"The Duke will not be visible later either."
"Then to-morrow perhaps; I can wait—I have plenty of time on my hands."
"You may have, but the Duke hasn't."
In the meanwhile the wizened little man had succeeded in once more collecting his papers together. With trembling eager hands he now selected a folded note, which evidently had suffered somewhat through frequent falls on dusty floors; this he held out toward M. Joseph.
"I have a letter to Monsieur le valet de chambre of the Duke," he said humbly.
"A letter of introduction?—to me?" queried Joseph, with a distinct change in his manner and tone. "From whom?"
"My daughter Agathe, who brings Monsieur's chocolate in to him every morning."
"Ah, you are Mlle. Agathe's father!" exclaimed Joseph with pleasant condescension, as he took the letter of introduction, and, without glancing at it, slipped it into the pocket of his magnificent coat. Perhaps a thought subsequently crossed his mind that the timorous person before him was not quite so simple-minded as his watery blue eyes suggested, and that the dusty and crumpled little note might be a daring fraud practised on his own influential personality, for he added with stern emphasis: "I will see Mlle. Agathe to-morrow, and will discuss your affair with her."
Then, as the little man did not wince under the suggestion, M. Joseph said more urbanely:
"By the way, what is your affair? These gentlemen"—and with a graceful gesture he indicated his two friends—"these gentlemen will pardon the liberty you are taking in discussing it before them."