NOVELS

BY

Paul de Kock

VOLUME VIII

THE   BATH   KEEPERS;
OR,
PARIS   IN   THOSE   DAYS
VOL. II

THE JEFFERSON PRESS

BOSTON NEW YORK

Copyrighted, 1903-1904, by G. B. & Sons.

THE BATH KEEPERS;

OR,

PARIS IN THOSE DAYS

[CONTINUED]

CONTENTS

XXIX, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV, XLV, XLVI, XLVII, XLVIII, XLIX, L, LI, LII, LIII, LIV, LV

XXIX

AN UNFORTUNATE GIRL

The storm which Plumard feared for the next day burst that same evening, very shortly after the solicitor's clerk delivered the plume. At the bath keeper's house on Rue Saint-Jacques, Ambroisine was alone, listening to the roar of the thunder and the rain as she awaited her father's return.

Master Hugonnet had gone to visit his neighbor the keeper of the wine shop; but he had prolonged his stay there beyond his usual hour, and his daughter was beginning to be anxious, when she heard at last a knock at the street door; by the sound of the knocker, she recognized her father's hand, which was more or less heavy according as his libations had been more or less frequent during the evening.

This time, Ambroisine knew by the sound that her father was drunk.

She made haste to open the door. Master Hugonnet was leaning on the arm of the keeper of the wine shop, his neighbor, who had deemed it prudent to escort his customer to his home.

While the bath keeper stumbled into the house, urging his neighbor to come in, the latter said in Ambroisine's ear:

"Your father has thrashed, beaten, half killed a little solicitor's clerk, who was regaling himself at my place. He is a regular hothead when he is sober; but now he's a perfect lamb; and he embraced his victim! He ought to be drunk all the time, mademoiselle, for he is much more agreeable in company then."

The cabaretier took his leave, and Ambroisine returned to her father, who had seated himself at a table and was striking it with his hand, crying:

"Ambroisine, give us some wine and goblets; our neighbor is going to take a glass with me.—Well! where is our neighbor?"

"He has gone back, father; for it is very late. It is time for everyone to be getting to bed, and you will do well to go; you are not thirsty now—you have drunk enough."

Hugonnet seemed not to have heard his daughter; he passed his hand over his eyes, sighed profoundly, and stammered:

"Poor little solicitor—for I think he was a solicitor—the idea of beating him like that! A boy no taller than my cane! It's a shame! it's disgusting! there are people who abuse their strength over feeble creatures!"

"But, father, I understand that it was you who beat this little clerk! What had he done to you, pray? for you certainly don't pick quarrels with people without some reason!"

"I! it is impossible! He is my friend, that little dwarf; I would like to embrace him. Poor boy! he wanted pomade; I told him I hadn't any. He insisted on having some, and declared that a barber ought to make pomade. Poor fellow!"

"And you beat him because he asked you for some pomade! A pretty subject for a quarrel that!"

"I, beat him! Who says that?—He said to me: 'Do you know how to make hair grow? give me a receipt. Do you think