And the Gascon glanced languishingly at the superb omelet, which Poussinet was preparing to carry away, when the Bohemian stopped him and said, putting a piece of money in his hand:
"Do not carry that away; put the supper on the table—before these two gallant fellows, who will permit me to entertain them and to sup with them. Fetch also a piece of your best cheese and another full pint of your oldest wine, so that we may drink longer."
The waiter, being paid, made haste to execute the orders he had received. Meanwhile, Passedix, who could hardly believe his ears, gazed at the Bohemian as the Incas gazed at the sun, then opened his long arms and threw himself into those of the man with the gray beard, crying:
"By the shades of my ancestors! you are a noble old man! I do not know you; but it would seem that you know me; for your behavior toward me is that of an old friend!"
"Oh! who has not heard of the valiant Chevalier Passedix, godson of the worthy Chaudoreille!—of his exploits, of his prowess, and of his triumphs with the ladies! I am only a poor Bohemian, but, by virtue of my profession, I know very well what is happening in Paris. So do not be surprised, seigneur chevalier, that I am so well informed with respect to your affairs."
"Capédébious! this old man talks better than our ediles!—Don't you think so, friend Cédrille, eh? Why do you refuse to speak, and keep your hand over your left eye?"
Cédrille took his hand from his face and showed his left eye, which had received the full force of the shopkeeper's blow, and which was surrounded by a black and blue circle and weeping profusely.
"Bigre! what is all this, my boy? Did you fall on something unhealthy?"
"Yes, I fell on the fisticuff that was intended for you; and it was well directed, as you see; that miserable man didn't strike with a light hand!"
"Ah! poor fellow! can it be? I am sorry now that I didn't run that clown through!"