the door, muttering:
"Oh! oh! the weather is stormy here to-day; we must avoid the storm."