"What a clever manager I have, haven't I?" said the ruffian; "and so tractable, she would throw herself into the fire for me."
"Apropos of fire, it is not overwarm here," replied Rodolph, placing both his hands under his blouse; and then, continuing his conversation with the Schoolmaster, he took out a lead-pencil and a morsel of paper, which he had in his waistcoat pocket, without being detected, and wrote some words hastily, taking care to make his letters wide apart, so that they might be more legible; for he wrote under his blouse, and without seeing what he wrote.
This note escaped the penetration of the Schoolmaster; the next thing was to enable it to reach its address.
Rodolph rose and went listlessly towards the window, and began to hum a tune between his teeth, accompanying himself on the window glasses.
The Schoolmaster came up to the window and said to Rodolph:
"What tune are you playing?"
"I am playing 'Tu n'auras pas ma rose.'"
"And a very pretty tune it is. I should like to know if it would have the effect of making any of the passers-by turn round?"
"I had no such intention."
"You are wrong, young man; for you are playing the tambourine on that pane of glass with all your might. But I was thinking, the porter of this house in the Allée des Veuves is perhaps a stout fellow; if he resists, you have only your pistol, which is a noisy weapon, whilst a tool like this (and he showed Rodolph the handle of his poniard) makes no noise, and does not disturb anybody."