Bertrand sometimes interrupted the narrative of his campaigns to talk about Auguste, to whom he was devotedly attached, and to confide to Schtrack his anxiety on account of his lieutenant's senseless extravagance and his penchant for women; and Schtrack listened to it as he listened to the story of Austerlitz, ejaculating _sacretié!_ from time to time. Although his patience was tried by hearing nothing else all night, Bertrand nevertheless said to Schtrack: "Tell me, old fellow, what can I do to keep Monsieur Dalville from ruining himself?" Schtrack, who had never before been questioned by Bertrand, reflected fully five minutes before he replied: "Sacretié! let's take a drink." "Yes, let's take a drink, that's well said," rejoined Bertrand, touching the concierge's glass with his; "but it doesn't answer my question. I love and respect Monsieur Dalville; I would jump into the fire for him; but, thunder and guns! it breaks my heart to see him pay out money for this one, lend to that one, play for infernally high stakes, spend money in foolish extravagance, and, last of all, injure his health; for what man could stand such a life? And most of those pretty hussies deceive him, I'll bet! But he won't listen to me. The heart is all right, oh! the heart is first-class, but the head----" "Sacretié!" said Schtrack, emptying his glass. "For instance, that little woman who lives in this house, for all her soft voice and her eyes always on the floor, and although she's fainted three times on learning of my master's perfidy, I wouldn't swear--I have imagined several times that I've seen a little man rushing upstairs as if there was a squad of police at his heels.--Do you know who I mean, Schtrack?" "Ya! ya!" "Well, who is that little man?" "I don't know." "As concierge, you should know." "You'd petter ask mein vife." The sound of Dalville's carriage wheels put an end to the conversation. Schtrack went down to his quarters, and Bertrand tried to assume a sedate air with which to receive his master. "Here I am, my dear Bertrand," said Auguste, as he entered his apartment; "I passed a delightful day yesterday. Oh! don't scold me; I was virtuous--that is, so far as circumstances allowed me to be. Has anybody been here during my absence?" "Yes, monsieur: in the first place, Mademoiselle Virginie." "Poor Virginie! she must be angry with me for neglecting her for more than three weeks." "She says that she shall die of grief." "Oh! she has said that to me so often!" "She breakfasted here; she ate cold fowl and pie." "Very good; evidently her grief isn't dangerous as yet." "While she was breakfasting, your neighbor, Madame Saint-Edmond, came to ask me if I'd seen her poodle; she wanted also to speak to monsieur about a matter that she said was important. She came in, and the two of them waited a long while for you." "What! were they here together?" "Yes, monsieur." "Gad! that must have been amusing!"