Paul and His Dog Volume I Part 22

"Yes, I recognize monsieur now, in spite of his masquerade."

"I am going up to my friend's room to get my clothes--unless Freluchon left them with you."

"Monsieur Freluchon left nothing with me, and it ain't worth while for you to go up, as there's no one there. Monsieur Freluchon didn't come home to sleep."

"What's that you say, concierge? it's impossible."

"It's the truth, monsieur."

"Then you have my clothes here?"

"No, monsieur. Last night, if you remember, Monsieur Freluchon came in with a boy who had a bundle--your clothes, no doubt."

"Well, yes; what then?"

"The boy was going to leave the bundle here, but Monsieur Freluchon had to go upstairs to get some money, so he took the bundle up, saying: 'Chamoureau would rather dress in my room than in yours.'"

"Very good; then my clothes are upstairs. Let's go and look for them; if Freluchon isn't there, you must have his key."

"That's just what I haven't got; sometimes he leaves it with me, but he generally takes it with him; and he didn't leave it last night."

"By Jove! this is too much! my clothes are in his room, he knows it, he has his key in his pocket, and he doesn't come home to sleep! What is going to become of me in my Spanish costume? It's an outrage to have to go home dressed like this!"

"Monsieur can take a cab."

"I know that well enough; it wasn't worth while to send the other one away. But I've got to get out of the cab; and I live on Carre Saint-Martin, where there are always lots of people pa.s.sing. If my house had a porte cochere, I would have the cab drive under it; but no--it's a house-door; and my concierge and all the neighbors will see me come home in this state! Sapristi! this is an infernal trick for Freluchon to play on me.--But I have an idea. Concierge, suppose you lend me some of your clothes?"

"Oh! they wouldn't fit, monsieur; I am short and thin, and monsieur is tall and stout."

"That's so; I'm a fine man, and you are not. Well, I must swallow the absinthe. Concierge, be kind enough to step out and find me a cab."

"But I am all alone, you see, monsieur; my wife has gone out to work and I can't leave my post."

"I will look out for your post--never fear."

"But that isn't the same thing; you don't know the tenants."

"That's of no consequence. Go; my reputation is at stake. Here's forty sous for your trouble; I pay well, you see."

"All right, I'll go; I hope I'll find one on the stand."

"A cab I must have, dead or alive! do you hear?"

The concierge decided, albeit regretfully, to desert his post, and Chamoureau stepped inside.

"Luckily the porte cochere is open," he said, "I shall not have to pull the string!"

VIII

A FALSE CONCIERGE

Chamoureau concealed himself in the farthest corner of the concierge's room, in an old armchair that might have served the purpose of a couch.

He placed himself with his back to the window through which visitors addressed the functionary whom he represented, and, in order that he might be observed less easily, he removed his plumed cap and replaced it with an old cap that he found on a table.

So long as people simply pa.s.sed and repa.s.sed the lodge, the false concierge did not put himself out; he did not turn his head, but contented himself with cursing Freluchon, who had put him in that embarra.s.sing position.

But soon someone opened the window, a man's head appeared, and a loud voice inquired:

"Is Monsieur Delaroche in?"

Chamoureau did not stir and did not say a word. The voice repeated, louder than before:

"Is Monsieur Delaroche in?"

The same immobility and the same silence on Chamoureau's part. Whereupon the voice a.s.sumed a formidable intonation, capable of breaking all the panes of the window.

"Sacrebleu! are you deaf? are you still asleep? This is the third time I've asked if Monsieur Delaroche was in, and you don't answer! What kind of a d.a.m.ned concierge is this!--Wait a bit, till I come into your lodge; I'll shake you and teach you to sleep at this time of day!"

Chamoureau, who was not at all anxious that that gentleman should enter the lodge and shake him, decided to answer without turning:

"He's in! yes, yes, he's in!"

"Why didn't you say so then, you old fool?"

"He's in! he's in!"

The loud-voiced individual went upstairs, and our widower hurled himself in his chair once more, muttering:

"After all, I was a great fool not to answer. Probably no one has gone out so early as this, and I don't risk anything by saying they're in; and then, even if they should be out, what do I care?"

Soon various other persons appeared at the window.

"Is Madame Duponceau visible?"

"Yes, yes, she's there."

"Is Monsieur Bretonneau in?"

"He's there, he's there."

"Is there anybody at Mademoiselle Cremailly's?"

"She's there, she's there."