"But what the devil is the matter with you?"
"Marcel, no reflections, I beg of you, and, if you wish to keep your place, render yourself worthy of my protection."
Marcel contented himself with smiling, then he laid the table and served the supper. Chaudoreille placed himself at table, Marcel did likewise.
"Your conduct is a little familiar," said the chevalier to him; "but, as we are alone, I may as well allow you to seat yourself near me—"
"That's very fortunate."
"On condition that you serve me first, always."
During supper, Chaudoreille chinked his money, counted his crowns, calculated what remained to him, and what he expected to receive. Marcel looked at him with surprise, saying,—
"Have you inherited some money?"
"Yes, I inherit like that very often. Zounds! if the marquis keeps his word with me, I shall be able to keep the pace."
The supper lasted long; Chaudoreille was so much preoccupied by his affairs that he did not dream of playing; however, midnight had struck, he had received no message from the marquis, and the chevalier's hopes began to vanish. He sighed, listened and exclaimed,—