"Yes," replied Madame Capucine; "I shouldn't know Monsieur Cherami, now that he's decently dressed."
Our smoker succeeded, not without difficulty, in rescuing his switch from the hands of young Narcisse, who insisted on beating his brother with it; he lighted his cigar, passed through the gate at the end of the garden, and drew a long breath of relief.
"Par la sambleu!" he exclaimed; "here I am outside at last; there are breakfasts which cost a big price. Madame Capucine ogles me in a way that begins to alarm me. Her aunt always seems to refuse what you ask her. The little brats are two infernal monkeys, who ought to be kept in the big cage at the Jardin des Plantes. Ouf! I feel the need of air! I hardly expected this morning to go for a walk in the Bois de Boulogne, in such an atmosphere as this. But, since I am here, I must make the most of my luck. I won't go back to those mummies till dinner time. I'll tell them that my cigar made me ill."
XXXV
THE BOIS DE BOULOGNE
Cherami sauntered through the Bois, where, by reason of the season and the early hour, he met very few people. He had just lighted his second cigar, when, as he turned from one path into another, he saw a man coming toward him, very well dressed, walking very rapidly, and turning from time to time, to look behind him and on both sides, as if he feared that he was followed. When he saw Cherami walking in his direction, he stopped, and seemed undecided as to what he should do, being evidently inclined to retrace his steps. But, meanwhile, our smoker was drawing nearer, and ere long the two men stood face to face and looked at each other. Thereupon each of the two uttered an exclamation of surprise.
"Pardieu! I am not mistaken. It is Monsieur Auguste Monléard whom I have the honor of saluting?"
"And you are the gentleman with whom I fought at Belleville?"
"Himself—at your service, for anything in my power!—Arthur Cherami."
"Ah, yes! I had forgotten your name."
"This is very early for you to be in the Bois de Boulogne. I say early, although it is after half-past twelve; but in winter people seldom come for a turn in the Bois until between three o'clock and five."