On looking through, he perceived Borromée, after placing his finger on his lips, as a sign of caution, say something to Bonhomet, who seemed to acquiesce by a nod of the head, after which Borromée took a light, which was always kept burning in readiness, and descended to the cellar. Then Chicot knocked on the wall in a peculiar manner. On hearing this knock, which seemed to recall to him some souvenir deeply rooted in his heart, Bonhomet started, and looked round him. Chicot knocked again impatiently, like a man angry at his first call not being answered. Bonhomet ran to the little room, and found Chicot standing there upright. At this sight Bonhomet, who, like the rest of the world, had believed Chicot dead, uttered a cry, for he believed he saw a ghost. "Since when," said Chicot, "has a person like me been obliged to call twice?" "Oh! dear M. Chicot, is it you or your shade?" cried Bonhomet. "Whichever it be, since you recognize me, I hope you will obey me." "Oh! certainly, dear M. Chicot." "Then whatever noise you hear in this room, and whatever takes place here, do not come until I call you." "Your directions will be the easier to obey, since they are exactly the same as your companion has just given to me." "Yes, but if he calls, do not come--wait until I call."--"I will, M. Chicot." "Good! now send away every one else from your inn, and in ten minutes let us be as free and as solitary here as if we came to fast on Good Friday." "In ten minutes, M. Chicot, there shall not be a soul in the hotel excepting your humble servant." "Go, Bonhomet; you are not changed, I see." "Oh! mon Dieu! mon Dieu!" said Bonhomet, as he retired, "what is about to take place in my poor house?" As he went, he met Borromée returning from the cellar with his bottles. We do not know how Bonhomet managed, but when the ten minutes had expired, the last customer was crossing the threshold of the door, muttering: "Oh! oh! the weather is stormy here to-day; we must avoid the storm." CHAPTER LXXXI. WHAT HAPPENED IN THE LITTLE ROOM. When the captain re-entered the room with a basket in his hand containing a dozen bottles, he was received by Chicot with smiles. Borromée was in haste to uncork his bottles, but his haste was nothing to Chicot's; thus the preparations did not take long, and the two companions began to drink. At first, as though their occupation was too important to be interrupted, they drank in silence. Chicot uttered only these words: "Par ma foi! this is good Burgundy." They drank two bottles in this way; at the third, Chicot raised his eyes to heaven, and said: "Really, we are drinking as though we wished to intoxicate ourselves." "It is so good," replied Borromée. "Ah! it pleases you. Go on, friend; I have a strong head." And each of them swallowed another bottle. The wine produced on each of them an opposite effect--it unloosened Chicot's tongue, and tied that of Borromée.