Dupont was on the rack; if he had dared, he would have struck his friend Jolibois, to make him relax his hold, at the risk of knocking him downstairs. He tried to release his arm, muttering:
"You have been dining, Jolibois, and dining very well, I should judge. But madame and I have not dined, and we would like to join our friends, who are waiting for us upstairs. I'll call on you; but let me go now, Jolibois; I promise you that I'll call to see you.—Come, my dear madame, they are waiting for us."
With another jerk, Dupont succeeded in shaking off his persecutor. He hurried Georgette upstairs, leaving his friend Jolibois, who looked after them, crying:
"Ah! you rascal! you think you can fool me! But I can guess—I see what's up! You're a rascal, Dupont! But don't be afraid: I won't tell your wife."
Georgette did not say a word; she took pity on her escort's pitiable state. They reached the landing on the first floor. Dupont recognized his waiter and said to him:
"Waiter, we would like a table in one of the public rooms."
"There isn't one, monsieur; they're all taken. It's very hard to get one on Sunday, unless you come much earlier than this. But I happen to have a private room, just vacated; I will give you that."
Dupont glanced at Georgette, who replied:
"We wish to dine in a public room. Let us take a turn on the boulevard; we will come back in a little while, and probably we shall find a table then."
"As you please, my dear friend," replied Dupont, who dared not insist, because the meeting with his friend Jolibois had made him very sheepish; but as they went away he made a sign to the waiter.