by Alexandre Dumas (Pere)
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"Oh, they have a house to themselves. Picture to yourself a pretty coach–house at the right–hand side where the ladders are kept. Well, over that coach–house are the servants' rooms, with bells corresponding with the different apartments."
"Ah, diable—bells did you say?"
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, nothing! I only say they cost a load of money to hang, and what is the use of them, I should like to know?"
"There used to be a dog let loose in the yard at night, but it has been taken to the house at Auteuil, to that you went to, you know."
"Yes."
"I was saying to him only yesterday, "You are imprudent, Monsieur Count; for when you go to Auteuil and take your servants the house is left unprotected.""Well," said he, "what next?""Well, next, some day you will be robbed.""
"What did he answer?"
"He quietly said, "What do I care if I am?""
"Andrea, he has some secretary with a spring."
"How do you know?"
"Yes, which catches the thief in a trap and plays a tune. I was told there were such at the last exhibition."
"He has simply a mahogany secretary, in which the key is always kept."
"And he is not robbed?"
"No; his servants are all devoted to him."
"There ought to be some money in that secretary?"
"There may be. No one knows what there is."
"And where is it?"
"On the first floor."
"Sketch me the plan of that floor, as you have done of the ground floor, my boy."
"That is very simple." Andrea took the pen. "On the first story, do you see, there is the anteroom and the drawing–room; to the right of the drawing–room, a library and a study; to the left, a bedroom and a dressing–room. The famous secretary is in the dressing–room."
"Is there a window in the dressing–room?"
"Two,—one here and one there." Andrea sketched two windows in the room, which formed an angle on the plan, and appeared as a small square added to the rectangle of the bedroom. Caderousse became thoughtful. "Does he often go to Auteuil?" added he.
"Two or three times a week. To–morrow, for instance, he is going to spend the day and night there."
"Are you sure of it?"
"He has invited me to dine there."
"There's a life for you," said Caderousse; "a town house and a country house."
"That is what it is to be rich."
"And shall you dine there?"
"Probably."
"When you dine there, do you sleep there?"
"If I like; I am at home there." Caderousse looked at the young man, as if to get at the truth from the bottom of his heart. But Andrea drew a cigar–case from his pocket, took a havana, quietly lit it, and began smoking. "When do you want your twelve hundred francs?" said he to Caderousse.
"Now, if you have them." Andrea took five and twenty louis from his pocket.
"Yellow boys?" said Caderousse; "no, I thank you."
"Oh, you despise them."
"On the contrary, I esteem them, but will not have them."
"You can change them, idiot; gold is worth five sous."
"Exactly; and he who changes them will follow friend Caderousse, lay hands on him, and demand what farmers pay him their rent in gold. No nonsense, my good fellow; silver simply, round coins with the head of some monarch or other on them. Anybody may possess a five–franc piece."
"But do you suppose I carry five hundred francs about with me? I should want a porter."
"Well, leave them with your porter; he is to be trusted. I will call for them."
"To–day?"
"No, to–morrow; I shall not have time to day."
"Well, to–morrow I will leave them when I go to Auteuil."
"May I depend on it?"
"Certainly."
"Because I shall secure my housekeeper on the strength of it."
"Now see here, will that be all? Eh? And will you not torment me any more?"
"Never." Caderousse had become so gloomy that Andrea feared he should be obliged to notice the change. He redoubled his gayety and carelessness. "How sprightly you are," said Caderousse; "One would say you were already in possession of your property."
"No, unfortunately; but when I do obtain it"—
"Well?"
