Pongo opened the door to the young messenger and leaped for joy when he saw him.
“Ah! Monsieur Georget! he nice boy, he come to see Pongo.”
“My dear Pongo, Monsieur Malberg is the one I would like to see; it is he that I have business with; is he in Paris?”
“No, no, me tell concierge so. Big fool, he no understand; he stand there like a stick.—Master, he in the country, in the pretty house, at Nogent.”
“He is at Nogent? Oh! I am glad of that, for then I can go there, I can take my mother there! Monsieur Malberg, who is so kind to us, offered me employment there long ago, and work for my mother; I refused then, but to-day I have decided to go; my mother is packing, and she must have finished by this time; but I don’t know what road to take to go to Nogent; can you tell me, Monsieur Pongo?”
“You, go to Nogent? Then you come with me. Me going back right away to master with Mamzelle Zima, what we forgot. Poor Zima! Her not like not to be in the country. Oh! me very glad if you coming, Monsieur Georget! You will see what a pretty place it is! Lots of fruit, fine garden, pretty flowers! Carabi, he play a lot down there; he grow big like a ball! You go fetch your good mother, and we start right away! I beat Broubrou, Babo, and all the little rugs! Dem nice and clean now. Me all ready.”
“I will go and bring my mother and our bundles.”
“Oh! me go up with you, carry all that! The mother, her never carry nothing.”
And the mulatto, without listening to Georget’s thanks, went up with him to the attic and took possession so quickly of all the bundles prepared by Madame Brunoy, that she had no time to remonstrate; Pongo was downstairs before the good woman had closed her door.
The three travellers passed the concierge’s lodge; Baudoin, who stood in the doorway, heaved a deep sigh as he said to them: