to the waiter in payment for the champagne—a watch worth five hundred francs.
"He examined it closely."
The garçon took the chronometer, and examined it closely—weighed it in his hand, opened it—and finally put it in his pocket doubtfully and without thanking Anatole.
It was four o'clock in the morning when he rang at the door of Monsieur Bouvard, the guardian of Nicette. He rang once, twice, and, at the third tug, broke the bell-wire. At length Monsieur Bouvard himself, in his night dress and in great alarm, came and opened the door.
"What is the matter—is the house on fire?"
"No, my dear Monsieur Bouvard," said Anatole, "I have only paid you a little visit."
"At this hour!"
"It is pleasant to see you at any hour, my dear Monsieur Bouvard! But you are so lightly dressed—pray get into bed again."
"I am going to do so. But, I suppose, Monsieur, that it was not simply to trouble me in this way that you have come at such an hour? You have something of importance to say to me?"
"Very important, Monsieur Bouvard! It is to tell you that you must renounce the idea of marrying my cousin Nicette to Monsieur Capdenac."
"What do you say?"
"You must renounce that project."
"Never, Monsieur!—never!"
"Don't fly in the face of Providence by using such language!"
"My resolution is fixed, Monsieur; this marriage will take place."
"It will not, Monsieur! "
"We will see about that. And, now that you have had my answer, Monsieur, I'll not detain you."
"A speech none too polite, Monsieur Bouvard; but, as I am as good-natured as I am tenacious, I will pass over it, and—remain."
"Stay if it pleases you to do so; but I shall consider you gone, and hold no further conversation with you."
Saying which Monsieur Bouvard turned his face to the wall, grumbling to himself—
"Was ever such a thing seen!—rousing a man at such an hour!—breaking his sleep, only to pour into his ears such a pack of nonsense!—"
Suddenly Monsieur Bouvard sprang to a sitting posture in his bed.
Anatole had possessed himself the professor's trombone, into which he was blowing like a deaf man, and sending from the tortured instrument sounds of indescribable detestableness.
"My presentation trombone!—given me by my pupils! Let that instrument alone, Monsieur!"
"Monsieur, you consider me gone; I shall consider you—absent, and shall amuse myself until you return. Couac! couac!—fromn! brout! Eh?—that was a fine note!"
"You will get me turned out of the house; my landlord will not allow a trombone to be played here after midnight."
"A man who evidently hath not music in his soul! Frrout! frrout, prrr!"
"You will split my ears!—you'll spoil my instrument!—a trombone badly played on is a trombone destroyed, Monsieur!"
"Couac! prounn, pra—pra—prrrr—"
"For mercy's sake give over!"
"Will you consent?"
"To what?"
"To renounce the idea of that marriage?"
"Monsieur, I cannot!"
"Then—couac!—"
"Monsieur Capdenac—"
"Prrrroum!—"
"Is a terrible man to deal with!"
