The little mare was stabled, and the two friends rode away. Robineau, sipping a glass of sweetened water the while, as a restorative after his fall, ran through the Petites-Affiches, and read all the advertisements of estates for sale; but he constantly shrugged his shoulders, with such muttered comments as:
"These are too small! twenty thousand francs! forty thousand francs! They must be mere hovels! I want something better than that!—Dovecotes!—gardens in full bearing! What do I care for that?—I am not buying an estate in order to have pigeons and plums to eat; but in order to be called Monsieur de la—that is to say, by the name of my estate.—Ah! eighty thousand francs; that’s better; but pastures—farm lands—I can’t give balls and be a great lord in a farmhouse.—Aha! a château—two châteaux—twelve guest-rooms! That is what I want. Let’s see what the price is—three hundred thousand francs—two hundred and forty thousand francs. It’s absurd to fix such a price as that for a château! It seems to me that there ought to be cheaper ones for amateurs."
Robineau knew the Petites-Affiches by heart when the two young men returned from their ride. As he absolutely refused to mount his horse again, Alfred led the little mare by the bridle, and Robineau followed in a hired cabriolet. They returned to the hôtel De Marcey; but it was only half-past three, and they could not dine until six. Alfred went to his study to write some letters, Edouard went out to pay some visits, and Robineau, who did not understand that the days last twice as long when one does not know what to do to amuse one’s self as when one is at work, betook himself to his notary’s to pass the time.
At six o’clock, the three young men were together once more, and they went to a restaurant. Alfred and Edouard, who had concocted the scheme beforehand, persuaded Robineau that it was good form to eat very little and to send away most of the dishes ordered without touching them. So Robineau sent away several dishes which he was very desirous to eat, sacrificing his appetite to what he believed to be the acme of good form.
In the evening they attended the Bouffes. Robineau, who listened to music without appreciating it, dissembled as well as he could his overpowering desire to yawn.
"Bravi! brava! bravissima!" he cried; then looked at his watch to see if the play would soon be done. It came to an end at last; Alfred returned home, Edouard to his lodgings, and Robineau reëntered the cab that awaited him at the door, to take him to Rue Saint-Honoré.
Robineau stood in front of his abode, where he hoped not to sojourn long; for the house seemed to him a wretched place, and the entrance disgusting. However, he must needs sleep there once more. But before entering, he ordered François, his new servant, to call for him early the next morning with the cabriolet.
"Early to-morrow morning with the cabriolet!" cried a person who happened to be in the passage just as Robineau entered. And he recognized Fifine, whom he had not seen since the change in his fortunes.
Fifine held in her hand a candle wrapped in a half sheet of brown paper, and lighted; she had stopped and was waiting for Robineau, who did not quicken his pace.
"Hallo! is it you, my dear friend?"