“I know that I stand in need of money,” repeated Jehan for the third time.
“And what are you going to do with it?”
This question caused a flash of hope to gleam before Jehan’s eyes. He resumed his dainty, caressing air.
“Stay, dear Brother Claude, I should not come to you, with any evil motive. There is no intention of cutting a dash in the taverns with your unzains, and of strutting about the streets of Paris in a caparison of gold brocade, with a lackey, cum meo laquasio. No, brother, ’tis for a good work.”
“What good work?” demanded Claude, somewhat surprised.
“Two of my friends wish to purchase an outfit for the infant of a poor Haudriette widow. It is a charity. It will cost three florins, and I should like to contribute to it.”
“What are names of your two friends?”
“Pierre l’Assommeur and Baptiste Croque-Oison.”[37]
“Hum,” said the archdeacon; “those are names as fit for a good work as a catapult for the chief altar.”
It is certain that Jehan had made a very bad choice of names for his two friends. He realized it too late.