The Bath Keepers Volume I Part 24

"But I believe that I am ent.i.tled to take my throw first."

"Oh! that is true; take your throw, it's your right; but if I were in your place, I would give it up and pay at once."

"No, indeed! Fortune is like the sun; it s.h.i.+nes for everybody!"

"There's a proverb that I never heard! I believe it to be absolutely false!"

However, the chevalier's adversary calmly took up the dice, shook them with the air of a man to whom it matters little whether he loses a rose crown, but who is amused by the impatience of his opponent.

"Sandis! have you nearly finished shaking your dicebox?" said Pa.s.sedix; "you trifle too much."

The shopkeeper threw--fifteen! It was his turn to laugh, which he did with a good heart, in company with his friend, who cried:

"Pardieu! there's a throw that's worth all of yours, monsieur le cardinal's friend!"

But Pa.s.sedix did not seem to hear these words; he was so thunderstruck when he counted his opponent's points, that he stood like one turned to stone, with his eyes fixed on the six, the five, and the four.

"Come, monsieur le chevalier, give me the rose crown you were so anxious to lose. Quickly, if you please! I ought to have gone long ago!"

"I, pay you!" cried Pa.s.sedix, drawing himself up to his full height, and with the back of his hand giving a tilt over one ear to the sort of cap he wore; "pay you! No, indeed! for the throw was not fair; it doesn't count!"

"Doesn't count! that throw of mine! I suppose that you say that in jest, _beau sire_, but I don't like that sort of pleasantry, I warn you. Pay me quickly, and let us have done with it!"

"Once more I tell you, I will not pay! The throw was bad. You threw the dice with your left hand. I don't play with a left-handed----"

"Chevalier, you are trying to find a pretext for not paying. In the first place, I did not throw with my left hand; and in the second place, if I did, the throw would be perfectly fair."

"No; in that case, you are bound to notify your opponent."

"I did not play with my left hand!"

"Then I lie, do I?"

"Yes; and you are nothing but a blackleg!"

"Ah! by Roland! you shall pay dearly for that insult--you vile clodhopper!"

"Meanwhile, you are going to get what you deserve, you long-legged sharper who wanted to sup at our expense!"

As he spoke, that one of the tradesmen who had played with the Gascon put out his arm and rushed forward to strike him with his fist. But his opponent had antic.i.p.ated the blow and jumped back quickly. As ill luck would have it, Cedrille had risen when he saw that the quarrel had become serious, and muttering: "I want to go away; I am not enjoying myself at all here!" received full in the face the blow intended for his friend. He uttered a cry of pain. Instantly Pa.s.sedix whipped out his sword, and Roland's blade was directed at the shopkeeper, who had seized the pewter pot with which to defend himself.

But a new personage had entered the cafe and forced his way through the crowd that already surrounded the combatants.

XV

A BOHEMIAN

The man who had entered the wine shop wore a long cloak of dark-colored cloth, which reached almost to his feet and was caught in at the waist by a striped red and black belt adorned with a fringe. On his head was a sort of pointed cap trimmed with fur. Cloak and cap alike were soiled and in wretched condition.

This was the type of costume worn at that period by those persons who undertook to draw horoscopes, and who were commonly called Bohemians.

They were very different from the Bohemians of our day, who dress well and have not a sou, for they wore shabby clothes and often had gold hidden in the pockets or the lining of their shabby garments.

Gray hair and an almost snow-white beard indicated a man of advanced years. However, he seemed to be robust still, for he easily put aside the bystanders and forced a pa.s.sage for himself through the crowd.

Reaching the Gascon's side, he seized the arm that held Roland; and his pressure must have been very powerful, for the chevalier made a horrible grimace and slowly lowered his sword, crying:

"Zounds! what an iron grip!"

"What does this mean?" cried the Bohemian, in a cracked but piercing voice. "Do people draw their swords in a wine shop? Fie! seigneur chevalier, this is not a battlefield worthy of you! accustomed as you are to conquer in single combat and to excel in jousting!--And you, Master Bougard, you are out very late; the curfew rang long ago; your s...o...b..ys pay little heed to it when their master is not there. And G.o.d knows whether your shop is not at the mercy of cutpurses and footpads to-night!--As for you, neighbor Dupont, you have a pretty young wife, and it seems to me that you do not watch her very closely. Beware!

gallants abound in your neighborhood; they know that you come to this wine shop every night and stay late. That makes it very convenient for them to go sparking your wife."

The two tradesmen listened to nothing more; they hurriedly pushed aside those who stood in their way, and rushed from the shop, paying no further heed to the Gascon and abandoning the idea of following up their quarrel.

Meanwhile, Pa.s.sedix, flattered by the words that the Bohemian had addressed to him, replaced Roland in his sheath, saying:

"After all, this old man is right. And then, those two clowns are not foemen worthy of my wrath. But still----"

And the Gascon glanced languis.h.i.+ngly at the superb omelet, which Poussinet was preparing to carry away, when the Bohemian stopped him and said, putting a piece of money in his hand:

"Do not carry that away; put the supper on the table--before these two gallant fellows, who will permit me to entertain them and to sup with them. Fetch also a piece of your best cheese and another full pint of your oldest wine, so that we may drink longer."

The waiter, being paid, made haste to execute the orders he had received. Meanwhile, Pa.s.sedix, who could hardly believe his ears, gazed at the Bohemian as the Incas gazed at the sun, then opened his long arms and threw himself into those of the man with the gray beard, crying:

"By the shades of my ancestors! you are a n.o.ble old man! I do not know you; but it would seem that you know me; for your behavior toward me is that of an old friend!"

"Oh! who has not heard of the valiant Chevalier Pa.s.sedix, G.o.dson of the worthy Chaudoreille!--of his exploits, of his prowess, and of his triumphs with the ladies! I am only a poor Bohemian, but, by virtue of my profession, I know very well what is happening in Paris. So do not be surprised, seigneur chevalier, that I am so well informed with respect to your affairs."

"Capedebious! this old man talks better than our ediles!--Don't you think so, friend Cedrille, eh? Why do you refuse to speak, and keep your hand over your left eye?"

Cedrille took his hand from his face and showed his left eye, which had received the full force of the shopkeeper's blow, and which was surrounded by a black and blue circle and weeping profusely.

"Bigre! what is all this, my boy? Did you fall on something unhealthy?"

"Yes, I fell on the fisticuff that was intended for you; and it was well directed, as you see; that miserable man didn't strike with a light hand!"

"Ah! poor fellow! can it be? I am sorry now that I didn't run that clown through!"

"Come, come! to table, and let us forget about all that!" said the Bohemian, seating himself and filling the gla.s.ses. "After all is said, life is always a mixture of battles and pleasures, of strife and feasting; we must forget the former and make the most of the latter."

"Yes, that is so; to table! the old Bohemian talks like Nostradamus, from whom he is probably descended."

"Not in a direct line, but that makes no difference; I try to walk in his footsteps by reading the future as best I may. Let us drink, messeigneurs, and let us attack this omelet."

"Ah, yes! let us attack the omelet and give it no quarter."