Whilst M. Dupont read, M. Rodin threw inquisitive glances round the chamber; like a man of skill and experience, he had frequently drawn just and useful inductions from those little appearances, which, revealing a taste or habit, give at the same time some notion of a character; on this occasion, however, his curiosity was at fault.
“Very good, sir,” said the bailiff, when he had finished reading; “the steward renews his recommendation, and tells me to attend implicitly to your commands.”
“Well, sir, they will amount to very little, and I shall not trouble you long.”
“It will be no trouble, but an honor.”
“Nay, I know how much your time must be occupied, for, as soon as one enters this chateau, one is struck with the good order and perfect keeping of everything in it—which proves, my dear sir, what excellent care you take of it.”
“Oh, sir, you flatter me.”
“Flatter you?—a poor old man like myself has something else to think of. But to come to business: there is a room here which is called the Green Chamber?”
“Yes, sir; the room which the late Count-Duke de Cardoville used for a study.”
“You will have the goodness to take me there.”
“Unfortunately, it is not in my power to do so. After the death of the Count-Duke, and when the seals were removed, a number of papers were shut up in a cabinet in that room, and the lawyers took the keys with them to Paris.”