"No, mademoiselle."
"Is he young or handsome?"
"No, mademoiselle; he is very old and shabbily dressed."
"Then say I am ill, weary, busy, engaged with company, or what you please, Guillot; only do not trouble me with him."
The valet bowed and retired, but soon returned.
"He says, mademoiselle, that he knows you are alone, that you are neither ill nor weary, nor busy, for which reason he has chosen to visit you at present. That he has come from a long distance, and has a secret of vast importance to communicate to you."
"A pertinacious old fool!" muttered Ninon; "but admit him."
The stranger entered, and with a cunning leer in his eyes surveyed the chamber, particularly the frescoes of Cupid and Pysche, and then they rested on Ninon, who for a moment, she knew not why, felt the young blood curdle in her heart beneath his sparkling glance.
Her visitor was a little, decrepit old man with shrunken limbs. His coat and breeches, "a world too wide," were of black serge, and large black japanned buckles covered three-fourths of his shoes. He wore a high conical hat with a very narrow brim. This he removed on entering, but still retained on his head an old-fashioned calotte cap of black velvet, the lappets of which hung down by his withered cheeks.
His appearance betokened extreme old age, but one that was healthy and vigorous withal; for his eyes, which glittered and sometimes glared through his black horn spectacles, were wondrously large, keen, and bright; and his hair, instead of being grey or thin, was stuffed in masses, coal-black and coarse, under the calotte cap.