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He was on his way to his own house whither a matter relating to his military service called him, when he was overtaken in the rue Coquilliere by one of those heavy showers which instantly flood the gutters, while each drop of rain rings loudly in the puddles of the roadway.
A man presently took the young officer by the arm, and looking up the baron was stupefied to behold the pauper of the rue Coquilliere, the Ferragus of Ida, the lodger in the rue Soly, the Bourignard of Justin, the convict of the police, and the dead man of the day before. "Monsieur, not a sound, not a word," said Bourignard, whose voice he recognized.
He was on his way to his own house whither a matter relating to his military service called him, when he was overtaken in the rue Coquilliere by one of those heavy showers which instantly flood the gutters, while each drop of rain rings loudly in the puddles of the roadway.
A man presently took the young officer by the arm, and looking up the baron was stupefied to behold the pauper of the rue Coquilliere, the Ferragus of Ida, the lodger in the rue Soly, the Bourignard of Justin, the convict of the police, and the dead man of the day before. "Monsieur, not a sound, not a word," said Bourignard, whose voice he recognized.
"Bussy! you have been deceived, sire." "I know what I say." "Sire, M. de Bussy has not been out of his hotel for two days. He is at home, ill in bed, burning with fever." The king turned to Schomberg, who said, "If he had fever, at all events he had it in the Rue Coquilliere." "Who told you he was there?" said the duke. "I saw him." "You saw Bussy out of doors?"
"To a place where I have analyzed the air to-day." "And this air?" "Is sovereign for your complaint, monseigneur." Bussy dressed, and they went out. Remy took his patient by the arm, and led him by the Rue Coquilliere down to the rampart. "It is strange," said Bussy, "you take me near the marsh of the Grange-Batelier, and call it healthy."
"I said I was the real King of France," murmured Chicot. The next morning, about nine, Bussy was eating his breakfast, and talking with Remy over the events of the previous day. "Remy," said he, "did you not think you had seen somewhere that gentleman whom they were dipping in a vat in the Rue Coquilliere?" "Yes, M. le Comte, but I cannot think of his name."
Then they lingered in the Rue Coquilliere, inhaling the odour of truffles from the premises of a notable dealer in comestibles, which threw so strong a perfume into the street that Cadine and Marjolin closed their eyes and imagined they were swallowing all kinds of delicious things. These perfumes, however, distressed Claude.
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