"Well, it's all over now! You were looking for somebody, that's all! and that was why we never met."

"That is true, but I looked in vain, I could not find that Monsieur de Roncherolle in Paris."

"Monsieur de--what name did you say?"

"Monsieur de Roncherolle."

"Well, on my word! that is a good one! Is that the man you looked for so long in vain?"

"Yes, can it be that you know where to find him?"

"Do I know! why, it's my gouty gentleman; he set me to find a lady. Ah!

he looks to me like an old rake! but swell, and generous, though it seems he's ruined."

"And this gentleman's name is De Roncherolle?"

"Exactly; and I had a bouquet to carry from him--indeed, he bought it of Violette."

"Of Violette?"

"Confound it! I am getting to be as talkative as a magpie, and as stupid as a kettle!"

"Does that gentleman know Violette too?"

"Why, no, he knows her just as everybody may know a person who sells flowers; he bought a bouquet of her and paid for it, that's all."

"And his name is De Roncherolle?"

"Yes, yes; how many times must I tell you that?"

"And he lives----"

"In a small furnished lodging house on Rue de Bretagne, in the Marais; I don't know the number, but you can find it easily enough."

"Thanks, Chicotin, thanks! At last I am going to be able to be of some service to Monsieur Malberg; he was so anxious to find that gentleman; I must go at once and tell him. But mon Dieu! it just occurs to me--what time is it now?"

"The clock on Saint-Paul's just struck six."

"Six o'clock! and monsieur told me to be at the corner of the Boulevard and Rue d'Angouleme at five."

"It will hardly be possible for you to be there."

"No matter, we must run; come, Chicotin, quick!"

The desire to please his benefactor had banished from his mind for a moment the pretty flower girl's image. He ran at the top of his speed to the place which the count had appointed, and Chicotin followed him, saying from time to time:

"Sapristi! we are going at a lively pace! If a horse dealer should see us, he would enter us for the races on the Champs-de-Mars; we would beat all the ponies!"

The two young men arrived at the place appointed, but Georget could not see his master.

"Wait here," he said to his friend; "I am going to our house, and I shall be able to find out there if Monsieur Malberg has gone back; wait."

Georget went to the house where he used to live. He found Baudoin's wife, who by an extraordinary chance was sober, and who said to him:

"Monsieur Malberg came here to ask if you were here, but it was three-quarters of an hour ago; he was in a cab, and he didn't even get out; he probably started for Nogent right away."

Georget returned to his comrade.

"Monsieur went to the house to look for me, then he went away; of course it wasn't his place to wait for me. So I must start at once, and I will soon be there."

"Are you going on foot?"

"Yes, I can go faster than the public carriages."

"I will be your escort as far as Vincennes, but on condition that we don't run so fast as we did just now. Now that your master has gone ahead, it won't make any difference whether you arrive half an hour sooner or later; and if he scolds you, you have something to tell him that will restore his good humor."

"Oh, he never scolds.--Come, Chicotin, let us start."

"What on earth are you doing? We are on Boulevard du Temple, and you are starting off toward Porte-Saint-Martin to go to Vincennes!"

"Ah! you are right; I was thinking of something else, and I made a mistake."

"All right; come, file left, and let's shake out our legs; it's lucky I'm here to start you on the right road."

XXVII

A RESEMBLANCE

The Comte de Brevanne had a reason for going to Paris, but he did not wish to confide to anyone the purpose of his journey; having completed his visit, he was driven, about five o'clock, to Boulevard du Temple, near Rue d'Angouleme, and there he looked about for Georget, who, intent upon following Monsieur Jericourt, had forgotten his appointment with the count. The latter, without alighting from his carriage, drove to his city home, where the concierge informed him that Georget had not called.

"I can guess where he probably is, and what has made him forget the appointment," thought Monsieur de Brevanne. "Driver, take me to the flower market on Boulevard Saint-Martin."

The driver whipped up his horse and the count said to himself:

"Here is an opportunity to see this girl who is so pretty, and who has turned my poor Georget's head; I will wager that he is within a few steps of the flower girl's booth, and that he can't make up his mind to go away. A boy loves so earnestly at eighteen! and this poor fellow's heart is too soft; he will be unhappy for a long while if I do not succeed in curing him. But how? First of all, I must find out whether this girl is really a bad girl."

The count left his carriage at the corner of the boulevard, and entered the flower market, saying:

"How shall I know Mademoiselle Violette? Why, of course, from Georget, whom I shall probably see hovering about her booth."

And Monsieur de Brevanne walked along, examining all the flower dealers.

He saw some who were old and others who were not pretty. Beauty is a rarer thing than is generally supposed. Go into a theatre, and turn your opera gla.s.s in all directions: sometimes out of six hundred women in the audience, you will not find a single one who is really beautiful. Let us not be surprised at the vast number of conquests that pretty women make, for their number is very, very small.

The count walked on, not surprised at not seeing Georget, as there seemed to be no fascinating flower girls. But as he drew near the Chateau d'Eau, a lovely face instantly attracted his eyes. It belonged to a flower girl, and she was probably the one he sought. Georget was not there, however; but the girl was so lovely that it was impossible that there could be another among the dealers in flowers that could be compared with her.