The things we do!

"A pelisse lined with true sable, and, worth three thousand francs, that
I won of a little Russian at billiards. That pelisse at Strasbourg (where
the infamous worms of the Mount of Piety are actually gnawing her). Two
hundred francs and this reconnaissance, which Frederic receive, are all
that now represent the pelisse. How many chemises have I, Frederic?"
"Eh, parbleu, Monsieur le Vicomte sait bien que nous avons toujours
vingt-quatre chemises," says Frederic, grumbling.
Monsieur le Vicomte springs up shrieking from the dinner-table.
"Twenty-four shirts," says he, "and I have been a week without a louis in
my pocket! Belitre! Nigaud!" He flings open one drawer after another, but
there are no signs of that--superfluity of linen of which the domestic
spoke, whose countenance now changes from a grim frown to a grim smile.
"Ah, my faithful Frederic, I pardon thee! Mr. Newcome will understand my
harmless supercherie. Frederic was in my company of the Guard, and
remains with me since.


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