And Bahuchet began to whistle with an indifferent air. After a few minutes Plumard said, between his teeth:
"What an idea, to send to that girl's mother the plume her lover lost!—That is downright wicked, it's a villainous trick!—Have you any reason to complain of pretty Bathilde? I am surprised at that; I thought that you didn't know her."
"Plumard! there are mysteries which it is impossible to divulge.—As for the girl, she will say to her mother: 'It is not true, I have no lover'; and that will be the end of it."
"Do you think so?"
"Parbleu! are girls who have lovers ever at a loss for a lie?"
"That is true.—But another suggestion occurs to me."
"State it."
"Let us assume that I undertake this—thorny commission; how do I know that you will give me the jar of pomade then? You will laugh in my face when I claim it."
"I understand your suspicion, having now and then played some rather neat tricks on you; and I am so far from being angry with you, that I propose to prove to you that it will not be so this time."
And taking from his belt the purse he had received, Bahuchet produced a beautiful rose crown and placed it in Plumard's hand, saying: