"Good day, my faithful friend, Bourdin, I was sure you would not fail to come at my summons!" said Maître Boulard, in a joyful tone, and in a small, shrill voice, which contrasted singularly with his large carcass and full-moon face.
"Fail at your summons!" replied the bailiff; "I am incapable of such behaviour, mon général."
This was the appellation by which Bourdin, with a joke at once familiar and respectful, called the huissier, under whose orders he acted; this military appellation being very frequently used amongst certain classes of clerks and civil practitioners.
"I observe with pleasure that friendship remains faithful to misfortune!" said Maître Boulard, with gay cordiality. "However, I was getting a little uneasy, as three days had elapsed, and no Bourdin."
"Only imagine, mon général!—it is really quite a history. You remember that dashing vicomte in the Rue de Chaillot?"
"Saint-Remy?"
"Yes; you know how he laughed at all our attempts to 'nab' him?"
"Yes; he behaved very ill in that way."
"Well, this vicomte has got another title."
"What, is he a comte?"