"It is nothing," said Boniface, "I have only just emptied the water-bottle down her back. That is what brought her to; you saw that she did not know how to manage it. Well, what?" continued the pitiless fellow, seeing Madame Denis look angrily at him; "it is I; do you not recognize me, Mother Denis? It is your little Boniface, who loves you so."
"Madame," said D'Harmental, much embarrassed at the situation, "I am truly distressed at what has passed."
"Oh! monsieur," cried Madame Denis in tears, "I am indeed unfortunate."
"Come, come; do not cry, Mother Denis, you are already wet enough," said Boniface; "you had better go and change your linen; there is nothing so unhealthy as wet clothes."
"The child is full of sense," said Brigaud, "and I think you had better follow his advice."
"If I might join my prayers to those of the abbe," said D'Harmental, "I should beg you, madame, not to inconvenience yourself for us. Besides, we were just going to take leave of you."
"And you, also, abbe?" said Madame Denis, with a distressed look at Brigaud.
"As for me," said Brigaud, who did not seem to fancy the part of comforter, "I am expected at the Hotel Colbert, and I must leave you."
"Adieu, then," said Madame Denis, making a curtsey, but the water trickling down her clothes took away a great part of its dignity.
"Adieu, mother," said Boniface, throwing his arms round her neck with the assurance of a spoiled child. "Have you nothing to say to Maître Joulu?"
"Adieu, mauvais sujet," replied the poor woman, embracing her son, and yielding to that attraction which a mother cannot resist; "adieu, and be steady."
"As an image, mother, on condition that you will give us a nice little dish of sweets for dinner."
He joined the Abbe Brigaud and D'Harmental, who were already on the landing.
"Well, well," said the abbe, lifting his hand quickly to his waistcoat pocket, "what are you doing there?"
"Oh, I was only looking if there was not a crown in your pocket for your friend Boniface."
"Here." said the abbe, "here is one, and now leave us alone."
"Papa Brigaud," said Boniface, in the effusion of his gratitude, "you have the heart of a cardinal, and if the king only makes you an archbishop, on my honor you will be robbed of half. Adieu, Monsieur Raoul," continued he, addressing the chevalier as familiarly as if he had known him for years. "I repeat, take care of Mademoiselle Bathilde if you wish to keep your heart, and give some sweetmeats to Mirza if you care for your legs;" and holding by the banister, he cleared the first flight of twelve steps at one bound, and reached the street door without having touched a stair.