"You haven't guessed yet; but with what I have discovered, I make no doubt that you will very soon fascinate some wealthy dowager, who will lay her crowns at your feet." "Come, explain yourself, Bahuchet; you know that I am not very strong at guessing, and you keep me in suspense too long!" "_Quid festinas_? What's the hurry? Think; take your time!" "If you don't tell me, I will go away!" "What a keg of powder!" "That is my nature!" "Well, listen: I have discovered in a _cul-de-sac_ an old hag who has invented a pomade that infallibly makes the hair grow on the baldest skulls and those most rebellious under cultivation!" Plumard frowned and looked at his comrade with a wrathful air, muttering: "Do you mean to make sport of me, as usual? You know, Bahuchet, that I don't like that. You have already told me a lot of stories about pomades that did not exist. You have sent me to ask for them to people who have laughed in my face. I want no more of your practical jokes! I will fight you if you begin that game again. I am not afraid to fight; I am no coward! Look out, or I will hit you a crack!" "Ta! ta! ta! What a nice, amiable boy it is!--You treat a person, and try to make yourself agreeable to him, and to reward you he threatens to beat you!--All right; we will say no more about it, my dear fellow; I will keep my discovery to myself, and if a few of my hairs should fall out some day I shall know how to remedy it." Plumard was silent for a moment, nibbling a piece of dry bread. Then he murmured, in a softer tone: "Then why have you fooled me so often? How do you expect me to have confidence in you?" "It's all right! it's all right! let us say no more about it." "But this old hag who makes the pomade--do you know her address?" "No, I tell you, I no longer know anything; I was lying, I was trying to make fun of you! I deserve nothing better than the rope's end or the cudgel!" "Come, come, Bahuchet! I was too quick; I am sorry." "Ah! when a friend tells me that he is sorry, I cannot harbor ill will against him.--Yes, I know where to find the hag." "And she sells this pomade?" "No, she won't sell it to anybody!--but to me, having taken a fancy to me, she will give a jar." "Oh! that is much more agreeable! And when will you have this jar?" "To-morrow, if I choose." "And you will give it to me?--Ah! you are a friend!" "Yes, I will give it to you, but on one little condition, and that is that you will do me a favor in return. Between friends, you know, when one obliges the other, he always expects reciprocity." "What is it that I must do?" asked Plumard, with a frown.