“That is most extraordinary!—But I must leave you; I have so much business on hand. I must go to see Monin; I have sold his drug shop for him. I am going to ask him to dinner, and his wife too. They are not very brilliant, especially poor Monin himself, who allows his wife to lead him about like a baby; but he’s honest, yes, he’s probity itself; and I demand that, yes, I demand that above all things.—Until to-morrow then, my dear fellow, and don’t forget the money.”
“That is understood.”
Destival left Auguste after shaking hands with him again, as if he had a convulsion. In the reception room the business agent met Bertrand. New salutations to the ex-corporal, with whom he also shook hands, saying:
“The excellent and worthy Bertrand! I am so glad to meet you! How’s the health, old fellow? still robust? As well set up as ever, I see! What a fine thing it is to have been a soldier! But I assure you that that one lesson you gave me did me a deal of good! I hope that one of these days you will be willing to give me another, my good fellow, and I shall always be proud to receive them.—Au revoir, excellent Bertrand!”
And without giving Bertrand time to say a word in reply, Monsieur Destival rushed through the door and down the stairs; and shouted at the top of his voice before he reached the foot of the last flight:
“Domingo! Holà, Domingo! my negro! open the door for me!”
A short, thick-set negro, wearing a red jacket, and a little jockey cap with a ten-inch visor, came forward, walking with difficulty in a pair of doeskin trousers which Monsieur Destival had worn ten years, and which he had thought it best to resign to his groom, for whom they were much too small; assuring him that they would be as much too large before he had been two years in his service.
When his negro appeared, Destival looked to the right hand and to the left, to see if he were observed; but as no one stopped to look at Domingo, the business agent concluded to enter his cabriolet; and having assured himself by looking through the little window, that the negro was behind, Monsieur Destival lashed his horse, and shouted “look out!” even when nobody was in danger.
“You won’t have any further occasion to scold me, my dear Bertrand,” said Auguste to the ex-corporal, after Monsieur Destival had gone.
“Why not, lieutenant?”