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Solution Manual for Accounting, 28th Edition, Carl
Warren, Christine Jonick Jennifer Schneider
Full download link at: https://testbankbell.com/product/solution-manual-for-
accounting-28th-edition-carl-warren-christine-jonick-jennifer-schneider/

Description:
Develop a strong foundation in accounting that prepares you for future study and
success in today's business world with Warren/Jonick/Schneider's leading
ACCOUNTING, 28E and CNOWv2 digital resources. This edition connects
accounting concepts to the "bigger picture" as chapter-opening schemas clearly
demonstrate how each chapter's content fits within the overall framework of the
book. The CNOWv2's Journal Entry Tool reinforces this approach by automatically
illustrating the impact of transactions on the accounting equation. This book's
hallmark presentation of the accounting cycle provides an unmatched foundation
for understanding later chapters and future coursework. The authors have
carefully streamlined content and improved learning features to ensure you have
the understanding of today's accounting and specific tools you need to succeed.
About the Author
Dr. Carl S. Warren is professor emeritus of accounting at the University of
Georgia, Athens. For more than 25 years, Dr. Warren has taught all levels of
accounting courses with a primary focus on introductory of accounting and
auditing. Dr. Warren has taught classes at the University of Iowa, Michigan State
University and the University of Chicago. He received his Ph.D. from Michigan
State University and his B.A.A. and M.A. from the University of Iowa. During his
career, Dr. Warren published numerous articles in professional journals, including
The Accounting Review, Journal of Accounting Research, Journal of Accountancy,
The CPA Journal and Auditing: A Journal of Practice and Theory. Dr. Warren�s
outside interests include handball, backpacking, skiing, hiking, fly-fishing and golf.
He also spends as much time as possible visiting with his five grandchildren (two
sets of twins). Dr. Warren resides in Bozeman, Montana.

Dr. Christine A. Jonick is Professor of Accounting at University of North Georgia,

Gainesville. She received her Ed.D. from the University of Georgia, her M.B.A.
from Adelphi University and her B.A. from State University of New York at
Binghamton. Dr. Jonick has focused her teaching efforts on principles of
accounting and intermediate financial accounting. She is the recipient of several
teaching awards, including one for excellence in online instruction. She has
published accounting-related articles in research journals and a case study in the
IMA Journal. Dr. Jonick serves on numerous professional committees, is an active
board member for the American Accounting Association SE and is a recent past
president of the Georgia Association of Accounting Educators. Dr. Jonick has
worked with accounting textbook publishers for more than a decade as a
technology consultant, subject-matter expert and content developer. Her outside
interests include travel, biking, technology development and family activities.
• ISBN-10 : 1337902683
• ISBN-13 : 978-1337902687
Table contents:

1. Introduction to Accounting and Business.

2. Analyzing Transactions.
3. The Adjusting Process.
4. Completing the Accounting Cycle.
5. Accounting Systems.
6. Accounting for Merchandising Businesses.
7. Inventories.
8. Internal Controls and Cash.
9. Receivables.
10. Long-Term Assets: Fixed and Intangible.
11. Current Liabilities and Payroll.
12. Accounting for Partnerships and Limited Liability Companies.
13. Corporations: Organization, Stock Transactions, and Dividends.
 14. Long-Term Liabilities: Bonds and Notes.
15. Investments and Fair Value Accounting.
Mornin’ Joe.
16. Statement of Cash Flows.
17. Financial Statement Analysis.
18. Introduction to Managerial Accounting.
19. Job Order Costing.
20. Process Cost Systems.
21. Cost Behavior and Cost-Volume-Profit Analysis.
22. Budgeting.
23. Evaluating Variances from Standard Costs.
24. Decentralized Operations.
25. Differential Analysis, Product Pricing, and Activity-Based Costing.
26. Capital Investment Analysis.
Appendix A: Interest Tables.
Appendix B: International Financial Reporting Standards.
Appendix C: Revenue Recognition Update.
Appendix D: Nike Inc., Form 10-K for the Fiscal Year Ended May 31, 2018.
Glossary.
Index.

Top of Form
Submit

1. Introduction to Accounting and Business.

1. Introduction to Accounting and Business.
2. Analyzing Transactions.
3. The Adjusting Process.
4. Completing the Accounting Cycle.
5. Accounting Systems.
6. Accounting for Merchandising Businesses.
7. Inventories.
8. Internal Controls and Cash.
9. Receivables.
10. Long-Term Assets: Fixed and Intangible.
11. Current Liabilities and Payroll.
12. Accounting for Partnerships and Limited Liability Companies.
13. Corporations: Organization, Stock Transactions, and Dividends.
14. Long-Term Liabilities: Bonds and Notes.
15. Investments and Fair Value Accounting.
Mornin’ Joe.
16. Statement of Cash Flows.
17. Financial Statement Analysis.
18. Introduction to Managerial Accounting.
19. Job Order Costing.
20. Process Cost Systems.
21. Cost Behavior and Cost-Volume-Profit Analysis.
22. Budgeting.
23. Evaluating Variances from Standard Costs.
24. Decentralized Operations.
25. Differential Analysis, Product Pricing, and Activity-Based Costing.
26. Capital Investment Analysis.
Appendix A: Interest Tables.
Appendix B: International Financial Reporting Standards.
Appendix C: Revenue Recognition Update.
Appendix D: Nike Inc., Form 10-K for the Fiscal Year Ended May 31, 2018.
Glossary.
Index.
Exploring the Variety of Random
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 "No, no," said Dubourg; "we can't eat our supper here; you may serve us
in one of the rooms where we are to sleep."
"But this is the eating-room."
"That may be," said Ménard; "but monsieur le comte and monsieur le bar
—at all events, we don't choose to eat here."
These words caused the peddlers to raise their heads, and they
scrutinized the travellers, laughing contemptuously among themselves.
Ménard, fearing that he had offended them, and dreading a scene, was
already in the passage, where he waited for the servant to come; while
Dubourg, who was not long-suffering, eyed the four drinkers in his turn.
Frédéric, his mind still engrossed by his memories, paid little heed to what
was taking place.
"You see, Goton," said one of the four, with a sneering smile, "these
gents are too swell to eat in the same room with us. Jarni! we must take
care and not look at 'em too close; it might offend 'em."
"Nobody spoke to you," said Dubourg; "try not to be too insolent, or you
may be sorry for it."
"Oho! there's one of 'em who means to show his teeth!"
"For heaven's sake, monsieur le baron," said Ménard, putting his nose in
at the door, "don't let this go any further! These gentlemen certainly have no
intention of——"
"Hallo! he's a baron!" exclaimed another of the peddlers; "I took him for
a Swiss liniment-maker, with his silk handkerchief across his breast."
"Did you see their carriage?" said a third; "it's an old shack I wouldn't
put my donkey in!"
"The wretches! to talk so about King Stanislas's berlin!" said Ménard;
but he made the remark in such a low tone that no one suspected that he had
spoken.
"Once more, hold your peace!" said Dubourg, "or we'll teach you whom
you have to deal with."
"Indeed!" said the peddlers, brandishing their cudgels; "perhaps we
might teach you something more."
Frédéric, who had been silent thus far, took a pair of pistols from his
pocket, and, walking toward the table at which the four men were seated, he
said calmly:
 "Messieurs, whatever may be the titles we bear, we are men, and we are
quite able to prove it; we are not accustomed to using clubs, but here is
something that will make matters even between us. Everyone knows how to
fire a pistol. Which of you would like to begin with me?"
"Yes," said Dubourg, producing in his turn a pair of pistols of heavier
calibre; "and this is for the man who comes forward next."
At sight of the pistols, the peddlers changed color and dropped their
cudgels; those who presume too far upon their strength to insult those
whom they deem weaker than themselves, generally appear very cowardly
and foolish when confronted by such arguments.
Goton shrieked when she saw the fire-arms; the innkeeper came limping
into the room, and Monsieur Ménard, proposing to retreat to the end of the
passage, where it was quite dark, collided with the hostess, who was
coming to find out what was happening in the living-room.
The hostess, whose acquaintance we have not made as yet, was a woman
of fifty, short of stature, and almost as broad as she was tall. Her corpulence
had within a short time increased to such a degree that she could hardly
walk from her desk to the kitchen; even so, she had to make a judicious and
abundant use of flour to keep herself from chafing when she walked. This
difficulty in moving made her very sedentary; she passed almost all her
time in an armchair which the village carpenter had made for her, of
sufficient breadth to admit her enormous bulk. This mode of life naturally
caused her embonpoint to make rapid progress from day to day. It was
beginning to become disquieting, and the innkeeper, limping as he did, took
a long time to walk around his spouse.
She had heard Goton's outcry and her husband's exclamations, and,
suspecting that something extraordinary was taking place, she had left her
broad armchair and waddled along the corridor leading to the living-room.
As this corridor was narrow, her body closed it hermetically and rubbed
against the partitions on each side; so that it was impossible for anyone to
pass through in the opposite direction, unless by jumping over her head or
crawling between her legs.
It was this enormous mass with which Monsieur Ménard collided when
he attempted to leave the field of battle, all his youthful vigor being restored
by the sight of the pistols. Despite the violence with which the tutor hurled
himself against her, the hostess did not waver; solid as a rock, and upheld,
too, by the walls of the corridor, the bulky dame contented herself with
crying in a shrill falsetto:
"What's all this? who is it?"
Ménard, still dazed by the shock, was determined none the less to force a
passage, and he returned toward the person he had struck, hoping that she
had moved to one side or the other; he turned to the right and ran his nose
against a breast which rivalled that of the Hottentot Venus; he stepped back
and turned to the left, and collided with an arm that would have darkened a
window.
"Mon Dieu! where am I?" exclaimed poor Ménard, who had no idea of
what he had come in contact with, and, still trying to go forward, lowered
his head like a ram; while the hostess cried, louder than ever:
"Who is it? what's he trying to do? where does he want to go?"
Her shrieks attracted the attention of the travellers, peace having been
restored in the living-room, since Frédéric and Dubourg had exhibited their
pistols; the four peddlers had become more amiable and had mumbled some
apologies, with which the young men were content, having no desire for a
quarrel with such adversaries. So general attention was now directed to the
corridor.
"It's my wife's voice," said the innkeeper; "something very funny must
have happened to make her leave her chair!"
He hurried out into the passage with Goton, who carried a light;
Dubourg and Frédéric followed them, and they discovered the hostess, who
was shrieking louder than ever, because the sound of approaching footsteps
had increased Ménard's terror; he had resolved to pass at any cost, and,
being unable to force a passage on either side, had dropped on his hands
and knees and tried to crawl between the corpulent dame's legs. But she,
determined that the unknown, whom she believed to be a thief, should not
escape, could devise no better way of detaining him than to sit upon him; so
that she was fairly astride Ménard, when light was thrown on the scene.
Goton laughed uproariously, and the innkeeper was petrified with
amazement. Frédéric and Dubourg tried to discover the meaning of that
amusing tableau.
"I can't stand it any longer," gasped Ménard, in a dying voice.
"I've got him! he's caught!" exclaimed the hostess triumphantly.
 The poor fellow was so effectively caught, that he would have been
stifled if not rescued. But the innkeeper, jealous of his chaste better half,
whom he regarded as the most beautiful creature to be found within a
hundred leagues, instantly stooped and pulled Ménard from under his wife's
skirts, swearing roundly.
"You villain! sacrebleu! what was you doing under there? ten thousand
eyes!"
"Oh! he didn't do any harm, I promise you, ducky!" said the hostess
sweetly, to allay her husband's suspicions; while Ménard, restored at last to
the light of day, struggled to his feet, with wig awry and distorted features.
"Look ye, my friend," continued the innkeeper, "you didn't go in there,
sacrebleu! to look for violets, did you?"
Ménard looked from one to another, with a dazed expression; he had not
fully recovered himself. Dubourg succeeded in adjusting matters to
everybody's satisfaction; he divined why Ménard was trying to get away, so
he dispelled the host's suspicions, and reassured his wife concerning the
quarrel in the living-room. Then he ordered Goton to show them to their
bedrooms; which she did after the landlady had concluded to return to her
armchair and thus uncork the passage.
The best quarters that they could give our three friends consisted of two
very dirty rooms, with the ceiling rafters exposed, which cats and spiders
seemed in the habit of occupying in company with the guests of the house.
In each room there was a wretched bed, partly surrounded by blue and
white curtains resembling in design the common salad-bowl we see in the
country. Both beds were more than five feet high.
"These are modest quarters," said Frédéric, with a smile; "but in war
time we must take what comes, and it's the same when we travel, eh, my
dear Ménard?"
"To be sure; a night is soon passed, and these beds look comfortable."
"We shall need a ladder to climb into them."
"I see only two beds, monsieur le comte."
"Oh! don't worry about me," said Dubourg; "I shall not go to bed; I have
letters to write and despatches to send; and I will finish the night in a chair."
"But I don't see any chairs, monsieur le baron."
 "Never mind—a chair or a bench. When a man has slept in camp, he's
not hard to please. But the supper is a long while coming; I'll take a look at
the kitchen."
Dubourg went downstairs, and Frédéric walked to a window which
looked on the fields. The moon was shining on the village, where the most
perfect quiet reigned. The young man mused upon the contrast between life
in Paris and in that hamlet; he reflected that, at that moment, when the
villagers had all retired, the fashionable inhabitants of the city were at the
play or at social festivities, exhibiting their fine clothes and jewels, and
seeking pleasure. But need one leave the city to find striking contrasts? In
the house where people are dancing on the first floor, on the second there is
mourning for the death of a husband or father; on the third, a young man is
making a passionate declaration of love to his sweetheart; on the fourth, a
drunkard is beating his wife; on the fifth, a gambler is filling his pockets
with gold preparatory to going out; and under the eaves, a poor girl passes
the night in toil to earn bread for her mother.
While Frédéric abandoned himself to such reflections, Monsieur Ménard
inspected the beds, and was pained to find that what he had deemed at first
sight so soft and comfortable was but a wretched mattress, and a straw bed
itself nearly four feet thick.
"What an insane idea it is of these villagers to have such enormous straw
beds!" said Ménard, as he examined the sheets, which scratched his hand.
"And I fancied that I was going to sink into a soft feather-bed! These are
terribly poor sheets! And yet, monsieur le baron says that one is well taken
care of here! I shall go to bed in my drawers. God grant that the supper may
make up for the rest!"
Dubourg had gone down to speak to his postilion, with whom he settled
his account, ordering him to leave the place before dawn; for he had only
three louis left of the twelve Frédéric had lent him, and he was not anxious
to keep a carriage that he could not pay for. That business adjusted, he
prowled about Mademoiselle Goton, to whom he wished to say a few
words. The servant was inclined to look favorably on Dubourg, because he
had borne himself gallantly with the peddlers; for a courageous act pleases
a country wench no less than a petite-maîtresse; but Goton had to help her
master in the kitchen, and then serve the four men in the living-room, who
seemed disposed to pass the night drinking, and to postpone their departure
till daybreak.
They laughingly toyed with the buxom servant, who had much ado to
defend herself from the familiarities of those gentry; but Goton was
accustomed to fighting with such clowns: she boxed the ears of one and
kicked another; she pinched and scratched, and the fellows found her all the
more seductive.
Being busily occupied thus in all directions, Goton could do no more
than whisper a word of hope to Dubourg, giving him to understand that the
peddlers would be gone at daybreak, her employers asleep, and herself
more at liberty. This promise delighted our friend; he was talking with
Goton at the foot of the staircase, and gave her a resounding kiss. The girl
ran away; but, on looking up, Dubourg saw Ménard, who had come out,
with a candle in his hand, to ascertain whether they were likely to have any
supper, and was decidedly amazed to see the Palatine of Rava embracing a
dishwasher.
Dubourg, who was never disconcerted, went to meet him, saying:
"The Emperor Heliogabalus rewarded the cook who invented a new
dish; I embrace the person who informs me that our supper is ready."
Ménard asked nothing more; he went back to Frédéric with Dubourg,
and Goton laid the table in one of the rooms.
"Now to the table, and vive la gaieté!" said Dubourg, more at ease since
he was certain that he would soon be rid of his carriage. Ménard responded
to the invitation by a gracious smile, and Frédéric finally decided to leave
the moon and turn his mind to earthly affairs.
"Let us taste the wine first of all," said Dubourg; "is it the best, my
child?"
"Yes, monsieur; it's the best, for we haven't got any other."
"It's a little sour," said Ménard, making a wry face.
"We have some white that's sweeter," said Goton.
"Go and get us some of the white, my dear; don't spare anything; you
don't have people like us to supper every day."
"No, indeed," said Ménard; "and we will hope that the rabbit stew is
made with that understanding."
 Dubourg served the stew; but the innkeeper, disturbed by his wife's
adventure in the corridor, had allowed it to burn, and Goton, being
constantly beset by the four peddlers, had put the onions in too late and had
not grated the bacon. Dubourg vainly insisted on declaring that it had a
delicious odor; Ménard said nothing, because he dared not contradict
monsieur le baron; but his face grew darker with every mouthful.
"What infernal kind of a stew is this?" said Frédéric, pushing away the
plate that Dubourg persisted in offering him. "A rabbit that has had nothing
to eat but cabbage, raw onions, and rancid lard; and a detestable burned
taste, in addition."
"It can't be denied," said Ménard, "that it doesn't come up to what
monsieur le baron told us."
"What do you expect, messieurs?" said Dubourg; "a cook must make
mistakes sometimes. Errare humanum est; isn't that so, Monsieur Ménard?"
"A cook ought never errare, monsieur le baron."
"It's partly your fault, too. You disturbed his mind; why in the devil did
you go prowling about under his wife's skirts?"
"I only wanted to get by, monsieur le baron."
"Only a husband should take that road, Monsieur Ménard."
"My intentions were pure, monsieur le baron."
"I never doubted it; but your position was shockingly equivocal."
"Monsieur le baron, in the temple of Apollo, the pythonesses, seated on
the sacred tripod, received the prophetic exhalations under their robes."
"If my wife had seated herself on that tripod, Monsieur Ménard, I should
have asked for a separation."
Goton put an end to this conversation by bringing an omelet and white
wine.
"Were the gentlemen satisfied with the stew?" she asked.
"It was worse than the devil!" replied Frédéric.
"It was a total failure," said Ménard.
"My dear child," added Dubourg, "the rabbits in Bretagne don't smell so
strong of cabbage. They have fine rabbits there; but here you have a very
bad way of bringing them up."
 "It would seem that monsieur le baron has passed a good deal of time in
Bretagne?" said Ménard, respectfully putting out his hand to take a pinch of
snuff from the King of Prussia's snuff-box, which Dubourg offered him.
"Yes, Monsieur Ménard; and I admit that I still have a weakness for that
province. I have such delightful recollections of it! Ah! how lovely the sky
is in Bretagne! And the fields—how pretty they are! What rich pastures,
what enchanting groves! You can walk leagues and leagues without once
leaving the leafy thickets and flower-grown paths which make the fields of
Bretagne one endless garden."
"But Poland, monsieur le baron?"
"Oh! Poland has its good points, of course. Have you ever been there,
Monsieur Ménard?"
"I have not had that honor, monsieur le baron."
"As you are not familiar with the country, I will talk with you often
about it."
"It must be a very interesting country."
"Extremely interesting, and extremely picturesque; first of all, we have
the Krapach Mountains, beside which Mont Cenis is no more than a little
hillock."
"Oh, indeed! they are covered with snow, of course?"
"Almost all the year. I have a château on the summit of one of those
mountains, where only chamois can keep their footing."
"But how do you reach your château, monsieur le baron?"
"I have had a winding staircase constructed inside the mountain; it cost
me a hundred thousand francs, but it's a wonderful piece of work, and
people come hundreds of miles to see it. I trust, Monsieur Ménard, that I
shall have the pleasure of showing it to you, and of entertaining you for
some time at my castle of Krapach. I will give you a glass of a certain tokay
which came to me from Tekely's cellar; and you will tell me what you think
of it."
"Ah! monsieur le baron, you overpower me. But it must be very cold at
your château, is it not?"
"It used to be very cold, in truth, in the days of my ancestors; but, thanks
to recent scientific discoveries, I have found a way of modifying the
temperature—a very simple method, which answers my purposes
perfectly."
"What is it, pray, monsieur le baron?"
"I have built a gasometer under the château; gas, as you know, makes the
earth very warm; indeed, in some places directly over the pipes, I raise
green peas in January.—What is it, my dear count? drink, drink, or you will
choke!"
Frédéric had, in fact, much difficulty in listening to this discourse, which
Dubourg delivered with imperturbable gravity, while Ménard listened with
childlike confidence to every word uttered by the baron.
At that moment, the conversation was interrupted by a violent shock,
followed by an ominous cracking.
"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Ménard; "what can that be? This house doesn't
seem to be very solidly built."
"Can it be that they are firing cannon to celebrate our arrival in the
village?" Dubourg asked Goton, who replied, with a laugh:
"Oh! no, monsieur; it ain't anything; it's only madame going to bed,
that's all."
This explanation made the young men laugh; but Ménard was not
satisfied until he was assured that the hostess slept on the same floor; he
would not have consented to pass the night on the floor below a woman
who shook the house whenever she moved; it was quite enough to remain
under the same roof with her.
The white wine, being a little more palatable than the red, enabled them
to eat an omelet with parsley, which Dubourg tried in vain to make them
think was tarragon. For dessert there was nothing to offer the travellers
except some Géromé cheese, which could have walked to the table
unassisted at need, and the odor of which drove Frédéric from his seat. He
went to bed in the other room, bidding the servant wake him early in the
morning, as he had no desire to prolong his stay at the inn. Monsieur
Ménard deemed it his duty to remain with the baron, who plied him with
bumper after bumper and went into raptures over the taste of the cheese,
which, he said, reminded him of what he had eaten in Switzerland, thereby
putting an end to the ex-tutor's desire to lunch or sup in a chalet.
 "Yes, Monsieur Ménard," said Dubourg; "if you should go to Gruyère, a
small Swiss village noted for its cheeses, which are its only source of
wealth, you would smell a league away the chalets in which they are made.
When you have passed a night in one of them, you smell the cheese for a
week, an excellent thing for the lungs. But you must feel the need of rest,
Monsieur Ménard; pray go to bed. I propose to pass the night writing."
"Monsieur le baron, I shall never dare to take the liberty—before you
——"
"Why not, pray? Diogenes went to bed in his tub, before Alexander; and
Crates did not hesitate to show his rump to his fellow citizens."
"It is you who order me to do it, monsieur le baron."
"I don't order you to show me your rump, Monsieur Ménard; but I urge
you to go to bed as if I weren't here."
Fatigue and the white wine combined to make sleep essential to Ménard,
so he did not wait to be urged again; he went behind the flowered curtains,
and prepared to retire. Meanwhile, Dubourg, seated at a table in a corner of
the room, pretended to look over papers and take notes, but he was really
waiting impatiently for the tutor to fall asleep, in order to give the postilion
of the berlin the signal to go; for he was afraid that Ménard would wake
early, and it would be very embarrassing if the carriage were not then at a
safe distance from the village. For this reason, he was anxious to hasten the
postilion's departure.
The gate was not closed; Goton alone would see what took place;
Dubourg knew how to assure her discretion.
It was a quarter of an hour since Ménard had disappeared behind the
curtains. Dubourg thought that he must be asleep, and was about to go
downstairs, when he heard a suppressed groan from the direction of the bed.
"Aren't you feeling well, Monsieur Ménard?" he asked, partly opening
the curtains.
What was his surprise to find poor Ménard, in shirt and drawers and a
cotton nightcap, standing beside the bed, and trying in vain to reach the top
with the aid of a chair which was too low to bring his short legs on a level
with the mattress.
"What, Monsieur Ménard! not in bed yet?"
 "No, monsieur le baron; I have been trying in vain for ten minutes to
climb up into my bed. Isn't it an outrage? I call it making fools of their
guests to give them beds that reach the ceiling! Everybody isn't six feet tall;
and unless one's a giant——"
"Come, come, don't get excited, Monsieur Ménard; why didn't you call
me to help you?"
"Oh! monsieur le baron, I shouldn't have presumed to take the liberty."
"You were wrong, for you can't pass the whole night trying to climb into
bed."
Without awaiting a reply, Dubourg bade Ménard stand on the chair; then,
placing his hands upon a certain rotund portion of the professor's anatomy,
he put forth all his strength to lift him into the bed.
"Sic itur ad astra!" he said.
"Labor improbus omnia vincit" rejoined Ménard, trying to seize his
bolster.
"Ouf!" exclaimed Dubourg.
"I am there, monsieur le baron!" cried Ménard, delighted to be safely in
bed at last.
"That's very lucky! Good-night!"
"A thousand thanks, monsieur le baron!"
When he left the bed, Dubourg was careful to remove the chair that
stood beside it, thus making it certain that Ménard would not rise until he,
Dubourg, chose. This precaution might result in placing the tutor in an
unfortunate position; whether it did so, the sequel will show.
Ménard had not been in bed five minutes before he was snoring
vociferously.
"Good! I am safe now," thought Dubourg; and, taking his light, he went
down noiselessly into the innyard. As he passed the living-room, he glanced
in: two of the peddlers were asleep on the table, the others were still
drinking; but everything indicated that they would soon follow their
companions' example.
Dubourg found his postilion, and, putting a five-franc piece in his hand,
ordered him to start at once. In a very few minutes, the horses were
harnessed, and the noble palatine's berlin was out of the village.
 "But how are you going to manage about going away to-morrow?"
queried Goton, who had just joined Dubourg in the yard.
"Oh! we have another carriage, an excellent post chaise, which is being
repaired for us; as to what I have just done, I am going to tell you what you
must say; do you understand, Goton?"
As he spoke, he slipped two five-franc pieces into the girl's pocket; it
was a larger sum than the poor drudge often earned in six months at that
wretched inn, and the sight of the two great coins made her as docile as a
lamb.
"Oh! that's enough," she said, as Dubourg put his arms about her robust
figure; "that's enough! I'll say whatever you want me to; anyway, that
carriage was yours, and you could do what you please with it. Jarni! you
tickle me! don't pinch so hard! Oh! what a man!"
"Where is your room, Goton?"
"My room? I haven't got any room; I sleep in the little barn over there,
with the cow. Dame! I don't have anything but an old straw bed on the
ground, because the missus says there's no use of wearing out sheets. But it
ain't cold there, anyway; Bebelle keeps me warm."
"Who's Bebelle?"
"Why, she's our cow. Oh! she's so soft and warm! But how he pinches!
Dieu! what a pincher you are!"
"Come to your room; we can talk better there; with you, Goton, the barn
becomes a boudoir, and straw, feathers."
"What's a boudoir?"
"Come, and I'll tell you."
"And what about the peddlers?"
"They don't need you any more; haven't they paid their bills?"
"Yes. Anyway, master knows 'em."
"In that case, there's no need of your sitting up any longer."
"But suppose they should want anything?"
"Two of them are sound asleep already, and the two others will very
soon be in the same condition. Come, I tell you; it's nonsense to sit up till
daylight for them. You need sleep, Goton."
 The servant was half vanquished. She ceased to resist Dubourg's
arguments, and allowed him to lead her to the cow-barn, which they both
entered, closing the door behind them. The door had no other fastening than
a hook on the outside; but the girl slept there without fear, as there were no
robbers thereabout.
But one of the peddlers was not asleep; he, too, was engrossed by
thoughts of Goton, and he was waiting for his companions to lose
themselves in slumber before attempting to join the seductive servant.
This man had noticed that one of the strangers was prowling about
Goton, and it had irritated him; but he had not dared to watch him too
closely, being still held in respect by the recollection of the pistols.
When all three of his comrades had their heads on the table, he rose
softly and went out to look for Goton, knowing the location of her bedroom.
He took no light, in order not to betray his whereabouts, and crept stealthily
toward the cow-barn.
He was still some yards away, when he heard two voices saying some
very pretty things to each other; he crept nearer, and grasped the thread of
the conversation distinctly enough; for Dubourg and Goton, thinking that
their only neighbors were animals, were talking together without restraint.
The peddler was furious, but how could he be revenged? He had no
desire to pick a quarrel with Dubourg; it would be a waste of time to call the
landlord, for that worthy man and his spouse always locked themselves in
their room to avoid being disturbed; besides, who would dare to assume the
task of getting the hostess out of bed? and, after all, what did it matter to
them that a guest was with their servant? they probably did not consider
themselves responsible for Goton's virtue.
The peddler determined to play some trick on the amorous couple. He
could think of nothing better than to hook the door on the outside, which he
did very softly, then stole away, delighted with his exploit, and saying to
himself:
"They won't get out of that place till someone lets 'em out; for the door's
a stout one, and I defy 'em to break it down."
He joined his companions; day broke ere long, and their business
required the peddlers to leave the inn. They were soon ready, and, as they
shouldered their packs, they listened to their confrère's story of the trick he
had played on the stranger. They all applauded him, being overjoyed to be
revenged on a man who had refused to be frightened by their cudgels; and
they went their way, laughing at the thought of the scene that would take
place at the inn in the morning.
During these occurrences, Ménard did not continue in the same tranquil
state in which we left him. The white wine, with which monsieur le baron
had filled his glass so often, produced its due effect. Ménard woke; he
turned over and put out his hand to find the chair, which he expected to use
as a means of descending from his bed; for in such wretched inns there is
never a night table. But to no purpose did he stretch out his arm and feel
about in all directions. He could find no chair! In that case, how was he to
climb down from that bed, which reached to the roof? yet he felt sure that it
was becoming absolutely necessary. He listened, but could hear nothing; he
put aside the curtains—the most profound darkness reigned in the room.
Monsieur le baron must have gone to sleep in his chair, as he had planned to
do; but, in any event, how could he presume to ask the Palatine of Rava to
give him the—— No, he could never do that! On the other hand, to jump
out of bed was to run the risk of hurting himself, or at least of not being
able to get back. It was most embarrassing, and poor Ménard, sitting up in
bed, could not decide what course to pursue.
Necessity knows no law, says an old proverb; besides, monsieur le baron
was so kind and good-natured and obliging! This thought emboldened
Ménard; he coughed, gently at first, then a little louder; and finally he
ventured to call, in a low tone:
"Monsieur le baron—if you are not asleep, may I presume to ask you to
assist me? I am sadly embarrassed, monsieur le baron."
But at that moment Baron Dubourg was with Goton, busily engaged in
teaching her what a boudoir is, and that a garret, a thicket, a loft, a cave, a
kitchen, a cellar, or a barn may deserve that name when one is in either of
those places with one's love. And Goton understood the lesson perfectly,
because she was quick-witted, and because Dubourg, who had had some
experience, was an excellent teacher.
"Monsieur le baron must sleep very soundly," thought Ménard. "What a
cursed place this is! this infernal bed, where I can't turn over without
pricking my legs—I believe the mattress is stuffed with oat straw! Well, no
matter what happens, I must try to slide down."
 He had put one of his short legs over the edge of the bed, when he heard
a tremendous uproar in the room; a chair was overturned, a jug that stood
on it fell to the floor and broke, and a number of dark objects scuttled along
the wall and went out through the door. Ménard was stiff with terror.
"Monsieur le baron, monsieur le baron!" he called, in a stifled voice; "is
that you?"
There was no reply. The poor man had not the courage to leave the bed,
but buried his head under the clothes; his fright causing him to lose all
power of restraint, it soon became unnecessary for him to get out, and he
fell asleep without being further disturbed; for it was neither thieves nor
hobgoblins who had caused the tumult in his chamber, but simply two cats,
which, finding the door open, had paid a visit to their usual place of abode.
While fighting over a bit of rabbit, which monsieur le baron had tossed
under the table while declaring that it was delicious, the beasts had
overturned a chair on which was a jug of water, and the noise had so
terrified them that they fled incontinently, abandoning the subject of
controversy.
Meanwhile, the day had broken. The innkeeper quitted his chaste
partner, who rose at six but was not dressed until nine. Frédéric woke, and
so did Ménard, the latter being very uncomfortable for reasons which you
can guess. Dubourg, having no further instruction to give Goton, desired to
return to his room, and Goton found it harder than usual to leave her pallet,
because Dubourg's lessons had fatigued her. But the pretended baron tried
in vain to leave the shed. For five minutes he pushed and shook the door,
which did not yield.
"Goton—Goton, did you lock the door?" he asked.
"Naw! it don't lock," replied the girl, rubbing her eyes.
"But I can't open it."
"Push hard."
"I am pushing as hard as I can, but it won't open."
"Bah! you city folks haven't got any strength!" said the servant; and she
struck the door a violent blow with her fist, but without effect.
"Jarni! someone must have hooked it outside."
"Who in the devil can have played us such a trick?"
 "Pardi! it must have been one of the peddlers—because they had their
eyes on me, don't you see? and perhaps they saw that you was in here."
"I haven't any desire to pass my day in this shed."
"I'll milk the cow for you."
"Much obliged."
"And you can tell me something."
"I don't know anything more. This smell of cow and filth goes to my
head."
"Oh! you said just now that this shed was a little—what d'you call it?—a
pretty little bouloir, with me."
"Oh! there's a great difference between just now and now. A place ceases
to be agreeable, Goton, when you are compelled to stay in it. But it's broad
daylight; if that window wasn't so small, we could get out through it."
"Oh! you can't do that."
"Ah! I have an idea! We must make the best of it. Bring that stone here,
Goton; stand on it with me, so that our heads will be near the window, and
then shout as I do."
"What will I shout?"
"What I do."
Dubourg put his face to the round hole over the door, and began to cry at
the top of his voice:
"Help! thieves! stop the carriage! thieves!"
"Where's the thieves?" whispered Goton.
"Will you do what I tell you to?" repeated Dubourg.
"All right; I'll yell, if it amuses you," rejoined the servant. And her strong
voice, reinforcing Dubourg's, soon aroused the whole household and a good
part of the village.
The innkeeper ran to the spot as fast as his left leg allowed, it being two
inches shorter than the other. Frédéric came out of his room; Ménard sat up
in bed, and succeeded, with his pupil's aid, in reaching the floor. He dressed
in haste, and went downstairs close on the heels of Frédéric, who had
recognized Dubourg's voice and was more curious than alarmed, suspecting
some new invention on the baron's part. They all went out into the yard,
where they were joined by the neighbors and a number of laborers on their
way to work, who had been attracted by Dubourg's reiterated shouts of:
"Thieves! stop the carriage!"
They looked about, but saw no carriage; whereupon Goton roared:
"Monsieur le baron's carriage has run off!"
The shed door was opened at last, and Dubourg rushed out like a
madman, raving and swearing, heedless of the fact that his trousers were
stained with filth.
"What's the matter, monsieur le baron?" queried Ménard, in dismay.
"The matter? my berlin—that scoundrel of a postilion! he has run away
and taken it with him—with fifty thousand francs in gold that I had in one
of the pockets!"
"Oh! mon Dieu!"
"My father's berlin! the equipage of the Potoskis! It isn't the money that I
regret—but a berlin in which the Princess of Hungary—— Ah! my friends,
scour the country in all directions—follow every road—a hundred louis to
the man who brings it back!"
"A hundred louis to the man who brings back the carriage!" said Goton.
"They will be very smart if they overtake it," said Dubourg, in an
undertone; "it must be near to Paris now."
"But how did you come to be locked into the shed with Goton?" inquired
the innkeeper.
"I should think you might guess that. I heard a noise in the yard during
the night; I came downstairs softly and found my rascal harnessing the
horses, intending to make his escape while we were asleep. Unluckily, I had
no weapons, and the postilion is a much stronger man than I am. I
attempted to go to call you, but the villain seized me, and, despite my
resistance, forced me into the barn, where this girl was sleeping, and locked
us in there. We began at once to shout for help; but you sleep like dead
men."
"Yes, yes, that's how it was!" said Goton, understanding now why
Dubourg had told her to shout thieves.
"You must go to monsieur le maire," said Ménard; "you must have the
police ordered out.—There's a mayor here, of course?"
 "Yes, monsieur; the wine merchant; but he'll have to send to the next
village for the police, and that will take two hours."
"Don't be disturbed, my dear Ménard," said Frédéric, with a smile, "we
have a comfortable post chaise to take the place of monsieur le baron's
berlin."
"But fifty thousand francs in gold, monsieur le comte!"
"Oh! it isn't the loss of the money that distresses me," said Dubourg; "my
fortune can stand that loss. Luckily, I still have fifteen thousand francs in
my wallet, to pay my expenses for some little time; but I especially regret
my wardrobe; there was a great trunk under the carriage, full of clothes and
linen."
"Certainly," observed Frédéric, with a mischievous glance at Dubourg
and Goton, "you need a change of clothing now; you must have fallen while
you were in the barn."
Dubourg looked at him with an expression that signified: "I don't know
why you need have called attention to that!" as he replied:
"I certainly didn't go in like a lamb; ask Goton how the rascal handled
me!"
"Oh! yes," said the servant, "he threw you down more'n four times."
"At all events, my friend, my wardrobe is at your service," said Frédéric.
"And mine too, monsieur le baron," added Ménard, bowing to Dubourg;
and he went back to his room to finish dressing, the baron having promised
to go and lodge a complaint with the mayor.
Frédéric's postilion came at last to inform the travellers that the chaise
was ready. Ménard came down from his room, thanking heaven that they
were to leave that inn, which had been so disastrous to them. Goton came
down behind him, and whispered to Dubourg:
"One of your friends ain't very well brought up; a man of his age do such
things as that! If my little brother did it, he'd get a licking."
In two words, Dubourg learned what had happened; he could not help
laughing at the catastrophe, for which he was responsible; while Ménard
glared angrily at the servant, who put out her tongue at him, shrugged her
shoulders, and followed him about, saying in an undertone:
"For shame! what a dirty trick! a man fifty years old! who ain't learned
to be clean!"
 The carriage awaited the travellers, and they took their seats with much
satisfaction: Dubourg, overjoyed to be rid of his berlin; Ménard, impatient
to leave Goton and the inn, for which he had conceived an intense aversion;
and Frédéric, because he was much more comfortable in the roomy, well-
hung post chaise than in monsieur le baron's wretched berlin.
Ménard sighed once or twice for the seat that the Princess of Hungary
had occupied; but he still had to console him the King of Prussia's snuff-
box, and the prospect of drinking tokay from Tekely's cellar.
 VI

THE LITTLE WOOD

Our travellers reached the next village without mishap, and stopped there
to breakfast. Ménard admired the tranquillity with which their noble
companion bore the twofold loss of his carriage and his fifty thousand
francs.
"I am a philosopher, Monsieur Ménard," said Dubourg; "and I care little
for money; indeed, I think that I should prefer mediocrity to a too exalted
station: Magna servitus est magna fortuna."
"You are no ordinary man, my dear Dubourg," said Frédéric; "there are
so many people whose philosophy does not outlast their prosperity, like the
coward who boasts of his courage when the danger has passed."
"I certainly am not ambitious," rejoined Ménard; "and I know how to
bow to circumstances; but I consider that it requires great strength of mind
to give up without regret a good table and a good bed; and when I say a
good bed, I don't mean a high one."
Dubourg observed that when they had breakfasted it was Monsieur
Ménard who paid the bill.
"Don't you carry the purse?" he asked Frédéric, in an undertone.
"No; my father gave the funds to Ménard."
"The devil! that's a nuisance. What will he think, when he sees that I
never pay?"
"Why, after your saying that you had been robbed, did you add that you
still had fifteen thousand francs in your pocket?"
"Oh! why, why! because I wanted to play the great man, and not let your
companion imagine that you would pay my expenses."
"I don't dare to ask Ménard for the money; I should be afraid of hurting
his feelings."
"Never fear; I'll undertake to make him turn it over of his own motion."
"How?"
"You will see."
 "When you hold the purse-strings, don't play the swell too much;
remember that we shall not have any more for a long while."
"Can it be that you believe that I am still a rattle-head and gambler, as I
was in Paris? No, my dear Frédéric, I am too well pleased to be travelling
with you, to make a fool of myself; I tell you again, I mean to be a second
Mentor."
"Yes; your performance in the cow-barn is a very promising beginning."
"Oh! but I had to invent some lie to account for the berlin."
"And that made it necessary to lock yourself in there with Mademoiselle
Goton! you ne'er-do-well!"
"Bah! don't make yourself out such a Cato! If Mademoiselle Goton had
had melancholy eyes and a sentimental cast of countenance, you would
have gone with her to pasture the cows."
"Well, at all events, I beg you not to do so much gasconading with poor
Ménard, who believes every word; for, to remove any possible suspicion
from his mind, I have taken pains to tell him that I know your family
intimately, and that you are highly esteemed in Paris."
"You have done very well. I only tell him as much as I think necessary to
carry out my part; you don't seem to remember that I call myself a Polish
nobleman."
"That's the reason, I suppose, that you talk about nothing but Bretagne!"
The travellers resumed their journey. Before reaching the town where
they proposed to pass the night, they had to ride through a dense forest; and
Dubourg, who had his scheme all prepared, began operations by giving a
serious turn to the conversation, for he was well aware that one's frame of
mind adds to or takes from the size of objects, and that in real life, as on the
stage, one must know how to prepare and lead up to situations, in order that
they may produce the greatest effect.
"I know nothing more delightful than travelling," said Dubourg; "why is
it that one's pleasure must always be lessened by the thought that some
unfortunate accident may upset all one's plans?"
"It is so with all the pleasures of life," rejoined Frédéric; "can you name
one upon which we can rely for the morrow? It is a great joy to be loved by
the woman you adore; but when you feel sure that you are not indifferent to
her, when you rely on her heart and her oaths, some young Adonis appears,
who fascinates her; some handsome soldier, who turns her head; some
scintillating wit, who charms her mind—and that woman, faithful until
then, betrays you at the very moment that you feel most confident of her
love. Alas! the happiness of our whole future often depends only upon some
trivial circumstance, and crumbles and falls like a house built of cards."
"Monsieur de Montreville talks very wisely," said Ménard; "we are often
sadly disappointed in our hopes; how many times have I dined at a famous
restaurant, when the soup was a failure!"
"A philosopher endures such disasters, in fortune, in love, or in
pleasure," said Dubourg; "but there are things against which even
philosophy cannot prevail; as, for instance, being attacked and murdered by
brigands on the highroad."
These words made Ménard shudder; his face lengthened, his expression
became anxious, and he turned to Dubourg, whose features wore a gloomy
look in which there was nothing reassuring.
"Such affairs are, in truth, very unpleasant for travellers. They say,
monsieur le baron, that travelling is very dangerous in Italy. You have
travelled so much, that you can probably tell us."
"Unquestionably there are brigands in Italy, Monsieur Ménard. The
peculiarity of that country is that the roads are most dangerous at noon, for
no one but the brigands dares to face the hot sun at that time of day.
However, if there are highway robbers in the Apennines and in Germany
and England, unfortunately there's no lack of them in France. It's quite as
dangerous now to travel in France."
"What! in France, monsieur le baron? I thought that the roads were
perfectly safe."
"Then you don't read the papers, Monsieur Ménard?"
"Very rarely."
"If you did, you would see that the forests of Sénart, Bondy,
Fontainebleau, and even Villers-Cotterets, all have their bands of robbers."
"Mon Dieu!"
"Unfortunately, the villains are becoming more savage day by day. They
used to content themselves with robbing you, but now they beat you with
clubs, and you're lucky if you leave their hands alive."
 "The deuce! the deuce! if I had known this!" muttered Ménard, looking
about him uneasily. They were just entering the wood.
"Oh! don't be alarmed, Monsieur Ménard," continued Dubourg;
"ordinarily, the robbers confine their attentions to the one who has the
money; he has to pay for the others: they tie him to a tree and strip him as
bare as a worm, to make sure that he has nothing hidden in his clothing."
"That does not quiet my apprehensions at all, monsieur le baron; for, as
it happens, I have charge of the money for our journey."
"Oh! if I had known that, I wouldn't have told you. I thought that
Frédéric—— But in that case you must sell your life dearly. You are armed,
of course?"
"I never use weapons, monsieur le baron."
"Then you must learn to use them; at this moment, we are driving
through a forest where three friends of mine were killed."
"What's that! in this wood? It does seem very dense."
And Ménard glanced fearfully to right and left. It was beginning to grow
dark, and that fact added to his terror.
"Drive at full speed, postilion!" he cried, in a trembling voice.
But the postilion, who had received his instructions from Dubourg, did
not quicken his pace. Frédéric said nothing, but seemed lost in thought, and
Dubourg took his pistols from his pocket and examined them carefully,
glancing into the woods from time to time.
"Parbleu! Monsieur Ménard," he said, taking from his pocket a shabby
green wallet, in which he had placed his last restaurant bill to make it
appear well filled, "this contains my whole fortune for the moment. The
fifteen thousand francs which I now have for my travelling expenses are in
this wallet; as you have been obliging enough to take charge of Frédéric's
funds, I am sure that you will consent to be my cashier, too; there is no need
of having two of us to pay our hotel bills; it's much better that you should
do it all."
As he spoke, he handed Ménard the wallet; that worthy looked at it,
considering what it was best to do; although flattered by that mark of
confidence, he was not tempted to accept it.
At that moment, they heard a shrill whistle in the woods.
 "Ah! what does that mean?" exclaimed Dubourg, glancing about with a
terrified expression.
"Perhaps we are going to be attacked, monsieur le baron."
"Faith! I am afraid of it."
"And Monsieur Frédéric is asleep; pray wake him."
Frédéric, pretending to be fast asleep, was an amused listener.
"There's no need of that.—Take these, Monsieur Ménard," said Dubourg,
handing the tutor his wallet and his pistols; "they are loaded."
"Keep them, keep them, in heaven's name, monsieur le baron. I can't take
this wallet. On the contrary, if you were willing, you would be much better
able than I to take care of these."
And poor Ménard produced in one hand his wallet, and in the other a
purse filled with gold, and fixed his eyes upon Dubourg with a suppliant
expression.
"Really," said the latter, "I don't know if I ought to undertake——
Perhaps Frédéric will be offended if——"
"Oh! no, no, monsieur le baron; I am sure that he will approve of my
action."
"Here are four men with rifles coming toward us," said the postilion.
"Great God! we are lost!" cried Ménard.
"Give them to me, quickly," said Dubourg, taking the wallet and the
purse; "I see that this is a matter for me to attend to."
Ménard hid under the seat; the postilion shouted and swore, and lashed
his horses; Dubourg leaned out of the chaise and fired both his pistols in the
air; Frédéric pretended to wake up; the carriage flew like the wind, and in
five minutes they were out of the wood.
"We are safe!" said Dubourg, assisting Ménard to rise.
"Really, monsieur le baron?"
"We are out of the woods; there's no more danger. We had a narrow
escape, eh, Frédéric?"
"And the robbers, monsieur le baron?"
"I killed two of them."
"I saw the other two run away," said Frédéric.
"Ah! monsieur le baron, how lucky we were to have you with us!"
 They arrived in due time at their destination. Dubourg was delighted to
be the treasurer of the party, and he inaugurated his functions by giving the
postilion a gold piece for whistling in the forest.
 VII

DUBOURG CONTINUES TO PLAY THE GREAT MAN.—HIS

METHOD OF MANAGING THE TREASURY
Dubourg had never had in his possession so large a sum of money as that
which Ménard had intrusted to him. Young men, as a general rule, are not in
the habit of hoarding money, and Dubourg, who was devoted to cards and
pleasure and good cheer, thinking only of the present, oblivious of the past,
and never worrying about the future, had not the faintest idea of economy.
When he was a clerk in a government office, his salary was always so
largely hypothecated that he never received more than a third of it, and that
third never lasted more than three days, during which period, to be sure,
Dubourg lived like the chief of a bureau.
In the banking-house, being compelled to work hard, he took his revenge
by ordering dainty breakfasts brought to the office; and his accounts at cafés
and restaurants consumed a large part of the amount the cashier paid him at
the month's end.
At the notary's, he had contracted, with the other young men in the
office, the deplorable habit of playing écarté. It was worse than ever there:
the month's pay vanished in one evening, and he was in luck when he did
not pledge the next month's as well.
In the employ of the solicitor, being constantly abroad with the lady
whom his employer intrusted to him, he lost the habit of working; he passed
his time in dissipation, and strove to follow the fashions and rival the young
dandies of the capital. During that period, his tailor, his bootmaker, and his
stableman had divided his income.
When his kind old aunt sent him money, it was never a large amount.
The largest was the five hundred francs which he had extorted by the fable
of his marriage and his triplets; we have seen what use he made of that.
Eight thousand francs—for the amount was almost untouched—was, in
Dubourg's eyes, a fortune of which he would never see the end. To be sure,
it did not belong to him, strictly speaking; but he could direct the spending
of it; he could do exactly as he pleased, for he was certain of not being
called upon for an accounting. He did not propose to appropriate a single
sou, but he did propose to put it to such use as would do honor to him to
whom it belonged, and he was not sorry to be able to enjoy it with him.
He ordered a delicious supper, which was served in their apartments, the
finest in the house.
When he saw all the dishes with which the table was laden, Frédéric
exclaimed:
"Why, are you mad, Dubourg?"—for he continued to call him by that
name before Ménard, who had become accustomed to it—"here is supper
enough for ten!"
"I have an excellent appetite, my dear Frédéric, and am disposed to do
full honor to it; I'll wager that Monsieur Ménard will second me."
"With the very greatest pleasure, monsieur le baron; that affair in the
woods made a hole in my stomach."
"But you surely have condemned all the other guests of the house to a
bread and water diet."
"Faith! they may eat what they can find; it seems to me natural that we
should make up to ourselves for the miserable meal we had last night at that
horrible inn."
"I quite agree with monsieur le baron; we are sadly in need of restoring
our strength."
"But——"
"What the devil! do you want to travel like wolves? and eat at table
d'hôte like paltry pedestrians? A man should support his rank, my friend,
and I judge, from the feeling, that my stomach isn't inclined to backslide."
"Monsieur le baron talks very judiciously; you must support your rank,"
said Ménard, accepting a chicken wing which Dubourg offered him; "that is
your father's wish, you know, Monsieur Frédéric."
"Yes, my friend," said Dubourg, filling his glass with the oldest wine that
the cellar of the inn contained; "I think you should certainly yield to your
father's wish; and, on my word, all things considered, I don't see why I
should retain my incognito any longer. We're a long way from Paris. I am
done with it; I resume my titles, and I propose to be treated with the honors
that are due me."
 "Oh! Dubourg, Dubourg! you will get us into some scrape," said
Frédéric, in an undertone; but his friend paid no heed; he was excited by the
wine, and he had never felt in such high spirits. He drank glass after glass,
while Ménard, with a glutton's delight, helped himself to mushroom pie, the
odor of which tickled his olfactory nerve.
"What do you think of my plan, Monsieur Ménard?"
"That has always been my wish, as you know, monsieur le baron."
"It is settled; I am baron, palatine, et cetera; and we will make it manifest
wherever we go."
"Certainly, monsieur le baron; the nobility of your manners will always
cause you to be recognized for what you are."
"Bravo, Monsieur Ménard! spoken like a true boon companion! But as to
Frédéric, he is unworthy to sit at our table. A little more of this hare,
Monsieur Ménard?"
"With pleasure, monsieur le baron."
"We must be philosophical—when we can't help it; but true philosophy
consists in making the most of life, in enjoying one's self whenever the
opportunity offers. Dulce est desipere in loco, says Horace. Eh, Monsieur
Ménard?"
"Yes, monsieur le baron; but Juvenal advises infrequent indulgence in
pleasures: Voluptatis commendat rarior usus."
"Juvenal probably had a weak stomach."
"That is very possible, monsieur le baron."
"Another glass, Monsieur Ménard; to the memory of Anacreon,
Epicurus, Horace, and all good livers!"
"We forget Lucullus, monsieur le baron."
"True; another bumper, to Lucullus!"
By dint of drinking to the memory of the ancients, the two were
beginning to lose all memory of the present.
"Faith!" cried Dubourg, rising from the table; "I defy all the palatines of
Rava, Cracow, and Krapach to eat a better supper!"
"Take care what you are saying, you infernal babbler!" muttered
Frédéric.
 "Never you fear," retorted Dubourg, speaking louder than ever; "I'll
answer for everything, I tell you; and Papa Ménard is a man whom I esteem
and love, and whose eyes I will close with pheasants or truffles."
Luckily, Ménard was in such a condition that he could not distinguish
clearly what was being said. Bewildered by the frequent libations in which
he had indulged with his noble companion, he left the table to go to his
room. He felt his way along the walls till he reached his bed, which he had
ordered to be made very low. He retired, well pleased with the feast he had
enjoyed and with the baron's manner of doing the honors of the table; he
considered that he had done exceedingly well to intrust the financial
arrangements to him, for he himself would not have dared to order so
delicious a repast; and he foresaw that the baron, who seemed to be both a
gourmand and an epicure, would continue to feed them on the fat of the
land, as he had abandoned his incognito. In a word, Ménard was delighted
with their travelling companion, and he fell asleep musing upon the
pleasures and the honor which he should enjoy on that journey.
On the following day, Frédéric attempted to talk prudence to Dubourg,
who instantly retorted:
"Do you want to take the funds? Do so, give such orders as you please;
it's your right. But, absorbed as you always are in melancholy reflections,
you won't feed us decently; and when you are travelling for pleasure, it
seems to me that food is a most essential thing to look out for."
"But be reasonable, at least."
"Oh! you are greatly to be pitied, aren't you, for having two men with
you to keep you amused—one by his wit, the other by the way he puts
himself outside of a partridge."
"But what's the meaning of this idea of playing the great man before
everybody?"
"Because we shall have more sport. Besides, you are a count; I must be a
baron at least, in order to travel on equal terms with you."
"But the money will go much faster."
"Bah! we shan't see the end of it for a long while yet; and then, you have
a father, and I an aunt."
"I advise you to rely on them!"
"At all events, you see that your mentor approves of my method."
 "Parbleu! you make him tipsy, and he doesn't know what he's saying."
"Don't worry; I'll answer for everything."
When they resumed their journey, the horses, which belonged to
Frédéric, went like the wind. Ménard was slightly dazed by the rapid
motion, but he said to himself: "These nobles always travel at full speed;"
and clung to the door to keep from falling.
At every inn, they were treated with the greatest respect, as men of high
rank. Everywhere they had the best rooms, the daintiest dishes, the oldest
wines. And Ménard was delighted, enchanted, because he believed that
monsieur le baron had put his fifteen thousand francs with the sum he had
handed him, and because he judged him to be too large-hearted and
generous to give a thought to the difference between their contributions.
In due time, our travellers reached Lyon, having paused on the way only
to admire an occasional view and to give their horses time to breathe. But
they proposed to pass several days in that city. Young Montreville was very
glad of an opportunity to see it and its suburbs, and, above all, to visit the
shores of the Rhône; and his two companions consented, with pleasure, to
tarry some time in a city where they could live as well as in Paris.
They alighted at one of the best hotels. The noise made by Dubourg, the
distinguished aspect of Frédéric, and the pains that Ménard took to repeat
again and again: "You have the honor of entertaining Monsieur le Baron
Potoski, Palatine of Rava, and the young Comte de Montreville," attracted
universal attention and consideration to the young men, who seemed
disposed to spend money freely, which is the best of recommendations at a
hotel.
They were quartered in a superb suite on the first floor. Their meals were
served in their rooms, and everything had to be of the best. Dubourg was
the one who gave all the orders; Frédéric interfered with none of the details,
beyond saying to his friend:
"Be careful what you do."
Whereupon Dubourg would reply: "Never fear," with such confidence
that the young count finally allowed him to do as he pleased, without
remonstrance.
As for Ménard, he was more enthusiastic than ever about the baron, to
whom he was indebted for such an agreeable life. Frédéric often went out
alone to walk along the bank of the Rhône; fascinated by the beautiful
landscape he discovered, he sometimes did not return to the hotel until night
or the following day. Dubourg, like those liars who end by believing in their
own false-hoods, had so identified himself with the part he was playing,
that he would have struck anyone who expressed a doubt as to his rank; he
amused himself, during his friend's absences, by displaying his
magnificence in the city. Leaning nonchalantly on Ménard's arm, who, with
his hat on the back of his head, the better to see and be seen, carried himself
very straight, walked with much precision, and strove to assume an air that
was both dignified and affable, when he went out with monsieur le baron—
Dubourg walked all over the city, with a huge three-cornered hat, adorned
with a black plume and a steel buckle, which he wore after the style of one
of Molière's marquises. To be sure, the rest of his costume hardly
corresponded with his hat; but it was no longer fashionable to wear
embroidered coats for walking, and Dubourg had confined himself to
having silver tassels attached to his military boots, considering that there
was a something Polish about them. He left his coat open, because that gave
him a more careless air, and he made frequent use of a huge eyeglass
hanging from his neck by a pink ribbon.
His extraordinary garb attracted every eye. Some took him for an
Englishman, some for a Russian or a Prussian; but if some curious
individual stopped and looked after him with a smile on his face, Dubourg
would flash a glance at him that put an end to any inclination to laugh at his
expense, and conveyed the impression that the stranger, whoever he might
be, was not of a disposition to endure being laughed at.
But it was necessary to be in the neighborhood of our two friends only a
very short time to ascertain the identity of the gentleman in the plumed hat,
who sauntered along so gracefully with his glass at his eye; for Monsieur
Ménard talked very loud, especially when he saw that someone was
noticing them, and never failed to emphasize the "Baron Potoski," or
"Monsieur le Palatine," when he addressed his companion; sometimes,
indeed, he went so far as to call him "Monseigneur de Rava et de
Sandomir."
They had been in Lyon a week. Frédéric had not begun to tire of visiting
the beautiful suburbs of the city, but Dubourg was beginning to tire of
exhibiting himself in the public streets, arm in arm with Ménard. They had
been to all the places of resort, all the theatres, and all the cafés;
everywhere, Dubourg played the great nobleman, and Ménard unwittingly
acted as his accomplice; for the poor fellow was entirely honest, and
deemed himself highly honored to promenade with his pupil's noble friend,
who was always able to produce an apt quotation and bewildered him by his
anecdotes of travel in the four quarters of the globe.
For several days, Dubourg had been urging Frédéric to leave Lyon, and
he always postponed their departure to the next day, when one morning
Dubourg received a letter which put an end to his desire to go away. This
letter was addressed to Monsieur le Baron Potoski, Seigneur Polonais.
Dubourg read the superscription twice. Who could have written to him, and
by that name? He asked the landlady who had brought the letter, and was
told that it was a servant in livery, who requested that it be delivered to
monsieur le baron in person.
Dubourg hastened to break the seal, and read as follows:
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