Cherami was the same as always. But his costume seemed even shabbier in the cold weather then prevailing than in summer; for his frock-coat, more threadbare than ever, was drawn so tightly across his shoulders that one could see that there was nothing under it; his plaid trousers, worn thinner than ever, evidently afforded his legs very little protection against the sharp north wind; and the Courbichon hat, by dint of being planted on the side of his head, was beginning to resemble the one it had replaced. But all this did not prevent the ci-devant Beau Arthur from holding himself erect and eying everybody he met from top to toe. "Why, it is Monsieur----" "Arthur Cherami. Yes, my dear fellow; it is I, your faithful friend, your Pylades, who has been seeking you over hill and dale, and who even called to inquire for you at your uncle's,--Grandcourt, the banker,--who, I am bound to say, did not receive me with all the consideration I deserve! But uncles are not very amiable, as a general rule. He told me that you were in Spain." "He told the truth; I returned only last night." "And I have been scouring the four quarters of Paris every day, saying to myself: 'If Gustave has returned, I cannot help meeting him.'--And here you are, my dear friend, whose absence seemed so long! Well! don't we propose to shake hands with our intimate friend, on whose bosom we poured out our woes?" But Gustave hesitated to give his hand to Cherami, and replied in a serious tone: "Before shaking hands with you, monsieur, I must have an explanation with you. You fought a duel with Monsieur Auguste Monleard, and you made that duel inevitable by addressing an insulting remark to his bride. By what right did you take that step? Why did you do it? for what object? Come, answer me." "Ah! par la sambleu! this is a cross-examination which I was far from expecting! I fight in a friend's cause, I wound his fortunate rival--I didn't kill him, to be sure; but still, I might have killed him. Then, your charmer would have been a widow, and you would have married her!" "Ah! I thank heaven that Monsieur Monleard got off with a wound in the arm! If you had killed him, I should have been accused of the murder!" "What's that? you? Everybody knows that it wasn't you who fought with him. I see a young man, miserable, desperate, because the woman he loves marries another. That young man interests me. I dine with him, and he pours his sorrows into my bosom. Every instant, he complains of the perfidy of the woman who has deceived him; and, that same day, when I chance to meet that faithless creature on her conqueror's arm, you would not have me try to avenge my friend's wrongs? Damnation! what the devil do you understand by friendship, I wonder? If that's your idea of it, why, adieu, bonjour, let's say no more about it! Go and look elsewhere for friends; but you won't find my sort lying around by the dozen!"