“Young Louise!” cried Daréna; “who was with Chérubin, at his nurse Nicole’s, at Gagny?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“You see that I am well informed, mademoiselle, that I did not deceive you when I said that I was the marquis’s friend.”
“Oh, yes! I see that, monsieur.”
During this dialogue, Poterne sauntered up to Daréna and whispered:
“There’s a chance to make a turn here.”
Daréna retorted with a blow of his elbow in the ribs, muttering:
“So I see, you fool!”
Then, turning to Louise, he continued:
“Mademoiselle, if you do not wish to call at my friend Chérubin’s, it does not seem to me fitting that you should remain in the street. In Paris, you see, there are certain proprieties that one must always observe. Young and pretty as you are, you must not expose yourself to the risk of being insulted by some scoundrel. Take my arm; you are my friend’s foster-sister, his playmate, and I naturally declare myself your protector. Pray take my arm.”