"The companions of the former acrobat are, no doubt, ignorant of whom they are dealing with?" asked Talizac.
"On the contrary, they know him well."
"I don't understand it! They speak to him, shake hands with him; it is extraordinary."
The vicomte's stupidity excited the Italian's pity, but he did not allow his feelings to be perceived, and said:
"I think we have discussed this Fanfaro long enough. Let us not forget that we are still in the Carnival, and that we must hurry if we still wish to seek some distraction; forget the fatal scene of a short while ago."
The vicomte had forgotten long ago that he and his father had been stigmatized as dishonorable rogues, and in great good humor he accompanied his companion toward the Rue Vivienne.
They had not gone far when the vicomte paused and nudged his friend.
Leaning against the balustrade of a house, a young girl, whose features were illuminated by the rays of a street lamp, sang in a clear voice to the accompaniment of a guitar. A large crowd of passers-by had assembled around the singer, who was a perfect vision of beauty.
Chestnut brown hair framed a finely cut face, and deep black eyes looked innocently from underneath long eyelashes. The fingers which played on the instrument were long and tapering, and every movement of the body was the personification of grace.