The place appointed
for his meeting with M. Fortunat was on the Boulevard Haussmann,
almost opposite Binder's, the famous carriage builder. Although
it was rather a wine-shop than a restaurant, a capital breakfast
could be obtained there as M. Casimir had ascertained to his
satisfaction several times before. "Has no one called for me?" he
asked, as he went in.
"No one."
He consulted his watch, and evinced considerable surprise. "Not
yet noon!" he exclaimed. "I'm in advance; and as that is the
case, give me a glass of absinthe and a newspaper."
He was obeyed with far more alacrity than his deceased master had
ever required him to show, and he forthwith plunged into the
report of the doings at the Bourse, with the eagerness of a man
who has an all-sufficient reason for his anxiety in a drawer at
home. Having emptied one glass of absinthe, he was about to order
a second, when he felt a tap on the shoulder, and on turning round
he beheld M. Isidore Fortunat.
In accordance with his wont, the agent was attired in a style of
severe elegance--with gloves and boots fitting him to perfection--
but an unusually winning smile played upon his lips. "You see I
have been waiting for you," exclaimed M. Casimir.
"I am late, it's true," replied M. Fortunat, "but we will do our
best to make up for lost time; for, I trust, you will do me the
honor of breakfasting with me?"
"Really, I don't know that I ought.
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