find his friend Manicamp, then in temporary retreat in the
city of Orleans. It was just at the moment when that young
nobleman was employed in selling the last decent clothing he
had left. He had, a fortnight before extorted from the Comte
de Guiche a hundred pistoles, all he had, to assist in
equipping him properly to go and meet Madame, on her arrival
at Havre. He had drawn from Malicorne, three days before,
fifty pistoles, the price of the brevet obtained for
Montalais. He had then no expectation of anything else,
having exhausted all his resources, with the exception of
selling a handsome suit of cloth and satin, embroidered and
laced with gold, which had been the admiration of the court.
But to be able to sell this suit, the last he had left — as
we have been forced to confess to the reader — Manicamp had
been obliged to take to his bed. No more fire, no more
pocket-money, no more walking-money, nothing but sleep to
take the place of repasts, companies and balls. It has been
said — “he who sleeps, dines;” but it has never been
affirmed — he who sleeps, plays — or he who sleeps,
dances. Manicamp, reduced to this extremity of neither
playing nor dancing, for a week at least, was, consequently,
very sad; he was expecting a usurer, and saw Malicorne
enter. A cry of distress escaped him.
“Eh! what!” said he, in a tone which nothing can describe,
“is that you again, dear friend?”
“Humph! you are very polite!” said Malicorne.
“Ay, but look you, I was expecting money, and, instead of
money, I see you.”
“And suppose I brought you some money?”
“Oh! that would be quite another thing. You are very
welcome, my dear friend!”
And he held out his hand, not for the hand of Malicorne, but
for the purse. Malicorne pretended to be mistaken, and gave
him his hand.
“And the money?” said Manicamp.
“My dear friend, if you wish to have it, earn it.”
“What must be done for it?”
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“Earn it, parbleu!”
“And after what fashion?”
“Oh! that is rather trying, I warn you.”
“The devil!”
“You must get out of bed, and go immediately to M. le Comte
de Guiche.”
“I get out!” said Manicamp, stretching himself in his bed,
complacently, “oh, no, thank you!”
“You have sold all your clothes?”
“No, I have one suit left, the handsomest even, but I expect
a purchaser.”
“And the chausses?”
“Well, if you look, you will see them on that chair.”
“Very well! since you have some chausses and a pourpoint
left, put your legs into the first and your back into the
other; have a horse saddled, and set off.”
“Not I.”
“And why not?”
“Mordieu! don’t you know, then, that M. de Guiche is at
Etampes?”
“No, I thought he was at Paris. You will then only have
fifteen leagues to go, instead of thirty.”
“You are a wonderfully clever fellow! If I were to ride
fifteen leagues in these clothes, they would never be fit to
put on again; and, instead of selling them for thirty
pistoles, I should be obliged to take fifteen.”
“Sell them for what you like, but I must have a second
commission of maid of honor.”
“Good! for whom? Is Montalais doubled then?”
“Vile fellow! — It is you who are doubled. You swallow up
two fortunes — mine, and that of M. le Comte de Guiche.”
“You should say, that of M. le Comte de Guiche and yours.”
“That is true; honor where it is due; but I return to my
brevet.”
“And you are wrong.”
“Prove me that.”
“My friend, there will only be twelve maids of honor for
madame, I have already obtained for you what twelve hundred
women are trying for, and for that I was forced to employ
all my diplomacy.”
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“Oh! yes, I know you have been quite heroic, my dear
friend.”
“We know what we are about,” said Manicamp.
“To whom do you tell that? When I am king, I promise you one
thing.”