“And you are not afraid?” she asked. “Do you think he will harm you, Pierre?” “Harm me?” I laughed. “No,” and I touched the hilt of my sword. “There is nothing to fear--on my account. Come.” She arose with a little sigh, and paused in the doorway for a backward look. “But I have been happy here,” she said softly, and together we passed out into the street. We made our way back to the Rue du Chantre in silence. She seemed oppressed by some foreboding, and I was considering what I would best say to her uncle. It was not an easy matter to decide--I felt that, in this case, I should be readier with my sword than with my tongue, I hated him so already! We entered the little court and paused at the stair-foot. “I will leave you here, Nanette,” I said. “I shall not be long away.” She answered with a pressure of the hand and smiled into my eyes. How often, afterwards, in my dreams, did I see her standing so! I watched her for a moment as she mounted the stair, and then turned away. I caught a glimpse of the hideous concierge leering at me from her box, and hurried from the place, disgusted, resolved anew to seek another lodging. On through the streets I pressed, for I was anxious to have my errand done--along the crowded, clamorous Rue St. Honoré, to the Rue des Frondeurs, then to the Rue de l’Evêque--with leaping heart I saw again the corner where Nanette had sought shelter in my arms, months agone, it seemed!--and so onward across the Rue des Orties, to the Rue des Moulins. She had described the house for me, and I had no difficulty in finding it, for a gilded board, bearing the legend +-----------------+ | JACQUES RIBAUT, | | BIJOUTIER. | +-----------------+ projected into the street. I mounted the steps and knocked at the door, noting as I did so that the house was a large one and in good repair, a thing somewhat uncommon in Paris. A servant answered the knock, and I was surprised to see that he was in livery. M. Jacques Ribaut must indeed be wealthy. “Is M. Ribaut within?” I asked. “Yes, Monsieur.” “I wish to see him,” and, as the man hesitated, I added, “Tell him it is some one who brings him news from his niece.” “Wait just a moment, Monsieur,” and the man disappeared down the hallway. He was back almost immediately. “You are to enter, Monsieur,” he said, and I followed him down the hall. He opened a door before me, and I was in the presence of a little fat man whom I recognized at once. He knew me also, and he leaned back in his chair and gazed at me, his eyes agleam with hatred. “What is your price, Monsieur?” he asked abruptly. I stared at him in amazement “I do not understand,” I said, after a moment. “Oh, come,” he burst out, his anger getting the better of him, “let us descend from the heights and get to business. You have possession, I suppose, of the body of my niece. I ask you what price you demand to deliver her to me?” I felt my cheeks burning, but I determined to keep my temper.