“‘Any name?’ says the shopman.
“‘The name is of no consequence,’ answers the old man; ‘but if you please, you can give mine. Say the parcel came from Citizen Dubois;’ and then he goes out. His name, in connection with his elderly look, strikes me directly.
“‘Does that old fellow live at Chalons?’ I ask.
“‘No,’ says the shopman. ‘He is here in attendance on a customer of ours—an old ex-aristocrat named Danville. She is on a visit in our town.’
“I leave you to imagine how that reply startles and amazes me. The shopman can answer none of the other questions I put to him; but the next day I am asked to dinner by my employer (who, for his brother’s sake, shows me the utmost civility). On entering the room, I find his daughter just putting away a lavender-colored silk scarf, on which she has been embroidering in silver what looks to me very like a crest and coat-of-arms.
“‘I don’t mind your seeing what I am about, Citizen Lomaque,’ says she; ‘for I know my father can trust you. That scarf is sent back to us by the purchaser, an ex-emigrant lady of the old aristocratic school, to have her family coat-of-arms embroidered on it.’
“‘Rather a dangerous commission even in these mercifully democratic times, is it not?’ says I.
“‘The old lady, you must know,’ says she, ‘is as proud as Lucifer; and having got back safely to France in these days of moderate republicanism, thinks she may now indulge with impunity in all her old-fashioned notions. She has been an excellent customer of ours, so my father thought it best to humor her, without, however, trusting her commission to any of the workroom women to execute. We are not living under the Reign of Terror now, certainly; still there is nothing like being on the safe side.’
“‘Nothing,’ I answer. ‘Pray what is this ex-emigrant’s name?’
“‘Danville,’ replies the citoyenne Clairfait. ‘She is going to appear in that fine scarf at her son’s marriage.’