Belle-Rose — page 274: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE GARDENER'S NEPHEW. 3 263 “Parbleu! if I did not know you, would I have called ou?”’ “That is true,’’ replied Ambrose; ‘‘but all the same, it is very funny that you should know my name when I do not know yours.’ ‘IT will explain this to you. But first, I wish to assure myself that you are indeed the man whom I desire to see. ’’ “Tf itis Ambrose Patu whom you seek, I am the man.’’ “Oh!in your country things do not go that way. There - are so many people who seek to deceive others. ”’ ‘‘lam not one of those people. ’’ “I do not doubt it, and your countenance answers for you; but itis necessary to take precautions. Come! you say, then, that you are Ambrose Patu?”’ ‘‘Ambrose Patu, from a little neighborhood near Beau- gency.”’ ‘That is it, and you come to enter, in the capacity of gar- dener, the convent of Benedictine nuns in the Rue du Cherche-Midi?’’ “Quite right. It is my Uncle Jerome Patu who has sent for me.”’ ‘Exactly. You are seeking the Cheval Noir, and to- morrow morning, you are to go to the convent witha letter from your honest old mother.’’ “That is it,’’ said Ambrose, who, thoroughly stupefied, drew the letter from his pocket. “‘Very well,’’ said Déroute; ‘‘I see that you do not seek~—- to deceive me. Follow me, then, friend Patu; the inn is near here; we have matters to talk about.’ Ambrose followed without doubting such a prudent person and entered the Cheval Noir. Astonished at what he had heard, the honest fellow would have doubted the virtue of his patron saint before suspecting the probity of his guide. Déroute asked for a room, had a table set with two covers, ordered the unsealing of a bottle of the best wine, and, when the dinner was served, bolted the door. ‘Sit down there,’’ said he to his companion, who had looked at all the preparations without breathing a word; ‘‘here is a little Suresne which you will sample for me; and a ‘gibelotte’ such as one eats only at the table of a king.’’ Ambrose sat down, stretched out his long legs, and emptied his glass at a draught. ‘‘Ah; comrade,’’ said he, smacking his lips, ‘‘you who know me so well, tell me a little about yourself.’’ ‘*That is just,’’ said Déroute, ‘‘I also am a Patu,”’ GOMmIiGboo cS €o