"The woman Capet took a flower from the Citizen Dixmer's bouquet?" said Simon.
"Yes; and it was I who gave her the bouquet," said Maurice, in a loud and menacing tone, who had been for some moments listening to this colloquy, and whose patience was nearly exhausted.
"It is all very well, it is all very well; one sees what one sees, and one knows what one says," growled Simon, who still held in his hand the carnation crushed by his huge foot.
"And I also know one thing," replied Maurice, "which I am now going to tell you; it is that you have nothing whatever to do in this keep, and that your honorable post of hangman is down there with the little Capet, whom I would, for your own sake, recommend you not to chastise to-day, as I am here to defend him."
"Do you threaten me? Do you call me hangman?" cried Simon, crushing the flower in his hand. "Ah! we shall see if it is permitted these aristocrats—why, what is this?"
"What?" asked Maurice.
"That I feel in this carnation? Ah! ah!"
The eyes of Maurice were transfixed with astonishment as Simon drew from the calyx of the flower a small paper, rolled with the most exquisite care, which had been artistically introduced into the centre of the clustering leaves.
"My God!" said Maurice, "what can this mean?"
"We shall know, we shall very soon know," said Simon, approaching the window. "Ah! you and your friend Lorin told me I did not know how to read. Well! you shall see."