Philippe posed for two hours before
and two hours after breakfast. At three o'clock in the afternoon, he
put on his ordinary clothes and, as he lighted a cigar, he proposed to
his brother to go and dine together in the Palais-Royal, jingling gold
in his pocket as he spoke.
"No," said Joseph, "it frightens me to see gold about you."
"Ah! you'll always have a bad opinion of me in this house," cried the
colonel in a thundering voice. "Can't I save my money, too?"
"Yes, yes!" cried Agathe, coming out of her hiding-place, and kissing
her son. "Let us go and dine with him, Joseph!"
Joseph dared not scold his mother. He went and dressed himself; and
Philippe took them to the Rocher de Cancale, where he gave them a
splendid dinner, the bill for which amounted to a hundred francs.
"The devil!" muttered Joseph uneasily; "with an income of eleven
hundred francs you manage, like Ponchard in the 'Dame Blance,' to save
enough to buy estates."
"Bah, I'm on a run of luck," answered the dragoon, who had drunk
enormously.
Hearing this speech just as they were on the steps of the cafe, and
before they got into the carriage to go to the theatre,--for Philippe
was to take his mother to the Cirque-Olympique (the only theatre her
confessor allowed her to visit),--Joseph pinched his mother's arm. She
at once pretended to feel unwell, and refused to go the theatre;
Philippe accordingly took them back to the rue Mazarin, where, as soon
as she was alone with Joseph in her garret, Agathe fell into a gloomy
silence.
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