"At the Opéra-Comique?"
"No; at Quimper-Corentin."
Lucien returned to his boxes of pins, reflecting upon all that Dodichet had told him.
"As a matter of prudence," he thought, "I shall do well to wait a few days before appearing at Monsieur Mirotaine's; he must be very angry at having been made a dupe; I will give his anger time to subside; I will wait until he has partly forgotten to-day's occurrences, so that he cannot guess that I know anything about them."
But during the week that passed before Lucien went to Mirotaine's, Dubotté had entertained young Callé at dinner, and, as we have seen, had told his guest why Dodichet had conceived the idea of bringing forward a husband for Mademoiselle Juliette; that it was in the hope of serving his friend Lucien's interests. Young Callé, who was a great gossip, like most people who have nothing to do, did not fail to repeat to Aldegonde all that he had learned at Dubotté's, and the stepmother repeated it to her husband; whereupon the latter made a scene with his daughter.
"You were in collusion with those wretches," he cried, "those blackguards who cheated me out of a dinner! it was your Lucien who urged them to play that joke on me, of which the assize court would take cognizance! When I see him, I'll tell him what I think of him."
It was of no use for Juliette to protest, to swear that she knew nothing about it, and that Lucien was incapable of devising the malicious scheme which they had presumed to carry out—Monsieur Mirotaine was convinced of the contrary; and when, two days later, poor Lucien appeared before his love's father, humble and smiling, and inquired for his health, Monsieur Mirotaine flew into a rage and pushed him toward the door, crying:
"My health! You have the insolence to come to inquire for my health, after making a fool of me to such a point that it made me ill! You are very bold to show your face before me again!"
"Why, monsieur," stammered Lucien, in dire dismay, "what have I done that you should treat me like this?"
"What have you done? He pretends not to know! But you can't fool me, monsieur!—Think of the dinner I was forced to give—a dinner of eleven covers! three courses! and my old claret! And that Italian count—who was only an apothecary—whom Dodichet introduced as a millionaire in search of a wife—when he already had one at Pontoise! And the coffee and liqueurs! Your friend Dodichet helped himself to cognac three times! Can you deny that he's your friend, and that he invented that abominable farce in the hope of helping on your love for my daughter?"