"Well! it's all the more stylish."
"I don't say it isn't, in summer; but in November gray hats are not worn much."
"If you don't want it, leave it."
"Never mind; I'll take it. A Pole may like gray hats at all seasons. Now, Madame Louchard, I must have either an overcoat or a frock-coat."
"I have nothing but a green sack-coat of Louchard's, which I also intend for my godson."
"A sack-coat! that's risky, because it shows the trousers! But, no matter! give it to me."
"You'll be responsible for it?"
"I'll be responsible for everything."
Cherami returned to his room with the clothes; at half-past nine, the water-carriers appeared. The Auvergnat wore a long blue overcoat that reached to his heels, a collar that came to the bottom of his ears, and a three-cornered hat. He was a perfect type of a laundryman going out to dinner. The Piedmontese was still in his jacket; but he had on a white striped waistcoat and olive-green trousers. Cherami bade him put on the green coat, which was too short in front and showed half of the waistcoat. By way of compensation, the late Louchard evidently had an enormous head, for the gray hat came down so far that it almost concealed the young water-carrier's eyes. These preparations completed, Cherami, having examined his two seconds, exclaimed:
"What in the devil will they take you for? However, damn the odds!—You, Piedmontese, will bow whenever anyone speaks to you, but you must not say a word in reply."