The two clerks quickened their pace, walking in the direction of the dog they coveted, which had stopped to sniff a multitude of things. Bahuchet was very near him, and was trying to coax him by talking to him in an endearing tone; but just as he was about to put his hand on the animal's collar, a heavy, callous hand roughly pushed his away, and a hoarse voice exclaimed: "Don't touch my dog, little jackanapes! He hasn't done anything to you--why do you put your hand on him?" "Pardon me, monsieur," replied Bahuchet, bowing low to the dog's owner, a man of the people, with square shoulders and a face as rugged as his hands; "I had no intention to injure this pretty spaniel; but he is so handsome, so well trimmed, that I admired him and felt a desire to pat him--that is all!" "Oh, yes! oh, yes! I've heard that before! They make believe to pat our dogs, and then, when no one is looking, they carry 'em off under their cloaks. Pont-Neuf is always crowded with a pack of pickpockets, sneak thieves, cutpurses!" "Monsieur! I believe that you are insulting me! Do I look like a sneak thief? I couldn't put your dog under my cloak, because I have none." "Why did you put your hand on him? You don't look as if you had any too much cash; go and have your elbows patched--that will be better than patting other people's dogs!" The owner of the spaniel walked away with his animal, and Bahuchet returned with a crestfallen air to Plumard, who had deemed it prudent to stand aloof. "Did you hear that clown, that clodhopper, that pig?--If I had not held myself in check, I should have gashed his face!" "You did well to restrain yourself; that man would have made but one mouthful of you!--It's a shot that missed fire, that's all!" "Yes, let us try to find something better. Bigre! how cold I am!" "Fichtre! how hungry I am!" The two comrades walked on, exploring Pont-Neuf with famished eyes. Suddenly Bahuchet stopped and uttered an exclamation of delight. "It is he! it is certainly he!" "Who, pray? do you see another dog?" "I see someone who, unless we are fools, will pay for our breakfast, and perhaps even more than that." "Who is it?" "Look, over yonder! Do you see that long beanpole dressed in apple-green? Don't you recognize him?" "Yes, indeed; it's our heir, the Chevalier de Passedix; but it seems to me that he has changed his color." "Come, Plumard, come; imitate me, second me, talk as I do--and a new fortune will shine upon us!" Thereupon little Bahuchet doubled the length of his strides, his comrade followed his example, and they soon stood in front of Passedix, who was strutting nonchalantly across Pont-Neuf, glancing out of the corner of his eye to see whether the women who passed admired his bearing and his attire, and casting upon the common herd patronizing glances which seemed to say: "Stand aside! I am rich--you must make room for me; I require a great deal."