There was no reply; they were all too busily occupied, drinking, talking, and laughing, to pay any heed to what he said. Finding that no one answered him, the attendant calmly took a seat at the rear of the shop, saying to himself:
"The esquire doesn't seem to be here. No matter! it isn't my fault."
After waiting five minutes for his esquire to appear, Passedix concluded to ring again.
"That bath attendant looks so stupid," he thought, "that I'll wager he didn't understand what I said!"
The attendant, seated at the rear of the shop, heard the bell distinctly, but he did not stir; he settled down comfortably in his chair and said to himself:
"There's that tall skeleton ringing again; it can't be anybody else, for there's nobody else in the baths just now.—But it isn't worth while for me to go there, as he wants his esquire and not me.—As if I knew where his esquire is! it's probably that little bit of a fellow that ran off with a bundle under his arm, and he hasn't come back!"
Several more minutes passed, and the bell rang again, more violently.
The attendant kept his seat; it even seemed to amuse him to hear such a merry peal.
Soon the jangling of the bell became incessant; and as there came a moment when no one of the drinkers was speaking, because they were emptying their glasses, Master Hugonnet at last heard the carillon in which his customer was indulging.
"Someone is ringing! Sarpejeu! someone is ringing! Don't you hear, Jean? you sit there as calmly as you please! Go, see what is wanted."