Rodolph quitted the house, and Madame Pipelet, turning to her husband, said, with a chuckling laugh, "Now, Alfred, the commandant's turn has come; now for it! I mean to have a jolly good laugh at my gentleman,—up and dressed for nothing."
Arrived at the apartments of M. Charles Robert, the porteress rang the bell; the door was opened by the commandant himself.
"Commandant," said Anastasie, giving him a military salute, by placing the back of her little fat hand against the front of her wig, "I have come to set you free. Your friends have gone away arm in arm, happy as doves, under your very nose. Well, you are out of a nice mess, thanks to M. Rodolph. You ought to stand something very handsome to him for all he has done upon the present occasion."
"Then this slim individual with the moustachios is called M. Rodolph, is he?"
"Exactly so; neither more nor less."
"And who and what is the fellow?"
"Fellow, indeed!" cried Madame Pipelet, in a wrathful voice; "he is as good as other men,—better than some I could mention. Why, he is a travelling clerk, but the very king of lodgers; for, though he has only one room, he does not haggle and beat folks down,—not he. Why, he gave me six francs for doing for him,—six francs, mind, I say, without a word. Think of that!—without ever offering me a sou less. Oh, he is a lodger! I wish other people were at all like him!"
"There, there, that's enough; take the key."
"Shall I light the fire to-morrow, commandant?"
"No!"