"It is a great pity that I have to carry this plume to Landry the bath keeper! There is nothing pleasant about that commission; it may even be dangerous! Pardieu! Mademoiselle de Mongarcin knows it well enough! She would not pay such a price to have an errand done that is apparently so simple, if she did not foresee that the messenger would be exposed to great risk!--Let me see, let me see! I must cudgel my brain a bit and try to think if there is not some way of keeping my back or my face out of reach of cudgels or claws.--I have promised that this white plume shall be handed to-day to young Bathilde's parents; it shall be, for an honest youth has only his word! Moreover, I am in a solicitor's office! But solicitors know how to get around the most knotty questions; suppose I should get around this errand of mine--suppose I should send somebody else in my place to carry this infernal plume, prescribing the words he was to say? Why, that would come to precisely the same thing in the end, and my person would run no risk whatever!" Having decided upon this plan, Bahuchet bent his steps toward the wretched eating house where he and his comrade Plumard generally dined. On entering the place, he saw his friend seated at his usual table; he took his seat opposite him, with an even more than ordinarily expansive smile. "Enchanted to find you, Plumard, my boy! I should have been disappointed if you had not come here to-night. You are having supper--I will do likewise, for I have a keen appetite. What you are eating looks very good, Plumard; what in the devil is it?" "It is a rabbit stew, according to our host; but it's too good to be rabbit, it must be cat at least!" "Ah! bigre! I propose to have some of it, too.--Holà! waiter! bring me a portion of the same dish that my friend has; if it isn't the same animal, I won't have it! And by the way, waiter, you may also bring me some fricot of veal, with small onions--a large portion! Make it double, and I will give my friend Plumard some; he has a weakness for veal, like myself. And, waiter, I could eat some of that delicious fish which is noted for its bones--a carp, as fine as those at Fontainebleau, where they resemble whales; a fried carp! That is a feast in itself--with a sprig of parsley on it; and I know that my friend Plumard does not profess a profound contempt for the carp. Moisten it all with that Argenteuil light wine that is so well _stripped_--you know what I mean, don't you? the old, not the new; the really old, that you don't make yourself.--Go, waiter, and if I am content with you I will grease your palm, as we say at the office." "But I say!" said Plumard, fixing his great round eyes on his vis-à-vis; "what does this mean, Bahuchet? Have you had a legacy left you? or has a fair lady of mature years let her favors fall upon you?"