"Mend me a good pen, with a broad nib, so that when I return I may write to poor Germain, and tell him I have executed all his commissions. He will have my letter to-morrow morning in the prison, and that will give him pleasure." "Where are your pens?" "There,--on the table; the knife is in the drawer. Wait until I light my taper, for it begins to grow dusk." "Yes, I shall see better how to mend the pen." "And I how to tie my cap." Rigolette lighted a lucifer-match, and lighted a wax-end in a small bright candlestick. "The deuce,--a wax-light! Why, neighbour, what extravagance!" "Oh, what I burn costs but a very small trifle more than a candle, and it's so much cleaner!" "Not much dearer?" "Indeed, they are not! I buy these wax-ends by the pound, and a half a pound lasts nearly a year." "But," said Rodolph, who was mending the pen very carefully, whilst the grisette was tying on her cap before the glass, "I do not see any preparations for your dinner." "I have not the least appetite. I took a cup of milk this morning, and I shall take another this evening, with a small piece of bread, and that will be enough for me." "Then you will not take a dinner with me quietly after we have been to Germain's?" "Thank you, neighbour; but I am not in spirits,--my heart is too heavy,--another time with pleasure. But the evening when poor Germain leaves his prison, I invite myself, and afterwards you shall take me to the theatre. Is that a bargain?" "It is, neighbour; and I assure you I will not forget the engagement. But you refuse me this to-day?" "Yes, M. Rodolph. I should be a very dull companion, without saying a word about the time it would occupy me; for, you see, at this moment, I really cannot afford to be idle, or waste one single quarter of an hour." "Then, for to-day I renounce the pleasure." "There is my parcel, neighbour. Now go out first, and I will lock the door." "Here's a capital pen for you; and now for the parcel." "Mind you don't rumple it; it is _pout-de-soie_, and soon creases. Hold it in your hand,--carefully,--there, in that way; that's it. Now go, and I will show you a light." And Rodolph descended the staircase, followed by Rigolette. At the moment when the two neighbours were passing by the door of the porter's lodge they saw M. Pipelet, who, with his arms hanging down, was advancing towards them from the bottom of the passage, holding in one hand the sign which announced his Partnership of Friendship with Cabrion, and in the other the portrait of the confounded painter. Alfred's despair was so overwhelming that his chin touched his breast, so that the wide crown of his bell-shaped hat was easily seen. Seeing him thus, with his head lowered, coming towards Rodolph and Rigolette, he might have been compared to a ram, or a brave Breton, preparing for combat. Anastasie soon appeared on the threshold of the lodge, and exclaimed, at her husband's appearance: