But as he was looking about for his friend Chambertin, to borrow a few thousand francs, with which he hoped to recover what he had lost,—for a gambler continues to hope until he is on his death-bed,—the former restaurant keeper, who had not lost sight of him, joined him in a window recess. It was impossible to avoid him.
"How is Monsieur Dubourg?" he asked, with a roguish air.
"Dubourg? what do you mean by Dubourg?" replied the pretended baron, working his nose and mouth more violently than ever.
"Oh! I have the honor to recognize monsieur," retorted the creditor, in a louder tone; "but I didn't know that he was a Polish baron——"
"Hush! not another word, my dear Monsieur Durosey," said Dubourg, seeing that it was impossible to hoodwink his interlocutor. "I didn't recognize you at first, but now I place you perfectly. I am delighted to see you."
"The same with me, monsieur. You seem to be in very comfortable circumstances now, staking five hundred francs at once at écarté, and I trust that you will pay me the four hundred francs you——"
"Yes, yes, with great pleasure; I will give them to you this very evening. When I left Paris, I forgot that trifling debt."
"But I called on monsieur more than twenty times when he lived on the fifth floor on Rue d'Enfer, and again on Rue de——"
"Hush! I know all about that; silence, Monsieur Durosey! Since then, I have come into my property, and my titles—I will pay you in a moment."
"Oh! in that case, monsieur le baron may be assured that this will remain a secret between us."