"Belleville! So you don't live in Paris?" "I am in the suburbs. Does that disturb you?" "It is a matter of absolute indifference to me; but my seconds will not call on you until ten o'clock, for I don't choose to make them get up at daylight." "At ten o'clock, then, I will expect them. And now, monsieur le comte, permit me to offer you my respects." "Good-day, monsieur, good-day!" Monsieur de la Beriniere buried himself anew under the bedclothes, decidedly put out by the visit he had received. As for Cherami, he said to himself when he was in the street: "I have my cue! He will fight--aye, but my seconds--I must have two; I absolutely must have them, or no duel. Where shall I find them? It's damnably embarrassing. I can't think of a solitary soul. Sapristi! where can I find two seconds? There's nothing to be said; I must have two, and two passably respectable ones, to-morrow morning!" LI THE DAY WITH THE RABBITS On leaving Rue de la Ville-l'Eveque, Arthur Cherami followed the boulevard in the direction of the Bastille; he did not take an omnibus--first, because he was in no hurry; and, secondly, because he had reflected: "If I could happen to meet in the street some old friend, some good fellow, I would ask him to be my second. On a pinch, if it was necessary, I would sacrifice myself so far as to pay for his breakfast or dinner--but at a soup-kitchen only." But Cherami arrived at Boulevard du Temple, without falling in with what he sought. "Shall I go home?" he thought; "what's the use? My hotel is not the place to find what I want; the poor devils who lodge there seldom wear coats. I am sure that this Comte de la Beriniere will send me two very distinguished gentlemen; they will turn up their noses enough when they see the Widow Louchard's hotel; I must confront them with men who represent---- Damnation! I haven't my cue! it's infernally embarrassing! The devil take the obstinacy of that count, who insists on having seconds!" As he walked on, Cherami saw a short man coming toward him, armed with a pretty cane of cherry wood. "Here comes a grotesque figure which reminds me of a clown I have seen somewhere or other," he said to himself. "Pardieu! it's Courbichon. I must catch him on the wing." The little bald man was speechless with surprise when he found his passage barred by a tall man; and he seemed by no means pleased when he recognized the gentleman with whom he had dined on the Champs-Elysees. But Cherami seized his hand and shook it warmly. "A lucky meeting!" he said; "it is my dear Monsieur Courbichon! _Bone Deus!_ So we are no longer in Touraine?" "Ah! monsieur, I have the honor--no, as you see, I am in Paris." "And fresher and lustier than ever! I am tempted to repeat the fable: 'How pretty you are! how handsome you look to me!'" "You don't need to: I know it." "That's a pretty cane you have there. It isn't the same one, is it?" "No, monsieur; it certainly isn't the one you broke."