"In that case, I should be very glad to know where you bought it."
"You know Dumouton—the literary man?"
"Dumouton! Indeed I know him; he borrows five francs of me every time he sees me. But go on!"
"Well! I met him this morning. He had two umbrellas under his arm, and he urged me so hard to buy one of them that I finally bought this one."
"Ah! the villain! Upon my word, this is too cool! He actually sold you my umbrella, which he borrowed the day before yesterday and was to return that evening, and which I am still waiting for! Oh! this is the one—a trefoil with silver trimmings. It's my umbrella! Well! Monsieur Rochebrune, what do you say to that performance?"
Poor Dumouton! I was sorry that I had been the means of showing him up; but how could I suspect that he had sold me Rouffignard's umbrella? It was very wrong; but, perhaps, he needed the money to pay his baker. I felt that I must try to arrange the matter.
"You agree with me!" cried the stout man; "you call this a shameful trick, don't you?"
"No, Monsieur Rouffignard. I think that there is some misunderstanding simply, some mistake; that Dumouton is not guilty——"
"Not guilty! and he sold you my umbrella?"
"Allow me. When I met Dumouton this morning, he had two umbrellas under his arm. He offered to sell me one. 'And what about the other?' I asked him.—'The other isn't mine,' he said; 'it was lent to me, and I am going at once to return it.'—He certainly was speaking of yours, then. I made a bargain with him for his umbrella. But we talked some little time, and, when he left me, he must have made a mistake and given me the wrong one; that's the whole of it."