"And above all," he remarked,
as he opened the door to go, "don't forget that you are to pay
something on account each month."
"Go to the devil, and your account with you!" growled Madame
Vantrasson.
But Fortunat did not hear this. He was already walking down the
road by the side of Chupin, who was saying: "Well, here you are,
at last, m'sieur! I thought you had taken a lease of that old
barrack. If ever I come here again, I'll bring a foot-warmer with
me."
But one of those fits of profound abstraction to which determined
seekers after truth are subject had taken possession of M.
Fortunat, and made him oblivious of all surrounding circumstances.
His heart had been full of hope when he reached the Asnieres Road,
but he went away gloomy and despondent; and quite unconscious of
the darkness, the mud, and the rain, which was again falling, he
silently plodded along in the middle of the highway. Chupin was
obliged to stop him at the city gate, and remind him that the cab
was waiting.
"That's true," was M. Fortunat's only answer. He entered the
vehicle, certainly without knowing it; and as they rolled
homeward, the thoughts that filled his brain to overflowing found
vent in a sort of monologue, of which Chupin now and then caught a
few words. "What a piece of business!" he muttered--"what a piece
of business! I've had seven years' experience in such matters, and
yet I've never met with an affair so shrouded in mystery.
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