Ventre-.Dieu!
Bedieu!
Corps de Dieu!
Nombril de Belzebuth!
Nom d’un pape!
Come et tonnerre.”
“Upon my soul!” exclaimed Jehan, “that can only be my friend, Captain Phoebus!”
This name of Phoebus reached the ears of the archdeacon at the moment when he was explaining to the king’s procurator the dragon which is hiding its tail in a bath, from which issue smoke and the head of a king.
Dom Claude started, interrupted himself and, to the great amazement of Charmolue, turned round and beheld his brother Jehan accosting a tall officer at the door of the Gondelaurier mansion.
It was, in fact, Captain Phoebus de Chateaupers.
He was backed up against a corner of the house of his betrothed and swearing like a heathen.
“By my faith! Captain Phoebus,” said Jehan, taking him by the hand, “you are cursing with admirable vigor.”
“Horns and thunder!” replied the captain.
“Horns and thunder yourself!” replied the student. “Come now, fair captain, whence comes this overflow of fine words?”
“Pardon me, good comrade Jehan,” exclaimed Phoebus, shaking his hand, “a horse going at a gallop cannot halt short.
Now, I was swearing at a hard gallop.
I have just been with those prudes, and when I come forth, I always find my throat full of curses, I must spit them out or strangle, ventre et tonnerre!”
“Will you come and drink?” asked the scholar.
This proposition calmed the captain.
“I’m willing, but I have no money.”
“But I have!”
“Bah! let’s see it!”
Jehan spread out the purse before the captain’s eyes, with dignity and simplicity.
Meanwhile, the archdeacon, who had abandoned the dumbfounded Charmolue where he stood, had approached them and halted a few paces distant, watching them without their noticing him, so deeply were they absorbed in contemplation of the purse.
Phoebus exclaimed: “A purse in your pocket, Jehan! ‘tis the moon in a bucket of water, one sees it there but ‘tis not there.
There is nothing but its shadow.
Pardieu! let us wager that these are pebbles!”
Jehan replied coldly:
“Here are the pebbles wherewith I pave my fob!”
And without adding another word, he emptied the purse on a neighboring post, with the air of a Roman saving his country.
“True God!” muttered Phoebus, “targes, big-blanks, little blanks, mailles, every two worth one of Tournay, farthings of Paris, real eagle liards!
‘Tis dazzling!”
Jehan remained dignified and immovable.
Several liards had rolled into the mud; the captain in his enthusiasm stooped to pick them up. Jehan restrained him.
“Fye, Captain Phoebus de Chateaupers!”
Phoebus counted the coins, and turning towards Jehan with solemnity,
“Do you know, Jehan, that there are three and twenty sous parisis! whom have you plundered to-night, in the Street Cut-Weazand?”
Jehan flung back his blonde and curly head, and said, half-closing his eyes disdainfully,—
“We have a brother who is an archdeacon and a fool.”
“Corne de Dieu!” exclaimed Phoebus, “the worthy man!”
“Let us go and drink,” said Jehan.
“Where shall we go?” said Phoebus; “‘To Eve’s Apple.’”
“No, captain, to
‘Ancient Science.’
The wine is better at ‘Eve’s Apple’; and then, beside the door there is a vine in the sun which cheers me while I am drinking.”
“Well! here goes for Eve and her apple,” said the student, and taking Phoebus’s arm. “By the way, my dear captain, you just mentioned the Rue Coupe-Gueule That is a very bad form of speech; people are no longer so barbarous.
They say, Coupe-Gorge.”
The two friends set out towards
“Eve’s Apple.”
It is unnecessary to mention that they had first gathered up the money, and that the archdeacon followed them.