"And you'll do well."

"You're very good, mesdames," said a cook, stuffing into her basket the fowl she had just bought, which, from its odor, might have been taken for game, "you're very good, but my master's waiting for his chocolate; he wants to go out early and I ain't lighted my fire yet.--Quick, madame, my regular number; here's thirty-six sous--please hurry up."

The cook took her ticket and returned to her master, making figures on the way: the fowl had cost her fifty sous; by calling it eighty-six sous, she would get her ticket for nothing, which was very pleasant. To be sure, her master would eat a tainted fowl instead of a delicate bird; but one must have one's little perquisites, and what was the use of being a cordon bleu if one did not make something out of the marketing?

"The _consideres_ are very old combinations," said a little man who had been gazing at the list for three-quarters of an hour; "they're excellent to play by extracts."

"See," said another, "notice that the 6 is a prisoner; it will soon come out."

"The 2 has come, that brings the 20."

"The 39 in a hundred and three drawings--it's an ingot of gold! Zeros haven't done anything for a long while."

"That's true; I'll bet that they'll come in a _terne_ or an _ambe_."

"How often the forties come out! If I'd followed my first idea, I'd have had an _ambe_ at Strasbourg; I must tell you that, when my wife dreams that she's had a child, the 44 comes out--that never fails. Well! she dreamed that the other night. I've got a dog that I've taught to draw numbers out of a bag; he's beginning to do it very well with his paw. He drew out 46, and I was going to put it with my wife's dream; we thought about it all day, and she wanted to put instead of it the number of her birthday which was very near; and what do you suppose?--my dog's number came out with her dream!--I wouldn't sell that beast for three hundred francs."

"I'm shrewder than you, my dear man," said an old candy woman; "I've got a talisman."

"A talisman!"

"Yes, it's a fact; a fortune-teller told me the secret."

"What is it?" shouted all the gossips at once.

"A bit of clean parchment, with letters written on it with my blood."

"Mon Dieu! that's worse than the play at the Ambigu.--Tell us, what do your letters say?"

"Faith! I don't know; they're Hebrew, so she said."

"Look out, Javotte! don't trust it; it may be an invention of the devil, and then you'll go straight to h.e.l.l with your talisman."

"Bah! I ain't afraid, and I won't let go of my little parchment. I'm a philosopher!"

"What a fool she is with her talisman!" said the gossips, when Javotte had gone. "It beats the devil what luck it brings her! She owes everybody in the quarter, and she can't pay.--But it's almost market time, and I haven't put out my goods."

"And I ought by now to be at the Fontaine des Innocents!"

"Bless my soul! you remind me that my children ain't up yet, and I'm sure they're squalling, the little brats! and their gruel has been on the fire ever since eight o'clock."

"It'll be well cooked!"

"I'm off; good-day, neighbor."

"See you soon; we shall have the list if the sun shines."

Amid this mob, pushed by one, pulled by another, deafened by them all, Edouard waited for three-quarters of an hour for his turn to come. At last he reached the desk; all that he had heard about _consideres_, prisoners and lucky numbers was running in his head; but as he had no idea what to choose, he put twenty francs on the first numbers that occurred to him, and left the office with hope in his pocket.

On the street he met many individuals most shabbily clad, who offered him fifty louis in gold for twelve sous. These gentlemen and ladies apparently disdained for themselves the fortune that they proposed to sell to the pa.s.sers-by at such a bargain. But Murville declined their offers. He had in his pocket what he wanted. He was already building castles in Spain, for his numbers were excellent--so the agent told him--and could not fail to draw something. He was about to be released from embarra.s.sment; he could live in style, and keep the prettiest, aye, and the most expensive women, which would drive Madame de Geran frantic.

In short, he would deny himself nothing.

But the sun shone; at three o'clock the list was posted outside the offices; Edouard, who had been pacing back and forth impatiently in front of the one at which he had bought his ticket, eagerly drew near; he looked at the list and saw that he had drawn nothing.

XXVI

THE KIND FRIENDS AND WHAT RESULTED

Dufresne left the village behind him, with rage in his heart and his head filled with schemes of revenge. It was no longer the hope of seeing Adeline share his brutal pa.s.sion that tormented him; he felt that that was impossible now; only by the most infamous craft had he succeeded in gratifying his l.u.s.t; and Adeline was no less virtuous than before. In vain had he hoped, by that method, to change the sentiments of Edouard's wife; she detested him more than ever. What did he propose to do? Was she not unhappy enough? She wept for a fault which she had not committed; she had lost the affection of her husband; she would soon find herself reduced to penury! What other blows could he deal her?

Dufresne's advice was not needed any longer to lure Edouard to the gaming table; the unhappy wretch did not pa.s.s a single day without visiting one or more of the gambling h.e.l.ls in which the capital abounds.

He sought there to forget his plight, by plunging deeper and deeper into the abyss. The proceeds of his last notes went to join his fortune, which had been divided among Madame de Geran, roulette, trente-et-un, prost.i.tutes and swindlers. What was he to do now, to procure the means to gratify his depraved tastes? The maturity of his notes was approaching; he could not pay them, his country house would be sold, his wife and child would have no roof to cover their heads, no resource except in him; but it was not that that preoccupied him; he thought of himself alone, and if he desired to procure money, it was not to relieve his family. No, he no longer remembered the sacred bonds which united him to an amiable and lovely wife. The cards caused him to forget entirely that he was a husband and father.

Forced to leave the apartment which he occupied alone in a handsome house, he went to Dufresne and took up his abode with him. The latter had been anxious for some days after his return from the country; he was afraid that Jacques would pursue him to Paris, and, in order to avoid his search, he changed his name, and urged his companion to do the same.

Dufresne called himself Courval, and Edouard, Monbrun. It was under these names that they hired lodgings, in a wretched lodging house in Faubourg Saint-Jacques, having no other a.s.sociates than blacklegs and men without means, who like Dufresne had reasons of their own for avoiding the daylight.

Three weeks after Madame Germeuil's death, what she had left was already spent, and they were compelled to have recourse every day to all sorts of expedients to obtain means of subsistence.

One evening, when Dufresne and Edouard had remained at home, having no money to gamble, and cudgeling their brains to think of a way of procuring some, there was a knock at their door, and one Lampin, a consummate scamp, worthy to be Dufresne's intimate friend, entered their room with a joyous air, and with four bottles under his arm.

"Oho! is that you, Lampin?" said Dufresne, as he opened the door to his friend, and made certain signs to which the other replied without being detected by Edouard, who was absorbed in his thoughts.

"Yes, messieurs, it's me. Come, come, comrade Monbrun, come, stop your dreaming! I have brought something to brighten you up."

"What's that?"

"Wine, brandy and rum."

"The deuce it is! so you are in funds, are you?"

"Faith, I won ten francs at _biribi_, and I have come to drink 'em up with my friends."

"That's right, Lampin, you're a good fellow. You have come just in time to cheer us up, for we were as dismal as empty pockets, Monbrun and I."

"Let's have a drink first; that will set you up, and then we will talk."

The four bottles were placed on a table; the gentlemen took their places at it, and the gla.s.ses were filled and emptied rapidly.

"We haven't a sou, Lampin, and that's a wretched disease."

"Bah! because you are fools!--Here's your health."

"What do you mean by that, Jean-Fesse?"