Jean Ficelle continued to walk back and forth; then stopped again in front of Sans-Cravate, saying with a mocking expression:
"Dame! perhaps his time was so well occupied last night that he's resting this morning—that's what's the matter!"
Sans-Cravate sprang to his feet.
"What do you mean by that?" he cried, with a savage gesture.
"I mean—I mean——Faith! you know well enough what I mean; and I'll bet I know who he's with now."
"With Bastringuette, you mean, don't you?"
"Dame! it seems to me that she didn't hesitate to show you that she preferred that popinjay to you. Women must have mighty little taste; such a fine fellow as you are! Why, you'd make three of Paul!"
"Oh! I'm not jealous of his good fortune," rejoined Sans-Cravate, struggling to appear calm; "let him go with Bastringuette, if he chooses! But last night I saw that he didn't go with her when we left the wine shop; he went away alone—and she—she waited to see if I was following her; then she went off alone, too."
"Bah! humbug! they met afterward. If we knew where Paul lived, we could go and see if he was at home. Do you know where he lives, Sans-Cravate?"
"No, I don't; he told me he lived Faubourg Montmartre way; but that's all."