“Yes, pay.”
M. Fortunat rang for his bill. He had obtained more information than he expected; he had the letter in his pocket, and he had now only one desire, to rid himself of M. Casimir. But this was no easy task. Drunken men cling tenaciously to their friends; and M. Fortunat was asking himself what strategy he could employ, when the waiter entered, and said: “There’s a very light-complexioned man here, who looks as if he were a huissier’s clerk. He wishes to speak with you, gentlemen.”
“Ah! it’s Chupin!” exclaimed the valet. “He is a friend. Let him come in, and bring us another glass. ‘The more the merrier,’ as the saying goes.”
What could Chupin want? M. Fortunat had no idea, but he was none the less grateful for his coming, being determined to hand this troublesome Casimir over to his keeping. On entering the room Chupin realized the valet’s condition at the first glance, and his face clouded. He bowed politely to M. Fortunat, but addressed Casimir in an extremely discontented tone. “It’s three o’clock,” said he, “and I’ve come, as we agreed, to arrange with you about the count’s funeral.”
These words had the effect of a cold shower-bath on M. Casimir. “Upon my word, I had forgotten—forgotten entirely, upon my word!” And the thought of his condition, and the responsibility he had accepted, coming upon him at the same time, he continued: “Good Heavens! I’m in a nice state! It is all I can do to stand. What will they think at the house? What will they say?”
M. Fortunat had drawn his clerk a little on one side. “Victor,” said he, quickly and earnestly, “I must go at once. Everything has been paid for; but in case you need some money for a cab or anything of the sort, here are ten francs. If there’s any you don’t use, keep it for yourself. I leave this fool in your charge, take care of him.”
The sight of the ten-franc piece made Chupin’s face brighten a little. “Very well,” he replied. “I understand the business. I served my apprenticeship as a ‘guardian angel’ when my grandmother kept the Poivriere.” [2]
“Above all, don’t let him return home in his present state.”
“Have no fears, monsieur, I must talk business with him, and so I shall have him all right in a jiffy.” And as M. Fortunat made his escape, Chupin beckoned to the waiter, and said:
“Fetch me some very strong coffee, a handful of salt, and a lemon. There’s nothing better for bringing a drunken man to his senses.”