“What is there new, Pettermann?”
“Nothing, monsieur, except that I met someone on my way here this morning.”
“Met someone? Does that interest me?”
“Yes, it was some acquaintances of monsieur, some people who were at Mont-d’Or at the same time that we were; that pretty young lady with such a fine figure and the thin, lively, good-natured little man.”
“Monsieur Roquencourt and his niece?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you see them?”
“On the boulevard, as I was on my way to Faubourg-Saint-Antoine.”
“You did not speak first to them, I fancy?”
“Prout! as if I would ever have thought of such a thing! I didn’t even see them! All of a sudden I felt someone tap me lightly on the shoulder; I turned; it was the uncle. He was all out of breath; his niece was some distance behind. He said to me first of all: ‘You walk terribly fast, my friend! Ouf! you made me run.’—I answered: ‘Bless my soul, monsieur, I didn’t know that you were following me.’—Just then his niece joined us. She seems to be as inquisitive as ever, the young woman; you remember, don’t you, monsieur, that she asked me a lot of questions at Mont-d’Or?”