Sister Anne Part 19

"Well, what about the robbers?" inquired Frederic.

"Ah! my friend, they have fled."

"I was sure of it."

"But you have entered a complaint with the magistrate, surely, monsieur le baron?"

"I have done all that there was to do, Monsieur Menard; but I fancy that we may say good-bye to our money."

"In that case, what are we going to do?"

"That is what we must consider.--How much money have you, Monsieur Menard?"

"Not more than two louis."

"And you, Frederic?"

"I have about ten."

"That isn't enough to pay our landlord, for we must owe him at least three hundred francs."

"What! hasn't he been paid?"

"Who ever heard of making people of our sort pay in advance?"

"But think how extravagant we have been!"

"We had to live; and what difference does it make whether we owe one hundred francs or three hundred, as we can't pay?"

"However, we cannot leave this hotel without settling our account, and we cannot continue our journey without money."

"That would be rather difficult, to be sure," said Menard.

"I see but one way to get any," said Dubourg, "and that is to apply to Monsieur le Comte de Montreville. He certainly won't leave his son in straits."

"Ask monsieur le comte for money, when it isn't three weeks since we left Paris! What will he think?" murmured Menard, with a sigh.--"What if monsieur le baron should write to his steward at Rava or Krapach?"

"Why, I would write in a moment, but it's so far!--It would take at least two months to get an answer, because at this time of year the mails are greatly delayed by avalanches."

"What, monsieur le baron, in summer?"

"Summer is the season when the snow melts. Pardieu! if it was winter, they could make half the distance on snow-shoes. We couldn't wait all that time in this inn; we must have money at once."

"My dear Menard," said Frederic, "you really must apply to my father."

"Well, I will write him what has happened to monsieur le baron----"

"No, no; you are the one he gave the money to, and you are the one who was robbed; it's useless to mention me. Just imagine that you were the one who was robbed last night."

"Come, my dear Menard, write my father a most pathetic letter."

"The deuce! that's a very hard task."

"I'll dictate to you, if you choose," said Dubourg.

"You will oblige me very much, monsieur le baron."

So Menard took the pen, and Dubourg dictated the following letter:

"MONSIEUR LE COMTE:

"I have the honor to inform you of our safe arrival at Lyon, where I was attacked at night, as I was returning to our hotel, and robbed of all that we possessed; which places us in a very embarra.s.sing position, from which we beg you to extricate us as soon as possible. Monsieur your son is as well as Esculapius himself; the journey seems to have done him a vast amount of good.

He bids me offer you his most respectful homage."

Menard signed this letter, to which Dubourg desired Frederic to add a few affectionate words. But Frederic had never lied to his father, and he preferred to write nothing rather than to try to deceive him.

The letter was mailed, and they had no choice but to await the reply.

Luckily, their landlord did not seem at all disturbed. Moreover, Frederic had a chaise and horses, which, at need, would bring more than enough to pay their bill; that fact set his mind at rest, but he none the less urged his companions to spend less on the table. Dubourg, however, did not agree with him; he thought that such a course might arouse suspicions of their plight, and Menard was once more of monsieur le baron's opinion.

Frederic resumed his wanderings; but Dubourg abandoned his street promenades with Menard; after parading his fas.h.i.+onable costume and playing the wealthy palatine on the public thoroughfares of Lyon, he did not care to show himself in a shabby hat and with a long face; he was convinced that people would divine that he was penniless: there are so many men who owe their self-confidence and their a.s.surance entirely to the money they have in their pockets, which alone gives them aplomb in society.

Dubourg pa.s.sed his days talking philosophy with Menard, who was no philosopher, but listened attentively to the baron, whom he considered a man of profound learning, though he was no longer so overjoyed to have him for a travelling companion, because, when he recalled their adventures, from the time that the palatine had overturned them into a ditch, it seemed to him that Monsieur de Potoski carried about with him a monumental ill luck, of which they had already felt the effects.

After ten days, they received a reply from the count; it was addressed to Monsieur Menard, but it was Frederic who, with a trembling hand, broke the seal.

"See what there is enclosed, first," said Dubourg.

They found a draft on a Lyon banker for six thousand francs.

"Good! here's something to help us endure papa's reproaches," said Dubourg; "now let's read his letter."

Monsieur de Montreville wrote to Menard these few words only:

"I place no sort of credence in your fable of robbers, but I am very glad to forgive my son's first escapade; I trust, however, that it will make him more prudent. I send you some money, but do not rely upon the like indulgence again."

"He didn't believe us," said Frederic.

"I am very much afraid that he is angry," said Menard.

"Oh! don't be alarmed; he'll cool down. Hereafter, we will travel like three little pasteboard Cupids; we will be virtuous, orderly; in short, true philosophers--which need not interfere with our living well, because that is necessary for our health; eh, Monsieur Menard?"

"_Credo equidem_, monsieur le baron."

"But no more pomp and parade; I resume my incognito."

"What, monsieur le baron!"

"Yes, Monsieur Menard; at all events, with six thousand francs we couldn't play the grandee very long--I mean, live up to our rank."