"Sale of valuable furniture, consisting of kitchen utensils, body and table linen, shirts and chemises, lace, petticoats, trousers, French and Indian cashmeres, an Erard piano, two Renaissance oak chests, Venetian mirrors, Chinese and Japanese pottery."
"'Tis their furniture!" said Frederick to himself, and his suspicions were confirmed by the doorkeeper.
As for the person who had given instructions for the sale, he could get no information on that head. But perhaps the auctioneer, Maître Berthelmot, might be able to throw light on the subject.
The functionary did not at first want to tell what creditor was having the sale carried out. Frederick pressed him on the point. It was a gentleman named Sénécal, an agent; and Maître Berthelmot even carried his politeness so far as to lend his newspaper—the Petites Affiches—to Frederick.
The latter, on reaching Rosanette's house, flung down this paper on the table spread wide open.
"Read that!"
"Well, what?" said she with a face so calm that it roused up in him a feeling of revolt.
"Ah! keep up that air of innocence!"
"I don't understand what you mean."
"'Tis you who are selling out Madame Arnoux yourself!"