Bahuchet—the reader will ere this have recognized the two Basochians—approached the table next to Léodgard's, saying:
"Let us sit here, my dear boy; we shall be very comfortable here; we shall be able to see a little something—that is, if our proximity does not annoy his lordship?"
These last words were addressed to the count, who, having pulled the brim of his hat over his eyes, simply moved his head; whereupon the two clerks took their seats at the next table.
"What shall I serve you, gentlemen?" the host asked the new-comers.
"He calls us gentlemen!" muttered Plumard.
"The shrewd knave flatters us, hoping to induce us to spend more; but he will have nothing to show for his compliments and his reverences!—We have no choice—eleven sous between us; that is rather meagre, but we can't go beyond it!"
The host was still waiting. Bahuchet beckoned to him to come nearer.
"Listen carefully, good host, and do not exceed our order; we came here simply to eat a morsel—between our meals. Serve us three sous' worth of bread, six of wine, and two of good meat."
The host made a wry face and replaced his cap on his head.
"What kind of good meat do you expect me to serve for two sous?" he retorted.—"Make it six at least, messieurs, and you shall have a dish."