“Yes, Goudar.”
“And did you not recognize him?”
The young advocate smiled.
“Not until he spoke,” he replied. “The Goudar whom I know is tall, thin, beardless, and wears his hair cut like a brush. This street-musician is low, bearded, and has long, smooth hair falling down his back. How could I recognize my man in that vagabond costume, with a violin in his hand, and a provincial song set to music?”
M. Magloire smiled too, as he said,—
“What are, after all, professional actors in comparison with these men! Here is one who pretends having reached Sauveterre only this morning, and who knows the country as well as Trumence himself. He has not been here twelve hours, and he speaks already of M. de Chandore’s little garden-gate.”
“Oh! I can explain that circumstance now, although, at first, it surprised me very much. When I told Goudar the whole story, I no doubt mentioned the little gate in connection with Mechinet.”
Whilst they were chatting thus, they had reached the upper end of National Street. Here they stopped; and M. Magloire said,—
“One word before we part. Are you quite resolved to see the Countess Claudieuse?”
“I have promised.”