“What! can it be you, monsieur? Ah! I knew that I had seen you before.”
“Does madame refer to me?” said Jacques in amazement.
“Yes, monsieur, it is surely you; I am certain now.”
“Do you know my comrade, madame?” said Sans-Souci; “if you do, you know a fine, honest fellow.”
“I don’t doubt it, and yet monsieur frightened me terribly.”
“Frightened you, madame; I am very sorry; but how could I have done it?”
“Do you remember a certain day when you went to Villeneuve-Saint-Georges, about sixteen months ago? You stood for a long time at the gate of a garden; that barred gate, partly covered with boards, made it impossible to see anything from the garden except your face, and I confess that your eyes, your scars and your moustaches frightened me terribly.”
“What!” said Jacques, after examining Adeline with interest, “you were in that garden?”
“Yes, monsieur, it is the garden of my house. But at that time, I was visiting it for the first time with my mother and my husband.”
Jacques made no reply; he became gloomy and thoughtful; he passed his hand across his forehead, toyed with his moustaches, and uttered a profound sigh.