"Are you not armed, monsieur? and if anyone should attack you, can you not defend yourself?"
"Yes, I know how to defend myself," said Chaudoreille, going down some stairs, "but I have an infinite respect for the marriage vow, and, taking everything into consideration, I should prefer to take myself off."
"Come I tell you, monsieur," said the domestic running after him, "my mistress is not married, and you have nothing to fear."
"Well, by jingo! You should explain yourself, my good woman. My life is too precious for me to expose it with temerity. Come, Lisette, go up! I will follow you, but if you have lied to me, tremble!"
The old woman paused on the second landing; she opened a door and took Chaudoreille into a pretty dining-room and from thence into a small well-furnished parlor, where she left him, saying,—
"Wait here, I will go and tell madame."
"Do not be long, for I am not fond of waiting," cried he, looking around him anxiously.
Left alone he examined the apartment curiously, saying,—
"It is pretty enough, it is all in very good taste; this is a woman of distinction. Come, Chaudoreille, you're in great luck. Don't act like a novice, but show some self-possession. Everything has come to me at once; fortune—money—love—I am sure that I shall finish by making my way. Oh, the deuce! here's a hole in my doublet! But I must pull my hat up in front, it will hinder me from seeing my princess; I feel in advance that I can adore her. But it's dark and they have left me without a light, that's very singular. My heart beats, this is certainly love."
Here Chaudoreille raised his voice, saying,—