"
"Yes, pay."
M. Fortunat rang for his bill. He had obtained more information
than he expected; he had the letter in his pocket, and he had now
only one desire, to rid himself of M. Casimir. But this was no
easy task. Drunken men cling tenaciously to their friends; and M.
Fortunat was asking himself what strategy he could employ, when
the waiter entered, and said: "There's a very light-complexioned
man here, who looks as if he were a huissier's clerk. He wishes
to speak with you, gentlemen."
"Ah! it's Chupin!" exclaimed the valet. "He is a friend. Let him
come in, and bring us another glass. 'The more the merrier,' as
the saying goes."
What could Chupin want? M. Fortunat had no idea, but he was none
the less grateful for his coming, being determined to hand this
troublesome Casimir over to his keeping. On entering the room
Chupin realized the valet's condition at the first glance, and his
face clouded. He bowed politely to M. Fortunat, but addressed
Casimir in an extremely discontented tone. "It's three o'clock,"
said he, "and I've come, as we agreed, to arrange with you about
the count's funeral."
These words had the effect of a cold shower-bath on M. Casimir.
"Upon my word, I had forgotten--forgotten entirely, upon my word!'
And the thought of his condition, and the responsibility he had
accepted, coming upon him at the same time, he continued: "Good
Heavens! I'm in a nice state! It is all I can do to stand.
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