“Come, come, you must be one of us!” exclaimed Daréna.
The Spaniard and the Neapolitan each seized one of Chérubin’s arms; he let them drag him away and they carried him, almost dancing, to the cab, which he entered with Daréna and the four dancers.
“But I have a carriage,” cried the notary; “you will be too crowded with six in there! Let some of the ladies come in my carriage.”
“No, no!” said Daréna; “we’ll sit in one another’s laps—it’s all the more fun!—Off you go, driver; founder your nags—we’ll pay you for them. To the Rocher de Cancale!”
The cab drove away with Chérubin, who had not even had time to bid his nurse good-bye.
“Daréna has succeeded!” said Monfréville; “the bird has left his nest.”
“Yes,” replied Monsieur d’Hurbain, “but this sort of thing must not go too far. And this dinner—with those women; really, I can’t be there. I, a notary, dine with ballet dancers!”
“Oh! bless my soul! just once; you can go incog. Besides, it’s for a good motive, and your presence will prevent the dinner from being too indecent. Let us take my tilbury, we can follow them better.”
Monsieur d’Hurbain entered the tilbury with Monfréville, and Monsieur Gérondif and Jasmin jumped into the carriage.
“They are taking my young master to the Rocher de Cancale,” said the old servant, “and I have ordered a sumptuous banquet at the house, and a reception, with music and flowers and——”