"For a convalescent, Mamzelle Violette is very imprudent, to walk about so long after dark."
"That's what I told them!" cried the concierge. "But as Mirontaine barked at that moment, I guess they didn't hear me."
Chicotin had been on sentry duty for half an hour, when Monsieur de Roncherolle, on his way to his room, spied him and said:
"What are you doing here, my boy?"
"I am waiting for my friend Georget, who is walking with Mamzelle Violette, bourgeois."
"Ah! so this Georget is——"
"The fellow who loves her so dearly, who suspected her of having gone wrong, and who came to-day to beg her pardon, because I went to Monsieur Malberg, your friend's, at Nogent, where he lives——"
"To Monsieur Malberg's; you mean the friend who came to see me on Rue de Bretagne?"
"Yes, bourgeois."
"And who was the cause of my moving!—Look you, Chicotin, if you take it into your head to mention me to your friend again, and to tell him that I live in this house, I warn you that I will pull your ears so that you can cover your nose with them!"