Daréna told the driver where to take them. After quite a long drive they stopped in front of a shabby house outside Barrière de la Chopinette, on the outer boulevards.
“Here we are!” said Daréna, jumping out of the cab.
Chérubin looked at the house, which had but one floor above the ground floor, with two windows on the front.
“This isn’t a very handsome house!” he exclaimed.
“It is very fine inside,” replied Daréna. “The principal thing is that it’s isolated; the devil himself would be in it if the husband should unearth you here! My dear fellow, when you run off with a woman, you must take the greatest precautions. And after all, what do you care about the house? It’s the woman that you come here to see. For my part, I should have been perfectly happy in a shepherd’s hut, with the object of my love.—Send the cab away; I am going to ring.”
Chérubin made haste to pay the cab-driver, who returned to his box and drove away.
Daréna pulled a wire beside the low door that gave admission to the house. A little fellow of some thirteen years, with an impudent expression, whose knavish and insolent bearing harmonized well with a very dirty costume, answered the bell, his cap over his ear, his blouse flapping in the wind, and his hands black with dirt. He bestowed a glance of intelligence on Daréna, who recognized little Bruno, the same urchin of whom Poterne had tried to make a monkey, and who, on his side, had conceived the idea of appropriating the skin which he had used in studying his character. Later Poterne had found Bruno, who had squandered his disguise; the business agent took the liberty of thrashing the boy, then forgave him, and charmed by the happy talents which young Bruno manifested, determined to employ him again when the opportunity should present itself. In the scheme which had been devised to dupe Chérubin, it was necessary to station some intelligent person, who could be trusted, in the house which had been hired. Poterne instantly thought of the urchin, to whom he did not pay much, and who had all the qualities essential to forward their designs.
“Ah! this is the concierge’s son,” said Daréna, glancing at Bruno as they entered the house, and leading Chérubin through a sort of vestibule, toward the staircase. “Where’s your father, my boy? is he away?”
“Yes, monsieur, he had to go to a place ten leagues from here, to see my aunt, who is very sick.”
“And you are keeping the house?”