The Mysteries Of Paris Volume Iv Part 22
"Halloa, dad! You're off again. What do these women do?"
"I tell you I don't know; they must be respectable, and yet, as they receive letters without any address, it looks queer."
"What do you mean?"
"They sent, this morning, my nephew Andre to the _Poste-Restante_ to inquire for a letter addressed to 'Madame X. Z.' The letter was expected from Normandy, from a town called Aubiers. They wrote that down on paper, so that Andre might get the letter by giving these particulars.
You see, it does not look quite the thing for women to take the name of 'X.' and 'Z.' And yet they never have any male visitors."
"They won't pay you."
"Oh, my fine fellow, they don't catch an old bird like me with chaff.
They took a room without a fireplace, and I made them pay the twenty francs down for the fortnight. They are, perhaps, ill, for they have not been down for the last two days. It is not indigestion that ails them, for I don't think they have cooked anything since they came here."
"If you had all such customers, Father Micou--"
"Oh, they go and come. If I lodge people without pa.s.sports, why, I also have different people. I have now two travelling gents, a postman, the leader of the band at the Cafe des Aveugles, and a lady of fortune,--all most respectable persons, such as save the reputation of a house, if the commissary is inclined to look a little too closely into things; they are not night-lodgers, but tenants of the broad sunshine."
"When it comes into your alley, Father Micou."
"You're a wag. Another drain, yes, just one more."
"Well, it must be my last, for then I must cut. By the way, doesn't Robin, the Gros-Boiteux, lodge here still?"
"Yes, up-stairs, on the same landing as the mother and daughter. He's pretty nearly run through his money he earned in gaol."
"I say, mind your eye,--he's outlawed."
"I know it, but I can't get rid of him. I think he's got something in hand, for little Tortillard came here the other night along with Barbillon. I'm afraid he'll do something to my lodgers, so, when his fortnight is up, I shall bundle him, telling him his room is taken for an amba.s.sador, or the husband of Madame Saint-Ildefonse, my independent lady."
"An independent lady?"
"I believe you! Three rooms and a cabinet in the front,--nothing less,--newly furnished, to say nothing of an attic for her servant.
Eighty francs a month, and paid in advance by her uncle, to whom she gives one of her spare rooms when he comes up from the country. But I believe his country-house is about the Rue Vivienne, or the Rue St.
Honore."
"I twig! She's independent because the old fellow pays."
"Hush! Here's her maid."
A middle-aged woman, wearing a white ap.r.o.n of very doubtful cleanliness, entered the dealer's warehouse.
"What can I do for you, Madame Charles?"
"Father Micou, is your nephew within?"
"He has gone to the post-office; but I expect him in immediately."
"M. Badinot wishes him to take this letter to its address instantly.
There's no answer, but it is in great haste."
"In a quarter of an hour he will be on his way thither, madame."
"He must make great haste."
"He shall, be a.s.sured."
The servant went away.
"Is she the maid of one of your lodgers, Father Micou?"
"She is the _bonne_ of my independent lady, Madame Saint-Ildefonse. But M. Badinot is her uncle; he came from the country yesterday," said the respectable Micou, who was looking at the letter, and then added, reading the address, "Look, now, what grand acquaintances! Why, I told you they were high folks; he writes to a viscount."
"Oh, bah!"
"See here, then, 'To Monsieur the Vicomte de Saint-Remy, Rue de Chaillot. In great haste. Private.' I hope, when we lodge independent persons who have uncles who write to viscounts, we may allow some few of our other lodgers higher up in the house to be without pa.s.sports, eh?"
"I believe you. Well, then, Father Micou, we shall soon be back. I shall fasten my dog and cart to your door, and carry what I have; so be ready with the goods and the money, so that I may cut at once."
"I'll be ready. Four good iron plates, each two feet square, three bars of iron two feet long, and two hinges for your valve. This valve seems very odd to me; but it's no affair of mine. Is that all?"
"Yes, and my money?"
"Oh, you shall have your money. But now I look at you in the light--now I get a good view of you--"
"Well?"
"I don't know--but you seem as if something was the matter."
"I do?"
"Yes."
"Oh, nonsense! If anything ails me it is that I'm hungry."
"You're hungry? Like enough; but it rather looks as if you wanted to appear very lively, whilst all the while there's something that worries you; and it must be _something_, for it ain't a trifle that puts you out."
"I tell you you're mistaken, Father Micou," said Nicholas, shuddering.
"Why, you quite tremble!"
"It's my arm that pains me."
"Well, don't forget my prescription, that will cure you."
"Thank ye, I'll soon be back." And the ruffian went on his way.
The receiver, after having concealed the lumps of copper behind his counter, occupied himself in collecting the various things which Nicholas had requested, when another individual entered his shop. It was a man about fifty years of age, with a keen, sagacious face, a thick pair of gray whiskers, and gold spectacles. He was extremely well dressed; the wide sleeves of his brown paletot, with black velvet cuffs, showing his hands covered with thin coloured kid gloves, and his boots bore evidence of having been on the previous evening highly polished.