"But it is useless
to distress ourselves about it. Don't be so cast down, Father Absinthe.
To-morrow, between us, we will repair the damage."
This friendly encouragement only increased the old man's evident
embarrassment. He blushed, this veteran, as if he had been a schoolgirl,
and raising his hands toward heaven, he exclaimed: "Ah, you wretch!
didn't I tell you so?"
"Why! what is the matter with you?" inquired Lecoq.
Father Absinthe made no reply. Approaching a looking-glass that hung
against the wall, he surveyed himself reproachfully and began to heap
cruel insults upon the reflection of his features.
"You old good-for-nothing!" he exclaimed. "You vile deserter! have you
no shame left? You were entrusted with a mission, were you not? And how
have you fulfilled it? You have got drunk, you old wretch, so drunk as
to have lost your wits. Ah, you shan't escape punishment this time, for
even if M. Lecoq is indulgent, you shan't taste another drop for a week.
Yes, you old sot, you shall suffer for this escapade."
"Come, come," said Lecoq, "you can sermonize by and by. Now tell me your
story."
"Ah! I am not proud of it, believe me. However, never mind. No doubt you
received the letter in which I told you I was going to follow the young
men who seemed to recognize Gustave?"
"Yes, yes--go on!"
"Well, as soon as they entered the cafe, into which I had followed them,
they began drinking, probably to drive away their emotion.
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