THE HANDSOME MODEL. 103 



" Ah Monsieur, the devil has sent here a good-for-nothing vagabond, that 

 there is no getting rid of. He has been upwards of a week here. He called 

 one evening, and in a gentlemanly manner ordered supper. It was served, 

 and as he sat very long over it, he then begged to be allowed to sleep in the 

 room, where he had supped, saying that he had made an appointment with 

 his man of business, and wished to wait there for him. Although not in the 

 habit of doing so, we consented to lodge him. Next day he fared sump- 

 tuously, and still stayed ; in a word, as I told you before, this has been 

 going on for a week, and he pretends he is waiting for the arrival of his man 

 of business, to settle with me. But I have no desire to harbour him for a 

 year in this way ; he had the impudence to offer to attitudinize for me, and 

 give me a statue in payment. What the deuce should I do with such a ras- 

 cal's statue ? He must settle with me and be off. I have no intention that 

 he should remain here for your wedding party. He has the impudence to 

 claim acquaintance with every body that comes here, and deafens every one 

 with his chorusses, which he is for ever roaring out. But I have sent for 

 Monsieur le Commissaire, and in the mean time, I have ordered my wife to 

 watch the rascal, whom I caught yesterday climbing a wall, in order to do 

 Adonis I think he said. The scoundrel ! I'll give him time enough to do 

 Adonis in prison. He would have devoured one of my fowls every day if I 

 had let him." " Let's be off, brother," whispered Pierre, who felt no desire 

 for a meeting with his old friend. I was yielding to his wish, but it was too 

 late. A man jumped from the window of an entresol into the garden, and 

 placed himself in the attitude of Cupid. He stood exactly opposite to us, 

 and exclaimed joyfully, " Oh God of artists, I thank thee gratefully. Behold 

 two friends whom I meet at the nick of time, and who will pay for me. 

 Monsieur le Traiteur, my bill- --quick-- behold Castor and Pollux---intimate 

 friends who will never leave an artist in durance." Pierre reddened with 

 anger, and I was thunderstruck at the fellow's impudence. The landlord 

 stared with astonishment, as he stammered, " What, gentlemen, are you 

 really friends of this good-for-nothing vagabond?" " Good-for-nothing va- 

 gabond ^" cried Rossignol ; " how dare you address such language to me, 

 you rascally roaster of cats?" These words rendered the traiteur furious. 

 " Make yourself easy, Jupin," said Rossignol ; " your bill will be paid ; but 

 mind, we have done with you ; your rabbits have rather too suspicious a 

 look. Come Pierre, my little man, shell out a few crowns for your old 

 playmate." 



Pierre was silent from very shame. I stepped'between him and Rossiguol, 

 who carried his audacity so far as to offer to shake hands with me. " If you 

 had been satisfied with cheating me of my money," said I, " I might have 

 forgotten it ; but you endeavoured to render my brother as despicable a. 

 a wretch as yourself and yet you dare to call us your friends ! Such a title 

 from your lips is the greatest insult. Think yourself happy that I do not 

 join this gentleman in getting you punished as you deserve." "That is the 

 way is it. Preaching morality to your friends in misfortune ! Well, my 

 little chimney-sweeps, we'll manage to do without you we don't depend on 

 you alone for sweeping our chimneys clean." "As Rossignol uttered these 

 words, the hostesb who had run in search of the guard, the instant she saw 

 her guest jump from the window, made her appearance at the entrance of the 

 garden, followed by a corporal and four fusileers, whilst the commissaire with 

 the waiter appeared at another door. Rossignol, at the sight of the soldiers,, 

 knit his brows, and I heard him utter, "No, sacre bleut the most admired 

 antique torso shall never go rot in a dungeon." "There is the criminal," 

 said the hostess to the commissaire, pointing out Rossignol, who advanced 

 towards the man of the law, making a bow down to the ground at every step, 

 in such a way that the commissaire could never get a full view of his face. 

 " A truce to your politeness, and answer my questions, sir," said the man of 

 peace ; whilst Rossignol buried his fingers in an old snuff-box that the cor. 



