CHAPTER LXII.
COUCON.
Goutran had entire faith in Carmen, and he was now anxious tocommunicate with her. He called the former Zouave.
"Coucon," he said, "do you know where Monsieur Laisangy lives?"
"The great banker? Oh! yes, sir, everybody knows that."
"Then without losing one minute, I want you to go to his hotel. Thisnote must be given to his daughter at once."
"To Miss Carmen, sir?"
"Precisely; but understand me--no one else must see it. This note mustbe given into her hands."
"I understand, sir; it shall be done. There is nothing I would not do,sir, to repair my own stupidity."
Coucon started off. To go to the hotel and ask for Miss Carmen wassimple enough, but he took it into his head that it would be better ifno one knew that he was there. He thought he would examine the premisesbefore he decided on his course of action.
When he reached the hotel, to his great surprise he found the doors wideopen and the courtyard blazing with lights. Carriage after carriage wasdriving up, and stopping at the vestibule.
"Upon my life," said Coucon, "this is bad enough."
He stepped into a wine-shop, and asked for a bottle of wine; as he drankit he said to himself: "How the deuce am I to see Miss Carmen? She is inthe salon receiving her guests. Of course, she won't come into theanteroom to get a _billet doux_, but if the mountain won't come toMohammed, Mohammed must go to the mountain, which means, that if MissCarmen won't come to me in the anteroom, I must go to her!"
At this moment a Chasseur d'Afrique entered the wine-shop.
"Will you have the kindness to tell me," he asked, of the shop-keeper,"where I shall find the hotel of a rich banker about here? Laisangy, Ithink, is the name."
"Almost opposite--where all those carriages stand."
"Ah! thanks!" And as the soldier turned round he saw Coucon.
The recognition was mutual, and the two former companions fell into eachother's arms.
"Galaret!" cried Coucon.
"Yes. And now let us have a glass."
"Can't stop, have a commission to perform!"
Nevertheless, Coucon did stop to drink a little, and to gossip. "Whendid you come to Paris?" he asked.
"This very day, in the escort of Mohammed-Ben-Omar, a sort of Pasha, youknow, and to-night he slipped on the stairs and wrenched his ankle. Takeanother glass, friend. Well, as I was saying, he was asked to this_soiree_ at the banker's and had to write a refusal. As he lies on hissofa, and is likely to lie there for some little time, this note I mustdeliver."
Coucon did not seem to hear what his friend was saying, but suddenlyexclaimed to an innocent looking bourgeois, at another table:
"What are you staring at?"
In vain did the man stammer that he was not even looking at them. Oneword led to another until a hot quarrel was in progress, the police werecalled in, and Galaret was arrested.
"Give me your note," said Coucon, in the most obliging manner, "I willsee that it is delivered."
And he dashed out of the shop with suspicious alacrity. "You are a fool,Coucon," he said to himself, "if you don't manage to deliver your ownnote at the same time!"
Our readers must not suppose that Coucon was so simple as to think ofpenetrating the Laisangy salons, even with the note he had obtained inso abominable a manner from his friend. The plan he had devised was moreaudacious and more sure. Ten minutes later the former Zouave entered theshop of a costumer in the Rue de Peletere. And in five minutes more hesallied forth a magnificent Bedouin, draped in white and wearing anenormous turban. He called out to the astonished coachman:
"Rue de Rivoli! and drive fast!"
The Son of Monte-Cristo Page 64