"Where'll you put it?" "In the next yard." The water-carriers departed, and Cherami went down to his landlady. "Have you a man's hat to loan me for this morning and to-morrow?" he asked her. "A man's hat? What do you want it for?" "Don't be alarmed; I don't propose to make an omelet in it, as the prestidigitators do; I want it for someone to wear." "Yes, I have a hat that belonged to Louchard, which I am keeping to give my godson when he grows up." "Do me the favor to loan it to me; I will take the best of care of it." "I trust you will." Madame Louchard left the room, and soon returned with a felt hat in reasonably good condition. "Look; I call that rather fine, myself!" "The devil! it's gray." "Well! it's all the more stylish." "I don't say it isn't, in summer; but in November gray hats are not worn much." "If you don't want it, leave it." "Never mind; I'll take it. A Pole may like gray hats at all seasons. Now, Madame Louchard, I must have either an overcoat or a frock-coat." "I have nothing but a green sack-coat of Louchard's, which I also intend for my godson." "A sack-coat! that's risky, because it shows the trousers! But, no matter! give it to me." "You'll be responsible for it?" "I'll be responsible for everything." Cherami returned to his room with the clothes; at half-past nine, the water-carriers appeared. The Auvergnat wore a long blue overcoat that reached to his heels, a collar that came to the bottom of his ears, and a three-cornered hat. He was a perfect type of a laundryman going out to dinner. The Piedmontese was still in his jacket; but he had on a white striped waistcoat and olive-green trousers. Cherami bade him put on the green coat, which was too short in front and showed half of the waistcoat. By way of compensation, the late Louchard evidently had an enormous head, for the gray hat came down so far that it almost concealed the young water-carrier's eyes. These preparations completed, Cherami, having examined his two seconds, exclaimed: "What in the devil will they take you for? However, damn the odds!--You, Piedmontese, will bow whenever anyone speaks to you, but you must not say a word in reply." "Never fear! what would I say to them, anyway?" "Very good! You are Monsieur de Chamousky, a Polish nobleman." "No; for I was born in Piedmont." "Hold your tongue; I make you a Pole!--You, Michel, are a wealthy land-holder from Auvergne; at all events, you will be rightfully entitled to your accent." "Yes, yes, I have some land at home, and all planted with chestnuts." "The gentlemen who are coming will tell you what weapons the count proposes to fight with, also the time and place; to whatever they propose, you will reply: 'Very well, we agree.'--Do you understand?" "Pardi! that ain't very hard: 'Very well; that hits us!'" "I didn't say: 'That hits us,' but: 'We agree.'" "Bah! it amounts to the same thing."