Johan bit his lips again; and Christian felt convinced either that Puffo, in his drunkenness, had betrayed his incognito in a measure, or that Massarelli, for a sum of money, had done so without any reserve.
The only name that Puffo knew him by was Dulac, but Massarelli had known him under all his successive names, except, perhaps, that of Christian Goefle, so recently improvised. Christian tried to conjecture how this might be, while observing closely the major-domo’s evident and keen desire to see his face. He soon came to the conclusion that he was not so curious to satisfy his doubts as to his death’s head, as to ascertain whether or not the performer was one and the same person with M. Goefle’s pretended nephew, whose face the major-domo had seen plainly the evening before.
“Come, confess,” the latter said at last, after many insidious questions, to all of which the adventurer had replied very guardedly; “if some agreeable lady—a charming young person—say the Countess Margaret, for instance, should ask to see your face, would you be equally obstinate in refusing?”
“Who is the Countess Margaret?” asked Christian, in the most innocent manner in the world, though he felt a great inclination to give M. Johan a box on the ear.
“Mon Dieu!” rejoined the major-domo, “I mentioned her because she is by all odds the most beautiful woman in the chateau at the present time. Did you not see her?”
“Pray where could I have seen her?”
“In the front row of ladies.”
“Why! do you suppose that when I am playing a piece with twenty actors in it, almost entirely alone, I have time to look at the women?—”
“I don’t say that, but really now, would you not like to please a beautiful young lady?”
“To please her? M. Johan,” exclaimed Christian, with well-affected emotion, “without meaning it, you are asking me a very painful question. You do not seem to know that nature has been pleased to make me frightfully ugly, and that my unfortunate appearance is my only reason for taking so much pains to conceal myself.”