"Oh, yes, my lord. He writes a great deal in his cabinet. All his orders are transmitted in that way. Last week the steward made a mistake in his accounts—"
"To his own prejudice?"
"My lord," said Carlotta, with a hoarse laugh, "no, to that of the marquis. When he discovered it, he wrote underneath, 'Two thousand florins unaccounted for. If this occurs a second time, you are discharged.'"
"Good, good!" cried Barbesieur. "Then he is returning to his senses.
He receives no company?" added he.
"How should he? He knows nobody, and has forgotten every thing connected with his past life."
"But you told me that he still remembered the marchioness?"
"As for her, my lord, he loves her as madly as ever. He stands before her portrait, weeping by the hour, and the table is always set for two persons. Every morning he goes into the garden and makes a bouquet, which, he lays upon her plate before he takes his seat."
"Poor Strozzi! Sane or mad, he will always be a dreamer!" said
Barbesieur. "Where is he now?"
"In the garden, my lord; for it is almost the hour for dinner, and he is in the conservatory gathering flowers for the empty plate."
"Show me the way. I am curious to know whether he has forgotten his brother-in-law and benefactor."