“Oh! oh!”
“We should like to know what there is behind all this.”
Théodule replied with the composure of a man of bronze:—
“Some petticoat or other.”
And with that inward laugh which denotes certainty, he added:—
“A lass.”
“That is evident,” exclaimed his aunt, who thought she heard M. Gillenormand speaking, and who felt her conviction become irresistible at that word fillette, accentuated in almost the very same fashion by the granduncle and the grandnephew. She resumed:—
“Do us a favor. Follow Marius a little. He does not know you, it will be easy. Since a lass there is, try to get a sight of her. You must write us the tale. It will amuse his grandfather.”
Théodule had no excessive taste for this sort of spying; but he was much touched by the ten louis, and he thought he saw a chance for a possible sequel. He accepted the commission and said: “As you please, aunt.”
And he added in an aside, to himself: “Here I am a duenna.”