“Because I reproach myself with having in my own prosperity forgotten one of my earliest and dearest friends, who loved me with the tenderest affection. Possibly she may now be in trouble or difficulties, from which I might have a thousand ways of relieving her; but it is never too late to do good. To-morrow, early, you shall set out for Paris; when there, go to the rue Saint Martin, inquire for the sign of la Bonne Foi; it is kept by a pastrycook, named M. Mathon, of whom I wish you to learn every particular relative to his daughter Geneviève.”
My wishes were laws to Henriette, who instantly retired to prepare for her journey. I had not ventured to desire her to glean any information concerning the brother of Geneviève, and yet at the recollection of the handsome Nicolas my heart beat impetuously. With what impatience did I await the return of Henriette! at length she came.
“Well!” said I.
“I have found out M. Mathon,” answered Henriette.
“Which, the father?”
“Yes, madam.”
“And what is his present occupation?”
“As usual, madam, superintending his kitchen and shop.”
“Is he alone in his business?”
“Oh, no! madam; he is assisted by his son, a fine dark handsome young man.”