“Passengers for Rouen, take your seats, please!”
a guard cried, and they got in. There was a slight
whistle, followed by a loud whistle, from the engine,
which noisily puffed out its first jet of steam, while
the wheels began to turn a little, with a visible
effort, and Rivet left the station and went to the
gate by the side of the line to get another look at
Rosa, and as the carriage full of human merchandise
passed him, he began to crack his whip and to jump,
while he sang at the top of his voice:
“How I regret
My dimpled arms,
My well-made legs,
And my vanished
charms.”
And then he watched a white pocket-handkerchief, which
somebody was waving, as it disappeared in the distance.
They slept the peaceful sleep of a quiet conscience,
until they got to Rouen, and when they returned to
the house, refreshed and rested, Madame could
not help saying:
“It was all very well, but I was already longing
to get home.”
They hurried over their supper, and then, when they
had put on their usual light evening costume, waited
for their usual customers, and the little colored
lamp outside the door told the passers-by that the
flock had returned to the fold, and in a moment the
news spread, nobody knew how or by whom.
Monsieur Philippe, the banker’s son, even carried
his forgetfulness so far, as to send a special messenger
to Monsieur Tournevau, who was in the boson of his
family.
The fish-curer used every Sunday to have several cousins
to dinner, and they were having coffee, when a man
came in with a letter in his hand. Monsieur Tournevau
was much excited, he opened the envelope and grew
pale; it only contained these words in pencil:
"The cargo of cod has been found; the ship has
come into port; good business for you. Come immediately."
He felt in his pockets, gave the messenger two-pence,
and suddenly blushing to his ears, he said: “I
must go out.” He handed his wife the laconic
and mysterious note, rang the bell, and when the servant
came in, he asked her to bring him his hat and overcoat
immediately. As soon as he was in the street,
he began to run, and the way seemed to him to be twice
as long as usual, in consequence of his impatience.
Madame Tellier’s establishment had put on quite
a holiday look. On the ground floor, a number
of sailors were making a deafening noise, and Louise
and Flora drank with one and the other, so as to merit
their name of the two Pumps more than ever. They
were being called for everywhere at once; already
they were not quite adequate to their business, and
the night bid fair to be a very jolly one for them.
The upstairs room was full by nine o’clock.
Monsieur Vasse, the Judge of the Tribunal of Commerce,
Madame’s usual, but Platonic wooer, was
talking to her in a corner, in a low voice, and they
were both smiling, as if they were about to come to
an understanding.
