"Well, well! what has happened to you, child?" said Valentine, almost alarmed by her maid's abrupt exclamation. "Mon Dieu! how excited you are!"
"I beg pardon, mademoiselle; excuse me; but monsieur said that he knew how they could arrest this Italian—this Giovanni."
"How does that concern you? You do not seem to be afraid of him, for you never go out except at night, and you come home quite late, so Béatrix tells me."
"That is true, mademoiselle; but, for all that, I would like to know——"
"But I wish to know what concerns Monsieur Léodgard. I am not at all interested in this famous robber.—For heaven's sake, Monsieur Bahuchet, go on. You were taking your friend Plumard home, to Rue Dauphine."
"Yes, mademoiselle; we were walking quietly along, arm in arm, talking together, and he was assuring me that he had discovered three more hairs on his head since the night before, and he attributed that capillary recrudescence to some grease made from a man who had been hanged, which an old woman had presented to him."
"Ah! monsieur, you abuse my patience!"
"A thousand pardons, mademoiselle! I continue.—About a hundred yards from the bath keeper's house, Plumard stopped and squeezed my arm.
"'What is it?' I asked, without wincing. 'I am not afraid of anything; I am as brave as a lion. What did you see, Plumard?'
"'What I saw,' he replied, 'was a man climbing into a window on the first floor of yonder house.'