"He is the devil, then!"
"I shall begin to think so, M. Rudolph; for the blackguard always guesses when I am out. Hardly do I turn on my heels than he is here on the back of my darling, who does not know how to defend himself any more than a child. Yesterday again, while I was gone to M. Ferrand's, the notary's—there is the place to hear news—"
"And Cecily?" said Rudolph hastily. "I came to know—"
"Stop, my prince of lodgers; do not fluster me. I have so many things to tell you that I shall lose myself if you break my thread."
"Well, I listen."
"In the first place, as concerns this house; just imagine that yesterday they came and arrested Mother Burette."
"The pawnbroker on the second floor?"
"Yes. It appears that she had many droll trades besides that of a pawnbroker! She was a fencess, melter-downess, shoplifteress, smasheress, forgeress, coineress, everything that rhymes with dishonestness. The worst of all is, that her old beau, Bras-Rouge, is also arrested. I told you there was a real earthquake in the house."
"What! Bras-Rouge also arrested?"
"Yes; in his tavern on the Champs-Elysees. All are boxed, even to his son Tortillard, the wicked little cripple. They say there has been a whole heap of murderers there; that they were a band of assassins; that La Chouette, one of the friends of old Burette, has been strangled; and that if help had not arrived in time, Mathieu the diamond broker would have been murdered. Ain't this news?"