"Oh! dear me, such mistakes occur so often at balls and evening parties, that, frankly, I shall not demand mine back."
"You will make no mistake; but the man who found your hat in place of his—he may want his back."
"Very well! let him come; I am ready for him; I'll return his old tile, and give him others to boot."
"Ah! but that isn't all."
"What else is there, Widow Louchard? Can it be that I came home with two hats? I admit that that would astonish me."
"No, it isn't a hat this time; but this cane—this isn't your clothes-beater, which wasn't worth six sous."
Madame Louchard picked up a cane which lay in a corner of the room; it was a genuine rattan, with an agate head surrounded by gold rings, and cut in very peculiar fashion. She showed it to Cherami, who exclaimed in admiration:
"Oho! why, that's a beauty! A charming cane, excellent style—not too heavy; I like this sort of cameo for a head very much."
"So you got your cane the same way you did your hat, eh?"
"Pardieu! that goes without saying. It stood beside the hat. You see, I had placed my switch beside my beaver—so the joke was complete."