"You go into the dressing-room, here; listen and don't stir."
Left alone, the prince muttered:
"Why should I hesitate? It's fate that sends him my way. . . ."
A few minutes later a tall young man entered. He was fair and slender, with an emaciated face and feverish eyes, and he stood on the threshold embarrassed, hesitating, in the attitude of a beggar who would like to put out his hand for alms and dares not.
The conversation was brief:
"Are you M. Gérard Baupré?"
"Yes . . . yes . . . that is my name."
"I have not the honor . . ."
"It's like this, sir. . . . Some one told me . . ."
"Who?"