“Yes, sir; he said he would follow her like her shadow, and will bring in a report every day.”
“I am very pleased with you, Beaumarchef,” said Mascarin, rubbing his hands joyously.
Beaumarchef seemed highly flattered, but continued,—
“This is not all.”
“What else is there to tell?”
“I met La Candele on his way from the Place de Petit Pont, and he has just seen that young girl—you know whom I mean—driving off in a two-horse Victoria. He followed it, of course. She has been placed in a gorgeous apartment in the Rue Douai; and from what the porter says, she must be a rare beauty; and La Candele raved about her, and says that she has the most magnificent eyes in the world.”
“Ah,” remarked Hortebise, “then Tantaine was right in his description of her.”
“Of course he was,” answered Mascarin with a slight frown, “and this proves the justice of the objection you made a little time back. A girl possessed of such dazzling beauty may even influence the fool who has carried her off to become dangerous.”
Beaumarchef touched his master’s arm kindly. “If you wish to get rid of the masher,” said he, “I can show you a way;” and throwing himself into the position of a fencer, he made a lunge with his right arm, exclaiming, “One, two!”
“A Prussian quarrel,” remarked Mascarin. “No; a duel would do us no good. We should still have the girl on our hands, and violent measures are always to be avoided.” He took off his glasses, wiped them, and looking at the doctor intently, said, “Suppose we take an epidemic as our ally. If the girl had the smallpox, she would lose her beauty.”