"I swear he did not, for his movements were most free. No; he received that box in Naundorff's house."
On hearing these words, Volpetti could not restrain an exclamation of joy, and passing his patrician hand over his Chateaubriand tuft, he said, motioning toward the baggage and the bath:
"Make arrangements for the changing of my clothes. I wish an embroidered shirt, silk stockings, violet coat and grey breeches. And, using the greatest caution, find out the number of the Marquis's chamber and sketch me a plan of the hotel. Remember well the entrances and exits. Secure for yourself, if possible, a room next that of the Marquis, and 'twould be most fortunate that it have a fireplace. Well, later, I shall give you further instructions. Be diligent and discreet."
The valet, with malignant flashing eyes, hastened away to carry out these instructions.
[Chapter II]
THE DAUPHIN'S SISTER
René, on feeling stronger, resolved to read the manuscript which awakened his interest more and more deeply. The enigma of Naundorff's obscure life, the cause of the attack in the square, Amélie's startling resemblance to the medallion—all would be explained by that roll of paper in the cylindrical case.
He rose and breakfasted on tea and toast, after which, fortified and resolute, he examined his pistols and placed them within reach. Then he stretched himself upon a lounge near the table and broke the seal, which represented a tuberose and sarcophagus,—a symbolic emblem causing him to start. His eyes next fell upon the dedicatory words at the head of the manuscript: TO HER.
"Is this a love history?" he asked himself, recalling Naundorff's beautiful countenance and indefinable charm. With feverish anxiety, he turned the leaf and read: