"Oh! M. Pipelet," said Rigolette, "how very gay you look! what is the matter?"
"Gone, miss, or, rather, madame, do I, can I, ought I to say, for now you are exactly like Anastasia, thanks to the conjugal! just as your husband, M. Germain, is exactly like me."
"You are very kind, M. Pipelet," said Rigolette, smiling; "but who has gone, then?"
"Cabrion!!!" cried M. Pipelet, respiring and inhaling the air with inexpressible satisfaction, as if he had been relieved from an enormous weight. "He leaves France forever—forever—for perpetuity—in fine, he is gone."
"You are very sure of it?"
"I have seen him, with my own eyes, get into a diligence for Strasbourg—he and his trunks, and all his effects—that is, to say, a hatbox, a maulstick, and a box of colors."
"What is he singing about there, the old darling?" said Anastasia, arriving out of breath, for she had with difficulty followed the quick movements of Alfred. "I bet he is talking to you of Cabrion! he has done nothing but repeat it over and over again all along the way."
"That is to say, Anastasia, that I could hardly keep on the ground. Before, it seemed to me that my hat was lined with lead; now, one would say that the air raised me toward the firmament! gone—at last—gone!!! and he will never return more!"
"Most happily, the blackguard!"
"Anastasia, spare the absent; happiness renders me merciful; I will simply say that he was an unworthy blackguard."