But one evening the luck turned; Cherami left the café with empty pockets.
"Palsambleu!" he said to himself; "here I am reduced to extremities again!—For I shall not receive my quarterly income for a fortnight, and that stingy Bernardin wouldn't pay me a single day in advance. But why wouldn't this be a good time to pay a little visit to our young friend Gustave, in whose behalf I fought a duel, and who has not even come to thank me? By the way, I think I didn't give him my address, and, on the other hand, he didn't give me his. But he lives with his Uncle Grandcourt; he's a banker, or a merchant, no matter which; I ought to find his address in the Almanack du Commerce. To-morrow I will obtain it, and I will go and bid friend Gustave good-day. And if he is still in the depths, I'll dine with him again. He will tell me his woes, and I will order the dinner. And at dessert he certainly will lend me a hundred francs to carry me to my next quarterly payment—that will be easy to manage. Indeed, I am convinced that dear Gustave is surprised at my non-appearance, and that he is looking for me everywhere.—But, to make up for my neglect, I'll not leave him for a fortnight."
The next day, Cherami found Monsieur Grandcourt's address, and lost no time in betaking himself thither. Having arrived at a handsome house in Faubourg Montmartre, he tapped on the concierge's window with his pretty cane.
"Monsieur Grandcourt, the banker?"
"His offices are on the ground floor, at the rear, right-hand door."
"Very good. Shall I find Monsieur Gustave Darlemont in the office?"
"Monsieur Gustave?"
"Yes, the banker's nephew, who is employed by his uncle."
"Faith! monsieur, I don't know; there are several clerks; I don't know their names."
"You don't seem very well posted, that's a fact. All right; I'll go to the office, and it's to be hoped that someone will be able to answer me there."