“And do they not?”
“Why should they? With a certain number of millions, and the name of a prince, one is better than a king.”
“Ah, Portugal will soon become great with such men at its head. But when is the presentation to take place? It is most anxiously looked for. The people around begin to talk of it, and to collect about the doors of the hotel, as though they were of glass, and they could see through.”
“Do you mean the people of the neighborhood?” asked Beausire.
“And others; for, the mission of M. de Souza being a secret one, you may be sure the police would soon interest themselves about it; and look,” continued Ducorneau, leading Beausire to the window, “do you see that man in the brown surtout, how he looks at the house?”
“Yes, he does indeed. Who do you take him to be?”
“Probably a spy of M. de Crosne. However, between ourselves, M. de Crosne is not equal to M. Sartines. Did you know him?”
“No.”
“Ah! he would have found out all about you long ago, in spite of all your precautions.”
A bell rang. “His excellency rings!” said Beausire, who was beginning to feel embarrassed by the conversation, and opening the door quickly, he nearly knocked down two of the clerks who were listening.