Thus it befell that the tyrant, being perfectly accustomed to that sort of thing, was not at all surprised, or suspicious of evil, when one fine morning a stranger, of most venerable and dignified mien, presented himself at the hotel in the Rue Dauphine, and asked to speak with him on business. He appeared to be the major-domo, or steward, of some great nobleman’s establishment, and, in effect, announced to Hérode that he had been sent to consult with him, as manager of the troupe, by his master, the Comte de Pommereuil. This highly respectable old functionary was richly dressed in black velvet, and had a heavy gold chain round his neck. His face was slightly sunburnt; the wavy hair that fell upon his shoulders, his thick, bushy eyebrows, heavy mustache, and long, sweeping beard were all white as snow. He had the most patriarchal, benevolent air imaginable, and a very gentle, yet dignified manner. The tyrant could not help admiring him very much, as he said, courteously, “Are you, sir, the famous Hérode I am in quest of, who rules with a hand as firm as Apollo’s the excellent company of comedians now playing in Paris? Their renown has gone abroad, beyond the walls of the city, and penetrated even to my master’s ears, on his estate out in the country.” “Yes, I have the honour to be the man you seek,” the tyrant answered, bowing very graciously. “The Comte de Pommereuil greatly desires to have you give one of your celebrated representations at his château, where guests of high rank are sojourning at this moment, and I have come to ascertain whether it will be possible for you to do so. The distance is not very considerable, only a few leagues. The comte, my master, is a very great and generous seignior, who is prepared to reward your illustrious company munificently for their trouble, and will do everything in his power to make them comfortable while they are under his roof.” “I will gladly do all that I can to please your noble master,” the tyrant replied, “though it will be a little difficult for us to leave Paris at present, just in the height of the season; even if it be only for a short absence.” “Three days would suffice for this expedition,” said the venerable major-domo persuasively; “one for the journey, the second for the representation, and the third for the return to Paris. There is a capital theatre at the château, furnished with everything that is requisite, so that you need not be encumbered with much luggage—nothing beyond your costumes. Here is a purse containing a hundred _pistoles_ that the Comte de Pommereuil charged me to put into your hands, to defray the expenses of the journey. You will receive as much more before you return, and there will be handsome presents for the actresses forthcoming, of valuable jewels, as souvenirs of the occasion.” After a momentary hesitation, the tyrant accepted the well-filled purse tendered to him, and, with a gesture of acquiescence, put it into his pocket.