"For the present, on account of the good news," stammered the porter.
"Get out, you scoundrel! Do you presume to speak to me with your cap on?"
"But, sir—"
"Don't you answer me! Get out! No, stay there! We shall go up to the room of that scamp of an artist who has run off without paying."
"What! Monsieur Schaunard?" ejaculated the porter.
"Yes," cried the landlord with increasing fury, "and if he has carried away the smallest article, I send you off, straight off!"
"But it can't be," murmured the poor porter, "Monsieur Schaunard has not run away. He has gone to get change to pay you, and order a cart for his furniture."
"A cart for his furniture!" exclaimed the other, "run! I'm sure he has it here. He laid a trap to get you away from your lodge, fool that you are!"
"Fool that I am! Heaven help me!" cried the porter, all in a tremble before the thundering wrath of his superior, who hurried him down the stairs. When they arrived in the court the porter was hailed by the young man in the white hat.
"Come now! Am I not soon going to be in possession of my lodging? Is this the eighth of April? Did I hire a room here and pay you a deposit to bind the bargain? Yes or no?"