“The wretch!” exclaimed Carpentier, as he heard the letter which Rouget read through his tears.
“Is that clear enough, uncle?” asked Philippe. “I tell you, bind the minx to you by interest and you will be adored—as you can be—half thread and half cotton!”
“She is too fond of Maxence; she will throw me over!” said the old man piteously.
“I tell you, uncle, by the day after tomorrow either I or Maxence will have ceased to leave our tracks on the streets of Issoudun—”
“Well,” said the poor fellow, “go, Monsieur Carpentier; if you promise me that she will come back, go. You are a man to be depended on; say to her all you think fit in my name.”
“Captain Carpentier will whisper in her ear that I am having a lady here from Paris who is a little gem of youth and beauty,” said Philippe, “and the minx will come back as fast as she can drive.”
The Captain set out, driving himself in the old chaise; Benjamin accompanied him on horseback, for Kouski was not to be found. Though the two officers had threatened him with an action and the loss of his place, the Pole had fled to Vatan on a hired horse, to warn Maxence and Flore of their adversary’s bold game.
Carpentier, who did not choose to return with la Rabouilleuse, was to ride back on Benjamin’s horse when he had carried out his mission.
On hearing of Kouski’s desertion, Philippe said to Benjamin:
“You can take his place here this evening. Try to climb up at the back of the chaise without being seen by Flore, so as to be here by the time she is.”
“Things are shaping! Daddy Hochon!” said the Colonel. “There will be fun at the banquet the day after tomorrow.”
“And you will settle yourself here,” said the old miser.
“I have told Fario to send in all my things. I shall sleep in the room that opens on to the same landing as Gilet’s; my uncle agrees.”
“Oh! what will come of all this?” cried the old man in dismay.
“Mademoiselle Flore Brazier will come of it, within a few hours, as mild as a Paschal lamb,” replied Monsieur Hochon.
“God grant it!” said Jean-Jacques, drying away his tears.
“It is now seven o’clock,” said Philippe. “The queen of your heart will be here by about half-past eleven. You will see no more of Gilet; will you not be as happy as a Pope?—If you want me to succeed,” Philippe added in Monsieur Hochon’s ear, “remain with us till that she-ape comes; you will help me to keep the old fellow at the sticking-point; and then, between us, we can make Mademoiselle la Rabouilleuse understand where her true interests lie.”
Monsieur Hochon kept Philippe company, seeing that there was sense in his request; but they both had their hands full, for Père Rouget gave himself up to childish lamentations, which were not checked by the arguments Philippe repeated ten times over:
“Well, uncle, if Flore comes back and is affectionate to you, you will admit that I am right. You will be made much of; you will keep your income; you will be guided for the future by my advice, and all will go on like Paradise.”
When at half-past eleven the sound of wheels was heard in the Grande Narette, the question was whether the carriage had returned empty or full. Rouget’s face wore an expression of indescribable anguish, which gave way to the reaction of excessive joy when, as the chaise turned to come in, he saw in it the two women.
“Kouski,” said Philippe, giving his hand to Flore to get out, “you are dismissed from Monsieur Rouget’s service. You are not to sleep here tonight, so pack your things; Benjamin here will fill your place.”
“So you are master?” said Flore, with a sneer.
“By your leave!” retorted Philippe, holding Flore’s hand as in a vise. “Come with me; we have to rabouiller our hearts, you and I.”
Philippe led the woman, dumbfounded, out a few yards on to the Place Saint-Jean.
“Now, my beauty; the day after tomorrow Gilet will be sent to the shades below by this right arm,” said the officer, holding it out, “or he will have caught me off my guard. If I fall, you will be the mistress in my uncle’s house—bene sit! If I am left standing on my pegs, you have got to keep him in happiness of the very first quality. Otherwise, I know plenty of Rabouilleuses in Paris, prettier than you, without any injustice to you, for they are but seventeen; they would make my uncle very happy, and not fail to take my part. Begin your task this very evening, for if the old man is not as lively as a chaffinch tomorrow, I have only one thing to say to you—and mark my words—There is only one way of killing a man without the law having a word to say to it, and that is by fighting a duel; but when it comes to a woman—I know three ways of getting rid of her. There, my pigeon!”
All through this address Flore had been shaking like an ague-patient.
“Kill Max—?” she said, looking at Philippe in the moonlight.
“Now, go. See, here is my uncle …”
In fact, old Rouget, in spite of all that Monsieur Hochon could say, had come out into the street to take Flore by the hand, as a miser might have sought his treasure. He led her into the house and into his room, and locked the door.
“This is good Saint-Lambert’s Day, those who leave must stay away,” said Benjamin to the Pole.
“Oh, my master will shut all your mouths,” retorted Kouski, going off to join Max, who put up at the Hôtel de la Poste.
Next day, from nine till eleven, all the women were gossiping at the house-doors. All through the town nothing was talked of but the wonderful revolution carried out the day
