While laying these plans he took his way towards the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. He arrived all out of breath at the little house, and, while opening to him, Marcel asked him if by chance he had again killed a strange prince.
"Not today," said Chaudoreille, affectionately squeezing his friend's hand, which made the latter presume that his great fortune was already dissipated.
"Have you come for the purpose of buying a house in this neighborhood," said Marcel.
"There's no more question of that; I have been robbed, my friend, completely robbed. I took a sedan chair and the wretches who carried me took me into a den and put a dozen or fifteen men after me. Valor could do nothing against numbers; I think, however, that I killed three or four while defending myself. But let us drop that. Tell me, my dear Marcel, has the marquis brought here a new conquest?"
"I have seen neither monseigneur nor anybody from him."
"Marcel, you're lying."
"I'm telling you the truth. There's no one except me in the house."
"The devil! that upsets my ideas a little. You are very sure that you are not lying to me?"
"Why, hang it! if there had been anybody here I should have sent you away before this."
"Do you know if your master possesses any other little properties on the outskirts of Paris?"