"You can always rely on my word!"
And the messenger would return to his stand, reflecting thus:
"The father's an honorable man, that's sure; he'll never go back on what he says; but what good does it do me to have the father's word, if the son don't keep his?"
Since he had seen his sister, since he had conceived the hope that she would be received into the Vermoncey family, Sans-Cravate had entirely changed his ways: he no longer drank too much; he had ceased to frequent wine shops; he was neither quarrelsome nor noisy as before; lastly, he had ceased to consort with Jean Ficelle, and all that worthy's insistence was powerless to induce him to leave his place or neglect his work.
Once only he had met Paul, who was then convalescent, and was crawling painfully along, on Bastringuette's arm; for it was the middle of the day, when Elina could not be with her lover.
Sans-Cravate felt that he quivered all over, and that his hand trembled, when he saw his former comrade's pale, emaciated face. If Paul had been alone, it is probable that Sans-Cravate would have thrown his arms about him and begged him to forgive the injury he had done him; but the presence of Bastringuette reawakened all the pangs of jealousy in his heart, and he walked quickly away, cursing anew his former friend and his former mistress.
But, whether because he was still too weak to work, or because he preferred not to encounter the man who had nearly killed him, Paul did not return to his former stand.
The cold was sharp, the snow fell in large flakes, and the people on the streets and the boulevard walked quickly and did not often stop. Sans-Cravate was in his place, seated on his crochets; on his head was a broad-brimmed woollen hat, which protected him from the snow; but, despite the severity of the weather, his neck was bare, as on the warmest day in summer.
"I say, well-named!" cried Jean Ficelle, as he drew near, blowing on his fingers; "do you propose to stay here just to let the snow fall on your nose? This is no weather for customers to take the trouble to come after us. Let's go and get under cover in a wine shop."
"No, I'm done with wine shops," replied Sans-Cravate, shortly.