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"Good! now send away every one else from your inn, and in ten minutes let us be as free and as solitary here as if we came to fast on Good Friday." "In ten minutes, M. Chicot, there shall not be a soul in the hotel excepting your humble servant." "Go, Bonhomet; you are not changed, I see." "Oh! mon Dieu! mon Dieu!" said Bonhomet, as he retired, "what is about to take place in my poor house?"
"Immediately, dear Monsieur Chicot," said Bonhomet, as he darted out of the room. Meanwhile Chicot, who probably had no time to lose, heated at the lamp the point of a small dagger, and cut in the middle of the wax the seal of the letter. This being done, and as there was nothing else to retain the dispatch, Chicot drew it from its envelope, and read it with the liveliest marks of satisfaction.
Chicot, whom nothing escaped, remarked the expression of his countenance, and was inwardly pleased at it. Bonhomet, tremblingly, entered the apartment. "Good heavens!" he exclaimed, as he saw the captain's body bathed in blood. "Yes, my poor Bonhomet," said Chicot; "this is what we have come to; our dear captain here is very ill, as you see."
I shall defeat the Huguenots, and having entered France as a friend, I shall act as a master." "Oh, oh!" cried Chicot. "Did I hurt you, dear Monsieur Chicot?" said Bonhomet, discontinuing his frictions. "Yes, my good fellow." "I will rub more softly; don't be afraid."
But as for being a person who does not know where his ancestors lived, I reply, as did Bonhomet when he reached heaven and the Lord said to him: 'Still a chimney-doctor, Bonhomet? 'And you, Lord?. For you were born in Bourgogne, Monsieur de Montfanon, of an ancient family, related to all the nobility-upon which I congratulate you and you have lived here in Rome for almost twenty-four years, in the Cosmopolis which you revile."
"I must take off the cuirass, then," said Chicot. Chicot took off his cuirass, and bared the upper part of his body, which seemed to be composed of nothing else but bones, of muscles spread over the bones, and of skin merely covering the muscles. "Ah! Monsieur Chicot," exclaimed Bonhomet, "you have a wound as large as a plate."
The host appreciates well the difference between palates like yours and mine, and those of every thirsty passer-by." "Can we talk there?" "Perfectly at our ease." "Oh! I see you are well known there." "Ma foi, no; this time you are wrong. M. Bonhomet sells me wine when I want it, and I pay when I can; that is all." "Bonhomet! that is a name that promises well." "And keeps its promise.
On looking through, he perceived Borromée, after placing his finger on his lips, as a sign of caution, say something to Bonhomet, who seemed to acquiesce by a nod of the head, after which Borromée took a light, which was always kept burning in readiness, and descended to the cellar. Then Chicot knocked on the wall in a peculiar manner.
"Why, yes, I should think so." "In that case, do as you like, my dear Bonhomet; adieu." Then, returning a second time, he said: "By-the-by, I pay, since he is no more." And Chicot threw three golden crowns on the table, and then, placing his fore-finger on his lips, in token of silence, he departed.
Besides the wrinkles which seem to correspond on the human face to the cracks made by time on the front of buildings, M. Bonhomet had assumed airs of great importance since Chicot had seen him last. These, however, he never showed much to men of a warlike appearance, for whom he had always a great respect.
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