he lost not a single expression of suffering on the anxious face of his companion.
At this moment, the stranger was returning from the Chateau de Cinq-Cygne, where he had apparently passed the night. Goulard resolved to clear up, himself, the mystery wrapped about the Unknown, who was physically enveloped in an overcoat of thick cloth called a paletot, then the fashion. A mantle, thrown across his knees for a covering, hid the lower half of his body, while an enormous muffler of red cashmere covered his neck and head to the eyes. His hat, jauntily tipped to one side, was, nevertheless, not ridiculous. Never was a mystery more mysteriously bundled up and swathed.
“Look out!” cried the tiger, who preceded the tilbury on horseback. “Open, papa Poupart, open!” he screamed in his shrill little voice.
The three servants of the inn ran out, and the tilbury drove in without any one being able to see a single feature of the stranger’s face. The sub-prefect followed the tilbury into the courtyard, and went to the door of the inn.
“Madame Poupart,” said Antonin, “will you ask Monsieur – Monsieur – ”
“I don’t know his name,” said Gothard’s sister.
“You do wrong! The rules of the police are strict, and Monsieur Groslier doesn’t trifle, like some commissaries of police.”
“Innkeepers are never to blame about election-time,” remarked the little tiger, getting off his horse.
“I’ll repeat that to Vinet,” thought the sub-prefect. “Go and ask your master if he can receive the sub-prefect of Arcis.”
Presently Paradise returned.
“Monsieur begs Monsieur the sub-prefect to come up; he will be delighted to see him.”
“My lad,” said Olivier Vinet, who with the two other functionaries had joined the sub-prefect before the inn, “how much does your master give a year for a boy of your cut and wits?”
“Give, monsieur! What do you take me for? Monsieur le comte lets himself be milked, and I’m content.”
“That boy was raised in a good school!” said Frederic Marest.
“The highest school, monsieur,” said the urchin, amazing the four friends with his perfect self-possession.
“What a Figaro!” cried Vinet.
“Mustn’t lower one’s price,” said the infant. “My master calls me a little Robert-Macaire, and since we have learned how to invest our money we are Figaro, plus a savings bank.”
“How much do you earn?”
“Oh! some races I make two or three thousand francs – and without selling my master, monsieur.”
“Sublime infant!” said Vinet; “he knows the turf.”
“Yes, and all gentlemen riders,” said the child, sticking out his tongue at Vinet.
Antonin Goulard, ushered by the landlord into a room which had been turned into a salon, felt himself instantly under the focus of an eyeglass held in the most impertinent manner by the stranger.
“Monsieur,” said the sub-prefect with a certain official hauteur, “I have just learned from the wife of the innkeeper that you refuse to conform to the ordinances of the police, and as I do not doubt that you are a person of distinction, I have come myself – ”
“Is your name Goulard?” demanded the stranger in a high voice.
“I am the sub-prefect, monsieur,” replied Antonin Goulard.
“Your father belonged to the Simeuse family?”
“And I, monsieur, belong to the government; that is how times differ.”
“You have a servant named Julien, who has tried to entice the Princesse de Cadignan’s maid away from her?”
“Monsieur, I do not allow any one to speak to me in this manner,” said Goulard; “you misunderstand my character.”
“And you want to know about mine!” returned the Unknown. “Well, I will now make myself known. You can write in the landlord’s book: ‘Impertinent fellow. Direct from Paris. Age doubtful. Travelling for pleasure.’ It would be rather a novelty in France to imitate England and let people come and go as they please, without tormenting them at every turn for ‘papers.’ I have no passport; now, what will you do to me?”
“The procureur-du-roi is walking up and down there under the lindens,” said the sub-prefect.
“Monsieur Marest! Wish him good-morning from me.”
“But who are you?”
“Whatever you wish me to be, my dear Monsieur Goulard,” said the stranger. “You alone shall decide what I am to be in this department. Give me some advice on that head. Here, read that.”
And the stranger handed the sub-prefect the following letter: —
(Confidential.) Prefecture of the Aube.
Monsieur the Sub-prefect, – You will consult with the bearer of this letter as to the election at Arcis, and you will conform to all the suggestions and requests he may make to you. I request you to conduct this matter with the utmost discretion, and to treat the bearer with all the respect that is due to his station.
The letter was written and signed by the prefect of the Aube.
“You have been talking prose without knowing it,” said the Unknown, taking back the letter.
Antonin Goulard, already struck with the aristocratic tone and manners of this personage, became respectful.
“How was that, monsieur?” he asked.
“By endeavoring to entice Anicette. She told us of the attempts of your man Julien to corrupt her. But my little tiger, Paradise, got the better of him, and he ended by admitting that you wanted to put Anicette into the service of one of the richest families in Arcis. Now, as the richest family in Arcis is the Beauvisage family I make no doubt it is Mademoiselle Cecile who covets this treasure.”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Very good; then Anicette shall enter the Beauvisage household at once.”
He whistled. Paradise presented himself so rapidly that his master said: “You were listening!”
“In spite of myself, Monsieur le comte; these partitions are nothing but paper. But if Monsieur le comte prefers, I will move upstairs.”
“No, you can listen; it is your perquisite. It is for me to speak low when I don’t want you to know my affairs. Go back to Cinq-Cygne, and give this gold piece to that little Anicette from me. Julien shall have the credit of enticing her away,” he continued, addressing Goulard. “That bit of gold will inform her that she is to follow him. Anicette may be useful to the success of our candidate.”
“Anicette?”
“Monsieur, it is now thirty-two years since lady’s-maids have served my purposes. I had my first adventure at the age of thirteen, like the regent, the great-great-grandfather of our present King.
