“Yes, it’s best to take one’s departure,” added Trublot, in the act of sticking a second cigarette paper round his cigar.
The gentlemen at length decided to leave the empty apartment. Octave repeated he had given his word of honor that he would bring Duveyrier back with him at once, no matter what state he was in. The latter carefully shut the door, as though he had left his dead affections there; but, down-stairs, he was overcome with shame, and Trublot had to return the key to the doorkeeper. Then, outside on the pavement, there was a silent exchange of hearty hand-shakes; and, directly the cab had driven off with Octave and Duveyrier, Uncle Bachelard said to Gueulin and Trublot, as they stood in the deserted street:
“Jove’s thunder! I must show her to you.”
For a minute past he had been stamping about, greatly excited by the despair of that big noodle of a counselor, bursting with his own happiness, with that happiness which he considered due to his own deep malice, and which he could no longer contain.
“You know, uncle,” said Gueulin, “if it’s only to take us as far as the door again, and then to leave us——”
“No, Jove’s thunder! you shall see her. It will please me. True, it’s nearly midnight, but she shall get up if she’s in bed. You know, she’s the daughter of a captain, Captain Menu, and she has a very respectable aunt, born at Villeneuve, near Lille, on my word of honor! Messieurs Mardienne Brothers, of the Rue Saint-Sulpice, will give her a character. Ah! Jove’s thunder! we’re in need of it; you’ll see what virtue is!”
And he took hold of their arms, Gueulin on his right, Trublot on his left, putting his best foot forward as he started off in quest of a cab, to arrive there the sooner.
Meanwhile Octave briefly related to the counselor all he knew of Monsieur Vabre’s attack, without hiding that Madame Duveyrier was acquainted with the address of the Rue de la Cerraise. After a pause, the counselor asked, in a doleful voice:
“Do you think she will forgive me?”
Octave remained silent. The cab continued to roll along, in the obscurity lighted up every now and then by a ray from a gas-lamp. Just as they were reaching their destination Duveyrier, tortured with anxiety, put another question: