The Mysteries Of Paris Volume V Part 7

"Yes."

"_Parbleu!_ It is quite impossible to get a glimpse of her; for the governor is more resolute than ever in preventing us from entering into the pavilion in the courtyard."

"And besides, as it is the porter who now cleans out the office, how can one see this damsel?"

"Well, I've seen her."

"You?"

"When I say I've seen her, I've seen her cap; such a rum cap!"

"Oh, pooh! What sort?"

"It was cherry-coloured velvet, I think; a kind of skull-cap like the 'buy-a-broom' girls wear."

"Like the Alsaciennes? Why, that's simple enough, as she is an Alsacienne!"

"I was pa.s.sing across the yard the day before yesterday, and she was leaning with her back against one of the windows of the ground floor."

"What! The yard?"

"No, donkey, no,--the servant! The panes of the lower part are so dirty that I could not see much of the Alsacienne; but those in the middle of the window were not so grubby, and I saw her cherry-coloured cap and a profusion of curling hair as black as jet, for she had her head dressed _a la t.i.tus_."

"I'm sure the governor has not seen even as much as that through his spectacles; for he is one who, as they say, if he were left alone with one woman on the earth, then the world would end."

"That is not astonis.h.i.+ng. 'He laughs best who laughs last!' And the more so, as 'Punctuality is the politeness of monarchs!'"

"Jupiter! How stupid Chalamel is when he likes!"

"Deuce take it! Tell me where you go, and I'll tell you who you are!"

"Beautiful!"

"As for me, I think it is superst.i.tion which makes our governor more and more hoggish."

"And, perhaps, it is as a penitence that he gives us forty sous a day for our breakfast."

"He must, indeed, have taken leave of his senses."

"Or be ill."

"I have thought him very much bewildered these many days past."

"It is not that we see so much of him. He who, for our misery, was in his study at sunrise, and always at our backs, is now two days without even poking his nose into the office."

"That gives the head clerk so much to do."

"And we are obliged to die of hunger waiting for him this morning."

"What a change in the office!"

"How poor Germain would be astonished if any one told him, 'Only think, old fellow, of the governor giving us forty sous for our breakfast.'

'Pooh! Impossible!' 'Quite possible! And I, Chalamel, announce the fact in my own proper person.' 'What, you want to make me laugh?' 'Yes. Well, this is the way it came about. For the two or three days which followed the death of Madame Seraphin we had no breakfast at all; and, in one respect, that was an improvement, because it was less nasty, but, in another, our refection cost us money. Still we were patient, saying, "The governor has no servant or housekeeper; as soon as he gets one we shall resume the filthy paste gruel." No, by no means, my dear Germain; the governor has a servant, and yet our breakfast continued buried in the wave of oblivion. Then I was appointed as a deputation to inform the governor of the griefs of our stomachs. He was with the chief clerk. "I will not feed you any longer in the morning," he replied, in his harsh tone, and as if thinking of something else; "my servant has no time to prepare your breakfast." "But, sir, it was agreed that you should find us in breakfasts." "Well, send for your breakfasts from some house, and I will pay for it. How much is sufficient,--forty sous each?" he added; all the time evidently thinking of something else, and saying forty sous as he would say twenty sous or a hundred sous. "Yes, sir, forty sous will be sufficient," cried I, catching the ball at the bound. "Be it so; the head clerk will pay you and settle with me." And so saying, the governor respectfully slammed the door in my face.' You must own, messieurs, that Germain would be most extraordinarily astonished at the liberality of the governor."

"Seriously, I think the governor is ill. For the last ten days he has scarcely been recognisable; his cheeks are so furrowed you could hide your fist in them."

"And so absent; you should just see him. The other day he lifted his spectacles to read a deed, and his eyes were as red and glaring as fiery coals."

"He was right. 'Short reckonings make long friends!'"

"Let me say a word. I will tell you, gentlemen, something very strange.

I handed this deed to the governor, and it was topsy-turvy."

"The governor? How strange! What could he mean by topsy-turvying thus?

Enough to choke him, unless, as you say, his habits are so completely altered."

"Oh, what a fellow you are, Chalamel! I say I gave him the deed wrong end up'ards."

"Wasn't he in a rage?"

"Not the slightest. He did not even notice it, but kept his great red eyes fixed upon it for at least ten minutes, and then handed me back the deed, saying, 'Very good!'"

"What, still topsy-turvy?"

"Yes."

"Then he couldn't have read it?"

"_Pardieu!_ not unless he can read upside down."

"How odd!"

"The governor looked so dull and cross at the moment that I did not dare to say a word, and so I left him, just as if nothing had occurred."

"Well, four days ago I was in the head clerk's office; there came a client, then two or three clients with whom the governor had appointments. They got tired of waiting; and, at their request, I went and knocked at his study door. No answer; so in I went."

"Well?"

"M. Jacques Ferrand had his arms crossed on his desk, and his bald and not overdelicate forehead leaning on his hands. He never stirred."

"Was he asleep?"

"I thought so, and went towards him: 'Sir, there are clients waiting with whom you have made appointments.' He didn't stir. 'Sir!' No answer.

Then I touched his shoulder, and he bounced up as if the devil had bitten him. In his start his large green spectacles fell from his eyes on to his nose, and I saw--you'll never believe it--"

"Well, what?"

"Tears."