During the foregoing conversation between Daréna and Poterne, the small boy, who had understood that he was not to play the part of a monkey, as he had been led to expect, had resumed his ordinary garb; but, when he had finished his toilet, Monsieur Bruno, presuming that no one was paying any heed to him, rolled the monkey’s skin around the mask, put it under his arm, and left the room. “My skin! my monkey’s skin, Bruno!” cried Monsieur Poterne, running out to the landing. “Ah! you little vagabond! don’t you mean to give it back to me?” But Monsieur Bruno, who had become very skilful in gymnastic exercises, thanks to the lessons he had taken in playing the monkey, ran down the stairs so rapidly that he was at the foot before Poterne had covered three stairs. The latter ran after the little thief none the less; and while Daréna returned to his room, laughing at the episode, Monsieur Poterne ran through the street after the bootblack, crying: “My skin! my skin! stop that little scamp--he’s stolen my skin!” XVII ADVICE OF A FRIEND On returning home, Chérubin sent for Jasmin and said to him: “If Monsieur Poterne should ever dare to appear here again, I order you to have him thrown out of doors; you may even go so far as to order the concierge to thrash him; but you must not undertake it yourself, for you are too old and he would return the compliment.” Jasmin uttered a joyful exclamation, and said: “What! really, monsieur? And without taking the monkey?” “Oh! I forbid you above all things to take anything whatever from him.” And Chérubin told his old servant what had happened. “You see, monsieur,” said Jasmin, “that Poterne is an outrageous swindler--I was sure of it. His so-called Indian preserves--I gave ‘em to Mademoiselle Turlurette to taste; they gave her a very bad stomach ache, and she’s been out of order ever since. I’m very much afraid, monsieur, that everything you have bought of that Poterne is like your watch!--And this Monsieur Daréna whose man of business he is--hum!” “Daréna was even more furious than I with that man; he swore that he’d thrash him. He was deceived too; it isn’t his fault.” “All the same, my dear master, I very much prefer your other friend, Monsieur de Monfréville. Ah! such a difference! he doesn’t borrow your tailor; he doesn’t induce you to buy things; he doesn’t let his steward loose on you.” Chérubin smiled at Jasmin’s reflections, but it did not enter his mind that Daréna could be a confederate in his agent’s wrongdoing. His heart was too frank, too trustful, to suspect cunning and perfidy, and he would have been unable to believe in Monsieur Poterne’s shameless rascality had it been less abundantly demonstrated to him.