"Wait a moment," said Cauvignac; "wait a moment—his name ends in olles."
"Monsieur de Canolles!" cried the traveller, whose lips became deathly pale, making a ghastly contrast with the black silk mask.
"That's the name! Monsieur de Canolles," said Cauvignac, following, upon the visible portions of the young man's face and in the convulsive movement of his whole body, the revolution which was taking place in his mind. "Do you know Monsieur de Canolles, too? In God's name, do you know everybody?"
"A truce to jesting," faltered the young man, who was trembling all over, and seemed on the point of fainting.
"Where is this lady?"
"In that room yonder; look, the third window from this,—where the yellow curtains are."
"I want to see her!" cried the traveller.
"Oho! have I made a mistake, and can it be that you are this Monsieur de Canolles whom she expects? Or, rather, isn't this Monsieur de Canolles, this gallant cavalier just trotting up, followed by a lackey who looks to me like a consummate idiot?"
The young traveller jumped forward so precipitately to look through the glass in the front of the carriage that he broke it with his head.