Widow Cadichard had risen hastily on the entrance of her tenant, to whom she made a low reverence.
"Monsieur de Carvajal, your servant," she exclaimed; "I have the honor to salute you! Pray be kind enough to take a seat, monsieur le comte; do you wish for anything? Perhaps you are looking for Popelinette? She hasn't returned yet, and that annoys you. She is not very quick when she has an errand to do. Would you like me to go to meet her, monseigneur?"
The stranger waited till this torrent of words had ceased, then replied, with a smile:
"What I wish first of all, my dear hostess, is that you will not put yourself out and that you will continue your repast."
"Oh! indeed I will do nothing of the sort, monsieur le comte; I know too well what I owe to you."
"In that case, madame, you will compel me to withdraw, for I do not like ceremony."
"Oh! monsieur le comte, since you insist, since you command me, I will do it to obey you. But allow me first to offer you a chair."
While Madame Cadichard bustled about the room, looking for her best easy-chair and the best place in the room to put it, Passedix approached the new-comer and addressed him, trying all the while to hide with his cloak that part of his doublet from which the buttons were missing.
"I presume that I have the honor to salute one of my neighbors? I say neighbors, because we both live in the same hotel; only I am at the top and monsieur le comte is at the bottom. But men of honor are always on the same level."
"Ah! does monsieur live in this hotel?" rejoined the stranger, bowing to the Gascon.