As usual, Schtrack was smoking on a bench in front of his lodge. He recognized the girl, and although it was nearly four months since she had fainted in his arms, he called out when he saw her:
“Wasn’t all the money in the bag?”
“What, monsieur? what bag? Has Monsieur Auguste come back?” inquired Denise, gazing anxiously at the old German.
“Oh, no! no! The young man is still travelling with Pertrand. But I thought you haf come about the bag of money that fell in the yard, and that you didn’t find it all. Sacretié! you see, Schtrack don’t joke about questions of honor.”
“Oh, monsieur! of course I didn’t come about that!—Haven’t you heard from him, monsieur?”
“From who, my child?”
“From Monsieur Auguste.”
“How in the devil do you suppose I could hear from him when he’s gone round the world?”
“And that lady—have you seen her?”
“A lady?”