"Well, watch-dogs, what luck?"
Cramoisin and Jambony looked to Boudgoust, who turned his pockets inside out, showed the flat of his palms, and answered:
"Nothing."
"An unfortunate day—for all of us," Javogues said gloomily, and relapsed into bitter reflections on his encounter with Dossonville.
"What luck!" exclaimed Cramoisin. "We escaped easily. Suppose we eat something."
Jambony opened his mouth, and the voice, trained to rise above the jargon of the street, resounded from one end of the street to the other.
"Food!"
The invariable bowl of soup and a bottle of thin wine were placed in front of each. Boudgoust, whose appetite was in proportion to his length, accomplished his portion in one swallow, and being thus reduced to philosophizing, exclaimed:
"All citoyens should be made to eat together."
"Nothing new there," Cramoisin interjected querulously. "We have the Fraternal dinners, haven't we?"