“That’s a pity! A business like mine is the thing! it always goes right on. Leather will never go out of fashion—it’s like bread.”
“It is precisely the same thing. So you are well off, are you?”
“Why, I am very comfortable.”
Bertrand noticed that Madame Florimont raised her hood in order to see the tradesman better; whereupon he said nothing more, but looked off into the country so as not to interfere with his neighbor’s ogling of the young woman, which she received with a smile, probably to gratify him.
They reached the place where they were to pass the night. Bertrand had not as yet mentioned his project to Auguste, but chance seemed to favor him. On leaving the wagon, the young man was attacked by a violent sick-headache, and immediately upon entering the inn went to his room to lie down, telling Madame Florimont to order whatever she pleased.
Bertrand made an excuse for leaving the tradesman alone with their travelling companion; he went out to walk and did not return until very late. The tradesman was alone, admiring himself in a mirror.
“Well?” queried Bertrand.
“You can pay me the fifty crowns.”
“Do you mean it?”
“It’s all arranged: at daybreak to-morrow I abduct your charmer; she is to tell your companion that he can lie abed as we don’t start till ten o’clock.”