CHAPTER XXV.
THE VEAU SAUTÉ.
"Hurry up, Perrette! How about that sauce? Have you forgotten the parsley?"
And the proprietor of the Veau Sauté tore about in the most distracted manner. Aubé had dreamed of vast rooms and huge kitchens, but the obstinacy of the people already living in the same building could not be conquered, and as yet he had not obtained the space he desired. They resisted every offer and every threat he made. He could have borne it better had these refractory persons been tenants whose vicinity added éclat to his establishment. But it was not so. These tenants were a man known as Iron Jaws, a rope dancer called Fanfar, a girl named Caillette, and a clown with an odd name.
This Fanfar gave lessons in prestigiation, but the people who went up his private stairs were well dressed, and most of them looked like old soldiers.
While Aubé was worrying about these matters and many more, a carriage drove up to the door of the restaurant, and three gentlemen got out. These were Frederic de Talizac, Fernando de Vellebri, and Arthur de Montferrand, the duelist, all strangely alike in their lack of moral sense and in their cynicism, neither of them hesitating to do anything, however evil, to gratify their passions. Room No. 11 was ready for these gentlemen. The waiter took their cloaks and hats. Arthur threw himself on a sofa, and announced that there was to be no heavy talk until the dessert came on.
"Bravo!" said Fernando. "But perhaps you would kindly define what you mean by heavy talk? As for you, Frederic, I think you had an interview with your father to-day?"
"Champagne!" shouted Frederic, flinging his glass at the door, an original manner of summoning a waiter, which he had invented.
"Yes," he replied, "and the Marquis is resolved that the marriage shall take place in a fortnight—as if I had not other fish to fry!"
"But it seems to me," said Arthur, "that a union so desirable in every respect, a fortune so large—"