Ten Years Later
Manicamp and Malicorne.
Malicorne, then, left Blois, as we have said, and went to find his friend, Manicamp, then
in temporary retreat in the city of Orleans. It was just at the moment when that young
nobleman was employed in selling the last decent clothing he had left. He had, a
fortnight before, extorted from the Comte de Guiche a hundred pistoles, all he had, to
assist in equipping him properly to go and meet Madame, on her arrival at Le Havre. He
had drawn from Malicorne, three days before, fifty pistoles, the price of the brevet
obtained for Montalais. He had then no expectation of anything else, having exhausted
all his resources, with the exception of selling a handsome suit of cloth and satin,
embroidered and laced with gold, which had been the admiration of the court. But to be
able to sell this suit, the last he had left, - as we have been forced to confess to the
reader - Manicamp had been obliged to take to his bed. No more fire, no more pocket-
money, no more walking-money, nothing but sleep to take the place of repasts,
companies and balls. It has been said - "He who sleeps, dines;" but it has never been
affirmed - He who sleeps, plays – or, He who sleeps, dances. Manicamp, reduced to
this extremity of neither playing nor dancing, for a week at least, was, consequently,
very sad; he was expecting a usurer, and saw Malicorne enter. A cry of distress
"Eh! what!" said he, in a tone which nothing can describe, "is that you again, dear
"Humph! you are very polite!" said Malicorne.
"Ay, but look you, I was expecting money, and, instead of money, I see you."
"And suppose I brought you some money?"
"Oh! that would be quite another thing. You are very welcome, my dear friend!"
And he held out his hand, not for the hand of Malicorne, but for the purse. Malicorne
pretended to be mistaken, and gave him his hand.
"And the money?" said Manicamp.
"My dear friend, if you wish to have it, earn it."
"What must be done for it?"
"Earn it, parbleu!"