"It is he! it is certainly he!"
"Who, pray? do you see another dog?"
"I see someone who, unless we are fools, will pay for our breakfast, and perhaps even more than that."
"Who is it?"
"Look, over yonder! Do you see that long beanpole dressed in apple-green? Don't you recognize him?"
"Yes, indeed; it's our heir, the Chevalier de Passedix; but it seems to me that he has changed his color."
"Come, Plumard, come; imitate me, second me, talk as I do—and a new fortune will shine upon us!"
Thereupon little Bahuchet doubled the length of his strides, his comrade followed his example, and they soon stood in front of Passedix, who was strutting nonchalantly across Pont-Neuf, glancing out of the corner of his eye to see whether the women who passed admired his bearing and his attire, and casting upon the common herd patronizing glances which seemed to say:
"Stand aside! I am rich—you must make room for me; I require a great deal."
The Gascon chevalier was, in truth, in very comfortable case; six thousand livres at that period were equivalent to fifteen thousand in these times. Passedix, not being a gambler, did not find it easy to spend his income; for the women did not welcome his homage; moreover, his passion for Miretta still smoldered in the depths of his heart and prevented him from falling in love with other charmers. So that he could spend his money only at the table; and, despite his hearty appetite, he could not succeed in eating his whole income, especially as his stomach, as a result of overwork, began to show symptoms of sloth and to demand rest from time to time.