Marcel followed when she was out of sight, and soon perceived Polycarpe waiting for him, and half-hidden behind one of the kiosks on the sidewalk in which newspapers are sold in Paris.
"So you washed that old woman's little monster!" cried he, as soon as he saw Marcel. "You needn't have done that. Here I've been waiting for you to go to Mother Crapaud's for a real blow-out. Come along, now, I'm as hungry as a wolf. Did you ever see an old woman so nicely done? O my eye! poor Zozor! wasn't he well soaped?"
Chapter V.
"Let not Ambition mock their humble toil,
Their vulgar crimes and villany obscure;
Nor rich folks hear with a disdainful smile
The low and petty knaveries of the poor.
"The titled villain and the thief of power,
The greatest rogue that ever bore a name,
Awaits alike the inevitable hour:
The paths of wickedness but lead to shame."
Parody On Gray's Elegy.
Polycarpe's favorite dining-saloon, the gargote, or eating-house, of the Mère Crapaud, was situated in the Rue de la Huchette, one of the narrowest, darkest, and dirtiest of the old streets of Paris. It was a large, low room, opening from the street; the whole length of one side of it was taken up by four great furnaces which cooked the contents of the four great marmites, or boilers, that were constantly suspended over them. The contents of three of these marmites consisted of beef-soup, flavored with carrots, turnips, cabbage, onions, and garlic. The fourth generally contained stewed beans, a favorite accompaniment to the boiled beef. A kind of counter, on which stood baskets of cut bread and bowls of salad, separated the furnaces and marmites from the other part of the room, which was furnished with tables of six places each, and benches, all painted dark green. The place was smoky and grimy, and not rendered pleasanter by the presence of the Mère Crapaud herself, an enormously fat, blear-eyed old woman, possessed of a most abusive tongue. Indeed, she would have seemed better fitted to drive away than to attract customers. The Mère Crapaud, however, was very popular, and with good reason; for not only were her beef and soup the very best that could be bought for the money, but she also could be depended on in critical moments, when those whom she recognized as regular customers were in difficulties with the authorities.
Fifteen or sixteen customers, of all ages and of both sexes, were seated at the tables when the two boys entered, and the Mère Crapaud, brandishing the great spoon with which she measured her soup, was busy behind the counter, assisted by two perspiring marmitons. [Footnote 117]
[Footnote 117: Scullions.]
"Bonjour, la mère," said Polycarpe, as he entered with the ease and swagger of a well-known and favored guest; "how goes it with you?"
"Bonjour, mauvais sujet," returned the hostess; "what brings you here, to-day?"