The Count's Millions [136]
this evening he indulged in the extravagance of a glass of wine, deciding in his own mind that he had fairly earned it.
When he returned to his post in front of the Cafe Riche, M. Wilkie was no longer alone at his table. He was finishing his coffee in the company of a man of his own age, who was remarkably good- looking--almost too good-looking, in fact--and a glance at whom caused Chupin to exclaim: "What! what! I've seen that face somewhere before--". But he racked his brain in vain in trying to remember who this newcomer was, in trying to set a name on this face, which was positively annoying in its classical beauty, and which he felt convinced had occupied a place among the phantoms of his past. Irritated beyond endurance by what he termed his stupidity, he was trying to decide whether he should enter the cafe or not, when he saw M. Wilkie take his bill from the hands of a waiter, glance at it, and throw a louis on the table. His companion had drawn out his pocketbook for the ostensible purpose of paying for the coffee he had taken; but Wilkie, with a cordial gesture, forbade it, and made that magnificent, imperious sign to the waiter, which so clearly implies: "Take nothing! All is paid! Keep the change." Thereupon the servant gravely retired, more than ever convinced of the fact that vanity increases the fabulous total of Parisian gratuities by more than a million francs a year.
"My gallant youths are coming out," thought Chupin. "I must keep my ears open." And approaching the door, he dropped on one knee, and pretended to be engaged in tying his shoestrings. This is one of the thousand expedients adopted by spies and inquisitive people. And when a man is foolish enough to tell his secrets in the street, he should at least be wise enough to distrust the people near him who pretend to be absorbed in something else; for in nine cases out of ten these persons are listening to him, possibly for pay, or possibly from curiosity.
However, the young men whom Chupin was watching were far from suspecting that they were under surveillance. M. Wilkie came out first, talking very loud, as often happens when a man has just partaken of a good dinner, and is blessed with an excellent digestion. "Come, Coralth, my good fellow, you won't desert me in this way? I have a box for the Varietes, and you must go with me. We'll see if Silly imitates Theresa as perfectly as they say."
"But I have an appointment."
"Oh, well, let it wait. Come, viscount, is it agreed?"
"Ah, you do with me just as you like."
"Good! But, first of all let us take a glass of beer to finish our cigars. And do you know whom you will find in my box?"
At this moment they passed, and Chupin rose to his feet. "Coralth," he muttered, "Viscount de Coralth. He's not one of our clients. Let me see, Coralth. This is certainly the first time I have ever heard the name. Can it be that I'm mistaken? Impossible!"
The more he reflected, the more thoroughly he became convinced of the accuracy of his first impression, consoling himself with the thought that a name has but a slight significance after all. His preoccupation had at least the advantage of shortening the time which he spent in promenading to and fro, while the friends sat outside a cafe smoking and drinking. It was still M. Wilkie who monopolized the conversation, while his companion listened with his elbow resting on the table, occasionally nodding his head in token of approbation. One thing that incensed Chupin was that they loitered there, when one of them had a ticket for a box at the theatre in his pocket.
"Idiots!" he growled; "they'll wait till the play's half over before they go in. And then they'll let the doors slam behind them for the express purpose of disturbing everybody. Fools, go!"
As if they had heard the command, they rose suddenly, and an instant after they entered the Varietes. They entered, but Chupin remained on the pavement, scratching his head furiously, in accordance with his habit whenever he wished to develop his powers of imagination.
When he returned to his post in front of the Cafe Riche, M. Wilkie was no longer alone at his table. He was finishing his coffee in the company of a man of his own age, who was remarkably good- looking--almost too good-looking, in fact--and a glance at whom caused Chupin to exclaim: "What! what! I've seen that face somewhere before--". But he racked his brain in vain in trying to remember who this newcomer was, in trying to set a name on this face, which was positively annoying in its classical beauty, and which he felt convinced had occupied a place among the phantoms of his past. Irritated beyond endurance by what he termed his stupidity, he was trying to decide whether he should enter the cafe or not, when he saw M. Wilkie take his bill from the hands of a waiter, glance at it, and throw a louis on the table. His companion had drawn out his pocketbook for the ostensible purpose of paying for the coffee he had taken; but Wilkie, with a cordial gesture, forbade it, and made that magnificent, imperious sign to the waiter, which so clearly implies: "Take nothing! All is paid! Keep the change." Thereupon the servant gravely retired, more than ever convinced of the fact that vanity increases the fabulous total of Parisian gratuities by more than a million francs a year.
"My gallant youths are coming out," thought Chupin. "I must keep my ears open." And approaching the door, he dropped on one knee, and pretended to be engaged in tying his shoestrings. This is one of the thousand expedients adopted by spies and inquisitive people. And when a man is foolish enough to tell his secrets in the street, he should at least be wise enough to distrust the people near him who pretend to be absorbed in something else; for in nine cases out of ten these persons are listening to him, possibly for pay, or possibly from curiosity.
However, the young men whom Chupin was watching were far from suspecting that they were under surveillance. M. Wilkie came out first, talking very loud, as often happens when a man has just partaken of a good dinner, and is blessed with an excellent digestion. "Come, Coralth, my good fellow, you won't desert me in this way? I have a box for the Varietes, and you must go with me. We'll see if Silly imitates Theresa as perfectly as they say."
"But I have an appointment."
"Oh, well, let it wait. Come, viscount, is it agreed?"
"Ah, you do with me just as you like."
"Good! But, first of all let us take a glass of beer to finish our cigars. And do you know whom you will find in my box?"
At this moment they passed, and Chupin rose to his feet. "Coralth," he muttered, "Viscount de Coralth. He's not one of our clients. Let me see, Coralth. This is certainly the first time I have ever heard the name. Can it be that I'm mistaken? Impossible!"
The more he reflected, the more thoroughly he became convinced of the accuracy of his first impression, consoling himself with the thought that a name has but a slight significance after all. His preoccupation had at least the advantage of shortening the time which he spent in promenading to and fro, while the friends sat outside a cafe smoking and drinking. It was still M. Wilkie who monopolized the conversation, while his companion listened with his elbow resting on the table, occasionally nodding his head in token of approbation. One thing that incensed Chupin was that they loitered there, when one of them had a ticket for a box at the theatre in his pocket.
"Idiots!" he growled; "they'll wait till the play's half over before they go in. And then they'll let the doors slam behind them for the express purpose of disturbing everybody. Fools, go!"
As if they had heard the command, they rose suddenly, and an instant after they entered the Varietes. They entered, but Chupin remained on the pavement, scratching his head furiously, in accordance with his habit whenever he wished to develop his powers of imagination.