Carola had finished dressing. She went to the door and pulled a string hanging near it.
“I’ve already told you I can’t bear to see you in those sleeve-links. They attract attention.”
“You know very well who gave them to me.”
“Precisely.”
“You aren’t jealous, are you?”
“Silly fool!”
At this moment Baptistin knocked at the door and came in.
“Here! Try and get up in the world a peg or two,” said Protos, pointing to a coat, collar and tie, which were lying on the chair and which he had brought back with him from his expedition to the other side of the wall. “You’re to keep your client company in his walks abroad. I shan’t take him off your hands till this evening. Until then, don’t lose sight of him.”
It was to S. Luigi dei Francesche that Amédée went to confess, in preference to St. Peter’s, whose enormousness overwhelmed him. Baptistin guided him there, and afterwards led him to the post office. As was to be expected, the Millipede had confederates there too. Baptistin had learnt Amédée’s name by means of the little visiting-card which was nailed on to the top of his portmanteau, and had informed Protos, who had no difficulty in getting an obliging employé to hand him over a letter of Arnica’s—and no scruple in reading it.
“It’s curious!” cried Fleurissoire, when an hour later he came in his turn to ask for his letters. “It’s curious! The envelope looks as if it had been opened.”