"But I have. The case is provided for," quoth Schaunard, presenting to his sitter a very ragged garment, so ornamented with paint-marks that the honest provincial hesitated about setting into it.
"A very odd dress," said he.
"And very valuable. A Turkish vizier gave it to Horace Vernet, and he gave it to me when he had done with it. I am a pupil of his."
"Are you a pupil of Vernet's?"
"I am proud to be," said the artist. "Wretch that I am!" he muttered to himself, "I deny my gods and masters!"
"You have reason to be proud, my young friend," replied the delegate donning the dressing-gown with the illustrious origin.
"Hang up Monsieur Blancheron's coat in the wardrobe," said Schaunard to his friend, with a significant wink.
"Ain't he too good?" whispered Marcel as he pounced on his prey, and nodded towards Blancheron. "If you could only keep a piece of him."
"I'll try; but do you dress yourself, and cut. Come back by ten; I will keep him till then. Above all, bring me something in your pocket."
"I'll bring you a pineapple," said Marcel as he evaporated.