"Ah! there they are! those are they! O happy fate!"
Then he began to sing:
| "'Les montagnards, les montagnards, |
| Les montagnards sont réunis!'" |
"For heaven's sake, hold your tongue, Dodichet!" said Dubotté, affecting not to see the hand which the new-comer held out to him; "you will compromise us. The idea of singing like that in a café! What do you look like, anyway? These people will be giving you a sou!"
"Well! if everybody here gives me a sou, that will make a very tidy little sum; but our handsome blond is always afraid of compromising himself! He is truly superb, this Dubotté!—Do you know, Dubotté, you make me think of the sun, on my word! I can't look at you without squinting. But aren't we all here? Good-evening, messieurs! I haven't forgotten our appointment of five years ago, you see. That surprises you, doesn't it? well, it surprises me too, on my honor! Ah! there's Lucien, dear old Lucien, whom I haven't seen, I believe, since our agreement.—Give us your hand, Lucien—
"'Cette main, cette main si jolie!'"
"Good God! is he going to sing again? I'm going away, then."
"No, Phœbus, don't be alarmed, I won't sing any more—not to please you, but because I want to talk with Adhémar and Lucien.—Ah! Adhémar—there's a friend that is a friend; you can always find him when you want him. But Dubotté! his scent tells him when anyone's going to ask a favor of him, and he runs away like a stag. I said, like a stag; the simile is a little risquée perhaps, as our friend is married; but, never mind! I have said it, and I won't take it back."
"Oh! I'm not offended, Dodichet. When a man has a wife like mine, he is above such jests."
"You're content with your wife, eh? so much the better, I'm glad of it.—But I say, messieurs, is that all you're going to take? For my part, the weather makes me thirsty."