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Updated: June 5, 2025
Mother Michel went down to the garden and there found Faribole alone, seated upon a bench, and with a preoccupied air stripping the leaves from a branch of boxwood which he held in his hand. "My friend," said the good woman, "Madame, the Countess, desires you to bring Moumouth to her." "Moumouth!" stammered Faribole, starting at the name as if he had been stung by a wasp.
He resolutely threw off his vest, then his neckerchief; but at the idea of giving up his new shoes, of walking barefoot, as formerly, over roads paved with gravel and broken glass, the luckless Faribole had a moment of hesitation. Father Lustucru, who observed him closely, profited by this circumstance with consummate cunning.
I suffer no more from cold, and, instead of lying out under the stars, I go to sleep every night in a comfortable bed, where I dream of gingerbread and fruit-cake." Father Lustucru rested his chin on the palm of his right hand, and fixing his piercing eyes upon Faribole, said to him: "Suppose you were obliged to take up again with the vagabond life from which I lifted you?"
"Nicholas Langlumé, the same as my father's; but I am more generally known under the nickname of Faribole." "What do you do?" "Nothing; my father works on the quay, and I, I live from day to day, gaining my bread as I can.
"Of you! of you who have said to me, 'Kill Moumouth, or I chase you from the house!" "I, I have said that! what an impudent falsehood! Ah, Madame the Countess, you know me well enough not to hesitate between the declarations of this fellow and my flat denial." "Faribole," said the Countess severely, "your charge is grave; can you bring any proof to support it?"
"He will be charmed to see you again, madame," Mother Michel answered; "he is in the garden in the care of Faribole, a little young man whom your steward judged proper to admit to the house; the young rogue and the cat have become a pair of intimate friends."
Lustucru remained, and, recovering from his first stupor, resolved to boldly deny everything, if Faribole should dare to accuse him. Introduced into the parlor, Faribole did not wait to be interrogated. "Madame the Countess," said he, "the presence of your cat tells me why you have called me; but I am less guilty than I appear; permit me to explain."
The crime of Lustucru was then evident; but other proofs were not long in rising against him. The adventure of Groquemouche and Guignolet was talked about among the boatmen; Faribole heard the story from one of them, and discovered a person who had seen Lustucru throw Moumouth from the bridge of Notre Dame.
Take off your clothes, and put on your rags, and disappear!" Having pronounced these words, Lustucru took from a closet the miserable vestments which Faribole had worn the day of his installation. The steward seized them disdainfully between his thumb and forefinger, and threw them upon the floor.
Mother Michel was nearly jealous of the small boy; Father Lustucru, who had ideas of his own, laughed in his sleeve, and rubbed his hands together. The steward, one evening, ordered Faribole to come to his chamber, and after closing the door carefully and assuring himself that no one was listening, he said: "Moumouth is your friend; you have followed my recommendations exactly."
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