The marchioness's address was at the foot of the note, which Dubourg reread several times, and which diffused an odor of musk and amber through his room.
"The devil!" said Dubourg to himself; "an invitation from a marchioness! This is decidedly flattering! But how does she know me? Parbleu! a man very soon becomes known when he lives with a certain amount of style. Besides, people must be beginning to talk about me, after I've paraded the streets for a week with Ménard, like a white bear."
Dubourg summoned the landlady again, and asked her if she knew Madame la Marquise de Versac.
"The Marquise de Versac? I don't know her personally, but I know her very well by name. It's one of the oldest and richest families in the city, and I know madame la marquise has a magnificent country house on the river, four leagues from Lyon."
Dubourg asked no more questions; he was in raptures. He dismissed the landlady, and began to pace the floor, saying to himself:
"I shall certainly accept madame la marquise's invitation; the acquaintance cannot fail to be exceedingly agreeable to me, and, who knows? perhaps I may find there some baroness or viscountess whose head I can turn; who will marry me, and endow me with estates and châteaux! Well, what would there be so surprising in that? I am young, not bad-looking; I have a certain style, which must have attracted Madame la Marquise de Versac. But, deuce take me! what if she herself—— Ah! I forgot to ask about that."
Dubourg rang again, and the landlady reappeared.
"I beg your pardon, my dear hostess," he said; "but I have reasons for wishing to know if Madame la Marquise de Versac is married."
"She is still a widow, I think, monsieur; it's only three years since Monsieur de Versac died, and since then I haven't heard——"
"Very good, very good, madame," said Dubourg, dismissing her again; and he capered about the room, looking at himself in the mirror, and saying: