id Nicholas to Pique-Vinaigre, as he
advanced to meet him. "Throw away that lump of dog's-meat you have got
in your hand; we have got a regular feast among us, and you are invited
to it!"

"A feast? La, how nice! What, out of the Panier Fleuri, or the Petit
Ramponneau?--tell us which it is! But they are both such nice places,
there isn't a pin to choose."

"Oh, you fool! Our feast is prepared in the day-room; all laid out so
temptingly on a bench. There you'll see ham and eggs, and cheese,
and--It's my treat, mind!"

"Well, I'm one of the right sort to walk into it. But it seems a pity to
throw away this good ration I have just received! I only wish my poor
sister and her children could have the benefit of it. Ah, poor things!
It's not often they see meat, unless, indeed, when they find a few
scraps thrown out before the butcher's door."

"Oh, bother about your sister and her brats! Let's go in, or Barbillon
and the Skeleton will leave nothing but empty trenchers for us!"

Nicholas and Pique-Vinaigre entered together into the day-room, where
they found the Skeleton sitting astride on the bench on which the
savoury viands were displayed, swearing and grumbling at the absence of
the founder of the feast.

"Oh, there you are, you creeping animal!" exclaimed the ruffian, as he
caught sight of the story-teller. "What the deuce hindered you from
bringing your blessed carcass here a little sooner?"

"He was spinning a yarn with Germain when I found him," answered
Nicholas, helping himself to a large slice of the ham.

"Ho, ho!" cried the Skeleton, gazing earnestly on Pique-Vinaigre,
without, however, diminishing the ardour with which he devoured the
provisions; "so you were gossiping with Germain, were you?"

"Yes, I was," returned Pique-Vinaigre. "But what a fool that Germain is!
I used to think that he was a sort of spy in the yard; but, Lord love
you, he is too much of a simpleton for that!"

"Oh, you think so, do you?" said the Skeleton, exchanging a rapid and
significant glance with Nicholas and Barbillon.

"I'm as sure of it as I am that I see a capital ham before me. Besides,
how the devil can he be a spy when he is always by himself? He speaks to
no one, and nobody ever changes a word with him; and you all know that
he runs from us as if we carried the plague in our pockets. Now, how a
man can tell many tales who acts as he does, is more than I can
conceive. However, spy or not, he will not be able to do u