Monsieur Choucru now came upon the scene; a short, rosy, round-faced little man in a white flat cap and bibbed apron—­like an elderly cherub that had taken to cookery.  He hung back upon the threshold, wiping his forehead, and evidently unwilling to show himself in his shirt-sleeves.

“Here, mon bon,” cried Madame, who was by this time crimson with gratified vanity, and in a fever of curiosity; “this way—­the gentleman is waiting to speak to you!”

Monsieur, the cook and proprietor, shuffled his feet to and fro in the doorway, but came no nearer.

“Parbleu!” he said, “if M’sieur’s business is not urgent.”

“It is extremely urgent, Monsieur Choucru,” replied Mueller; “and, moreover, it is not so much my business as it is yours,”

“Ah bah! if it is my business, then, it may stand over till to-morrow,” replied the little man, impatiently.  “To-day I have eighty dinners on hand, and with M’sieur’s permission"....

But Mueller strode to the door and caught him by the shoulder.

“No, Monsieur Choucru,” he said sternly, “I will not let you ruin yourself by putting off till to-morrow what can only be done to-day.  I have come here, Monsieur Choucru, to offer you fame.  Fame and fortune, Monsieur Choucru!—­and I will not suffer you, for the sake of a few miserable dinners, to turn your back upon the most brilliant moment of your life!”

“Mais, M’sieur—­explain yourself” ... stammered the proprietaire.

“You know who I am, Monsieur Choucru?”

“No, M’sieur—­not in the least.”

“I am Mueller—­Franz Mueller—­landscape painter, portrait painter, historical painter, caricaturist, artist en chef to the Petit Courier Illustre”

“Hein!  M’sieur est peintre!”

“Yes, Monsieur Choucru—­and I offer you my protection.”

Monsieur Choucru scratched his ear, and smiled doubtfully.

“Now listen, Monsieur Choucru—­I am here to-day in the interests of the Petit Courier Illustre.  I take the Courbevoie fete for my subject.  I sketch the river, the village, the principal features of the-scene; and on Saturday my designs are in the hands of all Paris.  Do you understand me?”

“I understand that M’sieur is all this time talking to me of his own business, while mine, la bas, is standing still!” exclaimed the proprietaire, in an agony of impatience.  “I have the honor to wish M’sieur good-day.”

But Mueller seized him again, and would not let him escape.

“Not so fast, Monsieur Choucru,” he said; “not so fast!  Will you answer me one question before you go?”

“Eh, mon Dieu!  Monsieur.”

“Will you tell me, Monsieur Choucru, what is to prevent me from giving a view of the best restaurant in Courbevoie?”

Madame Choucru, from behind the comptoir, uttered a little scream.