"That is more than I know, madame; but this much is certain, this tenant is not likely to annoy you in any way."
"I believe I could not find a house that would suit me better, judging from what you say. But is it really true that you have no idea what business your tenant follows?"
"How should I know, madame? During the three years that M. Renaud has lived here he has received only one letter. That was merely addressed to M. Michel Renaud, and no living soul ever comes to see him."
"But he is not dumb, I suppose?"
"He might almost as well be. When he goes out in the morning, I am in bed; when he returns, it is just the same. In the morning, he says, 'The door, please;' in the evening, when he takes his candle, 'Good night, M. Landré' (that is my name). That is the extent of our conversation."
"But doesn't he keep a servant?"
"No, madame, he does all his own housework. That is to say, he makes his own bed, blacks his shoes, brushes his clothes, and sweeps his room."
"He!" exclaimed the young woman, in accents of the most profound astonishment.
Then bethinking herself, she added:
"It seems so strange that a gentleman should do all those things for himself."