"Ja! I haf one day received from her ein leedle note, vich I haf alvays keep, pecause I vas much bleezed to receive tat note vich she haf write herself. You shall see; I haf id alvays on my heart, in my cigar case."
And the baron, taking a dainty cigar case from his pocket, produced a small folded paper that smelt horribly of tobacco; luckily, the tobacco was of the best quality.
He opened the letter and handed it to me, but did not let it leave his own hands. I recognized Frédérique's hand, and I read:
"MY DEAR BARON:
"Do you care for my advice? Do not go to Monsieur Sordeville's any more. I say this in your own interest. Later, perhaps, I shall be able to explain my reasons.
"Yours devotedly,
"FRÉDÉRIQUE DAUBERNY."
I could not restrain a sort of shudder as I read the last name, and reflected that such a woman as Frédérique was that man's wife. Suppose that she knew what he was doing! But, no; she would do something imprudent; it was better that she should not know that story until Annette was avenged.
The baron carefully replaced the letter in his cigar case, and restored the latter to his pocket, saying:
"Vhen I haf tat note received, I vas mad mit choy. I pelieved tat te Frédérique, she vas chealous of some voman who vent to Monsir Sordeville, berhaps of Montame Sordeville herself. Ha! ha! ha!"
"Did you follow the advice she gave you?"