"Landlord, bring us some ham, an omelet, cutlets—in short, the best of everything that you have!"
The tavern keeper stared in amazement at Léodgard and the two clerks; but the count had tossed a gold piece on the table, and such things were seen so rarely in that poor shop that the host took it up, gazed at it a long while, and rang it on the table to be sure that he was not mistaken.
Reassured at last with respect to the quality of the metal, he tossed his cap in the air and ran off to his kitchen, overturning all the tables that stood in his path.
The breakfast was soon brought. Léodgard ate something, so that his conduct might seem less extraordinary to his guests, whose glasses he was careful to fill frequently; and as they never refused, they were speedily in the best of humors. But Plumard did not carry his wine so well as his friend; he began to find difficulty in expressing himself, while Bahuchet was only a little giddy.
Léodgard leaned toward the latter and said to him in an undertone:
"If I should ask a service at your hands, and should offer to pay for it its weight in gold, should you be inclined to render it?"
"Altogether inclined, my gentleman; indeed, I am the one who would be greatly obliged. But move away a little, if you please; it is unnecessary that my comrade should hear you; when there is money to be earned, I prefer not to share it. To be sure, if he should hear now, he wouldn't understand. He is drunk! he doesn't know how to drink!"
The count pushed his seat away, and Bahuchet moved nearer to him. Plumard, his goblet having been filled once more, emptied it and began to talk to himself.
"Do you know the Marquis de Santoval's young wife?" asked Léodgard, taking pains to speak so that only Bahuchet could hear.
"Yes, seigneur, yes; but——"