"I am now going to see about it. By the by, you had better go and inform the commandant that he may venture out." "True; I'll go and let the caged bird out. But what stuff and nonsense for him to hire apartments of no more use to him than they are to the King of Prussia! He is a fine fellow, he is, with his paltry twelve francs a month. This is the fourth time he has been made a fool of." Rodolph quitted the house, and Madame Pipelet, turning to her husband, said, with a chuckling laugh, "Now, Alfred, the commandant's turn has come; now for it! I mean to have a jolly good laugh at my gentleman,--up and dressed for nothing." Arrived at the apartments of M. Charles Robert, the porteress rang the bell; the door was opened by the commandant himself. "Commandant," said Anastasie, giving him a military salute, by placing the back of her little fat hand against the front of her wig, "I have come to set you free. Your friends have gone away arm in arm, happy as doves, under your very nose. Well, you are out of a nice mess, thanks to M. Rodolph. You ought to stand something very handsome to him for all he has done upon the present occasion." "Then this slim individual with the moustachios is called M. Rodolph, is he?" "Exactly so; neither more nor less." "And who and what is the fellow?" "Fellow, indeed!" cried Madame Pipelet, in a wrathful voice; "he is as good as other men,--better than some I could mention. Why, he is a travelling clerk, but the very king of lodgers; for, though he has only one room, he does not haggle and beat folks down,--not he. Why, he gave me six francs for doing for him,--six francs, mind, I say, without a word. Think of that!--without ever offering me a sou less. Oh, he is a lodger! I wish other people were at all like him!" "There, there, that's enough; take the key." "Shall I light the fire to-morrow, commandant?" "No!" "Next day?" "No, no! Don't bother me." "I say, commandant, if you recollect, I warned you that you would have your trouble for your pains." M. Charles Robert threw a glance at his grinning tormentor that spoke of annihilation at least, and, dashing furiously by her, quitted the house, wondering much how a mere clerk should have become acquainted with his assignation with the Marquise d'Harville. As the commandant left the alley, Tortillard came hobbling along. "Well, what do you want?" said Madame Pipelet. "Has the Borgnesse been to call upon me?" asked the young scamp, without attending to the porteress's question. "The Chouette? No, you ugly monster! What should she come for?" "Why, to take me with her into the country, to be sure," said Tortillard, swinging on the lodge gate. "And what does your master say to it?" "Oh, father managed all that. He sent this morning to M. Bradamanti, to ask him to give me leave to go in the country,--the country,--the country," sang or rather screamed the amiable scion of M. Bras Rouge, beating time most melodiously on the window-panes.