I dismissed the concierge, who went away without giving Pomponne a chance to see what she had under her apron. He was thunderstruck.
XXVI
THE SQUIRREL
As I was about to leave the house, Pomponne handed me a card; it was Balloquet's. He had been several times to see me and had failed to find me. I was ashamed of my discourteous treatment of that young man, to whom I was indebted for my acquaintance with Armantine and Frédérique. It was not his fault if nothing had come of that acquaintance, neither love nor friendship. I was very sure that he had been more fortunate than I, and that the liaison he had begun at Monsieur Bocal's party had led to something. But there was no reason why I should not convince myself of the fact, and I determined to pay Balloquet a visit.
I betook myself to the young physician's abode on Place Bréda. Balloquet had established himself there in the hope of obtaining patients among the lorettes. He considered that with such a clientage his fortune was assured. He had my best wishes, but it was not medicine that he practised with those ladies.
As I was entering the house in which lived my jovial companion of the night of the weddings, the concierge stopped me.
"Where is monsieur going?"
"To see Monsieur Balloquet, physician."
"He has not lived here for two months, monsieur."
"His address, if you please?"
"Rue d'Amsterdam, No. 42, near the railroad station."