"Do you know who the man was?" asked she in a tremulous voice.
"The papers said it was a poor lad who was his gardener."
"A little man, wasn't he, thin, very dark, with black hair?"
"Just so."
"And whose name was—wait now—was—Guespin."
"Ah ha, you know him then?"
Jenny hesitated. She was trembling very much, and evidently regretted that she had gone so far.
"Bah!" said she at last. "I don't see why I shouldn't tell what I know. I'm an honest girl, if Tremorel is a rogue; and I don't want them to condemn a poor wretch who is innocent."
"You know something about it, then?"
"Well, I know nearly all about it—that's honest, ain't it? About a week ago Hector wrote to me to meet him at Melun; I went, found him, and we breakfasted together. Then he told me that he was very much annoyed about his cook's marriage; for one of his servants was deeply in love with her, and might go and raise a rumpus at the wedding."