“It is certain, lieutenant, that there are a great many people who began with much less.”
When everything was ready, Auguste, who proposed to go first to Italy, engaged seats in the Lyon diligence. Bertrand went to say good-bye to Schtrack.
“Farewell, old fellow,” he said; “we’re going round the world; if I come back, I’ll have another drink with you.”
“Sacretié! Good-bye, Monsieur Pertrand.”
XX
POOR DENISE
Auguste and Bertrand had been gone several hours, and Schtrack was standing in the doorway trying to catch another glimpse of them, when a young village maiden, carrying a large bag of money in one hand, rushed into the courtyard and asked for Monsieur Dalville.
“Monsieur Dalville?” repeated Schtrack, taking his pipe from his mouth; “he isn’t here any more, mamzelle.”
“Not here! What do you mean, monsieur? This is certainly where he lived. I came here once before. You remember the time, don’t you—when you wouldn’t let me go upstairs?”
“Ah, ja! You had a little poy mit you then.”
“Yes, monsieur. But where does Monsieur Dalville live now? Do you know, monsieur? It is absolutely necessary that I should see him and speak to him! Oh! if I only could have got this money sooner—what I owe him! But tell me, monsieur,—must I go somewhere else?”