“I must go,” cried Jack, starting to his feet. And, as his friend had paid for the first and second wine they had drank, he considered it essential that he should now pay in his turn; so he drew a louis from his pocket, and tossed it on the table.
“Hallo! a yellow boy!” said the barkeeper, unaccustomed to seeing such in the possession of apprentices. Chariot started, but made no remark.
“Had Jack been to the wardrobe also?” he said to himself. The boy was delighted at the sensation he had created. “And I have more of the same kind,” he added, tapping his pocket. And then he whispered in his companion’s ear, “It is for a present that I mean to buy Zénaïde.”
Chariot said, mechanically, “Is it?” and turned away with a smile.
The innkeeper fingered the gold piece with some uneasiness.
“Hurry,” said Jack, “or I shall be late.”
“I wish, my boy,” said Chariot, “that you could have remained with me until my boat left, which will not be for an hour.”
And he gently drew the lad toward the Loire. It was easily done, for, coming out from the cabaret into the cold air, the wine the child had drank made him giddy. It seemed to him that his head weighed a thousand pounds. This did not last long, however. “Hark!” he said; “the bell has stopped, I think.” They turned back. Jack was terrified, for it was the first time that he had ever been late at the Works. But Chariot was in despair. “It is my fault,” he reiterated. He declared that he would see the Director and explain matters, and was altogether so utterly miserable, that Jack was obliged to console him by saying that it was of no great consequence, after all; that he could afford to be marked ‘absent’ for once. “I will go with you to the boat.”
The boy was so gratified by what he believed to be the good effect of his words on Chariot, that he enlarged on the noble nature of Père Rondic and of Clarisse.
“O, had you seen her this morning, you would have pitied her. She was so pale that she looked as if she were dead.”