onversation, and
replied, in a surly and threatening tone:

"The Chourineur was true; he did not rob, but had pity on me."

"Why did you say that I had 'prigged your blunt'?" inquired the
Chouette, hardly able to restrain her laughter.

"It was only you who came into my room," said the miscreant. "I was
robbed on the night of your arrival, and who else could I suspect? Those
country people could not have done such a thing."

"Why should not country people steal as well as other folks? Is it
because they drink milk and gather grass for their rabbits?"

"I don't know. I only know I'm robbed."

"And is that the fault of your own Chouette? What! suspect me? Do you
think if I had got your belt that I should stay any longer with you.
What a fool you are! Why, if I had chosen to 'pouch your blunt,' I
could, of course; but, as true as I'm Chouette, you would have seen me
again when the 'pewter' was spent, for I like you as well now with your
eyes white, as I did--you rogue, you! Come, be decent, and leave off
grinding your 'snags' in that way, or you'll break 'em."

"It's just as if he was a-cracking nuts," said Tortillard.

"Ha! ha! ha! what a droll baby it is! But quiet, now, quiet, my man of
men; let him laugh, it is but an infant. You must own you have been
unfair; for when the tall man in mourning, who looks like a mute at a
funeral, said to me, 'A thousand francs are yours if you carry off this
young girl from the farm at Bouqueval, and bring her to the spot in the
Plain of St. Denis that I shall tell you,' say, cut-throat, didn't I
directly tell you of the affair and agree to share with you, instead of
choosing some 'pal' with his eyesight clear? Why, it's like making you a
handsome present for doing nothing; for unless to bundle up the girl and
carry her, with Tortillard's assistance, you would be of no more use to
me than the fifth wheel to an omnibus. But never mind; for, although I
could have robbed you if I would, I like, on the contrary, to do you
service. I should wish you to owe everything to your darling
Chouette--that's my way, that is. We must give two hundred 'bob' to
Barbillon for driving the coach, and coming once before with the servant
of the tall man in mourning, to look about the place and determine where
we should hide ourselves whilst we waited for the young miss; and then
we shall have eight hundred 'bob' between us. What do you say to that
old boy? What! still angry with your old woman?"