Dame Cadichard, marvelling at the noble indifference with which her tenant paid his debts, said to him, with a respectful inclination of the head: "Monsieur le chevalier, would you accept a plate of this soup? That will help you to wait for what you propose to send for to the wine shop." "Oh, no! no, thanks!" cried Passedix, probably recalling the accident that had befallen the soup. "I have no desire to taste it.--May I not have Popelinette's services?" "I beg pardon, monsieur le chevalier,--at once, instantly." And Dame Cadichard, leaving her soup, left the room and went into the hall to call her servant in such shrill, imperative tones that old Popelinette soon came running in in dismay, crying: "What's the matter? who's sick? where's the fire? Something must have happened!" "The matter is, Popelinette, that Monsieur le Chevalier de Passedix wants to send you on an errand, and he must not be kept waiting." "What! was it for that thing that madame was yelling as if she wanted to sprain her throat?" "That thing!--Popelinette, try to express yourself more respectfully when you are talking about Monsieur de Passedix!" The old servant stood with a dazed expression in the middle of the room, unable to understand how it happened that her mistress spoke so kindly now of a tenant whom she had abused so roundly only that morning. Passedix put an end to the servant's conjectures by placing a gold piece in her hand, with these words: "Go to the nearest wine shop, Popelinette, and order a dainty breakfast; let them bring everything for three. I feel capable of multiplying the size of my mouthfuls by three. Order several bottles of the best wine, also.--Go, and what money remains shall be yours!" The sight of a fine gold doubloon instantly made the servant as polite and zealous as her mistress. What a mighty influence has that metal, which acts in the same way upon almost all temperaments! Physicians have never found its like among all the drugs that they force us to take. When Popelinette had gone, the chevalier resumed his seat at the table and said to his hostess: "Now, Dame Cadichard, let us talk a little. You will readily understand, I think, that a man with two thousand crowns a year, to say nothing of the lesser objects, cannot continue to live under the eaves, where he has for fellow lodgers rats of all dimensions." "Oh! of course, monsieur le chevalier, I realize that this lodging is not worthy of you; and be sure that, if I put you up there, it was because special circumstances forced me to do it.--It was very much against my will." "Enough! enough! Dame Cadichard, you should never recur to unpleasant subjects.--Do you consider me wealthy enough now to resume my handsome apartment on the first floor, which you let to that noble Spaniard, the so-called Comte de Carvajal?" "I wish that I had a much handsomer one to offer you, Monsieur de Passedix; but my first floor is at your service."