"Infinitely obliged! Much pleasure in your nocturnal walks, monsieur le comte!"
The foreigner took his leave. The landlady renewed her humble reverences, and Passedix muttered:
"A singular man, this Monsieur de Carvajal!"
"You are all sewed up, monsieur," said Popelinette; "but, bless me! I won't swear it will hold long, the stuff is so rotten!"
"Very good! all right! I didn't ask you about that!—He buys paint, mouches, perfumes!—he's an effeminate creature!"
"I don't think," said the little hostess, "that it is so unpleasant to perfume one's self, and to leave an agreeable odor behind one as one passes!"
"I have never needed that to please the fair! And when I eat wild duck, I don't like to have it smell of musk!"
The Gascon hurried from the room and went up to his fifth floor, while Dame Cadichard exclaimed:
"Ah! if I only had a loft over his room!"
Popelinette put away her needle and thread, muttering: