"I saw him with my eyes ascend the diligence, en route for Strasburg with all his luggage and baggage; that is to say, a hat-case, a maul-stick, and a box of colours."
"What is my old dear chattering about?" cried Anastasie, as she came puffing and panting to the spot where the little group were assembled; "I'll be bound he was giving you the history of Cabrion's going off—I'm sure he has talked of nothing else all the way we came."
"Because I'm half wild with delight; I seem to have got into another world,—such a lightness has come over me. A little while ago my hat used to seem as though loaded with lead, and as if it pressed forwards in spite of me; now I seem as though borne on the breeze towards the firmament, to think that he is gone—actually set out—and never to return!"
"Yes, the blackguard is off at last!" chimed in Madame Pipelet.
"Anastasie," cried her husband, "spare the absent! Happiness calls for mercy and forbearance on our parts. I will obey its dictates, and merely allow myself to remark that Cabrion was a—a—worthless scoundrel!"
"But how do you know that he has gone to Germany?" inquired Rigolette.
"By a friend of our 'king of lodgers.' Talking of that dear man, you haven't heard that, owing to the handsome manner in which he recommended us, Alfred has been appointed house-porter to a sort of charitable bank, established in our house by a worthy Christian, who wishes, like M. Rodolph, to do all the good he can?"
"Ah!" replied Rigolette. "And, perhaps, you don't know, either, that my dear Germain is appointed manager of this same bank? All owing to the kind intervention of M. Rodolph."
"Well, I never!" exclaimed Madame Pipelet, "all our good luck comes together; and I'm sure I'm heartily glad we shall keep old friends and acquaintances around us. I hate fresh faces, for my part. I'm certain I would not change my old duck of a husband even for your young handsome one, Madame Germain.
"But to go back to Cabrion. Only imagine a bald-headed, stout, elderly gentleman, coming to tell us of Alfred's new situation, and at the same time inquiring if a talented artist of the name of Cabrion did not once lodge in the house with us. Oh, my poor darling! Directly Cabrion's name was mentioned down went the boot he was mending, and if I had not caught him he would have swooned away. But, fortunately, the bald gentleman added, 'This young painter has been engaged by a very wealthy person to do some work, which will occupy him for years, and he may, very probably, establish himself in another country.' In confirmation of which the old gentleman gave my Alfred the date of Cabrion's departure, with the address of the office from which he started."