The bargain was agreed to, and they handed him a bridle. The horse quietly allowed itself to be mounted; so Gauthier had not much trouble in leaping on its back. When he was there, the horse began its tricks and games, shying to right and to left, etc., but the rebellious animal did not know with whom it had to deal. Gauthier began to press his knees in; the horse, which was breathing hard, redoubled its leapings: Gauthier pressed more strongly. It was a splendid struggle to watch; the horse was vanquished, and ended by falling on its knees and lying down. Gauthier leapt off to free himself from the animal, then he waited. The horse was cured of his first fault, which consisted in throwing its rider; it must also be cured of its second habit of biting. As we have said, Gauthier remained standing ten yards from the horse. He had subjugated it like another Alexander; it remained to find out if he was to be devoured by it like another Diomede. In fact, as the horse regained its breath its eye went red, its nostrils smoked with anger; it raised itself on its fore legs, then on its hind, looked at its enemy, neighed and rushed upon him. Gauthier waited for it in the position of a boxer; he gave it a blow on the nose and broke two teeth, the horse reared with pain, turned round on its hind legs, and went into its stable. It was conquered. You, d'Arpentigny, will remember that, you too, Leroi and Ferdinand Langlé, my old friends in the Guards?
Well, Gauthier was one of the morning callers. He went straight to the cellar, applied his lips to the flask of rum or brandy, and swallowed as much as was in it. He began by feeling in his pockets; we must do him that justice, but they were as empty as the cellar. Then, seeing three or four waistcoats and as many trousers lying about haphazard, he began to pass them in review. The sleepers watched him do it, one eye half open and the other completely shut; they were quite easy, for it was neither their waistcoats nor their trousers that Gauthier wanted: he could hardly get into the largest—he wanted their contents, and they contained nothing. Romieu alone manifested some disquietude; he had 19 sous in his waistcoat pocket. Gauthier fell upon the treasure. Romieu wanted to get up and dispute possession of his 19 sous with Gauthier. Gauthier pinned him down on his sofa with one hand, and, with the other, rang for the servant. When he appeared, Gauthier said to him—
"Go and fetch 19 sous' worth of brandy."
The servant prepared to obey.
"But, sacre bleu!" said Romieu, "I live in the faubourg Saint-Germain: as least leave me a son to cross the pont des Arts."
"That is quite reasonable," said Gauthier, putting back one son into Romieu's waistcoat. "Go and fetch me 18 sous' worth of brandy," he said to the servant.
It was upon that day and occasion that the robbed one, whom Gauthier had deprived of his 18 sous, but not of his spirits and quick-wittedness, made the famous chanson—
"J'nai qu'un sou,
J'nai qu'un sou,
La richess' n'est pas l'Pérou!
Je dîn'rai je ne sais pas où;
Mais, pour sûr, je n'ai qu'un sou!"
I forget the rest of it, so ask Henri Monnier to sing it you and he will recollect as vividly as I do the occasion upon which it was made.