“Let the neighbors go to grass! I don’t care a hang, and I’ll make more noise than ever.—Tra la la.”
Lampin sang at the top of his voice, as he drank a large glass of rum. Edouard and Dufresne had taken candles, to go to their bedroom, when there came three very loud knocks at the street door.
Dufresne started back in dismay, Edouard listened, trembling from head to foot, and Lampin threw himself on a couch.
“Somebody’s knocking,” said Edouard, looking at Dufresne.
“Yes, I heard it.”
“Well! so did I; I ain’t deaf, and they knocked loud enough anyway, but what difference does it make to us? We don’t expect anybody, for it’s nearly three o’clock in the morning; unless it’s our lady friends come back to rock us to sleep.”
“Hush! somebody is opening the door, I think.”
“Somebody must open the door to let them in! In a furnished lodging house, especially one of this kind, don’t people come in at all hours of the night? However, come what may, I snap my fingers at it, and I propose to keep on drinking.”
“I don’t hear anything more,” said Dufresne; “it evidently wasn’t for us.”
Edouard put his ear to the door opening on the landing, and listened attentively. Lampin resumed his singing, and tried to put to his lips a glass which his hand was no longer strong enough to raise. Suddenly Edouard seemed to become more excited.