"Enough! enough! Dame Cadichard, you should never recur to unpleasant subjects.—Do you consider me wealthy enough now to resume my handsome apartment on the first floor, which you let to that noble Spaniard, the so-called Comte de Carvajal?"
"I wish that I had a much handsomer one to offer you, Monsieur de Passedix; but my first floor is at your service."
"Very good.—Speaking of this Comte de Carvajal—have you never seen him, dear hostess, since he left your house so abruptly?"
"Never.—One night, when you were absent, I was very much surprised when Monsieur de Carvajal, who had not given me any notice, came in and said: 'Madame Cadichard, I must leave your house instantly; news just received forces me to return at once to Spain.'—Thereupon he paid me what he owed me, gave Popelinette a handsome pourboire, sent for a porter to take his trunks, and disappeared, leaving me amazed at his abrupt departure."
"Oh! the villain! the traitor! He did not start for Spain, for that same night—I remember it only too well, because, when I asked about your tenant the next morning, I was told that he had left the hotel the night before—that same night following his departure, as I was walking with a young lady to whom I was paying court, we met on the street a sort of rustic, or vagabond,—I don't know what to call him,—who threw himself between me and my fair.—As you can imagine, I unsheathed at once——"
"I do not doubt it, monsieur le chevalier."
"But that simpleton, that clown, had under his cloak a short, broad sword, which he used like a hatchet.—That disconcerted me. I am accustomed to fighting with people who know how to stand on guard. I tried to thrust a little too far, and Roland slipped from my hand. While I was looking for him, my knave disappeared with my belle, whom, by the way, I have not seen since."
"But I fail to see what connection there is between that adventure and the Comte de Carvajal."
"This is the connection: the rustic was not a rustic; I had met him before, in the guise of an artisan. And again, the artisan was not an artisan; I had previously had dealings with him, when he was dressed as an old Bohemian. And finally, all these disguises concealed the Comte de Carvajal, your magnificent tenant."
"The Comte de Carvajal! is it possible? But, in that case, he must be a very mysterious personage. Disguise himself like that—what can be his purpose?"