"Pardieu!" said the student, "this happens very fortunately. My friend, whose name I don't know, and who seems to stand extremely well at court, may have influence enough to have me committed to prison: Providence sends his page to me to tell me where I can find him, as I know neither his name nor his address." In order to avail himself of what he considered a direct interposition of Providence in his behalf, Jacques Aubry advanced toward the young page, who likewise recognized him, and, letting his three pebbles fall into the same hand, crossed his legs and awaited the student with that knowing look which is especially characteristic of the profession to which he had the honor to belong. "_Bon jour_, Monsieur le Page," cried Aubry from the most distant point at which he thought the boy could hear his voice. "_Bon jour_, Seigneur Student," was the reply; "what are you doing in this quarter?" "Faith! if I must tell you, I was looking for something which I think I have found, now that I see you; I was seeking the address of my excellent friend, the comte--the baron--the vicomte--your master's address." "Do you wish to see him?" asked the page. "Instantly, if possible." "In that case you will have your wish in a moment, for he is calling on the provost." "At the Châtelet." "Yes, he will come out directly." "He's very lucky to be admitted to the Châtelet when he wishes; but is my friend the vicomte--the comte--the baron--" "Vicomte." "On intimate terms with Messire Robert d'Estourville? The Vicomte de-- Tell me," continued Aubry, anxious to avail himself of the opportunity to learn his friend's name at last; "the Vicomte de--" "The Vicomte de Mar--" "Ah!" cried the student, interrupting the page in the middle of the word, as he saw the man he sought appear at the door. "Ah! my dear viscount, there you are. I was looking for you and waiting for you." "_Bon jour_," said Marmagne, evidently but little pleased at the meeting. "_Bon jour_, my dear fellow. I would be glad to talk with you, but unfortunately I am very hurried. So adieu." "One moment, one moment," cried Jacques, clinging to his friend's arm; "deuce take me! you won't leave me like this. In the first place I have a very great favor to ask of you." "You?" "Yes, I; and God's law, you know, bids friends to succor one another." "Friends?" "To be sure; aren't you my friend? What constitutes friendship? Confidence. Now I am full of confidence in you. I tell you all my own business, and other people's too." "Have you ever had occasion to repent of your confidence." "Never, so far as you are concerned at least; but it's not so with everybody. There is one man in Paris that I am looking for, and with God's help I shall meet him some day." "My dear fellow," interrupted Marmagne, who had a shrewd suspicion who the man was, "I told you that I was much hurried." "But wait a moment, pray, when I tell you that you can do me a great service." "Well, speak quickly."