Page:The Bohemians of the Latin Quarter.djvu/75

“He won’t be much longer,” answered the porter; “but there is no harm done yet, since your furniture has not come,” added he, with a stress on the concluding words.

As the young man was about to reply, a dragoon entered the court.

“Is this Monsieur Bernard’s?” he asked, drawing a letter from a huge leather portfolio which swung at his side.

“He lives here,” replied the porter.

“Here is a letter for him,” said the dragoon; “give me a receipt;” and he handed to the porter a bulletin of despatches, which the latter entered his lodge to sign.

“Excuse me for leaving you alone,” said he to the young man who was stalking impatiently about the court, “but this is a letter from the Minister to my landlord, and I am going to take it up to him.”

Monsieur Bernard was just beginning to shave when the porter knocked at his door.

“What do you want, Durand?”

“Sir,” replied the other, lifting his cap, “a soldier has just brought this for you. It comes from the Ministry.” And he handed to Monsieur Bernard the letter, the envelope of which bore the stamp of the War Department. “Heavens!” exclaimed Monsieur Bernard, in such agitation that he all but cut himself. “From the Minister of War! I am sure it is my nomination as Knight of the Legion of Honor, which I have so long solicited. At last they have dome justice to my good conduct. Here, Durand,” said he, fumbling in his waistcoat-pocket, “here are five francs to drink my health. Stay! I haven’t my purse about me. Wait, and I will give you the money in a moment.”

The porter was so overcome by this stunning fit of generosity, which was not at all in accordance with his