“Count Cagliostro,” exclaimed Beausire and the lady at the same time.
“That is a winning little boy, and I think you ought to be happy at being a parent, Captain Beausire,” said the intruder.
He advanced and with one scrutinizing glance saw that the couple were reduced to the last penny.
The child was the first to break the silence because he had nothing on his conscience.
“Oh, kind sir, I have lost the shining piece,” said he.
Nicole opened her mouth to state the case but she reflected that silence might lead to a repetition of the godsend and she would inherit it; her expectation was not erroneous.
“Lost your louis, have you, my poor boy?” said Cagliostro, “well, here are two; try not to lose them.”
Pulling out a purse of which the plumpness kindled Beausire’s greedy glances, he dropped two coins into Toussaint’s little sticky paw.
“Look, mamma,” said he, running to Nicole; “here’s one for you and one for me.”
While the child shared his windfall with his mother, the new-comer remarked the tenacity with which the former-soldier watched his purse and tried to estimate the contents before it was pocketted again. On seeing it disappear, he sighed.