"Bras-Rouge arrested! La Chouette dead!" said Rudolph to himself, with astonishment. "Poor Fleur-de-Marie is avenged."
"So much for this. Without excepting the new infamy of Cabrion, I am going at once to finish with that brigand. You will see what impudence! When old Burette was arrested, and we knew that Bras-Rouge, our landlord, was trapped, I said to my old darling, 'You must trot right off to the proprietor, and tell him that Bras-Rouge is locked up.' Alfred set out. At the end of two hours he came back to me, in such a state—white as a sheet, and blowing like an ox!"
"What was the matter?"
"You shall see, M. Rudolph. Only fancy, that six steps from here is a large white wall; my darling, on leaving the house, looked by chance on this wall; what does he see written there with charcoal, in large letters? 'Pipelet & Cabrion!'—the two names joined by a short and. This mark of union with this scoundrel sticks in his stomach the most. That began to upset him; ten steps further, what does he see on the great door of the Temple? 'Pipelet & Cabrion!' always with the sign of union. On he goes; at each step, M. Rudolph, he saw written these cursed names on the walls of the houses, on the doors, everywhere, 'Pipelet & Cabrion.' He began to see stars; he thought every one was looking at him; he pulled his hat down to his nose, he was so much ashamed. He went on the boulevard, thinking that Cabrion had confined his indecencies to the Rue du Temple. All along the boulevard, on each place where there was room to write, always 'Pipelet & Cabrion,' to the death! Finally, the poor dear man arrived at the proprietor's so bewildered, that, after having stuttered and stammered for a quarter of an hour, he could not understand one word of all that Alfred said; so he sent him back, calling him an old imbecile, and told him to send me to explain the thing. Alfred retired, coming back by another route, in order to avoid the names he had seen written on the walls. But—"
"Pipelet and Cabrion that road too?"
"As you say, my prince of lodgers. In this way the poor dear man arrived, stupefied, amazed, wishing to exile himself. He told me his story; I calmed him as well as I could. I left him, and went with Cecily to the notary's. You think this is all? Oh, no! Hardly was my back turned than Cabrion, who had watched my departure, had the impudence to send here two great hussies who attacked Alfred. My hair stands on an end. I will tell you all this directly. Let us finish with the notary. I set out, then, in a coach with Cecily, as you are advised. She wore her pretty German peasant's costume, 'as she had just arrived, and had not time to change it,' as I was to tell M. Ferrand. You will believe me, if you please, my prince of lodgers, I have seen many pretty girls; I have seen myself in my springtime; but never have I seen (myself included) a young person who could hold a candle to Cecily. She has, above all, in the look of her large, wicked, black eyes, something—I don't know what; but, for sure, there is something striking. What eyes!
"Alfred is not tender, but the first time that she looked at him be became as red as a carrot; for nothing in the world would he have looked a second time—he wriggled on his chair for an hour afterward as if he had been seated on a thorn; he told me afterward that the look had recalled to his mind all the histories of that impudent Bradamanti about the savagesses, which made him blush so much, my old prude of an Alfred."
"But the notary? the notary?"
"Yes, M. Rudolph. It was about seven in the evening when we reached M. Ferrand's; I told the porter to tell his master that Mrs. Pipelet was there with the servant whom old Seraphin had spoken about, and told me to bring. Hereupon the porter uttered a sigh, and asked me if I knew what had happened to Mrs. Seraphin. I said no. Oh, M. Rudolph, here is another earthquake!"
"What now?"