"Oh! yes! for what? mere brag! humbug! he knew well enough that challenging everybody was just the same as challenging nobody. You're the one that he insulted--and, whatever way you look at it, you're the one he owed reparation to. To refuse to drink with friends, and break their glasses! Thanks! that's too damned unceremonious!" "Oh! now that my head's clear, that isn't what I bear him a grudge for. You see yourself that he was quite right to despise that Laboussole, as he's a thief; and I blush now to think that I drank with such a cur!" "No, no, not at all! you're all wrong! You think Laboussole's a thief, just because they arrested him as a thief!--why, that's one of the law's spiteful tricks. A man may be involved in a bad piece of business and not be a thief, for all that. I'm sure that Laboussole will come out as white as snow. Come and have a glass of beer. It's my treat." "No, thanks; I ain't thirsty." "Oh! you ain't hungry or thirsty to-day! Well, just as you please. But you see the little sneak don't dare to come here this morning; that proves that he has a feeling that he's in the wrong." "That's true; it's almost nine o'clock, and Paul is almost always the first one here; he don't seem to come." Jean Ficelle continued to walk back and forth; then stopped again in front of Sans-Cravate, saying with a mocking expression: "_Dame!_ perhaps his time was so well occupied last night that he's resting this morning--that's what's the matter!" Sans-Cravate sprang to his feet. "What do you mean by that?" he cried, with a savage gesture. "I mean--I mean----Faith! you know well enough what I mean; and I'll bet I know who he's with now." "With Bastringuette, you mean, don't you?" "_Dame!_ it seems to me that she didn't hesitate to show you that she preferred that popinjay to you. Women must have mighty little taste; such a fine fellow as you are! Why, you'd make three of Paul!" "Oh! I'm not jealous of his good fortune," rejoined Sans-Cravate, struggling to appear calm; "let him go with Bastringuette, if he chooses! But last night I saw that he didn't go with her when we left the wine shop; he went away alone--and she--she waited to see if I was following her; then she went off alone, too." "Bah! humbug! they met afterward. If we knew where Paul lived, we could go and see if he was at home. Do you know where he lives, Sans-Cravate?" "No, I don't; he told me he lived Faubourg Montmartre way; but that's all." "The devil! in a faubourg! it would be a nice job to find him! There's some mystery about that fellow; he's a queer fish." "What difference does it make whether he's at home, or at her room? I don't care a hang! I'm done with Bastringuette." "Never mind," muttered Jean Ficelle, biting into his bread; "if a mate of mine took my mistress from under my nose, it wouldn't make any difference if I didn't love her--that wouldn't be the end of it."