Page:The Bohemians of the Latin Quarter.djvu/78

“But it can’t be,” murmured the poor porter; “Monsieur Schaunard has not run away. He has gone to get change to pay you, and order a cart for his furniture.”

“A cart for his furniture!” exclaimed the other; “run! I’m sure he has it here. He laid a trap to get you away from your lodge, fool that you are!”

“Fool that I am! Heaven help me!” cried the porter, all in a tremble before the thundering wrath of his superior, who hurried him down the stairs. When they arrived in the court the porter was hailed by the young man in the white hat.

“Come, now! am I not soon going to be put in possession of my lodging? Is this the eighth of April? Did I hire a room here and pay you a deposit to bind the bargain? Yes or no?”

“Excuse me, sir!” interposed the landlord; “I am at your service. Durand, I will talk to the gentleman myself. Run up there, that scamp Schaunard has come back to pack up. If you find him, shut him in, and then come down again and run for the police.”

Old Durand vanished up the staircase.

“Excuse me, sir,” continued the landlord, with a bow to the young man now left alone with him; “to whom have have I the honor of speaking?”

“Your new tenant. I have hired a room in the sixth story of this house, and am beginning to be tired of waiting for my lodging to become vacant.”

“I am very sorry indeed,” replied Monsieur Bernard; “there has been a little difficulty with one of my tenants, the one whom you are to replace.”

“Sir,” cried old Durand from a window at the very top of the house, “Monsieur Schaunard is not here, but his room—stupid!—I mean he has carried nothing away, not a hair, sir!”