"Where's the horns?"
"There, by the side of the house—that little old man, who walks with his neck awry, and his umbrella under his arm."
"M. Rodin!" ejaculated Ninny Moulin, retreating hastily, and descending three steps into the shop, in order not to be seen. Then he added. "You say, that this gentleman calls himself—"
"M. Charlemagne—do you know him?" asked the greengrocer.
"What the devil does he do here, under a false name?" said Jacques
Dumoulin to himself.
"You know him?" said Rose-Pompon, with impatience. "You are quite confused."
"And this gentleman has two rooms in this house, and comes here mysteriously," said Jacques Dumoulin, more and more surprised.
"Yes," resumed Rose-Pompon; "you can see his windows from Philemon's dove-cote."
"Quick! quick! let me go into the passage, that I may not meet him," said
Dumoulin.
And, without having been perceived by Rodin, he glided from the shop into the passage, and thence mounted to the stairs, which led to the apartment occupied by Rose-Pompon.