"'Excuse me, madame, but I saw him go out of this house this very minute.'
"'The man you saw go out of this house is named Miflorès, and not Seringat, and he never told me that he came from Pontoise.'
"'Apparently, madame, he's concluded to change his name; but I am perfectly sure that the person who just went out is named Seringat, formerly a druggist at Pontoise. Parbleu! I know him well; I've often bought insect powder of him to kill fleas. Poor Seringat! he's had a hard time. His wife—you see what I mean? The whole town knew about it; somebody even went so far as to write a song about him. Stay! I remember one verse. It goes to the tune of the Carillon de Dunkerque.'—And with that, he begins to sing:
| "'Ce pauvre Seringat! |
| Il a fait tant d'éclat, |
| Que tout Pontoise a su |
| Qu'il était, ma foi, cornu!' |
"Then he goes back to his room, saying:
"'To prove that it's him, you'll see me throw myself into his arms when he comes back. Be kind enough to let me know.'
"So he goes back to his room; and I don't deny that I didn't care much whether the other man was the hero of the song or not. In about a quarter of an hour, Monsieur Miflorès came back. As soon as I saw him, I runs and says to him:
"'Is it true, monsieur, that your name's Seringat, and that you came from Pontoise? There's a man in the house who says he recognized you. He even knows a song about you. He asked me to let him know as soon as you came in.'
"At that, I saw the poor man change color; he rolled his eyes around and clenched his fists, and he says to me:
"'Madame, I forbid you to let that man know. Make up my bill; I am going up to get my baggage and leave the house instantly.'