“But it is impossible that the marquis should not give way to our arguments, to our entreaties.”
“Arguments! ah! my dear Monsieur d’Hurbain, I fancy that we shall need something stronger than arguments to captivate a boy.”
“Messieurs,” cried Daréna, “I suggest a wager. A magnificent dinner at the Rocher de Cancale, to be given by two of us to the one who triumphs and who brings young Chérubin to Paris. Is it a bargain?”
“With all our hearts.”
“When do we start for Gagny?”
“I will arrange to leave my office at noon to-morrow, messieurs. Will you call for me? Shall I expect you?”
“No,” said Monfréville, “let us go each on his own account; we shall be able to find this nurse’s house.”
“Nicole Frimousset,” said Jasmin; “a narrow street leading into the square. Anyone will point out her house.”
“Very well,” said Daréna; “Nicole Frimousset; the names are engraved on my memory. Monfréville is right, it is better for us to go each on his own hook.”
“But take care, messieurs,” said the notary; “if you delay, you may make the journey for nothing, and I shall already have started for Paris with Chérubin.”