He had seen all, that poor Bompard, since his exodus from the Club. That insatiable imagination of his which prevented him from ever staying in one place had kept him wandering under so many suns, and through such diverse fortunes. He related his adventures, and counted up the fine occasions to enrich himself which had snapped, there! in his fingers—such as his last invention for saving the war-budget the cost of boots and shoes... “Do you know how?.. Oh, moun Diou! it is very simple... by shoeing the feet of the soldiers.”
“Outre!” cried Tartarin, horrified.
Bompard continued very calmly, with his natural air of cold madness:—
“A great idea, wasn’t it? Eh! be! at the ministry they did not even answer me... Ah! my poor Monsieur Tartarin, I have had my bad moments, I have eaten the bread of poverty before I entered the service of the Company...”
“Company! what Company?”
Bompard lowered his voice discreetly.
“Hush! presently, not here...” Then returning to his natural tones, “Et autremain, you people at Tarascon, what are you all doing? You haven’t yet told me what brings you to our mountains...”
It was now for Tartarin to pour himself out. Without anger, but with that melancholy of declining years, that ennui which attacks as they grow elderly great artists, beautiful women, and all conquerors of peoples and hearts, he told of the defection of his compatriots, the plot laid against him to deprive him of the presidency, the decision he had come to to do some act of heroism, a great ascension, the Tarasconese banner borne higher than it had ever before been planted; in short, to prove to the Alpinists of Tarascon that he was still worthy... still worthy of... Emotion overcame him, he was forced to keep silence... Then he added:—
“You know me, Gonzague...” and nothing can ever render the effusion, the caressing charm with which he uttered that troubadouresque Christian name of the courier. It was like one way of pressing his hands, of coming nearer to his heart... “You know me, que! You know if I balked when the question came up of marching upon the lion; and during the war, when we organized together the defences of the Club...”
Bompard nodded his head with terrible emphasis; he thought he was there still.