"That'll do."
They did not speak again of that mysterious past which we must respect, as they themselves respected it, till the day when fate in the course of their extraordinary careers may decree its return. Chéri-Bibi after a last sigh, went on:
"I merely wanted to ask you if anyone has been here and spoken to you of me."
"No, not during the last five years."
Chéri-Bibi remained brooding for a while.
"It's just as well. He's forgotten me," he said.
And as Chéri-Bibi's thoughts seemed to have reverted to the other end of the world, Hilaire, in order to give him the opportunity of coming back to him, uttered this pithy maxim:
"Ingratitude is met with everywhere and always."
"I don't expect gratitude from anybody, and I owe no gratitude to anybody," growled Chéri-Bibi. "In this world it's each for himself and God against us all."
Hilaire did not wince at these terrible words of blasphemy. He had so often heard his friend "go for" heaven and earth in the most withering language that he had made up his mind never to allow himself to become excited over it. Moreover, during the last few moments something attracted his attention apart from Chéri-Bibi's outburst.