"I forget her?" said Urbain, pressing the hands of the good old woman. "Ah, Marguerite, is not my life bound up in that of Blanche? I shall take no rest until she is with me again."
"That's right, my dear Urbain, to hear you speak thus renders me hopeful; besides, our poor little one has with her a talisman, and that lightens my anxiety a little."
"Tell me all the circumstances again; a man came here, you say?"
"Yes, he said he was sent by my master, and came to speak to Blanche."
"The scoundrel! and what did he say to her?"
"Oh, he merely paid her some compliments. He spoke like a great nobleman, and he had the costume and bearing of one, although M. Touquet pretends that he is a wretch without position and without home."
"He knows him, then?"
"There's no doubt of it. I confess to you that I am afraid, although he did not have a wicked appearance, rather a look of pride, and an imperious tone. I was sorry at having opened the door for him, and Blanche, the poor little thing, trembled. But all this didn't last very long. He heard M. Touquet come in, and immediately the stranger took his mantle, saluted Blanche, and went down to monsieur. I followed him, but they sent me away, and I know nothing further."
Urbain left Marguerite, he darted from the chamber and, in an instant, he faced the barber, whose cold and gloomy look contrasted with Urbain's excitement.
"Well, monsieur, what have you learned? what have you done to recover my bride," cried he. "Speak! what do you know?"