"If that were so, it seems to me, Widow Cadichard, that it is my business!—Will you sew on my buttons?"
"I! I should think not! Go to your mistress!"
Passedix stamped the floor in vexation. At that moment the door of the room was suddenly thrown open, and the Gascon uttered an exclamation of satisfaction, for he expected to see the maid-servant of the hotel; but he was speedily undeceived. Instead of Popelinette, it was the foreigner who appeared in the doorway.
XI
THE FOREIGNER
The new tenant of the Hôtel du Sanglier paused on the threshold when he saw that there was someone with his hostess; he even took a step backward, as if he did not intend to enter. But in a moment, changing his mind, he walked into the room with a certain gravity of demeanor which was not without distinction.
The Gascon chevalier scrutinized the new arrival with interest, for he suspected that it was the foreigner whom Dame Cadichard was so proud to have under her roof, and he was curious to see whether he deserved the high-flown praise which his hostess had lavished on him.
A single glance was sufficient to satisfy Passedix that the sprightly widow had not exaggerated at all. The gentleman who had just entered the room was still young, tall and well built; his features were handsome and refined, his eyes slightly veiled, but full of fire and expression; he wore no beard on his chin, but only small moustaches curled a little upward at the ends.
He wore with easy grace a rich velvet cloak, over an elegant pale-blue doublet; a beautiful white plume lay along the broad brim of his hat, and the sword at his side was suspended from a belt trimmed with rich lace.
The stranger bowed most courteously as he walked into the room. Passedix made haste to return his salutation, saying to himself:
"He is a good-looking fellow, sandioux! I am too just to deny it. Almost as handsome a man as myself, and that is no small thing to say!"