"Oh! it's easy enough: that day we met you dressed like a gentleman, on the corner of Rue Barbette, you came out of a house on Vieille Rue du Temple. Bastringuette came out of the same house a few minutes after you; I saw her—do you hear! You say that you wasn't with her; that may be, although it looks bad! To clear the thing up, just you tell me who you'd been to see—where you'd been in that house. It will be easy for me to go and find out whether you're telling the truth; it won't take me long to walk there. Come, tell me; and if there hasn't been any fooling with my false wench, why, then I'll come back and open my arms to you; I'll beg your pardon, and hug you till I stifle you!"
Sans-Cravate's eyes were wet; it was clear that his most earnest desire was to be able to call Paul his friend once more, and he waited anxiously for his reply. But Paul hung his head, his face became serious, and he dropped the hand he was holding out to his comrade.
"I am sorry that I cannot satisfy you," he said; "but I cannot tell you what you ask. I tell you again that it was not Bastringuette whom I went to see in that house; if she did go there, it was probably a mere coincidence; but it is certain that she was no more looking for me than I was looking for her."
Jean Ficelle, who had softly drawn near and waited with manifest curiosity for Paul's reply, began to whistle the air of: Go and see if they're coming, Jean, go and see if they're coming.
"What's that!" rejoined Sans-Cravate, with an angry gesture; "you can't tell me who you went to see—who it is you know in that house! It seems to me there's no difficulty in doing that—and when a man ain't doing something crooked, he don't make such a mystery about it."
"Probably I have reasons for acting as I do."
"And you won't tell me your reasons?"
Sans-Cravate stamped the ground angrily, and uttered an energetic oath.
"All right, then; all's over between us; I don't know you any more; you are no mate of mine; I forbid you to speak to me—do you hear? I forbid you; and if you should ever come within range of my eyes, with Bastringuette—not that I care a hang about her! I despise her! I hate her!—but, never mind; if I should see you with her, look out! I shan't always be patient, and you'd be likely to pass a bad quarter of an hour."