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"Well, Tripot, what have you to say that is important?" "Gracious sir, the court is in mourning." Voltaire looked at him enraged. "Fool! what is that to me?" "It is of the utmost importance to you, sir, if you are going this evening to the soiree of the queen-mother." "Will you run me mad, Tripot? What has the court mourning to do with the queen's soiree?"
Germain, who cut diamonds from glass, and cook up in their laboratories the rarest jewels! Yes, yes, I know all these arts, and all the brewing of St. Germain will not suffice to deceive me." "These diamonds are pure!" cried Hirsch. "We will have them tested by a Christian jeweller," said Voltaire. "Tripot! Tripot! run quickly to the jeweller Reclam beg him to come to me for a few moments."
After all, the king writes but for himself, and a few false, flattering friends; he can, therefore, say what he will. I, however, I write for France for the world! Voltaire commenced to write, but, he was soon interrupted by his servant, Tripot, who announced that the Jew Hirsch, for whom Voltaire had sent, was at the door. Voltaire rose hastily, and called him to enter.
"Gracious sir, the explanation is very simple. When the court is in mourning, no one can appear there in embroidered clothes; you must wear a plain black coat." "I have no plain black coat," said Voltaire, with a frowning brow. "It is necessary, then, for you to order one, and I have sent Monsieur Pilleneure to come and take your measure." "Are you insane, Tripot?" cried Voltaire.
Tripot soon returned with Reclam. The diamonds were pronounced pure and of the first water; and the jeweller declared they were fully worth twenty-two thousand thalers. Voltaire was now fully satisfied, and, when once more alone, he looked long and rapturously upon these glittering stones.
"I have business with you, my friend," said he to the Jew. "Close the door, Tripot, and see that we are not disturbed." Voltaire hastened with youthful agility through the saloon, and beckoned to the Jew to follow him into his bedroom. "First of all, friend, we will make a small mercantile operation." So saying, he opened the door of a large commode.
Voltaire returned once more to his distinguished guests, and enraptured them again by his witty slanders and brilliant conversation. As the last visitor departed, he rang for his servant. "Well, Tripot, have you the coat?" "I have, your excellency." Voltaire rubbed his hands with delight. "It seems this is a happy day for me I make the most advantageous business arrangements."
Acquet had entreated so pitifully that a woman who was there had gone to fetch Collin, one of the servants at La Bijude; Mme. de Combray's daughter had returned with him to Falaise, on one of the farmer's horses. She dared not go to the house in the Rue du Tripot, and therefore stopped with an honest woman named Chauvel, who did the washing for the Combray family.
The same evening the lawyer Lefebre, learned on reaching home, that Mme. de Combray had sent her gardener to ask him to come to her immediately in the Rue du Tripot. But worn out, he threw himself on his bed and slept soundly till some one knocked at his door about one in the morning. It was the gardener again, who was so insistent that Lefebre decided to go with him in spite of fatigue.
When all the necessary expenses were paid, these ladies commonly shared the profits with their protectors, that is, with their friends in power, through whose protection the tripot was sanctioned. Every one has heard of the fatal propensity to gaming indulged in by the unfortunate Marie Antoinette.
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