“Hum!” said St. Maline.

“That would be difficult,” added Ernanton.

“See,” cried Pincornay, “they laugh at me because I have no hat, and they say nothing to M. Montcrabeau, who is going to supper in a cuirass of the time of the Emperor Pertinax, from whom it probably came.  See what it is to have defensive arms.”

“Gentlemen,” cried Montcrabeau, “I take it off; so much the worse for those who prefer seeing me with offensive instead of defensive arms;” and he gave his cuirass to his lackey, a man about fifty years of age.

“Peace! peace!” cried De Loignac, “and let us go to table.”

Meanwhile the lackey whispered to Pertinax, “And am I not to sup?  Let me have something, Pertinax.  I am dying of hunger.”

Pertinax, instead of being offended at this familiar address, replied, “I will try, but you had better see for something for yourself.”

“Hum! that is not reassuring.”

“Have you no money?”

“We spent our last crown at Sens.”

“Diable! then try to sell something.”

A few minutes after a cry was heard in the street of “Old iron! who wants to sell old iron?”

Madame Fournichon ran to the door, while M. Fournichon placed the supper on the table, and to judge by its reception it must have been exquisite.  As his wife did not return, however, the host asked a servant what she was doing.

“Oh, master,” he replied, “she is selling all your old iron for new money.”

“I hope not my cuirass and arms,” said he, running to the door.

“No,” said De Loignac, “it is forbidden to buy arms.”

Madame Fournichon entered triumphantly.

“You have not been selling my arms?” cried her husband.

“Yes, I have.”

“I will not have them sold.”

“Bah! in time of peace; and I have got ten crowns instead of an old cuirass.”

“Ten crowns!  Samuel, do you hear?” said Pertinax, looking for his valet, but he was not to be seen.

“It seems to me that this man carries on a dangerous trade.  But what does he do with them?”

“Sells them again by weight.”

“By weight! and you say he gave you ten crowns—­for what?”

“A cuirass and a helmet.”

“Why, even if they weighed twenty pounds, that is half-a-crown a pound.  This hides some mystery.”

Voices rose, and the mirth grew loud with all, except Carmainges, who still thought of the mysterious page.  He sat by M. de Loignac, who said to him: 

“Here are a number of joyful people, and they do not know what for.”

“Nor I, neither; but at least I am an exception.”

“You are wrong, for you are one of those to whom Paris is a paradise.”

“Do not laugh at me, M. de Loignac.”

“I do not; I distinguished you at once, and that other young man also who looks so grave.”

“Who?”

“M. de St. Maline.”