"Very well, then, the 15th," resumed widow Masson. "On that day, then, I let the cellar to a man who said he was a wine merchant, and who paid a term in advance, seeing that I didn't know him, and wouldn't have lent him a farthing on the strength of his good looks. He was a little bit of a man, no taller than that,"—contemptuously holding out her hand,—"and he had two round eyes which I didn't like at, all. He certainly paid, he did that, but we are more than half through the second term and I have no news of my tenant."
"And have you never seen him since?"
"Yes, once—no, twice. Let's see—three times, I am sure. He came with a hand-cart and a commissionaire, and had a big chest taken downstairs—a case which he said contained wine in bottles....
"No, he came before that, with a workman I think.
"Really, I don't know if it was before or after—doesn't matter. Anyhow, it was bottled wine. The third time he brought a mason, and I am sure they quarreled. I heard their voices. He carried off the key, and I have seen neither him nor his wine again. I have another key, and I went down one day; perhaps the rats have drunk the wine and eaten the chest, for there certainly is nothing there any more than there is in my hand now. Nevertheless, I saw what I saw. A big chest, very big, quite new, and corded all round with strong rope."
"Now, what day was that?" asked the hawker.
"What day? Well, it was—no, I can't remember."
"Nor I either; I am getting stupid. Let's have another little glass-shall we? just to clear our memories!"
The expedient was not crowned with success, the memories failed to recover themselves. The crowd waited, attentive, as may be supposed. Suddenly the hawker exclaimed:
"What a fool I am! I am going to find that, if only I have still got it."